Read, Watched, Listened

I love reading just about everything, watching comedy and documentary-type things, and have wholeheartedly embrace the podcast.  I also enjoy hearing about what other people are reading, watching, and listening.  Here's my two cents worth.

Reading while eating fresh chocolate chip cookies is thisclose to being a religious experience. 

Read

Hungry Heart
I love reading memoirs, and ones from other creative people are especially interesting to me as they describe how they go about their own creative process. It's also interesting to get a bit of an "insider's view" of the publishing world. That said, I must confess that I've never read anything else that Jennifer Weiner has written, so it was a bit hard to relate when she described some of her other work. Beyond that, though, she has a fascinating and somewhat tragic personal narrative woven throughout, which she adds both brutal honesty and humor to.

The Mothers
LOVED IT! This is the best novel I have read in awhile. I know I'm slightly behind on giving this book some love, but if you haven't checked it out yet, it needs to be added to your list. The narration is very interesting (you never really meet the narrator) and brings up questions of whose stories are ours to tell. I fell in love with the characters and my only issue is all of the unanswered questions the book left me with. I have a love/hate relationship with books that don't tell me everything by the end.

The Magic of Motherhood
Written by the Coffee + Crumbs ladies, this book is BEAUTIFUL, both literally and emotionally. The essays on motherhood read just like the ones on the site, (and a few are repeats), and they are full of life and humor and emotion. I've already re-read a few of my favorites. This has been sitting on my bedside table for the past couple of weeks and won't be leaving that spot anytime soon. I'm planning to give this as a gift at baby showers from now on.

Watched

Chef's Table (season three)
We're die-hards. Go watch ALL the seasons. (There are actually four, since France has a season all to itself but apparently doesn't count in numerical order.) Each episode is shot so beautiful and they are all so different from one another. If you love food and/or are interested in hearing people's stories, this series is for you.

The Sixties
We really enjoyed this mini-series by CNN. The interviews added such depth and each episode captured an aspect of the '60's in an interesting way. It was a great overview of the time period, though I will add that some documentaries we have watched have done a better job of covering subjects in an in-depth way, such as When We Left Earth (on the space program). It's also like deja-vu in a way, to watch things unfold that seem still so prevalent now. (See: racial tensions, lying politicians, gender inequality, etc., etc., etc...) I don't know if 2016 is exactly going to go down in the books like 1968 did, but...what's that saying about history repeating itself?

Listened

Beautiful Writers Podcast
I'm intermittent on this one, but recently Linda Sivertson not only interviewed Anne Lamott, one of my all-time most favorites, but her co-host was Glennon Doyle Melton, one of my other all-time most favorites. Completely inspiring.

Coffee + Crumbs Podcast
Giving the Coffee + Crumbs girls some more love this time around! Their podcast is back for season two, and it's like having a conversation with my own girlfriends...minus the part where I can't actually join in (boo). Each episode they discuss a different aspect of motherhood, and also check in with each other to share what "little luxuries" they've been enjoying lately. It's one of my favorite parts of the show, and now I'm totally dreaming of getting my eyebrows microbladed...just as soon as I rustle up that kind of $$$ (!).

Things Mom Knows

There are so many things I just know about my kids. Little habits and idiosyncrasies that are embedded into the way I parent, because day in and day out this is what I do. I know things that, if done in just the right way, bring success to our day, and if not, LOOK OUT.  I know where things are, what bodily functions have been one by who, and which child will eat what (well, usually). My brain is full. I might not remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday morning (I mean, besides coffee. Always coffee.) but here are some things I do know:

Like how to get a photo where everyone is in focus, even if they're not all looking at the camera. Just hire a professional.

