Fruit Market

My darling daughter, Little Princess, decided to have a "Fruit Market" the other evening.  I guess the best spot in the house consisted of the top of the humidifier in the kitchen.  Really?!?!?  I swear, I took 382 pictures but was still unable to get her to keep her eyes open.  Finally both of us gave up and ended up with this picture.

But it's all good, because apparently, I need to pay my five-year old $1 to buy back one of the apples or oranges at the Fruit Market, which I already paid for at the grocery store... AWESOME!

School Sniffles

I am so far behind! Life has been so chaotic and busy and I've been just plain ol' exhausted and not able to keep up with everything. So, only ONE MONTH LATE, here are a few pictures of my darling wee ones on their first days of school.  (Precious started approx one week before the smaller children.)

Precious entered fifth grade.

Precious is getting to be way too cool for me.  The Little Miss is turning into a "tween" as we speak.  Suddenly, she has very strong ideas about EVERYTHING -- from the clothes she wears, to her hair cuts, to what is too "lame" to eat in a school lunch, to who is allowed to walk her to the bus stop each morning.  

Little Princess started kindergarten. 

 (Insert whimpering, sad mom)

 

Princess has been ready to go to school for well over a year.  Since she had her kindergarten readiness test in January 2010, she has asked me DAILY "When is it my turn to go to 'chool?" (We have problems with words that start with an "s" sound).  Literally, I kid you not, the child has asked DAILY -- often more than one, two, or fifty-eight times a day -- "When can I be big and go to 'chool?!"

Little Man started preschool. 

(Insert wailing, sobbing, 

tear-streaked-face mommy)

Look at how brave my boy is!  His tiny hands are fisted and he's to make new friends, or perhaps do battle?  Not sure which one... he's definitely the most shy and least likely to want to make new friends.  He's an observer who stands back until his sisters pull him into their play.  Now what?  What happens when his sisters aren't there to encourage him to join the masses already enjoying the fabulous-ness of preschool classroom toys?

I cannot believe my babies are all in school.  Aren't I supposed to feel some sense of freedom or accomplishment now that everyone has at least made it to the next phase of their journey?  Or will it be different than I expected?  Instead of feeling accomplished, will I feel a sense of grief and loss at each new stage of life's journey with my wee ones?  SIGH!

I need a small, tiny, precious baby to cuddle.

Sniff, sniff, sniff!

Bucket List

My Precious Children,

I’ve often thought that I should write a “Bucket List”. I’ve tried on several occasions to start a bucket list, but haven’t really committed myself to the concept. A bucket list is such a fabulous way to capture a concrete list of things you want to experience in life. By taking the time to actually write a list, the thoughts and experiences become less abstract. So, as a twist to the traditional bucket list, I would like a “Family Bucket List” – things I would like to do with my children and/or family members.


* Go to Disney World! (I’ve never been and it seems like a quintessential family-kid thing to do.)
* Get pedicures together – including you too, Little Man -- if we can convince your Daddy.
* Go on mommy - child trip, with each of you individually.
* Go camping as a family.
* Get your ears pierced (again).
* Go swimming with dolphins.
* Take a road trip at least every other year.
* Get a cheesy cartoon picture drawn of us.
* Go to your first dance recital.
* Do anything within my power to get you into the college of your choice.
* Spend each and every Christmas together.
* Live near a flower shop and go at least a couple times a week to pick out flowers.
* Have lots of sleepovers for you and your friends.
* Go to a tropical location on vacation.
* Teach you to be confident and love yourselves as much as I love you.
* Buy some land and build a house on it.
* Let you pick out a family dog (MAYBE).
* Advocate for you when
* Go prom dress shopping.
* Go wedding dress shopping.
* Be present at the birth of each grandchild (if you let me).
* Go to a major boardwalk and walk until our feet can’t walk anymore.


I can’t wait to do all of these things with you! My babies, I love you forever and ever!

