Wordless (well, not exactly) Wednesday

Sam’s birthday was perfect.

My sister and I took the kids on a picnic for lunch, and Aunt Anna took some great pictures.

They had such fun playing together.

Kate’s monkey-bar muscles must have had a growth spurt over the winter, because she went right across them.

“Ballgame Sammy” (as he’ll tell you his name is) wanted to check out the empty ball diamond.

I managed to hold him down just long enough for Anna to snap a picture.

These two?

Are my lucky charms.

I’m holding on to them – and days like this – with both hands.

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Bringing the Grind to a Grinding Halt

my busy schedule

At the beginning of the school year this year, I did something crazy for me. And then I got even crazier and I told you about it. I started a schedule. A schedule for eating, tweeting, blogging, exercising, chores, and yes – EVEN – PARENTING! I was really surprised by how much I actually loved being on a schedule. It was great.

But…I only made it ’til about Labor Day. (Just a shade over two weeks! Wow, I’m an overachiever!) Around then, something happened, and I got out of my routine. And for some reason, I never tried to get it back. So instead of a nice routine, a pleasant schedule, I’ve got myself thoroughly enmeshed in an unorganized, unproductive, daily grind.

I allow myself blog, email, and twitter too long in the mornings, I take my shower too late, I never eat breakfast until about 10:30, and if I eat lunch at all, it’s usually about 2 or 2:30 when I feel like I might die so I grab a Mountain Dew and a hunk of cheese/chocolate/cookie dough or something else not very, ahem, well-rounded.

the Lunch of Champions

What? That’s not healthy??

Seriously!

So. I have got to break up with this grind. The problem is, I don’t really want to. It’s like the grind is the boy we date in high school that we know is bad for us but we date him anyways because he’s mysterious and exciting! (I say, “we” because, well, I never dated a bad boy. But you get my drift.) I haven’t been brave enough to break up with the grind and go back to my sweet, sensitive, attentive schedule. And the truth is, I do know why. It is because I am afraid of failing again. And failure seems so much more acceptable to me when it’s the product of a lack of effort.

But. I have decided, win or lose, to make the effort a second time. For myself, my family, my house, and my sanity! And once again I am crazy enough to tell you about it. So why don’t you do me a favor and ask me how it’s going? And while you’re at it, leave me some tips to help me stick with my fresh, new routine!
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bagelfulsThis article about making mornings easier is part of the Kraft Bagel-fuls “Break up with your Breakfast Routine” sweepstakes. Visit BlissfullyDomestic.com for all the fabulous details.

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The Big Six

newbrnjoshua

Six years ago today, I was 40 weeks pregnant, one day shy of my due date, miserable, giant, ready to give birth, but not ready at all. I had no idea what I was in for, as far as giving birth or as far as being a parent. All I knew was that I was ready to hold my baby in my arms. Ready to not waddle, lumber, pant, ache, hurt. Ready to not just be a mother but to mother.

I would have to wait three more days to hold my baby in my arms. When my due date came and went without any action, I was discouraged, to say the least. But by the next evening I was in the hospital, and finally the morning after that I held my sweet boy in my arms.

When he was a baby, I would say to him many, many, many times, “Oh, Joshua, I hope you always love me as much as you do now.” I knew I would love him, though I couldn’t imagine how much. But what surprised me, what I hadn’t expected, was how much he loved me. He has taught me so much about unconditional love. And he still does. When I mess up, when I speak too harshly to him, get mad over little things, he is so quick to forgive.

And now he will be six. He is thriving in kindergarten. He is excited about Hot Wheels, Lego Racers, and Super Mario Brothers. He has a best friend.

And in many ways, I still don’t know what I’m in for. But I get to be Joshua’s mom, so it doesn’t really matter.

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