Me, these days

I'm writing this at 7 AM on a very cold February morning. It's 7 degrees outside, several inches of snow, and Barrett is coughing upstairs, waking up. He's come down with a bad cold the past couple days. Last night was rough. I am finishing my second hot cup of caramel-flavored coffee before I go get him.

I'm looking forward to Barrett's birthday party this Saturday. Time with my favorite people - my family (Bri and the kiddos), and my family (grandpa, parents and (most of) my siblings), and maybe even a friend (Bec!). I'm going to make Chicken Alfredo baked pasta, Pam Anderson's Caesar salad, and homemade garlic cheddar bread, sliced lengthwise and slathered with butter and broiled until golden. I made the two 8" layers for the cake yesterday, and they're in the freezer. I was so disappointed when they sunk dreadfully in the middle (another Pam Anderson recipe, which I may not use again), but then I realized the concave shape will probably work to my advantage with my decorating idea. I'm not a cake decorator, but I have a great idea that I hope Barrett and Will love. I'm excited about that too.

I'm sad that the "weekend with the Brennans" is over. But we did have a great time. Minus Bit getting a horrible, horrible stomach bug on her last night here. That sucked.

I'm really struggling with my sister being gone.

I'm feeling very apathetic lately. Apathetic about housekeeping, losing weight, and cooking dinner, to be precise. I'm still doing the BARE minimum for these tasks (I have to - no one else is going to make my DietBet weigh-in on March 1st), but my heart's not in it. Truthfully, all I want to do is shop and buy things. I've been given the yellow "PAUSE" flag by Brian for my thrift-store outings this month. Buying cute kids' clothes has been therapeutic, especially since they fit things consistently and they don't have twenty postpartum pounds to lose. But $140 has been spent, and even though I have a mountain of things to show for it, it's still $140.

I'm distracted. I'm calling friends on the phone more and always planning, planning, planning for the next thing to look forward to. I confessed this all to Brian last night. I kind of expected him to tell me to buck up, buttercup, and stop making lame excuses. (Maybe because that's how I've been berating myself.) He was so sweet. He said, "Well, it's kind of a rough time. It's winter, and you're not getting good nights' sleep, and your sister's gone. You'll feel better when the weather warms up." You know, that was exactly what I needed to hear. I just love him so much.

Thankfully, I don't feel apathetic about my little ones. They are a joy. It's lately been so easy for me to forget about the ironing and the dishes and the sorting and just say, "Will, I have a new game we can play. Want to play?" Or to just plop myself down in the playroom and say, "Let's build something with your blocks." Or to sit with the kids and listen to Adventures in Odyssey and color, or do puzzles, or play with Play-Doh. Yesterday all I wanted to do was lay on the floor and read them stories, and they obliged. Maybe we'll do the same today.

A cute story. Barrett loves to refer to things as "Green one" and "Purple one." Even if they're not green or purple at all. (He wants to learn his colors, so when he's asking about a color he'll usually say, "Geen!" ("green") And then I'll give him the right color, and h'es happy.) Yesterday I had to grab something from the laundry room closet, and my two tagalongs were right behind me. They followed me back to the dining room where Barrett immediately picked up one of his little white chairs and started back toward the laundry room, chattering away. "Barrett, no, come back with that chair," I said sternly. (Not sure why? I normally don't mind them moving those chairs.) He started crying, and his cold-sick-snot mingled with tears and an anguished face as he sobbed, "Green one. Purple one. Green one! Purple one!"

"Buddy, what do you want? Can you please show me?"

He trotted down the hallway and pointed into the still-open laundry room closet door at the orange bottle of Goo-Gone and the bright green can of Comet, a few shelves up. "Green one. Purple one!"

(Note to self: Barrett is a different kid than Will, Maegan. Some toddler-proofing may be in order.)

"Oh, no, Barrett, we don't go in there. Those are super, super yucky! They could hurt you. No, no, buddy. You don't touch those. They're not toys."

"'Kay."

A picture my cousin took this past weekend. I love it.