Most People Wait Until AFTER the New Year to Break Their Resolutions...

I knew it when I wrote it. It was stupid to admit to the world at large what (one of) my New Year's Resolution was going to be. But damn if karma didn't come around and bite me on the butt. It's kind of like praying for patience. God doesn't give you patience. He gives you the opportuntiy to learn them. In other words, never pray for patience. But I digress...

I am really trying to find the silver lining here, folks, which is why I'm blogging about this. In hopes that maybe you, some of my dear readers, will find it for me and then smack me over the head with it.

We've had The Cold From Hell for several weeks around these parts. I had a cough that lasted, oh, I dunno, FOREVER and I graciously shared it with the kids. Or maybe they shared it with me. Whatever. Oldest Boy was recovering from an ear infection that had required a double round of antibiotics. We had his ear check scheduled for today and I called and requested that Baby Girl be seen at the same time. (As a side note, my pediatrician may be a little unusual but there are not many who would work their schedule to make this happen). Both kids got to be seen.

Oldest Boy was wheezing. Which means he likely has the same "virally-induced asthma" that Youngest Boy was diagnosed with over Christmas Break two years ago. Our doc says, "Asthma is a recurring condition so unless it repeats, which it likely will, this is just an 'episode'." He's being treated with albuterol through a nebulizer but no antibiotics (because it was probably triggered by a virus and not a bacterial infection). Yippee.

Baby Girl, however, only has pneumonia. It's "mild" - only in her right lung and only in the lower lobe. We're treating it with antibiotics only (which, at nearly three years old, she's never been on before) at this point - no nebulizer/breathing treatments/albuterol. Yippee.

I'm hoping to get the Little One in for an appointment tomorrow. She's got the cough and it's keeping her up but it hasn't really affected her eating habits and she's still generally speaking happy enough but I'm now worried that this cold is going straight to their chests and I want her checked out and given a clean bill of health. Please.

OK. So. Silver lining? I'll try first: Oldest Boy's ear infection is gone. I already knew how to use a nebulizer. I know the warning signs of respiratory distress. I frickin' hate this. Sorry. Now you try...

I've Created A (Cookie) Monster!!

Last year, I was invited to participate in a cookie exchange at the home of one of Oldest Boy's classmates. It was a very nice little party - more like an "open house" really - and the food was delish. Oldest Boy enjoyed playing with the other kids from his class and I enjoyed getting to know some of the parents.

However, the cookie "exchange" part...left something to be desired. I made my cake balls - which are one of my favorite cookies and usually a big hit. The hostess later asked me for the recipe during lent so she could make a non-chocolate treat (they can be made using any flavor combination). The cookies that I was sent home with were, uh, well, er...AWFUL!! I think the idea is that you bake a boatload of one type of cookie and you end up with one dozen of a bunch of different types. {SIGH} I hadn't really counted on it last year to substitute for my holiday baking so at least I wasn't too disappointed.

At least this year I knew what I was getting into. I attended again and made the same cookies. Again, I came home with, um, yuck. I knew I was in trouble from the start. We had rehearsed the whole way there what proper behavior was if we didn't like something we were offered or that we decided to try. Youngest Boy (who will likely attend Kindergarten with one of their children) sampled a chocolate chip cookie (which he loves when I bake them). He took a nibble, turned to me, and said, "No thank you." I figured I would just finish it up for him (it's the holidays). The "baker" was standing next to me so I had to choke it down but holy guacamole it was maybe the worst chocolate chip cookie I've ever had! {SIGH}

Now, maybe I'm a better baker than I give myself credit for. Or maybe I'm just picky. But seriously. I thought the idea was to make something you would be proud of. Let's just say my trained super-taster husband threw away more than half of the cookies I brought home. And I've been baking my hiney off ever since!!

Fa-la-la-la-la...la-la-la-la!!

**I'd like to give credit to two of the "bakers". The hostess distributed a poor substitute for buckeye cookies BUT her lady locks were almost as good as my SIL's (Donna) - this is maybe the highest compliment I can give lady locks. Another woman made fudge...which is currently hidden in the back of my fridge. I'll be darned if I'm giving away the only edible treat I took home for all of my hard work!

Remember Me

This year will be the first year that we will not be seeing my mother-in-law over the holidays. She's living out of state with my brother-in-law and his wife and it's just too far to try to visit, especially with an infant and a potty-training 2 1/2 year old.

I have two primary emotions about the situation. The first is relief. And, of course, closely following that is guilt. I am relieved that someone else has taken on the burden. I am relieved that I won't have to worry if this will be the year that she can't remember who my kids are. I am relieved that I won't have to worry about her getting lost in the snow when she goes outside to smoke at my parents' house on Christmas Eve. I am relieved that it's no longer my job to make sure her needs are met and she's comfortable and happy.

And I feel so damn guilty for feeling that relief. I spoke with my BIL's wife yesterday. We had sent my MIL a cardigan for Christmas and she asked if they could give it to her early so that she could wear it for the holiday festivities that they have planned. Of course, I told her that was fine, especially knowing that situation and that she likely wouldn't really understand much anyhow. I asked how things were going and, although I'm not really shocked by how her mental state has declined over the last several months I am surprised that she's still living "at home". It is an unbelievable amount of work and stress for his wife and I hope my husband's family realizes what a great service she is providing by delaying what I consider to be an inevitable outcome (they do). My MIL is going to need more professional care than her children or their spouses are going to be able to provide. Even given their respective medical backgrounds I think it's just not possible for a single family to provide 24 hour care and surveillance.

She wanted to call to thank us for her gift yesterday and because we had discussed a time for the call, I was expecting it. I just didn't know how it would go. My oldest really remembers her living here and being a part of his life on a daily basis. He repeatedly asks when he's going to get to see her again and when he speaks to her he asks her that question and tells her how much he misses her. It absolutely breaks my heart. Because no one can tell him when. Or even if. And I think, because of the angst it causes all of us, I have been avoiding contact with her. Cue more guilt. But yesterday, before she hung up the phone she said to me, "I will try to remember you." It was all I could do not to cry in front of my kids.

There is talk of a family reunion for my husband's family (6 siblings, spouses, their children, and their grandchildren). I have it in my head that this needs to happen. And soon. Because I don't want it to occur if she can't remember us. I just don't know how to explain that to a soon-to-be 7 year-old who just wants to see his grandma again.

The Silver Lining

What a week! In our life right now there is no such thing as a "normal" day. Every day is an adventure. Something is always changing what we might consider to be "routine".


I had been watching the Weather Channel on Wednesday afternoon after picking Youngest Boy up from preschool. His Christmas concert (for Preschool) was scheduled for Thursday evening and they were calling for a bit of snow in our area. I wanted to keep an eye on it, plus there was also a wind "advisory". The older two (YB and Baby Girl) had finished up their lunches and I was feeding the Little One when Youngest Boy said, "Mommy! I heard them say 'Tornado Warning'!" I said, "Oh, they're actually talking about a different part of..."


And then I looked up at the screen and saw the red "Tornado Warning" flashing past. Would someone please notify the weather channel that everyone on God's green earth knows what to do in case of a tornado?!?! Because that's what I saw when I looked up. Not where the tornado actually was but instead that I should head to a basement or whatever. Just as I saw the red warning I glanced out the window and saw branches flying off of the trees and spearing themselves into the ground, shingles flying off of roofs, and hail - blowing sideways!! I sent the older two into the (still not quite finished) basement and grabbed Little One and headed down. I called Mr. MOTH and made him look on-line to see where the warning was while I turned on the TV down there. Needless to say, the warning wasn't for our county but one nearby.

However. We did lose some shingles. But I'm a girl. And this house - which we built brand spanking new - is my first. I don't know the first damn thing about shingles. When I called Mr MOTH and told him he wanted to know how big the pieces were and where they came from. Um, I don't know? I wasn't even sure they were from our house!

