Letting go

There is a dried yellow rose on my dashboard. It is from my grandmother's casket. On the drive home, it perfumed my car, while the sun dried it to perfection. I need to get a box to keep it in, because it's time to put it away.

Time to let go.

I did not have the best relationship with my grandmother. She could say things, unthinking or not, that cut to the bone. And did, often. At least to me, and to my mother. I've heard anecdotal evidence that we were not the only victims of her sharp tongue. On multiple occasions in his life, I heard my grandfather tell her to shut up -- necessarily so.

Yet so many people have good memories of her. She was kind to them. Generous with her time and her money. And, honestly, she was kind to me. She never doted on me the way my kids' grandparents dote on them, no. But she never missed my birthday, or Christmas. Her efforts to give me gifts as a child were often misguided, but she did try. She also gave my children generous gifts. One of her last acts was to send my mother a birthday card.

I want to hang on to the good things she did. Holding a grudge against her for the things she said to me makes my stomach hurt. I do not want my last memories of her to be bad ones. So I have deleted the last email she sent. Soon, I will put away the last card she sent, and this beautiful flower that does nothing but remind me of seeing her body in that coffin.

I did not respond to either the email or the card. For that, I am sorry. She was so lonely. But I could not for the life of me come up with a nice way to respond to the harsh messages they contained. So I put it off. Too long.

I did not want to respond in kind. Because I suspect we were more alike than she ever dreamed. I see a resemblance in her personality, my father's, and mine. A tendency to say things that aren't intended to be hurtful, but sometimes come out that way. A blunt, duty-oriented approach to life. A preoccupation with things being fair that leads to incessant comparison (I have since abandoned the concept of fair, but I used to share this obsession, so I get it). We may not have been peas in a pod, but we were certainly cut from the same bolt of cloth.

I know that my words and actions are sometimes misconstrued to be hurtful when I intended nothing of the sort. I know my father loves me and wants what is best for me, even if that doesn't always come across in his words and actions. Is it so far-fetched that my grandmother may have felt the same?

It's what I choose to believe, anyway. I like us both better this way.

So I am letting go. Of the hurt. Of the resentment. Of the guilt. Of the might-have-beens. Of her.

Goodbye, Gran. I love you. Rest in peace.

Rebuilding my supply

My milk supply really took a hit while we were in IL. My normal galactagogue schedule looks like this:

• 5ish cups of Mother's Milk tea throughout the day
• Morning oatmeal (2 servings) with 1 T of flax seed meal and 1 T of nutritional yeast
• Cheerios or oat bread for lunch
• Almonds for snacks
• 5 fenugreek capsules at breakfast, lunch, and bedtime
• 2 T brewer's yeast if needed

Our local store was out of fenugreek before we left, so while I was gone, my routine dwindled to

• 3ish cups of Mother's Milk tea throughout the day
• Morning oatmeal (1-1.5 servings) with sliced almonds on top

I came home making dribbles where I used to make spurts. I have never had an oversupply, but I can (with help) make enough to fill Kai's belly. After a few nights of nonstop nursing, though, I realized I needed to step up my game. So brewer's yeast is back on the menu for a while.

Man, I hate this stuff. Tastes godawful, and gives me a hangover to boot. (All of the headache, queasiness, and gas of drinking beer, without the buzz! What's not to love?) I see now why women put it in sugary cookies. But I am slowly (slowly) losing weight, and don't want to mess that up by adding insanely caloric cookies to my daily ritual.

So I will deal. And hope that my boobs get back to normal soon.

Do all the things!

Though my projects this month haven't necessarily been creative, and I have had damn good reasons for not accomplishing all I set out to do, I still feel like this right now:

I haven't been able to keep up with my webcomics, but I still heart Toothpaste for Dinner.

