Our life, in tangents

Blogging was easier before I had two kids. I used to write long, artsy posts about my innermost thoughts....no time for that anymore. Here's life in 10 little tangents:

-We had the stomach flu this past week. Thankful it happened while we still have our insurance, thankful for an awesome pediatrician and thankful that it seems to be gone now.

-When you don't sleep, everything will make you cry. This applies to the 29 year old as well as the 4 year old.

-2 kids may not seem like a lot, but it's been a whole different ball game than 1. There is always someone needing me, always a snack to prepare or a diaper to change or a bath to draw or a book to read or tiny laundry to do....I have never felt as needed as I do now. Or as tired. Or as fulfilled.

-It's been one of the most expensive months ever for team Gable. Between my dental work and my car breaking down and doctor's visits...we are having to get frugal like never before. We've also been so blessed at how God has provided.

-I'm learning how to say no. I don't have to volunteer for everything, I don't have to say yes to everything, and sometimes saying no is the BEST thing for my family. They come first.

-Kitchen remodels take a crazy long time, and they are really, really messy.

-I don't watch much television, but I've recently started watching old episodes of Arrested Development and I am hooked.

-Ben and I haven't been on a date in a year and a half. Unless you count the trip to the hospital to have the baby.

-Homeschooling is going well, but it's different than I thought it would be. Our biggest challenge is handwriting, but I know that's partly because L is only 4. He is very curious and loves learning, but does not necessarily love sitting still.

-I love, LOVE having a baby in the house, and it's going by way too quickly this time around. And I secretly have a tiny bit of baby fever again, although I don't think another Gable is in the cards for us. I just love babies! All their smooshiness (not a word but it should be) is just nirvana to me.

When you find yourself crying in your in-law's guest room

Labor Day weekend started out innocently enough. Logan had had a sleepover at Ben's parent's house, so we went over Saturday morning to get him. He had a stellar time and didn't miss us one bit. "Just the baby" he told us time and time again (thanks, kid:) ). We got some home projects done, I mowed the grass, it was a boring, hot Saturday. Sunday we went to church, out to lunch with lovely new friends, and worked on the house some more. MONDAY, ugh. Monday. Labor Day. May I have a do-over please? Monday just needs to be forgotten.

I had been up all night with Levi, who kept crying due to that top tooth that just won't pop through. One a.m. Three a.m. Five a.m. So I was already a little grumpy. We had the brilliant idea to drive to Orlando to get some tile from a discount tile store, because we're redoing our kitchen and our budget is peanuts but we really want to sell this place. So we went. And we bought 75 dollars worth of slate. Which looks pretty cool actually. Well, the cart was too heavy for me to push, so Ben went to pull the van around. He came back five minutes later without the van. He said we had a problem. That's never good to hear him say. Our van was broken, the part was roughly 350 dollars and if we didn't get it the van just wouldn't work again. 

Now, we had our boys with us. And it was hotter than Hades. Trust me. The boys were sweating, Levi was crying, and I was worrying. 

Bless his heart, Ben's dad came to rescue us. He towed us all the way to his house. I sat in the back seat of his van and thought "Don't you dare cry in your father-in-law's van. He didn't ask for this. He is helping you. Pull it together, Gable."

So I didn't. I waited until we got to their house, I walked back to the guest room, and I bawled my eyes out. It wasn't just the stupid part for the car or the heat or the embarrassment of breaking down once again. It was a million little things. It's been a rough year. Hospital bills. My teeth. The gluten allergy that we didn't even know about. The no sleep. The lack of money. The lady at the dentist that made a pass at my husband when I was RIGHT THERE (another post). I just couldn't hold it together anymore. Ben walked in and asked what was wrong. I had no words, really. Sometimes you don't. The funny part came when my brother-in-law burst in, looking for an exercise ball and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw us crying. I laughed. He laughed. It made everything better somehow.

The other humorous thing.....we were dressed.....like we maybe shouldn't be at Ben's parent's house. They were having a dinner party and we essentially crashed it. Ben was wearing a shirt with no sides and cutoffs. You could see his tattoos and all the grease all over him from working on the van. I was wearing tight jeans and a zebra print tube top. I kid you not. The counselor said I need to make an effort in how I dress for Ben because not caring about my appearance is NOT helping ( I guess no makeup and gym shorts are no longer cute). SO I was dressed like maybe I should be anywhere but my conservative in-law's house. Oh, and the kids? Well, Levi pooped through his two outfits we had packed for the quick trip to Orlando. Logan was covered in chocolate milk. We were a sight. 

I'm not sure what the point to this post was, except to say that when you're feeling overwhelmed, it's okay to cry in your in-law's guest room until you get it all out. And maybe, if you're pushing thirty, just say no to the zebra print tube top from Wal Mart. You're not doing yourself any favors.