Love,
Mommy

Delicious Nectar

When I came of age (what age, I'm not exactly sure), I made a commitment to myself that anytime I saw children selling lemonade on the side of the road, I would stop and buy some. I think this commitment came out of the deep sense of rejection I felt as a young entrepreneurial child when cars containing what I thought looked like perfectly pleasant people went whizzing by my roadside lemonade stand without so much as a second glance. Those perfectly pleasant looking people always had to take a first glance due to the gi-normous neon-colored poster we used to advertise our delicious nectar (translation: watery kool-aid).

Even as a wee one, I recognized the cruelty of adults who wouldn't humor children trying to make a little extra dough the good ol' fashioned way. I vividly remember the delight I felt when someone would actually pull over and purchase a glass (translation: mini-dixie cup) of our hard made juice. These are among my favorite childhood memories...

So, today I had the opportunity to fulfill this commitment.

I stopped at a children's lemonade stand, instead of driving past. It was the perfect lemonade-stand-day... warm with a slight summer breeze. I almost envied the kids and the carefree way they were making a living. To my delight, inflation hasn't touched the lemonade business (or maybe the recession is hitting it especially hard) because I got a medium-sized dixie cup of watery lemonade for the bargain price of 25 cents... not a penny more than I charged 20+ years ago!

While I hesitated actually drinking the lemonade (you never know where their grubby little hands have been), I was pleased to see the ice cream truck stop in front of their house a few moments later and think that I somehow contributed to them finally being able to buy that bomb-pop popsicle they've been eyeing.

Right. Away.

There isn't any other way to wake up than to the sweet cuddles and kisses of your 4 year old daughter. She stroked my face and kissed my eyebrows and I sighed happily and gave her a kiss back. She snuggled down onto my shoulder and squeezed me tightly.

Then ever so softly and with the kindest of voices, she whispered this advice into my ear:

"Mommy? When you wake up and get out of bed, you should go brush your teeth. Right. Away. You have icky mouth, okay?"

Ahem.

Nothing like being sweetly told you STINK by your preschooler at 6 am...

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. Especially since, well...

she was right!

Cosmic Smack-Down

We all have deep dark secrets and I’ll confess one of mine, if you don’t judge me.

Sometimes I feel superior and smug. Like I’m a GOOD mom and I have my life all sorted out and my children are well behaved. Until the inevitable cosmic smack-down puts me firmly back in my place, reminding me that I am NOT such a good mother and my life is NOT so very in order and my children are DEFINITELY NOT well behaved.

I’ve had this feeling the past few weeks...

I’m whipping up homemade pancakes like one of those “good moms” on an after-school special. Fresh! Healthy! Fluffy! The pancakes are a lot of work but that’s the kind of mom I am. I mentally pat myself on the back as I set a plate of hot cakes with a side of neatly chopped fruit and a frothy glass of milk in front of the children.

I turn back to the kitchen to clean up my mess (because that’s what GOOD MOMS do.)

ZING! Just barely, out of the corner of my eye, I see it… something flying through the air.

I whirl around, spatula in hand. My imp-ish little four-year daughter is eyeing me warily. Her eyes nervously jump from me to the rug near the kitchen sink where a freshly cut piece of syrupy pancake lies face-down.

“Princess Booger!!!” I bellow and immediately she’s up and negotiating,

“But Mommy! I was just throwing it at D!”

“YOU KNOW YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO THROW FOOD AT YOUR BROTHER”

She smiles nervously. slyly. “But mom, I DIDN’T know that.”

“THIS IS DISRESPECTFUL TO ME TO THROW THE PANCAKES I MADE FOR YOU ON THE FLOOR! IT IS DISRESPECTFUL TO OUR HOUSE TO MAKE MESSES LIKE THIS! AND IT’S NOT NICE TO YOUR BROTHER!”

G’s smile has gotten smaller, but it’s still there. Hopeful. Amused.

“GO TO YOUR ROOM!” I howl and pick up the piece of pancake, mumbling obscenities. G slinks to her room, pouting.

I stand by the sink, fuming.

Time goes by… enough that I’ve calmed down and told G what I think about her behavior. I pull out my to-do list. I’ve been meaning to wash the rug and kitchen floor for a week now, and there’s no more putting it off.