I left to pick Oldest Boy up from school and when we got back Mr. MOTH's car was in the garage. He had to assess the damage himself. (In my defense, it took him a few minutes to figure out where they came from, too). Now, he was home a good 3 hours earlier than normal.



*****


Shortly after I fed the young uns dinner, I was cleaning up the dishes when the power went out. Panic ensued! Baby Girl does not like being in the dark (neither does her mommy) and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth until I located the flashlights (thank you, Flylady, because they all had working batteries) and some candles. The power company was predicting an 8AM the following morning return time for our electric. Yeah. Fun times. I sometimes have trouble entertaining four children with a TV/video system.

*****
Thursday night was Youngest Boy's Christmas program. I was supposed to meet up with my husband and parents there and they would theoretically help me with the kids. I was early, figuring it would give me plenty of time to find everyone and still get him to his room on time. But, alas, I was the only grown-up in my family there. So now I had to disembark myself plus 4 kids in bitter cold weather in a dark parking lot that is designed for 25 cars and was currently holding 1,200 (roughly). The "parking attendant" (read: parent who they roped into helping) asked me to back up and park. I was pretty cranky about this because I have a hard enough time parallel parking when it's broad daylight and I don't have a screaming baby in the backseat, but I complied.

When we finally got inside I remembered that to get to the school from the gym (where the program was being held), I had to go up a ginormous set of bleachers. By myself. With 4 kids. 2 of whom do NOT walk up steps. {SIGH} By the time I got to the top I was literally on the verge of tears. Some mom took pity on me and volunteered to take him to the Pre-K room for me. And I let her. Because I was not going to be able to do it. Boy, I hate that feeling. And as they were walking away I realized that I had just given my 5 year old to a stranger. Can I please pick up my Mother of the Year Award now?

By the time Mr. MOTH arrived I had worked myself into a frenzy and I left the other kids with him so I could ally my fears. And of course he was fine, but still.

*****
I'm going to start my New Year's Resolutions early this year by finding the silver lining in all of this:

If the shingles hadn't blown off of the roof, I would have been home alone during the power outage.

If the "parking attendant" hadn't asked me to back up to park, I would have been down over the (very steep) hill instead of 3 feet away from the door.

I'm still working on finding a positive to handing my child off to a stranger...

My Mom Got Her Wish

I have a child just like me.

When I was growing up, I used to get the words wrong to different songs or sayings all.the.time. (The Wicked Witch said, "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog also!")

Oldest Boy is clearly following in my footsteps. They watched Toy Story in the van yesterday. This morning I overheard him say to his brother, "Oh yeah? Well, good evening shell laney!"

HUH?

In my mind I was playing the movie back (which is relatively easy since we've seen it eleventy gagillion times).

"Honey, Woody says, 'Good riddance, ya looney!'"

"No, Mommy, you're wrong. It's 'Good evening shell laney!'"

"Those aren't even words!"

"Well, 'good' is a word. And 'evening' is a word. And 'shell' is a word."

"What about 'laney'?"

"That's just what he calls Buzz. Like a nickname!"

Oy. I'm in trouble.

I Guess I'll Sleep When I'm Old

Sleep. Oh, how I miss it! Truthfully, I could probably count the number of times that I've slept through the night on one hand since Oldest Boy was born. He'll be 7(!) in February! Most recently, I'm averaging about 5-6 hours of sleep a night, but that's NOT consecutive. Little One is maybe cutting a tooth and she definitely has a cold so I'm hoping the party that occurs in her crib every night at about 1AM for the last week + is going to go away eventually but right now, I can't function. I don't want to drink too much coffee (really, is there such a thing?) because when the opportunity for a nap arises, I want to be able to take advantage. Oh, wait. I HAVE 4 SMALL KIDS. The opportunity is never going to arise. For Christmas this year, I'd like a Starbucks, please. Not a cup, a franchise.

Bottom line: I'm feeling completely overwhelmed. I'm clinging desperately to my "glass half full" spirit, but it's dwindling fast. I'm focusing on the positive because I do NOT want to be the Grinch but I am certainly developing some Grinch-y attributes. Maybe chocolate will help...

**As an aside, couldn't you just nom on those fat rolls all day? She's our chunky monkey. At 6 months old, she weighs three full pounds more than her sister did at the same age: 18 pounds, 7 ounces!! And yes, my children look like they live in an orphanage. Mr. MOTH read a report about crib bumpers and SIDS and none of our youngest three have been allowed to use one...

Success!

Christmas shopping with my girls was a smashing success! I can't decide if Baby Girl was so well-behaved because she felt like a big shot shopping with the ladies or if it was the fact that she had an over-abundance of undivided attention - which made me feel like a less-than-perfect mommy. Either way, she was soooo much fun!

The best, by far, was lunch. Unlike our old-time shopping trips, lunch was consumed in the food court. I promised her nuggets because I was certain there was a fast-food place there. But no. So I offered pizza or pasta. She gladly chose the pasta...and ate nearly the entire plate with a fork - all by herself!! It was maybe the cutest stinkin' thing EVER! I just soaked it all in, that moment when my little girl morphed into a big girl in front of my very eyes. It's hard to explain just how grown-up she looked. But I know that I will never forget it.

And, of course, I still have mucho gifts to buy because I don't even know what to look for!!

An Old Family Tradition

Since before I was born my family has had a whole host of "traditions". "Buckeyes" are required holiday eating. "Euchre" is our favorite card game (and there's an unwritten rule that if you're a couple, you cannot be partners at the euchre table. Period.). And a lot of others that are just too weird to put into writing :)

But one of my favorites has always been Christmas shopping on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. There was a time when the women folk would take the train downtown to the big city and hit the only major department store. The one with the big Christmas tree outisde. They used to have a big sleepover where there was much craziness and near-nudity (and I don't even think there was any drinking). Oh, the stories I have heard!

As time progressed, they switched from the train to a charter bus trip. These are the shopping trips that I remember from my youth. It was a little over an hour ride down but it seemed like days. We were there waiting for the bus at the crack of dawn. I can't remember ever missing a year.

And these women. They shaped my personality. They were fun. And funny. And fun-loving. And cheap. We would always, always have lunch in the restaurant/lounge at the department store. Every year, my elderly aunt (Ruth) would flirt shamelessly with the 20-something bartender and drink a white wine spritzer which always made her lip go numb (incidentally, I knew the instant she died because my lip went numb. Never had before. Never has since. Take it for what it's worth). She always bought whatever money-making gizmo he was trying to sell and half the time she talked the rest of the ladies into buying some as well. One year it was light-up bow ties and visors. That was a fun Christmas for the men-folk!

One year my aunt (E) and I tried on fancy dresses just for kicks. I still have those photos somewhere! And I think that was the same year we pretended to be mannequins and scared the crap out of some middle-aged men! LOL!

All of this is just to say that I like absolutely adore this tradition. And for the first time, I'm taking my girls. My girls. I feel like I've been waiting for this my whole life. I know they won't remember it, but I will. No, we're not going down to the big city. We'll probably go to a local mall. But it will be an adventure. And I'll probably take pictures. And if they were older, they would probably be embarrassed. But, above all else, I want them to understand that it's OK to have fun. I think the women in my family may have been who they had in mind when they coined the phrase "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." I.can't.wait!!

So Thankful

I got to:

Cook Thanksgiving dinner for my extended (immediate) family
Send them all home ;)
Eat pumpkin pie with abandon - including Cool Whip!
Put 4 beautiful, silly, squealing children to bed
Drink a glass of wine with my handsome husband
Go to sleep in a warm and cozy bed (despite a furnace malfunction).

Thanks!

It's Her Fault!

I am an absolutely horrible judge of a person's age. There are tons of examples of my shoving my foot in my mouth by thinking (out loud) that someone is a certain age and being off by decades. It's really not my fault.

You see, no one who I know actually looks their age. My husband, who is 8 years older than me, looks to be around my age (and acts like he's 12 most of the time). His sisters all look years younger than they actually are. All 4 of them!

