Better Blogs and Pumpkins

Instead of waiting around here looking for something insightful or thought provoking to read, you should probably just mosey on over to Kendra's blog and read through her archives. Her most recent post is an answer to a question I asked her about the feeding of picky toddlers. I'm only a few days into implementing her suggestions and already seeing a huge improvement.

Her blog is pretty new to me but I'm really enjoy soaking up her wisdom as a Catholic mom of kids taller than two feet. Sometimes you just get a bloggy sense about people. And you just know they're good people and they are raising good kids. Ya know? Well I've got that sense about Kendra and I'm thankful for all the parenting advice she is graciously bestowing.

So if you want insight, look elsewhere. I'm in a bit of a blog-rut. But if you came here looking for pictures of my cute kids, well then I promise I won't disappoint.

We went to a pumpkin patch. Because it's October and that's what you do in October.

They had bunnies. For sale! And at 15 bucks a piece Ted said, "Maybe we should just get her one. It'd be cheaper than paying a babysitter to keep her entertained while we get stuff done around the house."

Not a bad idea....but no, we are not proud bunny owners. We resisted their charm.

There is something about that first pumpkin patch picture that just gets me. Paul's is no exception. (Hannah's was pretty cute too.)

Even when he makes this face.

Our big girl was brave enough to jump in a pit of corn with way too many kids taking up all the space. Maybe soon we'll be ready to actually slide down the slide at Chik-fil-a instead of just "habing nun watsing." What? You don't speak Hannah? That was "having fun watching."

Paul did not hab nun watsing. Or laying. But we managed to get him in and out with a picture before he ate any corn or got stepped on by a giant eight year old. Success.

My heart is as big as those pumpkins. And that's the cheesy truth.

And don't be surprised if we hit up another patch later in the month. I'm still holding out hope it might cool off enough to wear long sleeves while I pick out a pumpkin.

Weekends are Never Long Enough

The weekend is the glorious two days a week when daddy is home and no one has to go to work. It's also the really tough two days a week when we try to get things accomplished because, well, it's the weekend, but the kids are all like, "It's the weekend!" And we always get about 4% of our to-do list tackled and manage to eat even easier and less stellar meals than what I find myself making after working eight hours.

Some weekends we get so much accomplished and I lay in bed Sunday night feeling a sense of pride and completion. But then I also feel like we wasted a perfectly good weekend working the entire time and didn't have a chance to relax and have fun with the kids. Other weekends we try to just relax, do "nothing" and enjoy being a family. But then I end the weekend with a sense of failure and impending doom for wasting so much time when I should have been checking off that never ending to-do list.

This weekend was the latter. And here it is, 10:00 and I haven't begun to get my things ready for work tomorrow. Or plan meals for the week. Or or or or.

But, fun was had. Family was enjoyed. And that's the most important "to-do" anyway, right?

We started off the weekend with a bike ride to the playground in absolutely perfect weather Friday night. Then Saturday morning we woke up early to watch a friend run a triathlon. From the top of Ted's shoulders Hannah kept shouting, "This be fun (nun)!" while cheering and clapping for the swimmers/bikers/runners. We also discovered that Hannah has got the moves. She danced to the unedited rap songs blaring from the speakers like she's been doing it her whole life. Or maybe she's just watched her mama long enough to know how to move to the beat. But I'm not in high school anymore, so only edited versions for me. And only in my kitchen.

After the race we checked out a Pumpkin Festival in the neighboring town. It was hot. And they charged two dollars for a three minute jaunt in the bounce house. Two whole dollars. So she bounced two whole times and then we cut out early because we were sweating through our clothes.

But not before checking out the pumpkins.

And sneaking out a different way so we wouldn't pass the bounce houses again.

We spent Saturday evening relaxing with some friends. Ted found some time to fish Sunday morning. And after Mass at a different parish, we enjoyed the Fall Festival and the free bounce house.

And the statue of Mary which Hannah might have loved as much as the bouncing.

I nursed Paul on the benches by the statue and he kept popping off to lean back and look at her. I think he was waiting for her to move or something because he just couldn't focus with Mary watching him.

Sunday ended with naps for all four of us, a swim in the kiddie pool (totally normal to swim in October. totally normal.), and a family movie night.

Thus ends the weekend. The work week will start all too soon. I'll be up with a cranky baby several times before my alarm ever goes off. And the coffee will be too weak tomorrow no matter how strong I brew it.

And we didn't get finished organizing all the kids' clothes, or start on the swing set we want to build, or clean anything, or enter receipts into the budget, or stain the bookshelf that we bought a year ago. But we had fun. And there's always next weekend, right?

Quick Takes: Jackets, Quotes, and Unsolicited Advice

Joining Jen for some quick takes. Because seven little paragraphs are a lot easier to write than seven coherent blog posts.

