Gray Days

I wish I knew why the gray day brings me cascading, descending, like someone holding my head underwater, and the angst bubbles up like fizz in my tummy
why the gray day sags my face and I look like a sad clown, an old grumpy lady, hair sticking up like wires , nose wrinkled, lips on my chin.
The gray day crusts up my eyes and my shoulders slump to my hips, sliding, sinking, and I think how can my children recognize me. Gray days depress my voice and prevent my smiles and even my toes are depressed. I lay prostrate and wait for the sun.

Here is what the sun looks like:

Hello, Mommy. I am your sunshine, your only (except Benjamin, too) Sunshine, I make you happy when skies are gray!

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you...

And this little lovebug, too

Still posing as he watches Elmo

Some Mother's Day humoring of mom by sitting in silly little chairs and taking photos while staring into the sun.

He's giving me the lowdown on the proper care of goats. he's so excited about his dissertation he is drooling.

I just can't. This picture is so stinking cute. 

more stinking cuteness

His joy and delight at the crowds' joy and delight.

The accomplished grad and her littles. Plus Uncle. May is such an exciting time!

With all the of the wonderfulness in the world, it seems silly to let a little grayness get in the way. Especially since the sun has shone every day since the day I started writing about gray days. Thankful for sunny Albuquerque. Thankful for sunny babies. Thankful for husband who doesn't up and leave when I am grumpy. He has the patience of a saint. The anti-depressant is helping, and every day is a little easier. Besides, there isn't anything better than summer with little kids. Kiddie pools, road trips, long walks in the early morning, and long naps in the hot afternoons. Its going to be amazing.

CousCous

We have moved on to Cous Cous. Cous Cous is, of course, Blue's Clues, in Benjamin speak. Both boys adore Steve. They aren't crazy about the other guy who replaced him. Since we got rid of cable this month, we won't be subjected to Steve replacements. The tv schedule is a little better. I turn it on in the morning so I can get my coffee and see what's up in the world.  The shows only play one at a time on our Netflix, so eventually when the boys have lost interest in the middle of the second one, the tv stays off for the rest of the morning. Benjamin has replaced the tv with his LeapPad...but he's learning stuff, so that's okay. We also end up outside in the glorious spring weather so I can water my little wildflower shoots. Unless its horrible and windy, which its been a lot recently. Then I pull out playdoh or put on Thomas, depending on how dark my mood has turned.

After waging battle after battle with Peter over where he spends his nighttime sleeping hours, winning the fight for a few nights, losing some ground with illness...we have lost the war. Yes, I admit defeat. I surrender. Apparently Peter's teething experience is so excruciating that even ibuprofen isn't working to alleviate it. The only analgesic that is effective? Mama's arms. Better yet, Mama's arms surrounded by Mama's cozy bed. I can't really blame him. Greg and I invested in a new mattress this winter, and it is THE most comfortable spot in the house. Peter's mattress purchase was less thought out...our research consisted of staring at the selection at Target and picking out the cheapest one. Sold. I have regretted that decision since Peter got a little bigger. Its really not so much a mattress as a fabric covered, thick cot. We discovered that by padding the bed with a towel under the sheet and one of the beautiful baby quilts on top for him to lie on top of, we can get a good 2-3 hour nap out of him. But it doesn't hold up all night.

Its looks like this that keep him alive.

I truly have no idea if that's the reason he won't stay in his bed. I read that somewhere and it sounded good. Especially since it could add to my mommy guilt list.  I cheaped out on his mattress. Let the internal maternal flogging begin!

In other news, and perhaps most importantly, my darling new nephew was born!!! Rory Higgins made his appearance on April 22nd after 14 hours of labor and about 20 minutes of pushing. Apparently my pint-sized sister is a hoss in disguise. Further proving how rare (read:recessive) our genepool is, Rory's father clearly won this match-up. He's just gorgeous regardless! I am one proud aunt!

Hi, little lovie, sweet baby nephew boy!!  Auntie loves you!!

Can't wait to kiss his little face!

Also went and procured the anti-depressants I so desperately wanted a few months ago. Peter and I are completely done nursing, and I have had increasingly wide mood swings, and increasingly paranoid thoughts. Here's hoping the meds help not hurt! I've taken bigger risks, the good Lord knows. The only other thing I can say is now, after listening to Peter's screaming for 25 minutes, the house is finally quiet and I am to bed. Well, I am to watching Don Draper be hot on Mad Men. Same dif.

