what's up weekly.

nothing happened last week.

happy weekend.

my recovery in his sickness.

he hasn't slept in hours, though he wants to and needs it.  his eyes rimmed red, swollen, voice gravelled from pleading, and what can i do?  it's a minor sickness, and certain to be gone within a day or two, but that brings no reassurance to a baby who is only now, for the first time, realizing that there is such a thing as a fall.

so we rock.  his hot little body wrapped up in fleece, his snot on my shoulder, we rock.  the weight of his head presses, releases, presses, releases with the force of gravity, and i stroke his soft blonde hairs.

i don't know why i do it.  i have never been one to coddle illness, but i rather take to it as though to punish it for trespassing upon our family.  i rarely have the time or patience to cuddle sick little ones, though i'm not entirely frigid and do encourage lots of blankets and couch-time and even movies and treats.  after all, it is not the child's fault for getting sick but rather the fault of the illness itself for daring to show up uninvited and without so much as a hostess gift.  but it's not my fault either, and daily life cannot stop for a runny nose.  there are dishes to do, other children to occupy!

but now, today, with two other healthy children underfoot and plenty of messes to both perpetrate and sentence, i rock my smallest and do not wish i was elsewhere.  it is dark where we are, and secluded, and the air is warm, cozy, bordering on stuffy.  i sit, my back aching, in a spindle rocker purchased at a garage sale from a woman i can only assume is a good six inches shorter than i.  the chair has no seat pad, though i've made do with a lumpy pillow unfit for sleeping on, and i've positioned myself so that my spine curves between the spindles that compose the back of the chair.  i lean my head back against the top arch of the rocker and rest the baby on my chest.

his hot breath is a necklace as i sing the regular hymns.  his inhales are interrupted by his attempts to suck his principal fingers - he can only breathe through his mouth since wind in his nose just rattles around and stops dead before ever entering his lungs.  both of us struggle to relax into this.

but then, slightly, softly, i feel his chest bump-bumping against mine.  my heart beats bigger and slowly compared to his quick (though slowing) rhythm.  our hearts are beating against each other, through my shirt, through the fleece, through the fever just under his skin.  and i think about the days when we shared a body, when our lives were completely woven together and there was no separation.  but i am more intimate with him now than then.  i can smell him and feel the heaviness of him in my arms and i know the deep blue of his eyes.  we're not together, hearts together, now because of necessity or pure biology, but because of comfort and warmth and being known and choice.

his labored breathing eases and slows, and i stop singing but keep rocking.  i pray for him and he is asleep.  i keep rocking.  now it's just for my own comfort, relishing the little life that has been entrusted to me, and grateful for the glimmer of contentedness in the muck and exhaustion of motherhood.

i lay him down, curled up, finally at rest.  i go lightly out the door and pull it closed behind me, better now, finally at rest.

video vednesday: eating has been around since the medieval times. and colors has been around since the 1950's.

happy birthday, a bag of skittles.




(i seriously wanted to simply use a transcript of this entire video as the title of today's post.  NEED I SAY MORE?!)

i think this dream is showing up about thirteen years late.

hey, so i know how you're probably all, 'i have the weirdest dreams,' and i know how whenever you say that, there's at least two or twenty people that are like, 'no, i have the weirdest dreams.  you lose, sucker.'  and then you go home and fall asleep with tears on your pillow and then don't dream anything weird.  i know how depressing that can be; i feel you.

HOWEVER.

i really did have a weird dream the other night, so i'm going to brag on it.  stop reading now if it's too difficult for you to bear.

i was newly married to mike seaver.  (WHAT?!  you better know what i'm talking about, Child of the Eighties.  and you better know every single word to the theme song.  or we can't be friends.)  no, not kirk cameron.  mike seaver.  and me and mike went to visit his sister, tracey gold, and his mom, joanna something.  i know this is getting confusing since mike seaver is a character and tracey gold is the actress who played his sister, but let's keep up and move on, shall we?

anyway.  tracey gold was pregnant but you couldn't tell.  and joanna something was mean and frigid and very upset that i kept breaking the crystal chandelier bobbies that she had hidden all over the house.  then i clumsily broke these ones that she had hidden in a drawer under the coffee table, and can i just say that was the straw that broke the mother-in-law's back?  she went APE CRAP and she and tracey gold told me i was not welcome in tracey gold's beach house anymore and that i had to go outside and wait on the dock.  then i told tracey gold that she's bulemic.  then tracey gold told me that she was naming her unborn daughter penelope just to spite me.  and i was all, TRACEY GOLD, NO YOU DIDN'T. 

so i went out to the dock to brood and admire the many tricycles left laying around, and because it was tracey gold's neighborhood it was clearly very fancy (although also on what appeared to be the mississippi river and set back in a forest simultaneously, so it was very 'hill people chic').  all the beach houses were painted in coordinating shades, and the neighborhood headmistress handed out fan decks of the paint colors used to all visitors to the 'village.'

