Life With Three Kids

Well this week you could rename my mind “anxiety land” -- I’ve got way too much going on inside, outside, and all around for my sad, weary, and bedraggled heart to take on.
I’m feeling pretty sensitive about it all, so I’m not wanting to blog that stuff. So instead of just disappearing, I’m gonna blog some stuff that I was thinking I’d do (say if life didn’t fall apart.)

I’ve been meaning to do a post for a while now about my take on life with three kids.

 I did two of those posts after I added a second child to my family. (First one here. The update here.)  I thought I’d do that again.

This post (per my norm) is probably too long…yet I’m sure there are lots of things I forgot to say. It may not be written the best -- once again, my mind is a mess this week, so forgive any nonsense --spelling, grammar or logic wise. Here goes nothing ---

So far, every time I’ve had a baby I get somewhat fixated on the wondering over what it might feel like adding yet another. I don’t know why I do this to myself. I pop a baby out after these way-too-long and stressful pregnancies, only to wonder if I could/should do it again -- on instant. Why? Why Lydia? -- take a chill pill. Worry about it later, like when it’s even a possibility or something. Anyway….because I do that…. after I had my second, I asked EVERYONE who had more than two kids “What was the hardest transition in terms of adding kids? (Going from zero to one, one to two, two to three….and so on)”

As I did this I found that the answer was rather spilt -- no real consensus. But basically everyone I asked agreed on those two points:

• Adding one feels super hard because you’ve never done it before. 
• Adding two is incredibly hard -- and it might not feel this way all the time, or right away -- but at some point you feel totally out of your league - in a very deep end of a pool where you are treading water with your legs, but not your arms, because each arm is holding a kid. But at the same time -- at least this time you know what you’re doing, so maybe it’s not a big deal, you’ve been this tired and overwhelmed before. And if you find yourself with just one of your kids, while the other one is being taken care of by someone else for a chunk of time, you can’t fathom how you ever were so overwhelmed the first time around.

(I should note: most everyone I asked had their kids close-ish together -- no more than maybe 4 years apart at the most, but usually closer to 2 years apart.)

After that far though, the answers varied. 

Some people would tell me that adding three was the hardest transition of all. While others stuck to the idea that two was the hardest. Some friends told us adding their third was a breeze, nothing like adding two.

People with four kids seemed like, by then it was no biggie at all. And I was even pointed to articles about the concept that parents of four have the least amount of stress. 

Whenever I asked anyone who had 4+ they always said once you add the fourth, adding anymore is like nothing. The stress level does not compound any more at that point no matter how many you add. 

I cannot attest to these answers at all -- I don’t know -- just sharing what I found as I asked.

I found this all very interesting. And I held my breath to see if I would be in the “Two is the hardest transition" or "Three is the hardest” group.

Well here’s what I have found personally.

(And this is just me -- milage will vary.)

Adding the third = piece of cake.

Obviously there are hard things, but generally speaking, I’m already in the trenches of this motherhood thing, so the hard stuff about a baby isn’t changing the hardness level I’m at pre-third kid.

This once again can vary depending on….everything. Who you are, who your first kids are, who your baby is, who you have to help you in your life, what’s going on beside baby world….

I’m lucky in that Baby Bronson is pretty much a dream baby. I mean, I’m sure there are other babies out there that sleep better than him, but he’s by far my best sleeper of my crew. He still wakes up at least two or three times a night, but he goes right back down no problem at all. He’s down without complaint for the night at 6:00 or 7:00pm and doesn’t wake up for the day until about 6:30am. (It used to be 7:00 and I got spoiled and am not so thrilled with the 6:30 business.) He’s always been so easy to get to sleep. Just nurse him and done. When he was younger he’d nurse to sleep, or swing to sleep. For the last maybe 3 months he’s nursed and then just let me lay him down with his blankets in his special way and he will just relax into sleep. 

*Before you hate me -- be aware that my first child never relaxed herself to sleep (still doesn’t actually), she HATED being alone (still does actually) and therefore woke up often to nurse and see me.

And my second child started out a fantastic sleeper and then at about 5 months changed her mind and literally didn’t give me any sleep for about a year out, and then didn’t sleep through the night till she was about two. Those were HARD days.

So the fact that this guy lets me sleep the way he does, and gives me a chance for down time at night since he’s so easy to put down, is a wonderful amazing gift I am super grateful for -- and am very aware of how much that plays into our easy three kid transition.

During the day he’s been a peaceful, yet happy guy, who’s generally content. He makes our transition pretty easy.

Some people argue that younger children are more relaxed because the parent relaxes as they add kids. I can’t disprove that theory in my own life. I know my third is easy and content, and I know I’m way less nervous as a mom. But I also can’t say that’s the main reason he is who he is. Life’s multi-layered like that.

But in that regard here are some things I do differently this time around than I had before:

Inside my head:

--------With baby #1 I googled anything and everything trying to make sure it was ok. Her nose ran today, should I take her to the doctor? Google. Her poop looked different, should I take her to the doctor? Google. She’s just not sleeping the way I thought she would. Google. Is she teething? Google. When should she be doing such and such (crawling and the milestones)? Google. I would read pages and pages and pages, and forums for hours.

If I wasn’t googling, I was taking temperature reads on motherhood via Facebook and blogs. I was so unsure of myself.

With Baby #2 I’m sure I googled a some things, but I was likely googling other stuff like food allergies, as well as stuff with my oldest - still unsure what I was doing with her and her two year old ways. I was still on google a lot.

