Pinterest and preschool

I really like Pinterest. It's one of the few internet black holes that actually gives back rather than just sucking all of my nap time/cleaning/laundry folding/dishes-washing/designated web surfing time away. And it's usually in the form of some kind of delicious food or fabulous decorating idea. 

Like a little girl adorning her imaginary dollhouse, I love accumulating pins galore, building an arsenal of decor perfection in my pinterest home...but then reality sets in and I turn away from my computer to see the piles of laundry and un-hung frames awaiting tending. Sighhh.

In the weeks leading up to Selah's first day of preschool, I had grand ideas for how our morning would run: apple pancakes with fruit salad arranged in the shape of a schoolhouse; a song-and-smile filled morning; a perfect picture of Selah, backpack on, holding a "First Day of Preschool 2012" sign...

And then real life rudely roused me from my imaginary dream world. It's all kind of a blur now, but I'm pretty sure that morning included a toddler dancing on the kitchen table, a last-minute poopy-diaper, irrational tears, almost being late to school and peanut butter toast in the car. And that sweet picture I wanted? After I opened the front door, I realized we had 12 minutes to get to school and still no picture. A sign was not an option. I quickly snapped a few photos before Jack could run into the street:

Not bad, right?

Looking at these sweet pictures right now, I realize why older ladies swear that raising kids was a piece of cake and that every moment was beautiful - because they remember the little years in snapshots. Their memories summarize early parenting in sweet little smiles and tiny-voiced "I love you, Mamas," conveniently omitting the wild toddlers intent on chasing a garbage truck down the street, the irrational preschooler tears over giving her the wrong colored cereal bowl. 

Maybe God designed us to forget the tough moments as we age to prevent us from reliving the insanity and going completely batty?

I'll take it. 

"I'm too cool for school, yo."

P.S. I never got her a backpack. I instead opted for a special Baby Bjorn for Selah to wear so she can take the new baby with her to preschool when he's born in January. A+ parenting, myself.

Laundrizzle

You know those mornings when you wake up and feel like it's 3am, but it's actually 6:30am? And your toddler is standing before you, cheerfully asking for oatmeal with brown sugar and crust-less buttered toast? (And you're 90% certain she has already ingested a pot of coffee because WHY is she so cheerful at this hour?) And then you groggily walk downstairs into the kitchen to find an inch of water covering the entire floor because your washing machine leaked overnight? And then you spend the next three hours sopping up the mess with every towel in your house and 4 rolls of Bounty? 

And then you start to feel sorry for yourself for having to clean up the water off your kitchen floor and think about all the laundry you will have to do by hand due to the broken washer, certain there's a chapter in the book of Job about such hardship? 

And then it hits you - if 95% of the world's population had their own house with clean running water and a special machine to launder their clothes for them - and enough clothing for each family member to fill a closet - I bet they wouldn't be complaining about cleaning up the water. I bet instead they would be celebrating the clean water, the excessive clothing - the sheer bounty. (And probably also the Bounty, because holy cow is that stuff absorbent.) 

Attitude-check time. 

Please remind me not to complain about doing laundry again. 

P.S. In case you are wondering why the machine broke in the first place, it may or may not have been the fault of SOMEONE who left hair ties in their pockets which gathered in the machine's pump over time and eventually created a giant blockage. This could have been anybody. Somebody owes her husband for unclogging this disaster and still loving her. 

P.P.S. I didn't take a picture of the mess, and I don't want to leave you photo-less...So here's a picture of a wild Jack devouring a donut hole. If you've never witnessed a donut-eating J, it really is a sight to behold:

 

Real life.

Hi.

Welcome to my new blogspace. I privatized the last one with D running for office and all. But I kind of missed having my own little blog where I get to talk to you about the wild happenings 'round here. Liiiike, for example, I don't know, maybe that I'm pregnant for the third time in three years? Just little stuff like that.

Or like how Selah has started preschool and Jack has started crying for her and yelling "Saaay-duh!" after we drop her off. (Be still, my heart.)

Or how my sweet, potty-training Selah flushed the toilet over and over the other day until it flooded the bathroom, and while I futilely attempted to sop up the mess with the bath mat, Jack came and laid himself down in the flood.

Basically I wanted to share with you the parts of stay-at-home-mothering - the happy, sad, hard, hilarious - that make me stop and look around daily and think, in the wise words of David after the Dentist, "Is this real life?" or "Why is this happening to me?" or "Is this going to be forever?"

Glad you're here to appreciate these moments with me. Hope you'll stay awhile and maybe even feel comfortable sharing your "Is this real life?" moments, too.

Welcome.