Max Hall Loves Us

My boys' (Matt included) favorite Christmas present:

Doing the Haka.



We sent them to Frank and Tracy's right after. They probably spent the next 3 hours tackling eachother. Sorry, guys.

A letter to my future self

to be opened in one month.

(Me and the boys mopping in the rental house last year. One of their favorite chores--seriously.)

When I was working for Organize Magazine, I remember reading an article about a cleaning and organization guru called the FlyLady. She has a theory about doing mundane housekeeping tasks--instead dwelling on the drudgery and grumbling/cursing as you scrub, change your perspective. Choose to think of it as "blessing" your family. View those mundane chores as ways to show your family you love them.

So I tried that. Thinking sweet thoughts as I as I impaled my foot on the Darth Maul and Anakin that I just put away. Being zenlike and compassionate as I put away Matt's shoes and socks again; hung up towels; tackled the never-ending Mount Everest of laundry; coralled stray, miniscule Legos and convinced myself NOT to just pitch them (most of the time); picked up garbage that *almost* made it into the trash; wiped pee off of toilet seats (and the surrounding area--two boys); and then did it all again.

I'll admit it, compassion was oft replaced with murmuring and exhaustion.

In comparison, bedrest sounded like a welcome break.

I've been relegated to my bed or couch for almost 7 weeks now. To ensure I remained stationary, Matt deputized my boys. Mac took his role seriously. "Mom, sit DOWN!" he reprimanded over and over. "With your feet UP on the couch!" Carter, who already considered himself the head of rule patrol, would report each night to Matt if I had been disobedient.

Matt has done everything around here. I have done nothing. Seriously, nothing. He (and my mom and Chels while they were here) bring me food, pass the medicine, rub my back, and fan me and drop grapes in my mouth (not really, but Matt has offered). Then in the hospital on bedrest, I was so medicated that I needed help with even more basic things--standing up, walking to the bathroom, taking a shower.

I'm looking forward to doing things for myself again. But even more so, I am looking forward to doing things for others. Especially for my family.

I guess you could say I'm ready to work again. To do the mundane things that make their lives easier and that (whether they are aware of it or not) are mini manifestations of how much I love them. Like making Matt his favorite dinner when I know it has been a long day at work.

Picking Mac up from school (and Carter, if he will let me).

Straightening the house before Matt comes home so it at least looks like we are under control.

Packing lunches for Carter with a surprise treat.

Cleaning the playroom so it looks inviting, not frightening.

Having a cookie baking afternoon with the boys.

Checking for monsters in the closet at 2 am.

Folding socks so no one has to hunt for a match in the morning (hey, I can dream, right?).

Ensuring bathrooms are sanitary.

Putting away the Star Wars guys for the bajllionth time so the boys can find them when the urge for a light saber battle strikes.

In short, I'm looking forward to being useful. Needed. To having a healthy body that can work. To being not only self-sufficient but helpful.

So bring on the laundry, dishes, and cleaning.

And, future self, in a month when you are exhausted, when everything smells like sour milk or mustard-seed baby poop, when the house is crazy messy and 2 out of 3 children are crying, remember,

you wouldn't have it any other way.