MamaBlogga

This weekend was a momentous one for us: Rebecca moved into her own room!

“Am I to stay here?”

And Hayden got a big boy bed!

He actually asked for quiet time on his first day with the big boy bed—and he stayed in bed the whole time! (Last night, however, was the first time he fell out of bed .)

But I think the people who are most excited are me and Ryan—after four and a half months, we finally have our room to ourselves! All of our toiletries have been migrating to the guest bathroom so that we didn’t wake Rebecca as we got ready for bed—and once we were ready, actually going in our room sometimes required nerves of steel and holding our breath.

Strange how having free reign of one’s own room can feel so . . . freeing!

What little changes in your life have brought big changes in your attitude?

I’ll be honest. I don’t particularly enjoy spending days slaving over a hot oven to prepare baked goods to show my neighbors which among them are my favorites. (Hi guys!) I personally would not be the slightest bit offended if we didn’t get any neighbor gifts.

But this week, I discovered the best neighbor gifts ever. I was all set to host my book club Thursday night—I’d read the book, cleaned the house, picked up refreshments (again, not spending the day mixing and baking), made cocoa (one homemade thing, plus milk was $1.85/gal!), warmed those not-even-semi-homemade cookies in the oven, set out the Little Debbies, fed the baby—and then we waited.

No one was early.

No one was right on time.

No one was five minutes late.

No one was ten minutes late.

No one was twenty minutes late.

At that point, we decided no one was coming—and we had more than a gallon of hot cocoa on the stove. And we had nothing to store it in, thanks to Ryan’s slightly overzealous cleaning, taking out the empty milk jug.

So we bundled up the kids, grabbed a tray of cookies and the pot of cocoa and headed to visit our neighbors. (This never happens in the winter, okay? It’s cold out there!) We spent a delightful couple of hours visiting with them, their older daughters taking turns holding a very placid Rebecca and their sons and youngest daughter playing with Hayden—and I even got to discuss the book club book!

We told them that would “count” for our neighbor gift and a better way of expressing how much we really enjoy having them as neighbors I can’t imagine. Thanks for having us, especially on such short notice!

A little over two years ago, I began knitting a sweater for myself (this lovely wrap sweater, to be exact).

It took me about two months to get through all the various pieces—left front, right front, back, a sleeve (frogged), a redesigned sleeve, a second sleeve to match the redesigned sleeve, ties, and the neckband. In that time, I blocked it, dried it, and mostly sewed it together. I had only to sew on the sleeves and the ties and get the position of the slit for the tie to slip through when I put it down.

I picked it up again tonight. Less than 90 minutes later, I was finished with the sweater.

I really like the sweater, of course—a bright red, soft yarn, beautiful pattern. As its maker, I naturally see its flaws (not to mention body flaws I’ve acquired in the past two years!), but I think I’ll still be pretty happy to wear it.

However, it’s embarrassing how long it’s taken me to finally bite the bullet and finish it. Some of the delay, naturally, can be explained by flat-out forgetfulness—and procrastination.

Frankly, having waited so long for the reward of this sweater has made it less of a reward, and not because my body’s changed or the sweater’s any less lovely than it was two years ago—but because I’m embarrassed that I let something so close to finished languish so long and because it’s frustrating that I could have had this sweater two winters ago.

I’ll be glad to enjoy this sweater this year (and don’t worry, pictures to follow soon!), though.

Maybe this is another reason why motherhood feels so hard sometimes (a lot of the time!)—so we can appreciate the end product more. What do you think?

About a month ago, I happened to weigh myself one morning. This doesn’t happen very often because I am afraid of becoming addicted to the scale, afraid of what it might say—and because I keep the scale in a cabinet in the guest bathroom.

But on this day, the scale was out so I stepped on. And, of course, at two and a half months post partum, I was disappointed with the reading—in fact, I’d even gained weight since the last time I’d ventured onto the scale.

That night, as Hayden brushed his teeth at the sink, I lamented to Ryan that I was still struggling with my weight. To illustrate my point, I stepped on the scale.

“Oh, I don’t believe this!” I exclaimed. “Since just this morning, I’m like ten pounds heavier!”

Ryan smiled sympathetically, reached out—and took Rebecca from my arms. That’s one way to lose the baby weight.

I love Veteran’s day—not because I know any veterans per se, but because I understand how important it is to recognize that the freedoms we enjoy are maintained through of the willingness to sacrifice, and the actual sacrifices, of these noble men and women.

To all those who have served, do serve or will serve in our armed forces: thank you. Our history, our country and our freedoms would be drastically different without you.

I defy you to not sing the theme from Attack of the Killer Tomatoes:

This is my tomato plant. Before the first frost, I pulled it out of our garden. Its roots had taken over half the garden space.

Apparently you’re supposed to prune them.