tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43787750789499890482024-02-06T22:59:52.030-06:00Diary of a Bad MotherThe cacophony of life as a mom.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.comBlogger645125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-63885993757141788422015-02-02T14:28:00.000-06:002015-02-02T14:28:00.645-06:00BuddyLast night, a poorly-thought-out ad and Facebook's annoying auto-play "feature" combined to throw me into a massive panic attack. I was literally shaking and was so upset I couldn't even cry.<br />
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I went down and told Patrick, who hugged me and held me and tried to help. Bless that man. He tries so hard, and has no idea how to calm a panic attack. Not his fault. I don't know, either. Sometimes, his hugs help. Sometimes, I need to brainstorm solutions for whatever causes the panic attack. Sometimes, I need music, or my tree talisman, or cocoa, or a bit of space.<br />
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None of that was working last night.<br />
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I left Patrick, intending to draw for awhile, since that can be calming. I never even pulled out my drawing supplies.<br />
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Instead, I sat down, and Buddy, our dog, put his head in my lap. I wrapped my arms around his adorable and solid shoulders and just sobbed into his fur. I don't know how long I sat there, holding him and crying, but he never moved. He never tried to run away. He just stood there, letting me hold him, knowing that I needed him, and not caring why.<br />
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I broke down and didn't worry about what he would think. I didn't worry about seeming weak. Or needy. Or like I needed to explain myself. I knew he didn't care. He just wanted to be near me. And no matter what, I knew he'd still look at me exactly the same when it was over.<br />
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Eventually, I ran out of tears. I held Buddy's head in my hands and thanked him. He wagged his tail a little and looked at me with his big brown eyes. There was no pity. No sadness. Just the same adoration a dog always has for the ones who love him.<br />
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And then, sensing that his work was done, he wandered off down the hall. Last night, I had the most peaceful night of sleep that I've had in a long time. Because my dog was just <i>there</i>.<br />
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<br />Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-68901331152785230392014-08-05T07:00:00.000-05:002014-08-05T07:00:04.659-05:00Picture Dump<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-61341844118661687372014-08-03T22:51:00.001-05:002014-08-03T22:51:32.180-05:00Girls' Day InApproximately every other Sunday, Miles and Patrick go spend the day with friends. Patrick plays D&D while Miles plays with his best buddy, J. Normally, I'd join, but the campaign they're currently playing is totally not my style of play. Instead, Sam and I get a whole afternoon and evening to ourselves.<br />
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And I love it.</div>
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When I was pregnant with Sam, I worried about having time to spend with each of my kids individually. Family time is important, but one-on-one time is just as much so. These Sundays give me that time that Sam and I both need. Time to bond as a mother and daughter.<br />
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Reading that, I'm sure you're picturing me doing her hair and painting her nails. Because that's what people imagine for "mother-daughter" whatever.<br />
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It's much simpler than that. We just do our thing, but with only the two of us. I clean the house, but with only one kiddo underfoot. She draws pictures, but without getting distracted by big brother. We have dance parties that don't involve falling over or jumping off of things. We read books (over and over and over...). <br />
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We exist in the same space. Occasionally, we interact. Because that is how our family works. We're all independent humans, who like each other enough to spend time together.<br />
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Even Sam.<br />
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Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-25407920593458057752014-07-30T23:41:00.002-05:002014-07-30T23:41:28.958-05:00Where I'm AtI could easily spend 3-4 posts just explaining why I haven't written in six months. But that's not important. Let's just say I've been busy, and didn't feel like writing. At all.<br />
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And that, right now, I do. And I'm trying to be okay with either extreme. I hope you all understand.<br />
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Strike that. I don't care. I'm writing because I feel like it and if no one reads it . . . shrug. No big. I'll read it. Or I won't. There is freedom in the writing, whether it gets read or disappears entirely into the abyss of the internet. For now, I feel like writing, and that is enough.<br />
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I'm in an okay place right now. I'm good with me. I'm good with Patrick, and I'm good with my kids. Life continues to throw me curve balls, but I'm doggedly attacking each and moving on to the next. This is a huge improvement for me, and I'm content with it. I used to wish that life would slow down, would stop throwing me curve balls. I wished desperately for life to be <i>boring</i>. I've accepted, for the moment, at least, that boring isn't happening for me. It's just not. I seek out challenge, whether I intend to or not. And once I've found a challenge, it's hard for me to ignore it. <br />
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And that's okay.<br />
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In fact, that sentence describes much of my attitude at the moment: [Fill in the blank]. And that's okay. <br />
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I'm not a perfect mom. And that's okay.<br />
