I'm not pregnant anymore (and my maternity photo shoot)

Too long since I've been here. A misbehaving computer will very quickly steal the joy of this blogging thing, let me tell ya! Oh well, gotta push through barriers and jump hurdles. Warrior-on and all that jazz. Writing will never happen if I don't DO IT.

So here goes again...

I gave birth.
Almost 11 weeks ago.
(really need to change my blog profile pic)

Baby Beckett is currently blessing me with smiles and coos, almost full nights of sleep (not holding my breath that will last), and good eating habits that have equalled nice growth patterns.

But sometimes I still need to remind myself I'm not pregnant anymore.

Like tonight, I was making supper as part of our hectic evening. I start serving seasoned ground beef over fresh spinach and topped with salsa. I hand the first plate to a kid. He promptly begins to make a fuss about how I put his meat ON his spinach. So I trade that plate for an unfilled one and give the offending plate to another child. This time I separate the meat and spinach and put the salsa on the meat. Oops! I am in trouble again. He wants the salsa ON the spinach but NOT the meat. Another trade. Gonna get it right, hopefully before we run out of plates. One juggling motion too many and a plate hit the floor face-down. There is salsa, spinach, and hamburger splattered all over and a broken plate. And in comes my daughter to complain HER food wasn't arranged properly either. It was like my life had hit the floor with that plate. I am steaming at this point.

"Just eat your food the way I serve it for once. If you would have made your way to the table with your plate when I first served it this would not have happened! This is a lot of food to be wasted! Now go eat, please!"

Clean. Clean. Clean
Fume. Fume. Fume.

[baby cry]

"What!? How many times do I have to tell you not to take your brother out of his swing without asking?! I don't care if you think he has been sleeping long enough or if you saw him wiggle so he must want held! Now he is woke up and all upset so I can't even eat before we leave for the PTO meeting! I am sick and tired of you not listening to me! How am I supposed to manage everything when your daddy is gone this week if no one listens to me?! It is like I am talking to the wind around here! All I do is clean up messes and no one is even thankful. We are not doing this anymore! There are orphans in Africa who would love their meat on their salad and would always clean up after themselves for the privilege to live in a nice house like this!"

My son's face is blank. He has no idea how we got from a spilled plate and a crying baby to orphans in Africa. I'm not sure either. I guess it was probably underlying stress about getting out the door to PTO, Mr. Loggerhead being away, and a messy house that was clean only a day ago. The dropped plate and the bothered baby just turned up the heat under a boiling pot and over the edge we went. A few cool-down minutes later, as I sat nursing the baby and scarfing down my supper at the same time, I recall my son's expression of sheer confusion mixed with panic. I have seen it before. It has been worn by my dear husband a time or two. During pregnancy I have sometimes gone from clothes left on the floor to World Peace in about 3.0 seconds. It's a hormone thing, OK? Hello, Pregzilla!

But I'm not pregnant anymore.
I have no such excuse, right?

No hormone roller-coaster to blame this kind of thing on.
No cravings to which to attribute crazy eating habits.
No growing unborn-baby to reason away the belly bulge.
No energy-drain to name suspect for wanting more sleep.

So what is a girl to do?

Apologize. Hug.
That's a good start.

Then introduce the fresh line-up of culprits to your confused family:
Postpartum hormones
Breastfeeding cravings
Leftover baby-fat
Night-time feedings ('cause I'm sure they will be back)

***

From when I was still pregnant:

 Pictures of my parents as children in the corner.

 Like a time warp.

 Prayers for the unborn child

 

This man puts up with a lot, when I am pregnant or not.

 

And these children are watching and listening all the time.

***

Tonight, long after the mess was cleaned up, the baby soothed, the meeting attended, the husband talked to, and the children of Africa prayed for, I was contemplating my explosion.

The final line of my son's recent book report on Where The Wild Things Are came to mind.
"I learned that we should try to say what we really mean and always use kind words."

So next time, "I am really worried we aren't going to get out the door to an important meeting, can you please help me? I miss daddy and I bet you do too. It stresses me out a lot when things aren't organized and cleaned up, what can we do to fix that?" might be a better choice for the occasion and we can save the children of Africa speech for a more appropriate time...

Like next time I'm pregnant.

Happy Tuesday, y'all!
Love,
Raimie Lu

P.S. Maternity photo credits go to my little sister Katie. She is only a sophomore but her photography knocks my socks off. Thank you, Katie!

