Boo. I'm a little ticked off about how this week went so I'll just give it to you straight without any pageantry: I gained.2lbs.
It is really not that much to gain, but it would have been nice to lose something... I don't think I did anything different from last week.
My hypothesis is this--that I lost so much last week because the day before my weigh in was a fast Sunday. I think that temporarily augmented my weigh loss, and I probably only truly lost about 2 lbs. If this is true then I probably lost another 2 lbs. this week.
Which is good. Good enough at least.
Really, if I keep losing 2 lbs. a week I have nothing to complain about. I would love a quick weight loss, but slower is better they say. Meh.
In other news, this week Lou Lou asked me if she was adopted.
What The Heck?
Where did she even get that word from? Let alone the idea?
We then discussed about how she was not adopted but however if she was, it really wouldn't make a difference in her role in our family and in how much we love her blah blah blah.
So I lately I keep having small panic attacks that usually stem from spending time with my children. I do not exaggerate.
Years ago I used to have occasional panic attacks and it took me a while to figure out what was going on. I went to the doctor and was given some pills that I only took one time; they made me feel dizzy and tired and my vision got blurry. My heart rate slowed a bit and I had to sleep. Not a good choice for a mother of two.
Yeah so that wouldn't be an option for me now as a mother of three. Almost every day for the last week I have had a period of time where the stress has been too much for me. My chest tightens and I start to hyperventilate. I feel super short of breath and I can't think clearly. As a matter of fact, this is exactly how I feel right now at this moment while I am typing this post. I'm kind of freaking out a little bit.
The thing that freaks me out the most? The fact that it's only little, everyday, normal things that are setting me off. It's just small conflicts with my kids. Hearing them argue sets it off. Hearing a whine sets it off. Seeing that they didn't close the back door and are letting in all the flies sets it off. Asking me a question sets it off. Hearing them ask me for the third time if they can play on the ipod sets it off. Seeing a mess sets it off. Heck, hearing a loud noise sets me off. And most of all having them climb on me and touch my face insistantly sets it off.
Keep in mind that these specific things don't always set off a panic attack. These things are the last straw. To what you ask? I don't know. That's what is so bothersome. I don't really see a pattern here except that my children are always involved.
Now Farm Boy is waving a toy in my face and the pain has started again. Ugh, I need a day at the spa or at least an hour to myself. Really though, I don't know if that will make any difference.
I've done a lot of thinking (and starving) lately and have made a few decisions for the present time. I've decided to go off of grains for awhile in order to cleanse my body of the unhealthy effects of polluted grains that I constantly am taking into my system. Also it should help drop some weight pretty quickly, which I am all about. Don't freak out, it's really nothing extreme! I can't explain the benefits that well since I don't speak Science, but I got a lot of eye-opening information at wellnessmama.com.
I've been pretty good at keeping my diet goals the last two days. Still, I haven't been 100%--I tasted a roll last night and this morning as I fed them to my children. (Seriously, if I wasn't a short order cook I think this healthy diet thing would work out so much better. But keeping only insanely health food in the house doesn't fit into my job description. I know I should just force my children into the healthy stuff, but truly they are the pickiest eaters since I myself was young.... younger.)
So I ate a roll. And then I felt guilty.
And then I felt like I had blown The whole Plan.
And then I got over it.
Exercise: I did walk around the block last night in the dark with a fabulous friend. I wore my flip flops and of course my knees began hurting before I could turn a corner, but I sucked it up and finished the job. It was really a delightful stroll/hike, and I probably damaged my knees worse. Ah well. I'll get into some real exercising soon--probably next week when I get Buttercup and Lou Lou back into school and settled and I can then focus on working out. I thought I would put Farmboy in the stroller and go all around my beautiful mountain neighborhood for an hour every morning--while wearing my good tennies with the inserts of course. Please bless that my knees won't hurt.
Anywho, so now I'm thinking I will still eat my sensible meals, but with more protein and less carbs--almost like an Atkins thing. I have high hopes as long as I can find something to do with myself when I'm feeling emotional. My first thought is always to go straight to the cupboard/freezer/whatever, but this is also no longer an option. I need a hobby. Perhaps I should actually do some of the crafts I've pinned from Pinterest.
