Oh Babies!

I want the twins to stay 9 months old forever.  They have the sweetest, fullest cheeks, the most adorable little giggles, and the cutest babble.  They both have this thing with fake laughing.  If you get them going, pretty soon it turns into real laughter. Cutest thing ever!

I think all moms feel this way at some point. Or three.
I, for one, feel like I'm a little less sleep deprived now (it only took 9 months!) and able to really enjoy them.
It's not that I don't want them to ever grow up, it's just that I want to freeze time and savor this moment because I know how fleeting it is.

With five other children, I especially appreciate the babies.  They have an innocence that is so refreshing.  It's not that I have naughty or terrible older children. On the contrary, I think they're pretty great kids. It's just that raising children involves all kinds of tough decisions and hard moments.  But the babies? Oh, the babies! They smile and hold out their arms for you and love you no matter how often you mess up.  They look up to you for every single need they have, yes, but their sweetness pays for it tenfold.  It's an incredibly fulfilling job.

With babies, every day is fresh and full of potential for learning and exploring.
They don't remember yesterday and it's hardships.  They simply enjoy the present.

They teach me what unconditional love is.  They teach me how to live for the moment.
Every toothless grin and each little cuddle and every single giggle they give makes my heart sing.
I get to be their mama!  I'm so lucky and so blessed to be their mom!

No, I don't really think I'm lucky.

Last week, I took Aubrey out of school early to come get her hair cut with me.  I thought it would be a fun mom-and-daughter date, and I was right.  I was able to soak her in and give her my undivided attention the whole time we were out and about, which she loved.

While I was sitting in the salon, wrapped in a black cape and answering the usual questions of 'how many kids do you have', 'are you going to have any more', and 'do you stay home', I got a comment that I've heard a couple times before: "you are so lucky to get to stay home with your kids!"

I've been thinking about that.  

Yes, I am 'lucky' if you like that term.  I feel very fortunate and blessed to have a hard working husband who can provide for us, as well as a partner that fully supports me as a stay-at-home mom. I saw a sign in a friend's house recently that read "Begin each day with a grateful heart".  I love that! So yes, I am very grateful I get to be the one to raise my kids.  With seven beautiful children, I have so much to be thankful for each and every day.

But... At the same time, I am not 'lucky' to be a stay-at-home mom. It takes work. It was our (Dean's and my) choice; a choice that took, and still takes, sacrifices on our part to make happen. 

We make our kids our priority. 

That means we don't have as much money to spend on holidays, birthday parties, and vacations.  It means that we live in a modest small home and drive older cars.  It means that our kids wear hand-me-downs and that our scarred furniture continues to serve us well.  It means that I wear old and faded jeans rather than the latest fashions. It means my days are filled with oft mundane tasks of laundry, sweeping, and mopping.

But more importantly, it means that I get to be the one to kiss owies and welcome the kids home from school!  I get to watch the baby take his first steps and I get to read stories to the kids!  I get to choose how to discipline and I get to instill the values we find important.  I get to reap the rewards of raising our children!

And I love it!  Like I told the hairstylist, it's exactly what I want to be doing.

Lucky or not, I made a choice, and it continues to be a choice that I find worth the sacrifices

Because I have to include a picture. 

And because I photograph these kids the least 

since it's their teachers and not me that gets to enjoy them during the week day.

pulling out my camera

Whenever I'm having a hard time finding the joy in mothering my brood (and let's be honest, mothering the twins), I pull out my camera.

For some reason, viewing snapshots of my daily life makes me realize just how fortunate I am.

 I mean seriously!  Look. at. these. two.

Are they not the cutest things ever?!
Are cameras not the best piece of equipment a parent can own?!

CUTE is not a good enough word

Perhaps you expected a lot more twin cuteness on this blog.
Truthfully, I did too.

I simply have not had the energy or the time!
Yes, I suppose that is obvious, and if I were being realistic I might have realized this would be the case.  But you never know what something will be like until you've lived it.  And life with twins is something you can only imagine.  If you have children, you have a little bit of a better idea what two at a time is like.

Let me tell you...it's crazy.
And it's wonderful.
It's exhausting.
It's busy.
And it's so incredibly fun!
You have all of the adorable, precious, heart-swelling sweetness of one baby...times two!

Loretta and Graham at 6 weeks

But had you asked me what it was like any time in the first seven weeks, I would have only given you the exhausting and crazy answers.
I was only getting about 4 hours of interrupted sleep each night.  Mastering breastfeeding was a month long challenge. I cried every evening as I tried for 40  minutes to get my daughter to latch on.  When one of them would finally fall asleep, the other would awake. Or worse, one would wake and cry while I was already busy feeding the other. When they hit a growth spurt, or needed to increase my milk supply, at 2 and 4 weeks, I literally sat in my chair and nursed all day long.  I was always hungry.  I longed for a 30 minute steaming-hot shower.  I wrote mixed up notes to the kids' school teachers.  I word botched or spoke complete nonsense on a daily basis.

But gradually, life with twins got easier. And at seven weeks, I started finding the joy in raising them.

