On Saturday last, we welcomed a new little boy into the family (this is not the birth story. I'll post that another day). He is a wonderful little joy to us.
There is only one problem that I can see here. I don't know what to call him. Don't be like that. He has a name. Quite a good one, we think. I'm just not sure what to call him on the internet. Already we have Tall and Small. So Tiny? But then, Small is not so small anymore. What to do?
Small, Medium, Large?
Baby, Toddler, Boy?
Tall, Grande, Venti?
Monkey, Monkey, Underpants?
Sleepy, Happy and Doc?
Child 1, 2 and 3?
Any ideas are welcome. Post them in the comment section. If I choose your suggestion, you win a prize! Which isn't a dirty nappy, I swear.
[We don't use their names on the internet, because we would like to give them some privacy. It's also why I don't post about everything that happens. They may not be stories that the boys want shared with the world at large.]
Friday, January 24, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Gestational Diabetes
I found out that I have gestational diabetes a couple of months ago. I was not overwhelmingly pleased. We got the call from the doctor's office at lunchtime. I was over it by dinner time, but that first half hour was not my finest.
To my understanding, gestational diabetes means that the placenta is killing my insulin and so more of the sugars are getting to baby who in turn would produce more insulin. Insulin is a growth hormone, so they put strict limits on diet and whatnot so that the child does not grow too big. The extra growth can cause early labour and other complications, should the child be allowed to stay in. We shall not talk of those complications.
I was advised to see a dietician, a diabetes consultant and to learn as much as I could online. The information online was good, but somewhat confusing. I was quite pleased to see the dietician so I could get some things cleared up (and also pleased to learn that my interweb gleanings had been good and I was already following the diet).
In essence, to maintain a steady blood sugar when personal stores of insulin are not working properly, one must eat small amounts of carbohydrates regularly. This was a bit difficult for me, as after I finished feeding Small, I attempted to give up snacks and just eat at mealtimes. Being told to eat six times a day was a shock. After meeting with the dietician (more good news), I got a blood testing kit and got to prick my finger four times a day to make sure the levels are good.
Thus, a good day should look like this:
Wake up: fasting blood prick blood sugar, 4-4.9
Eat breakfast: 2-3 units of carb (30-45 grams)
Two hours later: blood sugar, 4-6.7
Eat snack: 1-2 units of carb (15-30 g)
At least two hours later, eat lunch: 2-3 units of carb (30-45 g)
Two hours later: blood sugar, 4-6.7
Eat snack: 1-2 units of carb (15-30 g)
At least two hours later, eat dinner: 2-3 units of carb (30-45 g)
Two hours later: blood sugar, 4-6.7
Eat snack: 1-2 units of carb (15-30g)
Also, everything had to be low or no-fat while making sure that the flavour hadn't been replaced by sugar or the wrong sweetners. And, you should have some protein with the carb. Basically, you spend the entire day thinking about food. You plan out meals in extreme detail. I've done weekly meal plans for awhile anyway because it makes grocery shopping easier. This was just another step, where you measure out your pasta with a cup measure.
The truth of it is, though, gestational diabetes isn't so bad (I could live this way if I had to, I'd just a bit grumpy around Christmas when I had to skip the cookies.). We'd already been trying to eat healthily, though I must admit I had been enjoying the occasional Pepsi to keep some pep in my step. Little boys who were not sleeping well due to teeth and undiagnosed ear problems who somehow had energy in the day were wearing through my already depleted energy supplies. I had sometimes enjoyed some yummy chocolate or a doughnut to keep going. That all had to change. Whole grains are recommended. We already ate multi-grain bread and had tried wholegrain pasta, but hadn't enjoyed it. We've found out that now we do. And whole-grain couscous! We already only used whole-wheat flour (or spelt if white is necessary). And there is stevia in my cupboard now, but that has the most nasty aftertaste ever. Just use a bit of raw sugar (15 g is 1 tsp).
In fact, gestational diabetes has given me a few things. Other than a nervous twitch of reading nutrition labels, I mean. It's given me an appreciation for people who have to deal with this all the time. My dear sister is type one diabetic and I never fully appreciated how difficult life must be for her. I knew that she had to think about food a bit more, but there are charts devoted to glycemic index and how to make healthy food choices into healthier food choices. And she has to survive with insulin! My sugars have been pretty easy to regulate thankfully, mainly because I've learned that my willpower is pretty good. I love this child so much that I want them to be healthy and I've kept to this diet more than I ever thought I could. Because my blood sugars have stayed within the healthy levels (4-8 in a blood prick, so says the doc), no extra insulin was needed. I've also had the chance to try to new recipes! I had gotten lazy about the recipe thing because the boys had gotten a bit difficult about trying new things and cooking two meals sucks. Unless you have to, and then it's a chance to explore.
Some recipes that we've stumbled across:
Sun-dried tomato and artichoke quiche
One sheet of puff pastry
Some sun-dried tomatoes, drained thoroughly
Some marinated artichokes, drained thoroughly
Half of a small container of ricotta
4-5 eggs
Pinch of herb salt
Beat the eggs. Add the other stuff. Pour onto the puff pastry, which in your greased quiche pan (but greased with EVO oil, not butter. Gotta watch those carbs). Top with grated cheese. Bake in a hot oven (240C) for 25-30 minutes. Actually, Small taught me the last bit. He turned up the oven on me from 190 and I could smell the quiche much sooner than I thought I should. Upon checking it out (well and truly done in half the normal time), I learned that dinner prep could be done sooner and Small likes to play with dials.
Best Ever Brussel Sprouts
Quarter some brussel sprouts and boil until the water turns green. Drain.
In the meantime, toast some pine nuts. Keep your small sons away from the oven if you wish to maintain a regular temperature.
Drain some sun-dried tomatoes.
Grate parmesan cheese.
Mix all these things together with some minced or dried garlic and a bit of herb salt.
And then realize that brussel sprouts are delicious.
Tomato Salad
Chop up some small tomatoes of different colours.
Chop up a couple drained roasted red peppers.
Toss with a few capers and some garlic.
Add some dried multi-grain bread, a swoosh of EVO oil and balsamic vinegar.
And then there's that eat any brassica (kale, broccoli, etc) after it's been roasted in olive oil for 20 minutes in a hot oven and then sprinkled with parmesan and sprinkled with fresh lemon juice.
Cheese is a surprise delight of the whole GD thing. Milk has carbs. Yogurt has carbs. Cheese? Carb free. About a month into the diet I asked my doctor if I could have fat again. I was losing lots of weight (2 kg in one week) and my blood pressure was a bit low. I've been back on fat since (woot, woot!) and that makes cheese consumption even easier. Bocconcini is my special treat right now. If I'm feeling peckish, it's free food! For whenever! And has calcium which is good for everybody's bones. It's a bit odd when bocconcini becomes one's candy.
