3:00 PM: Change out of normal shirt and into hoodie that I slept in last night
3:10 PM: Plant spring flowers in front yard, boys throw balls of clay mud into street, I throw mud balls back into yard
3:45 PM: Watch two men unloading new washing machine and dryer for house down the street
4:00 PM: Walk down with boys (who have somehow shed their shoes and socks) and Holly and ask if we can have a box
4:02: Drag box down the street
4:03:
Holly approves!
Huge realization in the life of the Williams family: the karaoke machine has been previously underutilized. We pulled it out of the closet this morning, and it was all day entertainment.
Rush and Tate mainly enjoyed switching out the cds, playing with the microphone, and popping out from behind living room curtains, their stage. They sang too, mostly making up songs.
Surprisingly, not one of my previous jobs tapped into one of my major talents –being able to sing song after song, indefinitely, verrry off key- but being a stay-at-home mom really lets me work it.
There appears to be an excessive amount of crap all over the floor. Yep. Accurate. It was karaoke and photos or pick-up. Make hay while the sun shines.
And yes, that is a gingerbread man from Christmas still stuck to the door. There’s always one straggler.
Rush was also conducting Olympic interviews with Tate, asking him about “his falls”. Tate was telling Rush about how he got snow in his eyes, as things in eyes have been a big point of discussion this week. I managed to capture an interview on video and Rush ended it by looking at me and saying, “Send it to Bob Cutlass.”
If you have only seen the movie Cars once, or if you’ve never seen it (what?! come over!) you may not have noticed that one of the Piston Cup announcers is Bob Cutlass, voiced by Bob Costas. After much explanation and Olympics watching and consulting the book Meet The Cars, the joke is starting to make sense to Rush. I’m going to do my best to make “Send it to Bob Cutlass” happen. It’s a new phrase that means a little something like, that’s awesome, you’re fabulous, and the world should know about this.
An example of how it might be used in conversation-
Trent: Hey Kelly, I just made a loaf of Smitten Kitchen’s Pull Apart Cheese Mustard Beer Bread and found an ice cold can of Diet Coke. Why don’t you grab your book and take all this upstairs where you can lay in bed eating and reading?
Kelly: Send it to Bob Cutlass! You’re the best husband ever!
On the last day of our hospital stay when Holly was born, I requested one last visit from the lactation consultant to ask her how much caffeine was an okay amount to be drinking while nursing. She said, quote, “We encourage mothers to continue the same healthy diet they followed while pregnant.” Oh really? I once followed up lunch at Jack in the Box with a quick stop at Sonic for onion rings. That advice was equivalent to the Human Society calling the veterinarian to check your references before approving your kitten application. It takes fifteen seconds on a Saturday morning to pretend to call the vet (who we haven’t brought a cat to in five years) and confirm that we’re good to go! They just want you to adopt one of their 7,000 kittens. These people just want you to breastfeed, do what you have to do in terms of diet.
Maybe right now I should be brushing my teeth and getting into bed instead of sitting on the couch thinking about a cup of coffee tomorrow morning. But right now, because all the kids (the real coziest) are sleeping, this blanket is the coziest. That’s Tate talk: Mommy, you’re the coziest. And Holly is the coziest. Daddy is the coziest. Rush is the coziest. Although he doesn’t say it about himself, Tate is the coziest too.
Baby quilts are the coziest baby accessories. Here’s Holly’s baby quilt, made back when she was just known as “the baby”. I made it on my birthday, about eight hours total, made possible because Trent took off half a day from work.
Panther provided that j’ne sais quoi. (cat hair)
At some point of being pregnant with Holly, I also made this baby quilt for my nephew, Nils, back when he was “the baby” to Casey and Chris. Two gender neutral quilts somehow worked out perfectly for a perfect little girl and boy.
Kate also made Holly a beautiful quilt with her name on it, not pictured because it’s in the dryer, again. No preserving quilts for heirloom purposes or tucking them into closets around here.
Days are full, overlapping full. Feeding Holly merges right into feeding Rush and Tate merges right into dishes merges into starting a load of laundry merges into…actually that might be it right now, all our time occupied by eating and laundry. I definitely haven’t been shaving my legs.
I go into what Trent and I call “Being Troy and Julee” mode at night. Before we had kids and we would visit Trent’s brother’s family, we would leave straight from work with a thermos of coffee and sandwiches –Simon and Garfunkel song style- and make the 5 hour drive to Dallas. We would get there just after eleven on a Friday night, exhausted from the workweek and the drive and ready to crash. Troy and Julee would have their four kids in bed and would be opening beers and putting on music; their night was just gearing up. Now I get it. Staying up until midnight, even if I have been tired all day, is worth it to have a little time to wind down.