That green bit? That's this week. I have probably doomed us to fail with my overplanning, in fact. But sometimes, things go right. So here is the agenda:

• Tuesday: Hair cuts (though no color...I will just have to be sparkly rooted in our family pics) for Anya and I, also a quick shopping trip 
• Wednesday: Corn maze if it's not too muddy; pumpkin carving if it is
• Thursday: Flu vacs for the kids; family pics
• Friday: Corn maze if Wednesday was too muddy and the kids don't feel yucky; pumpkin carving otherwise
• Saturday: Cleaning; shopping for Poppy's birthday present; trick or treat; Halloween festival

Also, somewhere in there I will put in a few hours of editing for one of my clients. In addition, I will be starting my day job an hour early and taking short lunches to make up time for Monday's visit with Kai (I thought he might have an ear infection, but was just being paranoid :) and Thursday's shots.

So yoga might not be happening this week, either. I will have to work on that in November.

And the meditation. I only managed to squeeze in a couple of sessions all month.

I have kept the house relatively clean, though. And kept up with the blogging. I also may very well meet my (modest) step goal. Not all of the plates hit the floor. Just...most of them.

So this week will be crazy. And for what I do not accomplish, there is always next month.

Another cop-out post

Fair warning: This week may be full of 'em. And not just because I am in deep emotional denial about the past week.

So you don't leave empty handed, here's a cute pic of Kai flirting with his reflection at the doctor's office today.

They had quite the conversation.

Also, a fun tip: You can calm a restless baby, and keep a napping one asleep, with the smell of Mom. I am currently dashing this off while he naps clutching a sock damped with mama milk.

The things you do as a parent.

I meant to write a blog post this weekend

But life happened. I did bake some mini pumpkin pies, though.

I think whole pies would be less trouble, though these sure are cute.

Kai's first road trip

(I have things to say about my grandmother, but I am not ready to deal with them yet. Later.)

Something that kind of got lost in the shuffle was that this was Kai's first road trip. And I think he dealt with it beautifully. Certainly better than Anya on her first trip.

He was quite the hugabug, as you can see.

He slept the whole way up, only waking when we stopped. His appetite was amazing; I'd brought pouch foods for convenience, though he'd never had them and isn't that big of a solids eater, because he tends to get jealous if we're eating and he's not. Kiddo chowed down; he went through almost everything I brought! Which is good, because without my usual galactagogue ritual, I was a little low on milk.

Where's my plate?

He also dealt well with being fawned over and held by strangers. He can be a little shy, but so long as I stayed close, he went to whoever wanted to hold him. Nor did he cry during the funeral; he started babbling just as the preacher started talking, but that was just to let me know he wanted to go upstairs to nurse and nap.

It was kind of a common theme.

After the funeral, we took the kids to the park; it was a beautiful fall day. Anya got to run some of her wiggles off, Mom caught up with an old friend, and I got to introduce Kai to one of my favorite places to play as a kid.

He's not sure about the merry-go-round.

I thought the hotel room would be an issue, with its lack of babyproofing, Netflix, and a bathtub, but he seemed to enjoy the stay.

He really enjoyed bathing in the sink!

He didn't think much of the couch, apparently; he spit up on that thing three times in the first half-hour we were there. Luckily, it doesn't appear to have caused lasting damage.

Dear Hampton Inn: There is something about your couch that makes my son puke. My apologies. It looks like a perfectly nice couch to me.

— Nicole (@nmb74) October 20, 2015

The only part of the trip that was unpleasant for him, in fact, was the drive home; he was having teething pains and wanted to be held, which of course was not possible. But even then, the fussing was not unbearable; he would cry softly for a bit, then nod off until the next stop.

Obviously he enjoyed the stops themselves.

 R remarked when we got home that it had been a really good trip. And it was. The circumstances were not ideal, but we had a nice visit, great weather, good food, and a lot of fun. Not bad at all for Kai's first trip. I hope the rest of them go this well!

