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."

Homework - the GRADING papers edition.

I'm pretty sure that this time of year is even worse for the professors then it is for the students.

Homework, by Russell Hoban
Homework sits on top of Sunday, squashing Sunday flat.
Homework has the smell of Monday, homework's very fat.
Heavy books and piles of paper, answers I don't know.
Sunday evening's almost finished, now I'm going to go
Do my homework in the kitchen. Maybe just a snack,
Then I'll sit right down and start as soon as I run back
For some chocolate sandwich cookies. Then I'll really do
All that homework in a minute. First I'll see what new
Show they've got on television in the living room.
Everybody's laughing there, but misery and gloom
And a full refrigerator are where I am at.
I'll just have another sandwich. Homework's very fat.

So, why do they assign it then? Wouldn't it just be better for all involved if they would just lighten up? This is the argument I'm continually making to my oh-so-conscientious resident professor. Or I will continually make it when I see him again in the middle of May.

The Trick

Having children who are so close together gives me the opportunity to enjoy pretty much all of the ages and stages of early childhood at once. It's a time of great richness and joy. IF you have a moment's peace to actually notice how amazing each individual and each age is. And therein lays the trick.
I'm striving to "stop and smell the roses" (or sometimes the actual Rose) these days. Just trying to get enough alone time and distance to actually observe and enjoy my children, rather then just be trampled and depleted by their various needs. Ironically it is often leaving them that really helps me to appreciate them. Not always but often. If I take one hour "off" after Daddy gets home from work then I, believe it or not, enjoy bedtime and all of their bedtime delaying techniques, snuggles, snail-paced teeth brushing, stories of the days events and plans for the next day and what they want for Christmas (does that end at some point in the year or is it year-round?).
Another way that I've been learning the art of seeing them, not just being with them, is to read articles, books and blogs of older mothers who have learned by experience that this time is as brief as it is intense. In the middle of the apparent chaos of life in a home where there is a ratio of children to adult that no daycare center would allow (at least for the majority of our waking hours) there is also a simplicity. They are a pack of little bodies - careening around with reckless abandon.; they are a bundle of sheer enthusiasm; they are very easily impressed (Daddy can jump up and TOUCH the ceiling!!!); they are still awed by God's great, beautiful world; a pack of M&Ms can fix any problem; they all eat the same five foods (oatmeal, hot dogs, pizza, mac&cheese, and chicken nuggets); I can wash all of their tiny clothes for a week in one load; they can "ride their bikes" for an hour straight just traveling the length of one house; going to a McDonald's playplace satisfies everyone's need for exertion; they all want to sit right next to me, all the time. Ahhhh. If only there were time to really know these things about them.
Well, time must be made because, for me, it is in realizing these things that peace resides. And one thing that we are quite short on in this house is peace. Who ever knew any child under 6 to be peaceful, let alone four of them?
I will not always have the joy of watching a five-year old learn to read and draw blueprints of his forts before he builds them. I will not always have the joy of watching the complete dearness of a three-year-old girl twirl in her billowy dress in the spring. I will not always have the joy of hugging a 1.5 year old's precious Winnie-the-pooh shaped body and feel him pat me on the back in return-affection. I will not always have the joy watching a sweet pink baby's face completely light up with a smile at the sound of my voice.
And it is very likely that I will never again be able to enjoy all of these things in the exact same minute. "The days are long, but the years are short." And peace does actually reside here, if you can just see it through the chaos.

Poop Chronicles, vol. 4

The Pony Edition

I found Thomas sitting in the horse-poo that's waiting to be mixed into the garden. So, being the good mom that I am I ran and got my camera. And when he had gotten up and moved on I put him back for this shot.

But then we followed up with a bath in the ultimate kitchen sink. Because I am actually a decent mom.