Saturday Morning

Sweet fuzzy head
Nuzzling my shoulder
Moving your own little movements
Thinking your own little thoughts
How fun it will be
When you can talk
And we can share conversations
Not that I don't love our current ones
You: Oooo.
Me: Ooooh?
You: Oahoo.
Me: Oaaahoo.

Sometimes

Sometimes things should really go unsaid
Especially when they are mean things
Especially when they are said by me
Especially when I wasn't thinking
Especially when I was already riled up about something else
Sometimes I really wish I had a rewind button
And a delete button
Sometimes I would use it
I really would

Hello Again Old Friend

Oh writing blog
I have been neglecting you
More than I knew
Please forgive me
Let's be friends again

Under the Tree

Piles
And piles
Of presents
Yay yay!

11:58 in NaBloPoMo

Quick
Quick
No time
Bye!

Present Prep

So many presents
On the bed
And on the floor
To wrap and mail
And still there's more
To finish still
I wonder will
We ever be ready for
Christmas?

Turkey, Turkey

Turkey, turkey
Not beef jerky
Not so smirky
Now you're cooked
Turkey, turkey
No more lurky
In the woods
For now you're cooked
Turkey, turkey
On the platter
What's the matter?
Now you're cooked
Turkey, turkey
In my tummy
Oh so yummy
Like you looked

Meh

Poem, poem
I don't know 'em
So I will just
Say goodnight

Produce Potential

Got no pies for a pumpkin
Got no apples for a tree
Got no cobblers for a berry
But I've sure got a lot that could be

Pandora

Pandora is
A music site
You can listen to music
All day and all night
You type in a genre
And listen along
You can click "thumbs up"
To your favorite songs
When you click "thumbs down"
It skips it forever
Good riddance to dumb songs,
Bad beats, and whatever
It takes note of your preference
Music old or brand new
And if you like both
There's a station for you
It's radio anytime
Minus audio ads
With a website like this
Could there be any bad?
Alas, I must warn you
Unfortunately
It's forty hours per month
To have more is not free

(Note: If you'd like to listen to Pandora, click here. Enjoy!)

In Limbo

It's that time of year
When stockings
And pumpkins
Are out
When there's a paper chain
A handmade Advent calendar
And a turkey door hanger
A fall wreath
And a scarecrow
And some holly berries
Happy holidays
Halloween
Thanksgiving
Christmas
Just to name a few

The Laptop is Attatched to My Lap

I am a computer hog
Bloggy bloggy bloggy blog
Looking, reading all the day
Checking e-mail
Yay yay yay!
When Bryan wants to write a post
That's when I am so bored the most

A Joke Only Bryan Will Get

Baby so tired
Sleepy
Goodnight

Thinking

Thinking of the prompt for writing
Thinking of the gifts I've made
Thinking of the gifts I've given
Thinking of something to rhyme with made
Thinking of something to think of
Thinking of something to write
Thinking of some way to end this lame poem
So I can stop writing tonight

Olivia's Stocking

Pretty stocking
Stitched with patience
Stitched with loving thoughts of you
Stitched with time spent dreaming of you
Stitched with hope for all you'll do
Stitched to fill your heart's desire
Stitched to bring you childhood joys
Stitched to fill with fruit and candy
Stitched to fill, of course, with toys
Stitched for you
Sweet daughter dear
Stitched for Christmases far and near

Nothing to Write

Meh
Heh
Bleh
Sigh
Blah

Days Fill Up

Not enough time in the day
To do all I want to do
Or say all I want to say
Projects sit unfinished
Thoughts stay in my mind
Unwritten
Waiting for another day
When I'll have time
Sometimes that day comes
And sometimes it passes
Filled with other things
We'll see what tomorrow brings

Chickpeas By Any Other Name

Garbanzo
Garbanzo
I am not so fond so
Of you in my cookies
You make them taste dry
Garbanzo
Garbanzo
You do not belong so
Sneak into my cookies again?
Just don't try

Scarecrow

There is a scarecrow
In the corner
Sitting on a peg
Triangle nose
Paint for eyes
Someone crossed his legs
In his eye there is a twinkle
But it kind of looks
Like he has to tinkle

I Think They Do It On Purpose

Babies sleep
Just long enough for you to think
"I am so good at getting babies to sleep"
"It's so nice that my baby takes naps now"
"Now I will start that big project that requires all my attention"
Then that baby wakes up
Just in time
To humble you
Change your mind
And require all your attention
It is only once you've given up
And started a movie
With your baby asleep in your lap
Or in the bouncer
Which you must not stop bouncing
That your baby will sleep soundly
For hours

Dinner On the Couch

Piles, piles everywhere
And not a spot to eat

T.G.I.F.ood Processor

Beets
...Pureed
Pineapple
...Pureed
Sweet potatoes
...Pureed
Carrots
...Pureed
Cauliflower
...Pureed
Spinach
...Pureed
One fourth cup portions
In baggies
In bigger baggies
In the freezer
In hopes of being
Just a little healthier

by Katie AND BRYAN Lewis

Cracklin'

Hungry, hungry
What to eat?
Cracklin' Oat Bran
What a treat
Are you dog food?
I hope not
'Cause you really
Hit the spot
Yummy, yummy
To my tongue
I'll be sorry
When you're gone

Bright Eyes

Wobbly head
Looking around
Trying to stay up straight
Bright eyes
Trying to focus on
Faces
Colors
And a teething ring hanging from the sky
Already
You are growing up so fast

Screaming 'Till One O'Clock In the Morning

Woke up
Tired
Ate breakfast
Tired
Spent the morning at home
Tired
Went to church
Tired
Ate dinner
Tired
Played a game
Tired
Hopefully soon I'll go to bed
Tired
And wake up
For reals

Sounds of A Two Month Old

Baby coos and gurgles
Oh so sweet to me
It's just the screechy weechies
That make me want to
Plug my ears

In A Hurry

NaBloPoMo?
NoProBleMo.

