Ten minutes of peace

I’m sitting, slouched, in my office chair. I had music of my choice on, quietly, but I shut it off because it was too loud. My work is done for the weekend’s church services and I have fifteen minutes to myself. I should probably go outside and get some fresh air, but I’m too tired. And it might be too loud. Maybe I should get a cup of coffee somewhere, but I don’t have the energy to get up to go get it. And I might have to talk to someone, which would be too loud.

I’m very tired. My ears hurt. I don’t notice it until it’s quiet, but then the contrast is unmistakable.

I love my boys so much. I love their silliness and their imagination and their energy and joy. I love their curiosity and innocence and peculiarities. I love their dirty knees and their short haircuts and their sweet smiles.

I’m getting a decent amount of sleep at night. Felix sleeps for 8 hours, eats, and then puts in another 3 or 4. I’m only having to get up once a night. I shouldn’t be this tired, right?

I am housebound. After two partial days of solo parenting I’m aching to get out and DO something, but the collective manifesto of all that would need to happen to transport three children under the age of 6 quickly nullifies the desire. So we play baseball in the backyard. Or they dig behind the bush in the front yard. And I pace the 40 feet in front of our house and do laps around the yards with Felix, bouncing and singing, just trying to keep him calm.

James yells at Owen for taking his shovel. Owen yells “NOOOOO!!” back, not because it means anything, but because it’s a loud, fun word to yell. This alternates for another couple of minutes while I pace. Per usual, they sort it out on their own. But in the meantime, noise.

Felix is slowly becoming formulaic. One nap >  90 minutes = 60 minutes of contented consciousness. Nap < 90 minutes = spiral into exhaustion—screaming—doze for 10 minutes—screaming—exhaustion—doze—etc. Most days are at least half the latter. I can count on one hand the number of days when we’ve had two naps long enough to pacify and reset. This isn’t healthy, but I haven’t hit on the answer yet.

I look at the laundry baskets, full of folded clothes that we did the last time we were both home. Haven’t gotten them upstairs or put away yet.

The dishes are done. Meals have been eaten. I’m staying on top of thank you notes.

I’m even getting in a few bites of books here and there. I could go for a really good, easy, summer read right now. Any recommendations? Currently reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma and Simple Church. Neither are doing much for me right now, other than acting as sedatives.

Soon I will need to direct a choir rehearsal for an hour, speaking loudly and attempting to multitask as much productivity into a small amount of time. This reeks of familiarity...

Tomorrow Roy has promised two hours to myself in the morning. I plan to drive to Webster where there is coffee and retail. I have already looked up what times different stores open to best maximize my time. But I may end up just reading in Starbucks.

Either way, it will be quiet.

Quick (?) Hitters

Life with a Felix

I haven’t blogged in a month and a half. This is because we have a new baby, and the initial burst of energy and exhilaration has slowly turned into the daily routine of endless feeding, changing, burping, scrubbing, rocking, snuggling, and praying for sleep. Felix is 8 weeks old now and bestows his best smiles for his mama, which prevents him from being called ‘Fleix’ very often. When he is rested, fed, and on a normal digestive schedule he is generally content. Those conditions aren’t met in tandem very often. Alas, he has followed in Owen’s footsteps and proven wildly unpredictable in filling his diapers, leading to fussiness and an inability to sleep long stretches during the day. Watch out if you are the lucky individual whom he blesses with the Ultimate Blowout. Still, he is oh, so handsome and sweet and those big blue (currently) eyes melt hearts. I suspect we will keep him a while longer.

Date Nights In

We have kept up with our DNIs, but I haven’t written a summary in a few months. I have lots of pictures of the food, which has been enjoyable. It’s a lot harder to do a Date Night In with a newborn who doesn’t go to bed until after his brothers. Felix has joined us twice now and, while mostly behaved, one has to constantly remind one’s self to slow down and enjoy each hard-earned bite. Only two more months to go and we will have cooked our way through the entire book!

Two Kids Versus Three

I had a lot of people tell me that transitioning from one child to two was far harder than two to three. I have waited almost two months before rendering my verdict. And I officially disagree. When Owen came home from the hospital we had a very difficult time getting James acclimated to having a new kid on the block. It was heartbreaking to watch him struggle, but we were still able to each hold a kid/spend time one-on-one/tag-team around the house. This time around both James and Owen have been fantastically well-behaved. They are gentle (mostly) and loving (always) around Felix, play together beautifully, and quite readily accept having a baby in the house. But we adults are suffering. Zone defense is hard. Really hard. In the past two days we’ve given more baths because of blowouts and accidents than fit on one hand. (Each child was bestowed at least two of those baths…) Meals are loud and borderline uncontrollable. Trumpet practicing goes hand in hand with Felix screaming. And the couple of times we’ve required any form of childcare, the stress of figuring it all out makes me want to crawl under my bed and hide. And it’s still SUMMER. Everything is just now ramping up for the fall with jobs and school. I’m terrified anytime I allow myself to think past today. (This is not an exaggeration.) Insert clichés about Precious Seasons and It All Goes By So Fast and Enjoy Every Second. I’m ignoring you, all of you. This is the most beautiful, precious, HARD thing we’ve yet to tackle in our ten years of marriage.

In other news:

·         James is reading Great Illustrated Classics and Calvin and Hobbes entirely on his own.

·         He also learned how to ride a bike in ten minutes, after declaring boldly to me walking out the door that “I’m going to learn how to ride my bike without training wheels if it kills me.”

·         Owen wants to be five. Or three. Pretty much any age that isn’t two. But he is Oh. So. Two.

·         Outside has proven a saving grace for all this manly energy in my house. The boys love scooters, bikes, the playground, baseball, “buffalo” (that’s Owen-speak for football), and hiding precious commodities in the front bush. Or filling diapers with other commodities behind the front bush…

·         I’m back at Pearce, which is undergoing an enormous amount of change and transition. It feels as if I’m starting a new job. This hasn’t exactly alleviated any of my exhaustion or stress. Still, it does ignite my heart to be making music again in some form.

·         Roy is Super Dad and Super Husband. I think we both realized early on with Felix that if we turned on each other it was all over. It’s been, in spite of the insanity, a really sweet season for us as we serve each other and our kids. We are surviving on prayer, humor, and gallons of coffee.

I make no guarantees for when I’ll be back. Like I already said, looking past today is just about impossible. So, ta-ta for now!