Moses Supposes His Toses Are Roses

So our theme this week has been “Dr. Seuss” of course, and it’s one of my favourites! Not only do we get to read ALL our Dr. Seuss books over and over again, we get to do some fun crazy activities. Big J developed a nasty full body rash early this week and combined with a sore throat I took her in to get diagnosed with strep throat and scarlet fever. So now I have two kids loving bubble gum medicine (Little E had a double ear infection last week) and I hope Mr. T doesn’t join in on the fun. Anyways, my point is that being rashy and contagious, Big J has had the delightful privilege of missing school and staying home and ultimately wishing she wasn’t school-age yet (I told your our week’s theme is a fun one!) Today we read, along with many others, “The Foot Book” and then proceeded to paint with our feet and make feet prints on a large ream of packing paper. I hadn’t really planned out the afterwards part and so afterwards came as a little shock as I hefted these big boys to their respective feet cleaning locations and then promised Big J an alternative activity. Thinking fast I got out markers and drew little faces on her big toes and then, performer that she is, we were entertained with some fabulous puppet shows!

We’ve been reading “Harry Potter” together after lunch lately and the two oldest are loving it! This morning at breakfast we had a conversation about muggles which was quite entertaining. They were trying to figure out exactly who we know in real life is a muggle or a wizard. Grandaddy was voted immediately as a wizard (since he has all his magic tricks with disappearing balls and all). Uncle Warren is a muggle. And Uncle Kyle was a battle as the two deciders had completely opposite feelings toward his heritage – after all, his father is a wizard and his mother a muggle, I can understand the confusion!

Since this blog is a smorgasbord of sorts, I will add a final quote from Big J. Yesterday after being asked to take a little rest (she is sick after all) she had turned her room into a tent with all her blankets and sheets. Upon entering I was told I had to sign my name on her little doodle pad. I asked if she wanted me to write “Mommy” or my real name. Her response, “Your full name, and your social security number please.”

Every day life with kids is like a Dr. Seuss book if you ask me! Enjoy your week!

Sad Song

Britney Spears has been on my mind lately. Is it any wonder with all the media propaganda that is being spit out about her? Typically I’m not one to be at all interested in pop media or stars in the news, but her story is starting to hit home. No I’ve never shaved my head, gotten a tattoo or flashed a camera… but I think I may have felt some of what is inspiring her acting out. I’m curious why the media, or at least the media I’ve been hearing, hasn’t hit on the topic of postpartum depression in relation to Britney Spears. Is nobody worried about this poor girl and her role as a mother to those two innocent babies? I’ve experienced severe postpartum depression, I’ve locked myself in my bathroom for hours on end, sitting on the floor thinking about how pathetic I was that I couldn’t even think of a decent way to end my life. I offered my husband a new life and permission to leave me, but he stuck with me and supported me more than my actions and words permitted me to deserve. How Britney manages with her husband gone and yet another child, I have no idea. If there had been a camera shoved up my nose throughout my postpartum depression, they would have seen me blowing up at every little thing, sleeping and crying and begging my baby to no longer exist. I can’t imagine the headlines when I packed up my backpack with random items such as piano music and my husband’s passport and drove off around our small island, looking for an escape. I hope that Britney Spears will find the help she needs and every suffering mother deserves. I hope that the media won’t influence her decisions and that she will be strong enough to determine her future and her children’s future. I admit that my thoughts and my diagnosis may be as unfounded as some of the comments and headlines you are reading in the checkout stand… but this is my blog, and so allow me my pop star moment.