Baby #3 -- I have googled twice. Once to check what’s the proper protocol for fevers and doctors. In this case I did not look at a single forum -- I just googled “When to take a child to the doctor for a fever” and I read the webMD and Mayo clinic pages and breathed a sigh of relief and went on with my day. The other time was I googled what yeast infection diaper rash looked like. I was unsure about a recent rash, and I just quickly checked for about 3 mins and then calmly decided to add diaper rash cream and corn starch and see what happened in one day, when it turned out to be all better.

Everything else I have done with mothering him has been pure unadulterated instinct. I have not looked at (or pulled any previous mental knowledge from) a single sleep book. I have not wondered how anyone else would do such and such. I just purely feel the need he has, and the need I have,  and make it work between us. And I LOVE it. I wish a million times over I could impart this to my first time mothering self. Back then I did use my instincts for good -- but I didn’t rest in them, I fretted in them. The peace I have this time around is fantastic.

Inside the house:

--------With baby #1 I tried to get everything in the house right for baby. I worked really hard on her nursery. I tried to get baby supplies I would enjoy looking at (all along wishing either I had more money for cuter baby things, or that standard companies would stop making ugly baby things and make lovely stuff accessible for all.)

With baby #2 our house was so small I didn’t have the option to do that. I just set her crib in the room with all our “other” stuff anything that couldn’t fit elsewhere was in the third bedroom. And our baby stuff rotated from the garage to the living room one piece at a time per the stage she was in.

With baby #3 I walked into this situation planning on totally skipping the “nursey” decor and set up and moving straight into what people usually call the “big boy/girl” room makeover that has to happen at some point. Why? Because I knew he (or she, I didn’t know ahead of time) would be sleeping in my room for a long time. The girls each slept in my room for about 5 months when they stopped sleeping well in there. So I was ready for that. Bronson’s actually slept great in our room even still at 9 months. He’s currently sleeping in a pack and play at the foot of our bed and we are all loving it. (I think if I had tried that with the girls it would have been a good fit for them as well -- I just had been too stuck in “how other people do it” mentality to think of it.) So “Bronson’s room” really doesn’t get called “Bronson’s room” much at all and it’s still a pile of mismatched furniture I need to get rid of and clutter.

Clothes:

---- With the girls I had SO MUCH clothing. We were given tons and tons and tons. New and used came to us with great fever. 

Having the general idea that moms love dressing up their babies, I tried to care about using all her outfits and getting her dressed each day. But we honestly never left the house, so it was all kind of silly. Especially since baby clothes just isn’t my shtick.

With #2 I got more realistic about how many clothes to have in our drawers, but I still wasn’t really being me about it -- I was meeting myself halfway and there and still trying to do “normal” as well. 

But with #3 I’ve hit my stride. This isn’t what everyone wants to do. But it works perfect for me. And Bronson is a baby he doesn’t care at all what he wears as long as he’s not too hot. (And FYI this isn’t because he’s a boy -- if ever another baby -- girl or boy I would totally do this again) What I’ve done (after the initial baby stage where we still had lots of baby clothes gifts) is buy one large pack of white onsies in a size he could grow into. When he was probably 5 months old I bought a pack of 9 month sized ones (long sleeve for winter.) And a couple pants (we also had a few given) so we have something like 5 pants in his size. And that’s what he wears. It’s so easy. No thinking, everything matches. I personally think babys are just cute because they are cute -- I don’t need fancy clothes. (Truth be told he has a couple extras outside of that, that we were given, but I use them rarely.) We also have footsie PJs. I’m not picky about if he stays in PJs or sleeps in clothes. I’ve never cared, with the other kids, but I tried to care because I thought I should. I no longer think I should. I just do what works, no guilt.

Baby gear: 

--I’ve significantly toned down the amount of baby things we use. Some of this is only possible because having older kids around actually keeps Bronson happy and occupied. When it’s just mom and baby the extras are helpful.  But here’s a list of the only things I’ve used this time around.

• (Borrowed) Rock and Play. That was awesome for about 2.5 months -- life changing for being able to set down sleeping baby for once -- and somewhat helpful for about 4 months -- once he didn’t sleep in there, we used it at dinner time so he could hangout while we ate. We gave it back to our friends then.
• Baby Swing -- full sized. All my kids have been swing-sleep-lovers. The girls liked the swing to rock side to side. Bronson liked front to back. He used his swing when his sleep was a bit ify for about 7 or 8 months.
• Pack and Play -- that’s basically our crib. (When I was pregnant the first time, I read that some people skip the crib in favor of just a pack and play -- I thought that was a hideous terrible idea. What did I know!?) 
• We put our crib next to our bed as a “side car” for a bit more room co-sleeping. Essentially that turned into a place for me to put my head, and feel like there was more room. Bronson didn’t often sleep in there, but sometimes. Either way it was nice having it there.
• Gauzey swaddle blankets. For swaddling, for nursing covers, and tucking into carseat (in the winter I’d put a fleece hoodie on him, then tuck light swaddles around his legs, then drape a heavy baby blanket over his body.) 
• Excersaucer -- mainly used to corral him when I need to leave the room.
• High chair -- this time around I was in favor of a actual high chair (the girls used a booster high chair at the table) because I wanted to leave more chairs accessible to guests. (Two of our chairs still have boosters on them.)
• Baby bathtub. At first I would get in the bathtub with him because I find that easier with small babies. But eventually it was easier to let him sit in his little tub.
• We have strollers from before, we use those sometimes. Mine single stroller already looks shockingly dated compared to what is now in stores (why did they take so long to make low end ones sleek and nice looking -- borrowing from the high priced designs?) Sigh, oh well. I’ll use my green pokadot one next to the classy black ones. I don’t care. At least I had found a black double stroller off craigslist before.