• Don't give grapes to the baby until the end of the meal, otherwise it's all he will eat and you will spend the rest of your life cutting grapes into teeny-tiny pieces.
• Where the secret stash of snacks in the diaper bags is.
• The proper way to serve Frozen cheese cubes. (Rip open one side of the wrapper. Rotate the cheese 90-degrees, placing it back inside the wrapper so it sticks out, but the wrapper remains so they can see their favorite character and use it as a holder for the cheese. Point deduction if you dare to rip any part of Elsa's face or Olaf's carrot nose.)
• The words to every Daniel Tiger jingle.
• Which socks are too difficult for the baby to pull off his own feet.
• Which aisles to avoid at the store with the kids.
• The correct child to give the green, pink, blue, or yellow plate.
• Whose turn it it so pick out a bedtime story, dump the chocolate chips in the mixing bowl, or choose what type of fruit snacks they'll be eating for the week.
• That if you wait to get the free piece of fruit/cookie until RIGHT before you go through the check-out, it will (usually) buy you enough time to do so in peace.
• Which cry needs to be tended to immediately, and which not so much.
• Who's pooped today.
• That the baby wears mostly 12-month clothes, but a lot of the 18-month stuff is starting to fit, and there's a couple pairs of 9-month pants that actually fit pretty great still. The girl toddler is firmly in 3T, except a lot of 2T shirts still fit okay and 3T jeans are usually too big but the 2T ones fit well in the waist so they work if they are long enough, and we're saving some of the 2T leggings that are too short in the drawer to use as capris, come actual warm spring weather. Meanwhile the boy toddler can wear either 2T or 3T shirts, but bottoms remain a mystery since some of the 3T ones fit, though it depends on the brand and whether or not they have an actual functioning drawstring around waist, otherwise 2T fits best so long as the length is okay, but then we get into shorts and I think there are still some 18 month ones from last summer that will work just fine. The moral of the story is that you can never get any of the clothing bins put away in storage for good. Ever. 
• How much milk is left in the fridge.
• Who wants peanut butter on their toast, who prefers "just butter", and who doesn't even want their bread to be toasted.
• The exact location of BOTH pink slippers, where the blue sippy cup with the green handle is, and where the purple block for the shape sorter was last seen.
• That when they request "Coming 'Round the Mountain" in the car, it is track number 19. However, when they request "Coming 'Round the Mountain" they not only want to listen to track 19, but also the instrumental music on track 18, which they view as some sort of intro. Skip past track 18 at your own risk.
• How long everyone napped today, to the minute.
• The locations of the five nearest coffee shops with a drive-thru.
• How many pairs of toddler underwear are left before you need to do laundry again. And even when it seems all hope is lost and the bottom of the underwear drawer stares back at you, there is always a spare in the diaper bag. Just remember to replenish it later.

My parents will be taking over for the next few days while Tyson and I escape on a little getaway to meet our new niece (bonus points for also being in a warmer climate!). Mom and Dad: GOOD FREAKING LUCK.

Welcome Home Honey

Hi honey! We've missed you! You've been gone for the past eleven days. ELEVEN DAYS. That's like, over a week. And included a full weekend. I mean, we've been here before, but the days are long, babe. I think there is more to that saying but all I can remember right now is that the days are long and the hours are even LONGER. Oh. My. Goodness. Here are a few notes for you upon your return.

I swear that Caden actually IS excited for your return.

• You'll notice that most of your clothes are in a pile on the floor of the bedroom closet. The twins decided six days ago that it would be a great idea to pull them all off of the hangers while I dared to brush my teeth in the morning. Yes, that's right, six days ago. They're still there. And probably wrinkled.
• I did clean the entire house while you were gone, though. And by "I", of course I mean "the cleaning company that I hired to come out here once a month". It was perfect timing, really. You're welcome.
• The food situation is somewhat dire. We do have plenty of mac + cheese, goldfish crackers, and cereal. Not sure about milk, though. If you want something else, you should probably pick it up on your way home. Kidding. For the love please don't stop anywhere and just get home as fast as you possibly can.
• Unless you decide to pick up a bottle of wine, anything dark chocolate, a bouquet of flowers, and/or Chipotle. Then, please, go right ahead. (Add the guac. You know I love their guac.)
• I am sleeping in tomorrow. I do not know when I will emerge from the confines of our bedroom. I will also be taking a long hot shower, BY MY OWN DANG SELF. I am going to wash my hair AND shave my legs. Please note that the twins' gymnastics class is at 10:40 am. I may or may not be up and ready by then.
• Brooklyn's new favorite color is pink. I know that for the past few months it was blue but now it is pink, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul if you attempt to give her anything but the pink cup.
• Nolan has added "uh-oh" to his vocabulary. It sounds more like "uh-ahh", and he usually pulls it out after he's thrown his plate, food scraps, or entire sippy cup of milk onto the floor. Repeatedly. It's a really fun game for exactly one of us.
• I got a fly out of the house by myself while you were gone. (Where did a fly come from? It's MARCH.) Since you know how I feel about bugs, I probably deserve some sort of medal.
• Just close your eyes when you put the kids in the van. But be careful, since you basically can't see the floor anymore. It is a DISASTER. Cleaning it up is at the top of my priority list. However, it's been at the top of my priority list for the past two weeks and you can see how well that's worked out for me.
• I am entirely willing to let you completely take over bedtime for all three kids for the next eleven days. Doesn't that sound fun?
• We owe several of our friends a round of babysitting or a meal, and my parents some sort of something awesome for all the help they've given us the past week and a half. 
• I am eternally grateful to you for the following things: taking over garbage duty each week, remembering to always prep my coffee the night before, tackling the twins' daily 6 am wake-up calls, and cleaning the heavy dishes that I can barely lift even before they are filled up with a gallon of soapy water (I'm looking at you, Dutch oven).
• While I was really tempted, I resisted the urge to watch any of our shows on Netflix while you were gone. You're welcome again.
• I know you missed us, but I'VE MISSED YOU MORE. Welcome home.

