cookies, candies, and chocolate...

I call it a slump. After a peak of energy and busyness, the lull becomes nearly mesmerizing. I have been running to clean and organize and chase two little rugrats all over my house, and spend as much time as possible with Jonathan on his days off. And at the end of it all, I am exhausted. And the urge within me, as I look at my tornado of a home, is to crawl into bed with as much junk food as I can fit beside me and eat, drink, and be merry with my good friend the television. Some would judge this inevitable side-effect of pushing myself too hard for too long. But I revel in the simplicity and console myself with the weak excuse that "I deserve it." Hmmm, do I indeed? Yes, I am pregnant and feel like a whale. Yes, my feet hurt, my back aches, and lack of sleep makes my eyes feel like lead. But does the world simply stop for me just because of these things? No, if anything, it seems to spin out of control on a path that I must follow or be destroyed.

Kids beckon, cat calls, husband wants me to sit and relax with him (so that he doesn't feel too guilty about doing it himself I suppose), and house silently begs me to ceaselessly pick up after the growing destruction. And round and round it goes. I cannot simply raise my hands in defiance and yell, "quiet!" I cannot lock myself in my bedroom where time stands still... (well I could, but I can guarantee you that what I would find upon leaving would be a disaster indeed). No, I must go on. For without me, the running of this tumbleweed household would stop turning and instead lurch back and forth in a most disorganized fashion.

And it is because of this explicit "need" for me: mother and wife and homemaker, that I continue to move at my tireless pace. Even when I know the dishes can wait, I can't sit down and relax. It is becoming a part of me, etching itself into my being. And the urge is almost too strong to resist. For this, I am thankful, it has given me a new sense of purpose and pride in my home. And because of this, I cannot complain. I cannot sit and stew in my mound of junk food. First I must prepare my home for the next flurry of activity that will invade it again come morning. Who knows, maybe when I am done my "duties" I will find a spare moment to 'slump' as my nature suggests. Now if only I could get moving :)

Judging Joe

Judgement. An unavoidable enemy we face every day. I am greeted by its familiar stench every time I open my front door, or go to the store, or take my kids for a walk. It is an unfortunate reality of this world we live in, and we all find ourselves passing out a serving once in a while--whether it be justified or not.

Its presence has become a fact that I begrudgingly accept, however I am becoming increasingly aware of a certain group of people that seems to surpass the rest in the "critical examinations" they assign. Old people.

Almost every time we go out we are bombarded with a series of angry looks or condescending glares. And this is just the beginning. From here, it escalates to mutters or 'deceptively sweet' comments. Take today for example, when the kids are standing up barefoot: "Oh my, that can't be easy on his feet can it?" And from there, it continues its path of deterioration to the gossiping whispers that are somehow just loud enough for you to overhear: "Oh my, Marvin, that can't be good for his feet. Tsk tsk. Oh! He looks like he is going to fall over. Well in my day....."

I am officially FED-UP with the "sweet old person" facade that is painted on their faces as they publicly humiliate us and berate us as parents and families. Let me get something straight... in 'your day' children were perfect? In your day they never misbehaved? Or ran away from you? Or maybe you only had a few children instead of the two toddlers we have running circles around us. Or perhaps you lived on a farm where they didn't have the opportunity to wreak havoc on the delicate balance of a shopping cart and instead spent their days running with the cows?????!?!?!?! Whatever the reasoning, either they have forgotten the realities of parenthood, or time has drastically changed the culture in which we raise our newest generation. Give us a break! How are we supposed to survive as a family unit when we are criticized on every front and from every side? It makes me want to stay in the peace and quiet of my home where my kids can be kids without someone staring down their excitement!

And so, I beseech you, whether you be old or young... next time you see a young family struggling to just "get through" the shopping trip that is on everyones last nerves: reserve your judgement. For it is the very few and far between people who give you a kind smile, or pat your arm reassuringly as you struggle to grasp a flailing, screaming 2 year old that gives you the strength to do it all over again the next time. And strength is a gift that is often in too short a supply.

Our day in town: Take I

Well, today was a long day. My legs ache, I have a headache and don't feel well; and yet I am content. For the first time since moving, we went as a family to the wildlife park. And as a family, I mean with my usually absent husband in tow. It was wonderful. So relaxing and fun. I didn't have to lug a stroller by myself or hold a screaming child in my arms while dragging the other to the safety and privacy of our van. No, this time I had a second pair of eyes and hands, and it was heavenly. Selah had the rare opportunity to practise her walking outside, toddling all over the park and putting her mark on the world. No holding hands, no help, no strollers, she could do it "all by herself". How fast they grow! Caleb on the other hand didn't walk, no he ran! From one cage to the next "mama, mama, mama, look!" And I walked, arms unladened with the usual baggage, in awe of this little family that is mine. Time and time again, I watched my daughter fall on the pavement when she lost her balance. And yet despite my heart's ache to gather her up and protect her, she brushed me away and tried again... and again... and again, without a word she persevered. And once again, I was left on the sidelines to watch these little people who were so recently swaddled in my arms as they explored away from me. And despite my melancholy, I am content. This is my job--to teach my children independence and I am so proud of them!

