Laundry, etc.

I had some deep thoughts today. I've been analyzing myself. Am I swell, or not so swell? What are my credentials? When I hear other mothers talk about household duties, or table settings, or great meals, or preparing family lessons a month ahead of time, I just think "that's not me". It's my auto-copout.

I do laundry. I knock it out, throw it in their drawers, call it good. I hang up our shirts within a day or two of washing. I cook, sort of. I bake on a whim. I rarely plan. Do I really try? Do I give it everything? Do I put my full effort into these responsibilities that are mine and only mine? Let's face it, no one else on this earth will do them for me. It's up to me. For the next twenty or so years.

I think I've been afraid for a long time of being just a "wife and mother". I try to add all these other things to my life, things that make me feel like I'm still dabbling in the outside world. Little side-jobs that distract me from the back-breaking task it sometimes is to take care of a home and family. Family mottos are great, so are chore charts and budgeting wisely and planning weekly meals. But I've ignored my need for them because they feel so mundane and unrewarding. "Let the children be, let me conjure up something hot and edible at 6p.m., no sooner. Let other mothers sweat and plan and be occupied with the every day."

I feel like I just do daily damage control. Oh, Grace got mad at Ruby again, let's deal with it the quickest and quietest way possible so I can go on with whatever I'm doing... But maybe I should plan ahead? When Grace does this, I will do this. Be more consistent. I know, I know, I sound like an idiot. Like, really, how basic can one get? But I've created these children. I've created this world for myself on my own accord and I need to be more present.

I need to change. I am not happy with how I'm doing as a housewife (who else hates that word?) compared to my potential. I am talking specifically about the duties of a home. Running a household. Mothering (with patience) is hard, too, but in order to feel good I think I need to organize my home. Not just physically organize, but in every aspect. Plan ahead, think ahead, not shiver at the concept of planning meals a week or even a month ahead of time. I need to take control. I'm not talking perfection here, just a constant vigil on what I could be doing better.

[And the feminist in me shakes her fist...]

This is what I'm doing right now. Taking care of my kids and my home. This is what I'm responsible for. Why not be better at it, lower my eyes and brace myself? Besides, my own mother did more than give me the tools! Why not stretch myself to actually put on that heavy weight and run the place? It's something that I've put off long enough. If it's bound to take up my time, I better be darn good at it.

Babe.

Lills,

You are so wild. And loud. And demanding. And crazy. And funny. And loud. And you drive your sisters insane. But they adore you.

How have you weaved your way into our hearts? You take so much of my time and my brain power. Take it and do what with it? I have no idea. But there are so many moments in between that are so endearing. That I look at you and recognize your fight and want to boost you up to get what you want. It's weird... I'm not sure who's team I'm on. Mine or yours. Or yours or the universe's. Or yours and everyone else's. But you fight, really hard.

And you're beautiful. So I think I'll keep you.

Sunday Photo Attempt.

Motherhood's a bit like driving across the Golden Gate Bridge in a thick fog. Where am I? What am I about to run into? It's a little scary, a little exciting at the same time. I pray that I don't get hit head on by a semi truck or flip over the guard rail into the bay.

But in the fog, somewhere, are these little faces. A weekend of crying, screaming and wailing. A weekend of tickling, laughing and nuzzling.

My eyelids are burning from lack of sleep. I texted Jake today, "are you so tired?!" We stay up late each night talking. We don't have a tv in our room which lends to deep conversation starting at around midnight, ending somewhere after 1 a.m. 95% of our conversation revolves around our girls. The unknown, the worries, the stress, the adoration.

It's nice to know Jake's the only other one on this earth that has the exact same kind of love for my children as I do. It's comforting.

We've got a pretty normal week ahead of us. Including the painstaking task of gestating #4. She's getting heavy and big and I'm only 31 weeks. Last night, after a little family birthday party for our girls I found myself laying on my bed surrounded by my two sisters and two sister-in-laws. They were there to feel my tummy. To feel the sweeping motions of a new person arriving to our family in May. They felt her kicks and stretches and were bright with excitement. This baby will be so loved.