But that’s pretty much it. I didn’t use any “play mats.”
I didn’t use our bumbo seat. (I got it out, but never used it.) We didn’t get out many baby toys. We just let him play with safe (non-choking-hazard)big kid toys.
 I didn’t use my baby carriers more than a couple times. (He’s not into them much. I’ve found it varies what my kids like. My oldest who hates being alone, even now, was thrilled to live in her carrier. My middle child never ever wanted to be in a carrier, and I now see she’s very independent and a true introvert. This makes me wonder if Bronson is more introverted.) 

I’ve really toned down the whole entire baby-dom aspect of things. Baby’s really don’t need much at all. I think about all the things I registered for the first time around! Phew!

Anyway -- back to life with three being easy:

When I asked my Iowa midwife something about adding kids once (she had 8 kids over a longer span of time) she told me her ideal spacing between kids is 3 years. She said the change in a child between the age of two and three is such a big deal that it drastically changes the dynamic (of adding a baby when your youngest is two than when your youngest is three.) I nodded and thought that was interesting, but wasn’t sure I’d want to space them that far apart. 

Well life turned out to give me a three year spacing for this baby and wow -- do I ever agree with my midwife there. It’s shocking how easy it is to maintain a three year old and baby, compared to two year old and baby! Just night and day. A three year old is a kid, a two year old is basically a mobile baby. And as far as my oldest is concerned -- she was five when Bronson was born -- and she’s been able to actually help in some regards. Which is awesome. I love that I can leave the room for a few minutes and have someone who can come get me if things go south.

 I’m not trying to tell anyone how they should have kids (that’s no where near my business) -- I’m just my own experiences.

That spacing helped they way I feel a lot, I’m sure. But I will say I found life getting easier as my oldest turned four and my (then) youngest turned two -- they became more independent and played well together (instead of needing me to arbitrate their every move in sharing-not-stealing etc) so adding a baby then wouldn’t have drown me, but it would have been harder than what we have now. Right now they girls are fully able to hear my directions and do them even if I’m out of the room nursing the baby to sleep.
They can help me find stuff for the baby when I need it.
They genuinely LOVE being around him and taking care of him and just everything about him. They don’t see him as competition at all. They just adore his presence.
There’s all sorts of stuff is nice about this spacing. (Although I’m sure the same could be said for other spacing as well. This is just where I am.)

For some people adding a third means they need more space in their home or vehicle, but we were already set in both those departments. So that was easy.

In the team-parenting department --

Honestly the horrible-ness of my pregnancy really set us up for success in this department. I was laid waste to so badly that Blake took up the task of bedtime for the girls during pregnancy, and they all enjoy that. Blake reads them bedtime stories and actually really enjoys the stuff they read (he was surprised by how manly the “Little House on the Prairie” series could be. He’s been telling me how much more awesome the rest of the Narnia series is compared to “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”) The girls enjoy getting some daddy time into their day. So when the baby came along, their was no shake up to that routine at all. I appreciate that SO MUCH. I am SO grateful for Blake being so willing to do that part of our day. 

In that same vein is grocery shopping. I couldn’t do it while pregnant. Blake valiantly took that up for me then. And we’ve been doing variations of shopping after bedtime ever since. (Actually He was kind of doing that already once I had two kids. But it’s in FULL swing now.) Sometimes I go now that Bronson will sleep for long chunks of time. Sometimes he goes. We aren’t in a good meal planning phase of life. So our grocery shopping is kinda messy and unplanned. But we are surviving anyway.

I know not everyone has the option to grocery shop like this -- but I am SO grateful for this set up. It makes my stress level inside being a mom much, much lower. 

We had an older couple at our church strike up conversation with us in the complaint style fashion -- they tried relating to us about how hard it is to have three kids. (Theirs are full grown, and moved out, but they were reminiscing.) It was almost painful on my end because every complaint they had, were things we don’t find hard because we are doing them “strangely.” I started feeling like a jerk even responding, and I wasn’t fully responding either.  But you should have seen their eyes when they tried the “grocery shopping with three kids….uuugghh” segment. (This was early on in the conversation, before I realized I needed to tone down my honesty level.) I quickly said, “Oh, well Blake usually runs to the store for me after bedtime, so it’s not been hard for us.” Their eyes almost fell out of their sockets trying to catch their jaws from falling. I could tell she didn’t know what to think, if that was a great thing or a terrible thing, or an impossible thing. She was stunned silent for a while. That clued me into the fact that we are doing things to our own drum beat.

I get that they are from a different generation, and things were a lot different then. But I still think we are more of an outlier inside our peer group. 

Part of me loves that, and part of me hopes I don’t make anyone feel bad for one reason or another. But I can’t not do it for fear of how others will look at it. It’s working SO WELL for us.