What Not

Thinking of what not to write
So many things come to mind
But when I think of what to write
There's nothing of the kind

Five to Six Months

High chair hiding
In the closet
Soon we'll dust it off
And wash it
Soon the baby
Will eat real food
And I will not be
Tied down to
The sofa

Deli Ham

Deli ham
Deli ham
You taste so much better
Than ham from a can
Or ham in a bag
That claims to be deli
But always just ends up
Soggy and smelly
When I buy you
The deli girl struts
To the big deli slicer
And hands me a cut
She asks about the thickness
I tell her that it's fine
She sticks you with a barcode
And you're mine, mine, mine
I pay for you with money
I bring you home to eat
Pair you up with cheeses
Oh, what a yummy treat
You'll fill up all the 'wiches
You'll make a special snack
And when you are all eaten
To the deli I'll be back

Visits

Coming
Going
Sharing
Showing
Laughing
Talking
Waiting
Walking
Sitting
Eating
Friendly
Meeting
Driving
Driving
Hugs
Goodbyeing
Going
Going
Going
Gone

NaBloPoMo

NaBloPoMo
WilIWriMo?
IJusDonKno
BuWe'lSe

Today

T-shirt
Groceries
Walk in the snow
Feed the baby
Doctor
Stitches
Cranky
Cranky
Me
Cowboy hat
Bandanna
Chili
Movie
Wakey baby
Not over
Yet

Ode To Comments

Oh dear comments
How I love you
How you make my smile grow
When I see you in my e-mail
You give me a special glow
Comments, comments
There could never
Ever be enough of you
What a boost you give my ego
How my self esteem does boost
You make me feel happy inside
Sometimes I think,
"Famous? Me?"
Comments, comments
How I love you
How you fill my heart with glee

Still Here

Oh writing blog
I have not forgotten you
I just don't have time to write
Yet

Todays To-dos

Wash the dishes
Empty the dishwasher
Load the dishwasher
Clear off the table
Make the bed
Another coat of chalkboard paint
Pick up living room
Pick up bedroom
Pick up baby's room
Sort outgrown baby clothes
Take a shower
Take a nap
Make dinner
Think what to make for Christmas
Work on Christmas gifts
Make tomorrow's lunch
Get up off the couch

In Lamplight

Watching you get sleepy
Makes me sleepy
I wish we both were
Asleepy

Oops

Sometimes I forget to write
I must have an evil sprite
Living in some nearby nook
Who tells me I ought not to look
And see what I've forgot to do
Mean sprite, I blame it all on you

Jungle Bouncer

I'm really not sure
Why nursery prints
Include safari animals
If they were real
I would not let
My baby within
A hundred feet of them
And I'd really prefer
More distance than that

Leaves Change

Scarecrow in the corner
"Autumn" on the wall
Pumpkins on the bookshelf
That's how you know it's fall

Bath Time

Bath time!
Bath time!
Give a yell
Bath time!
Bath time!
Aint it swell
Bath time!
Bath time!
We can tell
When it's bath time
'Cause you smell!

Stitches of Life

Thinking through stitches
Gets tricky
I mess up a lot
The seam ripper is
An extension of my fingers
Life
Is so much the same
Imperfection is
My middle name it seems
But I think
In the end
It won't matter so much
That the living room is messy
Probably
Everyone will just remember
How beautiful the dress turned out
How beautiful life turns out to be

The Last Place You Look

Little baby
Not asleep
Angry
And making more than a peep
Cranky, cranky
How it shows
Rocking?
Burping?
Eating?
No
Then we give it one more try
Turns out your diaper wasn't dry

A Reason Why

It's true
That any idiot can write haiku
But not every idiot does
Which
I suppose
Is what gives me the right
And privilege
To publish

Walk A Bye Baby

Daddy looks
A little insane
Pacing back and forth
Back and forth
Back and forth
Rocking her to sleep
With his walking
Back and forth
Back and forth
Until she slumbers

Bunny Suit

Little pink
Cuddly cozy
Bunny baby
Sleeping in your suit
Snoozing in your snuggles
Looking at you
Makes me want to pick you up
And give you kisses
On your little bunny nose
But, alas
Tonight we will follow the old rule
And let sleeping bunnies lie

Wakey Wakey Rise and Shakey

Wakey wakey rise and shakey
Let the bacon start to bakey
Risin' in the early hours
Brushin' hair and takin' showers
Hurry hurry! Time to go!
It's time to start the day you know

Stirred

May I never
Be foolish enough
To be stirred up
Unto anger

Eight O'Clock At the Oasis

Perhaps I have been watching
A little too much
Gilmore Girls
My speech is faster
I am extra witty
I know, I know
Who knew it was possible?
But it's true

Generations

Generations
Pass and go
There is always someone sprouting
And someone graciously wilting
Little by little
Time passes
People trade places
The old pass on
The young become old
They hardly notice
It's almost as if
One day one wakes up
A parent
And another wakes up
A grandparent
And another wakes up
Brand new
And someone else is six
There are always children
In between
The generation gaps
So much family
That it's almost hard
To notice the wheel of time
Turn
Like a planet on its axis
Like a ball around the sun
We become
The rising generation

Zzzzz

Remembering when
Going to bed
At midnight
Was early
And lame

Remembering when
I wasn't sleepy
Playing until three o'clock
In the morning

Remembering when
I could sleep in
Until nine
Or ten
Or eleven o'clock
Uninterrupted

Good thing
I enjoyed it
While it lasted

In the Engine

Someone
Was searching
For the periodic table
I hope that they were able
To find it

Cozy October

Stripey shirts
Long sleeves
Socks and p.j.s
Layered sweaters
Double blankets
On the bed
Flannel soft
Christmas prints
Crawl under the covers
Shiver cold feet
Cozy warm

Suds Therapy

Life is always
A little easier
And it's easier to be
Optimistic
After a shower
And some clean clothes

A Wednesday

Accidental smiles
Are wonderful
Waking up to a bundle of cuddles
Cannot be described
But sometimes
Being a mom
Is hard

Twinkle Lights

Little flower nightlight
That used to light my room
Now adorns my daughter's
I hope she'll be asleep soon

Over There

We have an orange towel
It's hanging on the bench
It really should be put away
Perhaps I'll do it tomorrow

As If Babies Really Care That Much

Today I made some crinkle toys
Some for girls and some for boys
Why they like them I don't know
But they have been made and so
I'll make them cute and send them on
Mostly to impress their moms

On My Lap

Pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
pat
BURP

The Tragic Fate of the Jack-o-lantern

Pumpkin, pumpkin round and plump
Orange on the bottom with a green little stump
Eyes of triangles and a mouth so dandy
You'll perch on the porch on the night made for candy
But pumpkin, pumpkin round and plump
The day after that you'll be going in the dump

Shades of Orange

I decorated our home for fall today. I love it when things are festive. I love the excitement and the coziness that comes from fall colors and pumpkins and scarecrows and brown and orange and yellow in all their muted shades. Decoration is, of course, unnecessary, but it certainly makes life a little more pleasant. Doesn't it?

(her name)

Daisys in a sea of blue
Cover you cuddled
Sleeping
Dreaming
Cozy
Growing
Already you are not the little one I first met

Who You'll Be

Precious baby asleep on me
Who will you grow up to be?
Will your voice be high?
Will it be low?
What will you grow up to know?
Will your fingers type ten times faster than mine?
Will you be selfish?
Will you be kind?
Will you have your daddy's eyes?
Will your hair grow curly?
Will it grow straight?
Will you stay home to read or get asked on dates?
Will you write like your mommy?
Will you read like your dad?
Will you have talents we've never had?
Oh, precious baby sleeping here
You're a mystery to me
Unfolded only in years

Thoughts on Writing

So I've been told that the poem I wrote for yesterday's post didn't make sense. On the contrary, it makes perfect sense to me. I could explain it, but... no. I thought of changing it, giving it some punctuation, etc., etc., but... no. It makes sense to me. And although I think it's a pretty fair argument that the purpose of words and language in general is to communicate with others, I feel fine about doing the hokey pokey every now and then just for the sake of turning myself about even if nobody else understands what's going on.

