Sometimes I feel like I need two binkies, too.
Bedtime
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image from snapsandblabs.com "Sometimes the most important decision I make during the day is when to go to bed, especially with sick kiddos who wake up all hours of the night."
I started to post that as a FB status and then quickly realized it was more of a blog post. I'm in the mood to ruminate, but not for the wide eye of facebook in abbreviated terms. I also realized that I'm a blogger because I like to share my thoughts in about 300 words or so with people who care to look me up to read them, not just anyone who's news feed happens to pull me up depending on the time of day they log on and attempt to judge my entire mood from a paltry line or two.
I really should go to bed, Emiline was up from 2-5 last night and I didn't go to bed til nearly midnight last night. Emiline has not been herself for a while and yesterday woke up with a fever that has been varying in intensity since. Tonight Jane complained of being cold even though she was burning up. I put her jammies on her sorry self, put her and a blanket on my lap and she fell asleep right away before 7:30 with her cousins still over playing downstairs AND she had a nap today (never mind that it was a complete fight to get her down).
So I should expect tonight to be full of comforting my children and slim sleeping for me. But my creative side that's been taking a back seat since, oh, I don't know, 2010 (wedding not included), has been unleashed. It started with finally adhering some vinyl to a tile. It's like a monster. I still have pretty important to dos glaring at me and I'm totally creatively distracted. The beast must be satiated and nothing I've done so far has been sufficient.
I think it was made worse by trying to send some writing to a friend of mine (we decided to start exchanging writing again, you know, to motivate us, etc) and I went through some things, including my Come What May blog/story (that honestly, I think has a lot of potential and made me excited). And then in addition to wanting to finish sewing the canopy/tent for Jane's bed, paper crafting some signs to perk up the girls' room, making a pair of pajama shorts (since my Dad accidentally threw away a whole bag of dirty clothes from our trip because they were in a garbage bag and near the door...*sigh*) a bunch of decorating things at my mom's house, redesign my achievement calendar into something I can legally sell on Etsy, finish adhering that vinyl I mentioned, learn how to make digital scrap-booking elements (anybody know anything about this, please leave a comment), I also wanted to finish writing a song I started a year ago, a poem for a friend who moved away in February, completely update my blog NOW, and work on a few novel ideas...oh, and work on a painting for my brother's new house. I would call that beastly, no?
Well, Creative Beast and I are going to have to just muzzle it for a while. Or the night. I'm allowing myself to finish this post then go to bed.
Yep, don't want to be done yet...
"Sometimes the most important decision I make during the day is when to go to bed, especially with sick kiddos who wake up all hours of the night."
Anyway, choosing to go to bed at a decent hour means, in theory, that I wake up well rested, enough to get up earlier and get more done in a day. But choosing to go to bed means that when I wake up, I won't be my own anymore. I'll be at the mercy of my darlings. And mercy-me I love my darlings, but by the end of the day these days my darlings make me cry mercy by the end of the day. I guess it's called self-control. Or discipline. Or being a grown up. Or a parent. Or just plain common sense. Maybe wisdom. Whatever it is, it is fleeting tonight and instead of bed I want:
Creativity! Forever! (sort of like this:)
from Hyperbole and a HalfP.S. I'm also taking submissions and suggestions for what my creative beast might look like...
Thank you George Nissen
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According to a quick Google search, Nissen invented the trampoline as we know it in 1935. Is it strange that it's more weird for me to imagine a world without trampolines then it is to imagine a world without cars?
Since moving to Grandma's house, Jane and Emiline have had the joy of jumping on the same trampoline that I did as a kid. They adore it. Jane was still a bit nervous when we first got here and she often wanted someone out there holding her hand and she'd squawk if someone too big started jumping with her (meaning anyone older than 2).
But now she's a pro. I haven't gone out there much with her, I've let it be Grandpa's thing he does with her,
but I went out the other day and she was wanted to play Crack the Egg and Bacon! I loved those games and now so does she and I didn't even teach them to her.
She also enjoys just crawling around and pretending to be a kitty or dog. Apparently it's cooler on a trampoline.
Emiline is really loving it now, too.
She was a bit freaked out initially since fairly often she walks like a drunken sailor on solid ground. But it's been a source of shrieking delight recently.
Hoorah! For Trampolines!!
The pictures are from May when cousins Aubrey and Brooky were here.
Since moving to Grandma's house, Jane and Emiline have had the joy of jumping on the same trampoline that I did as a kid. They adore it. Jane was still a bit nervous when we first got here and she often wanted someone out there holding her hand and she'd squawk if someone too big started jumping with her (meaning anyone older than 2).
But now she's a pro. I haven't gone out there much with her, I've let it be Grandpa's thing he does with her,
but I went out the other day and she was wanted to play Crack the Egg and Bacon! I loved those games and now so does she and I didn't even teach them to her.
She also enjoys just crawling around and pretending to be a kitty or dog. Apparently it's cooler on a trampoline.
Emiline is really loving it now, too.
