Top Ten Tuesday

Top Ten Things Keeping Me up at Night

1) Child #1, child #2, child #3. They take turns with their cold-weather ailments, nightmares and stall tactics, making a full nights sleep a distant memory...uh, when exactly do I get to sleep again?? Anyone? Anyone??

2) That weird clink-clank sound that happens every night at 2:30 a.m. I suspect the duct work but haven't completely ruled out the supernatural...

3) Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion, Sense and Sensibility...I'm going through a major bonnet phase

4) My bladder. The very second I find the sweet spot in my bed, all warm and cozy under my down comforter and...ping! Nature calls--grrrr

5) The nagging thought that after my husband burns down our home when his ethanol still explodes...I will have to live with my mother!

6) How do I raise my boys to become responsible, hardworking, honest, sensitive, non-perverted men, when popular culture preaches the exact opposite?

7) The fear of falling asleep and having that dream...the one where I'm pregnant again and I don't know who the father is. Actually...I kind of like that dream.

8) When my kids are all in school and I FINALLY decide to rejoin the work force...will anyone want me? Will I be able to speak in complete sentences? Will I know how to get along with grown-ups? What if the interview is over lunch and I reach over and cut up the interviewer's meat? Maybe I should forget the whole idea and stay home and dust...

9) What's with the injustice of aging? I sacrificed a lot of my youth having kids and taking care of my family. Why is my reward a slow metabolism, extra padding and sagging...everything?

10) My sister-in-law's phone calls which bring up so many questions that I'm thinking about our conversation until 2:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., 4:00 a.m....

Toddlerhood

I keep having "uh-oh" moments...which surely must be kissin' cousins of "ah-ha" moments. There are four and a half years between my second child and my caboose (aka the last child) and in those four and half years I have forgotten a lot. I forgot that once a toddler discovers they can do something, they think they can do anything and will be really, REALLY vocal if you try to stop them (from climbing on the counter, from climbing the fridge shelves, from climbing into the dryer, from playing in the toilet). I forgot how preferable naked is to a toddler. I forgot just how messy a messy diaper can be when the naked toddler wrestles out of your grasp to remain naked. I forgot that the toddler way of announcing, "I am done with dinner," is by flinging what's left of dinner in a 180 degree radius. I forgot that the toddler way of saying, "This tastes funny," is by violently spitting it out.

Of course I forgot some other things too. I forgot how irresistable toddler smiles are and how I'd gladly do the chicken dance just to coax one to the surface. I forgot how warm and wonderful a toddler feels when they tuck their little bodies into yours, making you feel like the most loved person in the universe. I forgot how expressive their faces are...those darling faces that light up in triumph at every new achievement. I forgot their utter joy when you come to pick them up after nursery...when they open their arms wide and fling themselves into yours. I forgot that I'd be asking my toddler to say "amen" over and over and over again just to hear him say, "um-em." And I forgot that the very best moments of my life could come from just sitting still with my toddler while reading a book, watching a movie or sharing a nap.

Life in the fast lane

We started the year out on a sore note. Sore throat that is. Katie was down on New Year's Day with strep and it's been circling through the house ever since. So, no profound thoughts here today. I'm just trying to keep my sanity as I tend tired, sick, cranky children and keep up with the rest of my life (without the benefit of sleep).

Does anyone know if there is a union for stay-at-home moms? The hours and responsibilities are unreasonable!

Ahh...Christmas Eve!

The one night of the year when the kids actually want to go to bed early...

Ode to Joan...

It took me awhile this year to feel the Christmas spirit. The first inkling came after I knocked on my neighbor, Joan's, front door. When she answered, her step ladder was in the front hall surrounded by burgeoning boxes of Christmas decorations and garlands. My inner child (complete with pigtails and skinned knees) came alive in a heartbeat. You see...no one keeps Christmas like Joan. I have an exclusive invitation into "Christmas Central" when our book club winds up a year of good reads at her house. Her home is a visual Christmas card. Each year I expect a photo crew from Better Homes and Gardens to interrupt our festivities. I purposefully drive the long way out of the neighborhood at night to pass her house, complete with candy-colored lights and festooned wreaths. It's not hard to explain the appeal. It reminds me of my home in Missouri. My Mom did Christmas the way Joan does Christmas. Every year my brother and I eagerly waited for the day after Thanksgiving when the boxes would come out of storage and our home turned into something magical.

Thanks Joan!

Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!
We got hit with an impressive snow storm today. When the first flakes started to fall I immediately thought of one of my best friends growing up, Wendy. Wendy doesn't care too much for snow. In fact, that is an understatement. During our teenage years (and she claims it's still true), she refused to drive at the merest suggestion of snow. So I'm posting these pictures for her benefit. She can sit at home all snug and warm and experience our frigid weather vicariously.

Sledding from the neighbors driveway to ours

What do you do when the shovel is actually bigger than you are?

No, her tongue didn't stick to the house...

There is a moral to this story...

Sparky has been in desperate need of a haircut, but I have been short on free time. This morning I asked Ford to give J man's hair a trim with the clippers. This was the result. I tried to slick it to one side for church, but his hair (like the boy himself) has a will of it's own. We call him "Hamlet" now.