Why I Love My Husband

Ted and I both overslept today and he was forced to get ready in only four minutes before his ride came to pick him up. On his way out the door he remembered his cell phone was dead and that he wouldn't be able to charge it in his office since he'd be in the field all day. ("in the field" actually means "on the water". perfect sense, right?)

No big deal. I can call his coworker if there's an emergency. But it's been strange not being able to text him little things anytime I want. Quotes from Hannah or tidbits about our day. And it wasn't until that luxury was taken away from me that I realized just how often I think about him while I'm home with the kids. And just how grateful I am for all he does. His heavy field season is fast approaching, which means I'll be left to do all three meals and bedtime by myself some days. It can definitely get overwhelming. But as I walked around the house this morning, I noticed how much he does for our family on a daily basis. So even though he might be gone a lot during the day, he still pulls waaaay more than his share of the weight when it comes to this household.

I love my husband because I heard the garbage truck coming down the street today and sprinted for the door because I forgot to take them out. But then I found the bins already by the road. Despite waking up late for work, he found time to do this before leaving.

I love my husband because I woke up to a kitchen free of dirty dishes. He had done them all the night before. And put all the leftovers in the fridge. And put the chicken bones in the crock pot and started the water for broth.

I looked out my back window while making breakfast and saw our big yellow side that we found a few weeks ago. I saw it on the side of the road in our neighborhood and made a mental note to ask Ted to go get it when he got home. Of course I completely forgot about it. But it didn't matter. I love my husband because as soon as his coworker dropped him off that day, he ran inside to tell me he saw a slide and then hopped in the truck to go get it.

I love him because he hasn't had time to build a swing set to actually put the slide on, so he props it up on his boat and helps Hannah go up and down in the driveway.

When I was planning tomorrow's dinner I made a note to ask him to get some kale from the garden. I love him because he grows food for our family and never even asks for my help.

I love my husband because every room in our house and every task of my day is filled with his help and support.

I Just Wanna Eat Food

I think my heart has finally stopped pounding and my breathing is returning to normal. But man. If you had been a fly on the wall for the last 20 minutes in this house! Frustration after frustration left me clenching my jaw to keep from shouting some f-bombs (I mumbled them instead) and slamming an even more tightly clenched fist onto the washing machine. I set out to prep the crock pot dinner for tomorrow and make a new batch of coconut creamer for my coffee. Simple enough. Except that it's not. It's never simple. And after my fifth trip out to the garage to use the noisy food processor and cleaning up my third spill in as many minutes, well I had just had it. I was slamming doors and fighting back tears and when Ted came in to ask what was wrong I went into a monologue about onions not getting chopped the right way and coconut milk splattering everywhere and and and and.

"What's it really about?" he said. And it hit me. I just wanna eat food. Regular food. Food that doesn't take an hour and half to prepare. Food that doesn't cost double and triple what everyone else is eating. Just food.

I'm so tired of not being able to eat anything. I don't mind giving up dairy while nursing (too much). But having to give up gluten on top of that had been so, so hard. (In case you're lost, both of my kids have dairy allergies that require me to give it up completely when nursing. And I discovered a pretty severe gluten intolerance in myself and Paul just a few months ago. I suspect Hannah has it too.) 

I just want to eat one piece of freaking sausage without having to call the meat packing company and ask if they have gluten in their seasoning. And when I don't bother to call in hopes that it doesn't, I don't want to feel like shit for the next 24 hours. I want to be able to eat a bowl of cereal that doesn't even contain wheat and not walk around with a balloon in my stomach because it had "oat flour" and was probably contaminated with wheat anyway. Captain Crunch, I know you were wondering. I want to feel like there isn't something pushing on my bladder all day long and being nauseous any time I eat something because I accidentally ate egg noodles (with a teeny, teeny bit of wheat) three freakin days ago.

I'm sick of seeing my baby spit up so much that he can't even crawl away because of the spit up pool he's created around himself is so large that he keeps slipping. All becauses the only pumped milk I had in the freezer had gluten. I'm sick of seeing blood in his poop because I ate twelve gluten freakin free almond crackers that I didn't realize had butter in them. I'm sick of feeling like a ticking time bomb ready to blimp up and make my kid miserable if I accidentally eat the slightest bit of off-limits food. I'm tired of telling Hannah, "No you can't eat that delicious treat that all the others kids are having. It will make your tummy hurt. Here, have your one thousandth raisin of the day."

