The Boy Child

When we were younger, that's what my sisters and I called Darin. He didn't love the nickname, but by then he had learned to choose his battles with us. I wrote an explanation of Darin's life in another post. In short, he is a Monk and on Sunday, we took Maiya to meet him.

As the third of four kids, he spent a lot of his childhood with a lot of other kids and the influence is still evident. He asked all the right questions about Haven and Maiya. He was a natural baby holder and Maiya liked him immediately. Haven, on the other hand, was kind of intimidated by his beard.

Haven was not intimidated, however, by the gigantic construction trucks on the campus. He was ready to climb inside and take them for a drive.

Darin said we could stay for dinner. For the record, a Monastary-style dinner + two little kids = an interesting situation. First of all, Monks eat at their own table. In silence. Secondly, men and women do not eat together. So, Dave and I each took one kid to our gender-respective tables and attempted to feed them tuna and salad. This was interesting since Haven doesn't like tuna and Maiya can't yet have tuna. We were able to interest them in the accompanying apples and bread.

To say that Monks are quiet people is in an understatement, as it is to say that Haven and Maiya are noisy people. Sounds of "apple!" and "no!" and whines filled the otherwise silent dining area. Afterward, Darin said it was fine because it was an "informal" dinner. Well, I think we gave a new meaning to Monk idea of informal.

It was a short visit, as it always is and unfortunately, this time he did not have permission to have his picture taken. Here are few shots of us from the visit:

Here I am, covered head-to-toe. Maiya got away with showing a little leg since she's still a baby. She also wasn't required to wear a head covering, but with a such a cute hat, I figured, why not?

Do I like this grass or not?

It was a quiet drive home.

A night out for Mommy means a wild party at home...

Times two.

You get it when you get it. Three of my friends are about to get it. And then they'll get it. But until you get it, you don't get it.

When you get him or her, I should say, you get it.

To clarify, when you get the Second Baby you get the craziness of managing two kids.

I am telling you right now that today the manager at the grocery store most certainly not get it.

Lately I've grocery shopped in the evenings when I can go with just one child, or, sometimes, gloriously alone. Today, however, we were very low on food supplies and since we're such food lovers, I decided to venture to the store with both babies.

(Yes, in a lot of ways Haven is still a baby. But don't tell him I said that. He considers himself a B'Boy. When I ask him if he is a baby he says very confidently, "Not a baby -- Maiya." However, until I can safely allow him to walk through the grocery store next to the shopping cart I will continue to call him a baby in my mind.)

Once we parked, I strapped Maiya into the carrier and Haven into the shopping cart seat. We were about half way through the store when I noticed black streaks all over Haven's shirt and arms and cheeks. There was something all over the cart that was now all over my boy. I dug to the bottom of the shopping cart, through my gigantic bag and retrieved the wipes. They served to smear the blackness into a grey fog. You havegottobe kidding me.

As we checked out I peeped, "I don't mean to complain, but there was something all over the cart--" The woman was very kind and appropriately flabergasted and called the manager. The manager that did not get it, as I mentioned.

He saw the mess and said ... "We'll take care of the cleaning bill for the shirt."

I was not looking for any compensation, but I was shocked by this offer. Cleaning bill? Are you suggesting that I'm going to take this little boy's Old Navy t-shirt to the dry cleaner? And then come back here and give you the bill? Please look at us - I have a sleepy 9-month-old whining and attached to my hip and a toddler covered in junk after a quick trip through the grocery store. Do we look like the kind of people who get through errands quickly? Trust me, you won't see a cleaning bill from us. I didn't actually say any of this, I might mention.

We got home and after I carried the groceries and kiddos inside, I realized that there was not only grease on my shirt as well as Haven's, but blood too. Is this some kind of joke?! I could not locate a source of this blood on any of us. Okay...

I changed Haven's shirt and scrubbed his face and arms. I read him two books (an extra because he was so well behaved at the grocery store despite the poor circumstances) and put him in bed. I put Maiya down for her nap, which included nursing her, killing a bee and changing her clothes because I found a streak of blood down her shirt too (still no source).

It was then that I remembered that I bought ice cream at the grocery store and it was still in one of the bags. Sorry about the freezer burn, Dave. This gets better and better.

Thus Grocery Shopping became an event. I will now finish this blog and go do the subsequent laundry that occured due to our trip.

Skills.

I try to remember all of things that I can do well. I was overcome by with a sense of nostalgia when I received the latest newsletter from my former employer. I didn't even like that job for the last two of the five years I worked there. Yet, I missed it for a few moments.

I just read a short memoir called Not Becoming My Mother. The author wrote that many mothers during the 40's and 50's felt like they were wasting their brains and talents sitting at home. Some days I can relate to that so well. Except that I don't sit at home. I'm on my feet, or my hands and knees, almost always. Though, by the end of the day, the living room and kitchen look like I've been sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating all day. I tell Dave that this is how I spend the day when he asks what happened that I could not complete something I'd planned to do. Maybe that's what I missed about my job - the way I could tear through my to-do list before lunch.


These little happy faces are what I'm good at right now. It's just that there is no way to quantify my success. Even when Haven listens or quickly stops a tantrum, I automatically think it is due to his phlegmatic personality more than my parenting skills. Who's to know?

