ATTENTION anyone that I left stranded here....

Come on over to my new blog!

http://www.mudpuddlesandballetslippers.blogspot.com/

I just started blogging at this new address and plan to keep my old blog but won't update it anymore.

You're welcome to join me as I get back into the world of blogging!

My 7th Mother's Day

Days. Days. Days.

We all have them. Some are good. Some are bad. Some are just normal. You know, the not stand-out-forever-in-our-memory kind of days. Days that just evaporate into history without any indelible impression.

Pick up a calendar from last year and randomly pick a day in May. Pick a Tuesday. Or a Thursday. Don't pick a birthday. Or anniversary. Or anything special. Just pick a random day. What were you doing that day? Was it cloudy? Did your husband take the garbage out? Did the kids clean their rooms? Did you get all your housework done?

Yeah. You can't remember. Can you?

But maybe it was a random, normal day that you chose to make extraordinary. You took your kids and included them in a project around the house. And then typical you, who isn't organized or remembers to record things, forgot to write the fun day on the calendar. But your kids remembered. They still talk about it. Yeah, you could've gotten the job done so much faster by yourself but really, it wouldn't have been worth it. TIME with your kids was worth it.

TIME making memories is what makes doing chores important. It's not the act of the chore that's a success; it's the concept learned, the wisdom shared, the vision passed down and the sense of accomplishment celebrated that we aim for in training our kids. A clean room is NOT the goal. That's just a bonus.

In the moment, it feels daunting and tiresome. But so many of our entire DAYS will be forgotten in our memory. They'll just fall into the Mundane and Normal file where all everyday days go.

But today happens only ONCE. My baby is only 4 months, 1 week and 3 days old TODAY. Tomorrow she will be 4 months, 1 week and FOUR days old. Yeah it's only one day but pile those days up a little and pretty soon you have 30. Or 365. Or more.

Perspective is everything though. Like my laundry for instance. It's clean (score). It's all in the laundry room (score). In baskets (score). But it's unfolded. Fail.

But I decided that since we have a laundry room, what else should be in it but laundry. Right?

This weekend was fun. One of those "Ah, now I remember why I love being a mom" weekends. My husband doted on me. My kids were.... well, my kids. And my baby added a few more ounces of fatness to her luscious rolls. My house is pretty much a mess (but the garage is clean) and the laundry has maxed out the very last laundry basket I own.

But I don't care.

Because a year from now, I won't remember that I didn't have all our laundry folded and put away. But I will remember all the fun we had just being together.

Happy Mother's Day!

www.31daystoclean.com

The next thing on my reading list. Wait. What's a reading list? The only kind of list I have is a "to-do list." A to-do list of things that never seem to make it to the "done" list.

Well. Maybe THIS is what I need to get a DONE LIST to replace every one of my TO-DO LISTS.

Except for learning how to clean your house, I have no idea what this book is about. And no, that was not just a disjointed disclaimer. Or was it?

But since it was FREE (if I blogged about it) and my house is pretty much anything but clean and the subtitle says, "Have a Martha house the Mary way" and my blog subtitle talks something about Martha and Mary (you know, that Bible verse up there? Yeah. You know what I mean) and my house is pretty much anything but clean and I'm pretty much a Mary-wanna-be but stuck in a Martha mode and my house is anything but clean, I thought all 27 of those reasons were good enough to advertise this book on my blog despite the fact that I have yet to read it.

Okay. THAT was a disjointed disclaimer.

Ahem.

Have I mentioned my house is pretty much anything but clean?

I do supper dishes after 11:00pm.

I fold laundry only to put it in a basket and leave it there because that's the exact amount of time I have to do laundry.

I clean my bathroom because government officials would start making visits to my house if I let the bathroom go one more week day.

I mop the kitchen floor only because the dog was sick all over it.

I don't take pregnancy tests because not puking while mopping up a kitchen floor that had a sick dog on it proves that I am not pregnant.

(okay, that last reason was random.)

