I'm going to be redesigning the blog over the next month.
One thing I've seen is that breastmilk posts have a TON of views. However, I have lots more information like that. Growing hair longer, the best ways to study, disciplining your kids, eating, losing weight, nutrition, exercise, sex and orgasms, quitting your job, religion...
These are a high level list of the topics I've read and studied and tried and failed and found the best methods for (me). These are topics that I could save you some time on - and will.
So join me on this journey. Bookmark this page, become a follower. I have lots of information to share on how to maximize your life with minimal input.
Talk to you soon!
~Christa
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Camping with the Kids
I love my daughter. She is this fascinating little creature who, at 2 ½ is far more opinionated than I. Last week we went on vacation for a week tent camping in Moab, UT. It was seriously fantastic and wasn’t even really roughing it, because though we had a tent, my parents had a trailer, which Gwen slept in. Every evening the kids received baths thanks to my dad’s portable 110 gallon water-tank and every day we ate amazing quantities of food and did some really fun activities.
Gwen however, was only marginally pleased with her accommodations. She spent the latter half of the week complaining about where she slept, stating loudly that she’d like to go home now, say she didn’t like *insert activity here*, that her toenail paint was chipping, that her hair was in her eyes, she’d like her feet rubbed, she had an owie, that it was raining….the list goes on.
Coming from such a tiny person, Greg and I couldn’t help but be a bit amused as we strongly encouraged her to buck up and enjoy the time. However, I think this is probably only the beginning. *Ominous thunder roll* I also think it’s probably a good thing we started this now, rather than in another year.
When we were packing up camp, Gwen quickly changed her attitude and became our biggest cheerleader, displaying an impressive show of concentration as she sang the ‘Keep Trying’ song from Yo Gabba Gabba. Greg packed the tent and loaded the car to the vocal abilities of Gwen, singing:
“Keep trying! Keep Trying!
Don’t give up, never give up!
Keep trying! Keep trying!
Don’t give up, never give up!
Don’t stop, don’t give up, don’t stop, don’t give up!”
Repeat a few hundred times and you get the general idea.
Greg took it in stride, as did I, and Gwen proved to be very helpful gathering smaller items around camp and chucking them into the car as fast as she could.
Greg drove through the night to get us home, so we spent Saturday mostly relaxing and Sunday I tried to sleep in. Gwen had climbed into bed with me around 6am, and miraculously slept until 8. We both woke up and Gwen asked if I could rub her feet. I said sure, and grabbed a chubby foot to massage. She sat in silence for a second then told me to stop. She stretched her foot out in front of her, wiggled her toes, and studied them for 30 seconds.
She then sighed deeply and said, “You should repaint my toes, the sand took away my pretty polish”.
The more I parent, the more I tend to side with nature rather than nurture.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Another Post
Little time for excuses. I must post when I can. I can say that when school is out the postings will be much quicker than this – but this is OK too.
The kids were both sick this weekend. Garrison has had RSV and Gwen had the stomach flu. I’d been home with Garrison for 4 days, only to get the call on Friday that Gwen was throwing up as I was packing Greg to fly out of town for a weekend with his brother. On my insistence, Greg left in spite of the kids being sick, and I was left at home with them. 6 solid days of very sick children.
I am amazed at how terrible and wonderful intensive times with my children can be. Their demands and whines stretch me to points where I am sure I must snap…and then I don’t … and I’m amazed.
Their demands and whines and exhausted little bodies wanting nothing more than comfort also create some of the best moments ever; as they curl up and sleep on or around me and I sit, not daring to move and wake them, listening to them breathe, stroking their heads, and doing absolutely nothing but perform admirably as a human pillow for a few hours.
It is, in every sense, the best and worst of times.
This past week, as I ceaselessly cleaned noses and gave countless baths and rubbed Vicks on chests and feet and cleaned up vomit and diapers and sanitized and washed sheets was exhausting. It is only when they were newborns that I have been more tired.
But something was different. In all the discomfort there was growth too. Painful, excruciating growth. Gwen and I had conversations, she was articulate as she asked me to make her feel better. Garrison, rather than crawling all over the place begging to be put down, nestled happily in my arms and rested, fluffy head against my cheek.
And the bond of motherhood, which is all too often forged in fire, was strengthened. I am a harbor for my children, a place of safety, rest, and peace. A place where if they are not feeling well they can come to for some comfort. It is a hard-earned badge and when your children reach an age where they recognize it not just instinctually, but in a cognizant manner…. that is highly rewarding.
And so I return to daily life out of the forge and fires different.
Stronger.
Gentler.
The kids were both sick this weekend. Garrison has had RSV and Gwen had the stomach flu. I’d been home with Garrison for 4 days, only to get the call on Friday that Gwen was throwing up as I was packing Greg to fly out of town for a weekend with his brother. On my insistence, Greg left in spite of the kids being sick, and I was left at home with them. 6 solid days of very sick children.
I am amazed at how terrible and wonderful intensive times with my children can be. Their demands and whines stretch me to points where I am sure I must snap…and then I don’t … and I’m amazed.
Their demands and whines and exhausted little bodies wanting nothing more than comfort also create some of the best moments ever; as they curl up and sleep on or around me and I sit, not daring to move and wake them, listening to them breathe, stroking their heads, and doing absolutely nothing but perform admirably as a human pillow for a few hours.
It is, in every sense, the best and worst of times.
This past week, as I ceaselessly cleaned noses and gave countless baths and rubbed Vicks on chests and feet and cleaned up vomit and diapers and sanitized and washed sheets was exhausting. It is only when they were newborns that I have been more tired.
But something was different. In all the discomfort there was growth too. Painful, excruciating growth. Gwen and I had conversations, she was articulate as she asked me to make her feel better. Garrison, rather than crawling all over the place begging to be put down, nestled happily in my arms and rested, fluffy head against my cheek.
And the bond of motherhood, which is all too often forged in fire, was strengthened. I am a harbor for my children, a place of safety, rest, and peace. A place where if they are not feeling well they can come to for some comfort. It is a hard-earned badge and when your children reach an age where they recognize it not just instinctually, but in a cognizant manner…. that is highly rewarding.
And so I return to daily life out of the forge and fires different.
Stronger.
Gentler.
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