Sunday School Rebel

Thomas Tuesdays: the Wednesday confession

Some days, being a mother is really, really hard.

Hard is an all-encompassing word, when there are so many words and phrases that make up the madness of motherhood: tiny annoyances, snotty noses, teeth that refuse to just break through already, incessant moaning that nothing quells, the inability to have a moment's peace like maybe right now, with the baby crawling under my chair to get at the cords behind the desk.  The endless daily cycle of waking and sleeping some of the time and the what do you do in between.

Yesterday was one of those days.  I feel that many times, I am terribly optimistic and cheerful about motherhood on this blog.  There's just not enough edge, not enough sturm and drang, not enough suffering, you know to have a really successful mommyblog.  And that's because there is very little of that in my life.  But there are days, there are moments - the sniping that goes back and forth on whose responsibility it is to do what, for the baby, for the house, the days where I feel moored on Miscommunication Island.  The days where nothing really goes right, where I feel guilty for breathing, where I let my regrets and grudges come and sit on the couch with me, and end up feeling like someone who is surely not responsible or compentent enough for a hamster, let alone a baby.  Usually I am able to turn the coin over to the shiny side, but there was no shiny side, only a dark corroded penny that gets stuck to the bottom of your cupholder. 

It was one of the few times where I felt at my wits' end with my child, my nerves stretched thin like the strings on a guitar.  I plopped him in the middle of the kitchen floor and said, "I am so over you."  Within a few moments, I felt my feet, wet in tidepools of guilt. Thankfully he doesn't know what I mean by this yet, this passive aggressive tendency to wound sideways. He happily banged on the floor with a wooden spoon (with which I am afraid he is going to poke his eye out) and proceeded to climb into the dishwasher.  Finally, I strapped him in his highchair, and distracted him with Cheerios.

Is it any wonder that when five o'clock mercifully arrived, I gratefully handed him over to his father, and hit the door running? I was so glad to escape (to work) and get moments with people who speak in sentences and not shrieks somewhat like a baby pterdactyl.   Work was like a small hurricane, and I was scattered, but still, it was away.  It was relief.  It was enough to make me happy to return home, to snuggle my sleepy, snaggle-toothed dictator on the couch.  The bright side of the penny emerged, at last. 

Easter family togetherness

Uncle Christopher as bodyguard from paparazzi, originally uploaded by sundayschoolrebel.

This picture encapsulates everything this Easter was for me...a total family day.

Last week, my mom went away for her own spring break to visit her sister, and she said, "You and Grandma figure out what y'all want to do for Easter."  And it occurred to me, why not host Easter at MY house? I've learned that carting a child around to various family homes for holiday celebrations can be taxing indeed.  Not to mention, that one family always gets the short end of the stick.  (Usually the inlaws, of course, which makes me feel a bit guilty.  But only a little bit.)  Besides, it gives my grandparents such a thrill to come to our house, and let us cook for them!

After waffling a bit, only because I was trying to figure out what the inlaws were doing - early or late celebration at their own place - and then realizing that they didn't know themselves - I officially declared that we would have Easter lunch at our house.  The end.  It was decided that Grandma would bring deviled eggs and potato salad and though I said she didn't have to bring the ham, who needs ham? She brought ham. I think it's against her religion to go without ham on Easter.  My husband requested the unorthodox meal of poppyseed chicken, and we're now devoted to Amanda's roasted cauliflower, so that was on the menu as well.  I asked my mom to bring something green, and wahlah! Easter lunch was planned!The night before we'd cooked the chicken, diced it, and chopped up the cauliflower - and by we, I mean Beaux, bless his soul.  I'd made my buttermilk pies, even though it seemed as if the world was against me - first I was out of eggs, then vanilla.  (They were made without vanilla, and tasted just fine.)

Sunday dawned - and I do mean dawned, now that I have to get up early since I'm singing in early service - and all was well. Doing many of the cooking tasks ahead of time really relieved any anxiety about pulling everything together for lunch. Thomas recieved his first Easter basket, and immediately broke open one of the eggs, which I'd filled with puffs.  He thought it was pretty awesome, waking up, and bam! puff time! We all made it to church without a hitch, enjoyed the service and then didn't linger after, which is sad, because I love to linger.  It was so nice to simply go back home, unload the baby and let him play, and get started on lunch.  In fact, we were so ahead of the game that I actually just sat around before my parents and grandparents arrived, a little lost at being terribly prepared. Thomas fell asleep on his daddy before everyone arrived, just crawled up to him after playing happily on the floor.

