More Morning Rose and Morning Mose

This morning

Rosie: Hey! I haven't had breaksist yet.
Daddy: You're right, Rosie. What do you want?
Rosie: Um...maybe some Kix. No - I want pasta with cheese. That's my favorite.
Daddy: That's a good idea, why don't we have it for lunch?
Rosie: Yes. Let's have lunch.

Anthony scrambled up on my lap while I was sifting through my morning internet reading and eating a bowl of Rice Krispies with sugar on top. (yes. I know. But I don't let the children see me putting the sugar in the bowl.) He wanted to see the weather report because this is what we do.

Sunny, followed by thunderstorms but Sunday is going to be sunny all day.

"Why does God always make Sundays sunny?" I explain that he doesn't but maybe he is trying to make Sunday special this week since it's been so rainy.

"Why does God spell Saturday wrong? It should be Sat-ur-day. But he just puts it Sat."

Sat.



Does anyone have an email address for God's IT director?

Oh the Humanity!

When we had 3 young children I often felt as if people were looking at me like I had 2 heads (well, I did sort of have 4). But deep down I thought that I was probably just imagining it. I mean, really, it's not like we're the Duggers or something. But now that we have four young kids I KNOW that people are looking at me. Because they tell me. I don't walk past a single person in the grocery store who doesn't make a comment about the quantity of Lovelettes and the overwhelmedness of the mom.
I think nearly all of them are very positive. When we had three I got a lot of, "are you done?" or "I was done at 2, I can't imagine 3!". But now that we have four the comments seem to have taken a turn for the positive. It's almost as if they look at me and know that I must be a horse of a different color and they should accommodate my eccentric child-bearing ways. So now I hear, "are you planning on having more?" or even more frequently, "my _____ (fill in aunt, grandma, best friend) has a lot of kids. It's nice, you don't see that much anymore." There is, of course, the constant, "wow, you sure have your hands full" but this no longer bothers me because it is a completely warranted observation.
When we had 3 I lived in fear that I would be embarrassed by their behavior, or my behavior, out in public. And sometimes I was. Now I simply count on it. I do not go anywhere without attracting lots of attention and it is ALWAYS because I've lost control of someone or simply lost someone. So we don't get out much. It's hard to walk into a place being completely certain that you are going to walk out embarrassed.
But the other day we had some errands to run that couldn't be put off anymore and so we all piled into the car and drove off to Lowes. We were chatting with people as we shopped because people always chat with us and random passersby were commenting on the quantity and ages of the kids and continuing on their way. There were even some pointers off in the distance. I was generally trying to just stay focused and get the hell out of Dodge when Anthony said, "Well. It looks like everybody's noticing us today."
"Yeah, it does look like that. Why do you think that is?"
He thought about it for a minute and concluded, "Because...we're cute?"
Yes! That is exactly it! I'll just take comfort in that thought the next time I feel like abandoning my grocery cart in the middle of the store and hightailing it out of there. MOST people out in this world like to see families and children. Sometimes I think that we give the few negative looks or comments far too much weight in our conversations as FertileMyrtles. Just remember that pregnant women are cute (I can say that since I am not!). 5-month olds are cute. 1 year olds are cute. 3 year olds are cute. 5 year olds are cute. And if you happen to have all of those things together you've got so much cuteness that people are bound to acknowledge it with a look or a comment.

A Sad Commentary on my Housekeeping, or not...

Upon watching a few busy ants on the window seat in the kitchen:



"Ants and mice are pretty special. They come and eat the things that we don't want to clean up."

What Not to Wear

Just in case any of you were under the impression that I am in any way a decent dresser, I'll have you know...
Rural America is taking it's toll. On Sunday I dressed for church and was in "real clothes" for about 2 hours. I promptly changed as soon as I got home. Other then that I think that I've changed from PJs to other PJs for about a week straight. I never have to change before bed because whatever I was wearing during the day is just as appropriate for sleeping as it is for wiping runny noses and grilling hot dogs. Sigh. So sad.
Anyway, last week I hit a new low. I went to Anthony's swim lesson and then to get ice cream wearing these...

Oh sad day. I think that this is a direct result of our satellite package not providing a good, healthy dose of TLC and Stacey and Clinton.

Someone, somewhere needs to stage an intervention because while I continued to tell myself that this was NOT OK it felt more a movement of the rational soul then the gut reaction that it should have been (I did not know I was mismatched until after we were on the highway, there was no turning back).

I've still got 14 lbs or so to go be in a place where most of my clothes fit so I'm telling myself that it's going to get better. But that requires me actually losing that weight. And you know what? I'm sick of losing weight. And gaining weight. And losing weight. And gaining weight. And...repeat, repeat. I have been pregnant (therefore rapidly gaining weight) or 6 months postpartum (not-so rapidly losing weight) for FORTY-SIX months STRAIGHT! Might as well call me Gumby. In those past 46 months I have gained a total of 145 lbs and lost a total of 130 lbs. I'm weary.

This last 15 lbs feels like I'm at the end of The Biggest Loser and I feel like a big loser.

I recognize that it is not helping my self-confidence or motivation to be walking around with mismatched shoes and yoga pants constantly but sometimes it just feels like I'm sick of playing this game. Can I get an Amen?

OK, enough with the pity party. I do know that I've got 3 wonderful, chubby, healthy babies to show for my 145 lbs (Anthony isn't in the "streak" - although I gained 70 lbs while pregnant with him!). Clearly they are worth it. I don't mind having a Mom-Bod most of the time, just when I wear mis-matched shoes to swim class.

Living the Dream

"A dream is a wish your heart makes
When you're fast asleep.
In dreams you will lose your heartache
Whatever you wish for, you keep.
Have faith in your dreams
and someday,
your rainbow will come shining through.
No matter how your heart is grieving,
if you keep on believing,
the dream that you wish will come true."

If Cinderella is right then what does it say about my life that my dreams routinely consist of very vivid images of me: cleaning the toilet, straightening up my bookcases, doing my dishes, taking out the trash. So much so that I'm actually surprised (and obviously very disappointed) when I wake up and the trash is overflowing, the dishes are not done, the toilet is very much not clean, etc. Sigh.
"Some day...the dream that you wish wiiiillll commmmme true."