You know why I say seven weeks?  Because that is when they first smiled at me.
I was having a pretty rotten morning.  I was exhausted and wondering "why did I get twins? Why me?!?" I went outside (because that was one of the surest ways to stop their crying), sat on the bench, and placed Graham on my lap. He made eye contact with me and smiled! (Loretta had already smiled, but Grandma and Daddy got those ones). In an instant, all the sleepless nights, all the tears of frustration, all the floors we paced, all of it...was paid off by the sweetest, most fleeting smile.

And now that they are 12 weeks old, we have lots of daily doses of baby love.  They are smiling and coo-ing and wiggly and squirmy and basically the most squishable, lovable little beings out there.

Graham and Loretta - 3 months old

Our family is always saying "they're just SO cute!". But cute is not a good enough word.  Cute does not convey what happens when you hold your newborn baby.  It is not a strong enough word to explain how your heart swells to bursting, or how the rainiest day is suddenly sunshine, or how you relax and smile, or how the laughter bubbles up from deep within, or how you would give your very life for this tiny little being (or these two!).  So we all continue to say "they are just so CUTE!".
We love on them like crazy.  Although I'm not sure who's doing the loving and who is receiving!
These two babies (as were all my other babies) are the best cure for any frowns, because they are just so cute.

So if you are a soon-to-be mother, or another mother of a newborn (or are lucky like me and have multiples)...take heart.  The exhaustion, discomfort, and pain will all be worth it soon.  Life does get easier. You will be rewarded.  You will get to shower again some day.  You will eventually sleep (I'm still waiting for that one).

And if you try to explain your baby or mine, and can only come up with "they are soo cute!", it's okay.
I completely understand what you mean.

All Aboard!

Choo-choooo.  Hop on board the Diaper Express!

I only have one in diapers right now.

But you wouldn't know it by this supply.  

I stock up when I go to Sam's.
I've been buying my diapers there (or Costco) for years.

I was just thinking...

I've been buying diapers for nine years and seven months.

If I bought at least one box of diapers every month,

that's 115 months times roughly $40...

Oh, never mind!

That could be a depressing number.

As in like a Hawaiin vacation number.

But it's not worth considering.  I rather like being able to throw

dirty diapers in the trash versus the washing machine.

Now what would be interesting to know, 

is the number of diapers I've contributed to the landfill.

Let's see... five children...

It's a mountain, I'm sure.

Do I get any credit for at least recycling the cardboard box?

Happy Monday my friends!

If you're currently on the same train as me, may your diapering days be jolly!

Chugga, chugga, choo, choooo!

38:52 Outside the Lines

If I pretended we had a set of lines that we, as parents, were following for this journey called 'raising children', they would not be straight.
If you were to look back at our lines of the last nine plus years, you would find that while they started heading in one direction, they veered off course several times, and that we are no longer heading in the same direction now.
But I think that is good.
We are learning, and we are learning that what we once thought was important may not necessarily be so any longer.  I'll call that living. Living and learning.

While we may have once walked in narrow lines, I think they are starting to broaden. It's when we step outside of our self-created lines, that we push them out, expand them. I'll call that growth. Personal growth.


I think that I may have stepped outside of our pre-set lines earlier this week
(the only kind of growth I see at this moment is the tangible one of another breathing body occupying this household).
I brought home a four legged friend.

As crazy at it is to me, my kids now have a new best friend.

A very energetic, shedding, and kind of smelly best friend.  Oh, what did I get ourselves into???

But the kids love her already.  

They want to be in the same room as her.  

They think about her when we're not at home.

They give her endless hugs.

And they *cringe* share their snacks with her.

Definitely outside the lines!

I never would have thought this would be a sight you'd see in my home...

So yes, perhaps this step of acquiring a family pet was a bit 'outside the lines' for us, but then again perhaps it will soon seem very apropos and our lines will make yet another, broadening shift on their ever evolving course.


I'm linking up to Maaret this Friday.
Enjoy your weekend!

Multitude of emotions

As much as I enjoyed having my kids home with me this summer, I've enjoyed the quiet days with three of them gone to school even more.

We are in the second week of school, and I have to admit that it's like a breath of fresh air.
Having five at home all day every day this summer started to wear on me.  I didn't have the energy for the week day trips that I thought we'd do since we were busy running every weekend, and busy with summer piano and band.  That left me feeling stuck.  Because who willingly goes to the store with five kids in tow?

It also left me feeling slightly guilty once they were out the door and in someone else's care for the majority of the day.  I doubt I was really present as often as I should have been.
Ah, the multitude of emotions of mothers!

Now that I have more quiet during the day, I hope it means I'll continue to have more patience for the older kids in the evenings, more energy to carve out time to give them one-on-one attention.

For me, the question of whether I'm giving my kids enough is always lingering.

I'll listen to the advice I myself have given, and know that because I'm asking it'll mean I'll try, and that's all you can do as a mother - try to do your best.


With Donovan's best play mate gone to school, I'm getting a chance to connect with him more.
And I'm loving it.  He's such a sweet, bright, and funny kid.

He just turned four, has been riding his bike without training wheels for a few months now, builds forts out of blankets and chairs daily, still tells me when he has to go potty, and loves to help me clean.  

