I came to this morning, drenched in my own cold sweat, my husband leaning over me, coaxing me to drink chocolate milk through a straw. Low blood sugar. Again. I'm pretty sure this has been my wake-up every morning so far this week. I'm trying to keep my sugar under tight control, and--well, sometimes my mornings are a casualty. These incidents take a lot out of me; I'm usually exhausted and weak (not to mention freezing, after drowning in cold sweat in a house that only gets heated to 60ยบ during the night), and so I end up showering and going straight back to bed for a while.
These mornings are hard on Aaron, too. He gets a late start at work, which pushes his clock-out time later; he has to get the kids their breakfast, and deal with a crying baby because mommy isn't aware enough to take care of the baby herself (I can't tell you how many times these crying babies have saved me from hypoglycemic shock, though!). The kids have it pretty easy; they get to strew toys all over the house, dance naked on the dining room table while eating chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, and cause general mayhem in the absence of coherent adult supervision.
And of course, once this chain reaction gets started, it's harder'n'heck to stop. I don't drag myself out of bed until lunch time, or so; the house is completely decimated by then, and the kids are squabbling over who gets to drive the CozyCoupe Police Vehicle, and the baby is eating garbage that has spilled out of the bathroom trash can. By the time lunch is microwaved (because, really, do you think I'm going to cook on a day like this?) and shoved onto passably clean plates, the day is shot, and all I want to do is sit down and wait for my Fairy Godmother to show up and tidy things up for me. Except, of course, it doesn't work that way.
So here it is, midnight. I have stepped on stray Legos about fourteen times since I tucked the kids into bed four hours ago, toy cars and a Melissa & Doug rhythm band set are littering the living room floor, dirty supper dishes are still on the dining room table, non-perishable groceries and empty grocery bags cover my kitchen counter, one of the dining room chairs sits all askew in the kitchen by the counters where my son pulled it up this morning to retrieve cookies from atop the microwave, the beds haven't been made, the animals are staging a revolt, the baby is wearing clothes that were stained about four days ago, and I'm sitting here, drowning in chaos, so very, very thankful for my life.
I have three beautiful, healthy, and moderately obedient children (I'm giving them a pass, here, but I'm being grateful, so that's allowed, right?). I have a husband who cares enough about me to straw-feed me chocolate milk when my sugar turns me into a raving lunatic (have I told you about the conversations we've had when my sugar has been low? No? Good.). We have a great big giant house that we are not renting, which has enough rooms and closets for all, and is not located in a trailer park, nor is it located in town (yes, I'm counting that as a blessing). We have a paid-for car, and Aaron has a job that pays all of our bills. Have I mentioned my three beautiful, healthy, moderately obedient children and my husband, who drive me all kinds of crazy? Because seven years ago, I had none of that. My life was orderly and organized and perfect. And lonely. So tomorrow I will wake up early and whip my house back into shape, and yell at my kids for playing instead of picking up their cars, and nurse the baby a million times, and cook lasagna for supper, and slouch into my chair at the end of the day exhausted and frustrated, glad the kids are finally in bed. But today--today, I will just be grateful. Chaos be damned.
February 15, 2012
December 05, 2011
A Few of My Favorite Things
 |
| 300 piece Battat Krinkle Blocks set, available on Amazon.com for $69.95 |
Or, as they are known at my house: "Spikey Blocks." Next to Legos, these have to be the best invention in the entire world. My kids can make everything out of these things, from guns to houses to cars, and if the baby gets a hold of them, which he inevitably does, I don't have to worry about a) performing the Heimlich maneuver or b) finding little half-digested lego pieces in his poop. I also don't have to fear walking around my house in the dark, because while stepping on these things isn't exactly a "spa experience," it's no "steppingonsharplittleLegosinthedark" experience, either. Win/Win, right?
 |
| Image from http://www.equinenow.com |
Adjustable Waist Bands
My kids are all skinny. My oldest finally grew into his 6-9 month pants at 15 months. Of course by then, they were much closer to capris than pants, which is, fashionably speaking, unacceptable for little boys. At least, as far as I know. My daughter and youngest son followed this trend, as well, which makes it a horrible chore to keep my kids in pants. Last Christmas, my mother-in-law bought my daughter several pair of blue jeans that had these amazing little elastic contraptions built into the waistbands. They are amazing; I can just pull out the little piece of elastic hidden in the waistband until the pants are tight enough, then hook the little hidden slit in the elastic over the button, and voila! instant happiness. Or, as the case may be, a perpetually clothed child. More or less, anyway.
