We eat a lot of eggs around here. A typical scrambled egg morning requires around 14 eggs for this group. And Rowan is right in there with the rest of them, eating like a champ.
Our egg breakfasts vary but I like changing things up sometimes. I recently tried this concept of an omelette in a cup, a crustless quiche–whatever you want to call it–and was pretty thrilled with how versatile they are.
I just asked Bobby the other night why Rowan seems to have grown up so fast–faster than any of our other babies. “We’re busier”, was his response. Although it must be true I feel like every time I look down at that boy scooting room by room, patting his chest and babbling “ba ba” in his high chair, and needing me less and less as he becomes more independent, I can’t help but feel it is way too fast.
My baby. My boy. He’s almost made a full turn of a year. If I really wonder where the time has gone and look back I remember him during all of the busyness of our days with my girls. Somewhere in my memory is that little baby–strapped on to me, in a stroller, being nursed somewhere while we’re out, sleeping on the couch, on our bed, in his bed, in the car–and over the months, being so alert and wanting so badly to keep up with his sisters.
In early October we’ll have some family over. A cake and some singing. And my happy, quiet boy in the deserved spotlight for an evening. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to think of it. For my daughters who are absolutely smitten by him it will feel like Christmas for them–to celebrate their little brother. I know Caroline has already been planning for a homemade gift for Rowan. And I’d like to make him one special thing, of course, for my little boy.
I think I blush whenever Bobby says that Rowan is in love with his mommy, that he always looks to me for approval, for safety. Rowan wants me as soon as he hears my voice, even when daddys’ holding him. He loves climbing on me if I’m ever in a horizontal position and sucking on my chin. He loves me so much. Feeling that from a son has become the most incredible feeling I’ve experienced. That love. That reciprocation of feelings is more than I thought my heart could ever handle.
All right now. Emotions move over; it’s time for breakfast.
the sleepy time gal
There’s a delicate balance to decorating with kids. On the one hand, there is so much for them to learn that will give them a great foundation as they grow and spend time in the kitchen.
On the other hand, they are children. They have their own little personalities that will want to do things their own, creative way. And that is such a good thing.
Here’s a little guide to decorating with your kids, having fun, letting them learn a little, and in the end, eating the beautiful results together.
This is the day I always reflect on: the day my husband returns from a whole week of being away.
This week has been interesting. The first half of the week was very trying with a teething baby, no break, and constant mothering around the clock. Interestingly enough, at the peak of the difficulty/exhaustion/frustration, emerged a whole, determined, and strong woman (yes, surprisingly me). Somehow the second half of the week I was setting goals in terms of what was working and what wasn’t, feeling confident, and realizing that I can do this. (It did help that Rowan was getting some sleep.)
I always learn so much about myself when I’m on my own. There are things that I do to make life easier for me and at the same time, there are things I make into more work just for us to have some variety in our week, and other things I do to make some special, memorable moments together. I still have popcorn pieces in my bed from the night we watched Peter Pan together.
You’ve seen a lot of baking/decorating in this space lately, haven’t you? I really don’t know why this intriguing hobby of mine has sprouted into new directions recently but it has.
It has been a really enjoyable new hobby. I’ve researched techniques, tried and failed, tried and succeeded, discovered a whole new world of tools out there, and really, have just discovered a new medium of creativity.
Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by my children in those five-people-need-me-all-at-once moments, and sometimes, I’m simply overwhelmed with the blessings I have right in front of me: five happy, thriving children.
Yesterday eating a picnic lunch at the park was one of those emotional and feeling blessed “overwhelmed” moments.
Of course there was singing–there is always singing–and eating and doting over Rowan. And there I was, stepping back for a moment to snap a photo when what I saw through my camera lens stopped me. There on that blanket was everything that I pray over, try desperately to give the best to, feel the most intense frustration and genuine concern over and, on the other end of the spectrum, the upmost fulfillment through.
I have five children. Me. Five. We are all growing up together and getting through those younger, more challenging years. There is more order and fun, I can definitely say, as my twins have gotten older. I’m more confident as a mother and more understanding of who these little personalities are that are under my care.
I knew from the time I was sixteen that I wanted a large family. I never had a number in mind, but coming from a family of five something around that sounded good to me as an awkward, unsure teenager. Decades past my youth I see what having a large family really means. I understand the work and maintenance and also the deep unity and sibling closeness. I understand the ironies of more laundry and dishes but the incredible relief I get by miniature mommies over household jobs and baby boy. I understand the excitement when I only have Rowan for an afternoon (hoping to get something done) and, ironically again, he is bored and discontent with me since his playmates and constant stimulation are out of the house.
I need both of these varieties of “overwhelmed” moments to see my life clearly. Life is intense sometimes but then again, I know I wouldn’t be content without its intensity. It is raw proof that I’m alive.
the sleepy time gal