February and Beyond

Our house has been looking something like this:

                                        

                                        

                                        

                                        

                                        

*Potty training is happening up in here, and its working out this time. Jelly beans have magical potty powers.

*I have a hard time keeping M out of P's crib. I am normally quite diligent about not allowing him in, but I didn't have the heart to deny him this cuddle time. He wanted it so badly. 

*This girl is a smiling machine

*The library is one of our frequent escapes when the walls start to close in at home. M is probably a little too comfortable there. He always has things to tell Diane, our fabulous librarian, and takes complete reign of the children's section of the building.

*I have always tried to foster M's imagination. I lived in my imagination as a child, and wouldn't want it any other way for my kids. Sometimes I am baffled at what he comes up with. Being surprised at the originality of your children is pretty neat.

*smooches

*Those little carts have been at the top of my enemy list for some time. They whisper to the children pushing them to run willy nilly through the store, and to disregard everything their parents are saying to them. All of a sudden he has been listening really well, and staying right next to me all through the store. He even pushes the heavy stuff.

*I was so happy C snapped this for me. This is what so much of my time is spent doing. This kid is obsessed with books. It makes me feel a little better about the fact that he is also crazy for television. We are SO excited for the warm weather, so we spend time outside instead of in front of a screen.

Some things about being back

Coming back to MN after dark, to a new house stacked with boxes, with a husband working at the opposite end of the state will make you want to cry a little. Or just make a u-turn for the airport to return to somewhere that doesn't make you feel sticky when you step outside.

It only take about 24 hours to get over the aforementioned wallowing , and the purchase of nutty bars, swiss rolls, and toffee ice cream bars definitely have a strong hand in that rebound.

Your toddler will feel like life is taking place in a magical new world because he has grass right outside his front door instead of a prison-like hallway. He also appreciates the newfound strength he has to crush rocks (dirt clods) with his bare hands, so don't worry about the dirt patches on the lawn. They are aiding in the construction of confidence.

Having wonderful friends is dee bayst. I know you don't want to seem moochy and needy, but lady, you're 8 months pregnant, and frankly, need all of the help anyone at all anywhere is willing to give you. Let them bring you dinner and unpack your kitchen. You will be so grateful.

Sleeping with a man in your bed isn't nearly as hard as you thought. Turns out your pregnant body didn't HAVE to take up all of that other space after all. 

Don't rake the entire yard at once. It will send you into contractions. Do half one day, and the other half on some other day.

Don't feel guilty about laying in bed for an hour after M wakes up. He got out of bed himself, and started playing with his toys himself. He's happy. You need rest. You can pick up every single toy he owns in about five minutes. Its okay if they get strewn about.

Those yoga pants that you stole from your mom? They fall down a lot. Try to only wear them at home.

Minnesota, its good to see ya.

How I apply comic books to real life.

Kryptonite. It is not a real thing. But it's totally a real thing.

I differ in many ways from Kryptonite's original victim. Wearing my underwear under my clothes and understanding that glasses are not an effective disguise are just the beginning of that list. 

This list is just about Kryptonite. The fact that the man of steel only has one weakness is totally proof of his superness.

This is a list of my brands of Kryptonite. They are many. Here are five of them.

                                   

Cookies: you guys are aware if this. I talk about food often, and cookies are in my mind and in my belly particularly often. I have a problem. Seeking cookie counseling. I could really eat an entire dozen cookies without even pausing to consider the fact that it isn't good for me, and sometimes I get curious about how many I could eat before I get sick.

Head massage: That thing the wicked witch does when they throw water on her at the end of Wizard of Oz? I do that, except with happy ooooh's and aaaaaah's, slobber coming forth from the corner of my mouth, and crossed eyes. I puddlefy on the spot. A guy that was once interested in me discovered this, and used it as a party trick a couple of times. As in, hey guys, watch this... I become an instantaneous puddle. I didn't think it was very funny. Just very awkward. We didn't date.

Shoes: a typical womanly weakness. Here's the thing, the right shoes can make a bland outfit feel unique or spunky. This is important to me. I hate feeling meh, bleh, blah, or pleh. Shoes are an easy way to avoid that. And it is hard to be too chubby for shoes....unless we are talking about knee length boots. I can never zip those up over my (not even that big) legs. A topic for not right now. In short, shoes can be a quick way to just feel a little better about the world.

Soft Serve Swirl Cones: Yes, another food item makes my top five list of weaknesses. This particular weakness brings on the side of me that C refers to as "baby Karlie". I will mow right over old people on the sidewalk if there is a soft serve place in sight. My voice suddenly jumps up an octave  and my vocabulary shrinks to mostly squeals and laughs. I'm not kidding. Something just...comes over me. The ice cream bliss. Swirl cones in Cars Land and Charlie's in Logan are tied for the win.

HGTV: I argue that this is useful. I have learned SO much about what I want in a home as far as design and aesthetics than I ever would have figured out watching The Walking Dead (ugh) or Community, or trying to figure it out without television or pinterest (can you IMAGINE?). It doesn't hurt that the Income Property guy is the real life Flynn Rider, Property brothers are so cute, and Kitchen Cousins....well who doesn't visually enjoy them. 

