No sugar update:
There is just over one more day left in the month of May, and just over one more day that I am 100% sugar-free. I wonder if perhaps my expectations were too high going into this month, because I really did think that by this time I would be feeling refreshed, energized, lighter, happier, less irritable, renewed, and all those positive wonder-womany things.
Instead, I find myself at the end of this month my usual amount of irritable (or more), not refreshed, not renewed, and still in definite need of naps as many days as possible. I am wondering if I did something wrong? Maybe I should have cut out fruit too? Or maybe sugar really hasn't been as much of an antagonist for me as I originally thought?
(Or maybe I need to give it more time? Of that I am skeptical.)
The one difference I can say is that my sugar cravings have decreased. They are most definitely still there, but most of the time at a lesser strength and vigor than before.
Even with the lack of one hundred eighty degree transformation, I still find myself a little reluctant to add sugar back in. Even though I most definitely want to add sugar back in. But it's been nice having the excuse of no sugar to keep myself from over indulging. And I don't know that I have the personal discipline to stop myself on my own.
Also, I've realized just how often we use food, specifically treats, to celebrate or treat ourselves or just because we feel like it. Wowzers.
Anyway, all in all, I suppose I'm still glad I did it. Even if it doesn't feel like there were any life-changing, wonder-woman, transformations. At least I know I can do it. And that's something to feel proud of, I guess.
xoxo,
christine
May 30, 2017
May 9, 2017
Sugarless May Day 9
I feel no magic.
I am tired. I am moody. I am so over this.
The end.
****
Yes, yes, I know. I was not expecting to feel any magical energy or joy or whatever positive thing it is that one feels after giving up sugar for a month, not yet anyway. I know that it will (hopefully? maybe? IT BETTER!) happen by the end of the 31 days. BEFORE the end of the 31 days.
I was expecting to feel a lot of physical symptoms last week like headaches, dizziness, nausea, night sweats, SOMETHING. But, aside from that first night/day of dizziness, I didn't notice anything else. Which leads me to wonder am I 1) doing this wrong? 2) totally not addicted to sugar like I thought or 3) am sugared up via the copious amounts of fruit I'm eating and the milk I'm drinking and that is therefore keeping my body from detoxing from any sugar because IT'S STILL GETTING SUGAR!!!!
Also, I noticed more irritability last week. Like, particularly a couple nights of wanting to scream and bash my head against a wall. But it's hard to know, was it from my body missing it's sugar fix, my mind missing it's emotional sugar fix, or the fact that after putting the girls to bed at 8:30 they whined, cried, got up, called for us, etc etc ETC until they fell asleep at 10:30. Several nights IN. A. ROW.
Hmm, we may never know.
Now today, into week two, all I notice is being dog-tired and just feeling over it. Why did I think this was a good idea?
Only three weeks and one day to go. Not that I'm counting.
xoxo,
christine
PS. Perhaps the moodiness is real because I AM USING SO MANY CAPITAL LETTERS. WHY AM I USING SO MANY ANGRY CAPITAL LETTERS!? BECAUSE I AM FEELING ALL THE BIG FEELINGS EVERYWHERE AND EVERYTHING AND I CAN NOT HOLD IT IN BECAUSE BIG FEELINGS! The end.
I am tired. I am moody. I am so over this.
The end.
****
Yes, yes, I know. I was not expecting to feel any magical energy or joy or whatever positive thing it is that one feels after giving up sugar for a month, not yet anyway. I know that it will (hopefully? maybe? IT BETTER!) happen by the end of the 31 days. BEFORE the end of the 31 days.
I was expecting to feel a lot of physical symptoms last week like headaches, dizziness, nausea, night sweats, SOMETHING. But, aside from that first night/day of dizziness, I didn't notice anything else. Which leads me to wonder am I 1) doing this wrong? 2) totally not addicted to sugar like I thought or 3) am sugared up via the copious amounts of fruit I'm eating and the milk I'm drinking and that is therefore keeping my body from detoxing from any sugar because IT'S STILL GETTING SUGAR!!!!
Also, I noticed more irritability last week. Like, particularly a couple nights of wanting to scream and bash my head against a wall. But it's hard to know, was it from my body missing it's sugar fix, my mind missing it's emotional sugar fix, or the fact that after putting the girls to bed at 8:30 they whined, cried, got up, called for us, etc etc ETC until they fell asleep at 10:30. Several nights IN. A. ROW.
Hmm, we may never know.
Now today, into week two, all I notice is being dog-tired and just feeling over it. Why did I think this was a good idea?
Only three weeks and one day to go. Not that I'm counting.
xoxo,
christine
PS. Perhaps the moodiness is real because I AM USING SO MANY CAPITAL LETTERS. WHY AM I USING SO MANY ANGRY CAPITAL LETTERS!? BECAUSE I AM FEELING ALL THE BIG FEELINGS EVERYWHERE AND EVERYTHING AND I CAN NOT HOLD IT IN BECAUSE BIG FEELINGS! The end.
May 2, 2017
Sugarless May Day 2
Day 2 of no sugar is (almost) done.
Only 29 days to go. (Sad face.)
Day One was fine. I was feeling pretty motivated about this whole endeavor, so that kept me pretty upbeat and positive. To be honest, yesterday wasn't too difficult, although I'm under no illusion that it won't get significantly harder, and more painful. My coffee was pretty pathetic, half coffee half milk...no sugar, but I drank it. And, aside from making sure I didn't mindlessly lick a spoon or pop a piece of cereal in my mouth, it was, dare I say, an 'easy' day.
Nora woke up in the middle of the night last night, and when I went to her, I realized I was feeling a light-headed and dizzy. The dizziness lasted even after I went back to bed, which I figure is my body beginning to revolt at being denied sugar.
Luckily, this morning the dizziness had mostly subsided, although I still felt traces of it on and off all day, but I'm not assuming that this will be the end of my physical symptoms of sugar withdrawal. I have started to get a headache just tonight too.
Paige keeps telling me to just cheat and have some sugar. (Because apparently I was complaining a lot about it or something? Obviously that is totally an exaggeration. I have not been talking about it and being dramatic AT ALL.) I did remind her that even though I'm complaining some (ahem, a lot) this is something that I want to do. That (hopefully) it will be good for me and my body will (eventually) thank me.
I even managed to NOT eat ice cream when all three of my children had Dairy Queen tonight. I think I deserve a medal.
xoxo,
christine
Only 29 days to go. (Sad face.)
Day One was fine. I was feeling pretty motivated about this whole endeavor, so that kept me pretty upbeat and positive. To be honest, yesterday wasn't too difficult, although I'm under no illusion that it won't get significantly harder, and more painful. My coffee was pretty pathetic, half coffee half milk...no sugar, but I drank it. And, aside from making sure I didn't mindlessly lick a spoon or pop a piece of cereal in my mouth, it was, dare I say, an 'easy' day.
Nora woke up in the middle of the night last night, and when I went to her, I realized I was feeling a light-headed and dizzy. The dizziness lasted even after I went back to bed, which I figure is my body beginning to revolt at being denied sugar.
Luckily, this morning the dizziness had mostly subsided, although I still felt traces of it on and off all day, but I'm not assuming that this will be the end of my physical symptoms of sugar withdrawal. I have started to get a headache just tonight too.
Paige keeps telling me to just cheat and have some sugar. (Because apparently I was complaining a lot about it or something? Obviously that is totally an exaggeration. I have not been talking about it and being dramatic AT ALL.) I did remind her that even though I'm complaining some (ahem, a lot) this is something that I want to do. That (hopefully) it will be good for me and my body will (eventually) thank me.
I even managed to NOT eat ice cream when all three of my children had Dairy Queen tonight. I think I deserve a medal.
xoxo,
christine
Apr 30, 2017
May Challenge (aka I must hate myself)
I have decided to give up sugar for the month of May.
