Dearest J:
Today you are three.  This picture is about 4 months old, but you look about the same, but with a shaggy head of hair.  It is shaggy, because you are strong willed and do not enjoy getting a haircut.  And I am weak, and don't have it in me to wrestle you while some stranger tries to a.)chase after your head with a sharp object, or b.) torture you with buzzers.  You love to GO to the hairdresser, but quickly decide you don't love the actual act of the hair cut.  Just the lollipops.  You're the first one to protest haircuts, btw.  Your older brothers have never put up a fight, not that I'm comparing.

This past year has been monumental for you.  You went from being extremely grumpy most of the time, to being my favorite 2 year old who potty trained himself in a day.  Yes a day.  And you became quite silly and funny and a joy to be around.  Lately you've gone back to your roots, but I still think you're my favorite 3 year old.  You love your big brothers.  You're still pretty fond of D and patient with him, even though he bites.   I love how you say "I loves you mama!"

You started talking about this time last year.  You talk a lot now, but I probably understand about 70% of what you say.  Other people only understand about 40% of what you.  Grandmom and Opa barely understand you at all.  What you do say is most often hilarious.  Like, "old mc donald had a farm, then he pooped on his lawn."  I have no idea where that came from.  Most of what you say sounds like it comes from an 8 year old with an attitude, cause I think you adore Q too much.  I love to look at you and find you adorable, even when you're trying to be mean.  You're too much with that blonde hair and blue eyes and long eyelashes.   I love how independent you are, and that you potty trained yourself (did I mention that already?) I love watching you play with B.  And how affectionate you are with D.  My heart could almost burst when you request that I sit next to you to watch a show, or when I watch you read a book with Q.  I love watching the brotherhood.  And I love watching you find your place with Q and B and D.

You're really into Cars and Toy Story, even the Incredibles.  Your request for your birthday was for a BIG Buzz Lightyear and a McQueen birthday cake.  And it was the first time I didn't make the cake myself, and feel a little bad, but you loved it anyway.

I'm pretty sure you are left handed, and I"m pretty sure Daddy is really excited about this.  He always wanted a left-hander in the family for baseball reasons.  Apparently a left-handed pitcher is a good thing? You're smart and curious, you can count to 15 which I think is pretty good.

Just so you know, we have you scheduled for baby dedication on November 10 this year.  I know you are not a baby, but I've tried at least 3 times to have you dedicated but someone was always sick.  So here's hoping we actually get it done this time.  Its not cause I forgot or am a slacker or anything.

J, I love you.  And I am blessed by you.  Have a happy 3rd birthday.  

Please Give Your Dearest Husband a Pass

  This may be a post full of stereotypes and assumptions, but here goes.  And I mean this in all silliness-sort of.
Everyone once in a while, just give your husband a pass.  Like when he forgets something important, or not important in the grand scheme of things.  When he's messy, or leaves his socks on the floor, or is just forgetful of the details.  Here's why.  His intentions and his motives are probably not to piss you off or make you feel bad, ruin your day.  He's not dumb.  Assume that his intentions are upright.  Assume the best of him, not the worst.  Why?  Cause he's not your enemy, but your partner, your teammate.  And how do I know this?  Well, cause most of the time, I am the forgetful husband.
Really.
This past monday was our 13th anniversary.  I know when our anniversary is, I love Scott, I am a woman, and I'm supposed to love romance.  But when Monday rolled around, guess who forgot to buy at least a card?  Or even have a plan for my man? ME.  Yes, I'm hanging my head in sorrow and shame, because I stink.  And then when the doorbell rang and a man delivered flowers to me from my beloved.  Who was it that frantically texted a friend for ideas as to what to do for him?  That was me.  And trust me, its not because I forgot entirely, nor because I don't care about him or love him.  I love that man more than any other person on this planet.  You might think its because I'm selfish or thoughtless, but that's not the case.  Most times when it comes to gifts for Scott, I often come up with nothing.  I lack imagination and creativity when it comes to things for him.  And I am distracted.  So distracted.  When I clean or cook or do anything that requires multiple steps or planning, it takes me so long.  Little people call my name.  I see something dirty, the sofa calls my name, a smell calls me to a diaper to change.  "I'm distracted", is an understatement.  ( In writing this post, I've stopped and started so many times, its taken the whole afternoon to write).  I thought about our anniversary many days in advance.  I contemplated surprises, and awesome gifts, but forgot most of my brilliant ideas the next day.  How does this happen?  For Christmas presents I started a list of ideas on my phone to remind me.  But at the moment, there's nothing on that list cause the awesome iOS update deleted all my apps, and their info.  Nice excuse right?
 Scott and I have many role reversals when it comes to male and female roles.  I guess I'm the lucky one here.  Actually, I know I am.  He does our laundry cause I'm not so detail oriented and I leave the clothes in the dryer too long.  He's the neat one.  I'm more of a free spirit shall we say.  My memory is fleeting, and his is not.  I heard Q tell his brothers that "Mom has a bad memory.  She can only remember when she was a kid, not what happened yesterday."  And that is the darn truth.  So when Scott gets frustrated that I forgot to get him the deodorant he needed, I hope he knows its not cause I don't love him or that he knows that I am not really dumb.  He does show me grace when these things occur.  I hope that I in turn show him grace for these things too.  And I beg you to give your husband a pass, if he happens to be be like me.  Trust me, I don't enjoy being the one that forgets.