Getting into the swing of things

Operation Homeschool is off to a great start. We started in July actually, because it's way too hot to be outside for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Every day Logan does some work in his workbook (I bought him a Kindergarten one rather than a preschool one, because they are pretty much the same), we read two stories (which little brother seems to be enjoying also), we do some chalkboard work, he builds with his legos, and we have an outing. One day a week we go to the library, one day we go to our church co-op, and one day we usually get together with other homeschooling friends. I am amazed at how awesome my little guy is doing. He is hungry to learn, and that makes me happy.

I am guilty of something though: Yesterday was the first day of school for many of our public school friends. I saw so many pictures of little preschoolers in their first day of school outfits holding little chalkboards, and I had a tiny panic attack. It went a little like this:
Oh my gosh, we're really homeschooling. He's not in VPK. We're really doing this. What if this is the wrong decision? What if he hates me someday because I homeschooled him for preschool and he ends up with a complex? What if he resents me? I thought I made the right decision, but everyone else is doing things differently and why couldn't we just do what they did? What am I doing? Who am I to think I can homeschool?!?!?!?

So I texted my beautiful homeschooling friend Christina and freaked out. She is so amazing, she was able to assure me that my kid is going to be fine and to lighten up a little because hey, it's preschool. Seriously, every mom needs a friend like her. Although I am pretty sure she's part robot because her house is always perfect and she's an amazing cook. But I still love her.

I am so excited for all that we are learning this year. I have all sorts of plans for this fall, including making our own ice cream, starting our fall garden and (gulp) helping my friend start a brand new co-op for our church. All while trying to fit in a kitchen remodel, putting our home up for sale, and raising my baby boy, who is also growing up entirely too fast.

I'm very much looking forward to Christmas break!

We're homeschooling. There, I said it.

My little four year old is starting preschool. Which may sound completely normal, except for one tiny detail: I'm his teacher.

Granted, homeschooling is a lot less controversial than it used to be. It's gaining in popularity as parents are becoming less impressed with the public school system. I am one such parent.

I love teaching my son. At four, he is reading, writing, spelling, and has a general love for knowledge. He has multiple best friends, loves going to Sunday school and loves his co-op classes.
We go to the zoo about three times a month, and every trip to the grocery store is another chance to teach him about math, nutrition, and the importance of anti-bacterial cart wipes. He knows about weather and the intricate details of a car engine (thanks to his daddy) and that too much sugar can lead to cavities. He's a genius, in my totally biased opinion.

My husband and I are in agreement that we will take this year by year, but for now, this is what works for us and we're happy with our choices.
I've gotten a lot of flack for this particular choice, but as I have said since the day I became a parent, what works for us may not work for you, and that's okay. There's room for diversity.

I used to worry a lot about what people would think about our decision to homeschool. I thought if I didn't do everything the way everyone else did, I'd look like a sub-par parent. But gone are those days. I am finally comfortable with my choices, and I am gaining confidence that I actually DO know what's best for my kids. If you don't like homeschooling, then don't homeschool. But we have joy about this and we are grateful for this wonderful season of life.

Keep calm and go to Hobby Lobby

Sleep training. Teething. A growth spurt. All in the same week. It's the perfect storm, really. We've been trying to convince little Levi that sleeping in his own crib is fabulous. That all the cool babies are doing it, and that he will wake up so refreshed if only he rests his little head down on that adorable gray and white chevron crib sheet that I so tastefully picked out to match his gray and yellow chevron room that he never sleeps in.
I'm exhausted. He's decided that he will only sleep when I am holding him, and even then I have to be walking around or doing lunges or something similar. Jillian Michaels would be so proud. There was a time, I think 2:30 am, when I said to him "Sweetheart. I am tired. You are tired. We're all tired. Let's just be reasonable about this and go to sleep." And he looked at me with those pretty eyes and cussed me out. Not really. He only says dada and hey. But the WAY he said it, oh boy. He was mad.
I called Ben at work and just cried. He doesn't like me, I said. I have to go back to work and you can be the stay at home parent because I am a failure and I am so exhausted and I broke the pack-n-play because yes, I put my grown up self in it to show our angel that pack-n-plays can be fun for naps too. 
To which my husband replied "You what? Pack-n-plays are not for adults. I mean, why don't you go to Hobby Lobby? The boys will like the change of scenery. Go buy something pretty. Not for them, for you. It'll be okay. And babe? Maybe stop trying to fit into Levi's things. You're an adult. I know you're small, but you're not an infant."
What, you and your husband haven't had the exact conversation?
Anyway.  The kids and I went to Hobby Lobby. And you know what? They were perfect. Levi loved all the lights and sounds, and Lo loved pretending the cart was a spaceship. I bought some crafting supplies and kind of forgot about how weary I was. It was SO NICE.
 Now the way home? That's a different, crying filled story (why do babies loathe car seats so much?). But for the hour we were in there, walking around, up and down every aisle, we were great. I may need to go there every day from now until he stops cutting teeth. You're welcome to join me :)

