Read, Watched, Listened

I love reading just about everything, watching comedy and documentary-type things, and wholeheartedly embrace the podcast.  I also enjoy hearing about what other people are reading, watching, and listening.  Here's my two cents worth.

READ

Small Great Things
Not only did I really enjoy this novel, but it is ON POINT as far as current issues are concerned. I know some people could take or leave Picoult's work, but I've always loved her writing. Yes, she tends to recycle many of her plotlines (dramatic legal case + lawyer who gets their world turned upside down + possible caricatures of a group in society), but books are always character-driven for me, and she is amazing at creating people who are complex and interesting. I also love her dialogue, even when it is less than believable. I highly recommend reading this for a take on what it means to be black in America today.

Bird by Bird
Anne Lamott is my spirit animal. And she is good at writing about writing. I was also happy to learn that her writing process is something like mine, which includes sitting in front of a screen forever while 3487 other non-writing related things come to mind and always, always, always begins with a SFD (shitty first draft). 

The Third Plate
If you've read Michael Pollen's In Defense of Food, this is like the next step. The title refers to a progression in the way we eat in America and the West. His "first plate" stars a large portion of protein with a starchy side and a vegetable, the second plate features the same components, but ones that are organically grown and locally sourced, while the "third plate" features plants and grains as the stars, with small portions of meat on the side. It was complex and interesting (though it was a little hard for me to keep track of who was who at times) and it was also infuriating. It left me frustrated with the industrial food complex we've created and feeling like I need to cultivate at least half my yard to grow our own food next year. Maybe we'd be eating "well" then?

Every Last One
Anna Quindlen again. It's safe to say she's my new favorite. I really got into this book while we were on vacation (see picture above) and I thought it was more of a fun beach read-type novel until I got halfway through and the ENTIRE book changed. I can't really say more without giving it away, but then Tyson went out-of-town for work and I had a lot of trouble sleeping that first night. Still worth reading...you may just want to sleep with the lights on.

WATCHED

Hasan Minhaj: Homecoming King
HILARIOUS. There were parts in the middle that I was like, "okay...this is okay...I don't know where he's going with this" but he brings it BACK at the end and ties everything together and it is SO well done. He's funny and it's beautiful how he weaves everything together in this comedy piece. Stay in and watch it for date night.

The Great British Baking Show
Round two for us as we watched season three. This is just one of those mindless, wonderful, feel-good shows where the biggest drama is someone's cake not rising properly. We love it, I'm a sucker for accents, and add in baked goods and I'm absolutely hooked.

LISTENED

God Centered Mom Podcast
I've linked to this one before, but I am super into her Summer of Mentorship series. Heather is re-releasing old shows from wise women who have been in our shoes as moms...but for most of them it was like 50 years ago. Even the ones I have heard before are well worth listening to again, and I find myself shaking my head in agreement and wondering if I should just sit down and take notes from these wonderful women. It's pretty hard to choose, but I think Vicki Kraft may have been my favorite so far. 
 

Note: any links to Amazon in this post are affiliate links.

Post (Big Chip) Weekend

Big Chip is the kind of place where, as a kid, you may pack your toothbrush and toothpaste but it's more a matter of habit than practicality since it never gets used. Same goes for shampoo, body wash, and anything else related to personal hygiene. You run around barefoot all day, indulge in freeze-pops, candy, and s'mores (depending on the hour), and wash off the accumulated layer of grime and stickyness by having another go in the lake. "Don't pack your good clothes!" my mom would warn every year. It's a place of sand, worms, dirt, and lake water, and somehow nothing around the place ever seems truly clean.

As an adult, a few things have changed. Vacation or not, I prefer to brush my teeth every day. Even if I don't get a shower in, you can bet I've put a can of dry shampoo to good use. I have good intentions when I pack that makeup, but usually only put on the foundation for it's SPF benefits. I pack 10 shirts too many (how many days were we up there again?) but end up rolling out of bed each morning to grab the same clothes I wore yesterday off the floor. They might be rumpled and have the smell of last night's bonfire lingering in them, but when today's schedule looks pretty much the same as yesterday's, there's not much use for clean ones.

Until the time comes to go home. Then you roll out of bed, throw some clean clothes on an otherwise unwashed body, and realize just how disgusting you really are. Somehow it takes the realization that you're leaving this place - trading lake country for your normal, city (ahem, suburban) life - to become desperate for a shower, your own bed, and a washing machine.

