The Reality of Being a Stay-at-Home Mama

I am a horrible "homemaker." There. I said it. Not that we've gotten that out of the way maybe it'll be easier to come to terms with. Here's the thing: I've wanted to be a stay-at-home wife and mother since before I had my babies. Of course, there were several other career paths I tried to follow. I was a teacher for two years, and while I never got very far, I still have those pipe dreams of becoming a writer. But when it's all said and done, what better job is there on Earth that to raise my babies and take care of my family.

When I imagined what life would be like as a stay-at-home mom I thought I had it all planned out. (Don't we all?!) I devoted not one but two Pinterest boards to the topic of being organized. (One for ideas, the other for printables.) I was going to keep a clean house, have the laundry and dishes done, grow as much food as possible in whatever sized garden I could manage, always have fun, educational activities to do with my babies, do all kinds of crafts and sewing during naptime, and continue to walk or go to the gym on a regular basis. Doesn't that all sound amazing?

Now let me tell you what really happens...
The laundry and dishes sometimes are completely washed and put away once a week, but never both in the same week and sometimes neither happens. My house is rarely clean, aside from the playroom, which I try to pick up and vacuum every other day because I don't like to wonder how long the Cheerio the baby found and is eating has been on the floor. (At least this way I know it's no more than a day old.) We do have a garden, though it's not very big nor does it have much in it, and my gardening approach is something like: water every one to two days if it doesn't rain and only weed what seems to be killing my vegetables. While I don't always "plan" educational/fun things for the girls to do, they do have access to all of their toys, which includes puzzles, blocks, and other learning manipulatives. That being said, Lissy is addict to watching Sofia the First and we watch more t.v. than we probably should. To be fair, she does play while it's on, so at least she's not just sitting and watching? But honestly, sometimes it's the only way to keep her occupied long enough for me to wash a sink of dishes (what I wouldn't give for a dishwasher) or take a shower (when I'm lucky). As for the crafts and sewing, I've probably started a million projects, but rarely do they get finished. Usually I've just set one out and started the prep work when one or the other baby starts to stir. Some things take longer than others to finish. (I still need to put the binding on the quilt I started for Grandma last June. It was officially a year ago this past week that I started it.) So far the only projects I've been able to finish in a day are Rosaries. (Maybe Mary has a hand in that? Perhaps the prayers of "please keep the babies sleeping" as I work on them are really being heard!) The last things on my list of things was walking and going to the gym. While I don't think I've even set foot in a gym since having babies, the girls and I do go for a walk almost every day when the weather is nice. (This past winter was a different story, but maybe when they're older we'll be able to get out more then too.)

I guess here's what I'm getting at: life isn't always roses. There are days (and weeks) when things just don't get done. And while I tend to beat myself up over them, I'm starting to realized that it's not worth it. Because happy, healthy babies who love their mama and are learning and growing before me are the most important things. And while I'll continue to push myself to get things done in a timely manner, I'm sure the dishes will still get done on more of an "as needed basis" and I'll still run out of clean socks and underwear and have to do an "emergency load of laundry." But that's okay. Yes, I could sit my babies down more often. I could let them cry while I got chores done and I could make them nurse on a schedule as opposed to on-demand so I don't feel like I'm constantly sitting down to feed them. But why would I do that when the snuggles make us both feel better and the smile on their faces as we build tower after tower just to knock them down is way more precious than a spotless house. Someday I'll have a clean house and I'll have all of those things done that I imagined, but when that time comes it won't be because my babies have finally realized that Mama has a to-do list a mile long. It'll be because I no longer have "babies." It'll be because they're grown and those snuggles and little moments aren't a part of our daily lives anymore. And while walk around dusting or putting away the last of the clothes I won't be thinking, "So this is what I've been missing." I'll be thinking, "I miss the days I spent with my babies."

Learning to Communicate

Communication is one of the keys to life, and it's a skill we develop as infants. Newborns communicate through cries. These eventually are replaced by words which become sentences, paragraphs, and so-on. As a parent I get to watch the girls communication skills grow from day one, and it truly is amazing!

Lissy will be 18 months old in March, and I'm loving watching her communication skills grow! Her first words were the standard: mama, dada, dog, cat, duck. At around 9 months she started signing "milk" when she wanted to nurse. (We started signing it to her and saying it every time she nursed around 6 months.) By the time shew as a year old she knew at least five signs well enough to communicate them clearly, said several words (though many were still a little fuzzy we could understand them), and knew a while host of animal sounds. Shortly after that we added "please" and "thank you" to her signing vocabulary, followed closely by verbalizing them.