I Always Wanted All Boys

I probably say this to a stranger at least once a week.  When they see me with the brood, and do not spy a girl.  They then ask, "are you trying again for your girl".  NOPE!  No thanks.  I never had a desire for a girl.  Probably cause deep down I have always admired boys and their way of doing things.  I had dolls growing up, but I was competitive and a tom boy and just related better to boys.  I"m sure some psychologist somewhere is stroking his goatee and saying to himself, "mommy issues."  But I don't care. Anywhoo.
I always dreamed of four kids and four boys.  And I'm shocked that I have it.  Blessed really.  However, I only had one brother.  And I never really witnessed the brother to brother relationships that occur.  And I did not expect the following things when it comes to boys.

-When angry, they hit, kick, punch and scream.  And then are over it.  This can happen in rapid succession, and I'm always amazed that they always go to bed best friends.
-The crazy running around these kids do at break of day.  Before I've had my coffee.
-The wrestling.  I cannot tolerate being in the room when this occurs.  Or the same house for that matter.  Its loud, and scary.  And I'm always telling someone not to hit the other, or be careful, and then I end up pulling them off each other and yelling at them to stop.  Even though they are all laughing and having a great time, I cannot take it.  "you're going to get hurt!"  I tell them they have to do this type of thing when its a boy's night (AKA, when I'm not home, and Scott it there).
-The love of dirt and digging.  B was so desperate for dirt this summer, he asked, I told him he could dig in the back yard where there was no grass.  We have a whole line of pine trees in the back where no grass grows.  I thought he understood that was where I meant he could dig.  But when I finished cleaning a bathroom and came to investigate, I found he chose a patch in our carefully manicured lawn by my groundskeeper (Scott), and set out to dig.  In a short time, he cleared a good hole and filled a bucket with dirt.  It was not by the back trees, rather right off the patio where a tiny patch of grass had turned brown.  I got in trouble for that one.  Whoops.  (note to self: Next time physically show him where its ok to dig. )
-And I'll leave this one up to your imagination, but my pediatrician put it this way.  "When you have boys, you don't need bath toys."
:)

overwhelmed

Quite often I am overwhelmed.  For about the last year I have been overwhelmed in a bad way.  Like, how on earth will this family make it clothed, fed, and loved for another day.  But lately, I've not felt that sort of overwhelmed.  Lately, I've been overwhelmed with thoughts of how I'm never really lonely.  How sweet and precious D is, and how I can't imagine life without him.  Even though every time he empties a cabinet I want to scream, but then he looks at me and smiles so proud of himself, and I want to take a picture just to remember his cute little face.  With the buck teeth.  And muppet hair.
I'm overwhelmed with how affectionate B is, despite me just freaking out on him for something.  He's always wanting a hug.  With how loving J is with his little brother.  Tells me he's HIS baby.  With how Q loves to help B with his homework, or to teach a younger brother to play monopoly jr and helps him count the spaces and money correctly.  Watching them all play anything outside makes me want to take a thousand pictures so I can't forget.  With watching Scott throw a football with them, and chase them down to tackle them.  How J laughs uncontrollably every time he has a football in his hand and runs.  The look of sheer joy on Q's face when he actually catches a pass.  And how dirty their knees get from getting tackled when wearing shorts.  I cannot get their knees clean with all the soap and scrubbing.  But I love that.  I LOVE it when my boys come in filthy from playing outside.  Always have.
How B gets so excited when it's an "off day" for everyone, "Yes! we can play!!"  That kid loves to play.  How J wakes up and tells me to put my jamma's back on.  And how that boy potty trained himself in a day (boy was that a gift!).
I am so overwhelmed with the blessings that God has lavished on me.  His love and grace.  I don't deserve any of it.  I take so much for granted.  But I'm so thankful.  Thankful for times of the good overwhelmed feelings that wash over me and make me smile.