Dressing Room Fiasco

I took the boys with me to Once Upon a Child today to shop for some maternity clothes. They played with the train table while I made my choices and then I started the dreaded dressing room retreat. Little E who is STILL in the midst of potty training (and I have reason to believe will be until he starts college) immediately ran into the dressing room yelling – “I pee, I pee”. After a short side trip to the real bathroom (where upon entering I discovered that indeed he HAD peed), we headed back to the dressing room where I threatened and swore the boys to seated positions on the bench so they couldn’t open the door on me mid-changing. All modesty aside I started the inevitable, undressing my growing body and trying on too-big tops that I will soon be filling out, too short pants, too tight already pants and some ridiculous-looking parachute of some sort that sported the tag “gap maternity”. Dressing rooms are hardly a place to boost your self-esteem, but today was different… I had brought my cheering squad! The boys’ nowhere-near-quiet voices could be heard shouting remarks of, “Blue, Mommy, I like the blue one”, “You look handsome, buy that one”, “You look pretty, Mommy”, and “Wear that one home”. They were so sweet and complimentary, it actually made me blush. However no dressing room experience can be too good to be true, and soon the remarks changed to “I see your back Mommy”, “You’re wearing just your underwear”, “You have pink on your bra” and Little E’s singsong “I see Mommy’s boobies”! In an attempt to quiet the song I asked to see their belly buttons, but Mr. T pulled up his shirt and asked, “How come I don’t have boobies?” Thus a brief description of gender differences ensued, and then, “How come Daddy has boobies?” I explained that only Mommies have boobies, but that Daddy has a chest and muscles. “But it’s big here too!” he demanded pulling at his little nipples. “Well it’s just muscle…” I was getting ready to leave and wanted to finish this discussion before we exited to the customers who were no doubt overhearing our very loud yet private conversation. “What are Daddy’s boobies called?” Mr. T asked. “Pectorals. They’re called pectorals. Now shhhhhhhh!” I explained in finality as I shooed them out of the tiny, increasingly warm dressing room. The boys ran out of their prison skipping away and singing a chant of “Boobies and pectorals, boobies and pectorals!” And WHY do I need another human being to try to raise?

On a side note we returned home, and like after most outings, the boys went off to play on their own -happy to be home and getting along quite nicely. I found them sprawled out on their bellies buried in a corner playing together and couldn’t resist taking these pictures.

I DO love my boys!

Crazy Cravings

This has been an eventful week of pregnancy. Sunday night Mr. Man and I were laying in bed talking. Mr. Man was bearing his soul to me when I had to interrupt with a tangent: I was feeling the baby move for the first time! He countered that it was probably gas… but it wasn’t. Each night since I’ve been able to feel the little bubbly butterfly feelings as this baby meanders around. And though it’s my fourth, I still get giddy, smiley and my heartstrings are being tugged by this little one already.

Monday my desire for Cadbury mini eggs peaked and I was starting to go a little insane over my lack of being able to eat them. I went online to look at pictures of them, and then started calling different stores frantic to find somebody who had them.ready.available.for.me.to.buy.right.now! There are reasons why people still shop at Kmart, and Cadbury mini eggs is one of them. Since then I have gone through two big bags of them. My kids can be heard to say, “I’m DYING for an egg”. It’s pretty pathetic really.

Not long ago Mr. Man and I were once again laying in bed when I announced that I was absolutely starving. This is not a rare announcement late at night these days, but I mean, I was ready for a whole meal. Tacos in fact. I have all the makings for them and I asked Mr. Man if he’d mind frying the meat and chopping tomatoes while I grated the cheese and shredded the lettuce. He looked at the clock, yelped at me for being crazy and then said he’d first go to taco bell for me then cook a meal at almost midnight! So, I took him up on it. Mr. Man, my hero, is right now at taco bell… and I am in heaven in anticipation. One thing about cravings, upon satisfying them, ones joy cannot compare!

Really Scary Dreams

It started about a month ago... Mr. T would wake up screaming, or else crawl into bed with us wimpering a bit. I'm really into dreams and asking about the kids' dreams, and the following mornings he would go on and on about his scary dreams. Lately it's been getting worse, and yet the dreams, well... here's a little sampling:

"There was a big scary duck chasing me. But I had my bow and arrow and I SHOT HIM! But then... he came back to life and the big duck chased me when he was dead!"

(Later he was looking at pictures and got freaked out by one where his Grandma was holding him and she was wearing a bright yellow shirt. Apparently he was concerned she was going to turn into a duck.)

This morning I could hardly keep from laughing, though the poor boy is completely distraught:

"I had a s-s-s-s-scary dream and there was a big TREE! The tree was eating popcorn... it was so scary! So I took my stick and I wacked and wacked and wacked and then the garbage man put him in a truck and took him away. But the TREE was eating POPCORN!!!"

