Bingeing and purging

I'm so behind, I haven't even updated that we bought a new house.

We close in two weeks.

And if you thought I was motivated about getting rid of stuff from my posts in February of 2009 or during my series of posts last year, you people ain't seen nothing yet.

Since we made the decision to move, I have been dead serious about purging the stuff we don't need. I am not taking seven years worth of crap into my new house. So here are the current rules we live by, agreed upon by Ellen and Chad - and Jackson by default:

1) If you forgot you even had it, it goes.

2) If it hasn't been used in the last five years, it goes. (For clothes, amend to: if it hasn't been worn in the last year, it goes. And if you have kept it around all this time thinking that someday you're going to be able to fit into it again...who needs that pressure?!? It goes.)

3) If you have no idea what's even IN that box, the whole blessed thing goes.

4) If the only reason why you still have it is because you'd feel badly getting rid of it...buh-bye, honey. It goes.

5) If it's not something that you want your spouse or your kid to have to sift through when you die, it goes.

In the last two weeks, we have taken a ton of stuff to Goodwill - including five garbage bags of clothes and over 100 books. And we've thrown away our fair share of stuff as well.

But in all the manic throwing-away of things, there have been a few moments where I've stumbled upon something unexpected and smiled. Like this note I found buried in a ridiculous amount of cards and love letters and newspaper clippings from my senior year of high school. They all got pitched but this made the cut:

Among a sea of absolute junk that I've been dragging around with me for 15 years, why on Earth did I keep that? (And why on Earth didn't I keep MORE of that? I love it. I'm keeping it forever. Chad and Jackson can clean it out of the attic when I die, and it will make them smile.)

I wonder how as a parent you make the decision on what to keep and what to pitch. I wonder if I'll have an attic full of Jackson mementos that someday I'll be begging his wife to take off my hands, or if I'll wish I kept around just one more piece of artwork or note on the days I'm reminiscing. I wonder if what I deem "important" enough to keep now will seem totally irrelevant in 15 years. I do wonder, all of these things.

But I ponder all this while I keep decluttering. This has been amazingly liberating and is such an opportunity to prioritize what's important in our lives. So when we move into our first actual house at the end of the month, we'll be doing it without a whole lot of baggage.

Except for the little things I love that will get tucked away until I stumble upon them again.

Patience is a virtue

Over the past week, I've been trying to encourage Jackson to put food into his mouth. He loves to eat when someone is feeding him, but can't grasp the concept quite yet to feed himself. So I figure the more I can get him to touch food, the more likely it is he'll accidentally figure this whole thing out.

Last night while I was getting his "real" dinner ready, I put a few little pieces of cereal onto his tray in the hopes that he'd consider picking one up and putting it into his mouth. He thought they were fun to play with but I don't think he ate any of them. Most of the little bits, in fact, ended up on the floor - and there was no one more pleased about this than the dog.

You can almost hear what Lucy was thinking: "After nine months, this kid is finally starting to pay off."

It's time to get up

Jackson has an almost uncanny ability to wake up at exactly 7:00. You can set your watch by it. Seriously.

Yesterday morning, our first of a three-day weekend, I was really hoping for a few extra minutes of shut-eye. Was 7:30 really too much to ask? (Crazy to believe that a year ago I wouldn't see the light of day before 10:00. And even that would be considered early.)

But right on schedule, I heard Jackson start to stir and talk to himself at 6:57. Fairly soon after that he was yelling his, "Hey guys, I'm over here...time to come get me!" mantra. Likely kneeling in his crib smacking his open palm against the slats, as if to impress us with his newfound mobility.

It was Saturday morning. I was so tired. Work has been so busy. I just need 15 more minutes, buddy. Pleeease let me have 15 minutes...

And as I was lying in bed listening to the jibber-jabber of a little boy who was oh-so-ready to start his day, I thought to myself, "Someday, when we're older and retired and the kids have moved away, I will give anything to have one more day just like this."

Suddenly, getting out of bed didn't seem like that much of a chore.