Also, my most darling sister The Princess has just joyfully informed me that she most likely will be coming to stay for the weekend. Wonderful news--however, my way of entertaining and celebrating usually involves meals smothered in butter and chocolate chip cookies galore. I have really got to find an alternate way of feeling happy--or expressing happiness. This is not easy. This is one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do.
Today is one of those days when I must do everything or I must do nothing. How do you find the balance of what is worthwhile and needful compared to simply going through the expected motions of your life? Don't panic--the children have been fed. (That falls under the needful category. I've found if you don't feed them everyday they get noticeably upset.) They have also been clothed and brushed and what-have-you. Is it worth it for me to marinate some chicken for dinner when I haven't even showered yet? Is it even a good idea to shower when I haven't done my expected workout? Why should I workout when it takes up a huge chunk of my morning and really I'm just so tired? It makes sense that I would be tired after reading a whole book in one sitting until 2:00am last night. But I needed to read that book, the same way I need chocolate when I'm stressed. (Oh, and I ate a bunch of chocolate chips too, which consequently gave me a headache. Huge Costco bag of chocolate chips? Best idea ever. Or worst.) So what is needful? What is the most important thing? This question always points to the best of all answers--you know, the ones you always repeat in sunday school: Pray, then read the scriptures. Huh, guess I'd better go get my priorities straight. I know there are women out there who are just like me, who have days of doubt and confusion of purpose. Sometimes it helps to know that you're not the only one struggling with everyday life--the only one who misses the seemingly obvious answers. It won't last forever. Just take one step at a time. Okay, now I'm going to go following the prompting. Then perhaps I'll start with getting dressed...
Today I blog because I am avoiding doing the important stuff, or the "usual" stuff. The reason for this may be because I have a cold and took Nyquil last night and I'm still not over the effects, or perhaps because it's that special time and I feel like bursting into tears because all of the forces of the universe seem to be against me (totally not true bytheway if I do an evaluation--my body is just telling me lies). I can think of a hundred things to do and a bajillion reasons why not to do them--or maybe because I just don't want to move and that basically trumps everything. In the meantime Lou Lou and Farm Boy run wild through the untidy wilderness of my home. They don't seem deprived but then again Farm Boy thinks cat food is a treat. Okay, maybe I'll put a stop to that one. While I've got ya here I'll post some random musings:
Why do I have to love peanut butter so much? It is a weakness, and paired with chocolate, it is my downfall.
Lou Lou has informed me that she is in love with the cute little neighbor boy, and that she fell in love with him a long, long, long, long time ago when she was three. This sounds serious. Recently she asked me if she could play with Boy Next Door, and could she please put on her lipstick first before knocking on his door. Cause for concern?
I really should recommit to taking off my makeup at night.
There is a new stray cat in the neighborhood who looks very similar to Phoebe (my new cat) and is giving her a bad name by running into neighbors houses and hiding under their beds. If you are my neighbor, please understand this is not Phoebe, this is an evil voyeur look-alike and I do not feed her.
Farm Boy now walks. Good? Bad? The jury is still out.
I have now witnessed a live birth. Of a real human baby(!). IT WAS AWESOME. This event has commenced an inward struggle over my resolution to do anything that is needful to prevent myself from ever becoming pregnant again ever ever ever. But then one of my precious children whines about something and I'm more recommitted than ever before.
My husband makes yummy treats. This must mean he loves my shapely figure and doesn't want it to change in any way because he's doing his darnedest to keep it round and soft. Um thanks Charming?
Primary equals fun! Who knew? I completely forgot about the little party that happens in the primary room each Sunday morning. Plus there's a song for just about any topic that needs discussing or celebrating. Huzzah for my new calling!
I've probably read about seven books this month. And I've still got a couple more days to squeeze another in. Yay! Another reason/excuse not to be productive!
I am going to make a slipcover for my living room couch. I've been saying this since last October. Impediments: wimpy sewing machine, basic lack of a pattern or awesome sewing now-how, finding the perfect expensive fabric and fear of cutting into it, um--my obvious lack of motivation to even do the vacuuming.
