The Backwards To Do List: Lessons In Epic Motherhood

"I feel like I never get anything done," said every mom ever.  EVER.

Today I learned a little trick and a lesson for all of us moms who feel like a cog inside of a cog that's turning a cog (figure that one out).  This is the short story of how that lesson and the Backwards To Do List came about:

This morning began as most mundane mornings do, with my toddler whining like death from her crib.  She's never actually upset, she just likes to greet the day with a dramatic display of how desperate she is to get out of her crib.  We played a bit, soon Charles woke up, and I got breakfast going.  Messes happened, there was a short "I can't eat the rest of my scrambled eggs" crisis as well as an "I'm all done" crisis, but we pulled through.  Like a robot, I worked on auto-pilot and wiped food off the table and highchairs, the floors, counters, and children. I changed diapers, nursed and put Charles down for a nap.  Alice and I entertained each other.  Between primal conversations with Alice, shushing her loud singing, and scooting her away from the bathroom toilet, I got dressed.  I was soon back in the kitchen, making grilled cheese and steaming green beans.  We ate.  Charles awoke.  Charles ate. Alice spilled some green beans.  I blended some green beans for Charles, had some extra, put it in the freezer for later.  I finally put Alice down for her nap and came out of her room, Charles on my hip, tired and sighing.  I thought my frequent thought, "I never get anything done."  I had a sink piled with dishes to hand wash (no dishwasher in these parts), Charles was cranky, and I still had clothes to fold and dinner to think about and "Uuuugh, I'm so tired."  I hate feeling bogged down/sad/depressed, and I do what I can to make those feelings right because they have a tendency to overcome me and I just flat out hate feeling that way... so I grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.

I did not write what I had to do.  I wrote down everything I had already done... even the things I would never normally put on a "to do" list (like changing a diaper), I wrote down.  If I had put my time and effort into it, it went on the list.  With this list I discovered that by 1:30 I had:

- Exercised and dressed
- Cleared the clean dishes in the kitchen
-  Kids dressed/diapers changed throughout day
- Made breakfast and lunch
- Made baby food for Charles
- Swept the kitchen/dining room
- Organized a stack of clothes in our bedroom
- Made the bed
- Tidied the living room after putting Alice down

I then wrote down what I saw around the house that was burdening me with MORE things to do:
- Tired/needy Charles
- Clothes needing to be folded
- Dirty dishes
- Messy desk
- Dinner to be made

The first list - my Backwards To Do List - was impressive!  The second list - more of a To Do List - turned out to be minimal in light of what I had already accomplished.

I do get things done.  Moms out there: you do get things done.  The problem is that these things happen everyday: life feels like a toddler treadmill because life IS a toddler treadmill.  What is a toddler treadmill?  It's that thing where you are walking ahead of your toddler, cleaning all of their messes and toys and spilled food, and they are right behind you, creating a new mess that you continue to clean that they continue to mess up and so on.  You - we - are constantly doing and re-doing and it gets really, really old.  It makes your weary self look back on the day and say, "How special! I maintained the status quo!"  And then you wade through your messy house and wonder if you'll ever get anything done.

When this happens, sit down and write a Backwards To Do List.  You will very likely see that maintaining the status quo is a very difficult task, full of hard work that you should be proud of.

What's that you say?  It's hard to be proud of changing a diaper, drawing a fish 567 times, staying in your pajamas until 11, and your most intellectual conversation of the day being about the color blue?  I'll give you that.  It does feel stupid to be proud of that.  It would feel a lot more worthwhile to be proud of something you accomplished that challenged you, used your brain, pushed you, and gave you immediate results, maybe including a gold star and pat on the back.

But I will leave you with my conclusion to the lesson behind this madness: if diaper-changing, fish-drawing, pajama-staying, and blue-talking are not a challenge to our adult selves, why is it so hard to get through a day that is full of such things?  Because they are challenging, but perhaps not in the way we would like.

As mothers, we have been given the task of rising to the occasion when poop happens.  Doesn't that sound meaningful?

As mothers, we have been given the task of responding to our child's screams of "I DON'T WANT THESE PERFECT-LOOKING ORGANIC APPLES THAT YOU SLICED AND PEELED SO CAREFULLY FOR ME," when all we can think about is the now freezing bowl of soup we have been waiting an hour to eat.  That sounds positively stupid.

As mothers, we have have been given the task of hugging, comforting, and loving when our child cries.  That sounds a little more meaningful.

