The Date

So I went on a date today. And not with my husband. He knew I was going. He even chuckled when I told him.

I was surprised when I was asked out. A little flattered, but surprised. I was momentarily creeped out. It was a clinician asking me out at the end of the appointment. I wondered if it was crossing a line somehow. HIPPA training didn't prepare me for this....

"We should get the kids together sometime. Maybe at the playground?" Our kids are different ages. It wasn't about the kids really. They were just an excuse to get together. I paused for a moment before answering.

"That sounds great! Which playground do you go to?" We frequent the same playgrounds. Surely it's innocent, right?

Yes, I was hit on for a Mommy Date. And I accepted. Yes, I have trouble seeing my existing friends as often as I'd like. But why should that stop me from meeting other mommies and making other friends? There is so much frustration and judgement in the life of a parent. And it's really hard to make new friends. I need as many familiar faces and smiles as possible as I go though my days. I'm not positive that we're a perfect match. But she's really nice, we have a lot in common, we had a nice playground outing and picnic, and I think she wants to see me again. And I want to see her again. And I think that all counts as a good date.

This Episode Brought to You By the Letters C, F, and G

So I've had some really wonderfully productive days lately. I can't take credit for the productivity. As with Sesame Street, I must give credit to the sponsors in my life that have made this productivity possible. 

I'm almost ready for the baby. I still need to pack overnight bags for myself and the girls. But other than that, we're good. I made a freezer meal tonight. After making a respectable dinner with leftovers. And got yogurt started. Last week, I disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled a carseat and a bassinet. I washed and folded a newborn wardrobe. I re-organized the basement a bit and put away some things in our bedroom to make room for the bassinet. I bought school shoes for HeyMama today. And a gift for BestestHusband's birthday. And we girls did some fun things, too. We went to the circus yesterday. We spent a lot of the morning at the playground and riding bikes. And I still managed to keep everyone sort of fed and clothed, and I still took my afternoon naps. I'm pretty happy with how it's all been going.

But I must give credit where credit's due:

The letter C:  Caffeine. I've tried giving it up in the past. I was even successful from time to time. But lately, I've gone back to it. In small amounts. But it's been crucial in motivating me to stay off the couch. Let's face it. I've never been much of a morning person. And kids typically are. So we have an inherent miss-match of natural states. I just need a bit of caffeine in the morning to get things going. And when I do, we get going and get stuff done. So thank you, caffeine.

The letter F:  Friends. The carseat that I cleaned is from a friend (thanks Joy!). The bassinet that I cleaned is from a friend (thanks Jen!). And the reason that I had time to clean them? A friend took the girls to the zoo for me on Friday morning (thanks Anne!) and took over my preschool music time duties for me this morning (thanks Anne!). We had an invite and encouragement to go to the circus yesterday with friends (thanks Jackie!), which was a fun excursion. The days have passed quickly and happily thanks to friends. And passing the last few days of a pregnancy, especially happily, is quite a feat. So thank you, friends. 

The letter G:  Grace of God. I've been quite healthy this pregnancy. The girls have been healthy. Life has been calm and free from crisis. This is all beyond my control. I've been shockingly patient over the last few days, especially today. As I was trailed through the grocery store by a tantrumming 4.5 year old today screaming about a cookie that she wanted, then didn't want, then wanted again, then didn't want, I thought to myself, "Hmmm, I don't have the sudden urge to dropkick her off the back porch, despite a morning of whining and complaining. I'm remarkably calm." I can tell you that this was the Grace of God in action. That was not my deep reserve of patience in action there. I don't have a deep reserve of patience on my own. I'm usually struggling to not totally lose my shite when the girls are being jerks in public. I did not struggle today. It just happened. That was God in action, not me. So thank you, God.

We're plugging along. I'm at 38 weeks and counting. We'll take a belly shot soon. Poor 3rd kid, I don't have any pregnancy pictures for this one yet. Oh well. Thanks to caffeine, friends, and the grace of God, I'm sure she'll be fine anyway.

I hope your life is full of helpers this week, too! 

Achievement, Ambition, Empowerment, and Contentment

Whew, that title is full of some big ideas.

I've had a few conversations lately that have stirred my mental pot, especially around those big ideas.