And he's currently saying "Mom, I want to play hockey with you".

So I'm off to make another attempt to be present, to connect with my child while I have the chance.

And then it'll be one down, four to go. 

Summer's beauty

There are dirty little fingerprints everywhere I look.  The fridge, the windows, and the (glass) doors are the worst.  In front of the water and ice dispenser you are guaranteed to find a muddy puddle, and occasionally you'll find a few toe smudges from the little bare feet that frequent the spot.

The door handle has taken to falling off our back screen door again, it gets such frequent use.
I've stopped requesting the kids put their shoes on; my words fall on deaf ears.
Every evening I have ten very black feet to scrub, ranging from very tiny to just about my size.

It's summer here.

And it's wonderful.

I don't know what the magic is, don't know if I can explain it.
There's something enchanting about the long, unhurried, sunny days of summer.
Everything is green and the light lingers each evening.  Our family time is extended and we have time for games in the evening and pans of brownies that don't make it into the oven until 8 pm.
The outdoors becomes our playroom; bikes and roller-blades litter the driveway, stuffed animals on strings decorate the trampoline. The kids' skin becomes bronze and their hair streaked with even more blonde.
But more incredible than nature's splay is the camaraderie among all five of my kids, ranging from twenty months to nine years old. They play together all day long. Sure they occasionally fight, but I've never seen them cooperate and play so well as they have this summer.  Literally from the time they get up to the time I call them in to get ready for bed they are inventing some new game, upturning the dining room chairs into forts, riding bikes and scooters around the cul-de-sac, playing house with their animals, jumping on the tramp, or reading books together.

I know it can't last forever, this symphony between my kids, but I'm loving it while it lasts.
They are doing what kids should be doing - learning through play and exploration.  They are enjoying a couple months off from any responsibilities, any pressures to perform and simply just being, just enjoying each other and summer's beauty.

I hope they are making beautiful memories.  Memories of carefree summer days where outer space is the limit when it comes to imaginative play.  I hope they are forging a life-long bond between themselves, a bond that is rooted in the sand, chalk, and the make-believe of their childhood days.

Whether it's the late sunsets or the possibility of vacations, I hope summers will always hold a little bit of magic for my kids.

I get a taste of it myself with the windows that won't stay clean for an afternoon and the ever present muddy puddle in front of the fridge. They mean my kids are here.  Home for the summer.  Together.  Making memories. Just being.

20:52 Mother

I was asked several times if I had a nice Mother's Day.
I guess this question surprises me. Yes. Yes, of course it was nice.
Dean cleaned the house for me on Saturday while I lay sick in bed.  Then on Sunday he stayed home with a puking child while I went to the park with the other kids. Later that day, he hosed down the puke blankets and sheets for me.
He was kind enough to hold off being sick himself until after we had all crawled into bed, and Mother's Day was technically over.
Sounds like it kind of sucked, but I really did have a nice day.  What wasn't to love about it? I felt pampered and loved simply because my husband served me all. weekend. long.  Gosh but I love that man!

Perhaps it's because I have five young children, or perhaps it's because I look at motherhood as my job, but either way, I don't get too hyped up about Mother's Day or set high expectations.
To know I'm thought of and thanked is enough.  With that knowledge, I can go about my day happily. A day that involves dirty diapers, hungry children, and a growing laundry pile, regardless of the fact that it's the second Sunday of May.
I suppose I'm a 'glass half full' kind of gal too.  I'm usually finding the good in a day, a moment, a circumstance; and the good in my weekend was all the small things I didn't have to do.

I guess I also am as realistic as I am optimistic.

And honestly, I kind of feel like it's Mother's Day at least twice a month.
Like on the days that Dean says of course he is willing to pick up dinner on his way home from work.
Or the days that my kids and I enjoy lots of snuggles and giggles on the couch.
Or the times when my nine year old son comes bursting in the door and launches himself into my arms.
Or when my daughter presents me with a card she drew herself.
Or when the three youngest take a nap, all at the same time! For two whole hours!

So yes, I am incredibly blessed! With a wonderful mother and mother-in-law, with an incredibly supportive spouse, with great friends, and with five beautiful children who make my days worthwhile.

I mean, just look at that smile!

10:52 Mother

And because I thought you would get as much of a kick out of this poem as I did, I'm going to share something I stumbled across on this big ol' world wide web.

If You Give a Mom a Muffin

by Beth Brubaker

If you give a mom a muffin, 

she'll want a cup of coffe to go with it.

She'll pour herself some.

Her three year old will come and spill the coffee.

Mom will wipe it up.

Wiping the floor, she will find dirty socks.

She'll remember she has to do laundry.

When she puts the laundry into the washer,

she'll trip over shoes and bump into the freezer.

Bumping into the freezer will remind her she has to plan supper.

She will get out a pound of hamburger.

She'll look for her cookbook (How to make 101 Things With a Pound of Hamburger).

The cookbook is sitting under a pile of mail.

She will see the phone bill, which is due tomorrow.

She will look for her checkbook.

The checkbook is in her purse, which is being dumped out by her two year old.

Then she'll smell something funny.

She'll change the two year old.