Life Lately

It seems like all Caden and Brooklyn want to do lately is play "Elsa and Anna": one runs away while the other screams after them, "Come back, Elsa!". Then they switch. It's good for getting the energy out. It's bad for me because every other minute I turn around and almost trip over a kid. They're fast. Meanwhile Nolan toddles on behind, with a goofy grin, just trying to be a part of the action. He's Olaf, maybe?

+++++

Yesterday I literally spent two straight hours cleaning up poop. From 10:30-12:15. (Okay, 1 hour and 45 minutes. Details.) "Blowouts" is not a strong enough word to describe what happened to Nolan and his clothing and the surrounding areas at that time. Three clothing/diaper changes, two baths, and one disturbingly awful load of laundry later, it was finally naptime.

40 minutes later, he woke up and promptly threw up all over himself and his bed. (Fourth change of clothes, third bath, second yucky load of laundry, if you're keeping count.)

(Note: he's fine now. I don't think he's sick. The post-nap episode was the last of it. I just think his little tummy had a problem for some reason with the previous night's dinner.)

It was one of those days where if someone asked what I had done that day I would have drawn a blank, because I really spent most of it washing or re-washing what was basically the same load of clothes, cleaning out the same bathtub, and then rocking the same baby so he could sleep a little longer.

+++++

Clothes. Kid's clothes. Life around here is a never-ending carousel of kid's clothing rotation. I just got the newborn, 3-month, and 6-month bins out of Nolan's closet (only to promptly find a few pairs of "6-12 month" pants that no longer fit and need their 6-month bin home... *sigh*), and am now working on the 9-month and 12-month ones. And the twins are so small (no butts to hold those pants up #skinnytoddlerproblems) that I basically moved the 12 month bin straight from their closet to Nolan's, and now need to do the same with the 18-month bin. Meanwhile there are several teetering stacks of 24 month and 2T clothing that no longer fit on the top shelf of their closet that have no home because I ran out of bins. And the 9-month one has a lid that is VERY precariously, barely closed because with the addition of a third kid's 9-month clothes it has more than reached it's max capacity. So I apparently need to buy new bins. Adulting is hard.

(Putting clothes on is hard, too.)

+++++

Caden's favorite new trick is to do forward rolls (aka somersaults). They learned how at gymnastics: hands up in the air, tuck your chin, hands down, and roll. Except he doesn't really understand the "tuck" part, and always pretends to tuck something in his shirt before putting his hands down and rolling. It's pretty hilarious. His new favorite thing is to push all the blankets off of our bed so he can practice his "fo-wad woes" on the cleared-off space, over and over and over again.

+++++

Nolan is wicked fast. Like, super fast at walking. I know they're not technically supposed to be able to run until they are like 18-months or 2 years or something like that, but I swear that at 12 months he's practically there. Like, he could win baby races, if those were a thing. Put some Cheerios at the finish line and he would DOMINATE. He's a speed walker, for sure.

+++++

He's also gotten really good at communicating. He says "book" all the time, and now says "car", which sounds more like "ca-ca" or "ga-ga" as he watches all the cars out the window. When he wakes up from nap he wants to be snuggled for awhile, but after a few minutes of that he will throw his hand up and point at the cord on the blinds, so we can sit and watch the cars pass by out his bedroom window for awhile longer. The other night we sat down in his chair to read a book before bed, but I only got through a couple of pages before he shimmied down, walked over to his bed, sat down next to it, looked at the bed, and looked at me. Then he pulled his sleep sack out through the bars, threw it on the floor, and laid down next to it. Okay, kid. I guess I'll put you to bed.

+++++

It's ridiculously windy and the weather basically sucks and we JUST NEED IT TO BE SPRING ALREADY. These afternoons are killing us. Most of my friend's kids nap later than mine, so they don't wake up until 3 or 4 in the afternoon, but mine are up by 2:00 at least 95% of the time. 2:00-5:00/30 is a LOOONNNGGG time. Especially if we were home in the morning because then we've ALREADY DONE ALL THE THINGS in our house. It's mid-March. I'm out of ideas. It's not fun anymore. We need to be able to go to the park in the afternoon. Period. And then someone told me that it's supposed to snow next week. After it hasn't snowed here for like two months. We might all actually die. Pray for us.

