At a bridal shower a few years ago (Hi, Meg!) I played a game where everyone wrote down encouraging words about marriage on slips of paper and the bride chose her favorite. She chose:

"Stay Interesting and Interested"

Right now, I'm trying to stay interested in Jacob's enthusiasm for tiny houses. He was on a kick about a year ago and recently got back onto it. I can't say I encourage him very much because how do you encourage something like this? I'm pretty sure we graduated from tiny house potential as soon as we started having kids. I mean, currently, we have five people living in an 1100 sq. ft house. Per person, we're basically on par with the tiny housers. 

source

He really just wants to build a house on a trailer and drive it around and park it overnight in any spot where he wants to watch the sunrise. So basically what he wants is a "tiny vacation home" which I argue misses the entire point of the tiny house movement. 

For all I tease him about it, I find them pretty interesting, these quirky little buildings with all their nooks and hooks and crannies. 

But were he ever to drive home with a double axle trailer and tell me he was going to build a house, scratch that OUR house, on it...well...I mean for him to do that I would not only have to be on board, I would have to be on duty. 

Especially now that we have kids, staying interested in each others' hobbies is a lot more effortful than just an occasional "how nice" - being interested often means enabling the other person, we have to help each other stay interesting.

I'm the type that is a huge cheerleader for Jacob to follow some passion, but when he actually starts in on it I feel abandoned and overwhelmed, and bitterness mounts because I can't beLIEVE he's out there PLAYing when there are bedtimes to routine and diapers to change! 

Interested is when I let him pursue a passion even when it feels inconvenient to me.

Interested is when my husband is outside with his tools finishing what I'm sure is a very pressing project, while I scramble through the end of dinner prep with two hungry people clutching at my calves. 

Interested is when he comes in for dinner and proudly presents me with...a cherrywood muddler, and I suppress the lip-pursing, eyebrow-raising "THIS is how you've spent your last half hour?" face. Or half-suppress it...or perhaps I just own the snark completely while taking the muddler from him and making cocktails.

Sometimes I have to be more of a mom so he can be something other than a dad for a little while.

Sometimes I have to be more of a mom so our children can watch their dad be a carpenter. So I can watch him too.

I have my interests too. Things I pursue, that make me a happier and hopefully better person. He's interested in those things with me.

And often his interest surfaces around seven in the morning, when I'm nursing my sacred morning coffee as he takes the toddler to the bathroom and tends to the baby who's started to squawk, and he says too loudly: "I'm coming, Lucy June. Papa loves you MORE than his computer." And then to me "I'm just gonna change a diaper here, honey, if that's OK with you."

"Go for it!" I say. He would welcome help, but he mostly just wants me to remember all that he is juggling so I can play like I'm a blogger for a few more minutes. 

Thank you, World.

This morning was a tough one. We woke up to two needy babies and had to change our Mass plans last minute because we were running late.

Thank you, Jacob, for getting both kids ready so I could take a real shower.

Mass was trying. Lucy June is moving into a squealing phase, and we got fenced into the middle of a pew, so I lost my easy exit. I was tired after a late and much interrupted night. My lower back was hurting, and I was getting no reprieve as I walked my baby in the back of the church. I didn't really get to hear the homily and I hardly could focus on the readings, but I want to say thank you to some people who I will remember.

Thank you to the couple in our pew who I had to scoot past eight different times with a screeching five month old. You welcomed me every time I came back in hopes that maybe this time the baby would be quiet, only to be stepping on your toes on my way back out just minutes later. You didn't make me feel bad at all because you were awesome.

Thank you to the grandmotherly woman who caught my eye as I walked the babe in the back of church. Thank you for looking at me. So many people look at my kids - and I love that and all - but you looked at me, and your knowing smile spoke such encouragement.

We've made a Sunday morning ritual of going to Boomtown Coffee after Mass. Up until recently we'd been frequenting the coffee bar at Whole Foods because it was close and the latte was surprisingly good. It also has a great pastry selection and a fish tank that Jake can look at while sitting in the cart with a steering wheel in it, so: kid friendly. But it isn't the coffee shop experience (which I still haven't been able to let go of even though I'm a frumpy mom.)

Enter Boomtown. It's not in our neck of the woods, but the espresso is delicious. It's in a part of Houston that has a Portland vibe. Urban adorable. I kind of hate that I love it.

You did right by us today, Boomtown.

Thank you, barista, for making me such a perfect latte. It's Lent and all, so I'm down to once a week for this deliciousness, and, buddy, you came through.

Thank you to the man who was such a champ when Jake ran into your elbow and caused you to spill your coffee in your lap. He was just a little too excited about his straw, and you got that. I pegged you as such a trendy Joe enjoying your usual four shot latte at this chic coffee shop, but you surprised me and became a hero. You wouldn't let me get you another coffee. You even made jokes and laughed good-naturedly when I offered to buy you a cookie because I thought you were six years old or something.

Thank you, Lucy June for staying marginally happy in your car seat so I could snuggle back into the couch and hold my latte with two hands for a few minutes. You're awesome sauce.



And thank you, Jakeboy, for asking while waiting for my caffeine hit in the looong line:

"Do Boomtowns have potties?" 

You really bailed me out, kid.

7QT: Weather, Coffee, Child-Rearing, Broken Records

- 1 -

The older child has been running me hard this week. The terrible twos have overall been pretty great, but I hope the business of this week isn't a harbinger of what the threes have in store. The worst moment was when I had to pop his balloon as a consequence for running away from me in the library parking lot. (He was running on the walkway next to the parking lot and not in the parking lot itself, but still...) I popped a little boy's balloon, and it was the saddest thing. We both cried. 

- 2 -

Weather here in Houston has been amazing. It's almost like...we're living in Los Angeles again.