Blake and I both have enough parenting under our belts that we just really take all the baby stuff in stride and enjoy it. (I think him more than me. He’s a total baby lover.)
But of all the stressful stuff that’s been a part of my life as of late, the baby really hasn’t added any stress to it. (Other than I’m having a harder time finding time to work on the house -- but that’s babies, and I knew it going into it -- that’s why I worked so hard during my pregnancy even thought I felt like I couldn’t move. I knew I wouldn’t have the option much later.) Actually having Bronson around during these hard times, has been a blessing. Some parts of taking a baby to a funeral are really tricky to handle -- naps and nursing etc. But even still somehow that’s actually a blessing in those moments. I will always remember nursing Bronson off to the side, warm in the sun on a bench, outside as we buried my grandpa -- such a surreal moment, but it was soothing comfort in the moment.  And I will always remember holding Bronson close to my chest in the freezing cold winter air, him in our borrowed snow suit, as we buried my brother. I don’t know if I could have sat there alone, in that cold seat, in that moment. I was so glad to be holding him over my heart.

He has not made my “hard” harder -- he’s been a blessing.




Oh, and one more thing I wanted to mention.
“He” --
I wasn’t sure what I’d feel like if I ever had a boy.

To be ridiculously honest, I was really nervous I wouldn’t be able to love a boy baby. And this is the most pathetic reason, but it’s because as a kids I ONLY wanted girl baby dolls. At once point when I was a kid, they had come out with baby dolls that would surprise you once you bought it with if it was a girl or a boy. I wanted one of those really bad, but I also didn’t want to wind up with a boy. My mom later confessed that she opened the box to check that it was a girl before buying it for me. So I was happily surprised by a girl. I guess I worried that was some kind of deep and abiding issue I had.
But I’m happy to report that it’s not. I couldn’t love Baby Bronson anymore if I tried.  (I constantly look at any one of my kids and think “I love them SO MUCH that this one must be my favorite, because I couldn’t possibly love anything else in the world as much as I love this kid.” And then I panic thinking “Oh no, I have a favorite!” Only this happens pretty much any time I am near any one of my kids. So then I realize it’s not a problem if it applies to each one.) But when I am alone with baby Bronson, nursing him to sleep, or getting him up from a nap, I am certain I couldn’t love anything in the world more than I love him. So the fact that he’s a boy didn’t throw me off there.

As far as boy dynamics go….he’s only 9.5 months old, I’m not sure I have much to go off of yet. But I have noticed a lot of moms talking/typing about how different their sons are from their daughters from the get-go. I gotta be honest, I’m not in that camp. I’m not seeing him as so different. I think this is partially due to the fact I had two girls in a row, and they are quite different from each other (in some ways intensely different than each other (and also in some ways similar)) --- so I know to expect each child to be uniquely themselves, regardless of gender. But also, he just seems like one of my kids. He seems like part of our family. Not like something alien.
I feel like moms are often saying statements about their sons that could have scared me away from wanting a boy. There are a lot of stereotypes. (That’s actually a LARGE reason I wanted to be surprised by the gender this time -- to avoid people spewing gender stereotypes at me while I was full of hormones. People ((strangers in particular)) seem to get demented pleasure out of scaring pregnant women. I loved getting to deny that power to strangers in stores when they asked what I was having, I could tell the ones that were miffed being denied that privilege -- it was great.) Anyway, I’ve taken mental note of the stereotypes I’ve heard about boys over the years, and what I find wonderful is, they often contradict each other. One example: moms have confided in me that their sons are much more wild than their daughters; and other moms have confided in me that their sons were the calm ones, so much easier and laid back, while their daughter did the wild acting out. I love collecting those conflicting one because it proves to me that we are each, just ourselves.

So all that said, I haven’t found Bronson to be ringing, pretty much any, of the  “boys always” bells.
And, I’m not trying to “un-boy” him with this section, 

I’m just sharing it because if I had listened to everyone I would have been too sacred to have a boy -- and so far he’s totally cool. 

That’s what I’m getting at -- he’s great, not scary.
Examples:

•  He’s only shot pee during a diaper change once. (Stereotypes imply all boys do, is shoot pee.) (But…actually... each of my girls did that on occasion too. In fact... one girl did it quite impressively in the doctors office once -- actually saving us from having to use a catheder because the quick acting nurse caught it -- it was amazing!)
• His temperament in the womb was by far my most calm baby --- sometimes he scared me being so still so much. (Stereotypes imply boys are totally rough and tumble and constantly moving in there.) ( Actually figured there wasn’t any way he could be a boy since he was so calm, based on the “talk” of boys.)
• He’s hitting his movement milestones at the same rate his sisters did. (Stereotypes imply boys are more physical.) (And it’s not that he’s slow “for a boy”  or that the girls were overly fast, I think they were all on the average to early-ish end of the milestones.)
• His energy rate seems to be about what his sisters were, but in his own ebb and flow rythmns. (Stereotypes imply boys are wild.)
• It’s hard to remember exactly, but I might say he babbles the most of the three -- and his babbles are very word like -- it’s actually kind of impressive. (Stereotypes imply girls are more verbal.)
• He’s wonderful at obeying when I tell him "no no." I actually can’t get over how well he’s listened and obeyed. He’ll move right away from the outlet when I say from across the room “Bronson, no no, don’t touch the outlet.” (Stereotypes imply boys are strong willed.) (His sisters were not as instinctively willing to obey things like that.)
• So far he’s done nothing “more adventurous”, more messy, more destructive than his sisters have done at this age -- in terms of exploring the house.  (Stereotypes imply boys just immediately tear your house apart.)
• He’s eating habits are about the half way point between how each of his sisters ate as babies. (Stereotypes imply boys, even as baby, eat tons more.)

I can’t think of any more stereotypes right now, though I’m sure there is more. And of course many people’s ideas contradict other people’s ideas on what is even “the stereotype” -- so who even knows what to disprove in that regard.

