Saturdays

I spend part of my weekends (sometimes ALL) cleaning our house.
I don't do a lot on the weekdays, which I do believe is my problem.

It's the flylady again, hounding me. Her reminder for Saturdays:
"Please don't spend all day cleaning. Daily routines will keep your home maintained."

I don't follow a good routine during the week, which leaves a lot of make-up work on the weekends. The laundry has piled up, though I do try to keep up with that during the week. The bathrooms need scrubbing. The floors vacuumed. The trash emptied.

If I would do a little each day, this wouldn't happen. Spending 50 hours a week away from home seems to hinder these routines. I come home each evening. We do supper, a little relax time - either playing with the kids or watching t.v. We do bath time on an every other night routine. Then it's bedtime for the kids around 8. After that, I am inclined to recline. In my chair.

I write these amazing to do lists involving routines to keep the house tidy. The routines give way to American Idol and Grey's Anatomy. This is the part where I feel lazy.

So I'm inspired today, mostly by my ginormous to do list. To do better this week. To do a little each day. To get in the routine of keeping house. To keep up so the weekends are different.

To not spend next Saturday rushing around like I will today.

On my list today?

• bathrooms
• bedding
• laundry
• mop tile
• empty all trash
• tidy storage in basement
• master bedroom

First, we've got to go up to school for swim lessons and a little Saturday morning work there (my desk is as bad as my laundry room!). Then it's back home, for a day of clean up.

Off I go!

At Two

He's still saying dino-no. Thank goodness.

But now it's Grandpa, not papa.

And Brenna, not Bomma.

And Cars, not cais.

He's growing, my boy.

My daughter corrected me the other day, "Nu-uh mom! He's TWO!"

I say a lot, "But he's only one!" She had to straighten me out now. I can't say that any more.

He's speaking sentences.

He's opening doors (literally, although also figuratively).

He's undressing the Barbies...and the Kens.

He's running.

"I shoot b-ball."

"I watch Lighting show."

"I go bye-bye."

Not yet, little man.

Not quite yet.

Six weeks left in the school year.
March, April...both a blur.

Sometimes the way time passes frightens me.
My children growing out of their jeans.

Tall toddlers, becoming preschoolers, becoming school-agers.
Spinning 'round.

I blink and another month has passed.

I need to watch them play. Tonight.
To sit on the floor and look into their eyes.
To hug them and tell them that I love my life.

I really love my life.

Baby Mine

Our boy is this energetic, smart, funny little man.

I call him little man because of his strut. If you could see it, you would understand. Shoulders back, swagger, so confident. Such a little man.

Today my little man turns TWO.

He's been in the two's room at daycare since February. He's been telling everyone, "I two!" since we took cupcakes there on Tuesday. He's been looking and acting like a two-year old for months.
What I will remember as my boy turns two:
* the way he calls dinosaurs "di-no-nos"
* the way he can tell you shapes and colors from his books
* his ABC song, "A-B-C-D-M-M-M-M-M...YAY!!!"
* his temper and quick request for forgiveness, "So-ey" with a hug
* his love of reading and being read to
* his Lightning McQueen obsession
* how he starts telling you something with a hey, "Hey Mommy! Hey Daddy!"
* his laugh, oh! his laugh

Our little M is a joy to have in the house. He is a ball of energy.
He creates the perfect balance for our little family.
My little boy.

Happy Birthday, M!

I Miss Her Too

We are on spring break this week.

I spent the earlier part of the week taking care of personal appointments and doing some spring cleaning. Yesterday we had one of B's friends over all day. A magical little girl who my B listens to and doesn't argue with. We had a fabulous day where I played super mom, baking and whipping up homemade play dough. The sun was out, we were cheerful.

Today the rain has come. The children are arguing. I am a bit grumpy.

B misses her friend, she tearfully proclaims upon waking.

I miss her too.

So now they are happily munching breakfast and I'm having a cup of coffee. We will regroup and hopefully the mean mommy voice will be dormant for the remainder of the day, having just used the tired phrase, "I can only do one thing at a time!"

Tomorrow is my little man's 2nd birthday. We've big plans for a morning at the Children's Museum and lunch out. Then on Saturday will host grandparents, aunts, and uncles, which totals over 20 people to feed and entertain. I've made an ambitious menu, which has me a little nervous. I've got a big grocery list to hunt down today, in the rain. Woo.Hoo.

Hopefully my mood will not mirror the weather for the duration, since I believe it's going to be cold and rainy (and snowy!) for the next three days. I've got to dig deep into the reserves for some personal sunshine.

So here I go.

Cheers.

It's All About the Timing

Do you have experience with flylady.com?

A fabulous site and newsletter for the routine-disoriented soul, like myself.

She has routines for the daily grind. For keeping house. For a healthy body. It really is a wonderful resource, though I don't really use it.

I like to use it when I'm playing stay-at-home mommy. Her routines are workable for both, but I'm less likely to use her schedule if I have to tweak it to the working outside of home role I play for 190 days a year. I like to get groceries when she says to. I know to get them, I just like the little game of doing it on a schedule.

I've never actually been that successful at "flying", but it keeps me more on task when I'm pretending to.

