A Good Ending

After today's seriousness (but a lot was accomplished), it was nice to wrap the day up with the following:

1. I got the toys organized, sorted, (and purged) and they all moved and fit nicely into the bedroom closet. Away from the kids' access. This way I can keep toys fresh and rotating. Mcclellan was excited too.
2. Smores! My absolute favorite part was Mcclellan asked in earnest, "Mama, can I have s'more?" Why yes, yes you can!
We had a hot, embery fire. It was nice...
Verity wanted to get in the fire and eat graham crackers. Not necessarily together at the same time. We indulged her with the grahams anyway.
And then Mcclellan tried to get the shmellow off his chin like a dog when you put peanut butter on its nose. Oh man, that was great.
3. For the first time in almost exactly 14 months, Verity did not taste Mama Milk (I don't think she's tasted much anyway over the past week or two anyway). A good thing, but also a bittersweet thing. Could my boobs really be mine again? For a while, anyway?

4. And now, here I am. Blogging about it all and listening over the monitor as Matt puts the kids to bed. I love Mcclellan's little voice. Is that kid really mine? And then I hear Verity say, "Dah. Dah-dah (translate: Dottie Dollie)," because that's her favorite sleep-aid toy.

Life is just so good.

For Shame

This is me...getting my act together.

I need to have a sort of spiritual cleansing here. So much in fact, that I need to blog about it to stay somewhat accountable. If its on the blog, then its for real. It doesn't exist until its made its way onto the blog.

Matt and I have been at odds to no end today. We have some differences in expectations, habits, and priorities. As does any married couple, I imagine. This is me...bending.

I don't like to bend. Its just a little known fact about me: I am indeed very stubborn. And very easily-frustrated. But bend, I need to. Mostly because I love Matt. Not necessarily because I think he's right (although, to an extent, of course, he is).

Anyone who knows us, knows that we've been trying to move for the past year. Since we began packing (you know, with the whole wannabe sale of our house back in February), we've (I've) been very quick to just throw it in a box. Not file papers. We're gonna move anyway, so why bother organizing now? Here we are, November. Still not moved. And almost a whole year of disorganization.

So today, totes and boxes have been reopened and the organizing has begun. Bills will be paid. Lots and lots and lots of old EOBs and investment statements will be shredded. Even more papers will be filed away. Seriously? If I can't keep this kinda stuff under control, imagine...homeschooling. Aye.

To an extent, I can claim the kids as major time-suckers and do expect a little leeway with my routines, priorities and expectations of and with them (I refuse to vacuum on a November 8th afternoon where its eighty degrees outside). But, this whole "life-organization" situation? I need to step it up.

Like I said, not necessarily because I think its important. I don't. I never have been a major saver. Matt = packrat. I'm going through dental statements here from 2005, people. But, in a sincere attempt to align myself with my husband, I am going to try. Nay, I am going to become better at this. This whole home management business. Because it is. Its very much a business.

Now I don't plan to shirk any of the duties I find so incredibly important (and am trying to convince Matt to slow down and just enjoy): spending 20 minutes helping Mcclellan classify all his vehicle toys. Toting Verity everywhere on my hip, even if it means I don't get to clean the toilets today (seriously? Why didn't God give us all at least four arms?). Taking a long, lesiurely walk down the street, Verity mini-stepping it the whole way, forsaking those dishes from breakfast.

I'm bending. That's my point. Not who's right or wrong (we're both a little bit right and a little bit wrong). Or who wins or loses.

If this were a "Who's the Best Mommy in the House" contest, though...I win. I gotta win at something, man.

Savasawhattanow?

Apparently I'm a yoga teacher. I didn't realized that that had actually happened. I mean, I've taught yoga off and on for a few years now (mostly off), but I didn't think I was actually a "yoga teacher." Well, I am. Wipe that shock and awe off your face.

(I mean, seriously? What kind of yoga teacher does a full lotus in jeans? Who do I think I am?)

I had my first class today in a new place, with new people and new routine. Okay, it wasn't a new routine. It was the same lazy routine I've taught several times now. Sorry.

(And just for the record, I give new meaning to the fish pose.
I mean, check out that gaping mouth. What must my students think?)