+++++

(Brooklyn's all "I'm over this boy wrestling crap. So over it." Better get used to it, girl.)

An Ode to Bedtime

Ahhh, bedtime.

Not the actual bedtime routine: the bath - jammies - two, no three, no FOUR stories - and a song - prayers - and eighteen times on the potty marathon that is putting those children to bed.

No, I'm talking about the blissful, beautiful time after everyone is snuggled down, safe, swaddled, tucked in their beds and sound a-freaking-sleep. The afterglow, if you will. No one wants anything. No one needs anything. No one is touching me. No one is talking. It is quiet.

I do not take this time of day for granted. No way. I have worked way too hard to get here. The twins have gone through several periods of bedtime protests. Hell might be attempting to put a toddler to bed who insists that they aren't tired through screams, giggles, and tears. Even a couple of months ago we might have been interrupted one, two, three or more times by the baby. Always wondering: when I put him down, will he stay down this time? But now? I lay him down. And I'm done.  Period. I don't even bother to grab the baby monitor anymore since I know he'll stay asleep.  It's a bedtime miracle!

This part of the day is beautiful. It's one of my favorites. Dark and peaceful, the long stretch of the day behind. It's full of freedom. Not the I-could-jet-off-to-Vegas-at-the-drop-of-a-hat kind of freedom, but of the I-can-go-to-the-bathroom-if-and-when-I-need-to-without-interruptions variety. It's a time to breathe. Sometimes there are tasks to complete: leftover dishes from dinner, a tour of living room pick-up duty, laundry to fold. Things that need to get done, but they're not the focus. It's a time, often the only time of the day, to rest and recharge. To have grown-up conversations or just watch something other than Daniel Tiger.

I salute you, bedtime. And while the afterglow is glorious in and of itself, there are a few post-bedtime key players that deserve some special recognition:

To my comfy chair: Thank you for holding my tired and worn-out body at the end of the day. It's with you that I can rest, read, write, relax, and do my Amazon Prime shopping in peace.  

To leggings: If I haven't already been wearing you all day, you can bet I have changed into you by now. Thank you for being soft and stretchy and, basically, not jeans.

To dark chocolate: I love you. You are delicious and smooth, bitter yet still sweet. Thanks for existing.

To wine: Thank you for existing, too. 

To chamomile tea: For being the smarter, or at least cozier choice on other evenings. Your warm, light presence is the ultimate comfort before bed.

To Netflix: Whether I need something to zone out to, or something a bit more intellectually stimulating, you've got my back.

To books: Since I always have to be reading something. You're the last thing I look at and fill my mind with before officially shutting down for the day.

More specifically, to ebooks: Because I don't have to leave my house, get off my butt, or even out of my bed to obtain you. Within seconds. Thanks, technology. You rock.

To my husband: Thank you for finishing dishes, offering to pick up the house at the end of the day, and dealing with those toddlers demanding their 18th potty trip after being put to bed.  I love that you understand and lovingly disappear on the evenings that I "just don't want to see anyone's face", and for accommodating me on the other nights when "all I want is an adult to talk to".  I love you most of all.

A Love Story

Falling in love.  Or, to be more accurate: staying in love.

It doesn't always happen.  Staying in love is a lot of work.  Especially with our children.

Some days - months, years, seasons - are just hard.  We hear about that all the time.  The little years especially, all the struggles they entail.

And let's pause for a moment so as not to minimize the flat out WORK of these years.  It is hard.  Draining.  Sleep schedules, sleep training, sleep deprivation, the cleaning up of ALL of the things, making the food, picking up toys, changing diapers, potty training, carrying those babies in their carseats, getting out the door, soldiering on through bedtime, again, and again, and again.  Wake up and repeat.  Phew.

(It's adorable because you didn't have to clean up the floor afterward.)

And yet.

Sometimes, it happens.  An ordinary day, or week, or month.  But the stars have aligned. Maybe everyone slept well the previous night.  Breakfasts were eaten.  Moods and spirits are high.  Listening ears have been turned on.  The toddlers are filled with cheerful, giggly camaraderie.  A perfect equilibrium.

And you find yourself doing the most ordinary of things: walking down the dairy aisle of Target, in my case.  And you realize...

Hey...These kids - my kids - they're pretty GREAT!