At work the other day, I overheard a lunch conversation that started with this: "if you could snap your fingers and have a new career that didn't require you to start all over with school, what would you do?" Most of the women are older than me. And most couldn't imagine having a different career. Me? If I could snap my fingers to a different career? I'd run an international aid organization of some sort. I know, kinda random. I'd love to have the organization and management skills to change lives through charitable giving. Don't get me wrong. I love my career. It allows me the other things I value in life: a marriage and family. But I occasionally wonder about a life full of international travel and saving people from starvation and disease.

I was lucky to have a visit recently from a friend who moved away a while back. I'll call her Janey, to protect her identity.

We stayed up late drinking wine, and she told me about the possibility of a career turn that would involve 3 intensive years in a fast-track nurse practitioner program. It would be an amazing career move. And a physical move. It would also create insane demands on her and her family. Did I mention she has 2 young children? It sounded terrifyingly overwhelming to me.

She discussed how tedious her current job was, and the general boredom she felt in her career. The concept of her current job sounds amazing. But yes, the details of her job were a bit mundane and repetitive. Yet it's a good job, and allows her to work from home. This is handy when you have 2 young kids.

We were both the recipients of world-class educations and the encouragement to be whatever we wanted to be. We were taught that we shouldn't settle for boring jobs. We should never accept the status quo. We should feel empowered enough to reach for whatever we wanted, no matter how difficult.

But now we have kids. And mortgages. And a tenuous sanity to preserve.

So I had to ask myself:  What's the difference between settling down and just settling for something less?

And then:  What model of achievement should I be presenting for my daughters? And what should I be teaching them about ambition, and empowerment?

I'm starting to think that our focus on women's empowerment is becoming a double-edged sword.

(WARNING: If you get squeamish about medical details, are looking to avoid description of birthing, or just generally want to avoid incidents of TMI, skip down to the next part with bold font!)

I was reading a post on my local mommy group website where a mom was inquiring about hypnobirthing as a way to avoid tearing during birth. I took the hypnobirthing class. I used the philosophy to have 2 unmedicated births. I tend to think of it as a good strategy to get through birth without unnecessary medical interventions. It never occurred to me that one could PREVENT themselves from tearing during childbirth. Doesn't that kind of depend on the size of your baby and your general skin elasticity? But there are those out there that encourage women to empower themselves to have exactly the childbirth experience they want. So if you don't want to tear, you can work hard enough to find a way not to tear. Wow. That's a lot of pressure... What if you DO find a childbirth technique that promises to help you avoid tearing. But you tear a little anyway. Does that mean you're a failure? I'm content to see tearing as a possible (and likely, given my prior experiences) side-effect of the birthing process. You get a few stitches, you use witch hazel pads and a peri-care bottle for a week, and you move on. Does this mean I'm too content with the status quo? Should I feel more empowered to demand the birth I want when Little Miss makes her grand entrance in a few months? But I don't want to feel like a failure when the midwife pulls out the needle and thread...

(OK, you squeamish readers can start reading again here.)

Do the current messages in our society really help us? "You can have it all! Get your career established first. Travel the world. Then when you're financially secure in your early 40's, have kids then." And "Don't settle. You CAN have a career! And a marriage! And kids! And fun leisure time!" And so women wait so they can have it all! And then they have to struggle with infertility, because a 30 year old body bears children more easily than a 40 year old body. The realities of biology don't change because we've suddenly become more empowered. Skin stretches, and then sometimes tears. We start our lives with lots of eggs. Most of the good ones are gone by our 40's. The limitations of a 24 hour day aren't swayed by successful women encouraging us all to do more, be more, achieve more. There are only 24 hours. We really can't clone ourselves to simultaneously attend a work meeting and a preschool dance performance. 
Or maybe I'm just not empowering myself adequately...

I brought up the topic to a wonderful group of moms from my church. They're smart, they're successful, they're kind, and they're wise. They're my grounding force in the face of the questionable advice provided by society and my local online mommy group. Once a month, we share food, wine, support, conversation, and prayer. Because we know our limitations. We need each other. And we know that there are just aspects of life we need to turn over to a higher power.  But we discussed my questions. 

