7QT -- Updates and Ramblings (05.29.15)

Look, I'm not making any promises about being around more. But I'm linking up with Kelly for some quick ramblings before the kids decide that milk is not enough of a breakfast and want real food. 

1. I never thought I would be tired of the rain. At least not this tired of rain. I feel like Noah. I'm waiting for the dove. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but kids in the house when they should be playing outside will do that to you. And we're well north of Texas. Our 15 inches of rain and soaked everything is nothing compared to what's going on down there. Praying for dry, hot sun.

Playing in the mud thanks to the rain.

2. I think/hope/pray that Peter's long, long nap strike is over/on the road to over.A girl can dream, right?!? He's finally sleeping pretty well at night, so I can't complaint too too much. But...a cranky baby makes for a looooong afternoon/evening. Anyway, I decided this week to (wo)man up and get him on a more consistent afternoon nap schedule, and, go figure, he's sleeping 2ish hours a day, and is still a pleasant happy baby by dinner.

Although falling asleep in his highchair is funny!

3. Peter is getting closer and closer to walking. He can walk assisted like a pro. He's taken 3-4 steps at a time. He's letting go of the furniture. He's so close. But best of all, he tries to "jump" when we're walking. 

Me: 1, 2, 3, jump! 
Peter: DUH!!! 

He bends his knees and bounces up -- of course, without his feet actually leaving the ground. He's pretty proud of himself. I think it's terribly cute and he just laughs and laughs and laughs when he does it. Over and over and over again. Love it!

4. We have had lots of fun hosting first Charles' mom, then my dad and Rhonda for long weekends in the last few weeks. It's good to be around family when family is otherwise so far away. And MY SISTER IS COMING this coming weekend!!!!!!!!!!! 

5. I don't think there is a font to express how unbelievably excited I am about that. We've barely seen one another since our baby showers last March. Since then, we've both had babies. (Is that a duh since we had baby showers?) I've moved. We've lived a lot of life. We talk probably 5 days a week. We FaceTime. We saw each other for less than 24 hours at our dad's wedding last fall. But now, we get 4 full and 2 partial days. Glorious, lovely days. Cannot wait!

6. She is, of course, brining her 1 year old daughter with her for the fun. I'm excited to see how the three cousins interact. Who will pair up? The siblings? The babies? The girls? Who will fight? Who will freak out because someone stole their toys? Bonus: the weather forecast is actually calling for sun, so we'll be able to enjoy outdoor activities.

7. For as long as I can remember, my dad has listened (not watched!) the pre-race festivities of the Indy 500 on Memorial Day weekend. Usually while working on his garden. But since he was in Kansas last weekend, he had to do some 21st century improvisation. We got the race streaming on his iPad and he sat on our back deck listening. It felt pretty special to me. 

Peter, of course, just wanted to play!

Have a lovely weekend! 

Crosses, Sacrificial Love, and the Facebook Article I Needed to Read

I've talked about it before, but night float is hard. It might not be the worst, but that doesn't mean that it can't still be hard.

Yesterday was hard. Wednesday was hard. I was struggling. I was lonely. I was all kinds of ready to spend my evening typing out a post complaining about how **** hard this round of night float was. Poor me.

But then, I scrolled past an article on Facebook. I had scrolled by it a time or two already, but, in a moment of hiding from all the hard in my life, I clicked through. And I was convicted. Thanks, God.

The article was written to address the future-focused mentality of many medical families, especially those still in training, but I think the message is good for any of us in the trenches of childbearing and rearing. Always waiting for the promise of a brighter day robs us of the blessings that are right in front of us now.

But this offshoot is what got me: the advice to acknowledge something as hard without getting caught up in it. Because I'm so not good at that. I tend toward the Pollyanna, because once I see the muck, it's like quicksand. I find myself sinking deeper and deeper, and not doing much to get out of it. 

It doesn't have to be that way. See, what the Catholic worldview gives us is the knowledge that things may be hard -- the crosses in our lives -- but they are also good. They are sanctifying. They teach us to die to self. They help us create hearts the are for God, not for ourselves and our worldly comforts and desires. 

Night float, for better or for worse, is a sacrifice. Charles sacrifices his comfort (believe me, he wants to work nights, well, not at all) for the good of his patients, and for the long-term good of our family. The kids and I sacrifice time with him for those same goods. Acknowledging that it's hard, and then moving on is a healthy point of view. Acknowledging that it's hard and then turning into a snippy, angry, shell of a mom is not.

Know what finally got me out of my funk yesterday? I said a prayer. I asked God to give me the grace to get through my day, to get through the rest of the week.

When will I ever learn?

It practically goes without saying that my attitude improved after that. I got some rest and was able to hit reset. And know what? If I'm honest, the rest of yesterday was still hard, but it was easier to get through once I stopped thinking only about myself. Go figure.

And if night float is a cross, so be it. God willing, it will be one I bear with grace.

Enough

We went to the grocery store this morning, and when we got back, it was all downhill. Fast. My kids meltdown when they're hungry. Heck. I meltdown when I'm hungry. I'm just better at controlling it. *giant wink

Anyway, I thought throwing some applesauce pouches at them would tide them over until I could put the victuals away and make lunch.

Unrelated.

Wrong.

Wrong wrong wronger mcwrongerson wrong.

So wrong.

In a totally misguided attempt to get Peter down for a nap in the midst of the meltdown, I found myself sitting with both kids in the glider, rocking. 

Clare asked what we were doing, and I told her. "We're sitting here, rocking and snuggling and just being together for a minute. Isn't that enough?"

The glider thing worked well enough and the kids pushed through the 10 minutes to lunch. 

But the question has been lingering in my mind.

Isn't that enough? Because how often is that, whatever it is, not enough? How often do we need more? More stuff. More stimulation. More more more. We live in a more society, and I'm as bad as the next guy. There's always another message to respond to or another article to read or another chore to do. There's always another book to read or game to play or diaper to change or kid to tickle. And maybe none of those is bad in itself, but at the end of the day, what really matters?

I want to be content with enough, because those few minutes, with both of my babies snuggled into my arms, squished into a single seat, quiet and still in the dim bedroom -- those will be some of the most precious of my day.