Sleep Worship

When Jack was born we received a gift from a former coworker
and kind friend. A Baby Papasan. A cozy, cuddly bouncer that doesn't bounce. It
just sends babies into a gloriously gentle sleep. And keeps them there. Glory be.





Jack loved the papasan. Then it was passed on to my
niece for 11 months, who also loved it. Now the papasan is back
home--a little godsend I can count on amidst these crazy, kid-filled days.
What I didn't anticipate is how much our little Charlie would enjoy the
papasan. He doesn't just love it. He adores it. In fact, I think he even
WORSHIPS it. I mean, how else do you explain what he's doing while he's
sleeping in it?

Former coworker and kind friend, thank you. I can't explain
how much this papasan means to me. It has brought me much-needed
minutes--sometimes even hours--of quiet peace. And a whole huge mess of the
giggles.

 

Sewing with sons

Well, sewing with one son. The other son is too busy to bother, with his daily lessons on sleeping and pooping and all.

I thought I'd have to wait quite a few more years before I could sew with Jack, but with a simple idea from a fantastic new book called The Creative Family by Amanda Soule, he's on his way. Check out his first stitches--and his astonishing concentration:

If the thread comes out the BACK, put the needle through the BACK.

If the thread comes out the FRONT, put the needle through the FRONT.

My boy--the next rock star with needle and thread.

Charlie, soaking up the sewing vibe.

The finished piece.

After borrowing a purse of mine to haul special belongings (like superhero figures, doctor's rubber gloves, and nail clippers), Jack decided he would like me to turn his stitchery into a purse for his loot. When Daddy heard the news, he had only one request:

"Don't call it a purse. Call it a man bag."

Jack, sew on. Purse, man bag, tote, whatever. My son is sewing. SEW ON!

The good, the bad, the good, and the ugly

ADJUSTMENT: [uh-juhst-muhnt] noun. Change, alteration, modification, fine-tuning.

Ah, yes. A new baby brings ADJUSTMENT. In the first three weeks since Charlie arrived we've had our good days and bad days, our proud moments and maddening moments. Like these:

The good: Jackspeaks.

"Mom, is he really our baby? When you pushed Charlie out, did the doctor SAY he was our baby?"

"Mommy, look at his teeny-tiny pinky toe. It's really, really tiny. It's so tiny!"

"Charlie is sooo, sooo cute."

"Charlie is my favorite baby in the whole wide-wide world."

The bad: Meltdowns. I took Jack for a special mama/son trip to the toy store. Ended up getting screamed at, spit upon, and smacked in the face by my sweet three-year-old. Jack loves the baby. That day, it was me he had a problem with. ADJUSTMENT.

The good: An unexpected helper. Jack fetches whatever I ask for in a flash--as long as it's for Charlie--and he does it with an eager smile on his face. He just pranced downstairs to grab clean wraps from the dryer. What a shock. What a blessing.

The ugly: Diapers. We love cloth diapering but--changing them, checking them, washing them, drying them, folding them, cursing them. When one is in diapers, we're ALL in diapers. (And this kid can PEE.)

So, we are ADJUSTING. Minute by minute, at times. But these kind of moments make the ADJUSTMENTS worth the effort:

Big feet, little feet. Old feet, new feet. Dirty feet, clean feet. Feet, feet, feet.

Next on the ADJUSTMENT to-do list: figuring out how to have two children and make dinner at the same time.