You listen as they chitter-chatter about their favorite kinds of cheese (not gouda or feta, mind you, but the kind that have been branded with Frozen characters).  "Coffee - you need that for your coffee, mommy!" is shouted as they point to the heavy cream in its case.  Hey, I do.  Thanks for the reminder, guys.  They discuss gifts for their new baby cousin (a baby doll "just like mine!" from the toddler girl, a "shaker thing", aka rattle, because "babies love shaker things!" from the toddler boy).  They sit nicely, calmly, making little toddler jokes and enjoying each other's company.  

The baby happily munches on a cracker from his perch inside the cart and you realize that you haven't really been paying attention to where you've been steering that thing, because these kids?  Are kind of awesome.  Look at them - look at us - all out in public and making conversation and giggling and behaving ourselves!  You want to squish them and kiss their cheeks and laugh with them some more, because this?  This is FUN!  Right now you'd be content to just keep on pushing that cart forever.  Of course that won't happen.  There are things like lunches to make, naps to be had, an entire schedule to attend to.  And also you should get that gallon of milk somewhere with refrigeration, stat.

Sometimes the feeling lasts for a moment.  Only until you reach the checkout lane.  Or just until the chaos of bedtime.  Occasionally the stars really align and the feeling lasts for days, or even weeks.

(Like when they discover the joy of entertaining their OWN DANG SELVES.  Can I get an amen?)

It's a simple story, nothing new, tale as old as time.  But every now and then it reaches out and catches you, on the most ordinary of days.  You want things to stay this way, just like this, forever.  This moment, that mood, this feeling, these kids.  For any of it to change, for time to move on, feels like the ultimate tragedy.  And even though they are your children, you realize that you're living what can't be anything other than a love story.

To the Mama of Early Risers

Good morning, mama.

You double-check the video monitor to be sure, but no, your ears are not deceiving you. They're awake.

Brother is awake.  Sister is awake.  Baby is awake.

Everyone but you.  You stretch and roll over - can't you catch just a few minutes more of sleep, please? - but you know that it is futile.  The time on the clock reads an hour that you rarely saw before kids, but is now your new normal.  You were hoping that maaaybe today they'd forget to wake up for another hour or so.  It's been so long since you've had a full night's sleep, much less woken up on your own.  Most of your daydreams now revolve around a night in a hotel.  ALONE.  Clean sheets, fluffy pillows, and quiet.

It's hard.  You're so tired.  Your body is sore and ache-y from never getting a proper amount of uninterrupted rest.  Your cloudy mind tries to mentally prepare for what should be the simplest of tasks: throw back the covers, roll out of bed.

Why is your bed always it's coziest at six in the morning?

Sometimes it seems so unfair.  The fact that your kids,  yes, all of them, wake up so early.  Earlier than any of your friend's kids.  They don't quite understand.  Just the other day one of your good friends complained about their baby waking up "sooo early".  Which was at 6:45.  That day, like many days, you'd been awake since 5:30.  You managed not to punch her.  You are a Christian, after all.

This is maybe the toughest thing you will ever do.  Looking at the long stretch of another day at this early morning hour.  Talking yourself into getting out of bed in the morning can be quite the mental chore.   On your worst days, you start the countdown until 5:00 - daddy's home! - before 8:00 am.

It might not be fair, but it is your reality, so you do throw those covers back.  Contacts in, a splash of water on your face.  Do you have enough time for a whole shower?  Or maybe it's another dry-shampoo-will-do kind of day.  Dab of makeup.  Exchange your nighttime pajamas for what is basically a daytime set.  Thank goodness for leggings.  At least athleisure is a thing now.

Small blessing that this morning there were no potty emergencies or tantrums that demanded your attention before you were even awake.  No pressing needs.  But that's just the thing, isn't it?  How much they NEED you right now.  So many little, little ones.  Too many, it sometimes seems.  Who need you for ALL the things.  To get their food, change their clothes, wipe their bottoms, plan their activities, clean up their messes.  It's exhausting.  Especially when, most nights, you're still up with the baby a couple of times.  Maybe a toddler a time or two, with a nightmare or help on the potty.  You know this is important work, you do.  You're just not so sure that the people telling you to "enjoy it because it all goes so fast!" remember what a luxury their very own quiet bedrooms at 6 am are.

And yet.

This is a season.  I mean, it remains to be proven, but you do hear that these little ones grow up.  They start to fend for themselves more and more.  They don't need so much help on the potty.  They can pour their own bowls of cereal.  Even better: maybe you can train them to make your coffee.   Maybe - miracle of miracles - they start to sleep in a little bit. You're not sure that you'll ever mourn the passing of these early mornings, that can't come soon enough.  But their littleness?  That you will miss.  A snuggly baby.  Toddlers still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, blankie trailing behind, and a sleepy, "hi mommy!". Footie pajamas...what screams "baby" more than that?!?  Yes, you will definitely miss the footie pajamas.

