we're braver when we're together

Yesterday, Kiddo and Babs chose to watch a potentially scary My Little Pony episode (especially if you're my children). They sat next to each other on the couch, sharing my husband's Kindle.

"Let's not be scared," Kiddo suggested.

She amended her idea, "But let's cuddle close together in case we are."

When I walked by a while later, they were huddled next to each other with Babs' arm around Kiddo's shoulder.

***

They still don't like our basement. They rarely go down by themselves, and never just to hang out there. If one of them needs to go down there, she enlists the other to be her safety. They only play there if someone else is there. But I love what Kiddo says each time they boldly venture down the stairs, "We're braver when we're together!"

(But truthfully, they're getting better. Perhaps by next year they'll be able to handle it on their own, who knows?)

priorities

This is my boy. He weighed 14 lbs at his last check-up, two weeks ago. He is 97th percentile height and weight. So the fact that he refuses to sleep in his crib, except at night (thank goodness for that), and needs to be rocked to sleep either in my arms or my new Ergo carrier (thanks to my grandma for the money for it!) cramps my style. At least he smiles like this at me. And coos a lot. He likes me, but I think I deserve it.

In addition, I have two girls. One is largely self-sufficient, especially since she is at kindergarten for most of the day. But, there is an intense hour in the morning trying to get all of us out the door so she will be on time, and then a rigid end time where I have to be there again to get her home. (Whoever said 'never wake a sleeping baby' clearly only had one child - possibly two, but definitely not three.)

The other refuses to potty train, and two mornings a week attends preschool. For reasons that can only be described as personal revelation, it is a preschool I am running. (Although thankfully I only teach every three weeks. There is a reason I am not a preschool teacher.) 

In addition we have this house. I spent all my free moments, and many of my non-free moments, for two weeks cleaning it, in preparation for the visit of family for the Boy's blessing, then a semi-annual brunch we host. My visiting teacher and friend even came over two days to help me clean. You cannot tell that I did that... Well, maybe if you squint you can, we're slightly better organized, and thanks to my dad the good will stuff we had is gone.

My point is that I have no time. My "free time" is spent nursing a baby, or playing dolls with my three-year old, or perhaps sleeping just a bit, or feeding myself, so I can feed my baby. Am I poorly organized? Am I unrealistic in what I should be doing? Have I forgotten that all I really should be doing with an infant in the house is cooing back at him? I think so.

1st day

Kiddo had her first day of school, real school, kindergarten school. She was completely ready. (It was three weeks ago.) She made a friend, was intrigued by her friend buying lunch (she got strawberry milk!), and generally enjoyed herself. She's not really a detail girl, so that's about all the information I got.

One reason I wanted to buy this house was we could walk to school. I spent the week before school started wondering if that was such a good idea. I mean, this is what we look like as we walk to school... Well, not really. Usually I'm pushing a stroller with Babs inside. And often the Boy is struggling to free himself from the wrap. And if it's after school, Kiddo may be standing on the back of the stroller, also being pushed, uphill (no really, the walk home is uphill - except in all honesty, I make her walk on the hills). Plus I've lost Babs' sunglasses, making her less amenable to the walk. So perhaps this is the ideal version of the walk.

And, given the kids' ages, it's entirely possible I'll be walking to the school two times a day for the next seven or eight years. But, I won't be pushing a stroller the entire time.

But back to Kiddo. She loves school. She's made friends. She follows directions and comes home happy every day. This is our school girl.

two friends and the miracle

This has been a daunting move for us. First of course is the packing, packing, and more packing.  Kids have to be comforted that the thing you are packing, which she has not touched for three months, will be fine in a box for three days. (Then, because she has forgotten it again, you can leave it there for much longer, and consider leaving it there forever...) Then the actual stuff has to be moved.

A particular hurdle of this move that has never been a problem in the past was my life didn't stop for the move. There were still midwife appointments, and preschool, and swimming, and ballet, and church... And then while all the big stuff moved in a day, the little stuff (finally getting the last trash out of the old house, cleaning, getting stuff out of the yard, etc.) kept dragging on and on and on (a hazard of moving four blocks away).

On Sunday, multiple people asked how the move went/was going. I did not put on a happy face. A few made general offers of help, give me a call. Two did more.

The first told me to bring my kids over the next day to play with her kids. So I did, and, since it was Memorial Day, my husband and I had three hours to work without the children. We used this time wisely. With her good help, we finished up by the end of the day. We now only have one house.

The second said, "Are you generally home during the day? I'll come over one morning and do the lifting you can't because you're pregnant." She called me the morning of her visit at 8 am (earlier than this house usually runs), and came over. She worked for two hours straight, and we unloaded at least 5 or 6 boxes. This may not sound like much until I assure you that these were the "throw everything in" boxes, so almost everything in them went to a different place. My friend ran up and down my stairs all morning, a feat I am completely incapable of right now. (Oh, I can still go up and down stairs, but I can't do it repeatedly.)

