Go On, Get Wet

Blue Marshmallow Man

It's been a very wet spring and after so many days changing outdoor plans to indoor ones because of rain, I decided I did not want rain to be an impediment to our enjoying the outdoors. Many times I have gone outside in less-than-lovely weather for a walk or out of boredom and I realize most every time that all weather is "good" weather, in its own way, even when it's cold or wet or both.

Another insight came a few weeks ago, when we went for a post-dinner walk as a family and got drenched in a sudden downpour. I was annoyed, and worried for the cell phone in my pocket, and it was kind of cold...but the kids were ecstatic. They had the biggest smiles on their plastered wet faces, especially the part where we stripped off our clothes in the car and drove home naked. The time we got drenched on the greenbelt is a memory that will last much longer than the other, more bland times when everything went according to plan.

I decided to, ahem - spring for some good quality rain gear for the kids and me. We had some odds n ends, but Noah had outgrown his coat, and I lost my rain pants many years ago and never replaced them...I've resisted buying good quality gear for some time now because the truly waterproof stuff is expensive and the kids outgrow stuff every season...so I got Noah a way-too-big jacket at the REI sale (one he can "grow into," frugal Mom speak for way-too-freaking-big). Ezra inherited Noah's old one, which hangs down to his shins, poor guy. We went with water shoes for me and bare feet for them.

Tropical Storm Andrea swept through today and I decided we were gonna visit the park we'd planned to play in anyway. Everyone else scheduled to join us bailed out and I asked Matthew on our way out the door if he thought I was nuts...I just hoped my little exercise in... perseverance?...embracing the silly?... didn't blow up big time with unhappy, uncomfortable kids.

And...it was awesome. We had the park to ourselves, the puddles were epic, the mud was just right for making pies, and the rain gear performed well. Funny moment: Blue Marshmallow Man asked to nurse after falling face first into a monster puddle. In all this gear, honey? No way! 

Props to my kids for nudging me toward an expanded appreciation of the outdoors. What's your best experience with rain?

A Closer Look at "Free"

I've come into a lot of hand-me-downs recently, mostly kids clothing. In a sweet moment of serendipity, a friend gave me Noah's next winter's coat, which was on my "To Procure" list (she had no idea), and some other size 6 shirts. I love when that happens! A preschool classmate's parent supplied a bunch of next size up shoes for Ezra-awesome, because, while I have Noah's old ones, they're tattered (he wears shoes that hard).

All the clothing is for future seasons so I need to be thoughtful about where I store it between now and then. It requires just enough planning and action that it's currently sitting in various piles throughout the house, which is what happens to items that don't have a "home."

The same friend also gave me a seemingly fabulous construction crane set, which immediately began making a buzzing noise that would not stop. No button-pushing could end it and I wasn't smart enough to figure out where the battery might reside so I had to put it outside until it quit. Want it? Just kidding...I would never do that to you.

This experience reminds me that I need to be careful about bringing stuff into our home, even if it's useful, even if it's free. These generous gifts actually diminish my quality of life if I don't have a plan for integrating them (and ideally, getting rid of something else in exchange). 

Most days it feels like I am doing minute-by-minute battle against disorder and it's grown more noticeable since Ezra became mobile. I can no longer be casual about messes, saving them for a Sunday cleaning blitz like Matthew and I used to do before children. Obviously, a toddler is a Mess Generator Extraordinaire, with limited capacity to put things away, but the older child is quite capable of putting away toys and dirty dishes into the sink. I need to be more disciplined in my expectations of them both, building in time for cleaning up before we move on to the next activity in our daily routines. It's not only the children, though, let's be totally honest. I've had a container with newborn pacifiers, nipple cream and diaper fasteners on the kitchen table for 3 months now because I don't know how to get rid of them and someone out there definitely, maybe might want them.

I'm gaining clarity around my strong negative reactions to clutter and mess. I feel anxious and unfocused. I have a hard time doing what needs doing because I'm distracted and the surface I need to work on is unavailable. Confession: when Matthew didn't clean the kitchen this morning (his primary domestic task), I refused to make dinner tonight because I find it too stressful to work in a cluttered kitchen. Yep, I'm principled petty like that...

Conversely, I breathe more easily and feel calmer when my house is in order. I love coming down in the morning to a clean kitchen! It is a Top 20 pleasure in my life (I am a simple woman and I know it). My physical space influences my emotions, my moods, my psyche and the reality is that I have to be really careful about taking in free stuff. There is a cost, turns out.

Got ideas for keeping your house a sanctuary while raising young kids? Please share!

Save Me From My Own Frugality

Being frugal is a point of pride for me. I like to make my own things when possible. My default is to seek out used over new. I don't shop in stores as a hobby or for recreation. I get a genuine thrill out of finding useful stuff left out on the curb and 90% of my wardrobe is secondhand.

