Where I blog again after another Forever of not blogging.

I'm bad at maintaining. I don't know why. I think it's another one of those classes everyone else seems to have gone to that I inexplicably missed, like how to do hair and how to understand what being graded on a curve means.

It's very frustrating for me, and I think it makes me look like an entitled sissy who's always had everything done for her so she never had to learn how. Maybe I am that. I'm the youngest of 10, so it wouldn't be a totally wild guess. But I don't feel that it's entirely accurate. I know how to do things. I can take care of myself, kinda, and I can stand up for myself (or at least I'm learning to.) Okay, so maybe it is entirely accurate.

What I mean by all this is my fridge is always empty, or near enough to it.  I worry about spending too much money on food (on EVERYTHING), and so when I do fill it up it just slowly gets empty again. And we have nothing fun or interesting to eat, and come dinner time I stare dumbly into the vast fridgey cavern and have no clue what to do so my family won't starve. And the thought of having to grocery shop and KEEP GROCERY SHOPPING FOREVER makes me very, very stressed. The same thought applies to showering, and other things that have to be done, by nature, repeatedly.

Do they have a class for this? Like, at a college? That I can take? Someone sign me up, because I probably couldn't ever get around to doing it myself. Help!

Possible serendipitousness

We stopped by Savers yesterday, as one does, to peruse the riff-raff and see if there was anything we needed to take home. Upon entering I forced myself past the book section, knowing that the time it would take to properly assess the shelves would be too much for baby patience. So we went straight to accessories, because I knew without doubt I would be able to find a braided belt like I'd been wanting. And of course we stopped by housewares to quickly browse the sheets, because one almost always finds a pretty sheet there (and one definitely always has use for more of those at home. You know, fort-building and such.) And then we had to pass by the books again, but by then James had a belt to chew on so I thought heck, might as well.I decided to rope myself down tothe shelves labeled Literature (isn't it all?) because there are some classic-lit-type books I've been wanting but haven't been able to find at the libraries. As I started scanning the spines I had the distinct feeling that the book I was looking for was there. A premonitiony feeling, if you will. A twinge of excitement purred across my brain as I continued to scan. Still, I am doubtful about such feelings and didn't really expect to find it, that one book in all the universe, nestled in there with all the rest.

Yet lo, and behold, there on the third shelf down way on the right hand side, she lay. Granted, it's not the exact one I wanted - I'd have preferred to find the version translated by Tolkien - but who really complains when the universe bends realistic expectations for you in the first place? And now I get to chase myMerlinbinge with some anonymous Arthurian prose about chivalry and such, deliciously punctuated by the mental images ofBradley JamesandEoin Macken. No complaints here.

Is that serendipity? I can never keep the definition of that word in my head.

On inner beauty and frugal wall art

Sometimes I feel like I never learned how to be a real girl. My beauty routines and decisions are all guesswork, which is kind of exhausting. I've been watching YouTube hair tutorials (don't judge) trying to figure out what I do wrong when curling my hair, and apart from a few useful tips and a lot of self-deprecating introspection, what I've come way with is the powerful feeling that all girls are beautiful. I would never put a video of my mirror face out there because I am not that confident. But the mom and the woman in me wants all the other girls to do it so they can see how lovely and perfect they are, just being so different and themselves and wonderful. And I want everyone to redo high school with new confidence so maybe we can all have a better time there.

This post is brought to you by someone who is having a bad hair day and needed a pep talk.

And also I wanted to show you this. I got the idea fromNat the Fat Rat(I swear I read other blogs too). I think hers are metal. Mine are cardboard spray painted with shiny metal looking paint, and I kind of love them for it. I have them above my couch on a wall with lots of glaring negative space. Someday my house will be completely decorated. And then we'll move.

The butt-end of winter

So I'm trying out a new iPad app for blogging, and it ate an entry I just wrote so we're trying this again. It's just as we'll the post got eaten, because it was really whiny and I'm sure I would have regretted it had it actually been published. As it is, my more rational self has emerged. You're welcome.

I was whining about being sick of winter, because I am. Sick of it. We got through January which I think most can agree is The Worst, but February has its own shortcomings. Namely the mud, and the cruel way it teases one about spring only to throw snow around for a few more weeks. But it can't last forever, so that's what I'm holding onto.