Nothing Is Better Than Nothing Is

Having Oreos for lunch
Taking a walk... to the mailbox
Wearing flip flops to church when you're pregnant
Wearing a swimsuit
Ice chips when you're thirsty
Only owning season two of West Wing
When the VCR/ DVD player only plays video tapes
Cereal for dinner
Taking children's gummy vitamins... past age ten
Using scratchy paper towels to blow your nose
Hydrating with soda
Any cheddar cheese that's not Tillamook
Using the automatic editing tools on the computer
Eating plain M&M's

None Tonight

Sometimes, unsure of what to write,
I pause and look around the room
Hoping for some secret muse
To pop out at me, arms waving.

When none offers itself up
A sacrifice to the volcano gods of writing
I find myself writing nothings.

Ta da.

Dear salt lick,

I can relate.

Three In The Morning

Little eyes
Peep open
Adorable?
Yes
But I wish they were
Sleeping
So I could do the same

Call Me Oregonian

The first mark of an Oregonian is that we actually refer to ourselves as Oregonians. Nobody else in the nation even knows that that's what you call somebody from Oregon. The second mark of a true Oregonian is a near obsession with the rain. And I've got it.

I love the summer sun and fun days at the beach or the park, but nothing makes me feel the way the rain does. I think the only time I find myself disappointed that it's raining is when I've planned an outdoor party (like my birthday party. Sad day. At least we got to play with the parachute). Everybody and their mom says they love the way the rain smells, and I do, but even more than that I love how the sky takes on it's hue of overcast gray and lets out the beautiful pit-pat-pat-pit-pit of raindrops on the world. Can't you just hear the sound of rain falling in a tin can? Or on the plastic overhang on the side patio? I can.

Oregonians also know how to puddle-hop. This was a talent I took for granted until my husband and I started dating and going for long walks all the time. Even in the dark I had no problems stepping or daintily (I'm so sure) leaping over the puddles in my path. Meanwhile, my poor, doting hand-holder was walking around with wet feet. I tried to teach him, but to no avail.

Another thing about rain- there are different kinds. Downpour, torrential downpour, just rain, spittle rain (makes me itchy), the list goes on. Just rain, or a good hard rain (especially when you're already crying anyway) are my favorites.

Perhaps my favorite way to get caught in the rain is wearing a cozy hoodie. I picture myself running in from the parking lot in high school wearing one of the many promotional sweatshirts from the plays I was in. Why on earth did I ever pack those away in a box and leave them at home? I miss them. They are like old friends. So many memories.

Life feels right when it's raining on the world. Perhaps that's why I find myself feeling so thrilled every time it rains here in this place I'm in that's not Oregon. Today about lunch time we heard the thunder roll in loud and booming. I started feeling excited. Then, the torrential downpour began. It was one of those rains that comes down in sheets and makes the spaces in between the color of trees and buildings look white. I couldn't help myself- I got up from my lunch to join my two year-old nephew on the balcony to watch the rain.

Ahh. Everything is beautiful.

It Makes For A Happy Home

Thank goodness for husbands
Who sweep the floor
And smile as they wash
One dish more
Who make the dinner
And clean it up too
Because they know
They feel better than you

On My Table

Sewing machine
Surrounded by
Cups left over from dinner
An empty box of cereal
Bean bags waiting to be filled
A pile of scraps
Bryan's pocket contents
And some yummy cinnamon rolls
Which will probably be the first
To go

Due

Another day
Has come and gone
No baby here
No happy song
Rejoicing in
Her timeliness
So I'll sit
And wait I guess
Hoping for
Another day
When she'll come out
To stay

The Things I See From Here

A bucket of pinto beans from 1973
30 jumbo rolls of toilet paper
The sewing machine
A pile of scraps
The stars that always fall when we shut the door too hard
The frisbee
A new phone book

An empty cookie jar
Just waiting to be filled

Colorful Alphabet

Colorful alphabet
On my floor
Yellow
Green
Orange
Red
Heathered Gray
Waiting to be sewn
And waiting
Even longer
To be played with

It Was Clean This Morning

Piles of scraps
Piles of squares
Piles of blankets
Piles of cords
Piles of clothes
Piles of dishes
Piles of movies
Piles of books
How did the house get so messy?

Puttering

Little projects
Every day
To pass the time

Needle and thread
Buttons and pearls
And fabric

Stitches in
Stitches out
Goes the week

Tidy up
Each night
Messy in the morning

Trying to keep busy
Waiting for the day
When she'll arrive

Little Stitches

Sewing for a
Three year-old
Is so forgiving
Ignore the puckers
The crooked stitches
The funky colors
Most importantly
It is pink
And purple
And can cuddle
And tuck in
Her dolly

Family Night

Family night
Is so much fun
That's why we have it
Every week

First a welcome
Then a prayer
Then a lesson
And something sweet

Not to mention
Activity
When we play
As a family

Oh family night
Is so much fun
It makes a Monday
Happy

Pandora

Sometimes
A song plays one thing
And I hear another

Sometimes
It plays
"Blackbird singin' in the dead of night"
And I hear Brawn teasing
And I can't help but laugh

Sometimes
Missy Higgins is singing
And all I hear is Marae
Singing with her hair hanging down over the guitar
Her feet are barefoot
And blackened
And there are grapefruits rotting in her car
Which she is happy about

Sometimes
John Schmidt is playing the piano
But instead of my empty apartment
While I'm home during the day
I feel Emily close by
And think of writing missionaries
And trying to survive being lonely
Together

Sometimes
It plays one song
And I hear another
Songs I will never hear on the radio
Songs I used to hear at two in the morning
In the Terrace lobby
After we had gotten Brawn drunk on sleep deprivation
And he would play us his heartaches
And crushes
And I would think of mine

Somewhere
There is a place
Reserved for two
I found mine
Marae found hers
Emily found hers
I wonder
Sometimes
About Brawn
Is he still waiting?

Nine Months Pregnant

One, two
I can't unbuckle my shoe
Three, four
It's hard to sit on the floor
Five, six
Pick up your own sticks for goodness sake
Seven, eight
It's quite the wait
Nine, ten
We'll see how this one goes before we do it again

Truth Number Twenty Five

Nothing
Motivates cleaning
Like visitors

Truth Number Twenty Four

Barfing
Really
Takes it out of you

Question Number Two

How many times
In the past nine months
Have I thrown up while brushing my teeth?

Truth Number Twenty Three

I spy
With my little eye
Something that is red

Question Number One

Why on earth
Did I write so many pages
While Bryan was on his mission?