So where are these carbs found then, these highly regulated and documented carbs? In delicious things. In fruit. In starchy veg (peas, lentils, corn, etc). In pasta and potatoes and bread and cake and anything made from wheat. In nuts. In candy and chocolate and milk and yogurt. In fact, carbs are liberally spread through everything, especially prepackaged things. Again, it's been cool to have a reason to push forward and try to make things from scratch, but sometimes when you're massively pregnant, dealing with two delightful boys that make life full, you'd like to order a pizza. But you've done the carb count, and you can only have two pieces. And that sucks. But you can have salt and pepper squid salad! So that's something. And all the other veg you could want. Although, it does have some carb in it, so you have to think about everything that goes into your face.
(I just pricked my finger - 5.3. Dinner was chilli-cheese sausages and pea salad - peas, celery, cashews, mayo and italian dressing. It's surprising, but it hurts everytime. Next time you see someone with diabetes, kiss their poor fingees. Or offer them some bocconcini.)
[What is a unit of carb? One piece of bread. A medium-small potato, but as they have a high GI, eat them only occasionally. A 125 mL glass of milk. A small tub of natural yogurt - which I now prefer to any sweetened. A quarter cup of dried fruit and nuts. One large cracker with peanut butter. A teaspoon of sugar. Good luck getting that medicine down. Half a cup of cooked pasta. Half a cup of cooked rice (basmati or brown, please). 3/4 cup of oatmeal. 1 medium or 2 small fruits. 3/4 cup of grapes. Still hungry? Load up on proteins and non-starchy veg. It's good gear. Who doesn't want a poached egg with that? Oh - the trick to a perfect poached egg: Add enough water to a low-edged pot to cover an egg. Bring to a boil. Add a splash of vinegar and a pinch of salt. Crack an egg and drop in the water as closely as possible. Cook for 4 minutes for soft. 10 for pregnant ladies hard-style.]
That, in a nutshell, is gestational diabetes. If the nutshell was the size of a commerical airplane. Any questions? Bueller?
To my understanding, gestational diabetes means that the placenta is killing my insulin and so more of the sugars are getting to baby who in turn would produce more insulin. Insulin is a growth hormone, so they put strict limits on diet and whatnot so that the child does not grow too big. The extra growth can cause early labour and other complications, should the child be allowed to stay in. We shall not talk of those complications.
I was advised to see a dietician, a diabetes consultant and to learn as much as I could online. The information online was good, but somewhat confusing. I was quite pleased to see the dietician so I could get some things cleared up (and also pleased to learn that my interweb gleanings had been good and I was already following the diet).
In essence, to maintain a steady blood sugar when personal stores of insulin are not working properly, one must eat small amounts of carbohydrates regularly. This was a bit difficult for me, as after I finished feeding Small, I attempted to give up snacks and just eat at mealtimes. Being told to eat six times a day was a shock. After meeting with the dietician (more good news), I got a blood testing kit and got to prick my finger four times a day to make sure the levels are good.
Thus, a good day should look like this:
Wake up: fasting blood prick blood sugar, 4-4.9
Eat breakfast: 2-3 units of carb (30-45 grams)
Two hours later: blood sugar, 4-6.7
Eat snack: 1-2 units of carb (15-30 g)
At least two hours later, eat lunch: 2-3 units of carb (30-45 g)
Two hours later: blood sugar, 4-6.7
Eat snack: 1-2 units of carb (15-30 g)
At least two hours later, eat dinner: 2-3 units of carb (30-45 g)
Two hours later: blood sugar, 4-6.7
Eat snack: 1-2 units of carb (15-30g)
Also, everything had to be low or no-fat while making sure that the flavour hadn't been replaced by sugar or the wrong sweetners. And, you should have some protein with the carb. Basically, you spend the entire day thinking about food. You plan out meals in extreme detail. I've done weekly meal plans for awhile anyway because it makes grocery shopping easier. This was just another step, where you measure out your pasta with a cup measure.
The truth of it is, though, gestational diabetes isn't so bad (I could live this way if I had to, I'd just a bit grumpy around Christmas when I had to skip the cookies.). We'd already been trying to eat healthily, though I must admit I had been enjoying the occasional Pepsi to keep some pep in my step. Little boys who were not sleeping well due to teeth and undiagnosed ear problems who somehow had energy in the day were wearing through my already depleted energy supplies. I had sometimes enjoyed some yummy chocolate or a doughnut to keep going. That all had to change. Whole grains are recommended. We already ate multi-grain bread and had tried wholegrain pasta, but hadn't enjoyed it. We've found out that now we do. And whole-grain couscous! We already only used whole-wheat flour (or spelt if white is necessary). And there is stevia in my cupboard now, but that has the most nasty aftertaste ever. Just use a bit of raw sugar (15 g is 1 tsp).
In fact, gestational diabetes has given me a few things. Other than a nervous twitch of reading nutrition labels, I mean. It's given me an appreciation for people who have to deal with this all the time. My dear sister is type one diabetic and I never fully appreciated how difficult life must be for her. I knew that she had to think about food a bit more, but there are charts devoted to glycemic index and how to make healthy food choices into healthier food choices. And she has to survive with insulin! My sugars have been pretty easy to regulate thankfully, mainly because I've learned that my willpower is pretty good. I love this child so much that I want them to be healthy and I've kept to this diet more than I ever thought I could. Because my blood sugars have stayed within the healthy levels (4-8 in a blood prick, so says the doc), no extra insulin was needed. I've also had the chance to try to new recipes! I had gotten lazy about the recipe thing because the boys had gotten a bit difficult about trying new things and cooking two meals sucks. Unless you have to, and then it's a chance to explore.
Some recipes that we've stumbled across:
Sun-dried tomato and artichoke quiche
One sheet of puff pastry
Some sun-dried tomatoes, drained thoroughly
Some marinated artichokes, drained thoroughly
Half of a small container of ricotta
4-5 eggs
Pinch of herb salt
Beat the eggs. Add the other stuff. Pour onto the puff pastry, which in your greased quiche pan (but greased with EVO oil, not butter. Gotta watch those carbs). Top with grated cheese. Bake in a hot oven (240C) for 25-30 minutes. Actually, Small taught me the last bit. He turned up the oven on me from 190 and I could smell the quiche much sooner than I thought I should. Upon checking it out (well and truly done in half the normal time), I learned that dinner prep could be done sooner and Small likes to play with dials.
Best Ever Brussel Sprouts
Quarter some brussel sprouts and boil until the water turns green. Drain.
In the meantime, toast some pine nuts. Keep your small sons away from the oven if you wish to maintain a regular temperature.
Drain some sun-dried tomatoes.
Grate parmesan cheese.
Mix all these things together with some minced or dried garlic and a bit of herb salt.
And then realize that brussel sprouts are delicious.
Tomato Salad
Chop up some small tomatoes of different colours.
Chop up a couple drained roasted red peppers.
Toss with a few capers and some garlic.
Add some dried multi-grain bread, a swoosh of EVO oil and balsamic vinegar.
