Taking Exhaustion To A New Level

When we discussed becoming parents for a fourth time, one of the things I considered was the fact that I knew we would be reverting back to a time of less than eight hours of sleep a night. Waking up every 3 hours to feed a newborn is expected (and if your baby slept through the night at two weeks, please don't tell me). What I didn't expect was for all of the older kids to suddenly start waking up in the middle of the night and needing comfort. A quick drink or help using the potty, sure. But needing someone by their side for oh, say, half an hour? Not on my agenda.

Luckily, Mr. MOTH has really stepped up to the plate and usually gets up with the boys and hangs out until they're back to sleep. Baby Girl, however, has taken this whole thing to a new level. She wakes up sobbing for me and doesn't really want to be pacified by her daddy. Last night was un-real. Little One was up around 12:30 for her midnight snack. Around 1AM, Baby Girl woke up. I went in and laid on her floor for a little while and then did my usual "I need to check on your sister. I'll be right back." More often than not, this appeases her and she goes back to sleep alone. Last night, no dice. I finally gave up and brought her in our bed. BIG MISTAKE!

She played around UNTIL 5 AM!! At which point I had finally had enough and I took her back to her crib and laid on her floor until she was asleep (10 minutes). My bursitis in my hips is killing me (why, yes, I am really frickin' old) and my back just isn't quite right. And when I complained about my hips this morning, Oldest Boy asked, "What are your hips?" I pointed to them and said, "They're my biggest part." Oldest Boy said, "No. Your bum is definitely your biggest part!" {SIGH}

And right now I am waiting patiently for Baby Girl to take a nap. For the love of all that is holy, why isn't she sleeping?!?! Seriously, she's been in their for nearly 45 minutes and she's still awake!! I've always made fun of people who feel the need to medicate their children for a moment's peace, but I can hear that bottle of Benadryl calling right about now!

Color Blind

I don't know a single person who had a "picture perfect" childhood. Everyone is bound to find fault in their parents at one point or another and I'm no exception (don't start sweating, Mom, this post isn't about what you did WRONG). However, one thing that still baffles me completely is how my parents managed to raise me to be oblivious to a person's skin color. Neither one of them has a prejudice, but I know that all of their parents do/did. It just never dawned on me as a child (or as an adult, for that matter) to even care if someone was black, white, or purple. Seriously.

My kids have been blessed with this same color blindness. They have not once called a child "black" because of his skin color. Although, they do use color to identify people...but it's not the color of their skin. It's the color of their clothing. Not bad, you say. And for the most part you would be right. But it can be confusing:

I occasionally take the kids to the local outlet mall and then let them play in the play area for good behavior. This particular outlet has a large customer base of "foreigners". We were there a few months ago on a weekend, which means it was crowded. My boys are very friendly. They immediately start playing with anybody and everybody they meet. They were playing with two little boys who seemed to be about the same age as them and they were wearing white t-shirts. Their dad was sitting along the side holding a baby girl about the same age as our Baby Girl. I wandered over and struck up a conversation (I swear, I don't know where my kids get it...). Turns out, they were from Jamaica. And they were very dark-skinned. And hilarious. At one point, Oldest Boy lost sight of his new friend and he shouted, "Hey Mommy! Where'd that white boy go?" *cue crickets chirping* I quickly made them find out the boys' names but how do you explain that? I am certain that at some point they will understand that skin color can be an identifying characteristic, but I'm wholeheartedly hoping that it will be the same thing for them as saying, "That boy with the blue eyes." or "That girl in the pink shirt". It will simply be, "That kid with the brown skin." End of discussion.

How do other parents handle this? Or plan to?

Say It With A Twang!

Right now my boys are walking around the house singing, "God is great; Beer is good; and people are crazy." Thank you, Billy Currington!

I Just Don't Get It

Facebook. I just don't get it. No, seriously. I mean, I understand why some people do it. For example, my SIL does it because her kids are all on there so she can keep up with their lives much more easily. One of my closest friends has recently opened an account because her husband is doing a tour of duty in Iraq (which is the one thing compelling me to sign up) and he has more access to a computer than a phone.

