Cough. Cough.

The more time I let lapse between posts, the harder it is to get going again, so I'm just jumping in tonight, not playing catchup.

I've been obsessed with cloth diaper shopping again recently. Two close friends and their hubbies are expecting new babies next month, one boy and one girl. So baby gifts and diapering advice are needed! Too much fun.

But as I look around at the diaper-selling sites that have exploded since my last purchase (my first wool all-in-ones), I realize how many moms have been making a profit with their obsession by creating and improving cloth diapers -- while I've simply been washing mine. Maybe Scott and I should reconsider capitalism after all.

I'm reading the book "Affluenza" this week. Short definition: a disease of over-consumption. Although I scored pretty healthy on the self-test, I've found myself fighting off certain symptoms more recently, like the first scratchiness of a sore throat that demands large doses of vitamin C and echinacea. We were sick over the holidays with the usual flu and never-ending cough that was popular this year. But we were also battling the germs of affluenza. 'Tis the season to go shopping, as they say. It's hard to find balance between the desire to be generous and thoughtful and giving, and not getting so caught up in the planning and shopping that the One we're celebrating is forgotten. Christ needs no gifts that can be found at the mall.

But the credit card bills have arrived, and suddenly we're aware of how much over our budget we went. So much for putting our tax return in savings. I have a wish list for 2005 that's short but deep, as in needing deep pockets. A concrete driveway so the boys can ride their scooters and bikes outside instead of all over the house. Hardwood floors in the living and dining room to replace the nasty carpet that odors won't leave. Bunkbeds to entice the boys to sleep in their own room. A trip to Oregon to visit my cousin when she has her second baby. A Disneyland vacation to celebrate our younger son's third birthday. My mom has generously offered to help with the last three items, provided enough affluenza-ridden people are interested in buying expensive furniture from her this year.

They say money can't buy happiness, and I know in my heart that's true. No amount of money will bring back the people lost in the Tsunami. But humanitarian recovery efforts won't get far without it either.

late nights

So, I've been wanting to blog all week, and I even wrote down some themes, but I just haven't had the time, energy or focus. Excuses, excuses.

The boys didn't get to sleep until 10 tonight (or last night or the night before), so that's when I dragged myself out of bed to finally talk to my husband, who'd been at a school/work function all evening. We need to be up early tomorrow to go to our friends' for a work party, and I should probably have followed him back to bed an hour ago. But sometimes, late at night -- when the house is finally quiet and I've had time to just read e-mail for a while and veg out -- is the best time for new thoughts and ideas to emerge. Thus, the insistence of radical unschoolers that parent-enforced bedtimes for children are anathema to creativity and learning in freedom.

Monday night Scott and I went to hear and meet some unschooling gurus (experienced unschooling moms) speak. The time we spent was interesting, but I wished I could have stayed into the wee hours, when the non-unschoolers were done asking about the basics and we could really discuss the philosophy of living and learning with our children more freely.

The punk rock family on Wife Swap this week was a good example of that. They didn't call themselves unschoolers per se, but they lived in joy and freedom with each other, and the teen-aged children "homeschooled themselves." I don't think I've mentioned my obsession with Wife Swap. I haven't had a favorite TV show in years. And I know some people think Wife Swap is annoying. But I find it fascinating how differently people can live, and how they react when put in a totally new environment. I would love to do it just to see what kind of family they would send me to, but obviously the boys couldn't handle me leaving for that long this young, and I wouldn't want to subject them to the coercion of a stranger at any age.

But just for fun, I've thought about what my opposite would be like. My mom says it would be someone with a nanny and a housekeeper who gets weekly manicures and pedicures. My sister says it would be a family who is isolated from relatives and close friends. Whoever it was would certainly have to adjust to frequent knocks on the door from unplanned visitors!

For example -- and not an unusual one -- within a period of 15 minutes yesterday morning, we opened to the door to my neighbor and her kids, who promptly entered and tripled the volume of noise in the house, then my sister, who I think was looking for food, and then Carla (the only expected visitor of the three), who needed a ride to work. I took my secondborn with me, and left the rest of the kids and my neighbor friend to the chaos.

Maybe I'd get a family where the dad did all the cleaning, or maybe the dad would be a nit-picky perfectionist who only supervised -- since Scott neither cleans nor cares, for the most part.

I'd probably get a family where the parents micro-manage the children, expect obedience without question, enforce a strict schedule, and depend on outsiders to determine what their children should be learning. I wouldn't have to go far.

What do you think would be my opposite?

Life is good again.

It's Friday afternoon. Little Blue Eyes is resting them. His big brother is watching the Little Bear Movie, and I'm baking the last of eight dozen pumpkin spice cookies. I didn't intend to make quite so many. My sister Lindsay was visiting us yesterday afternoon while I made the dough, and I accidently put in the whole can of pumpkin instead of just one cup. So I had to triple the recipe, and try to fit it into my Kitchenaide bowl, which was a challenge. Fortunately, Scott thinks they're the best cookies I've ever made. I've eaten too many of them by now to agree.