::Dramatic pause to let that idea sink in::
See, I was originally thinking of doing something even more crazy intense like the Whole 30 diet I recently heard about. (I know, I'm way late on that bandwagon. Apparently it's been around forever, but I only started hearing about it a few weeks ago.) In any case, I was seriously, honestly, truly contemplating attempting the Whole 30. The "whole" problem? (Get it? Hardy har.) I don't eat meat. And, for those that don't know, Whole 30 basically only allows you to eat veggies, fruits, eggs, and meat. Um, for a non-meat eater who also isn't the biggest fan of eggs, that doesn't leave me much as far as calories go. (Also, sidenote: even if I LOVED eggs, can you imagine it being your only source of protein for 30 days. How sick of eggs would you be by the end of the month!? Gag.)
So, needless to say, my thoughts on that died down pretty swiftly. The things is, I wanted to try the Whole 30 because I had read about what an amazing "lifestyle change" it was that helped figure out how your body reacts to different foods. And to help one adopt better eating habits. Both of which sounded VERY useful to this over-tired, low-energy, sugar and carb addicted girl.
About a week ago it dawned on me that I could perhaps do something similar, but not quite as extreme. If I wanted to find out how my body reacts to different foods, instead of giving up grains, dairy, sugar, etc etc etc (ALL THE FOOD) at once, I could do one food "group" at a time.
And because I hate myself, I chose sugar.
No, I actually chose sugar because I have the biggest addiction to it, and it is the most likely culprit to all my low-energy and moodiness woes. Apparently sugar can really be problematic. I know, I know, it's not "apparently" at all. I've known this for a LOOOONG time, I just have never had the desire or willpower to do anything about it. (Sometimes I still don't have the desire because, hello!? Sugar!)
So, starting May 1st (tomorrow! nooooo!!) I will cut out all added sugar and sweeteners. No sugar, no raw sugar, no corn syrup or cane sugar. No pure maple syrup, no honey, no stevia. No nothing. Basically if I want something sweet I'm going to die. I mean, basically if I want something sweet I can only have fruit.
Yes, that even means I will either have to 1. have no coffee or 2. have coffee without any type of sweetener in it. If you know me at all you know that either of these options might be the end of me already.
But I'm committed. At least, I'm committed to trying. Which is why I have told my therapist. And my sister. My husband and my family. And why I am announcing it here. Perhaps then I will keep myself more accountable.
Plus, as far as telling my husband and family... well, let's face it, I'm more like warning them. I have no delusions that this is going to be easy and that my body won't revolt as it suffers sugar withdrawals. I mean, I haven't even started and I already miss it in my coffee.
Oooooh, tomorrow's gonna be a goo-ood day.
Excuse me while I shove cookies, ice cream, candy, and spoonfuls of sugar into my mouth. I've got 56 minutes until May 1st.
xoxo,
christine
::Dramatic pause to let that idea sink in::
See, I was originally thinking of doing something even more crazy intense like the Whole 30 diet I recently heard about. (I know, I'm way late on that bandwagon. Apparently it's been around forever, but I only started hearing about it a few weeks ago.) In any case, I was seriously, honestly, truly contemplating attempting the Whole 30. The "whole" problem? (Get it? Hardy har.) I don't eat meat. And, for those that don't know, Whole 30 basically only allows you to eat veggies, fruits, eggs, and meat. Um, for a non-meat eater who also isn't the biggest fan of eggs, that doesn't leave me much as far as calories go. (Also, sidenote: even if I LOVED eggs, can you imagine it being your only source of protein for 30 days. How sick of eggs would you be by the end of the month!? Gag.)
So, needless to say, my thoughts on that died down pretty swiftly. The things is, I wanted to try the Whole 30 because I had read about what an amazing "lifestyle change" it was that helped figure out how your body reacts to different foods. And to help one adopt better eating habits. Both of which sounded VERY useful to this over-tired, low-energy, sugar and carb addicted girl.
About a week ago it dawned on me that I could perhaps do something similar, but not quite as extreme. If I wanted to find out how my body reacts to different foods, instead of giving up grains, dairy, sugar, etc etc etc (ALL THE FOOD) at once, I could do one food "group" at a time.
And because I hate myself, I chose sugar.
No, I actually chose sugar because I have the biggest addiction to it, and it is the most likely culprit to all my low-energy and moodiness woes. Apparently sugar can really be problematic. I know, I know, it's not "apparently" at all. I've known this for a LOOOONG time, I just have never had the desire or willpower to do anything about it. (Sometimes I still don't have the desire because, hello!? Sugar!)
So, starting May 1st (tomorrow! nooooo!!) I will cut out all added sugar and sweeteners. No sugar, no raw sugar, no corn syrup or cane sugar. No pure maple syrup, no honey, no stevia. No nothing. Basically if I want something sweet I'm going to die. I mean, basically if I want something sweet I can only have fruit.
Yes, that even means I will either have to 1. have no coffee or 2. have coffee without any type of sweetener in it. If you know me at all you know that either of these options might be the end of me already.
But I'm committed. At least, I'm committed to trying. Which is why I have told my therapist. And my sister. My husband and my family. And why I am announcing it here. Perhaps then I will keep myself more accountable.
Plus, as far as telling my husband and family... well, let's face it, I'm more like warning them. I have no delusions that this is going to be easy and that my body won't revolt as it suffers sugar withdrawals. I mean, I haven't even started and I already miss it in my coffee.
Oooooh, tomorrow's gonna be a goo-ood day.
Excuse me while I shove cookies, ice cream, candy, and spoonfuls of sugar into my mouth. I've got 56 minutes until May 1st.
xoxo,
christine
Apr 20, 2017
In Sickness
All joking aside, giving up Caribou mochas for the past two weeks was actually been (mostly) a good thing. Every time I had a craving, I used it as an opportunity to remember to have a conversation with God. Whether it was praying for others, giving thanks, or asking for forgiveness. And because during those two weeks there were many instances I thought about and craved getting my coffee from Caribou, there were many instances (more than in a usual two week period) where I found myself talking with God.
*****
Easter came, and I got my Caribou mocha, and it was delicious. (wink) But what actually made the day so beautiful was the warm sunshine and being with family and friends. Our niece sang in church on Easter morning and witnessing her as part of the children's choir brought tears to my eyes. (Which, to anyone who knows me knows that's not such a surprise. I'm a crier. Especially when it comes to music in church.)
My parents have the perfect yard for egg hunts and the seven kids spent a good chunk of time scavenging the trees and flowers and rocks to find their 20 eggs each. The grown-ups *may* have spent some time searching too. There was only one egg casualty when a purple egg disappeared into the abyss between two boulders. A sweet Easter treat for whatever critter can squeeze in and get to it.
Unfortunately by the afternoon the bug I'd been fighting for the past several days over powered my immune defenses and I spent Sunday night and Monday mostly horizontal and mostly miserable. Poor Hope kept looking at me and saying, "I'm sorry, Mom." As wonderful as it is to see her empathy, it's hard as the mother to see your daughter trying to comfort and take care of you, when it feels like your job to be comforting and caring for her.
Health is such an important aspect of our well-being and it is so incredibly easy to take for granted. As my body was overcome with fever and chills, as my muscles ached as if someone was stepping on them and my joints burned as though being lit with matches, I had thoughts of awe and amazement at what our bodies can and do endure, and how many people with chronic and terminal pain suffer so much worse than those few days I did.
Luckily by Tuesday morning my body was feeling a significant difference, but instead of pain and fighting it was exhaustion and recovering. It's been ages since I've worked out, but the overwhelming sensation my body had was that I'd just fought through a marathon without the proper training. Every one of my cells was tender from the fight and I was so weak I could barely stand long enough to shower before having to lay back down again.