But to me, it just seems like high school all over again. Look! I have elenty-seven "friends"! I'm waaay cooler than you! Did I mention that I really hated high school? There are approximately 2-3 people from high school who I even talk to any more. Everyone else? Not so much. And yet, my life goes on. Hard to believe, isn't it? Alright, all bitterness aside, I just don't seem to care if everyone from my past lives knows all about my current one.

They say that living well is the best revenge. Good. I'll share a little story from my past: About a year before I started dating Mr. MOTH I got a phone call out of the blue. It was an old flame, Mike*, who had called my parents' house to get my number (my sister gladly gave it to him, a story for another day). He had just broken up with the girl he was dating when I graduated college and was "just wondering" what I was up to. At the time, I was living the fun, single life: clubbing on weekends, skiing, bowling, caving, working out at the gym, living on my own with a well-paying job. Him? He was still living with his parents and working at a low-level position with no funds for all of the "fun" things that I mentioned I was doing. Ahhh. That kind of revenge really can be so sweet. The point is, via facebook, I'm pretty sure he could find me now if he was so inclined. I love my life right now, but I don't really need to be made to feel like I have to justify my choices to people whose opinions I quit caring about a loooong time ago. Does that make sense? Am I being crazy?

*Name may have been changed to protect the obnoxious. Or not. EVERY GUY I dated before Mr. MOTH was named Mike. Seriously.

In No Particular Order

I AM:

Smart
Confident
Silly
Unique
Mommy
Straight
Proud
Middle-class
Cook
Strong
Conservative
Healthy
Sassy
Bossy
Cute
Foul-mouthed
Crazy
Moody

Nice
Catholic
Messy
Educated
Fun-loving
Daughter
Happy
Organized
Contradictory
Always right
Sister
Charitable
Tough
Funny
Wife
Intelligent
Goofy
Friend
Sexy
Jealous
Sociable
Nosy
Selfish

Neurotic
Compassionate
Grouchy
High-maintenance
Secure
Granddaughter
God-fearing
Loud
Sweet
Amazing
Niece

Naive
Generous
Fair
Peaceful

I AM greater than the sum of all my parts. I AM more than "just" anything. I AM.

And I Had 3 Semesters of Calculus...

I finally figured something out. When you become a mother for the first time, you KNOW that it's going to change you (just watch the Johnson&Johnson commercials - it changes EVERYTHING). But then you get your act together and you think, if you're so inclinced, we should have another one! This is GREAT! So, you do. And then you realize that no one told you that things won't be TWICE as hard...they'll be exponentially harder, depending on the task at hand. Changing diapers will, in fact, be easier because you've had practice. However, nursing the baby will be easier and harder...easier because you know what to expect but harder because you'll be trying to nurse while also nudging a toddler away with your foot (true story).

Leaving the house? Forgedaboutit. That becomes a nearly impossible task because you cannot physically carry both a toddler (who forgot how to walk down steps once the baby was born) and a baby carrier/car seat that weighs 106 pounds fully loaded.

And laundry doesn't double. It quadruples. Dishes? Same thing. Dust? I don't even notice it anymore.

So now that I'm currently nursing my fourth child you would think that I could tell others what that multiplying factor is. Nope. Because it seems to change with each child. I will tell you this: It doesn't get easier. You may make it look easier to others because your survival instincts are kicked into overdrive, but it is all about perception. When things get like this, I'm grateful to have the Internet to connect to others in the same boat who, presumably, also make it "look" easier. But mostly I'm grateful for my friends who see my needs and tell me, in their own way, that I am, in fact, doing a good job. I do "make it look so easy". Thanks.

And now for a reminder why the children are able to make hieroglyphics in the dust on the TV stand:

"Babies Don't Keep"
Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth

empty the dustpan, poison the moth,

hang out the washing and butter the bread,

sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?

She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue

(lullaby, rock-a-bye, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peek-a-boo).