Once again, I overestimated myself

Or perhaps I simply underestimated how tiring having kids is. I'd meant to write a blog entry when we got back from Illinois last night. Instead, I showered, settled into bed to nurse Kai and watch Reading Rainbow with Anya, and passed out cold. Nor did I manage to get up early this morning; I got up just in time to make a cuppa and start work.

Mea culpa. I'll do better next week.

NaNoWriYo

I'm writing a new novel. (Yes, I realize I have yet to finish the first two.) It's a slow novel. Right now I only have two paragraphs. And I have no idea what it's going to be about, who the characters are, if there will be a plot...none of that is decided, or even much thought about. But I have decided to write a paragraph a day until I figure it out. And then keep going until it's finished. Whenever that is.

I sense that it's going to be a long story, though, so I call it a novel.

Actually, right now I'm calling it "buncha words," because I am a master of pithy titles.

There is no way, given my current schedule, that I can participate in NaNoWriMo. In retrospect, I really wish I'd done it before I had kids; I had crazy free time then. But I didn't, and now I can't. Perhaps when the littles are more self-sufficient, I will attempt it. But this is not the year to try to write a novel in a month.

A novel in a year, however, is doable. That's like 140 words per day. Granted, my paragraphs are a bit short starting out, but I tend to ramble more the longer I write. I'll catch up.

So I have declared NaNoWriYo. (Should be NaNoWriYe, but Yo flows better.) I don't have a ton of time to write (or pee, eat, breathe), but surely I can squeeze in 140 words a day. And who knows? I might even finish a novel this way.

The only thing that stays the same

As I type this, my grandmother is dying. My last living grandparent. I don't know how to feel about that, about her. We are not close. Probably never could have been. I am sad for so many reasons that don't really involve her. Which feels, let's be honest, really shitty. I try not to be shitty, but I also try not to lie.

I do feel bad for my dad, though. That's his mom. He lost his stepdad not quite a year ago, right before his birthday. Before that, the last person he lost was his father, back when he was about Anya's age. That's a long, long time to go between losses. I can't imagine what he must be feeling right now.

I haven't gone so long. I've gotten better about dealing with pain, but pain comes in all sorts of varieties, and they all must be dealt with. Mine doesn't feel as important as his, so I will set mine aside for now and do what I need to do for him. I can deal with me later.

In recent months, my grandparents' home was demolished. I can't even imagine how that must feel for Dad. I know it guts me, and I never lived there. But it's been a part of my life since I've had a life to be a part of. It was a touchstone, a constant, in a life that hasn't offered much in the way of either. And it's gone now. I was dreading seeing it already, but now I know that I will most likely see it in the context of my grandmother's funeral, and it's almost more than I can bear to think about. In the space of a year, they and all that they worked for in this life are just...gone.

Loss is a part of life. I know the drill by now. But I am sad. And I wanted to take a moment to just feel that sadness before I go on with my day. I know from past experience that I won't get much opportunity for quiet reflection later on, and if I don't feel these things in the moment, they will blindside me later, when I am least expecting it.

Edit: I just learned that she passed this morning. I still don't know how to feel. But I don't have much time to worry about that right now, because I need to prepare for a road trip. 

Sometimes, things just go right

Anya's ENT visit went stunningly well. First of all, she handled the whole visit brilliantly. For all her meltdowns before we left the house, she was calm and composed, and only fidgeted a little when they stuck a cotton swab up her nose to poke at things -- and honestly, wouldn't you? She cried a bit when the nurse went to arrange for photos of the inside of her nose, yes. But during her last visit to this office, the nurse left the room and came back with a gigantic pair of tweezers, which she used to pull a blackened battery out of Anya's nose. I wanted to cry myself. Otherwise, she was the picture of bravery.

The nurse was awesome. Great with both kids, and handled everything with grace and humor. Made what I'd expected to be a stressful visit almost...fun.

Then there was the diagnosis, or lack thereof. No cystic fibrosis test needed, because Anya has other nose issues. Namely, a hole in her septum. (That sound you hear is my stomach churning.) Most likely from the aforementioned battery. So they took a bunch of photos of her nasal passages and told us to treat her nose with good ol' Neosporin for a month, then come back. The hope is that the tissues will heal on their own.