Not one of them thought we could "have it all". According to them, we have natural seasons in life that demand and allow our energy to be directed to different areas. We have marriage partners with whom we give-and-take to make our family work well together. Our careers are just part of the picture. We have priorities that truly are more important. Like our marriages. And our children. When you sit with a group of women that include some who have buried children, it somehow becomes perfectly reasonable to shape your life and aspirations around those of your own children. It all falls into perspective. 

Of course, perhaps our expectations would be different if we could all afford to hire out parts of our lives - childcare, shopping, cooking, cleaning... Have you ever noticed that women to talk about "having it all" seem to have their own staff? Or at least have mothers living nearby who are willing to do those things for free?

We discussed the concept of "vocation". Martin Luther (the Reformation guy, not the civil rights guy) discussed vocation as a gift from God. Both bankers and blacksmiths have the ability to serve God in their jobs. They have the task of being the best banker/blacksmith they can be, in order to help others and fully utilize the gifts that God has given them. There is no such thing as a lowly or exalted job. There is just OUR job, and we need to do it well to give glory to God. You can be a wonderful 7-11 cashier. You can be a wonderful nurse. You can be a wonderful CEO. You can be a wonderful street sweeper. They all give glory to God! 

You can be a wonderful wife and mother. These are also vocations. Think it's not important? Imagine losing your spouse or child for a moment. Yeah, they're pretty important. Imagine not being around to teach your children what love is about and to prepare them to go out into the world. Imagine your children not having a mom. Yeah, the job is pretty important. 

So I'm thankful for the perspective my friends bring. I'm thankful for not needing to live up to the expectations of society. I already have some pretty big jobs on my plate. I'll stick with those and let others battle the angst of their "empowerment." I think I'll just pray for the power to do my own jobs well.

Hope you have a great week!

Lucky Dogs

We hosted one of BestestHusband's co-workers and her family for dinner tonight, and boy, was it a great night. 

BestestHusband attempted a Julia Childs recipe for boeuf bourguinon. Not only did he attempt it, he succeeded. It was fantastic. And I didn't cook a bit of it.

The visiting family brought their 4 year old and 14 month old girls. Our girls were over-the-moon excited about having a playmate. And they really did have a fantastic time together. They played very well, especially considering MeToo didn't get much of a nap. But the shrieking and giggling was loud and non-stop. I consider that a success, as far as 4 year old playdates go.

The girls sat at the little table, and the grownups got to chat at the big table. We really like the co-worker and her husband, and it really was nice to sit and catch up. And when the kids needed supervision in the girls' room, we all relocated to the rug, and continued the chat. Peepee accidents, wine glasses, toddlers, dogs, nudists, and toys are all part of the fun when you get families together. Normal hospitality flies out the windows when a group of little girls gets together, and apologies become unnecessary.

Our guests brought a salted caramel apple pie for dessert, with ice cream, and cookies for the girls. Heavenly. And I didn't cook a bit of it.

Our dogs served as doggie ambassadors to a dog-nervous 4 year old. They were on their best, most charming behavior. And the visiting 4 year old did very well too, actually petting and kissing them at the end of the night.

We changed 3 out of the 4 girls into jammies, and read a group bedtime story before parting ways. It really was a win-win for us all. It was a novel story for our guest, and a quicker way of getting our overly-amped girls closer to bedtime. It was perfect.

And our lucky dogs? They got to clear off the plates of two under-appreciative preschoolers. The dogs got their own plates of boeuf bourguinon. There was a lot of wine in that sauce. Should be interesting...

I hope your weekend is full of small pleasures, and I hope you get to be a lucky dog, too.

I Love Ikea

I experienced an otherwise under-appreciated play date setting today:  Ikea.

Who needs the Children's Museum or trampoline park? Take 3 preschool girls to your local Ikea, and they can jump on beds, investigate every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen mock-ups, sniff every scented candle, and run around in relative safety and peace. And most of the other people there on weekdays have kids, so you don't get any disapproving or judgmental stares. 

Even better, you don't have to pack a lunch. A family of 3 can get a hot meal for $12. That's less than a lunch entree at a restaurant in Boston. And it can even include such exotic drinks as Lingonberry or Elderflower juice. What a deal!

Next time, we're turning it into a mommy play date. We'll drop the girls off in the playroom to be babysat while we mentally redecorate our homes and enjoy tea time in the cafe. Anyone want to join us?