But my people (all ELEVEN of 'em)? My people loved it. I looked up several times from my nervous, hardly ujjayi-breathed teaching moments, and saw looks of focus. Of enjoyment. Of peace. Good Lord, I was so nervous. It was embarrassing trying to teach how to do an ocean breath while I could barely even inhale (I did a good job faking it, I tell you). But once we settled into my familiar routine, I got it together, and oh my did I have fun doing it.

(But, oh, holy goodness, check out my downward dog. I cannot believe the angle I'm able to get now!)

About 6 people actually approached me afterward and told me how great the class was. And we didn't even get to do my third set of poses! And some poor people didn't have mats and had to use these weird foam floor tiles which were so short a proper downward dog couldn't even be achieved. I can't even tell you how badly I felt for those few unlucky ones (thank goodness, one woman said she'd be visiting Walmart to purchase a mat for the next classes- thank you. Thank you!). Another woman commented that this was the perfect way to end her week. Two brought their young daughters. Apparently one, around 13, was there as punishment because she wouldn't even introduce herself to me. But I caught her smiling and attempting the poses- and she even snickered when I mentioned the contraindications for inversions if you're on your period. I guess she thought a period was funny.

(Really? I can't even bend further than that?)

During savasana, I even allowed my mind to wander and thought to myself, "I need to blog about this. Wait, what was that I just told everyone about letting all thoughts go?" But I rolled to my right to be energized and sat up, said namaste to my class, and thought, "I am never moving from Tonganoxie."

It was that great.

And now, for what was really great? My outfit yesterday afternoon- yes, it was outfit #2 for the day. What can I say? I love fall. I get to dress in layers in the chilly morning and tanks and socksless shoes in the afternoon. It was seventy-five degrees yesterday. On November 6.

Shirt: Old Navy (via ATC)
Tank: TJMaxx
Jeans: Marlow
Shoes: Earth
Necklace: Roxy

The Difference Between #1 and #2

(Mcclellan, just shy of 14 months)

1. Boy
2. Girl

1. New and exciting
2. Familiar and comfty

1. Easy
2. Challenging

1. Sweet tooth
2. Loves vegetables

1. Sit 'n' smiler
2. Climber

1. I cringed and rushed in to prevent any daredevilishness or potential catastrophe
2. I cheer and supervise her acrobatics

1. I dreaded having to go in and "put him back to sleep"
2. I can't wait to hear her cry "Mama!" over the monitor so I can rush in and fall asleep with her for 15 minutes

1. Pleaser
2. Strong-willed

1. Clown
2. Sober

1. Seemed like such a big boy
2. Seems like such a baby

1. Slept all night long at 6 weeks old
2. Still doesn't sleep all night long

1. Mama's boy
2. Mama's girl

1. Loves to snuggle and read
2. Loves to build and throw

1. Used signs at 13 mos.
2. Refuses to sign

1. Big
2. Little

1. Loved a whole dang lot
2. Yeah, there's no difference there...

(Verity, just shy of 14 months)

Totally Neutral (Another Cute Day)

OK, so I'm on a bit of a cute kick now. Bear with me. I just gotta get this out of my system for now, then I promise: I will only save the cute posts for ultra cute days, like once a week. Hey, at least I didn't take pictures of Verity this morning. She looks pretty darn cute too.

(those side pufts of hair? Can't get rid of 'em, so I now embrace them in all their puftiness.)

Ponytail: Ulta
Necklace: Tiffany
Casual silver earrings: Maurices
Tan w/ grey stripes undershirt: ATC
Grey shirt w/ arrows and hearts: Old Navy
Cocoa skirt: Target
Grey tights: TJMaxx
Boots: Bearpaw

Jam Session and Re-upping my Quilting

Oh, yes, we jammed.

"I said you wanna be startin' somethin'"

Fisher Price late 70's model tape player? Yeah, best $2 ever spent.

He's trying to remember how to do a G7.

On lead vocals
(something about my kids not knowing all the words to Petra's "Beyond Belief").

My favorite Mcclellan quote of the day: "Yeah, I like Michael Jackson. I love him."