I was also whining about being stuck inside with two kids who have naps perfectly aligned so as to never be awake at the same time. Which in many ways is a blessing, but it also limits our goings out. And we have cabin fever, you know. So today we're doing some water play to distract us.

James was interested for about 5 minutes before remembering he's trying to solve the puzzle of how to open the gate so he can fall down the stairs.

Lauren however is much more into it. Washing plastic giraffes with purple water must speak to her.

So anyway, that's what we're doing. Now if this post doesn't get eaten, I may start blogging a little more. I've now officially missed another of James' monthly photoshoots, because I'm really good at not doing those.

8 stinkin months already

Right now James is screaming in his crib, overtired and furious about it.  Screaming is his new favorite thing.  Really loud, all of a sudden, with his body all tensed up.  It's not all angry screaming; usually it's just for fun.  (Mom and dad do not think it's fun.)

Anyway, I'm hoping he'll give up and sleep soon, but it's more likely that I'll give up and go snuggle him to sleep.  In an effort to hold out, I'm distracting myself with this post.  Here are some pictures of a grumpy and hungry and - I think - teething, but still sweet and loved 8 month old.

(Dad popped in to say hi for a second.)

This face makes me laugh.

It's getting really difficult to take these full-body shots now.  He's just too big.

I almost didn't include this picture, but I loved how the camera focused just on his two little teeth.

He's crawling now!  And these last two shots make me smile.  I was trying to be cute and get both of us, but he wanted to eat my face.

We are so excited for our first Christmas with Jamesy Boy - the space under our tree is literally packed with presents from grandparents, which if it's any indication of how future years will be makes me a little concerned about how I'm going to teach the true meaning of Christmas, but I guess for this year it's okay to go crazy.

As I mentioned above, James started crawling just a few days ago.  My pride knows no bounds.  He's been getting up on his hands and knees since forever it seems like, and trying and trying to figure out how to move on them, and he finally figured it out and it's just the coolest.  I love watching him try to coordinate his limbs and scramble forward.  It's not what I would call graceful - he kindof looks like a drunk or injured spider - but it is adorable.

Well, I know for sure that I won't do any special blogging for Christmas, so I'll just wish y'all a merry one right now.  Do not skimp on the cookies and such.

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Edited to add:  I gave up, and James spent a peaceful night in the prime real estate of our bed.  Merry Christmas, little buddy.

The Life Blues

I'm sitting here at work, next to the big window-doors leading onto the back balcony and everything's covered in snow.  Both my babies are sleeping (even though the bigger one can hardly be called a baby anymore.)  Kung Fu Panda 2 is playing in the background and I don't know why I haven't turned it off already.  I've been a little depressed.  I don't know why.  Probably it's a combination of things: lack of sleep, the setting in of Winter, postpartum hormones.  Actually my period just came back today for the first time in over a year without any warning, so I suspect that has something to do with it.  (So no, mom, I'm not pregnant again!)

I've danced with depression before and this hasn't been too bad, compared to other depressions.  I'm sure none of my depressions have been too bad compared to some other people's.  But I've been taking it slow, trying not to worry it too much.  Trying to coax it softly to see what it's all about.  I'm not usually a high-energy person anyway, and lately I'm even less so.  That part I can confidently attribute to lack of sleep.  All I want to do is curl up in blankets and watch all kinds of movies and eat things that aren't good for me.  Like cookies?  Hello.  Being at work is hard, even though it seems like it shouldn't be.  I do get to be in a comfortable house all day; I don't have to be on my feet or be in front of a desk doing not-fun computer things, like some of you.  But it's not my home.  It's not my food or my couch or my smells.  It's not James' crib or his toys.  It's not our neighborhood and our backyard.  I so envy you stay-at-home-moms.  Even though I know staying at home would come with it's own set of monotony and things to complain about, I can't help but want it.

Wishing for what you don't currently have is such a trap, isn't it?  Right now I also wish it were Summer; that we could go outside and be warm, and take ourselves to the park and stretch out on blankets in the shade in balmy blissfulness.  That sounds nice.  But it's easy to forget that Summer actually gets really, really hot, and while stretching out in the shade is nice, it can be so tiring loading everything and everyone into the car, and waiting for the A/C to get going.  And heavy, squirmy babies get even heavier and squirmier when you're already hot and sweaty and want to strip off all your clothes and jump into any and all bodies of water you pass, including the gutters full of sprinkler water right in front of your neighbors.  (I haven't done this, and I probably won't.  Don't worry.)

