Stream of Consciousness

It's been three days of my couch looking like this now.



And I finally decided my quality of life would be greatly improved if I cleaned up and put some laundry away. My greatest weakness will always be my issues with cleaning and laundry because I'd much rather do something fun and, although I live by that whole principal of the-laundry-can-wait-but-kids-growing-up-can't, there has to be a happy medium. At some point, I am no longer enjoying the comforts of my home because I've let it go too far and I can't even read a book to my kid without stepping on some sort of crippling toy and cursing. When I finally put the pieces back together and reorganize, I am reminded, as I sip my coffee in the morning among perfectly placed pillows overlooking an orderly family room with fresh vacuum lines and flickering candles and maybe even, God forbid, a little spritz of hydrangea spray, I do enjoy it more. My brain declutters. My stress relieves. And then all I have to do is wait for it all to fall apart again.

I wonder if, back in the day, when women practically held their worth by how spit-shined their kitchens were or how the stiffness of the collars of their husband's shirts held up, were they really this put together...or did they maintain their dignity by never talking about when they did fall apart?

I find it refreshing in this day and age that women are talking about their short-comings, their fears, their insecurities and maybe, just by doing so, we are empowering each other a little more. Accepting that we all do these things, feel these things, say these things and moving on together to overcome them.

We are not perfect. We are messy and complicated and creative and good and we try our best at so many different endeavors. And its this brew of wonderfulness that is indeed what makes us perfect.

And while I'm on the whole absence of put-togetheredness thing, I took the girls for a walk yesterday. It started good--Nella asleep in the stroller, Latte wedged comfortably on the footrest beneath her and Lainey trailing behind us, happily pushing a grocery cart full of beanie babies, a couple dog biscuits and some various barrettes.





We arrived at the lake which welcomed us with its shady tree and stretch of grass for Latte to roll in, for us to smooth our blanket on and chill out. Splendid.







Until Lainey got bit by a red ant and lost it. She wouldn't budge. I begged her to walk, to push her cart back home, explaining that I couldn't walk two blocks home carrying a grocery cart and holding a baby and pushing a stroller at the same time.

Turns out I can.

And the onlookers that got a view of that were, I'm sure, enthused. I rigged up the grocery cart with this elastic cord thingy hanging from the stroller and pushed Lainey while holding Nella in one arm and my camera in the other. I saw the UPS man go by and, I swear, I thought of waving him down and asking him to put us in the back of his truck and drive us home.



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Lainey has a new game. It's called "This one Nella?" And the name of the game is I prop Nella up between all her dolls and animals and she goes down the line, pointing and asking "This one Nella?" while I "no" and "no" and "no" until she finally shy-smiles, points to the sister and I say "yes." She loves it.



I spy a Nella in the swing mirror too...



This one's Nella...and she is magical.







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Lainey got an early birthday present from her Poppa. I wanted to wait until she was older for her first American Girl doll, but their 2010 Doll of the Year just so happens to be named Lanie Holland. And since our girl shares the name and we kinda went to Holland this year and the doll is only available this year, it only seemed right.

And the doll has removeable shoes, so our girl is in heaven.



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She is doing better about getting into my make-up. Still does it on a weekly basis, but now, she carefully applies and tediously turns the lipstick tube. And she knows what the word "waste" means and, if I catch her applyin', she says "not wasting, Mommy." And that melts me, so I let her knock herself out.



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And our delicious girl has been deep in conversation with us lately, talking with her wide eyes, drinking in our faces and kicking her little legs as she works up the most beautiful coos. They come out breathy and beautiful, soft and gentle. She has a voice. My girl has a voice.





And Brett and I get very competitive with these conversations, measuring who she "likes better" with quantitative goos. Like Brett walked out of her room the other day with a victorious grin, "Seven goos, baby." Damn. And I thought I had it good with my five. He always wins.





That's because he has the magic touch. Putting his babies to sleep, calmly rested in his strong hands...







Stirring cocoa and eggs and pretending not to notice the pieces of shell she slipped in as he helps her make brownies...





Oh, our Daddy, you make me smile. I love you.

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Digging through my closet lately finding old shoes I forgot about. I like shoes. Especially ones that combine three of my favorites. Things that tie up the ankle. Things that are yellow. And Things that have cool cork wedge bottoms.



Now, all I need is some swishy skirts, some big sunglasses and this swimsuit, and I'll be set for spring. I've been eyeing a good retro one-piece suit and found this exact suit at Marshall's for only $20. Booyah.

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And oh, how I love a good dog-in-a-sun-spot. Especially when it's cuddled next to a cute baby. My baby.





Sophie likes Nella because she's mellow and happy and she doesn't try and shove her in a baby stroller or make her sit in chairs.

And these are the random pictures we put at the end of the post because we like 'em. They need no prequel. They need no explanation.













In the meantime, we're loving life. Twirling among the beautiful mess.



Happy Friday!