Keepin' Cool

We have a heat advisory here.  The combination of temperatures in the nineties and dew points in the seventies makes it feel between 100 and 110 degrees.  I kid you not.

So we did what any good midwesterner does when it's too hot to move.

We took our bodies to a near-by watering hole to cool off.

I wasn't actually up for the big pool, which is just fine because this wading pool is free and the girls love that it doesn't get deep.

And now we are home in the comfort of our a/c, all resting and recovering from our morning in the sun.

 Stay cool.

xoxo.
Christine

Some Day My Kids Will Fall Asleep Before Ten O'Clock, Maybe

The bedtimes over here are getting ridiculous.  Glennon Melton of Momastery, likened bedtime to the game Whack a Mole, and I can't think of a better analogy, except that we have one little mole who just keeps popping up over and over and over in the same place despite being bopped on the head (figuratively, of course) numerous times.  Our other little mole is stuck in her hole (thank goodness for cribs), but what she lacks in mobility she more than makes up for in volume.

It has been pretty ugly here.  We have tried bribery (hey, when it comes to Mama's down time at night, I'm not past promises of an extra book the next day), and threatening (not surprising it does not help her calm down and fall asleep when we take away stuffed animals or books), and pretty much everything in between.

We talk about bedtime during dinner and why it is so important for a body to get rest.  That it's okay to take awhile to fall asleep once in bed, but we need to stay in bed to give our bodies a chance to calm down and sleep.  That she will feel less tired and emotional (read: cranky) the more sleep she gets.

Last night was the first attempt at the Nanny 911 method.  A friend suggested what she'd seen on the show, just gently taking them back to bed over and over with no verbal exchange at all.  I can hardly say it was a success on the first night (although my husband's hope was renewed), but I certainly stayed more calm than I have on other nights.

Most of the time, before I even had a chance to lift her up and carry her, she would run back to her bed herself as soon as she saw me stand up.  Still, it was a little bit heartbreaking when she'd try to talk with me and ask me questions and I stayed silent.  Especially when she cried a little and told me, "You leave the room so fast!"

When I think about it, we deal with something like this once or twice a year.  Somehow, at some point, there is a major shift and bedtime almost feels impossible.  But I want Hope to have an easy bedtime.  And I want to have time to relax and unwind before they are finally asleep at ten o'clock at night.

I am struggling to find a balance between giving her reassurance and what she needs, and not letting her play me like a cheap little dollar-store instrument.

Tonight is night two of Operation Get This Girl To Stay In Her Bed.  May the sleeping fairies sprinkle a multitude of dreamy dust in the room at the end of the hall.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Bedtime is a bear, but she sure is a sweetheart.

xoxo.
Christine

Slowly Feeding My Fire

There is a quiet in the house.  I wrap that quiet around me and settle onto the couch.  A summer breeze of fresh-mown lawns and sunshine tickles my skin through the open window.

What a difference a week can make.  (Technically more than a week since that post.)  I am more calm.  I am more relaxed.  I have less anger.  And less emotional instability.  It is still early, this I know, but there is a hope within me that has been lit anew.  A flickering candle that I know can grow into a fire (the good kind) in my soul, if given the right kindling.

A month ago I was on the edge.  Self-doubt and disappointment crumbling the ground beneath me.  Fatigue, beating me down.  All of it snuffing out my flame.  Making me feel like a failure.

But I am not a failure.  I am a warrior.  I am a mother.  And I am doing a good job.

These thoughts, these beliefs, they surround me.  A layer of protection against myself.  And with that, I gather the girls to feel summer on our cheeks.  To run around outside, our bare toes in the grass.

xo.
Christine

It's What We've Been Doing

Here's a glimpse into our last two weeks.

Time in Duluth, a Bike Rally, a trip to Target.

Week 24

Swimming, cookie decorating, lunch with Daddy.

Week 25

The weather is beautiful here today, and I'm breathing it in.

Hope you're enjoying the weekend!

xoxo.
Christine

A Memory Captured

Summing up the visit with my husband's parents last weekend:

xoxo.
Christine

To My SIster

Dear Sister,

I miss you.  I wish that I lived just down the street from you and we could meet for weekend strolls through Central Park with the girls, and for dinner at the corner Indian place for some malai kofta.  Or that you lived down the street from me, and the girls and I could strap on some helmets and ride bikes on over.  Or at least hop in the car for a quick trip from our suburbia to yours.  You and Yours could come over on a Friday after a long work week and enjoy some grilling and beers.  Even though neither of us eat meat or drink beer.

I know that I am lucky.  That even with the distance, I do not have to worry about my girls feeling uncomfortable with you.  That they must sense our closeness because they so easily climb into your lap and attach themselves to you no matter how long it has been since your last visit.

And you live somewhere that is different and exotic for us Midwesterners, so when our girls visit for the first time everything will be new and exciting.  And I love that, even though I’d much rather you live a closer and duller life near me.

But, I see my nieces and nephews with their mother’s sister and I am sad for me.  For us.  For my girls.  I want them to grow up around you.  To know you like I do.  To get to experience the fun special auntie time on a regular basis.  I wish you could take Hope out to a movie.  Or Paige to the park.  I wish the four of us could have special sister dates.

(Not to mention I wish that you and I could have more frequent sister dates.)

I miss you.  Did I mention that already?  And I know the girls do too.  Or at least Hope does, because she told me.  But I'm sure Paige does too.

So do you think you could work on finding a job near us?  That'd be great.  In the mean time I will continue to fill you in on our life details, whine about how far away you are, and save my pennies for trips out to visit.

I'm gonna need a lot of pennies.

Love,

Your Favorite Sister

See how much fun we have here?

Linking up with Shell for Pour Your Heart Out.

A Jar of Apricot Marmalade

I knew, even before taking one step inside, what it would do to me.

Walking through the door a gust of nostalgia hit me.  Smells of fresh breads and raw meat knocked me back like a title wave.  I don't even eat meat, but the aroma felt like a fuzzy blanket wrapped around me.  I didn't even know I was shivering.

A long glass case filled three walls, with more variety than I've seen at any butcher shop.  Rows of sausages jumbled together, three different types of head cheese, cuts of meat I never heard of.  A tightness rose to my chest, but not the usual how-disgusting-I'm-going-to-be-sick tightness.

Along the front window were multitudes of yellows, greens and browns.  The mustards, soups, and seeds from far away places.  Brands from my childhood I forgot existed flashed out at me.  The girls fought over the different candies.  Who knew gummies came in multicolored frogs and fish and double cherries stuck together?

When I saw the jars I froze.  This, I was not expecting.  The white label was hauntingly familiar.  I gingerly picked up the apricot to examine it closer.  Product of Austria.  Tears made of memories filled my eyes.  Breakfasts with my grandmother.  The sweet taste of schwarzbrot and butter mixed with the tangy, bright-orange marmalade.  I wanted to hold that jar forever.

Snippets from my childhood were there, and my heart ached to be there.  Not there in the store, but the There of my childhood.  Where a jar of apricot marmalade was an every-day breakfast, not a distant and bitter-sweet memory.

I did not want to leave.  But we had to go.  Like always.  We can not stay in one place forever.


xo.
Christine