I'm sick of being a burden to everyone I know. I'm tired of double checking every ingredient of everything someone offers me. I'm tired of not being able to eat when I go to baby showers or vacations because no one thought of (or knew about) my food issues. I've been blessed with wonderful, wonderful friends who go out of their way to see that I can eat at least something when they invite me to their barbecues and ladies' night outs. And I know they would say that they don't mind, but it's still a pain in the ass for them and takes so much extra time and energy to accommodate me. I secretly wonder if one day I'll just stop getting invitations because it's too much trouble to include me.

I'm sick of being hungry all.the.damn.time. I'm sick of not being able to go to Mass without packing a snack for the car ride home. I'm sick of the kitchen looking like this three freakin times a day.

I'm sick of cooking every little thing from scratch. I just want to open up a freaking package of hamburger helper and call it a day. I just want to throw some mac and cheese on a plate and move on with my life. Sure, they make gluten and dairy free substitutes. But unless we win the lottery there's no way we'll ever be able to afford them. As hard as I try I just cannot figure out a way to stay within our grocery budget without buying six dollar pints of "ice cream" and five dollar loaves of "bread". Much less with those added expenses. 

 I'm overwhelmed at the thought that this is going to be for the rest of my life. The thought that at every Thanksgiving I'll have to pass up the mashed potatoes and the gravy and the stuffing and probably the corn because someone added butter just eat my dry turkey dipped in cranberry sauce. The thought that I might never get a break. I might never get better.

Yes, I know it's worth it. I don't really have a choice unless I want my kids to be miserable and in pain and I want to feel like I'm about to pop and/or throw up all the time. And I think I actually do a really good job of not complaining and facing this issue head on. I guess the last two and a half years of not complaining has boiled up inside of me and is now showing itself by punching the washer and crying about chopped onions.

Sorry for my rant, unsuspecting internet readers. I don't blame you for not making it to the end of this bitch complain fest (I think there's been plenty of cussing in this post to last quite a while already). I've calmed down since I started writing but I can't say I feel any better. This is just how it is. Whether I want it or not. There are so many days when I want to throw up my hands and shout, "I didn't sign up for this!" until I remember that I did. I signed up for taking care of my children to the best of my ability. And this is my best. Anything less would be cruel to their poor stomachs. And to mine. I have a supportive husband who thanks profusely for everything I do. A husband who, when I apologize for a crappy meal of bland leftover chicken and green beans, says, "It's a heck of a lot better than what I made tonight," and then eats his meager meal with a smile and a sincere thank you.

If you're one of the lucky people who can go out to dinner and order anything off the menu, will you please say a prayer for me? And if you're one of the ones who went out to eat for your five year anniversary and the only thing you could order off the five page menu was the grilled shrimp without the sauce or the seasoning and not even a side to go with it, well can I get an amen? And a promise that it really is going to be ok?

Gotta go. I'm hungry.

Unbelievable

I'm not sure what's harder for me to believe.

The fact that I have two kids

or the fact that I live in Florida.

Four Quick Takes

-1-

I love the library. I think it's one thing our government is actually doing right. I love the free, once a week storytime (although I don't love the overly excited librarian leading it who can't sing looby loo the right way, but what can ya do?). I love the books for sale for only 25 cents. I love reserving books online and having them all ready for me when I get there. The library makes me feel like a better mom. I'm getting the kids out of the house, interacting with other kids, reading (obviously), and not spending a dime. Win x 4.

-2-

Bonnie introduced me to these The Lizzy Bennet Diaries. YouTube videos of a modern take on Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. They are awesome. They suck you in and since they're only about three minutes long, you find yourself saying, "just one more," about a dozen times before you can tear yourself away. But I admit, I've only actually read the first few chapters of Pride and Prejudice. I had a hard time getting used to the writing style and just wasn't that into it. I know, I know. That makes me a huge literary loser and I feel like a giant failure because I don't love Miss Austen. But, BUT, I'm going to do my best to read the whole thing just so I can watch the YouTube videos and get all the references. Because they definitely stopped being as funny when I couldn't catch all the inside humor.

And because if I watch the entire series without reading the actual book, some of my friends just might disown me. Well, probably just Haley. But I don't want that happening.

