Behind Bars

These three troublemakers are especially glad the weather is finally warming up. It means they can go outside and burn off their seemingly endless supplies of energy. Oh to be able to bottle that...

See, this morning I was awakened by a teething baby so early that the birds weren't even singing yet. That didn't matter to one little miss who seems to know that she gets mom's undivided attention if she wails at o'dark thirty.

Thinking I'd get a jump on the day, I started breakfast early. Instead of a head start on the day I found this:

Only the picture doesn't do it justice. What I really found was Peter standing on that chair at the counter. He had tipped the Cheerios box and was putting his hand in the box and shoveling the cereal onto the floor. With each swipe he let out an almost maniacal little chuckle. His brothers thought this was quite funny so they joined in the laughing and began dancing in the rainfall of Cheerios. They thought each little crunch under their tiny little feet added to the sheer joy of this glorious event and laughed, sang, and crunch crunch crunched. The dog joined in on the feast with endless munching. I seemed to be the only one not basking in the joy of the moment...

 Now at mid afternoon the teething baby is taking a wonderfully peaceful nap in the sunshine streaming in the window. The boys are playing outside on a glorious day running back and forth and driving toy cars and tonka trucks through the yard.

I'm left wishing I had liquid energy.

Meanwhile Back at Home...

Things have been uneventful here unless you count syrup on the couch, a rash of biting, a diaper blow out to end all others (necessitating extra baths and two loads of laundry), and a few moments of chaos when everyone seems to need something from Mom as eventful. Other than that it's laundry, and finishing compositions for school, a never ending battle to keep the kitchen clean, and trying to get the house back in order after the the craziness of the last few weeks.

Oh, and I answer the question when will Daddy be home at least 14 times an hour. They wake up asking, they go to bed asking, after the Skype calls they ask again. Yesterday Gabe was overtired and insistent Dad come home now. Every meal, every time the heat kicks on and they think it might be the garage door, every time the phone rings, they ask if it is him and when will he be here. Even the dog, used to dh feeding her when he walks in the door each evening, starts her watch around 4:30-5:00 and barks at every sound hoping it's him walking in the door.

I have also been trying to remember to take care of all those things dh usually does. Take the garbage to the curb, bring in the mail (I forgot this the first day), feed the dog, take the dog out 20 minutes after that, and his newest kefir experiment is looming over me. I just know I'm going to mess that one up. Trying to remember these little things with my ridiculous case of pregnancy brain has not been easy, add to that the lack of sleep because Dad is gone and it gets even worse. Who knew this old house creaked and groaned so much?

Then there are the incidentals. I'm pretty sure one of the boys turned down the water heater when I was pulling something out of the basement freezer. This happened so frequently in the past that we put a lock on the door of the closet housing the water heater. Problem is, I don't know what the heater is usually set at so I guessed. I'll know how well I estimated after this morning's shower. If there's one thing you don't want to mess with, it is my hot shower.  

Uneventful... as if single parenting with five kids, especially since four of them are five and under, could be uneventful. I just found my sock super-glued to the floor, with my foot in it. When I wondered what was so sticky, I made the stupid mistake of putting my fingers in it. So I am missing a layer of skin on one finger and the other is stiff as a rock with the layer of super glue that won't come off. I rather easily unstuck my foot from the floor. Getting the sock off my foot was another matter.

Ah, just another day on the home front.

The Modest Princess

Recently Juju and Joseph started speech therapy with a new therapist who comes to our home. It is wonderful not to have to load everyone up in the car and wait for the sessions to be over. The girls are able to continue with their school day uninterrupted, and the only worry I have is that my house is presentable. Under most circumstances I find that easier than making sure they are presentable and in the car with all the necessities (shoes, coats, sippy cups, etc). Plus, I get a clean house rather than fidgety kids in a car waiting for the session to finish.

On a recent visit, the speech therapist presented a picture of Disney princesses and asked my Juliana who her favorite princess was. Juju is mostly unfamiliar with this genre of princess having only seen Beauty and the Beast. Most mentions of princesses in our home have to do with being a daughter of Christ, or talk of some saints who were queens. At first she was just silent, but when asked again who her favorite princess was-- she responded, "ME!" I was in another room, but still chuckled. What an apropos answer for my sweet four year old.

