Conquering Routine
Sometimes it’s as simple as grabbing their favorite tractor and crossing the street to an open field where it feels like you’re worlds away but in reality, you could throw a rock to your driveway. Watching the sun go down, chasing bunnies, jumping off of old abandoned tires. The world is their oyster.
Conquering Routine
Even though I have yet to be cleared to return to my “day job” as a RN, my life as a stay-at-home-mom still runs on a very routine Monday thru Friday schedule; mostly because it’s all on me as Willy works most of the day. I thought that being home so much would be freeing; that a schedule would not be needed and that the possibilities would be endless. I was right, to some extent. We’ve gotten to go on lots of little day adventures, which is something I didn’t always have the energy for having worked a grueling 12
hour shift the day before. Also, the boys are older now; I mean, Van can walk. But come evening, when Willy is done with work, it’s back to the monotonous turn-on-a-cartoon-and-get-
We have a sliver of a view out our window of the ocean and watching the sunset while Cat-in-the-Hat plays in the background has been torturous. So, I proposed that we make dinner a little bit earlier than usual (sometimes we don’t sit down to eat until almost 8pm) and get the heck out of the house.
And, we have.
And, it’s been great.
I’m trying to sell myself on the idea that you have not squeezed everything out of the day until you get into bed dirty, with sand in your hair and dirt on your toes.
Summer
It’s funny, no matter how many years removed I am from my school days, the first days of summer feel the same; like the end of an era. Longer days and warmer nights. Gitty excitement and swarming butterflies in your stomach; like a schoolgirl crush. Only it’s not a boy I’m crushing over, it’s summer. And it’s only the beginning…
Father's Day
Any day that starts with donuts, ends with burgers, and has worms in between is a good day in my book. We, and by “we” I mean Willy, gave fishing off the pier a go. The boys had a blast watching the surfers and were mesmerized by the occasional fish that made it’s way onto the pier. We didn’t catch anything this go-around, but I sense there will be many more days in the future sitting, wishing, hoping, and reeling. Hope everyone had a wonder Father’s Day.
On Routines…
Before becoming a mother, I never really kept to a routine. I did what I want, when I wanted, and prided myself on the freedom that came with not owning a home. Life changes people, or so they say, and I’ve had to adapt to prevent from falling on my face in this whole motherhood business.
We, as a family, have had to adapt a lot over the last few months. First with my back surgery, which rendered me completely useless up until just recently (I would now characterize myself as “not as useful as I appear”). And second, with the move. Whatever we knew in terms of a routine beforehand has changed several times.
I read once that children thrive in a routine environment; that they rely on schedule and knowing what to expect. I can see how that may be true for some, but I think it’s more or less a blanket statement and, as with most things in parenting, cannot be applied to all children. Reminds me of this beautiful post by Sash.
I digress.
I got to thinking the other day while I was in the shower. As I reached for the bottle of shampoo, I realized that I have a shower routine; an order to which I shampoo, wash, condition, and shave. I started to question whether I’m as anti-routine as I thought. And then I got to thinking about all the little routines I have, like getting the kids in the car; I do it the same way every time.
Most of our days follow some sort of a schedule. What each slot gets filled with may change from the day to day, but there are slots to fill (the after breakfast slot, the nap time slot, etc). Of course there are days, even weeks, where all caution is thrown to the wind and you better believe these are some of the best days; I love breaks in routine.
I snapped these photos the other day on one of our typical morning outings.
How routine are your days? Do you enjoy throwing caution to the wind or does it make you anxious? How do your kids handle a change or routine or, better yet, a lack of routine all together?
And can we talk about that last picture… brother helping brother, at it’s finest.
Long Live Summer
We’ve been spending more time than ever at the beach. Partly because we now live closer and partly because it’s the one place I can take them where we only have to walk a mere twenty feet from the car and I can give my back the break it asks for often, but rarely gets.
The boys love it too. Collecting rocks and throwing them into the water, using their dump truck to transfer sand into buckets, building forts with random pieces of bamboo and seaweed; it’s play at it’s best — imaginative, entertaining, and the kind of dirt-under-your-nails fun that makes you feel most alive.
If I’m granted enough time and patience by the I-will-prevent-your-kids-from-driving-you-insane fairy, I pack a lunch and snack for the boys beforehand; it makes it so that we are one step closer to nap time (aka mama-needs-a-break time) when we get home.
Hoping that by the end of the summer they’ll be more into the water. Hell, I’ll even be happy if Van would let go of my hand by water’s edge.