As mothers, we have been given the task of showing these little humans -- who have seen so little of life and whose hearts are so fresh that they don't know how to say "no" to themselves, how to hide their emotions, or how to think of you before they think of themselves -- how to function, live, and love.  That is deeply meaningful.

When you kiss their chubby cheeks at 12:00 in the afternoon, still in your pajamas because they haven't allowed you to think of yourself, you are teaching them selflessness.  When you correct their screams with a calm voice, you are teaching them self-control. When you direct their hands away from the toilet, you are teaching them common sense.  When you talk about the color blue, you are teaching them the art of conversation.  Do all of these things without loathing, and you teach them love.

You would think being a part of such large accomplishments in a little human's life would make every day feel epic.  I wish.

Pray for patience, be tender-hearted, and strive to see the wonder behind a house covered in crayons, dollhouse people, squished peas, and smelly diapers.  When you can't see the wonder and would rather give up and die, play the Lord of the Rings Sound track, write a Backwards To Do List, and bask in how epic motherhood can be.

Alice is a super hero(-ine)!

As I sat Alice on the floor of her room tonight, surrounded by many books and a few scattered toys, I wondered how many times I'd be able to blink before she dove into playing while I collected and put away her things.  Like every day, Alice had made sure to play the part of a small tornado during her "room time," leaving me to make it like new before putting her to bed.  But the little baby surprised me.

I picked up her books, stacking them in front of me, narrating to her as I went.  "And then we take the books from all around and we put them in a pile and we rest them on the shelf." She watched intently.  Her eyes went from the books, to my hands, to the shelf.  I had almost gotten all of the books when Alice began looking on either side of her -- her eyes landed on a toy.  It was a big toy, too heavy for her to carry, but she tried very hard to pick it up.  I assumed she wanted to play with it, but pretended she had intentions of cleaning and said, "Thank you!" as I put it away.  Her chubby face held its thoughtful expression, and she looked around some more. This time, her eyes landed on her socks that she had yanked off earlier.  With her two tiny hands, she fisted the socks up, leaned forward, and dropped them in my hands.  I suppose my heart has become far too melatable because, in that instant, it turned to mush.  First, I was amazed that her little one-year-old mind could catch on so quickly.  Second, I couldn't get over how sweet her desires were to be a part of whatever it was mommy was doing.

After I said "thank you" more times than necessary, with more enthusiasm than necessary, we called Daddy in and showed him Alice's new skill.  Then we all clapped (Alice, too, of course) and smiled soooo big and said "yaaaay" for soooo long.  Everyday is a party in one-year-old land!  It's a good land.

When you're growing a human.

You might be wondering why I'm not writing something that features Alice's first birthday, or the fact that I'm about 9 weeks pregnant.  Yes, 9 weeks!  The answer to my blogging hiatus is just that: I'm pregnant.  And with my pregnancies thus far, there comes a certain, debilitating, fall-over-dead kind of exhaustion.

I've also contracted a cold -- and so has Alice -- from taking care of sweet lil germ-infested kids in a nursery that I've been helping in once a week (they can't help it).

Do you know that it feels pretty rockin' to be lying down, sleeping, trying to sleep, or wishing you could sleep, while your house is quite disorderly?  Well, it does.  What makes me feel even more rockin' is that, aside from my cold, my main complaint is "I'm tired."  I'm not puking my guts up like most pregnant women, nor am I experiencing back pains or something else that sounds more legitimate than, "Eeeeeh, I'm tired."  But you know what?  It takes it out of me to take a shower.  It's everything I can do to get dressed in the morning.  This is the epitome of power.

My standards of quality have come to such great heights in the past 9 weeks, that I feel very accomplished after putting the wet laundry into the dryer.  I feel an audience surrounding me in applause when I make the bed.  And I feel like roses should fall from the sky when I wash the dishes (without a dishwasher).  Something that all of these tasks have in common is bear bones necessity.  These are not weekly chores like dusting... these are things people must do in order to not revert back to a caveman mentality.  So all I do is keep up.  There are some days I feel super productive, and I look around to see that Alice's cloth diapers have been cleaned, the dishes are done, and the bed is unmade, there are toys everywhere, dinner hasn't crossed my mind, and the tablecloth still hasn't been yanked off the table and washed.  Yet I feel like a superhero for doing the bloody dishes.  Duh.

So there it is.  Pickle and I, just keepin' it real.  I've really got it together over here.  I'm kind of keeping sane, our house hasn't caved in, and Alice is happy.  Big pat on the back for this neat lady.  I'm a role model for all of mankind, what can I say?  Ya know.