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I'm not a perfect wife. And that's okay.<br />
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My house will never be glossy-magazine-immaculate/perfect. And that's okay.<br />
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My favorite jeans have a hole in the knee. And that's okay.<br />
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I need more sleep, but I'm not getting it anytime soon. And that's okay.<br />
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In short, I've entered a phase of acceptance in my life, and it feels pretty darn good. I know myself well enough, by now, to know that this acceptance will someday - maybe soon, maybe not - be replaced by a phase of restlessness, of a need to shake things up. And at that point, I will accept another challenge, and pursue it doggedly.<br />
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Because that's who I am.<br />
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And that's okay.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-693706928025007362014-02-22T17:21:00.000-06:002014-02-22T20:30:40.559-06:00100 Happy DaysSo, I know this is all over my Facebook, but I love the idea, so I'm sharing it everywhere.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://100happydays.com/#go">http://100happydays.com/#go</a><br />
<br />
Go to the website, read all about it, then come back here. I'll give you a minute.<br />
<br />
<drums fingers><br />
<br />
<taps foot><br />
<br />
<stares at non-existent watch><br />
<br />
Ok, that's long enough. I'm sure you got the idea.<br />
<br />
So, yeah. I've started taking a picture every day of something that makes me happy. Just knowing I need a "happy" picture for the day means that I'm thinking about it, in the moment. It's amazing how often I see happy moments when I'm looking for them. And this is only day 2. I've chosen happy pictures for each day for Facebook, but here are the others. And remember, I only started this yesterday, and it's only 5:00pm. <br />
<br />
I may have just stumbled upon the best medicine for depression & anxiety.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVTWUWsIu5Fmh12ewirOUFkS1h3KwnWcnyy0r2dRl2mqVsKZA29b-YmHhSvK2-eMynj-uqh6hGThhABhA1fj_zPyyJSJIJVk0G9DmlXaNBoqITY553aqaisjCg74rLCkeTZlFGIJZoKg/s1600/14+-+1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGVTWUWsIu5Fmh12ewirOUFkS1h3KwnWcnyy0r2dRl2mqVsKZA29b-YmHhSvK2-eMynj-uqh6hGThhABhA1fj_zPyyJSJIJVk0G9DmlXaNBoqITY553aqaisjCg74rLCkeTZlFGIJZoKg/s1600/14+-+1" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles giving Teddy a ride in his dump truck. (Today)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4YBDozrIwRlDQqaHh5ngQoW0wjYsYV7SPxzFJ_YA8k59MTIAqc1Lt4vvFXE9vSf0Ozb_Kg8dSgLKi-BPksqDa1kFbM0rUVPZqMl3yOiC6mDHEhqeLgfH6OtPI45kc6ZErIzSLfMteo0/s1600/14+-+2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT4YBDozrIwRlDQqaHh5ngQoW0wjYsYV7SPxzFJ_YA8k59MTIAqc1Lt4vvFXE9vSf0Ozb_Kg8dSgLKi-BPksqDa1kFbM0rUVPZqMl3yOiC6mDHEhqeLgfH6OtPI45kc6ZErIzSLfMteo0/s1600/14+-+2" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam reading a book at the library. (Today)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdHkW4Bro49LvPaD1XbH4GDAXhaTW2H7ZOsoQnPc6fTUTcKjvmidzLiVwB1Bz34x5AKeT1DzEOkImICjRbVkcs38bbhEBHpKRUPU0PVpJrk9jLGSXP9EME_qE7gHd4q0EoZGbCvsc0Ak/s1600/14+-+3" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdHkW4Bro49LvPaD1XbH4GDAXhaTW2H7ZOsoQnPc6fTUTcKjvmidzLiVwB1Bz34x5AKeT1DzEOkImICjRbVkcs38bbhEBHpKRUPU0PVpJrk9jLGSXP9EME_qE7gHd4q0EoZGbCvsc0Ak/s1600/14+-+3" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, catching a few moments of reading last night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZIZnvBoFpd8/UwkvLWoS9nI/AAAAAAAAXaA/ZtCwBLR9pp4/s1600/14+-+4" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZIZnvBoFpd8/UwkvLWoS9nI/AAAAAAAAXaA/ZtCwBLR9pp4/s1600/14+-+4" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching both of my children figure out a new building material. (Today)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gy5rUt4t628/UwkvLcAaxgI/AAAAAAAAXaI/3ZlOvPMKQKI/s1600/14+-+5" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Gy5rUt4t628/UwkvLcAaxgI/AAAAAAAAXaI/3ZlOvPMKQKI/s1600/14+-+5" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles nomming on Sam's head. (Yesterday)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QuDp4kcxg0A/UwkvLc5-LRI/AAAAAAAAXZU/Q9tMjbLa6p8/s1600/14+-+6" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QuDp4kcxg0A/UwkvLc5-LRI/AAAAAAAAXZU/Q9tMjbLa6p8/s1600/14+-+6" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine, blue skies, and beautiful weather. In February. (Today)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vxSEGrIa70Q/UwkvLex6zII/AAAAAAAAXZU/I5DN7W_gBZw/s1600/14+-+7" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vxSEGrIa70Q/UwkvLex6zII/AAAAAAAAXZU/I5DN7W_gBZw/s1600/14+-+7" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles playing with his "rockets" and Sam watching intently. (Yesterday)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ng2Tl-bKkls/UwkvLYa-xuI/AAAAAAAAXag/gA6EiQJl3Hs/s1600/14+-+8" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ng2Tl-bKkls/UwkvLYa-xuI/AAAAAAAAXag/gA6EiQJl3Hs/s1600/14+-+8" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles teaching Sam how to play with MagnaTiles at the Library. (Today)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aRaQFAGV_UY/UwkvLRlv9yI/AAAAAAAAXao/xESZAfLEs5w/s1600/14+-+9" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aRaQFAGV_UY/UwkvLRlv9yI/AAAAAAAAXao/xESZAfLEs5w/s1600/14+-+9" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam playing at the library. (Today)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-26833803280024289932014-02-04T09:15:00.001-06:002014-02-04T09:15:16.440-06:00AnxietyMy anxiety is through the roof this morning.<br />
<br />
The day is grey and cloudy, and the snow has begun.<br />
<br />
Patrick is on his way to work, and I am already fretting about how he's going to get home.<br />
<br />
My chest is tight, and my breathing is labored.<br />
<br />
I feel like every hair on my body is standing on end, preparing for fight or flight, though neither is helpful in this situation.<br />
<br />
I feel heavy, all over.<br />
<br />