And then there's that eat any brassica (kale, broccoli, etc) after it's been roasted in olive oil for 20 minutes in a hot oven and then sprinkled with parmesan and sprinkled with fresh lemon juice.
Cheese is a surprise delight of the whole GD thing. Milk has carbs. Yogurt has carbs. Cheese? Carb free. About a month into the diet I asked my doctor if I could have fat again. I was losing lots of weight (2 kg in one week) and my blood pressure was a bit low. I've been back on fat since (woot, woot!) and that makes cheese consumption even easier. Bocconcini is my special treat right now. If I'm feeling peckish, it's free food! For whenever! And has calcium which is good for everybody's bones. It's a bit odd when bocconcini becomes one's candy.
So where are these carbs found then, these highly regulated and documented carbs? In delicious things. In fruit. In starchy veg (peas, lentils, corn, etc). In pasta and potatoes and bread and cake and anything made from wheat. In nuts. In candy and chocolate and milk and yogurt. In fact, carbs are liberally spread through everything, especially prepackaged things. Again, it's been cool to have a reason to push forward and try to make things from scratch, but sometimes when you're massively pregnant, dealing with two delightful boys that make life full, you'd like to order a pizza. But you've done the carb count, and you can only have two pieces. And that sucks. But you can have salt and pepper squid salad! So that's something. And all the other veg you could want. Although, it does have some carb in it, so you have to think about everything that goes into your face.
(I just pricked my finger - 5.3. Dinner was chilli-cheese sausages and pea salad - peas, celery, cashews, mayo and italian dressing. It's surprising, but it hurts everytime. Next time you see someone with diabetes, kiss their poor fingees. Or offer them some bocconcini.)
[What is a unit of carb? One piece of bread. A medium-small potato, but as they have a high GI, eat them only occasionally. A 125 mL glass of milk. A small tub of natural yogurt - which I now prefer to any sweetened. A quarter cup of dried fruit and nuts. One large cracker with peanut butter. A teaspoon of sugar. Good luck getting that medicine down. Half a cup of cooked pasta. Half a cup of cooked rice (basmati or brown, please). 3/4 cup of oatmeal. 1 medium or 2 small fruits. 3/4 cup of grapes. Still hungry? Load up on proteins and non-starchy veg. It's good gear. Who doesn't want a poached egg with that? Oh - the trick to a perfect poached egg: Add enough water to a low-edged pot to cover an egg. Bring to a boil. Add a splash of vinegar and a pinch of salt. Crack an egg and drop in the water as closely as possible. Cook for 4 minutes for soft. 10 for pregnant ladies hard-style.]
That, in a nutshell, is gestational diabetes. If the nutshell was the size of a commerical airplane. Any questions? Bueller?
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Third Thoughts
Yesterday, I learned that someone else I know can't have children. It hurt to hear about it and it put some things into perspective that sometimes get skewed.
There is much suffering in parenthood, but at least we are parents. On somedays that is the silver lining. My heart aches for those who don't get to experience it and I pray that this impasse would be destroyed for them.
Both of our sons have been sick and needing antibiotics lately and the lead up to those doctor appointments made life quite difficult. Lack of sleep, whingy children, reverting behaviours have all been the norm this last month. Being 36 weeks pregnant and stressed that I could go into labour at anytime (thank you people who keep telling me I look ready to pop... since November) does not help matters.
And yet even on these hard, hard days my sons amaze me. The joy they get out of a mud puddle. The utter bliss from a treat out of a stocking. The way they are growing up. My nearly 16 month old wants to walk when we go for walks now. What's up with that? The way they play together and help each other out. The little ways that their palates are opening up and they are willing to try new things. Tall ate ham the other day. Pink meat! It's all a process, this parenting thing. A long, involved process with no days off, no hours off (yes, I know babysitters exist. And do use them.). It's a process where you say the same things and do the same things and try to train away the same behaviours everyday.
It's not easy. It's rather hard. Without those spots of joy sprinkled on each day, the days would be impossible. They are even more impossible on days when I let myself get sidetracked from prayer and Bible time and try to go it alone. In fact, we've gotten into the habit of thinking fond thoughts of the children before we go to sleep. Even on the hard days, we think through the drudgery and glean the beautiful moments, the little sparkles that show how they are growing up or the silly things that make them the loveable, frustrating, incredible little men that they are.
And the hard isn't confined merely to the children. There are no holidays from laundry, although some weeks get more piled on them. Dishes need to be done. Meals need to be made. Life does not take sick days.
With the joy splashed on all life from these children, life seems different. No matter how hard the day is, it is special because of these boys. Sure, we get less sleep now. So what? We have the privilege of helping these boys become good men. Growing up is one thing, but growing good men, that's a tall order.
My belly rocks and bulges as its occupant stretches and tries to find a way out. It must be getting tight in there. My back aches and gestational diabetes is sometimes a pain in the bum (I'll write a post about GD later). I do not relish the thought of labour, but I long to hold this child in my arms and meet them. To gaze in his or her eyes. To feed and sustain a new little life. To fall even deeper in love with all of my children as I see them interact.
If you know someone who can't have kids, hug them. Encourage them to adopt, sure. There are plenty of children who need homes and hopefully the system works so that parents are given children. But, just hug those people and try to splash their lives with joy. It must be a special kind of pain and it needs a special kind of love. I feel guilty when I complain about life as it has these blessings in it. Cherish your blessings. Give thanks for them. Take care of them. And love those who don't have them.
There is much suffering in parenthood, but at least we are parents. On somedays that is the silver lining. My heart aches for those who don't get to experience it and I pray that this impasse would be destroyed for them.
Both of our sons have been sick and needing antibiotics lately and the lead up to those doctor appointments made life quite difficult. Lack of sleep, whingy children, reverting behaviours have all been the norm this last month. Being 36 weeks pregnant and stressed that I could go into labour at anytime (thank you people who keep telling me I look ready to pop... since November) does not help matters.
And yet even on these hard, hard days my sons amaze me. The joy they get out of a mud puddle. The utter bliss from a treat out of a stocking. The way they are growing up. My nearly 16 month old wants to walk when we go for walks now. What's up with that? The way they play together and help each other out. The little ways that their palates are opening up and they are willing to try new things. Tall ate ham the other day. Pink meat! It's all a process, this parenting thing. A long, involved process with no days off, no hours off (yes, I know babysitters exist. And do use them.). It's a process where you say the same things and do the same things and try to train away the same behaviours everyday.
It's not easy. It's rather hard. Without those spots of joy sprinkled on each day, the days would be impossible. They are even more impossible on days when I let myself get sidetracked from prayer and Bible time and try to go it alone. In fact, we've gotten into the habit of thinking fond thoughts of the children before we go to sleep. Even on the hard days, we think through the drudgery and glean the beautiful moments, the little sparkles that show how they are growing up or the silly things that make them the loveable, frustrating, incredible little men that they are.
And the hard isn't confined merely to the children. There are no holidays from laundry, although some weeks get more piled on them. Dishes need to be done. Meals need to be made. Life does not take sick days.