I'm wondering if this won't also solve some of her sinus problems. Perhaps her issue is not so much allergy as structural malformation. I certainly wasn't looking forward to allergy testing, that's for sure. Dare I hope?

The ointment they gave us during the Battery Incident burned, Anya said. But she likes Neosporin. So I am hoping that a) she continues to like it when I have to put it up her nose twice a day, and b) it does what they want it to do.

For being such an amazingly brave girl, I treated Anya to Sonic. Didn't even make her finish her sandwich before she got an Oreo Blast, either. While we were there, a sweet man paid for our lunch. I've never had that happen before; it was really touching. We ate at the picnic tables and enjoyed the gorgeous weather. Anya chased birds. Kai napped until dessert, then happily sampled bites of my ice cream. 

This day could have gone very differently. But it didn't. I love it when that happens.

Speaking of the passage of time

So I just realized two things:

• I will need reading glasses, sooner rather than later. Not just for reading 4-pt type on an iPad. (You're so jealous of my job right now, I know.)
• My preschooler, who is unusually silent, is not hammering pushpins into the wall or flooding the bathroom or coating the fridge with lip balm,* but is instead calmly listening to music with headphones on.

I'm old.

It's a weird feeling, seeing evidence that I am getting older. I honestly felt older at 25. I'm in better shape now, and better health. I'm more emotionally stable (except for the weird Mom-crying at every bad thing everywhere). Sadly, I'm not more financially stable, but that's what taking maternity leave in the US does to ya. Most of all, I am far more hopeful about the future. In my 20s, the future was uncertain and scary. It's no less certain now, but it looks like a lot more fun.

Kids age you, yes, but they also make the years more enjoyable.

As for me, I have never really had a problem with my aging. I had to explain to R the other day a set of candles we saw that said "29 again?" -- like me, he can't imagine wanting to be 29 more than once. I had no problem turning 30, or 40. However, I do think I will milk 42 for all it is worth. Mom did; it was her favorite age. And it is the Answer to the Ultimate Question, after all.** So while I am anticipating the future, I need to start making plans for ways to celebrate my 42nd year on the planet.

Speaking of birthdays, it's my mom's birthday today.*** Happy birthday, Mom!

*Not random, fictitious examples.

**Yes, I am one of those people.
***She's moved on from 42; she is now happily 66, and ready to retire.

Celebrating the seasons

I find myself working to establish seasonal family traditions. The Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's trifecta is pretty well set, though I have tweaked it over Anya's lifetime. I'd started out trying to implement a tradition I had with my parents (giving a small gift for each of the 11 days preceding Christmas*), but it's evolved into a longer time range with smaller presents thanks to the advent calendar I made last year. And there are other activities, which do not involve gifts. We do Zoo Lights. Starry Nights. We visit Santa. We bake cookies. We eat Thanksgiving dinner with both families. We decorate the tree the day after Thanksgiving, and take it down around Little Christmas, January 6. I take a picture of Anya (new this year: Anya and Kai) in front of the tree in a Christmas outfit for our Christmas cards. Actually, I take about 50 pictures, and never quite get the one I want -- though I always get one that captures her personality perfectly.

I have personal celebrations, too. A quiet reflection on the year that starts with 10Q in the fall and culminates in my revising my goal list and recapping my year on PopClogs. I try to start the year in the manner in which I intend to continue -- full of energy and hope and good intentions. It usually falls apart by March, but I mean well.

I love these traditions. They pull me out of my head, out of my to-do list, out of my present worries and future plans. They make me focus on what's in front of me: A loving partner, amazing kids, and an imperfect but pretty awesome life. I need that.