My mom has always been mistaken for my sister. People used to come to our house (when my dad ran a business out of the garage) and ask her if her dad was home. All.the.time. Her sister? Same thing. My dad's sister? I dare someone to actually guess her age accurately.

But it all started at the top. My Grandma E is amazing. She acts like she's 30 years younger than she really is (until recently, she would mow her lawn...with a push mower). She says she feels 20 years younger than she really is (she's up before the crack of dawn). But a few months ago, for the first time in my adult life, I realized she's not invincible. She had a minor (and by minor I mean really minor) operation but when you're a great-grandma to 4, no surgery is minor. It was a wake-up call to all of us that she's not 30 years younger. She's 89. As of today. And when I'm a great-grandma? I want to be just like her!!

Happy Birthday, Grandma!!

Birthday Boy Bonanza!

First you turned 1...

Then 2...

Then 3...

Then 4...

But you never seem to get used to the idea that for this day, always on THIS day, it is all about you!

Happy Birthday, big guy! And slow down! You're growing too fast!

Christmas Cards - The Easy Way!

Last year, I tried desperately to get a beautiful, loving, heart-warming photo of all three (at that time) of my children. Instead, I ended up with an acceptable photo. Which means that it was a photo where no one was screaming, holding their crotch, or hitting their sibling(s).

This year, well, I threw in the towel before I even started and went with a collage print. I am desperately trying to hold on to my sanity until much, much closer to the holidays this year. However, that's not to say that there weren't a few, um, less than perfect poses:

And, in case you're wondering, yes, I am the QUEEN of CHEEZY and my boys almost always dress alike for holidays/events. I can't believe that the thought didn't cross my mind to dress the GIRLS the same until someone sent me matching dresses as a baby gift. Oh! The Possibilities!

Big Bully

Youngest Boy was invited to a birthday party for a friend of his at school, Nathan*. Unfortunately, the party had to be canceled because of an illness in the family. YB was bummed, but we're going to try to make up for it. The party was supposed to be at Chuck E. Cheese's so I'm trying to figure out how and when to take them there as a special treat. (As a side note, isn't 5 too young to have a party there? Whatever.)

But yesterday, Youngest Boy came home from school and said, "Mommy, I don't like Nathan very much." I asked, "Why not?" "He takes my food." HUH?!?!

I said, "Well, honey, maybe he's just hungry."

"No. He has his own food. But he takes mine."

"Did you tell your teacher?"

"Yes. I guess maybe I just like him a little bit. But not very much."

I thought he was too young for me to have to worry about this stuff...

Nathan is that kid. The one that is constantly wreaking havoc in the classroom. The one who is always in trouble. He gets a "yellow thumb" more often than "green" and has even had a "red" more than once. He is clearly spoiled so I know it's not his fault. But if he's picking on my boy, he has become my problem. {SIGH} This time I'm glad he'll be at a new school next year.

*Name changed to protect the offender

What We Have Here...

is a failure to communicate.

I just had a conversation with my husband that went something like this:

Me: So I got invited to that cookie exchange with the Marzapin* family again. I think I'll go and take both boys.

Mr. MOTH: Uh-huh.

Me: Their daughter will be starting Kindergarten next year, I think, so she'll be in Youngest Boy's class.

MM: Uh-huh.

Me: That would mean that you'll be home with the girls. Alone.

MM: What? What did you say? What are talking about? When?

Me: You have no idea what I just said, do you?

MM: No. Something about cookies?

{SIGH} Mental note to self: Do not try to have a conversation with DH while there is more than one sporting event going on. Let's Go Pens!

*I changed their name. I think.

Non-Committal

I am very glad that I did not commit to doing NaBloPoMo (or whatever the hell it's called). I wanted to give it a go, knowing full well that something would come up and cause me to miss a day or two. Sure enough, after a couple of sleepless nights brought on by lord-only-knows-what and one computer glitch (that, of course, would only occur during the 2.7 minutes of "free" time that I have every day) I missed a couple of days of posting. But I'm going to press on, mainly because I didn't actually "commit" so technically I haven't really fallen short of any goals. My personal goal was to try to do the best I could this year in hopes of things getting easier every year (why are you laughing?).

You may remember my anxiety last year around this time of having to cook a Thanksgiving dinner all by myself because no one else in my husband's family was going to be available to make sure his mom had company (and food) during the holiday. I was nervous about the cooking thing, especially since I was pregnant and sick. But mostly I was just pissed that - once again - the responsibility of caring for her had fallen to me when others were supposed to be handling it. I did it, but it was grudgingly. And I had help in the form of my SIL's husband who actually cooked the turkey for me.

Turns out, I should have done it myself. Because this year, I'm having Thanksgiving dinner at OUR house for my family. My family being the six of us, my parents, my brothers, my sister, my grandfather, and (probably) my brother's new girlfriend. {SIGH} Surprisingly, I'm not freaking out (even though I only having seating at our table for 6. AT MOST). Probably because my mommy is coming over to help. And if I screw it up? We'll call it a "learning experience" and maybe I'll get out of ever having to do it again...

6 Months

6 Months. Half of a year. Little One, I can't believe that you've already been here for six months. I also can't believe that it has only been six months.

You are an amazing little bundle of joy. I just love the way that your laugh comes straight from your belly now. You think that sneezing is maybe the most hilarious thing that you've ever seen - even if it's a fake Ah-Choo! That grin still makes me smile. What Joy!

You can sit up all on your own now and I have a feeling you will be able to get yourself into that position before too much longer. Rolling is a piece of cake and you will sometimes roll your little self across the entire floor! You love the exersaucer and will play for quite a while in it, standing and "balancing" most of the time. I would bet that you will mostly skip over the whole crawling thing and skip straight to walking, much like your older brother, Youngest Boy, did. And speaking of your brother...

You love watching your siblings - all of them - but you are completely and utterly infatuated with your brother, Youngest Boy. The way your whole little body practically vibrates when he plays with you is amazing. He is sometimes the only one who can bring you back from the brink of crankyland. And I have to say, the feeling is mutual. He thinks you hold the stars, Little One. The boys better watch out - they're going to have a tough time getting past him!

You are a little cuddle bug these days. You fight sleep for as long as possible when the others are around, but as soon as I walk away from the chaos into a quiet place - usually near your crib - you snuggle right in, grab a handful of my hair, and start "singing" yourself to sleep. ::melt::

You are finally willing to let Daddy spend more than 15 seconds holding you without searching for me. He is more than thrilled by this new development. He gladly gives you a bottle before bed and you have even fallen asleep in his arms more than once!

Speaking of bedtime, you are slowly developing a routine of your own. Cereal has become a mainstay. And if you're awake after the others have had their books and prayertime, we settle onto the bed to read your books. You don't seem to mind which one as long as you get to taste it once or twice. My favorite (by far) is the one called On the Day You Were Born by Debra Frasier. It was a gift from Aunt Chris and your cousin Jill and it's a very nice little story. But the end, oh, the end. It makes me cry every.single.time. The very last line says, "And as they held you close they whispered into your open, curving ear, 'We are so glad you've come!'" It makes me cry because that is exactly what I said to you - over and over - on the day you were born. I get chills when I read it. Truer words have never been written. I am. So glad. You have come.

Spoiled? Naaaah.

We started "solids" over two weeks ago...
And we're still not sleeping through the night. But that's OK. She's the baby.

Spellcheck?

Youngest Boy: Mommy, I saw the word "decorations"! (They are currently petitioning for mucho Christmas decorations for the front lawn).

Oldest Boy: How do you know it said "decorations"?

Youngest Boy: I just do.

Oldest Boy: Do you know how to spell "decorations"?

Youngest Boy: Um, yes.

Oldest Boy: How?

Youngest Boy: D-e-k um, uh, r uh. What makes the "SH" sound?

Oldest Boy: "sh"

Youngest Boy: s-h-u-n. See?

Oldest Boy: Oh. OK.