I have never scrubbed my diningroom floor. Ever. My MIL did it once when she was visiting. That was 4 months ago though. So I guess it's time.

I still haven't written all my "Thank You" cards for people who so kindly shared gifts with us when Korynne was born. I've only written 2. Oh wait. Make that 3 thank you cards successfully written. That dining room floor that got scrubbed once? Yeah....

I only scrub the shower after I bathe the dog anymore.

I've only bathed our 4 year old dog once.

I grow science experiments in my fridge.

As if I didn't have enough laundry to do, I decided to cloth diaper my baby. Which has been a wonderful choice. Actually. I'll tell you about that later. Maybe. IF I get my to-do list done....

And last but not least, I NEVER blog. Ever. Anymore. At all.

So maybe if I had a clean house, I'd have more time. To blog and write thank you's and stuff.

I'm the type of person that if you dropped in on me and my house was a mess, I wouldn't be able to sit and casually visit until I at least got the living room picked up. But since I know that might make my guest feel bad for stopping in unannounced, I ignore the impulse to tidy the room. And then with all the courage and strength and will power that I have left after 4 natural and unmedicated child births (please don't ask why I did that), I force myself to SIT. But I HATE sitting when the room I'm sitting in that I'm responsible for, is a mess.

I would love to be able to relax and be stress free in a messy house that's mine. I pray that God would make me content with clutter and messes. But He refuses to answer my prayers in this department.

So I guess I'm gonna give THIS book a try. You should check it out too. :)

In Which She Complains About A Good Life...

It's Monday and I feel grumpy.

So I sat down and started thinking about how horrible my life really is. And all the reasons why I'm allowed to complain and have a bad attitude.

#1: I'm tired. I was up a lot with a baby last night. And the night before. And all the nights before that since December 28th of last year. A baby that wanted to eat and add to her squeezable, kissable rolls of soft, baby fat. The nerve! What's so bad about a healthy eating baby and the ability to provide nourishment for the fat little thing? Some couples don't even have a baby.

So IF I didn't have a baby and had no hope of ever getting one, THEN I could be in a bad mood.

#2: My house is a wreck. When I look at the cause of each mess, I see a consistent trend. Toys, dirt, remote controlled car, a little red boot, dolls, scraps of papers decorated with 5-year-old penmanship, a tiny sock, an art project... on and on it goes. Clearly, there are children in this house and obviously, the children are healthy, robust and lively. Why would I complain about normal, healthy kids when some parents are sitting in a big sterile hospital watching their sick, weak child lay in a hard white bed with cords and wires and noisy alarms that constantly flash information confirming the sickness of their beloved child? That mom would give anything to trip over a pile of toys in the middle of the dining room.

So IF one of my kids were sick and perishing from an illness only known by a handful of highly educated specialists, THEN I could be in a bad mood.

#3: My husband doesn't understand. If he did understand, he would just do the laundry. And home school the kids. And wash the dishes. And offer to make supper. But would he really? Just because he doesn't offer to do all that stuff, doesn't mean he doesn't care. He's a guy. Not one iota in his body is geared towards being a housewife. If I wanted a Superwoman for a husband, I should've married something else. And besides, when I ask him to help, he readily jumps up and gets a job done without complaining. His smiles affirm me and his love supports me. I'm a mom to four kids but only because their dad is the man he is. Some women have the kids but no support from a man who's there for her every step of the way.

So IF I had a family with no real father, THEN I could be in a bad mood.

The bottom line is I have a sturdy, warm house, sun streaming through my energy efficient windows, a troop of healthy and adventurous kids, a strong and loving husband and a cute, fat baby wrapped in a pink blanket, topped with a soft tuft of dark, messy hair.

My freezer is full of food (no excuse for not being able to cook), my wash machine and dryer work (when I do get a load put through), the toilet, sinks and shower all function properly (even if they do need to be cleaned) and a vacuum and broom work wonders (when they do finally get used).

