Switcheroo

Ever since we knew Amber was a girl, we have planned on the sisters sharing a bedroom. The plan was to switch rooms around when Amber was done with her crib, sometime after she turned one. One day a week and a half ago, however, when Jay and Rose were cleaning their room, the whir of organizational activity inspired me to make the change right away. I recruited the Husband for the heavy lifting and about 15 minutes later, Jay had his own room.

That was the easy part. The next step took the rest of the day. I had to move Amber's clothes into Rose's closet and Jay's clothes into Amber's dresser, and not just the clothes they're wearing right now--I moved ALL the clothes. Amber has clothes to wear till she turns four. Jay has enough clothes to last him the whole next year. It was a lot of clothes to handle, kind of like an endless nightmare of laundry that kept multiplying every time I touched it. I got Mt. Clothing under control in the end, and now the girls are in the blue room and Jay is in the green room. His room has no bedframe (aka his mattress is on the floor) and the window still has the pink valence I made for baby Amber, but one thing at a time.

So far Jay likes having his own room. In the 10 days since we made the switcheroo, he's only returned to his old room for a sleepover once. Bedtime has become infinitely easier--the visits, arguments, and accusations we had to deal with nightly have been nearly eliminated. Jay and Rose are still best buddies, but when they are tired at night it's nice to have them separate so they don't keep each other up teasing, playing, etc. Jay keeps his Legos all in his room (all over the floor). That's pretty much the only thing besides clothes and a bookshelf and a mattress that he has in there, and it is wonderful to be able to close the bedroom door and NOT see, think about, or step on the Legos. Amber is getting rather mobile too, so it's extra important to have a baby-free closed-off room for the Legos.

Amber is so easy-going. I wondered if she'd have a hard time sleeping in a different room or if she'd get distracted by Rose, but she is so happy in her new room. When she wakes up, she plays happily in her crib for nearly half an hour before making any "come get me" sounds. Mostly Amber is asleep by the time Rose goes to bed at night, early bedtime baby that she is. Naptimes during the day are slightly tricky because Rose often wants to go play in her room while Amber is asleep. To compromise, we've moved half of the toys (aka blocks) out of their room back into the family room.

An unforseen bonus to all of this switcheroo-ing is that we had a spare chair and nightstand when the dust settled--the thrift store super-comfy old-school Lazy Boy recliner and rough-hewn nightstand that were in Amber's baby room. Jeff and I have been using stools for nightstands for our entire marriage, but now one of us has an actual nightstand! It's me. We put the chair in our room too, and it's my sanctuary. I love having a place of retreat where I can sit comfortably in peace to read and think. Wins all around!

Amber waking up from her last nap in her baby room. I loved the simple subtle decor in this room so much I almost didn't make the switch.

Jay's room during the clothing organization. Eventually he'll have a real bed instead of a mattress on the floor.

The girls' room during the switcheroo.

This picture doesn't show the artful stacking techniques I employed to cram all of Amber's clothes into that tiny closet.

Playing in her new room!

Here's what the girls' room looks like right now, today.

Jay's room right now today

Eventually the pink valence will have to go.

Ah, and then there's my sanctuary.

Living in the same house for more than a year (still a novel experience for us, and we just passed the 3 year mark in this house), it's easy to get in a rut and assume that the furniture placement is permanent. Not so! It feels so exciting and powerful to do a little switcheroo.

Guppies

It's almost 3pm and I just caved to the delicious aroma emanating from our crock pot. While I eat my "quality control" preview bowl of Italian sausage and tortellini dinner, (a new recipe that's actually good!?!) I'll tell you about swim lessons. Jay did a session of swimming lessons on the Guppies level this month--four days a week for two weeks. Jay's lessons started at 9:30am. Spencer's lessons started at 10:10am. Did I mention that we're watching 8-year-old Spencer from 8am-3pm Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday each week this summer? We are. He's a great guy. We like him.

Anyways, during swim lessons, one parent stayed home with a sleeping Amber while the other parent went to the pool. Rose tagged along and swam in the kid area of the pool while the boys had their lessons. She'll be in swim lessons next summer. We arrived at the pool just before 9:30am each morning, stayed for two sessions of swim lessons and half an hour of free swim time afterwords. That's a lot of time to spend at the pool!

The schools in our area provide free breakfast and lunch for all kids ages 0-18 over the summer. So each day after swimming, we went to the elementary school across the street from the pool for lunch. Meals are not free for parents, though, so most days I sat and hungrily watched the kids eat and then got my own lunch when we made it home around noon.

Jay, swimming with his teacher.

Back float and jumping in like a pencil. 

Meanwhile, in the kid area...

Jay liked to give Rose a swim lesson when he was done with his class.