But that day is not today.  Today still requires you to focus, to be present, to do all of the things.  You're still quite surrounded by toy blocks, sticky fingerprints, and, yes, footie pajamas.  

A pause at the door, a breath.  It's the beginning of the day, so (in theory, at least) your reserves of patience, gentleness, and kindness should all be full.  You wing up a quick prayer - HELP will suffice - and move forward to greet your little ones for the day.

And hey, maybe it's not too soon to train them in on how to prep that coffee.

Thirty

No longer a twenty-something.

I'm not sure what I think about that.  I've been a twenty-something for so long - it feels like about a decade, amiright? - that it's weird to be in a new place.  Like it or not, age is a part of our identity.  We don't really remember our youngest years, though every birthday is a thrill then, until we hit double digits, which is it's own form of excitement.  Pre-teen segues into teenager and then we hit our twenties and it seems to slow down a bit and we stay there awhile.  There are so many milestone birthdays all piled on top of one another 1-10!  13! 16! 18! 20 and 21!  But this is the first *big* birthday in-what? Five years?  Nearly ten?

I want to say it feels different, but it really doesn't.  I mean, I'm pretty convinced that I've been sitting at twenty-five for the past few years so anyway, so thirty doesn't even seem possible.  But here I am.  And when I stop to actually think about twenty-five?  It seems like eternity ago.

Thirty is definitely NOT twenty-something.

Twenty was college and classes and friends and parties and roommates and projects and papers and deadlines.  At my twentieth birthday, I hadn't even met Tyson yet (though that was just a few months away).  I wasn't looking to meet anyone and I had halfway convinced myself that I would move somewhere out east after graduation in a couple of years.  I wasn't officially in my university's interior design program yet.  At twenty, I hadn't even met most of my core group of friends in college.  I wasn't writing as much as I do now and I hadn't realized how much I enjoy food and the process of cooking, which are things that seem so integral to my life right now.  I probably did still drank the same amount of coffee, though.  Pulling all-nighters hasn't really changed.  It's just that now it's with a baby instead of a design project (although really, both of those things are kind of my babies).  Otherwise, thirty looks absolutely nothing like twenty.  Twenty was very different.

Twenty-five.  At twenty-five, Tyson and I had been married for a little over a year.  I was working my first interior design job as a closet designer, though I didn't yet know that it wasn't going to last but a few more months.  We had moved the previous fall to a new apartment in Madison, but we didn't really know how much longer Tyson had left in school, much less what our next steps would be.  We certainly didn't anticipate having twins in another couple of years, or adding a third baby to the mix almost exactly two years to the day after that.  Twenty-five was still so fluid.  So many unknowns.

Now thirty.

Thirty is settled.  It's an interesting switch, since my life at forty will probably look very similar to life at thirty.  Of course I realize that anything can happen.  There will be hard things and happy things and new life and losses along the way, sure.  But it's incredibly likely that we'll be in the same house, with the same kids, albeit a decade older (even if kids in their double-digits seems absolutely unfathomable now).  We'll (hopefully) have many of the same friends.  Thirty is more determined, and life is settling into a pattern that was absolutely unimaginable five years ago, ten years ago.  Heck, even two years ago.

It's almost like this is my first "grown-up" birthday.  In many ways there are fewer unknowns.  Most of the big questions in life have been more or less settled: marriage, kids, house.  There's not the "where will I even be what will life look like" questions that there were at twenty, or twenty-five.  My kids will have memories of me in my thirties.  They'll start to make memories and form attachments to our traditions, our values, our family life, during this decade.  Heck, I remember my mom wearing a faded pink sweatshirt around the house, emblazoned with the words "thirtysomething" printed in teal.  For all I know she wore it into her forties.

In fact, I should ask her if she still has it, tucked away in a drawer somewhere.  I could use it for about the next decade.

These Are the Days

I lay snuggled up in bed last night, propped up on pillows as I finished Emily P. Freeman's Simply Tuesday.  Towards the end she talked about writing down in her journal "these are the days of..." and listed what was going on in her life.  I immediately set her book (well, my tablet) aside, grabbed my journal, and started scribbling.