{SIGH}

Moms vs Dads Part II: The Workout

I started this "series" with Part I: The Haircut. I will be getting a cut AND color on Saturday. Lord have mercy.

Now for the workout. When Mr. MOTH decided roughly around the beginning of summer that he wanted to "get in better shape" (He will never use the term "lose weight" because "it doesn't matter what you weigh it's how you look". Blah, blah, blah), he told me he was planning to run on the treadmill 5-6 times a week. Guess what? He ran on the treadmill 6 times a week for approximately 3 months straight. And he looks great. Really great. He also changed his eating habits, but that's another post for this series...

Obviously, after having 4 kids in just over 6 years, I, too needed to "get in better shape". Only I call it "LOSE WEIGHT". But either way, I was much more determined this time around because I knew that I wasn't going to be gaining pregnancy weight again. I wanted to do cardio 2-3 times a week and strength train at least twice a week. I started with an aerobics video. In order to do this, the baby had to be asleep. The boys had to be otherwise occupied because it was summer vacation and Baby Girl would usually "do you exercise" with me. And if I was only 10 minutes into a mere 25 minute routine when the Little One woke up? I had to stop and get her.

I eventually upgraded to the treadmill (mainly because I can only take so much of Kathy Smith) but that required having Little One in the bouncy seat. Or sleeping. But what to do with Baby Girl? She can't be near the treadmill. I watch too much Oprah and I've seen what happens when a little kid gets too close to a treadmill. That meant she had to be napping, too. Only she decided sometime during the course of the summer that naps? Are not for her. {SIGH} This meant I had to wait until the basement had carpeting in it so that I could bring her down with me (where the treadmill is) and not have her be able to go behind it without my knowing. So far, my best intentions of "getting in shape" were foiled at every turn. But I was determined.

For my strength training, I use resistance bands (we have Bodylastics - TO Super Strongman Edition - SHUT UP). This is so far, my all-time favorite for strength-training. The entire "gym" fits into a little bag. The work-out is simple and each exercise requires more than one muscle group AND you have to have a strong "core". I got fantastic results with it. BUT, the bands are colorful. And each kid has a favorite color. And a band that corresponds to it. So for me to do this routine, I have to convince whoever has the band that I need to let me "borrow" it until that set is done. A routine that takes me approximately 30 minutes WITHOUT kids lasts roughly 50 WITH. I have to chase them around. Or stop so they can finish "fishing" with their band (incidentally, we don't ever actually GO fishing, so I don't know why they use things like these bands and toilet paper in public restrooms to pretend they are...). It's ridiculous. But again, I was determined.

The good news is that I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight. The bad news is that Christmas (and the extra 5-10 pounds that go with it) is just around the corner...

Go Team(s)!

It's good to be a Pittsburgh fan...

Four Eyes Are Better Than Two

I am the oldest child in my family making me the first grandchild on both sides. My grandmother was only 42 when I was born so I can clearly remember her 50th birthday party. Her birthday was in late August and while I may not remember every detail, I can remember one thing very, very vividly. Someone - actually, I'm pretty sure it was a group of "someone's" - gave her a $100 bill. In 1980, that was a lot more money than it is today. It was a BIG DEAL. The party-goers (mostly family and close friends) all teased her about how she would spend it. It was to be used for whatever she wanted.

*******
I've worn glasses since I was 4 years old. It's pretty typical for a near-sighted child to have a prescription change every year. The year I was 8 I failed the vision test given at the start of the new school year (again) and had to get new glasses. My grandma was always with us when we went some place like that. Often, she was the only one who took me (by this time my mom had two other kids, too). And, because my parents really couldn't afford, well, much, she paid for "extra" things as well. This was always appreciated but this year was different. When she paid for my glasses, she used a $100 bill. Like I said, those weren't just floating around in our family. I knew where that had come from. I knew what she was supposed to use it for - whatever she wanted. When I asked her she said, "This is what I want to spend it on." I will never forget that feeling. Gratitude and awe that someone would do that - for me.

********
Tonight, my Oldest Boy ordered glasses for the first time. They were pricey, but I didn't think they were ridiculous, given that mine had cost $100 almost 30 years ago. So when Mr. MOTH made a fuss about the cost, I may have lost my mind. I hope he understands. I just want my kids to have what they need. I don't want them to think that they are costing us money because of some kind of imperfection. Wearing glasses in first grade is hard enough. Feeling guilty about it is awful. I know.

5!

Youngest Boy is turning 5 in just a little over two weeks. We always have a family birthday party for the kids and my plan is for each one to have a "kid" party in kindergarten (mainly because they change schools then and I want them to have friends). Beyond that, we'll see. Four "kid" parties a year would just about kill me, so it's going to have to be limited to a certain age.

I have not ordered a cake. Or bought decorations. Or really invited anyone (although this is sort of a moot point. In my family, if I didn't invite them they would just call and say, "Hey! We're coming over to drop off his gift. Got any cake?" Most of my husband's family is a little more, um, formal I guess, but all but one of his siblings live too far away to make it anyways).

I did pick up his gift yesterday: Christmas is going to break us. My boys have expensive taste. And dagnabbit, Legos are expensive! Oldest Boy has a list that's two pages long and is filled with Legos. Youngest Boy has already started his list for next year because he knows that we pretty much follow the recommended ages. He reads the Legos catalog like this (in a disgusted voice), "Ages 7-14; 7-14; 8-14; 16 and older, etc.) LOL!

The girls are still going to be pretty easy (theoretically) but I haven't figured out much for them either. In short, this year I suck at gift-buying. I am planning to get Little One her own lovey from BuildABear because that's what we did for Baby Girl's first Christmas. But when it comes to toys for 6 month olds we don't have a lot of choices for things that we don't already own. I don't think that's because we have a lot of toys (although after 4 kids, we do). I think it's because they don't seem to come up with new and interesting things for babies. Either way, she's only going to be 7 months old, so she's probably going to get her lovey and clothes. Easy, peasy.

And then there's Baby Girl. I really want to get her "girlie" things (yeah, yeah, so sue me) but for the past week she's done nothing but play with the boys' Matchbox rocket ship that my aunt got them for Christmas last year. I think she's going to be an astronaut. Or an actress. Can't they make rockets in pink?

Sherlock Holmes He Ain't

I suppose everyone has a "type". Some type of person to whom they are habitually attracted. In high school, my best friend seemed to be attracted to the overtly manly type. You know, super jock but not exactly super smart. And sure enough, that's the type of guy she married. He's got biceps that are clearly larger than his brain. (she no longer even falls into my "acquaintance" category). One of my closest friends always went for guys with big hearts, true animal-lovers (and by that I mean "lover of animals", so get your minds out of the gutter, mmkay?). She married one.

As for me, I had a list as long as my arm of things I was looking for in Mr. Right. To say that I was "picky" would be a gross understatement. He had to be good-looking, funny, manly, big-hearted, independent. But my biggest requirement? He had to be smarter than me. I cannot abide stupid people. And I don't mean uneducated people. I mean stupid. (I have an uncle who is not a high school graduate yet he's easily one of the smartest people I know).

Enter Mr. MOTH. Cute? check Funny? check Manly? you betcha Big-hearted? the guy won't kill the mice in our house Intelligent? My husband is smart. Really, really smart. He's an R&D chemist with several patents under his belt. He knows more world and American history than would be considered "normal" by most.

And yet? He cannot figure out that in order to find something in the pantry OR the refrigerator you must occasionally move other things out of the way! {SIGH} I guess no one's perfect :)

Sooooo Close

The basement. The bane of Mr. MOTH's existence. And mine, for that matter. For the last two and a half years I've spent 95% of my time doing the childcare/housework solo while Mr. MOTH has been working his hiney off to finish the basement. And we are THIS CLOSE to being finished. The walls are finished and painted. The trim is up and painted. The carpet is installed (after two tries). The banisters are currently being carefully stained and varnished by my husband and once those are up we should be able to start moving things down.

