Six Word Fridays: Appetite

Why is it when they're babies
They need food every few hours
And you start to feel like
Your life revolves around sore nipples

But when they are slightly older
They seem hungry but don't eat
Unless you provide them with candy
Or some other non-nutritious food product?

Mommy, Snake Killer

We took the boys fishing for the very first time on Sunday. Before heading out, we stopped at a local sports equipment store to buy them their own poles; that alone was a thrilling experience for them. Even if they did think that the purpose of the poles was to sword fight... They also enjoyed exploring the tent displays and gazing nervously at the walls covered in deer and bear heads. I did not tell them they were real. I think it might have ruined it for them.

Once we were on our way, we realized we hadn't ever really decided where we were going. My husband and I have a knack for doing things on the fly without really planning them. So, we headed out down the road, sort of knowing what we were looking for, fishing regulation book in hand. We'll just stop at the first lake we find.

Which we did. A tiny lake that wasn't even on my county map. My husband rented a boat and we loaded up our stuff. I was a little concerned about our older son, who is a little bit afraid of water, but after my initial explanation that the dock was not going to fall in the water, he seemed to be ok.

When we got out on the water, the boys just absolutely came alive. They loved watching their dad row the boat out in to the middle of the lake, and they got a kick out of all the other people in their boats floating past us. It was kind of humorous, though, how easily we created our own large spot on the lake...everyone quickly moved away from the boat full of rowdy toddlers yelling, "HELLO! DID YOU CATCH A FISH? IS THAT YOUR BOAT?" etc.

We finally got the boys settled down enough to ask them to hold still while we set up their poles. Ok...while Dad set up the poles. Because even though I've fished for my whole life, I'm still pretty clueless about the whole process. Everything was fine and dandy... until.

Until it was time for the worm. Which was the single task I was assigned. I pulled a worm out of the container, which elicited excited squeals from both boys. "Oh, worms!" from the older son, and "'Nake! 'Nake! Ssss!" from the younger one.

Then I put it on the hook.

And suddenly I was the world's worst Mommy.

My older son took it ok. He just worriedly asked if I hurt the worm. I told him no, the worm wanted to help us catch a fish. (I'm totally not against lying to my children to protect their feelings. Don't judge.)

My younger son absolutely broke down. He laid in the bottom of the boat with his hands over his head weeping and screaming, "Mommy! 'Nake DIED! 'Nake died in the water!"

Right then, I wanted to die in the water. I never knew my boys had hearts quite so tender. I should have guessed; they do like worms a lot. I should have known this would be traumatic to them. But I never guessed. And I felt so horrible.

Eventually we got Jacob calmed down and everyone enjoyed the rest of the excursion. But he still whimpered a little every time we cast his line in to the lake. And, by no means a surprise considering our boisterous boys, we didn't catch any fish. (We're blaming it on the lake. Better one next time).

Six Word Fridays: Possibly

the laundry might get done today
i might sweep and mop floors
it's possible i'll bake some challah
it's likely i'll finish these chores

but it is also entirely possible
that i'll put my responsibilities away
take time to enjoy the boys
kind of like i did yesterday

Speeding Up to Slow You Down

Yesterday afternoon, my husband asked me if I would take the car in the morning and go get a few things from the store for him. "Sure," I quickly replied, since I needed milk and creamer anyways. I didn't give it a second thought.

This morning, as we were getting ready to leave, I grabbed a pen and asked my husband what other things he needed from the store besides creamer for his coffee. "Oh, no," he corrected, "I need you to go to the HARDWARE store."

Those last few words, in my mind's eye, came out in slow motion, and at the same time my insides were screaming, "NOOOOOO!!!" really dramatically. Ok, maybe not that dramatically. But I definitely tensed up.

I am a very intelligent person. I've always done well in school and I feel like I'm pretty capable of holding an intelligent conversation. I am, however, a complete DOLT when it comes to common sense. Ask me to do a small thing like "Get some pickets for the gate and enough sod to fill the bare spot on the lawn," and I freak out. I over-think it, get nervous that I'm picking the wrong thing, and completely lose the ability to speak coherently, which means asking for help is difficult.

So I trudged through the yard, half listening to my husband and writing down measurements so I could pick up what we needed. I was irritated at being asked to do this seemingly simple task, and so I wasn't totally paying attention. Maybe this is part of why tasks like this are so hard on me. I rush through the thinking process and then get to where I'm going and have NO IDEA what's going on.

When I got to the hardware store, my pulse began to race and I started to sweat a little. I probably looked like some deranged mental institution escapee as I stalked the aisles of Home Depot, searching for the right size of lumber. I looked at so many different sizes of lumber and couldn't seem to find the one my husband had asked for. And let's not forget my stress-induced speech impediment. Every time an employee walked by, I would clam up and just sort of smile vacantly, not realizing I should have asked for help until they were gone.

Luckily, my husband called me on his break. I had already been in the hardware store for half an hour, and I still had nothing in my cart. As I talked with him and told him what I had found, inundating him with a lot more information than was necessary, I realized I could have easily solved this problem by myself. You know, if I had been paying attention in the first place. I know how big the gate is. It should have been a simple thing to find boards that would fit, even if I just judged it based on my knowledge of the fence that's already there. Simple critical thinking, right?