Alice and I have a chat

Alice is sitting on my lap, having just nursed.

"Alice," I ask, "do you want some more?"  She looks at me for a few seconds, clearly in thought, then shakes her head "no."  Doubtful that her head-shake is anything but a coincidence, I ask, "Okay, are you all done?"  Alice smiles and confirms her head-shake by waving her hand in the motion that means "all done."  "Okay!  Do you want to go nigh-nigh now, or do you want to get down and play?"  She gives a little jerk of excitement and says, "DAH!" while turning away, ready to get down.

And that was the longest conversation I've had with Alice.

P.S.  For those of you wondering why I bothered to ask if she'd rather go to bed or play, it's not uncommon for her choice to be "nigh-nigh." :)

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.

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

What happened today with pictures from another day

Last week we did not get sucked up by a tornado.  In fact, there were far fewer tornadoes than the weathermen thought their would be... which made me kind of mad at the weathermen.  But then, I guess, God is the one who controls the weather, so I shouldn't be mad at the weathermen for not being omniscient.  They could at least try to act like they're not, though.

ANYWAY!  Today Caleb and I joined everyone and their hamster at Lowe's, getting spring things like flowers, mulch, and a watering can.  Isn't that fun?  I also got some spray paint to remake an old table that was sitting in one of our sheds -- its destiny is a corner of our home, where I will make it my awesome crafting station for my awesome Etsy shop that is just waiting for its grand opening.

This is Cabe's and my first experience with gardening, so it was really fun and really hubby-wifey of us.  Alice loooves being outside, so she enjoyed it, too!  I took absolutely no pictures of the day.  Pardon me for enjoying the day and not feeling pressured to take pictures for you spoiled blog readers (<--that's a joke, okay).

Since I took zero pictures of our day, here are some moments from Tuesday that I just didn't get around to posting!  We decided to have a random cookout and eat unhealthy [nitrate-free] hotdogs.  Supa fun!

Please, might I try a morsel?

They're pretty cute.

I hope your weekend is being nice to you!

Tornadoes Suck

Oklahoma: May 3, 1999 

Yeah, I said it.  And even though I refrain from using the word "suck" due to its super lameness, I'm using it here because it's the truth.

So, raise your hand if you're one of those weird Oklahomans who LIKES tornadoes!!  Because there are plenty of you guys and, let me tell you something, I don't know why.  Even people who are supposed to be afraid of things -- like English majors -- like them.  There are people here who grow up "watchin' tornadoes on the porch 'til it gets close, then we run inside."  I don't get it.  I never will.  Tornadoes suck HOUSES into the sky, okay?  Houses.  And people.  Why are they, in any way, shape, or form, cool to watch??

I am terrified of tornadoes and it just so happens that we have warnings of TWO nights of tornadoes coming our way.  In the night... in the dark... when you can't see them.  And after we brave one night -- assuming we live through it -- we have one more night ahead.  It's swell, really.

Allow me to say one more time how much I hate tornadoes.  I hate them more than wasps and math.  I would say that they are the scariest natural disaster, but recently Oklahoma experienced a few very mild earthquakes and they scared the pants off of me.  Nobody can warn you of an earthquake and you most certainly can't run from them... but tornadoes take a very strong second in the order of natural disaster fears.

In fact, the largest tornado on record occurred on my eleventh birthday, May 3.  I spent that evening just staring at a TV screen in tears.  I wouldn't put it past me to react the same way, at age 23.  I am the biggest baby when it comes to tornadoes.  The biggest.

So, if I survive the night, I'll see you people later.  Have a great weekend and, if you don't live in Texas or Oklahoma, have a great weekend, completely lacking in tornadoes.

If you'll excuse me, I have a runaway bag to pack before the skies are scheduled to send down their spinning demons.

Oh, Auntie Em.

Monday In Pictures

Morning -

Afternoon -

Alice's first sippy cup.  We bought her one because it's cute when she drinks from it because she needed it.

Evening -

After Alice went down -

The end.

Stomachs, babies, happiness, and death.

When husband has the stomach flu, I feel like I have it too.


Whoa, is Dr. Suess in here?  No, it's just clever ol' me.

Back to the topic those rhyming words brought on, Caleb has had the stomach flu all week long.  It's awful and sad to see him so sick... he caught it on Monday, and even by today he is having trouble keeping food in his stomach.  What might be worst of all is how quiet Caleb is when he's sick.  Normally, he ignites our conversations -- and can carry them on for hours (which I love).  But the past couple of days, if my brain impulses me to say anything at all, he has a 1-2 word response... maybe a sentence, if he's feeling particularly good.  :(  It makes for a sad, sad little house.