The only thing I can say I did notice that seemed more boyish, is he seemed to immediately (from birth) like it when Blake would rough house him (appropriate to size ratio.) But then again, my girls really do get a kick out of playing that way too. So even there, I don’t feel like it’s screaming SO DIFFERENT.

Like I said, he’s only 9 months old. So there lots of time for me to find out more about him and the life he brings into our home. 

I just think it’s interesting -- mainly because like I said, people had scared me about boys, and so far it’s nothing like that -- I just really like him.

So anyway, that’s my take on three kids (and adding a boy in.)

This post is probably too long and all jumbled up. But that’s my brain right now.

Hopefully this was somewhat interesting. 

I’ll talk to you later.

Gears are turning again, but still wonkily

Hope I didn’t make you guys nervous skipping a post last week.
I’m ok. It was just a busy week.

Emotionally I’m in a two pronged place. I’m working on getting back into life again, and I have moments where that’s working and moments where that’s not. Even when things go really poorly, I still feel proud of myself for making the effort.

For one example: I’ve started trying to get to the gym and swim laps again. One day last week I had an anxiety attack moment I was not anticipating. I had been doing a lot better with my grief panic recently, it hadn’t come up randomly for a bit, just during kind of predicable “this is sad” moments. So when it happened in the pool of all places I was pretty freaked out. Of course it happened in the deep end. And while I was no where near actual risk of drowning, the anxiety sure tried to tell me I was. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I initially wanted to run away and go home to where it was safe, and where I couldn’t drown. But I was also really scared that if I did that, I would never get back into the pool again.
So I let myself stand at the shallow end of the pool for a really long time (feeling awkward in front of the life guard -- I was the only person there that time.) Until I felt under control, and tried a lap. It still felt scary and bad. So I waited at the end again till I could get back in control. Then the next lap I sang a worship song in my head that helped me feel less scared. And that helped a lot. Eventually I was able to finish my allotted amount of workout time without the panic feelings.

So while I was so not excited about having an anxiety attack in a pool. I was proud of myself #1 for getting my butt to the pool. And #2 for not giving up, even though that was literally the hardest workout of my life -- not physically, but still physically -- confusing, but that’s life right now.
That’s just one example -- but the good but bad stuff is pretty much how everything is.
I’m kind of in a constant fumble, that I’m just trying to aim in the right direction.

I feel like a lot has happened since I wrote last, and that I can’t even think of it all.

Well in regards to stuff like the pool (aka being healthy again) -- a friend and I have decided to inspire each other to get back into better shape. We are going to do the Mutu program (not 100% the way the creator lady wants us to, but the best we can) together. (Remember that Mutu program? I bought it at the end of my pregnancy to help heal my ab seperation. Yeah I’m just getting to it now. Better late than never!) This is day two. And sounds silly, but I can already tell it’s gonna work.
I tried starting it before now. But I didn’t do more than two days of it. Emotions and circumstances kept me away till now. But when I tried before, I was so early post-pregnant that I still couldn’t feel my ab muscles at all. The workout felt like nothing. NOTHING. This time around though, my abs REALLY feel it, immediately, as soon as I start the exercise. Which I think means good things. Honestly the morning after the first day, when I saw myself in the mirror I thought my belly looked different. Not different enough for anyone else to tell anything. But I could tell my muscles were activating, so that stuff was just slightly different. Particularly where my underwear line is -- that spot I've always look at since having kids (c-section primed me for that) and after this baby it’s not done what it did after the others and it’s been bugging me.  This morning it looked a lot more like I’m used to pre-this pregnancy. Once again, only I would notice, my belly is not flattened, it’s just moving back towards my normal…BUT….I wasn’t expecting that at all yet -- it actually made me really excited. Helps me want to keep going for sure!
And doing these workouts and the swimming is thankfully having the grounding effect I’m used to from workouts (pre-this last pregnancy -- when working out actually was horrific and then afterwards it has most traumatic stress involved.) So I’m loving that my body will let me have those endorphins again -- they really do help me emotionally.

What eles have I been up to?

I’ve been looking into tons of school stuff for my oldest’s first grade stuff. (I got on a mental role after looking into her math and reading stuff I talked about before. So I just rode the wave, planning out her next year.) I ordered a few books and am tentatively getting a game plan together. I’ll probably share more about it later. But for anyone who’s homeschooly -- I’m kinda of planning a toned down Charlotte Mason schedule, but only using some of SimplyCharlottMason’s book suggestions, and then borrowing from Sonlight’s book selections. But I’m actually really enjoying tailoring our own curriculum per our personalities. I thought it would feel scary, but it’s actually really empowering for me.

