Oh, and also

Item of note:
I will not have the internet for at least the next week.
So, posting..... not likely.
And the week after that is my intensive immersion class. (The first class for my program).
So I'll probably be seeing you in two weeks.
And hopefully I'll have a heckuva lot of photos to share.
In the meantime, I'll tweet.

See ya.

Sunday Afternoon

Back in our newlywed days it was nearly sacred;
Sunday Afternoon nap-time.
But Mr Renn is home-teaching (which is good)
And I just can't seem to nap if I'm the only adult at home.Most unfortunate, nobody needs one more than I.

tumble

It's been the sort of week where I can hardly string three words together.
The physiological changes that make it possible for an interesting adult to focus all her faculties on keeping her small children alive seem to have gone into overdrive.
Or maybe I'm just driven to distraction by the way Sir O nearly killed his brother multiple times this week.
"Don't touch your brother"
"Don't touch his face"
"Don't put anything in his mouth"

Those are the only coherent things I've said in days. And I must have said them ten thousand times in the last three days. And what does Sir O do? He tries to cram his toy yield-sign down his brother's throat. (Because it looked like it might fit?)

I now know what it means to be driven to distraction. Such a cute little phrase.
But it's real people, it's real.

I live in a permanent state of distraction.
Worth it? Yes.
But unpleasant, undesirable, maddening, irritating, and depressing as well.

I can't finish anything I start, from the dishes to this post, without being distracted, usually by an interruption 3 feet or under.
My brain has almost forgotten how to get anything accomplished.
And I used to base so much of my self esteem on what I could accomplish.
Mr Renn has been hollering for me that last dozen lines or so.
Maybe some of my interruptions are a little taller....

Heartbreak of various types

Sir O got to spend a very long last day with his favorite people. He has no way of comprehending that it was the last day. I'm curious in a terribly sad way to see what the coming days are like, with the people he asks for every 20 minutes living much too far away to be a part of his everydayness anymore. (Not to mention how emotional I am tonight... sheesh.) We are in for a long summer. Luckily we will have this video to watch over and over and over.... again.

memorial

Memorial Day, growing up, was always very simple and predictable. I loved it. Well, I may not have loved it at the time, but I love now the rigid tradition of it. I remember going to my great-grandmother's (June) house in Tooele(while she was alive), picking flowers from her rose garden and filling up mason jars with them, then heading to the Tooele cemetary to place them on familial graves. It was a good time for hearing stories about people I'd never met and learning what they'd been like. Lots of sad stories but the one's the always pricked me were both about June. Her first baby died in infancy, presumably from a botched delivery, and her husband died of appendicitis (sceptic infection) before her fourth child was born. I think it is good for a girl of 9 years to cry over things that happened 50 years before.

It was a good time for getting a feel of who I was and where I came from. And we nearly always visited the grave of a friend of my grandma who had died as a teenager in a car accident (in the days before seat belts). I don't remember his name, but I remember where his grave is in the cemetary. I sometimes feel protective of him, and I'm not the only one among my cousins who insists he not be forgotten when we visit. Well, as of 3 years ago.

This spending Memorial Day in PA thing kind of stinks. I'd really like to give my kids the same expectations for memorial day that I grew up with. I thought about going to a local cemetary and beflowering forgotten graves, but since I have no dirt and thus no flowers of my own that was an expensive (and unpopular) proposal.

Instead we chilled. We are good at chilling. Sir O has become very protective of his brother. I rarely beat Sir O to a crying Captain.
Park = Sir O finding new ways to climb on things.
Happiness = Watching all my boys enjoy each other during magic hour. (Minus the mosquitos).
I think we'll keep him.

boys

These two absolutely cannot get enough of each other. As often as not, I leave the room and come back to them giggling at each other. Well, either that or Sir O becomes so invasive of the Captain's space that there are tears.

But with very small children tears are possible at any moment. You get used to it. You even stop feeling like the reason for the tears always needs to be addressed, because things blow over so quickly, especially with boys.


See? Happy:Tears:
Happy again:
(Sir O, the Captain feels the need to remind you that this is his toy, and once in a while you need to let him play with it.....)

