146/365: Ambition

Sometimes we bite off more than we can chew. After an extremely successful and productive day yesterday, I thought to myself: woot. We are awesome. All we need to do is cut out the morning nap (makes her afternoon nap too late and unpredictable), and we are all set for permanent residence in Awesomeville.

Oh, and I am drinking too much caffeine. I should probably stop that.

Promptly at 9:00am, with Carl out the door to work and me just thinking to start one of the ambitious household projects with which I was going to interest Iris SO MUCH she would forget about nap time, Iris started to fuss. She was not interested in cleaning out the front closet to prepare for a fresh coat of paint, and frankly I wasn’t either. I was EXHAUSTED. Who knew that life without caffeine was so tiring?

New plan: we would snuggle on the couch. Maybe I would read a book while she regained her good humor. After all, not every day can be full of accomplishment.

We were both asleep in ten minutes.

45 minutes later, I woke up to Iris starting to do her pre-waking squirms. Well, not too bad, I thought. At least it was a short nap, early in the day. And I feel human again, which is nice. Iris stretched out her legs—eyes still closed, of course—and started to climb off the couch. That’s as far as she got.

It’s almost 11:30, and she’s still asleep.

As for me, I am amending my parental insight folder. In place of yesterday’s memo, we are filing one that simply reads: COFFEE WITHOUT SHAME, FOREVER.

If I don’t see the Big Nap coming, it’s half over before I even get the laptop open (to say nothing of keeping my eyes open). In other words: coffee is a vital crew member of this team. We will not be firing coffee. We will be keeping coffee, writing our novel, and renewing peace with the fact that I still haven’t figured out how to predict or influence Iris’s nap times all that much.

COFFEE WITHOUT SHAME, friends.

FOREVER.

 

144/365: Outside?

This is how Iris lets me know she would like to go to the park, please.

 

143/365: Color

For Mother’s Day Carl and Iris got me—among other things—a new cosmetics case and a gift card to fill it up. Bliss.

I realize that this could translate badly in some relationships, and I would probably not be super enthused about receiving a diet book as a gift ever. But when life gets a bit more challenging it forces you to be more picky about your priorities. I am, for example, a pretty good mom these days. I spend a lot of one-on-one time with Iris and put a lot of thought into making plans for our little man’s arrival. I work hard to give Iris a routine, to involve her in the fun stuff and stick with her in the not-so-fun stuff. I read articles about childhood development in my spare time. I am interested in everything about this parent-child relationship.

I’m persistent about writing too. I take Iris’s naps and early bedtimes and Carl’s evenings out to piece together a growing word count. I care about it, and I work hard to carve out the time to make it happen.

I like the whole process of home creation. I spend time every day cooking, gardening, doing home care projects, washing dishes, sorting laundry. I like the smell of almond cookies in the oven and lemon-scenting cleaning products. I won’t lie: our house isn’t spotless by a long stretch. But it matters to us. Home in all its manifestations makes us happy, so we work at it.

There are other things I care about, obviously, but you understand where I’m going with this. When life gets busy, one of the easiest things for me to let go of is the extra-mile beauty ritual. I’m not talking about the basics. I shower. I shave. I even get around to plucking my eyebrows most weeks. But the polish on my toes starts to chip. I don’t blow dry my hair much (honestly? ever). The skin on my elbows and heels starts to get rough. It doesn’t bother me to go out in public without makeup because, really, why should it? The double standard of male/female beauty annoys the crap out of me, but I swear I don’t have a sour grapes attitude in general. I admire women who are put together, who manage to have children and find time to put on mascara. I like looking at fashion magazines. I am sort of fascinated by make up in general and am always putting things like “master the smoky eye” on my annual goals list. (I have never mastered the smoky eye).

But, to me, it’s always an extra. It’s a last hired, first fired kind of thing, and that’s what made the gift so perfect this year. Extra is exactly what a gift should be.

I didn’t pick out a lot of make up to be honest. I’m realistic enough to know that about as far as I’ll get in the next 12 months is lipgloss, mascara, and tinted moisturizer. But I did buy some really thick, really fabulous cream for my elbows and heels. I bought better quality lip balms and showerish things. Things I’ll use. I also bought a punchy orange-red for my summertime toes.

And this evening after I got Iris to bed, I even used it.

Pretty fabulous.

 

 

241/365: The Real Stuff

Iris does not get the real stuff. We’ve been perfecting our latte technique lately with a morning pair over breakfast, and it’s been a losing battle trying to keep her from drinking mine. I don’t mind a couple of sips, but she’s persistent. And espresso just can’t be that good for a one-year-old, you know? Also there are actual tears when I take my cup back, and that’s not exactly the Parisian lounge-about atmosphere we were going for with our robes and morning glance at the news and latte in cup and sauce.

Today, however, I had one of those moments of mommy brilliance for which Mother’s Day was probably first awarded. I measured out an extra half cup of vanilla soy milk, got it steamy, poured it in a quite-grown-up cup straight, and brought out three lattes to the table.

Iris LOVED her latte. And she was so pleased with having complete control of her OWN CUP that she didn’t even think to double-check the contents of mine.

I was thinking about this—the real stuff concept—earlier this morning when I was wedged in the middle of our never-big-enough bed between my two favorite people on the planet. Iris had been up at midnight and then again at 5, and after half an hour of trying to cajole her back to sleep at 5, Carl ran out of ideas and they both found their way to our bed. By six-thirty, they were both asleep. I was awake.

Just awake, listening to the birds starting to chirp. Thinking that it would be easy to be kind of cranky about the broken sleep or the pair of limbs (one large and one small) encroaching on my space. My DAY, really. But it seemed sort of wasteful to be upset about it. I was pretty sure it was going to be a great day, so why bother? This is the real stuff. These are the people who made me a mom and the people I would never want to be without. Not that my role has been passive exactly these last almost two years. But you know what I mean.

When Iris woke up at seven, she sat up before her eyes were even open. And when she did open them, she opened them up to see me smiling at her and showed me the full depth of her single dimple with the biggest, happiest grin.

This is the real stuff.

It seems like just when I’m starting to realize there are no perfect scenarios and no perfect things, I’m also coming to appreciate that there are far more good things in the world than any of us will ever have the time or opportunity to experience. Our choices—and the things that are not matters of choice—will all be different. But there will be good things in every path.

I’m so grateful for the good things in mine.

240/365: First Fruits

“Oh, we’re real gardeners now!” I said, popping off the ONLY strawberry that—at one inch long or less—was actually ripe enough to give to my pressure. Whatever. We shared it, and it was delicious. Far sweeter than anything you can get at a grocery store.

And it came out of our dirt.

Pretty great stuff.

Although I’m thinking that if I actually want to make my vision of a whole BOWL of strawberries on the back porch a reality I may need to plant more than 3 rows. Like maybe 10 rows. Plans for next year, I guess.

 

238/365: and a dandelion behind the ear…

 

Carl often takes Iris out to play when he gets home from work so I can finish up dinner in peace. I couldn’t resist sneaking out for a shot tonight though. They are too cute. I especially love the dandelion tucked behind her ear, a frequent memento of their play times. Sometimes she returns the favor, and then Carl has one behind his ear too.

Life is a mixed bag, no mistake, but some moments really are this sweet.

237/365: Cool by the Pool