As the days progressed, Rose got out of the pool earlier and earlier. Swimming wore her OUT!

 Lounging in the sun.

One day I decided to bring Amber. She liked her first trip to the pool alright.

 Babies in the sun always look so sneaky, squinting their eyes.

FRIENDS! (and a cousin)

Waiting for lunch at the school.

 Bagel pizzas with buddies: must be summer.

We left the house at 9am and got home at noon four days a week for two weeks, and even though Jeff and I took turns driving, (17 minutes from home) we both still heaved sighs of relief when swim lessons ended last Thursday (July 23rd). Now that I'm writing about it, three hours a day doesn't sound very long. But it sure felt long when we were in the middle of it, probably mostly due to my acute, hollow hunger. I run 4-5 mornings each week and my post-run metabolism kicks into overdrive right about 10am, leaving me wobbly and hungered right during swim lessons. Thankfully, however, we met with other friends/family at the pool every day, and sometimes I got in the water and played too, so it wasn't all hungry slow-going.

Jay did a good job in his level two Guppies class. I think he'll have it all figured out by next summer.

Here's what it looked like on about day 6 of swim lessons when I asked the kids to sweep under the table after dinner. Swimming is exhausting!

Veggie Patties

I'm always on the lookout for delicious meatless recipes for three reasons: meat is expensive, not my favorite, and not always the healthiest. When I was planning this month's meals, I plunged into a few vegetarian/vegan blogs for ideas and came out clutching a tasty-looking veggie burger recipe. It was a vegan recipe, using flax meal and water in place of an egg. As a result of my last (and only other) foray into vegan baking, I actually had some flax meal, so I assembled the ingredients today and started grinding, chopping, mashing, and mixing. Vegan baking makes me feel like a kid again, in the backyard mixing mud, leaves, and grass in a bucket. These burgers had grated carrots, oat flour, breadcrumbs, chopped parsley, mashed beans, sunflower seeds, and chopped almonds in them. Definitely backyard bucket material. 

When it came time to pour in the watery flax meal goo, I got a whiff of it and decided to dump it down the drain instead, replacing it with normal chicken eggs. When I saucily told Jeff about my rebellion against the vegan recipe and explained the smelly vegan egg substitute, he started grinning. I could see the wheels turning in his head. He said "what do vegans use for cheese? Tears?" Bwahahaha! I was laughing at that one all day! I'm not hating on vegans. I actually admire people who can go 100% plant based. But you have to admit, Jeff hit the nail on the head! I always say that the reason I'm not vegetarian is pork and the reason I'm not vegan is cheese.

While I was making the veggie burgers, Jeff got on youtube and found the scene from Parks and Rec where Ron and Chris have a burger-cook off. Ron is a devoted lover of red meat and Chris is a health nut. That show may be a tad on the...off-color side in general, but when it's good and funny, it's really good and funny, and that scene is classic. We were both cracking up. 

Anyways, the veggie burgers. Oh boy. They smushed nicely together into thick moist patties, almost like mud pies. I George Foreman grilled them and they came out toasty and fragrant. We fixed them up like hamburgers on buns with mayo, BBQ sauce, and cheese. We left off the lettuce, because honestly, with the whole thing being made of fresh stuff, lettuce was superfluous. At dinner I plunked a hearty heavy bunned burger in front of each person and watched the events unfold with growing mirth. By halfway through dinner, I could barely chew because I was laughing so hard! 

Jay's burger--or shall we call it a patty instead--fell off of his bun after the first bite and he left it broken and crumbled on the table with a very confused, slightly disgusted, hilariously disgruntled look on his face. Then he pieced the bun back together, plucked the cheese off of the patty, and ate that. He said "I like the bun and the cheese part best." 

Rose took one bite, made the funniest "I'm trying to eat this because you're eating it, but THIS IS WEIRD AND GROSS" face ever. She left her entire patty, bun and all alone after that bite. Thankfully I made my best-ever batch of oven fries to go with dinner so she still found some sustenance.

Jeff slowly and methodically ate his patty one bite at a time, with a semi-smug look on his face, like "I'm such an amazing husband for eating this weird dinner that my wife made, even though it's weird." When I called him out on it, he said that was a good interpretation. Hah! Making the patties was worth the trouble for all of the belly laughs they inspired! While we were eating dinner, Jeff played the Parks and Rec burger cook off scene at me again "because it's worth repeating," he said.

I didn't dislike the patties but I didn't love them either. They were ok--rather a lot of work for just an "ok" meal, but now I know. 

I was trying to capture his disapproving look, but he caught on to mine and Jeff's suppressed laughter and started grinning.