Speaking of school stuff. The switches I made a bit ago -- going SO WELL. Jasmine loves each book I bought. The first singapore math books are starting out too easy -- but she seriously LOVES them. And even though it’s easy, she needs some reinforcement on writing her numbers, they can look wonky kind of regularly, so it’s good practice in that regard. But she keeps asking when we are going to do “math” -- like so far it’s so easy she doesn’t think it’s actually math. ha -- oh well. It’s still good.
      And the explode the code, she resists marginally when I say it’s time to do them -- but I think it’s mainly because she feels she has to resist since she thinks she doesn’t like reading. But she actually enjoys the workbooks, they are as similar to the math books as you can get without it being numbers. And I can tell they are really turning her gears the way they need to be.
      And the Bob Books -- those are SO GREAT. She was able to read the first one the first day. And that just blew her mind and made her love it. (Reading anything before made her cry. Having her love the books is soo sweet.) I think I just read it to her the first time through. I wanted it to feel fun and zero pressure. This kid takes the slightest whiff of pressure and lets it kill her. So I just read it to her like a story and then she asked to read it and it went so well.
We got through about three books before she kinda stressed out, so then I just pulled back. We either didn’t read for a bit or we go back and read the easy ones again. We’ll work up to it. With her, she just needs to feel safe from disappointing me -- she hates failing. I tell her regularly I won’t be up set if she gets it wrong and that I will love her no matter what -- but the struggle is real. So I’d rather her go at a speed that keep her heart in tact, than rush her and get her reading but sad. Today she read the first one to Bronson and was just thrilled beyond anything to be being a big sister reading to her baby brother. She just was elated.
But all that just goes to say -- I’m really happy I switched what we were doing to these new books. It’s been a super sweet switch. And we are still reading the library books suggested by our last curriculum.I really like their choices. (Actually the books we read today were all so sweet they made me cry. I’m probably going to drive my kids nuts -- reading out loud makes me cry regularly, I can’t help it, the beauty of life just bowls me over when I read so many things. And that’s me outside of, and prior to grief. So far they put up with me. But I can hear their future selves -- “moooo--ooomm!” getting pre-teen-y with my weepy ways. ha!)


Anyway, enough school stuff --

In our house we’ve started the gears moving on some bigger (and some not big, but lingering) projects again.


We got the baseboards put in the reading room! Woohoo! That feels fantastic. The room never felt finished before -- without baseboards rooms feel under construction. The baseboards still need to have the nail holes filled and the paint touched up. But the difference in the room is great.

Also….

 Two weekends ago, we started working on the tiny closet transformation idea I came up with a long while ago.
It started out long ago (before our time) as a back door, then once the addition was put on that space became this tiny flat closet that must have held VHS tapes. (Picture with door off. It used to be behind a bi-fold I painted white.)

I had no purpose at all for it. (Our DVDs have a home.) So eventually I landed on a picture of a similar sized “mud room” space that I wanted to emulate. Similar but our own.

I knew it was be a sort of small but sort of big project. But then we, of course ran into some unexpected issues (Nothing terrible, just frustrating and time consuming) and so it’s kind of at an ugly standstill for the moment.  Here a picture where the bead board is just propped up in there.

What’s both great and terrible about having started on that is that we put up our sunroom’s ceiling this past weekend!
(Keep reading to see what I mean -- great and terrible.)

Blake’s parents came to town last weekend to help us install the drywall. 

Our brother in law is a contractor so he lent us a drywall jack for the day to get it all up there. I wasn’t part of the installation process, but I got the impression from the times I was near that, as far as drywall jacks go, this thing was a bit wonky, but I also know it was awesome to have something get the drywall up there.  (I didn’t get a picture of it in use -- it’s the yellow thing in back you can barely see.)

The room already feels amazing compared to how it felt for the past many months with either just bare joists, or the brown back of insulation staring at us. 

It immediately made the room feel enormous, having the ceiling back on.

So here’s the meh part.
The sunroom was full of junk. So we moved the junk to the living room for the time being, so we could have space to do the sunroom work.
 So now the living room is a wreck and not really usable. (The picture looks tame -- but there’s way more behind the piano)

And we are thinking “let’s just leave it in the living room till the ceiling is muded and sanded. So we don’t get our stuff nasty with drywall dust.” (Much of this stuff is destined for a garage sale in May, with no great place for it till then.)
But that’s not like something we can just knock out in a day -- I have three kids (one’s a baby!) Blake has a job, which often requires work to be done once he is home.
He’s gotten a decent amount mudded here and there so far -- which is awesome. But it’s kinda hard for me to have three rooms feeling taken apart at once right now. (Sunroom, living room, and family room has that closet taken apart.) I feel kind of lost on which on to prioritize because I don’t know which will move faster, or which will impact more of my life. (The living room is worse off, and getting the sunroom’s ceiling done with make two rooms better at once. BUT the family room is where we spend like 80% of our time currently.)

Either way, I’m really happy we are making the changes. I’m just trying not to let anxiety over the mess bust into the general anxiety issues I’m having overall.


But hey, speaking of my sunroom…do any of you have a three seasons room? Can you tell me about your furniture in there?
I’m trying to make plans about the space and I’m worried that “real” furniture will get moldy out there where there is no A/C. And while we have electric heaters in the space, we rarely use them.
We do have a dehumidifier we could run out there. It’s possible to run it through a timer to make it go on regularly. So maybe that’s all we’d need to do.
But I can’t do my design-idea-ing without understand the situation.
I keep wondering if I need indoor-outdoor furniture in there or not.
Can any of you weigh in on this?


We don’t have hardwood floors in there. But this picture is kind of my general design vibe I’m leaning towards. 

Painting the wood boards this type of color. (Over time I had tried to commit to keeping the cedar wood bare, but a few things make that not really possible. So painting is the plan.)
But I think this color will feel so nice in any season, and very naturey -- which is how I want to space to feel -- like I’m outside, but inside.

I’m liking the fan in the photo too. But we need one with lights on it. So I’m looking at similarish ones with lights.

The furniture layout through -- lost. I basically want more introvert haven out there. Places to read and snuggle and stare out the windows. But also a table to play games at or eat dinner off the grill (inside away from bugs -- but with the windows open so it feels like outside.) But exactly how to execute is kind of baffeling. I once again need to know if I should be using indoor outdoor or not.
So please share your experiences with any of that.