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew

and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo

but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(lullaby, rock-a-bye, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,

for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
-- Author Unknown

Does This Day Have a Reset Button?

Did you ever have one of those days? You know, the one where you just really wish you could be someplace - ANYPLACE - else? At least for a few minutes hours days? I can't exactly explain it, but I am not a nice person today. I don't know how to get back to where I AM a nice person, so I'm desperately, intently, insanely looking for the "reset" button that will put me back in bed so that I can A) Actually GET UP when the alarm goes off instead of going back to sleep for 3.5 minutes before the Little One needs to eat. B) Make it through more than 3.5 minutes of the boys being awake before I yell...at BOTH of them. C) Shower without 37 interruptions of "MOMMY!! BROTHER IS STANDING ON THE BED!!" or having to get out of the shower and replace Little One's binky for the umpteenth (what, it's a word, OK?) time. D) Actually START my to-do list before one of the girls falls asleep, because nearly everything that I need to do will wake at least one of them up. E) Actually MAKE a to-do list that CAN be accomplished. F) Sit down for more than 3.5 minutes (without a baby attached to my body) without jumping up and insanely rushing around to get something ANYTHING done. Anybody know where the reset button is? Anybody?!?!

I need a vacation...

Time For Some Quotes!

Oldest Boy has a Nerf ball shooter that has green balls inside. They call it an "ion blaster" (as in Emperor Zurg's weapon in Toy Story 2) and they enjoy shooting each other at targets. Last night Baby Girl had a couple of the balls and she decided to try standing on them. It must have hurt, but instead of hurting her feet, she said, "Mommy! My BALLS hurt!"

***************

My boys LOVE Transformers. They watch an episode every afternoon so I they can have some downtime. We finally broke down and purchased the first two seasons plus a bonus! DVD so that we could delete them from our DVR (freeing up something like 30% of the space available). When my dad walked in on Sunday the boys said, "Papa! We got three new Transformer videos...and you missed both of them!"

***************
Youngest Boy likes to tell me play by play of anything he sees on TV. They saw a commercial a few days ago and it had a platypus in it.

Youngest Boy: "Mommy, this guy had a paranymus..."
Oldest Boy: "Brother, it's platypus."
Youngest Boy: "Yeah, a paranymus..."
Oldest Boy: "Brother, it's PLATYPUS."
Youngest Boy: "Yeah, that's what I said, paranymus..."
Oldest Boy: "IT'S PLATYPUS!"
Youngest Boy: "Yeah, he had one of those, and then..."

***************
Youngest Boy is going to be starting pre-K in the fall (a post for another day), so I told him that if he had any questions, anything at all, about school he could ask me or his brother. He thought for a few minutes and then said, "OKaaaay. Why is the school a building?"

Sunday Is For Cooking

My parents come to visit the kids (really, it's just the kids not me or Mr. MOTH) nearly every Sunday. This means that Sunday is a great day for me to try out some new recipes because there will be an extra pair of hands (or two) to hold a baby or chase down a toddler or entertain the big boys. I realize that, in theory, Saturday would be OK, too, because my husband is home. However, he's still working on the damn basement (on days when I don't plan something outside of the house) so I'm on my own just like every other day of the week. Because we hadn't seen my mom since her birthday I made some yummy yums and I'm all about sharing:

I baked a brownie kiss dessert (recipe to follow) served with cookie dough ice cream and put a homemade hot fudge sauce on it. I also made a batch of roasted red pepper hummus for a "healthy" snack, although I haven't been able to find any pita chips (or whole wheat pitas to use to make them). I made meatballs (following my Grandmother's recipe - in other words, the best meatlballs EVER) for dinner and a batch of crab meat and cream cheese spread for another snack. I was Busy (yes, with a capital "B").

On top of all of that, it was about 95 degrees here yesterday so the kids were outside in their water toy of choice most of the afternoon. Fun times!

Canonball!!!

Thank you! Thank you! No applause, please!

