Hobbies and Lacy Under-Things

"You need a hobby" he said.

It was said in the middle of a mini-argument. The details aren't important, but you know the kind - there was nothing actually wrong, and we weren't actually fighting, but things were tense. I had probably just brought up the budget or had criticized something he had done with Elliott. At least I'm guessing that's how it started, because this was his point- all I ever think about is the budget or parenting. And so therefor all we ever seem to talk about is the budget or parenting. And so therefor we have a lot of conversations that sound the same.... nothing is wrong, but it doesn't feel quite right either. As a side note - who knew that parenting would be something that we disagree the most on? Sheesh, I think I'll need to write an entire post on just that.

Minimalism, OCD and Digging Up The Foundation.

I'm in a season of change right now. I considered waiting to write about it until I felt as though the season was over, or at least until I had it figured out more than I do now, but instead I think I'll just bring you all along with. Chris always says that you are under no obligation to be the same person you were yesterday. It's true, but how many of us hold an obligation to ourselves to continue being the same person? Or maybe we hold an expectation to be "better?"

Ok, so in the middle of the soul wrestling I've been doing, I have tentatively jumped on the minimalism train. Like... I'm on it, but it's still moving slowly as it leaves the station and I still think about jumping off if it starts picking up speed too quickly. When I told Chris that I was starting to get excited about minimalism he looked at me like I had three heads and asked if that meant we had to take down the gallery wall in our living room? Because minimalism looks like a room with white walls and a wooden chair in the middle, doesn't it? Well... no. I don't really know how to do it "right" but I do know that when I went through the kids' closets and dressers, I felt a significant shift inside myself. I don't want to sound like a weirdo, but I also can't downplay this because it really felt... significant. Then a week or two later I read a blog called "Using Minimalism to Balance Your Uptight Soul" and I read a quote that says:

"If you're like me, you spend a lot of time up there in your ever-whirring brain. It might even be why you like to keep your physical environment so neat. The calm around you balances out the chaos inside"

Whoa.

Elliott Is Three!!

Three years old already? How on earth did that happen?? Time certainly has sped up, especially these last 5-6 months since Audrey came along! Speaking of Audrey, I think that watching Elliott grow in his role of big bother has been my favourite part of these last few months. He is just so sweet with her! Right from the start he has always wanted to hold her and kiss her. He can't walk past her without stopping to give her a hug or a kiss. When she starts crying he will try to comfort her by saying "It's ok Audrey. I'm here." or "It's ok Audrey, Mommy's almost done" (say, if I'm busy doing dishes etc) or he'll sing Twinkle twinkle or the alphabet to her. Even if I have left them both in the living room and Elliott is watching a show on TV and she starts fussing, he will move from the couch to beside her and while keeping his eyes glued on the screen he'll say "It's ok Audrey" and put his arm around her. It's equally hilarious and adorable to watch. Just this morning I walked into the living room where Elliott was putting stickers onto a sheet of paper while standing at the ottoman, and she was fussing, and he moved down to the floor beside her and said "It's ok Audrey, you can watch me do this" And now, while this story didn't happen with Audrey, I think it proves his big bro skills even more...

That Boy On The Rocks

I was 5 weeks pregnant with our first baby and just that day the extreme fatigue had set in. I felt so disappointed, thinking that perhaps because the nausea was so severe I might avoid this symptom. Hadn't I already got the short end of the stick? Nonetheless I was still over the moon with excitement. I was meeting some friends at a nearby lake for a picnic dinner, and despite my condition I managed to whip together a broccoli salad and fresh blueberry muffins. Chris was supposed to join us as well, but ended up working late so I headed down to the lake by myself.

There I was, carrying my bag filled with goodies, water bottles, sunscreen and bugspray (simultaneously wondering if it was safe to put either of these things on my skin) my camping chair and my green tartan blanket from my trip to Scotland as a girl. All ready for our lakeside picnic, I made my way towards their sweet little family, huffing and puffing the whole way.

Thankfully for me, the nausea was kept at bay and we enjoyed our picnic lunch as I sat there with my little secret in my not-yet-growing womb. Afterwards their preschool aged kids all wanted to fish for crawfish, and so we headed towards the waters edge with fishing line, paperclips and hot dogs as bait. Their younger son, who must have been about 3 years old at the time slowly made his way over the big rocks to get to the shore. I hung back with him, expecting him to ask for help, or to reach his hand towards mine as he tried to find his footing, but he never did. Slowly and carefully he placed his feet on the rocks. A foot would slip and he would plant it somewhere else more carefully. I asked him if he wanted help, and he declined.