Mama's Take Two

Castles, Creeping, and a Little Nostalgia

I love that Sofia has discovered the joys of living room tent making. I have vivid memories of building fortresses out of sheets and couch cushions, jumping from spot to spot with my brother, avoiding the sharks that were sure to make us lose a few toes.

I remember the thrill of avoiding imaginary jaws.

It’s fun to just watch her imagination at work. So far, she’s opened up an ice cream shop, thrown a few “princess, mermaid, barbie graduation parties”, and colored countless pictures. She’s even had a few meals in there while pouring over her books. It reminds me that sometimes, kids just need simplicity. No iPads, or iPods. No Netflicks. Not even PBS. We’ve been so much happier since eliminating tv time during the week. She’s less whiny and spaced out and she spends all of her time playing with everything.  Add in a little Putumayo or the Disney station on Pandora and she is in another world—transfixed. It’s wonderful.

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In other news, Mr. Caleb is getting more and more mobile by the day. Over the weekend, I looked up and saw him staring right back at me— while on his knees! It’s exciting to see him to try pull himself up. And he’s got that army style crawl down pat. Soon he’ll be on his knees and I’m feeling just a little bit terrified.

And here’s a throwback to summer of ‘08 when Sofia was first starting to peer over the crib.

Oh gosh, they look so much alike. I can’t wait for them to look back at these picture one day. Well, maybe I can.

Sleep Deprivation and Other Nonsense

This is what a typical night looks like:

And you know what? I’m tired. Tired to the core. And this oh so delicate mammalian part of my brain is a complete and utter mess. I mean, I can’t tell if I’m pissed or anxious or tired or depressed or just plain hungry. I got adrenaline coursing through my veins and yet I can barely keep my eyes open. This afternoon, I had a mean case of the jitters despite skipping my morning coffee.

My brain is misfiring big time.

Sleep deprivation is bad, y’all. Really, really bad. 

There is very little I can do at this point. There’s NO way I’m taking on sleep training on my own. No thank you. I’m still traumatized from round one 4 years ago. It’s going to have to wait until Andrew is off for the summer. I’m no martyr.

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I’m sorry I had to leave right before the holy Eucharist; I started leaking (breast milk, of course) through my shirt and needed to get home.

Actually, that’s not really what happened. That’s what I was prepared to tell anyone who mentioned not seeing me at the end of mass. Or it’s what I was going to share with the ever so amazing and impressive stay at home moms who saw me, Sofia, and Andrew hightail it out of there in the most awkward, head-down, eyes-averted, salmon-swimming-upstream kind of way. Imagined or not, those women can really lay the guilt on thick.

I guess that’s just what happens when secularists, humanists, secular humanists, atheists go to church. Some serious cognitive dissonance ensues.