PS. Thanks to Joy (my friend Joy) for getting together today. It was definitely the highlight of this wet and dreary day! And thanks to the distraction of her daughter, my daughters didn't notice the Christmas shopping I did for them. SCORE!

The Taproot is Established

Today was the yearly group yard sale of my local mommy network. It's an established tradition with around 40 families participating, held in the basement of a local church. It's a great place to get ANYTHING kid-related at really good prices. So it's a mob scene, of course.

This was the first year I was able to go. Typically, I manage to sign up to work the weekend of the yard sale, and Anne becomes my personal shopper and finds things for me. She volunteers for the event so that she can get in early and scoop up the best stuff. This is a good strategy. Stuff goes fast. But Anne was out of town this weekend, and I was not working, so I got to go and be Anne's personal shopper instead. 

I got there early to help out. I knew the organizer because she helped me with the enormous yard sale I did last year. I ran into my neighbor and her friend who shared a table. I met a lot of new people. Then the sale opened, and the crowds arrived. I saw friends that I know from BestestHusband's work. I saw friends I know from church. I saw friends I know from daycare. I saw friends I know from our old babysitting co-op. I saw friends I know from the playground. I saw so many people I know. I didn't know I knew so many people around here. I know I've said it before, but occasionally I realize how rooted I've become here. And today I realized that I have a taproot in this community. I'm firmly dug in.

I didn't find much stuff for HeyMama, unfortunately. But I did find some great stuff for Anne's daughter, Rockstar. (she's earned this nickname for the place she holds in my daughters' lives. MeToo idolizes her.) Part of me wants to post pictures of the loot, as I'm proud of the finds. But I also want Anne to be surprised when she sees them. So I'll hold back. But I will say this: a pristine Hanna Andersen dress for $5. Of course, Anne told me which tables to beeline to first, so I can't claim too much credit...

I hope your weekend's full of fun surprises!

Insanity

Sometimes parenthood makes you insane. It makes you ignore the drudgery of daily life and focus intensely on the moments of joy. It makes you put off all the boring necessities (laundry, cleaning, cooking meals) and invest every moment of your free time in frivolities. Like piñatas. And cakes.

Or maybe that's just me...

HeyMama wanted a Fancy Nancy Tea Party for her birthday. So instead of tracking down party supplies with Fancy Nancy's likeness on them, we planned a party to the description of Fancy Nancy's tea parties in HeyMamas favorite book. We used some of the recipes in the book that had been requested repeatedly for the last year. We pulled out the fancy serving ware. We provided hats, gloves, and bow ties to our guests. We dressed up in our fanciest best. BestestHusband even donned his tux. There were tutus. And tiaras. And a giant pink hat worthy of the Kentucky Derby. It was fancy. 

There were 3 lbs of butter in this lemon-flavored confection. Yes, that's pounds, not sticks.

We ate cucumber sandwiches. We had hibiscus lemonade and hibiscus tea. We made towers out of sugar cubes. We did sugar cube relays. We played "Pass the Hot Tea Pot" with a singing teapot toy. Then we did the piñata. And by "did", I mean we annihilated it. Actually, the kids beat it up. BestestHusband annihilated it with one spectacular blow. After the scheduled events, the kids ran around eating lollipops, blowing bubbles, and giggling. I think it was a success. HeyMama had the hugest grin on her face, which was the goal. 

I'm a little C-pot.

We're using the leftover cake trimmings and the frosting to make cake pops this afternoon. I had to send  the uneaten half of the cake to church on Sunday. There were still 1.5 lbs of butter calling my name. It just had to go away. 

So now we can start looking forward to MeToo's birthday in November. She's informed me that she wants a Princess Cake. Wish me luck.

Accidental Homebirth

Children love to keep us on our toes. Just as soon as you think you have a schedule, BAM! The schedule changes. Just as soon as you think you know your child, BAM! Your child changes. Children are very good at surprising us. 