Around eleven, my parents and grandparents arrived, my Mama bearing Easter baskets for all her children.  She was on an admitted silly streak while shopping for everything, but thankfully didn't scrimp on the Cadbury creme eggs.  Coffee was ingested - Mama and Grandma had gone to the sunrise service, which is lovely but sometimes a bit cruel, especially when Easter comes so early and it's COLD out there - and then we got busy in the kitchen, with all the last minute dishes to cook (because cold cauliflower is no one's favorite).  Thomas woke up and played around our feet while we ate, with me leaving the table to periodically chase after him.  Lunch was declared a success, and then we had more coffee and buttermilk pie.  My brother finally showed up, and ate his share. Beaux was in charge of dishes, because he's so good with them, and eventually we made it outside for a small, one kid Easter egg hunt.  It was a lovely day, and then just me and Mama and Grandma got to visit (and play with Thomas) while the boys went to run an errand that required a truck and able-bodied strong dudes.

All in all, it was a lovely day.  My brother ended up hanging out with us after all the "grownups" left, and then we all took naps. What is it about that pull of a nap, that strange only Sunday brand of tiredness?   I can't remember the last time Beaux and I and the Kiddo all took a nap together, and it was very sweet.  We ended up sleeping far too long and made it over to the in-laws later than planned, but there you go. We got to enjoy time with Thomas' other grandparents without the stampede of all his older cousins, which is an added bonus, in my mind.  A good day, all this Easter family togetherness, full of chocolate, puffs, and buttermilk pie. 

happy first day of spring!

purpley up close, originally uploaded by sundayschoolrebel.

thomas tuesdays: easter egg hunt edition

Let's get this out of the way first : the above picture is my new favorite picture of my child, ever. Just had to share that with you.

Saturday bloomed with full spring beauty, and near-summer heat.  We're accustomed to this swift turn of seasons here, but still, the sun was ablazing.  The Easter Egg hunt took place in a lusciously sculpted backyard, right on the lake, which made me terribly anxious.  Not the landscaping, but the lake.  I am hoping that next year the Hunt will return to the traditional venue of past years, the place with NO LAKE.

In the meantime, Thomas hung out with the other babies, and entertained himself by tossing his pacifer in his Easter bucket. Does he know how to party, or what?

Obviously, kids ranging from wee tiny to late elementary school attend the Easter Egg Hunt, so there are distinct zones for each age group.  Thomas fell into the "scatter eggs on the lawn in plain sight" zone, which was just perfect.

He zoomed towards four separate eggs, entirely on his own, and so that's all we took home: four eggs.  I look forward to next year, where he will be able to score more eggs, thereby entitling his father and I to far more candy to consume on his behalf.

He did manage to find a bag of conversation hearts that became dear to him, and would squeal with displeasure if we tried to take it away from him.  Thankfully, he had no idea that we were happily hoovering up bag-free gummi bears and Starburst jellybeans - the good candy - so that he didn't become attached to all this sugar he's not yet old enough for.  Today, he had a girl in a waiting room offer him a foot long Laffy Taffy, and we had to explain that he doesn't have enough teeth for that sort of snack.  But you know, check back with us in a couple of months. 

 

easter bucket

easter bucket, originally uploaded by sundayschoolrebel.

I've been anticipating our annual church Easter egg hunt ever since I gave birth - it's one of my favorite things we do every year. Ever since I saw this fabulous idea, I've been inspired to make Thomas an Easter bucket.  I don't know what it is, suddenly with every major holiday I feel compelled (in the best possible way) to create something special.  The instructions suggest using illustrations from childrens books, and I did plan on going that route (even bought an extra Little Bear at a garage sale) but decided that I needed a firm Easter theme, hence the ducklings. Maybe after all the Easter books go on sale I can pick up something good for next year's bucket...

I really enjoyed making this - it's terribly easy.  In fact, I was sad when I was through, and would have happily made another one for another kid - unfortunately, The Green Bean Kid is off celebrating St. Patrick's Day instead of hunting for eggs.  (Maybe I could make a bigger one for my preschool class? Just for decoration? Perfect excuse, I think.) As for the eggs, we're encouraged to fill them with non-chocolate goodies.  I couldn't think of what to bring, and then I read about Annie's cheddar bunnies - and bingo! Perfect, non-melty goodness.  I think it will be nice to have something nonsweet among the candy, too.  I have taste tasted them throughly, and think they're better than goldfish, in fact. 

Coming soon: one small boy's first Easter egg hunt! I can't wait.

spring break: complaining, with pictures!

So! Spring break!