I'm not sure if I've totally covered what will be moved once this "project of epic proportions" is complete, so I'm going to document it now:

When we built our home, we had a room loaded with electronic upgrades with the intent of using that room as our home office/computer room. Well, plans changed and my MIL moved in with us the weekend after we moved in. She was unable to manage the steps on a daily basis, so we made that room "her" room and converted one of the upstairs bedrooms into the computer room. After she moved out, it was simpler to move all of the stored crap into that room than to make any other switeroos at that time. So, once the basement is complete, the "storage" room will all be emptied out and moved down there.

The "dining room" is currently the kids' playroom. At first glance, it looks like our kids have a shitload of toys. And they do, but ALL of their toys (with the exception of some legos and baby toys) are in that room. This will all be moved down there once it is finished.

The computer room which is currently upstairs will be moved into the first-floor office area (which had been my MIL's room).

This will free up the computer room to become Baby Girl's room.

Baby Girl is currently in the nursery, which will then become the Little One's room. She's sleeping in our room in her own crib right now.

I can't wait. I can't wait. I can't wait. Unfortunately, moving all of this stuff not only requires time and effort, but money. We'll need more filing/storage for the computer room; furniture for Baby Girl's room (because I will NOT be moving her into a plain ole white room - she's my first princess and she's getting a purple room. SO THERE!). And the dining room, well, that won't really be an actual dining room for at least a few more years because Mr. MOTH and I? Do not have cheap taste.


The only room that doesn't require changes is the nursery. It's meant to be for a baby and that's what Little One is. Although there's a good chance by the time we actually move her into that room, she'll be a preschooler! Oy!

And all I keep thinking is that I'm going to have more space that I have to clean. Does that make me a pessimist?

Brotherhood

While watching Sesame Street:

Oldest Boy: "So, Mommy, are Bert and Ernie brothers?"

Me: "Uh, yeah. Sure. That makes sense."

Youngest Boy: "That explains why Bert doesn't like Ernie very much..."

Recipe links

I would be remiss if I didn't share some of my new favorite recipes. Seriously, folks, you gotta try these.

First up: Streusel Pumpkin Sweet Rolls. Oh my holy heck. Now, I may have a thing for pumpkin. And by "thing" I mean that I bake an entire (extra) pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving with the sole purpose of eating it all by myself. And that's when I'm NOT pregnant! But these rolls are fan-freakin'-tastic! Mom, I would put the glaze from your cinnamon rolls on these and then enter them in a contest. You'll win!

Next: French Bread Rolls to Die For. These are best when eaten the day of, but I think if you made them into mini french bread shapes you could easily use them for french bread pizza. The name says it all!

And last but not least: Chip Chicken Lollipops. I know from experience how hard it is to find something that every kid will eat that doesn't involve a trip through a drive-thru! These simple little bites fit the bill. I wouldn't necessarily call them "healthy" but they're baked (not fried) and they won't break the bank. I make ours from a single chicken breast and I get about 15-20 "pops". My kids prefer sour cream and onion chips. Oh, and this recipe is how I figured out that if I put it on a toothpick? Baby Girl will try darn near anything!

Happy Baking!

Opinions Are Like...well, you know the saying

I try not to give out a lot of advice to new moms (unless specifically asked), but the one thing that I tell all of them is this: "You don't have to take advice from a-n-y-o-n-e. Not your mother. Not your mother-in-law. Not even your pediatrician. It is YOUR baby and only you can know what's right for both of you"* Because everyone has an opinion when it comes to raising a child. And everyone thinks that their way is right.

There's the little old lady at the grocery store who tried to tell me that I should always pick up something for the kids so that if they misbehave I can take it away. Um, no.


There are well-meaning relatives who think that a child should never cry. Um, no. Giving in to a temper tantrum just shows the child that the best way to get what you want is to pitch a fit. And results in living with a tiny tyrant.



There's my pediatrician who tried to tell me to NOT hold a "fussy" baby - they just want comfort. Um, no. If my infant wants to be held, that's my JOB. Sometimes I just want to be held for comfort, too.



Every mom wants some kind of guarantee that the choices and decisions we're making are right. Sometimes they are. Sometimes they aren't. But God chose ME - not the little old lady or my peditrician, or any one else - but ME to mother these children. They are MY gift from above. I sometimes lose sight of that and wish that someone would remind me that I'm doing the best that I can. Even if NO ONE else agrees. I had to find a way to remind MYSELF of that:

That's right, I bought myself a coffee mug. It's how I start every day anyhow, may as well make it positive! It says, "You are the best mother in the universe" While I may not agree with that entirely I am the best mother for my children. Screw anyone who thinks otherwise!

*the only other person whose advice you do have to consider is your husband (or father of your children if you're not married). Sometimes they know what they're talking about, too! :)

Thankful 4

What are you thankful for?

We have a bedtime routine with the three older kids that goes something like this: Books on the bed with Daddy (or Mommy) while someone feeds the Little One her bottle (almost done nursing). Oldest Boy reads one of his books from school (called "My Books". Seriously, first graders are so smart nowadays). The boys prefer the Magic Treehouse collection - or a Star Wars book that Oldest Boy has checked out from the library. Baby Girl demands whichever book she's in the mood for. When we're finished, Daddy "flies" everyone into their respective beds and I handle prayers. After prayers they each tell me their favorite thing and least favorite thing about the day (thank you Randy Pausch). This cracks me up because Youngest Boy doesn't understand what "least" favorite means; he always lists only things that he enjoyed.

During the month of November, I've added a new step and it's called the "Thankful 4". We cut out a giant number 4 and each night we all (well, almost all. *ahem* Daddy) write something that we're thankful for on a post-it and stick it on the "4". It amazes me what the kids are thankful for. I am hoping to make this a yearly tradition so that I can see how their thought process changes from year to year.

Of course, I have an ulterior motive: I recently read that a key to happiness is to list what you're grateful for at the end of each day. I could use an extra dose of happiness these days...

Halloween

Trick-or-treat. One of the great joys of childhood! Oldest Boy said, "What a great holiday! It's all about CANDY!"

Baby Girl easily scored twice as much loot as her brothers. The boys were all about speed, but Minnie Mouse worked it. She slowly walked up (in all fairness, this was her usual speed) and said, "Trick-or-treat!" Followed by, "Thank you! Happy Halloween! (and sometimes Happy Birthday!)" Once the older folks heard that they were all, "Here! Let me give you another one!" At which point she would s-l-o-w-l-y walk back to her daddy who was pulling her in the wagon and say, "Wook, Daddy! I got more treats!" Every. single. time.

Halloween with four kids. It was crazy-fun but not easy. I carried the Little One (in her warm and fuzzy tiger costume) strapped in my Hip Hammock. That wasn't so bad until she fell asleep and became dead weight. I thought my arm was going to fall off! They all seemed to enjoy it.

Now we're in the middle of three awful head colds that I am praying will clear up before Thursday, when round 1 of the flu vaccine begins. They're scheduled for round 2 (H1N1) on Friday.

Gone Fishin'

Since school started again I've been tackling the grocery shopping by myself with (usually) just the girls. We go on Thursday morning and then shoot straight over to pick Youngest Boy up from school when we're done. Last week didn't work out that way because our pest control guy was scheduled for Thursday morning (and after my last post do you blame me for not re-scheduling?). I postponed the trip until Friday and ended up with our three youngest with me.

As expected, the trip was far from easy...Little One always poops during a ride in the car seat. Always. We started cereal last week and I was sure this would change her, uh, output. Sure enough, we pulled into the parking lot and I detected the tell-tale odor. But, alas, she was asleep. I (almost) NEVER wake a sleeping baby, so I figured I would change her inside after she woke. Little did I know, it was an explosion the likes of which I had never not seen in a long time. Luckily I had opted for the family restroom so there was plenty of room. I pulled out my full pack of wipes and got to work...and used every stinkin' one up!