After the wildlife park, things got a little sketchy. 

Load: blankies, check.

waters, check.

movie, check.

Drive.

Unload: appeasement snacks, check.

diaper bag, check.

waters, check.

Shop.

And repeat. Again, and again, and again.

And as I felt my blood pressure rising, and a headache start, and the panic begin to take hold... I had a momentary lapse in judgement...  And so it was that I found myself purchasing suckers. GIANT suckers. Anything to give us just one more stop without the meltdowns I have come to so greatly dread. And as we unloaded our tired, cranky children to the stroller for the umpteenth time (or so it felt) and they began to arch in defiance, I pulled these massive bits of sugar from my purse and proceeded to give one to each of them. And the most amazing thing happened.... they smiled! And they stopped crying! And they sat nicely for at least half of our shopping trip! People didn't stop and stare and glare at my screaming buggy as they usually do. No, instead they smiled at the cheeky little charmer sitting in the front seat grinning at everyone she saw. And the guilt that had so assailed me upon purchasing these "teeth killers" disappeared. 

After this stop, they really were at the end of their rope, and so were we. So we loaded them up and came home to the peace and quiet of our home. And that brings me here... listening to my son play in his room in a sugar-induced haze of energy, and knowing that everything is okay. As I said, I am content. It was a good day. We had fun, they had fun, and it is a trip to town that I won't soon forget. At least not with my blog to remember it by!

Just Survive until Bedtime...

The day dawned cold and crisp. No glorious sunshine awaited my sleep-deprived eyes, instead they were greeted with the gray-blue of a fall dawn and I could hardly wait to get out and enjoy it. Rolling over (a task which my growing abdomen greatly opposes), I groped to find the alarm clock, surprised to find that it was only 5:30. "What kind of person gets up at 5:30?" I questioned myself as I fluffed my pillow and attempted to fall back asleep. Only it was to no avail. The morning beckoned, and I could not stand idly by when there was so much to do. Getting ready as quietly as possible so as not to awaken my "super-sonic hearing children" I tiptoed down my squeaky hall determined to go out for a walk before they got up. I opened my door to freedom. Briskly putting one foot in front of another, I looked around me at the sheer silence and it was nearly overwhelming. What do I do with myself? I prayed, I thought, I planed, and I cut my walk short simply because I was bored and couldn't stand the silence. Shivering and feeling revived, I hopped into the shower, shocked that my house was still quiet and I was allowed the simple and yet mind-boggling freedom to perform this routine act--alone! And then, it began...

The eggs I make as an appeasement gift for my children (who are growing endlessly tired of eating cereal for breakfast), is thrown in my face. The house I have slaved over to clean, is destroyed in mere minutes. Caleb hangs onto my leg and cries, "Mommy sick", Selah follows me everywhere I go declaring my name in her whiniest voice, and I want to go back to bed. The diapers overflow with things to which I will not name, the cat I so vehemently insisted we have decides his litter box is too far and manages to fill my sons bed with his early morning offering, and the crying continues. Really, why did I get up? If you are thinking that my day proceeded to improve, you would be drastically wrong. Instead it was a sheer cliff to which we were fast approaching. A toilet drain going round and round of screaming, crying, pooping, runny noses, fevers, more screaming... By mid-afternoon, I had run squat out of ideas. No food was accepted, and yet they cried for food. No toy was good enough, no cuddle sufficient... they all ended in the same result: fussing, whining, crying. And I was at my limit. It is here that I insert my motto as a mother of children so closely tied in age... "just survive until bedtime." And survive I did. Because here I sit, in a house torn apart by both my children and myself in a desperate attempt to quiet them, in peace. And I am, indeed, alive. And as my swollen, aching self sits in denial and shock at the drastic change in pace, I realize that the freedom I strove for in the early morning hours of dawn are upon me once again. So I resign myself to another fateful day of sickness tomorrow, knowing that tonight is mine. And hoping desperately that the small tidbits of freedom I experience will give me the strength I need to face it all over again in the morning. Until next time!

Motherhood...

Motherhood... the state of being a mother. One that begins with conception and has no expiry, no end, no retirement. It is quite simple really, you have a child and you are immediately thrust into this world of "being" and without any introduction or nicely planned orientation, you are now a mother. Deal with it.