The fog is rolling into my mind, and I don't know how to fight it off.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-825621289233227202014-02-03T10:15:00.000-06:002014-02-03T10:15:00.983-06:00Dear Family who now lives in my childhood home,I've written this letter in my head a million times over the past few years. I'll never send it, but there are things I need to say to you, even if you never hear them.<br />
<br />
The house you live in now was my home for 18 years. Everything I remember of my childhood happened in that house. And every time I'm in town, I have to drive by, just to make sure the house is still okay. Sorry if I worry you or scare you. I'm harmless, I swear. I just have to know you're taking care of it. And you are. You seem to truly love the house as we did. So, here are some things you should know.<br />
<br />
The toilet clogs every couple of years. Tree roots get into the pipes. Though, you've lived there a few years, so you probably know that.<br />
<br />
When I lived in that house, the living room, dining room, and kitchen were all separate rooms. In fact, when we first moved in, the kitchen was where the laundry room is now. Over the years, my parents put their blood, sweat, and tears into making it more like the home you now own. The way it looks now is the way they wanted it to look, but could never afford to make it a reality. Enjoy it.<br />
<br />
The garage you park your car in was once just a car port. Later, my dad closed it in and for years, it housed his piano repair business. The best picture I have of him is standing in front of the sliding door with the business name and phone number on it. He was happy that day. The sun was shining, and his depression wasn't bad that day. He looked as he always did back then - collared, button-down shirt, blue jeans, crew cut. He was tall and skinny, and the grey hadn't begun to touch his temples yet.<br />
<br />
The front yard is lined in evergreens that we planted Each year at Christmas, we bought a baby tree and planted it near the curb. We always decorated those trees at Christmas time, and that tree line marked the edges of the dogs' play area. They created this wonderful, peaceful privacy from the street. In the winter, they blocked the wind, and in the summer, they provided glorious shade. Enjoy that.<br />
<br />
Those weren't my favorite trees, though. My favorites were the purple-leaf plums in the center of the yard. My mother hated those trees and always talked about digging them up and replacing them with bradford pears, but she never did. And I was so glad. Those trees are the backdrop of my first prom pictures with the boy that would later be my husband. Those are the trees that my mother chased my sister and me around so many times, all of us giggling so hard we could hardly see.<br />
<br />
The back yard was our refuge. My parents built the fence, and later we would have dogs who would try to climb it. That backyard was home to dozens of dogs over the years, as well as a few rabbits, and for a brief time, a pygmy goat. Our favorites of those dogs are buried behind the shed. My sister and I destroyed the bushes along the fence line, trying to create a play-space where there wasn't one. I'm sure it has grown back in by now, but for years, there was a huge hole. In one of those bushes, the mourning doves always built their nests. Their calls were the soundtrack of my childhood.<br />
<br />
I could go on and on. I could tell you a hundred stories about each square inch of that house and the yard. Part of me still mourns the loss of that space as my own. I'm trying to accept that you live there now. But occasionally, I will still wonder how my old house is doing, and I will drive by, and slow down, holding back tears as the memories rush in.<br />
<br />
And then, I will see you, a beautiful family with two young girls, loving the house I love, and it will help, just a little.<br />
<br />
So, I ask this of you - love this house. It's a good house, and if you let it, it will take good care of you.<br />
<br />
Best wishes.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-53021068655605210012014-01-22T15:11:00.002-06:002014-01-22T15:11:45.772-06:00Steps have been takenIt was a desperate situation. <br />
<br />
Samantha wanted to follow Miles, more than anything in the world. The problem? At her fastest crawl, she was still too slow to keep up. And it frustrated her. She would stare at him with longing as he ran past. She would let go of the coffee table, and promptly fall on her rear.<br />
<br />
But no more.<br />
<br />
Now, when Brother takes off running, Sister lets go of that table and toddles after him<br />
<br />
For about five steps before face-planting on the hardwood floors.<br />
<br />
But, it's progress, and she is one determined little lady. She will be off and running in no time. :)Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-50848037786079832902014-01-20T18:42:00.001-06:002014-01-20T18:42:07.467-06:00MomentIt is 5:30 on a Monday evening, and my babies are both sleeping.<br />
<br />
Patrick is at a welding class, and my friend who was coming for dinner had to cancel at the last minute, because work happens.<br />
<br />
I've been sitting here for almost three hours, cuddled up with Samantha, certain she was going to wake up at any moment. Only now, as my fingers fly across the keyboard does she wake, groggy, to chew on the strings of my hoodie and blow raspberries at me. The room has grown dark around me, but I have no desire to switch on the light, yet.<br />
<br />
It's twilight, and it's quiet, and it's perfect.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-48674039612629777112014-01-16T12:49:00.000-06:002014-01-16T12:49:00.364-06:00Two.Some days, having two small children is overwhelming. <br />
<br />
Scratch that. <br />
<br />
Most days. Everyday, to some degree.<br />
<br />
I had just started getting used to sleeping through the night again, and now we're back to an infant who wakes at least 2-3 times a night.<br />
<br />
I'd forgotten how expensive formula and diapers are. And how quickly infant clothes are outgrown.<br />
<br />
Getting out the door takes <i>four times</i> longer with two children than it did with one. I'm still not clear on how that math works.<br />
<br />
