"I like how happy you are. You're always happy. Sometimes, I guess you get grumpy, but you're an adult, so that's ok. But you aren't usually grumpy. You're good at being good. I like that about you."

And just when I feel like the only parent in the world who yells at her kids (and really beat myself up over it) out comes this from the mouth of my Patrick. Just like I'll never really know the lessons I've been successful teaching him, he'll never know the ones he's taught me. You, kiddo, just made my day...my week.

Since I'm in a reminiscing mood today:

Years ago (8), I used to sing this song to my sweet and terribly stupid dog, Mr. Freckles.  Now, I sing it to sweet Baby Hatch.  I hate to downplay how much Mr. Freckles loved this song, but I'm going to venture to say the Baby likes it better than the dog did.  But of course he does; he's now my littlest bird. Enjoy!  (This song brought to you by Tuesday.  And by YouTube.)

Well, I feel like an old hobo

I'm sad lonesome and blue

I was fair as a summer day

Now the summer days are through
You pass through places

And places pass through you

But you carry 'em with you

On the souls of your travelin' shoes.

Well, I love you so dearly,

I love you so clearly

I wake you up in the mornin' so early

Just to tell you I got the wanderin' blues

I got the wanderin' blues

And I'm gonna quit these ramblin' ways

One of these days soon

 and I'll sing

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs.

 

Well, it's times like these, I feel so small and wild

Like the ramblin' footsteps of a wanderin' child

And I'm lonesome as a lonesome whippoorwill

Singin' these blues with a warble and a trill
But I'm not too blue to fly

No, I'm not too blue to fly 'cause

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs

 

Well, I love you so dearly, I love you so fearlessly

I wake you up in the mornin' so early

Just to tell you I got the wanderin' blues

I got the wanderin' blues
And I don't wanna leave you

I love you through and through

Oh, I left my baby on a pretty blue train

And I sang my songs to the cold and the rain

And I had the wanderin' blues

And I sang those wanderin' blues
And I'm gonna quit these ramblin' ways

One of these days soon

and I'll sing

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs

 

I don't care if the sun don't shine

I don't care if nothin' is mine

I don't care if I'm nervous with you

I'll do my lovin' in the wintertime.



Diary of a Pregnant Housewife

One month since I have posted anything, right?  Almost one month?  Close? 

It feels like it.  Each day passes so quickly now that there is a list as long as my driveway of things to do, things to buy (ugh), things to fix and to sell.  I have things to improve, things to paint, things to re-arrange, and things to unpack (still.)  Things to mop and things to scrub, things to vacuum and things to fold.  Things to investigate (where is that smell coming from??) and things to read.  Things, things, things.  And the things keep coming and I keep trying to compose a mental list and that thing isn't working at all. 

But we're hanging in there!  Adam's travel season has started again, meaning I'm by myself more often than not.  (That is, by myself if you don't count three little boys, but I feel like my actual conversations with them involve more scolding than anything and so I would rather not count that at all.) So, by myself,  And, being unreasonably large for a person not even half-way through her pregnancy, trying to tackle as many things as I need to in one day becomes next to impossible.  Pair that with the plague (flu, upper respiratory infections, GI upset, pink-eye, teething woes, sleep-deprivation, lingering coughs...you get the picture), and it's been the most eventful uneventful month at the newly-relocated Waldens.

All of that into consideration, we love our new house.  It's not exactly "home" yet, but it's getting there.  I have caught myself driving by our little old house periodically and feeling that deep, heart-pang that only nostalgia can cause, remembering with affection and pure joy:

1.) Our second first kiss in the tiny little kitchen
2.) Countless beer bottles and wine bottles and friends through the back door pre-kids era
3.) Swaying the babies in the front window when the day would get the best of them
4.) Trying on skinny jeans a week after Patrick was born, crying to my newborn baby about my weight woes, and making myself feel better with some sugar cookies.
5.) Frantically painting, and re-painting every room until I felt it was just right (oooorrr...close enough.)
6.) Hosting the boys' baptisms (my favorite events, always.)
7.) Every tickle-fight or dance-party or movie night, every fight, every tear, every new job, every new baby. 

We had a good life there.  We really did.  But we'll have a good life here.  We just need to build it again, which may take a while since we're going to be absolutely consumed with family life for at least another...well, forever.  (Four kids five and under is really starting to hit me now...in a good way.  Yes.  I think.  In a good way.) 

Since re-locating to my grown-up house, as my friend Anna called it, here is what I have learned:

1.) Life really does have a way of working itself out.  Always.  It's time to stop the worries.
2.) A bigger house means more things to clean.  Sigh.
3.) Our medical insurance is really quite great.  Accidental finding, but a lucky one.  Thank you, hospital.
4.) I appreciate the longer drive to work.  Time to myself.  Time to listen to music.  Time to unwind after a shit-show in the ER.  (Happens even in the best pediatric ones, I promise.) 
5.) Little boys are wild.  Big house, little house...doesn't matter.  They are still wild.  And loud.  And like to make up their own rules as they go along.  And break into pantries and eat you out of house and home.  (Note to self: get a lock for the pantry.)

And, a final note:

I wish I had good pictures to post here of our newest Baby Walden, but it's super-cute.  It's got (what looks at this point to be) a little up-turned nose (where did that come from?) and a pouty, poofy set of lips.  It's neither a boy nor a girl (from what I have seen, which is nothing.  Adam doesn't believe me, but it's true.  I know nothing), but it's a very cute and well-formed little person, despite my daily turkey sandwiches.  (I got the ok from the doctor.  We're good.)  I'm very excited about a new baby.  I really am. Nervously excited.  I feel like I am actually preparing for this birth, which would be a first.  Thanks to Adam's work schedule and the timing of our little blessing, there is a good chance Adam won't be here for the delivery, which we've already come to terms with, and I'm not sure yet if I plan on doing it alone or with my mother?  My sister?  My dad? (Is that weird?) I don't want to take something away from Adam by denying him the right to be in the delivery room and giving it to somebody else, but what if the delivery gets hard?  I also don't know if I want to be by myself.  Maybe I can have people on stand-by.  Maybe that's not such a bad plan.

And, at this point, I am rambling.  It's good to finally sit down and type something out.  It's not exactly what I have been mentally composing for weeks, but it will do.  Until next time, friends.