i spent the rest of the dream hating tracey gold, looking through paint swatches, and admiring a particular foresty green used in the outdoor nursery of her next door neighbor.  also, i had to paint my nails red because otherwise no one would believe that i was mike seaver's wife.  the end.

anyone out there adept at dream analysis?  if you tell me that i have a deeply buried longing for my husband to grow a curly mullet, i'll probably be all, 'tell me something i don't know.'

the biggest little van voorst.

one of the things i've always loved about kids is that they say the funniest stuff.  it's really a shame that most kids don't write blogs, although it would probably put me out of a job if they did.  and by 'put me out of a job,' i mean, force me to do stuff normal adults are expected to do instead of blogging all day and shirking my responsibilities.

so i have taken it upon myself to record the thoughts and feelings of my kids, in their own words.  today, let's have peek into the mind of atticus.

...the other night we had some friends over and celebrated communion together.  todd described to atticus what was happening, explaining that the bread represented jesus' body and the grape juice represented his blood.  when atticus asked if he could have some juice, todd said he could have some later but that during communion, only people who have put their faith in jesus should participate.  later that night, atticus was like, 'dad, can i have some of that?' and todd was like, 'some of what?'  and atticus was like, '...jesus' blood.'

...on our anniversary, todd printed out a couple of our wedding photos for the kids to carry around, including a photo of our whole wedding party.  penelope was looking at it and said, 'i want to wear a white dress like mommy.'  i responded by telling her that she could wear one when she grows up and gets married.  atticus replied, 'when i grow up, i'm going to get married five times.'  i told him that no, when we grow up we pick one person and marry that person one time.  so he studied our wedding photo, pointed to my bridesmaid jeska and said, 'i pick that one!'

...atticus hit his head and started crying.  i asked him if he wanted me to put a kiss on it, and he replied, 'no, jesus will heal it.'

...atticus told todd, 'when i grow up, i want to be like you.'  todd replied, 'are you going to have a wife?'  'yeah.'  'are you going to have kids?'  'yeah.  and a water bottle.'

...the other night when atticus was saying his prayers with todd, he said, 'thank you jesus for my big boy bed, thank you for my mommy, thank you for a thousand dollars.'


that's right little buddy.  thank you for a thousand dollars.

i seriously have the best job in the world (meaning, raising my kids, not blogging).  and i'm hoping atticus shares those thousand bucks with me; it's about time i get paid to do some stuff around here.

again with the '(bi)weekly what's up.'

last friday i failed to post a family update since it was our anniversary and i considered the summary of the past five years of our lives to be a sufficient update for the week.

but lo!  we've done some stuff.  so it's time to update yet again.

when last we left you, it was august 10, so we'll start there.  todd took the day off of work and we took the kids down to the zoo.  it was downright frigid, although you can't tell from the photos since i dress my kids rather inappropriately for the weather more often than i'd like to admit.  the zoo store sold a ton of sweatshirts that day, so maybe i wasn't the only one underprepared for the desolate tundra that was the des moines zoo on an august day.  i would have dedicated a whole blog post to this, but since we were only two normal two-handed humans with three kids, we got like three whole pictures.

then, todd dug a big hole.  it was a major undertaking.  i'll tell you about it next week.

 

 

finneas had his first sit in the exersaucer, though i don't think he had much fun considering the seat gave him a major wedgie and he spent the entire time looking on in terror as his siblings fought over who got to mess with the exersaucer the most.  poor child.  i'm guessing third children rarely have any unadulterated fun in their lifetimes since they're always having to be conscious of which limb they'll likely have to chew off if things turn ugly.  but, on the positive side, i'm guessing most people who die stranded in the woods are firstborns because they have irrational levels of confidence that got them into the woods in the first place, and have never had to cope with their own mortality before.  so, i'm glad to know finneas will likely never involuntarily die in the woods.

we celebrated our five-year anniversary by eating fish tacos at home with the kids.  it was nice to celebrate five years of blessings, in our home, with the kids god has given us.

the next day, we tried to attend a friend's party, but when we pulled out of the driveway our tire was majorly flat.  as in, completely coming off the wheel. so our handy neighbor helped us put the spare donut tire on and we gimped our way to town to get a new tire.  instead of yummy picnic food like they were eating at the party, we ate at the mcdonald's in the walmart, dropped way too much money on a new tire, and left just in time to get the kids home and in bed.  sad night.  happy anniversary to us.

we have at least two mice that were living in our house.   and one more that probably still is.  i'll tell you next week how todd found himself having to strategically run over one of them with his car.

and here we are already.  ready to see what a new week holds.

what were you guys up to?

i wish i could say i rarely do stuff like this.

let me just paint you a little picture:

the other day, todd was leaving to put gas in the car and asked if i needed anything while he was out.  i said no, so he left.  but then!  i thought of something!

