Bad day? Look at this face:
|Soooo happy about his pb & j "mom-guided selfie"|
I posted about my spiritual rise and fall through motherhood over at Notes To My Sisters. Below is an excerpt + link.
Woman.Wife. Mother.Writer. Human Being. God’s Child.
My profound thoughts following the above were just interrupted by a little voice. The voice said, “Uh-oh,” and as I turned toward it, a little hand was thrust in my face, and in toddler-speak and a few animated gestures it was indicated that the hang-nail on that chubby little index finger was a problem to be dealt with at once.
Welcome to my world. (Keep reading...)Notes to My Sisters is a new platform for Catholics to share with one another what inspires them and keeps them on the path to heaven. Give it a browse. I know Margaret, the creator from my youth ministry days in Scotland 8 years ago.
I just finished Simcha's book.
I know I'm preaching to the choir, but if you haven't yet, read it. Simcha, as always, is so real. REAL is what is needed in the NFP world! Because it IS actually hard. Ooops. I said it out loud instead of in hushed whispers to my friend who just doesn't want to get pregnant again till she feels some degree of sanity while being a mom of two. Sorry, feeling ranty. Anyway, read it!
We're in the throes of fall. Love it. I hate being pregnant in summer, because I'm not a fan of being hot. I suppose being born Canadian with real winters has something to do with it. I'm just used to being cold. I'm actually a fan of the first snow, except the driving aspect, because even though this city is still mostly native Canadians, we all seem to forget how to drive every spring, summer and fall and its mayhem out there.
There's just something tranquil about a freshly made bed. I used to be the girl for whom making the bed consisted of flipping the duvet over rumpled sheets. Then I worked at a B&B and learned about hospital corners and throw pillows. I got addicted to making my bed pretty. Now my philosophy is that even if the rest of the room looks like a toddler organized it, the nicely made-up bed makes up for everything else.
Joseph, the wonder husband, who actually loves order more than I do and excels at everything housework from dishes to bathroom cleanup, fails in only one area - bed making. (Despite having parents who own a B&B with beautiful beds).
Here's the difference (and actually, this is Joseph's best attempt EVER)
|Joseph: "They're called throw pillows, aren't they? Doesn't that mean anything to you?"|
|Now this, I want to crawl into with a good book (or Joseph).|
3:23 A.M. and I'm up. I took a break from my quick takes to attempt getting some good photos of the kids and fall for my number 4. But they have colds, so I was constantly having to wipe one of their noses, and then they didn't feel like smiling and having fun.
This 3 a.m. wake-up has been my typical sleep/wake pattern for the last 3 months due to discomfort:
9 or 10 p.m. Fall asleep on the couch, watching T.V. or talking to Joseph. Drag myself up to bed after ingesting a myriad of pregnancy vitamins and a small glass of water.
2 or 3 a.m. Wake up. Lay there trying to get comfortable. Try not to wake Joseph or the baby inside the belly in the process. Usually JUST as I'm about to fall asleep, one of them moves suddenly. I don't know if it's more impactful when it comes from inside my belly or right beside me. Sometimes Joseph isn't there at all, because my nightly wakefulness means he'll get a better sleep on the guest bed.
I have mixed feelings about that: 1. I looove having the bed to myself. 2. I simultaneously miss Joseph because hey, when you're used to having someone there, it can be lonely. Oh, and 3. Should one of the boys cry out there's nobody to ask to go see what's wrong.
4 or 5 a.m. Fall back asleep after using the bathroom, drinking water, and often, checking email and Facebook... or writing a blog post.
I know I'm killing the natural hormonal rythm of my melatonin production by adding screen time into the mix, but laying there in the dark for an hour or two was starting to drive me crazy. I'd give myself weird dreams about the grocery store, or the latest book I've been reading. Seriously, Bringing Up Bebe = Buying baguette in Superstore and saying to the children, "ah petit garcons, j'aime cette baguette" (ah little boys, I love this baguette) and patting their heads.
I'm going to attempt this for Patrick for Halloween:
Here's the link to the instructions, in case anybody is that into it.
I might go a little less elaborate, but this is the basic concept. I loved making Halloween costumes growing up, and we had to be creative, because the parents had a caveat that we couldn't buy costumes or be anything evil (or carve it into pumpkins either). Case and point: I was a sandwich when I was 11 or 12, and I think I was 15 when I carved Buddy Holly's face into a pumpkin. I'll try to unearth pictures.
We also celebrated All Saints Day. As a nerdy homeschooler, I crafted a St. Joan of Arc costume, with armor. I just about died of embarrassment though when other, cooler homeschoolers did not come to our all-saints party dressed up, so there's a bittersweet memory for you. Thankfully, I have since reconciled with St. Joan.
Well, off to attempt sleeping again. Have a lovely weekend!