By Wednesday I was well enough, but then poor Nora came down with something. And as miserable as I felt when I was sick, I would take it a hundred times over to take away my baby's misery. I was pretty convinced she got whatever I had, but a call from the doctor today informed us it's strep. The one benefit of that is that we can give her antibiotics to help speed up the recovery process instead of just waiting for her body to fight off a virus.
(The downfall being that Paige is now pretty much guaranteed to get strep because anytime there's a whisper that someone she knows has strep, Paige seems to manage to get it.)
Being sick this week, watching my baby be sick the past day and half, I have a renewed appreciation for our health, and the fact that for millions (if not even billions) of people in the world, health is being fought for every single moment of every single day.
My baby is sick, yes, and it tears my mamaheart out. But she only has strep. She will not stay in the hospital. But we have access to a hospital if she needed it. She won't have to take anything stronger than a low-dose antibiotic. And that medication is easily available to us. She will be happy and healthy and running around like herself again within a day or two.
My heart is full of love for those who do not have the same access to the healthcare they need. Who don't have the money or resources, who can't just run to the pharmacy to get medication. And I hold space in my heart for those whose health is not so easily fixed as ours have been. For those who are in and out of the hospital, who are watching their babies suffering and fighting. Who are living every day on the edge, hoping for a cure, praying for a miracle. I'm praying too.
xoxo,
christine
*****
Easter came, and I got my Caribou mocha, and it was delicious. (wink) But what actually made the day so beautiful was the warm sunshine and being with family and friends. Our niece sang in church on Easter morning and witnessing her as part of the children's choir brought tears to my eyes. (Which, to anyone who knows me knows that's not such a surprise. I'm a crier. Especially when it comes to music in church.)
My parents have the perfect yard for egg hunts and the seven kids spent a good chunk of time scavenging the trees and flowers and rocks to find their 20 eggs each. The grown-ups *may* have spent some time searching too. There was only one egg casualty when a purple egg disappeared into the abyss between two boulders. A sweet Easter treat for whatever critter can squeeze in and get to it.
Unfortunately by the afternoon the bug I'd been fighting for the past several days over powered my immune defenses and I spent Sunday night and Monday mostly horizontal and mostly miserable. Poor Hope kept looking at me and saying, "I'm sorry, Mom." As wonderful as it is to see her empathy, it's hard as the mother to see your daughter trying to comfort and take care of you, when it feels like your job to be comforting and caring for her.
Health is such an important aspect of our well-being and it is so incredibly easy to take for granted. As my body was overcome with fever and chills, as my muscles ached as if someone was stepping on them and my joints burned as though being lit with matches, I had thoughts of awe and amazement at what our bodies can and do endure, and how many people with chronic and terminal pain suffer so much worse than those few days I did.
Luckily by Tuesday morning my body was feeling a significant difference, but instead of pain and fighting it was exhaustion and recovering. It's been ages since I've worked out, but the overwhelming sensation my body had was that I'd just fought through a marathon without the proper training. Every one of my cells was tender from the fight and I was so weak I could barely stand long enough to shower before having to lay back down again.
By Wednesday I was well enough, but then poor Nora came down with something. And as miserable as I felt when I was sick, I would take it a hundred times over to take away my baby's misery. I was pretty convinced she got whatever I had, but a call from the doctor today informed us it's strep. The one benefit of that is that we can give her antibiotics to help speed up the recovery process instead of just waiting for her body to fight off a virus.
(The downfall being that Paige is now pretty much guaranteed to get strep because anytime there's a whisper that someone she knows has strep, Paige seems to manage to get it.)
Being sick this week, watching my baby be sick the past day and half, I have a renewed appreciation for our health, and the fact that for millions (if not even billions) of people in the world, health is being fought for every single moment of every single day.
My baby is sick, yes, and it tears my mamaheart out. But she only has strep. She will not stay in the hospital. But we have access to a hospital if she needed it. She won't have to take anything stronger than a low-dose antibiotic. And that medication is easily available to us. She will be happy and healthy and running around like herself again within a day or two.
My heart is full of love for those who do not have the same access to the healthcare they need. Who don't have the money or resources, who can't just run to the pharmacy to get medication. And I hold space in my heart for those whose health is not so easily fixed as ours have been. For those who are in and out of the hospital, who are watching their babies suffering and fighting. Who are living every day on the edge, hoping for a cure, praying for a miracle. I'm praying too.
xoxo,
christine
Apr 14, 2017
Countdown to Coffee
Whose dumb idea was it to give up going out for coffee the last two weeks of Lent when one of those weeks is also spring break. If I thought last week was hard...this week has almost been torture. A shopping day without handcrafted tasty Caribou mocha? A rainy morning sipping a bland so-so drip coffee from home?
My husband, bless his little heart, told me that this two week fast might be good for breaking my Caribou coffee addiction. (It's true, that addiction is a verified medical affliction -- ahem.) After laughing hysterically in his face for a good five minutes, I gently explained to him that no, depriving myself of the life-giving caffeine, that is delivered to me through that critical invention of the drive-thru window, for two weeks will not, in fact, curb my addiction. If anything, I will spend the next week (okay, let's be real, two weeks) binging.
I know. Trust me, I know. #FirstWorldProblems and #SpendingWayTooMuchOnCoffee and #YouAreALittleRidiculousChristine But give me this vice. I don't smoke. I don't drink wine. So I think a *minor* Caribou addiction is doable. (Just please don't ask me to calculate the math on how much I spend going out for coffee...)
Only two more days and I can celebrate Easter with a big fat made-specially-for-this-Caribou-obsessed-girl mocha. Hallelujah. Amen.
xoxo,
christine
My husband, bless his little heart, told me that this two week fast might be good for breaking my Caribou coffee addiction. (It's true, that addiction is a verified medical affliction -- ahem.) After laughing hysterically in his face for a good five minutes, I gently explained to him that no, depriving myself of the life-giving caffeine, that is delivered to me through that critical invention of the drive-thru window, for two weeks will not, in fact, curb my addiction. If anything, I will spend the next week (okay, let's be real, two weeks) binging.
I know. Trust me, I know. #FirstWorldProblems and #SpendingWayTooMuchOnCoffee and #YouAreALittleRidiculousChristine But give me this vice. I don't smoke. I don't drink wine. So I think a *minor* Caribou addiction is doable. (Just please don't ask me to calculate the math on how much I spend going out for coffee...)
Only two more days and I can celebrate Easter with a big fat made-specially-for-this-Caribou-obsessed-girl mocha. Hallelujah. Amen.
xoxo,
christine
Apr 7, 2017
One Year Later
Hellooooo.
A year. A year? Has it already been so long? Where does the time go? And yet it feels like so much longer than just one year. When I sit down during the day, or at night, or any time, the thought of getting on the computer hardly a blip on my radar, so long has it been that I have fueled my desire to write.
So many things have come and gone, birthdays, vacations, seasons, and holidays. Scariness and craziness the whole world over. There is so much to say and yet the words feel frozen.
When faced with the realities of the world, of the country, of being a grown up, I find myself with a deep desire to curl up in my bed Rip Van Winkle style and sleep it all away. Which is occasionally overcome by an ignited fire to get out and run for office, start a world-helping organization, sell all my possessions and give them money to people truly in need.
****
Time keeps on slipping...
My baby is no longer a baby, well on her way to being three years old this summer. She is still as spicy as ever (although not so much today as she seems to be feeling quite punk -- hopefully better soon with the help of a healthy dose of Tylenol and a nap). She knows what she wants and what she doesn't and she will tell you with a wild screamy whine and sometimes even body flailing. She adores her big sisters (of course, who wouldn't?) and is constantly copying whatever it is they are doing or saying or wearing.
I'm sure Hope and Paige are tired of hearing about being a good example to her.
Hope and Paige. The two big girls. My big girls. My nine-year-old and just-turned seven-year-old. Have I mentioned how time has kept on going? They are amazing and I know that I have played only a minuscule part in that.
I am so in love with these girls.