We are out of the old house. The entire downstairs is not covered with boxes. It's been a the best week of our move, thanks to my good friends. (The best weekend of our move was when we actually moved, with my mom's help. Don't think I don't remember that. And don't think for a second my husband hasn't gone above and beyond this whole time. But he has a full-time job, and I just need a little more help these days.)

I want to do that: see a friend in need, and give a concrete offer of help that is helpful. I'm not sure with two kids at home, and one on the way there is much I can do in this direction, but I'm trying.

we're okay

Let's be honest. I'm exhausted. My husband is exhausted. And these two kids just keep moving merrily along in their life, with enough energy to make me wonder...

I'm now almost 7 months pregnant, and he is a mover. I failed my preliminary gestational diabetes test, and basically fretted for two weeks until I heard back about  my longer test (which made me sick, sick, sick), and know that I do not have gestational diabetes. I am so grateful. During the interim I had my second ultrasound (since I'm of advanced maternal age and all), in which I was offered undeniable proof that he is a boy. Maybe someday soon he'll have a different name than "baby brother." All this does make me less functional than I wish I could be. But, I am meeting my primary goals of feeding the children every day, and that's all I can ask for.

My husband is wishing that this move would actually end. Because of Memorial Day, our physical possessions should be removed by the end of the weekend, so then we can just clean, and be done. Did I mention we found some mold, actually quite a bit, as we moved out? We're grateful that's not our problem. My husband is an amazing worker, and just keeps getting this project done. (He's also primarily responsible for the unpacking on this end, so that's energy sapping too.)

Kiddo is, of course, doing great. She seems absolutely fine that preschool is done (possibly because this week has been very, very busy) and play wells with her little sister every day. I've signed her up for swimming lessons, which she loves. She gave the spiritual thought in primary last week, and did a fantastic job. She even added a portion of her talk from when we practiced (not really a surprise) so she could show the picture that she had drawn in Sacrament Meeting. She drew a picture of "Brave CTR girl. It's me." She wrote that entire caption herself (I probably helped her spell brave), including the apostrophe. I love that girl.

This week we did kindergarten orientation. Kiddo is ready to go, and loved her whole experience in the classroom. I am not. First off, I don't worry like other parents (and of course, that worries me). But my real concern, and this is serious, is Who will entertain my three-year old while Kiddo is at kindergarten next year? Babs and I don't have a together time routine. I guess we should, because Kiddo has been in preschool for a year, but we don't. Maybe she'll be really good with baby brother...

And Babs. She has thrown significantly less tantrums this week. But, she's also had a nap almost every day, which means she doesn't fall asleep until 9 or 10 (which may be driving her father crazy). Because of the very busy week we've had she's been primarily in pull-ups (oh, and she's still reluctant about the 2nd half of the process) and we have seriously backtracked in potty training. I am giving us this next (considerably quieter) week to get things back under control before I give up again.

She is also signed up for swimming lessons. The first week she participated, but looked mad and betrayed most of the lesson, and told me afterward how scary it was. The next week she refused to even enter the pool. I offered a lot of bribes, none of which enticed her. (That child won't be bribed. It's just something about her.) So the manager and I discussed our options. We then took the kids to family swim that weekend. By the end of an hour in the pool, Babs loved the water. And, week three of swimming lessons went fine. She still wasn't sure about all of it, but at the end told me how brave she was to participate, not how scared she was. Plus, she got her "dunkin donut" so that also helped. (That would be the bribe that didn't work until she was ready for it to work.) (And Kiddo, ever a good sport, gets the reward if Babs earns hers. Kiddo asked if she got a donut after swimming lessons, and I had to tell her it depended on Babs, because I'm just not mean enough to stop and get a donut for one kid and leave the other kid out, especially when the first kid doesn't need an enticement to go spend 30 minutes in the pool.)

And Babs wears a silly hat (sometimes). You can see it in the picture above. My ever wise husband got it off before church by insisting that we don't wear hats when we pray. She is a funny little girl, with a real sense of humor, and uses it a lot. Which is good. We need to laugh.

a tale of three screams

A week ago Saturday morning, we were 90% packed, and I knew we would just be in the way, so the kids and I (and my mom) headed off to the birthday party we had been invited to, leaving my husband to move our belongings from one house to the other while we were gone. My mom had heroically moved the kitchen the day before, so at least we could eat.

The party was fun, and Babs fell asleep on the way home. We figured out where the beds were (new house), headed there, and carried her to her bed. I laid her down, she sleepily opened her eyes, and then woke up enough to have a screaming fit, because this wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room. She needed to go to her bed in her house! There was nothing we could say or do to calm her down. But, I had promised my good, tired husband, and the two good missionaries helping him, pizza, so I strapped Babs (still crying and screaming) in the car and headed off to the pizza place. Somewhere along the route Babs calmed down enough for me to figure out that the real problem was her blanket and pillow weren't there. We brought the pizza to Dad, then went back to the old house to get the blanket and pillow. Crisis solved.