That's just one season, though. Just a month, really. I need that sort of pause all year round. So I have been slowly testing other seasonal celebrations. For fall, I've made the following list:

• Go to a farmer's market
• Bake mini apple pies
• Walk in the park and collect fall leaves
• Visit a corn maze
• Go to Zoo Boo
• Pick out pumpkins
• Carve/decorate pumpkins
• Bake mini pumpkin pies
• Make soup
• Do a leaf-based art project
• Make an autumn centerpiece for the kitchen table

I've been working on this for a month and a half now, and it's really helped me savor the season. Which is nice, because it's my favorite season -- I would really hate to miss it.

Gets me to thinking, though. I should make lists like this for the other seasons. Things that I want to be sure to do and make and experience. Things I want to share with my family. The highlights reel. Because time often gets away from me, and you never know when your last chance to do something will be.


*A tradition I started as a child, I must confess, in order to get a few presents early. It was a lot of fun, though. And yes, I gave presents back.

My funny boy

Kai continues to amaze me. I know Anya seemed to be learning by leaps and bounds at this age, but her goal was independence; she wanted to learn to walk, run, and climb, because she wanted to do things for herself.

Kai is different. Kai wants to get around so he can follow me. He does this cute penguin belly flop sort of crawl, and can get around amazingly fast that way. But rather than get into stuff, as his sister tended (okay, tends) to do, he's trying to keep up with me.

He also tries harder to communicate. Whereas Anya worked harder to entertain everyone, Kai tries to talk; he looks at me very intently and babbles. Also, he has learned that certain actions on his part, like lifting his arms and grunting, elicit a certain response from me, and he uses them to get me to do what he wants. Anya's focus was (and is) autonomy; Kai's is connection.

But the thing that really blows me away is that Saturday night, he told his first joke.

A little setup. R had to get up at 4:30, so he went to bed early. Anya also fell asleep pretty early. Kai was not tired; he wanted to play. (This is, I should add, extremely unusual for him. Anya is the night owl, not Kai.) I was trying to nurse him to sleep when he discovered that rolling his ear across the spot where he'd drooled on my arm made a clicking sound. He did this over and over, and just giggled. Stinkin' cute, but I was afraid it was going to keep R awake. So I took Kai in the living room.

That, as it turns out, was exactly what he wanted.

Finally has Mom all to himself.

To prove to me that spit is funny, he sang me a little song. Then he did this:

I could tell he was reminding me how funny it was when he was making that clicking noise. The fact that half an hour or so had elapsed made it our little inside joke. "Hey, Mom, remember that time when I did that thing and it was so funny?"

My baby told a joke. How adorable is that?

I have a GP again!

I am so glad I went to the doctor for this. I used to go to this same doctor years ago, but stopped because he was no longer convenient to where I lived. I think now I will drive however long it takes to keep going back to this guy. He's nice. His whole staff is nice. And unlike so many medical professionals I've seen in recent years, I feel like he really heard me.

I told him what I'd been through up to that point, and he whipped out his phone. ("My surrogate brain," he said. Ah...a kindred spirit.) We talked through the options, and he told me which one he felt was best based on Kai's age and our circumstances. Unlike the other recommendations I got, I feel good about this one.

And the words "neti pot" were not uttered once. I like this man.

He is extremely supportive of my breastfeeding. He told me he believes breastfed babies are much healthier, so he is going to do everything in his power to help me continue. I have no intention of stopping anytime soon, so I need that kind of doctor. I can't say I am too impressed by the lactation consultants I've dealt with; the one on the hotline didn't seem to know what I was talking about when I told her what I was prescribed (bit of a red flag there), and the one from the hospital never called me back. (The hospital LCs are notoriously hard to get in touch with; aside from the time I was actually in the hospital, I've only managed to speak with one on one occasion.) I much prefer having a doctor that takes into account all of my needs. Some of us don't make enough milk for a freezer stash.

Best of all, I think we all had a positive experience during my doctor visit. Which is good, because we may need a doctor closer to home for the kids. (Right now we drive them to a pediatrician an hour away.) And R may need a doctor at some point. We've been minor med patients thus far, but it'd be nice to have a GP.