Long live Summer (never mind the fact it’s not technically Summer. If it feels like Summer, it’s Summer. Right?). Not sure what we’ll do come Winter…
Then Comes Marriage, with Kim & Chris
I’ve known her through all of stages in life, but never this happy and never this complete.
Kim + Chris
Married May 24th, 2014
Interested in booking a session? Contact me: ashley @ thestorkandthebeanstalk dot com.
Puerto Rico
We came to Puerto Rico on the dime of the company Willy works for; a celebration for his success – and the success of others – over the past year. It is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of him.
Nevertheless, it was hard the leave the kids behind. It was the first time, ever, that we’ve left the boys for longer than a weekend. Rewind to a few weeks before, when we were in Hawaii, and I would have paid someone – anyone – a large amount of money to pawn those rascals off on someone else. Especially on the flight. But we dealt with it, reaching deep into our jar of patience with the reality that we would soon get the break we needed when we left – alone – on our trip to Puerto Rico.
I tried not to think about the boys in a way that would take away from my treasured time with the man who helped me create them. And while we both spent time scrolling through photos of them, we did relax, unwind, and enjoy the time away.
I read a few words of advice to new moms somewhere recently and it hit home. I’m not one to usually shell out advice to new moms because I think there’s too much of it that gets floated around and – at times – can lead to an unhealthy standard of parenting. But that’s another topic. What this mom said rung so true, she said: Take time for yourself. Do enough for yourself. Treat yourself well. Because if you don’t, you’ll end up resenting the ones you love most.
I think it’s important for parents to relinquish any guilt they have in doing things for themselves. We all need – and deserve – not only time away, but time to nurture our relationships with our spouses and with ourselves. I broke out my favorite book, “The Fountainhead” and started to reread it. We listened to music. We sat in our rooms and did not a damn thing; it didn’t even bother me when Toddlers in Tiaras came on TV. There was one day that Willy didn’t get out of bed until 3pm.
It felt good to look at the man across the table from me, and him alone. No distractions. Next on the list, find a new babysitter in our new town.
*Also we got to take a short 8 minute flight to the island of Vieques where Willy met up with an elementary school friend who sailed from Texas to the tiny island 10 years ago, opened up a restaurant, and has yet to leave. Willy hadn’t seen him in 17 years so it was pretty cool to meet up with him and his beautiful wife, and son. Good
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times.
Maui
To anyone who looks at these photos with any amount of jealousy, allow me to be frank: traveling with young children sucks. That’s not to say the water wasn’t warm, the sunsets beautiful, or the pineapples ripe because the water was glorious, the sunsets long and lingering, and the pineapple so ripe and sweet you’d wake up with mouth sores the next morning. Damn those mouth sores.
But getting there required two long hours on a six hour plane ride with both kids screaming. And when the flight attendant offered Willy two bottles of Jack Daniels for free (because, hey, any parent dealing with two screaming toddlers damn well deserves a drink on the house), I swear the joke was on us when Van proceeded to spill it all over Willy’s lap. It was one of those plane rides. You know, the one where your child insists on bringing his beloved tennis ball on the plane only to have it rolling out of reach from one end of the plane to the other so then you turn to your grab bag of tricks and pull out a bag full of trail mix that you’re certain will entertain them for at least five minutes only the next thing you know the ground below you is sprinkled with trail mix like the steps outside a church are sprinkled with rice after a wedding. Needless to say, we got off the plane with our clothes smelling like liquor only to learn that Willy’s luggage was somehow lost. It was “found” hours later, because – you know – everyone there is on “Maui – aka lets all get stoned – time”.
In any event, we spent the windy days exploring, the hot days on the beach, and every evening on the patio – drinks in hand – watching the sun go down with a mix of locals and vacationers alike doing the same.
Motherhood will always be a beautiful disaster. I’ll refrain from using the word vacation until the kids are grown and instead refer to trips like this as an adventure.
What has your experience with traveling with kids been like? Do you consider it worth it?
Butcher Jones
I knew as we crossed the road and Hooper happily obliged to holding Van’s hand with a jolly, “Come on Boots, old my and” (we gave Van the nickname “Boots”) that it would be a good day. And it was.
There are certain days in motherhood where things just seem to click; days where you think you’re out of milk after you’ve poured your bowl of cereal only to remember that you had bought another gallon – cuz’ you’re on it like that – and stored it in the fridge in the garage.
It was one of those days.
It was a day that, despite having the boys on my own (which is a feat all it’s own since my back surgery), I too had a good and – dare I say – relaxing time. I rested on the blanket and if I closed my eyes, I could be fooled into believing the dirt between my toes was indeed sand.