But in some areas of my life, I am an under-spender. It's frugality gone too far, when I hesitate to spend money on ordinary things because I'm not sure it's "worth it," when I am fretting over the decision to spend on things I actually need, and hanging on to things that do not serve me well because I feel guilt having acquired them. Have you seen our ridiculously jerry-rigged French press that leaks onto the counter every morning?

Ridiculous!

Other examples include keeping shoes that actively hurt my feet (because they cost a lot! Damn you, Danskos, for only appearing to be comfortable), or brand new children's sneakers from Noah's cousin that only needed new velcro, except it would cost $20 to repair and they were handed down for this very reason! It took me 2 months to get rid of those, placing them in and then removing them from the nasty kitchen trash because I had a change of heart. I just couldn't throw good terrible shoes away. I am still wearing underwear from pregnancy that's now loose and hanging (but still good!). It's not like I can give these items to someone else!

I will eat food I don't really like because wasting it feels wrong and because my husband and kids turn their noses up at leftovers, especially the less tasty ones. I am so grateful to have a dog or this problem would be even worse ("Does this fish smell just a little bad or a lot bad?").

I fully acknowledge that all these examples fit into the category of "First World Problems." The world can use a lot less consumption, right? And the only damage is to myself. But in clear-headed moments, I think my happiness is worth pursuing, even if it means plunking down some money.

Look cute, feel terrible. Want 'em?

Some of my reluctance to spend is because I have been burned many times, wasting good money on crap products that fall apart soon after purchase (roughly 20% of my Target purchases fit into this category). Case in point: I recently plunked down $10 on a 4 pack of undies from Target. They looked cheery and cottony enough in the bag. Turns out they are some cheapy cotton/poly blend that feels rough and scratchy in places I prefer to feel neither. Dammit!

I had a very positive spending experience recently, plunking down $125 for dreamy red boots last month (what came over me?!). And you know what? They are worth every penny because they make my feet feel sooo good every second I wear them and, ahem (fishing for compliments here)- they look pretty awesome, right?

Like walking on air...

I do understand the benefits of spending more money for high quality but when it comes to items that actually improve every day life, like comfortable underwear and a working french press, but the cost difference between Target-quality and fancier stuff is so steep.

How do you decide when to splurge and on what items?

Black Clouds Cometh...And Then They Go-eth

Subtitle: Some Thoughts on Adult Friendship

I'm (hopefully) mostly through my week of funk. At least it usually lasts a week. I've noticed I have these blue periods every quarter or so, where I'm irrationally negative and focused on all that's bad in my life. Everyday challenges feel overwhelming, little pleasures feel meh... What I most want during these times is to be alone and brood, but these damn kids! and husband! won't let me be. Not an enjoyable time when I'm in it but I often find a big truths bubble up to the surface.

The insight this time is around friendship- specifically, how hard it is to cultivate deep friendships as an adult. And how parenthood throws in many obstacles as well (precious limited time sans children, constant interruptions whenever they're near, losing touch with the person who I am outside of motherhood). Right now I'm feeling like ordinary life doesn't allow for the kind of person-to-person connection I desire. I don't think I'm ready to live a truly communal life like my Mom's village, but something more intentional and focused would be good.

My present reality is that getting together with another adult sans children requires heavy duty prioritization: I have to decide that doing so is more enjoyable than attending yoga class that week or worth paying someone $12/ hour for babysitting...it's not a casual enterprise. I've mentioned before that I'm an introvert who needs lots of alone time, especially at the end of a day caring for children. By 8 pm, I want to tuck under a blanket with my book and glass of wine and not talk to anyone. So there's that little obstacle.

Nearly all my in-person friendships right now are with other mothers and their children, mostly through play dates. Obviously, our conversations are regularly interrupted by our children, who need us a great deal. While I think I'm pretty good at picking up the dropped threads of a conversation as I broker peace between conflicting preschoolers, nurse a fussy toddler, handle toileting matters and investigate the ominous sounds of a crash - pause (hold breath) -will there be a cry?, etc... something important is sacrificed with the interruptions. I find it hard to get to the heart level of conversation this way.

It's probably true that forming friendships will never be as easy as it was in college and in my 20's, when there was ample time to just hang out and get to know one another. I remember spending hours with friends in a single evening-just talking and joking over backyard grilling and multiple rounds of drinks...My liver is glad those days are over, but I deeply miss the easygoing rapport and companionship born of lots of face-time.

Maybe the active pursuit of friendship is something I need to put aside for a time when my children don't require so much of my emotional energy and physical presence (there's a long list for that time, when it comes!). I'll, of course, continue to plant seeds of relationships as I move through my world, but I do feel some dissatisfaction with the seemingly randomness of it all.

It's been helpful to notice the cyclic nature of these weeks - so long as I trust that it will leave me before long, unscathed or even blessed with new self-understanding, my main challenge is to ride it out without dragging everyone down or damaging my relationships.