I hope we all get well soon. October is my favorite month; I don't want to miss it!

It's doctor week, apparently

I'm still sick. I never did hear back from the hospital LC, so I called my gyno again. The nurse said no to everything but the Flonase. The decongestant will kill my supply, she said. The antibiotic is just bad news.

Sigh.

Before I could deal with that, Anya came in dripping green goo from her nose. So I made an appointment for her with the pediatrician. I don't think she feels too bad -- certainly not as bad as I feel -- but she's the kind of kid who will tell me she feels fine when she's on death's doorstep, and I am not taking chances.

She runs laps for fun. While sick.

The pediatrician says she's not sure Anya has an infection; she doesn't see any green mucus in her nose. But she gives me a prescription in case Anya doesn't kick the goo in a few days. (Love our doctor.)

But. (There is always a damn but.) Anya has a nasal polyp. Apparently new, since she didn't have it at her 4-year checkup in August. It's not blocking her airway, but we're still taking her to the ENT to get it checked out. I'm waiting to hear back from their office now.

While we were in the pediatrician's office, I asked her about my prescriptions. She, too, shot down the antibiotic, and advised against the decongestant. The nasal spray, she said, was fine. I asked her what antibiotic I can take. She recommended a Z-pack. Which is what I told the walk-in clinic nurse I normally take anyway.

Fine. Okay. I can't call the clinic and ask for a new prescription; I can only contact the clinic tech support online, and they can have the nurse call me. Which will likely take 24 hours. (Yes, I know from experience.) Or I can try to get an appointment with a "real" doctor. Which I don't have, because I always get sick when doctors are too busy to take on new patients.

I decided to take my chances with an MD. And got an appointment! For today, even! Should be an easy visit for him; I already have a diagnosis, and a recommended antibiotic. All he has to do is figure out how to ease my sinus congestion without killing my milk supply. (I am a little worried the words "neti pot" will be uttered. But at this point, I might even try the stupid thing.)

The darkness before dawn

Last night, I went to bed early -- early for me early. So it was no real surprise when my eyes popped open long before dawn.

As is my nature, as I woke fully, I began to fret. When I went to the doctor for my sinus infection, I explained that I am breastfeeding and have some supply issues. She took extra care in prescribing medications as a result. And I felt good about those medications until I got home and Googled them. The antibiotic, while basically considered safe, is of the group which the nurse at my OB/GYN's office told me not to take. The decongestant can kill my supply -- and it's the 24-hour variety, so it's not like I can take one pill and stop if things look iffy. Nobody can quite agree on the nasal spray.

I still hadn't heard from the hospital lactation consultant I called, so I decided to wait and ask her. But she didn't call until the end of her work day, and I missed her call. She is going to call again today. In the meantime, I tossed my questions out to the lovely people in my local breastfeeding group on FB. Answers were still mixed, but one woman suggested I call the Tennessee Breastfeeding hotline. It's 24/7; why wait?

The woman I spoke to was very nice, but she scared the crap out of me. The antibiotic, she says, can stain Kai's teeth. She was less concerned about my milk supply drying up (Compression! Water! Relax!), but the medication was worrisome. She suggested some alternates I can ask the pharmacist about, but really I should just drink my own breast milk and get a neti pot.

I have a neti pot story, but I won't get into that now.

I did, however, pump and drink 3 ounces of breast milk. I still feel like crap. But just to be on the safe side, I pumped 3 more ounces this morning and gave it to Anya. And took some brewer's yeast with the lactation oatmeal concoction I eat for breakfast, so I can pump again later and drink some myself.

I never did pick up my meds. I don't know if I should take them, or the substitutes the LC suggested, or just suffer and hope the infection clears up on its own. My choice can literally affect the rest of Kai's life, and I am paralyzed by indecision.