With the joy splashed on all life from these children, life seems different. No matter how hard the day is, it is special because of these boys. Sure, we get less sleep now. So what? We have the privilege of helping these boys become good men. Growing up is one thing, but growing good men, that's a tall order.
My belly rocks and bulges as its occupant stretches and tries to find a way out. It must be getting tight in there. My back aches and gestational diabetes is sometimes a pain in the bum (I'll write a post about GD later). I do not relish the thought of labour, but I long to hold this child in my arms and meet them. To gaze in his or her eyes. To feed and sustain a new little life. To fall even deeper in love with all of my children as I see them interact.
If you know someone who can't have kids, hug them. Encourage them to adopt, sure. There are plenty of children who need homes and hopefully the system works so that parents are given children. But, just hug those people and try to splash their lives with joy. It must be a special kind of pain and it needs a special kind of love. I feel guilty when I complain about life as it has these blessings in it. Cherish your blessings. Give thanks for them. Take care of them. And love those who don't have them.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Book Fare
The boys like to be read books. Tall (when he was small), would bring a book to me and put it in my left hand and sit in my lap. This indicated it was time to read. Once finished, if he wanted to hear it again, he would put it back in my left hand. Small does similar things, carrying around books and putting himself in my lap.
They are nothing if not subtle.
This morning when I tried to lie in bed until 6 am, Small brought me I Went Walking and sat on my chest as I tried to read it to him. The room was dark, so perhaps "recite" is a better word. Tall came in few minutes later with Wildlife ABC, but none of this darkness thing for him. He turned on the lamp too.
We are quite happy to read to them. It's important, I think to engage people in a love of books wherever possible. I love reading myself. Adrian has started reading more too. The turnover rate of books on our bedside table is quite impressive, and while his tend to be non-fiction (and mostly theological), it keeps us all happy.
It's fun to make the voices and point out the different things on the page. It's great now that they are old enough to read page books instead of just destroying them. Board books are great too. Highly resilient. I've just had to toss away one page book that had too many pages reft from it.
The only problem that I have with all this reading is when the books are wrong. I'm not speaking here of the specs on a motorbike. Probably those are right, or at any rate I can't correct them. Plus, the boys are mainly focused on "geen bike!" more than the PSI of the tires (tyres for you Aussies).
Reading teaches us things. It teaches us to ponder on why things happen. It lets us see other worlds and ideas. It broadens our horizons. And fundamentally, it teaches us minor things like grammar, syntax and spelling.
How much more basic can a sentence be than "See Spot."? Implied subject. Verb. Object. These are the building blocks of forming sensible sentences.
So, it bothers me when a book I read to my children says things like this: "When going down hills, you should go slow." Are adverbs so insignificant? Let them thrive, children's book publishers! "When going down hills, you should go slowly." And then we all learn together. Beauty. I know that it is not in vogue to care about the state of our poor language, but it is everyday ravaged by morons on youtube and anywhere one can comment. Breaking grammatical rules can be fun and effective for a point, but should we not try harder at these first sentences? We try harder with first foods than that which follows.
And it frustrates me when I see a page in a comparisons book that throws the rules away at the end. Picture some nesting dolls and beneath them these words "biggest bigger big small smaller tiny".
Seriously, what is that? First of all, you need to read it from the middle of the page and outwards for the comparative and superlatives to make sense and then, what, just deny the pattern and throw away an easy superlative like smallest to replace it with "tiny"?!
Or that children's book that a friend told me about where beside the letter P there was an elephant. Unless the rest of the book was aimed for mensa-babies, I'm not sure that they meant pachyderm.
Sometimes, it's just the content that leaves me baffled. I read one book to my sons about "bravery" except it was played out as peer pressure. And the sheep failed.
Jump over the puddle!
No.
Jump over the puddle!
No.
Jump over the puddle!
And then he fell in. Because his friends forced him to do something and wouldn't take no for an answer. Brilliant. Let me get the whole series.
This may seem ridiculous to you. I am a ridiculous person and not really that serious about the whole thing, but there is a bit of permanent marker in a few of our books.
They are nothing if not subtle.
This morning when I tried to lie in bed until 6 am, Small brought me I Went Walking and sat on my chest as I tried to read it to him. The room was dark, so perhaps "recite" is a better word. Tall came in few minutes later with Wildlife ABC, but none of this darkness thing for him. He turned on the lamp too.
We are quite happy to read to them. It's important, I think to engage people in a love of books wherever possible. I love reading myself. Adrian has started reading more too. The turnover rate of books on our bedside table is quite impressive, and while his tend to be non-fiction (and mostly theological), it keeps us all happy.
It's fun to make the voices and point out the different things on the page. It's great now that they are old enough to read page books instead of just destroying them. Board books are great too. Highly resilient. I've just had to toss away one page book that had too many pages reft from it.
The only problem that I have with all this reading is when the books are wrong. I'm not speaking here of the specs on a motorbike. Probably those are right, or at any rate I can't correct them. Plus, the boys are mainly focused on "geen bike!" more than the PSI of the tires (tyres for you Aussies).
Reading teaches us things. It teaches us to ponder on why things happen. It lets us see other worlds and ideas. It broadens our horizons. And fundamentally, it teaches us minor things like grammar, syntax and spelling.
How much more basic can a sentence be than "See Spot."? Implied subject. Verb. Object. These are the building blocks of forming sensible sentences.
So, it bothers me when a book I read to my children says things like this: "When going down hills, you should go slow." Are adverbs so insignificant? Let them thrive, children's book publishers! "When going down hills, you should go slowly." And then we all learn together. Beauty. I know that it is not in vogue to care about the state of our poor language, but it is everyday ravaged by morons on youtube and anywhere one can comment. Breaking grammatical rules can be fun and effective for a point, but should we not try harder at these first sentences? We try harder with first foods than that which follows.
And it frustrates me when I see a page in a comparisons book that throws the rules away at the end. Picture some nesting dolls and beneath them these words "biggest bigger big small smaller tiny".
Seriously, what is that? First of all, you need to read it from the middle of the page and outwards for the comparative and superlatives to make sense and then, what, just deny the pattern and throw away an easy superlative like smallest to replace it with "tiny"?!
Or that children's book that a friend told me about where beside the letter P there was an elephant. Unless the rest of the book was aimed for mensa-babies, I'm not sure that they meant pachyderm.
Sometimes, it's just the content that leaves me baffled. I read one book to my sons about "bravery" except it was played out as peer pressure. And the sheep failed.
Jump over the puddle!
No.
Jump over the puddle!
No.
Jump over the puddle!
And then he fell in. Because his friends forced him to do something and wouldn't take no for an answer. Brilliant. Let me get the whole series.
This may seem ridiculous to you. I am a ridiculous person and not really that serious about the whole thing, but there is a bit of permanent marker in a few of our books.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Snailboxes, et c.
Man, first trimester is a difficult thing. If it weren't for first trimester, I think I'd have 15 kids! Well, that and labour. And teething. And...