So I'm trying to practice being grateful for what I have, right here, right now.  Even though it's hard.  Even though the depressed, weepy, sullen side of me wants to take James and go home and sit in the warm bathtub and cry and feed myself a whole batch of my mom's amazing gingersnaps until I bloat and fall asleep.  Fortunately I have a moderately healthy awareness of societal norms to prevent me from doing that, but still.

Instead, soon I'll hear my sweet boy crying for me when he wakes up from his nap in the pack-and-play in the basement, and I'll go save him from the torture of involuntarily trying to crawl in his sleep.  And I'll kiss his sweet squishy face and hold his sweet squishy hands and brush his crazy hair out of his eyes.  And with him in my arms it will be easier to remember why it's just too ridiculous to be unhappy.

7 months!!!

Bonus shot - mechanic hands!

Well finally - FINALLY - my computer's wi-fi worked long enough for me to upload these dang things.  I've been trying since forever when James actually turned 7 months old.  Can we take a moment to shake our heads at newfangled technology that will just never ever work right uphill both ways in the snow all year long?  And how. 

But it's neither here nor there since uploaded they are and God is good and let's move on and talk about my baby.

This month James Wade is just a bigger, shaggier, louder, stronger, rounder, more mobile version of his younger selves.  He still looks like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man and he still likes to eat his feet (just from a different angle).  He still holds my hands when he breastfeeds/cuddles/pretty much anything else.  In his short 7 1/2 months of life he already knows that fingers make the best teething toys, shoes are the best distraction in the world (unless it's sacrament meeting and then up is down and the universe doesn't play by normal rules), and family spitting parties first thing in the morning when we're all still in bed are the like the bee's knees, only far more exciting.  Seriously, you haven't lived until you've experienced an early morning family spitting party.  James can teach you how to do it: with your tongue out, it's the only way.

James Wade enjoys: rolling ALL over the living room floor, holding his breath until he squeaks, having his feet and armpits tickled, cheerios, laying down during baths and kicking his feet so mom gets all wet, smiling at whoever sits behind us in church, crying when there's too many people around, crying when anyone wearing a hat or a beard are around, and getting himself into all manner of strange positions during naps.

James Wade hates: putting his arms into sleeves, not being allowed to chew on diapers, not being allowed to chew on highchair strap buckles during lunch, being cold after baths, having to fall asleep by himself about every 3rd nap, and hitting his head on hard things.

He usually sleeps through the night right after I say he doesn't, and stops right after I say he does.  He thinks mom is WAY funnier than dad (citation needed).  He has two whole teeth.  He eats all manner of fruits and vegetables, and his first Thanksgiving was a success because he and Mashed Potatoes met and are friends.  He can make your heart melt right out of your chest if he falls asleep on you, and I recommend letting him suck on your face when the mood strikes him because the window of it being cute and not creepy for someone to suck on your face is extremely narrow.

As for me, I'm getting much better at not crying when he outgrows a clothing size, or when I look at his newborn pictures.  Actually, his newborn pictures are even sweeter now that I know something of his personality.  Being a mom feels like slowly opening a really fantastic present - so slow that I still don't know what it all is yet.  It's also a little like being in a horror movie, because of all the fear and worrying I have to force myself to not indulge.  I mean, you don't realize how thin a barrier bedroom walls are between the safety of your home and the evilness of the outside world until your most precious thing is sleeping all the way in the next room.  I mean, I know the whole world isn't evil and that it's just a mom thing to worry, but I've never felt so very vulnerable before.  Being a mom is the very definition of taking the bad with the good.

So anyway.  That's the boy this month.  I apologize for not being a better blogger and actually writing more posts.  I actually think of things that I want to write about all the time, but it always seems that when I do have a moment there's always something else I'd rather do instead, even if it's just be on the couch and do nothing.  Can I get an amen for doing nothing!  I'm still planning a blog design overhaul (Rachael, I'm a bad client) and my hope is that maybe a well-designed space will make me want to use it more.  It's a nice theory, anyway.