I was never one for Wild Spring Breaks, if you know what I mean, no Cancun or even Panama Beach, complete with bikini tops and umbrella drinks.  The wildest Spring Break I ever had involved housesitting for one professor, drinking a lot of Riunite (we liked it! no really!), and eating some seriously amazing homemade Mexican food, made for us (that would be Carrie and I) by these two lovely South American musicians.  One who had a teeny crush on me.  Some other stuff happened, too, but it was anything but wild. I was reading books about God, for heaven's sake, so how wild can you get?

And take this year's Spring Break.  It's been wild, in a stay-at-home-with-your-kid-all-day kinda way.  Which is wildly boring.  Goodness, I do not KNOW how stay at home moms do this staying-at-home thing.  I mean, I do stay home a great deal, but I also always, always have some sort of paying job to be at, five days a week.  And there are some weeks that I don't particularly enjoy that, where I think that I just want to stay at home with my child, damn it, a whole day to take care of the house and smooch the kid a thousand times. 

Let's just say that the kid is smooched, but the house is still sorely in need of caretaking. I'm reminded of Anne Lamott in Operating Instructions, where she says, "What this family needs is a breadwinner."  And I think that what my own family needs is a housekeeper. 

Part of the deal is that Thomas is so terribly mobile these days.  He just never stops, unless it's a five second lolling about on the floor reprieve, like he's so worn out from all the playing, oh the terrible burden of playing with toys.  Then it's up and across the room and trying to pull down the speakers or yank the headphones or chew on the bottom of my slippers and do you see what I mean?  How am I supposed to get anything done around here?  Another part of the deal is that Beaux has been swamped with homework and group projects, and so that means that I have charge of the boy all day, and mostly all evening, too.  Which sucks! So much!

Not to mention that Daylight Savings Time really threw the kiddo for a loop, taking me along with him.  There was no real nap to be had on Monday, and well, that's a problem. Napping is key.  Napping is life. It feels like Monday was zapped up the Daylight Savings Time Monster.  So by Tuesday, I was very glad that we had an activity planned - a trip to the Lauren Rogers Museum of Art for the Aububon Zoomobile. Our wonderful friend Angie is on staff there, and had been telling me about it for weeks. In order to ensue maximum fun, I made an appointment at the pediatrician's to see about Thomas' little cough.  He's had this cough off and on for awhile now, and it's nothing that seemed to indicate real illness.  Just a cough, but there was this nagging thought, maybe it's bronchitis, maybe it's walking (or crawling) pnemonia.  But hey, now it's Spring Break, and there's plenty of time for doctor visits, even possibly unnecessary ones. You know it's sad when you consider "going to the doctor" as an acceptable outing. We went in for an early appointment, and saw a very nice nurse practitioner. Thankfully, the waiting room was virtually empty of germ-ridden children, the boy is just fine, and I swear he hasn't coughed that deep cough since.  My child is a tricksey boy, no doubt.

And the fun begins!

We got there right when it all started, and soon there were children and parents everywhere - parents, desperate for some sort of outside-the-house activity with their own Daylight Savings zapped kids.  I think we were all hoping that so much fun would be had, and then everyone could collapse in the car on the way home.  I really must say that the event was a huge hit, and kids and parents just kept coming. And coming.  It was a like a Dr. Seuss book, except with kids instead of oddly shaped animals and people.

Of course, most of the activities were geared for kids who have highly adept skills, skills like glue-stick abilities and glopping paint on a mural.  We cruised by the animals, brought by the nice Audubon Zoo folks - an armadillo, bunny, snake(!), possum, turtle and rooster.  It seemed like the theme was "Undead Southern Roadkill." We ended up taking a walk through the museum, and then I wheeled Thomas up and down the sidewalks of the neighborhood, which is a nice thing about having a museum in the middle of the historic district.  We explored the museum's little garden, with some nice sculptures:

And down the street, found a bottle tree.

And then Thomas fell asleep,completely screwing my "collapse in the car" plan, and someone else appeared.

The Green Bean Kid was the perfect age to appreciate all the fun activities, and immediately proceeded to have ladybugs (four of them, because she is four now, can you believe it?) painted on her face.  Then it was time for admiring all the animals.

That poor little armadillo, he was frantically trying to dig his way to freedom the entire time.

After Thomas expressed his love for his beloved Green Bean Kid godsister...

we hit the road for home. A good day, after all.

Thomas Tuesdays: triple dose

If that's not a picture of a guilty countenance, I don't know what one is. 

Dr. Seuss - a good snack for any small child. Books are for chewing, didn't you know?

Singing stuffed animals: hitting their target demographic of not-yet-one-year-olds. 