Normally it's kind of depressing to make a dinner that nobody in the family likes, but tonight I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Moroni 7:13

All week I've been trying to read my scriptures sometime during the day, but interruptions, noise, forgetfulness, and various antics of children barred my way and I have barely managed to read a few verses right before collapsing exhausted into bed at night. [when I started writing this, Amber started crying and Jay and Rose both kept coming in and out noisily] It's discouraging! This is not how I want my scripture study to go. I have chosen to read my scriptures during the day, so I have to figure out how to do it with kids around--old news, I know I've written about this before. It's an ongoing struggle because it's not just about reading with background noise and interruptions, it's also about finding a moment where I'm in the right frame of mind to read scriptures too (aka, not annoyed or drained). 

Often I feel like my feeble attempts at scripture study should be longer/more meaningful/better somehow. Like, "I'm trying my best, so can't I get a little help here?" We're always hearing talks about studying the scriptures and there's almost always a ward scripture reading challenge going on. Every time I open my scriptures, someone comes in or starts crying or arguing, etc. It's Murphy's Law. If I try to do what those talks say or try to complete a scripture reading challenge, all I get is stressed out. That's not how the scriptures are supposed to make me feel! So I mostly do my best each day and try not to feel bad that my best is far below the beautiful ideals spoken of in the talks and that I don't do scripture reading challenges or schedules anymore.

A few minutes ago in a brief lull of quiet, I read a verse and something amazing happend: it MEANT something to me! 

Moroni 7:13 "But behold, that which is of God inviteth and enticeth to do good continually; wherefore, every thing which inviteth and enticeth to do good, and to love God, and to serve him, is inspired of God."

Suddenly I saw that scripture in an entirely new light. I thought about how hard yesterday was parenthood-wise and then the thought came that being there for my kids and helping them and being their mom are all GOOD THINGS that invite me to do good and to love and serve God. The job of mother is inspired of God. Yes I knew that truth before, but the spirit reminded me today of not only the importance of my role as a mother, but also how sacred motherhood is. I needed that reminder today.

I'm not sure I'll ever figure out how to make my scripture time fit the peaceful inspirational ideal without reading when I'm too tired to understand or without locking my kids out of my room, which feels wrong. One of my parenting ideals that I'm still clinging fiercely to is never to tell my kids to go away. Jesus always said "come unto me," so telling anyone to go away, especially my own child is the opposite of who I want to be. Anyways, back to my lightning inspirational moment...

Everything that invites us to do good continually and love and serve God is inspired of God. Motherhood definitely invites me to do good continually! And to serve! Even though my scripture reading is often somewhat lackluster in duration and inspiration, I am still doing work that is inspired of God--being a mother. And God knows that being a mother involves sacrifices in every way: from physical discomforts to emotional stresses to having less personal time, etc. When I read that verse this morning I felt such a kind loving feeling that as a mother, all that I do for my kids is God's work, whether it's changing nasty diapers, cooking dinner, diffusing a tantrum, or reading stories. It's all important, it's all good, and it's all of God.

That doesn't make the frustrations disappear (I got frustrated with kid-related disturbances at least 5 times while trying to write this). But Moroni 7:13 was a gentle reminder to me that even if I don't manage to read and ponder the scriptures for very long each day, I'm still doing exactly what God wants me to do simply by being a mother, trying my best every day, and not turning my kids away. 

So when I'm sitting down for the fifth time trying in vain to read and understand one verse in the scriptures amidst the demands of my cute, noisy, demanding little family, I hope I can remember this thought and not turn my kids away but suffer (ha, that double entendre!) them to come to me, even if it means missing out on more personal enlightenment and scripture reading. If my efforts are enough for God, then I will let them be enough for me too.

A day.

This morning I got back from my run looking forward to a few peaceful hours at home with a sleeping baby while Jeff took the older kids to the pool. I spent the run deliciously trying to decide what I would do with my 2-3 hours of me-time. Would I do the dishes and then read a book? Would I make bread and then do my core exercises? Would I clean a floor and call my sister? I narrowed it down to exercises, bread, and book.

Then Rose...happened. 

First she wouldn't clean up her giant oatmeal mess. While I "slept in" past 6am this morning, Rose opened one pouch of instant oatmeal to make for her breakfast. For some reason she decided to bring it to the bathroom. There were oats everywhere. Rose said, "don't worry, Mommy, I spilled some oatmeal in the bathroom but I cleaned it up with the towel in there. Apprehensively I lifted the freshly washed hand towel. Out dropped a few maple brown sugar scented oats. They were also stuck all over the towel and scattered on the floor. And I found a broken trail of oats along the carpet between the kitchen and the bathroom. There were also oats all over the kitchen floor. When I looked by Rose's stool in the kitchen, it looked like she had dropped the already-cooked bowl of oatmeal too, because there were globs of sticky oatmeal all over the floor over there. Later on, I even found a cluster of oatmeal ten feet from the bomb site. This discovery raised several unanswered questions. Did it bounce over there? Was it carried over there? Did Rose throw her oatmeal in addition to spilling it and dropping it? How is our microwave still clean? Why didn't my motherly sixth sense pick up on all of this and alert me to head off the worst of the mess? Why don't I have video surveillance of my kitchen? 