Somewhere between 16 and 17 months she started to noticeably verbalize more words. She now uses gestures as well, and in the last couple of weeks she's begun taking me by the hand and showing me what she wants along with saying it. Don't get me wrong, she still babbles incoherently a lot, but I love that we're starting to understand her! Every time she uses a new sign or distinctly says a new word I am over-the-moon excited. Maybe it's because she's my first and it's all a new experience to me too. Maybe it's because I've taken classes on language development and understand some of the amazing ways her brain is working and growing. Or maybe it's pride in knowing that I helped teach her those words. Whatever the case may be, she's definitely talking, and if she's anything like her mama, you'll never get her to stop! ;)

Our journey with communication and learning is just beginning! Gwyn (who turned 6 months old last weekend) said her first word last night! "Dada" is officially the favorite! ;) She's also been moving her hand when I sign "milk," so I think we're getting pretty close on that one too! I'd love to hear some of your favorite memories about your kids (or yourself, or someone else you know) learning to communicate!

Fresh Start

Here we are at the beginning of a new year. 2016, here we go!

I suppose the usual protocol would be to start with new year's resolutions...but you can look back at the last few posts on this blog and see just how well that's gone in the past. Every year I make a list, and every year it's fallen to the wayside by the end of February. (Does anyone ever make it past February?!) So this year is going to be different. This year I'm starting with a little bit of a different perspective, and while I wish what's happening wasn't, I'm going to take it and use it to shape the rest of the year.

Around the 4th of July in 2014 Papa (my maternal grandfather) was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma. We had a world of confidence that he would overcome it as he underwent treatment at the University of Iowa. During a checkup in May of 2015 they discovered that it had come back and made an action plan, but the doctors said that in all honestly we would be lucky to keep him with us through August and until then we should make the most of it.

Granny & Papa at Thanksmas with 13 of their 21 grandchildren.

The week of Christmas he finished his final dose of yet another round of chemo. Couple this (I believe this was his third round total) with the radiation he'd already endured and you can see the long hard battle he's been fighting this past year. This round was supposed to take care of it. It was supposed to be gone. He had felt good and we all thought he was on the mend. More than once on this journey Papa had said that if it came back he wasn't going to treat it again, only to change his mind when he heard the dreaded news.

Dancing with Papa at our wedding.

This past week was his two week check up from the chemo he received before Christmas. With a swelling mass under his chin the news that came was expected...it is back, and more aggressive than before. This week he goes back to the hospital for a six day stay. During his time there he'll be hooked up to an i.v. to receive one last round of chemotherapy. It's the last possible thing they can give him. Outlook isn't great. They say it's not strong enough to really get rid of something this aggressive, but it should at least give some hope of feeling a little better.

When I heard all of this I cried. I mean I cried all night. I would stop crying and one look from my husband or a simple "Are you okay?" would send me into another bout of tears. I was thankful for the extra time that we'd been given, but still sad. When my mom told me the news I tried to stay positive for her. "We've had him with us for a lot longer than they said we would. We'll spend as much time with him as we can from now on." I tried to stay positive, to remember that God has a plan and that Papa has lived a full life.

I regret not asking him more, not listening better, not recording more of his stories. By the time I though to do so Papa had suffered a stroke and had trouble remembering many of the stories he had once told us. Some of those memories seemed to come back, but then he was headlong into treatment for his lymphoma and I hated to keep him awake when he needed his rest.

Besides all of those unanswered questions and lost stories, what I really want to ask him...the thing I really want to know...is "Are you scared?" I'm genuinely curious, but also, I think that if it were me, I'd want someone to ask me that. We spend so much time being brave and hiding our vulnerability. It isn't easy to keep fear hidden. And if he's not afraid I'd love to know too, because I'd love to know how to find that peace. And honestly, selfishly, I think dealing with what seems inevitable would be easier for those of us left behind knowing he was at peace with everything.

Lissy & Papa in November of 2014.

So as we go into 2016, I want to live life. I want to really be conscious of how I treat other people and how I go about interacting with them. I want to take life slower, stop stressing about what I can't change, and be more present in the moment. I want to ask people for their stories, collecting their memories to pass on to my own children and learning from the way they've lived. I don't care what I weigh, how many books I read, or how much we have saved at the end of the year. I want to smile. I want to help other people smile. I want to make an honest effort to ask people how they're doing and really listen to their responses. 

2016...Let's do this!