But while it lasts...

We made a quick trip this year, arriving early on Thursday and back on Saturday, but in a way that's the perfect amount of time with little kids. The only downside was the cold front that took over all day Thursday. I personally don't mind a day of downtime: reading, maybe a nap, a run into town, but with three little ones to entertain? They didn't quite know what to do with themselves. The big ones at least enjoyed the paddle boat. (Loling at thinking that Nolan would last longer than two minutes on there before trying to dive off into the water.)

Brooklyn: there's totes a tree in my face. Caden: you're welcome that I'm actually doing a normal smile for a picture for once. Nolan: I hate whatever has led me up to this point in life because wearing this stupid thing is the WORST EVER and I will now scream bloody murder anytime you come near me with this thing and its straps of death.

At least the weather made it a good day for fishing, and the big kids also had a chance to catch their very first fish. Though it was a toss-up as to what was more fun: actually catching the fish or just throwing bread in the water.

Also: talk about a throwback.

Then, because these kids are Minnesotans, dammit, they decided that they'd had enough of just looking at the water and to hell with this 60 degrees in the middle of July nonsense, we're just going to go in this lake, swimsuits or no.

I am happy to report that the next day turned around for us

If we floated a steady supply of snacks out to them, they probably could have sat there all day.

Livin that #lakelife.

Learning the fine art of s'more making. (Graham cracker. Dark chocolate. Two marshmallows (toasted brown, maaaybe to the edge of burning for that extra crunch). Graham cracker. EAT.)

And then the time came to head home. The most beautiful of mornings, of course.

Which meant...

...we just couldn't resist...

...one more dip.

And since swimsuits were packed and everyone who participated was under the age of four, underwear, diapers, and bare bellies worked just fine.

And...

...a stop to see Ole the Viking on the way out of town. Caden could not get over the fact that he had a spear. His life’s goal is now to be a Viking, probably.

Maybe I'll learn my lesson next year and leave those pesky toothbrushes at home. Until next summer, Big Chip!

Bedtime

The first time, I am nice. It’s a refill on water.

The second time, I am still nice. It’s blankets that need to be re-tucked.

The third time, I am a little less nice. It’s a trip to the potty. Probably from that water earlier. Blankets re-re-tucked.

The fourth time, I am even less nice. It’s a book – no, four – to page through in bed.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh times, I am noticeably irritated. This is ridiculous. It’s too much. I’m positive that no one else’s kids do this. I’m certain that everyone else’s kids in the world are in bed, long asleep, after stories and snuggles and kisses and absolutely no negotiations over which pajamas to wear or the number of blankets on top of their little bodies or the amount of water in their cups.

The eighth time, I lose it. The monster emerges, snapping and snarling. It uses harsh words and hands that are less than gentle to re-re-re-re-tuck them into bed.

I step into the hall. The monster retreats but the guilt finds me immediately. I’m positive that no one else does this, no other mother. Everyone else on the planet was patient and kind and loving. They used calm tones and soft hands, even if their children did get out of bed two or twelve times.

Read the rest over at the Twin Cities Moms Blog.

Post (Iowa Trip) Weekend

I made my first trip to Iowa for the Fourth of July ten years ago. Ten. 1-0. Tyson and I met a decade ago, started dating within a matter of weeks, and made the trip to Iowa together a week or so later. That my mother let me go to Iowa to meet the family of a guy I had just barely met myself is still a little baffling to me, but ten years, almost seven years of marriage, a mortgage, and three kids later, and it looks like it's worked out okay.

That first trip we passed the time of that four-hour drive listening to music (CDs) and stand-up comedy (tape adapter), and there was absolutely, positively no stopping allowed. 

Our drives look a little different these days. Instead of stand-up, we sing along to the soundtrack of Moana. We make the trip in a minivan emblazoned with one of those love-em-or-hate-em family stickers on the back window instead of a slightly rusty Oldsmobile. And we've picked up a few tips along the way.

Tip #1: Stopping isn't so bad after all.

Rest stops FTW. And who needs toys when a strip of colored concrete becomes a road in their imagination? "Beep beep! I'm a car!"

Tip #2: SNACKS.

So many snacks.

Tip #3: It's good to have some helping hands when you're trying to take photos with a horde of children.

Success! (Mostly.)

Tip #4: Uncles that don't mind toddlers joining in on their lawn games are the best.