So we went downstairs, I made some coffee, and Jackson and Lucy got into a disagreement over the purpose of her dog bowls.

It's been an amazing weekend.

A mother's love

There are some things I understand so much more now that I'm a mom, like the brilliance of drive-thrus. (Seriously, why aren't they everywhere? You think I want to take my sleeping kid out of the car in the rain to pick up that prescription?)

But I've also been dumbfounded by how mom-hood has ratcheted up every single human emotion I have.

When I watched the two-hour episode where Diane Sawyer interviewed kidnap victim Jaycee Duggard, I was blown away. How does a girl-then-woman suffer years of abuse from someone and have his children? How could you raise two little babies living in a tent in a backyard? How could you help those kids have a "normal" life? And how could you be a mother whose child is snatched on her way home from school?

I think about the Baby Jessica case years ago, when the little girl was taken from her adoptive parents after a court determined that she should live with her biological father. At the time, I thought it was heart-breaking. Today, the thought of someone taking Jackson away from me when he's two years old to go live with another family - forever - is incomprehensible. The picture of her being taken from her parents will always be burned in my mind. As a parent, how do you survive something like that?

And then there's the latest. The utter human tragedy happening now in Somalia. A few weeks ago, the cover story in my Wall Street Journal offered this photo. The caption said this little boy is two.

My immediate reaction? Toss the paper into the circular file. I could not - would not - be able to mentally make time for this. Way too difficult. Way too much to do. But when I was a millisecond away from dumping the paper into the trash, I froze. This is somebody's baby. His mother probably loves him as much as I love my little boy.

Can you imagine?

And so, I read about it. I look at the pictures. I try to imagine what those poor people are going through - what it must be like to leave one child to die in the hopes that the others will live. This picture has been haunting me for more than a month. I literally cannot forget it. But I can't do anything about it either.

That's the worst part about being a mom.

Kids bring amazing joy and happiness. Lots of things happen that you can control. But when they're sick or hurt or frustrated, there are times you can't do a thing. In the end, all you can do is love them and pray for them and hope that one day they'll know you did everything you could in your power to help them find their own way.

Movers and shakers

Jackson likes to wait until he has an audience to hit big milestones. When we were here in March, he rolled over. And tonight, we had another momentous occasion.

He's been crawling backward for a couple of weeks (on my favorite excursion, he backed himself into the closet so only his head was showing). He would get so frustrated but absolutely could not figure out how to move his hands and knees in the right direction.

Tonight, something seemed to click...and the kid started moving. Forward.

Jackson is currently most fascinated by cords, electrical outlets and shoes - not toys, books or any number of stuffed animals.

Looks like it's time to baby-proof the house.

I love this place

Being down on the farm isn't quite the same with two little boys in tow. Our mornings of sleeping in, drinking coffee in our pj's until 11:00, going out to lunch and playing cards all night seem to be a thing of the past. (In fact, last night we were all in bed by 9:15.)

But even though life is changed, it really couldn't be more perfect. Even though this week hasn't been filled with as much sleep or leisure as my typical "farm visits", I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Playing with Grandma and Grandpa in the front yard. Life is good.

This boy is a thinker.
Mark my words, he'll do something important someday.

Jackson trying to figure out how to get from here to there.

Fairly certain that this is how you define "a handful."

Jackson loooovvves his Grandpa.

Are these not the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen?

I love rice cereal!
And peaches, and peas, and avocados, and carrots, and...

Happy, happy boy.

A new perspective

Since I posted the last video of Jackson, he's been growing like a weed. (At his six-month check-up he was 28.5 inches and 19 pounds, which puts him in the 95% category for height and 75% category for weight - and to think we were ever worried about him gaining weight!) He's been sitting up, chewing on absolutely everything he can get his hands on, and trying to crawl (currently he's a champ at going backwards).

The other night, Chad put Jackson up on his shoulders and his eyes were as wide as they've ever been. Though I have a feeling he'll spend most of his life towering over me, he seemed to enjoy the scenery from this new perspective.