At first, I found it terrifying. Clabe was placed on my chest in a cold, sanitary hospital and I was told to make sure he ate. They wheeled me immediately to a room full of three other new moms, told my husband he couldn't stay, and left me... alone. I was so tired, so unsure of myself, and had no one there to either comfort me or tell me what to do. I was on my own now, welcome to the club.

But I did it. Each feeding, each diaper change, the constant guessing game of what to do. I just fit into this mold that somehow I knew had always been made for me and I loved every minute of it. Well, I suppose that is quite obvious by our getting prenant again two months after caleb was born. But the point is that this is me. This is what I live for. I may have other dreams and goals and ambitions in my life, but this one tops them all. Walking with Caleb and teaching him the names of different birds and trees and cars. Watching the studious expression on his face as he tries to soak in eerything at once. Listen to him call, "mama, mama, mama... look!" a hundred times a day or be silly just to make me smile. Or Selah, babbling in her crib, practising her words over and over. Or toddling around the house with a look of extreme satisfaction on her face. Or climb up a ladder and somehow make it over the other side while I look on in a mixture of terror and wonder at this little daredevil I have created... and it is during these moments that I know this is it. It is all I ever want in life. It isn't always easy, or even fun, but it is what I was made to do. And so it is that I wake up early ever morning, and go for a walk by myself, and breathe and pray that God will give me the strength, the patience, and the creativity to be the best mom I can this day.

Good morning!

I woke up this morning with what I will deem a "ride hangover". I feel dizzy, nauseous, and have a headache all from going on the darned octopus at the fair last night. My kids both received a panel of immunizations yesterday and have been whiny, and today I get to babysit Hannah (this would be my five-year-old sister for those of you who do not know her). Sigh. The coffee I am downing with increased desperation seems to have no effect upon my lack of patience and feeling of falling over. And so it is that I find myself in a state of melancholy. One which I have no particular urge to withdraw from. It is a windy, relatively cold day out and my body screams at me to hop in the bath with a good book. Mmmmmmm. If only I had one.

Needless to say, this has the beginnings of another "one of those days". They seem to be a much more common occurence lately. Monotonous, long, boring days in which I clean and look after my children and wish I was instead at the spa after a long day of shopping. :) Is that really so much to ask for? A day to myself? With about $1,000 in the bank at my disposal? Hmmm, perhaps not.

I always have things I 'could' be doing... all of which I come up with a million excuses not to. You know, the organizing that needs to be done, going through the lingering boxes that I have tried to pretend don't exist. Laundry is always an option I suppose. Curtains need sewing, but then I would have to make a mess and really I can't do that when the kids are awake. So I tidy, and eat, and play with the kids, and eat some more, and tidy the kitchen, and eat some more. Hmmmm. I think the scale is in the garbage from the last time I weighed in. Maybe I should do some yoga or something...

And so, my friends, if you have been wondering what has been going on in the lives of the Spooners of late, wonder no more. Are we settled? Completely. Are we into routine? If the monotony is setting in, than who could doubt it? Life goes on. And if you are wondering what has been happening with my little terrors of late... stay tuned for a creative "interlude" soon to come! Until next time...

Summer Update

Wow! I can hardly believe it has been two months since I last wrote. Crazy! We have obviously moved to Chase, and are loving it. It is really hard to get to know people here, I am looking forward to the fall when I can start attending playgroups and stuff. But we are closer to family, we are in a beautiful house, and we are a hop skip and a jump from private beach access... who could ask for anything more? Last night I went to a baby shower for one of the members' wives, and at least that gave me the opportunity to say hello and get my feet wet in the community.

I guess I haven't posted that I am pregnant too (although I am sure that most of you are aware of that by now). I am 20 weeks now, so I guess officially halfway. And, thats right, it means that selah and this next one will only be 16 months apart. Also crazy. Sometimes I think we aim to make our lives as difficult as possible :) But in reality, we are happy. Scared spitless, but happy. This is it, this is what we want to do with our lives. Have children, raise a family. Each new child we have is so unique and special and although after this we may decide to put the brakes on for a couple of years (for sanity's sake of course) we don't intend to stop anytime soon.

The other big news, in two weeks I have a one year old. In fact, I guess for the next month I will have two one year olds, how twisted is that?????? :) Selah turns one on the 27th, and Caleb turns two August 11th. I am so excited to watch them grow and change this next year, and yet sad to see this stage in their lives so rapidly dissapearing. Selah is saying words, standing on her own, and pretty close to walking. And Caleb is crazy. The baby stage is long past and now i am looking and a bona fide tyrant! Albeit a very cute one!

Other than all that, I guess life goes on as normal. I will try to update this more frequently, although I can't make any promises! Happy Summer!