No tip here, but according to these two, the hymnal at Grandma and Grandpa's church isn't filled with songs about Jesus, but the Moana soundtrack.

Maybe the tip is that a hymnal and a Bible without pictures can still keep them occupied? Works for me.

Tip #6: It's best to have a new baby cousin around for giggles and snuggles.

Tip #7: Bubbles. We are all about the bubbles.

Tip #8: When the power goes out due to a renegade squirrel before 8 am on the Fourth of July, you move outside for a chalk party in your pajamas in the driveway.

Tip #9: Matching outfits. Because: obviously.

Tip #9: When hosting 40+ people for the Fourth, get yourself a big grill. And a grillmaster with an impressive beard.

Tip #11: When a good percentage of those said 40+ people are small children, and it's 90+ degrees outside, break out the water.

And tip #12: When Minnesota's Largest Candy Store is on your route home, and everyone in the car is awake, and you've already been driving for approximately ALL OF THE HOURS (okay, so like 4 1/2), you STOP.

And you get some candy.

And some may be so overwhelmed by the candy, or the freedom, or the sheer excitement of it all, that they literally run through the store shrieking happily at the top of their lungs. Acting just like, well, a kid in a candy store.

A Million Little Things

I clean up from breakfast. Dump and rinse out remnants of milk from bowls, throw the banana peels in the compost, shrug and leave the Cheerios on the floor because someone under four feet tall will probably be delighted to find those later. Load the dishwasher, sip some coffee. Get interrupted at least four times during this process by a small toddler demanding “up!” (only he says it backwards: “puh!”), and refereeing disputes over who had what toy first from the bigger toddlers (do I have to call them “preschoolers” yet?).

+++++

+++++

Load up the stroller with a big toddler and a little one. Make sure they are wearing appropriate footwear (aka any sort of footwear at all). Yell for the other big toddler to come baaaaack so I can snap his helmet on. Stash the sunscreen and some snacks (juuuust in case) down below, grab my sunglasses, and head off for a walk and a trip to the park.

 +++++

Lunch prep. Nothing fancy today. Scrambled eggs, slices of cheese, remove the tops of the strawberries and squish up some blueberries for the littlest one who is on a strawberry strike (just in time for strawberry season #ofcourse). Arrange all of the pieces on three little plates, set a napkin and a fork on their little placemats, which they may or may not use. Fill up two big cups and a sippy with milk. Six feet pound their way across the floor to the table.

+++++

More meal prep. Not for us but for a friend who recently had a baby. Put on a movie for the big toddlers as their quiet time solution for the day while the “baby” naps. Chop and saute and stir and mix and arrange in a small foil pan. Pack it all up along with some fruit and cookies and extras to be delivered once the movie is done and the baby awakes.

+++++

I push them in the swings. One, then another, and another. Push, push, push. Declare my pushing arms tired and create a spot for myself in the grass. Watch as two play in the sandbox and the third climbs the ladder of the playset. One runs over with tears and a hurt toe. Just as they have recovered another runs over because they tripped and fell and (sort of) skinned a knee. Just as they have recovered the third and final runs over with a fake cry to put his head in my lap, because apparently this is what all the cool kids are doing now and he wants to be included, too. I rub his back and they're all off again. Soon they will run over and demand more time on the swings. Push, push, push.

+++++

+++++

It’s quiet, or will be soon. Clean-up time. The fort of too-many blankets, the wooden blocks strewn across the rug, the pretend pizza set with it’s 347 topping pieces scattered throughout the playroom. I bring order to the chaos as the sky darkens.

+++++

++++++

Motherhood: a million little tasks, performed on repeat. It’s hard to see motherhood as this grand, sweeping, broad, beautiful thing that I often read about. I’m sure it is that, this broad stroke over our children’s lives. For now, I see it mostly in the day-to-day, minute-by-minute chores I complete (or try to complete, as the case may be).

Motherhood isn’t one big thing, but a million little things.

It’s the wiping and the cuddling, the meal prep and the snack prep and then doing it all over again, the laundry and the decluttering, the teaching and the turning to the screen when we need to.

These little things add up, over time, over hours and days and weeks and months and eventually years to build up what will become memories and our very own family culture. The little things must be what, collectively, become this big thing we call motherhood.

At least I hope so. Otherwise let me know so I can stop picking all of these darn pizza pieces off the floor.