While I am aware that I've been out of first trimester for awhile, the real boost of energy and go-to drive that accompanies second was a bit delayed this year. If you get good and worn out, that energy can't buoy you up. After the international travel, it takes awhile to boost up the old batteries. Add to that a beautiful (now) one year old who has problems teething and registers his protest with vaccinations in the middle of the night, I've done a few miles in the ol' rocking chair and relearned just how painful it is to step on toys in the dark. My husband is an amazing man who helps lots with night time woes. He lets me have an extra rest in the morning so I don't get out of bed til quarter after 6, or even 6:30!
Because of the duration of lethargy, it's only just recently that second trimester zip has zapped me. I'm still tired, but now I'm tired and armed with cleaning utensils. I also haven't blogged as much. Here then (after the lengthiest intro ever) are a collection of stories that I have been collecting for months. About 6 of them. Say 22-24 weeks' worth. (I started this post a month ago. Yeesh. And the mornings are a bit earlier. Today I got up at 4:25)
(And because it has taken me three months to write this post, I'm now 8 months pregnant. And half the stories I was going to share, I can't even remember. Shucks.)
Snailboxes, et c.
A long time ago now, a friend from church came by one afternoon to play with the boys. We played outside and she, being a very experienced mother and grandmother, was coming up with all sorts of different things to do to keep Tall going. It is a very true statement that some children need to keep doing and doing as their energy multiplies faster than bunnies. One thing that she showed him to do was to pick up a snail and pop it in the hole in the mailbox. Fun times, no? Hand-eye coordination and all that. However, for the next few months all he wanted to do when near the mailbox was fill it with snails. We have plenty of snails on offer, but I can't say as that's what they were meant for. And when he had put all the snails away, he wanted to take them out and put them away again.
Fine and dandy. Keeps him occupied and as long as the snails leave the mailbox at the end of the play, no problems, right? Except perhaps when you go for a walk a few days later and he finds a piece of trash on the ground and before you can squeak out "No, Tall, stop!" he deposits in a neighbour's mailbox. What do you do at that point? Do you open the mailbox and remove the trash? No, because you can't touch other people's mail. It's illegal and all that. And then you know if you open someone's mailbox, that vital information will stay with him forever and ever and all walks will be filled with a Tall miscreant opening mailboxes to the chagrin of his tired mother.
The Muffin Men
Small quite enjoys eating muffins. Tall quite enjoys stirring. It is not uncommon for me to bake something merely for the entertainment it affords the children. Somedays are easy-peasy and all goes well. On other days, I have made breakfast cookies (oatmeal from the milk calendar) that didn't have any sugar in them. Or there was that time I made Small's birthday cake and Tall dumped in extra flour, so Mom added a bit of milk and miraculously it all turned out (and was quite yummy, if I do say so myself). Or the time that Tall "helped" with the salt and we had some very tangy popovers. Tasted good with tomato... Muffin time often ends with dry ingredients on the counter. Or floor. Perhaps my eyebrows. I'll also be mildly frantic, trying to put out fires (figurative, thankfully. Only one literal and that wasn't the boys fault...) and when the muffins get in the oven, the vacuum comes out. Vacuums are a very exciting thing for children and I'm not sure why. At any rate, I have to say, I don't know why people claim that baking is an exact art. My kitchen often proves that bread will prove (ha!) without knowing what exactly went in it and that baked goods will see taste good even if the measurements are all wrong.
Climb Ev'ry Mountain
Small is a climber. Enough to strike fear in the hearts of the toughest of people, a climber can get into anything, anywhere, anytime. When he was just 10 months old, he independently climbed 14 steps in order to play with bath toys with his cousin. When I went looking for him a minute or two later I was shocked at where those boys had ended up. He's climbed up the back of chairs, on top of the vacuum cleaner, from pillows onto the couch, into chairs, up the side of his brother's bed via bed rail... Tall sees him climb and remembers how much fun it was to climb and goes one further. Onto windowsills, the back of the couch, into wheelbarrows, up the shelves of the hall cupboard to have a "nap" on the third shelf. One time recently Small saw an opportunity and used it to the full. The step stool had been left by the sink for his potty training brother. Small went up, grabbed the comb and attempted to tidy his hair while simultaneously brushing his teeth (thankfully with his toothbrush and not anyone else's). It was delightfully cute. He was so proud of himself. Shortly thereafter, the stool moved again. Another day, he used his brother's chair to climb up on to the table, not once, but twice (even though the chair had moved away from the table in between time) and at the second time, decided to dip the remotes (on the table to be out of reach of his brother) into a handy glass of water. He's determined! Even after we added an impediment to the back of the chair (cardboard covering all footholds), he turned it around and learned to climb the front.
Maybe I should put them in gymnastics or something. Ninja Warrior, maybe.
Forts 'r' us
One sure fire way to keep little people entertained is to hang a sheet over a couple of chairs. A fort! We do love our forts and they get made often. Lately it seems like forts are made to be broken however as Small attempts to climb onto them (why!?) and Tall likes to "cookie" them (more on that later). But forts are a delightful way to spend time. Everything is a bit more fun in a fort. I don't know why. The act of hanging a sheet over a piece of furniture means one thing: fun. I don't get it. They do. This is why my living room looks that way.
"Cookie" Monster
Tall is interested in putting things together, but also interested in taking things apart. When he does, he sometimes says "cookie, cookie". I wonder if Cookie Monster's bad eating habits appear to my dear son as just a delightful form of destruction. Cookie Monster never seems to gain weight. Perhaps there is something there for us all to learn!
Balloon Animals
For Small's birthday we blew up balloons. Want to see kids go crazy? Blow up balloons. No idea why this works, but balloons make for fantastic times. You can run in them. Kick them. Throw them. Draw on them. It's all good and it's all hyper.
Yes Man
Small has started nodding lately. It's hilarious because it's actually a pretty good help as to what he wants. If you walk near the kitchen and he starts nodding - he's probably thirsty. If he nods when you eat a snack, he wants it. If he nods in answer to a question, he usually means it. It's a very cute little thing. "Small, do you want to read a book?" He nods. "Small, do you want to go outside?" He nods. "Small, do you want to antagonize your brother?" Oh, wait he doesn't nod to that, he just relishes in it. "Small, do you need a bum change?" He shakes head. But that, of course, is a lie.
The Mud Puddle Jumped on Me
What does a hose mean to little boys? Mud puddles! What does rain mean to little boys? Mud puddles! What does a bucket at the beach mean? Mud puddles! Anywhere and anytime possible, mud puddles are made. The best thing to do with a mud puddle is to jump in it. If you are wearing light coloured clothing, so much the better. Especially if Mom has just changed you for some reason. Even better if your little brother is there and he can mosey on through on his belly. We've had quite a few jumpsuits mudified. And the best time to make a puddle? When Mom has turned her head for three seconds. I usually just let it happen at that point. They have fun. They get dirty. It's not like the clothes can be salvaged at that point and there's something about mud that's just so appealing to little fellows. I'm not sure what exactly, but I'm sure my washing is pleased. It never gets neglected.
