Alice and Pants

The other night I dressed Alice for bed.  She wore a little t-shirt and some gray, polka-dot pants.  We did our nighttime routine (nurse, book, prayer, crib), I said goodnight, and left the room.

This was one of those nights that she cried and whined for 30 minutes straight, so I headed in to rock her and opened her door.  I wish I had a picture -- our little 11-month-old was standing in her crib, wearing a t-shirt and diaper.  That's it!  Not only had she removed her pants, but she had tossed them out of the crib and onto the floor. She has never undressed herself and, quite frankly, I don't know any 11-month-old who has.

If only we had recorded her craziness... I would have loved to see how she managed to yank those pants off with her tiny baby hands.  I would also like to know why an 11-month-old would decide against pants, but I don't count on ever knowing that.  We can, however, trust that Alice Clementine did not want to wear pants that night.

And I love her for that.

Charlie and the Dome Home

        There was once a little mouse named Charlie.  He lived on what he thought must be a farm, and a kind old man, called Master, took care of Charlie and his many mouse friends.  Charlie loved playing games with his mouse friends, eating cheese and crusty bread from Master, and sleeping in his snuggly pile of cotton and feathers. 

It was a bright, sunny day, and Charlie was playing hide-n-seek with his friends.  He was very tired and perhaps a little dizzy, but he figured this must be to his advantage in being patient enough to stay in his hiding spot for a very long time.  Just as he began to doze off, he startled awake -- why, he was floating in the air!  Master was picking him up and, before he knew it, Charlie was placed in a tiny, clear dome.  Master gave Charlie a crumb of cheese and closed the door.  Charlie was terrified.  Why would Master do this?  “Come back!” he cried.  “I want to play with my friends! Let me out!”  Charlie scurried round and round the dome, pounding his pink mousey paws against the clear plastic, but his new little home wouldn’t budge.

Day after day Charlie squeaked and squealed, screamed and fussed, pounded and pounded.  This morning, like every morning, Master dropped a crumb of cheese through the little door of his dome.  Charlie scurried over and devoured the cheese.  He almost swallowed it whole, he was so hungry from his screaming and running.  Charlie looked out the dome toward his master and scowled the fiercest scowl he could muster.  “It’s not enough!” he yelled.  “It’s not enough and you know it!  I’m so hungry, please give me more.  Please!”  Master did not give him more.  Another day of being hungry, and Charlie was furious.  He began his regular routine of running and pounding, but with more ferocity than ever.
     
       Charlie was tired.  My, he was as tired as a mouse could be.  His tummy rumbled and groaned.  He licked at some of the dew on the grass beneath him.  He did not feel so well, but he knew that with more food, everything would be better.  That’s all he needed.  “Why would Master treat me this way?” he asked himself.  “I thought he was kind.”  Charlie looked longingly out of his dome.  He could see his mouse friends playing and eating -- oh, how they were eating!  They seemed to have more food than Charlie ever had when he lived outside of his dome.  Charlie began to cry.

Charlie cried and cried.  When he opened his eyes, it was morning.  The master had already left him his cheese.  Tired Charlie crawled over and began to nibble.  It tasted nutty and it felt good in his empty belly.  It felt so good that Charlie went back to sleep.  When he awoke, it was already the next day.  Charlie looked over and, just as he expected, saw a piece of cheese.  He took it and ate it. He felt better.  He looked out of his dome and a small grin came on his face.  How happy his friends looked.  Charlie was not so tired today.
  
As the days went by, Charlie began to feel happy and not so tired.  And Charlie learned that if he ate his cheese, and did not spend all of his time pounding on his dome, complaining and wailing, the crumb of cheese was just enough to fill his tummy.

It was the afternoon, and Charlie was gazing out of his dome as he often did, when he heard a familiar noise.  It was the door to his dome opening.  “More cheese?” he thought excitedly.  Charlie felt a hand scoop him up, out of his dome, and onto the grass outside.

      Charlie gasped.  The new grass against his paws, Charlie scampered over to his friends.  “Charlie!” they cried.  “We missed you! Do you feel better?”  Charlie was confused, “What do you mean?” he asked with furrowed mouse-brows.  “The dome!” piped up one of his friends.  “Master put you in the dome because you were very sick.  He didn’t want us to get sick either, so he put you in the little dome where you could watch us and get better.”  Charlie couldn’t believe it -- he had been sick, and Master was just taking care of him.  How kind Master was!  Charlie smiled and ran off with his friends to play hide-n-seek.  This time, he wasn’t tired at all.