These are the days of:

• (too) early mornings with (too) early risers
• leggings and comfy shirts
• Cheerios for breakfast
• ...found later scattered on the floor and tucked into folds of clothing

• not enough coffee (at least of the hot variety)
• knowing all the words to the songs in Daniel Tiger and Super Why
• living in danger of being loved to death by a big brother and sister

• wiping too many bottoms
• being bundled in a dinosaur coat and a polka dot one

• three in the Target cart
• picking up too many toys
• savoring the quiet of naptime (blessed naptime)
• resenting the apperance of a too-short napper

• the infectious excitement of a baby when I walk into the room
• lazy (as much as possible) afternoons

• Frozen sing-alongs
• negotiating the battlefield of two toddlers and a baby playing with the same toy

• counting down to the 5 o'clock hour
• everyone around the table
• a couple of kids who are constantly being told to "sit down at the table"
• post-dinner games of memory
• everyone in the tub

• early bedtimes
• picking up too many toys again
• snatched moments of "me" time 

• snatched moments of "us" time
• collapsing into a comfortable, fluffy, never-made-because-why-bother bed
• night wakings
• a pep talk the next morning to motivate myself to go at it for another day

The Year of Creativity

Create.

That is my word for this year: 2017.

It's a new thing for me, to choose a word, a theme, for the year.  I've never been much of a resolutions girl or even a writing-down-my-goals girl.  Resolutions have always seemed a little, I don't know, forced? overly hopeful? just plain cheesy? to me.

But a word?  A word I can do.

For Christmas, Tyson gifted me "The Year of Creativity", put on by the ladies of the Coffee + Crumbs blog.  It's essentially a year long class, prompting (or maybe at times forcing) the act of writing and cultivating creativity.  He knew I wanted to participate, but that it was something I would never gift myself.  (Shout-out to the hubby: you're a keeper!)  This gift, this year of creativity, is what inspired my word this year, and to even bother to choose one in the first place.

Create.

And I mean create in the fullest sense of the word - to create with my writing, certainly - but also in other ways as well.  To create areas of my home that are cozy and inviting and welcoming, areas that have been somewhat neglected since the chaos of moving and then Tyson being gone and surviving our year of #threeunderthree.  To create food, good food.  I mean, I love me some food.  And I love the making of food.  The entire baking and cooking process is so interesting and therapeutic and, yes, creative, for me.  And to create a peaceful, not frantic, schedule for our family so we can soak up these "little" years.  

This isn't a post with a pretty picture.  I don't have such free reign to create during the "pretty" hours - the sunlight streaming in and a clear, well-rested head with a mason jar of fresh-cut flowers nearby and everything arranged just "so".  That's not how this stage of life works right now.

Much of this creativity is happening in the after-hours, the fringe hours of my day.  It's dark, shadowy even.  Blurry.  It doesn't photograph well.  But this is where my creativity is happening.  This is where you will find me for much of this coming year.  

Kitchen table.  Dark.  Tea.  Or maybe a glass of wine.  Pen.  Journal.  On a good day something sweet will be nearby.  Quiet, above all else.

Tonight, I've actually created several things.  I've created a clean home (i.e picked up 1029 toys).  I even created perfect scenes in the twins' dollhouse as I re-arranged the jumble of furniture for the night (#interiordesigner4life).  I finished creating invitations for the kids' birthday party and sent them off to the printer.  And now I've created this.

The year of creativity has begun.

It's Not Always Like This

As I left the store this morning, my cart loaded down with three kids and eight bags of groceries, another mama was just entering the store.  Two kids in tow herself, a boy and a girl who looked very close in age.  They must have been 3 and 4?  4 and 5?  Or maybe even twins.

They were NOT having it.  Tears on the verge of tantrums for both.  She grabbed a cart, saying, "we've only been in the store for 30 seconds, guys!", with a little smile.  The kind of smile that says, "this is funny except that it's NOT AT ALL funny because now I need to deal with it".

I was able to give her a quick smile of my own, along with a "good luck", as I walked out the door myself.

We probably looked pretty good to her, done with our shopping, myself with three kids younger even than her two, all in good moods and happily munching on the bananas that were their rewards for good behavior in the store.

I only had time for that "good luck", but what I wanted to tell her was "it's not always like this!".

My three are usually well-behaved in public.  But not always.  Like last week.  Let's just say that last week they didn't earn their bananas for good behavior in the store.

Today was a good day, happy chatter as we walked through the store, minimal reaching for things on the shelves.  Some friendly words for the cashier and a cheerful "thank you!" to the giver of the free bananas.  

We came home and Caden and Brooklyn even helped unload the groceries - and I mean they were ACTUALLY helpful with putting things in the right places and handing me items from the bags that needed to be put away where they couldn't reach.  (This is an immense improvement over their previous practice of taking everything out of all the bags and leaving it all on the kitchen floor as a sort of grocery minefield for me to pick up.)