Later, same day…

Breakfast dishes are clean. I am on my second, or is it my third?, load of laundry. I am feeling in control again. I am a GOOD MOM. Listen at how happy the children are playing together while I manage our household.

Now that I think about it… those perfect little children have been awfully quiet for quite a while. I haven’t heard a peep out of them for minutes.

I start to get a sinking feeling in my stomach as I cross the kitchen towards the children’s bedroom. The door is almost closed. Another foreboding sign.

I peek around the bedroom door.

My angelic children have markers in their pudgy, little hands. MAGIC MARKERS.

They have decided to decorate the bunk bed frame with some of their darling doodles, as well as each others skin… and clothes… and maybe a bit on the bed sheets too.

SIGH!!!

And it’s only 1:00.

Prayer

Parent Bedtime Prayer

Now I lay her down to sleep,
I pray she will not make a peep,
But close her eyes and rest her head,
And, just this once, remain in bed.

But if, instead, she stays awake,
I pray thee, Lord, my head not ache;
And when I hear a pitter-patter,
Lord, help me not to be mad at her.

Amen


~ borrowed from a friends scrapbook

My Chickabiddy

My precious "baby" is NINE years old today. That is crazy! Absolutely insane. I can't believe I am old enough to have a nine year old. The sweet girl will be going into fourth grade in little over a week.

It seems like only a few months ago when she was a cuddly, pudgy baby reaching up to pull my hair; a darling six-month old dazzling me with her smile that included 4-5 teeth; a strong ten-month old learning to walk; a cute toddler running at me with hugs galore; a beautiful and intelligent preschooler struggling to learn to write the letters in her name; a talented and outgoing elementary school student excelling at all of her studies.

Bad Mommy Side

Yesterday, I walk into the children's bedroom to find my two and a half year old and almost four year old jumping on Little D's mattress...

Mind you, the mattress has been pulled off the bed and is now on the floor -- which kind of shows the children were listening when I barged into their room 90 seconds ago. I had to offer the motherly warnings about often the fatal, or at a minimum disfiguring, dangers of jumping on the bed. I mean, for pete's sake, they could fall off and bump their head on the bed railings and fall into a coma! Blah, blah, blah.

You know, all those regularly offered motherly warnings.

So, I walk into the children's bedroom to find the two wee-est ones jumping on Little D's toddler bed mattress which is now on the floor and no longer on the frame where it belongs. I give up, shake my head and walk out of the room figuring they are playing together happily, so who am I to break up the party?

However, our very astute and precocious almost nine year old who is trailing after me says, "Mom! You're going to let them jump on that mattress?"

I respond, "They'll be fine. It can't hurt them that badly. It's on the floor, right?"

Nine year old: "Hello! They could fall and get hurt. Remember all the warnings you used to tell me? A coma?"

Okay, she's got me there. I used to be a worry-wart parent, but I am getting better. I consider myself a recovering worry-wart. I digress...

I look at our nine year old and just kind of shrug helplessly. So what does our nine year old do? She emphatically states, "That's it! You're losing it! You've gone to the Bad Mommy Side."

Ummm... okay?! Now there is a Bad Mommy Side?

And here I thought I was just giving my wee ones a chance to explore their physical boundaries or possibly of a good ol' lesson in "cause & effect" (jump & bump?) in a semi-safe environment.

Or perhaps I could justify it as my wee ones having superb problem solving skills. I had previously told they to "stop jumping on the bed". Obviously I had neglected to include "stop jumping on the bed or any part of the bed, including the mattress, which means you should not pull the mattress off the bed frame and put it on the floor..."

(Even if that would be considered creative problem solving.)

Before & After

Oh dear! It's every mother's worst fear!
The SCISSORS! Yes, you know where this is going... don't you?!

Our precious little four year old cut her own hair. She had gorgeous, long locks of beautiful brown hair. Very soft and thick and slightly curly. Unfortunately, H thought she would assist her hair by cutting it -- and not only trimming a bit off the side, but splicing her bangs really close to her forehead, in a very efficient manner. Needless to say, she needed a professionals assistance and ended up with much shorter hair.