This is the mindset I am in when Anya awakens from a nightmare.

Lately, Anya and I have been having bad dreams. Mine are...my god, I don't even know where to begin. Odd. Mine are odd. I understand the basis behind most of them, but I still wake up going "What the...?" Anya's are simpler. Hers are about loss and abandonment. She dreams often of her grandmother dying. ("Mimi went to sleep and wouldn't wake up," she says.) She also dreams that I go to work and never return. (Who needs to lift weights when you have guilt like this?) Last night was a Mimi dream.

"You have a bad dream too, Mama?" a little voice asked in the darkness. This is how I learn I am not the only one awake.

"No, baby. Did you?"

"Yeah."

I pulled her close and kissed her hair. I told her I am sorry she had a bad dream. That Mimi is just fine, and we will see her at lunch. I told her how lucky I am to have such a sweet little girl, who loves so fiercely and worries about the health and happiness of the people in her life. She snuggled against me and smiled that sweet little smile I first saw the day she was born, as I cuddled her close to my breast.

"I love you so much, baby," I told her.

She sighed. "Me, too, Mommy. I love you, too."

Eventually, her breathing slowed. She was asleep once more.

I never did get back to sleep. Instead, I spent the pre-dawn hours nestled between my children, their little heads nuzzling me as they slept.

Not at all sorry I missed sleep for that.

I made this!

Anya is at the stage where she makes artwork for the sole purpose of displaying it. If she had her way, I would hang every paper she scribbles on -- on the cork board, on the wall, on the fridge, on the door...any flat surface will do, really. I have put quite a bit of it up, because I am a mom and because she is my first born. (When it comes to taking pride in things you've made, you certainly cannot overlook children. Children are the ultimate craft.)

We live in a rental house, so the walls are not in the greatest of shape. Still, I don't want to fill them full of (more) holes. So I won't let her hang things with push pins; indeed, I had to hide the pushpins, because she is less concerned about our security deposit than I am. But I have let her have tape. To deter her looking for the hiding spot of the push pins, I left the roll of tape in her office (a printer cart next to my desk where she can "work" alongside me while I'm freelancing).

She loves making confetti. (Groan.)

Earlier, I left the office door open while I went to the doctor, thinking access to a normally forbidden room might take the sting out of being left at home. (It did.) I came home to a mural of...well, look.

The box is from R's latest Loot Crate.

It's less the art and the medium, and more pride in the fact that she can operate a pair of scissors and tape things together (and to the wall). While these pieces are more likely to wind up in the recycling than the Anya Art Hall of Fame, they are exciting to me in that they are a sign that she is ready to move beyond scribbles to more complex projects. As a crafting junkie, I have been dreaming of this day since before I ever got pregnant with her.

Okay, maybe I will keep one of them, to commemorate the occasion.


*Yes, the post title is a reference to the X-Files production company, Ten Thirteen. Because I am old, and a geek. Also, I have been rewatching Season 1.

Better late than never?

Just realized that I forgot to line up a post for today. As I've mentioned, the kids and I have been sick. I think Kai is nearly over it, but I went to the doctor for medication today (sinus/ear infection), and it's looking like I will be taking Anya in tomorrow. So hopefully that excuses me for dropping the ball just this once.

In the meantime, have a cute picture of a kissy baby.

Nom...er, smooch.

Making memories

R started his new job this week. He works 5:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Saturday through Monday. So he gets up...early. Which means we go to bed early, even by my standards -- and I have been working towards reviving my habit of rising before dawn.

Maybe it was the early bedtime, or the fact that I am sick. Or perhaps I simply no longer remember how to sleep. For whatever reason, I awoke at 4 a.m. Saturday. I got up at 4:30 with R, and saw him off to work.

The kids do not sleep well without me. Kai woke at 5, Anya at 6.

Normally I would be bustling around, practicing yoga and cleaning and making plans for the day. But we were sick; my sinuses were too angry for down dog. I had hazy plans to clean, but was in no rush.