Why am I complaining then?

That's a very good question.

Mother of Four

So. Now I'm a mother of four. Two boys and two girls. I love my life and all it's craziness. Yet I feel too young to be the mom of four kids. Just yesterday, I was a kid myself. Wow.

Now that I've had kids, I have to say that the fourth child feels like the ultimate adjustment.

No longer will we fit in a 5-seat pick up truck.

Or a normal sized restaurant booth.

Or be considered a small/normal sized family.

Or fit comfortably in a small house.

Or have ample room in our mini-van.

Or evenly sandwich ourselves, kid, parent, kid, parent, kid in family pictures.

Or all fit on a normal size couch.

But I love it. I love that our days, activities, life and vehicles are overflowing with these little people. From the robust hollers of morning breakfast to the tiny, sleeping cherub faces at night, each moment is an adventure and frequent reminder to the busy-ness and crazy-ness of life with little people.
It's been seven weeks since I took on my new title as Mother of Four. Seven exhausting yet blissful weeks. From 8lbs 5oz all the way up to almost 12lbs, this little person keeps changing our world. Korynne Elizabeth Nelson greeted our lives on a chilly, winter morning (12/28/10) after putting in her leave of absence notification 26 hours earlier. It was a long and exhausting journey but the bright eyes and bushy head of hair, complete with the fattest cheeks ever, soon peered up at our tired faces and made the whole process worth it a hundred times over. Since that moment, she hasn't stopped demanding food, accepting our kisses on her fat little cheeks, screaming night and day for all the things little babies scream for and filling our house with the heavenly scent of Baby.

The sleepless nights with our littlest person, are soon coming to an end. The bright eyes and alert attentiveness that happens on that precious little face in the dead of night, will soon be taken over by "normal" sleep patterns. And these newborn days will be over.

Earlier this week on the morning of our 8th Anniversary, little Korynne was in a deep conversation with her daddy. Of course, all the conversing was taking place on the daddy end of the conversation but suddenly, that little girl wrapped her daddy even tighter around her fat little finger and let out a cute little baby coo. And that daddy, while wrapped snuggly around that tiny finger, gushed and swooned despite his manly, athletic, six-foot, four-inch frame and in the most excitement I've ever seen that man in, said, "Honey! She said her first word!"
Yes, being mommy of four, really can't be better than this.

Boots or Barefoot

It's the middle of winter. February 17, to be exact. Considered by most to be the height of the cold season.

Not this year.

The snow has pretty much melted in a few day's time, the skies are blue, the sun is bright and the air is warm.

The thermometer reads 70F. Yeah. I'm serious.

Hello to my long lost, neglected blog on this perfect day! For once in the middle of winter, the place I hail from is beautiful. Bouquets of flowers are evenly posted on random tables indicating the special event that took place just two days before: our 8th anniversary.

The grill on the deck is screaming for hamburgers and the scent of summer in the air gives one an uncontrollable desire for picnic weather food. Soft wind floats through the house from the open windows, beckoning all to follow its trail to the great outdoors. A week ago we were wearing boots. Today, sandals are even too much for this barefoot weather. Like I said, this weather couldn't be more perfect.

It may sound like I'm describing a tropical location where it's always warm and the skies are always blue and the weather is always perfect. Actually, I'm not. I'm describing the same place where a year go, people were dying from Cabin Fever and the roads were iced over, forcing people to stay inside their warm homes where heating bills sky rocketed for months. The skies were grey and cloudy. Blowing snow shrink wrapped our houses. No one dared to go outside for fear the very skin on their faces would become charred with a bitter frostbite.

Okay, maybe it wasn't quite that extreme but sub-zero temps that lasted over a month, sure made the winter long.

And now summer is here. In the middle of February. In the Midwest.

Of course it won't stay long as snow is predicted in the near forecast but knowing that winter has been overcome by summer, even just for several days, brings hope that soon winter will be gone forever.

We love you, Summer. Thanks for the visit.