Wanna know what I'm startin'?
Quilting!
Again, finally.
I scored serious deals on pre-cut squares from the thrift store and have already started piecing this baby.

This one? Verity Christianna's Christmas present.

Today's Cute Day

(Maybe I should make sure that hair and makeup are included in photo shoots...)

Green zip-up scoopneck with embroidered apples and birdies: Split
Aqua long sleeve tissue shirt: Hollister
Jeans: Hydraulic
Green heart argyle socks: Target

And these are the jeans that I fixed up after some shorty cut them up the ankle. They came from the thrift store on an "All Jeans are 25 cents Sale", so they were worth the time it took to sew them up.

Having a Cute Day

So, I came across this site, via Shabby Apple (Remember, Honey: Shabby Apple: Gift Certificate: Christmas. Do The Caps All Help?): Have a Cute Day.

Okay, as narcissistic as I really am (I am, but not really), I do enjoy clothes and shoes. I do. And I enjoy putting them on and taking them off (and washing them and folding them and putting them away- okay, no, not really those parts). It's funny because Verity does too. Like, I'm not kidding you. The other day I came home with two full dresses for her, and she ran to me, lifting up her shirt and grunting, "Uh! Uhhhh!!" Translate: "Ohmygoodness, I want to try that on NOW!" A gal after mine own heart...

Hop back on my train of thought; sorry for that derailment. Geesh.

So, Have a Cute Day. While I do stay home with my babies 89% of the time , I refuse to fall into the trap of Frumpy SAHMmy. I've openly rejected sweatpants and t-shirts and hoodies. Not because I think less of those who do choose a more "casual" style, but because I just like to dress up. I like dresses and skirts and layering and colors. I save my sweatpants and hoodies for sleep. And sick days.

The cabin fever that I (sometimes) feel being at home 89% of the time is driving me to instill a Cute Day of my own. I'm going to post my cute outfits (whenever I feel that they may occur), especially when I don't get out of the house to show it off to the world. My children just don't appreciate my selection of an aqua long sleeve underneath an apple-green 3/4. And while my husband probably thinks I look decent as long as I'm not still in my pj's at 5 pm, he just doesn't appreciate the color schemes and pairings and ensembles I dream up.

So, without further ado, Having a Cute Day. Next post. Coming up. (Just because I'm not so proactive about hair and makeup as I am clothing. I'm not perfect here, people.)

Another Grosgrain GIVEAWAY!!!!

Why? Why!? Why, must Kathleen be such an amazing seamstress and continue to create such amazing goodness...AS GIVEAWAYS!?! Here I am, cluttering my blog with more giveaway business. As if I stand a chance!?! Go. Go check out this beeeeautiful dress, but don't you dare think about entering. You lower my chances here, people. :)

Shabby Apple Dare to Design Lawn Frock GIVEAWAY!!!!

And while we're at it: I LOVE SHABBY APPLE! Darling husband, if you are reading this: There you go. Christmas gift for me perfectly handed to you on a platter. (I'm talking about a gift card to Shabby Apple. In case I wasn't blunt enough for you just there.)

Mama's Girl

I'd been praying for a Daddy's girl since she was born. God knows (as do I and the rest of you, probably) that Mcclellan was a pretty severe cling-on. I love cling-ons. Love 'em. But sometimes, on a rare occasion, there's that night at 2:30 am where you just can't go tend to that screaming, teething baby again. You just can't. So you send Daddy! The super-hero! The fun one! Right?

Yeah, until the screaming gets so much worse that no one in the house is sleeping now.

And then I walk into the room (armed with teething tablets and tylenol, of course), and she perks up and sings, "Mama!"
Then its okay to have another Mama's Child.

So what's a tired mama, who just wants to cook dinner without an ankle biter whining below and refuses any fun time with dada...what's she to do?
I pick my baby up, sling her on my hip, dinner gets made slower and later, I relish the cuddles and the mamalust, and know that one day she will be happy to play with Daddy (just like her brother is now).

And then, just think of the freedom. But for now, I drink her in. Often. One might say I'm drunk on my daughter.
(and she on me, apparently.)