Instead, I played with Kai. Snuggled under a blanket with both kids and watched cartoons. Nursed Kai to sleep, then enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with Anya -- we even ate at the table.

These are the kinds of things they will remember. Not whether the house was clean or my to-do list checked off. I make a point of scheduling big experiences -- zoo trips and museum visits and things like that -- but I tend to lose sight of the little moments. The snuggles. The meals together. The mundane moments that become cherished memories.

So while I need to clean and work out for my own sanity, I also need to make lazy time a priority. Their childhood memories depend on it.

Avoiding derailment

Earlier this week, Kai woke up with a runny nose. Unlike the rest of the household, he's a bit young for respiratory allergies, so this pretty much meant one thing: He caught a cold. Probably from that restaurant table he licked last weekend.

Sigh.

One sick kid isn't too big a deal. My kids don't let a little thing like a head cold get them down. It's knowing that we'll all be sick before the week is out that gets me.

Anya was next on the list. Before the end of Kai's first day, her nose was running. By the third day, so was mine. Now R is sick, as well.

Kai and Anya are on the mend, but I can't take anything and R starts his new job tomorrow. So this weekend is going to suck. I've laid in a stock of easy foods (and comfort foods), but nothing changes the fact that I will probably feel like crap all weekend while watching two (well) kids by myself.

I had such momentum going, too. We were going to go on a nature walk this weekend, collect some pretty leaves, and make something with them.

I hate the way these things derail my plans. I want to figure out a way to avoid them, or minimize the impact. Something. I hate losing whole weeks to family illness. Who has time for that?

I understand that getting sick is good for them. It builds their immune systems. And really, the only way I could prevent them getting sick any more than I do now is if I quarantined them to the house...and what kind of a life is that?

So...here's hoping R and I kick this cold as quickly as they did. We have things to do.

Spinning plates

I am currently trying to accumulate good habits. Not all at once, but a few at a time. I think of them as my spinning plates.

First, after having Kai, I had to incorporate New Baby into my routine. If you've ever had a new baby, you know that everything from eating to bathing to using the restroom is challenging. Especially if you have a brand-new abdominal incision to contend with. Incorporating New Kai was far easier than incorporating New Anya, mostly because with New Kai I got plenty of sleep. But it was still a process.

Once I had regular meals, showers, and bathroom breaks under my belt, I worked on keeping normal hours. With Anya, I was tossed unceremoniously back into the land of the living when my maternity leave ended. I was adrift in a sea of dirty laundry and dirty bottles, sleep deprived and overcaffeinated, armed with nothing but an empty fridge and an expression of exhausted bewilderment. With Kai, I wanted to do better. So I worked at getting up at the same time each day, eliminating naps, and then pushing back my wake time until it was where I needed it to be for work.

Then I started work. It was a bit of a challenge at first, mostly because Kai didn't understand what was going on. Working from home made it infinitely easier, because I was right down the hall. I tried, and pretty much failed, to pump milk and bottle feed him during the day. (He is not a fan of the bottle, and thinks the pump is stealing his food.) So I learned to work while breastfeeding.

After I got that down, I worked in eating. Then cooking. Then cooking regularly. Menu planning (which I am still working on). House cleaning (ditto). R got a job, and we worked around his schedule (which, happily, balances mine so that we don't need much in the way of daycare). I'm even working in a little freelancing.

Regular exercise is next on the list. I've made working out on the weekends a habit. Now I'd like to add daily yoga and meditation. To accomplish this, I am getting up an hour and a half early Monday through Friday. I've only been at it three days, but so far it's working out well. One or both kids usually wakes up before I complete the meditation -- sometimes before I even complete the yoga. But that's okay. It's a work in progress.

I'm willing to take the time to fiddle with the routine to make it stick. I feel so much better about life, the universe, and everything when I have the basics down. And next year, I'd like to start tackling new goals, instead of circling the same maintenance goals all the time.