A dear friend of mine just had a baby. I'll protect her medical identity by calling her "Friend". (creative name, huh?) She's the ever-practical and calm person who makes motherhood look easy. I'm sure she'd disagree with this statement, because she's also humble. Anyway, she just had her third child. Her first 2 children came significantly early. I've always been a tad bit envious of that, as my 2 both came late. But baby #3 wanted to be different. Keep her on her toes. Baby #3 came late. And baby #3 came fast. 3 hours, start-to-finish. They didn't have time to get to the hospital. Baby #3 was born at home.


It's a growing trend in my local mommy network, and I know of many well-planned home births that were ideal births. Experienced midwives were on hand. Doulas were on hand. They'd planned the birth for months. Working in healthcare and knowing what germs lurk in hospitals, I understand the desire to avoid all of that and just birth in the comfort of your own home. 


This does not appear to be Friend's situation. No, baby #3 was delivered by her own father and grandmother. With assistance from a helpful 911 dispatcher, of course. And a friendly post-birth visit from helpful local Fire, Police, and EMT teams. 


The email and FB updates report that everyone is healthy and doing fine. I can't wait to hear the who story from Friend. That makes for quite an entry in the Baby Book!

Feats of Strength

I spent a gorgeous Saturday at work, trying to communicate with demented little old ladies who don't speak English and getting covered in tube feed solution by a little old man who did speak English, but disconnected his feeding tube and plugged it into his bed alarm. The pump didn't know that the tube was now feeding liquid nutrition to an electronic device. Good times. My darling BestestHusband was at home with the girls, and arranged a play date with our friend Chris and his daughter, who is HeyMama's bestie and MeToo's rock star idol. The girls of course were overjoyed to play together. RockStar and my girls played in the yard while BestestHusband and Chris had plans for a day filled with Feats of Strength.


My darling BestestHusband is a huge fan of Seinfeld. He's also a weekend warrior extraordinaire. He sits at a desk being brilliant all week, and has the need to exercise a bit of his brawn on the weekends. When I first met him, I couldn't help but notice his height and broad shoulders. Those were the days when we could row and exercise on a regular basis. (Don't ask him about the Head of the Charles and his herniated disk. Still painful. The memory. Not the back...) Now, he walks dogs and bikes to work to get a bit of exercise. Not quite the same. So I'm convinced that he has a primal urge to do Feats of Strength, like leveling the back yard by hand. And pushing boulders up a hill. Poor Chris just got recruited to help with both jobs...


BestestHusband has been putting in a new garden for a few weeks now. The missing piece was the cornerstone of the rock retaining wall, a giant boulder he had dug up while leveling the yard that he decided would be the ultimate stabilizing force of the entire garden. If he could just get it up the hill... He's been working on that little element for several days now. He estimates that it's in the 300-400 lb range. He  attempts to roll it up the hill, and stops when he gets to the point of muscle fatigue. Then he comes inside, and tries again another day. He was making gradual process. He got the brilliant idea to use a moving dolly. Our friends around the corner just happened to have one. I suspected it was not the best tool for the job. I figured a team of draft horses was more up to the task...

But BestestHusband has his plans. And a need to do back-breaking manual labor. And I happen to like his broad shoulders, and figure that back-breaking manual labor probably plays a role in their maintenance. So after stating my opinion, I shut up and made plans to spend a gorgeous day indoors. I didn't plan on getting covered in yuck. Rookie mistake...

Moving the boulder proved to be a sisyphean task. Literally. Instead of getting the boulder up the hill, it just rolled further and further down the hill. 2 strong men. 1 strong moving dolly. 1 nasty boulder. The boulder won.

Anyway, I came home to a newly-renovated garden. BestestHusband resigned himself to using smaller boulders, and moved a few large shrubs to further demonstrate his strength. I can't complain about the results. The garden is quite stunning, considering that it had previously been a series of unhelpful slopes. We now have a level and fertile span of yard neatly delineated by rocks that BestestHusband dug out from under our failing grass. It will look even better when our plants have matured and have food on them. 

Our new garden.

Some of the smaller boulders BestestHusband dug up.

The compromise boulders that made up the final corner.

The rock wall from the side.

The boulder and the dolly.

Closeup of the boulder.

The boulder and dolly are significantly downhill from the intended wall corner.

Darker spots on ground indicate higher points that the boulder once rested. Oh well. 

