Days Like Today

All we did of note today was go to church, take a nap, and clean house.

But it was so nice.

The kids... ah, the kids.

What humbles me and amazes me and thrills me most about being a mother is how little I have to do with my children's existence. It is as if they dropped from the sky, and finding out all the strange and marvelous things about them as they grow into people is so frickin' amazing.

Some people have children to take care of them in their old age. Some for their own immortality. Some to save a relationship.

Those reasons seem... MAJORLY flawed to me.

I don't even know why I wanted to have kids; I just did, there wasn't anything all that defined about it. It wasn't an experience I was willing to die without, and I am pretty good at taking note at those must-do calls and heeding them. K's the same way, so we had us some babies.

My favorite thing about being Annaliese and Caspian's Mommy (as I am increasingly known) is not the Eskimo kisses and how Annaliese asks me to sing her songs every night in the rocking chair, little arms wrapped around my neck and hair against my cheek. It's not the body-shaking smile that breaks across Caspian's face every time I walk in a room or he wakes from a nap.

It's the mere fact of them. That Annaliese and Caspian are HERE. I am so very glad my children are in the world. And it is increasingly satisfying to watch them grow up. I never, ever would have thought that an eight-month-old and a toddler could be entire entities in themselves, souls and all, but they are.

Motherhood has taught me two things simultaneously: one, that no one can do it for me (this became very apparent during labor, actually; a transition that I've found key, and a major reason I'm glad I went drugs/operation-free); and two, that it's not all about me. Motherhood has made me more confident in my decisions and more comfortable balancing the needs of others along with my own.

But that's not why I'm the most glad. (Neither is watching K. as a father, though he is an absolutely brilliant one and the amount that my heart cracks open watching him with our children is often actually painful.)

It's that they are here. Two little people the world never knew it needed.

The Children Who Would Not Nap, In Pictures

After an hour... I said fine and turned on Finding Nemo. Crackers were provided. And all was well for over an hour, well past Nemo's escape from the aquarium.

Then things began to unravel. There was crying. Finger-sucking. Blanket-clutching. Frantic pleas to be picked up and NOT to go to bed.

I didn't listen. Put them in bed, turned on the music box, and closed the door to them both wailing.

By the time the music stopped....

their eyes were closed.

We didn't take a single pic of the kids this week, just of this ginormous egg that came out of the chickens. HUGE. I went to break it open for dinner a few nights ago and inside was one completely normal yolk and...ANOTHER EGG.

Nature is weird yo.

Right now, it is Saturday afternoon and the children are long ago supposed to be napping. Instead I can hear Annaliese running around squealing, no doubt climbing on the crib, making faces at her brother, who instigated all this by steadfastly refusing to fall asleep and yodeling instead.

Next Saturday, I am taking my family to Memphis and putting them ALL ON A PLANE. Then I am going to drive home and spend five days completely by myself before my sister comes for a girls' weekend.

People's reaction to this plan varies. "You'll miss them," I hear a lot. "You won't be able to stand it."

That's the nicest one... ANOTHER, who shall go NAMELESS, said, "what will people think?" and "mothers shouldn't abandon their children."

(Um..?!?!?!?)

In the last 25 months, I have spent 2 nights in Birmingham, 2 nights in Columbus on a business trip, and 2 nights with my husband in a hotel (a year apart, but adding up to 2). That's 6 nights out of well over 800 nights total, except you have to subtract the Columbus 2 because I was breastfeeding and got woken up by my boobs to pump.

So yeah, I'm going to miss them. And then I will shrug it off, because you know what? Seven days to myself sounds like sheer bliss and I am not going to spend them pining for what I have, enjoy, and love 99.9% of the time.

What IS it with people and their expectations of mothers anyhow? We put more *shit* on women in this country, about every facet of our life-- from relationships to weddings (God, the weddings) to pregnancy to birth choices to breastfeeding to parenting to... everything.

I am completely thrilled about my children leaving for a week. They'll be with K-- a parent to them in every sense of the word. They'll spend some serious time with their VT family. And they'll learn how many people love them, besides me, in this world.

As for the fact that K. will be gone on Valentine's Day? Well, no box of chocolates could say I love you like taking two kids on two planes for a whole week.

I definitely owe him big for this one.

