It goes so fast

When I had my first child I was so excited by every new milestone he reached. I wrote everything down in his baby book. I even had to add in new sections to the book so I could include everything I wanted to record. I was very proud that he was "advanced" as he smile a week before the books said he should. I was so anxious for him to role over, sit up, crawl. I was always ready for the next step.

Us with our first born

But now, as I hold my youngest boy all I can think is that he is growing too fast. Over this first five months of his life I have held him every chance I could get. I held him even when "the books" said I should put him down. But with 12 years of parenting under my belt I know that the days that I can hold him will be over very soon.

Don't get me wrong, I was very happy to see his smiles come "early" and I will be excited when he starts to crawl and at his first steps. But they will also be a little bitter sweet because I know that those first unsteady steps will be the first of many that will take him on his journey.

I already miss his newborness. I love that he is so alert, that he laughs and interacts with his siblings. It was pretty fun the first time he rolled over. But I miss his little rolled up fists, his sleepy grey newborn eyes and that he was small enough to hold all the time. Now he is too big. My back gets sore, plus he wants to wiggle and move.

As I was doing laundry, I found a sleeper that he has outgrown. I held it for awhile before I put it away in my "too small" box. This sleeper was one that I passed down to all my kids. I know that twelve years ago, when my first wore that sleeper, some nice lady told me to treasure every moment because they go so fast. It was not that I did not believe her, but it felt like he would be this small forever. Every day (and night) felt like a year. But now, I get it. It goes so fast.

I know that I can not stop time. Nor do I want to hold my kids back. I want them to grow up and become they great people they are meant to be. But I want hold then now, as they are today. Not push them too fast forward either. Because they are only going to be this size once. And if I forget to pay attention I might miss it.

Prize

Look at what I found in my cereal box! Now that is a good prize.

Chaos you win.

Do you ever have those days that are just too much for you? Where at the end of the day you are farther in the hole then you were in the morning?

Well yesterday got the better of me. With a toddler that has dropped her nap and a fussy, mild fever baby I felt like I could get nothing done. I was still in my PJ's at noon. I would try to put the baby down for a nap and do some laundry but by the time I got the load in the machine he was up crying. I would try to engage the little girl but the cranky "I'm not tired" monster had taken her place.

By the time the big kids got home I knew the day was a total loss. I was not going to get any work done. I gave up. And it was the best thing I did all day. I stoped trying to look after my things and I started to focus on my people. Yes, dinner was pretty lame but we eat and talked around a messy table, in a messy kitchen. I helped with homework on the floor of the living room because there was no other flat surface that was clean. I watched puppet shows put on by my troop of Thespians and you know I did not even see the mess in the room. 

I am pretty sure that my kids could careless that the counters were full of dishes. I don't think that there fondest memories of childhood will be their mother in a mad cleaning frenzy. I think that they will remember the laughter and time together. 

Maybe one day I will have time to clean my house. Maybe I will have a vacuumed floor and not just a vacuum on the floor. But I hope that I will not care because I will have people to care about and things to do. In other words, even when the days get the best of me, I would not change how I live. But I might try to remember what (who) is important in this messy life more often. 

Look Out World

The first place I went alone after I had our first child was to buy a tent. And we had a great time camping in that tent. But after three kids and many trips to and from the prairies we needed an upgrade. 
So we bought an old hippy bus. That was lots of fun but westies have notoriously bad engines and ours was true to it kind. But we were very comfy while waiting for the engine to cool down!
Well, we are about to start the third chapter in our camping adventures.
And what could go wrong?

The Squishing Makes Us Stronger

I love to make bread. I have ever since I was in grade 11, when I read a recipe in the Canadian Living, and instead of studying for my finals I thought I would give it a try. It turned out to be that best and tastiest procrastination technique ever. Then and now, I like to make bread by hand, not with a bread machine or mixer, but with my hands all wet and gooey.
The other day I was making bread with my daughter. We were kneading out the dough in the bowl and my daughter asked me why I was squishing the bread. I said we need to squish the bread to make it strong. The more we squish the bread the stronger it gets. She thought that was funny, but it started me thinking. I think it's true not just for bread. The more we get squished, the stronger we get. This seems to be true in my own life.
When I go through hard things at first I feel sad, scared and lonely. I feel like I'm getting squished and I can't see why it's happening. It often seems pointless but after some time, after some rest, I see that I'm stronger. I'm better, more who I want to be. I've seen this in friends of mine who faced tragedies and have come out the other side or are in the process of coming out the other side to be stronger and better people. Even in the midst of our pain we are growing stronger. Unfortunately, I can't always see it in the moment.
When I think of those times that have been hard for me sometimes I felt like God trying punish me or make my life horrible. Even though I knew it was not true I still felt like God must be punishing me if life was hard or that I must be doing something wrong if life was not perfect. If it's hard to get the baby to sleep I must have done something wrong. If my kids aren't perfect then obviously I am a bad parent. But if I stop to think a little I realize that it's the squashing the makes us stronger. It's the hard parts that make us better. If life was always easy, my kids were always well behaved, or the baby always acted like the books said he should I would never learn how to be strong. It seems backwards but it is when I am my most weak and hopeless that I learn strength and hope. If life was always a Hollywood movie then I would never be who I was meant to be. I would never know how tough I can be. So even when it is scary I need to let the squishing come. It is the only way to get strong. 

Happy Easter

Nothing says "Christ is Risen " like chocolate for breakfast. New life out of death, the triumph of good over evil, the gift of eternal life and tooth decay. Alleluia!

Boil, boil, toil and trouble

As you know I like to make things on my own. Things that most people would rather buy because it costs more to make it, takes lots of time or is of better quality bought from a store. Things like bread, mittens, cheese and jam. I could say that I love the process and that home-made is so much better then store bought. That I can put love into these things as I make them. And sometimes this is true. I think that we have lost something by separating our selves from the process of creation. I feel closer to the Creator while I am creating. But sometimes the process is fraught with mistakes, the end product is spotty at best and I am putting in more swear words than love.

Well, now I have a new way to explore the world of do-your-self. My brother in law bought me a beer making kit for Christmas. And you can imagine how excited I was. Of course I was 2 days post-partum, so it took me a while to get working.

But once started this project had all the highlights of my other at home projects. Plus a few surprises. The first day involved a trip to the hospital!

Little did I know that cutting a hole in the top of the fermentation bucket could be such a sacrificial gift on the part of my long suffering husband.

I learned a lot, had a lot of fun and laughs. But I also got very wet, spilt beer all over the carpet, used some words I should not have and got very confused.

But last night was the moment of truth.  And you know, it was worth it. (Well, maybe if we forget the hospital visit).

We gave the human sacrifice the first glass!

I am already researching my next brew. Any requests?