Is this ridiculous or what? I suppose we need to stop singing primary songs and nursery rhymes about any kind of popcorn or ducks!

LOVE is a Four Letter Word

... and we'll be adding a fourth child to our family this summer!

Mr. Man wants me to add that "BROKE is a five letter word and we're glad it's not two!"

My sister has had her baby and her own time to be pregnant, I’m safely out of the first trimester and now all our family know. Yes, I’m pregnant, about 16 weeks along! I’m due August 2^nd and have already had my first sonogram – though the technician couldn’t tell the gender yet. This may explain some of my blogging moodiness, our mini-van purchase and even my awful sciatic nerve pain! I’m excited to share more details online now that this is out in the open. For those of you who knew that Little E was our last and that we got rid of absolutely EVERYTHING baby, I can only tell you that seasons change and God does work line upon line. While I absolutely hate, loathe, despise and abominate being pregnant, I am excited to have another child to love and have in our family. Here’s a journal entry from a few weeks ago:

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Though few people know at this point, I am pregnant and I think I just may survive. The first trimester (three cheers for making it through a fourth third trimester) was a killer. I could hardly eat anything without throwing up. I felt sick pretty much day in and day out – and all through the night too. Misery, I tell you. The days when I only got away with taking 2 instead of 3 naps were impossible, and I was often “Mean Mom” […]Then there was the part where I couldn’t eat anything sweet or chocolately – so NOT me! But thankfully that phase is over – though I don’t feel the need or cravings for sweets, I can tolerate them. There was the cornflake phase (probably because they are so plain), then the grapefruit phase, and though short lived due to finances, the SUBWAY phase (true, I only ate their once, but the buildup was enough that once seemed to cinch it – for now! I honestly cannot believe how much I was throwing up not long ago! It is so disgusting when your puke splashes up on your face and hair – and then it makes you throw up more! Little E will often spit water and say, “I’m throwing up!” I still can’t eat meat, and certain dinner foods are better than others, so the kids are used to me suddenly leaving the table. Upon my return, they are fascinated to know all the details – is this gross, or just normal for a family with many children?

I still can’t believe that I’m going to have four kids! I’m a little embarrassed to go to my first Drs appt next week with my two little boys. I’m sure there will be all sorts of first time mothers in the waiting room – sure that I’m just having another one to try for my girl – which I already have, and she’s six and in school. Saying this is my fourth is hard for me. I didn’t think this would ever be me, and it’s a whole new persona and role to take on. I hope it fits.

Happy Valentines Day!

I've Updated My Profile

People are starting to notice my altered profile in real life... how about online?

Parents Bill of Rights

I found this and had to share:

1. You have a right to your own feelings and the right to express them to your children.
2. You have the right to be the authority in your home.
3. You have the right to put your marriage first and your children second.
4. You have the right to have periodic vacations from being a parent.
5. You have the right to make mistakes in bringing up your children.
6. You have the right to pursue your own interests.
7. You have the right to be irrational.
8. You have the right to be a fallible imperfect human being.
9. You have the right to preserve your sanity.
10. You have the right to be yourself.
Source Unknown.

A Royal Pain in the Butt

I’m not exactly sure what I did. All I know is I was rocking my half-asleep two year old in an awkward position for a little too long (enjoying the too infrequent snuggles he was offering) and when I got up, the pain struck. Yes, I pulled something or did something to my rear. The pain is excruciating and when I move a certain way or attempt to walk it shoots down my leg all the way to my toes. I hurt. I thought after a night of going to sleep earlier than usual I would be able to shake it off… not so. All through the night any movement would awaken me and this morning the pain is just as intolerable. More so. I have a large to-do list I need to accomplish.

This is a huge pain in the butt! I have errands to run, a house to clean, people to visit, a baby shower to co-host, a meeting to attend, and those are just the necessaries! I was already to go to the grocery store, hand clamping my rear, limping as I go when Mr. Man demanded I simply sit down and stay sitting down. “What am I supposed to do?” I wanted to know. “Read a book or something” was his quick response.