So, is there a rhythm to your blues? What helps you ride it out? Do you gain anything useful when you're down?

Your Bed, My Bed, Our Bed

This past month marked the tentative unrolling of a new family sleep arrangement, featuring the new "brothers' bedroom" (and the return of the marital bed, shazam!). It isn't going so well. We're all getting less sleep, and the kids are waking each other up. There is bed wetting, a once-a-month occurrence usually, but now a three-times-a-week happening because Ezra is waking Noah up at unusual hours of the night.

Like many experiences in parenting, there is the vision (I see two brothers cuddling to sleep and snuggling at sunrise, maybe even sleeping in the same bed, at least when they're still little?) and the reality (see above) and sometimes they do not align.

Since E was born a year ago, I've mostly slept with him in the master bedroom ("the big bed," we call it) and N and Papa have shared the second bedroom, which has two queen-size beds next to each other on the floor. When I found bed-sharing with E resulted in more frequent night wakings, I opted to spend a significant part of the night in the second bedroom, sharing a bed with Matthew, but returning to the baby for nursing (he still wakes twice a night for a quick snack). It has worked really well, but I'd like to nudge us toward the long-term goal of the kids sleeping together and the grown-ups sharing a bed. Also, I love (love!) reading in bed before going to sleep. It is a Top 10 pleasure for me and of course, I can't do that if there's a sleeping baby in the bed.

I find I am happier and my family more content when we give ourselves freedom to change course when the vision is not working. That means the last two nights have both kids in their room and Matthew and I falling asleep in our bed. I nurse Ezra around 1 am and stay in there until his second nursing around 6am or so, when I return to the "big bed." Unless Noah has relocated there after a middle of the night pee (we've heavily emphasized the need to get to the toilet when he feels the urge)! Matthew gets up with the little ones around 7 and I sleep a little longer, cuz I'm lucky like that. It's a laughable game of musical beds but it seems to be moving us in the right direction. And getting us decent sleep, which is hugely important.

Some mornings we all gather in one bed for a family cuddle. This is the joy of family life right here: Matthew and I book-ending warm wriggly boy bodies-one of them talking about crazy night dreams and plans for the day, the other just happy to be...I do love these fellows.

"B" Is For BIRTHDAY!

To my 4 year old, birthdays are hugely important, requiring cake, balloons and presents. All the better if he gets to help in the cake-making, balloon-choosing (and chasing), banner-hanging and present-wrapping.

As of the last few months, it is deeply concerning to Noah if any of these elements go missing for any family member's birthday. I gotta say, his zeal for birthday celebrating has motivated us to be a little more celebratory than we might ordinarily be - Matthew and I have gotten a bit understated in acknowledging one another's birthdays, it's true (dinner out and maybe a small gift). We waited until Noah turned 4 to have a proper party and I didn't plan to give any gifts to Ezra when he turned 1 year last month, until an indignant Noah insisted we wrap some of his old toys in a box with lots (and lots) of tape and paper.

Through the joyful eagerness of a child, these rituals become fun again. Just another reason why parenting these little creatures is such a heart-opening journey...

In Sickness and In Health...

A snapshot of the week

As I lay on my back, belly to belly with the youngest, while Noah sleeps fetal position with my entire left arm straddled between his knees, both of them lit up with fevers, I wish I could say I feel at peace in my care giving role. No one else can do for them what I am doing for them and they need me (me!) so intensely right now. Instead, I want to flee. My skin crackles with the desire to free myself from their heavy limbs, spring from the bed and run down the street, with no one touching me or coughing directly into my face.

I married the right man.

Parenting through sickness (the kids' or my own) is very challenging for me. I remember caring for a sick Noah when I was pregnant and wondering how I could ever provide such intense, minute-to-minute care for more than one child at the same time? I got to learn the answer to that question this week! On the hardest day, I could hear both kids moaning and calling for me from the upstairs and the downstairs.

When the kids are sick, it brings everyday life to a screeching halt. There is no childcare (good luck finding someone willing to watch a sick child!), no play dates, no socializing, no book club, no yoga, no outings other than work. The house gets grungy and cluttered, the fridge depleted of anything tasty. The nights tend to be disrupted by frequent wakings, so we're tired and well-poised to get whatever dread virus the kids have. Good times!

Once we realized the kids most likely had the flu (poor Ezra's the sickest he's ever been in his short little life-we're going on 4 days now of near-constant sleep), Matthew and I dropped all other plans and our first priority became nursing these wee babes back to health. Ironically, the longer we're home bound, the more content I've become simply by adjusting my expectations and standards.

When I'm in a centered mental state (not wallowing in my misfortune), this can remind me: aren't we so blessed? We are mostly healthy, Matthew and I have flexible jobs that can accommodate missing work, one Grandma lives nearby for reinforcement. And this will all be over in a week. Right?