Tuesday at Home

While Thomas the Train is going and Alice is happy exploring her car seat that is in the living room instead of the car (oooo!), I thought I'd share how eventful my day has been.  Let me tell you, taking pictures of little things throughout the day has already enhanced my sanity.  Something to break up the day and mark different points of the day as "highlights" is a breath of fresh air when I feel like my life at home is a seamless line of blurred meaninglessness (I know it's not meaningless... but it can feel that way, so sue me).

I sipped on some apple cider vinegar.  You should read about it.

You might also like to know that my constant summer treat has been frozen bananas.  I keep them in the freezer and often douse them with loads of melted dark chocolate/butter when I need a pick-me-up.

I don't care if it looks gross.  It is amazing.  Try it -- there's no turning back.

After successfully getting Alice to sleep, I sat down with Pinterest and planned out a few Christmas gift ideas.  It's never too early.  Ever.

And Alice continues to play in her car seat... I don't know why it is such a wonderful toy when it is in a new setting.  I'm glad she's having the time of her life.

So far my day sounds quite pleasant -- I didn't realize how pleasant until I wrote it out.  Magic!  Also, I did wash dishes and do other not-awesome things, but everyday requires not-awesome things in order to be successful.

On another note, Alice/I really need some more rhyming books.  As much as I love saying, "Tick tock, tick tock, that's the sound of baby's clock," multiple times a day, I'm starting to dread Alice's book-reading desires.  She adores books, but only enjoys the rhyming ones so far.  But she is so happy with her small selection.  Way to be, Alice.

P.S.  This is cute.

Circumstances, you don't own me.

If you know me, you probably know that -- due to circumstances outside of our control -- we do not have a second car.  Some woman, driving 100mph through our neighborhood with a blindfold on, destroyed the back half of my husband's car.  His car needed a new battery and the air conditioning felt like a hair dryer, but it worked.  Now it doesn't.  Not at all.  The woman never responded to the insurance company's calls, so we're out a car.  That's how life works.

Some people ask, why don't you get it fixed?  Others ask, why don't you just get a cheap car to temporarily replace it -- ya know, like $1,000?  If I'm going to be polite I say, "We can't afford that right now."  If I'm going to be honest, I wring their necks and say, "WHY DO YOU THINK THE AVERAGE AMERICAN HAS $1,000 JUST SITTING IN THEIR BANK ACCOUNT??  WHO DO YOU THINK WE ARE??"  I haven't had the nerve to be honest yet.

Let's cut to the chase.  I have always been a home body.  Recently, this has changed.  I have found myself stressed upon waking up in the morning, just because I know I couldn't leave our little house if I wanted to.  I've found myself blaming problems like, "Man, I wish I could eat all the Ben and Jerry's ice cream I want," on not having a car.  Blast you, lack of car, you've kept me from an endless supply of ice cream.  This is obviously a very reasonable reaction, however, I've decided that it's time for a change in attitude.  It is time for me to wake up in the morning and say, "You're trapped, kid.  Enjoy it.  Find something awesome to do." It is time for me to not be ashamed to Instagram yet another event that is happening inside our home.  And by "event," I mean eating lunch or staring at Alice play.  (For the record, I don't just stare at her while she plays.  I'm usually gritting my teeth, trying to bear her cuteness, while also singing children's songs or babbling like an 11-month-old)

Now let's really cut to the chase.  I am going to blog about being at home.  It's for real, people.  My life is a life that lives inside of a 900sq.ft. home, and we're just going to embrace it.  I will tell you when I'm going crazy (I'm going crazy) and I will also tell you when I'm working on any kind of project... even if it's folding clothes.  Prepare to be blown away by the mundane.

A salt grinder and my Martha Stewart calendar/organizer/amazing thing.  The salt grinder belongs in the kitchen, and has been bugging me that it has gotten away with staying on the table all morning and afternoon. The Martha Stewart calendar often seems pointless because, what exactly am I planning out?  But when I do have something to plan... watch out, world.

Climb Every Mountain (baby Alice style)

My parents have stairs in their house.  Yesterday we hung out with those stairs, when Alice and I were over to help my mom with her cookie business.  At first Alice was needy and confused, since my attention for her was divided between cookies and baby.  Soon, though, she become comfortable enough to explore the grounds, and was crawling everywhere.  She had been patting around for awhile, when we looked up to see this:

She was climbing the stairs and had absolutely no fear!  I stood behind her and let her climb, just to see how far she could get.  She got to the landing and was ready to round the corner to the second set of stairs... sadly, for Alice, the second set did not get to be climbed (due to a mother's fear and not to a baby's).

Today Alice is pulling up on everything.  I suppose the stairs inspired her.  I am so grateful we don't have stairs, or my job would be a lot harder now!

I love this little crazy baby.