5

Oooooooh Ruby. It's your special day. The day above all others. And you're turning 5. Daddy and I started a tradition awhile back where we decorate your room with streamers after you fall asleep the eve of your birthday. We call it "streamerland". And you know how Dad is, he doesn't just sort of decorate, he REALLY decorates. There are streamers everywhere, you have to part them all the way from your bed to the door in order to get out. Like icicles hanging from the ceiling. I reminded you that this would be happening tonight sometime after you went to sleep. Of course, you can't sleep anyway. You're still awake kicking the wall, I can hear you.

What a year it's been! A year of learning a bit of reading and writing, a year when your obsession with drawing has surfaced and held your dad and I in amazement. You have us in your clutches. I am convinced there isn't a soul on earth, having gotten to know you, wouldn't fall down at your feet and want more of Ruby. More of your heart, more of your mind, more of who you are. You're an amazing feat of humanity.

Happy Birthday, little one. Onto Kindergarten and who knows what else. Please just know that every inch of you is loved so fiercely, there's no more room in this little house to contain it.

xoxo

Mom and Dad.

32

Jake,

Sometimes we talk about how much space there is between us compared to our newlywed days. How the girls have wedged their bodies and their hearts in between us, between our conversation and coherent thoughts, inside our rational ideas. There's no escaping them, and we've learned how to somewhat cling to the us, the two of us. But really, what would we be without our girls?

I remember the day you told me you wanted to marry me.

I remember the day we found out we were pregnant with Grace, the look on your face, me in my cut offs that day, both of us so young.

I remember the day she was born. How we both cried. How a bright heaviness was in the room, pulling us together, making our dreams come true, creating in just moments a bond we could never break. How you stayed up all night with her, holding and rocking. Her birth taught us how valuable we are to our own family, to our own God.

I remember moving with you. So many places. Getting the girls settled in their beds. Always that first night in our new place, staying up so late laughing, unpacking, arguing about little things, laughing later, living day after day in our new life.

I remember flying on airplanes with you. First to our honeymoon, alone, on our own little cloud, across the country. Then to Arizona, California, Florida, each place adding experience. Each child adding chaos and entertainment.

There are so many memories only you and I can recount. That's the special part.

Tonight I rocked Lillie in her room. It was a no-go. I gave her a pack of m&m's at Home Depot (I know, you told me not to!) and there was no way she was snoozing anytime soon. So I just rocked her for awhile. I heard your voice float down the hallway. So deep and familiar. So strong. How long in my life I wished for a big strong man in my house to have that voice, that deep one, that filled the air. Calming my nerves, making me feel loved.

I heard a higher version, an inflection saved for our daughters. One of them was out of her bed and on your lap at the computer. She talked with you and without hearing the words you said, I could tell you were caring about her, caressing her face, telling her she was loved and beautiful and worth so much.

This is precisely why I love you. If I could pinpoint it, it would be the love you have for me and our children. It wrenches my heart. It melts away your imperfections. It makes me love you madly, makes my heart beat strong, gives me chills.

I love you, of course, told you a million times. And if I had a bunch of money, I'd buy you a motorbike and a couple of timeshares.

Happy Birthday.

Sunday Photo

I try to take a photo of all my girls together each Sunday. Maybe I can collect them someday. And it helps force me to get them together in a photo at least once a week, far more than I ever did before. I just can't believe how quickly I will add one more to this group. Four? Am I equipped to handle those kind of numbers?

This weekend, Lill's language really exploded. It's shocking when your baby has lived on this earth for 20 months. All that time listening and learning, holding back, and on a random Saturday in her 20th month, something clicks inside her brain and she starts saying words on her own. Instead of repeating everything.

I gave her socks to put in her room and she said, "Ooh-Day!". And I almost collapsed. My squeals were heard around the block. We were driving and she saw an airplane in the sky. She pointed out the window and very clearly stated "Eh-Bane!" Jake almost ran off the road. We're so proud of her. So proud of the fact that this weekend was big for her. And she doesn't even know it. She went from talk-through-the-binkie-English to really taking control of her vocabulary. Somehow I think she was happier inside. Accomplished. Proud even of herself. What a little nugget.