Buther Jones is located in the Tonto National Forest. The lake is set in the Sonoran Desert, a mix of beach and desert that’s sure to please beach bums and desert wanderers alike.
I watched as the boys played. My two little humans coming into their own, exploring together; getting along.
On the way home I cranked up the tunes and watched through the rear view mirror as both boys bobbed their heads back and forth with me, Van trying to keep the beat with his not-so-coordinated claps and Hoop eventually drifting off to sleep.
It was a day for the books. And I won’t even talk about banana mouth, cuz’ that’s just too much for the mama of that monkey.
*Hooper’s swim trunks are c/o Ladida kids. You can find them here.
Young Love
The Apache Trail
Sometimes we don’t know our own strength. Days fall on top of one another and are stitched together in quilt-like fashion so that by journeys end we’re covered in the warmest blanket just when the sun sets.
I think about all that my boys and our family have been through over the past six months; from my back surgery (which grows bigger in my mind in magnitude the further I get away from it), to selling most of what filled our home, to being hospitalized with a mean stomach virus, to then selling our home, losing Sarah, buying a new home and subsequently being displaced for over a month.
In the past month, the boys and I have spent somewhere in the ballpark of 28 hours in the car with the longest stretch being 6 hours without stopping. We’ve flip flopped between my parent’s home and Willy’s parent’s home, stayed in hotels, and spent one glorious night in our new home, together as a family, prior to packing up and filling the gas tank once again when the construction workers showed up the next morning. The boys and I had been without Willy for much of the month, which left me to field the “I want to see Sarah” requests and the “Where’s Papa” inquiries and the “I wanna go to our new home” proclamations.
Each morning, for the time we were in Arizona, Hooper had been getting up earlier than usual and crawling into bed to sleep some more or to simply allow me to hold him in my arms. This is a new thing; we don’t encourage the boys to find comfort in our bed. But there in Arizona, I think we both needed it; a routine and some added comfort to remind us that home is wherever we are together.
I spend a lot of time observing my boys; watching the way they interact with the world, with the dirt, with one another. I notice them take notice of the sun setting. I watch them squat gnats away. I watch them fight and I watch them entertain one another. And if there’s anything I’ve learned over these past few weeks it’s that they’re strong and adaptable and happy.
And on this particular evening on the Apache Trail, I couldn’t help but take notice of the way the mountains are layered, one in front of the other. A reminder that life does not read from left to right, but instead is comprised of peaks and valleys that are beautiful because they exist together – side by side – and are more breathtaking than any one peak or valley could ever be on it’s own.
The Salt River
As I watch my boys grow before me, I’ve adopted – in my mind, anyway – a more hands-off approach to parenting. Not to be mistaken for lack of care or concern, but instead intentional space made available for my boys to interact with the world on their own terms.
More and more, we’ve been spending our afternoons at a creek, river, beach, open field, or desert. It’s important, for me, that my boys build a relationship with nature, use their imagination, and play – more or less – independently.
Time carved out of our busy everyday lives, intentionally, to let them be kids; to encourage dirty clothes and soggy shoes. Because sometimes saying “no, don’t throw that rock” or “no, don’t get your clothes wet” gets tiresome and feels wrong as it rolls off my tongue. There’s a time and a place and I want them to know that.
And when they fall in the water or scrape their knees on the rocks, I don’t come running. I watch. And if I need to, I encourage them to work through it. More than that, I trust that they will get back up and when they do, I remind myself that a little coin just got added to their confidence jar.
We spent a few days at the Salt River during our stay in Arizona. The boys embraced the water, played with another couple’s dogs, threw rocks, looked at dead fish on the shore, fished with a stick and some string found on the bank, watched a wild horse graze in the field, and splashed around until the water practically turned to glass and the sun set over the cactus sprinkled mountains.
Where are some of your favorite places to take your kids exploring?
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Bits + Pieces, from Arizona (round II)
Our original plan was to drive to AZ, spend some time with Willy’s family while our house got worked on, and return and move in. Easy Peasy. What I’ve learned, and ultimately have come to accept, is that nothing – when moving – goes as planned. After ten days in AZ we received word that our contractor took off for Mexico. It sounds more dramatic than it ended up being, but at the time we had no clue what that meant for us. We decided to come back early from AZ so we could find out more. I’ll spare y’all the details and say that it all got figured out but things were far from done so we went to stay with my parents. We were there for another week and a half and, again, things were still not done with the new house so after returning from the weekend I spent with my sister in Ojai, the kids and I took of – again – for AZ. Hence the round II.