While she is changing the two year old, the phone will ring.

Her five year old will answer and hang up.

She'll remember she was supposed to phone a friend 

to come over for coffee.

Thinking of coffee will remind her that she was going to have a cup.

She will pour herself some more.

And chances are,

if she has a cup of coffee,

her kids will have eaten the muffin that went with it.

Yep, pretty much sums up my days to a "T"! And it's great!

A Picture of my Wednesday afternoon

Amber will have more to share about mothers.
Have a great weekend you all, whether you're a mother enjoying the beautifully mundane or not!

Our Board of Good Qualities

When it comes to my children, I am a worry-er.
Are they getting enough of my attention?  Will they stand up to bullying?  Am I raising them to be confident and loving?  Is my impatience scarring them?  Do they know how incredibly wonderful and special they, as an individual, are?

Sometimes it keeps me up at night.  Because during the day, life gets kind of crazy and I have no time to ponder anything as I try to keep this ship afloat and sailing.

And it's funny to me how we can be sailing smoothly along and yet, at the same time seem to be taking in water.

Smooth sailing example:
After one of my late night worry sessions that involved positive self images, I came up with an activity for the family to do together.  I pulled out our big chalk board and set it up by the dinner table.  I told everyone to think of something they are really good at.  After we were done eating, I wrote everyone's name on the chalk board and, starting with Dean and I, proceeded to write down everyone's self-proclaimed strengths.

I want my kids to have self confidence.  I want them to recognize their own good qualities and feel good about them.  I want their self-esteem to be their armor so that they thrive in environments outside the safe walls of our home.

I tucked away the bit of knowledge that my son said "I don't know if I'm good at it, but I like to play basketball" while my daughter said in a sure voice that "I am good at reading and coloring".
Food for the night thoughts.

After everyone was done explaining what they were good at, I told them they now had to come up with something good about every other member of the family.  This definitely took some time as there were six people giving six compliments, but I really wanted them to think positively of each other and find the good in each other.

I want my kids to think of others.  I want them to be kind and compassionate, and lift each other up. I want the knowledge that we have their back, always, empower them to turn their thoughts outward and be thoughtful of and helpful to those they encounter.

And I was pleased that everyone was able to do it.  Each of the kids recognized something good in everyone else.  The older kids especially surprised me with what they noticed and thought.  Our board of good qualities was full.

Taking on water example:
Elaina was in my arms erasing what I was writing for much of the time, so I handed her to Dad.  She then proceeded to crawl and walk all across the table, stepping into a plate of chicken enchilada.  Her howl at being put on the floor was hard to hear over.
Then, once the little boys' turns were over, they quickly lost interest in the activity and started wrestling and screeching at the table.  As usual, they didn't listen when we tried to quiet them down and separate them.  Dinner ended with kids bouncing every which way, the noise level near ear piercing decibels, and one child in a time out for biting another's bottom.

I have no idea if this little self-and-sibling-praise-activity will stick with the kids, if it will even help achieve the goal in mind, but I have to believe it will.  I have to hope that I'm instilling the values in them that I want rather than the faulty ones I demonstrate.  I have to believe that they'll remember the love, the sense of belonging, and the lessons rather than the chaos that always accompanies anything we do as a family.  I have to hope that I'm learning how to parent fast enough and making a difference now before they are all grown and gone.

I have to keep on believing it.
I have to.
Because it makes the smooth sailing feel like flying
and the bailing of water feel effortless.

The baby is the best

For all the trials a large family brings, for all the negative comments and pressure we receive, and for all the work raising a large family is, I don't know what we would do without the 'baby'.

The baby brings out the best in everyone.  

The kid that is ornery and grumpy one minute, becomes lovable and caring the next when interacting with the baby. When any of the older kids are bored, they go and play with the baby, which often results in lots of giggles. Even grown ups lose their solemness around the baby.

I think that all boys have some nurturing nature in them, and it is the baby that brings that side out.  Even the toughest of kids soften around the baby. It is so fun to see that not-often-seen side of them.

And laughter!?  It is our baby that has brought the most into our home (whichever child happens to be the baby at the time).

This little girl sometimes has the whole family in stitches with her antics.

She has this uncanny ability of lightening your sour mood with a simple raise of her little eyebrows.

Laughing at her (and often times with her as she thinks its pretty funny to be so funny) is the best stress reliever I know.

Point a camera at her and you'll get her classic baby cheese.  Give her a musical toy and you'll get a comical, high-stepping, tip-toe dance.  Tell her it's lunch time and she'll holler "Yayyyyy!". Cry and she'll come and give you a hug, saying "Huuuudt".  Take off her diaper and you'll hear her high pitched squeal as she runs her naked self as fast as she can away from you.

Show her a picture of Brant and she'll say "Butt!"

I'm shaking. Excuse me while I wipe my eyes.  That one still gets me. Every. Single. Time.

I hope every one of you has experienced the lighthearted laughter and the love that babies bring.

Because I thank God every day for our baby, and can't imagine our life without her.  

15:52 Reflection

Shopping with three kids...

It's quite an experience.  

An entertaining one mind you, if you're in the right mind set.