She continued with her session, I continued the lesson I was working on in the kitchen with Sophia and thought little of the exchange, except that it would make a good blog post. Sophia, however, had also heard this conversation and she had seen the paper in question and it was clear she was mulling it over. I had not actually seen the princess paper. Sophia quietly whispered to me, "Mom, some of those princesses aren't wearing enough clothes and it sort of makes me not like them."

When Juju came running in the room a few minutes later so proud of earning stamps on this paper I have to admit I was a little stunned too. There, front and center, were scantily clad princesses on display. We so closely monitor what our girls watch that when those things make their way into our home they are quite shocking to all of us.

I have to admit it's hard sometimes to feel so counter-cultural, but Juliana's response and Sophia's observation remind me that the job I have of raising these girls to be Godly women is a monumental task and it is my job to ensure that our home is a refuge from the rest of the world. Here they are princesses, not in the worldly sense of being catered to and physically attractive, but rather in the Godly sense of serving those around them and striving to be the best Daughter of the King. I'm glad they realize at such a young age what true beauty is all about.

The Kind of Day I'm Having

Every now and then we have one of those days around here. I admit they have been less frequent than a year or two ago, but things have been on a crescendo and I knew the day was coming. Dh has had to get up for the early Mass the last two days. The boys simply do not sleep through Dad getting ready in the morning, no matter how quiet he tries to be. So the last two days they have woken up more than an hour earlier than normal. Then naps were thrown off yesterday because they were both so tired. Mom, too, is still suffering from early pregnancy fatigue and is bone tired. I need a nap.

Then this morning hit. When dh called at 7:15 I had already had it up to my ears. Gabriel was overtired and would cry, or scream, or whine every time Joseph came within three feet of him. Joseph can of course sense this and hones in on the scent. My nerves were shot. Then shortly after breakfast they were caught with markers, hiding behind the rocker writing on the walls. OY!

The last straw was when I was summoned to the bathroom to find this:

Boys, seriously only my boys, would think to do this...

Park Days

It is an absolutely gorgeous day in our neck of the woods. 

The sun is shining.

The clouds white and fluffy.

The perfect summer day to head to the park.

After a few morning set backs, 

a trip to two different libraries, 

and various errands along the way,

we did just that.

We went to the park.

Within seconds, Juju had to go to the bathroom.

Only there weren't any.

So we made do with a secluded spot.

Within minutes after that, Joseph needed a diaper change.

Another trek back to the car and we were set.

Then before I had finished, Gabe had a horrible blowout.

Another trek back to the car.

Only I had no extra clothes for him since his extra outfit was used last week.

Joseph had issues at the pool.

By this time, I was no longer enjoying fluffy clouds and beautiful temps.

We went home.

We went to the park today and all I got was this picture:

Maybe we'll try again tomorrow :)

To Call or Not To Call

Dh often jokes about the phone calls he gets from me at work. You know the type, the ones where he is diligently working to support our family, the demands and pressures of work exacting all his energy and then I call... AARRGGHH both boys are in the bleach I will be cleaning it up all afternoon... AARRGGHH if I hear two girls bicker for one second longer I'm gonna blow...  AARRGGHH there's a toothbrush in the toilet what do I do... AARRRGGHH such and such appliance broke and I can't do what I need to do.

Today was one of those days. While occupied, I heard quite a thud. Since I didn't hear screams, I assumed all was well. Turns out, all was not well. Our large picture mirror had fallen off the wall and broken, thankfully no one was in the room. I spent lunch sweeping up pieces of it. I thought about calling dh to vent about things falling off the walls, messes that take hours to clean, and little ones who seem to be inexorably drawn to such things when I desperately need them to stay elsewhere. I thought about calling but remembered how frustrated he already was.