So a few days ago when the boys were at school and Holly was napping and I had an hour all to myself, I made sauerkraut. Because that’s the best use of my time.
My parents brought sardines over Christmas and billed them to the boys as something that Thor eats. I think they were a little surprised when the can opened, because who expects to open a can and find rows of tiny fish? They’re adventurous eaters and both tried them. I wish I had a video so I could remember what was being said between Tate and my mom, but the pictures paint the picture rather nicely.
These are the pictures that are going to be wonderfully dated one day. We’re going to look back and think, why were we wearing long sleeves for fourth of July? Wait, that’s the Olympics. Where were the games that year? Vancouver? Sochi? Lillehammer?
Tate’s class at school is doing a major Olympics unit. He came home with a torch, laurel wreath, and gold medal that looks like the Olympic medal. We made a torch for Rush as well and they have been very popular items recently.
One of my favorite classes in college was Russian History. I wanted to change my major to History, but I’m the oldest child so my option was Business. Had I been inclined, I probably could have switched over to Architecture with my parents’ blessing, but History was definitely out of the question. With a course catalog jam packed with Economics and a class literally called Compensation, we didn’t really get electives. Russian History was a major treat.
I learned so much in that class and felt like I would carry that knowledge with me forever. As I watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics, I’m realizing that I retained none of it. Bummer.
Today was a super trip to HEB. Holly was a perfect, sweet sleeping angel in the sling, Rush and Tate rode in the car part of the grocery cart, full of good behavior with just a sprinkle of naughtiness to let everyone know they’re not just a non-thinking robots with every spark of childhood beaten down. I was wearing clothes that made me feel good and our cart was a good combination of vegetables and frozen pizza. We got to the car and I thought, we did it! We projected to the world what a fabulously balanced family we are!
Contrast that with the library on Monday. We’re about to check out, and I’m standing by the shelf of new arrivals, absentmindedly pushing the stroller back and forth, completely zoned out scanning the shelves. At some point I realize that Rush and Tate are wrestling on the floor. We’re not hidden back in the true crime stacks; we’re front and center near the information desk. The wrestling had probably been going on for about thirty seconds –which doesn’t sound like a lot, but count it out in your head and in this scenario it’s a long time- before I registered it. And when I finally registered the commotion and looked up, I didn’t stop them right away. First I gave the librarian a raised eyebrows, whose kids are these? look. Ultimately it was embarrassing. But sorry World and Fellow Library Patrons: I enjoyed my thirty seconds of looking through the books. I was happy that we were all out of the house on a cold, wet day. Plus, the wrestling was quiet, or whatever my current standard of quiet is for a pair of 3 and 4 1/2 year old brothers. Let’s all give a little grace to mothers in public places who might just need a brief thirty seconds.
I read an article a few years ago where a couple chose to have only one child because they wanted to be able to give the child everything he or she wanted and all their attention. Because that’s what makes a healthy individual, right? Always getting everything you want and constant attention from your parents?
Having three kids is the glorious opposite of that. I’m trying to be the very best, most perfect mom I can be and it is not physically –or mentally- possible. Last week when Trent walked in from work and I notified him that there was absolutely no plan for dinner, that’s not being able to do it all. That’s why Little Caesars sells five dollar pizza. Sleeping on a pillow with baby spit up on it? Not being able to do it all. Not having washed the kitchen floor since…when? Not being able to do it all, and it’s not like anyone is in the crawling stage. Having to limit bedtime stories because Holly is crying? At least we’re reading before bed.
For every bit of personal attention I can’t give to each one of my kids, they are either learning to be independent or getting some quality sibling time. Holly is still sleeping a lot during the day, probably because her awake time is intense. A first child might enjoy a quiet hour awake, kicking away on a quilt watching his mother cook dinner. A third child wakes up to hear her brothers’ shout, “HOLLY’S AWAKE!” and shower her with red and pink confetti cannon to the face affection. If I could be a perfect mother, what in the world would these kids talk about to each other when they are older? Don’t my siblings and I love to recall our favorite breakfasts? Ramen noodles, Spaghettios, Mac and Cheese. My mom later referred to Spaghettios as “Vomit in a can” but she got us successfully fed and to school on time every morning.
These pictures, they’re not recent. Holly is about a month older and way bigger than the above shot and below, well, that’s clearly Christmas Eve. But now, everyone is napping at the same time! It’s a time crunch of free time that cannot be burdened with finding current photos!
Am I justifying all this to myself? Of course –and it’s for everyone else who needs to hear it. There is so much pressure to be perfect: organic food, anti aging creams…actually I can’t think of any other examples because, oh, I have three kids four and under and my brain is occupied with that. Happily, thankfully, joyfully occupied! Let’s all just do our best and move on. Rotisserie chicken for dinner for all!