Lucky for me, Youngest Boy is a HUGE help and he's also absolutely, completely, totally in love with his baby sister. He pulled off paper towel after paper towel and careful wet them so I could finish my job. Since the whole thing required a complete outfit change, including socks (which I didn't have), it took me awhile and I was pretty distracted. The paper towels that we were using were on one of those roll type dispenser and are just slightly thicker than toilet paper. Typically when you pull on it, a very long ream comes off. I turned around to find Baby Girl with a nice long piece of paper towel...FISHING IN THE TOILET BOWL!! I considered it an amazing feat that I didn't puke on the spot - thereby forcing another complete outfit change for myself!!

This week I am thankful that the poop explosion occurred in the space shuttle BEFORE she fell asleep and I was able to change her without a repeat of that performance.

1-2-3, 4-5-6, 7-8-9, 10-11-12 (million) Lady Bugs Came To The Lady Bug Picnic!

Bugs! I'm not really a big fan of the creepy crawly critters. I mean, sure, if we're outside in their territory I can peacefully co-exist with most of them. But in my house? Huh-uh. They must be eliminated. Terminated. Destroyed. I don't care how cute they look. Occasionally, if I find one cute teeny tiny ladybug I may make the effort to non-destructively remove it to it's original habitat. However, when the onslaught that occurs during those freakishly warm fall days leads to a house FULL of bugs I pull out the big guns. That's right. The central vac. I'm not exactly sure how Mr. MOTH is going to handle the news that I'm using our vacuum system to suck up bugs (since he's the one who empties it), but my daughter is an absolute basket case and that's the quickest way I can come up with to get them O-U-T!

"OH NO!! MOMMY!! WOOK!! QUICK!! THERE'SALADYBUGINTHEHOUSE!!" "IT'S FLYING!!!" "IT'S ON THE WALL!!!" "IT'S ON THE LIGHT!!!" This was totally cute the first two or three times she said it. Now that I've heard it about 400 times? I've had enough. Anybody have a sure-fire way to keep them out? Anyone?

**Bonus points to anyone who can identify where the title of the post came from.

Dear Dr. Phil

Thank you for making an issue out of something that really should be a NON-issue. I don't normally watch your show, Dr. Phil, but yesterday I was flipping by when I noticed the caption Working Mom Vs. Stay-at-Home Mom. Because I fall into one of these two categories I hung around a bit. I was disappointed to see so many women bashing each others' choices. UGH!

Sir, this is all about respect. People need to respect the choices that other people make (or, sometimes, that are made by their circumastance). Sheesh. The women FROM BOTH SIDES were lunatics. There is no right or wrong. There is a right or a wrong for EACH SITUATION, but it is NOT an absolute! I was amazed that it was possible to dedicate an entire hour to this "debate". Working moms have it rough. Some work because they have to. Some work because they want to. But they ALL deserve our respect - not because they are "working moms" (a term I hate, by the way, because all moms "work") but because they are women. Women who are doing an amazing thing simply by being a mom.

Stay-at-home moms ALSO deserve our respect - not because they "stay at home" but for the same reason as stated above. I choose to stay at home. This is not your mama's stay-at-home mom, mister! In this day and age women who stay home to be with their children are sometimes leaving behind an occupation where they were contributing members of society. It is not exactly mentally "challenging" to be a mommy in the way that it was for me when I had to reverse engineer a competitive sample using extractions and analytical analyses as a chemist. However, it is mentally "exhausting" to try to explain to a two-year-old why they can't take their pants off for the 40th time in 20 minutes (it's cold. you're sick. the dog next door might be offended.).

I have friends and family who fall into all categories - working moms, stay-at-home moms, work-from-home moms, moms working part-time, moms who baby-sit in their homes, etc. You know, I can see that each of them is doing what is best for them and for their family. Why can't the rest of the world get that? I actually believe that most of the rest of the world does get that. I think that presenting some women who have highly opinionated beliefs about their choices - or who are so insecure that they feel the need to put down other women's choices is unfair. I have, indeed, been called "just a mom" but I now have enough confidence to know that the person using that verbage is probably "just jealous". Until you have walked a mile in someone else's shoes, you cannot know what their life is like. Please, let this "issue" go. We all make our own choices. As long as I can lay my head down at night and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I did my best - for myself, for my husband, for my babies - that is all that matters.

**The only thing that truly irks me is when a working mom says that she "wishes she could afford to stay home" yet she manages to buy a brand new car every year. And the shiniest! newest! tech gadgets (costing hundreds of dollars) every time they come out. Please. I drive a 5 year old minivan and my cell phone is going on 3 years old. It's all about priorities, people.

Thank God I Live In The 21st Century

Asthma. It really does stink. Youngest Boy managed to have a five-day fever of 103+ and showed absolutely no signs of respiratory distress. This lulled me into a false sense of "maybe he finally grew out of it." But, alas, no. He started with a few sniffles on Monday and yesterday we were in serious distress. I started breathing treatments yesterday morning based solely on my instincts. He didn't sound good. He wasn't acting like himself and I knew from my pediatricians' advice that if he had a hit of Albuterol and it helped then he needed it. (If I give it to him and there's no change then he didn't need it - but it won't hurt him. Or it's so bad that we need more. Or something).

Four hours later I gave him another treatment (standard operating procedure) right before we left to pick Oldest Boy up from school. When we got back he said, "Mommy, I can hear a squeak when I breathe. Can you hear it?" He was clearly wheezing. I had no frickin' idea what to do. Should I give him another treatment, even though it had only been two hours (instead of 4)? Should I wait it out? I called our doc and, of course, got voicemail. I called everyone I know who may have been of help - my SIL, my other SIL, my good friend (whose twin boys are the same age as Youngest Boy - one of whom just went through a horrible bout of asthma attacks), and finally Mr. MOTH. The only one to answer was my husband who really only knows what I tell him about the asthma situation. (In other words, he was no help other than verifying my feelings). I also counted his breaths per minute (BPM) and got 40 (!). Normal is less than 30. I knew we were getting into a critical situation so I gave him the treatment (along with Pulmicort - the steroid). Damn, I hate this. It isn't so much that I mind dealing with the situation - this is part of being a parent. It's the not-knowing part that I hate. Knowing that I could make a wrong choice and hurt him (or worse), sucks. Damn, I hate this.

Our pediatrician finally called back and told me I had done the right thing and gave me some more specific instructions about what to watch for and how to treat it. We added a liquid steroid (Prelone) twice a day and we have an appointment to see her on Monday.

On top of all of this, and lurking around the perimeter of my mind like an Al Qaeda operative, is the whole swine flu (H1N1) pandemic. I'm remaining fairly calm about it - even though we got notice from Oldest Boy's school that there has been a confirmed case. I know that it's not really much worse than the average, every-year flu..."unless the child has an underlying medical condition such as asthma." Then it can be more critical (read: fatal). Damn, I hate this.

Asthma is a life-threatening condition that is much more prevalent than a lot of other pediatric conditions and yet I can't find very much information on it. I know that Jerome Bettis has it but how it the hell is that relevant to my little boy? I just want to know that he's going to be OK. And I'm trying to be thankful that I live in a time when there is at least life-saving treatment. Because if we lived 100 years ago, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have survived yesterday. Damn, I hate this.

Can I Get a Wet Nurse, Please?

As my days as a nursing mommy draw (s-l-o-w-l-y) to a close – while my list of things I cannot eat grows by leaps and bounds – I decided to share my thoughts and experiences on breastfeeding. Little One currently gets one bottle every night and we’re going to be starting cereal next week. I have mixed feelings about the last time I will nurse a baby, but that will be a story on its own. **Important note: If you are a male relative (this means you - Dad or Jason), or a card-carrying member of the breastfeeding Nazis (aka La Leche League) you’re going to want to skip this post.