...and I'm officially on Spring Break.  It's so nice to have a Spring Break! I think I'm definitely due for a small break - yesterday my various 2 (and now 3!) year olds were wearing on my last nerve.  They were standing on that last, strained nerve, and jumping on it with their persistent little feet.  Any day we can't let them loose outside is rough, they so need that time for running off their zingy small kid energy.  Yesterday it was too wet, and cold, for our delicate Southern constitutions. So, needless to say, it was a relief to load the last one in their respective car seat, feel a tad bit sorry for their parents who will have them all week without a break, and wave goodbye. 

And then Thomas and I came home and took a 2-hour nap, on our lovely, comfy new sheets. (On sale for ten bucks at Target, T-shirt sheets, just like I had in college.)  Caught up on my Tivoed Gilmore Girls, which is always a deep seated pleasure, while Beaux finished up his homework. Then our resident family chef concocted some delicious steaks, and I made a run to the store for ice cream. Because when it's terribly cold, who doesn't want ice cream?

Today Thomas and I are on our way to see my parents and grandparents.  I hear there is blueberry jelly in the making, and also some Easter outfit shopping.  And lots of unabashed baby lovin', of course.  There's so much I want to get done this week - various creative projects, unpacking the last boxes of books, catching up on laundry - and having unplanned, spontaneous fun, of course. 

month seven & a half: the really late letter

Sweet Thomas,

You are now seven-and-a-half months old, and I know the Internet is on the edge, waiting for this update, this sappy love letter I write to you each month, the one that is never, ever on time. I'm sorry, dude.  Sure, in thirteen days you'll be eight months old, and that sounds unbearably old.  Seven months seems that way, too, in fact, I find myself mourning your infant days.  The Internet is awash with new, squishable babies, all fresh from heaven's halls, and I look at you and all you're busy doing, all your changing ways, and find myself wishing for those first few weeks, in a crazy way. It feels like the Big One is just around the corner, and I have to reassure myself that you are still my little baby, just a bit bigger every day. Still, I know that soon enough you'll be requesting the crusts cut off your sandwiches, and asking me not to sing that dorky song in the car. I am trying desperately to enjoy this present moment, this time of beautiful babyness.

 

You are a baby on the move.  You crawl with reckless abandon, with total confidence.  You move across the floor with your arms out and in, with this glorious swinging rhythm, much like the king of elephants, on a march through the jungle. If I say, "Come see me," you crawl my way, and the one day you crawled at warp speed towards your Daddy when he came in from work, well, that was a red-letter day. Of course, now you are an expert in the art of standing. In fact, you could be a standing consultant - other babies could call you for tips, if they could just figure out how to work their mama's cell phone. For awhile there you would cry after standing up for a solid five minutes, because you couldn't figure out a way to get back down.  Now you bend your knees, and sit down. Problem solved.  You pull up on anything possible - the couch, bookshelves, your toys, each and every chair, the two baby gates we've erected - right now you are balancing between two chairs facing each other, and looking delighted at the opportunity.  You can move along the edge of the couch with faltering steps.  You can also bounce in your crib, which is very funny, apparently, when you've seven months old.

Now you crawl towards me, babbling "Babababa."  Your vocal prowess is growing everyday, with a wide range of nonsense that sometimes veers into something meaningful. On Sunday. you were feeling SO much better, and you started declaring "A-BA!" Your daddy and I were so proud, either you were speaking ancient Aramaic (abba, that is, Daddy) or you were requesting some of that perfect 70's Swedish pop.  You roar, you talk to yourself while you play, you practice moving your mouth like we do, with no sound.  Sometimes you even scream, and you don't like it when I tell you "no" and remove you from a potentially dangerous situation. When you cry a particular sort of cry, there is a definite "mamamama" in there, which breaks off tiny pieces of my heart. Of course you have hit upon "dada" but haven't replicated it in context.  And that's okay, you're only seven months old.  You also seem intrigued over how we move our mouths, and will spend time in my lap with your fingers in my mouth.  It's all very Helen Keller-esque.