Brownie Kisses

1 pkg (1# 3.8 oz) Fudge Brownie Mix 1 ¼ cups white chocolate chips
¼ cup water 25 Hershey’s hugs
½ cup vegetable oil 1 ½ tsp shortening
2 eggs

Heat oven to 350°F. Grease bottom only of 9” springform pan. Combine brownie mix, water, oil, eggs and 1 cup white chips in medium bowl, about 50 strokes or until well blended. Spread in pan. Bake 35-40 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean or almost clean. Immediately place chocolate kisses around outside edge of brownie. Cool completely. Remove side of pan. Place remaining ¼ cup white chips and shortening in resealable plastic sandwich bag; seal. Microwave about 30 sec or until chips are melted. Knead chips until smooth. Cut small corner from bag and drizzle melted chips over top of brownie. Cut into wedges.

I may have had a little help making this yesterday. Baby Girl was very carefully unwrapping the Hershey's hugs from their foil wrappers and not eating any. I turned around to grab my camera in order to document this momentous occasion (a daughter of MINE not eating chocolate) and while my back was turned she shoved about 4 into her mouth:

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Growing up, my brothers and I used to take turns having to do the after dinner chores. One night you would wash dishes, one night you would dry and put away dishes, and one night you were off. And lather, rinse, repeat. (You only got out of this if you "cooked" dinner...see previous post for how often I was allowed to cook). Needless to say, none of us liked this too much. I mean, really, who likes chores?

I can remember very clearly one summer night...My brothers and I were arguing about whose turn it was to do what and we were obviously delaying the inevitable. We were procrastinating like only my family can, when all of a sudden my mom had had enough. She snapped. She starts grabbing dishes and heads to the back door. Curious, we follow. She opens the screen door...and starts wailing the dishes across the yard while screaming at the top of her lungs muttering under her breath. Was she done? Nope. She goes back for more! And again, until the sink is empty. We were dumbfounded. And speechless (another trait not particularly common in my family). I'm pretty sure we eventually did the dishes, though...

We tell this story often and I know it embarrasses the hell out of mom but when we tell it we laugh our butts off. Every time.

Thanks, Mom, for making it OK to lose your cool once in awhile as a mom...because sometimes I really wanna throw the dishes out the back door...

Happy Birthday, Grandma Grandma!

Supermantaster!

Growing up, I was not exactly known for my cooking ability. I could make three things: cold cereal, toast, and macaroni and cheese (from scratch!). My mom is a pretty good cook, although with 4 kids she did tend to “forget” things on the stove or in the oven. This was never really a problem because my dad? Will eat anything. No seriously. A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G!! So when I first started to try my hand at cooking (in high school) I got a little bit overconfident because he would say how good it was!

I moved out on my own and began to learn to make this and that and most of it was at least edible. I could bake with the best of them, presumably because of my sweet tooth, but a lot of the time it was just easier to eat out or mooch dinner from my good friend and her husband.

And then I met Mr. MOTH. My husband is a supertaster. Not only is he a supertaster, but he is a trained supertaster. (As a chemist for a company that manufactures interior coatings for food and beer/beverage cans, he was trained for the taste test panel and receives continuous training in order to maintain his “ability”. I shit you not). My fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants cooking was no longer going to cut it. There’s nothing worse than trying to cook for a supertaster. Except cooking for a trained supertaster who’s watching what he eats!

Right now we are in the midst of trying to “eat healthy”. My definition and Mr. MOTH’s definition of healthy eating are on two very different ends of the spectrum. I cut out a few things and some calories (while increasing exercise/strength training). Mr. MOTH? He doesn’t want to eat anything processed. Or fatty. Or sugary. Or green. Yeah. That’s what I said.

Enter my favorite cooking thing: Allrecipes.com*. I think this site may have saved my sanity. I can search by the ingredients that I have on-hand (or by what he will actually eat). I can print the recipe AND include the nutritional info. My favorite thing right now is a Blueberry Oatmeal Coffee Cake that is actually healthy (Mr. MOTH won’t eat it, though. {SIGH})!!

Anybody else have any favorite healthy eating tricks? I could still use some help...

*For the record, this is an unsolicited, unpaid endorsement...