The Library

The girls and I went to the library today to turn in their Summer Reading Program forms all completed, to play, and to get me a book. While we were sitting at the back of the Children's Library playing with the games they have there for little ones (please note that right now, the library is a play place for Q--the magic of being able to check out books is currently lost on her), there was a family of girls each with a pile of books to check out and take home. Their ages varied from pre-teen to older toddler, but I was suddenly swept back to those summer days that my mom would take us to the Broomfield library and we would carefully walk down those steep stairs into the children's section in the basement and pick books to read. Always a pile of books to read. I remember not being able to wait until we got home to start my new books, so I would choose what I wanted and find a place to start reading before we even left. I used to get in trouble with Ramona Quimby, solve mysteries with Nancy Drew, get lost in the drama of Baby-Sitters Club and Sweet Valley High and tempering those with books about Helen Keller and various other biographies. I watched the girl today run to the couch with her pile of books and greedily look to see how many pages she would be reading in the next few weeks. If she is anything like me, she will wear that number like a badge of honor--and it won't take her two weeks.
I feel nostalgic for those days when I could spend my whole summer reading. And I did. Before bed, When I woke up. Before church. Outside under the trees. I got lost in the words--the stories.
I watch my girls play with their books, and I am so glad they love to read. I love to listen to Q tell me what is on each page or read Go Dogs Go because she has it mostly memorized. I love that T will pick up a book and open it and talk to it while pointing to the pictures. I love that they will bring me books over and over and over again and NEVER tire of them. My girls are readers. Like their mother before them. I can't wait for the day when they rush through the library grabbing a new book and start reading it before we even make it out the door. I can't wait to watch them get lost in the world of characters destined to be their best friends and worst enemies.
It's a magical place, and books...books are magical things.

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Stef's Challenge Topic: Earliest Childhood Memory

Okay, so Lisa, Dad, and Mom have all written this challenge from Stef. I have been thinking and thinking and thinking about what to write. Last June when we completed the 31 Day Blog Challenge, we wrote on this topic, and I shared the story about Adam's fall. I like to believe that I remember everything, but let's be honest. I'm getting old. I remember nothing. So, as Lisa and Dad have shared glimpses of memories, I will do the same. 

Living in Utah for a brief time when I was around four, I remember there were kids down the lane or road that I played with--all older. Playing house with them one day, I got in trouble with my play mom about something I didn't actually do--only in the game--but she actually spanked me. I remember running home crying, and I think (I THINK) the culprit came and apologized. 

Earlier, I remember holding Adam once when he was a new baby. There are pictures documenting this event, as we were wearing goofy, big, yellow sunglasses. I just remember looking at him and thinking that he was funny looking with no face (the sunglasses were on him).

One time, we were at my grandparent's house, and I think my uncle was breaking up with his current girlfriend. All I know is that I was told I had to stay downstairs and I wasn't allowed to bug Uncle Dan while he was outside talking. I do remember "sneaking" upstairs and looking out the window to see what was going on. I think he was hugging her good-bye, but that image is blurry. 

When Aunt Cathy and Uncle Darrell got married, my grandparents house was PACKED. Adam and I slept in a tent in Grandma and Grandpa's front yard. That was awesome. 

You know, the interesting thing about looking back at the little things I remember is that it makes me wonder what Quincy and Tessa will remember. They are so little, but I sure hope that we are creating some wonderful early childhood memories for them. 

Yes, I'm Complaining a Little Bit...

Mostly because I just have to get this frustration out somewhere, and this seems to be the only way I can do it. I have tried to write down many of my feelings in my personal journal, and that has helped me deal with some anger that I have at the moment, BUT...I'm just exhausted. I was looking back at my posts from April and March and I had mentioned something about how we had been sick for two weeks. Just two. Only two. I was tired then. I couldn't fathom that we would still be fighting various illnesses six weeks later. Yeah, eight weeks of colds and infections and viruses and bacterial infections and runny noses and coughs and stomach bugs and I AM JUST READY FOR MY CHILDREN TO BE HEALTHY AGAIN. That's all.

Do you guys realize that I haven't been to see The Great Gatsby yet? Yep. That's right. I haven't been to see this movie yet. Me. There just hasn't been time. Or money. Or time. 

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I also haven't actually been able to complete an entire workout in about a month. I went from Insanity to nothing...not for lack of trying. Sick kids and working out do not mix. Still eating great. Still loving my Herbalife, but no working out. Yes, I have still managed to drop a few lbs, but think about what that could look like working out! I miss it. I need it. For my mental and physical well-being. 

So, yes. I needed to complain a little. I needed a little pity party for myself. Yes, I feel a little better. No, I am not on a downward spiral into darkness again. I'm just tired. Of pretending that everything is okay. Of worrying. Of scheming and making plans that never work! Of letting people down and not meeting my own expectations. I can admit it. I need a break. I need a Jen break. So stupid that that makes me feel guilty. I'm tired and I need a break from my reality, and I feel so utterly guilty about feeling that way or needing that. I shouldn't feel guilty. Everyone needs a break. A rest. A siesta. I'm just not sure I remember how to do that.

