luck and irony and a Christmas Parade

While Mr Renn completed a continuing ed course on smoking cessation as it relates to dentistry, the small fry and I trekked out to visit the hairyshoefairy today.  The premise was that the kids would play in the snow and hsf would put on a cooking show and teach me how to make some of her great sweets.  And for once, most things went according to plan.  Kids played, the Gentleman was reasonably content in a moby wrap, we spent 30 minutes bundling 4 children up, and two of them lasted approximately 8 seconds outside, while the other two would have kept playing until dark if we hadn't called them in after an hour.  I shoved my camera in hsf's hand and asked her to take photos of the kids while I fed the Gentleman.... my camera with NO MEMORY CARD in it.

I struggle.  This is the 3rd time in 2 months I have failed to get a photo with hsf.

As soon as we got home I explained my desire to attend the Kaysville City tree-lighting and Christmas parade.  Nobody else was very excited by the idea, but I dragged Sir O along anyway.  Luckily after he got over the snow in his shoe and walking 3 blocks in the cold, he liked the actual parade.  Unfortunately the batteries in my camera died just as the twinkle-light-covered fire truck was approaching to start the parade.  So there are no photos of Sir O with his face all lit up actually enjoying himself.



Strike two, if you will.

Half-way through the parade Sir O had a potty emergency, so we had to cross the parade route to get to the library/public restroom.  Luckily he avoided an accident, which is more than I expected.  When we're away from home he doesn't usually announce such urges until it's a dire emergency, so accidents are still common.  Then we enjoyed the free hot-chocolate, or rather I warmed up my hands with it until it was cool enough for Sir O to drink.  He was happy as a clam through the rest of the parade and on the walk back to the car.  I was awfully glad I'd insisted on going.  Chalk one good memory up for me.

And now, as with most of my posts, I must cut things short because the Gentleman is wailing like a banshee.  Isn't it nice to be needed?

Hands Free

I spend an incredible amount of time staring our Gentleman in the nose.  With our foreheads touching and my arms wrapped every which-way around him he can hear and feel my breathing and can usually find it in him to be calm.  Between reflux and other unfortunate factors this poor little man has had relatively few comfortable moments in his short life.  I am trying to fix that.  It's amazing how quickly your self-image erodes when you are sleep deprived and have a miserable child you cannot seem to comfort.  (It doesn't help your cause when your older children act like denigrating lunatics half of the time).



In the past 3 weeks I can count on one hand the number of times the Gentleman has slept for longer than an hour at a time without being held.  This is the sort of madness that seems like it cannot go on indefinitely.  Something has to give.  Either the Gentleman or I will have to collapse in a catatonic frenzy and sleep for days on end.   But somehow it does go on, and somehow both the Gentleman and I endure it.  I expect it's just as miserable for him as it is for me, so I don't resent him for it, but I'm perpetually surprised at what we are both capable of.

I learned a long time ago, not entirely from observation and introspection, that human beings are capable of enduring far more than we have any desire to be able to endure.  Our incredible strength and endurance is usually hidden and stinted by our hard-wired desire for comfort and consistency.  I am a huge fan of comfort and consistency, but I can see inklings of the purpose behind God's design in heaping interruptions and entropy into our lives.

That stretching is invariably unpleasant.  When we contemplate it from a comfortable position, the stretching usually seems inconceivable; impossible, even.  But in the thick of surviving the stretching and the changes and the catastrophes and the heartaches we do what we have to do; because the only alternative is to stop living, or stop breathing, or to atrophy away into bitter dysfunctionality.  And then as we are stretching, and certainly afterward, we always admit to ourselves that we didn't suspect we could do what we have done.  And we have unearthly satisfaction in having glimpsed our eternal potential.