I spend a lot of my day listening to one child cry while I help the other one with basic care. Miles needs food? Time for Sam to start screaming. Sam needs to eat? Time for Miles to have a meltdown because his banana broke. I am exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Every.day.<br />
<br />
And then, my children do something awesome to remind me why they're worth it all.<br />
<br />
Like when they hold hands in the car. Every.single.time we get in it.<br />
<br />
Or when they wrestle on the floor and laugh so hard that you can't help but laugh with them.<br />
<br />
Or when they cuddle down for nap together.<br />
<br />
Or when Miles admonishes Samantha: "No, Sam! That's not safe! You scared me!"<br />
<br />
Or when Samantha takes four or five wobbling steps trying to chase after Miles.<br />
<br />
Or when he doesn't see her and starts crying, asking, "Where my Samantha go?"<br />
<br />
Or when she does see him and gives him a special smile that's just for him.<br />
<br />
Having two is tough. Tougher than I ever would have thought. I will not lie - I have on occasion wondered what the hell we were thinking adding another child to the mix. And then I realize.<br />
<br />
Our family was incomplete without Samantha.<br />
<br />
Yes, things are harder, now. But, they're also so much better.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-62336502353463191962014-01-08T23:15:00.002-06:002014-01-08T23:15:58.993-06:00So much. . .I feel like I'm bursting at the seams.<br />
<br />
I have so many creative endeavors in my head, and no time or place to bring them to fruition. <br />
<br />
I have so many recipes I want to try, and two small children who don't allow me the preparation time. <br />
<br />
I have so many books I want to read.<br />
<br />
So many shows I want to see.<br />
<br />
So many projects around the house.<br />
<br />
I want to do ALL THE THINGS!!!<br />
<br />
Which is just overwhelming, and makes me stare at the wall trying to decide what to do until my children remind me that I don't have the luxury of staring at walls for long.<br />
<br />
Projects.<br />
Books.<br />
Recipes.<br />
Shows.<br />
Writing.<br />
Yoga.<br />
Friends.<br />
Sleep.<br />
<br />
I want all of this. And so much more.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-27677763183891422132014-01-06T21:09:00.002-06:002014-01-06T21:09:50.855-06:00Miss Me?It's apparently been about three months since my last post. . .<br />
<br />
Oops.<br />
<br />
See, we <strike>re-enacted </strike><i><strike>The Money Pit</strike> </i>bought and remodeled a house and moved in.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKDklHlxqm6mgSlQTnTiVo2qf7Lbl-YIdU-elbVKgtAP2uqQqW1usDNnqgrvWYAfd8Odflcl5bLUFIdfZkc1jI4YiSMpDMdBaNvRS3sKLp4LgG7v9sTsE8WWbzozbv2n9XEDonJ_mCQQ/s1600/Our+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKDklHlxqm6mgSlQTnTiVo2qf7Lbl-YIdU-elbVKgtAP2uqQqW1usDNnqgrvWYAfd8Odflcl5bLUFIdfZkc1jI4YiSMpDMdBaNvRS3sKLp4LgG7v9sTsE8WWbzozbv2n9XEDonJ_mCQQ/s1600/Our+House.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
And my computer broke. Again.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://hackadaycom.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/dsc02559a.jpg?w=450&h=357" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://hackadaycom.files.wordpress.com/2008/08/dsc02559a.jpg?w=450&h=357" height="253" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Dramatic re-enactment. Photo credit: <a href="http://hackaday.com/2008/09/16/how-to-thermite-based-hard-drive-anti-forensic-destruction/" target="_blank">Hackaday</a>)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Thanksgiving happened. And then, Christmas happened.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRSRY8kwTwF5mjVv478U4e70oPWFf6udVBoa3Ae0faLMe0fSQMF0Q" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRSRY8kwTwF5mjVv478U4e70oPWFf6udVBoa3Ae0faLMe0fSQMF0Q" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/67698417@N06/8252582037/" target="_blank">Flikr</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And then there's always these two:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oWBRD085-Oz3_l3EBfhA_rKE9O45KxKtQxPfF36dtg-Ld7lsIzRbHTCo_Y-SUaC-4MhPDunnw6UhOdMG0YnFnGUOCuZgigwh66bJ7os-N83IxeweNzEYCk5qOhTKP1YolGHJWpPWd50/s1600/IMAG4096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9oWBRD085-Oz3_l3EBfhA_rKE9O45KxKtQxPfF36dtg-Ld7lsIzRbHTCo_Y-SUaC-4MhPDunnw6UhOdMG0YnFnGUOCuZgigwh66bJ7os-N83IxeweNzEYCk5qOhTKP1YolGHJWpPWd50/s1600/IMAG4096.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2vOdSL-7H7Ng3kxQgZZGAU4BTUpoFX9ohGwjsA0AT26r7QuasgPfEikIhnhn1sjRuZNzgvhZ0tCmiiMMPAjnuKtyeh7KzzzFkSpoPpwIf6eijdr4HUCs3vwEqCuPVgeqEdYNjFrHBcA/s1600/IMAG4109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2vOdSL-7H7Ng3kxQgZZGAU4BTUpoFX9ohGwjsA0AT26r7QuasgPfEikIhnhn1sjRuZNzgvhZ0tCmiiMMPAjnuKtyeh7KzzzFkSpoPpwIf6eijdr4HUCs3vwEqCuPVgeqEdYNjFrHBcA/s1600/IMAG4109.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wbJrvBNf_nFSXnrm2I7P4QsnIr4LsZjVMnsIMp2x3Nv8owbFD34qsHCvswY-y33TxaQMKc0lOOERpRogovUELPopWJJfVj6ij4fLNry_D-xyT_R4b3dZD5UjKcfjaDqSVfQAm8DDy64/s1600/IMAG4177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wbJrvBNf_nFSXnrm2I7P4QsnIr4LsZjVMnsIMp2x3Nv8owbFD34qsHCvswY-y33TxaQMKc0lOOERpRogovUELPopWJJfVj6ij4fLNry_D-xyT_R4b3dZD5UjKcfjaDqSVfQAm8DDy64/s1600/IMAG4177.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLFlSHLa2FI6Z_WZKVmNqATWHNAI85AkhbYBFIhlLbdN78F3afsLQbIIXGscw70kAoVJukDp_UnaJMWQOh7hyphenhyphendSSinyQqZ0YVNnRA4jZLAW_2rr6id8U6mRLPKSOjXdCqWeFXCwvhyphenhyphenY4/s1600/IMAG4211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLFlSHLa2FI6Z_WZKVmNqATWHNAI85AkhbYBFIhlLbdN78F3afsLQbIIXGscw70kAoVJukDp_UnaJMWQOh7hyphenhyphendSSinyQqZ0YVNnRA4jZLAW_2rr6id8U6mRLPKSOjXdCqWeFXCwvhyphenhyphenY4/s1600/IMAG4211.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
Hopefully, the new year will bring more opportunities to share our lives with all of you!Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-82584799842948947492013-10-09T12:56:00.001-05:002013-10-09T12:56:32.917-05:00Learning the Hard LessonsToday, I was laying Samantha down for her afternoon nap, when I heard an unholy screaming from the bathroom. Quickly, I put her down and ran to see why my son was losing his mind.<br />
<br />
He was sitting there over the toilet he had just flushed, crying as though he'd broken an arm or something.<br />
<br />
"My car, Mommy. My car," he sobbed.<br />