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To Be a Mother

I have been contemplating writing something in honor of Mother's Day since Saturday morning as we were rushing around trying to make it to meetings, and I know that this is my third Mother's Day, but this is the first time it sunk in that I am indeed a mom. Sounds crazy, right? Q is two and a half and T is almost ten months, and the fact that I am a mom and therefore responsible for all aspects of two little girls well-being, education, happiness, and welfare is just sinking in. Don't let that fool you. I work very hard to be the mom my girls need and deserve. Quite honestly, I feel absolutely inadequate to be their mom on almost a daily basis. T has been sick upon sick upon sick, and I hate that I am powerless to prevent that. Q has daily meltdowns because--well, she's two--and I hate that I have to take a deep breath and count to ten everytime. I found myself yelling at her last night for not listening when I repeatedly asked her not to jump on the laundry pile and make it a bigger mess. I stopped mid-sentence and looked at her WIDE and innocment eyes and thought, "Seriously?! What is wrong with me?" The laundry doesn't matter and she is more than happy to help me "fold" and make a neat pile. Those little things just really shouldn't matter.

What does matter is that we get to play outside and color the driveway with sidewalk chalk. We get to lay in the grass and pick up worms (ew!) and rake up the grass and swim and run through the sprinklers and lay on the floor or the couch and watch movies while eating popcorn. We get to color pictures and rearrange the magnets and throw toys all over the living room just to pick them up and do it all again. We get to play dress up and sing songs and go on walks and eat ice cream. We get to spend days reading and learning and falling and making mistakes and picking ourselves up to learn more and run faster and jump as high as we can. While my little girls are growing up, I am having a second childhood. I love being the mom. I love waking up to their faces everyday and kissing them goodnight. This is the job I was put on the Earth to fulfill. This is my calling. I am not always the best. I do not always do it right, but I wouldn't trade this for anything. Not anything.

Just When You Think You Can't Take Any More...

Something else happens, and somehow you realize that you can apparently take one more thing and pile it on top of the baggage of things you have to do, stuff it into the emotional duffle bag, squeeze it into the backpack of worry, and zip in into the fanny pack of anger. Vague much?

Well, here it is...despite my reservations about public education and the spiral it seems to be careening down, I had a job interview at a high school recently. No, I really didn't tell anyone about it, and I gave the interview my all. However, I didn't feel great about it and they didn't call be back for a third and final interview. So, still no full time job that would allow me to financially support my family while turning over the raising of my children to someone else...do you sense that I am conflicted here?

The hubby has been unsuccessfully looking for employment since he has been in Greeley (oh, yeah...we're apart again, although Greeley is closer than Texas, although we hardly get to see each other and he never gets to see the girlies).

My happy and healthy T has to go see a pediatric orthopedic specialist this week because no one thought (I'll take some blame for this too because I did think about it once and then forgot to ask) to X-Ray her hips when she was a newborn and now she may need hip surgery...at 9 months old. If you ask me about this and I burst into tears, please do not be alarmed. I am not dealing with this one very well, AND we haven't even seen the specialist yet. Just the thought...just the thought.

We will deem April 2013 as the month of yuck. We had a great and healthy winter...and April and it's freakish snow storms came a-calling, and I think one or all three of us have been sick since April 1st. We are still dealing with runny noses and Q ran a temp for the last few days. I am praying this is all of it. I'm a bit tired of it.

Amazingly, I am looking forward to the summer months. I hardly ever do. I am a cold weather girl, but I need some sun therapy. These past few days here in Colorado have been amazing! Don't worry though, we will start May with more snow. Yep. May. Snow. Here we go!

A Dark Place

We have all been sick over a period of about two weeks with this last week being the culminating week of MAJOR sick. I have finally grown tired of the sound of "mmmmoooommmmyyyyy" in a whiny two-year-old voice with absolutely nothing else attached to it.

"Mmmmoooommmmyyy!"
"Yes, Quincy."
"Mmmmmmoooommmyyyy!"
"What's wrong, honey?"
"Mmmmmmmooooommmmyyyy!"

Holy mother of all that is holy! If you have never experienced the frustration attached to this sound, be grateful. Even now, as she is feeling better, snuggled on the couch watching Finding Nemo and drinking some milk, every few minutes she has to yell, "Mmmmmooooommmmyyyy!" Is it bad that I have stopped answering every time?

I think that even her two-year-old brain is plotting a take over--a coup d'etat--for the spot of supreme ruler of the household. I don't really know why. Today she can have it if it means that she will clean and do the laundry and run to the store for me and look for a new job and...and...and...you get the picture.

Why is it that when everyone is sick that you find yourself in a dark, dark place where sunshine cannot live? I need out of that place. A new week dawns tomorrow. Let's hope it brings with it the hope, help and happiness we are seeking.