Somehow or other, as the weeks are stretching on and the nights remaining rough, I am getting by.  Somehow God has helped me hold my temper and my tongue when I have expected myself to snap.  Somehow I have pulled myself out of bed every morning to the sound of stirring toddler men whether I have slept or not.  Somehow I have felt compassion instead of contempt when the gentleman bursts into spontaneous hysterics just moments after I finally get him to sleep and manage to lay him down.  Somehow I have managed to feed and feebly entertain the toddler men with only one hand free.  Somehow I have managed to think about the needs and schedules of the other adults who live here instead of frantically hoping they'll rescue me.

Somehow I've stopped thinking that my rescue is coming in the form of another person.  My rescue will come in a combination of the passing of time and an increase in my own capacities that only something hard and relentless can bring about.  Over time the Gentleman's body will sort things out, and over time I will get better at being his mother.  It's a tender mercy, and almost certainly a type and shadow of other hard things that will come.  And judging by the behavior of Sir O and the Captain lately, there are going to be child-o'-mine-catalyzed hard things to deal with for decades to come.  I expect they'll only get bigger and harder over time, whatever their cause.  So it's best I find the means of rendering life enjoyable despite the shrapnel in a relatively small trial like this one.

Getting Out

The problem with having a 7 week old and two other children under the age of 5 is that the opportunity cost is high for both staying home all the time and for trying to get out of the house.  Between constant feedings, diaper changes, and temper tantrums leaving the house means going public with your three-ring-circus, but never leaving home is a sure shot for an anxious and depressed mom.

So - figuring I have another parent around this weekend to even up the score a little bit, we ventured out today. My sister was performing at the Kaysville Nativity Celebration, so after drilling Sir O on what a nativity is, and why he was not to touch anything, we braved the display of several hundred nativities from around the world.
 



Happily we didn't break any.  Sadly that is not because Sir O refrained from touching things.  There may have been some manic behavior by both the preschooler and his parents.



Once we migrated to the chapel to see the performance Sir O got even antsier.  I let him play with the camera for a while to keep him quiet, and now I know why he was so bored. Poor kid couldn't see a thing.





Later on Mr Renn and I went on our first real date in a long while.



 I bought us tickets to the Messiah Sing-in at Abravanel Hall for Mr Renn's Birthday, and after we scored free parking we figured that our date was no more expensive than going to a movie (not that we ever do that either....)  Here we are with the infamous Chihuly sculpture.  We had such a great time that now we're trying to remember why we don't do this more often.  Other than cost prohibition, why don't we?

shameless shutterfly love

You know who has a ridiculously large selection of Holiday Photo Cards? Shutterfly.
And who has an awesome promotion for bloggers to boot? Shutterfly.

Kind of sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?  But I haven't found a real hitch, other than that you get to blog about their Christmas cards, which isn't hard because there are some real gems amongst the 803(!) designs available.  Seriously, how is one supposed to choose?  There is a part of me that insists that my Christmas cards acknowledge that this is a religious holiday and use the word "Christmas", so "season's greetings" and "happy holidays" are out.  But that still leaves lots to choose from!  Some of my favorites:

Seriously, there are so many to choose from that you will certainly find exactly what you're looking for.  After spending all that time scrolling through Christmas Cards, I started getting ideas for The Captain's 2nd Birthday  party invitations.  A la Ina Garten, "how easy is that"?: 

And if anyone (like me) is having a hard time thinking of a gift for a family member, shutterfly's photo calendars are all currently 50% off!

 

I'm beginning to get ideas for all sorts of shutterfly-ness in my life!