Truth Number Twenty Two

August eighteenth
Would be a wonderful day
For this baby girl to be born

Truth Number Twenty One

Words cannot express
My profound gratitude for
Indoor pluming

Truth Number Twenty

I think I finally
Got the hang
Of Bang

Truth Number Neunzehn

Hu und Hott
Are waiting patiently
For baby

Truth Number Eighteen

I always have to double check
The spelling of
Numbers larger than twelve

Truth Number Seventeen

Tonight
The war begins
Against the box elder bugs

Truth Number Sixteen

I am so bad
At typing
Exclamation points

Truth Number Fifteen

Today I saw Kara and Clark
With King Kong cones
At least I had my doughnuts

Truth Number Fourteen

I am the Rummikub champion
Of the day
Oh snap what my name is

Truth Number Thirteen

I am so excited
To have the baby
On the outside

Truth Number Twelve

I'm not entirely sure
What oilcloth is
But it's very hard to find

Truth Number Eleven

There is a whole library's worth
Of children's books
I would like to own

Truth Number Ten

Spending time
With the Spendloves
Always makes me hyper

Truth Number Nine

Picking out one name
For a baby you've never seen
Is hard

Truth Number Eight

There is a pair
Of pink flip flops
Clipped to the front door

Truth Number Seven

My cheese-slice-to-cracker ratio
Unfortunately
Was not one-to-one

Truth Number Six

The remote control
Quit
Despite my enticing it with fresh batteries

Truth Number Five

I am so tired
That my head hurts
But I don't feel like falling asleep

Truth Number Four

There are piles and piles
Of clothes in our room
And I'm not entirely sure what's clean

Truth Number Three

Al Capone
Does not
Do my shirts

Truth Number Two

The home phone
Is lying face down
On the floor

Truth Number One

My purse
Is full of
Pockets

Innocence At Almost Twenty Three

My husband
Is very intently
And carefully
Looking at pictures
And a grid
Trying very persistently
To draw
A dinosaur

Pioneer Day

Went to the pioneer village
So hot
Walked around the museum
Not quite as hot
Walked back outside
So hot
Barely made it to the car
So hot
Went home
Turned on the air conditioner
And the fan
Ahh
Much better
Played solitare
And text twist
Watched West Wing
While Bryan hung out with the guys
Bryan came home
Rented a board game
Ate birthday burgers at Red Robin
Took some left over steak fries to Lance
Since he works at the mall
Checked the movies at the dollar theater
Played games with Kendra and Chris
And Jenny and Kyle
And then with Lance and Andrea
And Kegan and Amanda
Ate so much junk food
Jumbo Cheetos
Doritos
Soda
Mint Oreos and milk
Ice cream sandwich
Came home
Time for bed
Happy Pioneer Day

Here's Hopin'

Maternity eternity
I hope it's over soon
I hope your baby boy will come
You'll deflate like a balloon
Maternity eternity
I hope it's over now
And that you're holding Ethan
Who I'm sure will be really cute

(I dedicate this poem to my sister-in-law Hillary who has been tortured by pregnancy long enough!)

Kindergarten Sunshine

Sunshine

held together with staples
Clouds
puffed with newspaper
Little hand prints
surrounding the calendar
Trees and grass
of crumpled paper stapled to the wall
Lists of colors
with magnets on the back
Puppets
sleeping in their container
These are the things
a Kindergarten classroom is made of

Today's To-dos

Safe seat
Clean closet
Delectable dinner
Nifty neighbors
Bratty Bryan

Old Roommates

Old roommates
Make faithful friends
Perhaps it is because
They become something of sisters
Simply by living together day in and day out
Sometimes they drove you nuts
And sometimes you drove them nuts
When you forgot to wash your dishes
Or you were taking up too much room in the fridge
Mostly you love them
And laugh with them a lot
You know all their secrets
And since they know all of yours
Their secrets are pretty safe with you
And when you've grown up and gotten married
Or simply moved away
You find yourself missing
Running errands with them
And going on walks late at night
And sitting at home watching old re-runs
And the same ten movies you're all sick of
You know them so well
And they know you so well
And like you anyway
Perhaps that is why
Old roommates
Make faithful friends

Hiccups?

Bump.
Bump.
Bump.
Something inside is beating
Trying to get out through
My belly button?

Brain Dead

Someday
I'll think of something to say
But today
I cannot

Oh Bollywood

You mix karma with hip-hop
All of your women are beautiful and slim
Or old and flabby
Your films are so long
And your dancing and music have little
(Or nothing at all)
To do with the plot
What color you bring to life
And what nonsense

A Few Favorite Goodbyes

See ya soon
Ya big buffoon

See ya now
Ya big fat cow

...I guess by a few I mean two.


I guess I took the whole being still thing a little too seriously and was so still that I forgot to write for two days. Oops! Anyway...

Being Still

Our usual Sunday school class was canceled this past week. And since it's the summer and some of the Sunday school classes have been downsized, almost the entire ward was packed into the Relief Society room for Gospel Doctrine. Now don't get me wrong- the teacher was great and I love being with the ward, but I had a really hard time sitting through class. In the first place, I haven't been to a regular Gospel Doctrine class in about a year. When Bryan and I first moved into the ward we were called as ward missionaries and were asked to attend the Gospel Essentials class with the rest of the ward missionaries and the one investigator. Well, the one investigator got baptized and so finally a few months ago they dissolved the Gospel Essentials class and we started to attend the marriage and family Sunday school class. This class, like Gospel Essentials, is a lot more laid back since only four or five couples actually attend it. Bryan and I regularly end up in giggle fits and because things are so much less formal I don't feel like I'm being irreverent when I eat my pregnancy snacks during class. But sitting in Gospel Doctrine (in the front row because we didn't make a V-line for Sunday school the moment Sacrament Meeting got out) in a room packed full of everyone in the ward made me feel a little sheepish about getting out my yogurt and granola bars, let alone making funny comments to Bryan. I ended up taking a quick snack break out in the hall and then tried very hard to sit still during the rest of the lesson, but it was hard.

Last weekend Bryan's grandpa passed away and, as a result, his entire family flew in for the funeral. It was great to have them there, but it certainly made our weekend a lot busier. With two trips to the airport and three or four trips back and forth between Provo and the Ogden area, Bryan and I were on the go. We got to spend a lot of good time with his family and, because of this, I wasn't sitting around as much as usual. This was great, but by Sunday night when I was falling asleep I began to worry. By the time you get to be so far along in pregnancy your doctor and any pregnancy book you read will tell you to start "counting kicks." This means you're supposed to start paying close attention to how much your baby moves so that if you notice a big drop or a complete lack of movement you can let the doctor know. Well, as I was lying in bed Sunday night not feeling any movement I tried thinking back over the previous few days, trying to recall if I had felt my baby girl move around much. Finally I came to the somewhat panicked conclusion that I hadn't felt her move much at all that weekend. Monday afternoon was the funeral, but I woke up early Monday morning and called the doctor. The nurse there said I needed to come in to have the baby monitored, so Bryan and I drove over to the doctor's office where they strapped me up to a machine that follows the baby's heart rate and some other things. I knew then and I know now that it was a fairly routine check, but I couldn't help feeling a little scared and overwhelmed. I didn't talk much and I swallowed hard a few times to keep myself from crying.