so i went busting out the sliding door as he was pulling out of the driveway.  he was too busy looking at the neighbor to notice me as i was frantically trying to wave him down.  the neighbor thought i was waving at him, so he waved back.  todd thought the neighbor was waving at him, so he waved back.  and kept driving.

so then i went busting across the lawn to try to catch up with him before he turned into the street.  but he was too busy looking at the lady across the street to notice me flailing both arms over my head and sprinting at him.  the lady across the street started pointing at me to try to get him to turn around.  instead, he was all, why's she pointing at me? and kept driving. 

he pulled onto the street, so i started running down the sidewalk alongside his car, yelling and waving my arms.  when he finally saw me, he slowed down and rolled down his window so i could breathlessly tell him what i needed him to get.

oh, what i wouldn't do for some sunflower seeds.

video vednesday: i remember my school days: captain of the sports...

cool. awesome. nice. RUSTY.

oh chandy, you came and you gave without taking.

so, most rooms in my house have nothing hanging on the walls, and the same depressing paint colors and  boob light fixtures that were there when we moved in over a year ago.  one bedroom is entirely void of furniture, finneas' room has a duvet cover nailed to the wall for a black-out curtain, and our master bedroom has dropcloth curtains and bare, cracked, chipped, sad, paintless, grey, plaster walls.  our rugs are all too tiny for the rooms they're in, and one of them was covered in cat hair when it was found in the dumpster behind our old apartment building.

sad, sad, sad.

part of the delay in settling everything has been due to the busyness of the last year.  we closed on our house in may, moved everything out of our apartment and cleaned it before it turned over in june, found out we were pregnant in july, went on vacation in august, went on another vacation in september, got through the fall and holiday season, spent january and february nesting and making freezer meals before finneas came, actually brought finneas home in march, and pretty soon it had been a year and very little had been done in our house.

the other part of the delay was due to the fact that we're raising and diapering and clothing three kids on a single income, while also paying for such luxuries as heat and food.  as much as i would love to be able to drop a couple thou on rugs and curtains and lighting and more practical seating for the living room, it's just not do-able.  so that's my other excuse for not having done anything at all: that i'm not a bajillionaire.

well, folks.  that popcorn ceiling massacre a while back released something in me and i've decided to do what i can with what i've got.  and you know what?  necessity is the mother of invention ugliness and tightwad-edness are the mother of my recent powder room overhaul.

let's look. 

the 'before' shot.  don't let the lighting fool you, the paint color was a dead-ringer for the color of a smoker's fingernails.  you can't see the boob light in this picture, but i promise she's up there, watching over you with creepily-unsubtle maternal protection.

AND NOW...

yeah, baby.  (austin powers, anyone? is everyone too young and/or with-the-times to act like they remember that at this point?)  the wall color is journey by valspar and is a really rich brown with charcoal tones.  the paint is the only thing i spent money on specifically for this project, and if i had gotten paint and primer in one (like i requested but didn't get and didn't notice until too late), it would have only taken a quart.  i painted the trim with semi-gloss white i already had on hand. 

as far as the previous owners can tell, the toilet was original to the house.  the plant i bought for 50 cents at a garage sale, and though it's in a cheapo plastic pot, i tried painting it with acrylics to make it look more clay-like.  i also bought the picture frame at a garage sale, where it was priced at ten cents because it looked like this:

i just hot glued some fabric scraps to it and declared it art.

the tiny counter.  large canning jar filled with soap, old listerine bottle, silver goblet thing also filled with soaps, and basket on left filled with tissues, all purchased for less than $3 total at garage sales.

the curtain is an old pillow sham that my mother in law found while cleaning out her house and gave to me.  clearly, i need a curtain rod rather than permanently hanging it with painter's tape, but you do what you gotta do to be modest without spending any money.  maybe someday i'll at least buy a podunk tension rod.

that little sign on the door says "WC" and it makes me feel british and also hoity-toity because i bought it on clearance at pottery barn a couple years ago.  three bucks maybe?

  

this was clearly already here, but i love it so i took a picture.  sue me.

and the BEST PART OF ALL! the over-the-top, covers-half-the-ceiling, stolen-from-the-formal-entryway chandelier.

when i had todd's dad move this from the entryway into the tiny bathroom, i'm pretty sure he thought i was crazy.  i KNOW todd thought i was crazy.  i also strongly suspect that any male guests who use our bathroom and hit their face on it while trying to pee also think i'm crazy.  but isn't she lovely, isn't she wonderful?

i painted the ceiling grey (just the wall color mixed with white) to offset the medallion we bought a long time ago.  i'd also like to point out that the ceiling is popcorn-less thanks to the many hours and the right bicep i sacrificed for the cause.  totally worth it.

one more look at the 'after' shot? okay, you twisted my arm.

so there you have it, our on-the-cheap bathroom makeover.  it motivates me to try to tackle more projects.  and save up some greenbacks for a tension rod.

thwr: disease prevention.

todd:  fight cancer?   how 'bout i give cancer a kick to the crotch?!


and that's how we roll.