<br />
Apparently, he had dropped the car in the toilet by accident, and flushed before he thought to get it out.<br />
<br />
I held him as I explained that I couldn't get it back, even if I tried. His beloved Hot Wheels was gone forever. His tears soaked my shirt, but I just rocked his little half-naked body, trying to find words of comfort. He has dealt with things being broken. He has dealt with choosing to get rid of things. He has even dealt with having something taken away from him.<br />
<br />
Never before has something he so loved been torn away from him accidentally and suddenly. Yes, it was only a toy car, but to him, it's a big deal.<br />
<br />
As his hiccuping tears drew to a close, he murmured, "I'm sorry, Mommy. I'm so, so sorry. It's all my fault."<br />
<br />
My heart broke again, and I grasped for words to explain that accidents happen, and they aren't anyone's fault. They just happen and they suck, and sometimes, they can't be fixed.<br />
<br />
His sad little silver-blue eyes stared into mine, tear-filled and red-rimmed, as I tried to explain a concept that I have trouble dealing with, even now. Sometimes things are gone, suddenly, without rhyme or reason. And you can't fix it.<br />
<br />
We snuggled there for some time, wishing the world were different.<br />
<br />
And then we dried our tears and went to play trains. Because the world moves on.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-88343761679558837632013-10-01T08:21:00.001-05:002013-10-01T08:21:37.717-05:00Four.Yesterday, my oldest baby turned four.<br />
<br />
Four.<br />
<br />
He's beautiful, and perfect, and sweet and kind, and getting SO BIG.<br />
<br />
Yesterday morning, he crawled into bed with me, snuggled in, and asked, "Mommy, why are there balloons?"<br />
<br />
The night before, while he slept, I had hung balloons from his doorway. I replied, "Because it's your birthday, and special things happen on your birthday."<br />
<br />
My little man sat there, thinking for a moment, and said, "Oh. Fair. . . " :)<br />
<br />
An hour later, however, when he'd had time to process it, he asked me to go upstairs and look at his "balloon tunnel" with him. I stood next to him as he stared at it in awe. "Mommy," he said, "you make me so very happy. I love you." And he wrapped his little arms around my waist as I choked back tears.<br />
<br />
The rest of the day was a blur of breakfast with Grammy and Papa, playtime at Monkey Bizness, nap, and of course, his birthday party.<br />
<br />
I have never seen a happier boy than my son last night. And never have I felt like a better mom than I did in that moment.<br />
<br />
Happy birthday, Little Buddy. You are awesome.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-8905219104214895882013-09-28T09:06:00.002-05:002013-09-28T09:06:43.638-05:00Updates on usLife is good.<br />
<br />
Busy, but good.<br />
<br />
Miles is back in school, and about to have his fourth(!!!) birthday. Sam is sitting up and rolling all over the place. My days are filled with playdates and house-cleaning, my weekends with trips to the Festival.<br />
<br />
Oh, and we've been a little busy working on buying this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsba0wZyyuVlgYxk_VROez0v81Ome3R7VUaYsRYAERtApVWqQATtKzHbSS2Fu0u0keZ-TPGIspo4fQtpIKnLNvs8NpQKHiqHOtYfMJRGdFMvxKbR2zTF_9uUC3jznpfCGOt86agCN6wFQ/s1600/Our+House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsba0wZyyuVlgYxk_VROez0v81Ome3R7VUaYsRYAERtApVWqQATtKzHbSS2Fu0u0keZ-TPGIspo4fQtpIKnLNvs8NpQKHiqHOtYfMJRGdFMvxKbR2zTF_9uUC3jznpfCGOt86agCN6wFQ/s320/Our+House.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I kept waiting for something to go wrong, and so I held off talking about it. But, yesterday, the last hurdle was cleared. After a mountain of paperwork and weeks of being patient, this amazing gem will be ours at the end of October!<br />
<br />
:)Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-31953348243385277282013-08-29T11:05:00.002-05:002013-08-29T11:05:37.598-05:00The answer to "Where have you been?!?"Miles is back in school, two days a week.<br />
<br />
We are starting the process to (hopefully) buy a house at the end of the year.<br />
<br />
My mother just had surgery - nothing major, but not exactly minor either.<br />
<br />
Samantha is entering a stage of severe ADD - nothing holds her attention for more than a couple of minutes, but she wants to be entertained CONSTANTLY.<br />
<br />
I just finished up selling a consignment sale, and am gearing up to have a garage sale in a couple of weeks.<br />
<br />
The dishes are piling up.<br />
<br />
So is the laundry.<br />
<br />
My floor needs vacuumed.<br />
<br />
Miles needs a dentist appointment.<br />
<br />
The craft room needs to be cleaned and sorted.<br />
<br />
The garage does as well.<br />
<br />
Festival starts this weekend, and though I'm not involved, I definitely need to find time to visit.<br />
<br />
I'm swamped. Love you all.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-89651978225403982482013-08-23T18:18:00.002-05:002013-08-23T18:18:23.041-05:004 months (and a few days)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaEAZ6oVNSJvfwCQsg1-QUiYtm-hXl7dSPL-xTywMIpHJqjt1yQQaG6gQxUugZa_8cNuTAFWimjs8_gaXqMclP6hdAD51rVQgWvyias99GrP3xsWkdj22XUrXS8cMdW7Is3qw5rYePsI/s1600/Samantha+4+months.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaEAZ6oVNSJvfwCQsg1-QUiYtm-hXl7dSPL-xTywMIpHJqjt1yQQaG6gQxUugZa_8cNuTAFWimjs8_gaXqMclP6hdAD51rVQgWvyias99GrP3xsWkdj22XUrXS8cMdW7Is3qw5rYePsI/s320/Samantha+4+months.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
4 month milestones<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Solid food. She has had baby oatmeal, applesauce, and mashed banana so far. Her favorite is applesauce mixed with a little oatmeal for texture. </li>
<li>She is trying really hard to sit up on her own, but can't quite balance, yet.</li>
<li>Incredibly talkative. She coos when she's happy, grunts when she's angry, and makes gurgling noises when she is hungry. My favorite, though, is her laugh. :)</li>
<li>LOVES her big brother, and adores cuddling him and holding his hand.</li>
<li>Tummy time has gotten easier/better. She will now stay on her tummy for all of three full minutes before screaming! lol</li>