So I’m hoping this doesn’t last too long. It’s hard to sit still and read a book when your house needs a good dusting, mopping and vacuuming. It’s hard to not be able to get in the car and go visit your friend who just had a baby. It’s hard to have spare time, in a sense, that I hadn’t accounted for. But mostly I hurt and I hope to feel better soon.

Would you like some WHINE with that snow?

It snowed yesterday and it is beautiful! I can’t believe how chicken the school system is over this and all the delays and early dismissals are driving me nuts! It’s just a little snow! Quit all the whining! The kids are loving it, and I am thrilled for them to be able to get out of the house and enjoy running around. Why does it seem so much more inviting to play in the cold when there are white snowdrifts to play in? Regardless, I hope it stays a while.

I went grocery shopping this morning for the first time with our new van. Can I just whine and say how much I miss my nice big trunk in my little car? Apparently I need to get a net apparatus so that when I open my trunk to retrieve my piled up grocery sacs they don’t all tumble and leave oranges and cabbage rolling around the parking lot! Not long after I conquered that battle and had put all the groceries away and started on lunch, our alarm went off on the van. Frankly I remember Mr. Man saying something in passing about an alarm, but I really wasn’t sure it existed or how it worked. (Remember, I’m used to a 14 year old vehicle here, and was extremely comfortable with it!) So now all the neighbors are sticking their heads out their doors waiting for me to figure out that a) that super loud and obnoxiously annoying sound is actually coming from MY vehicle, and b) how to turn it off. Seriously, the sound was deafening. I looked out to see who the idiot was and saw the lights flashing on my van. My first thought was, “maybe it will just turn off on its own”. Instead I grabbed my flip flops (did I mention it’s snowy out?!) and keys and attempted to stop the Symphony from making all that noise. I finally figured out if I unlocked the vehicle it would stop, but the minute I locked it, the indecent exposure would begin. I was getting rather annoyed and started checking each door. Long story short, I solved the dilemma, as the kids door was ajar, however, I’m wondering what kind of alarm system would only let me know about that about an hour after the fact?! Anyways, change is not my forte, but I am adjusting and all in all love this new vehicle with the fabulous power sliding door feature! (I just need to make sure the kids only use THAT door!)

We've Joined the Van Clan

Food for Thought

We’re lucky, I suppose. Our kids are pretty good eaters. Thanks to Grandma instituting “thank you bites” they will even try at least one bite of absolutely anything. Little E has been our pickiest and trickiest eater. The boy refuses to eat meat and most vegetables. Meat especially. As much as I try to disguise and bury it in dishes, his little tongue will distinguish it and spit it out while swallowing the rest of whatever may be in the meal. Surprisingly he is still a pretty good sized kid… but I think I know why. Mr. Man has these kids eating out of his hand. If he feeds them they WILL eat ANYTHING. Strangest thing, why a two and three year old would enjoy this, I don’t know, but they love it! They have migrated from my end of the table to his and at some point into dinner the cries of “feed me Daddy” can be heard from every angle. Last night we had a rice dish, and since we had our “China” country night with chopsticks, the kids have insisted on using chopsticks each time we have rice. I couldn’t help but snap a picture when Mr. Man obliged and was feeding the two boys simultaneously with chopsticks!!! (But, as you can see, even Little E ate the meat!)

***Note the goose egg on Little E’s forehead in the dinner shot too! It actually looks a lot better here, but the poor boy nearly lost it running with his full body weight into the wall yesterday!

Everything I know about Life I learned at Skating Lessons

When you fall, it hurts.

It’s cold on the ice; get back up when you fall.

Inevitably you will fall again – because you will keep trying to do more difficult things.

Falling is okay.

Get on one knee, support yourself and stand up again.

You WILL succeed!

Overheard

As usual, the three kids are attacking Mr. Man in every possible way, trying to wrestle, tickle, kick, play - get his attention... Mr. Man tried to get out of it before succombing. In the midst of their fiasco, this is what I heard:

"You are in violoation of the Daddy penal code, violation number 84268: unlawful licking of Daddy's cheek. You must be terminated."