Breastfeeding and…

Weight loss. The breastfeeding Nazis would have you believe that you can burn 5,000 calories a day (only a slight exaggeration) and that your pregnancy weight will just Melt! Right! Off! This is a cruel, cruel ruse. In my experience (and really, that’s the only thing I can go by), it takes a shitload of hard work (diet and exercise) to lose that weight. Even MORE than if you weren’t nursing because your body seems to think you NEED extra fat – you know, in case of a famine or something. I’ll never understand why that extra fat needs to reside on my HIPS instead of, say, my BOOBS, but there you go.

Modesty. Honestly? Modesty goes right out the window when you become a nursing mama. My first few weeks of nursing my first baby I was more like a geisha girl walking around in button-down shirts that weren’t buttoned. I have come a long way since then but it takes practice and experience to be able to nurse in public with a degree of modesty. I will always admire people who can nurse in the middle of a crowded room without a care. I can remember my niece nursing her daughter during her brother and future sister-in-law’s bridal shower. I was in awe and I was proud to know her, but at the same time I was thinking to myself, “There is no way in hell I could do that!” It doesn’t mean I don’t respect someone else’s right to do so, it’s just my comfort level. Yes, I know it’s a perfectly natural act but so is sex and you’re not going to find me doing THAT on the park bench at the zoo…

Still, it has become much more natural for me to plan things that will have us away from home for more than three hours. It’s (almost) always possible to find someplace at least semi-private – a dressing room at the mall, a well-positioned rock at the zoo (seriously, the local zoo needs to get a clue and MAKE a place for nursing mamas to go) or even back to the space shuttle. I’m more comfortable about it than my husband, but he’s starting to get it. Frankly, I think he just likes to have an excuse not to go out to dinner :)

Food and Drink. This part kills me. It takes so long to figure out what it is that you’re eating that might be bothering a tiny tummy. Right now I can’t have chocolate. Or milk. Or cheese. Or beer. Or onions. {SIGH} Maybe this is why it was a bit easier for me to lose the pounds…who wants to eat nothing but bland food? I miss chocolate.

Engorgement. I don’t have any tips for relieving this phenomenon. I’ve heard cabbage leaves work but cabbage is not something most nursing mothers have in the house (see above mentioned tiny tummies). I recommend a tight-fitting sports bra but only if you’re done nursing. If you use it before you could screw up your milk supply.

Stress. Breastfeeding is hard. It becomes easier and more natural the longer (or more often) you do it, but it ain’t easy. It makes it even harder when the FIRST THING everyone says when your baby is fussy is, “Is s/he hungry?” Gee, let me think. Did I forget to feed the baby today? No, folks, every time a baby cries they are not necessarily HUNGRY! Sometimes they’re tired. Sometimes they have gas. Sometimes they just want to cry (it develops their lungs). Give a nursing mama a break and ask THOSE questions first…

Weaning. Our pediatrician recommends weaning cold-turkey. Um, no. With both boys I weaned them gradually, substituting one bottle feeding every 3-4 days until we were done. With Baby Girl it was a nightmare. She had absolutely no desire to take a bottle. She flat-out refused. When I asked our pediatrician she said to refuse to nurse her and eventually she would just get hungry enough that she would take a bottle. I went FOURTEEN (14!) ever-loving hours and the little turkey wouldn’t take it. I was sobbing, she was screaming, and Mr. MOTH finally said enough. Just feed her, already! This messed me up for days. I did a little research and found that cold-turkey weaning sends your body the message that your baby is no longer there and can cause severe depression. Makes sense to me! I did eventually end up going cold-turkey with her the very FIRST time she accepted the bottle, but I was prepared mentally for the hormonal emotional torment. Little One is being weaned v-e-r-y g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y, thankyouverymuch.

I guess this was a pretty long post but since I have spent two full years of my life nursing a baby, there was a lot to cover. And remember, these are just my thoughts and feelings and since it's my blog, that's all you're going to get. Feel free to leave a nasty comment but know that I have a delete button and I'm not afraid to use it :)

Mad About You

In the early to mid 1990’s, there was a popular show called “Mad About You” starring Helen Hunt and Paul Reiser. It was easily one of my favorite sitcoms of all time and I can remember watching it nearly every Thursday night with my mom. Paul Reiser played Helen Hunt’s (“Jamie”) husband, “Paul”. He was quite literally, the perfect husband. Funny, cute, goofy, loving, helped around the house, always said the right thing. You get the idea. He became even more endearing after they had a baby (“Mabel”). He was not only a great husband but a fantastic father as well. The kind of dad who would change diapers, fold teeny-tiny frilly baby clothes, and play with their dog (“Murray”) – all while feeding the baby.

I can remember watching one episode in particular where “Paul” was ironing some of Jamie’s clothes. My mom (whose husband –my dad- probably wouldn’t be able to identify an iron in a line-up) turned to me and said, “Honey, don’t hold out for a 'Paul'. Guys like that just don’t exist.”

I’m happy to say, eight years ago today I married a “Paul”. Love ya, dear. Happy Anniversary!

**Here's where I would insert a clip from YouTube if I knew howinthehell to do that kind of thing.

Mom vs. Dad: Part I - The Haircut

I posted awhile back about how much of an effort it takes to do simple things right now. I can make myself crazy jealous by thinking about how seemingly easy it is for Mr. MOTH to do something versus how “easy” it is for me to do the same thing. Last night I had a hair appointment so I thought we’d take a look-see at what is involved in that little excursion:

My appointment is scheduled for 8PM on a Thursday. The salon I go to is 25 minutes away (we live in the middle of Nowhere, USA, remember?). I have to feed the kids dinner, bathe them (which means they’ll already be in their jammies), and make sure their snacks are easily accessible or already made (Mr. MOTH is pretty good about making snacks as long as it doesn’t involve cutting any fruits or vegetables). The Little One must be fed as close to go-time as possible so that she won’t require a bottle while I’m gone. I have to time everything precisely so that everything runs smoothly in my absence or the fit hits the shan. I will schedule my next appointment while I’m there so that I can get the exact time that I need in order to be able to make it there on time and then (hopefully) make it home in time for our bedtime routine.

Instead of running smoothly as I had hoped, I got a call while I was still about five minutes from home from Mr. MOTH. “WHERE ARE YOU?!?!” “Just a few minutes away. Why?” “HURRY UP!!” *click*. {SIGH} I walk in to find my husband standing in front of the TV in our room swaying back and forth and swearing under his breath while he holds a screaming, red-faced, crying-‘til-she-chokes baby who could not POSSIBLY be my sweet, cuddly 4-month-old. But, alas, as soon as I walked in the room and held her she miraculously morphed back into the cherub I know her to be. And Mr. MOTH’s proclamation? “I AM NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN! EVER!”

When Mr. MOTH needs his haircut he A) Calls the week of and B) Goes to get his hair cut. Whew!

Now I’m off to find a more “local” salon that hopefully offers baby-sitting…

Illness Induced Vacation from Blogging

Back to School means colds. And the flu. Probably H1N1 before too much longer. Why, oh, why can't they give the flu vaccines BEFORE school starts instead of AFTER my kids have already built up their own immunity? Huh? WHY?

Oldest Boy came down with the sniffles last Monday. Wednesday evening Youngest Boy came down with a fever - that lasted 5 ever-loving DAYS!! And now Oldest Boy has it. The "new" school policy is to follow what the CDC recommends - which means they can't go back to school until they have been "fever-free without the use of fever-reducing medications" for 24 hours. The last time Oldest Boy had a fever was around noon today (so far). I'm planning to take him to school at lunchtime tomorrow...

Rude Behavior: Not Just For Teenagers Anymore!

I have had another full week of craziness and was out running errands (again!) this morning with Baby Girl and Little One. My MIL's birthday is on Sunday and I needed to pick up a card and mail the package (remind me again why I'm doing this for my HUSBAND's mother? Oh, that's right...) . Anyhoo, I decided to just run in to the local pharmacy for the card because I also had to pick up diapers/pull-ups (Looking for a gift for new parents? They will NEVER turn down diapers...). When I had made my selection, I headed to the cashier. There was a woman talking LOUDLY on her cell phone and she had her future purchases stacked at a register with a sign that clearly read "Next Register, Please". When I walked up she v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y moved her items to the "Open" register - in front of me all while talking about someone who "I never said she was crazy! Just co-dependent! I wouldn't have said such a thing!" because clearly the whole world needs this information. The cashier was a kind little old lady but she was moving at old-lady pace.