-1-

It's fall ya'll. Well, "fall" since we are talking about Florida. It's chilly enough for about an hour in the morning to justify a jacket. And even though I'm back in shorts and a t-shirt by 9:30, the slight change in weather has been wonderful. Add to that the new slide a friend just gave us, and well we spent the whole dang morning outside. Allow me to decorate this entire post with pictures of my adorable children wearing JACKETS!

-2-

Thank you so much to anyone who commented or emailed me about my whiny rant about food allergies. You are all too kind. And it is so, so helpful to know I'm not the only one who feels this way. I stumbled upon this gem this week and I could not stop laughing. And another story to add to my collection of "people are so stinkin nice I can't even believe it sometimes because I am so selfish and never think to do that" stories, a cousin of mine, who I haven't talked to in years, sent me a box of gluten and dairy free goodies. I didn't even know she knew I had a blog, much less that she read it. People are just awesome. Thanks Amy!

-3-

Another post this week got some great comments and I wish I had more time to respond and enter into a really good conversation about forming Catholic friendships. You should go read Jenny's post for more. Good stuff.

  

-4-

Some Hannah quotes.

Hannah: Mommy, when I get bigger I make your coffee for you!

Me: You will? You are the sweetest....and I'm definitely holding you to that.

While singing Immaculate Mary and rubbing my back at bedtime, (yes, you read that right. I love bedtime snuggles) she had her very first attempt at making a joke.

Hannah: Immaculate Mary, your praises we ning. You reign now in spendor wif Desus, our Ning. Ah-bay, ah-bay, ah-bay......Hannah.

Me: Ave Hannah?? Is that how it goes?

Hannah: Immaculate Mary, your praises we ning. You reign now in spendor wif Desus, our...doodle!

And when she discovered a package sitting at our front door:

"Mommy look! A mailbox!"

One whiny Tuesday morning:

Hannah: I want watch a show. Because I'm so sad.
Me: Awe, why are you so sad?
Hannah: Because I want watch a show.
Me: Well I can't argue with that logic I suppose.

-5-

A Trader Joe's just opened up in town. I've never been to one and am super excited to go. I'm absolutely positive I will love it. How could I not? The flyer we got in the mail was about 95% devoted to pumpkin spice everything. Anyone have a favorite (gluten free/dairy free) item that I need to check out?

I rock polka dots. You sport stripes.

-6-

How do you feel about getting unsolicited advice? I'm the queen of advice giving. Not because my advice is particularly helpful, but because I dish it out like candy at Halloween. I try to stop myself, but my mouth just takes over. I think a big part of it is my chosen profession. I've spent almost all of my career and time in grad school giving parents advice on how to help their child. It's like I'm a trained advice-giver. But I know some people really don't like that sort of thing.

I'm not a big fan of getting unsolicited advice but more so because it hurts my pride than anything. I'm just a tad arrogant and feel like when I get advice the other person is implying that I'm deficient. Which I probably am. And I usually need to hear the advice. But my pride, what can I say? I'm a sinner.

But every time I hesitate to give advice I think, "but what if this piece of advice could really help that person?" and I usually air on the side of giving too much information rather than withholding what might be able to help. I'm guilty of this with blog comments. I always try to "fix" things when sometimes people are just ranting and not looking for a solution.

So I guess I'm soliciting advice about unsolicited advice. Should I shut up? Should I write a blog post chalk full of all my unsolicited advice because everyone just loves what I have to say on every single subject? (That's a joke.)

-7-

I probably mentioned last year my distaste for all things "pink" for breast cancer. I still don't like it. Here's a good post explaining why. And this post really broke my heart and opened my eyes to how hurtful the "pink" campaign can be to actual victims of breast cancer.

Have a great weekend. We will be spending our two days of "fall" bliss watching a friend's triathlon and hopefully hitting up a pumpkin patch. If you thought these pictures were cute, just you wait!

Five Favorites

Joining Hallie to share five of my favoritest things this week.

-1-

The St. Louis Cardinals. Oh yes they are. I know not everyone loves the Cardinals as much as I do, but then again, I don't think the Rockies made into the playoffs now did they? If you wanna watch baseball in October, then you gotta be a Cardinals fan.

-2-

If you wanna watch baseball in October, you also have to have cable. We're way too cheap for cable but not too cheap for a date night with free babysitting from friends! So Ted and I actually get to watch game five of the National League Division Series. Together. In a bar. Without children. And with alcohol.

It hasn't happened yet. But Wednesday night's date is already my favorite night of the week.

(And I'm just going to pretend like they are never, ever going to leave us.)

-3-

I started doing some actual speech therapy with Hannah this week. My goal is 20-30 minute sessions twice a week. I've known for a while she needed it but was hoping that my indirect approach would take off. It didn't. So now we're doing it the old fashioned way. It's been a lot of fun to see her rise to the challenge. She asks for it every time Paul goes down for a nap and (so far) has sat attentively for the entire time. I'm excited for her intelligibility to improve and for her to become more confident talking with her friends and other adults.

Don't mind the grease on the wall from the previous renters' popcorn machine. Who does that??

