3 November of KCttC

Secondborn has been showing all the signs that she's beginning to give up nap time. Some days it takes over an hour for her to fall asleep. And, this usually involves me sitting on the floor outside her bedroom watching her every move.
There were days that I was getting really frustrated about the situation. After all, doesn't she know that nap time is Mommy time? Who did she think she was being awake in the allotted slot of time that I used to get things done? I was getting seriously bummed. Along with that serious bum I was doing some serious whining.
One day last week after exhausting every trick I knew and myself, yet was still facing a wide eyed, definitely non exhausted daughter, I laid down on the couch with her. It didn't take long till we both fell asleep. And, it was delicious. I thoroughly enjoyed that delicious nap with my baby girl, who is quickly loosing all aspects of being a baby.
Each and every day I see a little less of that baby that I reached down to greet nearly two and a half years ago. And, while I'm thrilled to watch her grow into this independent, feisty, and fearless little girl, I'm saddened to watch her babyhood melt away.
For the next few days after that delicious nap, I couldn't shake the sad little ache in my heart as I was coming to terms that Secondborn wasn't a baby anymore and she wasn't quite a little girl, either.
That's when I decided that more of those delicious naps were in order. There were a few days I freaked out when I would realize that was precious housework time. But, the more afternoons we spent together snuggled on that couch, the less the housework seemed to matter. In the past I wouldn't have been able to even entertain the idea of napping while she napped for fear of wasting time. But, not anymore. And, that's how I ended up mopping my house at 9:30 tonight. The housework got done much later than what I would like. But, the trade off was far superior.


To be upset over what you don't have is to waste what you do have. ~Ken S. Keyes, Jr.
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Job Title: Native Wrangler

Life has done it again and started rolling along pretty fast. That happens from time to time. Unfortunately, I've not been rolling along as well as I normally would. I've been having some tummy yuck for the past three weeks. And, we went out of town as well. So it's been much harder to get back on schedule this time it seems. But, I think this week has finally been the turning point.

The one area I still seem to be having a bit of difficulty with is writing. All three of my blogs seem to have been neglected slightly, and that bothers me greatly. It's not intentional. I've sat down many times to remedy the situation, but either the words don't come, or the natives need wrangling.

The latter tends to be the situation more often than not. And, that's okay. That's my first job above all else. In fact, I list it as my job title on every application I have to fill out. A librarian once gave pause to eye me with suspicion over that.

It's an exhausting job, but it's one I love. It's one I chose willingly and gladly from that very first plus sign on the pee stick. Never in my wildest dreams could I ever imagine loving this job so much. Or, loving someone so much. Sure, everyone tells you all through your pregnancies that you never knew you could love so much. And, you think, "Yes. Yes I do! I'm the one carrying this critter, not you!"

But, you really don't. You just don't. Not until that first moment Firstborn was held up over the operating curtain did I really know what was meant. And, there is not a day that I forget.

And, then all through my second pregnancy I worried over how could I possibly have enough love left to give to my second child. I didn't have that answer until I reached down to pull my daughter out and up to nurse for her very first time. While my midwife and doula tended to the rest of nature's work I felt something swelling deep inside my chest as I watched my newborn watching me. It didn't have a name, because love just didn't seem enough. No, it felt more like an all consuming need to protect, to foster a great independent spirit and wonderment of her brand new world. A pulling of my insides so strong I still felt connected to her even though I had already cut the umbilical cord.There was great hope mixed in. And, there was magic, sparkly and electrifying magic. A magic that only presents itself during the miracle of birth. So, maybe I was wrong. Maybe, that's exactly what love is. At least that's what love of my children means to me.

I have no answers as to how it all works. It just does. Maybe your heart increases in size much like the Grinch's. Again, I don't know. What I do know is there was an immeasurably void in my life before my natives turned it right side up.

So, while I am frequently frustrated that I can't find the time to write and, when I do the flow is gone, that's okay. The words will come when they're ready to. In the meanwhile, I have plenty to keep my busy. Life is like that.

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The Best Days Of My Life

The house is the most quiet it's been all day. First and Secondborn are fast asleep and I am looking forward to settling down with a good book, good music, and a good glass of wine followed by a good night's rest. The makings of a perfect Saturday evening.
My life is a far cry from the wild weekends of my past and, for that I'm grateful. I survey the damage of what is the end of the day here in our household: books flung about from our half hour of pre-bed time reading, Goldfish crackers ground into the rug, sippy cups strewn about leaking their contents on my freshly mopped floors, and two baskets of laundry in dire need of putting away. I'm surprised at how clean everything looks.
What? And you thought me to be discouraged by the state of my surroundings? Nope. Not tonight. There was a time I was, though. It was a huge transition period for me to come to grips with raising children, keeping house, and being happy. It turns out that all my former ideals on housekeeping have been thrown out the window. Now, my goal is to stay clean enough that the Health Department doesn't shut me down.
I'm not a bad housekeeper. I like things well organized and neat. Turns out, children don't. It took a great deal of effort and time for me to understand that, but I finally did.
What I've finally come to grips with is I want my children to know without a shadow of a doubt that I am there for them. If they need me to drop to the floor and spontaneously read Llama Llama, Mad At Mama four times back to back, then I better get comfortable real quick while they both jockey for positions in my lap. If Secondborn wants me to hold her hands while she practices walking throughout the house for backbreaking sessions, then I best take a handful of Ibuprofen prior to our endeavors. And, I pray the day never comes that I refuse Firstborn his giddy "rocket ship" rides positioned on the bottoms of my feet while laying on my back, legs stilted against the skies flying him to faraway places.
Today was not an easy day. It wasn't a bad day either, though. I shudder when people talk about "bad days". It makes me wonder if they really know what a "bad day" is. I don't, and hope to never know. However, I do know long days, hard days, frustrating days, etc, etc. And while today was no easy day, this and all surrounding days are the best days of my life. As the saying goes, "The days are oh, so long, but the years oh, so very short". Indeed.