Sabbath Shmabbath.

A professor in college once encouraged me to keep a sabbath as best as I could, to the best of my ability, one day a week. Obviously, the Sabbath is on Sunday according to Christian tradition, which typically involves church and a nap. But his challenge was a little different. He said for one day, put all work, including homework, on hold (some people have to work on Sundays, right?). For those of you who have a handy-dandy college diploma hanging on your wall, you know that you earned it through lots of homework. Going through an entire day without doing anything--no emails, no Blackboard, no quick 1-page summaries, no reading ... no READING--could be quite a challenge. Especially considering I was a senior when this challenge was issued and my major, Family Studies, was basically a huge pile of reading and paper writing. But, I liked the premise of his suggestion.

I accepted his challenge and found that even if I took a day off, it was possible to get things finished. If I took the time to kick back, relax, pray, refocus, and enjoy the freedom of my day, I was actually more productive throughout the week. A nice little way to recharge. I've taken this practice with me first into newlywed-ness and now into the busy life of a Mom, cleaning up hurriedly on Saturday night so on Sunday, the day of my choosing, I will truly rest.

Because if there is a mess, chances are I won't rest. It's just my personality. My new personality. Because frankly, a mess never really bothered me before I demanded a bit of order in my life to survive the daily (albeit fun) chaos of a young family.

So.

I typically go to the grocery store on Monday mornings.

When I go, the store is usually pretty empty, and the other customers who do happen to be there are usually other Moms. I don't know about you, but I go into the grocery store with a PLAN. I have my shopping list itemized in accordance with the arrangement of the products for which I am hunting, my purse is packed with two sippy cups and some snacks, and I zip through as quickly as I can, knowing my two year old and one year old could potentially lose it at any moment and I don't want to risk it. It might sound nutty, but experience has taught me that a little preparedness is never a bad thing.

Basically I'm a super anal shopper.

ANAL.

Gah. I hate that word.

Anyway! After my luxurious nap on Sunday, I, for some reason, felt compelled to write out my menu and make up my shopping list for the week. After Googling some new recipes and itemizing my list, I looked at the clock and figured that Meh, why don't I just go today? I could get the shopping over with and be done by the time Monday arrives!

Genius!

Stupid!

I loaded up the kids and headed down the highway to our usual place. As I parked my Swagger Wagon, I noticed that the parking lot was rather full. I also noticed that it was a bit like a demolition derby, with SUVs and sedans vying for parking spots amidst crowds of people pouring in and out through the sliding doors. Very unlike Monday mornings.

Throwing caution to the wind, I decided to go ahead and take the plunge into the store.

We were lucky and found one of Cub's favorite carts--a cart with a fire engine attached on the front where he can ride. I plopped Naomi in the front of the cart while Cub crawled into his red plastic contraption and away we went, with me chugging at my usual Shopper Mom pace. Which is fast.

As the grand sliding doors parted for our entrance, I stopped short when I saw the droves of people milling about the store. There were just ... just ... so many of them. I took a deep breath, whipped out my list, and charged through the produce section. I tossed our spinach, squash, grapes, and snobby cheese into the cart before peeling around the corner towards the turkey pepperoni and Smart Chicken. I almost ran into a couple that was perusing, yes, perusing, as in, taking their time, in the meat department, but quick maneuvering avoided a potential accident as we buzzed on towards dairy. I tossed in the heavy whipping cream and organic milk before stopping short by the yogurt. A lady was standing there with some Oikos in one hand and Chobani in the other, trying to decide which to get. Oikos, Chobani. Oikos, Chobani. I stood there with my foot tapping impatiently as I watched her head go back. And forth. Back. And forth.

THEY'RE BOTH GREEK. PICK ONE.

She finally settled on one (ONE!) and meandered away. I slid my cart into her empty spot and chucked five Chobanis in the basket.

I checked my pulse. My pace was still good, but boy howdy, these crowds were about to give me an aneurism.

We hit up the rest of our spots, squealing through frozen bread (Rudi's!), charging through the cereal (cereal bars!) and zooming through pasta (wheat spaghetti!), weaving between customers parked in the middle of the aisles to chat. How nice. Chatting. By the time I yanked the massive cart to the checkout, I was sweating, Naomi was fussing, and Caleb had his legs dangling out the window of his faux firetruck. I organized my items on the conveyer belt (ANAL) and said three cheers for drive-thru pick-up as I hoisted my girl on my hip and held my little boy's hand and trekked across the parking lot to our car. I picked my groceries and away we went.

Oy.

By the time we got home, I was a cranky hot mess. The kids were cranky because I was cranky. As the cargo door on the van slowly lifted in our hot garage, I stood there glaring at the sacks of groceries I had to carry inside. They were heavy. I was hot. I heaved each sack onto the counter before trudging back to the garage for another. The kids were getting hungry and whiny and I was feeling the same, but after the groceries were all schlepped inside, I still had to unpack them. Ugh. I put them away as quickly as I could, with whatever energy I had left, and tossed the kids some cereal bars before slumping onto the couch. I noticed that the kitchen trash needed to be emptied. I winced and let my head fall back on the couch. Meh, trash.

Some sabbath, yes?

What's really so sad is that I have time to get groceries on Monday. And, if worse comes to worst and I get busy on Monday, I have time to get them Tuesday. But for some reason, for SOME REASON, I decided to take a detour from my Day of Rest and instead forge through a massive commercial building enduring the perils of consumerism with two little kids. A good idea in theory and a really terrible experience in practice.