Oh well! It's only hair and it grows, right?

We had a similar, but less drastic, experience with E when she was about the same age as H. And honestly, I must say I am truly shocked that G hasn't cut her hair yet. It's only a matter of time.

BEFORE

AFTER

Find Me!

This is why I love playing Hide & Seek with D and G. I don't usually need to look very far.

Not Home For Long?

Earlier this week...

Monday: More thankfully, my sweet little boy, D, was able to come home from the hospital on Monday night after they tanked him up with lots of IV fluids. We were so excited because he hadn't had any more hurling or "butt episodes" in almost a day.

Tuesday: D has three bad (and I mean BAD) diapers and wakes up after nap with a dry diaper. I begin worrying. I call the clinic on Tues afternoon. Hello?! They promised to call me back and they didn't. He was still producing tears and spit, so I figured he wasn't totally gone.

Wednesday (Christmas Eve Day): He woke up with a dry diaper in the morning. NOT GOOD. I am not okay with this. Immediately I am on the phone with the clinic. Should I bring him to the clinic? Should I bring him back to the ER?

Totally Selfish Side Thought: I am a bit concerned that I am hosting a Christmas Eve Brunch for the in laws in less than an hour, and that doesn't include the Christmas Eve Dinner I am hosting later that afternoon for 14 people -- both at my house. I have been sicker than ever, the house is a disaster because when I am with the kids I have been letting them do whatever they want, as long as it doesn't include touching, talking, or looking at me!

Merry Christmas Eve! Fabulous (and very patient!) in laws come for brunch. We are all trying everything we can think of to try to get D to drink, but he is having none of it. Brunch happens; I clean up; I bundle D up and whisk him off to the ER.

The ER doesn't mess around. They decide to pull labs and insert an IV right away.

The IV insertion this time was UGLY!!! D had to be stuck at least 7 times in three different spots and two different limbs. He was screaming and yelling and wailed, "Save me, Mommy!"

Already then! To all you moms out there -- what do you do when you want to protect your wee one but cannot stop the pain because it's necessary? Cry, right? You're supposed to say you cry.

So, the IV is in and they decide to do a stomach/chest x-ray to make sure there were no blockages. Again, this experience did not go well. D was fed up and kept yelling, "All done! Go home." Every chance he got, he was on the floor and running for the nearest door. My poor little heart was in tatters. He even told me I was being naughty when I had to assist the nurse to hold him down for his x-rays.

Results: X-rays turn out fine and show no blockages. Labs come back much better than expected (translation: he's not as dehydrated as we feared.) So the doctors decided that after a few hours of IV fluids, D was able to come home and celebrate Christmas Eve with the whole family.

Christmas blessing and miracle!!!

We arrived home in time to finish help cooking dinner. Actually my mom and sisters were so beyond awesome that I barely had to life a finger! My Mom bought disposable plates and cups. Because the kids or I had been so sick for the past few weeks, Mom also did all of the holiday grocery shopping. Mom did tons of clean up and every time I tried to help, she shooed me away and my sisters stepped in.

I am filled with gratitude this holiday season. Gratitude for mine and my family's usual good health. Gratitude for our phenomenal family support. Gratitude for health insurance.

Christmas Miracle

You know what? We are so very blessed!!! I have the very best family ever.

It has been a very challenging past two weeks. Everyone has been ill at our house. Last week G came down with pneumonia. She didn't have to be hospitalized, but was very miserable. Then, poor little, two year old D enjoyed TWO visits to Children's Hospital within the past 5 days (including being admitted overnight) for a hideous case of the flu.