Bedtime of the first night of the girls sharing a room went just about as well as we expected, and around 10 they both finally fell asleep.

The next morning, the girls emerged from their room together, and came to find us (now next door as opposed to downstairs!). Babs immediately insisted that she needed to be carried by me. I told her no, walked with her to the bathroom (hey - I'm pregnant people) while she cried to be picked up. The cries were gathering steam. After the bathroom I asked her to walk with me to the couch so I could hold her. She wouldn't. She wouldn't go anywhere unless I carried her. So I left her standing and crying in the bathroom, sat on the couch, and waited for her.

Ten minutes of crying later, she still had not moved. My husband finally got out of bed to bring her to me. She wouldn't let him pick her up. She wouldn't let Grammy pick her up. She just stayed there and cried. Around ten minutes later, I got back up, convinced her to follow me to the couch, where she cried on my lap for a long time.

Monday morning, we dropped Kiddo off at preschool, and the plan was that we would go back to the old house (that still had a lot of stuff, and needed plenty of cleaning) and work. I was a little tentative about bringing Babs back, but we decided it would be okay.

It was not. She happily walked into the house, and immediately wanted to go to her bed. As soon as I said it wasn't there she completely flipped out again. She cried and screamed and fussed and was generally inconsolable. I tried to work around it for about 10 minutes (probably only 5, time seems to slow down when my child is screaming) then announced we were leaving.

I refuse to bring her back. Occasionally we stop in the driveway and I run in the house to grab something (although since my husband cleared out the rest of our stuff yesterday, that's probably not going to happen again) and I don't talk about the other house.

These three tantrums are not the only ones we've had in the last two weeks. Babs pitches two or three a day. It makes every day more interesting.

Our basement is filled with boxes. But we're here. And we plan on staying for a long time.

this is my house

Here's the view from the street. And as I came to do the walk-through (an hour before we bought the house) I thought, huh, I don't actually like the front door. But, a door can be painted... eventually.

Here's our kitchen. It's still small. And actually doesn't have a microwave. But it has lots of light, and looks into the backyard. Plus, there's a screen on the window, so it can be opened! How exciting.

This will be the boy's room. For the next month or two I'm sure it will just contain a lot of unpacked boxes. (But I am determined to have no unpacked boxes - past storage - in my new home! If there's no room to unpack it, then we get rid of it.) See that lovely dusty rose/mauve color? The entire house is that color.

Except the girls' room. That's green. Or at least it was until this weekend. Now thanks to my good husband, it's pink.

We have what we call an explorer's back yard (if that explorer happens to be less than 5 feet tall). There are trees and bushes, a shed, a porch, a patio, and a groundhog. Plus an above ground pool. We will miss that extensive amount of open space that we have in our current back yard, but there's still plenty of space to run, and I think we will enjoy the pool. (If we don't, it's feasible to remove.)

We can walk to the elementary school (and we will - every day starting this fall). We aren't moving wards, or even really neighborhoods, so we can keep all our doctors, and stores, and everything that we like around here. We move next Saturday. New house, here we come.

Home, here we come!

Here we are after one of the longer days of my pregnancy. (I would have appreciated less room above our head, and perhaps some belly evidence, but I wasn't thinking very much at the time of the picture, simply that it needed to be taken.) You can see in most of our faces that we are a little tired.

In the morning Kiddo went to preschool, and I packed the things one needs to keep a 5 year old and a 3 year old occupied through four or five hours of meetings. After preschool, we had a quick lunch, during which Babs disappeared and fell asleep in the her bed.

I woke her up to go to an eye doctor appointment. I'm not in the habit of bringing my children to the doctor's office, but I made an exception for this one. We sat in the waiting room for 1 hour and 20 minutes before I finally said, "I've got to go, is she going to see me or not?" She did, and what is normally a 45 minute appointment was reduced to five.

Then the kids and I jumped in the car to do a walk-through of our about-to-be-purchased house. The owners were just finishing cleaning it, and it is likely this is the cleanest that house will be for its foreseeable future. Then we got back in the car to go to closing.

The closing was exactly what that should be, kids watching iPhone's in the corner, and mom and dad signing a multitude of papers, and tying our financial future to a well-designed set of bricks and wood. And then we'd bought a house. So we took a picture. (There was a problem with the wire transfer, so the money didn't actually disappear from our account until late this morning. For a while we had both our house and our money, and that was weird, but now our money is gone. We still have the house though!)

After the picture we went out to eat, to a parent place, not a kid place, so the kids played some more iPhone. And then we took the kids home to bed. That would be our current rental, not our recently purchased house. But we'll be there more and more until two weeks from now, when we actually move in.

We're homeowners. (Would you like to know about the house? Well, stay posted, and it's entirely possible I'll actually take some pictures eventually, and tell you about it. Of course, maybe I'll just think about it...)