So, I am feeling better. :) Thank you to those of you who wrote or called to check in with me this week. God is good. All the time. I think the boys and I finally caught up on our sleep last night. I put them to bed a little after 8, and accidentally fell asleep while Grant was nursing. Didn't wake up until 7 this morning. I actually had 45 minutes of quiet time! The boys slept till almost 8 a.m., and woke up in great moods. (I don't think I mentioned that Green Eyes was sick last week. Spent the night before his brother's birthday throwing up every hour, so none of us slept that night. When I wrote last, he still wasn't feeling himself.)

Monday night Scott came home and eased my stress level by offering to do the grocery shopping Tuesday evening. Just knowing I didn't HAVE to do it helped. I ended up going Tuesday morning anyway, so we could have the evening at home to watch the election news, and because the boys were in decent moods after we took Carla to work. We got in and out of the store so efficiently, I drove through Starbucks afterward for a treat.

Wednesday we were able to go to our homeschooling co-op for the first time in a month. I set the boys loose in the huge yard, and gabbed with my friends. It's so nice knowing that they can play freely and safely, and there are always other eyes keeping watch if they wander out of my sight.

Then yesterday Mark and his girls came over, and we enjoyed a sunny day in the garden. I planted a few more flats of pansies; still have several shrubs left to plant, but it looks pretty so far. I was planning to start a private childbirth prep series with friends of mine last night, but she came down with a cold, so we rescheduled. Thus, the 8 o'clock bedtime.

Today we had friends over for lunch who we haven't seen much of lately, so that was fun. Tomorrow we have another work party all day, and then we'll host the potluck dinner. It's been a full, but good week. The house isn't perfect, but when has it ever been? (Besides when Franklin was five months old, still sleeping a lot, and not making messes yet.)

Alone at last

For the first time in months, both my boys are down for an afternoon nap -- in bed, and at the same time -- and I'm actually alone.

This is a good thing, even though I've been feeling lonely and isolated from my closest friends lately. My friend and her son moved out two weeks ago, so we've been working our way back to our old routine again. We've committed to helping her with transportation to work until she gets a car, so my week is still influenced by her schedule.

Actually, if I'd looked at the correct schedule, I wouldn't be typing this at all. My sister and I took the boys to Barnes & Noble this morning, thinking I didn't have to be back until 12:30. Turns out I was supposed to watch her son at 11:30 and she was going to take my car, but we didn't get back until 11:45. So she woke up her ex, who works nights, instead. No, I still don't have a cell phone.

The mistake meant I could actually put my kids down for a nap when they were ready, which was earlier than usual because of the time change. My 3.5yo hasn't been napping except occasionally since before he turned three, but lately he's been sleeping less at night and been cranky all day. I know some people could get three toddlers to nap at the same time, but I haven't figured out how to do that non-coercively yet. It's been easier just to keep them busy outside or turn on a movie, and if one of them falls asleep in my lap or on the couch, great.

So, here I am, writing again. I have a really hard time finding creative energy when my life feels out of control. I lose my sense of humor. Even though it might be good for me to sit down and just get all my emotional crap out of my head and onto the screen, I can't do it. Especially when I know people will see it. I don't want to feel sorry for myself. And I'm tired of hearing, "That's really nice of you. She's lucky to have you for a friend." Yes, I'm glad to be able to help. I'd do it all again. That's not really the point. The problem is figuring out how to make it work better. How to deal with the stress that comes on when you have extra people living in your house, and you weren't the best household manager to begin with. How to maintain your relationship with your husband and children when time and opportunties for one-on-one attention are always short. How to still connect with your other friends when you're never alone long enough to feel like calling anyone, and don't have transportation half the time.

That last issue, however, is not just because my friend was living with us for 2.5 months. Five weeks ago she went to work full-time, and wasn't around that much anymore. No, it's more because I still haven't learned to be direct about my needs. I still depend on other people's listening and intuitive skills too much. So, when an neighbor who loves to talk, is away from adult contact all day, and whom I need to maintain a decent working friendship with drops by three or four times a day, I feel trapped. I don't want to say, "You're driving me crazy! I have stuff to do! Go home and stop leaving your kids alone!" Because sometimes I'm really glad to have someone to talk to, even if it's fairly surfacy. Sometimes my kids are thrilled to have their friends stop by, because they know I probably won't get everything in order to make the trip across the street myself. Because I'm too anal. I like to shower and dress before I leave the house. I don't want my kids crossing the street barefoot, but I can't find their socks. Because I know if it's too close to a mealtime, we'll get hungry and cranky before we're ready to come home, and it'll be a nightmare tearing them away again.

And then we come to the next problem. My firstborn child's and my matching melancholy temperament. We've been driving each other crazy lately. Our blood sugar drops at the same time, and we're equally inept at recognizing hunger and seeking food before it's too late. In fact, he often rejects food when he most needs it, as I used to do, too. We're both impatient perfectionists, and react dramatically to the smallest problem, and then sensitively to each other's noisy emotions.

So this week, I've found myself disliking my own child, and disliking myself even more for it. I'm seriously no more mature than my 3-year-old. I need God's help in a big way, but I've forgotten how to ask for it. I've been focusing all month just on gaining control over the house, as though somehow if I can get that in order, I'll feel in control of my life again. But it never lasts long. Someone always stops by at the messiest time of day. No one sees it when thinks are picked up. So what's the point?

I'm going to stop here and call my sister who lives out of state. I miss her.