I understand now why God suggested, nay, demanded a Day of Rest. Not a "One Extra Day To Get Things Done".

So, this is just me saying that I totally failed with resting today because of an apparent attempt at overachieving. But I really didn't achieve much, save for some food in the fridge and a bad attitude.

Next Sunday? Hopefully there's a little more rest in order.

Have a lovely day.

And The Survey Says ...

Nada.

Nothing.

Inconclusive.

I tell y'all, this is hilarious. Sweet Baby Cheeks' conception was a huge surprise to us and it looks like the surprises are still coming. With our other two kids, we found out the gender at sixteen weeks and it was right both times. This petit chou remains a mystery at a ripe twenty weeks. As the tech pushed (and PUSHED) on my tummy to get a good view, the baby kept his/her knee blocking the view, thusly leaving the results inconclusive. My husband and I could do nothing but laugh.

I'm the kind of girl that likes to know. I like to plan. I like to decorate. I like to accessorize. This little one, from the moment I took that pregnancy test and my jaw dropped to the floor, has been my constant reminder that my plans? What plans? What are those? Meh! Rubbish!

And it's the consistency of surprise that leaves me quite fine with the fact that we couldn't find out.

The heart looks great. The kidneys look great. The limbs look great. The bladder looks great. The brain looks great. Not knowing the gender became less and less important as the ultrasound went on. The things that mattered were fine. In fact, in the midst of the poking and prodding, I started to feel like we just weren't going to find out. I just knew it. By the time the gender search began (at the end), I was at peace with not knowing. And, sure enough, there was the baby's knee, dodging the paddle!

I'm okay with not knowing. It's very unlike me.

But, I'm okay. I'm really okay.

Now that is a surprise.

Will we wait until the birth day to find out? We'll see. Who knows. For now, we're thankful for a healthy baby and thankful for really great surprises.

Have a lovely day, friends!

Blue or Pink?

Alright friends! Today is the day we find out if Baby Baskins is a boy or a girl!

Any guesses?

Heart rate: 150s

Carrying: High or low ... can't quite tell, but baby kicks are low!

Sickness: Mild in the first trimester, worst in the second, but overall I feel waaay better than either of the other two pregnancies.

This pregnancy mimicks ... nobody's! This pregnancy is all its own and doesn't remind me of either of the other two. I can't say that the fact that I've "done this before" is really helping!

Uh, hopefully there's a human in there, right? ;)

So, who am I carrying? Blue or Pink?

I am totally baffled.

Have a lovely day, friends!

Fruits of Labor.

I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

Happy Labor Day, friends.

A Synopsis.

So. My last post about the trip. You can sigh and smile and say Yay, Katie is FINALLY done blogging about that TRIP.

I enjoyed myself. I did.

However.

I'm not entirely sure how to write this succinctly, so bear with me. I really love my parents and they love me, but I'm just going to go ahead and say that traveling with my parents sans my husband or my very young kids left me feeling a bit ... lost. I very distinctly remember the night we drove through York and I, in the back seat of our rental, looked out and saw the edge of the water. The waves were beautiful and big and as I rolled down my window, the salty smell struck me and I closed my eyes and drank it all in.

And then looked over at the empty seat next to me.

Well, okay, there was a box of Dunkin' Donuts there, but you get the idea.

It was just ... empty. My parents were in the front, holding hands and smiling as we drove on, and I was there in the back sharing the sweet moment with a box of stale donuts. And I realized that, while I am always my Father and my Mother's Daughter, it is no longer my defining characteristic. I am now Wife and Mother and being void of either of those roles leaves me feeling, truly, a bit uneasy.

And I found myself imagining what the moment would have been like with my husband. I would drive him nuts with my play-by-play retelling of every single memory I have in York, everything I know about the ocean, everything I couldn't wait to eat at the restaurant. If the kids had been there, I would have hardly been able to contain my excitement as I point out "The sea! It's there! Caleb! It's BIG!" and Naomi would giggle and Caleb would jabber about the ocean being big and blue and there it is and look some sand and I am hungry and I am also two years old and Mom is twenty-eight.

But instead ... it was silent.

And y'all, my life just isn't silent right now.

I missed the noise.

I've had several people tell me how much I must have appreciated the "break" from being Mom and Wife that I had while I was on my trip. I don't want to be rude, but I really didn't want a break. I didn't need a break. Truth be told, experiencing life with my little family is the best there is. Experiencing it alone is, well, lonely.

And I get it. This trip was not conducive to a restless two year-old and a baby girl who still takes one hour-long and one three-hour long nap every day. And, financially, me going alone made the best sense.

Oh and we spent the night in the airport on the way home because of flight delays. That would have been, oh, a nightmare with two babies.

But, you get what I'm saying. Some parents have no issue leaving their little ones behind for a week-long adventure in a different place or a foreign country. And that's great--to each his own. But if I have my choice, I want to experience it all together, as a family (besides occasional weekend getaways with just my hubby ... a marital necessity, for us!). Because, while the travel can be stressful and the kids can be hard, the moments are also fleeting.

And the thing we would remember the most is looking out the window, watching the waves, giddy with excitement.

And I hope someday we can do that.

It's good to be home.

Have a lovely day.