Work and parenting and idleness and me

image from the Wilder Homestead

I've been thinking about my weaknesses lately.
Which I'm told is a popular pastime.

It's led to some thoughts that have led to some more thoughts that I'd like to write down and make sense of and put out "there" to be thought over and evaluated.

What is it with people and work?
The lion's share of everything that has been invented in the last 100 years is intended to eliminate or minimize work. It's like we're allergic to it. But what do we intend to do with ourselves once we eliminate all the "work" from our lives? We invent things, we fill it all in with media and hobbies and extra-curriculars and hover-parenting. Despite all the work we don't have to do, we have no more time than we used to.

We don't have to make anything for ourselves anymore, and so we've forgotten how. It's easier and cheaper to run to the store and buy it. Clothes, soap, furniture....

And don't even get me started on food.

I think I'm fully on the "make your own food" bandwagon, and even tentatively behind the "buy local" and "organic" bandwagons (although you'll never convince me that organic manufactured foods like cookies aren't the biggest scam of all time, and I'm certain with many companies that there are lots of corners cut for profit since the word "organic" = can charge more for this product. An organic skeptic, that's me.)

But my REASON for being on the "make your own food" bandwagon isn't nutritional.
It's because I feel like I need something productive to do with myself that feeds my soul.
Plus I need an excuse not to hover.

When families were dependent on themselves to meet most of their own needs, they stayed busy being productive because they had to. They didn't have time to worry as much about whether their toddler was picking up on his ABC's as fast as the neighbor kid or what the latest trend in strollers was... okay, they didn't have strollers. A lot of their parenting was done while working in the home. Kids learned how to work, because their help was needed to keep the family running. I expect that sense of contributing to the family was tremendously good for emotional health. I expect the entire arrangement was good for the family's emotional health.

But the skill I find most elusive is the time management that would have been required to get it all done. How did they schedule their days and their weeks so that they knew when it was time to do each task? And STAY on task? (Have had some Laura Ingalls Wilder on the mind.... can you tell?)

A lot of what plagues us nowadays is our abundance. The laundry and the dishes seem to breed on their own simply because we own so many clothes and dishes. Clutter overwhelms us because we have so much stuff (guilty as charged).

I can't help but feel that we weren't designed to function well in squalor.
(Because I'm 100% certain of intelligent design)

I'm longing lately for a simpler, more productive existence. It's awfully hard to choose to live that way when there's a cheap shortcut available at every turn. Really. Awfully. Hard.

I have goals of living simply and living abundantly. I also have issues with sleep deprivation and a toddler with a short-attention span.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

I have no answers, only questions and suppositions.

But answers are welcome. And advice will not be turned away.

comment du jour

"Look at those thighs!"
Everybody says it.
Luckily they are talking about the Captain, and not about me.
...I think...

grooves and tongues

Ever wonder about your parenting?

Okay, dumb question.

Today we braved story-time at the library again. Only today they had a special program about art appreciation instead of stories, and Sir O was only half-interested. By the time it ended I realized I didn't have it in me to go through the circus of picking out books, so we just headed to the adjacent park.
And so did everybody else.
I'd never seen a playground experience rush-hour before.

There were almost as many moms as kids out on the playground, and there was an abundance of hovering.
I found myself being kind of an anomaly kicking it on the sidelines with the Captain. (Fists are tasty)

I realized, with hesitation and joy, that I did not feel the need to hover. I trusted Sir O entirely to manage his interactions with other kids of similar stature, and I knew from previous experience he could navigate the perils of the playground (he even manages the fire-pole... the kid has no fear). And you know what, he did just fine. There was one moment when a shoe fell off, and some other hovering mother helped him with it before I even had time to decide whether I should go help him or see if he could figure it out on his own.
There was no fighting or non-turn taking, and only a tiny spat of throwing mulch. (I yelled from the sidelines, and he dropped it promptly).

I sat there with our picnic lunch. (Last second - vienna sausages and canned pineapple. No good mom points for that one). And he swooped by when he wanted a bite.

Seriously, no power struggle whatsoever. It was incredible. Especially as we were surrounded by scads of typical yelling/tantrums/whining.