(Squealing continues. I'm not going in until the door opens, though.)

Night Night Mommy.

Annaliese is talking. She tells bonafide stories, lately often about a classmate named Reece who seems to bump his head an awful lot. The verb conjugations tend to be shaky ("daddy go sleeping", "no like oranges/dinner/water/Mommy") and we've yet to hear an "a" or "the". Anger renders her a little incoherent ("No!!!!!! No, Dido, no eat BOWL!").

But she TALKS. Today we found out she'd outgrown her sneakers when she said her feet hurt and "no like shoes, Mommy."

It's super fun. I watch in complete wonder as my little stranger methodically moves the trashcan next to the sink, climbs on top of it, turns the light on, turns the cold water tap on, pushes up her sleeves, washes her hands, turn the cold water tap off, turns the light off, and climbs carefully back down.

She's officially a Big Girl, at barely two. There's another little girl in our church who is two days older than Annaliese and sits on her mother's lap during the entire service, sleeping and looking around and sucking on her pacifier. I know I'm a proud competitive mama, but Annaliese seems so much older.


In Second-child news, Caspian is still the sweetest boy around who does nothing but fall on his head while the other babies crawl laps around him. Sigh. If he wasn't so unhappy with staying still, I wouldn't mind, but his urge to propel with no idea what to do when he's moving is getting old real quick. As is his new habit of waking the household at 5:30am.


The store progresses. Let's hope it flies, my friends, let's hope it flies. In any case, the job of figuring out sources for all the stuff I want to sell is beyond fun. K's down there now, starting my counter, which doesn't entirely make sense to me, but he assures me that on April 1st, I'll be able to take possession and spend a month getting everything how I need it to be before opening.

He's been incredibly supportive. We get ourselves in hot water a bit, what with the "go for it!" attitude, but there are no words for what it's like to be married to someone who not only gets YOU, but gets what you see.

We have a *lunch date* tomorrow. As there was a board meeting Monday and tonight he works and tomorrow night he's going to a movie with a grieving friend, it's very exciting that we'll get to sit down and see each other over a meal no one has to clean up.

But anyhow, have officially reached the rambling phase. Off to eat a little dinner, read a little Louise Penny, and then tackle the dishes.

A long way until May.

It's freezing and we've all taken turns with a stomach bug and we wanna go back to the zoo but it's too cold.



so instead we're smearing the house with saltines and taking napping shifts.




Putting our babies in weird positions.




Keeping warm.



And beautiful, if out of focus. Hard to keep still what with all the stir-craziness.

(K. not pictured because... no one has taken a picture of the poor man! Trust me, he's cute.)

officially, I'm pretty sure.

So.

I am pretty sure I'm opening a grocery store in the first floor of our building. On May 1st.

It's something I have not been able to get out of my head in a year, we have a great space for it we're already paying for, and I'm not having a baby anytime soon, so I think I am going for it.

I've kind of been resisting the idea. Hey, we might move to New Zealand! Hey, a novel could sell! Hey, I could lose buckets of money!

But market demand and business plans aside (and oh yes, I have those), there's been a whole lot of things adding up, one by one, to push me in this direction, and I'll tell you that it is a frickin' RUSH to give in and go with it.

I read somewhere that the definition of an artist is someone who sees the world in a certain way, can't find their vision IN the world, and so they create it.

I see the B.T.C. Old-Fashioned Grocery as a big, airy, rough-around-the-edges store that sells local-when-I-can produce, fresh bread (not the fancy kind, but just plain bread and rolls, handmade fried pies, country eggs, Billy Ray's milk in the glass half-bottles, yogurt by the quart container, bulk spices, flour, sugar, maple syrup, local honey, craft/more esoteric beers, funky soda pop, seriously good chocolate, bulk candy, pasta, and rice by the bag. I see it as a place where kids hang out happily in a kids' area while parents shop and there's a few booths for anyone who wants to eat their fried pie or wedge of cheddar right away. I see it as a place where we do deliveries and special orders and don't charge you an arm and a leg just because we've got the best stuff in town. I see it as a place that seriously loves food and hustles to get the hard-to-find stuff: bison salami from Missouri, locally grown strawberries from the Amish.

Wish me luck. There's a lot of hurdles between now and May 1st.

Blech, urg, Monday.