The Plot of (Almost) Every Kid's Movie About a Horse
Once upon a time there was a young urban girl who, for some reason, has to go to stay with a male relative on a rural farm. She is none too pleased about this and is frustrated/whingy/lonely (choose one). One day she is given/finds a horse that is lonely/neglected and the two of them have adventures together. Suddenly, she is pleasant and happy and helps out on the farm. Something happens to the horse. Probably, he gets lost. She is sad. The male relative helps her with this horse problem. She is then given the opportunity to leave the farm. She chooses to stay. And they all live happily ever after.
Whether the Weather...
It is gross outside today. I've just come in from hanging the laundry. It's like an oven. It's 44C with a hot, dry wind. Your feet sting as you walk across the paving stones (even those in shade) and the spiders come out and wait for you to kill them. It's just too hot to hide today. What do you do with two little boys who prefer outdoors to indoors on such a day? The pool? Not really. The rec center air has open windows all day long so the temperature is much the same as outside. Except stacked with humidity. The beach? I could feel my skin toasting as I hung towels and flung nappies (which were not only dry but hard like boards and hot) into the basket. Movie about horses and play in the tub? Sounds like the afternoon. I don't even want to bake (which is entertainment and delicious) because I don't want to turn on the oven. Here's hoping that it's not like this next week, 'cause I have a turkey in the freezer and he desires to be Christmas dinner.
At any rate, happy Christmas! I'll try to blog again one day. It'll have to be short, because this three months to write one post thing is a wee bit ridiculous.
While I am aware that I've been out of first trimester for awhile, the real boost of energy and go-to drive that accompanies second was a bit delayed this year. If you get good and worn out, that energy can't buoy you up. After the international travel, it takes awhile to boost up the old batteries. Add to that a beautiful (now) one year old who has problems teething and registers his protest with vaccinations in the middle of the night, I've done a few miles in the ol' rocking chair and relearned just how painful it is to step on toys in the dark. My husband is an amazing man who helps lots with night time woes. He lets me have an extra rest in the morning so I don't get out of bed til quarter after 6, or even 6:30!
Because of the duration of lethargy, it's only just recently that second trimester zip has zapped me. I'm still tired, but now I'm tired and armed with cleaning utensils. I also haven't blogged as much. Here then (after the lengthiest intro ever) are a collection of stories that I have been collecting for months. About 6 of them. Say 22-24 weeks' worth. (I started this post a month ago. Yeesh. And the mornings are a bit earlier. Today I got up at 4:25)
(And because it has taken me three months to write this post, I'm now 8 months pregnant. And half the stories I was going to share, I can't even remember. Shucks.)
Snailboxes, et c.
A long time ago now, a friend from church came by one afternoon to play with the boys. We played outside and she, being a very experienced mother and grandmother, was coming up with all sorts of different things to do to keep Tall going. It is a very true statement that some children need to keep doing and doing as their energy multiplies faster than bunnies. One thing that she showed him to do was to pick up a snail and pop it in the hole in the mailbox. Fun times, no? Hand-eye coordination and all that. However, for the next few months all he wanted to do when near the mailbox was fill it with snails. We have plenty of snails on offer, but I can't say as that's what they were meant for. And when he had put all the snails away, he wanted to take them out and put them away again.
Fine and dandy. Keeps him occupied and as long as the snails leave the mailbox at the end of the play, no problems, right? Except perhaps when you go for a walk a few days later and he finds a piece of trash on the ground and before you can squeak out "No, Tall, stop!" he deposits in a neighbour's mailbox. What do you do at that point? Do you open the mailbox and remove the trash? No, because you can't touch other people's mail. It's illegal and all that. And then you know if you open someone's mailbox, that vital information will stay with him forever and ever and all walks will be filled with a Tall miscreant opening mailboxes to the chagrin of his tired mother.
The Muffin Men
Small quite enjoys eating muffins. Tall quite enjoys stirring. It is not uncommon for me to bake something merely for the entertainment it affords the children. Somedays are easy-peasy and all goes well. On other days, I have made breakfast cookies (oatmeal from the milk calendar) that didn't have any sugar in them. Or there was that time I made Small's birthday cake and Tall dumped in extra flour, so Mom added a bit of milk and miraculously it all turned out (and was quite yummy, if I do say so myself). Or the time that Tall "helped" with the salt and we had some very tangy popovers. Tasted good with tomato... Muffin time often ends with dry ingredients on the counter. Or floor. Perhaps my eyebrows. I'll also be mildly frantic, trying to put out fires (figurative, thankfully. Only one literal and that wasn't the boys fault...) and when the muffins get in the oven, the vacuum comes out. Vacuums are a very exciting thing for children and I'm not sure why. At any rate, I have to say, I don't know why people claim that baking is an exact art. My kitchen often proves that bread will prove (ha!) without knowing what exactly went in it and that baked goods will see taste good even if the measurements are all wrong.
Climb Ev'ry Mountain
Small is a climber. Enough to strike fear in the hearts of the toughest of people, a climber can get into anything, anywhere, anytime. When he was just 10 months old, he independently climbed 14 steps in order to play with bath toys with his cousin. When I went looking for him a minute or two later I was shocked at where those boys had ended up. He's climbed up the back of chairs, on top of the vacuum cleaner, from pillows onto the couch, into chairs, up the side of his brother's bed via bed rail... Tall sees him climb and remembers how much fun it was to climb and goes one further. Onto windowsills, the back of the couch, into wheelbarrows, up the shelves of the hall cupboard to have a "nap" on the third shelf. One time recently Small saw an opportunity and used it to the full. The step stool had been left by the sink for his potty training brother. Small went up, grabbed the comb and attempted to tidy his hair while simultaneously brushing his teeth (thankfully with his toothbrush and not anyone else's). It was delightfully cute. He was so proud of himself. Shortly thereafter, the stool moved again. Another day, he used his brother's chair to climb up on to the table, not once, but twice (even though the chair had moved away from the table in between time) and at the second time, decided to dip the remotes (on the table to be out of reach of his brother) into a handy glass of water. He's determined! Even after we added an impediment to the back of the chair (cardboard covering all footholds), he turned it around and learned to climb the front.
Maybe I should put them in gymnastics or something. Ninja Warrior, maybe.
Forts 'r' us
One sure fire way to keep little people entertained is to hang a sheet over a couple of chairs. A fort! We do love our forts and they get made often. Lately it seems like forts are made to be broken however as Small attempts to climb onto them (why!?) and Tall likes to "cookie" them (more on that later). But forts are a delightful way to spend time. Everything is a bit more fun in a fort. I don't know why. The act of hanging a sheet over a piece of furniture means one thing: fun. I don't get it. They do. This is why my living room looks that way.