<li>She's awake for MUCH more of the day. One day, she was only up for about an hour to an hour and a half at a time. The next, she was awake for several hours between naps. </li>
</ul>
<div>
Love this girl!</div>
Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-33461559837985276662013-08-21T17:02:00.000-05:002013-08-21T17:02:05.182-05:00Sigh.It's 4:45 pm and I <i>just</i> ate for the first time today. And it was a bowl of cereal snarfed in less than five minutes while hiding, crouched on the kitchen floor so I didn't have to share it.<br />
<br />
It's been that sort of day.<br />
<br />
Sam has a cold. Miles is just getting over his. Patrick and I are showing the signs of coming down with it. Sam suddenly stopped sleeping through the night a couple of days ago, so we did, too. Miles is feeling very needy and attention-hungry. Sam only wants to cuddle, and won't nap unless I'm holding her. Miles has decided that naps are for losers. I have literally been "on" for eight hours straight. Every bathroom break was taken at the last possible moment to the sound of screaming. Every time I sat, I was immediately covered in children (and snot and drool). Every time I stood, I carried a cranky baby with me and listened to Miles ask me, once more, to come play trains. I am typing this while Samantha whines next to me, because nothing I can do makes her stop. I have given in and handed Miles my phone to browse YouTube, and he is squeezed in on my other side. Even in this moment of writing, there is no quiet, no release.<br />
<br />
I am exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. <br />
<br />
Don't offer me platitudes. Don't bother telling me this will all be over soon. I know it will. And days like this will not be missed. I guarantee it.<br />
<br />
We will all be okay. We will get through this, and soon. But for right now, it kinda sucks. <br />
<br />
So, don't be surprised when I don't answer the phone. I just don't have the energy or the time.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-20668807479505899212013-08-10T14:26:00.000-05:002013-08-10T14:26:17.340-05:0010 by 31Yesterday, I reviewed my 30 by 30 goals. It wasn't an utter disaster, and I learned a lot. That means, I'm ready to set myself some new challenges, and start down that road toward 31. This time, though, I'm heading for smaller, shorter-term goals. If I do this every year, I will have made (and hopefully met) 50 goals by 35, and 100 by 40. This could be awesome. :)<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>Read at least 10 books.</li>
<li>Try out two new crafts.</li>
<li>Learn how to effectively use my fancy schmancy camera in manual mode.</li>
<li>Try 2 new foods.</li>
<li>Practice my crochet regularly.</li>
<li>Continue searching out new experiences for my children each month.</li>
<li>Continue to de-clutter our home. </li>
<li>Create a mural or other art project to display in our new home.</li>
<li>Try new activities - for me. I have a tendency to shy away from new social situations, and thereby miss out on fun things.</li>
<li>Start and maintain a garden.</li>
</ol>
Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-19778488332373619532013-08-09T08:23:00.000-05:002013-08-09T08:23:27.754-05:0030 by 30: The Final ResultsOkay. Tomorrow is my 30th birthday. Where am I on that 30 by 30 list? Let's see:<br />
<ol>
<li>Read thirty books off of the list of <a href="http://www.ala.org/ala/issuesadvocacy/banned/frequentlychallenged/challengedclassics/index.cfm">top 100 banned books</a>.</li>
<ul>
<li>Fahrenheit 451</li>
<li>One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest</li>
<li>Catcher in the Rye</li>
<li>In the Midnight Kitchen</li>
<li>Brave New World</li>
<li>Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone</li>
<li>Of Mice & Men</li>
<li>Their Eyes Were Watching God (in progress)</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: I did read more overall, but less than 1/3 of my goal for banned books.</b></li>
</ul>
<li>Make thirty crafts I have not tried before. Bonus points if each serves a practical purpose. </li>
<ol>
<li>Stencil t-shirts.</li>
<li>Flower barrettes/headbands</li>
<li>Girl's skirt from t-shirt</li>
<li>Tree for stuffed animals for Miles' room</li>
<li>Polka dots for Miles' wall.</li>
<li>Silhouette art for my wall.</li>
<li>Nap sheet and bag for Miles to take to school</li>
<li>Crocheted hats for Samantha</li>
<li>Crocheted headbands for Samantha</li>
<li>Pillowcase dresses for Samantha & my niece</li>
<li>Storage boxes for Miles' toys</li>
<li>Steampunk Jewelry</li>
<li><br /></li>
</ol>
<li>Choreograph a dance for my children's group. All by myself.</li>
<ol>
<li>Finished! It was performed at the 2012 Renaissance Festival.</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Goal = Accomplished</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Take 30,000 pictures. </li>
<ol>
<li>7,000 as of August 2012</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Honestly? I lost count after that. I doubt I hit that goal, but I have used my camera a lot</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Cook or bake 30 dishes I have never made before.</li>
<ol>
<li>Homemade salsa</li>
<li>Stuffed pork chops</li>
<li>Weeknight chicken & noodles</li>
<li>Chicken Noodle Soup</li>
<li>Indian Chicken</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Um, yeah... 30 new dishes was a little . . . optimistic.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Watch 30 classic movies I've never seen.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Movies? Who has time for movies. I think I've seen 5 or 6?</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Learn to knit or crochet.</li>
<ol>
<li>Hand-Knitting: Accomplished. Not fond of it, but I can do it.</li>
<li>Crocheting: Accomplished. Multiple baby hats, headbands, and various accessories created. Crocheted headband sold on Etsy.</li>
<li>Loom-Knitting: In-progress. Hated it. Never even finished my first project.</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: I did it! Goal = Accomplished!</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Take a dance lesson, or preferably, a dance class.</li>
<li>Take Miles to a new museum/event/activity/experience at least once a month.</li>
<ol>
<li>August 2011 through March 2012: Don't remember what all we did, but I did keep up.</li>
<li>April 2012 - WonderScope</li>