-3-

I'm not sure when all that reading is actually going to take place because I feel like there are never enough hours in the day to do everything I need and want to do. Not enough time for even half the things I want to accomplish! By the time both kids are in bed we only have about two hours of evening if we want to get to bed at a decent time (which never happens). How is two hours enough time to read and pay bills and do dishes and order stuff from amazon and cut Ted's hair and print off pictures for frames and plan meals and make grocery lists and make a snack and spend quality time with my husband and and and and. Surely I'm not the only one who feels this way. Maybe it will change when my oldest isn't two and I can actually accomplish something in during a time of day that isn't naptime? Maybe?

-4-

Speaking of never having enough time in the evening...I finished the entire  second season of Once Upon a Time in only 13 days. So I guess I'm just a huge hyprocrite about not having enough time in the evening. But at least when I watch TV I can fold laundry and eat. So really it's making me even more productive. And I guess it goes to show me that if I want to do something badly enough, I'll find time for it.

Anyone else love the show? I know the acting isn't great and some of the plots are a little far fetched, but I can't help but absolutely love it. I just love all twists and backgrounds on the fairy tale characters.

-5-7-

I am so tired. So very tired. It's 8:14.

I Want to Stop and Say Hi to Jesus

The great post by Elizabeth about praying a rosary with her toddler that I mentioned yesterday led me to reading this series about the catechesis of young children. Go read it. (here, here, and here)

A mind-blowing excerpt, written as she is explaining that we don't need to give our children a relationship with God, they already have one from before they were born. We merely need to help them develop it. She writes,

Just as when he learns to say “mama” my son is merely giving a voice to that which he already knew from the moment of his birth, speaking a name for that person whose voice and smell he recognized in his first moments in the outside world, so too with the name Jesus. I was merely giving him a name for something he already knew, showing him a sign and helping him put a face to a presence that he already had a relationship with from the moment of his conception.

It got my wheels turning on what I'm doing to teach my children about their faith and what I need to be doing. And I automatically started criticizing myself for not doing more. Too much tv, not teaching enough prayers, never going to daily Mass, forgetting to pray in the mornings, etc etc. But as I started thinking of the things that I do do, well the list is actually quite impressive in my mind. I share, not to toot my own horn, but because...well, sharing on this blog is what I do.

Every time we drive by a church I "wave to Jesus" and tell Hannah that His body is in the church as the Eucharist. A few times we've even stopped in to say a quick (really quick) prayer before hopping back in our cars to go home.

We pray before meals. The regular prayer and a prayer for the souls in purgatory.

We have religious pictures and crucifixes up around the house. I point them out from time to time and ask her questions. "Who is that? Who does Jesus love?"

I sing hymns as lullabies and she learned all the words of the Hail Mary from my singing it at night.

We sometimes bless each other with holy water before going to bed.

We take our children to Mass, where they receive countless graces just from their presence. I whisper in her ear during the consecration, "Jesus' body. Jesus' blood."

When she asks me if I'm happy (her newest obsession) I say "Yes, who makes me happy?" and she's learned to answer with either, "Hannah," "Daddy," Paul," or "Jesus!"

We have an occasional "family movie night" when we all sit down together and watch a religious kids show, which gives us some great points to talk about and is a lot of fun.
.
We have children's Bibles and read about Moses and David and the birth of Jesus, but only when she's interested because otherwise it's a fight.

We look at a picture book of our family and godparents during our nighttime prayers and say "Pray for  ___" as we flip through. (Although, for Hannah it sounds like "pay dor ___") We also say a short litany of our patron saints and she replies with "pay dor us!"


Depending on what your faith and family life is like, that may seem like a ton or it may seem like a feeble attempt at catechesis. But listing all of that out has taken me from guilt of not being good enough to teach my children to feeling pretty competent that I can actually encourage their relationships with the Lord pretty well. I know I have more to do. I know there is always room for improvement, but right now I'm feeling more up to the challenge than I am guilt and despair.

I'm up for the challenge of limiting the TV time in hopes that creative play will better develop. (but no getting rid of Netflix until I finish Once Upon a Time season two.) I'm up for the challenge of some type of toddler rosary on a daily weekly sometimes basis. I'm up for the challenge of making it to daily Mass every so often, and requiring a morning prayer before I get them out of bed, and talking about the feast days of the saints, and adding in more spontaneous prayer throughout our days. I'm up for the challenge of playing good, holy music in the car instead of giving in to whiny requests for "row row boat" for the hundredth time. I'm up for the challenge of getting even more creative with our budget so that we can buy good quality Catholic children's books that aren't in the library. I'm up for the challenge of acting like my children's religious upbringing is the single most important aspect of my parenting. (hint, because it is.)

