Sunday, February 5, 2017

I Live in a Haunted House

Everywhere I go, I am haunted.

Every room has its own little ghosts, its own very special spirit I can't escape. 

Oh, they're not the spirits of the departed... our house was built in 1992, there hasn't been all that much time for the departed to gather. Plus, I find most haunted houses sort of look haunted on the outside, as though they've been preparing to host ghosts since the day they were built. 

My childhood house had that sort of look — it looked like the kind of home that might maintain a ghost or two.

No, our house in its cheerfully jaunty little yellowness is not a house prone to actual ghosts.

Instead, I am haunted in my own home by tiny socks.

Oh, never two of the same pair - that'd be too easy. Then I could simply fit them back together or toss them into the wash and trust them to stick together, which you'd think they would want to do.

Instead I find one tiny itty bitty Ellie-sock stuck in a corner underneath one of Audra's books. I might not see the other half of the pair for two weeks, then come across it sitting out in plain sight in the middle of the living room floor, as if to taunt me.

I see one of Audra's striped socks on the floor of our bedroom, pick it up to put it in the "loose sock box", and move on with my day, only to forget about it entirely until I find the other one a few days later. Heading back to the loose sock box to put the pair back together, I find the original sock inexplicably missing. So I put the sock in the box and then forget about it.

Rinse and repeat.

We're not great at keeping up with our own socks, and they're four to six times the size of the girls'. I tend to find Jason's socks and my own in literally every room of the house at any given time. It's not because we necessarily leave them there, either — Audra has a tendency to make her own choices as to where certain things belong, and her logic rarely matches up with ours. I've been known to ask her about a pair of socks I've been searching for for two months, only to have her happily go grab them from inside a cabinet in the kitchen, handing them to me with the smug assurance of any child who legitimately just outsmarted a grown adult.

Sometimes we simply run out of clean matched socks, just flat run out of them, for Audra. I send her to school in mismatched ones and sort of hope no one notices, then come home from work and find six or seven pairs simply... lying underneath her bed.

Let me point out that those socks weren't there four days ago, when I cleaned under there.

So I continue to stumble across the little things, continue to scramble to find a pair for Ellie to wear in the morning even as I know very well Ellie should have enough socks to go a full two weeks before we'd run out, continue to just shrug and let Audra wear whatever mismatched notion she takes into her own mind.

I continue to be followed throughout my own home by a trail of itty bitty little socks.

Honestly, there are days I'd prefer an actual ghost.

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

I Write So Much About Sleep Because I Am So So Sleepy

stress and stars blog motherhood

Audra has decided naps are for the weak.

Oh, don't get me wrong, she's never been what you'd call a good sleeper. While sleep training did wonders for so many of my friends' babies, my own first child stubbornly insisted on being awake whenever she damn well pleased, ignoring our own desperate need for more than three hours of sleep at a time. Luckily, she was at least cheerfully awake and therefore much easier to handle than if she'd been the sort of child who cried all night.

Oh no no no.

My child just wanted us to look at her at 2 o'lock in the morning.

She's a restless little thing in her bed, flipping and flopping all night long. There are occasionally slightly worrisome-sounding thumps and bumps audible through the wall and she ends up in a tangle of toddler legs and blanket, all of which are on her tiny toddler bed and precisely none of which are actually touching her somehow.

We used to rely on having the three of us just sleep in one big bed when staying at hotels, and discovered that her ninja-kicks never stop while she sleeps, they just end up being unconsciously aimed at the kidneys her parents need to live.

The part where we expect her to nap in her room, that palace of just-for-her toys, books, and interesting rocks she sneaked in when we weren't looking? The temptation to do anything but sleep is just too great.

On Saturday, she declared, at least to herself, that there would be no napping today. Oh, she went willingly and cheerfully enough into her room. Then she embarked on a campaign of doing whatever it took to avoid closing her eyes.

First, she screwed around with her night lights until we made her stop. Then she found some neat shoes to move around the room. A package of diapers just begged for inspection.

She sang to herself for a while, then talked when she ran out of songs.

Eventually, we realized she had been in there for more than an hour and a half and the nap just wasn't going to happen. I went in there and got her back out, figuring she'd had some quiet alone time, if nothing else, and put on a movie for her to watch with me. She wiggled and wriggled her way off the couch, picking this up and moving that, restless and exhausted.

Within forty-five minutes, she laid her head down on my knees and said, "I want to snuggle just for a minute."