15:52 Reflection

One child is in his own world, the other looking at his reflection in the window, and the third child?
Well, that's a good question. 

Shopping with a toddler and two pre-schoolers is such an incredible experience that I have decided I will rent mine out to you so you can experience it yourself.  Actually, I wouldn't dream of charging you for this service, I will loan them to you.

However, I will not be held responsible for their actions.  Don't blame me if you have one child lying on the floor screaming and two others racing for the bathrooms, without you, the adult.
I'm just the mom after all.
And when your excursion ends looking something like this...

I'll just shrug my shoulders and mumble something about the results of shopping during lunch and/or nap time.

Perhaps Anita would like a chance to shop with three kids, and reflect on days gone by!

Bed of Roses

I'm not going to lie.  I have some pretty bad days.  Yesterday was one of them.
I don't know why Mondays haunt me so, but they do.  Especially after a weekend of late nights for the kids (and by late I mean 9:30 and 10:30!).

I thought I had figured out how to have bad moments and not let them turn into bad days.  I thought that if I simply acknowledge my current mood and allowed myself my feelings that I'd be able to move on.  Well, I was wrong. I don't know how many times I told myself "Man, I'm in a pissy mood" and "I can't handle these kids!"
My revelations did nothing to improve my day, in fact it simply got worse.

I thought I had figured out how to love my job as a mother, no matter the day.  I thought that if I reminded myself over and over that "this is really what I want to do and that I want to raise my kids, not leave the job to someone else", then I'd enjoy it regardless of what life throws at me.

And actually, I still love my job.  But had you asked me yesterday if I loved my job, I might have hollered at you that "I sure as heck don't love this moment.  And don't even try to remind me that this is what I chose, this is what I want, because right now, I want to be anywhere but here".
And I honestly did.  I thought about taking off once Dean got home and checking into a hotel.
Instead I checked into my room and locked the door.

I can't really explain my bad day. Hormones, crabby kids, being sleep deprived and therefore impatient all had something to do with it.
Sleep does me wonders sometimes.  So does some peace and quiet.
After being replenished with both, today was a much better day.
I'm able to find joy in the little things.

Like my five year old's face lighting up when he realizes that what I call "minus" is the same as what he calls "take away".

It is seriously a delight to work with this boy; he is so bright!

And my three year old really isn't deliberately naughty.  After I colored with him for a while, he decided he was going to help me do the dishes (aha! that's the key to cooperation!). And today I had no problem waiting for him to put the silverware and tupperware away.  Or letting him wash my last bread pan.

Gosh, but he's a sweet boy.

So I guess the moral of my story is that life really is a bed of roses.  Yeah it's beautiful and smells sweet, but there are thorns too. We all have bad days. We all have moments in which we  perform less than our best.
And you know what?  That's okay!  Go get some sleep, recharge, relax, and do better tomorrow.
If you take care of yourself today, there's always tomorrow to take care of everything and everyone else.

Comfortably oblivious

I didn't think about it when I went and knocked on my neighbors door to ask for two eggs.  The boys and I wanted to bake chocolate chip cookies after all, had actually started to make them already before realizing we didn't have enough eggs.  So we borrowed eggs, baked, and ate soft, warm cookies that fell apart when we picked them up too soon.  And while I was pulling more out of the oven, I realized this was a perfect opportunity to bring a "welcome to the neighborhood" treat to the couple who moved in next door last week.

I didn't think about it when I knocked on the new neighbor's door either.  Or when she invited me in and we stood in her foyer chatting, me balancing the baby on my hip.

I didn't think about what kind of a picture I made, and looking back, boy oh boy it was a good one.  My first thought was "oh horror! I looked a wreck!" I must have screamed stay-at-home mom.

That morning, I had picked up the first pair of jeans I'd found - the pair I'd worn the last two days already.  I had pulled one of Dean's sweatshirts over my pajama shirt.  And I hadn't bothered to brush my hair.  What's more, I had gone to sleep with it wet the night before.

So yes, I was one stylin' mama. I was even wearing my black fuzzy slippers! Now it's starting to strike my funny bone! I think the only thing that could have made it better would have been my bleach-stained yoga pants and perhaps some food stains or booger smears on my shoulder from the baby.

And I stood in Kim's foyer, quite oblivious and very comfortable, welcoming her to the neighborhood.  I said "If you ever need anything, just let us know!"
"Oh, and the same to you guys. The same to you," she said.

I wonder if my words were a bit ironic to her.  Me looking like I did and with five kids running around my feet offering to help her out.

Because I don't photograph myself at my most comfortable, 

I'll share my kiddos, in not so perfect form.

Some days are just like that

If you could see my plate, it might be rust colored

I have to shake the pressing sense of guilt as I head to the sunniest chair in the living room, book in hand, my workout DVD pushed to the back of my mind with the label "tomorrow".

For the first time in what seems like a long time (although its probably been only a month) I have nothing that needs my immediate attention.  No vomit-soaked quilts to wash. No feverish child to keep my eye on.  No big weekend plans to prepare my family for.  No bills to pay.

And I'm taking advantage of that fact. By doing absolutely nothing.