I must be doing something right. But I'm not dumb enough to give myself credit. I think the terrible twos are drawing to a close. Such a relief.

I love that boy.

everyday and today

The Captain is growing width-wise very assertively. He looks a little rounder every day. His latest stats were 14% height and 60% weight.

A refrigerator lock is apparently not enough. We need to keep Sir O out of the freezer too.


Contraband peonies. If anyone steals flowers from your garden, think of us fondly and let it slide.
Sir O "helping" me make a pineapple upside down cake. It smells good at our house.
Bubbles in any form are hugely popular around here. So are popsicles.... see the freezer comment above.


And these two boys are immensely fond of one another, despite the fact that most of their interactions go something like this:

up and coming

It's all but here.
My worst nightmare.
Sir O is about to be friend-less and it won't be pretty.
We congratulate and wish all our graduating neighbors the best of luck on their exciting new ventures.
But we're going to miss them like crazy.
And Sir O is going to drive me crazy.
So there will be plenty of crazy around these parts.
Pardon my perpetual state of flinching as I wait for the full fallout of all this change.
And if you see Sir O, give him a particularly friendly greeting; he's bound to be sad for a good long while.

Want to know what my morning was like?

Just play this video 300 times in a row.
In the spirit of good mothering.

sticky green fingers

The beans are alive and kicking. We added some free trellises (tree branches) to give them something to climb up and to help them survive the wind that comes in that window. It's starting to feel almost as rewarding as a garden.

Kiss

The Captain is all about sharing his tongue with us lately.
I suspect this is one of those brief, intense phases that I will miss like crazy once it vanishes.
Although the drool that accompanies the tongue, I am a little less attached to.

try try try

image via punditdad

Fighting a losing battle kind of a day. But I've not quit trying, and seriously, I'm giving myself points for that. Mr Renn and I are both feeling a little under the weather, so I was tempted to have a TV marathon day and try to "make up for it" tomorrow. But after 2 hours of hearing the TV on in the background I was about to lose my mind, so I kicked us all out of doors with some bubbles.

Oh bubbles.

A few temper tantrums and several layers of sticky slick later, we came back in, where I attempted to be a fun mom and make these. (I know, ew.... but fun!) While Sir O loved the process of making them, he has yet to try eating them. They are laying cold on our kitchen table. (I know, even more ew).
The Captain perked right into wakefulness just moments before Sir O's head hit the pillow for his nap, so I have managed ZERO productivity (other than keeping the kids alive). The apartment is teetering on the edge of being so messy I have to break down and ignore my kids and clean it. (Which I hate doing).

I've had a headache for almost a week. Normally I can sleep them off, so this is frustrating. Mr Renn and I are both achy and slightly nauseous and BLAH. Not prime condition for parenting.
You know what they say, if you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything.

How can we take better care of ourselves?

• We can go to bed earlier. Granted, I take forever to fall asleep, but the sooner I start, the sooner I'll arrive.
• We can eat more purposefully. Mr Renn loves him some snack food, but I think he loves feeling well better. (Same with me and my sweet tooth)
  
• We can DRINK MORE WATER. Why is that forever hard for me?
• We can try to spend more active time out of doors, even if it's just a short walk.

Most importantly, we can get on the same page about these being FAMILY goals, and not just my bossy suggestions. That's the order of the day, or of the FHE.

Happy to be a Mother Day

I am every day discovering the intricacies of a mother heart. There are so many ways that God has prepared me for this job and continually enhances my ability to do this job. Best of all he continually finds ways to remind me I love this job.

And really, it makes no sense.

I could never pay or bribe someone else to do what I do. There is no appeal for anyone but me in all the sleeplessness and the sighs and selflessness involved in mothering my children. But somehow, for me, the thought of being the trusted constant that my boys take for granted makes me all tingly to my toes. The thought of being the one they run to when they are hurt or scared makes me feel like a warm puddle of mom. And hearing Sir O try to comfort and take care of the Captain (even though most of his efforts are counterproductive) makes my heart swell and sing.

