As I go about my days in this insanity I call my life with two little boys under three I often think random things and have absolutely no one to tell. For some reason my little men don’t like it when I talk about anything besides trucks, cars, or that isn’t some kind of sound effect (weird). When I am having these conversations with myself sometimes I think, “maybe I’ll update my Facebook status with that little tidbit,” and then I realize no one cares about the thoughts I am having while folding underwear (and by folding underwear I mean balling it up and making sure it ends up in the right drawer. But folding makes me sound so much more domestic.) The good news is I just now realized that I have a blog that I don’t think anyone reads and if you do you specifically come here to hear what I have to say. So without further ado here is my much anticipated list of underwear folding (*cough* bunching *cough*) thoughts.
1.The minute I put lotion on my hands someone will poop so I will have to wash them again which will make the lotion application a complete waste of time.
2.There is no such thing as “done with the laundry.” There is “doing laundry” and there is “not doing laundry, i.e. your house is gradually and rapidly being overcome with laundry.”
3. If you vacuum, someone is going to spill there entire meal on the floor.
4. If you buy a new rug, someone is going to vomit on it almost immediately
5. The percentage chance of your children napping is equal to the amount which you need said nap time to recover your sanity. I think this is a real equation, look it up.
6. If you suddenly get the inspiration to go to the gym regularly it is fact that everyone will take turns getting sick in your home for the next month, preventing you from taking the children to the childcare room. Unless you are the kind of mom that pretends your kids aren’t sick so when you take them to the gym and they throw up on all the toys you can say “that’s so weird, he was completely fine this morning,” I’m looking at you, lady at my gym who did that one time and didn’t fool anyone.
7. You will have a day when you are exhausted and emotionally drained and pray your kids go to sleep early. And then they do and an hour later you will find yourself sitting there going through pictures of them on your phone.
8. Some days, you just need to go to the gym and then sit on your butt and eat two huge cookies and not feel even a little bit bad about it.
9. I’m pretty sure that before the fall dogs didn’t shed.
Were you expecting something a little more profound in that list? Sorry, I don’t have the energy for profound. But apparently I do spend a lot of time thinking about food, how easily everything gets dirty, and laundry. Your welcome, world. If your really lucky there might just be a part two in your future. So now you have something else to look forward to besides season 3 of Downton Abbey.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Thursday, August 15, 2013
A Beautiful Life
The sun is filtering through the trees as it makes its quiet ascent to its place in the morning sky. The air is cool and still and the birds are calling to each other from all around me as I write. And a sun-faded red car with its one wobbly wheel sits abandoned next to me on the deck where it was forgotten about for some other toy yesterday.
When I was younger I always wanted to be surrounded by beautiful things. I would only listen to certain music or read certain books, and refused to let anything in my home or on my body that I felt didn't measure up to the image I was trying to present. If you would have told 22-year-old me that I would have cheap looking plastic toys in my house for my children I would have thought you were crazy. And that you just didn't get me.
In the last few years I have felt this very present tension within myself between that old desire and the realities of the life I lead now. I used to spend hours online scouring the internet for the latest indie band and read forums and obscure websites trying to find beautiful music, which I would listen to locked in my room while reading along with the CD liner and maybe crying (just a little). These days I listen to whatever is right in front of me, sometimes a CD (yep I still use those crazy old-fashioned things) and sometimes (22-year-old self please cover your ears) a good song on the radio. I used to sit beneath the tress and watch the clouds move and change above them as I pondered God and life and love and all its mysteries and lately I spend my time on such philosophical questions as, "what should I make for dinner that my 2 year old will actually eat," and "is that poop or chocolate, please tell me that's chocolate."
I'm starting to realize this tension I feel doesn't have to exist. That the addition of the faded plastic toy car in the picture of my idyllic morning doesn't ruin the frame, it only adds to it. That is the car that my children push each other around in, their squeals of laughter filling up the backyard as they tumble out of it. That is the car they push around with their chubby little feet. And it is also the car they use to bring me treasures like pretend ice cream cones and hot dogs that they present with chubby dirt-stained hands and expectant faces. I can't imagine anything more beautiful, more perfect, than the happiness of my children. I can't picture something I could buy, or wear, or hear that would bring my more joy than their joy. And I don't care if it is ugly toys or really crappy music (didn't I mention Everett's favorite song is a Selena Gomez number?). What is better, beautiful things or a beautiful life?
To reconcile my desire to find the beauty in this world and the realization that there is beauty in so many more things than my 22-year-old self dared realize might be the greatest gift that my 30's has to offer.
When I was younger I always wanted to be surrounded by beautiful things. I would only listen to certain music or read certain books, and refused to let anything in my home or on my body that I felt didn't measure up to the image I was trying to present. If you would have told 22-year-old me that I would have cheap looking plastic toys in my house for my children I would have thought you were crazy. And that you just didn't get me.
In the last few years I have felt this very present tension within myself between that old desire and the realities of the life I lead now. I used to spend hours online scouring the internet for the latest indie band and read forums and obscure websites trying to find beautiful music, which I would listen to locked in my room while reading along with the CD liner and maybe crying (just a little). These days I listen to whatever is right in front of me, sometimes a CD (yep I still use those crazy old-fashioned things) and sometimes (22-year-old self please cover your ears) a good song on the radio. I used to sit beneath the tress and watch the clouds move and change above them as I pondered God and life and love and all its mysteries and lately I spend my time on such philosophical questions as, "what should I make for dinner that my 2 year old will actually eat," and "is that poop or chocolate, please tell me that's chocolate."
I'm starting to realize this tension I feel doesn't have to exist. That the addition of the faded plastic toy car in the picture of my idyllic morning doesn't ruin the frame, it only adds to it. That is the car that my children push each other around in, their squeals of laughter filling up the backyard as they tumble out of it. That is the car they push around with their chubby little feet. And it is also the car they use to bring me treasures like pretend ice cream cones and hot dogs that they present with chubby dirt-stained hands and expectant faces. I can't imagine anything more beautiful, more perfect, than the happiness of my children. I can't picture something I could buy, or wear, or hear that would bring my more joy than their joy. And I don't care if it is ugly toys or really crappy music (didn't I mention Everett's favorite song is a Selena Gomez number?). What is better, beautiful things or a beautiful life?
To reconcile my desire to find the beauty in this world and the realization that there is beauty in so many more things than my 22-year-old self dared realize might be the greatest gift that my 30's has to offer.
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