Baby Momma

As I mentioned before, last week was the babies' birthday. We celebrated with Phil and Joyce, Steve's parents, with some cake and presents. It was a great time!

Phil and Joyce were thoughtful enough to get Luke a big truck, to which he says, "Big truck!" each time he plays with it. His vocabulary is really expanding with new words every week. So fun!

Kate's language is coming a little slower, so when they gave her a baby doll she didn't have a name for it. So she kept calling it "Momma," which I thought was super-cute because it's what she calls me.

Unfortunately the baby's name is now "Baby Momma." Yes, the derogatory name for unwed mothers is now what my daughter calls her baby.

Nice.

Kate with Baby Momma.

Difficult to Admit

Last weekend was Kate and Luke's second birthday. My feelings about this are very complex. While I am excited they are growing older and more independent, a part of me begins to realize I am losing my identity. For the last two years, plus a couple of months after we found out we were expecting twins, I have been consumed with them. From the bed rest and pre-twin anxiety to the sleepless nights and juggling two babies plus three children, motherhood has been all-consuming.

I used to be very proud of my organization and crafty projects, but now am proud of lesser accomplishments such as daily showers and the occasional clean sheets. When I was teaching, my colleagues would tease me about always having "my ducks in a row." I even was presented a wonderful figurine of ducks by my principal at a staff meeting, her version of Teacher of the Year. As our family has multiplied, the craftiness, cleanliness, and organization has dwindled and I've been okay with this. Really.

But now the babies are getting older and it hard to admit I'm starting to feel a little lost. Gone are my excuses to order pizza for dinner, to ignore the dog hair on the carpet and the piles of laundry in the baskets. My expectations are higher now which is where the problem lies.

I can't be defined by the cleanliness of my house, I need more than that. Motherhood, of course, is the most loved and most important job I have, but I need some things which define me, excite me and make me happy. For the past two years, I have lost my sense of self and now is the time to find it again.

This may be a long journey.

Special Visitor

We have had special visitor to our home the last couple of days. She's really cute and doesn't say much, but we love her. The boys decided to take a couple of pictures, this is the best one:

Actually we don't know if she's a boy or a girl but praying mantises have a special place in my heart. I just think they are really cool. Not that I would EVER touch one, I think the girl chromosomes I have would prevent that from happening. I also just recently learned from my

10 year-old entomologist they have stingers, so I am DEFINITELY staying away!

This summer, Steve and I were out on a date at a lovely restaurant with a great outdoor patio. (If you live here, you know where this is!) We should have been having great child-free conversations, but I couldn't keep my eyes off this baby praying mantis which kept hanging around.

Plus I hear they are good luck, and who doesn't need some extra luck! I hope she sticks around for a while!

A Primer in Primer

Saturday the dry wall guys were finished with their work. They did a beautiful job, but the flying dust down there was suffocating. It is coming from every crack and crevasse in the house, making our fall stinkbug invasion seem like only occasional visitors. I have been fighting the dust on every surface, including on dishes in cabinets. It stinks, but I need to keep reminding myself of the lovely basement we will soon have.

As a side note, I must tell you something my dear husband told me one night last week. We were talking about the workers and he said how impressed he was by how clean they had kept everything. My hazy recollection has me saying something equally complimentary, as I adjusted my heating pad on my back for all my aches and pains. If he only knew...

On Saturday the fun really began and my friend Traci and I trekked out to Fairfax to visit my brother, who conveniently works at a paint store and graciously offered me his 50% discount. By taking advantage, we saved a bundle (thanks Andy) and also sprung for a paint sprayer to make the job easier. I have no idea how many gallons of paint and primer we bought, but it filled up the back of our Volvo station wagon!

Steve broke out the sprayer on Sunday morning, viewing the informational DVD and practicing the arm motions. When he felt he had mastered all spraying techniques, he got started. After about 2 1/2 hours, he had sputtered and spewed out 5 gallons of paint and was back at the paint store for 7 more gallons to finish the job. Here's what it looks like now:

The double closet of the den/bedroom.

Views of the rec room area.

Still my favorite part of the project, the bottom of the stairs and pantry.

So, so happy to be at this point!

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of what Steve looked like when he was done because it was truly funny! His clothes and skin were covered, and his lips and eye lashes were covered in white. Honestly he looked frost-bitten!

So that night as he adjusted the heating pad on his back, moaning and groaning about his soreness, I felt it was only proper to say, "Gee, that sprayer really does a great job!"