I had the same issue when I went out to look at the sod. Suddenly, simple algebraic equations were too difficult for my muddled brain--even with a calculator. But when I calmed down and actually THOUGHT about the area I needed to cover and compared it to the sod, the job became much easier.

After an hour of toiling, I walked away with 14 fence pickets and 8 pieces of sod. This whole thing should have taken 15 minutes tops. But it was sort of worth it, because I realized something really valuable. It's not that I'm incapable of handling this kind of thing. It's just that I shut myself down before I even have a chance to get started. I doom myself from the beginning.

Here's to getting it right next time. The next time I'm faced with one of this silly tasks that makes my heart race and my mind spin, I'm going to tell myself to SLOW DOWN. Because in the long run, it saves time.

Creativity Boot Camp

I'm participating in Creativity Boot Camp, but because it's likely to be stuff that doesn't really "fit" in to this blog, I will be putting my work here. Just in case anyone's interested. :)

My Jacob

This morning, I was awakened by a distressed call. "Help-a me, mommy, help-a me! Stuck!"

I shot straight up in bed, my eyes suddenly wide open. I wondered what my little one might have gotten himself in to this morning. I ran down the stairs to find him and discovered Jacob, naked except for his diaper, sitting on the kitchen floor with his finger stuck in a bucket. He had taken the handle off and stuck his thumb in the hole where the handle was supposed to go. Well, I thought to myself, at least he's not bleeding.

I thought this because normally he would be. Jacob requires first aid at least once a day. He is a lively, mischievous, curious little boy. If ever there was a real-life version of Curious George, Jacob could be it (except for the whole "being a monkey" thing, of course).

Unlike his big brother, Jacob was a very LOUD little baby. It seemed like if he wasn't eating or sleeping, he was crying. He was a challenge from his very first day on earth, testing our patience and stealing our hearts simultaneously. He does it every day of our lives.

Jake isn't "bad," he's just...destructively curious. If something is missing or turns up broken, a good first guess is that Jacob got a hold of it. He doesn't deal well with punishment, either. He will often try to "punish" you back if you have to reprimand him. The other day, when pulling my finger to lead me to the time-out chair didn't work, he found a teddy bear and made IT have time out instead.

Jacob has an amazingly creative mind. He is not even two yet, and he role-plays more than James ever has. He will pick up two toys and make them have conversations together. He loves to pretend. Right now, his favorite thing to pretend is that he is a cat. He gets on all fours and crawls around the house, mewing and hissing.

Even though he causes me a lot of headaches, Jacob's pure spirit and endless imagination captivates me daily. And then there's his big blue eyes. Which he KNOWS how to use. Watch out if you have little girls. I think he's going to be a heartbreaker some day...



This is my Jake. I wish he could stay this way forever.*


*(Even more "sort of" than my wish for James).

My James

When my older son, James, wakes up in the morning, he usually greets me with an excited proclamation.

"Look, Mom! I'm awake now!" He says, throwing his arms up in the air, asking to be picked up for a hug. Usually, after this, he also announces, "I want a ride on your back to the couch, Mommy." Which he usually gets. Because it's so cute that he asks every day. And even though he's 3 I still get nervous about him walking up and down our very steep Victorian staircase.

James was my first baby, and he was a very easy one. The most difficult thing about his first year was figuring out how to be a parent. But there was no colic, no bouts of illness, and when he learned to walk, very little curious mischief. He didn't cry much, loved his swing, and slept through the night fairly quickly.

He does, however, have some drawbacks to his little personality. He is VERY stubborn (an attribute I like to blame on his father). When he learns something new, he usually doesn't want you to know about it. As he was supposed to be learning how to talk, I found him to be mostly mute. I kept asking the doctor if he was ok, if he was falling behind, and she kept telling me to be patient. Then I noticed that sometimes he would say words, but if I got excited and praised him for it, the words would disappear again. He didn't want us to know.

He does the same thing now with numbers and the alphabet. He knows more than he lets on. And he is a very deep-thinking little child. Truly introspective, you can often catch him sitting quietly, usually with his thumb in his mouth, thinking about something. Later, you'll discover that he's built a new robot with his Legos or drawn you a picture. He's silently creative, which is beautiful even if it is a little maddening sometimes, too.

The more James starts to talk, the more his personality shines through. His stubbornness shows in his favorite phrase, "I can't want to," and his tenderness in his OTHER favorite phrase, "I like you the best." He is quick to remind my husband and me when we have a bad language slip-up, correcting us, "That hurts my ears. You should say 'gosh' instead."

He is my little man, getting so grown up, and I can hardly believe it. He is a mama's boy, but he hangs on every word his dad says. He loves to talk to everyone he meets, and he always has a story to tell. He's silly and fun, but also often serious and introspective. Trying to get him to smile for a picture usually results in something like this:



This is my James. I wish I could keep him this age forever*.





*sort of ;)