Everything was fine. Likely I just hadn't felt the baby move as much because I had been up and doing things all weekend and movement will often rock babies to sleep when they're in the womb. As the kind nurse was unstrapping me she gave me some pointers on what to do if I ever felt a lack of movement again. "Lay down for an hour. If you still haven't counted ten movements in an hour, have a snack and lay down for another hour. If you still haven't counted ten movements after that, give us a call." She wasn't mocking me or accusing me of being overly worried. She knew that a baby who wasn't moving could be in real danger. But she also knew from years of experience that I could save myself a lot of time, trips to the doctor's office, and personal panic if I spent some time just being still.

I found myself thinking about this later that day during the funeral services for Bryan's grandpa. Either because somebody quoted it during their remarks or because the mood of the room was such, my mind kept tracing over the words in Doctrine and Covenants 101:16, "Be still and know that I am God." As I considered the chapel full of Bryan's family there for the funeral and the general peace and calm that filled the room, I thought of stillness and that the reason this room full of relatives could be so peaceful was because of their knowledge of the plan of salvation. They were sad to see their father and grandfather go, but they knew that they would see him again. There was no sense of panic or worry at their loss. They were there to console one another and mourn together and just to be together at one of life's crossroads. There was nothing they could do to change the change, but they gathered to witness it together. They were busy in their work of consolation and remembrance, but as a whole they were peaceful and steady and still.

I've been thinking about being still a lot lately and I have come to the conclusion that it is one of those essential things in life. I think it's one of those extremely basic lessons we're supposed to learn while we're here. It's not always easy to be still. Often it's tempting to eat snacks and giggle instead. Sometimes it seems like we don't have time to be still. And I think because it's a challenge, I am all the more convinced of its importance. You know, kind of the principle of "Slow down. You move too fast. You've got to make the moment last." I don't necessarily think we're always supposed to go around feeling groovy, but I think Heavenly Father wants us to learn to not always be in such a rush. I think he wants us to learn to enjoy the moment, to not hurry through big decisions, to have time to look at roses and butterflies and bugs in the dirt. Of course we're supposed to work hard and do a lot of things in this life, but I think there is something eternal in the principle of stillness.

A Smile On My Face

Good news
Lights one up
From the inside
Because you can remember it
And be happy
Even after you threw up your blueberry yogurt

We Went To Birthing Class Today

Giving birth
Sounds somewhat terrifying
And quite painful
To say the very least.
Thank heavens
(Seriously)
There's a beautiful baby
At the end of it all.
What a beginning.

Hmm...

To write
To write
Perhaps I might
Go to bed
Instead

What It Takes to Write

I always feel I have to explain/ excuse myself in some way any time I miss a day since the goal that I've plastered all over this blog is that I'll write every day. I often find that I'm ready to move past the fact that I missed a day and just move forward, but I can't yet. Thinking about this and all the reasons I haven't written every single day lately has gotten me thinking about writing and all that goes into it and why I made this goal in the first place. Here's the thing: it takes effort to write. Sure,

"Any idiot
Can write haiku just stop on
The seventeenth syll..."

but to truly write takes time to think. To write from the heart takes even more. Also, for me personally, it takes quiet time alone to be able to construct something meaningful out of words. I need the music off, nobody around talking, and nobody looking over my shoulder. With our internet not working at home for about a week and a big family gathering happening away from home (where I couldn't retreat to be someplace by myself) I simply had to put writing on hold. That's okay. Life is like that sometimes, certainly. And of course participating in real life is more important than writing about it. But it's nice to be back home in the quiet and to have the internet working again so I can plunk away by myself for a while in the quiet of our little apartment.

Do You Smell Something?

It's gross to be
As sweaty as me
Oh pregnancy
How you tease me

Uh Oh

Sleeping through the night
Is already a problem
And she's still inside

July 4th, 2009

Awake
Strawberries
Blueberries
Waffles
Airport
Chris
Anna
Sophie!
Sandwiches
Chips
Settlers
Settlers
Packing
Driving
Shopping
Burgers
Milkshake
Fireworks
Settlers
Toothbrush
Goodnight
Zzz

*Just for the record, I did actually write this yesterday, but I didn't have access to the internet to post it until now. So, no failure! Yay!

Fourth of July in Provo

Oh Fourth of July in Provo
You make me want to
Use back roads
And stay inside
I think of past memories
And wonder how dumb they can be
Those city planners who
Block off an entire square in the city
What dummies
I think I will
Avoid the parade
And the runners
And all the crazies who camp out all night
Just to watch the parade
Which isn't even so great
And instead
I will eat waffles with
Strawberries for red
Blueberries for blue
Whipped topping for white
It will be so festive
And includes no traffic
What could be better?
Perhaps only
Anna's crepes
Mmm

Cabin Fever

Maybe I will win a free vacation
Sometime in
January, perhaps
All expenses paid
To someplace tropical
That would be grand

Fourth of July Cat

Fourth of July cat,
Fourth of July cat,
Why do you explode and explode like that?
Neither I nor the kids
Like that splat
So scat!
Fourth of July cat!


This is a re-write of a much-loved song that I learned while working at the BYU preschool. The original is as follows:

Halloween Cat

Halloween cat,
Halloween cat,
Why do you meow and meow like that?
Neither I nor the moon
Like that tune
So scat!
Halloween cat!

This song took a turn for the morbid, however, when one day as I was walking in and out of the classroom while the kids were singing this song I found that the song playing through my head was actually combining with another song ("Bubble Gum" the first line of which goes, "Bubble gum. Bubble gum. Chewy chewy chewy chewy chewy bubble gum."). Since these two songs have fairly similar rythms, they were easily mixed up/ combined. The result came out as:

Halloween cat,
Halloween cat,
Chewy, chewy, chewy, chewy, chewy,
Halloween cat...

After that little incident I have been inspired multiple times to change the words to the original into more morbid things, like the Fourth of July Cat song that I displayed at the beginning.

Summer Vacation

Well, I'm all done working until the baby comes! (There is a slight chance I might work for a week or so right before she comes, but I'm waiting to see how I feel then.) I finished working as a preschool teacher back in April, I was a nanny for a little bit and that finished, and since then I've been working as a school crossing guard. Not that I don't take this job seriously- I do- but being a crossing guard for summer school has been a bit of a joke. Summer school at the elementary school I cross for lasted through the month of June and I think for that entire time I crossed and grand total of (drum roll please...) one child who was actually attending summer school! I crossed some neighbor kids a few times and they always asked me why I was still there. Yesterday I crossed a few older school-age girls and when they asked why I was there I told them it was because of summer school. They told me they were pretty sure nobody in their neighborhood was taking summer school. I told them I was pretty sure they were right. But no complaints. I have enjoyed sitting outdoors in my camping chair in a bright yellow vest in the mornings and reading the Little House books. I also occasionally crossed adults, but usually the adults who came through my area were joggers/ runners and they had sprinted across the street before I had a chance to ask if they needed to cross. No biggie. They are pretty good at watching for cars and not getting hit. So, mostly it has been a very low-key job (great for me and my oh-so-pregnant belly these days). However, there have been at least four (mildly) exciting things have happened while I've been on the job.