They went off and played with their own toy kitchen, still fresh from Christmas, and played their own version of pretend grocery shopping and putting the things away.

But it's not always like this.

Solidarity, mama.  I'll take what we had today.  Call it luck, or a little Tuesday morning blessing.  I could just as easily be you tomorrow.

Advent. It's a Thing.

Advent is a thing.

I mean, I know it's a thing.  I grew up in the Catholic church for goodness sakes - I KNOW Advent.  If there's one thing the Catholic church does well, it's tradition.  (Cue opening song to Fiddler on the Roof...)  The candles, the prayers, the anticipation.  It's a beautiful thing.

But suddenly it's an INTERNET thing.  At least the corners of the internet that I frequent. The Pinterest-y, mom blog, "489 Ways to Celebrate Advent With Your Children!!!!!!1!!"- type corners.  And maybe there aren't actually articles with 489 ways to celebrate Advent, but when everyone is posting up all the things they are doing during the season, it sure seems like it.  I think by now we're all familiar with social media overload.  It's kind of exhausting to think about.  Especially when December kind of creeps up on you.  I mean, I knew it was coming - it was November and all - but November seemed like a quick march right up to Thanksgiving, (and travel, in our case), and so here we are, thrust into Advent with no particular plans.  No daily calendar, no hidden chocolates or candies or puzzles for each day.  Are you covering your mouth in horror?  Because admitting that almost seems like the ultimate #momfail these days.

Let's be honest, parenting small children is difficult enough without adding HOLIDAYS to the mix.  The everyday is filled with too many things to do in not enough time without worrying about adding some holiday magic to the mix.

Thankfully, the kids are pretty good about adding the magic themselves.

Grabbing Mary and a sheep and singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb"?  Magical.  And, yup, hilarious.

Being blessed to celebrate another first Christmas?  Definitely magic.

Listening to Caden read me the Christmas story?  Which involves this SINGLE page.  And goes like  this: "And they say 'hi Jesus!' and they all singing the sheep and the flying and ev-yone happy the end".  Every time.  Magic.

So, with three kids under three, I've committed to doing exactly four things this year to celebrate Advent and lead up to Christmas.  (And by now you should have realized...ain't no elves up on my shelves.  Props if you can pull that off, but as for me and my house?  NO thank you.)

     1. Read the Christmas story each day.  This one is half falling apart from all the love we've given it over the past couple of years, and has the best rhymes.
     2. Play with the nativity set each day.  The one shown above in the first photos was one we'd been given for the kids.  Let's just say that while the figures were kid-friendly in size, they were NOT kid-friendly in material.  A couple of broken wise men's crowns and half a shepherd later, we gave them this one as an early Christmas present.  We gave it to them on the 1st, and it has been THE MOST played with toy, by far, in the few days since then.

And since it's, y'know, made for kids, even Nolan can get in on the action.

"Sing me the SONG, mommy!"  Brooklyn says, every time she wants me to act out the Christmas story with the figures.  We've been over it many, many times.  Caden loves to fly the angel around, especially in scenes when the angel has KEY LINES, such as "hey btw you're totes gonna have give birth to God's son", and laughs hysterically as he zooms away. Brooklyn carries Baby Jesus and "his mommy" around all over the house.  And Nolan, y'know, chews on everything.  It's got something for everyone!

It's also great because Caden and Brooklyn are in prime-play pretend mode.  So far this morning Mary, a wise man, and the camel have gone on an adventure to "daddy's store" (aka Lowe's).  "Do you have your money?"  "Buckle up!" (Apparently this camel has advanced safety features.)  "It's far, far away." 

     3. Sing Christmas songs.  Hymns.  We're loving the Christmas albums from Mercy Me, Brandon Heath, and Casting Crowns.
     4. And, of course, we made a paper chain.

(Surprisingly good paper-chain makers.)

They get to rip off one chain each night, of course.  We alternate.  Brooklyn gets the red ones, Caden gets the green ones, because everything is all "Green my favorite.  I love green, mommy." lately.

5 days down.  20 more to go.

We're not going to do everything this year.  Or any year, really.  But we can do some things.  And this isn't all that we'll do.  We made some Christmas cookies over the weekend.  I can assure you that we'll make many more before the season is up.  We'll play in the snow, read some Christmas stories, attend some parties.  But are we going to cram in every community event, every Santa visit, every single holiday gathering we're invited to?  Nope.  And I'm fine with that.  

We're having fun right here.