****
In recent news, I have given up Caribou for the last two weeks of lent. Well, I should rephrase. I've given up going out to get my coffee. I am still very much drinking it brewed at home. (No need to worry about the safety of my family.) It has only been five days and I'm mostly over it. Sad, I know. Definitely makes my addiction that much more obvious. (Although I never questioned that it was there.) It kinda sucks. But I know it's not that bad. First world problem and all. So every time I think about the sweet creaminess of my favorite mocha, I try to take it as an opportunity to have a conversation with God and to be thankful for what I have.
I've had a lot of conversations with God these past five days.
So, cheers to home-brewed coffee, being a grown-up, writing again, and time.
xoxo,
christine
A year. A year? Has it already been so long? Where does the time go? And yet it feels like so much longer than just one year. When I sit down during the day, or at night, or any time, the thought of getting on the computer hardly a blip on my radar, so long has it been that I have fueled my desire to write.
So many things have come and gone, birthdays, vacations, seasons, and holidays. Scariness and craziness the whole world over. There is so much to say and yet the words feel frozen.
When faced with the realities of the world, of the country, of being a grown up, I find myself with a deep desire to curl up in my bed Rip Van Winkle style and sleep it all away. Which is occasionally overcome by an ignited fire to get out and run for office, start a world-helping organization, sell all my possessions and give them money to people truly in need.
****
Time keeps on slipping...
My baby is no longer a baby, well on her way to being three years old this summer. She is still as spicy as ever (although not so much today as she seems to be feeling quite punk -- hopefully better soon with the help of a healthy dose of Tylenol and a nap). She knows what she wants and what she doesn't and she will tell you with a wild screamy whine and sometimes even body flailing. She adores her big sisters (of course, who wouldn't?) and is constantly copying whatever it is they are doing or saying or wearing.
I'm sure Hope and Paige are tired of hearing about being a good example to her.
Hope and Paige. The two big girls. My big girls. My nine-year-old and just-turned seven-year-old. Have I mentioned how time has kept on going? They are amazing and I know that I have played only a minuscule part in that.
I am so in love with these girls.
****
In recent news, I have given up Caribou for the last two weeks of lent. Well, I should rephrase. I've given up going out to get my coffee. I am still very much drinking it brewed at home. (No need to worry about the safety of my family.) It has only been five days and I'm mostly over it. Sad, I know. Definitely makes my addiction that much more obvious. (Although I never questioned that it was there.) It kinda sucks. But I know it's not that bad. First world problem and all. So every time I think about the sweet creaminess of my favorite mocha, I try to take it as an opportunity to have a conversation with God and to be thankful for what I have.
I've had a lot of conversations with God these past five days.
So, cheers to home-brewed coffee, being a grown-up, writing again, and time.
xoxo,
christine
Apr 6, 2016
Six
In the wee hours of this morning, at exactly 1:54am, she is exactly six years old.
The birth stories might all be blending together, memories turning a little fuzzy around the edges, but the love I have for each one of them, there is nothing blended or fuzzy about it. It continually amazes me how the more children you have, the more your time may have to be shared and split, but the love isn't shared or split at all. The love for each individual child is there, distinct and unique, just like the child. My heart just grows bigger and bigger and sometimes I wonder if it will burst wide open, yet it doesn't. Not in that way, anyway. It just grows and expands and feels like a big fuzzy blanket surrounding us together.
Today is her birthday.
Six years on the sixth.
My sweet Little P, who sits in the middle. Her older sister on one side, her younger sister and angel brother on the other. This dainty little girl, with her love of accessories and fashion and high heels, who hates getting her hair brushed but likes having it styled nicely. She is the most tender-hearted six-year-old I know. Almost always the first to share, she sometimes bases her decisions on what she knows her sister would want. She is kind and thoughtful and has a delicate heart.
Paige, who was only three when we lost her brother, she is the first to bring up his name, to talk to him, to draw for him, to remember her baby brother in every family thing we do. She cries for him and misses him and is the most vocal about his absence.
My darling middle daughter, who wears her feelings on her sleeve. Whose entire body radiates joy when she's happy, dancing and skipping and singing with smiles. And alternately it is clear when she is not happy, her emotions unable to stay contained, she can yell and stomp her feet and slam doors with the best of them.
She needs her sleep like her mommy, and will actually sleep in unlike her sisters. She is not a morning person and needs time to wake up before rushing into the day.
She is creative, and loves to draw or paint or do any type of art activity. She frequently asks if she can use my phone, not for a game or video, but because she wants to plug her headphones into it and listen to music.
I still sometimes think of her as my baby, partially because each of my kids will always be my baby, but also because she was the littlest for so long. She can be quiet and hesitant, especially in new situations, but she has also gotten more confident and sure of herself this past year. But she can also be loud and silly, especially trying to make her family laugh.
Oh, Pega Ninnie. My dearest Little P. My Paige. You are such a beautiful little girl. Your beauty radiates from the inside out, and I am so proud to be your mother. Happy, happy, HAPPiest of birthdays to you, my big-little six-year-old. May you dream of joyful things always.
Love forever and ever,
Mom
The birth stories might all be blending together, memories turning a little fuzzy around the edges, but the love I have for each one of them, there is nothing blended or fuzzy about it. It continually amazes me how the more children you have, the more your time may have to be shared and split, but the love isn't shared or split at all. The love for each individual child is there, distinct and unique, just like the child. My heart just grows bigger and bigger and sometimes I wonder if it will burst wide open, yet it doesn't. Not in that way, anyway. It just grows and expands and feels like a big fuzzy blanket surrounding us together.
Today is her birthday.
Six years on the sixth.
My sweet Little P, who sits in the middle. Her older sister on one side, her younger sister and angel brother on the other. This dainty little girl, with her love of accessories and fashion and high heels, who hates getting her hair brushed but likes having it styled nicely. She is the most tender-hearted six-year-old I know. Almost always the first to share, she sometimes bases her decisions on what she knows her sister would want. She is kind and thoughtful and has a delicate heart.
Paige, who was only three when we lost her brother, she is the first to bring up his name, to talk to him, to draw for him, to remember her baby brother in every family thing we do. She cries for him and misses him and is the most vocal about his absence.
My darling middle daughter, who wears her feelings on her sleeve. Whose entire body radiates joy when she's happy, dancing and skipping and singing with smiles. And alternately it is clear when she is not happy, her emotions unable to stay contained, she can yell and stomp her feet and slam doors with the best of them.
She needs her sleep like her mommy, and will actually sleep in unlike her sisters. She is not a morning person and needs time to wake up before rushing into the day.
She is creative, and loves to draw or paint or do any type of art activity. She frequently asks if she can use my phone, not for a game or video, but because she wants to plug her headphones into it and listen to music.
I still sometimes think of her as my baby, partially because each of my kids will always be my baby, but also because she was the littlest for so long. She can be quiet and hesitant, especially in new situations, but she has also gotten more confident and sure of herself this past year. But she can also be loud and silly, especially trying to make her family laugh.
Oh, Pega Ninnie. My dearest Little P. My Paige. You are such a beautiful little girl. Your beauty radiates from the inside out, and I am so proud to be your mother. Happy, happy, HAPPiest of birthdays to you, my big-little six-year-old. May you dream of joyful things always.
Love forever and ever,
Mom
Mar 1, 2016
I Don't Lean In
Why is it that when life gets busy or crazy or overwhelming or just changes that one of the first things to go is anything I enjoy doing for myself? You'd think that when things are overwhelming or changing that I'd need those interests and hobbies and passions even more. That I would lean into them instead of turning away.
But the thing is, I'm not a leaner-iner. I'm a shutter-downer. When time management changes and there are shifts in our normal, well, the things that get dropped are things that are not necessities. Yes, one could argue that my interests are most definitely necessities for me and my well-being, but unfortunately when it comes down to it, there are other necessities that take much more precedence.