1. A bird used the crosswalk. Birds fly over that street all the time, but this bird flew down really close and flew right above the crosswalk. I wish I would have known. I would have held up my little stop sign for it. But it made it across okay.

2. I was tormented by a wasp. The little jerk thought he was real funny teasing me one day when I was trying to put away my little key that turns on and off the flashing school zone lights. All I had to do was turn off the last light and lock the key in its box and then I could go home. I think the wasp knew that. Right as I would finally think it had disappeared somewhere it would show up and buzz around the place where I needed to finish things up. I must have stood there waiting out that wasp for ten minutes. Finally, out of desperation, I said a quick prayer and asked for Heavenly Father's help. After the prayer I felt prompted to throw a rock at the wasp. I'll admit I hesitated a minute to do it. There were some Mexican guys who work at the ranch right next to where the flashing lights are who were just standing there watching me, which made me feel even more dumb. But I decided I'd said my prayer and so I'd better follow through, so I threw a rock at the wasp. I don't think I hit it (I don't really know), but I never saw it again. I finally turned off the flashing lights and locked up the key and went home.

3. A cop came to patrol the area one day. This was great. People speed through my traffic-cone-adorned, school-zone-lights-flashing, me-in-my-yellow-vest-and-stop-sign area all day without a thought that there might actually be a child around that they could hit. (Lucky for them there aren't really any kids around, but they don't know that.) I'm always pretty ashamed of the way people drive through that school zone. But, let's face it, there isn't exactly a whole lot I can do about it. When I was trained, my supervisor told me to not worry about it, but if cars ever sped through really fast, to go ahead and write down their information (license plate number, description of car, description of driver, etc.). Then I could call her with the information and she would pass it on to her supervisor (a cop) who would either write the person a nasty note or show up at their door and give them a little scare. This sounds like a fairly reasonable idea, except I'm still curious as to whether or not she was kidding when she told me this. Have you ever tried to write down that much information about a car that went speeding past you? By the time you think to yourself, "Hey, that car is going way too fast!" there is hardly time to see the license plate number, let alone get something out to write it down on. So mostly I just shook my head at the cars that sped through. But having the cop there was great. I think she pulled over three cars while I was there that day. There were plenty of other people speeding through that she could have pulled over, but you can't exactly make people wait while you go to pull over another car. Anyway, it was rewarding to watch after seeing so many people not take my flashing lights seriously.

4. Somebody totally drove over my traffic cones! This happened today and boy was I wishing that cop had been there to pull the person over. Little jerk. I had to walk out into the middle of the road and set them back up. And now there is a tire mark on one of my beautiful orange cones. How disgraceful.

Since today is the last day of June and summer school is over, I now get to just hang our and do pretty much whatever needs to be done/ whatever I feel like doing until the baby comes. I'm pretty sure this is going to be the least-stressful time for the rest of my life. I'm gonna try and enjoy it.

Thirty One Weeks

I technically (and hopefully) only have nine more weeks of being pregnant. The excitement is setting in. The fear is setting in. And so is the water. I think my body was paying a little bit too much attention during the family night lesson I gave on food storage a couple of weeks ago. It's like my body is storing up enough water to keep me hydrated until the Second Coming. And yet I am still thirsty.

"My fingers are like sausages." This is what I think to myself every time I wash my hands, which I do a lot considering how often I need to use the restroom these days. Also, my shoes don't fit. All I can wear now are flip-flops and the off-brand Crocs I bought for myself last week. I don't look quite as nice at church, but I think Elder Oaks would overlook my flip-flop wearing in Sacrament Meeting if he knew me personally and saw (and smelled) what it is like when I try to wear my regular church shoes.

All of this can only mean one thing: the baby is growing ripe for delivery! Let's just hope she comes out early, healthy, naturally, painlessly, and looking more beautiful than any of the other babies that are born that day. I don't think that's too much to ask.

Goodnight

I am tired
And there is a small person moving inside me
Which, frankly, feels weird
And I still need to brush my teeth
And change out of these clothes
And read scriptures with my hubby
And say my prayers
And close my eyes
And go to sleep
So
I'm going to go do that
Goodnight

Three Guesses

Facial Expressions
Monkeys
Building Big

These are the books I see when I look up.
Can you guess a few interests of my husband?
I'll give you three guesses.
I bet you won't need a fourth.

Baa

Three on top,
Two on the sides,
Zero around the ears
And at the bottom of the neck.
This is the way I shear my sheep,
My husband.

I Have Failed Again

I offer up this post as a sacrifice to the writing gods to make up for yesterday's missing post.

So I realized about ten minutes ago when I was cutting Bryan's hair that I forgot to write yesterday. I'm not sure why I thought about it then, but so it goes. In any case, both times now when I have forgotten and realized my failure I have been tempted to quit all together and simply give up on my goal, convinced that I've already proven myself incapable. And that has gotten me thinking about failure.

Failure is such a huge part of this mortal life. I mean, think about all of the failures we experience just in the process of learning to walk! But I'm glad that I didn't quit trying to learn how to walk the first or second or one hundred and twelfth time I fell down. In fact, I'm really, really glad I didn't give up on trying to walk. That's a skill I appreciate having every day of my life. And here's another thing about it: nobody expected me to give up on learning to walk when I was a baby and I kept on tumbling over. They just smiled and helped me up and clapped excitedly when I did get it right.

I wish I would think of other people's failures more in that light instead of jumping into judgments like I often do. I know it's terrible of me, but sometimes I'll see someone attempt a goal and I'll think, "They can't do it," and then somehow I feel a certain sense of self-pride if they do fail after all. I offer up this mean side of myself as an example of what not to do because I think, truly, we ought to look at failure as a building block rather than a reason to quit. So, please, don't be like me (unless you're learning how to walk).

Considering all this, I have decided to get back on the metaphorical horse and keep on going with my goal to write every day. My mother always taught me that "if it's worth doing, it's worth doing good enough." As I've told that to various people over the years I've gotten various reactions. Most of my perfectionist friends were appalled by this notion (and didn't seem to notice that my "good enough" book report posters were earning me the same high grades as their perfectionist ones that they spent far too much time working on and then redoing after they wrote something slightly crooked). I think people misunderstand this idea as meaning that you shouldn't do your best work or try your best. That's not what it means. What it means is that you should do your best and not stress out about every tiny little failure. If it's not going to matter to the teacher that one word is slightly crooked on your poster then leave it and move on with life so you can get to other more important things. Or, put another way, don't print the entire thing off in super duper laser jet color when regular black and white is going to get the job done. I've run away with myself a little, but the point I was trying to make in bringing up this idea of doing things good enough is that we wear ourselves out by expecting perfection from the very imperfect selves that we are. Perfection is our ultimate goal, of course, but let's not kid ourselves into thinking that we're expected to attain it before we die. If we could, there certainly wouldn't be much need for a Savior. (For more thoughts on this I would direct you to Stephen E. Robinson's book Believing Christ.)