 |
| Hershey's Take5 Candy Bar |
Take5 Candy Bars
I go grocery shopping every two weeks. I shop for the entire two-week period, which means a) it takes a while to finish, and b) I sometimes have to visit several stores. No biggie, right? Except that I am accompanied on my shopping forays by a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and an eight-month-old. By myself. Without any help. So, at the end of my shopping trip, I reward myself for not a) being reduced to a screaming, slobbering hunk of crazy, or b) "accidentally" leaving my kids in the public restroom, by buying a Take5 bar. It's pretzels, peanuts, caramel, and peanut butter, shoved into a creamy chocolate pouch--it satisfies my sweet/salty, soft/crunchy cravings in one blow. And, of course, keeps me sane enough to drive me, my three kids, and two weeks worth of groceries home safely.
Melba Toast
The baby recently started eating solid food, which is nice, because he's starting to see that the world consists of more than just mommy's milkie dispensers, but it's frustrating, because I don't always have the time to go cook up veggies for him, and cut them into little bite-sized pieces, so he can safely ingest them. Melba toast is amazing because it's (relatively) healthy--I mean, it's not a combination of high-fructose corn syrup, sodium, and artificial apple flavoring--so I don't feel terribly guilty doling it out to him. Also, he doesn't need help eating it (although, the dogs do volunteer their services, anyway). It's crunchy to make his little teething gums feel better, and it sogs up nicely, which is the number one most important feature in any food that babies eat. I mean, how else is he supposed to get really-hard-to-get-out white streaks on my only clean pair of black church pants?
And why would I include this in my "Favorite Things" list? Because ^ this prevents this:
 |
| Image from http://www.fark.com/comments/4152360/ |
December 03, 2011
Why I Need to Learn German
I spent all stinking morning, looking for a pattern that would show me how to do this :
 |
Image from VintageHomeArts.com |
I want to make a scarf, and and I want to try adding beads to my work, and I'm sure that once I get started, I'll find out that this was a terrible combination of ideas, but it looks amazing in my mind. Which explains a lot, if you know me. Anyway, so I spent all morning looking through google images, googling crochet stitches, searching youtube for instructional videos, bargaining with God that if He gave me a lead on how to work this technique that I would fold the 87 loads of laundry currently on hold in my laundry room, instead of making my husband sift through towels, rags, and baby shirts to find matching socks.
He heard my prayer. He answered me. My heart leapt for joy when I found a link on youtube to this video:
"Here it is!" I thought, "The answer I've been searching for!" And behold, I followed the star to youtube, and found the video, lying in the related videos sidebar. And after I handed over all of my gold, frankincense, and myrrh, I realized Something. A Bad Something. And can I tell you what a ginormous let-down it was when I realized that I do not know German? I mean, I can count up to, like, 67, and I can offer up a very passable "Good morning/afternoon/evening," and I can ask "What is that?" I can sing the fragments of Brahm's "Weigenlied" that I remember from my voice recital, But, alas! These are not useful phrases in crochet patterns. And all was lost. The End.
No, actually, given the fact that if I stopped searching for this pattern, I would have no excuse for not getting up and cleaning up the house. Or folding those 87 loads of laundry. So I kept looking. And then, in my darkest hour--success! I found this:
 |
| from http://crochetguy.tripod.com/id11.html |
A Little This, A Little That
It's time. I've been spending too much time on Facebook, and not nearly enough time, well, doing everything else. So this is my solution. Think of it as a dumping ground for all the chaos in my life: I'll whine about how the dogs keep mistaking the sun-room carpet for a toilet, and show off pictures of my uber-cute kids, and talk a lot about birth and breastfeeding and co-sleeping and all of those topics that bring out the passion in me. And make people start edging away from me cautiously at social gatherings. I'll talk about my current crochet projects, and any other craft project that I mistakenly think is a good idea to undertake. You know: a little this; a little that. It'll be fun. Like Facebook. And cleaning dog poop out of the sun-room carpet.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)