Today I'm trying out her tip of using a timer. She recommends setting a timer for all types of cleaning tasks. When the timer goes off, you wrap up and stop. So I'm up in the bedrooms, setting the timer for 35 minutes each. I'm currently in transition and taking a coffee break. I found that while I was doing the first room, B's, I was working much more efficiently, knowing that my time was limited. I also didn't deviate from the task. Usually when I'm picking up one room, I'll find myself suddenly in the garage or laundry room, having been distracted by something. So I stayed in the room, depositing things into a basket that needed to go elsewhere, things that were to throw away, things to donate. I've taken care of those things here during the transition and will put the things to donate in my van at the end of my day. It's working really well so far. For weekly tasks, she says 10 minutes each. I just am giving myself more time because I'm doing the seasonal shift of clothes and toys, getting things thrown out, etc.

I put on some really upbeat music, a mix on our computer title "work out music". Now playing, "Let's Get It Started" by Black Eyed Peas.

So what's working for me today is a timer. Who knew? Such a simple thing is really making a difference in my efficiency. Give it a try!

Gulp

"If we're going to do this, we really need to commit and do it," I said bravely to the Hubs.
He nodded, looking slightly worried himself.

So I snipped the end off of his binkies (our little man's, not the Hubs')!

It was almost bedtime and it just struck me. He's going to be two this week. It's time to give up the binkies. He hasn't had one at daycare for over a month now and has napped fine. We've just been too lazy. It's so easy to put him to bed with his B-B (that's what the little man calls it) and he's out in minutes. I think we feared sleep strikes if he didn't have his B-B.

"M! Come here! Your B-B's, I think they're broken!" I felt so deceitful.

"Bwoke?" He came running.

And then it happened, he held those broken binkies in his hand and made the saddest little face I've ever seen in my life. His eyes welled with tears, his lip in a pout.

I cried with him.

Really.

Big, crocodile tears.

We got out the book I'd been saving for him. "Bye Bye Pacifier" (We switched that to Bye Bye Binky).

We read the book.

We called Grandma and Papa.

He said, "B-B's bwoke." About 50 times.

He'd get a little sad again, then we'd remind him that he's a big boy now!

I'm taking him tomorrow to get a big boy toy. Something I came up with out of guilt. It made him smile.

We'll see how tomorrow goes, but as of tonight, it seems to have gone fine. He went to sleep without a fuss. He's still asleep.

But there for a moment, I thought my heart would crack right in half.

My baby.

My boy.

Summer '06

Listen to Me

My heart bursts with pride when I look at her.
It's the selfish part of being a parent, yes?

We went for the audiology exam at school today. "Perfect" ears, our district audiologist said. A man I have come to know as he trained me to use the amplification system for one of my students who has a hearing impairment.

As I coach parents through the grieving they endure. As I tell them that their children are beautiful and wonderful and special (something I believe with every fiber of my being), I feel this pride. This embarassingly huge pride. For my own kids.

So I tell my B, "My heart bursts with love for you."
She says, "Me too."
It's the real thing.

Tomorrow is the kindergarten round-up. The Hubs will take her, I will pick her up. Luckily our home, church/daycare, school, and work are all within 15 blocks of each other. We have perfected this working parent dance, it all seems so easy sometimes.

Then I think of the day that the mom of my student got her news. Your son only has one ear. Your perfect baby boy has suffered strokes in utero. He'll need surgery immediately (and will survive 20 more in the next 15 years). The day she was told, "Hearing impaired."

How do I help her to that pride?
When will she see what I do?
I am proud of him. I tell him so.
I hope he will believe me some day.
The way that my B does.

WW

I decided in January that this must be the year. That '08 would be the year to lose the baby weight. I've gained 100 lbs. in the past 5 years (not collectively, but with the 2 pregnancies) and have lost roughly 70 of it.

I've lost 10 lbs this year so far.

I've got 33 lbs to lose. Give or take 5.

I feel better than I have in a long time. I don't feel panicked. I don't feel like I'm really dieting. I'm taking it slow and making permanent (I hope) changes.

I've fallen in love with the blog of a fellow WW points counter. A nice girl who counts her points and eats them too. Who takes gorgeous pictures of the delicious foods she makes and shares them with us. I live vicariously and dream of cooking such things, while I eat my turkey sandwiches and low fat pringles. Even if you are just looking for a healthy recipe, or a great food site, you should take a look.

I've started and deleted a personal health blog twice. I just felt like I was only whining, more than anything, so have decided to share those thoughts only in my personal journal. Only I know the internal joy that is always there. Only I know that a bad day is just that. So I journal the old-fashioned way. It's helping me learn about myself, and I find it's better that way.

It's all better.
Slowly.
Surely.

A Cruel Joak

I like to watch TV shows about keeping house. Home renovations. Buying and selling homes. HGTV and TLC have some great ones. House Hunters, Moving Up, and Flip This House are a few of my faves.

I was beyond bummed to learn this week, by watching some HGTV show about prepping a house for sale, that oak is out.

Considering that every piece of trim, every cabinet, every cupboard, door, and drawer in our home are ALL oak. We've even got some built-ins, a mantle, and a few beams to match.

Huh.

Guess we'll have to stay here until it's back in again.