"I came, I saw, I conquered."  -Baby Alice

How we met: Part 1

Jenny and I on campus

No, not how I met Jenny.  I've decided to begin a series on my life, starting with how Caleb and I met.  They might not be short posts (yeah, probably not), so if you don't have the patience to read someone else's lovey dovey story, I guess I'll understand.  But you should probably read it, 'cause we're adorable.  

When I was in high school I was genuinely scared of guys.  Not scared of the male sex, but guys of the high school variety.  These guys stared, they could say awkward things at any given second, and they laughed at anything you said.  I strove to overcome my fear and perhaps be forgiving of the hormones that surrounded me (male and female alike... not to mention my own), but it was quite a tiring effort.  Since I was brought into this very world, I dreamed of being a wife and mom with hundreds of children.  I did not want to mess around with this dream and end up with some weirdo.  But at this point, boys were weird, boys were scary.  Why do we even mess with guy-girl relationships of any kind in high school?  A question I cannot answer now and certainly could not answer then.  I went through high school without a twitch of attraction to anyone, and I was proud of it.  I sound like a snot (and I probably was), but I honestly couldn't figure out why these girls were dating such confusing people.  By my senior year, I had somewhat learned how to communicate with guys without wanting to walk away and/or cry.  

All that to say, I went off to college with a healthy fear of guys.  The college guys were quite similar to the high school ones, except they had learned to exude confidence and many of them had learned how to be more forward.  All of us had made it out of high school, and now our hormones weren't surrounding us like a sparkling cloud of smoke.  In some ways, there was more reason to be scared.  But I was a big girl, and I made myself speak to the boy-guy-man-dudes, and even found myself friends with a few (...because guys and girls can be friends... no).

One summer day in August - the start of my sophomore year - the sister, Jenny, and I headed to a local coffee shop to play Mancala and sip iced coffee while we got excited about another year of classes (I was actually only excited about new notebooks and fresh pencils).  As we laughed, talked, and made fun of each other's Mancala moves, a young man walked up to the counter near us and ordered a drink.  He was glancing over at us -- a normal college behavior.  We continued playing.  In my peripheral, I saw a blue shirt approaching us -- the same young man at the counter arrived at our table, and asked, "Are you all Stewart's sisters?"  He had a friendly voice.  We told him "yes," and asked how he knew our brother.  We started to talk, when something very strange happened.  I found myself pulling my purse off of the third seat at our table, and asked him to sit down.  It was highly out of character, but this guy was so nice.  He might have been cute, but I wasn't about to rush such a crazy notion.  But his voice was deep.  And he made eye contact.  He made eye contact using brown eyes.  He didn't interrupt us.  He didn't even lean in and act like he had some kind of creepy expectations.  He talked without the slightest bit of secret intention.  As we talked, we learned that his name was Caleb, this was his first year, and that he thought the freshman orientation class he was participating in was pointless and weird.  When people think things are pointless, my ears perk up.  It means they think, they have an opinion, and they call it like it is.  This guy thought something was pointless... that's awesome. Caleb was at the coffee shop in order to meet a guy-dude-man named Sean (spoiler alert! Sean would later be a groomsman in Caleb's wedding... but who would Caleb marry??).  We happened to know Sean as well, and soon found out that we had many mutual friends, had both home-schooled, and had even attended the same church when we were young.  We were off to a terrible start in getting to know one another.

Lie.  It was a dreamy start.

To be continued.

Pretty Hair: for you or your little one

As you might have read from my last post, my sister-in-law and sweet nieces are in town.  Last week I was playing with Lydia's hair (she says she loves her hair to be played with... a girl after my own heart).  Here's how one little hair-do came out and it looks so sweet on her little head!

The twist could have stood to be a little tighter, but little girls don't always stand still.  If my hair were longer, I would try it out in a heartbeat (and if Alice's hair were longer... haha).
Here's how you do it (in case you haven't figured it out):
- starting on one side of your head, take a piece of hair next to your ear, and twist slightly
- take the next lock of hair (behind the piece you just twisted) and adjoin by twisting it gently into your already twisted lock
- take another lock of hair (just as you did in the previous step) and twist together, making your way across your head
- when you get the end, curve/twirl/roll into a bun and secure with bobby pins

It didn't take too much jumping, skipping, and monkey-dancing before Lydia's hair fell out, so maybe a few more bobby pins (and hairspray?) would have helped.  She has lovely wavy hair, too, so I'm sure that helps in keeping it in place.

Did you know that every other year I decide I MUST grow my hair out?  This is that year.  I had a dream that I grew it out, and in that dream I felt so feminine.  After I grow it out, I'll start hating it and I'll cut it off.  This is the way of life.

And, since you missed out on Lyd's cute face, here you go: