Naptime Talks

Right before he's supposed to be going to sleep at naptime, Chandler (5 years old) and I have the following brief conversation:

Chandler: Mom, I don't ever want to get married. Wanna know why?...blech (with appropriate facial expression) gross.

Me: Oh, well, you might change your mind when you get older.

Chandler: Yeah, because sometimes boys find out girls are pretty when they get bigger. And then they want to marry them.

Me: (trying to look serious) Right.

(Chandler nods sagely. A few moments pass, then...)

Chandler: And you know what? I wish I was a balloon. You know why?

Me: No. Why?

Chandler: Because balloons are cool. I want to be lots of things, like animals. Animals are cool. Horses run, dogs bark, it's not fair.

Me: Go to sleep Chandler.

Tonight

I didn't think it was possible, but I'm much more tired now than last night. But the rest of the day went much better and Kellar somehow seems okay. My fingers aren't typing right, so I'm going to bed. Too many typos makes for a frustrated Chris.

The morning after: the crappiness continues.

Well, I managed to get out of my house feeling decent about myself. After all, I have no bad pictures of myself in most of my other clothes. Nadia and Kellar didn't fight AT ALL, which was amazingly wonderful. I think it was because Chandler was with Matt, so there was no competition for his attention, nor any "odd man out" syndrome. (Dawson doesn't count as a third person yet. He's just "the baby" to them.)
We got out of the house in record time, with just a little whiny-ness from Kellar, which is all too common and should actually be expected. We went and got donuts, took them to the church, and ate them. Everything was going well. Except that Matt and Chandler weren't back from Lowe's and the auction yet.
No big deal, I think. They'll be here soon. Matt called at 9am to let us know they'd be out "for awhile."
We talk with Gpa Inman, find out that my mom is also there (yay!!). We play in the basement, everything's still going okay. Then Kellar hit his head on the floor and it started going downhill from there. Evident-ly the ear infection that I was so sure was there last Monday morning when the doctor said his ear was *perfectly* clear decided to rear its ugly head. Whaddya know? On a Saturday? When the doctor's office is closed? And he doesn't even have a fever this time (unlike last Monday when it was 104 for NO APPARENT REASON). After the head bump, Kellar's resistance started rapidly wearing down. He started whining nearly every two minutes, sometimes more. We tried eating more donuts, which didn't help. Matt still was not back. My mom had to leave. It's now after 11am and I decide to try to find Barri's cell phone number. Donna says his cell phone's dead anyway. Crap. Just then, they get back. Matt is not at all contrite. He doesn't seem to think he's been gone more than "awhile" despite the fact that they left in the middle of a church workday.

Must put kids to bed...

Suffice it to say, we ended the morning with Kellar screaming hysterically while writhing in his car seat the whole way home. Reaching desparately for me and clutching at his ear. My own tears completely out of control. Nadia's pelican (her special gift from the auction they went to) had also been broken, its head alone shattered on the bathroom floor. More tears. Finally Kellar's asleep, pacified with advil and a warm compress.

To his credit, Matthew did bring me a *beautiful* copper tea kettle with a ceramic handle. I've never even brought myself to dream of owning one so stunning.

The rest of the morning was super crappy though. And we need to pick up the whole house, let the kids take naps, get all our grcoeries and have people over for dinner. Before all the crappiness, this dinner thing seemed like a stellar idea, but I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. Although I have to admit, I'm feeling much much better now that Kellar's asleep and quiet. It's been a long few weeks of whining and crying. It makes me feel loopy.

The morning after

It's so tough to reconcile how I look in pictures with how I think I look. You know, usually I'm not the least bit self-conscious about my looks. In fact, I'm more confident than I've been for a long time, perhaps because I'm finally not pregnant. But then I'll see a picture of myself, and I suddenly feel *reeeaaally* uncool. Like no matter how sure I was that I looked great at the time, the camera reveals those angles that I can't see when looking dead on in the mirror and I realize that I really am a mom of four kids.

I know it doesn't really matter, and I hate it when girls obsess about their bodies and "being fat" ESPECIALLY when they're not. I guess I was used to being pretty and...differently shaped...for a long time. I've even decided that I much prefer having a little more weight than I used to. I look at my high school pictures and do not envy that skinny girl. She had no shape and no confidence (despite the skinny-ness). But how frustrating. I had such a wonderful time at the dance, and I was convinced that I looked nice. And then *one* picture that somebody posted on facebook makes me feel frumpy. Stupid, stupid me. Or as Matt would say, stupid, stupid facebook. And then he'd probably go on to say "See? this is why you shouldn't do facebook. Some punk posts an unflattering picture and you fall all to pieces, like it actually matters...(continue ranting and raving.)" I know. It just makes me wary to leave the house thinking I look decent. And what's the alternative? Skulking around always thinking I look frumpy? Yeah, that sounds like fun. I think I'd much rather have been fooling myself.

Ah well, I'm a pretty positve person. I'm sure I'll bounce back. You can't keep this mom of four down for long.

The first one

I love writing. There's such a richness to the written word that is rarely exhibited in day-to-day speech. I wish I could learn how to transfer my thoughts up off the paper and out of my mouth. You'd think for a person as extroverted as I am, that that wouldn't be a struggle. Yet there it is.

It's so late. Everyone in the house is asleep. Even the cat has stretched out on my bed (the nerve) and passed out. She's not even in that jumpy-cat-sleep phase. She's just zonked out. I could probably tip her off the edge and she'd barely move.

So why did I decide to begin a blog this late at night? When I'm so bone-tired that I just wish I were sleeping like everyone else? Maybe it's that call, the call of the written word. I don't want to just play on facebook, I don't want to watch TV, I just want to feel like I expressed some part of myself, even if no one else hears it. Ah ha! Maybe it's because Matthew fell asleep before I was done talking and it was too late to call anybody.

And because I miss writing. I used to write about large chunks of my life and I felt so much more alive, like I could finally see what was right in front of me. I feel like I let so many pieces of my life trickle by without fully appreciating them, because I don't take the time to think them through and...taste them.

Yes, I'm back to eating for pleasure...