I'm up for the challenge because I have to be. This is what I signed up for when I had kids. When I baptized them into our faith.

Today, as I tucked Hannah in for her naptime, I whispered in her ear, "God loves you so much and thinks you are soooo special," because I was feeling a little push from reading the above articles. When she woke up from her nap I heard her yelling, "Mommy! He's gone (dawn)! Where's God (Dod)?" I thought I was just the best mom in the entire world. Here I was, whispering God into her ears as she drifted off to sleep and when she woke up she was wondering where God went. I was so excited to have a conversation about the fact that we can't see God and He lives inside of us, and so on.

"God?" I clarified. "God's gone?" Her /g/ sounds like /d/ so I figured this is what she was saying.

"No mommy. Dod. Dahhhhhd. Not Dod. Where is my dod?"

She then went around looking for him. And finally stumbled upon

God.

Her frog humidifier that I moved to our room. Because her /g/ and her /f/ sound like /d/. And she can't say /r/. So "frog"="dod".

Ok, maybe she's not as holy as I had hoped. But she did allow me to give myself that pat on the back later. As we drove to the grocery store we passed by a church. She noticed it and said, "Mommy, I want stop and say hi to Desus."

I must be doing something right. Thank Dod.

Stuff and Things

Jumping from topic to topic tonight because writing a nicely organized blog post is just tooooo much work. How do people do it?? (People are really good writers, that's how. I am not one of them.I can blog, but I can't write.) Here is a sample of the thoughts in my head this week.

Sleep training is God's gift to mothers of multiple children. And I assume of mothers of one child but I wouldn't know because I coddled the hell out of Hannah and paid dearly for it. But Paul? Well this afternoon I took a perfectly happy and playful little six month old into his room, zipped him up in his blanket bag, carried him toward the crib, and he practically jumped out of my arms to get into it. Then he laid down and stayed in said crib for the next hour and forty-five minutes. Why? Because mama has worked hard to teach him how to sleep on his own. And mama needed him to nap a little earlier today because we had somewhere to be this afternoon. Thank you son. Now please, figure it out in the middle of the night. Figure.it.out.

Hannah loves to sing Ave Maria (the one that goes "Immaculate Mary, your praises we sing...." Because there are too many versions. Well, you can't have too many versions of Ave Maria I guess.) with me while we snuggle at bedtime. She calls it "Ee-mat-tu-tate Mawy" and singing it with her is just the highlight of my life right now. Precious.

Some links:

This was a really great post about finding the activities that really help you to relax. I know blogging helps me relax for all the reasons Jen mentioned (thoughts come out of my head, I feel good about recording our lives for the future, I feel accomplished for having completed something, I enjoy it) so why do I always find myself spending more time reading blog than I do writing on my own. I really enjoy reading blogs, but sometimes I feel like I wasted a bunch of time after reading and not ever getting to writing. I never feel like I wasted time after writing. So I just need to write more. And read less. And somehow get up enough self discipline to read less when I really like reading.

This was another blog post worth the read today. Elizabeth has such a way of making me want to be a better wife and mother without making me feel like a crappy wife and mother. Her way of praying the rosary with her two year old seems totally doable. So doable I'm actually considering giving it a try. Without the handmade Mystery books of course. I know my limits. And that is way beyond them.

We returned the overpriced trike because when it said it was adjustable, I didn't realize it was already on the biggest setting. And she was too big for it. So back to the store it went, even after we rode it in the street. Because I have no shame when it comes to Walmart's generous return policy. And instead of the trike I got her a real bike. Goodwill. Eight bucks. It has a bell! And she loves it.

I love it too. Especially after I peeled all the Disney Princess stickers off and made it way cuter. Shh, don't tell her.

And she's gotten so good at it in only a few days that she actually needs a helmet now. At first it was just pretending to peddle and us pushing her along but now she can all out ride. We got her helmet down from storage (that she wore exactly one time almost two years ago and hated it) and it didn't fit.

So guess who got a new Winnie the Pooh helmet. The most adorable little boy in the world, that's who.