Robot day and the 4 real reasons I do crafts with my kids

Dear Friends, 
Looking at my instagram feed and this blog you will see a lot of pretty pictures, sweet moments, and a creative thing or two. This is true of a lot of mom-togs and mommy-bloggers. The part I don't like is that sometimes this puts people on a pedestal of having "perfect lives" and it makes moms who don't do things the same feel bad about themselves and their own parenting style.

If we dig a little deeper I think we all know that nobody is perfect and that nobody has it all together all the time. But there is still a sense of disquieting reactions to these types of posts in the mom-media realm.

I hate the idea of anything I share about my life being even the slightest bit hurtful, guilt-causing, or the stem for discontent to another mom. Our loads are heavy enough without adding burdens to eachother.

This post is hard to write because it's baring a raw part of my momma-heart. So hang tight. It might get bumpy. But it's all true.

I want to share why I do creative and crafty things for and with my children. How, as pretty as it looks in pictures, it is for much messier reasons. How it is a matter of survival for me in this time of my life.

I don't do crafts and fun activities with my kids because I am a good mom. I do them because I am NOT naturally good at this role and crafting helps me get better.

Let me explain - not the hundred or so even more complex reasons why creativity is important for humanity, for mothers, or for me as a person or a mom - but specifically in regards to doing crafty things with my kids.

1. A planned, intentional activity (like a craft, game, art project) feels like an apology or a bandaid for the times I was not focused where I should have been. In my mind it says, "I love you. I'm sorry I was impatient and didn't take the time/thought to do umpteen things properly today. But look, I am slowing down now. I am looking at you. Let's do something special." I hope they get that message.

2. I do not have "everything together" a lot of the time. Planning and organizing a project makes me feel put-together. Even when the whole thing rarely goes as planned - the kids get distracted, bored, don't finish, or don't cooperate. It doesn't matter because, even if they run off to play elsewhere or I have to pop in a DVD to buy a few minutes to finish the craft myself, it makes me feel like we added something nice to our day just by planning and semi pulling-it off. It feels like we accomplished something meaningful.

3. Crafting is controlled. There are countless things about life I can't change  - the weather, work schedules, cost of living, health concerns, other people, world issues. But we CAN craft and make our own brand of sunshine. I find joy in practicing that privilege.



4. Group-art is about both self-awareness and selflessness. When we craft together we are each putting a part of ourself into our work; it is personal and expressive. I like seeing my kids' characters in what they make and how they do things. But also, since we are sharing the project, we work together and blend our labors. We are pouring out a portion of who we are, exchanging it with one-another, and taking in the gift of knowing eachother better and learning from eachother. I think that is important as a family and I love watching it as a mom.

***

So if you see cute-crafts we did together on this blog or in pictures on Instagram you will know the truth:

It's not because I naturally exude cutesy glitter, ruffles, and craft-stick creations.
It's because my human-nature spills much nastier things and crafting with my children helps me clean up the toxic spills - both mentally and relationship-wise. It works like a temporary magic eraser for my anxious, self-doubting, guilty, bored, lack-lustre, uptight issues connected with being an imperfect soul. These times are therapy sessions, cleansing floods, life lessons, quiet love-notes, wordless explanations. They are a blessing.

I don't want to be a better mom than somebody or as good of a mom as someone else.
I want to be a better mom than I am and as good of a mom as I can be.
Crafting helps me do that.

I think we could all use a few such powerful tools in our mothering tool-belt.

What are your "mama-magic" tools? What do you do when all crazy breaks loose and you just need a little something to feel like it's all tied back together for a while?

Love,
Raimie Lu


P.s. These were shots from Robot Day.
It was crafty-happy-making at it's best.
Noisy, chaotic, normal, wonderful.
Just what we needed. 

When all else fails, break out your robotic-mom voice.
Pure magic.

Have a beautiful tomorrow, wherever you are.
xoxox

Out with the boys

Nothing prepares you for being a mom to a little boy.
That intensity - both in sweetness and activity.
The noise. 
The dirt. 
The hugs.

I had a girl first so I already knew what it means to love your own child, what it is like to be a little girl's mama, and I thought I sorta knew my role as a mother at that point. 

Before child number two. 
Before him.

Sons are game-changers.
They love you like you have never been loved.
Your love for them is new too... not more than for a daughter.
Just different.