K's away on business in Florida. For three nights.

Caspian's good-as-gold sleeping habits are threatening to unravel. He is not sick or teething; I think it has to do with the learning-to-crawl thing, which he is desperately working on. This involves getting up on his knees with no idea to do once he's there, falling over, and thumping his head.

Annaliese misses her Daddy and keeps asking me where he is. She is also talking up a storm, and told me a story tonight about a boy named Reece in her nursery school, who apparently caused her to bump her head, and Miss Margaret (her teacher) was somehow involved. By far her most long-winded anecdote to date!

I am fine and getting ready to crawl into bed with some carrots, broccoli, Green Goddess dressing, a cup of herbal tea, and a book about Carravaggio, or that Italian painter guy. Because that's how I rock it when my sweetie's out of town.

An addendum

Easy way to entertain a baby while you get some planting done: sprinkle stale cereal around the baby and let the chickens out.

Brother and Sister

Caspian's in the crib. Annaliese is in the big-girl bed. I wake up every morning to hear them giggling.













We went to the zoo yesterday and the whole way home, Annaliese leaned across the back seat to tickle Caspian, who giggled, chortled, snorted.

Serious fun.

(Zoo pics to come from my slacker husband! Yay!)

So it's warm, and the kids are sleeping well, and I find myself with nothing to whine about.

Here is the album of Annaliese's birthday party. Doesn't quite capture the awesomeness of the event: Annaliese racing around with her buddies, having a ball, and thanking them for their presents and for coming to her party. Frickin' adorable.

Cross your fingers, Annaliese has been sleeping quite well in her big-girl bed. K. made a rail which seems to deter the getting-out-of-bed-over-and-over madness. I haven't put Caspian in the crib yet because I want her to bond to the new bed and lose any vestiges of attachment to the old one but a few more nights and we'll try that.

Last night he slept fro 6:30 pm to 5am without waking for the 10pm feeding. I didn't notice cos I was asleep myself. Awesome! Best night in over seven months! Annaliese didn't require anything all night either!

Of course, K and the kids are getting very snotty again so this may not last. But keep your fingers crossed.

Two feature articles due to two different publications Monday, some interviews tomorrow, a truck load of mature nandinas and azaleas that our neighbor gave me for free (he's a contractor and someone is re-landscaping around their new porch), and so I am busy, busy, busy.

But happy. And warm. Turns out a switch was frozen and after I semi-hysterically took the kids to K's office Fri afternoon and then made him take us out for pizza (he stopped thinking I was over-reacting when we came home to a 52 degree house), he called the heating guy who came over promptly and cheerfully and finally discovered the real problem. Yay!

This is MISSISSIPPI

I like to tell people that we get seasons in Mississippi. And we do: leaves fall, jackets are donned, there is a light frost or two, and once every winter (in the three years we've lived here), we wake to a very light dusting of snow that shuts down the schools and melts by midday.

It is 13 degrees but the weather man tells us it "feels like" -1 right now. The light dusting of snow is in its second day of existence, because it's not getting above freezing even at noon.

And we've made a discovery... our newly insulated house with the brand-spanking new electric heat system performs quite well until it dips below 20. Then it struggles. We've woken up to a 53 degree house for the past few mornings.

Sigh. The electric man has been out, and fixed something, which made no difference. K. spent a day putting up siding below our perched-on-pillars house, which SURELY does make a difference but not temperature-wise.

Maybe by next winter we'll get the trim finished and spend a week with a bunch of caulk, cos here's no doubt that this place is drafty around all the edges.

In the mean time, I'm typing in fingerless gloves, sitting on a heating pad, and Caspian's napping with the electric heater pulled close and under a mound of blankets with a hat on.

The cold spell's supposed to move on by Sunday, and then we'll be back to 45 during the day, 25 at night. Which, after all, is how it is supposed to be in Mississippi.

Annaliese, age 2!

Today is January 6th, the last day of Christmas, Epiphany, and the birthday of my firstborn.

Her (first!) birthday party is on Sunday, so we're holding the cupcakes and presents until then.

But she got some grandparent something somethings today, a balloon at school, and a whole lot of "Happy Birthdays!"

(Which she loves, and likes to sing to those around her. As in, we give her a Happy Birthday, and she gives us one back.)

Happy Birthday, big girl!