Haiti

I feel as though I can not go on blogging without acknowledging this. And yet I don't know what to say.

One thing I have learned about myself is that sometimes it feels good to feel even if the something I am feeling is sadness.

So this is a mourning post. This is my effort to carry, if I could, a tiny part of a tremendous burden.

God bless Haiti.

jammies

I'm sure there aren't any parents out there who have ever harbored ill feelings toward their newborn for those frequent nocturnal disturbances. But on the off chance that there are individuals who could use a little something to motivate them out of their beds as the infant whimpers arouse them from slumber, I've discovered a trick.

Adorable jammies. Just seeing her all cozy in her polka-dot footsies and I can't wait to have her in my arms. These are my favorites and I just want to nuzzle her up the instant I see her in them.


Yep, even at 2:00am.


** For clarification, my birthday is not until February. Yesterdays post was just my thoughts on aging, not a birthday lament. Not yet.

the late twenties

I've noticed lately that I am encroaching on "soccer mom" status. My kids aren't yet involved in out-of-the-home activities that have me playing the part of chauffeur but for all other intents and purposes (married, middle-class, suburban mother of three) I fit the bill.

Growing up I remember adults approaching thirty make comments about how they still felt twenty. Now I am one of those adults. Ignoring the fact that I have a four year old I would swear I still was twenty.

But alas it has become clear to me in recent days that I am not twenty. Or twenty-one. Or even twenty-five.

It first happened as I dropped off a load at D.I. the other day. A sharp looking young man came out to help collect my rejected belongings. (The fact that I used the word "sharp" to describe a "young man" is evidence enough, no?) I felt so hip because as I popped the trunk I knew he could hear that I was listening to Beyonce. I like Beyonce. I listen to her to feel young and hip. But then as I drove away it occurred to me: "Jo, who are you kidding? You are driving a minivan."

My other problem is that either because I am too busy or I don't like what I see, I rarely take the opportunity to look in the mirror. I suppose most of my efforts go to making sure my children look decent. Sadly though, I have frequently left the house without make-up because of this. And the other day a friend came by to drop something off and I had chocolate cake mix on my nose.

It had been hours since I baked the chocolate cake.

I guess approaching thirty is like going bald. You just have to embrace it. Don't endure it, love it. Glory in maturity. Live it up before you turn 40. (Heaven forbid!)

Oh, and did I mention I am actually only turning 28?

talk about karma

I guess I had it coming. All that nonsense about pink. I got pink alright. Somehow a magenta crayon made its way into the dryer during a cycle that contained the boys's lights. Now all my children have pink clothes. I was much less delighted to find pink lint this time.
To all the mothers of only boys, I am sorry for being so insensitive. This must be my well-deserved comeuppance for gloating about girliness.

an odd thing

If you can't tell, this is a picture of dryer lint.

But it is PINK dryer lint. And I love it.

I never thought dryer lint would bring a grin to my face, but it has.

a Christmas to remember

I'm an idealist. Or in other words I have unrealistic expectations.

This was how I imagined Christmas at our house:

We would put together a plate of cookies for Santa and the reindeer with the children. Then they would go to bed cheerily to dream of sugar plums. (Whatever those are...) Richard and I would prepare the gifts with broad smiles and butterflies of anticipation before settling down for our long winter's nap. (You are beginning to see my unrealistic expectations, afterall, we have a newborn.) In the morning the boys would rise early full of thrill and would laugh and squeal with delight as they excitedly opened their gifts.

This is how our Christmas unfolded.

Richard and I suggested we leave a plate of cookies for Santa and the boys threw a fit. They wanted the cookies for themselves. The fit evolved into all-out tantrums by the time we got them to bed so Richard and I wrapped the gifts in a grumpy pout trying to figure out how our children became so selfish. We considered not giving them the gifts at all, but naturally I still had high hopes for the morning. Cameron fulfilled my expectations and awoke excited and was delighted with his gifts. Eli seemed to be in the same funk he was at bedtime and refused to look in his stocking. He expressed little emotion as we helped him open his gifts. Richard and I couldn't believe that a kid could be so pathetic on Christmas morning. Just as we were about to finish up the festivities Eli threw up everywhere. Merry Christmas.

We felt awful blaming his bad mood on his tempermental nature. After things were cleaned up and he rested for a little while he felt wonderful and his holiday excitement surfaced. Sadly the gifts were all unwrapped and I think he felt robbed of Christmas. Thank goodness for grandparents.

Of course now that Christmas is two weeks past, all the boys can talk about is what they want next year. There's nothing like reality to help adjust expectations.

heck of a night

Monday after work I stopped at the store. It was the night of the big game, Feista Bowl 2010. It was jam packed with folks in BSU gear buying alcoholic beverages. Excitement was in the air.

Let me just say this. I'm a loyal citizen of Bronco Nation. I love coach Pete. I'm proud of Kyle Efaw for modestly admitting that the Broncos are "probably not" #1 in the nation. I forgive you Brandyn Thompson for getting burned on that touchdown pass since you had two interceptions. And Brotzman, you redeemed yourself from that missed field goal with that sneaky conversion on fourth down. What a game.

Can't wait for September blue and orange.

POST EDIT:

That's how I felt as I lay in bed last night. Those were the words I wanted to write this morning.

What a game.

But somewhere during the dark hours my anxiety and nerves from the game took the form of digestive failure. I'll put it this way, my bad food choices during the football game have gone the way of the sewage and I get a clean slate for my New Year's diet. Little did I know that when the team dumped the cooler of gatorade on Coach Pete it would be a preview of coming attractions for the first day of my 2010 diet.

I am rethinking my fan-dom now. I'm glad I have 8 months to do it.

and then they rested

Our holiday extravaganza culminated today with Miriam's blessing. For over a week I have had three of my siblings in town with their spouses and children. All were residing at my parent's house, so until today I had little responsibility as hostess. But today after the blessing we fed 18 adults and 4 children before they loaded up their Christmas loot and hit the highway to return to their respective homes. After everyone had departed this afternoon, the five of us all went to bed, and slept for over two hours.
Christmas-time is both a rewarding and challenging time to birth and care for a newborn. With family in town and holiday traditions I found myself especially sleep deprived. On New Year's Eve as people joked about being too tired to stay awake until the midnight hour, I commented that we had stayed up past 12:00 every other night, why should this one be different?


In any case, today my baby is one month old. As I reflect on the last month and how quickly it passed I am so grateful to have been able to spend the time with family.


My cup runneth over.

Happy New Year. I am excited to be blogging again.