I even had three little brothers and I still didn't get-it.

The way they play.
The way they drive you to the brink of insanity and reel you back in with those long-lashes and wiley grins.
Actually, just the way they drive. period.

They slip their hands into yours and it's ok that there is dirt in all the pudgy cracks of their boyish fingers.

They hold your heart in the pocket of those favorite shorts - the ones they refuse to admit are too small because they like them and you let it go because you hate to think about how big they are getting.

They tie you up in knots and fly you like a kite on days when your patience is thin.

They teach you to look at things in new ways - "gross" things especially.

They can be quick to instigate arguments with a sibling but even quicker to protect them from someone else.

They are loud and shake the whole house in a storm of galloping feet, tumbling bodies, and limbs akimbo.

They are experimenters, frog-catchers, stray-dog lovers, army guy sketchers, zombie-tag players, sister-thwarters, daddy-helpers, Lego engineers, finger-painters, early risers, storytellers, silly singers, mommy's quick crafters, puddle-jumpers, sword swingers, and cape wearers. 

They take on a plethora of personas and create countless characters.
You can't keep up.

You are thankful this is all "normal".
You love them the way they are.
You just wish they would be quiet for a minute.

And then they surprise you with their quiet attentiveness to something that piques their interest.
You are thankful for those moments immeasurably and they give you the insight you need to last through the crazier times.

This is the blessing of boys.
These are my boys.

***

A peek into a couple special days I spent with my boys and their classes. It was sweet to focus on them separately and watch them interact with teachers, friends, and peers; like learning other angles of their personalities not always visible at home and as a family.

Plus, I am soaking up the days that moms are "cool" and coveted accessories on field-trips.

 

 

My older boy.

My littler boy.

***

And it strikes me often that this bump could be boy #3.

 My daughter would call me crazy, but I would be alright with that.

diy {Monogram Paper Bag Album}

Was mid-April through most of May cray-cray-crazy at your house?

Here too.

Like time-hungry schedules got notice that the school-year smorgasbord was about to be put away and had to cram in as many more bites into its mouth as possible. 

Hardly time to savor. Hardy time to chew.

But now we are settling in with a big plate of summer relaxation in front of us and I hope you are too.

***

Amidst the scramble of recent weeks arose the sudden need for several gifts. 

Graduations. Mother's Day. Teacher thank-yous.

These paper bag albums were my go-to this year.

They are fun, simple, and easy to personalize.

Supplies and tools:

• Brown paper bags (I used the lunch variety you can buy in packs of 100 for a buck something at Walmart and such places) - the number needed depends on how many pages you want in your album. These were made with 8 bags.
• Double sided 12X12 scrapbook paper (mine was Beach House by Colorbok)
• Children's handwriting paper
• White cardstock
• Ribbon or lace
• Adhesive 
• Scissors 
• Papercutter 
• Large scalloped circle punch
• Hole punch (mine is the Crop-A-Dile Big Bite - I adore that thing)

Fold over the top of each bag about an inch. No exact measuring needed. Eyeball it.

Stack the bags all facing the same direction like pages of a book with the folded over ends as the binding.

 

Punch two holes through the whole stack at either end of the folded over 'binding'.

Tie lace or ribbon through the holes.

Cut patterned paper to 12" X 4 3/4" pieces. One piece for both sides of each bag except the back one - it only needs one piece since the back side doesn't have paper added to it.

Fold a 4" flap over on each piece showcasing the flip side of the paper design. Adhere the flaps down.

Adhere paper to pages and cover.

Cut circles from handwriting paper.

Adhere a handwriting circle to each page and to the cover.

 Cut large letters from patterned paper. I made these by drawing each letter in reverse on the backside of the paper and then cutting it out - a stencil could be used instead if free-hand isn't your style.



Adhere a letter to the circle on the cover to create a monogram effect. Graduate's first name initial, teacher's last name initial, "M" for mom. Take it and run where you wanna go.

 Cut white cardstock into mats for 4x6 photos. 4 1/2" by 4 1/2" gives a quarter inch border around pictures. I wasn't adding pictures to these but leaving them blank for the recipient to add their own photos so I added labels to mats to indicate their purpose. 

For a very special gift you could add photos... sky is the limit on ideas there.

Adhere mats to pages.

All done!
Happy little handmade gifts.
My favorite.

***

Happy summer Sunday to you!
Love,
Raimie