Biggest quality of life improvements of the past 12 months

Since it's been almost a full year since we've been regularly in touch, here are a few things I've discovered that have dramatically improved my quality of life. In no particular order:

1. Joining a book club. Last January (2018) I kind of invited myself into a book club. I thought it was, like, an established society. Then I showed up at the first meeting and there were only two people. Barging into their intimate lunches and conversation was certainly not my intent, but they were gracious and invited me to stay anyway. And their monthly accountability, combined with excellent book recommendations, kept me reading last year. I finished 54 books and watched a lot less Netflix.

2. Inheriting a treadmill. Running is something I've maintained pretty consistently over the past four years. However, finding the will power to run outside in Rochester in winter is challenging, even for people who LOVE running. (I don't love it. I just love how I feel after I'm done.) I don't think Roy was that excited when my parents unloaded their monstrosity of a treadmill into our living room. And I'm quite positive he wasn't excited when the two of us lugged it upstairs into our bedroom. But we've both been running this winter. A lot. I can do it when the kids are napping or after their in bed at night. I don't freeze my tail off or have my nose run off my face. And I can make up some of that lost Netflix time.

3. Finding good babysitters who drive. Picture me getting home at 8:30PM after a night of teaching. Picture me walking into a quiet house, paying the babysitter, then waking up three sound asleep little boys, packing them into the van, driving 30 minutes to return the babysitter to her place of origin, unpacking all the boys, and putting them back to bed. Now picture me walking into a quiet house at 8:30PM, paying the babysitter, sending her on her way, and hopping on the treadmill.

4. King Arthur flour. I'm a fairly meticulous baker. (Ask 4 year old Owen, who is learning to bake by weight rather than volume.) I've been consistently frustrated with wet doughs for baking. Soggy, sticky dough is maddening, and adding more flour led to dense, dry results. I gave King Arthur a chance and I'll probably never go back. The hydration difference is astounding to me. I'm using the exact same weight of product and getting a completely more manageable, delicious, finished product. I kind of wish something as basic as flour didn't have to require some sort of extra investment, but in this instance, I'll do it.

5. New glasses frames. I'm as blind as a bat. My lenses are incredibly thick and heavy. I'd been using the same frames since college, so when the right insurance came along to invest in a new pair without breaking the bank, I jumped at the chance. And then the wonderful man at the eye place introduced me to some sort of magic frames that weigh next to nothing, even with my coke bottle lenses. I've had these glasses for probably six months now and there STILL is not a night that I don't put them on and marvel at how comfortable they are.

6. The Paprika app. I may have mentioned this before--I think I've owned it longer than 12 months, but it's been in the past 4 months that I've started consistently using it for meal planning and grocery lists. Our grocery bills have gone down by about 20% in 2019, despite our growing kids, a toddler who can demolish a tub of hummus in a single go, and the grownups' penchant for exotic, experimental flavors.

7. Monthly dinner parties. Inspired by Lindsay Ostrom at pinchofyum.com, I initiated a monthly dinner club for a group of 6 gals at my church. We rotate homes, menus, and contributions. The long nights of fellowship and excellent food have nourished us all mind, body, and soul. My collection of peacock paraphernalia has blossomed as well.

8. A healthy iPhone battery. My iPhone was refurbished when we bought it and the battery did odd things. It didn't like cold weather any more than I do, so it would nosedive in subzero temperatures. I'd go from 80%-5% in two minutes. I became tethered to charging cables, and had to have one with me at all times in order to ensure I'd be able to access my phone. Roy finally stole it from me and took it to the Apple store to replace the offending part. Now I don't need to charge three times a day. One of those things that bugs you but you don't realize how much it's bugging you until it's fixed.

The treadmill has stopped overhead, so Roy must be done. Signing off for now so we can enjoy a little time together before I put on my feather-light glasses and crawl into bed.

Oh, hey there!

Reasons for my first blog post in well over a year...

1. Blogging again has been niggling at the back of my mind for a few months now.

2. Circumstances warranted it (see main content).

3. Roy bought a Chromebook and I wanted to play with his new toy.

I guess I didn't really have a choice.

Backtracking to last Friday...

Doctors appointments with three boys are no joke. They are, perhaps, the single biggest event I have to think through meticulously ahead of time. In addition to the basic necessities (keys, phone, wallet) I also have to make sure I have the right insurance cards, ample activities to survive waiting rooms, a secret bribe in case of needles, and anybody who is being inspected should have probably bathed somewhat recently. (That's the hardest part.)

