The State of the Rhodes

Nothing like a good ole fashioned family update to jump back on the blogging scene.

(No promises that I'm back on the wagon for real. I'm 15 weeks in and nausea doesn't usually clear for me entirely until 18 weeks, but since it has consigned itself to the afternoons/evenings recently, I might actually find some time to write. We shall cross our fingers and see.)

So. The Lost Rhodes. Where are they now??

Lucy June

Lucy June is thinning out, if still a plumpster who would eat every half hour. Yesterday we confirmed that she is still allergic to avocados. Not deathly allergic, just the more she gets the more she throws up kind of allergic. Jacob finds the allergy absurd and now wants a paternity test.

She almost has hair, not enough to do anything with, but you can SEE it. I know I should probably do the whole headband thing. But I'm afraid I'll get a super cute little headband (like this one!!) and she'll just tear it off. How do you know if you've got a daughter who will keep pretty things on her head??


JakeBoy

Jake has given up his afternoon nap except for once in a blessed moon. Even though we haven't touched our preschool workbook in about two months, he proudly tells strangers that he homeschools. He still loves outerspace and makes me tell stories about the Kuiper Belt and Oort Cloud.

He's all energy. Whenever anyone starts crying at playgroup, there's an 85% chance he's involved. If he didn't start someone crying, he arrives shortly after to make things worse. Mr. Moth to the flame of discord. I'm sure this is my fault.

Luckily, Lucy June is on her way to exonerating me as the The World's Worst Disciplinarian because she's a playdate angel. Today at a baby shower she was playing with a ten month old and desperately wanted the toy chicken he was holding. She could've easily overpowered him, but she didn't, and instead just pitifully repeated: "Chiten? Peez? Chiten? Peez?"

Jacob

Jacob is still working so so hard. His busy season allegedly comes to a close soon, but he's still booked solid through the beginning of next month. He took four days off in a row last weekend, so he could weather the stomach flu. It's the most I've seen him since Christmas. But before you cue all the violins, know that things should slow down drastically by the end of April, and so long as we don't do something stupid, like buy another house that needs remodeling, my husband should settle into working about 25 hours a week for a couple months.

He drives all over Houston for work and gluts on historical non-fiction audiobooks. One week it's all "Andrew Jackson" and then it's all "The Dustbowl" - and I think it's cute, and I act interested, and I glaze, and then he mentions the detail in the book about the baby, and I'm like "Hmm? What was that?"

And Me

(Sorry for all the greasy-haired, pale-faced, pit-stained T-shirt reality in this photo. It's not that I don't love you enough to put on eyeliner. It's just that I don't love anyone enough to put on eyeliner these days.)

I've probably been through the most physically and emotionally exhausting winter of my life. I don't really want to write about it. But after two months of crippling nausea crowned by a bout with the stomach flu. I just. I have a newfound empathy for people with chronic illness.

I know I'm not all the way through but in the last week I've had some nausea free mornings and one blessed nausea free day, so I'm riding pretty high.

Turns out the fetal position isn't so bad for reading, so I've done a fair amount of it over the past few months. I haven't been listening to presidential biographies, instead I've enjoyed the edifying tomes of literary masters like Rainbow Rowell.

I've cooked maybe twice since January. I think we subsisted on Eggo waffles for the whole month of February, but I honestly can't remember.

I'm super emotional. Like I heard someone quote Mary Poppins the other day - "In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. You find the fun and - SNAP - the job's a game." - and I was a mess of tears.

I turned thirty. I feel thirty.

Baby Three is still reading much more beer gut than bump, but hopefully we'll get some definition in a few weeks.

I'm a bundle of aspirations whenever my nausea clears even for a moment. I want to make capsule wardrobes for the kids and cinch my summer maternity style and imbue every corner of our life with intentionality, but since Ms. Kondo is on hold at the library till doomsday, I probably will just settle for folding some laundry and remembering how to turn on the crockpot.

Tis all the nausea-gods will allow for today, but I'm excited to wake this space back up!