Post Category → motherhood

books

I’m very eager to have Jameson (and all other offspring) love books.

So, me being me, I figured that must mean that I should acquire a vast array of great books. But do you know that books cost money? A lot of money? Even at garage sales (which is where I’ve purchased most of our books so far!)?

I was feeling very discouraged, and it seemed like everywhere I looked, there was evidence that everyone else in the world had managed to buy all of the books I’m supposed to have in order for my children to grow up loving to read.

And then I had an epiphany.

I don’t have to have lots and lots of books. I don’t even have to have the best books.

I just have to read the books we have.

(Easier said than done: I end every day wishing I’d read more books to Jameson.)

So rather than put added pressure on myself to fit in yet another “chore”, I’ve been looking for ways to fit more reading into our existing routines:

I put a basket on Jameson’s dresser filled with books suitable for bedtime and naptime (and also my Bible and whatever other book I want to read, personally, while I rock the baby and Jameson falls asleep.)

I put a basket on a little table in his room next to his rocking chair to encourage him to look at those books.

I decided that lunchtime will be “poetry” time, since he takes forever to eat, and I’m done with my food way too fast. (Hoover is a good nickname for me, I’m ashamed to say.) I use the term poetry loosely; yesterday I spent the time singing Mother Goose rhymes while he looked at the corresponding pictures in our book. A Children’s Garden of Verses is the other book I’ve put in the kitchen for our lunch hour readings.

And books we’ve borrowed from the library are kept on an easily-accessed bookshelf. They’re always popular with my sanguine child! (Nothing like a new book!)

So we’ve been doing a bit more reading. Not tons, but a bit more. Mostly, I’m just trying to make it a regular part of our days, something Jameson can count on and look forward to.

For his part, he’s simply confirmed the idea that it’s not how many books we have, it’s just about reading them: he wants to read the same book at naptime and bedtime every day. (I’m just glad it’s a library book, and the longest we can keep this up is 9 weeks!)

What have you done to incorporate reading into your days?

newborn diapering: my kissaluvs review

I began using cloth diapers last February, when Jameson was 17 months old. That meant I had no experience with diapering newborns, and so I started to research my options when William’s due date was drawing near.

I decided (rather easily, actually) to go with Kissaluvs. They were the cloth diapers I first fell in love with, back when Jameson was first born. I was determined to buy them someday and touch that pretty softness! So I was thrilled when they were, hands down, the most raved about diaper for newborns.

I bought 12 Kissaluvs in size 0, and 6 Thirsties covers in xs.

And they have been awesome.

I can’t say enough about how well they contain those newborn messes. You know the references I’ve made to scrubbing onesies after a blowout? Well, those blowouts have only ever happened on days when I’ve been using paper diapers. (And not cheap ones, either! You have to buy the very best paper diapers if you want any hope of not changing entire outfits multiple times a day!) The Kissaluvs’ elastic waist and leg openings are firm and don’t let anything past. Amazing. My favorite part of this is that I don’t have to run to change William the minute I hear anything, regardless of where we are or what we’re doing. My life is a tad more sane! Yay!

He’s now a good 15 pounds (maybe more.) I’ve had to adjust how I snap the diapers, and I know our end is near with these soft sherbet diapers. But even as he’s gotten to the point of almost outgrowing them, they still are working fabulously.

Cons? Well, I’m just glad I went with Fuzzibunz for Jameson, and I’ll be ordering a bunch of smalls for William to wear next. I didn’t mind the extra step of diaper and cover for these first few months, but honestly? It’s just not as easy! I also love how soft and slim Fuzzibunz are. There’s no firm bulk, like there is with the Kissaluvs (and prefolds — I remember that from days of younger siblings!) Fuzzibunz also dry so quickly. The Kissaluvs are nice, thick cotton — which means at least two drying cycles (or a full day in the sun, and then a round in the dryer, too!)

All said, I’ve dreaded the days of using paper diapers this time around, because Kissaluvs have given me such a better experience. Totally worth it!!

rhythm

Life’s seasons all have their own rhythms.

That sounds beautiful, of course, but the truth is that learning a new rhythm isn’t always easy. And some rhythms are harder than others. Some are real doozies (as mom would say.)

Remember the first time you encountered that awful measure, the one you thought for sure was a mistake, the one you carefully circled in pencil so that you could remember to ask your teacher just what in the world that was supposed to be? You know — the eighths over triplets?

And if you had a good teacher, they probably smiled in a “welcome to the real world, kid” sort of way, and then sent you home with a long list of things to do. So you would spend a whole week patting triplets one one knee, and awkward eighths on the other. You would tap out your limping rhythm on the kitchen table while you waited for your soup to be served. You would close the piano lid and play the whole piece, listening for those taps to become less like falling, more like dancing.

And then slowly, ever so carefully, you would add notes to this rhythm. And then phrasing and shape. And then, holding your breath, you’d string it together with the measure before, the measure after, and ta-da. Music.

I’ve been thinking about that as I encounter this new season’s rhythm (2 kids.) If I try to be stubborn or show-offy or refuse to practice well, I could well endure months of limping along. But if I humbly acknowledge that I need a few more days of table-tapping before this measure can be successfully played, I may find myself progressing evenly, capably, beautifully.

This weekend, I added this note to the rhythm:

I’m holding my breath, hoping it wasn’t too much, too fast. But even if it has to be taken back, at least I had a happy glimmer of how beautiful it will all be when it comes together.

daily grace

Since getting home on the 1st, I feel like I’ve been the recipient of a million little graces every day.

Little graces like being able to enjoy an evening with candlelight, even when there are laundry baskets in the middle of the room. Like not noticing until last night that the house hasn’t been dusted since my mom did a run-through. Like being aware of how desperately the bathroom needed to be cleaned, but not losing my temper about it. Like being happy to make a pretty spot, and be able to enjoy it even when the house as a whole may not be orderly. Like ditching the clock and being happy that we’re dressed when we’re dressed, the beds are made when I get a chance, and I’m chipping away at the overall goal: living today. Like feeling initially flustered by William throwing up all over the couch this morning (in the midst of what already felt like a slowly fraying morning, if you know what I mean), deciding to just wash all of the cushion covers, and then realizing I’m really enjoying a day of granny afghans. Sort of cheerful. Sort of home.

Like just feeling like I’m able to settle into each day and be all here instead of scrambling so desperately to stay above water and way on top of things that my nerves feel wound tighter than the lowest note on a concert grand, and watch out or I might just break, and you know how much damage a flying piano string can do. Ugh. And yuck.

And I know it’s grace, because I haven’t really even been trying. My part has simply been to say, “Thanks God.”

*****

more grace in my life:

special

Today is a special day.

Ryan took Jameson to church and left me behind with William. (He pulled his “I’m the head” card and told me I needed rest more than I needed to go to church. My delicate emotional status corroborated with his story, so I submitted.)

As days often do when there’s a spontaneous personality involved, the two hours of church have morphed into a full-blown day with Daddy, including dining out, carousel rides, and an old locomotive.

Meanwhile, I’ve had my own special day with William. I bathed him without the pressure of wondering what the toddler was up to. I rubbed lotion into his dry baby skin (poor thing.) We took a walk. I laid next to him on the floor and we “talked”. He dozed in my arms several times before committing to a nap, which was fine with me. How often have I had hours and hours to just snuggle this newest bundle? (I haven’t since my mom left!) So I snuggled. And kissed. And touched his smooshy cheeks. And smiled at him, with the happy reward of a small baby smile in return.

My big boy is bonding with his bestest of friends (daddy.) And I’m bonding with my newest of loves (William.)

That’s a special day.