So, anyway. Owen's annual pediatric immunology appointment was on Friday. His doctor operates out of the biggest hospital downtown. We are fortunate to have him seen by one of the best, but this necessitates making appointments months in advance. We had waited four months for this appointment and I was looking forward to having his allergen levels tested and hoping for improvement again this year. Last year he tested negative for hazelnuts and he and James consumed more celebratory Nutella in 2018 than I should probably publicly admit.

I packed the kids up, with all the necessities, and we were out the door an hour before the appointment started. It usually only takes 15 minutes to get the hospital, but we were going to be dealing with rush hour traffic and a parking garage. I waved forlornly to my barely-sipped cup of coffee on the way to the garage.

But! Miracles! We had zero traffic and found a parking spot without issue. We entered the main lobby at Strong with 40 minutes to spare. I eyed the coffee shop across the expanse and decided we could swing it. We entered the queue.

James and Owen immediately began begging for a snack. I juggled my purse (and Felix) to reach for my wallet when I felt a lurch on my right side. Suddenly there was a trickle of warmth down my arm. I looked at Felix, who looked back at me and then, urgently, baptized us both with his breakfast.

Motherly instincts are never more present than in those split seconds when you have to decide what to do about all the puke. Should I catch it in my hand? Should I drop the kid? (No.) Should I jump out of the way? My lack of caffeine did not help me here. By the time it was over my lovely trench coat was covered. There was puke in my purse and on my pants. It was in my shoes. It was all over Felix, his clothes, his shoes, and his George. It was all over the floor too. It was just all over.

The barista on duty shot us a look of disgust and called cleaning services. I asked, as graciously as I could, for some napkins. "I just called cleaning services so you'll have to wait for them to get here."

I looked back at the barista (hopefully not with too much disgust...) and replied, "Look, I'm dripping in vomit and so is my baby. Where are your napkins?"

A customer came to our aid with napkins. I bagged all of the stuffed animals and articles of clothing not required for basic modesty and surveyed the scene.

We waited four months for this appointment. We were all there. We had to at least check in.

So we went to the sixth floor and checked in. I explained the situation (I don't think they needed much of a verbal on that one) and, bless them, we were able to get some help. I was pointed towards a bathroom and was met there with a little hospital gown for Felix. For not being the patient I was paying for, he looked awfully pathetic and cute. I washed my pants off best as I could and returned to the waiting room. Sometime between lobby and here Owen's jacket had come off. I doubted we'd ever see it again.

We decided to stay for the appointment. It couldn't be more than an hour right? We had come all this way...

To trim what is already a very long story, the boys got to watch about 8 Curious George episodes and Felix threw up again before we were finally done. Sometime during the third hour I promised James and Owen that I would pick up whatever they wanted for lunch. Perhaps they anticipated this bribe because they replied in perfect, seemingly rehearsed, unison, "Chicken Charlie pizza from Salvatores."

"You got it guys. Let's just stay as patient as we can while we wait."

James, looks at Owen, "We have to stay STRONG Owen!"

Owen, looks at James, "No, YOU have to stay strong James!"

We got home with hot, fresh pizza. I did laundry. I had a cup of coffee. Felix didn't throw up again. (Thank buddy for only needing to do that while we were out...) The world slowly righted itself again.

Owen, in case you were wondering, skin-tested negative for both pistachios and PEANUTS this time. We still need official blood work, but we're optimistic that he might be able to have food challenges for both these foods in the near future. Oh, for a world with peanut butter again. Glory be!

I am thankful for the time and new toy to record this experience for posterity. Maybe Roy will let me borrow it again sometime and I can blog twice in one calendar year.

P.S. If you happen to be at Strong Hospital and see a little blue and yellow windbreaker, it belongs to Owen. And if you see a little blue velcro sneaker, size 5.5, it's Felix's. Just the one sneaker. My dignity is lying around there someplace too.

It's been a birthday

It’s been a weird birthday. It hasn’t been a sparkly, special, “I’m so loved” birthday. It’s been an interesting birthday.