So I'm off to apply a tube of muscle rub to my BestestHusband, Sisyphus. If anyone else is interested in a day involving Feats of Strength, let me know. I'm sure we have some more projects on the ToDo list.

Stewardship Sunday, Marathon Edition

Tomorrow is Patriots Day. In Boston, that means its Marathon Monday. The weather is supposed to be so warm that they're offering runners the chance to defer until next year. They're training the runners and bystanders to do CPR on each other. One official described it as a potential "mass casualty event". They're encouraging the charity runners (who didn't need to complete stringent qualifying times in other races) to not do it. What a tough choice to make. Glad I'm not the one making the decision.


I actually did run a marathon once, years ago. Melissa talked me in to it (Happy Birthday Melissa!) I was moping about relationship woes, and she convinced me it would be good for me. And she was right. I wasn't fast. I like to think of myself as a completer, not a competer. But I did it. And used it to convince myself that I could do other crazy things. Like natural childbirth. 


Anyway, I ran around Cape Cod in chilly Fall weather. I wore gloves. There were coastal snow flurries. Not an early Summer heat wave, and I was sweating anyway. Tough athletes will be falling down tomorrow. And I feel bad for them already.


What a whirlwind of activity these last few weeks have been. This week was no exception. I'm looking forward to getting back to a more normal schedule.


This past week was spent trying to recover from the prior weeks and prep for the yard work event. I went to the gym more than usual, which I think was a good thing. My mood definitely benefits. And that benefits the girls, of course. And I worked at the rehab hospital down the street instead of taking an early train ride into Boston. This benefits BestestHusband. And the girls, of course. 


This weekend was full of work and fun. We had great friends over to help us rearrange the dirt in our backyard. Yes, BestestHusband is motivated to make at least part of our yard flat. And put in a veggie garden. So he had 7 cubic yards of compost and a tiller delivered. To go with the 20 cubic yards of wood chips that the tree company delivered a few weeks back. And he and our friends dug up the yard, pulled out the boulders, mixed the pitiful sandy rocky soil with compost, and smoothed it all back down again. The seeding for grass is supposed to happen next weekend. (This week's weather is not great for grass seed, and we just plain ran out of time.) Our combined 5 girls between the ages of 2 and 5 all ran around together and had a blast. We ate some food, drank some beer, then went home and collapsed. Except for BestestHusband. He went back out to spend some quality time with the tiller. We all cleaned up in time to welcome the babysitter and go out to Christine's birthday party. (Happy Birthday Christine!) It was at a shishi bar in Boston. Lots of people there didn't have kids. There were yummy cocktails. Lots of them. And we had a designated driver. (Thanks Anne!) It was a fun night. Getting up for church this morning was rough. 


Food waste:
I really cleaned out the fridge tonight. And I found a lot of nasty stuff. I few a few random things I need to use this week. Including pork fat. Long story. But yes, I bought pork fat last week. And veal. We ate the veal already. But not the pork fat.
Here's what I threw out tonight:
2 blueberry yogurt smoothies. They were fermenting. 
Half a head of lettuce. I just forgot about it. Sigh.
Leftover salad. The dressing on it kinda did it in. 
Mint. It's been in there a long time. The paper towel helped, but it still went bad.
About half a cup of half and half. I got it for a recipe. I served some to a friend in coffee. But I don't really use half and half. Must try harder next time to find a recipe for it. 
All and all, it's pretty shameful.

I'll spare you the closeups. 

The fridge is starting out the week clean and full of leftovers (all of the second shelf from the top).

Patience:  See mention of extra gym time. It helped a lot. Really a lot. I was actually fun on occasion. 

M&Ms:  One week of the month, even Plain M&Ms are tempting. This was that week. Tonight was all about chocolate chips, because I'm running low on M&Ms, and MeToo's started pooping on the potty more, which requires more M&Ms. 

Money:  I'm finally returning the bathing suits that didn't make the cut. I'll post a picture of the final winner at some point. I've never spent much time and effort on a bathing suit before. But I don't think I've ever spent as much time in one as I think I will this summer. The refunds will be coming back in. So this makes it feel a little better to have spent so much money ordering the bathing suits. 

So I'm looking forward to the fun that this week will bring. Anyone up for frozen margaritas on the patio?

Stewardship Sunday: Easter Edition

Happy Easter!
He is risen! He is risen indeed!

