You Get What You Need

I want a cup of tea.

Not herbal. The real stuff. With milk and sugar.

And I want someone to make me popovers.

Which I will eat warm with a little butter and cinnamon sugar.


I want someone to wash my duvet cover and then put it back on my comforter. Because if we’re honest with each other, that is a four-person job.


I want a week to declutter, shuffle and reshuffle, purge (stuff, not vomit – though both usually make you feel better), think about writing something, nap.


I want dinner to be done, meals planned. But really, I want to do that stuff myself.

I want a bedside clock for my husband that isn’t the brightest clock on the planet.

I want the socks paired.

Oh the socks.


I want not to worry about the four RSVPs, camps, birthday party to plan.

I want to be grateful that I have parties, camps, birthday parties to worry about.

I want new work shoes that I don’t have to break in.

I want to use the hours between 8:30pm and 10:30pm wisely at least once a week.

I want to figure out how on earth to spend more time being and less time doing.


I want to cook every day. Walk every day. Sleep more. Pick up less. Read to my kids more. Explore more. Love more. Give more.  Fight more for the things I think are worth fighting for. And sit on a blanket on the grass in the sun.


I want to spend more time doing silly and creative things, and less time wondering what could have possibly spilled on the floor to make it that sticky.  I want more time with my kids. I want more time with my husband. I want more time by myself.

I want more time having grown-up conversations. With wine. I want more music in my house. I want less dust. I want my kids to eat less yogurt.


I want more dancing in my life.


And I want the thank you notes to write themselves.


(Don’t) Mind the Gap.

You know how sometimes an old friend will cross your mind and you’ll think “I’ll write! I’ll call! I miss them!” and then life runs its normal course, and time slips away, and it is months (or – gasp! – years) later and you start to think, “Gee, it might be awkward if I called now,” or “It is probably too late to respond to that e-mail, anyway”?

And you know this is silly, because whenever an old friend calls or writes to YOU, out of the blue, you are more than thrilled to hear from them?

Yeah.  That.

It starts to feel like it is somehow too late to get back in touch – or in this case – getting back to blogging.

But I’m getting back in touch.


How have you been?

It’s hard to avoid the use of the word “busy” here. I’m tempted to say that my life has been busy, that I’ve been busy having and raising babies, working, living life.  But I don’t really like that word.  It seems rushed, harried, un-fun.  My life has been full. And mostly fun.

Pistachio arrived in late-January.  My dearest third. My baby boy. He is a delicious – a scrumptious! – little human.


Life with three children under the age of four?  It is… well, GOOD.  (What, were you expecting me to say “busy”?)  Three small, loud, needy, hysterical (in both senses of the word) people do require much time, love and attention.  But that lovely third child has made my days feel more like a dance than a tennis match.  I struggle to keep the beat sometimes. But three means it is no longer either/or, him/her, you/me.  Three means us.  I am, surprisingly, less stressed than I was with two.  Perhaps this is due to the new balance, but perhaps it is me letting go of things, too.  Whatever the reason, three is good.  So good.

So here I am.  Back on track.  Back at it.  A return to my Sarky self.

I hope you are well.  I’ll be in touch.  No really, I will.

Living. Life.


It is fun.
It is funny.
It is humbling.
It is interesting.
It is challenging.
It is ridiculous.
It is tedious.
It is messy.
It is the best thing I have ever decided to do.
It is the most worthwhile undertaking I have attempted.
It is really, really hard.
It is awesome, in the truest sense of that word.

But a lot of the time, it isn’t particularly enjoyable.

It is a never-ending quest to manage, wrangle, calm, soothe, meet-the-needs of, care for, provide, go and do.  And clean.  Why is there so much cleaning involved?

I try to be present as a mom, as a wife, as a person.  But the minutiae, the to-do list, the exhaustion, the frustration, the pace, the never-ending work of fulfilling the needs of others, can make this difficult.  In the quest to tread water, to keep my head afloat, I sometimes forget to feel the slippery water weaved through my fingers, to feel the cool and calming pressure on my skin, to feel my body in that space at that moment.  My life has become an eternal quest to plan for and accomplish what’s next while still being here, now.

Last night at dinner – which I hurriedly, and half-assedly prepared – before Plum started grumping and Pickle started trying to throw his kielbasa (“But I HAVE to! But I WANT to!”) there was a moment when Pickle was looking over at his sister, making funny raspberries, rolling his eyes up into his head, being silly and laughing.  She thought he was hysterical.  Her uncontrolled belly laughter is one of the tell-tale signs of her exhaustion and an impending meltdown, but we ignored that fact for a second.  He mugged and chortled and she laughed and laughed.  And we laughed along, too.

My husband, who had had a very long day of grumpy baby and willful toddler said, “See?  There is always one moment of the day where I like everyone.”  It was a funny way to put it, but I understood.  There is always one moment of the day – an exhalation, a sigh – where the kids are happy, everyone’s needs have been met, the to-do list is forgotten, and we are well and warm.  In that moment we are all present. Imperfect and usually exhausted, but present.  And in that moment, living becomes life, and I gratefully realize that in fact, I am floating, and not treading.


A boring post from a tired mom…

My to-do list is getting shorter.  Thank goodness.  The last of the major events (a shower I threw for my sister) has come and gone and now my calendar is relatively clear, except for a few miscellaneous gatherings, meetings and of course, the now-weekly Ob appointments.  CPA husband and I are trying to navigate his busy season with kindness, and patience.  We fail as often as we succeed, but I’m handing out gold stars for effort, because we are both tired and stressed and still manage to keep our senses of humor.  I call that a win.  (Insert a huge dose of admiration and amazedness to all the single moms and moms with deployed or unavailable partners/spouses here.  I don’t know how you do it, Ladies, I really don’t.)  Me and this huge belly (and my unfortunately limited supply of energy) are trying to keep the household going, and take good care of Mr. Pickle Pumpkin while working full time and sleeping less than part-time.  My days are really long.  Balance as a goal is out the window, and we’ve moved on to “get through it!” as our goal.  Mr. Pickle Pumpkin watches way too much Yo Gabba Gabba lately.  But I’m brushing off the mommy guilt.  If, at the end of a very long day, I want to get the groceries in the house and put away, wash the kid’s clothes, and figure out something for us to eat, then something’s got to give.  DJ Lance Rock, I salute you.  And my child loves you.

I passed my 35/35 milestone yesterday (35 weeks pregnant, 35 days until my due date).  I didn’t even know it was a milestone until I started reading some expectant mommy blogs.  I’m still not sure why the pending arrival of Plum Baby hasn’t quite hit me yet.  With Mr. Pickle, my water broke at 37 weeks and 2 days, so the time left in utero could be short for Plum.

Things left to do (besides come to terms with the fact that I will be having a real live baby in a few short weeks):

  • Wash the infant car seat cover, and install the base.
  • Pull the breast-feeding stuff, and bottles out of the basement and unpack/wash.
  • Wash the newborn stuff (and buy some bins to put the kiddo’s clothes in).
  • Go see a movie.  In a theater.
  • Stop drinking liquids by 7pm so I’m not up 8 million times during the night.  I just want one 3-hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep before Plum arrives.
  • Make a list of things I need to bring to the hospital. (Right now, I’m more focused on the fact that I want a new duffle bag to pack in.  Maybe I should just buy it.)
  • Install the cordless blinds in the nursery. I bought them months ago.
  • Get my work-self organized for a 3 month absence.
  • Sleep.  Or attempt to sleep.