<li>May 2012 - Floating Lanterns trip planned for Memorial Day weekend</li>
<li>Lost track . . . but pretty sure we did it!</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Goal = (Probably) Accomplished!</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Simplify my life by getting rid of things I do not need.</li>
<ol>
<li>Donated 4 boxes to Goodwill between Dec. 2011 and May 2012</li>
<li>Gave away all maternity clothes after Sam was born.</li>
<li>Still working on selling off/giving away crap, but I have definitely done what I set out to do.</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Goal = Accomplished</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Organize all of our household paperwork, and keep up on it.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Big.Fat.Fail.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Start my own business. Even if it's just selling a few craft items online from time to time.</li>
<ol>
<li><a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/AmaraBoleyn">Etsy business</a> established. Hand-crocheted flowered headband sold, custom made, and delivered. Positive feedback!</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Accomplished!</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Finish illustrating the children's book I wrote in college.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Nope. Still not done.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Open a savings account for Miles.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Still need to do this. And now, one for Samantha, too.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Send birthday cards to everyone in my immediate circle of family/friends for at least one year.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Nope. Not even one. :/</b></li>
</ol>
<li><strike>Take Dominic through obedience classes.</strike></li>
<li>Decide if/when I'm going to go back for my Master's degree, and what I'm going to study.</li>
<ol>
<li>Decision is that I will decide later, when the kids are a little older.</li>
</ol>
<li>Audition for a musical.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Nope.</b></li>
</ol>
<li><strike>Quit my Festival job and become a full-time stay-at-home mom.</strike> Find a better balance between work and mommyhood, whether that means quitting my job or not.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Quit the Festival. Still working on Balance.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Compile my music collection into one place.</li>
<ol>
<li>In-roads have been made. Technology is fighting me. Boo.</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Incomplete</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Get a digital copy of every important photograph I have, and store them in a safe place.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Hahahahahahaha. Totally forgot about this...</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Finish my digital family tree.</li>
<ol>
<li>Using Ancestry.com, family tree is now accurate to at least three generations on every side. Not sure when I'll consider it "finished".</li>
</ol>
<li>Exercise every single day for at least 30 days.</li>
<ol>
<li>So far, twice a week has been my best record.</li>
</ol>
<li>Learn at least 30 new signs for use at Special Olympics.</li>
<ol>
<li>"How many tickets?" - Need refresher.</li>
<li>"Which?" - Need refresher.</li>
<li>"Where is your coach?" - Need to learn.</li>
<li>"Which events are you competing in?" - Need to learn</li>
<li>"What time?" - Need to learn.</li>
<li>Responses to "What time?" - Need to learn.</li>
<li>"Where is your interpreter?" - Need to learn</li>
<li>"She's/He's not here." - Need to learn.</li>
<li>"She's busy with her child(ren)." - Need to learn.</li>
<li>"I don't know much sign language." - Need to learn.</li>
<li>"Do you want:" - Need to learn</li>
<li>"Stuffed animals?" - Need to learn.</li>
<li>"Candy?" - Need refresher.</li>
<li>"Ball?" - Need refresher</li>
<li>"Puzzle?" - Need to learn</li>
<li>"Necklace?" - Need to learn</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Still have a lot of work to do.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Learn to play at least ten new games.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Um. No. Didn't happen.</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Become more involved in the financial planning of our household.</li>
<ol>
<li>Downloaded an app to help track finances. It was horrible, and reset to zero at the end of each month. Trying to find a better one.</li>
<li>Took over household expenses and budgeting.</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: Finally! One I actually accomplished!!!</b></li>
</ol>
<li>Set up our wills, and arrange for custody of Miles <b>(and now Samantha)</b>, should anything unfortunate happen.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Nope. </b></li>
</ol>
<li>Find a church where my family is comfortable, and become an active member.</li>
<ol>
<li><b>Nope. Tried. Failed. Gave up... </b></li>
</ol>
<li>Participate in a flash mob. - <b>DONE!</b></li>
<li>Contact at least ten of my teachers from elementary, middle, high school, and college, and tell them how they have influenced my life.</li>
<ol>
<li>Mrs. Alexander - Freshman & Senior College-Bound English</li>
<li>Mrs. Heath - Kindergarten</li>
<li>Mr. Simmons - Middle & High School Gifted</li>
<li><b>Bottom Line: 3 out of 30. That's 10%. Fail. :/</b></li>
</ol>
</ol>
So, where does that leave us? Well, I tried a lot of new things. I pushed myself. But in the end, my goals turned out to be a little ambitious. To be fair, I didn't know we were going to add to our family when I wrote these. Had I known, I might have cut myself a little slack. <br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Am I disappointed that I failed so many goals? A little. But the goal of this was to make me try things, and I definitely did that. So, in the end, I consider this a success. Maybe my 35 by 35 goals will end with better results. Only time will tell. :)</div>
Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-45269868650719919662013-08-03T21:53:00.001-05:002013-08-03T21:53:11.658-05:00Thirty YearsOne week from today, I will officially be 30 years old.<br />
<br />
Thirty.<br />
<br />