It also makes me think of my own mother.
How all the while I thought she had everything under control, and knew exactly what she was doing she was probably fretting and praying and wondering how she was supposed to know what to do. I hope I can make my kids feel as secure in their childhood as she made me feel. I was not a child who had to grow up too fast. I always knew I was loved, and I always trusted that everything I needed (and much of what I wanted) would be taken care of (usually by mom.)

How is it that the children don't smell our fear?

There are so many reasons to be afraid as a mother, and the protective instincts of motherhood tend to turn those reasons into molehill-mountains. Guilt abounds behind every choice, because no matter how good a choice it is, it involves giving up what you didn't choose. (And what if it's the one thing that inadvertently screws up your children forever?! AAAAH)

I never knew I could feel so much pressure to do something right, without the slightest idea of what "right" specifically entails. (That would be where faith comes in, and hopefully comes in bountifully)

Luckily there are also many, many reasons to be joyful as a mother. And as we've been counseled, those reasons come in moments. Brief and sweet.

After church today I got to cuddle with Sir O as he fell asleep (is there anything sweeter than a sleepy boy?...who's not fighting his sleepiness) And I got to watch the Captain sigh and smile in his sleep. Not all my sweet mothering moments involve my children being asleep, but today a lot of them did. Sometimes they are even sweet when they are awake.

When we were regrouping to come home after church, Sir O was excited to see me (after a whopping 90 minute separation) and called out "Mommy!" across the parking lot. See, I wouldn't trade that for all the world.

Two

Two boys
Two boys with pacifiers
Two boys in diapers

How often do I ask myself how I let it go this far?
Then I remember.... it was the path of least resistance.

Sometime soon I'm going to have to come up with some energy (or gumption) to intervene.
Sir O is finally referring to himself as a "big boy"
Time to make him earn the title.

I was secretly hoping somebody else's kid would make fun of him for either of those hangups, and that he would magically be motivated to change on his own. How bad of a mother does that make me?

Don't answer that.

Lititz

Mr Renn had {took} the day off school today, and our plans for the day fell through last minute. So we devised a backup plan of spending the day in Lititz. We drove through it two years ago and thought it was charming, so we thought we'd go back and try it out.

We parked at the Lititz Springs Park, visited the Welcome Center {noticed how friendly the people were} had lunch at Cafe Chocolat {$4 frozen hot chocolate - score! and again, noticed how friendly the people were} We then toured the historic Sturgis Pretzel bakery, which was way fun because we got the tourguide all to ourselves and got to learn the tricks of the trade. {she was really nice}
Then we got a cheap local {yummy} italian ice, and visited the Wilbur Chocolate Factory.

And we rounded the trip out with a return to the park so everyone could get their wiggles out before we loaded up for the drive home. It was the perfect daytrip, I love that little town! {With the really friendly people, why can't all of PA be like that?} Pictures and video here.

happy normal

We take our jobs very seriously around here.

The Captain's job: To spew from every orifice. Constantly. He's a pro. And he needs another haircut.

Sir O's job: Move so much and so often that he literally becomes a blur. You think I'm kidding.
My job: Don't quit. Don't sleep. Stay hopelessly in love with three boys.

sneak a peek

I'm trying to sneak in a substantial little post to say "Hey, I'm still alive and kickin', and my brain works sometimes too!"
Mr Renn has fallen asleep reading bedtime stories to Sir O. He's sure to be unhappy when I go wake him, but I'll steal this moment to say some somethings.

Ever since a comment from my Aunt during our Utah trip, I've been seriously researching homeschooling. A bit premature, maybe, but then maybe not. I'm having a hard time finding a downside to it. You know, besides the part where it means that I would never get another moment to myself until I'm at least 45. But I don't get a moment to myself now, so if I don't build up the hope and expectation for moments to myself "once the kids are in school" then maybe I could do it. But would it be the best thing for my super-social, can't sit still, incredibly curious toddler? I'm trying to figure that out folks. Sometimes I'm amazed that I'm supposed to be the expert on my kids. They baffle me continually. Heck, I baffle me continually.

I'm still on for my floral design courses. The designs at that lecture are in no way representative of the curriculum I'll be taught. The florist who did them was a guest speaker. The designs they teach in the classes I'll be taking are basically these, give or take a few plus the part where no two interpretations of the assignment will be the same. I'm still very excited, and nobody needs to be worried that I'm going to make angry-looking arrangements.