He was spewing out of both ends for over FIVE DAYS -- including every 30 minutes for the first 48 hours straight. So, Sunday morning we headed to Urgent Care . . . who then sent us promptly to the Emergency Room. (While at UC, we discovered D had lost at least TWO POUNDS in less than 3 days. )

So to make a long drawn out story, a teensy bit shorter: D and I arrive at the ER while C stayed home with E, H and G. The ER team hooked D up to an IV for immediate fluids. He was so limp and tired that he barely flinched when they inserted the IV! He fell asleep in my arms in the hospital bed. Suddenly, I began not feeling so well, so I gently extracted myself from him and as quick as you can blink, I was overtaken with dry heaves in the hospital room sink for SEVERAL minutes. Luckily, my sweet boy slept thru the awful ruckus I was making. In the mean time, a nurse comes in to check on D and finds me grasping onto the sink as if I would pass out at any second -- which I was quite sure I was going to do. Beautiful sight, I know!

Nurse helps me into a chair and asks what they can do for me. I gasp, "Call my husband." Fast forward 45 minutes, my Husband walks into the hospital room and hands me my keys to drive home.

Yeah... not gonna happen. I couldn't sit up straight long enough to walk to the other side of the room, more less drive?! My in laws (bless their hearts!!!) drove H home to her mom's and took G over night while my sister came to pick me up and drive me home. C stayed the night in the hospital with D while my precious E played nursemaid to me while I hurled all night. UGH!

I was in bed sicker than a dog until Tuesday night -- seriously contemplating whether I was going to die. Thankfully, I am still alive.

Much more thankfully, D only had to spend one night in the hospital with C. They plugged him full of IV fluids and sugar stuff and other great vitamin or mineral things. Monday evening he came home and my heart nearly burst with sheer jubilation. I have never been away from the children when they are that sick. I am always the one to take them to the doctor or hospital. It was hard to be separated!

Challenging

When you are really having a "challenging" day with your children, do you ever just give in to their senseless demands? No? Never? Come on! Not even once in a blue moon?! I don't believe you...

I think that is what makes me an awful parent. I do give in -- for my own sanity and peace of mind. I just gave Daniel PUFF CORN for breakfast... It has the word corn in it, so according to Junie B. Jones it has to be somewhat healthy! Hello?!

Lazy Parents 'R' Us

C and I were unable to muster enough energy to chase the children up and down the block on their scooters, trikes, and bicycles, so we did the next best thing.

Racing laps around the kitchen.

You dare ask if I AM SERIOUS?!?! You betcha. It was a blast.

A word of caution to the wise - the only reason it worked was because E was not home to add to constant crashing we had going on.

Think two year old version of an indoor demolition derby, complete with head gear. Safety is always a top priority around here.

Miscellaneous

Just a few miscellaneous pictures I like and thought I would share.

Tea party with the dolls and plastic dinosaur. I love it!

Different Breed

Why do sweet, precious, darling little girls turn into she-devils at some point in their second to third year of life? It's as if the cuddly little dears morph into some new breed of bipolar species that can turn make their head turn circles like Linda Blair! Since G is a bit past two and a half, I was hoping we had missed the worst of the terrible twos; however, the last few weeks... she has been crabby and has begun morphing into an unknown, unstable animal who attacks your ankles and throwing her tiny 25 pound body around in the most violent way! For no apparent reason!

E had a rough go of the twos and her threes were even worse. Fours were a welcome relief. I realize each age has its own unique phases and that each children is unique.

Our sweet H had okay twos and her threes have been fairly smooth. With fours beginning next month, I count our blessings all the time. She is such an even-keeled and tender-hearted little dear.

Then G came about... I adore her but she is a spoiled little booger. I think twos and threes are going to be "interesting", which is the P.C. way to say scary, challenging, and wrought with hair pulling -- me pulling my own hair out -- as well as lots of shrieking.

D has also started on his twos a bit early. I think he may be following G's lead recently since he has developed a dramatic taste for pitching awful fits where he throws his body against anything and anyone in his way. Picture a solid, 18 month old carrot top "moshing" and slamming his body against pointed furniture and his parents innocent foreheads, cheek bones and noses.

Precious Children

E was happy to pose for the camera this weekend as she prepared to go on a "date" with her dad to the "My Guy and Me" Dance sponsored by her Girl Scout Service Unit.

LOVE those gorgeous brown eyes on H...

I like the way the light comes in from the window and shines on G's face.

Last but not least, my little man, D