If a picture is worth a thousand words…

Then you’re going to have to be content with a thousand words.

‘Cause I got no pictures.

What a week.

I blame the baby. She started off the week sick and decided to cry off and on during the night a few times, sleep in our bed a few times, kick people in the face a few times (okay, just Mr. French).

1. All the crown molding is up and we love it! It’s makes such a big difference. But here’s my thought. The Amish would never put crown molding up in their houses, would they? Wouldn’t it be too decorative? And yet, they still do such a beautiful job with ours. How is that?

2. The beginning of the week was overcast and dark so I didn’t take any house pictures. And then Wednesday was a beautiful bright day. And I totally forgot. Then Thursday was rainy and a little overcast but I decided to try to take pictures anyway. I was even going to take pictures with clutter! and dust! so you don’t think I’m perfect, but alas, the batteries were dead. And so, mysteriously, were the other set of rechargeables. So I recharged them and they held a charge for around 2 seconds.

3. I think we need new rechargeable batteries.

4. I was saying goodnight to the boys the other night and I was laying on J’s bed, feeling cold, so I suggested maybe I should sleep in his bed tonight. His eyes got bright and he said, “Yeah.” And I said, “Except Daddy would probably get mad.” And he smiled and with a little twinkle in his eye said, “But maybe you could sneak.”

5. My boys roll their eyes when I tell them their beds are all messed up. How can you possibly sleep with the covers messed up? I say. And then they roll their eyes and look conspiratorially at their father. Is sleeping with messed up covers genetic? I certainly can’t do it.

6. This is our third fall. I know this because this is the third time I’ve done all the fall leaf clean up. I know this because I remember these sorts of things.

7. I read this book. It was a good read. He’s funny and a good writer. It’s short and easy to read. But I didn’t identify with him at all. And I don’t think it was because he’s a father and I’m not. I think it was because his experience of parenting was so different than mine. He suggested that everyone is lying about how really truly absurdly difficult it is to bring home a baby and that wasn’t my experience at all. I believe him and know people who also struggled. I think it’s because I’ve always been extremely comfortable with babies and I can get by on less sleep than most. If I felt as tired after the baby was born as I do when I’m pregnant than I would probably struggle too.

8. The book also talked about bonding with babies and it reminded me of when S was born. I had been worried about having a second baby. I just couldn’t imagine loving another baby as much as I loved C, and immediately after his very fast birth I was worried because I didn’t feel the same sort of feelings that I’d remembered (fifteen months prior) feeling with C. I was worried all the way up until the next morning when I awoke suddenly and realized I didn’t know when I’d last fed him. I instantly thought he must have died and just when I was about to panic, I realized he was lying right next to me, sleeping peacefully. And then I sighed with relief, both because he wasn’t dead and because right then and there, I knew that I must love him or I wouldn’t have been so panicked.

9. Speaking of panicked and minds jumping to conclusions, whenever and I do mean whenever, any of my children sleep in or I can’t find them when and where I expect to, I immediately think they’re dead. My mind goes there instantly. That’s normal right? I even think that way if Mr. French is a little later than usual. The moment before I realize he’s late, I’m fine. But the second I realize he’s late, I start worrying.

10. And you thought I was so laid back.

11. I love how Felicity is both fiercely independent and such a copycat. She has to do everything we do, but she has to do it herself.

12. She takes a walk with her father every evening. She waits at the top of the stairs for him to finish work. As soon as she sees him coming, she runs, yelling, to the hall closet where her backpack is sitting.

She has him wrapped around her little finger.

And there’s not much room there because there are three other boys hanging on too.

13. I’ve always thought of my Dad as adventurous. I always said that if we’d been alive during the pioneering days my Dad would have been on the wagon train. Westward Ho! But I think I would have been too. Sometimes I think if I could just travel, I could get it out of my system. I have a strong desire to see the west.

14. But I also just like to stay home.

Alright, I think 891 words are enough. 893. (Wait, does that count as word?)

899 But who’s counting?

902 Apparently this blog is and they’re doing an excellent job, I might add.

915 just sayin’

15. Okay one more random thought. One of the Amish men that was here working asked about our kids. I told them their ages. He said he had three boys and a girl. I asked about their ages. He said, “4, 3, 2 and 4 months.”

Whoa. No words.

961

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1 Comment

Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Boys will be boys, Everyone's an interior designer, Forgive me for being sentimental, French toast, Girls are not boys, I confess, Moving is my hobby, Mr. French, Oversharing, Why does no one get my jokes?

One response to “If a picture is worth a thousand words…

  1. The Woman with the Yellow Hat

    :-)–totally relate re fearing they’re dead if they sleep in–fight btwn joy re getting whatever I’m accomplishing done and that wrenching fear

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