 I'm also incredibly grateful that I have two degrees and five years of experience in the exact area of help my daughter needs. Literally saving us thousands of dollars. That's a favorite.

She hung these up herself. So I think it's safe to say speech is a favorite of hers too.

But my favoritist favorite part of this "favorite" is hearing her say "speech" like "peets."

"We do peets now mommy?" Love it.

-4-

This outtake from our seven month photo shoot with Paul is my favorite. Gosh, I just love him. I could type that a thousand times and it wouldn't even come close to describing how much I love this little boy. He is just the best. An absolute joy.

He's been crawling and kneeling and pulling up for a few weeks now. It's adorable. But making my life a whole lot harder than it was before. A whole, whole lot. Not a favorite.

-5-

This is my new favorite spot of our house. I just moved the recliner about two feet to the right and turned some wasted space into a "reading corner". It actually makes our tiny living room feel quite a bit bigger. The mat on the floor spells out READ but you wouldn't know that because Crawl Joseph has taken it upon himself to continually rip all the books off the cute little spice rack bookshelf. Whatever. He loves it back there. Probably because he eats the floor mat, but who cares. And Hannah actually gets her books out more often because they're not scattered in with all of her toys. Wins all around. It's everybody's favorite.

A Good Group of Gals

Moving to two new towns within the first three years of our marriage has taught me and Ted one thing. Good friends are really important. When you move away from family and to a completely unfamiliar place (twice!), being able to rely on a few good friends can mean the difference between barely surviving and happily thriving. Ted has been really fortunate to have great classmates followed by amazing coworkers, so he's found most of his friends without even trying. I've had great success meeting wonderful, wonderful friends by just introducing myself to Catholics who I think look like they'd be fun to hang out with. Sure, I might come across as a creeper at first. But it's worth it if it means a true friendship might form.

My network of Catholic mom friends has been steadily growing since we moved to Florida almost two years ago. What started out as a small group of five to six women, has grown into a weekly play date with as many as 15 moms at a time. All because I put myself out there and made an effort to make friends. I'm blessed to have a regular time each week to connect with other Catholic moms over coffee to chat about whatever is on our minds (while we wrestle our steadily increasing brood of children).

There's always coffee.  

Lots of coffee.

I also get to have spontaneous ladies' night outs every few weeks, a monthly prayer/discussion group through Families Following Christ, and plenty of great moms to choose from when asking friends to meet us at the park or the museum.

Sometimes I find myself thinking that it doesn't really matter that my friends are Catholic. It's not like we sit around talking about the Pope's latest encyclical for two hours. Sometimes I start thinking that I could really get along fine with just any ole group of moms on the playground. And I probably could. I've certainly had plenty of great friendships with non-Catholic moms in my short time as a mother. I've connected with moms over breastfeeding or healthy eating or toddler activities. But none of those groups have been quite like this one. My Catholic mom friends in Florida are all over the place when it comes to parenting styles. Bottle feeders and tandem nursers are the best of friends. Co sleepers and cry-it-outs manage to get along great. Some of us live in beautiful homes in the nicest neighborhoods in town and some of us are in tiny apartments. A few are passionate about homeschooling, others about the Catholic school in town, and others have no idea where their children are going to be educated.

And although we don't sit around talking about "Catholic" stuff all day, it definitely colors the conversation. And it's a brilliant shade if I say so myself. We keep the complaining about our kids to a minimum and instead seek out advice on the aspects of parenting we're struggling with. We don't have to choose between keeping our mouths shut or being led into an argument when sensitive conversations come up. No one asks the other, "Are you done, yet?" nor do we expect anyone to have any more children by a specific time.

And there is one major difference that I've noticed between my great group of friends and other groups I've been a part of (or moms I've just overheard talking on the playground). We never, never speak badly of our husbands. I like that. It's not like we've all taken an oath to only say nice things. It's just that we each understand, without having to voice it, that we are truly one flesh with these men. To tear them down would only tear ourselves down in the process. So many times I've heard a simple complaint about one's husband turn into an all out male bashing extravaganza. But not so with these girls. If one of us has a genuine need for advice, it would be sought privately with one or two of those women who are closest to us. Not aired out for the entire group to hash out together.

Refreshing.

And as our children have morphed from crawling babies into actual preschoolers, our efforts in the "Pray" part of "Pray and Play" have been slowly improving.

We still keep it pretty simple, but each week we take turns leading a short prayer with all the kids. Sometimes we sing a song (written by Colleen Nixon of course) and we usually do a litany of all the kids' name saints. We always make sure to get a holy priest to come and give the kids a blessing.

No, I'm totally kidding. Colleen's priest brother-in-law just happened to stop by to see his nephews on the day I brought my camera. Notice that said nephews actually missed out on the blessing.

And another blessing of holy, Catholic mom friends? Holy, Catholic girlfriends.

Thank you, Lord, for my good group of gals.

Do I have to add that, yes of course non-Catholics can get along despite different parenting styles? And of course non-Catholics can resist complaining about their husbands. Blah blah blah, please assume my good will in this.

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.