A storm

"Mom?"

Midnight, a thunderstorm.  I stood in the hall, watching the clouds explode in the night through the window over the front door.  The sky was continuously alight, and yet it was eerily silent.  No thunder.  And with no electricity, even the house was quiet - there was no hum of fridge or gurgle of fishtank, and this is when Pebbles called out to me.

"Yes, Boo?"  The room, of course, was pitch, except for the outline of the window around the shade, which flickered and burst with light. 

"If there are no colors, what color is that?"

"Black."  I held out my arms and she climbed into them, sweaty and sleepy and mine.  I took her back to the window.  We watched the storm together, she and I and my husband, who circled the upper floor restlessly, eyeing the towering Jack spruce and pine trees around our home. 

The storm moved on and the thunder came, crashing and booming and shaking the house.  We checked on her brother - who was snoring - and she smiled.  All her life he has been there.  He is her best friend, her worst enemy, and the yardstick by which she measures herself.   He does things without her - school, sports, sleepovers - but seldom does she have experiences that he does not.  I watched her take this one and tuck it away for sharing the morning.  In our bedroom I opened the drapes and we climbed into the big bed, where we cuddled watched the lightning until our eyes wouldn't stay open any more.

So I'm sleepy today, and I wouldn't change a single thing.

And winter sets in

Came a sleepy little-girl voice in the dead of night:
"hud."
And a sleepy mother-voice:
"Wha?"
"hud."

This is why I love having her in the Big Bed. It's these moments. On their own they're meaningless, just another moment in the life of a family. But there is such peace in my heart as I snuggle close to my littlest. And give her a hud. And a kiss.

BamBam's Christmas concert is today. I took Pebbles and attended the daytime showing this morning, Most Precious Man will go after work - and thus shall the famdamily be representin'.

The car did not want to come all the way up the driveway because the driveway is steep and snowy. I tried to put it back down at the bottom and now the car is in a snowbank. I'm glad the snowbank is there, because if it wasn't the car would be in the ditch. Oh well, MPM will fix that. It's...it's what he does. He can fix anything. (Tell your daughters: marry a man who can fix stuff. They will grow to love him later.)

So, Pebbles is napping. I'm getting the jitters from too much coffee, or maybe it's from my breakfast of white-chocolate covered Oreos and Jalapeno Pepper Havarti.

In any case, this is not writing. Not really.
Hud your loved ones.

The Writing Mom

Some days I don't make it to my keyboard, and there's guilt about that. This poem helps me to remember what's really important.


MY HANDS WERE BUSY

My hands were busy through the day.
I didn’t have much time to play.
The little games you asked to do,
I didn’t have much time for you.
I’d wash your clothes. I’d sew and cook.
You’d ask and I’d read from your book.
I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
And hear your prayers; turn out the light.

Then tiptoe softly by your door,
I wish I’d stayed a minute more.
For life was short, the years rushed past,
A little boy grows up so fast.
No longer is he at my side,
His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away.
There are no longer games to play.

No Teddy Bears or misplaced toys
No sleepovers with lots of boys.
No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear.
That all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands, once busy, now are still.
The days are long and hard to fill.
I wish I could go back and do
The little things you asked me to do.

Anonymous

The dog days of motherhood

Hello writers!

I can't believe it's been two weeks since I checked in. Wow, but anyway.

I'm in a phase right now when all my resources - diminshed by cold and sinus infection - are going to my family, work and home. We didn't hire the girl from Yemen, there was a whole government application process that was going to take weeks, if not months, and we were really running out of time. We did find someone, though, so all's well that ends well, except for the poor girl from Yemen. I do like her a lot.

I'm a really lousy housekeeper. Seems no matter how much time I spend cleaning, the place is always a wreck. It bothers me the most when I'm tired, which is not the best time for cleaning, but whatever. We're a happy, mostly healthy, loving family. So the place is messy. Clear a spot to sit and have a cookie and some tea.

*Yawn* Pebbles thinks cow's milk is revolting. She also spurns formula. She likes to nurse every hour or so through the night. Any suggestions? *Yawn* Might not be so bad if I could sleep between nursing, but nooooo, I use that time to do my very important worrying. And that's even after reading THE SECRET for half an hour before lights out. What's the matter with me?

On the bright side, I'm down 20 lbs. {G}

Writing, well hey. Maybe later. Right now I need to take an Advil and dry my hair.
Keep blogging, I'm leaning on y'all more than you know.

I'm always learning

A chunk of banana the size of a baby's palm will almost - but not quite - stick to the side of a cat.