Part way through oatmeal cleanup.

Solution: I told Rose it was her job to clean up her oatmeal mess under the stool. I explained that she had to pick up the big pieces with her hands and then wipe up the rest of it will the dish rag. It took nearly half an hour of discussion and various forms of encouragement (asking nicely, explaining why, if you don't do this you won't be allowed to ___, etc etc etc.) to get her going on the job. Then I handed the reins over to Jeff and went on my run. Well, Rose did finally finish cleaning up but the process drained a disproportionately large amount of patience from BOTH of her parents.

Next, Rose wouldn't get her swimsuit on. She wanted to go to the pool, so she followed Jay and Spencer to go get ready. Next thing I knew, it was time for them to leave and Rose was lying on the stairs buck naked. We've been trying to persuade her NOT to walk around the house bare, especially when there are friends over. Point in the aggravation column for that move. Jeff said he wasn't taking her to the pool because she wasn't ready. Another point in the aggravation column--what about my quiet morning? So I hustled Rose into the bathroom and crammed her bones into that swimsuit at top speed. I tossed her hair into a bun and shooed her out the door. I closed the door with a satisfied sigh that meant "I survived the crazy and now here's my quiet reward. Hello, sweet solitude."

I went upstairs to get Amber ready for her nap and after a few minutes I heard something outside, so I glanced out the window. The van was still in the driveway, and Jeff was standing next to Rose's seat, telling her to buckle her seatbelt. Rose was thrashing and crying and refusing. A closer look told me that her seatbelt was not threaded through the shoulder positioner on the booster seat, and I was about to go tell Jeff that when he bodily lifted an angry Rose from the car and put her back in the house. I asked him what was going on, and he said she was not cooperating and in that mood he couldn't take her to the pool. I was peeved, but I said FINE and he left. What else could I do? Jeff had already pronounced his parental judgment that in exchange for her intractability, Rose had to stay home from the pool. I agreed on a philosophical plane, but I wilted when I faced the new version of my peaceful solitary morning with a sleeping baby: calming a freaking four year old. (I'm using freaking in the literal sense here)

Rose was flaming mad: flailing, screaming, and crying. It was one of those moments as a mother where I thought, "Where ON EARTH does this come from? There's no way she learned this from me! What did I do wrong? What can I do now?" 

I have researched several different ways to handle strong willed children as well as ways to handle tantrums. I tried a few techniques on this steaming screaming 4 year old girl, and none of them even came close to accessing her humanity underneath that rage. I tried acknowledging her anger, stating why she was mad. Scream. I tried calmly explaining this-is-why-it-happened. Flail. I threatened her with time-out. Scream. I offered her a hug. Flail. I asked if she wanted to hold her Bunny and take a break in bed. Scream. She said, in broken sobs, that she wanted someone to play with. I told her that acting like that was not how you get people to play with you. None of these strategies even came close to eliciting a response beyond renewed screams and flails. Amidst the tantrum I was impressed how I kept my cool in the face of my own crushed hopes and dreams for the morning. 

Meanwhile, Amber was not in the mood for her nap and I found myself standing in my room, still salty in my running clothes, torn between my book of core exercises and two cranky girls at my feet. I confess to just standing there at a loss, feeling frustrated and sad for a while. Finally Rose managed to calm down and Amber went to bed and I did my exercises with a subdued little Rose-companion.  

Every now and then I feel like a certain moment defines motherhood. This was one of them. Motherhood is: giving up precious me-time to help a distraught child. My Mom does that every time I call her! In fact, she did it today when I called and bemoaned the fate of my morning.

That's it: today was hard. But we survived. 

The Brown Family

I'm feeling grouchy today--brownies at 10am kind of grouchy. So while I eat my gooey brownie, I will cheer myself up by posting the Brown family pictures we took with Jeff's camera on the tripod while we were at the lake 9 days ago.

The family:

The grandparents:

The sibs:

Five years ago

One week ago

Five years ago

One week ago (some things never change)

Brad says that's enough!

The sisters:

The brothers:

The cousins:

The spouses:

Em and Jesse

Jeff and Shaina :)

Brad and Dani                                                       Kyle and Alivia

Admiring our photography handiwork over lunch.

 I miss my family already!