The aforementioned cat, Phoebe. What the devil was I thinking!?!?!!!! Oh well.
All single men in their mid-twenties/early thirties are stupid. How could you exist out there and not be fawning over my most excellent sister, Miss Dowse? Do you not see how gorgeous she is? Her hair is indescribably wonderful. She is smart and witty, extremely fun and a hard worker. Unless your list for the perfect woman includes something like ugly, mean, hard-hearted, hates children, and has multiple piercings and tattoos, she is the girl you want. The real question is, are you good enough for her? You are all fools.
I am going to start a garden. Sigh.
I had very intense dream that I met Jim Carrey and we became fast, secret friends. We called each other all the time and laughed our heads off. Charming didn't mind. We ran away from paparazzi and ate delicious food. Weird.
Okay, now my conscience is declaring war on my blogging, so off I go to get dressed and make sure the small children haven't swallowed something toxic.
Today all three kiddos have had nasty colds--coughing and the whole bit. Poor Farm Boy couldn't keep any food down because he was coughing so hard. I felt a little bad for him, but really more sorry for me because hey, that kid can put away a ton of food in a short amount of time and getting it all over the floor is not my idea of cute decor (which is one of my general aims as a full-time housewife/mother/person-who-is-at-home-all-the-time-and-so-her-home-needs-to-be-her-awesome-fairyland-castle-blah-blah-blah). But I digress. To sum up, everyone had coughes today.
So tonight Lou Lou begged to say the family prayer, and was granted the privilege because actually praying willingly in the evening has not been going so well in the small child department as of late. I prepared myself for whatever was to come. The prayer was very to the point and focused on one topic--coughes (prounced koff-is). It went something like this:
"Please bless that my coughes will get better. And please bless that Buttercup's coughes will get all better. And please bless that Farm Boy's coughes will get better too."
And then almost as a side note:
"And we're thankful for everyone who has coughes. And thank thee for everyone who doesn't have coughes." (pronounced koff-is) Amen.
Charming and I then added a heartfelt amen to Lou Lou's pleadings. Who could reject such a prayer? She had everyone covered. And thus ended another day in Meg's fairyland-castle-house.
Buttercup has really been advancing in her school work the last few months and weeks. She's been sounding out words with a frustrated attitude since this summer, but as of late her reading skills have really taken off. She started with some take-home-reading books from school that read simple repetitions and this last week she picked up one of her easy reader books that are much more complicated and read the whole thing--sounding out the more difficult words patiently and surprising me by knowing most of the words by sight. I suppose I ought to send her teacher an apple or something because apparently she's been doing her job well...
Buttercup has taken out her new found gifts on Lou Lou, who does preschool at home with me most mornings when Buttercup is at school. Although Lou Lou can barely recognize only a handful of letters, let alone remember their sounds, Buttercup thought it necessary to school her in the finer arts of punctuation. Setting up school downstairs in their expansive room, Buttercup wrote out a few sentences as an example for Lou Lou's learning, including a period, question mark, and exclamation point--and then proudly taped it on the sliding glass doors by the kitchen. It went as follows (notice the punctuation):
I like you. Can you read? I love you!
I hope Lou Lou now knows the difference between a calm "I like you." and a feeling "I love you!". Buttercup sure does. She's been practicing her reading "with expression". At first she was shy and a bit offended when I suggested she ammend her monotone reading voice to one using "expression" like mama does when she reads. She was horrified after a few examples to show her what I meant, but a day or two later she began doing it on her own--proudly displaying her expression like it was a new outfit. (And trust me, those are proudly displayed.)
Anywho, we are incredibly proud of Buttercup's achievements. Even after all these years, Charming and I seem shocked when our children learn something new--"Look! Something we made together can read on it's own! It works!".
It stretches beyond that--lately we realized that Buttercup will be turning six in a week or two, which is incredibly shocking because we were sure five was tops after her last birthday. But now that I think about it, next year Buttercup will turn seven.... and do you realize that after that SHE'LL BE EIGHT?!?!?!!! (Yes, I myself have learned how to use question marks and exclamation points.)