But unlike Los Angeles, this weather won't last, and while Houston only has an excuse for a winter, it certainly has a grueling summer that will probably start sometime next week. So we will carpe our mild sunshine and picturesque evenings for the next five days or so.

- 3 -

I keep running into posts about laundry recently. Laundry is pretty close to my heart and, unlike cleaning the toilet or mopping, is actually something I enjoy. I grew up folding a lot of our family's laundry. I spent many an hour with Anne of Green Gables beside a mountain of towels, gym shorts, and T-shirts. My mother used to tell me how good I was at folding. I was pretty proud. Now of course she had major ulterior motives for that encouragement, but she was right. I am a badass folder. And it's a competency that will probably be more consistently valuable to me than my master's degree.

- 4 -

Speaking of master's degrees, I love staying home with my kids.

I'm nervous to say that out loud. I'm nervous that the joy I'm experiencing will magically pop as soon as I admit to the world that - at least for now - I'm more than happy to be home with my kids.

With a big fat caveat: WHEN THEY NAP.

The mornings are so full of hope, you know?? And then that afternoon nap strike makes the whole rest of the day a big poopstorm. (SO sorry about that word. It's just that I'd already used my colorful word for this post, and that was all I could think to swap it with. I'm a first time potty trainer, you'll remember...and it's amazing how much literal and metaphorical excrement I have to filter while blogging about our life. Shocking really.)

- 5 -

Someone's being too quiet, so I'm going to run see if today was a naptime win.

Oh, most definitely a win.

- 6 -

Lucy June is still the awesomest baby. I'm experiencing her babyhood so differently than Jake's. Every time I try to write a post about the difference I start crying.

But it boils down to this:

Jake's infancy = emotionally tough
Lucy June's infancy = sugar and spice.

Except that she's recently become uber attached to me. When she's cranky - so in the evenings when there are finally other arms that can hold her - she wants me and only me. I find it endearing, and I love it, and I want her to outgrow it immediately.

- 7 -

Next weekend Jacob goes from working half days on Sunday to not working on Sundays at all. An (almost) real weekend!! I'm so excited for him. And for me. And for our kids. And for me.

Off to Jen's for more Quick Takes.

7QT Saturday: Strolling, Board Gaming, Lenten Blathering

- 1 -

We got ourselves outfitted with a double Bob stroller. I was so excited about it. Oh the walks and the jogs and the Sunday strolls! I rolled the rig out for our first ride, nestled the baby into it, and she immediately started freaking out. I have never seen Lucy June so mad. My first thought: "My life is over." And I started crying. This possibility had literally never occurred to me. Jake was the fussiest baby in the world and he liked a jaunt in the jogging stroller almost as much nursing. The cries of my chicklet in the jogging stroller were like the death knell of my sanity.

So I powered through, and she made peace with Bob, and all was well.

- 2 -

My middle name should be "overreact." When do you get better at rolling with it? Three kids? Four?

- 3 -

We've been playing the game Carcassonne a lot recently. I always lose, and I still have fun (she says Lentenly.)

- 4 -

Potty training is still happening. Still no accidents when we've been away from home, so that's all kinds of winning in my book. On Tuesday I spent the better part of naptime trying to convert a dying pocket diaper into training pants. We were shooting for this

and ended up with something more like this

Just a leeeettle bit snug about the hips.

I offered it up.

Now I will go buy some on Etsy. Or what's more likely: I will try the DIY route just one more time, have another frustration, and then go to Etsy. Why? Why am I like this??

- 5 -

We didn't get ashes on Wednesday because somebody didn't talk to somebody else and it was the first Mass of the day and somehow the church didn't have them. Jake almost threw a fit and a half when he realized we weren't getting ashes (I'd talked them up for days.) We were the only people sporting kids to the 6:45am Mass, so we were attention grabbers. Fun fun fun for everyone.

So they gave us "spiritual ashes." Can they do that? I'll go ask Kendra.

- 6 -

I'm trying to maintain my early rises for Lent. I love getting up early and savoring a cup of coffee in the quiet, so it hardly qualifies as mortification. Yesterday morning the baby woke up two minutes after I wiggled out of bed, and so I went back and nursed her down and tucked her into Jacob's armpit. Then I went back to the kitchen and had just finished making my coffee when the toddler was awake for the day. He gets to come out of his room in the morning when his Christmas lights come on, so while he waited, he played with trucks and crooned his version of "That's Amore" - and at 6:45am, I didn't amore it.

Despite foiled mornings, I will keep it up because Lent and because most mornings end up being rewarding, and even when they aren't quiet and rejuvenating, at least I don't wake up in a tempest of needy children.

- 7 -

You'll notice if you gander slightly North on the screen, that the old blogspot is now a .com. It took all kinds of fretting: rhodeslog.com vs. therhodeslog.com and the like. In the end my brother-in-law just told me to buy both, and in an unprecedented act of overspending and good sense, I did just that.

Now of course I'm considering a name change because the blog's name is all kinds of boring. When I first started the blog I spent weeks trying to pun on our oh-so-punnable last name, until I was so frustrated I decided to just call it "The Rhodes Blog."

Because that's how I live my life: All or nothing. Try, try, try, and if it isn't perfect lie down on the floor. If your gnocchi alla sorrentina goes south just boil a beet and plop it on the table. (Did that actually happen? I'll never tell.)

Anyhow, just before I named my blog "Blog," Jacob said, "At least call it The Rhodes Log" - and the blogspot was mine five seconds later in a huff.

Jacob has talked me off the renaming cliff for the time being. I'll revisit it after Lent.

And she's done. Nothing like taking three days to finish my "quick" takes. See Jen for more timely takers