We're losing another group of graduating Seniors in a matter of, well, days really. Sir O is going to be almost entirely friendless. My poor child who thrives on sociality, craves it even, is probably headed into a very lonely stretch. And a very bored stretch. I'm in so.much.trouble.
Not to mention the part where I will be more lonely myself. My pathetically small circle of real-life-everyday friends is almost too thinned out to constitute a circle. I suppose this is by nature a lonely phase of life, but I could really use a larger in-person support system. You're all invited to show up on my doorstep, give me a hug, {and clean my bathroom.} Any takers? Didn't think so.

I'm forever trying to come up with things for Sir O to do (He's so unintentionally destructive when he gets bored), and I can't seem to stay ahead of him. Every activity takes longer to prepare than it takes him to complete. Plus we are at the point where if it was Mom's idea, then it's not cool. Definitely a setback.

I'm worried that my milk supply may be low. Nothing in the world can stress you out or make you feel like a failure the way breastfeeding troubles can.

I've been having vivid dreams about going back to college, especially study-abroad programs, so Jeff's fun announcement is particularly bittersweet for me.

I'm getting anxious about the Captain's upcoming surgery to remove his brachial cleft remnant. I'm getting to the point where I don't even see it anymore, but I know it's the first thing most people notice when they see him. It's just that the surgery involves general anesthesia (which is why they are having us wait until he's 6 months old), and the whole thing makes me a nervous wreck. This being a mom gig is HARD.

Mr Renn is beginning (in earnest) the process of figuring out what residencies he wants to apply to. The fact that we will be moving in a year is kind of scary. I feel like I need to establish a packing schedule that spans from here to there so that it can be a lot of small, manageable tasks instead of one massive overwhelming undertaking (on top of graduation). But am I likely to actually be that organized? Well, not a chance.

This last month's Visiting Teaching message was like a punch in the gut for me. My personal scripture study has floundered since the Captain was born. I just can't seem to get into a groove. If it's going to happen, it has to be one of my top priorities every day, and so far I am failing miserably. MISERABLY, I tell you.

And now I feel like I have semi-adequately shared the soup inside my brain. Aren't I a mess?

our bossy backseat driver

Sir O is full of personality, as ever.
His latest catch phrase is "I can't like it".
Drives me nuts.
Somewhere along the way he picked up on green lights and red lights, and now he's forever telling us to stop or to go. Really, hollering at us with incredible impatience. It scares me to think where he's picked that up.

We tried rather unsuccessfully to capture it. We're sharing it anyway.
Yes, the part that's loud enough to hear is Sir O spotting a "ghostlight".
Gotta love pop culture.

world wide

It's been impressed upon me repeatedly in recent weeks that I belong to a world-wide, tech-savy church. (Which is impressive without even touching on my testimony of it). Jeff pointed out that at the bottom of church press-releases there are links to find official content on twitter, youtube, facebook, widgets, and an rss feed. And General Conference was one of the top twitter hashtags during Conference weekend. Today I got to attend a regional multi-stake conference and listen to/watch church leaders via a satellite transmission. It's all very cool.

Also, this video from the church's youtube channel made me cry... as a mother of boys. I find I cry a lot more now than I did before I was a mother of boys. Do I blame the hormones or the boys?

Happy Sabbath!

We're laying it on thick

(the cuteness, that is.)







We only had a few discretionary hours today, so we elected to drive around and enjoy Spring while it's here. We drove through Valley Forge, and caught the tail end of a reenactment, then headed over to Jenkin's Arboretum to see the Azaleas. At Jenkins Sir O was not entirely happy about being put in a stroller, but once we were headed back UP the hill, he decided that not walking was a pretty sweet deal.Pictures of our adventures here. It was a beautiful cloudy-threatening-to-rain kind of day, and it was lovely to all be together. Everyone is so much happier when we get a day with Daddy.
And now it is 3:30, and Mr Renn has left us to attend stake meetings the rest of the evening, and our bubble has popped. Back to semi-single-parenthood. Sorry kiddos.