I tell you it is getting quite overwhelming how quickly time passes and children grow and learn and progress. But I suppose life would turn stale if change wasn't constantly occuring, even with our sweet little ones. Isn't that what the plan of salvation is all about anyway? Learning and growing and progression. Sigh.
You probably noticed I'm back. Duh. I felt like telling a story and here is the end result. You're welcome! We'll see if this sticks... this could be fun you know? That is all.
Just a moment ago Buttercup was looking at me curiously. Then she stated, "Mama, when your hair is in a ponytale you look ugly. But when it is fixed and down it is pretty. You should fix your hair."
And that pretty much sums up the last several months. Now your curiousity is satisfied, and I will go back to trying to forget that I am pregnant. For the time being.
So at this point in my pregnancy I really don't care how much tv my kids watch to entertain themselves. I'm just grateful the tv exists at all. I'm too sick and listless to help the munchkins to do anything productive, so honestly I don't think Barney is going to damage them more than if they spent their time watching me puke.
I wonder what women did in the "olden days" when they were expecting their umpteenth child and they felt like crap. I betcha those poor women would have killed for a television to keep the children occupied. I can just see it now:
"Ma! Ma! I'm bored! Feed me!"
"Ugh, just go milk the cow again Jeb.... and pull little Hester out of the pig pen on your way...."
Yes, my life is pretty much a nightmare at the moment--but at least I have a couch, jello, and a huge jug of clean water to sip from every five minutes. And a Barney dvd that has a "continuous play" option.
As of late I have been constantly writing blog posts in my head, with the idea that sooner or later (sooner rather than later) I would actually put these thoughts on the screen. Funny enough, once I accomplish my "head blog", I feel fulfilled enough from my train of thought to forget about actually posting. Today I want to actually get my thoughts down so they can become officially known to the internet and my posterity (if they ever bother with it).
The last six months of my life have been changing ones for me. I started out with many expectations of what my immediate future would hold, and then I pretty much demanded the universe to grant my requests. An attitude like that rarely gets you far, and this is where the Lord stepped in to teach me a long awaited lesson. The thought of "being taught a lesson" is usually not very appealing, but I have found to the contrary that the lessons, the knowledge, the understanding, and the enlightenment are incredible gifts I hope I will never be without.
Have the things I expected finally been granted me? No--but in return I have been given far more than I asked. I feel as though I'm swimming in blessings and happiness that I never knew before how to touch. My burden is lighter, my heart is bigger, my capacity to love is stronger. I am learning to listen and learn and enjoy life as it is presented to me. I have motivation to do and be things I never thought I would find the will for.
Yes, I still yearn and hope and pray for the experiences and the blessings I am without, but in the meantime my life is full and complete. I am playing with my children, reading stories, going on walks, cooking meals, organizing and decorating, teaching, having deep conversations, pondering and praying, gardening, making goals, learning, listening to beautiful music, smelling (the actual) flowers, and laughing because it feels good. In short, I am happy.
So yes, I'm back. At least for today. It's been about five weeks since I blogged last and my mind is about to explode with random thoughts for the unknown public to read. Here are a few for your perusal:
I swear estrogen is dripping off the walls of this house. Buttercup cries at the drop of a hat as if she's menstruating, and both little princesses insist on changing their outfits (along with shoes, scarves, purses, jewelery, and other accessories) at least five times a day.
Why do the good people of North Dakota continually drive five miles under the speed limit? I never would have called myself a Utah driver--but when a lady in a Taurus with two babies in the back goes whizzing by all the traffic on the freeway, there is no other explanation.
I LOVE my husband. Bless his soul if I could do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing. Not only does the man still give me flutters when he walks through the door everyday, he loves me and takes care of me like I'm THE queen. I'm so thrilled with this whole physical therapist thing because shoot, Charming is smokin' in a pair of dockers and a button-up collared shirt (with the sleeves rolled up all temptingly like he's really just a rustic mountain man underneath). Oh, and he made me a fabulous chocolate cake (his own recipe mind you) for mother's day. This man knows what love is.