All is good. We are lucky. Another week awaits us. There will be tantrums, both adult and child. Jake's birthday is on Tuesday, Ruby's on Thursday, and Grace's next Saturday. This equals excitement and joy for everyone but the mom. This equals more stress for me. That will hopefully equal excitement and joy when it's happening (or when it's over).

But I'm ready, bring it on.

New little haircuts

And that rim of chapped skin around Grace's lips? Exactly what I had when I was little.

Working from home.

My daughters are in love with their Dad. I mean, seriously. When he's home, it's heaven for them. Our littlest one even takes calls for him in the morning, how nice of her... He only works from home in the wee morning hours and then he heads to his office.

Some tidbits:

-Lillie is obsessed with food. She eats all the time. You cannot sit on the couch for longer than five minutes without her whining in despair at the foot of the pantry door. She loves eating. Jake and I think it's "hilarious". Sometimes.

-I am making 2009 into a blog book. It's so great to see my book take shape. Four years of blogging and I finally made a book. I'm using blurb.com. It's nice to have pictures printed along with text. Stories throughout our year, pictures flashing by so quickly that I can't believe a year is gone, just like that. I'm so glad I live in this age where I can blog. Would I ever print 500-something pictures, scrapbook them, and journal little bits of nonsense under each one by hand as the days go by? NO WAY. But I can print all of it out in a book. I kind of can't get over it.

-I'm in the market for a baby carrier. I have a bjorn but I want something more swaddly and closer to my body. I think I'll wear this baby a lot... I want a comfy way to strap her to me. And I usually swaddle my babies for months so I would like one that's snug and it can hold in the baby's arms and legs pretty good, but one that I can also use when she's older. If you have one that you LOVE, let me know which one and why you love it.

For my booshy girl.

Ruby,

Our relationship has a soundtrack. Beautiful music, some fun, some slow, some funky. Your music comes from your chest, pouring out of you, and wraps around me like a cocoon.

Did you choose me? Or did I choose you? Were you nervous to come here? Did you know how we would adore you?

Last night you and I went to the store together. You had a particularly emotional day and I wanted to get you alone. You're so dimensional. Like a planetarium. I could just stare at you and listen and wonder for hours.

You're a million shining stars.

You wanted to sing Christmas songs. But not the ones that most people know. These were the made-up kind. Where you sing in some convoluted melody and mixed in are words not of our language. They're formed somewhere in the back of your brain, only allowed to display themselves when you don't think many are listening. I laugh and you wonder what's so funny.

Today at a routine check-up, the pediatrician asked me lots of questions about you. I wish you could have seen yourself through my eyes. Some things are just so clear. The way he said you were, "75th percentile for height and weight and you look plenty healthy to him...". I measured you with my eyes, weighed you with my soul and your limitless potential swirled its way around my head. I felt heavier and lighter at the same time. How can I raise you? How can I not?

One moment I feel I don't deserve to be in the presence of someone so intricate. And the next, I want to clutch you so close to me that no living soul will realize how outstanding you are. If they did, they'd want your constant companionship, and I wouldn't give that up for anybody.

There are lots of reasons why I love you. The fact that you draw for hours and all your people have fingers and eyelashes and bows and headbands. The fact that you bite your nails, get canker sores, hate jelly, love pickles and cucumbers and broccoli, and how you tell me that you're pretty. The fact that you are in love with your daddy and draw pictures of him bringing you flowers. I love your skinny fingers and lips. I love how you give your life to Grace.

There are lots of reasons. But most of all, it's your mammoth-sized heart.

Friends

My best friend growing up, Laurel, visited me this weekend from Idaho. She came down with her two kids and stayed the whole weekend. I was in heaven. Mostly at night because the kids went to bed and we could binge eat and talk for hours and hours.

I am so lucky to have a friend like Laurel. When you know someone that long, there are no pretenses. There are no awkward silences. We know everything about each other. And it takes only a day or two to get caught up on the time we've recently spent apart while we lived on the east coast. Women need women. To open their hearts to, to share the little and the big, to commiserate, understand and empathize. I love it. She drove off an hour ago and I miss her already.

Laurel,
You're rad.
Thank you for coming.
Let's take better pictures together when my double-chin-from-chocolate goes away.