Ted and I, in an attempt to get out of the house with the kids more often in an effort to keep from losing our minds and do fun family things, have been talking about bike riding. We borrowed a bike trailer from a friend who is trying to sell it to see if we want to buy it. Both kids loved it and now we want to take it on some of the trails around town.

Except that both of our bikes are in bad shape. Ted's is done for. And I have no idea how much mine would cost to get up to speed. I guess that's what you get since they've had to be stored outside for four of the last five years. So our little attempt at getting out of the house with the kids is quickly turning into a several hundred dollar venture. Ugh.

What are the odds of finding me and Ted new bikes at Goodwill for eight bucks? Probably less than likely than my Disney Princess steal. So this family fun idea is still in the negotiation phase.

Since we're being responsible parents and making Hannah wear a helmet (when we buy her a new one that is), we have to actually wear ours to set a good example and not be big fat hypocrites. I'm not gonna lie, I feel like a huge loser. Am I the only one who thinks helmets are just so.... uncool? I mean, protecting my head from brain injury-obviously a plus. But we never ever wore them growing up so it just feels strange now.

Helmets are important. Especially for riding with your eyes closed.

 And even though the temps were still above 90 today, I actually thought it felt pretty amazing outside. The humidity has finally let up and that subtle hint of fall is almost in the air. Like, still several hundred miles and probably another two months away kind of almost. But I was able to ride a bike down my street at 6:30 without dying. So I'm just gonna be grateful for that.

Although a Missouri fall sounds lovely right now. With leaves that actually turn colors and jackets with my jeans.

Ask me how I feel when I'm laying on the beach later this month though.

I think when you devote three paragraphs to the weather it's time to sign off.

And yes,  I know that a paragraph needs more than two sentences.

Paul's Five Favorites

Linking with Hallie again, this time to dote on my sweet Paul.

Paul Man, you are six months old today! The time flew. Faster than I ever knew time could fly. You are such a delight to your family. Here are your top five favorite things in life at your ripe old age of six months.

-1-

Me. I am the source of summit of your happiness. The term "mama's boy" has never been used more accurately to describe your love for me. It's amazing. You could be happily playing by yourself in the living room, but if you get just the tiniest glimpse of me out of the corner of your eye you must be near me. You will do anything to get in my arms. If I come home from being gone for a few hours you jump and flap and scream until I wrap you up and nurse you. And then you smile at me like this:

When you finish nursing you lay in my lamp and flap your left leg (always left) and just smile at me.

I am just as crazy about you as you are of me. And my favorite moment of every day is hearing you playing in your crib after you wake up from your nap. Then opening the door and watching you light up and wiggle all over the place because you are just so stinkin' happy to see me.

I love being your favorite.

-2-

Hannah is a close second. She makes you laugh way more than I can. But she can't nurse you. So I still win. Your love for Hannah is so beautiful. When we're in the car you just stare at her. In fact, you go weeks without ever fussing in the car, even for trips a half hour or more, because you are just so happy to sit and watch your sister.

A repeat picture, yes. It's so good it needed to be on  here twice.

Your daddy is right in line behind Hannah, but gaining ground every day. You are really getting into his roughhousing and tickling. He also makes you laugh harder than I can.

-3-

"Crawling". You've been sitting since you were four months old, pulled up for the first time at 4 1/2, and started rocking on your knees shortly after. You are all but crawling and I expect you'll do it any day now. Even though you can't crawl, you sure do get to where you want to go. It's kind of like an inchworm.  You pick yourself up onto your knees, sprawl out with a forward lunge, then shimmy back up to your knees again. Last night you got all the way across the living room to join us at the table during supper. You like being in the action.

You also like being very serious.

-4-

Food. Well just bananas really, that's the only food you've eaten so far. You act like you want to eat everything on our plates, but when we fed you some sweet potato on a spoon you got the chills and spit it out. But banana in the net feeder? Your new fave. You actually cried when I took it away to refill it today.

(You have the most gorgeous blue eyes.)

-5-

Talking. You are the babblingest six month I know. Your current repertoire consists of /b, m, bw, g, gw/ and an occasional /d/. You even combine consonants to say things like "bih-ma" or "ger-buh". It's quite impressive. You love to slap your hand across your mouth and listen to the way it changes your sounds. And you say everything with such purpose. Like you're really trying to tell me something. 

Picture taken mid babble

We love you Doodle. Thanks for adding so much joy to our family.