Getting Nothing Done

It's nearly 1pm and I've done nothing.

This is not new.

It's not that I've done nothing-nothing; in fact I colored my hair. Roots were entirely shabby. Other that that I've nursed the baby and got the older kids to school and nursed the baby and taken a shower and nursed the baby and read some scripture and nursed the baby, and ate a sandwich and nursed the baby and held the baby and rocked the baby.

And I ate half a Reese's.

My days have gone like this for weeks. I look around at the mess and the clothes that need folding and the clothes that need ironing (and the new beautiful Rowenta steamer I bought to make my life easier, still sitting in plastic) and I feel awful.

I do have a productive time, because I have Emma to help me. After school she holds the baby for a few minutes while I race around, gathering laundry or filling the dishwasher or running the dyson (we don't vacuum here, we DYSON). I then sling the baby and help with homework and set the table and such. After the little one is asleep at night is my big work time. I make lunches and get dinner prepped for the next day (since dinner is the baby's fussy time) and read and respond to emails and such. Still, I can't even begin to get it all done, and by the next morning I'm right back where I started.

So, what did I do with my extra 30 minutes today? I colored my hair. Pfft.

So, with fresh color, but a messy head of hair, I sit in front of the computer, cradling the baby to keep her happy, and perusing the internet with my left hand. I'm talented like that.

As she begins to doze I look down at her sweet little body. Her little fingers and toes are amazing. She smells good. Through my efforts she's got fat little thighs and dimples in her elbows. Chewable cheeks. A milky-white tongue when she yawns.

I think about the possibilities of her future. Not her FUTURE, but more like... laughs and hugs and drawings and books and scooters and dollies and fire trucks and yanking the hair on the cat. These are good things. These are worthwhile things.

My body is squishy and my house is cluttered; but my baby is well and fed and happy. My children are safe and loved. My husband comes home to dinner and a smile and a squeeze and as much peace as I can create in 10 minute snatches.

I know that I'm trying my best and I know that it's all my Father in Heaven asks for. These days will go by so fast. If my house is a mess, but I spend an hour rocking the baby, I think that might be ok.

Godzilla

My husband has put a ton of Godzilla movies in our Netflix cue. (que?). And the first one arrived a couple of nights ago. A serious stinker, probably about 10 years old.

My 6 year old girl is kind of a sensitive little thing and I have to admit, I'm protective. We don't have cable - which means we don't have TV. She reads a lot and draws a lot and still wanted to be "a princess or a fairy" when she grows up, at least the last time I asked her.

We decide that it's probably ok for her to watch this awful Godzilla movie (it's in Japanese too and she can't read the subtitiles fast enough to keep up) as she'll probably get bored in a few minutes. Nope.

"WHAT is THAT!?"
"AAAAHHHH!"
"Who's Mecha G?"
"I think Mothra looks like a huge hairy butterfly"
"Poor butterfly, why did Godzilla take it's leg! It's so sad! And it's gross!"
"Why didn't he just walk around the building instead of crashing through?"
"Poor little mothra babies!"
"Why are the fairies just dressed like girls? And they're not modest."
"Mecha Godzilla is kind of like the fire benders. It shoots lightning."
"Oh NOOOOO!"

and best of all..

"I wish I was a huge metal monster who could knock buildings down!"

Dad fell asleep in his recliner.

The next day daddy mentions that there are more Godzilla movies coming in the mail and asks "do you want to watch them with me?"

My sweet little, blond, bow wearing daughter, while holding a barbie, pumps her fist in the air and hollers "YEESSSSSSS!"

Good heavens.

I Get To Go Back To Church! and other news

I haven't been to church since May. I'm the primary president.

Bed rest, bed rest, bed rest... then baby.

I didn't go to church for about 11 years of my adult life. I was married to an agnostic, and quite honestly I just didn't have the gumption to get to church every week without him, or family, or anyone else. I know women now who do and I admire them very much.

My former used to tell me "if you want to do something, then don't listen to what I say about it and just do it. Fight me for it!" That isn't what I wanted to do (I'm not a fighter really); I didn't think a marriage should be about fighting the other person to get what you want. Thusly, I was nice and didn't go. I didn't do a lot of things.

I continued to be nice, nice, nice. Nice during fights and nice in the face of riducule and neglect, and then nice through the divorce and afterwards. My friends, my family, my eternal companion all have said "you're too nice to him" and while I agreed, I also know that since we have children together I have a long time I have to be civil.

Until this week.

He asked for something I couln't give him, and when I couldn't give it to him (explaining nicely why) he demanded so much more. He crossed a line, which is kind of good.

I believe in being Christ like. I believe in turning the other cheek. I also believe that my Father in Heaven doesn't want me to be stepped on, or shoved around... and that he wants what's best for my children.

I've finally contacted a lawyer to straighten some things out, and I feel much better.

He used to tell me to fight him if I didn't like what he wanted. Ok, so now I will.

I've prayed a lot about this, and wasn't entirely sure it was what I should do. To be more forceful. Then today I happened to grab a box of miscenlaneous stuff on a whim in the garage, and in the box was some paperwork I'm going to need at the law office. I didn't know it was in that box, and I wasn't looking for it yet.

I took it as a sign, that what I'm doing is ok and appropriate for my family.

I can't wait to get back to church, to worship Him properly with friends and family who love me and don't want me to fight with them.