Holy Week is a reminder that I will have to admit failure every week. No matter what I do. No matter how hard I try. I will never live up to Jesus' example of patience. I will never live up to Jesus' example of service. I will never be righteous, no matter how hard I try. I can focus on doing better every week of my life, but the struggle will never end while I walk this Earth.

But then Easter happened. A Savior was willing to take the punishment for our imperfection. Our weakness. Our inability to achieve our own righteousness. Easter is about Grace. Easter is about Joy (the emotion, not my friend who just had a baby boy 2 days ago - congrats Joy!) Easter technically makes this blog unnecessary.

I don't NEED to be better. I mean, I would like to be. But I don't need to be. I WANT to be. Grace and Joy are powerful motivators.

So I'm ditching the stewardship check-in for this week. I'll just report on the Joy from this week.

Joy the friend had a baby boy. He's doing well. She's doing well. What joy!

The other joys of this week:

• I got a massage that helped my back pain.
• I rearranged the girls' room and put their beds together. It's pretty cute.
• Flat Stanley came to visit, went to Amsterdam with BestestHusband, had great adventures, then headed to the Middle East to fly planes with other extended family members.
• BestestHusband came back from Amsterdam safely and a little early. My mother-in-law met him there and came home with him to join us for Easter.
• I had my father-in-law around for the entire week to help out.
• We took two family naps that helped even non-napping HeyMama take much-needed naps.
• I spent an hour sleeping with MeToo while she sucked her paci in my face and twisted her fingers in my hair. Priceless.
• Our family enjoyed a joy-filled Easter service with incredible music.
• Our family and church family enjoyed a delicious brunch feast together.
• Our family and friends enjoyed an unparalleled Easter lunch/dinner/all-day feast with lots of wine and revelry. And a crazy-potent cocktail.
• Our family and friends got to spend several happy hours together chatting and watching the kids play together.
• During all of the revelry, only one kid peed on the rug and only one kid had a poop explosion that required borrowing clean clothes.
• Only one of those kids is related to me.
• And tonight has back-to-back episodes of GCB!

The week was full of joys, small and large. There was a great deal of preparation that led up to this weekend. But in the quiet moments, we think of a little boy that we hoped could be born this week. But was instead buried many weeks ago. And we look forward to a promised joyful reunion. And remember that this is what Easter is really all about.

A cross that church-goers covered in flowers as they walked into Easter services. 

The girls can now sleep together under their coordinated quilts. (Thanks Miss Bev!)

Jet-setting Flat Stanley in his brief Boston layover. 

Winners, Losers, and a Corset

So we lost the lottery. Big time. I'm not talking about Powerball, I'm talking about the lottery to get into Boston Public Schools. There were 2 schools in the West Zone with K0 seats, and I applied to both. We didn't get into either of them. Our wait list numbers? #289 for the first school, #168 for the second school. We REALLY didn't get in. Hey, I knew my chances of getting HeyMama into a K0 seat were about equivalent to winning the state lottery. And I entered it anyway. Unlike Powerball or Mass Millions, it didn't cost me anything to play. Hey, it was a good learning experience. I'll know more about the system next year when we apply for K1 (4 yr old kindergarten for you non-Bostonians). 


But I was a winner today. I saved over 50 dollars today because I have a friend named Anne. She's a great friend. She bought me almond butter today and saved me over 50 dollars. Because she prevented me from making a trip to Trader Joe's. I'm incapable of walking out of Trader Joe's spending less than $50. Even if I only go in for one thing (like creamy almond butter with sea salt), I come out with a cart full of yummy and well-priced provisions. Good cheese. Artisianal bread. High-fiber-and-still-yummy granola bars. Cheap-but-good cereal. Italian blood orange soda. Yum. But Anne sacrificed herself today. She had a Joe's shopping spree instead of me. Thank you Anne.