Christmas Playlist

I can't handle the radio this time of year - I swear they play the same 30 songs over and over again, and if I have to listen to the worst song ever written by a Beatle again I may have to beat myself senseless.  Here's a peek at what I'm listening to instead so I can actually enjoy the holiday season.  What are some of your favorites?

image

In the Bleak Midwinter - Choir of King's College
Sleigh Ride - KT Tunstall
Away in a Manger - Brooke White
Zither Carol - MoTab
Coventry Carol - Jenny Oaks Baker
Christmastime is Here - A Fine Frenzy
Carol of the Bells - MoTab
The First Noel - Leigh Nash
River - Hayley Westerna
The Secret of Christmas - Ella Fitzgerald
The Christmas Song - Sammy Davis Jr
Silver Bells - Bing Crosby
Let it Snow - Diana Krall
Caroling, Caroling - Nat King Cole
Christ is Born - The Carpenters
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen - Compass Prod
Carol of the Bells - Christmas Grass
O Tannenbaum - Vince Guaraldi
Blue Christmas - Brian Setzer
I've got my Love to Keep Me Warm - Dean Martin
I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day - Sarah McLachlan

Benediction

Mr Renn is back with us, whole and sound.  With him came our computer, allowing me to return from the valley of infrequent blogging.  The holiday has been thoroughly enjoyed, and all is right with the world.

Well, all is right with the world excepting reflux.  I finally took the gentleman to the doctor over it on Tuesday, and he's got it all right.



Aside from everything I didn't get to eat, and everything I ate before I realized I shouldn't have,  my Thanksgiving was near-perfect. (No milk, chocolate, legumes, or spicy food... and that's just the starter list)

I circumvented a food assignment by doing the flowers this year.  But I still had to make something when I realized I own a turkey mold pan.



And nothing beats a leisurely afternoon of card games while surrounded by napping grown men who have draped themselves across the sofas.



What makes a holiday feel complete for you?  Knowing that I may likely be spending Thanksgiving away from family in the coming years, this year was especially sweet.  But I've got some ideas up my sleeve I'd like to try if I can manage hosting a Thanksgiving, including a scripted role-play of the First Thanksgiving (if Charlie Brown can do it, so can I).  And Mr Renn is always looking for an excuse to try smoking or deep frying a turkey.

Today should be filled with lots of Christmas music, decorating, and one little Gentleman who will scream at me all day over the food I shouldn't have eaten.  Good Times!

The story of Us

Sir O, in a recent bout of uncharacteristic behavior, has taken to coloring and drawing pictures.
Today after preschool he spontaneously cranked out a family portrait.
It sort of looks like Dia de los Muertos decor, but I love it anyhow.
And I think it's great that he included grandparents, an aunt and uncle, and one of his friends from church in the picture.
And that he went out of his way to tell me that he drew everybody "skinny".
And that Mr Renn's head is at least twice as big as everyone elses.
And check out my eyelashes (on one of my eyes anyway)...

woman on the verge

I've been stumbling around in a state of utter overwhelmedness.  Mr Renn is still in Navajo country until Thanksgiving, my parents and sister are gone every evening this week from 5-11 for Nutcracker, and our Gentleman has not slept for a substantial stretch in 2 days.  I'm headed into 72 hours of nearly uninterrupted alone time with my kids.  Not even interrupted by sleep, I'm afraid.  It's funny how essential things like sleep and water are so easy to take for granted until there's a shortage.  It doesn't take much of a shortage to bring to your vivid remembrance how vital they are for life as we prefer to know it.

Yet here I am typing with one hand while the other hand holds on to this baby who will not shut his eyes.  He doesn't even blink much.  Thanksgiving is feeling awfully far away. (Not that Mr Renn with his inability to stay up past 10 pm for anything other than a boys-night-out of video gaming would be much help as I head into the promise of a 3rd sleepless night, ahem).

I'm getting better at having more kids than hands.  Today I managed to make salt dough, a paper-bag-town, and dinner (these enchiladas - I'm a fan).  I also vacuumed up after breakfast, lunch, and the first round of salt-dough play.  Unfortunately I was burned out by the time the 2nd and 3rd rounds of salt-dough play occurred, so my mom still came home to a mess under her kitchen table.

On the bright side (there is always a bright side) I've come to the realization/appreciation that Sir O is capable of being genuinely helpful.  I have to approach him in just the right way, but the intrinsic desire to be helpful is most definitely present.  These boys adore each other.