When I'm submerged in trying to juggle and balance change, well, I sort of shut down. Doing something for myself takes time and energy and more energy. And even though I know that I could totally find the time if I really tried, it just requires way too much energy to try. It's too hard. I can't do it. I don't want to do it. There just isn't the internal motivation pushing me toward anything. Well, except for my bed. I always have motivation pushing me in the direction of my bed.
I'm pretty sure I've always been a low energy person. Or at least, ever since I've had kids. But I don't think I can really blame it on them. My body needs more than the average amount of sleep to function well, and any task requires a high volume of energy. If even activities I enjoy are "work" for me, think of how much extra energy I have to muster up if it's something I don't enjoy.
All of this to say, adjusting to part-time work is still in process.
I do realize I am only working twelve hours per week. Trust me, the pitifulness of it does not escape me. But, the truth of the matter is that it still is something that requires a lot out of me, and because of that other areas of my life have been put on the back burner. (Namely, my own personal interests. Sigh.)
As with everything in life, I will adjust. I am adjusting. And even though it feels scary and hard and overwhelming a lot of the time, there is so much that makes me excited and happy and love-filled.
These three joys, most definitely.
I'll get there. I will. I just need to give myself forgiveness and time.
xoxo,
christine
But the thing is, I'm not a leaner-iner. I'm a shutter-downer. When time management changes and there are shifts in our normal, well, the things that get dropped are things that are not necessities. Yes, one could argue that my interests are most definitely necessities for me and my well-being, but unfortunately when it comes down to it, there are other necessities that take much more precedence.
When I'm submerged in trying to juggle and balance change, well, I sort of shut down. Doing something for myself takes time and energy and more energy. And even though I know that I could totally find the time if I really tried, it just requires way too much energy to try. It's too hard. I can't do it. I don't want to do it. There just isn't the internal motivation pushing me toward anything. Well, except for my bed. I always have motivation pushing me in the direction of my bed.
I'm pretty sure I've always been a low energy person. Or at least, ever since I've had kids. But I don't think I can really blame it on them. My body needs more than the average amount of sleep to function well, and any task requires a high volume of energy. If even activities I enjoy are "work" for me, think of how much extra energy I have to muster up if it's something I don't enjoy.
All of this to say, adjusting to part-time work is still in process.
I do realize I am only working twelve hours per week. Trust me, the pitifulness of it does not escape me. But, the truth of the matter is that it still is something that requires a lot out of me, and because of that other areas of my life have been put on the back burner. (Namely, my own personal interests. Sigh.)
As with everything in life, I will adjust. I am adjusting. And even though it feels scary and hard and overwhelming a lot of the time, there is so much that makes me excited and happy and love-filled.
These three joys, most definitely.
I'll get there. I will. I just need to give myself forgiveness and time.
xoxo,
christine
Jan 8, 2016
Eight
We are eight days into the new year and she is eight days into being an eight-year-old. I'm not sure where the time has gone, and I can remember her birth day as if it were yesterday, and all the old clichés of time going to fast and children growing up.
About a month before her birthday I already started thinking of her as an eight-year-old and even had to correct myself a few times. Strange for me to rush her age considering I am usually holding back tears at the thought of them getting older, yet in this case when the day actually came, it felt right. Probably because I was already referring to her as eight in my mind.
Since having a New Year's Day baby eight years ago, the first day of the New Year does not feel as renewing and fresh and calling me to make resolutions and goals and to start my year with pep and zest. Although maybe I was never that way and now I'm just more aware of it. The New Year is fun, of course, but mostly I am thinking about my oldest and how it is HER day because that's what birthdays are.
This was the first year we let our girls (the older two anyway) stay up until midnight, and they did. And when the countdown to midnight came to an end instead of, "Happy New Year!" my husband lifted his glass and said, "Happy Birthday, Hope!" And my heart skipped a beat and I was mostly just happy that he thought to do something so special (and I didn't let myself focus on feeling sad that I hadn't thought of it too).
I am continually amazed at what a beautiful young soul this child of mine is. And I am continually scared that I am going to completely mess up raising her in some significant way. I will never have all the answers and I will never do everything single thing right, but I will promise to do the best that I can and to be there for her, however she needs.
On January 1st eight years ago, she came into this world with big, blue eyes that stayed open for hours. She came into this new place and immediately wanted to see it all. She has been that way ever since. At one day, at five weeks, at eight years. Her eyes are open and they are taking it in. She does not want to miss a moment of anything. And she won't.
Happy Birthday to my beautiful, intelligent, caring, sweet daughter! May this year be as silly and joy-filled and magical as you. I love you, Hopey!
xoxo, mommy
About a month before her birthday I already started thinking of her as an eight-year-old and even had to correct myself a few times. Strange for me to rush her age considering I am usually holding back tears at the thought of them getting older, yet in this case when the day actually came, it felt right. Probably because I was already referring to her as eight in my mind.
Since having a New Year's Day baby eight years ago, the first day of the New Year does not feel as renewing and fresh and calling me to make resolutions and goals and to start my year with pep and zest. Although maybe I was never that way and now I'm just more aware of it. The New Year is fun, of course, but mostly I am thinking about my oldest and how it is HER day because that's what birthdays are.
This was the first year we let our girls (the older two anyway) stay up until midnight, and they did. And when the countdown to midnight came to an end instead of, "Happy New Year!" my husband lifted his glass and said, "Happy Birthday, Hope!" And my heart skipped a beat and I was mostly just happy that he thought to do something so special (and I didn't let myself focus on feeling sad that I hadn't thought of it too).
I am continually amazed at what a beautiful young soul this child of mine is. And I am continually scared that I am going to completely mess up raising her in some significant way. I will never have all the answers and I will never do everything single thing right, but I will promise to do the best that I can and to be there for her, however she needs.
On January 1st eight years ago, she came into this world with big, blue eyes that stayed open for hours. She came into this new place and immediately wanted to see it all. She has been that way ever since. At one day, at five weeks, at eight years. Her eyes are open and they are taking it in. She does not want to miss a moment of anything. And she won't.
Happy Birthday to my beautiful, intelligent, caring, sweet daughter! May this year be as silly and joy-filled and magical as you. I love you, Hopey!
xoxo, mommy
Dec 16, 2015
Warning, Warning. Cheer-O-Meter at Dangerously Low Levels
Christmas Eve is eight days away. Eight! The Holly Jolly and Rockin' Around and Fa La Las are getting louder and closer. And it seems that the more deeply we fall into the Christmas season, the more my Cheer-o-meter decreases. I'm afraid that by next week I'll be at level Almost-Grinch, a thought that makes me cringe with embarrassment.
I'm not sure what happened this year. My husband would probably argue that I started my Christmas Cheer too early, gung-ho and strong in November only to peter out a month later. He may have a point, although it hasn't seemed to bother me other years, but I think the more likely culprit is starting a job.
Transitioning into part-time work has actually been fairly smooth. I think my anticipation of how everything would look and feel was much more dramatic than the reality. The schedule works so wonderfully with being available for my kids, and the number of hours is just enough but not too much.
It still, however, has been an adjustment for me, which I think is why this Christmas season has not felt very Christmasy. It's not so much me being a grinch as it is being exhausted from the all the change and temporary chaos as we all adjust to a new schedule. Even though I am home right after lunchtime, the first half of the week feels completely booked up, because once I'm home it's time for Nora's nap (and mine) and shortly after she's up the older girls get home. By the time Thursday rolls around I feel like I need to recover from the first half of the week, or I am trying to fit in about one hundred things that I put off because of work.
Somehow the day-to-day mundane is overpowering the once-per-year holiday and I am left deflated and wondering how Christmas is next week and I don't feel more magic about it all.
Also, I'm blaming the weather. Because it's always about the weather. Not that I'm complaining about the temperatures, but mild temps and rainy? Doesn't sound much like Christmastime in Minnesota. Give me a little bit of snow and surely my Christmas Ho Hum will turn into Christmas Oh Joy!