The gentleman behind me was young and dressed in casual business attire. One could only assume that he was late for some Very! Important! Meeting! because he kept sighing - LOUDLY - the entire time. I was tempted to let him go in front of me but then I realized that if I wanted to make it to the post office and still be on time to pick Youngest Boy up from school I was going to have to haul butt. And besides, just because he looked important doesn't make his time more valuable than mine. And I was there first (Ne-ner-ne-ner-ne-ner).

After our puchase was made I walked back to pick up something that I had paid for but hadn't yet put in my bag. I grabbed the item and was about to head out when an elderly gentleman spotted us. He walked over and asked, "Boy or girl?" I said, "Girl." He looked directly at my cooing, adorable little cherub and said, "I don't understand why people don't just get a puppy." WTF? I tried to play it off, "Well, puppies aren't nearly as much fun!" ::nervous chuckle by me:: He said - dead serious, "I bet she can't even retrieve yet, can she?" All I could think was, "Is this guy for real?!?!" Look, kids aren't for everyone. But looking back I really wish that I would have said, "Too bad your mom didn't feel the same!" %$@!* idiot!!!

I headed to the post office (we live in a college town) and a young gentleman (probably 19) held the door for me. I let him go in front of us in line because if he hadn't stopped to help he would have been in front. He thanked me. On the way out, a young lady (maybe same age) held the door for me. Baby Girl was rather indignant because she wanted the big kid job of holding the door like her big brothers usually do. The young lady apologized profusely. WTF? Am I in the Bizarro World? The young people gave me H-O-P-E. The older folks? Can kiss my hiney.

Where Does The Time Go?

Little One had her 4-month well-baby appointment last week. She's doing great! In fact, she's bigger than all of the other kids were at their 4 month check-ups! That's amazing to me considering that she was the smallest when she was born (7# 8oz) and then became even smaller (6# 13oz). She now weighs (drumroll, please)... 15 pounds 6 oz! That's HUGE! I just love her chunky monkey legs! At least no one asks me if SHE's getting enough to eat! (Please note: It is NEVER a good idea to ask a breastfeeding mother if she thinks her baby is getting enough to eat. Breasfeeding is hard enough without having to convince others that it's going well). She's still not sleeping through the night, but we'll be starting cereal sometime in her fifth month (if I can hold out that long). She's a happy, happy girl who generally wakes up chatting away (much to the delight of her mommy and the dismay of her daddy - who would really prefer another 30 minutes of uninterrupted sleep - HA!). She can roll over from belly to back and is absolutely fascinated by her hands. And her smile. Oh, her smile. She's going to be a heartbreaker. And she makes me so, so glad that we decided to have four children. Every day.

Youngest Boy is thrilled that he finally gets to go to school like his big brother. He is absolutely joyful! He wakes up on school days and practically sings, "I get to go to school today!!" ::insert bouncing here:: He seems to be doing well. When I asked if he had made any new friends he said, "All of them!" And for the first two days he "played with only the boys, Mommy, not the girls" If only I could here that for the next 25 years or so...

Oldest Boy is struggling with going to school. It never ceases to amaze me how different all of the kids are. He's the more friendly of the two boys (as a general rule), but he's so nervous. About everything. I could understand last year because it was a new school with all new kids, but this year 90% of the kids in his class are the same as last year...and will be for the forseeable future. And yet he tears up at drop-off every day. And he's nervous about going up and down the stairs. I don't know how to calm him because I'm a bit of a nervous wreck most of the time myself. We're just trying to reassure him as often as we can. It helps that he has great friends.

Baby Girl is adjusting to having some time alone without both boys. I don't really think she remembers last school year very much but she can't wait to go and get her brothers! She starts to pack up what she wants to take in the Space Shuttle before they're even out the door! Her only issue right now is, well, of a delicate nature. Dude, she can't poop. She tries. Oh, how she tries! But she had a really painful BM and now she's scared, well, shitless. We're working on dietary measures now, but the little stink won't eat much of anything. {SIGH}

And now for the photos:

As I said, she's a happy, happy girl...especially when Daddy talks to her!

Look at this! All four children looking (relatively) happy!

First Day(s) of School

I can't believe what this last week has been like! It's insane! Both of the boys are officially in school this week, although Youngest Boy has only had short sessions (2 1-hour sessions and 1 2-hour one). On top of trying to work out the logistics of getting them BOTH to and from school, we've also been busy ordering carpet for the basement (WOOHOO!) and attending a family reunion. We also worked in a playdate with my good friend Mar and her son so that we could give her a birthday gift. I also made my first solo grocery shopping trip with both girls (after which I ordered the carpet and then picked Youngest Boy up from Preschool). Like I said, INSANE!

Not much time to go into details, but here are pictures from their first day(s):

Oldest Boy's First Day:

Youngest Boy's First Day:

I didn't expect to see a photo of her like this until her college years:

Can you find the baby in this photo?

Operation: No Nap

Status: Complete.

(Alternate title: A Sad, Sad Day)

It's official. We have eliminated naps from Baby Girl's schedule. Damn. I will miss the downtime during the day BUT I will NOT miss waking up countless times during the night with her. I will NOT miss taking over an hour to fall asleep every.single.night. It was time but it's a sort of closing of a chapter. She's officially (by my definition) not a "toddler" any more (and I don't care what you say, Baby Center, she is NOT a preschooler). I guess this makes her one of the big kids.

There have been a lot of chapters closing this week. I officially packed up all of the newborn girl clothes - never to be taken out of storage and used again. *sniff. sniff* It was different before because I always knew that there was a chance that I would unpack them again. But we're done with baby making around these parts (and with 4 children under the age of 7, there's little time for baby-making anyhow). It feels...right. Our children - all four of them - make our life together complete. I no longer dream about what the "next one" will look like. Chapter closed.

Oldest Boy starts first grade tomorrow. FIRST GRADE! Yikes! He's a little extremely nervous about it but I think once he realizes that his friends will all be there and that things aren't going to be all that much different (we're both really stressed about whether there will be snack time or not), he'll be fine. And he'll eventually master going up and down the "scary steps" from his classroom to the cafeteria and gym. Chapter closed.

Youngest Boy starts preschool next week. He's starting SCHOOL, y'all. I can't wrap my brain around the fact. He is sooooo ready, though. He's been waiting for this day for TWO YEARS, ever since his big brother started preschool. He'll have the same teacher that Oldest Boy had but that means he'll be at a different school than Oldest Boy is at now. I have to pick him up. I have to pick Oldest Boy up. This means a boatload of time spent in the Space Shuttle. With two little girls who aren't particularly fond of their car seats. It also means my grocery shopping habits are going to change. During the summer, I went every Thursday and my aunt (the saint) came and stayed with two kids while I took one of the older kids and Little One with me. My plan now is to take the girls while the boys are both in school on Thursday morning. It will be insane, and she HAS offered to come on Fridays so I can cut down on the chaos a bit, but then I would be giving up time with Youngest Boy which I do NOT want to do. He's not going to be getting much individual attention during his school days because we'll be so busy so I'd like to actually get to see him a bit when I can. We'll manage. Chapter closed.

At least I still have Little One, my baby. She's not particularly fond of sleeping right now, but she'll eventually sleep through the night (right?). I know that I should "teach" her to fall asleep on her own but folks, it ain't happening. I rock her to sleep. I know our pediatrician will tell me I shouldn't, but I would rather spend 10 days of pure hell to let her cry it out when she's 18 months (or 4 years) old than give up an entire year or more of holding a sleeping baby. I swear, my blood pressure drops 20 points when she falls asleep, all curled up on my chest and holding my finger. {SIGH} Would you stop? This chapter will be open for awhile...