She was a bit freaked out initially since fairly often she walks like a drunken sailor on solid ground. But it's been a source of shrieking delight recently.
Hoorah! For Trampolines!!
The pictures are from May when cousins Aubrey and Brooky were here.
Singing Jane
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I love the stage of singing most kids go through where they make up songs all day and sing about their actions. Jane's been in this stage for a while and I'd love it if it lasted a long, long, time.
Here's a song she sang today to the tune of "My Heavenly Father Loves Me" (or whenever I hear the song of a bird)
Whatever I am
I know what I'm not
I know what I am
I'm not.
Whatever I'm not
I know what I am
what e-----ve-------r I am...
Deep, eh?
Here's a song she sang today to the tune of "My Heavenly Father Loves Me" (or whenever I hear the song of a bird)
Whatever I am
I know what I'm not
I know what I am
I'm not.
Whatever I'm not
I know what I am
what e-----ve-------r I am...
Deep, eh?
On Worrying. And Lines. And Faces.
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I've taken some ribbing about the title of this blog, "These Lines Across My Face." When setting up our blog, Eric didn't want something normal. And besides really liking the song by Brandi Carlile,I have to fess up to really liking the idea of lines on faces. And to explain that one, I have to go back into puberty and embarrass myself.
Our small school had a small library that had a few series of historical romances, a favored genre of my 13 year-old self, including the Sunfire Romances. The plot outline was always the same: Heroine of Historical Time Period comes of Age and must Choose between Two Different Men. All of the books where named after the heroine and all of the covers had the same look. Here is volume 6:
Jessica, by Mary Francis Shura, was a favorite that I read easily several dozen times. And one of the many things that stuck with me was the description of the Good Step-Mother, Melanie. Her skin was darker than was fashionable because she loved the feel of the sun on her face. She had laugh lines around her eyes and a mouth that even at rest, looked like it was smiling.
I used to try and catch myself in the mirror with my face at rest to see what it looked like. At night sometimes I would try to see if my mouth could sleep with a smile on it. And I was always looking at older women to see what kind of lines they had on their faces. I hoped mine would be from laughing and smiling and that I would love them and not worry about getting old. I still hope I can get there. Too often the last few years my face has been a "pain face" as Eric learned to identify it. He'd think I was mad or upset or something and we learned for him to just ask me "your making a face, how are you feeling?" rather than assume I was upset. I have one line in between my eyebrows now that is a pain line. I'm not exactly proud of it, but I accept it as one of those lines that "tell the story of who I am."
Living at home with my parents while Eric studies for the bar and all the unknowns that lie ahead of us, and with my 10 year high school reunion yesterday, I've been thoughtful a lot about how I want the next five-ten years to go. I sat down and made another five year plan last week and it was a lot of fun to think about what I really want to accomplish. But even more than that, I've been thinking about who I want to become, and that comes down to daily attitudes. I don't want this phase of our life to leave me with worry lines, I don't want any phase of my life to do that.
Did you know, Mary Francis Shura, that you'd be so influential in my life??
I've been pondering a quote from President Uchtdorf's priesthood address from April's General Conference of the LDS church. He's speaking to the priesthood brethren, but it easily applies to everyone:
"Too often we fail to experience the bliss that comes from daily, practical priesthood service. At times assignments can feel like burdens. Brethren, let us not pass through life immersed in the three Ws: wearied, worrying, and whining. We live beneath our privileges when we allow worldly anchors to keep us away from the abundant joy that comes from faithful and dedicated priesthood service, especially within the walls of our own homes. We live beneath our privileges when we fail to partake of the feast of happiness, peace, and joy that God grants so bountifully to faithful priesthood servants."
I'm making a public promise here, one that I've already promised Eric and the Lord (and begged both their help in!) I'm not going to be wearied, worried, or whining. I'm going to have faith and be joyful. The face I will unthinkingly make will be a "peace face."
Here are just a few of the immediate reasons (and your reward for reading through my pontifications) that I have abundant joy:
These are the faces that are at my feast of happiness.
pictures taken July 2011 at the Target Portrait Studio
(we had a REALLY good coupon!)
Our small school had a small library that had a few series of historical romances, a favored genre of my 13 year-old self, including the Sunfire Romances. The plot outline was always the same: Heroine of Historical Time Period comes of Age and must Choose between Two Different Men. All of the books where named after the heroine and all of the covers had the same look. Here is volume 6:
Jessica, by Mary Francis Shura, was a favorite that I read easily several dozen times. And one of the many things that stuck with me was the description of the Good Step-Mother, Melanie. Her skin was darker than was fashionable because she loved the feel of the sun on her face. She had laugh lines around her eyes and a mouth that even at rest, looked like it was smiling.