"Little House on the Prairie" (the tv series), has turned into a very unsatisfying soap opera for me as of late. I was bestowed with all 9 seasons for Christmas, and now what can I say? Will Laura and Almanzo ever stop bickering and just get to the romancing already? I mean I understand it's a family show and all, but good golly, if they can address issues like rape, murder, and death, I think we could deal with a little sweet-talking and a soulful kiss or two. (Yes, I know, I'm a loser. Moving on.)
I have committed a domestic sin and bought (for a few weeks in a row now) ready-made meals for my family. It was yummy.
I have gone from obsessing about household cleanliness--such as sweeping the floors three times a day and scrubbing toilets for fun--to beginning to comb through summer clothes put in storage for my girls, and dropping the whole project winding up with sundresses strewn all over the house by my precious little angels. Odd. Maybe I'm bipolar. I won't look into that though--I'll probably just end up taking another non-helpful expensive test/procedure.
Better Homes and Gardens magazine is my new bible. I've actually begun tearing out pages of my favorite things and consequently had to make a "Home Decor" file in my cabinet.
I actually spent more than half of my birthday money on "home decor". Crazy sauce. And does my house look any cuter? Not for me to judge...
Buttercup has officially banned the word "cute". Apparently anything "cute" is a little girl thing and she is now in the "big girl" category. Why was I never informed that adolescence began at four years old? They should have trained us for this in all those prenatal classes I had to attend (you know, in between the "How to latch on" and "Go to your happy place when it hurts like the devil" chats).
No really, I was serious. Please stop hitting on Livvy. (Plus is makes Jayni feel bad.)
I went running the other day. I should have had a photo shoot for a special scrapbook page because I don't think that's ever going to happen again.
Last night Charming helped me concoct an avocado hair mask (thank you BHG magazine!) at 10:30 at night. He then applied it to my entire head and actually seemed to be enjoying himself. I just wanted some chips for dipping with.
I AM going to color my hair. If I keep chanting this maybe it will happen. Don't worry, I will still be a formerblonde.
It's been weeks since I've read an entire book. Something must be wrong. Or maybe I just need to get through Little House.
How do you respond when your two-year-old is continually yelling at everyone around her "Don't SAY that!" I just end up saying "Don't SAY that!" right back at her and then we're going in circles. I hate being outwitted by a small child.
Did I mention that Charming is growing his hair out just for me? This is how I know the guy loves me--it's a weird Edward fetish. Don't mock me, just feel privileged that I let you in on the strange inner workings of my mind.
Today I was wishing I had learned to play the violin. Odd. I can't even play the piano competently.
I am really looking forward to my Jane Austen tour of England when I'm.... well when I'm older and have money. Apparently that is important when you want to sleep in a castle in the British countryside.
Hopefully you'll be hearing from me again soon. That is all.
Yesterday was quite the adventure for me. It was all mixed up with a lot of crazy, hilarious, and I'm-gonna-cry-if-one-more-thing-happens-to-me type stuff.
It all began in the wee hours when my body remembered how much it hates me. I spent the rest of the night moaning in the fetal position and cursing woman's curse (is that right? can you curse a curse?). The inevitable leg-aches followed accompanied by increased moaning and cursing. Normally at this point I would go for some serious Advil, but an upcoming surgery (yes, I said surgery--gives me chills, but probably not that big a deal) has prohibited me from taking all kinds of relieving medications.
Anywho, Charming eventually had to leave for some thing or other where he learns how to be a physical therapist bla-bla-bla, and the man forgot to say goodbye to me, which deprived me of my moment to remind him to drive safely. Because (as all you married women know) husbands are known to forget to drive safe unless their wives beg them to every morning. You know--to help them to think of their family while they're taking those sharp turns on icy corners and such. So in the mean time there I was huddled in bed in pain and telling myself not to have a panic attack while I imagined all kinds of horrific roadside scenes, all involving Charming (who also forgot to take the cell phone, so I could see him stranded and trying to walk for help in the middle of the North Dakota wasteland and falling into a snow drift in exhaustion and then slowly freezing to death--all because I didn't remind him to be safe).