Lowlights:

• ·         Waking up at 5:45 AM to a wailing Felix and a whole lot of rain.
• ·         Absolutely terrible food at our lunchtime restaurant. (Dirty plates, separated wing sauce, burnt “dino nuggets”, soggy fries, greasy tortilla shell, missing elements of fish tacos. Basically, everything tasted like we got last night’s leftovers.
• ·         The lecherous old man from Roy’s choir who told me how very nice I was looking as I was walking away from him, and later made comments about how pretty our teenage babysitters are becoming.
• ·         Finding a hole in the lining of my new-to-me birthday moto jacket.
• ·         Finding a used tissue in my new-to-me birthday moto jacket.
• ·         Going for a run after the rain finally stopped, only to have Owen shriek continuously, the entire two miles, on his scooter, after changing his mind four times about whether he should be on a scooter or in a stroller. I swear the kid woke up anyone and everyone in our neighborhood enjoying a Sunday afternoon nap.
• ·         Cutting out 800 (not exaggerating) paper motorcycles for our church’s VBS that starts tomorrow morning. Of course these motorcycles were needed for the first day. I have a blister on my index finger.
• ·         Not having any time to bake myself a birthday dessert. Or birthday meal.

Highlights:

• ·         A wonderful card from my kiddos at breakfast. James, “Happy birthday to you. Now I said it, now I’m done.” Owen, “Happy birthday Mommy! I’m going to give you a present! Thank you!” Felix, “Uh oh.”
• ·         A new-to-me birthday moto leather jacket from Roy.
• ·         A brand new pair of Italian leather driving moccasins from Roy. They are seriously gorgeous.
• ·         Owen sobbing his exhausted little heart out at the conclusion of Mulan. (Put on so I could cut out more motorcycles.) “Why are you crying Owen?” “I don’t even know. I just am!!!!!”
• ·         James calmly inspecting his digital wristwatch as Owen sobbed. “Oh, it is past my toothbrushing time.”
• ·         Felix being the squishiest and snuggliest baby ever and showing off his new word (“uh oh”) to his grandparents. (As in, “Uh oh, I am grabbing the motorcycles Mommy just cut out.”)
• ·         Calls and texts from family and best friends.
• ·         Roy making me stop cutting out motorcycles at 8PM. Now I need a Band-Aid.

Bedtime Stories

The Hideous Bog Monster Who Waits in Your Backyard

By James Smith

There were once two campers who loved to camp. One day they camped out. They didn’t know there was a bog monster. He had eaten all the people who camped, even their tents. The campers kept on camping. They set up their tents in the morning. In the afternoon they ate hot dogs for supper and roasted marshmallows over a fire for dessert. After that they went into their tents. They slept for a long time. They knew about that bog monster and then suddenly something went “SMACK CRUNCH SMACK CRUNCH” and woke them up. And then, they did something crazy. The tent flap zipped open and then, at the final second, the tent poles fell and the campers tied the bog monster up! And then he tried to get out and he flapped and fliggled his tentacles. But, with their strong muscles, they tied him up so tight I bet he couldn’t move. Then they carried him down to the basement and buried him with a lot of stuff. The next day they went to the store and bought a new tent. 

The End.

We Are Going To A Club Meeting Right Now

By Owen Smith

The club meeting will be upstairs in my bed. Then, at the club meeting, everyone has to be quiet. But, some of the guys makes me talk to every animal and Pete talks to Lighting McQueen. He’s the best friend I’ve ever seen. And then, something waked the animals up. They saw a big, bed monster. And it banged on the wall of the bunk bed. I tried to tie them up in a suitcase. THEN, something stopped and had some red on it. It was just Lightning.

The End.

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!

First check up

Bless the patient people at CCFM who waited far beyond Felix’s actual appointment time for my husband to rectify all the errors in the insurance made by the very “helpful” rep we dealt with at the hospital.

Bless Felix, who waited patiently an hour past his mealtime in the waiting room as we attempted to figure it all out.

Bless the actual doctor, who let me nurse a ravenous Felix while she caught up on our family news, asking lots of questions about James and Owen, because she remembers them and thinks they are great.

Bless the receptionist, who was celebrating her 60^th birthday with a big gaudy necklace with big, fat 60s all over it. Subtle it was not.

Bless the elderly lady who came over in the waiting room to ooh and ahh over our little bundle of perfection.

Bless the other elderly lady who, upon seeing my baby, felt the need to inform me of her bra size on her wedding day, while she was nursing her children, and after recently starting diabetes medication. “I had nothing, nothing, nothing, and now I’m Dolly Parton!” she proudly informed me.

Bless the third elderly lady sitting next to me who had to hear that, and a whole lot more, from second elderly lady.

And BUH-LESS the perfectly normal, mom-of-teenage-boy in the waiting room who saw Felix and commented on how tiny he was.

“He's beautiful. How old?”

“Thank you! 5 days.”

“Ah. So, not yours?”
“Yessss…mine.”

“Oh. There is NO STINKING WAY you had a baby 5 days ago! I figured you were his aunt or something!”

Yes, BLESS.