And God gave me a reminder today that life is good and that my problems are good problems to have.  It looked something like this:

It's an anniversary, a birthday, a whaaaa?

image

This bloggity blog of mine is 5 years old today.
It's never gotten very big, but truth be told that's been on purpose.
I don't think I could handle the trolls.

Still, I think I ought to thank you for reading me.  I know there are an awful lot of things we all could be doing with our short and precious lives.  I'm glad that stopping by here has been deemed worth your time.  I know that keeping some record of life and lessons learned has been invaluable for me.

Consider this a hug. Or three.

respite

I am amazed at how much more thinking I get done with Mr Renn at home.  It's still not an impressive amount by any means, but it actually occurs in increments of 2 minutes or longer.  Per usual, I never appreciate what I have until I have to do without it for a while.  When will I ever get ahead of that curve?

The Captain has been acting out in terribly unattractive ways.  Primary among them has been the new use of an emphatic, "no!" It's hard to fully appreciate how moody it is, since the picture of him using any word emphatically is so darn cute.  He's also taken to throwing things - hard - often at my parents' television.  Bad news.  Somehow I have to manage giving him more attention that is not associated with his bad behavior.  It still won't be enough attention to negate the bad behavior.  I don't have the resources to give any one child of mine that kind of attention right now.



Autumn came and went in one fell swoop around here this year.  I'm glad I got out and enjoyed it when I did, because it appears to be over.  In less than 2 weeks all the leaves turned and then fell.  And poor Mr Renn spent most of his morning raking them up.  Luckily he did remember to incorporate some play with his work.  I am reasonably confident that Sir O will have fond memories of playing in the leaves, even though we only managed to get out and facilitate it 3 times.



I am really hating the phenomenon of a postpartum body.  I'm not 6 weeks out yet, so I'm not supposed to be exercising, but the sensation of having an extra 2-5 inch layer of fleshiness on every parameter of my being is making me feel like I'm running in sand.  Plus I have no clothes that fit.  Maternity pants fall down because they're too big and non-maternity pants fall down because they're too small. (Even when spanxing) Well, that and I have no waist just now.  That's not helping.  I'm not a big proponent of the quest to be skinny, but I can appreciate the quest to have one's clothing fit well.... and I'm in no position to be buying new clothes, so the excess is going to have to go.

This is the sad reality of my pregnancies.  I spend the 3rd trimester being told what a cute little pregnant body I have.  (Granted, I  hear this less and less with each subsequent gestation) and then out pops the baby, and suddenly my body is floppy and squishy and round and swollen in the corners and the complements become sparse or qualified.  Somehow saying "You look good for having just had a baby" doesn't come across with the same meaning as "You look good."  It seems to mean more, "You look good for having crossed no man's land in broad daylight during combat after spending weeks imprisoned in solitary confinement and fed a diet of lard and vinegar."  Not that I thrive on complements (though validation is one of my love languages,) but the contrast always strikes me.



The little Gentleman is a pretty quiet little guy.  He's reasonably content other than the collicky spells.  (And yes, the gripe water is helping, but not altogether alleviating the problem).   I hope hope hope I'm managing to bond with him at a reasonable rate.  There are so many things and people yelling at me all the time, and I can't seem to even recognize what the balance I ought to strive for would look like.  (Unless it looks like an extra 12 hours in the day, which is not particularly reasonable).  My self-image is not so great right now, since I drop a lot of balls and all 3 of my children appear to be feeling somewhat neglected.  But I'm not despairing and I still have some momentum and emotional energy - so no imminent threat of a break-down.

We are closing in on the time-frame for making career decisions for Mr Renn.  Part of me gets excited thinking about living like real grown-ups.  But then we look at salaries and loan payments and my excitement gets considerably smothered.  No matter how you slice it, we will be tightening our belts for years yet.  I wish that didn't feel so depressing.  I shall look into fixing my attitude straight away.