The sentences are continuing to be dished out...

Snow Much Fun!

Flu & Blue

We have the flu at our house. It came on rather suddenly and doesn’t seem to be letting go anytime soon. Big J got it Monday and hopefully will be back at school tomorrow. She was letting loose out of both ends and thankfully made it to the toilet every time except the first when she claims she thought she was “just tooting”! Mr. Man got it today, which is strange since he was home the least with all the germs escaping between my sanitizing freak-outs. He was teaching two classes today and it hit just after he finished the first. I was scared for him to teach the second, but always the Man he refused to call it quits, claiming that there was a bathroom just down the hall should he need it and that he had already noted that he should turn off his mic before leaving the classroom should an emergency strike! The boys are starting to get on my nerves and I pray nobody else gets sick because I HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE! Selfish, I know, but when I did sneak out at one point today I saved myself hundreds at an Old Navy sale on clothes for next year and know there are more out there like that calling my name. Ultimately, I’ve hit the January blues. I feel the immense lack of excitement and pizzazz in my life and am searching diligently for it. For instance, I started reading a book recommended and borrowed from a good friend that has absolutely nothing to do with parenting. But I need MORE! I’m bored here guys! I need a challenge and something exciting to lure me out of this conundrum. What are you all doing to keep the January blues at bay?

Reminiscing

I just finished reading a great book about motherhood written by a mother of nine. What made this book even more amusing was that this was the second edition. The author originally wrote the book as a young mother, and has now gone back as a grandmother and with only two teenagers left at home, to edit and remark on her earlier remarks. Her comments at her own strategies are amusing; sometimes she wonders what she was thinking and laughs at the complete ridiculousness of her crazy plans and life, other times she startles herself with her valuable insights and realizations. While I had an enjoyable time capturing a glimpse into this mother and family’s life (and even gathered some parenting tips), I’ve also found myself reminiscing on my earlier mothering moments. While I only have a short 6 years under my belt, I still find it amazing all that I’ve been through and how much I’ve learned and grown because of them.

My sister is about to have her first baby. What an incredible time, and what a nasty initiation into motherhood! Hindsight is a wonderful thing… and looking back to my first few months and years as a mother, there are numerous things I would change if I could. But I did the best I could – despite and maybe because I was so new at this thing called mothering. When trying to pinpoint the hardest time of being a mother, my mind fills with periods of peril. Severe postpartum depression, having a three year old and one year old and a newborn at the age of 23, times of sickness and pregnancy seem to top the board. I have awful memories of Mr. T and I having the chicken pox just weeks before Little E was born. And then just a week after he was born, the two little boys and I had hand foot mouth disease and I rotated putting one baby in the swing for 20 minutes while I rocked the other and then switched. That summer was definitely a summer of misery as I had a seriously colicky baby, our engine died on our car, Mr. Man was commuting far to far and I was packing up to move to an unfamiliar town void of friends and family. And yet looking back, though I groan inwardly, I also am grateful for those moments I was forced to hold my little boys, to slow down and cuddle when I myself needed a hug. Amidst all the hard days I have recorded so dedicatedly in my journals, I have memories of wonderful moments watching my children on the slip and slide and loving that they were 1, 2, and 4 respectively and loving the stages and ages we were enjoying so much. I enjoy the constant challenges and daily oppourtunities being a mother grant me. Nothing you read can really prepare you for the hands on experiences, only time can really teach you what all the parenting magazines and books promise and swear by. I’ve learned, after 6 years, that when you try and try to change your child and it still won’t work, you should probably look at changing your parenting technique!

Sometimes I feel like I should wake up and just pour a half gallon of milk on my floor – so that then it’s done and over with for the day! But instead I’ve learned to keep a steady supply of paper towels, a smile on my face and to enjoy the fact that my children now exclaim calmly, “My milk spilled, Mommy, can I have some more please?” Oh, how I have changed.

Parenting my 6 going on 16 Year Old!