How does a corset play into all of this? Well, I forgot to pick up those thermacare wearable heat wraps when I went to CVS today. I was wearing my last one today to soothe my gimpy lower back. Between the excessive ibuprofen and that heat pack, I was mostly mobile today. But now I'm out of them. And I'm working tomorrow. And BestestHusband will have the car to shuttle the girls to a 4 yr old birthday tea party (lucky guy!) and I'll be taking the work shuttle from the T station. The work shuttle doesn't stop at CVS on the way to work. No heat packs for me. So I'll be wearing a corset. The physical therapists at work on Thursday told me to try an abdominal binder. I told them I had a support belt from my last pregnancy. They said that would work perfectly. Then I came home and realized that I'd lent it to someone else. But I have a corset. I think it will  do about the same thing... So tomorrow I will dose myself with high levels of ibuprofen and wear a corset to work. Wish me luck.


Happy Friday, hope you have a great weekend!

Joy and Salad

My weekend is noteworthy for Joy and salad. 


I worked today. That's not noteworthy. I didn't cook dinner. That's not noteworthy, especially considering I worked. Joy cooked a yummy dinner. I just made the salad. Huh? Yeah, I have a friend named Joy. She's real, and we happen to share the same name. She has a 2 yr old that both of my girls love to play with, and a baby on the way. And she and her husband had us over for dinner. I made the salad. I ate a lot of good food. I drank a lot of wine. Yum yum yum.


I don't have to cook dinner tomorrow. Jackie's making dinner. I'm making the salad. And bringing the pizza stone (I got your message Jackie!) Jackie has a 3 yr old that my girls love to play with, and infant twins that my 2 yr old loves to look at. Somehow I managed to get 2 dinner invites in one weekend. That is noteworthy. That is wonderful.


I love spending wonderful evenings with friends. I love salad. And with a weekend full of Joy and salad, what's not to be thankful for?


Maybe I should enforce my previously-unenforced no-blogging-after-2-glasses-of-wine policy...

The Cold Bottle Theory

I've come to the conclusion lately that parenting is tough. But we're good at finding ways to make it tougher.


We just came home from a great birthday party. The kids had a great time. The parents had a great time. There was no bouncy house. There was no ball pit. There was no juggler. There was a room full of toys, and 6 little girls who like playing together. (4 of the 6 were siblings, so really, only 4 families were there, including the hosts). No one got overstimulated. There were no tantrums. There was a lot of giggling. And time for the parents to hang out and chat. And silence when the food was served.


My friend is a very capable cook. You don't turn down invites to her house. She and her husband produce some pretty spectacular Christmas dinners that we've had the privilege to share over the last few years. Suckling pig. Beef Wellington. Standing rib roast. They know how to put on a feast. (We have quite a few friends like this. You have to step up to the plate whenever you invite them over, but all-in-all, I can't complain.) This is the friend who introduced me to Pama. She's got good taste. But she knew better than to put in that level of effort for a 2 yr old birthday party. Don't get me wrong, the food was delicious. But she kept it simple.


She fed the kids macaroni and cheese. She boiled macaroni, drained it, and melted shredded cheese on top. Sharp cheddar. It was tasty. My 2 yr old ate 3 generous helpings. The girls were silent while they ate. I was happy to finish off HeyMama's leftovers. It was good. It took about 10 minutes to make. Genius. 


My friend is a great illustration of my Cold Bottle Theory. Why get your kids addicted to the multi-step mac and cheese (boil pasta, make béchamel, make crumb topping, bake in oven) that takes over an hour when they're absolutely thrilled with something that requires only a small fraction of the effort? Why introduce your baby to bottles that are perfectly warmed to the exact right temp when mine happily accepted bottles cold, even straight from the fridge? HeyMama was fine with this from the very start. MeToo refused bottles altogether (warm, cold, everything in-between) until she took a sippy cup (cold!) at 6 months. (Perhaps some babies have trouble digesting cold stuff? I don't know. If so, then yes, I can see why you'd warm it up. But this wasn't my experience...)


But think of the ways that we make ourselves do extra steps for things kids don't really care about. Perfectly coordinated party supplies. Designer decor in the bedroom. Touring all of the West Zone schools when there are only 3 you'd let your kid to go to. I mean, if it makes you really happy to go to all the extra effort, than by all means, go for it! Be proud of the outcome! Just know that you did it for fun, not because you HAD to. 


There is plenty about parenting that is important and requires a lot of effort. Discipline. Teaching values. Making time for them when they need it. But I wonder how much of what we do spend time on is the fluff - the stuff that only WE feel is important?