I had just gotten off the phone with him. He was frustrated at the news that the Consulate had rejected one of our adoption documents because a staple had fallen out as he was trying to photocopy the document. Yes, because of one little staple we now have to regenerate a document, take it to the bank to be notarized, then take it to the County Clerk for certification of the notary, then take it to the Secretary of State for certification of the County Clerk. After all this, he will have to hire the courier again to walk it into the consulate to get authentication. Needless to say this will take a significant amount of time and money-- all because of one staple.

I thought of all this and quietly cleaned the mirror, put lunch on the table, and went on with my day. Then this happened:

And I really wanted to call. 

Instead, I quickly went to work and bathed two boys, then washed the cans and bottles (did you see the syrup dripping down the bottles?

 Then I mopped the floor.

Dh came home to two freshly bathed boys already in their jammies, a clean kitchen, and a mopped floor. Needless to say, he owes me!

P.S. When dh was reading this post he graciously reminded me of these phone calls too:


AARRGGHH the printer won't work...
AARRGGHH a bird just died at our back door...

Staying Cool

We went from record lows earlier this month to record highs the last few days...

Temperatures in the upper 90's today.

Finally the arrival of summer.

Which I would enjoy a little more if our a/c hadn't gone kaput this weekend.

We are drinking lots of water. The sound of fans on high is a constant drum of noise that, while less effective than the a/c, does have the effect of drowning out some of the noise of three little toddlers. We have also taken refuge in the basement.

Today the heat was a little too much for us though, so we abandoned the last of the school work and decided to let the young ones nap in the car and drove to the mall-- I had shoes to return :)

It also seemed the perfect time to renew an old tradition in our home, the summer purchase of sunglasses.

From the time Banana was a toddler, I have taken her to The Children's Place for sunglasses. She would try on six or seven pairs, settle on one, and we would have them for about a week or two. Joseph, for weeks, has been carrying around an old pair of yellow flowered sunglasses so I figured it was time to get him a pair of his own.

I figure my kids might as well look cool as we make our best effort to keep from melting in this heat!

There is no such thing as bad weather. All weather is good because it is God's.

-Saint Teresa of Avila

This Isn't What I Signed Up For

Do you ever have those moments? Those moments where you think to yourself this is not what I thought life was going to be like? I always knew I would be a stay at home mom. Yes, there was a brief time in college I aspired to be a great chemist, researcher, then a great humanitarian, then perhaps a botanist. Really, though, I knew those were only grand schemes in my mind, and that I had been called to raise a family. Still, in many moments of chaos, diapers, mud, and messiness, I've wondered about this calling.

I also can distinctly remember a time, early in my homeschooling years when I came huffing through our back door, slamming it rather heavily, all the while letting poor dh know there was a reason I NEVER considered elementary school teaching as a career. Still, I knew I was called to homeschool as well.

This morning I had another of those moments. It is important to remember this all happened while I was making my morning cup of coffee, and had not yet had a chance to drink said coffee. I had all the kids happily (after 10 minutes over bickering about who got the last of the sugary Easter cereal) eating breakfast. It was finally almost quiet. I poured the water into the coffee press, went to set the timer, then I heard a thud, a pretty loud thud. I wondered what had fallen, what mess there was to clean up. Then the girls tell me it came from the back door.

It turns out a poor little bird flew into our back sliding doors, then promptly fell on the back doormat. It heaved a few heavy breaths-- and died. DIED! Right there on the door mat. All six of my kids watching the poor thing...

After the shock wore off I realized the dog was going to have to go out. I also realized the dog, who had watched the bird, was already curious about the ball of feathers on the doorstep. It then hit me that I was going to have to dispose of the bird.

In my bathrobe, ugly shoes, unkempt hair, (when did I get so old?) I went outside. I found the snow shovel, walked around the house, past the school kids walking, waved to a neighbor praying she would not come to say hello, and made my way to the back door. By this time most of the kids had abandoned the cereal that had earlier seemed such a treasure, and now had their noses pressed to the back door.

As I attempted to get the poor creature onto my snow shovel (a task that should have been easier), I hear chanting from my girls indoors... "Be a man, Mom! Be a man!!" That, my friends, is certainly not my calling. Disposing of dead birds, or any dead creature, before coffee, or ever, is also not my calling.