You are still primarily breast-fed.   A couple of weeks ago I was dealing with an ebbing supply, just not enough to go around and still have some to pump.  It was getting to the point where I was having to hand over the bottle of milk I'd pumped (usually a meager 3 or 4 ounces) so you would you have a second bottle in the preschool nursery, instead of saving it for the next day.  We tried the formula at home, just to see if you take it, and you did.  You make a terrible face at first, but you seem to do that with all food that doesn't come from a boob. Then you get over it. It really does give me peace of mind, knowing that you will have enough to eat when I'm not there to feed you.  It also gives me a bit of break from pumping at night, or frantically trying to pump at home with you crawling at my feet (or trying to grab the bottle).  It's a relief, to let myself off the hook this little bit.  I know some people will/would disapprove, but formula is a great backup plan for us. I am not sad, or unhappy over it, so no one else should be, either! Of course, you are eating baby food twice a day now, mixed with rice cereal for all that fabulous iron. Sometimes you seem very blah about it, like it's a huge inconvenience, and would rather us let you play with the buckles on your high chair. I do want to let you experiment with table food but am waiting a little longer, because I am terrified of you choking.  In the past few days, I introduced those puff thingys (their official name, of course) and you LOVE chasing them around your tray.  Eating them is beside the point. 

Is it any wonder they call you Little Beaux? NOPE.

We are still working on the sleep issue.  When it comes down to it - like last night, when there was this horrible weather, and the power kept flickering off and on - we still default to having you in our bed.  Sometimes I literally can't wake up enough to struggle with coaxing you back in your crib, so the easiest thing to do is plop you bed with us.  And you know what? That's okay. Any progress is progress, and we're learning what works for us. Naps, on the other hand, are a total free pass.  We can nap together for many more years, and I love that you nap with me.  Lately, you want me to cradle you in my arm on my side, and you sleep in the crook of my elbow. It's one of those little things that fill me with sweetness. You are only a baby for a finite amount of time, and deep in my heart, I am glad we have these moments, these sleepy, dreamy moments.

When we're going through the process of putting you down in your crib, it involves a lot of rocking, swaying, and simply being patient and quiet.  I am learning to patiently hold you until you settle into sleep.  It's at this point that I find myself praying for you, praying for those things that all parents pray for - for all your cells to work happily together, for the continued wherewithal to breathe in oxygen and out carbon dioxide, and particularly, for your blood to keep being strong and completely unwonky.  I pray for your safety, for God to send his angels with the most magnificent feathered wings to stand over you as you sleep and play and grow. 

I could go on and on, detailing all your progress and milestones, every cute thing you do.  We've a full month and a half, with a road trip, and your first real photo session, and a birthday party for your godsister.  You stare down people in stores and restaurants, and giggle over other babies and kids. When I'm holding you, and other people address you, you cuddle your head in, flashing a shy smile.  You are, simply, a joy.  Every morning, I can't wait for you to wake up, just to see you all over again.  I never thought I could love any boy like I love you.

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My Funny, my Wiggly, my own sweet boy.

Mama

babbling

I finally bit the bullet, and changed my design.  If you can't see it, you might try to refresh your browser in order to enjoy the fiery orange banner.  I've loved my Green Bean Kid/wedding banner designed by the ever-talented Lizardek, but it was just time for a change. Time for some COLOR! This is one of the Typepad templates.  I really love the watercolor edges, as I'm having so much fun, still, messing around with my watercolors and crafty stuff.  I guess I could update you on that stuff, but there you go.  In February, I was kinda lax but I did make valentines for my preschoolers and a birthday card for my friend (and Thomas's godmother) Angie.  I also bought my first pot of Mod Podge, hurray! I have a slew of ideas for future projects, but until I learn to do what I imagine in my little brain - oh, I'm slow to learn.  It all includes time and plenty of big messes on our table. 

We've been battling a sea of snot and cruddiness here at the Rebel Household.  On Friday morning, Thomas was just all out of whack, so much so that I tried to find a sub for my preschool class.  I honestly didn't think he was terribly sick, but I didn't want to inflict my clingy, snotting child on his nursery caretakers.  There were no subs to be found, so we went in, with the thought that if he continued having a hard time, we could always come home early.  Of course, he was fine, soaking up all that love and attention that he gets in the nursery.  Friday night was rough, rough, rough - several wake ups with pure broken-hearted crying.  So much so that when we finally got up yesterday morning, he fell asleep on his Daddy's chest for a long 3 hour nap.  Yes, three hours.  Steadily, he seems better, with varying amounts of snot and drool - but did you know how traumatic it is, to have your nose wiped? It's cruel, mean, and horrible, akin to torture, according to my son.  I have such a low tolerance for snot and boogers.  The kids at preschool know this well - they report to me, with streaming noses, and I end up with pockets full of tissues - you wanted to know this, I'm sure. 

However, today, I'm happy to report, we have a very happy, smiley boy.  He is chattering up a storm, making up for lost time.  There's only so much time one has in a day, after all.  As you can imagine, all efforts to teach him to sleep in his crib have gone by the wayside, as who makes a sick baby sleep alone? But tonight, we'll try again, what a messy, wayward experiment it is.