a-Babka-at-the-end-of-the-stick-kind-of-night

Ever since Wendy came into my life there are lots of days that end like this. (Truth be known, there were probably more days like this before any children came into my life than there are now, but I was more relaxed back then and had leisure to wait until the mood hit me to spend hours cleaning up.)Now, it drives me crazy.  I learned with Charlie’s infancy that the only thing more depressing to me than seeing this mess at the end of the day, is waking up to it the next morning and having to deal with it while dealing with an infant. 

I hope you realize I pose no moral judgment on the untidy.   If you can live in chaos without it gnawing at your insides like itchy wool at your neck, then fantastic.  I cannot.  Somehow having children has turned me into a crazy woman for neat. I now equate “peace” “rest” and “relax” with “tidy and clean.” At the end of the day, when I’m tired of wrangling 2 year old cowboys and pampering 6 month old princesses, I wish this weren’t true. But it is. 

So the other night I decided to bribe myself into doing the dishes with Chocolate Cinnamon Babka. 

“What?!??” you say?  “Do more work to convince yourself to do more work?”   Yes, it is true.  I am that much of a sucker for chocolate,butter and white flour. 

Here’s how it went down:

made Babka dough (a whole cup of butter, folks!)  (and also some whole wheat roll dough because it’s easy and I was baking already and we needed it for the next day.)mixed up some divine chocolate-cinnamon-butter spread and soaped up the dishes while the dough rose shaped it and rinsed dishes while it rose some more…finished the dishes in time to watch a show while the bread bakedTHEN I ate me some Babka from a sparkling clean kitchen (and breakfast was already made for the next morning too!) SO worth it!

Conversations with Charlie

After an involved conversation about hugs, how they are a way of telling someone you love them and how good they feel…

“Dada, I think you should hold me now. Yeah. Maybe dat would be a good idea.”

During a discussion about how he lied about needing to go potty so he could get out of bed after bedtime…

“I’m not so good at sleeping. I’m good at being wake, Mama. I’m very good at playing.”

fall.leaf.fall

concentration…

We tried a new craft.  

The object was a noodle necklace.  I helped with coloring the noodles. It’s tricky.   And so is threading them.  (We used a super large darning needle and yarn. )He lost interest after he mastered it and before the necklace was finished, but for about two minutes I saw complete concentration…

L.o.v.e. that boy!

She eats! She sits! She bangs! She charms!

(It’s been a big week around here.  We are hitting milestones left and right!)

Eating!

Sitting!

Banging!

Charming!

siblings….

She thinks the day starts and stops with him…and of course it does. If he is within earshot, she cranes her neck 180 degrees to be able to see him too. And once he is in sight, she watches him like a hawk. If he jumps up and down she shrieks with laughter. If he talks to her she grins so big you can see her cheeks spread from behind her head.

He serves her with an solicitousness that is quite touching (inconsistent though it be). He often replaces her toy with another that he has brought over from her toy basket. He explains to strangers that she likes to smile at people and I have even seen him attempt to wipe her nose! He takes time, now and then, to explain to her how things work. Today at dinner he tried to teach her how to give a high-five when we cheered her for getting a Cheerio in her mouth. He leaned right in her face, ended up clapping in the demonstration, and then felt the need to explain to her the difference between clapping and a high-five with someone else.

SO much love!

obsession….

Obsession comes easily when you are two and a half and you throw a paper airplane off the balcony at church for the first time.  You might be such a person if you hold that airplane tight in your hand all the way home and spend all afternoon playing with it.  If you sleep with those paper airplanes clutched to your chest all night long you are obsessed.  If your parents hear strange crackling noises in the monitor because you sleep on your stomach and they are under you, crinkling whenever you move, you are certainly obsessed.  

If you are out in the hallway before you have even fully woken up, crying, about those flat, mangled, loved airplanes still in your fingers, then you are just plain adorable.  And obsessed.   (Oh, that all things broken in the course of our passions were so easily mended!)

Superhero Stories Over Breakfast by “Tsalie Wockstore”

 

[author’s tittle:  “The Story that Dada wote on his pewter (computer)”

by: “Tsalie Wockstore” (Charlie Rock Star)

[This story was faithfully transcribed word for sound by his Mama while still in her pajamas over a breakfast of scones and scrambled eggs.]