Either way, I've got to figure out a way to get out of these doldrums and into the spirit of the season. This weekend we have our annual cookie baking extravaganza. What better way to put me in the Christmas spirit than wrangling four (five?) kids to cut out and decorate sugar cookies?
And if all else fails, perhaps it's time to watch a few more cheesy Christmas movies on TV.
xoxo, christine
I'm not sure what happened this year. My husband would probably argue that I started my Christmas Cheer too early, gung-ho and strong in November only to peter out a month later. He may have a point, although it hasn't seemed to bother me other years, but I think the more likely culprit is starting a job.
Transitioning into part-time work has actually been fairly smooth. I think my anticipation of how everything would look and feel was much more dramatic than the reality. The schedule works so wonderfully with being available for my kids, and the number of hours is just enough but not too much.
It still, however, has been an adjustment for me, which I think is why this Christmas season has not felt very Christmasy. It's not so much me being a grinch as it is being exhausted from the all the change and temporary chaos as we all adjust to a new schedule. Even though I am home right after lunchtime, the first half of the week feels completely booked up, because once I'm home it's time for Nora's nap (and mine) and shortly after she's up the older girls get home. By the time Thursday rolls around I feel like I need to recover from the first half of the week, or I am trying to fit in about one hundred things that I put off because of work.
Somehow the day-to-day mundane is overpowering the once-per-year holiday and I am left deflated and wondering how Christmas is next week and I don't feel more magic about it all.
Also, I'm blaming the weather. Because it's always about the weather. Not that I'm complaining about the temperatures, but mild temps and rainy? Doesn't sound much like Christmastime in Minnesota. Give me a little bit of snow and surely my Christmas Ho Hum will turn into Christmas Oh Joy!
Either way, I've got to figure out a way to get out of these doldrums and into the spirit of the season. This weekend we have our annual cookie baking extravaganza. What better way to put me in the Christmas spirit than wrangling four (five?) kids to cut out and decorate sugar cookies?
And if all else fails, perhaps it's time to watch a few more cheesy Christmas movies on TV.
xoxo, christine
Nov 30, 2015
The End
Well, today is the last day. The last day of writing every day this month. And the last day before I officially start work. Starting tomorrow I will no longer be scrambling to find something to write about every day. And I will no longer be a one hundred percent stay-at-home mom.
I'm not too worried about starting work. I don't feel nervous, in fact I think it will go well. But, I am feeling a bit overwhelmed and a bit...well, nervous. Not nervous for the job, but nervous to not be a stay-at-home mom anymore. I know, it's an extremely part-time position, only three mornings a week. I can hardly call myself a "working mother" now. But for me, who has been full time at home with my kids since 2008, this is a huge change.
I am nervous about the change.
I know that everything will be fine. The job will be fine. I will be fine. Nora will be fine. My mom will be fine. But I am still worried about how my mamaheart is going to feel tomorrow when it's time to say goodbye to Nora. Logically, I know that it is no different tomorrow than it is any other time my mom has watched Nora for me, but my heart knows that it's different because it's not just one appointment. It's not just here and there. It's not just once in awhile.
That is why, as I get ready for bed tonight, as I lay out clothes for tomorrow, as I start packing the girls' lunches, my hands feel shaky, my heart feels flip-floppy, and my eyes feel teary.
Everything will be okay. I'm not too worried about Nora. Although she may have a bit of an adjustment ahead of her, she also might not even notice the difference. And this job? It's a good opportunity for me, and a really good fit, for our family right now.
Maybe I just need to pretend that I'm going off to an appointment tomorrow. Maybe that will make me feel less sad, less guilty, less heartbroken about leaving Nora. Maybe I'll just pretend I'm going to an appointment every morning. Until the day that I don't. Because I know that someday (probably sooner than I realize) this will be the Normal, the Regular, the Routine. And everyone will be just fine. Even me.
*****
Thanks for reading my ramblings this past month. I'm really hoping to continue writing more regularly, although not every day.
Happy December!
xoxo, christine
I'm not too worried about starting work. I don't feel nervous, in fact I think it will go well. But, I am feeling a bit overwhelmed and a bit...well, nervous. Not nervous for the job, but nervous to not be a stay-at-home mom anymore. I know, it's an extremely part-time position, only three mornings a week. I can hardly call myself a "working mother" now. But for me, who has been full time at home with my kids since 2008, this is a huge change.
I am nervous about the change.
I know that everything will be fine. The job will be fine. I will be fine. Nora will be fine. My mom will be fine. But I am still worried about how my mamaheart is going to feel tomorrow when it's time to say goodbye to Nora. Logically, I know that it is no different tomorrow than it is any other time my mom has watched Nora for me, but my heart knows that it's different because it's not just one appointment. It's not just here and there. It's not just once in awhile.
That is why, as I get ready for bed tonight, as I lay out clothes for tomorrow, as I start packing the girls' lunches, my hands feel shaky, my heart feels flip-floppy, and my eyes feel teary.
Everything will be okay. I'm not too worried about Nora. Although she may have a bit of an adjustment ahead of her, she also might not even notice the difference. And this job? It's a good opportunity for me, and a really good fit, for our family right now.
Maybe I just need to pretend that I'm going off to an appointment tomorrow. Maybe that will make me feel less sad, less guilty, less heartbroken about leaving Nora. Maybe I'll just pretend I'm going to an appointment every morning. Until the day that I don't. Because I know that someday (probably sooner than I realize) this will be the Normal, the Regular, the Routine. And everyone will be just fine. Even me.
*****
Thanks for reading my ramblings this past month. I'm really hoping to continue writing more regularly, although not every day.
Happy December!
xoxo, christine
Nov 29, 2015
Writing this Month
The month of November is coming to an end and so does my month of daily blogging. Things I have learned from blogging every day this month:
1. I'm not particularly happy with most of my writing from this past month. The quality is not the greatest, even though the quantity is plentiful. I think that writing every day does not bring out the best for me, yet I realize I'm not happy with only writing once per month either. So, I need to find a happy medium between almost never and every day.
2. If I want to keep writing regularly, I need to make it more of a priority. I'm not going to get up early to write (I can barely get up to get my kids on the bus in time), and when I try to write late at night I can hardly focus. So, either pull myself together and focus at night or find time during the day.
3. Instagram is so much easier than blogging. More fun too.
4. There are some things that I want to write about here but feel like I can't. But sometimes I really want to get things out, so then I settle for journaling.
5. Even though I'm not impressed with the quality of my writing lately, I am glad I've been writing more. I've missed it. And I'm going to try to do it more regularly. Because writing and taking the time for writing, is one thing that feeds me.
One more day to go!
xoxo, christine
1. I'm not particularly happy with most of my writing from this past month. The quality is not the greatest, even though the quantity is plentiful. I think that writing every day does not bring out the best for me, yet I realize I'm not happy with only writing once per month either. So, I need to find a happy medium between almost never and every day.
2. If I want to keep writing regularly, I need to make it more of a priority. I'm not going to get up early to write (I can barely get up to get my kids on the bus in time), and when I try to write late at night I can hardly focus. So, either pull myself together and focus at night or find time during the day.
3. Instagram is so much easier than blogging. More fun too.
4. There are some things that I want to write about here but feel like I can't. But sometimes I really want to get things out, so then I settle for journaling.
5. Even though I'm not impressed with the quality of my writing lately, I am glad I've been writing more. I've missed it. And I'm going to try to do it more regularly. Because writing and taking the time for writing, is one thing that feeds me.
One more day to go!
xoxo, christine
Nov 28, 2015
And With That Break Is Almost Over
I am not ready for tomorrow to be Sunday. I am not ready for the weekend to be over. I am not ready for the girls to go back to school, for Adam to go back to work, for our regularly scheduled life to start back up.