Inevitably the small children woke up, and finding me still in bed (no, I was not lazy, just in pain), they saw their freedom for what it was and the house became a free-for-all. Lou Lou climbed all over me and I hardly even noticed, I was too busy hugging the heating pad. Finally the girls started saying things like "Mama, I'm hungry." or "Thirsty Mama!" No mother in the world can resist this kind of supplication for long, so I was soon up and nourishing the children. As I put Lou Lou into her seat, I noticed that she had scribbled with a pen all over her cute, although non-chubby thighs. I pointed it out to her and she nodded enthusiastically, while Buttercup noted out loud that Lou Lou's body was no longer a temple because she had scribbled on it. (I love those little moments that prove FHE is sinking in.) I sighed and trudged off to do the dishes, when I looked down, and noticed that Lou Lou had not only defiled her own temple, she had pretty much done a spray-paint job on mine. She had colored all up and down my arm and I hadn't even noticed.
I was still trying not to panic about the whole Charming-on-the-side-of-the-road-thing, when the phone rang and it was Charming himself saying to keep an eye on the news since the Missouri River was flooding and people all over the city were sandbagging and evacuating. Although relieved to find that Charming had survived his jaunt down the road, this turn of events was not good for my psyche. I figured we were fine, but kept checking the tv periodically. I thought if we had to evacuate in a hurry, what would I do? What would I save? What should I do at this very moment? The answer was simple: do the dishes. There was no way I was going to leave my house dirty--I just couldn't handle the thought.
As the morning progressed I began receiving worried phone calls from friends asking if I was all right. Finally someone called to say that reports were that we were to leave the area and go to higher ground. That was enough for me. Pretty much this was the sound I heard in my head for the next several minutes:
BWAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
I was a cross of an insane, panicky woman thinking of the how-to-survive book I read last month and Mrs. Beaver from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, wondering if I ought to bring the jam, or in my case--the bread, because heck, I made it, and I didn't want it to rot! Outwardly I was fine--just running up and down the stairs, moving things I really didn't want to get wet and throwing stuff in suitcases. While doing all this I was on the phone trying to get a hold of Charming, who was in a hospital basement somewhere blissfully helping some poor soul with their physical therapy needs. The man didn't have a cell phone so I just called the hospital and made them page him while I continued running around.
The girls in the mean time were excited to leave and go play somewhere else. Soon enough Charming made it home (much more calm than me--of course), and we high-tailed it to a friend's house safely located "on higher ground". We stayed there for a peaceful afternoon watching barbie movies and relaxing until we received word that all was probably well. So we went on home again, still on the alert that we should "be ready to evacuate at a moment's notice". So yeah, pretty much we were fine but I was still a tad tense.
Life must have been back to normal because I was already worrying about what to make for dinner. But then I decided on chocolate chip cookies; so yeah, it wasn't normal yet. This decision created much celebration in the children department and for once Buttercup ate all her dinner. I asked her if she wanted some spaghetti for a treat as a reward, and she became very upset. Children are so ungrateful these days...
The evening wound down with the girlies going to bed and Charming and I cuddling on the couch watching American Idol and just enjoying being together. We went to bed at 10:30--super early for us. As I slipped in between the sheets and snuggled into my pillow, my sigh of content turned into a sneer.
Lou Lou had also scribbled on my pillow. My beautiful ivory 500-thread-count pillow case.
Oh well, Charming laughed and we both went to sleep. Not so bad of a day. I survived it and I got cookies.
So this morning at breakfast, Buttercup looked deep in thought. I gave her a smile to encourage her to speak. She sighed, looked at me with furrowed brows, and said:
"Mama, can you tell me all about... the devil?"
(Insert creepy panic music here).
Yes, my precious little princess was spending her solitude pondering the workings of Satan. I shuddered and glanced around the room nervously, then asked her what she meant. She continued, "Why does he want to make little girls and boys be naughty?"
Something akin to a Sunday School lesson followed, ending with the two of us singing "I Lived in Heaven". I was relieved to note that Buttercup seemed to be leaning toward Jesus's team.
Just close your eyes and listen to the distinct sound......
of a young piglet squealing and grunting relentlessly.