"Cookie" Monster
Tall is interested in putting things together, but also interested in taking things apart. When he does, he sometimes says "cookie, cookie". I wonder if Cookie Monster's bad eating habits appear to my dear son as just a delightful form of destruction. Cookie Monster never seems to gain weight. Perhaps there is something there for us all to learn!
Balloon Animals
For Small's birthday we blew up balloons. Want to see kids go crazy? Blow up balloons. No idea why this works, but balloons make for fantastic times. You can run in them. Kick them. Throw them. Draw on them. It's all good and it's all hyper.
Yes Man
Small has started nodding lately. It's hilarious because it's actually a pretty good help as to what he wants. If you walk near the kitchen and he starts nodding - he's probably thirsty. If he nods when you eat a snack, he wants it. If he nods in answer to a question, he usually means it. It's a very cute little thing. "Small, do you want to read a book?" He nods. "Small, do you want to go outside?" He nods. "Small, do you want to antagonize your brother?" Oh, wait he doesn't nod to that, he just relishes in it. "Small, do you need a bum change?" He shakes head. But that, of course, is a lie.
The Mud Puddle Jumped on Me
What does a hose mean to little boys? Mud puddles! What does rain mean to little boys? Mud puddles! What does a bucket at the beach mean? Mud puddles! Anywhere and anytime possible, mud puddles are made. The best thing to do with a mud puddle is to jump in it. If you are wearing light coloured clothing, so much the better. Especially if Mom has just changed you for some reason. Even better if your little brother is there and he can mosey on through on his belly. We've had quite a few jumpsuits mudified. And the best time to make a puddle? When Mom has turned her head for three seconds. I usually just let it happen at that point. They have fun. They get dirty. It's not like the clothes can be salvaged at that point and there's something about mud that's just so appealing to little fellows. I'm not sure what exactly, but I'm sure my washing is pleased. It never gets neglected.
The Plot of (Almost) Every Kid's Movie About a Horse
Once upon a time there was a young urban girl who, for some reason, has to go to stay with a male relative on a rural farm. She is none too pleased about this and is frustrated/whingy/lonely (choose one). One day she is given/finds a horse that is lonely/neglected and the two of them have adventures together. Suddenly, she is pleasant and happy and helps out on the farm. Something happens to the horse. Probably, he gets lost. She is sad. The male relative helps her with this horse problem. She is then given the opportunity to leave the farm. She chooses to stay. And they all live happily ever after.
Whether the Weather...
It is gross outside today. I've just come in from hanging the laundry. It's like an oven. It's 44C with a hot, dry wind. Your feet sting as you walk across the paving stones (even those in shade) and the spiders come out and wait for you to kill them. It's just too hot to hide today. What do you do with two little boys who prefer outdoors to indoors on such a day? The pool? Not really. The rec center air has open windows all day long so the temperature is much the same as outside. Except stacked with humidity. The beach? I could feel my skin toasting as I hung towels and flung nappies (which were not only dry but hard like boards and hot) into the basket. Movie about horses and play in the tub? Sounds like the afternoon. I don't even want to bake (which is entertainment and delicious) because I don't want to turn on the oven. Here's hoping that it's not like this next week, 'cause I have a turkey in the freezer and he desires to be Christmas dinner.
At any rate, happy Christmas! I'll try to blog again one day. It'll have to be short, because this three months to write one post thing is a wee bit ridiculous.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Small Milestones
Last Monday was Small's first birthday. Yesterday was Small's baptismal birthday.
I'm not going to lie, I was tired before the birthday and not entirely looking forward to making cakes and setting up for a party that he won't remember. Birthdays seem to matter less as an adult; after all, they come every year! It's not that I don't love him. Life has been really tiring and trying lately and it's hard to want to do more than is already necessary. I was not adverse to celebrating him, just tired out and not wanting to put in the effort.
And yet, when that day dawned (even before it truly dawned - I was awake by 4:30), everything was different. No amount of effort was too much. When the clock struck 4:38 am, I wished my beautiful boy a happy birthday. My heart burned with a special pride as I looked at my not sleeping boy. Just one year ago, he was born. For just one year (on the outside), he had been making our lives more special, more challenging, more amazing. I told him bits of his birth day. I marvelled at what one year can do. I watched my Small fellow toddle about the place, playing with his brother, exploring, discovering and viewed with wonder all his little habits and quirks. His little machine gun laugh. His penchant for glasses. His love of cuddling.
Suddenly I had bursts of energy and wanted to shout out to the world, "Look at my boy! He's one already! How he has grown! How he has changed! How he has changed me..."
The day was spent in relative normalcy, but there was a special hue to the day, as if joy had been rubbed on all the tough bits and smoothed them out. His brother helped me make the birthday cupcakes (chocolate with lemon buttercream icing). They barely touched their cupcakes (the second cake for the party went over much better for the birthday boy - banana cake with buttercream icing and candy berries).
It was a good day. Nah, it was a brilliant day. Praise be to God for my little boy. I'm so glad that we have little things like birthdays to sit back at peruse more deeply the blessings God gives. Days that we celebrate the everyday blessings like how fast a little baby boy can grow (and climb!).
Happy Birthday Small. It's been a wonderful, difficult, incredible year. I'm so glad you're part of our life.
I'm not going to lie, I was tired before the birthday and not entirely looking forward to making cakes and setting up for a party that he won't remember. Birthdays seem to matter less as an adult; after all, they come every year! It's not that I don't love him. Life has been really tiring and trying lately and it's hard to want to do more than is already necessary. I was not adverse to celebrating him, just tired out and not wanting to put in the effort.
And yet, when that day dawned (even before it truly dawned - I was awake by 4:30), everything was different. No amount of effort was too much. When the clock struck 4:38 am, I wished my beautiful boy a happy birthday. My heart burned with a special pride as I looked at my not sleeping boy. Just one year ago, he was born. For just one year (on the outside), he had been making our lives more special, more challenging, more amazing. I told him bits of his birth day. I marvelled at what one year can do. I watched my Small fellow toddle about the place, playing with his brother, exploring, discovering and viewed with wonder all his little habits and quirks. His little machine gun laugh. His penchant for glasses. His love of cuddling.
Suddenly I had bursts of energy and wanted to shout out to the world, "Look at my boy! He's one already! How he has grown! How he has changed! How he has changed me..."
The day was spent in relative normalcy, but there was a special hue to the day, as if joy had been rubbed on all the tough bits and smoothed them out. His brother helped me make the birthday cupcakes (chocolate with lemon buttercream icing). They barely touched their cupcakes (the second cake for the party went over much better for the birthday boy - banana cake with buttercream icing and candy berries).
It was a good day. Nah, it was a brilliant day. Praise be to God for my little boy. I'm so glad that we have little things like birthdays to sit back at peruse more deeply the blessings God gives. Days that we celebrate the everyday blessings like how fast a little baby boy can grow (and climb!).