Kryptonite. It's a real thing.

Homliness. The Good Kind. The feelingy kind.

Holy. Slackage.

I know it is cliche, and lame, but I have no idea what happened to the last five weeks.

I only feel a little sorry that blogging hasn't been high enough on my priority list to get done.  I have been too busy basking in the glorious feeling that is the home of my childhood.

I have two homes now. In Minnesota when I talk about "home" I mean Utah. In Utah when I talk about "home", I mean Minnesota. 

I'm pretty lucky. In this case, two is better than one. 

Home is a funny thing isn't it? I have seen all sorts of cutesy and over the top word arts on pinterest talking about what home is. Most of them make me throw up in my mouth a little.

Yes, the heart is there. C and M are definitely required. But, what swirly word art stenciled on to wood can't explain... is that familiar feeling that settles in all over and in you. It is an inside-out ordeal. That place in the very center of you relaxes.  You see things without having to look at them. Things can seem familiar and new simultaneously. I read those last few sentences, and they don't quite explain, but I don't think they could.

Its a matter of feelingyness, not words put in yellow vinyl on a block of wood.

* I do not judge you if you love those blocks of wood. They just aren't my style!

It doesn't really count as deception....

Abilities. Skills, if you will. Yesterday I mentioned that I have some. 

I want to mention one of these skills. I noticed it a couple of weeks ago, and had been building it up and perfecting it for sometime without noticing. I'm good. 

I can spend an entire day making messes in the apartment with M (that isn't the skill, but I am really good at it). We spread toys from one end of the apartment to the other, fill the sink with dishes, unroll the toilet paper, smear food all over the table, etc. At some point in the day I look at the clock and notice it is 4:50. Ches will be home in approximately 20 minutes. 

Skill: I take out the garbage that should have been taken out yesterday, wipe down the table and high chair, throw the toys back in their basket, put the new toilet paper roll on the rod instead of the back of the toilet, wash a sink full of dishes, change the baby out of his pajamas....and voila. I finish JUST in time for that face to walk in the door. To him, it seems that I have been on the ball for an entire day. 

If I had this any more honed I would be slow motion running to him in my heels and pearls welcoming him home to the steak and potatoes that are waiting hot and steamy on the table. 


Also, can you see why I am obsessed with this picture? 

What secret skills do you have?

Do you want to be my favorite uncle?

I don't know what it is about Dick Van Dyke, but it is impossible not to like him. Right? Do any of you NOT have an affection for this man? It is the kind of feeling you might have for a beloved uncle or grandfather. You just want to latch on at the knee and have them pat your head.

I imagine that if I ever met him I would just want to give him a hug, after which we would share a milkshake while throwing back our heads in affectionate and delightful laughter. The sun would most likely be glimmering over us.

We sing to Maverik every night. For weeks I tried to remember the words of this song because I knew that as a child I had loved it. I kept forgetting, and he mostly got "Once Upon a December" sung on repeat because it is my other favorite. I finally remembered to look this up one evening during his bedtime routine.

Don't you just want to be one of those kids?! Being Truly Scrumptious wouldn't make me feel too bad either....

Hobbits

Are curious creatures, and I am beginning to understand how they feel in their manner of living. That would be because, I am indeed, living in a hobbit house (that sort of roles off of the tongue doesn't it?)

Husband and I recently moved into a rather small apartment. Although Chesley has been know to be compared to hobbits (if you have not seen this reference click here) I had never really fostered my desire to live like them. I am now regretting that negligence.

Someday I will tell my children,"Your father and I once lived in an apartment with three little hobbit doors, and a little hobbit bedroom where we could only kneel on our knees because...well, although we have done many amazing and spectacularly adventurous things that we can only tell you about in stories because it all happened before you came along, we have never been hobbits!" And they will pelt us with questions about this amazing time in our lives, and ask us to tell them the story again and again.

And we will. It will always begin like this....

Your father and I once lived in an apartment with three little hobbit doors.....

No Sidewalks

I have always had this thing for poetry. I love to read it, and I love write what I can. I am going to start posting a poem every once in a while. Here is my first attempt.

I grew up in a small town, a town with no sidewalks. I once had a friend who told me he never wanted to live in a place that was big enough to have paved sidewalks. "That's when people stop waving to eachother when they drive by," he said. It made me stop and think about what I love about living in a rural place, and this poem came out of it. It has a lot of revision to go, and I would love input from all of you.

No Sidewalks

I live in a town with no sidewalks,
And my bones have grown there as the trees.
There is a road that wobbles and winds
And stretches into infinite distance.
My feet have never found its end.

I walk on the road where broken
Asphalt meets weed; I can see
Mountain to mountain to mountain
To sky. A cradle of dirt and rock
Open up to bright swaggering blue.

I stop on the road to let a
Gurgling stream greet my thoughts. I lay
to look out of the mouth of the cradle.
On the horizon, cows and grass give
Way to pavement and glass.

The sky strains too heavy
With smearing, fading smog.
It rolls closer to my road
Every year. Closer
to my road, and my Feet.

Smog, sidewalks, and lifeless steel.