It has been so relaxing being away from the stress of everyday life. No worrying about laundry or vacuuming. No walking into the bathroom and being reminded by the grime that I still haven't gotten around to cleaning the sink (or bathtub or toilet). No dishes piling up in the sink. No grocery lists to make. No furnace not working, then kind of working, then teasing us that next year our budget might need to include a new one.
Being with family has been wonderful. The older girls have been playing with their cousins almost non-stop, meaning they don't require a lot of extra time and energy from me. And having other adults around is always helpful with Miss Nora May. And I have gotten to read an entire book and watch cheesy Christmas movies.
This weekend launched me into full mode Christmas cheer, and I guess I'm a little afraid that break ending will dim the light that's been lit in me this weekend. But maybe if we crank up the Christmas music, and I keep up my streak of Christmas movie viewing it'll help keep some of that regular-every-day-stress at bay.
I'll try anyway.
Happy beginning of the Christmas season!
xoxo, christine
It has been so relaxing being away from the stress of everyday life. No worrying about laundry or vacuuming. No walking into the bathroom and being reminded by the grime that I still haven't gotten around to cleaning the sink (or bathtub or toilet). No dishes piling up in the sink. No grocery lists to make. No furnace not working, then kind of working, then teasing us that next year our budget might need to include a new one.
Being with family has been wonderful. The older girls have been playing with their cousins almost non-stop, meaning they don't require a lot of extra time and energy from me. And having other adults around is always helpful with Miss Nora May. And I have gotten to read an entire book and watch cheesy Christmas movies.
This weekend launched me into full mode Christmas cheer, and I guess I'm a little afraid that break ending will dim the light that's been lit in me this weekend. But maybe if we crank up the Christmas music, and I keep up my streak of Christmas movie viewing it'll help keep some of that regular-every-day-stress at bay.
I'll try anyway.
Happy beginning of the Christmas season!
xoxo, christine
Nov 27, 2015
Friday Five
Well, another day, another lack of writing inspiration. Time for Five Random Things again.
1. It is the day after Thanksgiving and we are watching sap-filled but oh-so-uplifting Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel. They make me giggle, and sometimes snort in cheesiness, but at the same time, when the news if full of so much fear and bad, it's nice to numb my mind a bit with something that I know will be joy-filled with a happy ending.
2. I got matching winter pj's for all three of my girls. At ten dollars a pop it still feels like a lot of money to spend, but I am so excited. I wanted to get them matching jammies, but it's hard to find the same pattern in all three of the right sizes. Also, a pattern that all three girls will actually want to wear. Now, let's just hope I can get them to wear them at the same time.
3. I read a book in one sitting on Wednesday night. I stayed up until two in the morning finishing the book. I know. I know. I don't know how I get so caught up reading. It is absolutely ridiculous and it's not like the ending of the book is going to change if I finish it the next day.
4. I am so tired I am almost literally nodding off as I write this. So, maybe should be getting to bed before two o'clock tonight. And all nights.
5. My oldest is sleeping over with her cousins. She was up around 6:15 this morning and I'm sure will be up late tonight because who goes to bed early at a sleepover. So I'm sure tomorrow will be a pleasant day for us all. But, it's Thanksgiving break and I'm glad that she has the chance to be with her cousins, who she absolutely adores.
And that's it. Good night.
xoxo, christine
1. It is the day after Thanksgiving and we are watching sap-filled but oh-so-uplifting Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel. They make me giggle, and sometimes snort in cheesiness, but at the same time, when the news if full of so much fear and bad, it's nice to numb my mind a bit with something that I know will be joy-filled with a happy ending.
2. I got matching winter pj's for all three of my girls. At ten dollars a pop it still feels like a lot of money to spend, but I am so excited. I wanted to get them matching jammies, but it's hard to find the same pattern in all three of the right sizes. Also, a pattern that all three girls will actually want to wear. Now, let's just hope I can get them to wear them at the same time.
3. I read a book in one sitting on Wednesday night. I stayed up until two in the morning finishing the book. I know. I know. I don't know how I get so caught up reading. It is absolutely ridiculous and it's not like the ending of the book is going to change if I finish it the next day.
4. I am so tired I am almost literally nodding off as I write this. So, maybe should be getting to bed before two o'clock tonight. And all nights.
5. My oldest is sleeping over with her cousins. She was up around 6:15 this morning and I'm sure will be up late tonight because who goes to bed early at a sleepover. So I'm sure tomorrow will be a pleasant day for us all. But, it's Thanksgiving break and I'm glad that she has the chance to be with her cousins, who she absolutely adores.
And that's it. Good night.
xoxo, christine
Nov 26, 2015
Peace and Thanks
I am thankful that when there is so much sorrow and scary in the world, I can turn into my people and be reminded how much hope and love and peace there is too.
Even though the whole world does not celebrate the holiday, I am wishing a very happy and peaceful Thanksgiving to the world today. Because everyone deserves peace.
xoxo, christine
Even though the whole world does not celebrate the holiday, I am wishing a very happy and peaceful Thanksgiving to the world today. Because everyone deserves peace.
xoxo, christine
Nov 25, 2015
Sweet Thanksgiving Eve
It is the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. I have memories of spending the evening peeling and slicing apples as my family sat around the kitchen table preparing apple strudel. It probably wasn't every year, but the tradition is so set in my mind that I remember it like it was.
We have not continued the tradition of apple strudel the night before Thanksgiving, although I still have hopes that as the girls get older we will. I don't even care for cooked apples, but the memories of Thanksgiving weekends past are full of so much joy in my heart that I would love to continue the tradition with my own family.
We are not in the kitchen mixing the scents of cinnamon with sugar and apple, but we are with family, and my husband is in the kitchen doing some Thanksgiving prep. The stuffing family recipe is well under way and the turkey is receiving its preparations for tomorrow. The baby is asleep after a long day with a short nap, and the two older girls are watching "Despicable Me" with their grandpa.
Spending time with family, that's what makes the holiday special. No, we are not in the middle of apple strudel central tonight, but this weekend, this holiday, these memories, they are just as sweet.
xoxo, christine
We have not continued the tradition of apple strudel the night before Thanksgiving, although I still have hopes that as the girls get older we will. I don't even care for cooked apples, but the memories of Thanksgiving weekends past are full of so much joy in my heart that I would love to continue the tradition with my own family.
We are not in the kitchen mixing the scents of cinnamon with sugar and apple, but we are with family, and my husband is in the kitchen doing some Thanksgiving prep. The stuffing family recipe is well under way and the turkey is receiving its preparations for tomorrow. The baby is asleep after a long day with a short nap, and the two older girls are watching "Despicable Me" with their grandpa.
Spending time with family, that's what makes the holiday special. No, we are not in the middle of apple strudel central tonight, but this weekend, this holiday, these memories, they are just as sweet.
xoxo, christine
Nov 24, 2015
A Post About Not Having A Post
I have started and restarted this post about twenty-four times. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but I have started it a couple of times, and the rest of the time I've just been staring at a blank screen, the cursor blinking at me. *blink*blink*blinkblinkblinkblink*
It is mocking me and my inability to extract coherent thoughts out from my mind. The words are there, at least I think they are, hiding in the corners. It's not just that I can find poetic words to express my thoughts, it's that I can't even find the thoughts to begin with.
*blink*blink*blinkblinkblink*blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkityblinkityblinkyblinkyboo*ha ha ha I'm laughing at you*
*blinkblink*
(By the way, the laundry is doing a similar routine. I'm being mocked by everything around me.)
In which case, it is time to concede defeat.
PS. This is one of my outtakes from trying to get a photo of all three girls.
xoxo, christine
It is mocking me and my inability to extract coherent thoughts out from my mind. The words are there, at least I think they are, hiding in the corners. It's not just that I can find poetic words to express my thoughts, it's that I can't even find the thoughts to begin with.