Cat fur does not impede the digestive system of an infant, nor does cat food.

A person can go in-freaking-sane trying to keep an infant from ingesting cat fur and cat food when said infant REALLY WANTS TO.

Beer helps.

Twinsday

Hoy. Is 11:30 am too early to start drinking???

The twins, my nieces are here today. I love them, I truly do, They're sweet. Their mother is Expecting shortly, and so as it is with many girls this age, they love All Things Baby. Which means they tell me everything she does:

"Aunt Cindy, she laughed!"
"Aunt Cindy, she burped!"
"Aunt Cindy, she likes when I do this!"
"Aunt Cindy, there's food on her shirt!"

They're also budding experts, so they like to let me know when it's time to check her diaper, feed her, give her a drink, put her down or pick her up. Did I mention they're twins? So there are two of them, which means there is a voice in my ear every moment of the day.

And this is the easy part of the day. When BamBam comes home, they'll all fight over toys.

This way lies madness, Part II

Night before last, that Baby of mine woke up at 11:00 pm, and stayed up until 4:00 in the ever-loving morning.

We went downstairs and watched part of V FOR VENDETTA, (not bad) and played with toys. At 2:00 am DH offered to take her for a bit, so I napped until 2:30, when he brought her to me, sleeping. Of course she immediately woke up.
"All done, all done," she signed, with a whimper.
"Baby go to sleep," I said.
"All done."

I didn't actually break down until 3:30 or so; one of the few times that I have cried with this baby. I was a little bit off when I had my first, there were so many more tears back then. How different things are now.

As we finally drifted off at 4:00, I was thinking about how far I've come as a mother. These long, slow, empty nights when I feel like I'm the only person in the whole world don't have so much power over me as they once did. I know now that I'll be okay, that the sun will come up and I can still have a good day even if I'm really, really tired.

And I did. I had one interview and one no-show, (have you ever not shown up for a job interview???) I laughed and I played with my kids and my husband made me supper and I was okay. At about 10:00 I started to feel the pull of fatigue, the heavy melancholy, the vulnerability. So I cast aside A BLADE OF GRASS, it's a very good book, but I'm really starting to worry about the two MCs. No anxiety, not tonight. Instead, I found my copy of Outlander, and I went to bed.

Today will be my third consecutive day of work - that's work at work, not at home. Employee's siblings are visiting from AB, so in order for her to actually see them, she needs some time off. I like being at work, it's peaceful and fulfilling in a way that stay-at-home-motherhood isn't, but by the time the week is up I'll be glad. It's a lot of time away from Pebbles and BamBam, and the laundry, well, it's like Damomma says. I get it washed and dried fine, it's the folding and putting away that never seems to be finished.

Wrapping up another week of sick around here, we're down to a mild case of pinkeye in Pebbles, probably from rubbing snot into her eyes. (eeeeeew!) I had a fever for a few days, I just couldn't get warm unless I was in the tub. Thank heavens for my Most Wonderful Husband.

Valentines' Day with kids is much like any other day, at least for us, but we had some small presents and there were some roses and a pint of Ben & Jerry's. It's crazy sinful, that stuff.

Writing? I've been avoiding it in my mind, cautious that I don't get bored with it in my non-writing time. There has been quite a bit of non-writing time, what with everything. I'm getting flashes and ideas, and I'm looking forward to sitting down with my characters and getting some words done. I'm still around 3K, how sad is that? My progress meter just doesn't move like Sara's.

Uh oh.

My daughter is nine months old. If you tell her "no," she gets a little glint in her eye, and then she smacks your mouth. It's consistent. It doesn't matter who you are, even beloved Daddy and Nanny Kisses have been disciplined for this transgression.

And so it begins.

The truth is...

Me first, then you!

The truth is I have an open box of Toffifee hidden in my underwear drawer. I just had four, for my lunch.

The truth is I vacuumed the counter today because I saw how dirty it was while I was vacuuming, so I just...did.

The truth is I was impatient with my sick little boy today at the grocery store because the Baby wouldn't let me put her down and I was trying to put the groceries on the belt with one hand and Little Boy was about to cry because I wouldn't let him crawl into the cart. Part 2 - I hate it when strangers, especially checkout girls, see my not-so-good parenting moments.

The truth is I just had a glass of Bailey's in milk because I felt overwhelmed. Now I feel much better, but the groceries aren't put away, still, and the tree is up, still, and the hamster is dead, still. (S)

The truth is both my kids are asleep, so I know there is a God. Off to write a bit!