It's wonderful in the way that eating too many slices of banana bread in between dressing the kids to go play outside, kissing an owie, making lunch, and repeatedly walking around dazedly wondering where I put my book down only to find it and wonder if this sense of elation I feel upon the knowledge that I can sit down and devour yet another chapter is normal; that kind of wonderful.  Where my  head is blissfully wrapped up in another time and life - Jason Bourne's to be exact - and the dreary sicknesses that have consumed our household this winter are all but forgotten.

And because it feels wasteful, and because I feel guilty, and also because a few hours was actually enough, I am now moving on to the present and to next week, forgetting about the book that made it home from the LA airport with Dean.  I'll pick it up and read in snippets, but for now life continues to pull at me.  My full calendar screams at me from the fridge, reminding me that just because we are all well, life won't necessarily slow down.  Piano lessons today, home services next week, I need to go to Home Depot...that reminds me...

We have a pop up tent trailer now!  It's a little old colemen that I think our family will barely fit into, but perfect for now. I was at Home Depot yesterday shopping for a shop vac with which to de-dustify the thing.  After finding a pricey little vac, I headed to the lighting section to see what deals I might find.  I discovered a stack of ceiling fans on clearance, and decided $21 was too good a deal to pass up as we are currently staring at an 80's fixture every time we lie in bed (and I might as well buy three).  I think I made quite the show for all the retirees shopping that day, me pushing a double stroller and pulling a cart overflowing with boxes of ceiling fans and a vaccuum and the 3 year old obediently following behind with a bag of floor and paint samples.
Anyhow, I digress... Having already reserved our campsite at Sequoia and Yosemite, I have been scouring KOA sites along the coast of central California for our summer road trip. To say we're excited is an understatement.
Me - it's my dream vacation.  The kids - the dream playhouse.
A few mornings ago, I found them here, with a deck of uno cards.

This tent trailer is a fun pet project that isn't so consuming that it takes away from our big project inside of repainting and replacing the flooring in our bedrooms.  It's a fun filler project.  In between everything else, I'm emptying, cleaning, scrubbing, and planning to do some upholstery shopping and recovering.

My kind of fun, so long as it stays a stress free project on the large, ever revolving, ever changing plate that is my life.
Sure my plate is full, but a good kind of full.
My plate is spinning, but not at an alarmingly fast rate.
And currently, the view from my plate is looking pretty beautiful.  
I suddenly want to be wearing one of those rust colored t-shirts with the simple truth printed in smallish white letters - "life is good".

6:52 A Work of Art

My favorite oldest son (I like to call him that when it's just him and me. He doesn't hear the 'oldest' part and I don't hear the 'favorite' part. We're both pleased because his love tank gets topped off. It's a win-win phrase) turned nine earlier this week.  We celebrated by hitting the slopes.  Just him and me (it was actually his dad's turn to take him, but his dad woke up sick that morning so I got to go instead. Whoot whoot!).  It was an incredibly fun day.  I'd like to say that we rocked the bunny hill!

So anyway, last night I got to thinking about my favorite oldest son.  I usually write each of my kids a yearly birthday letter and stow it away for them in their keepsake box for reading some time later.  I'm terrible about doing them on time, but this year I actually started thinking about Connor's the week of his birthday!  Okay, so no I haven't actually written it yet, but I'm closer to having it done than I was five days ago.  Closer because here is something I would like to say/write to him:

Once upon a year, you loved art, drawing mainly.  Your dad and I delighted in your hobby and your ability.  Your drawings were good. Seriously good!  I remember you would take your drawings to school for show and tell in first grade.  You would come home hurt and offended and tell me that no one believed you drew them!

Is that why you don't like drawing any more?

This year, you only like to trace.  It's almost as if all the drawing books we got for you hampered your inner creativity, set impossibly high standards.

In reality, I know that you are simply experimenting and discovering, and that different ages mean different realizations about yourself and life.
I have come to learn that you are a perfectionist.  I know that you enjoy making things, but that you like having a set of clear directions to follow, or at least the tangible example of what the finished product will look like.

I wonder if piano will now be your creative outlet.  I will be sad if and when you move on.  Just as I was sad to see your love for drawing fade away.

But that's okay.  I want you to know yourself.  I want you to be happy being yourself.

6:52 Work of Art

While I'm sure that much of this self-portrait was copied from his teacher's instructions on how to draw a face, and that much of the words he used to describe himself were words that his peers were using, I still love it.  I recognize that jersey he was wearing.  It's his favorite.  I love his 8 year-old sense of self. 

You are my favorite oldest son and I love seeing what new things grab your interest.
I love seeing you discover, little by little, who you are.

On a bit of a different note, keep on blog hopping for our Project 52!  Visit Leann to see her work of art.

Pretty Proud of my Little (Signing) Lady

I don't know who gets more excited when Elaina learns a new sign, her or me.

Seriously, I can see the pride in her smile and hear it in her high chair babble.

Because that is where signs have come in the most handy - at mealtimes.

So bear with me here if you've heard all this from me before, because I'm going to do it again.  

