singing alto

July 13, 2016

It was a half-past four when Elvie woke this morning, grumbling and complaining after having flipped herself over to her back (she hates that, but won’t stop doing it.) I turned on the lamp against the darkness and went to get her from her crib. It seems early, but it’s only half an hour earlier than when I want her to get up and not so early to feed her and put her back to bed.

I sat cross-legged on my bed while I fed her, and once my eyes stopped closing of their own accord, I picked up the devotional that was sitting on the bedside table. It was by Charles Spurgeon and part of a two-book set, one book having readings for morning and the other having readings for evening. And before I sound too holy, let me say that this was the evening book I was about to read, and I did so because I hadn’t been keeping up with reading the evenings ones, and I also wasn’t exactly sure where the morning book was... But I’m trying not to look at my phone first thing in the morning, and the devotional was available, so I picked it up and turned to the entry for today. Well, for this evening, anyway.

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sandbox (a poem)

July 07, 2016

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the toddler who walked by himself

June 28, 2016

(with apologies to Kipling)

Long ago, O Mostly Liked, or maybe last weekend, there was a mother who lived on a hill called Janderhil. And she had four little children that she called her own: Ephraim Eldest, Clive Contrary, the pretty baby Elvie Kate, who smiled and sang but didn’t say much, and Anselm. And all morning and all evening the children played out-of-doors, except of course the pretty baby Elvie Kate, who smiled and sang but didn’t say much, as she couldn’t get around on her own just yet. She stayed in-of-doors with her Mother, but the other three played and frolicked out-of-doors until the sun set and the fireflies came out.

And it was one day after dinner, which was scrumptious and nutritious, that the Mother went out-of-doors herself, because Elvie Kate (who smiled and sang but didn’t say much) was already asleep for the night, and because she had some work to do in the flower-beds. And she called Ephraim Eldest to herself, and said:

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the lure of slow living, part three: on routine

June 20, 2016

When I first read about slow living–or began seriously overthinking it, truthfully–there was one aspect of the lifestyle that I couldn’t reconcile with my life as a full-time homemaker and mother-of-four. It was the question of where routines and schedules fit in with the concept. In eschewing “busyness”, was slow living attempting to throw off living by a clock? How so? And how much? And was that really possible?

If you have small children at home, you know how quickly things can devolve into disorder if there is not something–or someone–uniting all things in a common purpose and steering everyone’s attention toward that end. Without that anchor, my children (or, really, the three that can move independently) are like ships tossed on the waves of whatever their whims are at the moment, and I am reduced to herding and chasing and nagging and then yelling to get everyone back together. And it always takes longer in the gathering than the scattering.

It has to be said that there really are times that they should be able to pursue their own interests and let their feet run off to wherever their minds will–that’s what our copious amount of time for outdoor play is for, really. But times when it’s time to eat, or sleep, or brush teeth, or whatever things have to be done because they must be done? What then?

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two months (elvie kay)

May 04, 2016

Miss Elvie Kate turned two months yesterday.

She’s quite the little thing, captivating her brothers and wowing strangers at the grocery store with her astonishing collection of head wraps. Incidentally, I’m awfully glad we have those wraps and head contraptions since she has very little hair to speak of, which I knew would be the case should we ever have a baby girl. The boys all had hair in spades, and I had to cut it again and again and again. And now here’s someone whose hair I don’t have to cut, but she doesn’t have any…! Life isn’t fair.

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newborn & postpartum update: week three

March 26, 2016

For starters, thanks so much to those who have sent messages and comments expressing thanks for these honest updates. It is always so encouraging to know people read and appreciate–thank you!

week three

I felt a little badly last week while writing that the week had been easy. Not that I minded having an easy week, but I didn’t think it would be very interesting or helpful. “This week was great!” Um, the end…? Well, this past week has made up for it. So enjoy! 😉

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the way we grew: anselm ioan (part one)

February 23, 2016

here we go again

When our second son Clive was just eleven months old, we discovered we were pregnant again.

I had spent the last ten months working my house like a well-oiled machine; Clive kept us all ticking along to a very predictable routine. I had just gotten my cycle back when I realized I was late that next month–I took a test on a whim, in the middle of the night, at my in-laws’ house while we were on vacation. After the test turned positive, I was absolutely unable to get back to sleep. Looking back, I probably should have taken the opportunity to rest, but you never really can when you need to, can you?

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pinkblush maternity

February 21, 2016

this post is sponsored by pinkblush maternity. all opinions are mine

A couple of weeks ago, during a hospital visit for unwanted contractions, the nurse in L&D triage called me back as gravita six, para three. That means I have six pregnancies and three births under my belt, and at the very least (I’d like to think) it gives me an air of credibility when I walk into the Labor and Delivery ward saying I’m having contractions. Probably because none of them remember the two or three false alarms I had with Anselm, but you know, that was back when I was a gravita four, para two. Things have changed since then.

Well anyway, if being gravita six para three doesn’t exactly make me an expert on when to head to the hospital, I’ll take that as an excuse to have been in the dark about PinkBlush Maternity for the majority of this pregnancy. This is my fourth go-round with maternity wear, but where have I been? Because I’m really kicking myself that I haven’t heard about them before.

I was already thirty-something weeks pregnant when PinkBlush Maternity contacted me to collaborate, so it was a priority for me to find something that would work not only for these very large-bellied last few weeks of pregnancy, but something that I could easily use for postpartum, too. I was taken with this button-up tunic the moment I saw it! I thought the length would make it super versatile, the button-up style would make it great for breastfeeding after baby came, and it has pockets.

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simple meal planning with a bullet journal

February 12, 2016

Last month I had a question about how my bullet journal made meal planning easier for me. I started to answer, but decided there was too much to say in a comment and that I should probably post about it, so I could be rambly and thorough and give the whole embarrassing picture.

I say embarrassing, because I just don’t really understand what’s so difficult about meal planning for me. But seriously, I would get so wound up and flabbergasted every time I tried to do it that I would try to move on to other tasks and fail utterly because I would forget how to do them. I’m not kidding. Once Jeremy interrupted me mid-meal-planning-attempt and asked me to cut his hair. It took me about three times as long as normal because I was so upset that I forgot how to cut hair. Congratulations to you if meal planning is your spirit animal and you’re sniggering right now at this pathetic confession of mine. I can’t explain it. All I know is that any attempt at planning our meals made me crazy and overwhelmed. It’s nuts, I know.

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the way we grew: clive louis (part two)

February 08, 2016

Part One

our first family portrait as a family of four. Ephraim was 17 months old, Clive just two days.

I mentioned before that I never again experienced the emotional upheaval that accompanied Ephraim’s first few weeks.

While that’s true, I did come home from the hospital with our new little Clive, and after introducing the brothers to one another, I handed the baby off to someone, went upstairs, and cried.

I cried because knew things would never be the same. It was a whole new chapter in our family’s book, and while we were ecstatic, there was a tiny bit of mourning, as well. But I blame the tears 100% on hormones, and felt immensely better after shedding them. I came back downstairs and that was that.

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