Charlie looking up suddenly from his plate:  “Mama, Fred is climbing on yore lap.  He likes yore cozy lap cuz they feel so cozy. 

Mama: “He does?  What does Fred look like?”

Charlie:  “He has a big Batman thorn sticking snout his head out of his hair.  His name is ‘Fred Batman’ but I’m Batman Wockstore!  Fred Batman has a horn snout his head and he has a big big tall wador bador (water bottle)  that tuched the ky (sky).  It touches the ky and the whole weeold (world).  Up and up to the ky and it touches our ceiling because its so so SO high that Dada can’t touch it.  Dada can’t climb up there cuz he dun’t have ticky fingors like Piderman so he can’t climb that tall wador bador.”

“We’re takin about a big, big wockstore called  ‘Dada Wockstore’.  He has big big hands. He can bang down people and his hands are almost big to pick up a ticky chair.  Ticky with honey on it.   Now Daddy torned into Batman. After he torned into Batman he torned into Piderman.  [said after pause, in a tone of finality] Then Daddy was just Daddy.”

“hmmmm hmmmm hummm… (humming the closing theme song, aparently)”

Happy 6 Months Wendy!

Wendy’s half-year resume, in bullet points:

• has two teeth whose combined height above her gum line does not equal one millimeter
• sleeping through the night—mostly because Dada is not as much fun as Mama in the middle of the night!
• uses the bouncy seat like a maniac—especially when brother is already dancing to music
• staying strong in that 98-99% at 26.75 inches, 21.3lbs
• does not like to be hot, does not like to be cold
• likes holding her feet so much that she even does it while soundly asleep
• giggles always for brother
• occasionally stops to study objects with great concentration before cramming them in her mouth
• rolls from back to front
• watches brother if at all possible, even if this requires turning her head 180 degrees backwards
• treats her stuffed owl like a cat does catnip
• has been to the chiropractor 3 times
• ticklish
• wow.

::Tonight::

(…in the style of Soule Mama…)

Tonight I am…

::finding it appropriate that I fed Wendy her first sweet potatoes out of my favorite china teacup because all our ramekins are full of watercolor paint!  (…and of course she loved them.  How could she not with such beautiful presentation!)

::recovering from a long rainy day inside with a two-year-old boy and a teething infant.

::putting rain boots in size 11-12 on my shopping list…how could I not have those for this muddy Fall season?

::amazed by the quantity and quality of crafters who have  unique voices/blogs on the internet

::deciding that I need to set a time limit and also a timer when I decide to log into Pinterest, ahem!

::wishing I spent more of my time tonight knitting  (…someone please tell me how to browse the internet and knit at the same time and I will be happy happy happy!)

::thinking there is not enough Aquaphor in the world to fix the state my hands are in

::wondering how in the world we got that many hand-wash only dishes  dirty anyways  (oh yeah, all the painting, and making of granola, scones, bread, stew, and spagehtti we’ve done over the last three days!)

::thankful for a husband who encourages me to voice my opinion even when it differs from his—and all the growing up I’ve done in this area since I met him

::loving this silent house where everyone is asleep but me, and all the lights are off except the dimmed ones above the bed that he left on for me.

::going to bed!

A Poem Inspired by Bedtime

We Boys and Girls

Sleep:

He quiets to him

and she to me.

At night, his exploding boy energy needs

a man’s stern strength

for still and calm.

Where my gentleness elicits endless negotiations,

his fears are quelled by his father’s tall frame, large hands and whispered prayers.

Yet she,

in her rosebud, chrysalis of a body,

lost in layers of soft blankets and fat,

she, quiets to my hands.

She takes my song, my scent and

melts sleep heavy against my bones

until I am undone by her trust.

We are gloriously different, Him and I,

(as are they, the he and she we’ve put to sleep this night)

and though our love wears different hands, uses a different voice and
speaks with different words,

We are we.

We are as fiercely we as they are fiercely ours.

And in the end, when the day is done;

I quiet to him

and he to me.