Digging Out

This picture has nothing to do with this post, because I have been too sick to bother taking pictures, and anyway, if I did, they would just be of my children sitting with mouths agape in front of the computer, watching some show.  This picture is cool though, it is Jesse and our awesome neighbor Mike sawing wood for our chicken coop.  They are so cool.

I don't get sick much anymore.  I used to, but these days I am lucky enough to lead a busy, but low stress life, and it seems to agree with my constitution.  But, this week has been hellish for me.  I have been so sick--I have had no interest in doing anything (besides the basics of keeping my children physically safe and fed while they were in my exclusive care--I did make some efforts to farm Elsa out, and insist that David nap).  And they watched shocking amounts of PBS kids on the computer--Arthur, Dinosaur Train, Wordgirl, Caillou.  I am talking hours, which makes my heart hurt because I hate it so, but I don't know quite what else to do.  Elsa tearily begged me yesterday to DO something with her--a craft, or read to her, or something interactive, so we got out the shells and clay from our beach trip in October and made collages for like fifteen minutes, after which I was completely exhausted and suggested some Dinosaur Train.  And I am realizing that I have definitely made a somewhat problematic bed and am now having to lie in it-yesterday, I mentioned to Elsa that I might need to buy some bread, and she was totally horrified, insisting that no, we do NOT buy bread.  And I don't have a babysitter yet, and I am going to have to get one.  Also, the children seem totally dependent on me for bedtime.  For some reason, I am the bedtime point person.  When I am feeling good, I love to read aloud, and can do it for a looonngg time, however, with every word extremely painful, I cannot.  And so our bedtime routine has become lots of reading in my bed, then to theirs with lullabies and cuddles, and my staying in the room until they are asleep.   And Jesse, bless his heart (I love writing that expression--it seems so southern, although I can't seem to bring myself to use it when I am actually talking), has made a valiant effort to put them to bed, but they just end up wedged beside me, feet tucked into my bottom and thighs, luckily insensible to my hacking.  My frequent bedtime trips to the bathroom are always a problem, climbing out from between them, then having to move them aside so I can slide back between them since they migrate towards eachother in search of the mama heat.

Now I will add another picture at random, because I haven't put any in in a while, and my kids and husband are really, really cute.  Although not particularly in this picture...I am not really a photographer.

That sign says Happy Birthday Eemah--then it was decorated by David, making it pretty tough to read.  It was a project that my creative and organized sister-in-law arranged for Jesse's mom.  We were totally last minute with it, because that seems to be how I roll.   I don't quite understand how the hat Elsa is wearing has made yet another reappearance--she wore it when she was 6 months old and it was tucked safely away in the attic...

But, as evidenced by my actually writing here, I am beginning to feel better, and actually take an interest in things.  The first thing I need to work on is the kitchen, where every single surface is covered by dirty dishes...but I am dreaming about the garden.  My parents are coming  this weekend, and I am hoping that I can conscript them to help me get it ready to plant peas and greens and such.  Also, to take my children somewhere away from the house for a bit and let me sleep and recoup.  I do remember my mother saying, as Jesse and I packed up for the mountains here in NC that once I started having children, I would wish that we lived closer.  I pooh-poohed her--after all, she had raised us pretty far from her parents, but she was so right.  Of course, we love it here, but how great would it be to just be able to call my mom, or take the kids to her...it would be amazing, and it seems so silly that we try to do it alone.  So, Elsa and David  (and small millet grain-sized baby) remember this.  Stay close to your mama when you have children.  I will help you.  I will.