Just an FYI for all you nursing moms: a quick lookup on Wikipedia for ‘lanolin’ reveals that it comes from sheep. Greasy, oily, woolly sheep. There’s no denying that this stuff works miracles, but I think I’ll stop using it on my lips.

(Yeahhhhh, I know. Another sleep post… Bear with me.)

Two years and a second baby later, I find history repeating itself. Except this time, I was driven out of the bedroom by a fussing baby and a snoring husband.

But I was pondering the other day at how being tired all the time affects me spiritually. For starters, all I want to eat when I’m exhausted are refined carbs. Especially baked goodies. And donuts. Mmmmmm. Worst of all, a craving for coffee would creep up on me (I drank coffee almost every day before I joined the church). A craving not to be indulged, of course—I’ve got more self-discipline than that!. But a yucky feeling comes over you when you’re not eating right and adhering to the “moderation in all things” precept that is the Word of Wisdom.

Secondly, when my sleep-deprivation is especially compounded, I get a little blue. And what better way to cheer yourself up than some online worldly coveting and retail therapy?!

Third, I totally drag in the mornings after a rough night. And the longer it takes me to leave the house, the faster (and ruder) I drive.

And lastly, scripture study is downright tedious when you’re fighting to keep your eyes open.

So there you have it. Prophets and church leaders aren’t kidding when they extoll the virtues of “early to bed, early to rise.” Except in my case, I don’t have much of a choice when I go to bed or when I wake up. I just hang on to the hope that this is a passing phase, lest I become an overweight, caffeine-wired mama who runs over dogs and schlepps around a huge, ugly Hermès Birkin bag.

Heat, crowds, energy, and too-loud music. That is what concerts are made of. We’ve gone way too long without, but tonight we got our fix.

I was really happy to be between two huge Mates fans that were seriously rocking out (which more than made up for the rest of the dead audience). What’s up with the kids not getting into the music, anyways? Whatevs, we still had a great time.

Now let’s hear some indie-goodness, shall we?

First things first: a little head-dipping in the pool. You know, just to cool things off. Initiated, of course, by Kai.

Then Sunday came, along with a 24-hour case of the stomach flu for me. We visited Ethan and Anna’s ward that morning to hear them speak. The weather finally began to clear up on Monday, family picture day. Yay (in a non-enthusiastic voice). After a ridiculously stressful photo shoot with one cranky toddler and one overtired and overstimulated baby (“Kai, KAI! Loooook at the frog! KAI! Here’s the ball, here’s the ball! Now throw it! Say cheese!! Kai, beHAVE, or no treat!!”), we all headed back to the house for some Memorial Day barbeque. Thank you sun, for gracing us with your presence.

Spent most of the day napping because I came down with the stomach flu. Any variety of a stomach/intestinal illness is THE. WORST. At least this round of stomach flu is nowhere near as bad as the excruciating bout of giardia I contracted a few years back (thanks, Mexico!), the pain of which rivaled natural childbirth. Ouch.

As irritating as this show is, I let Kai occasionally watch it. I think he relates to Diego. Brown boys must get other brown boys. For sure I’ll regret indulging him the day he asks to go to the live show. Hopefully, he can be easily persuaded to do this instead.

“Miiiiine!”

At the park yesterday, a friend’s son was antagonizing Kai, so I gently and patiently diffused the situation. However, when the tables were turned, and Kai was the one being a stinker, I found myself scolding him and being…mean about it. Everyone knows you have to be a little more sharp and direct with your own child because, as their parent, it’s as if you have a big, fat “DON’T LISTEN TO ME!” sign slapped onto your forehead. But still. I felt bad, and since then, I’ve been contemplating ways to be just as firm in my parenting, but quieter and more loving. Which is why I find this quote from Elder Nelson’s most recent conference talk meaningful:

This is how I like Dax; with his sideways glance and toothless baby grin. He always has this look of inward amusement. As if he’s aware of something really funny that we don’t.

Being up every two hours at night with Dax makes me an irritable zombie during the day. I doubt he’ll sleep through the night until he’s fully weaned (just like Kai when he was younger) so I just have what, six, maybe eight more months of sleep deprivation?

Our enrichment activity tonight was a hit (I think I even found a new running partner!), and so were these lovelies:

While Kai was watching Mr. Rogers this afternoon, I was acutely aware at how quiet that show is (a far cry from my fave kid show, and I don’t care that moms in my moms group hate it–YGG is brilliant. And created by Mormons!).

But ever since reading this article on creative play, I’ve scaled back on Kai’s “entertainment time.” I confess that I had become a heavy user of the tube since Dax was born, but like a friend (another mom of two under three) said, television is a coping mechanism more than anything. Besides, I’m no foolio that thinks my kid is going to actually learn anything substantial from a show (unlike those idiots that vandalized Julie Aigner-Clark’s home).

I’ve updated my portfolio with some recent items. I’m ready to start freelancing again. I think.

I. Love. Fridays. To the point where I almost can’t stand it. I just want to leap for joy or go for a car ride with all the windows down and music cranked up, because that super special day leading up to the weekend is here! Obviously, those endorphins from a morning run, then smoothies, then play at the park, are still coursing through my system, because I am chip-per!

Here are pictures from this morning’s adventures. Happy Friday!

“Kai! Kai, don’t go! Take the picture!”

Hiding from the girl-folk.

Kai with his favorite pal, Kate.
She’s a huge fan of the Kirk boys. Huge fan.

Pushing Dax. A request made by Kate.

Still pushing Dax.

Classic Dax with the tongue sticking out. Kate hovering nearby.

Now, how old do kids have to be to babysit?

As I was nursing Dax before his bedtime tonight, feeling tired and knowing I looked the part, I felt compelled to look up at my reflection in our mirrored closet doors. A quiet, but clear voice popped into my head saying “You’re doing a great job.” Despite myself (and I say ‘despite’ because I’m naturally such a pessimistic grump), I smiled back at my reflection as those words sank in. I’m not sure why, but there’s something about seeing your own goofy grin that causes you to break into an even greater smile. At that moment I thought inwardly, “Things are great. Things are really wonderful.” And though I was in my typical stay-at-home garb of messy ponytail and ratty shirt, I felt like I could take on the world.