I picked her up and held her in my lap, all 35 pounds of her, half as tall as I am and all diamond-sharp knees and elbows.

She fell asleep about thirty seconds later.

So I threw a show on Netflix and settled in for a very long snuggle with a sleeping two-year-old who rarely stops moving long enough for me to hold her like that anymore. It was a good reminder of the tiny six-pound infant we first brought home in 2014, who would sleep and sleep on our chests but nowhere else for so long, those long first eight weeks where I watched Frasier and Cheers and Friends in their entirety on Netflix while she breathed.

Ellie is even outgrowing that early stage, too, and it's nice to get the reminder to occasionally sit back and enjoy an ever-changing child just wanting to curl up with you for a while. Sooner or later, the next time she can't sleep until she's holding me is going to be the last.

I try to remember that reminder when she wakes us up at 3 AM because she needs a hug after a bad dream. I really try to remember that when the 3 AM wakeup is followed by her being up, cheerful, and thrilled to start her day before six.

After the Great Nap War of Saturday, I followed up on Sunday by just taking her into Jason and I's room and curling up in the bed with her. She fought as hard as she could, giggling and talking and murmuring and eventually just silently thrashing, for a good half an hour before she fell asleep.

Then she rested her head on my shoulder, snored in my ear for about an hour and a half, and I finished a book I've been trying to read since shortly after Ellie's birth.

It was a pretty wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Thursday, January 5, 2017

My One Word for 2017

One word for 2017

I've really enjoyed watching other bloggers do the "one word" trend, where you choose a word to sort of center and represent your year. I've followed Natalie Freeman over at Natalie Creates for a couple of years, and watched how her "word" for the year kind of rolled itself out for her even if it wasn't exactly how she expected it to.

In January 2016, I chose the word Nurture to represent my year. It's kind of funny in retrospect. I wasn't pregnant with Ellie yet when I wrote out that post, but nurturing is basically all I did all year long! Between having to sort of nurture myself through a second pregnancy that left me reeling from feeling intensely fatigued and sick all the time for nearly five straight months (I actually lost almost fifteen pounds in the first two trimesters), to taking care of a newborn and a toddler at the same time, to dealing with the way that this second baby wildly changed my body even more than Audra did, to working hard to maintain a marriage that puts us and our identities as people and spouses alongside our identities as parents, not behind them... I definitely can say I nurtured the hell out of 2016.

For 2017, I've given it some thought, and I've come up with:

In 2017, I want to focus on appreciation.

I am too prone to seeing something and wanting it — whether it's new clothes or a coffee drink or new books or or or or, I tend to fall into a trap of wanting.

This year, I'm going to focus on appreciating what I have.

I have a family, near and far. I have my two babies, already wildly different individuals in their own right, that I need to focus on. I have my husband. I am the undisputed queen of conjuring amazing soups out of literally anything I can scrounge up in the fridge when our pantry seems empty.

I have piles of books in my house I haven't had time to read, or have only read half of, as parenting tends to leave me so wiped out that by 7:30 when Audra goes to bed, I don't have much brainpower left to do anything but brush my teeth.

I have plenty of things. I don't need new things.

But I could stand to look into picking up a new state of mind.

Not that I'm going to stop buying coffee, books, or clothes.

I'm pretty sure I am not physically capable of that.

I'm just going to push myself to a renewed focus on appreciating the coffee in our cupboards, the books on my shelves, the clothes already in my closet. To considering, when heading out to a bookstore or the mall or downtown, whether or not I actually need anything or if I just want to buy to have something new.

I don't know if I'm starting my Year of Appreciating Things on a high note, exactly, since I literally just showed Jason a new dress yesterday.

But you have to start somewhere, right?

As one of my favorite bloggers, Allie over at Wardrobe Oxygen, says, "If today you take one more step than you took yesterday, that's still progress."

2015 and 2016 have been hard years for my body, my emotions, my household, my family, and my country. 2017 is likely to be hard, too. All of adulthood is hard, one way or another. That doesn't mean there isn't anything there to be appreciated, to be thankful for.

This year, I'm going to appreciate the life I've worked to build. I'm going to take time to really pay attention to my daughters, to the way my body has grown stronger even as having two babies close together changed it, to the food we cook and eat, to the household we've put together, to the fortunate way that the downsides of 2015 still led to Jason and I being able to spend way more time together now than we could back then.

What's your word for 2017? Did you make any New Year's Resolutions?