And so, I ackowledge my need for a billion second chances as I keep trying to get things right. I hope you'll just smile when I fall down (again and again) and focus on the things I do happen to do right.

It's Okay to Be Happy

Sad things happen
And it's okay to cry
And it's okay to wake up the next morning
And cry again
But it's also okay to be happy
Even if something sad has happened

I sometimes find myself thinking
That nobody will take my sadness seriously
And know that I'm sincere
If I smile later
Or laugh and giggle
Or do something silly
But it's their own fault if they think I'm a liar later
Because it's okay to be happy

In fact
When it comes to life
That's kind of the point

Writing Through My Tears

It's hard to write anything very witty when I'm sad inside. Today was a good day, full of moving furniture out and moving furniture back in as they replaced the carpets in our entire apartment. So most of my physical activity for the day was consumed in preparing for that, waiting, and then putting things back in their place again. But my mind has been on my friend.

I had a dear friend pass away today. His name was Bradley, but mostly I just called him Brad. So did everybody else. I wasn't his best friend. We were close friends, but I'm sure he had a lot of friends closer than me. Brad probably had hundreds of friends.

I first remember meeting Brad when he showed up at auditions for Peter Pan when he was a freshman in high school. I was a junior then. Brad's older sister Kristin was a friend of mine and my older brother, so we were cheering for Brad to do well in auditions. Brad scored a lead role as John and was fantastic at it. I was a lost boy and so was Malcolm, a mutual friend of me and Brad. So, naturally, we became friends.

I know it sounds cheesy to say and if I didn't know Brad I probably wouldn't really believe it, but Brad was one of those people you don't find very often in life. He was never mean to anybody. He was always sweet and nice. If I had been two years younger I would have had a major crush on him, but I was two years older than him and I didn't. Still, there was something addicting to being around Brad. He was just always so genuinely positive. Sure, we'd share in our beefs about life and things going on, but he was just always so much above gossiping and griping about every little thing.

Brad was fun to play with, too. Being with Brad was like being seven years old all the time, not because he was immature, but because he was so pure of heart. He was always so full of laughter and good listening and some of the most fun scheming I've ever known. I always felt comfortable around Brad. I think everybody did. I think that's because Brad felt comfortable around Brad. Gosh, I miss him.

I'm not really sure why, but for some reason today I keep thinking about my senior prom. Brad was my date. It wasn't anything romantic. Like I said before, I never had a crush on Brad and I'm sure he never had a crush on me. I wasn't dating anyone during the time of senior prom and I wanted to go with all of my friends, but nobody had asked me. I didn't mind asking a guy to be my date, but I didn't want to feel awkward all night. So, I asked Brad. I guess he couldn't really say no anyway. After all, he turned out to be one of the only two sophomores that got asked to the junior/ senior prom that year. (As I recall, the other one was his best friend. Lucky Brad. I guess he deserved good things to happen to him though.) Brad and I had a blast that night. We laughed secretly together at the other couples who were really into being romantic. And I think I remember playing hide and seek or something. I don't know. I just remember having a lot of fun.

Brad was diagnosed with cancer a while back. I'm not as good at remembering the details as I should be, but as I recall he went through chemo for a while and got better. That was since I came away to college and I didn't see him much then. I think the last time I remember seeing Brad I was standing on the roof of the old garage at my parents' house, tearing away shingles. Brad came to visit and say hello. I remember looking down at him from the roof. I think I will always remember looking down at him from the roof. Perhaps Brad is looking down on me and his hundreds of other friends and his family now from the garage roof in heaven. That would be so like Brad, to volunteer to help tear off old shingles. Anyway, Brad was doing better for a while. As far as I remember he was doing pretty well when he came to visit me that day when I was on the roof. But for the past while his health had been going downhill. I worried for him and thought about him a lot. I wondered how long he would live, but was ashamed to say so. Then, this morning he passed away.

It sounds cliche, but I know he's in a better place. Not that he didn't want to be here. Brad loved life and everybody in it. I guess that's why I don't worry about him. I'm sure he'll fit in so well in heaven. I just miss him is all. No doubt everybody who ever knew Brad is missing him right now. He deserves to be missed. Brad is worth thinking about all day and missing and crying over. He was so good.

I think, like many, I wish I could have said goodbye. I wish I could have hugged him and laughed with him and watched him be silly one last time. On the other hand, I have no idea how I could have ever said goodbye to Brad. How do say goodbye to a friend who is dying? What do you say? I certainly have no idea. And so things go the way they go. But I think I'll always miss him. And rightly so.

A Great Big Roll of My Eyes

They are putting in new carpet tomorrow
Oh joy
It is like tearing apart the apartment
For no reason

Self-proclaimed

Now that I'm older and wiser
And a day past twenty three
I find that I'm even more indispensable
Than I used to be

A Wonderful Birthday

It's great to be
Twenty three
If you're me
Today

Birthday Eve

'Twis the night before Birthday
And all through the house
Not a person is stirring
And certainly no mouse (eew)
My Birthday stocking is hung
On the door hinge with care
In hopes that some presents
Soon will be there
A Birthday stocking?
You may inquire
A stocking indeed!
But hung over no fire
The parachute stands
At the ready for play
The ice cream is freezing
The cakes have been baked
And perhaps the most magical
Thing here is me
I'll go to bed twenty two
And wake up twenty three

Birthday Poem

Birthday, birthday
Coming soon
Bring on the parachute
And balloons
Presents arriving
In the mail
The next two days
Are going to sail
Soon there'll be cake
And ice cream too
Happy birthday!
From me to...
Well,
Me

Runonsentance

I just realized that I forgot to write something yesterday and I even thought about the fact that I needed to write quite a few times yesterday, but I forgot and then I got busy and then I didn't get back until after midnight and my poor little pregnant body was so upset with me that I could barely function well enough to get myself to bed and fall asleep, so this terrible little run-on sentence is just going to have to do for yesterday's piece of writing.