I used to try and catch myself in the mirror with my face at rest to see what it looked like. At night sometimes I would try to see if my mouth could sleep with a smile on it. And I was always looking at older women to see what kind of lines they had on their faces. I hoped mine would be from laughing and smiling and that I would love them and not worry about getting old. I still hope I can get there. Too often the last few years my face has been a "pain face" as Eric learned to identify it. He'd think I was mad or upset or something and we learned for him to just ask me "your making a face, how are you feeling?" rather than assume I was upset. I have one line in between my eyebrows now that is a pain line. I'm not exactly proud of it, but I accept it as one of those lines that "tell the story of who I am."
Living at home with my parents while Eric studies for the bar and all the unknowns that lie ahead of us, and with my 10 year high school reunion yesterday, I've been thoughtful a lot about how I want the next five-ten years to go. I sat down and made another five year plan last week and it was a lot of fun to think about what I really want to accomplish. But even more than that, I've been thinking about who I want to become, and that comes down to daily attitudes. I don't want this phase of our life to leave me with worry lines, I don't want any phase of my life to do that.
Did you know, Mary Francis Shura, that you'd be so influential in my life??
I've been pondering a quote from President Uchtdorf's priesthood address from April's General Conference of the LDS church. He's speaking to the priesthood brethren, but it easily applies to everyone:
"Too often we fail to experience the bliss that comes from daily, practical priesthood service. At times assignments can feel like burdens. Brethren, let us not pass through life immersed in the three Ws: wearied, worrying, and whining. We live beneath our privileges when we allow worldly anchors to keep us away from the abundant joy that comes from faithful and dedicated priesthood service, especially within the walls of our own homes. We live beneath our privileges when we fail to partake of the feast of happiness, peace, and joy that God grants so bountifully to faithful priesthood servants."
I'm making a public promise here, one that I've already promised Eric and the Lord (and begged both their help in!) I'm not going to be wearied, worried, or whining. I'm going to have faith and be joyful. The face I will unthinkingly make will be a "peace face."
Here are just a few of the immediate reasons (and your reward for reading through my pontifications) that I have abundant joy:
These are the faces that are at my feast of happiness.
pictures taken July 2011 at the Target Portrait Studio
(we had a REALLY good coupon!)
Jane Says:
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I'm laying on the couch this afternoon when Jane comes over and says:
"Mommy! Your eyes are cracking! See all the red lines?"
Me: "That's because I'm tired. I need to go to bed."
Jane wanders off behind me then comes back and moves in real close to my face. Then I say:
"Jane! Your eyes are cracking, too!"
Wrong thing to say, apparently. She starts making her nervous "uh, uh, uh" noise.
Jane: "do I have all the red lines?"
And I can see panic flashing across her face and she is on the verge of tears.
So I say:
"Quick! Close your eyes!" and she immediately obeys. In the past, she's struggled to obey the command to "close your eyes." Usually she either covers them with her hand, still open of course, or scrunches her nose. But under fear of your eyeballs cracking open, she learned quickly!
Then she opens them a second and I say:
"Keep them closed!"
And then she says:
"But I need to see!"
Me: "Just one more second! OK, open your eyes!"
Jane: "Are the cracks all gone?"
Me: "Yep! Because you closed your eyes, they needed to rest."
Jane: "And faith!"
Gotta admit, at this point, I was basking a bit in a ray of Mom Satisfaction. It did much to balance out the biting fiasco that happened several hours earlier, stay tuned for that.
Me: "That's right. And faith."
Jane: "My cracks are all gone because it had faith."
We talked for a minute about the story of Jesus healing the blind man that we had read just the other day together. And then she scampered off to play some more with her much missed toys.
At this point, my basking was over and I was sobered, in a good way, to how easy it is to teach small children. Anything. They are little sponges and I gotta seize the day.
"Mommy! Your eyes are cracking! See all the red lines?"
Me: "That's because I'm tired. I need to go to bed."
Jane wanders off behind me then comes back and moves in real close to my face. Then I say:
"Jane! Your eyes are cracking, too!"
Wrong thing to say, apparently. She starts making her nervous "uh, uh, uh" noise.
Jane: "do I have all the red lines?"
And I can see panic flashing across her face and she is on the verge of tears.
So I say:
"Quick! Close your eyes!" and she immediately obeys. In the past, she's struggled to obey the command to "close your eyes." Usually she either covers them with her hand, still open of course, or scrunches her nose. But under fear of your eyeballs cracking open, she learned quickly!
Then she opens them a second and I say:
"Keep them closed!"
And then she says:
"But I need to see!"
Me: "Just one more second! OK, open your eyes!"
Jane: "Are the cracks all gone?"
Me: "Yep! Because you closed your eyes, they needed to rest."
Jane: "And faith!"
Gotta admit, at this point, I was basking a bit in a ray of Mom Satisfaction. It did much to balance out the biting fiasco that happened several hours earlier, stay tuned for that.
Me: "That's right. And faith."
Jane: "My cracks are all gone because it had faith."
We talked for a minute about the story of Jesus healing the blind man that we had read just the other day together. And then she scampered off to play some more with her much missed toys.
At this point, my basking was over and I was sobered, in a good way, to how easy it is to teach small children. Anything. They are little sponges and I gotta seize the day.
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