Just do the next thing

 Confession: I get overwhelmed easily. I love a good to-do list as much as the next mom, but I tend to feel bummed when I can't get everything done. I'm a big picture kind of girl in that I often look ahead to what the next month and year will bring and what I need to do to get there, but I am also very detail oriented in that I like things done right. This is a recipe for disaster sometimes. 
Back in February I learned that I was having some health issues. I'll spare most of the embarrassing details, but what I learned from my doctor was that I was not absorbing nutrients. I was losing weight, my teeth were crumbling, and I had gout. GOUT! I'm way too young for that. 
Anyway, I learned that I needed to completely change my diet. I had to cut out what my body couldn't absorb and focus on whole, healing foods. I got a lot of flack for jumping on the "gluten-free hippie bandwagon," but when your dentist wants to charge you six grand to fix your mouth, you start to research more frugal options. I decided to ignore the nay-sayers and focus on what I could fix.
I had no idea where to begin. But now, months later, I'm doing better. It was completely overwhelming to replace all of the yummy foods I enjoy ( I love me some processed foods, I won't lie), so I had to just focus on one meal at a time. 

 Similarly, when my four year old feels overwhelmed about something (and because he's four, this happens often) I give him the same advice. One thing at a time. Pick up one toy at a time, and before you know it, your room will be clean (with some guided help from mom and dad, of course). When he doesn't want to eat his dinner, I change it to one bite at a time. I always joke with him. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. And then he looks at me like I have three heads.
(No worries PETA, we would never eat an elephant, they are way too cute and wrinkly). 

These days, I am taking this advice to heart. I get overwhelmed easily with the future. Will we ever get this house fixed up enough to sell and move back to Orlando (my dream)? Will my health get back to a good place through my efforts or is it all down here from here? Will I ever be able to stop worrying about all of life's what ifs? I believe the answer to all of these questions is yes, just as long as I take things one tiny bite at a time. Just do the next thing. Don't focus too much on a vague future, because it'll probably be different than I imagine anyway. 

So today, my baby steps are to keep my kids fed and healthy, research healthy recipes I can make that ALL of us will like (and then actually make them, fingers crossed), fight the losing battle of keeping this house clean (I won't give up! Even if it is like brushing my teeth while eating ice cream) and hold and nurse a sweet little baby who is currently teething like it's his job. 
Here's to the next thing.
 

Sewing machines are for boys too

When you start dating at 17, you don't usually think "I'm going to marry this boy someday. He's going to be the father of my children and change the oil in my van and set up the wifi because I have no idea how a router works." If you're like I was, you think "Wow, he's cute. He's got a great smile. And he's just a tad bit of a smart butt and I like it."

It's weird. We're almost 30 and when I look back at who we both were when we started dating, I realize that we were babies. SO young. But we certainly didn't FEEL young. We felt mature. Wise. And maybe we were. But we were also babies.
We dated for nearly three years before we got married. We knew it was the next right step, and yet, it was a bit of a shock once the honeymoon was over and we realized that sharing a life with someone is a learning experience to say the least. I was a horrible cook. I wanted babies. He usually smelled like car parts. He didn't want babies. We were opposites. And a little confused as to how to mesh our personalities and interests and goals (it had seemed so easy when we were dating and all we did was go to the movies and hang out a lot). But, a lot of things worked themselves out over time. We both realized that we can't do this without God as the center of our relationship. I've learned to cook and meal plan and do his laundry correctly. We have the two most beautiful kiddos I've ever known (not that I'm at all biased). He's the BEST daddy. Gentle and kind and protective and fun. He brings so much joy to our home.

Yesterday, our four year old decided he needed a hammock for his stuffed animals (he has at least 20, and he just can't bear to give one away). I was going to research doll hammocks online to see if we could afford one right now. But Ben one-upped me. 20 minutes later, he had sewn a camouflage doll hammock for Logan's room, and Logan was to the moon excited. I watched my husband sew this hammock for our boy, and it got me thinking about how funny time is. 12 years ago I would've never thought that that super cool guy I was dating, the one with the extensive Beastie Boys cd collection and the fancy red car would someday be sewing a doll hammock in the kitchen. Just because our kid wanted something for his bears to sleep in. It made me grateful. Grateful for the heart of this guy I've spent more than a third of my life with. And it made me laugh at how many silly disagreements we've had over the years and how really, it all comes down to one thing: our hearts. Our hearts for the Lord and for each other and for our family and for the people God's placed in our life together. I've seen this guy's heart, and it's really big. And I am grateful.