Listening to Memories

When I was alone and lonely
There were boys who tried to win my heart
So often they would play a song for me
They would think they were melting me down
So they could mold me and make me their own
They thought they were hypnotizing me with the words and the tune
Little did they know
That they chose the wrong songs
It's ironic how wrong the songs were
They were the ones in a trance
Thinking I was falling in love with them
For the words they sang and the tunes they played
Only opened my eyes and made me see even more clearly
That they were not the ones who held my heart
They were not him
Him who had gone away
But who I always knew would come back
Him who loved me once and loved me still
And always will
They sang to me of remembering
They thought it would make me remember them
But I remembered him
And now as I consider
All the boys who tried their hand at songs
I smile
The songs play through
A collection
Of words and tunes that remind me always
Of why I love my husband

Shower Sigh

Shower, shower, what a bore
What a bother, what a chore
To wash
And bend
And shave and rinse
To do and done until and since
And then be wet for hours it seems
All in all and all to be clean
It's nice to be clean, but what a bore
What a bother, what a chore

Lazy Haiku

Five syllables here
Seven syllables here now
Five more syllables

The Last Ten Minutes

Today we went to
The farmer's market in town
To sell granola

Clouds stood by to watch
But they didn't bother us
They looked at onesies

The market was slow
The buyers didn't buy much
The day went slowly

So we played Scrabble
I beat Bryan and Jenny
I really creamed them

Jenny left early
She went to be with family
Bryan and I stayed

We packed up at two
Then the rain started to fall
It began to pour

Cue the wild wind
Canopies began to fly
We covered things fast

We had good neighbors
Who helped us hold things down tight
And fold things up fast

Two branches fell down
But our neighbor was okay
We hurried faster

I ran to the car
To and fro I ran with things
Everything was wet

Another branch fell
It was the size of a car
And it fell on top of one

The wind was so mad
It vanquished the burritos
And the hair ribbons

We scrambled inside
And shut the doors of the car
And sighed with relief

Windshield wipers flashed
We cautiously hurried home
And out of that storm

Shop Closed

I'm not ready to write yet.
My creative juice bar has not yet opened shop for the day.
That's a shame, really.
Speaking of which...
I hate the Thanksgiving Point ads
Really.
A whole beautiful big place like that
And they can't hire a real marketing person?
I guess that's mean to say.
If I were the marketing person
Hearing someone say that about me would
Make me feel like trash.
Speaking of which...
There's a lot of trash in our apartment right now.
Mostly there's a big pile of empty boxes and things by the door.
Does anyone need an empty shoe box?
I have one.
Actually, I have two, but I think I'm going to use one.
If I don't, you may have it.
...
That didn't lead me to any other train of thought.
That's how much I'm out of creative juice.
I guess all I have to say is:
Shop closed.

In Reply to Mom

I'll preface this by directing you first to my mom's post here. Then come back.

I don't think I function well when the house is cluttered. I was going to say that I don't think I function well in chaos, but I'm not sure about that. I think back to when I worked for a catering company and a lot of it seemed pretty chaotic most of the time. I will admit that it threw me for a loop at first--the first banquet I was in charge of could have gone better--but I picked up on things pretty quickly and actually really enjoyed most of my time spent at work there. So I think I do okay in chaos, especially if it's exciting and full of fun people, but clutter is different. Clutter is debilitating.

Sure, I can function with the day-to-day clutter. A lot of times it's probably necessary to have a few things out of their designated place just so I don't go insane opening drawers and cupboards all the time. But here's what I'm trying to get to: I'm most motivated to do things when the house is clean. Ever since the end of last week when I was busy working on things to sell at the farmer's market, the house has been a disaster. There were even buttons strewn all about the living room floor for an entire day until Lisa came over to visit and started picking them up. (God bless sister-in-laws.)

I practically sat around for the first two days of this week, not motivated to do anything except sit at the computer where the mess couldn't get on me. Then, well, I'm not really sure what happened, but yesterday I came home from running errands and found myself sorting through papers. By the end of the night I had completely reorganized our back storage closet (again) and emptied out two big drawers and re-filled them with other things and, in general, played tetris with at least 30% of everything we own.

I was hot and sticky when I was done, but looking at all of our things in their organized and more celestial state made me feel calm. I feel especially accomplished about the rearranging I did yesterday because I wasn't just stuffing things in boxes (except for the fabric) and pushing things under the bed. I was very careful to put things in places that made sense. My goal in organizing our home was to make it so that things would look nice and be able to remain orderly long after we had pulled things out and then put them away again and again. I sorted colored art paper and felt into hanging files. I put the box of gift wrap in the front of the closet since we'll need to get to that box a lot more often than our winter coats or the holiday decorations. I put the small things on the small shelves and the big things on the big shelves. I put the toolbox on a shelf where we have enough room to open it right there on the shelf to get out the tape measure and the screw driver, which is mostly what we do with the toolbox. I tried to make the things in our apartment make sense so that our lives could make more sense.

Because I don't believe that a house is liveable just because things are picked up. I think a house is peaceful when I can think to myself, "Hmm. I think I'll do this or that," and it doesn't require me to pull twelve boxes off of a shelf in order to get to the one box I need. If that is the case, I've talked myself out of doing whatever it is I wanted to do just at the thought of having to take the twelve boxes down. Working around the house shouldn't feel like a constant chore. It should at least be as simple as it can be.

I said I didn't really know what got me started cleaning, but that's not true. Thinking back, now, I realize what it was that got me sorting those papers in the first place. It was the baby. We rearranged the apartment once already--moving the big desk out and replacing it with a crib and other baby furniture--in anticipation of the baby girl who will be joining our family in about three months. There were, however, still a few boxes and other things left in her room which I wanted to try and move to other places in the apartment. I kept thinking to myself that her nap time will likely be the only time I'll be able to work on projects and it would be hard to work on projects if the materials were being stored in the room where she was sleeping. It didn't make sense. So I started by emptying out the one last drawer of random things and ended by declaring her room truly baby-only. Well, it is baby-only enough, at least. She's just going to have to learn to share a room with the ironing board for now.

The Getting Ready For Bed Game

My poor husband
He comes home late at night
Tired from working on homework so long
Thinking it's time for bed
Only to find that I've been busy
Tearing the apartment apart
Making a big mess
So I can organize
Instead of brushing my teeth
And getting jammies on
I'm still walking
From room to room
With stuff
And I ask him to bring me things
And to put things up here and over there
He does my bidding
And still manages to brush his teeth
And get his jammies on
And now he sits on the floor waiting for me
It seems to me he's always winning
At the getting ready for bed game

Playing House

Is only fun when you're in the mood to do the dishes
And pick things up off the floor
Which is hard when you step it up to the next level
And start preparing for a baby doll
Which makes your belly quite large
Which makes it hard to bend over
And pick things up off the floor
Thank heavens for boys
Who are in the mood to do the dishes
And pick things up off the floor

Blanket Stitch

Wind around
Up through
Pull tight
Wind around
Up through
Pull tight
Wind around up
Through pull tight
Wind around up
Through pull tight
Wind around up through
Pull tight
Wind around up through
Pull tight
Wind around up through pull tight
Wind around up through pull tight
Wind around up through pull tight
Windaround upthough pulltight
Windaround upthr
Pick
At
Stitches
Pick
At
Stitches
Pick
At
Stitches
PICK
AT
STUPID
AWFUL
DUMB
Flowing thread
Winds around
Up through
Pull tight
Wind around up through pull tight
Wind around up through pull tight
Windaroundupthroughpulltight
Windaroundupthroughpulltight
Windaroundupthroughpulltight
Wind around
Up through
Pull tight
Knot
Knot
Knot
Snip