I know there’s more stuff I’ve missed I could share. But that’s good for now. I can catch you up more later when more comes to mind.

Thoughts and an new piece of furniture

I have no idea that it’s April. For me it’s most certainly January, yet somehow it must be February because we had the funeral.
It has to be February because my black ankle boots still have burial mud on the inner-edges.
 I go to put them on for church --- I've got to sing, and I’m hurrying out the door rushing to get three kids to church, not just on time but early for practice --- and I pull up on the heel while pressing my foot down and shock stops me cold. There is the mud. I buried my brother. Everything on the earth stops, it’s just me and this mud.






Kids make noise.
My world returns.
We have to leave. We will be late. Pull the boot on.
Walk forward with burial mud on my feet.





Absolutely no time has passed.
I live in a still snow globe.

But there are all these gorgeous flowers, light and pure growing outside my window. White and yellow. A smattering of purple, low near to the ground. Beauty I can’t overlook, I don’t want to overlook. I can’t find any meaning because of them. It’s just really lovely. I feel like I’m in a dream. I’m dreaming, that’s why there can be spring flowers in January. Everything is surreal. I feel detached the way dreams do.



Somedays I can tell time has passed because I’m not an oozing sore of sadness. I’m scabbed up now. I don’t feel like crying all the time. I don’t feel like I can’t breath. I can be around people. I don’t feel debilitating pain. Instead I feel constant-hum-level aching. I can function inside that, I don’t like it, but it’s like a dull headache in my heart. I can keep going.
     In fact some days I can feel kinda normal. Some days, when I’m feeling too normal, I stop myself and say cold hard facts in my head, to see what happens to my heart. Words that feel like scalpels. But somehow sometimes feel like nothing because they are: words that don’t sound real. But they are: words that truly just are reality. “Jeremy is dead.” (I can barely type it, but somehow I can throw those words at myself regularly to see how it goes when I do.) “I am my parent’s only living child.” (It feels blasphemous to type that.)
     I don’t know what happens when I say those things to myself. It’s like part of me turns off.
     I don’t know why I spend time doing that -- I guess to try to reach a sanity point, to find the realness of now.

    But, when I have good days... I get to the end of the day, and I feel like crying…. but I don’t have any more tears. "What can I cry out that I haven’t already cried?" I think. I sit, still and aching dully, without enough pain for more.
     But then I hear someone else’s bad news, and then another someone else’s sad news. And those stories have nothing to do with mine, but parts are so clearly similar. And the second one takes my breath away -- I have no more wall up -- It demolishes me and I cry. I cry for sadness sake -- there is SO MUCH sadness. How and Why are in my tears, but I’m too tired to really ask.
     My “look I’m getting better”, my “I’m making it” --- it had felt so real. It now feels so thin and it’s been ripped straight through.


How are there flowers in January? Why is my baby 9 months old?  (I’m asking in a much more profound way than I had with my other two babies -- babies always grow too fast -- but this baby in on a timeline I can’t see or feel.) What will summer feel like? Can I be there, or will I be still standing on cold mud? Maybe next January I can get back on the treadmill. (?) Will I understand time again?


My kids have stopped talking about death. In fact they have forgotten anything happened. I tell Jasmine, my oldest, I’m having a sad day and she asks, “Because of Jeremy?” (She says his name the way all kids say it, “Germy” -- I remember my kid voice talking to him.) And I say yes. She says something about how she "kind of forgot because it was so long ago."
     All of that makes sense. She never got to know him, it’s removed from her in a big way. And to kids the time it takes to get from Christmas to Easter is shockingly long. For her, of course it was a long time ago. But when she says it, I think, “Yeah five minutes ago. What does she mean? It happened 3 weeks ago.” But then I walk past my window and the flowers tell me it’s been close to three months.


This has been the weirdest, hardest year and a half of my life. And time seems so messed up.
While I was pregnant I think I lived 75 lives during those 10 never ending months that dragged on forever. I wasn’t sure I’d live through it. (At times I honestly was not sure.) After I had Bronson I felt like time stopped, I stopped, but everything on earth is flying past me and changing in dramatic ways. I feel like I couldn’t heal, and I’m sort of starting to a little, but new bigger un-healable things happened. But how?... because time is not moving for me -- it’s just going at light speed for everyone else.


The rain is falling on the flowers that are growing right now.

I should wash the mud off my boots. But…
It’s not the kind of mud that washes off.


You walk with that kind of mud.



I really am getting better.
Only, I never really will be the same.











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Can I switch gears with you?
Can I be the girl I was yesterday, the one who didn’t feel so heavy with sadness?
Yesterday was so sunny and bright. Today is so gloomy outside. But once again, I like when the sky cries for me.
Can I show you some new stuff around here?



Over the weekend I got a new piece of furniture.