Janet reminded me that moving is rated number 3 on the list of most stressful events, right behind divorce and death. And now, I know why. I get it. It hasn’t always been fun and we have had our fair share of curve balls (both cars breaking down at separate inopportune times, the contractor taking off for Mexico, Sarah being hit by a car… to name a few).
I digress.
The kids and I had so much fun. We went on several day adventures and my mother-and-sister-in-laws took me around to the thrifts and they always seem to serve me better than the second-hand stores here in CA. I came away with a peacock chair for our enclosed patio, tons of planters, two kilim rugs that look as though they were made for our hallway, various knick-knacks, a huge macrame that I can’t wait to hang, an old antique chair whose price tag did not reflect it’s value, a blanket, a rug for the boys’ room, and some other odds and ends.
The boys will surely miss seeing family they so
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clearly love and adore; as will they miss the cows, the goats, the garden, and riding in the back of the pick-up truck down the dusty dirt road.
Stoney Point
When Marge texted that her and the kids would be in town, I suggested we meet at Stoney Point. We watched as the kids climbed on top of the rocks, played with red fire ants, said hello to the neighboring horses, and collected sticks. I always enjoy observing a mother with her children and the way Marge comforted and cared for her kiddos so tenderly was really beautiful.
And kudos to Marge for putting up with Hooper smearing butter all over her face when we went out to eat afterward. She might have had butter on her face, but she’s far from a but-her-face. She’s the champ of the champs, she really is.
Ojai
I spent the weekend, a couple of weekends ago, in Ojai with my sister and her best friend in celebration of my sister getting married in the very near future. Some may call it a bachelorette party, but it was a far cry (It reminded me more of my own pre-wedding celebration when Janet and I took off for Joshua Tree and drank and played pool with the locals at the Joshua Tree Saloon). We ate until we could eat no more, drank wine and whatever it was that that manager from that one restaurant served us, listened to live music, got massages, walked through the local Farmer’s Market (which had the best tangerines) and hit up some of the local thrift stores (I scored a gorgeous skirt and some other knick knacks for the house). We stayed at the Ojai Rancho Inn, which was very unassuming and easily missed when coming up the road. It was quaint and cozy, with lovely character and a horse next door that we had the pleasure of watching from our bathroom
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window. I hope to return again soon with Willy and the boys in tow.
Bits + Pieces, from my Parents' house
There are some things that go on at my parents’ house that I hope the boys always remember; like the fact that my dad gets up everyday before them to hide two strawberries in their strawberry plant, one for Hooper and one for Van. And there is amazement every time they search that plant and find that ripe, red little berry. As if it were planted there just for them (::cough cough::, it was). Or the fact that my mom hides little plastic Easter eggs, well before Easter, with a piece or two of candy so the boys can hunt around the living room to find their treats. Or the way Hooper stands at the kitchen sink to watch the birds eat from the bird feeder he fills with the help of my mom; asking what each bird’s name is (my mom actually educates him about the different types of birds, whereas I just give each one a human name for him to call it, “Oh yes, that bird, Hooper?… It’s name is ‘Spencer’…”).
Oh yes, and they have their very own playroom at my parents’ house…. which is something they had at our old house for the blink of an eye (just before we put our home up for sale) and will not have at our new pad. In fact, they will be sharing a room and it will double as a playroom. So, ya know, the list of perks at g’mas and g’pas house is long.
These days, it takes a village and each member of the village has something to give; a new way to show love, new traditions to add, patience to give when mine is exhausted. Being between homes has not been easy, but I’m grateful for everyone in our lives who have worked so hard to make it as easy as possible.
Bits + Pieces, from Arizona
We arrived at Willy’s parent’s house in Arizona beaten down from the physical and emotional stress of moving and saddened after losing Sarah just a few days prior. We always brought her along on our trips to AZ, so there was that sobering reminder when we didn’t have to push her off my lap and into the back seat like we usually do.
To make matters worse, our truck broke down early on and as if luck were teasing us by slapping us one minute and then kissing us the next, we happened to be a few miles from my sister’s house where our second car sat until we returned. So we swapped cars, repacked all our stuff, switched the car seats out for the umpteenth time, and made it to Joshua Tree just in time for a family session I had booked prior. So ya know, the take home message is that it all works out. One way or another.
With no further bumps in the road, we arrived in AZ. We enjoyed warm days and cool nights, Lucky and Moocher (the new pet goats), the Renaissance festival, a wild cat that just gave birth to kittens, an Irish band that did a Bob Dylan cover that felt like it was just for me, a trip to an old gold mining ghost town, some thrifting that landed an old peacock chair in the back
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of our car and some other treasures for the new home, and enough laughter with family and friends to fill our empty tanks.