This is the sound I have been dealing with the last three or four days. Lou Lou has officially abandoned all reason, and also apparently her vocabulary, for piglet-like squeals to communicate all her emotions, desires, and needs.
So I'm super excited for reasons that all parents, and even non-parents, can completely understand! Drumroll please.....
BUTTERCUP CAN NOW OFFICIALLY WIPE HER OWN BOTTOM!
What can I say? I just got tired of doing it. I looked at her yesterday and thought, "You know what? The kid's almost 4 years old. Let her clean up her own dirty work."
At first the little princess was chagrined. She's used to sitting on her throne and doing her duty without reaping the consequences. Well I let her know that from now on, she can take care of her own kingdom! She whined a little more and sat on her throne a bit longer, but finally realized her "kingdom" needed to be wiped before she could continue with her princessing.
All is well. All is well.
Now all I have to do is convince Lou Lou that sitting on the potty is way better than squatting in a corner...
EDIT: Just to make it clear, Buttercup has been potty trained since she was 2 1/2 years old. She just hasn't liked to wipe her bum when necessary...
So I haven't yet reached that place in my life where I'm so organized and cutsie that I send out a yearly Christmas card--not even one with just the family picture and a "Happy Holidays!" tacked on. I do enjoy the cards and letters my mother gets from old friends and extended family, often with creative updates on each family member. So today I started thinking about what my family Christmas card might say as of this very morning. And so I begin my haphazard off-the-top-of-my-head Broughton family update.
Charming: Very neat and tidy. He not only can't study without his "office" being clean, but he threatens a coronary every time he sees that the neighbor kids have walked through "our nice fresh snow" and left tracks right through the center of the yard! An amazing fix-it-guy, he took apart our entire electric wheat grinder, carefully dusted the caked on flour from it's bowels, fixed whatever had stopped it from turning on, and put it all back together like it was new--all within about a 20 minute period. Does the dishes every night. Continually promises to read Twilight but won't give a deadline. Brings Megs roses just because he loves her.
Megs: Needs something to read. Just finished The Hunger Games at the recommendation of Stephenie Meyer and is still seriously confused by her love/hate relationship with it. Why did the author have to drop that bomb in the last chapter? Why did nobody mention that it was the first book in a trilogy, the next book of which will not be out for a year? Started a local book club just to find more books to read--their still aren't enough. Lives in complete terror of, and still fluttering with excitement thinking of the moment when she discovers she's pregnant.
Buttercup: Drama, drama, drama. Is three too soon for a girl to get her period? Because Buttercup is very PMSy. Weeps in gushes like her heart will break when told that she cannot watch The Berenstein Bear's Christmas Tree for a fourth time this morning. Sobs if her little sister looks at her like she might be thinking mean thoughts. Constantly planning her wedding to "Cornelius" from Thumbelina, from her dress all the way down to what will be served at the reception (Princess gummy snacks anyone?). Has recently been scarred for life when her mother told her she could no longer ask "But WHY?" every thirty seconds about every detail on our blessed green earth.
Lou Lou: Has built a summer home in her time-out corner. Might as well be comfortable when you spend half your life there... Completely knocked over the sacred Broughton family Christmas tree this morning, squishing it's fake branches into odd shapes and leaving half the ornaments on the floor. Thinks she's a "kitty-cat" and meows when being rescued from her crib after naptime. Can speak very clearly, but often uses a high-pitched "eeeeeeeeee" to ask for pretzels and the like. Prefers a dolphin to a teddybear at bedtime.
This was just a glimpse--not an overview of our lives and personalities. I love them all so much. And apparently, despite it all, they love me too!
I was reading a blog the other day about breastfeeding. The blogger simply stated that she absolutely did not like breastfeeding, but was still committed to it as long as it was working out with her and her child. I started to read through the comments section and believe me when I say that if I would have read every comment it would have taken me and hour and a half. Good gracious people can get opinionated fast! These comments were no-so-much geared towards "well bless you for nursing your children, even though it's not fun"--but more along the lines of "WHAT?!? You don't ENJOY sacrificing your body for the good of your child? WHAT KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU!" and "SHAME ON THE LAST PERSON WHO POSTED because I disagree with not only everything they said but also everything they think and feel and do and I think they're ugly even though this is the internet and I can't see their picture." The idea of the original post soon was completely lost in the murky waters of breastfeeding vs. formula wars. You'd think that the author of the blog had simply said "Breastfeeding! GO!" and sent the commenters loose.