BABY STRIKES BACK

I actually find it really hard to concentrate and write well when Thomas the Train is screamingly loud on the TV. But I learned this morning that if I don't have it on, and my two year old is feeling better after a week of wheezing and fevers and an ear infection, then he will get into all sorts of mischief. Mischief at our house is exploration and learning. Mischief at my parents house in Texas is expensive. Whether the cost is monetary or in my time and attention, its a pain in the A. So please excuse me if there are typos, grammatical errors, bad syntax, because in my head is an earnest little blue engine wishing he'd listened so he could be a 'really useful engine.'

Before we left for Texas, which was an adventure I'd rather not relive as it was exhausting and stressful, but worth it, Peter started crawling. A lot. Everywhere. Fast. And I started to notice some things about my sweet little Peter I had never known before. First of all, he's super curious. He is more interested in the world around him than he was before. He loves doors. He loves opening and shutting opening and shutting them. Right now, at this very moment, he has discovered my parent's tv console cabinet door...unforutnately its glass...be right back...

OKay, two hours later...Peter's new hobby, besides slamming doors open and shut, is following Benjamin around stealing his toys or knocking them down. He also likes to kick Benjamin in the head at every opportunity. The last opportunity was when they were riding in a shopping cart, Peter in an infant seat and Benjamin in the regular seat. I had to hold his foot to keep him from doing it and push the cart with my free hand alone. So every time I left the cart to get something, there his leg would swing and kick kick kick to B's head. B tolerated it admirably. Minimal yelling and screaming.

The upshot being, I am no longer worried about Peter, or his likelihood of survival in my house with all the big kids. That boy is going to be just fine.

The other thing I wanted to say was this, and I didn't say it, Glennon Melton of Momastery said it, and since she's amazing and brilliant I am not going to paraphrase. Just directly quote:

Listen to me: God said the most important thing to do down here is to “love your neighbor as yourself.” Implied in this commandment is that if you don’t love yourself, you’re useless. You cannot save anyone else. All you can do is save yourself so that those you love can see how it’s done.

Glennon Melton, Momastery

To that end, there are  some new developments in my life that include weekly yoga classes, regular afternoon breaks provided by my husband, and possibly anti-depressants. I am really stoked about all of those things. Keep you posted. 

Church and Love and Weddings

This morning I went to church with my friend (and business partner) Liz. I was surprised and delighted to run into friends of mine I never get to see, but just adore. I was in their wedding almost 10 years ago now (10? really?? or 11? I need to figure that out. It's all foggy, those early 2000's...) I had never been to the church before, but I sort of knew what to expect because Liz had talked to me about it on numerous occasions. The most important, number 1 reason I wanted to go there on this particular Sunday was because I knew they had a great childcare room for little ones under 3, and I really wanted to be with God this morning without distraction. I am Catholic, and this church isn't, but it didn't matter to me today.

Anyway, I ran into this couple, which made me feel immediately at home (I was already pretty comfy since I was with Liz and as we women know, if we are armed with a good friend who already knows the ropes, any new place becomes ten times less intimidating) and their little boy was in the nursery already. They were ushers today, so we didn't sit with them, but close to the end of the service the pastor (leader? reverend?) asked all the partners in the room who wished to renew their vows to stand up. The couples in the room were each handed a red rose and repeated the vows after the leader (reverend? pastor? I need to find out, its bugging me). I felt so privileged to look back and see them exchange their vows to each other again.

The whole experience brought me right back to my tiny Catholic chapel wedding with Husband. Greg and I got married twice.  The first time we married in a beautiful, small wedding in my good friend's beautiful, large living room. I was nervous as hell, Greg's family was confused and mad at us for marrying too quickly and without a huge wedding everyone could come to, and my family was a little less mad but no less confused. You'd have to ask Greg how he felt about it at the time. He went through with it, but I judged by the slightly green around the gills look he had during the ceremony, he had some doubts! It felt a lot like we were jumping off a cliff together, and not only did we not know if a safe landing waited below, almost everyone in the room was convinced there was NOT. The entire event, while lovely and certainly happy for Greg and I, was rife with tension and some regret on my part because one of my beloved lobsters, my sister Kelly, was unable to be there. So, while I adore the beautiful pictures, and I have memories of the day that are delightful, the wedding I thought of this morning was the wedding Greg and I had in the Catholic Church. I was six months pregnant with Benjamin. I borrowed a blue dress from Kelly, our sibs read scripture passages, and a couple of immediate family couldn't make it because they were sick. But it was a perfect little ceremony. I recall vividly the love, certainty, and joy in Greg's face while we exchanged our vows. I recall vividly feeling the same love, certainty, and joy. We'd been married exactly a year, and we knew without a doubt we'd done the right thing. I wish Greg had been with me at church this morning. (he's on shift with the fire department) I would marry him anytime, anyplace, again and again.

The rest of the service was wonderful. I am still processing it. I definitely will be back. The giant bonus of an hour and a half of free childcare is only a small fraction of the myriad reasons that is so.