On the bright side, Alice is completely oblivious to her surroundings, and is therefore happy as a clam.  While Caleb is lying in bed with his face under the covers, Alice can be heard squeaking toys and babbling like a crazy baby.  If that's not adorable AND cheery, I don't know what is.  She is probably the best medicine for daddy.  Mm, I love those huge smiles she hands out.

I am so very ready for a healthy husband -- for his sake and, let's be honest, for mine.  It's just sad to be in a rain cloud house with two very needy people who can't really talk.  But my state doesn't compare to the misery Caleb is enduring.  Alice is most certainly enduring nothing but utter bliss.  As I write, she is snuggled in a light blanket with the ceiling fan turning softly above her, in a dimly lit room.  She has a full belly and a pacifier mouth.  I don't think any of us will be as comfortable as a baby until we die.  Death = comfort now, I guess.

Well, if you read all that, thank you for enduring the ramblings of a wife who might be sticking her toe in the waters of loop-de-loop, about to lose it, delirium.  I think I need to lie down now because I have a fever... cabin fever.  Boom.

Spring spring spring

Happy front porch

Is it gorgeous where you are? It is BEAUTIFUL here.  Hello, spring!  I am sitting on my couch with the front door open.  The birds hopping around on our front lawn sound like little people sneaking up on me.  But they mean no harm.

It's been a strange morning.  I had planned to take Alice to my mom's, so I could help out with her cookie business today.  Alas, Caleb spent the night with a terrible stomach virus, and he needs a wife at home to take care of him.  Conversational proof:

Me:  Caleb, I cannot leave you today.  You can't take care of yourself.
Caleb:  Yes, I can.  I can just drink some water.


Water has been known to nourish and cure all kinds of illnesses.
Needless to say, I stayed home.

What does the day hold now?  I feel like I have a bonus day, since my plans have been canceled (leaving my mom to find some way to get through the orders alone... :(  ).

Alice has been a chatter box, screaming-like-a-girl, crazy head today.  She doesn't know what illness is yet.

Best face

Sneaky face

Licking-the-teether face?

And, since she looks so cute with a pacie, we'll end here:

Arm is waving, trying to grab the camera... eyes are dazed with exhaustion. 

Happy spring!

Sweets and Muffin Tops (<-- the human kind)

It's real.

So is this.

I can't eat that stuff.  I've given up sweets.  Not for Lent, because I started my "no sweets" rule after Lent, so I feel like it would be cheating to say that I'm giving up sweets for Lent. Another reason I feel like it would be cheating is because, in all honesty, I'm giving up sweets in hopes of losing weight.  For anyone who hasn't had a kid: that baby belly doesn't just magically disappear once the baby is born.  What once was a cute, firm bulge that strangers wanted to touch, is now a gelatinous excess that prevents normal jeans from buttoning.  Though I've lost weight simply by nursing Alice, it's time to take action.  Summer is upon us.  This means lighter clothes are coming.  I don't think the world needs to partake in my muffin top any longer than it already has.

For all of you self-esteem people out there: I'm not beating myself up.  I'm not pressured by society's standard of what a woman should look like.  I've got leftover baby belly and that's all there is to it.

For all of you "ooooh, I could never have a baby -- the stretch marks!" [married] people:  Have one.  You really don't care what you look like, once you get a glimpse of a face as cute as this:

Then again, I can guarantee that your child won't even match such cuteness... so maybe you should reconsider, after all.

Where is Alice?

Since marrying Caleb, I discovered that one of his nightly routines is to crawl into bed and promptly cover his face with the sheet.  Not only is this odd, but he often tries to carry on a normal conversation with the sheet over his face, and his mouth moving underneath like a mummy come to life.  Like me, you might wonder why in tarnation this is enjoyable.  His answer?  It's comfortable.  This is not an answer to me, but I have learned to accept it.

But it looks like Caleb's blanket-face legacy will live on.  For the past couple of weeks, I have found Alice living out her father's habit.  This morning, I checked on her during her nap, and -- not surprisingly -- found this.

More power to you, little baby.  I think it's hilarious.

This Morning

Made these* for a baby shower last night

Baby Alice without her face-blanket

*P.S.  Deliciously addicting mint bars/Fanny Mae Mint Squares