Signing is the simplest way to connect with your child, empower them, and reduce frustration.  With my picky eaters, meal time can be a bit of a challenge.  That's why I'm beyond excited that Elaina has learned two new food signs.  Actually, that's not why I'm excited.  I simply adore her and believe she's a clever little thing.  I'm quite proud of her!  You'll forgive me for my short moment of bragging, won't you?

In case you're interested, the sign for strawberry is made by making the "f" sign (for fruit), placing the pinched 

thumb and pointer finger on the corner of your mouth, and twisting the sign back and forth.

Banana is signed by holding up the pointer finger of one hand and doing a peeling motion 

with the thumb and pointer of the other hand. 

She can already sign "eat", "more", and "drink" but getting into the nitty gritty of what she'd like is pretty exciting stuff!  We've been in a kind of signing lull, and now I'm hoping this success will keep us energized to learn more.

I encourage any of you with little ones to try signing!  Just try it!

Letting my kids know they matter

I now consider my family large.  Somehow, going from four to five children has qualified us as an officially "large family". At least in my mind.  Because this is the point where I shake my head and wonder how other moms make it look so easy.  How other moms don't lose their sanity managing such a large brood.

To the strangers I meet at the grocery store, I have my hands full, lots of helpers, the patience of a saint, and my own basketball team. And about a dozen other sayings that I'm sure many of you have heard.
None of them are true! Except maybe the basketball team one... in five years when they can all get the ball into the hoop.

No really, none of them are true.
I do not have it all figured out.  I do not have all the answers. And no, you should most definitely not bow down to me.
I'm just a mother trying to do her job, and trying my hardest to keep my head above water and stay half a step ahead of the pack.  I make mistakes all the time. I say and do things I regret. I want to crawl into a quiet hole to recoup and actually think clear thoughts on a monthly basis. Okay, make that a weekly basis. Daily?

My recent ponderings have me mulling over my children and how being a part of a large family affects them.
You see, I want each of my children to feel valued and loved.  I want them to know that they are special and unique. I want them to know that I believe in them, and I want them to believe in themselves.

But I have five children.  It's not that I can't love each of them, for I certainly do.  They each are so different, they each bring different joys and gifts to our family.  Its that I hardly have time to think clear thoughts, let alone remember to act on them.  When the school children come home, the amount of noise and activity in this house increases ten-fold.  When its time for dinner, it increases twenty-fold.  Bedtime, 50-fold.  I have all I can handle just trying to keep some peace as I feed the brood, get homework and chores done, ready them for bed, and finally, quietly slip out of their dark bedrooms.

And it is the school children I worry about most.  I demand a lot from them, as they are the most helpful and responsible. The youngest ones demand so much of my time and energy that I worry that the oldest ones feel lost in the shuffle of daily life that equates to busyness and sometimes chaos in a large family.

How do you show your children, especially the oldest ones, that they matter?

This question keeps swirling around my mind as I try to praise them and thank them for their help.  I try to schedule Mom and Child dates.  I occasionally slip notes in their lunches. I try to really listen when they are telling me about their school day.  I try to give lots of hugs.

Some nights I lie awake and wonder, is it enough?  Do they feel as important and cherished as the babies?

Do they feel confident?  Do they feel worthy?

I am not naturally a physical or demonstrative person.  I am working hard to change that with my children.
It is slowly becoming easier, slowly becoming second nature.

Last night, as I was in the kitchen, Aubrey and I were talking about a song she liked called "If I were a mother, for just a little while".  After we sang a few fun made-up versions of our own, I surprised myself by thinking clearly for a change and making up a song, special for her.  I sang that if I were Aubrey, for just a little while, I'd hug my mommy daily because I know she loves that, and I'd keep on being so beautiful and so cute just as I was.  Basically, if I were Aubrey, I wouldn't change a thing - I'd just be me.

And my heart still clenches at her reaction.  Her smile, her beautiful smile, turned kind of shy and kind of pleased all at once.  My heart sang and my inner self jumped and cheered, chalking up one point for this busy mom. Ideally, I'd get five points in a day, but I'll take this victory.  I'm getting there.

My prideful self is gloating at my humbled self;  I'm making up for a past grievance.
Last week, with a few crabby toddlers at my feet and supper sizzling on the stove, I lost my temper and snapped at my oldest.  I caused tears to pool in his eyes.  I made my little boy (because at 8 he really is still so little) feel bad.  My humble self frowned at me (heavens how I try to avoid giving my kids that look, though the disapproving look slips out so easily!), shook her finger in my face, and crossed her arms.  She made her point, quite clearly.
I sometimes move forward one step, then fall back two more.  Am I ever going to come out ahead?!

But you know, perhaps I worry too much.
The other week Aubrey said to me "Do you know where my favorite place is to be? Home!"

My prideful self is fist pumping again and chalking up yet another point!
My humble side is thanking God for these precious children I get to call my own.

Mother's Day 2010.  I need a new picture of me and my kids!

Nothing of Interest

If this were Facebook, and not my blog, I could post often.
On a weekend evening, you might gain a bit of unimportant information about us, like what we are having for bedtime snack... "mmmm, banana splits!"