Three.Zero.<br />
<br />
It sounds like I'm freaked out by it, and I guess I am, a little. I didn't think 30 would get here so quickly. 30 seemed so far off, even a couple of years ago. I'm mostly freaked by the fact that time has flown so quickly.<br />
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As for the actual number? I'm actually kinda happy with it.<br />
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I am (almost) 30. That means I'm officially an adult. No one can discount my thoughts or opinions just because I'm a "kid" anymore. 30 is like this magic number that everyone actually recognizes as 'adulthood'. It's nice, especially for someone like me. My mother always said I was "born 30 years old" - others told me I have an "old soul". Now, finally, I feel like I've grown into that, and like - finally - my same-age peers are on the same page.<br />
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No longer am I the "stick-in-the-mud" if I don't want to have a water-gun fight. No longer am I "putting on airs" when I use big words. No longer do people try to force me to try something I don't like or don't want to try. I have finally reached an age where people accept what I am.<br />
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Overall, though, I just feel <i>good</i> about my age. I've finally settled into my skin. I'm comfortable with myself and who I am (for the most part). Long gone are the years of trying to decide if I should try to fit in, the years of trying to decide exactly who I am. I am me. I have my faults, sure, but I've started to figure out what mine are, and what to do about them. I can finally look myself in the mirror, see the dark circles under my eyes and the mussy hair and smile, because they belong to me. I am a person who is loved, by my husband, my children, my family, my friends, my God - and finally, I have learned to love myself.<br />
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So, I say, "Welcome, Thirty. I've been waiting for you."Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-8419794345602146822013-07-30T07:30:00.000-05:002013-07-30T07:30:01.380-05:00The Little ThingsA full night's sleep.<br />
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Waking up early to feed and cuddle a sleepy baby.<br />
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Lying in bed, listening to the quiet.<br />
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A cup of coffee, alone.<br />
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A soft rain on a grey morning.<br />
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Time to write, and contemplate.<br />
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Memories, and plans.<br />
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Content.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-70084881542296031152013-07-25T09:33:00.000-05:002013-07-25T09:33:22.357-05:00SickThe dreaded summer cold hit our house this week. And it hit me hard. I spent most of yesterday in a haze, functioning only through the miracle of Day-Quil.<br />
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Luckily, I have awesome kids.<br />
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Miles quietly played and watched tv. If I had a coughing fit, he'd come pat me on the back and say, "It be okay, Mommy. It be okay."<br />
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Samantha wanted nothing more than to cuddle most of the day, smiling up at me from time to time.<br />
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It was a long day, but my babies made it so much better.<br />
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And the good news is that we all appear to be on the mend today. After a good night's sleep (thank you, Ny-Quil), I feel a ton better. Still congested and achy, but I'll take it. :)Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-13026156752514232832013-07-19T09:08:00.002-05:002013-07-19T09:08:36.137-05:00NormalThree weeks ago, the world became suddenly crazy, hectic, and stressful.<br />
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A week ago, just as suddenly, it fully returned to normal.<br />
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Other than Patrick going to work and the kids and I doing our daily morning outing, we've been staying home, relaxing as a family, and just recovering.<br />
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We've eaten dinner at home, then played outdoors in the fading light.<br />
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We've taken walks to get ice cream.<br />
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We've cleaned, and rested, and cleaned some more.<br />
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Life with two small children is always a little on the crazy side, but it is our normal, and I am so thankful to return to it. <br />
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This quiet little life makes me so happy.Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4378775078949989048.post-76421185870128864252013-07-14T15:57:00.002-05:002013-07-14T15:57:45.679-05:00Pass the WineThe last two weeks have been . . . long. Let's just go with long.<br />
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I can't even go into everything. There's simply too much.<br />
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Baby showers. Surprised and unpleasantly shocked with the behavior of a family member. Fourth of July. A family emergency that took us out of town for most of a week. Some sort of stomach bug or food poisoning or something that had Miles puking and pooping for two days. Little sleep. Lots of stress.<br />
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I'm hanging in there. Stressed, and somewhat anxious, but considering the situation, I'm not sure that's unexpected. Mostly, I'm just hunkering down and cuddling my husband and kiddos and trying to ride out the storm.<br />
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Hopefully, I will have time, patience, and wherewithal to post more in the near future. Until then, hugs to all of you, and I hope your summer is much less exciting than mine. :)Inara Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05991086457516038305noreply@blogger.com0