Anyway, this is not the time in my life when I shine, I guess. I'm backstage. Most days I handle that graciously, I hope. Other days I want to see a report card with my name on it and straight-A's emblazoned down the side.

Back to my original thought - focusing on what I'm good at doing. It isn't anything that has to do with being a homemaker or housewife or any of the images that come to your mind when you hear those terms.

I have accumulated an interesting skill set, though. Let's see ... I can nurse Maiya and change Haven's diaper at the same time. I can nurse Maiya in the car while we're both still in our seat belts (while Dave is driving, I might add, I don't Brittany-Spears it). I can carry on a ten minute conversation with a person whose vocabulary consists primarily of animal sounds, single-syllable words and the identification of the letter W. I can fold a basket of laundry amongst the destructive efforts of not one but two kids. I can keep track of how long a sippy cup has been sitting on the (you name it) and what is inside said sippy cup and if it is safe for the tiny crawler approaching it. These are significant skills. I say they're resume-worthy.

This is the way I feed my kids, feed my kids, feed my kids...

Several years ago, when my in-laws moved to Florida, my mother-in-law said one of the things she missed most was cooking for Dave.

I've always thought that there was something about mom's cooking - the food one grows up eating. It's tastey and just right, even if it's not super tastey. On the rare occasion that my own mom is at our house and whips up dinner, I revel in the familiarity of the flavors.

Now, I'm getting the mom's perspective. I love feeding my kids and I love watching them eat good meals. So ... now my food is mom's food. My cooking is their childhood food.

Teaching them to eat well and enjoy good foods is a significant responsibility to me. So, toward that end, I offer them healthy options. Breakfast and dinner are big meals for us. I spend time making eggs, hot cereal or French toast for breakfast. I think about dinner and like to make hearty food with a little something from every food group. Lunch, which is grabbed around nap schedules, does not always get as much attention.

Sometimes it look a little funny on the plate.

Here is Haven's lunch. Pot-popped popcorn without butter or salt, kidney beans and cheese. So, that's an odd lunch, but he ate it. That day Maiya got kidney beans, ohs and cheese. I'll be taking luncheon catering requests on a first-come-first-served basis. Try not to overflow my in-box.

So, what interesting foods have you offered your children?

A little thought.

Did anybody watch Oprah the other day? She talked about motherhood and had lots of funny moms talk about their lives. I loved it. My favorite part was the woman who said she cried when she had to buy a mini van. I want to watch it again. There was a lot of laughter.

What particularly struck me was the blogging mom who makes $40,000 a month ... selling ads on her blog. I wonder what I am doing wrong because I haven't received a penny for writing on this blog ...

I guess in addition to superb writing skills and time to write, I guess that the willingness to tell all to an Internet audience is imperative. Hm. For forty thou a month, I'd consider it.

I imagine we will look back on these years as the time that people became successful by selling their privacy. Consider shows such as Jon and Kate + 8. (For the record, I'm entertained by this show and I think you do what you need to do to support 8 children. If that leads to tremendous popularity, well, so be it. Good for them.) I wonder how many people in the end, after exposing their lives, would say that it was worth it. Would Jessica and Nick (Newlyweds)? I'm just curious, which is why I (we) watch these shows in the first place.

Anyway, would you give up your privacy for a big chunk of change?

Turn your frowns upside down.

The other day I was reading a parenting magazine while Dave caught the latest sports game and the babies dug through the blocks box. I try not to laugh out loud when I read because it's kind of like having an inside joke and outsiders don't feel good about inside jokes. Well, on this occasion, I couldn't help it.

Dave: "What's so funny?"

Me: "This article is about this mom--" I couldn't stop laughing.

I finally pulled myself together long enough to explain that the article was about a mom of two young kids. It outlined her typical day and then, at the end of the day, her husband asked if she was alright and when she said she was just tired, he said ...

"Why?"

That sent me into hysterics. When I retold it to Dave, I said Why like it was a punch line. He didn't think it was nearly as funny as I did. Then again, tears were practically running down my face.

I was in rare form, laughing at the chaos of my life. It's good to laugh. It's good old medicine to laugh. Another day I might have rolled my eyes at that article and muttered nobody knows the trouble I've seen. But our pastor had recently preached about the pointlessness of self pity, so... Let's face it, laughing is a much more healing resonse.

Some day a shower won't be to me what a day at the spa is to most people. Some day silence will mean the kids are grown and not that they are eating the cat's food.

For now, I will enjoy the ruthless rythem of my day. The kind that renders me unconscious by 9:30 PM. I will laugh about it as much as I can, and when I can't laugh, I'll just try to memorize these four chubby cheeks that somehow just keep smiling.

and the best husband award goes to...

Today is our anniversary. It's been four years since this picture was taken. I'm telling you we still look just this good. Well, Dave certainly does, but he hasn't been pregnant twice. Anyway, back to the point: we still feel this good. I'm thrilled to be with you, Dave. What a great life. It's crazy sometimes, I know, but I'm so glad we get to share the ups and downs with eachother. What an adventure. I can't imagine walking through life without you.

I wanted to have a slide show with music playing in the background, but unfortunately I'm not all that technically advanced. Here is the song I would play with the slideshow.

side note: didn't my mom do a nice job on my bouquet?