Or perhaps you'd get a laugh reading the little tidbits of life in this household...
When "Oh crap!" takes on a very literal meaning:
I am nursing my 3 month old to sleep. From the bathroom I hear the 2 yr old say "I peed and pooped!" Then the four year old says "bend over, let me wipe you."
yeah...oh crap!

Or...
Brant just bought a bent slinky from Aubrey for $20.
New rule in this house: all transactions involving dollar bills requires an okay from mom first!

Or...
Dean just informed me that the three naked kids in the pool that is on the tramp "are not his children".
Hmmmm, I wonder where they came from?!

But blogs aren't status updates and typically consist of more than a few sentences and minutes of my time. And finding the time to write more than a few sentences is becoming harder and harder.  Actually, I am writing. In my spiral notebook/journal.  But I don't think anyone would care to read those writings, as it's usually a pretty desperate need that makes me pick up my  pen.

So...as I have very little to say at this time about my daily life of laundry, housework, meal planning, grocery shopping, bill paying, owie kissing, homework enforcing, toddler hugging, baby snuggling, child bathing, and bedtime readings, I will probably be kind of quiet on here.

Until, that is, I find some motivation to make time to finish up my chair project.  I'll share the results.
And if I ever finish Aubrey's quilt some time in this next decade, I'll probably share that too.

And most likely I'll once again start going crazy wrapped in the doldrums of mommy talk and chores that I'll log on and post something uninteresting or unimportant.

Basically, my point is, I have nothing that I think is of interest to share.  But I'll most likely be sharing it anyway.  At some point.  Because sharing kind of makes me feel like an adult and it somehow keeps me sane. But it'll be sporadic because I've always got some laundry to go fold.

Thanks for letting me share.  Thanks for helping me feel like an intellectual, while in reality I am surrounded by preschoolers and play a lot of candy land. Thanks for helping me stay out of the loony bin.

I am forever in your debt.  And I bet my husband thanks you.

Okay, I'll shut up now.
And go fold my laundry.
And go find out what Elaina is getting into this time.

Technically, I am not a runner

The air feels quite cool, and steam is rising off the wet bushes in the early morning sunlight.  I am almost too cold, I but know that it won't last.

The morning is perfect for a run*.  Before I get on the trail, I catch a glimpse of the fog wrapping itself around the base of the mountain.  Beautiful.

And then, I am pounding a rhythm on the gravel.  The light is streaming through the tall trees, visible on the beads of moisture clinging to pine needles and on the dissipating mist. Beautiful.

I feel it.  
I feel the quiet and I feel the fresh air filling me, 
energizing me.  
I feel loose, my legs feel long, and I feel strong.  
I feel like I could run forever.

*Technically, I am not a runner.  I probably do not 'run' fast enough to qualify, nor far enough. But because I prefer to say run over jog, and because I sure feel like I am running when I'm doing it, that is what I will call myself - a runner.

I cannot run forever.  But I am getting stronger.  Eight runs ago, my 'runs' were actually 'shuffles'.  Literally!
I came home with sore abs, a sore butt, and mild shin splints.
But I kept at it, a few days a week; I kept pushing myself to go a little farther, run a little faster. My 18 minute runs have become 35 minute runs and my route has become longer.

Perhaps this is why...

When you live right next to the urban trail system, which winds through pine trees along a nature preserve, you wonder why you didn't start using it sooner.

Actually, I have yet to experience 'runner's high'.  (See! I told you I am not a runner!) I will console myself with the knowledge that I have not yet pushed my body beyond its limits, and for now, that is a good thing.

I started running because it seemed to be the answer to two of my problems.
~I wanted to be fit.
No, I do not need to lose weight.  I don't even own a scale.  I'm finally feeling the effects of having five children and putting their needs before my own.  Basically, I was feeling lethargic and droopy and unhealthy.  I want to feel healthy and fit.  And I want my heart and lungs to be strong.
~I needed time to myself.
To date, I have been content with my occasional evenings out, my projects around the house, and the kids at my feet.  But recently, I have to say that I've been needing more 'me' time.  It probably has a lot to do with the fact that there are seven people in this house.  At any rate, I began slipping out the front door before the house awoke, gratefully breathing in the quiet.

I can't say that I love running itself, but I do love the effects of running.
I love starting my day early, and starting it with a run.  I eat better, get more done in a day, and have more energy.  I feel ready to deal with the day after my 'solitude' and best of all, I feel fit.

And no, I am not always so chipper at 6 am. On mornings that follow too many late nights, I choose to sleep in an extra hour rather than get up and run.  But evening runs aren't so bad, even if I have to bring baby along.

She's a pretty good stroller-rider, a run in my neighborhood means a view of the peaks, and the monsoon sunsets are pretty amazing.

So yes, for me running has a lot to do with noticing the beauty around me.
But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that one motivating factor is getting into tip-top swimsuit shape (for our upcoming ten year wedding anniversary, which I'm still stubbornly hoping will involve relaxing at a beach).

I do not know how much longer I will continue running (an old ankle injury occasionally bothers me and my knees get sore) but for now, I'll continue to slip out the door in the early morning light, content to take it one rejuvenating run at a time.

And maybe, just maybe, the passersby will think to themselves "runner" when they see my ponytail swish out of their view.