*blink*blink*blinkblinkblink*blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkityblinkityblinkyblinkyboo*ha ha ha I'm laughing at you*
*blinkblink*
(By the way, the laundry is doing a similar routine. I'm being mocked by everything around me.)
In which case, it is time to concede defeat.
PS. This is one of my outtakes from trying to get a photo of all three girls.
xoxo, christine
Nov 23, 2015
Monday? Check.
It was the first no school day of our week-long Thanksgiving break. It was also a Monday. So. Pass the coffee.
Our, First-Day-Off-Of-School-Monday-Before-Thanksgiving official To Do List was thoroughly marked up and crisscrossed and double checked and filled with way too many things but oh well because they can always be done tomorrow too.
Haircuts for the two big girls? Check. And smiley face check with a pat on the back because I even got them out the door around 9:15. Mostly because I wanted to get a coffee at the coffee shop next door to the hair salon, but hey, we were all still dressed and out the door so that counts.
Actual sit-down lunch? Check. Never mind that it was apple slices, cheese slices, crackers, and a handful of peanuts.
Get out the Christmas decorations? Check. And a bonus check for actually putting them up!
PS. The girls spent the next forty-five minutes playing with our nativity scene.
Nap for Nora and me? Check. Check. Exclamation pointy check!
Library to get books to read during this week of break? Check. I even got three for myself. Laughable, I know. I actually think I'm going to get any reading done? Ha, ha.
Dishes washed? Check.
Two out of three girls bathed? Check and check.
Dinner made? *blank stare*
Five loads of laundry folded? *crickets chirping*
House straightened up before bed? *blink blink*
Dishes from dinner tonight washed? *gulp*
Okay, so, we started out strong. Good thing I left all the fun stuff like folding 2348273040 loads of laundry for tomorrow.
xoxo, christine
Our, First-Day-Off-Of-School-Monday-Before-Thanksgiving official To Do List was thoroughly marked up and crisscrossed and double checked and filled with way too many things but oh well because they can always be done tomorrow too.
Haircuts for the two big girls? Check. And smiley face check with a pat on the back because I even got them out the door around 9:15. Mostly because I wanted to get a coffee at the coffee shop next door to the hair salon, but hey, we were all still dressed and out the door so that counts.
Actual sit-down lunch? Check. Never mind that it was apple slices, cheese slices, crackers, and a handful of peanuts.
Get out the Christmas decorations? Check. And a bonus check for actually putting them up!
PS. The girls spent the next forty-five minutes playing with our nativity scene.
Nap for Nora and me? Check. Check. Exclamation pointy check!
Library to get books to read during this week of break? Check. I even got three for myself. Laughable, I know. I actually think I'm going to get any reading done? Ha, ha.
Dishes washed? Check.
Two out of three girls bathed? Check and check.
Dinner made? *blank stare*
Five loads of laundry folded? *crickets chirping*
House straightened up before bed? *blink blink*
Dishes from dinner tonight washed? *gulp*
Okay, so, we started out strong. Good thing I left all the fun stuff like folding 2348273040 loads of laundry for tomorrow.
xoxo, christine
Nov 22, 2015
The Family Clown
My grandma used to call me the Family Clown. My sister was the smart one and I was the funny one, and I was okay with that. In fact, I liked it. I got decent grades myself, and was far from the class clown in any classroom, but among my family members I loved being able to make them laugh, especially my grandma.
Maybe part of it with my grandma was because we had a language barrier and I felt like being able to make her laugh was my way of connecting with her, but I liked that she found me funny, and I wore my badge of Family Clown with pride.
And I realized today, as I sat at dinner with a group of friends, exaggerating some of my parenting antics, watching my friends laugh and nod their heads in appreciation of the chaos that is parenting, that I still like being a "funny one." Knowing that my friends found my comments funny (partially because they could relate to the drama) gave me a sense of who I am. Or who I always was.
I was always the Family Clown.
But now, fifteen years and three kids later, I feel pretty far from that Family Clown. In fact, when it comes to my family dynamic, I'm pretty sure no one in this house would label me as funny. The crabby one? The discipliner? The one who yells about picking up the mess? Sure. Of course. But the one who is good for a laugh? The one who will lighten the mood with something funny? The one who can tell a story that makes make you laugh till you cry? Not so much.
Honestly? I miss that. And I didn't realize just how much I missed it until tonight.
Of course, I do want to qualify this. I'm not that funny. I don't claim to be any sort of comedian or anything. There are many so much more hilarious than I will ever be. Mostly, the point of this post isn't so much about being funny as it is about feeling like I lost part of myself somewhere in the road of growing up. But seeing my friends throwing back their heads in laughter as I described the state of my car and just why the state of my car could be declared a state of disaster, brought back that same feeling I remember from my childhood. That same pride I felt when my grandma referred to me as the Family Clown.
I may not be a Jay Leno or an Amy Schumer, (not that I even want to be) but yes, I can tell a story that makes people I love laugh. And I miss that about myself. I liked that about myself.
I don't know if this all means I need to stop taking myself so seriously at home. Or if I need to start telling more exaggerated stories about what motherhood (in my house) looks like. Or if I just need to start spending more time with my friends. But I'd like to feel more of the silliness of my personality. And I'd like for my kids and husband to experience some (more) of my silliness too.
On the rare occasions I've let my silliness out my kids have really embraced it. And people are always talking about how important a sense of humor is, especially in parenthood. So I should take this evening's revelation as an opportunity to find my humor again. It would be quite nice to do a little less stressing and a little more laughing.
Laugh as much as possible, always laugh. It's the sweetest thing one can do for oneself and one's fellow human beings.
- Maya Angelou
xoxo, christine
Maybe part of it with my grandma was because we had a language barrier and I felt like being able to make her laugh was my way of connecting with her, but I liked that she found me funny, and I wore my badge of Family Clown with pride.
And I realized today, as I sat at dinner with a group of friends, exaggerating some of my parenting antics, watching my friends laugh and nod their heads in appreciation of the chaos that is parenting, that I still like being a "funny one." Knowing that my friends found my comments funny (partially because they could relate to the drama) gave me a sense of who I am. Or who I always was.
I was always the Family Clown.
But now, fifteen years and three kids later, I feel pretty far from that Family Clown. In fact, when it comes to my family dynamic, I'm pretty sure no one in this house would label me as funny. The crabby one? The discipliner? The one who yells about picking up the mess? Sure. Of course. But the one who is good for a laugh? The one who will lighten the mood with something funny? The one who can tell a story that makes make you laugh till you cry? Not so much.
Honestly? I miss that. And I didn't realize just how much I missed it until tonight.
Of course, I do want to qualify this. I'm not that funny. I don't claim to be any sort of comedian or anything. There are many so much more hilarious than I will ever be. Mostly, the point of this post isn't so much about being funny as it is about feeling like I lost part of myself somewhere in the road of growing up. But seeing my friends throwing back their heads in laughter as I described the state of my car and just why the state of my car could be declared a state of disaster, brought back that same feeling I remember from my childhood. That same pride I felt when my grandma referred to me as the Family Clown.
I may not be a Jay Leno or an Amy Schumer, (not that I even want to be) but yes, I can tell a story that makes people I love laugh. And I miss that about myself. I liked that about myself.
I don't know if this all means I need to stop taking myself so seriously at home. Or if I need to start telling more exaggerated stories about what motherhood (in my house) looks like. Or if I just need to start spending more time with my friends. But I'd like to feel more of the silliness of my personality. And I'd like for my kids and husband to experience some (more) of my silliness too.
On the rare occasions I've let my silliness out my kids have really embraced it. And people are always talking about how important a sense of humor is, especially in parenthood. So I should take this evening's revelation as an opportunity to find my humor again. It would be quite nice to do a little less stressing and a little more laughing.
Laugh as much as possible, always laugh. It's the sweetest thing one can do for oneself and one's fellow human beings.
- Maya Angelou
xoxo, christine
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