Happy Birthday Small. It's been a wonderful, difficult, incredible year. I'm so glad you're part of our life.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
To do some more
I haven't written much lately. I could tell you it's because I'm not on the internet much, but that's not quite true. I don't spend tonnes of time on it, but I certainly check facebook and buzzfeed. I could tell you it's because I have nothing to write, but that's completely untrue. I write posts in my head - just outlines and titles, certain phrases. Indeed, part of why I haven't written is because I have things to write.
Our family is getting bigger again in January (please God). It makes me very happy to know this, but also very tired. There is this state that I like to call "first trimester" wherein all one has energy for is lying on the couch and feeling nauseated. However, when one has two children, aged 2 and less and than 1, lying on the couch is not an option. Not until nap time. So when I thought about blogging, it remained thought. And on the off chance I had energy, I had this news to share, which I couldn't share yet.
And with this lovely news, comes a brand-new to do list filled with all sorts of things that are important and need doing. Indeed, this list combines many things. So many that I haven't been able to bring myself to write it down. When will accomplish these things? Nap time is only so long and my couch is ever so inviting. Plus, I do get stuff done on the couch - like folding laundry.
At any rate, this post is turning into a great big stall instead of what it was meant to be: two lines to indicate that I have a big to do list that I am afraid of -- well, not afraid of, more overwhelmed by -- and which therefore I have not scrawled down on a scrap of paper as is my usual modus operandi.
Without further ado or rambling except for this sentence which promises to get longer and longer -- hey look, clouds! -- I shall post my to do list with the hope that you will help me get things done by occasionally saying "Hey, how's that item on your to do list going? Or are you just a giant slacker who gets nothing done? And why are you not working on something right now? Because you appear to be checking online to see if I'm holding you accountable, and frankly that's just adding things to my to do list and that's not fair, missy!". Or perhaps you aren't saying that at all. All I can say in my defence, is head colds and housework don't mix.
To Do List (some of these items are in fact permanent fixtures of the list. They get ticked off, but never removed as they are to be done on a daily or weekly basis. Just like me. I get ticked off, but never removed from the housewife roster. (Is that the longest title you've ever seen to a list? I'm such a good procrastinator. Procrastinator is a cool word. Like terminator. Or lemur.))
Our family is getting bigger again in January (please God). It makes me very happy to know this, but also very tired. There is this state that I like to call "first trimester" wherein all one has energy for is lying on the couch and feeling nauseated. However, when one has two children, aged 2 and less and than 1, lying on the couch is not an option. Not until nap time. So when I thought about blogging, it remained thought. And on the off chance I had energy, I had this news to share, which I couldn't share yet.
And with this lovely news, comes a brand-new to do list filled with all sorts of things that are important and need doing. Indeed, this list combines many things. So many that I haven't been able to bring myself to write it down. When will accomplish these things? Nap time is only so long and my couch is ever so inviting. Plus, I do get stuff done on the couch - like folding laundry.
At any rate, this post is turning into a great big stall instead of what it was meant to be: two lines to indicate that I have a big to do list that I am afraid of -- well, not afraid of, more overwhelmed by -- and which therefore I have not scrawled down on a scrap of paper as is my usual modus operandi.
Without further ado or rambling except for this sentence which promises to get longer and longer -- hey look, clouds! -- I shall post my to do list with the hope that you will help me get things done by occasionally saying "Hey, how's that item on your to do list going? Or are you just a giant slacker who gets nothing done? And why are you not working on something right now? Because you appear to be checking online to see if I'm holding you accountable, and frankly that's just adding things to my to do list and that's not fair, missy!". Or perhaps you aren't saying that at all. All I can say in my defence, is head colds and housework don't mix.
To Do List (some of these items are in fact permanent fixtures of the list. They get ticked off, but never removed as they are to be done on a daily or weekly basis. Just like me. I get ticked off, but never removed from the housewife roster. (Is that the longest title you've ever seen to a list? I'm such a good procrastinator. Procrastinator is a cool word. Like terminator. Or lemur.))
- dishes
- laundry
- wash nappies (a subset of laundry, sure, but deserving of its own line)
- fold nappies
- sweep
- vacuum
- clean bathrooms, sinks
- wash floor
eat chocolate- make dinner
- bake with the children
paint the boys' new roombuy paint. Spend weeks agonising over colour choice and end up choosing in two minutesrealize will never have time/energy to paint boys' roomhire painterwait for painter to be availablemove everything out of boys' new room for paintermove the furniture into the boys' new roompaperwork that appears from nowhere and always seems to be the same thing as that which I've just accomplishedmisplace paperworkfind and complete paperwork in the final weeks before it is due, feeling stressed and frustrated- clean out storage room
determine where the old furniture from the boys' new room will go- set up nursery
- go for a walk
- potty train eldest
- there is a whole subset list to this which may become its own blog post, provided I can do it in a way that is truthful but not too scarring for life for my child
- develop outdoor hobby
- write blog post about outdoor hobby
- determine when swimming lessons start up again and sign up children
- put away toys
- develop a better system for toys being away
- buy storage containers, OR
- throw away all toys and give children one cardboard box to play with
- Christmas shopping (I like to get the international stuff done early)
ultrasoundsort through the boys' clothes, getting out larger and putting away smaller- also, the closets for nappy exchange
- correspondance
prepare for second son's birthday partyinvitationdecoration(thoughts/purchase/make/arrange)cakeother foodclean house first.ANDafter. (This always seems unfair to me. Is it wrong to give guests dustbusters and tell them to look after themselves?)- vehicle exchange
find suitable vehiclesrealize that there are no suitable vehicles within a 350 km radius of homeget frustrated- figure it out
reorganize pantry- make playdough
buy carseatresearch carseats- buy chest of drawers
desire to go to IKEAlook through IKEA catalogue- go to IKEA, but not for a few months yet, so can be super pregnant and cranky whilst shopping with a little boy and toddler
lament living in the middle of nowhere- go to the park
run errands- go to the library
- put away DVDs and books and everything else that the toddler has strew about the house
- teach children a foreign language
or how to count to tenor what, metaphysically, is a horserealize need new maternity pantspurchase pants in 2 minutes during online shopping, having no time to be leisurely at shopping even in own house (after being frustrated that a local clothing shop will not stock them as live in too "regional" an area - because as we all know, people in small towns do not have babies)- work on boys' baby books
- and scrapbooks
look longingly at coffee pot and wonder when coffee will taste good againsort photos on computer- back up computer
print photosmore correspondenceset up playdates- groceries
figure out what toddler will eat now that he wants to feed himselfmake soup anyway because soup is deliciousdevelop head cold at the same time as children and try to care for them and keep moving- read that book about toddlers
and that other book that is made of funny things- edit
clean out laundry- buy steam cleaner
- find beautiful print of the Lord's Prayer
get frustrated with etsy- mail correspondence
read terrifying article about canola oilbuy sunflower oilrealize that sunflower oil works and tastes betterbuy more kleenexdance- teach boys to be good men
- go to the beach
And there is probably more. I'll come back to this and add or cross out as I finish things. How's your to do list going?
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