This little girl came down well after her bedtime the other night all bedazzled! I asked her where she came up with such an outfit - she shrugged, giggled and said "I just thought it up!" The same child received a clock/radio/cd player for Christmas - and we cannot believe how loudly she can blare "Amazing Grace" or the "Anastasia" soundtrack!!! Still my saving grace is when I tuck her in at night and she makes a comment like this one: "It's really nice to have parents, you know. They help you a lot." I hope when she is 16 she'll still feel that way.

My Imminent Naturalization

When Mr. Man and I decided to get married, I was fully aware that he had lived in the States for the last several years, but I didn’t think I could go wrong marrying a “Canadian”. We had several immigration issues to sort through even during our engagement and given the time frame, we had even created a Plan B which was to marry in Canada and live there instead of going Mr. Man’s route with the visas and back out to Hawaii for school. I was sure Plan A would fail and that I would happily stay in my country. As much as I dragged my feet, as slow as the consulate was… Plan A worked out. Mr. Man had promised we would be in the States for one semester, at which time we would apply to Canadian schools and return to our home and native land. The past 7 years have been the longest semester of my life!

I started out with a fiancée visa, paid more than enough money, and visits to immigration officials (proving I wasn’t just married to “get” in the country) and soon became an alien and a conditional permanent resident. Not long ago I was able to get the “conditional” status removed and I am now proudly a permanent resident. However, every time we cross the border or when I happen to leave the country without Mr. Man, issues arise. Mr. Man has to write to give permission for me to take “his” children out of the country. Now that I have children in school, I feel a large obligation to be a part of the voting community… but I can’t, nor have I ever. As the years pass and the border patrol becomes more strict, we worry about our family becoming separated due to our differing passports and citizenship status’. Every time we get worried and know that, in reality, and for the best interest of our family, I must become an American citizen, I look into the application process, the test that has to be taken and the oath that I must repeat while renouncing my Canadian citizenship. And then my heart sinks, because I just don’t know if I can do it.

Mr. Man says I’m the only Canadian with this much pride for my country – which, in fact, practically makes me an American. But it’s hard. Could you do it? Renounce your home of birth, your place of origin and agree to stand and fight for another country that still does not feel like home? I used to be extremely pessimistic towards the US – mostly I was homesick – (but Amy and Kai can recall all my unfair statements). As I’ve grown older (and I like to think, more mature) and having moved so frequently across the country, my views and outlook have improved. We have grown to love everywhere we have lived. We have friends across the country and throughout the world. We are very blessed that way. I no longer have my heart set against living in the United States. I’m open to the fact that this may be my life and we’re not just “going to school”here… but still, it’s hard. I’ve been a royal pain to Mr. Man for years about our “country” issue… and I’ve tried to let it go and get over my seriously strong, intense and impossibly enduring feelings of nationality. Why is it such a big issue? Why must I choose? Can’t I just be a “North American” citizen? So we’re facing the issues of passports expiring and looking forward to the continual pain and cost of renewing my permanent residency “green card” and know that my naturalization, though seemingly unnatural, is indeed imminent. I’ve decided it’s too much for me to bear for the time being, but I’m making it a goal for 2008. Because you never know, at that point Mr. Man may graduate and we’ll return to the True, North, Strong and Free.

Variations of Luke 2

Our family acts out the Christmas story on Christmas Eve – here are some particularly memorable and humorous excerpts:

On their travels, Mary was in Joseph’s way: “Mary! MOVE!”

Joseph, leaning over to whisper in Mary’s ear at the stable after giving birth – he is already straddling the donkey: “Mary! Mary! Mary, I have to go somewhere, I’ll be right back!”

The shepherd was overly enthusiastic about having his sheep talk to baby Jesus (right in His face!) and Mary was not impressed: “Shepherd! My baby is allergic to your sheep!”

The shepherd ran away for a bit and returned “in a minute” with a favourite toy: “I got Muck! Muck’s here now!”

When it was getting a little too tedious to read from the good book, we started to ad lib... As the wise man, I pointed to the light above the manger and said, “I see a bright star over there!” Mr. Man continued to narrate, but Mary stopped us “STOP! Is it a red light? Is it Rudolph? Mom, what are you seeing?”


Needless to say, our reenactment could use some help… but it is definitely a fun Christmas Eve tradition!