Let’s Get Real

Welcome to my world! There are lots of dirty (cloth) diapers, sticky hands, and pouting. Everyone in this house pouts, not just the first born photographed here. She still looks pretty cute doing it, though, right?

Isaac pouts when he’s hungry, and so does Woods. I pout when I’m feeling overworked, and under appreciated, or when Woods cries at the family gym, preventing me from finishing any type of workout. It’s something we’re working on.

We usually bounce back after a snack. Actually, we pretty much always bounce back after a snack. For me it’s Justin’s maple almond butter, for Margot it’s carrots and hummus (she doesn’t eat the carrots, she just licks the hummus off of them, ha!). For Woody it’s bananas, and for Isaac it’s anything. And if I’m forced out of the gym because of my fussy baby then, oh man, too bad, I was sooo into running sprints just now! — guess it’s snack time, instead!

Just a snack or two, and everyone is happy. My family is really easy to please, I can definitely find solace in that.

I realized this week that I haven’t been taking many personal photos lately. My hard drive is filling with the images of other families, businesses and the women’s ministry. It made me a little sad to see there was nothing new. So I got out my camera during the nap time of one kid or another, and clicked away. I remedied my own pouting with my favorite creative hobby, lifestyle photography!

There’s more to it than taking photos, though.  When it came time to flip through and edit, write and publish this post, I ignored the incessant cries coming from both kids’ rooms — they refuse to nap at the same time, despite my best efforts. The dog threw up this morning, so I kicked her outside to avoid any further messes or distractions. And in the hopes of finishing this blog post expediently, I threw a few pieces of bread on the table for lunch and made Margot fend for herself. I tossed her some grapes and applesauce for good measure.

That’s what I have to do sometimes, though. When my sessions pile up on me, or I need time to work on my hobbies, I have to power through it like a snow plow. My dishes pile up into berms, the dust bunnies on my floor roll like desert tumble weeds, and my family eats sad, stale lunches. I think they’re used to it. The kids are familiar with playing in the office, but Margot still gets into everything.  Sitting still is not a practice she’s willing to adopt.

To keep her occupied while I cook and clean, she has a large collection of art supplies that she gets into, and an art wall to show off her work. She loves to paint and sculpt — well, smear paints around on paper, and smash play dough into the table, I should say.

When I’m in the office, she colors at my feet as I tap away at my laptop. Once or twice while I was preoccupied, she climbed on and then fell off the side of my spin bike, but it was never a spill that her boo boo buddy ice pack couldn’t fix. That’s just one more tally on my mom fail chart.

I’ve become an avid babywearer, as most of you know. I’m partial to my Sakura Bloom ring slings, because they keep Woods happy and close while I work. When he’s not catching a ride in the sling, he’s flopping around on the floor of my office, or rolling around the family room. The kid won’t crawl. He wiggles, and rolls his way around, finding the most roundabout method of mobility. He is also very into co-sleeping. He doesn’t like to sleep on his own, and we’re the enabling parents who go along with it, much to our chargrin.

It’s only after Isaac comes home from work, and dinner is somehow on the table, that I’m able to appreciate the hurdles thrown at me, and my always-complicated days become worthwhile. The kids are always excited to see Isaac, and when he’s home, it’s play time, story time, then mommy and daddy get  TV and wine time (please no judgment, we watch plenty of documentaries to cancel out the mind numbing reality TV, or so we rationalize)!

When Isaac is finally home to share the household duties, I can look back on the day, and pictures like these, and completely forget about all the pouting, tears, dirty diapers, and sticky hands that went into it.