Dinnertime Shootout

One of my favorite sayings to zip out at my children (and often dh) is, "Say what you mean and mean what you say." I heard an ending to that a few years that goes, "but don't say it mean." I'd add that to my zinger, but often I am not saying it in the kindest of tones :) Still, I have a thing about convoluted, not to the point, mess around with the truth, kinds of answers. I want to hear what you mean, and nothing else.

This has been a little lax in our house lately so at dinner one night last week I decided we would revisit the subject of speaking as truthfully as possible as soon as asked a question. I was letting my children know that there would be MORE punishment if I had to ask twenty questions to get to the bottom of a situation rather than just getting an admission, an explanation if necessary, and an apology the first go round. To drive home my point, I said to them with a little smile, "In this house we are going to be straight shooting son of a guns!"

Banana thought about that for a moment and then said with a grin, "I guess that makes me a little pistol."

And that she is...

Missing

This seems to be a recurrent theme in our house this week...



It isn't just shoes either. We still haven't located math books. The math manipulatives everyone swears they didn't touch are still not where they belong. We had to just skip that math lesson as it was taking too much time and my frustration meter was off the charts. We did eventually find the missing grammar essay although it took more than twenty minutes and by the time we found it the baby was up from his nap. I gave up on the missing binkies and went and bought more. As far as shoes, I am about 85% sure Joseph threw his shoe out of the cart in the grocery store last week, so I'm probably going to have to break down and buy new ones for him...

Breakfast Conversation

Bear: Banana, did you brush your teeth this morning?

Banana: Yes, why? Did you brush yours?

Bear: I brushed them twice last night so I didn't have to!

Me: Sorry, dear, it doesn't quite work that way.

Bear: Well, then can I at least not brush my hair?

Some Day We'll All Laugh Over This

Right?

This week I faced one of my greatest fears, and now we are crawling out from under the rabble. On Monday, right before dinner it began with little Bophie, followed with poor Juju, then in the middle of the night it struck sweet GabyBaby. By Wednesday it had knocked me for a loop, and then dragged down poor Bear who spent the night on a rug in my bathroom. Yes, the dreaded stomach bug. It had been going around and I knew there was little chance of escape.

I thought we had done a pretty good job of maintaining some order during this chaos. As soon as it started on Monday, I began washing any dirty laundry I could find knowing it would mount exponentially as more children got sick, and it did. So far it has skipped Banana who has been an amazing help in all this ordeal. She kept little ones entertained, she cleaned, she liked pretending to be the babysitter. All this helped to keep things fairly together.

Still the laundry has been piled on the couch all week in various stages of being folded and put away upstairs. The house is for the most part tidy, but in no way clean. Then there is my appearance. I am sure no one feels glamorous when stricken with the flu, but having the flu and trying to tend to other little ones with the flu left me particularly out of sorts.

So imagine my HORROR surprise when last night the doorbell rang. Thinking it was probably just some sort of door-to-door salesman, I did my best to hide out of sight. Turns out, I wasn't that lucky. In fact I am not sure I could think of a worse scenario. It was our social worker. She was there for Joseph's one year post adoption report. I had scheduled it weeks ago, but for some reason thought it was Wednesday night and that dh must have canceled it knowing I was down for the count. Actually, dh had forgotten all about it.

So there she was. There wasn't even a place for her to sit. A sick child laying on one couch, Mt. Neverest of laundry on the other. Various piles of folded laundry scattered throughout the rest of the room. I was in jammies (not even nice ones), with bedhead, no makeup, changing another of the endless diapers that follow a stomach bug, with no place to hide, no rock to crawl under. To add to that it was bedtime for four children in various stages of recovery in no mood to have Mom and Dad have a conversation with someone else. Alas, she was there, and the report had to be done.

We answered questions, the kids did surprisingly well. She sat on the floor doing her best not to touch a single thing in our germ-infested house. When at last that act of humility came to an end, we closed the door, put the kids to bed, and went to bed ourselves hoping that sleep would help.

Some day I'll laugh about this, right?