I have seen more and more of this on facebook and sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I just simply cancelled my account. Lately the craziness has stemmed from posts (and sometimes just status updates) that you'd think had shouted "Prop 8! GO!" And then everybody jumps down everyone else's throats. The same arguments are spouted again and again, and there's always 2 or 3 people that dominate the conversation that have to put down every last word someone opposing them has said. I can't stand the fight, especially when I've heard all the arguments a thousand times. I admit I sometimes give in and state my opinion or my stance--but that's about as far as I like to go. I hate confrontation, and I really do believe that everyone should be treated with respect. What IS it about the internet that turns usually polite people into rude, in-your-face monsters? It must be the seeming anonymity, and the feeling that there is enough distance between you and a virtual person who perhaps doesn't seem real.
Anywho, those are my thoughts for today. And now I would like to publicly state that I have breastfed both of my children. It was painful at first, but I was glad I did it in the end--despite the floppiness that has replaced the perkiness I used to enjoy. Sometimes nursing was fun, and I loved the bonding. Sometimes it was a nightmare because it was 2:30 am and I really needed to go to the potty but I was NURSING so obviously I couldn't. (But that part was also fun because I caught up on a ton of my reading in the wee hours.) And then sometimes it was just aggravating because Buttercup would run away and then come back for more. When that happens you know it's time to stop nursing (at least for me). And so I did. And I didn't feel guilty about giving my child a bottle of formula for a couple of months. But I did feel proud of myself for giving my children the extra nutrition that will be so beneficial to them throughout their lives.
What I'd really like to discuss is nursing in public--but not at length. Okay maybe I'll wait for my next post. And PLEASE, tell me your opinions. I'm sure all five of my readers are very polite and well-articulated folks. I will turn on the comments without fear.
So continuing on with this whole "to have or not to have" question--I went to the store today (okay so it was Monday and I've been too lazy to blog since then) and had some interesting thoughts. Wal-Mart does not seem to have a very good system for the three-child family. Their kid-friendly carts are not so friendly, they merely seat children (as opposed to the carts with the police car in the front with--count--two buckles). And so I put the little one in the front and the not-so-little-one into the actual cart. She really didn't seem to mind. But seriously--what would I do if I had a third? I couldn't go shopping anymore. There's no way I'm going to ask my three-year-old to just walk and hang on to the cart. I remember doing that as a child and I can assure you it didn't work very well.
Anywho, there is a a story to go with all this wondering and weighing. To keep it short--the older child opened a package of crayons and ripped the paper off the yellow one. The smaller child grabbed a package of hotdogs and bit right through the plastic and then cried when I took it away. And when I thought all was well and we were finally out in the parking lot, the box of 24 tomato sauce cans fell off the bottom of the cart and went rolling all over the pavement in every direction. Never fear--a very nice creepy looking guy with a goatee and a Wal-Mart apron came to my rescue and put it all in my car for me.
My point? Despite what you may think, it is not that it was all too overwhelming and hence a third child is not for me. In fact, when I got in the car and drove away, I was anything but flustered; quite the opposite--I was calm and happy and asking my cute kids what they wanted for lunch when we got home. These seemingly annoying and awful scenes didn't fluster me a bit (well, maybe just a bit at the exact moment I realized they were happening). I don't even think my stress trigger kicked in before I was already doing what was necessary to handle each situation.
Now I'm not over-analyzing, but I think this is a good sign for a potential mother of three (or seven--depending on how cruel my body is to me, and if Jaction will change her mind about the whole "my womb is your womb" thing.) I'll keep you posted. Or maybe not--it's really none of your business, now that I think about it. Just kidding--not in the sense that it's none of your business, but in the reality being that I've posted all my musings on the world wide web for your perusal (much to my husband's chagrin). Okay, I'll stop now.
