Mama sick = picnic with blankets and lots of old movies.

2 year old molars are hard, and an upcycled scarf hanger!

The Necklace Queen has gotten a jump start on her 2 year molars, and we both spend a confused, sleepless night holding each other and singing and bordering hysteria before her (supposedly veteran) mama figured it out. I should have some things tattooed onto my leg or something, so I don't forget. I took off her beloved amber necklace at 3am, thinking her crazy pawing was her wanting it off...bad move! Poor little love cried like her heart was breaking until I put it back on, and we walked the floors together for a while, while she intermittently asked to go outside for a walk and stated "Mommy put neck'ace back ON."

Today, she's doing better with some judicious Motrin usage. (This natural-minded mama is not disinclined to use pain relievers for miserable, unavoidable life pain! Bring on the baby drugs, dude.) Some sunshine during an unseasonably warm afternoon seemed to help both of us to. You can still bet your buttons that I'll fall into bed tonight early and exhausted. ;OP

Clothes pin and Yardstick Hanger!

OK, so, while B'Eva snagged a much-needed nap today, the older girls and I worked on a project my friend Brandy described to me! We painted clothes pins with sponge brushes and Plaid brand paint, then painted the dried color over with sparkles, and then I sealed the sparkles in (this mama's no fool) with acrylic clear sealer.

Then, I staple gunned them to a yardstick (it was easiest to dismantle the clothes pins, and then put them back together for this part), and then nailed the yardstick to the wall. Viola!! The perfect scarf organizer for their artsy-themed bedroom. (It was originally an art hanger, and we'll likely make another for that purpose, too.) Thanks, B, for the awesome idea! I'm really pleased with the colorful, whimsical effect.

Middle Child in need of attention.

My 3yo demands (while standing on my bed), "Mooom, look how much I've grown!! Look, I said!!" She looks on for my response in expectation and a little frustration, balancing on her tip-toes on the mattress, her purple romper all eschew from laundry-pile jumping.

Finally, I glance up and fake interest when I say, "Oh, yeah! Look at that! Cool!" I go back to reading.

This was not the desired response, apparently, because she said with furrowed brow, "I said, I'm TALL!!!" Her eyes wide open, her little fists clenched into desperate little balls and her whole body buzzing with anticipation. Clearly, this child needs recognition, requiring me to break concentration. Ah, well. I go into over-the-top mode, gesticulating in a spastic manner: "Oh, WOW!!! You're a giant! Whoa, DUDE!! You've grown like a crazy wild sunflower overnight, and it's a MIRACLE!!"

She smiles shyly, rolls her giant eyes and murmurs gently, "It is." :D

The middle child's proverbial love tank is full.

Miss Eves in her woolies knitted by my friend Rosalie...she does gorgeous work.

Stuff Sunburned Mamas Like.

I love Heather Cushman-Dowdee.

And this is why.

Such is the life of an introverted mama.

I've mentioned before that I'm introverted, though to meet me you might not suspect it. I enjoy people, especially my favorite people, immensely. If any of my friends should wonder whether you're one of those people I enjoy, rest assured that it's much too exhausting for me to be friends with those whom the friendly juju does not flow. If we talk, even if we're too busy to do it often, it's because I like you quite a bit (not that it really matters, but just for this blog's sake I thought I'd clarify.)

What does drain me quite a bit is pointless, repetitive conversion, such as one you might have in the car with a bored, outgoing 5yo and basically any upset 3yo. These draining occasions happen during times when I'm already feeling my patience waning. A wail starts softly and crescendos from the back seat into a tea kettle shriek of unintelligible words strung together like a thousand screaming hamsters on a clothesline, and is punctuated by the repetitive cadence of another persistently questioning voice that doesn't bother waiting around for an answer before firing off another round of inquiries.

This causes brain overload. Too much to process, too little time to retreat and think it over, to much unreasonable feedback= completely shredded nerves. Toss in a baby's cries hitting the primal "RESPOND!!" button built into all mothers, and you have an introverts' nightmare. The next cashier or pushy random grandmother type to attempt small talk is met with a crazy eyed glare that would rival anything Jack Nicholson ever dredged up.

These are the days when life simply gets ahead of my mind and spirits' ability to process things, and I just can't seem to stay on top of all the minutia that composes the day of a mom. Living in the concrete world has always been a tad tricky for me (an intuitive type), and it's sometimes especially difficult with lack of adults to process with, or room to unwind myself. These are the days when I simply put myself on autopilot and fake it until I can get myself back on track.



I'm sure there are other introverted parents who can relate.

[/narcissistic, self disclosing ramble]