Here’s the story.
When we moved here I stuck my desk top computer up in the guest room and haven’t turned it on. I really just use my laptop.
But then for Blake’s birthday we made him a home movie for his present. And I needed a program I have only on my desktop. So I got that old boy down from the guest room and plopped it down on the kitchen counter.
Once that happened I realized “Hmm. yeah I could benefit from using this thing. And well it’s not going to ever get used in the guest room closet.” So then the whole mental process began. “How will we use? Where will it work? How did I make it look good?”
It was very obvious to me it had to live in the reading room. It’s really the only thing that made sense functionally and visually and spatially.
Initially I was looking for a desk. It needed to be a very short desk. Craiglist, VarageSale. Most desks are not short….
On Saturday morning I ran to ReStore as soon as they opened. (Saturdays are very busy, if you want to get the best bet you need to get there early before stuff gets bought up.) And I found a very cute, pretty-small TV armoire. No small desks.
I went back and forth for a bit while I looked around at other stuff. It wasn’t what I had initially planned for. But it was exactly the right size. And it was in very nice shape -- it wasn’t a “must makeover because it’s nasty” piece. It could be madeover, but doesn’t have to be madeover. Which is perfect because I really didn’t have time to makeover anything more right now. So I called Blake, sent him a pic and we pulled the trigger. It cost a bit more than I like to spend on used things (and I usually only buy used things. I love saving some cash) -- it cost $65 -- but the fact that it checked all the boxes so nicely made it very worth it.

Once I got it home I LOVED it. I’m So glad I got this instead of a desk. I love that I can hide it all away with the doors.
I actually really like it being a wood tone, not pained. (For now anyway -- you never know when I’ll get struck by the bug to change things) But it feels really library-ish. I go back and forth on the hardware. But for now -- it’s good. (If I change it I’m guessing the wood underneath will show wear -- so I don’t want to mess with it.)

The piece is really perfect for the use as well. It has a built in power strip to the side and a pull out tray at the bottom. It’s actually much better than I had initially even hoped for.

And another cool feature (I have yet to figure out how to use yet) is that the drawer below’s face flips down. I assume it was where the VCR/DVD went and that way the remote could work. I wish My printer was small enough to go in there. But it’s not.

Once Blake and our friend carried it in for us. (Thanks guys! They said it was shockingly heavy -- must be well made.) I wiped it down really well with baby wipes (it was VERY dusty) and then I set some of my stuff I had laying around up there to style it.

     The basket on top, is from Target, and it was on our bookshelf but looked kinda silly there. It’s perfect right there. It’s full of craft supplies for the kids. And I gotta be honest, I like it being up where they can’t reach it.
      The vases I’ve had (thrifted. The tall one has been spray painted saving it from 80’s peach) and was this close to giving away to a thrift because I had no spots for them -- till now. Phew! Good save.
     The jar is one I painted a while ago.
     The books -- one was thrifted (“Birds”) (just cause I like big pretty books around) and the others are sentimental from an older friend. I love them up there.
   I had the baskets that are underneath laying around doing nothing -- they are perfect there. I’m guessing they will hold books or craft stuff. (But I’ll have to watch for baby-proof-ness, sooo…)

I put a lamp in the inside because it’s quite dark in there, and Pinterest gave me the idea. I feel like I need to look for a better one -- but I had this one laying around. (It has one of those “Hollywood Bathroom Vanity” lightbulbs in it….because that’s all I had -- but it’s nice because it’s not blinding.)

I hope to put a piece of hardboard (with fabric on it) or bead board (Painted nicely) in the back to make it look finished and without that whole in the back.


Anyway, since adding this thing to the room -- I feel like the space is amazing. Before it felt unfinished.  Now it feels just right.

It’s marginally crowded in here. But for me it’s perfection. I wanted it to feel like a homey tiny British (I don’t know what that means, it feels right though?) library -- my own little nook to drink coffee, or more appropriately tea, and read and feel hugged by the space. My own little introvert haven. And this piece of furniture took the space there for me.

(By the way. I’ve struggled to enjoy tea for years. I just really stinking like coffee -- it’s hard to switch. Well recently we were given some Bigelow Vanilla Carmel Black Tea and I actually really, really like the stuff. I like it hot or cold with nothing in it. That’s a major win in my book!)

I went and angled the couch out. The furniture fits the space the same either way -- the angle feels better. And it also gives me better access to the kids’ table for school time.
And of course we’ve been in here working on our new school books I mentioned. (Those are still quite the hit and going very well.)
By the way, aren’t those kids’ wooden chairs nice? Those are also from the friend with the books. It’s so nice having those in here instead of the bright plastic ones. That also really helped up the feel in here.

My school bookshelf is looking a bit disheveled. I need to do the clean out thing. (School tends to make me just set stuff up there in a hurry and let it get gross.

The art easel is kinda just floating in front of stuff -- but it works -- and the kids have been using it a ton since the room’s makeover.

I’ve been using the room a lot more too. I’ve actually been doing what I wanted to do -- sit in here at night and read to get my introvert fix. Cozy alone time.
I even sneak in here durning the day from time to time when I need just enough quiet sitting alone time in order to be a mom again.

I’ve definitely been learning something about myself in this house. I can live with a messy house. But I thrive in a thoughtfully completed space. I feel myself being myself in spaces that have the purpose clearly thought out, and masterfully designed. I can see myself accomplishing there. And when it’s all lined up just so -- I have the follow through to keep it nice. If it’s anything short of “just so” I don’t ever feel the need to clean it because it’s not working right anyway.

My house is finally getting to the stage where a lot of places are “just so” --- so I feel like I’m finally thinking straight (well at least as far as day to day duties go) in here. I still really crave getting a few more places settled into the right spot for me -- stuff like coat closets, the out-of-the-way but functionality-contributing places. Someday I’ll get there.



Anyway,

That’s all for now.
I’ll talk to you guys later.

****By the way, I have this sneaking fear that I somehow missed a comment recently and didn’t reply to it. I tried really hard to reply to them all. I definitely read and treasured them all. But if I missed one, it wasn’t on purpose at all!