Sometimes you have to chicken out.

This summer, I hired a babysitter to come once a week so I could grocery shop or run an errand or take a kid to the doctor without four children in tow.  It was a great idea on my part, and well worth the money.

Well, my beloved babysitter is off to college and could not help me this week.  So, I did the unthinkable.  I set out to take them all grocery shopping with me.  A full on, get it all done, all the groceries for the week-grocery shop.  It only took me an hour to convince myself that I could do it and that I should do it.  Even though I know from experience that I shouldn't do it, that its not worth it, and I'm running low on patience and sanity this week.  I vacillated between, we have enough food to last til the weekend when I can shop by myself, and no, we cannot eat the stale rice crispies and cheerios for breakfast, lunch and dinner (especially since the date on the box of rice crispies was 10/2012--I only buy those things for one reason: rice crispie treats, and I always forget to buy the marshmallows when I get the hankering for a treat).  Not that eating stale rice crispie treats is a horrible thing.  Plus, I didn't have the milk for cereal.  Did I mention that I keep 4 types of milk in my fridge at all times?  Its ridiculous.  Soy milk for the 3 boys.  Whole milk for D.  Lactose free milk for Scott and I (I am allergic to soy milk and I'm glad cause that stuff is gross), and buttermilk, and half and half.  The last two, I'll admit, are not necessary, but I refuse to drink coffee without half and half, and what's a good homemade pancake without buttermilk.  (yes, I know you can make it, and Scott does, but its better with real buttermilk, trust me).  Besides the milk, I didn't have any fruit or juice or anything else to keep you regular, and that's important.

So, yes, I decided that I should go shopping. With four children.  I was mentally preparing myself.  Then announced that everyone should find shoes and get in the car.  It took another 22 minutes for everyone to find shoes.  Then another 12 minutes for everyone to get outside.  Once outside, I had to yell at everyone that No, it wasn't time to ride bikes.  Put the bikes back.  Put the bikes back! Put the bikes back!!!!  Once I got everyone in the car and buckled, I stopped in the garage to collect myself and prayed.  Got in the car, drove to the store, pulled into the parking lot and parked.  Got out to look for that dreaded car shopping car.  The one you hate, but its necessary because you need to strap a two year old in and a 13month old in to a cart to commence shopping without losing a kid or harming one because they insist on buying a 2lb jar of gefilte fish or the $20 box of crayons that was conveniently right at his eye level and reach.  Well, I could not find the dreaded car cart.  I thought they might be inside the store, but I continued to think it out.  The following thoughts then arose and I had two options:

1. I could do this.  I could put D in the front pack, and J in the seat of a regular shopping cart.  This option came with way too many variables of terrible scenarios coming to mind.  All of which I had experienced with taking my four young boys to the store before.  The tantrums and fighting were the two most recent memories.  

2. I could do option 1, and shave a month or several years off my life or, I could go home and go shopping at night. Which, sounded like a much better plan.  

I chose option 2.  I rarely shop at night because I value my time with Scott pretty intensely.   I like spending time with him, and we have a busy schedule this week.  Also, I feel like I should be able to get the household stuff done during the day, since its my job and all.  But, today, I chose sanity for every party involved.  I also wanted to be able to shop my list and get what we needed.  One time I went shopping with just 2 kids and ended up coming home with 4 bags of cheese sticks and 6 boxes of mac n cheese that snuck past me somehow and forgot to buy vital items like milk and eggs.  And wondered why my grocery bill was $30 over.  

So, yes.  I chickened out.  I didn't go.  I remember when some friends of mine who had little kids told me that they refused to go grocery shopping with their kids, I would scoff at them.  I didn't get it then but I do now.  Oh how I get it now.  I still feel a little bit weak for not going.  I'm also judging myself and shaking my head.  But it IS the end of a long summer. Oddly, its only been 6 weeks, probably the shortest summer vacation in a long time, but man if I am not fantasizing about two of them being in school (another something I would judge moms about: "Don't you love spending time with your kids?")  Enduring a summer vacation with 4 boys at home is probably why I was absolutely giddy with excitement to go to the dentist yesterday for a tooth ache (and was much disappointed when I didn't have time to sit and look at a magazine in the waiting room).  

Who knew?  Shopping at 10pm is actually super nice.  It was like a retreat.  There wasn't even other shoppers there to get in my way.  And there were like 5 employees sitting around to ask where stuff was (my current store is under construction so I went to a new one).  Another added bonus to shopping at 10pm?  Coming home and having someone to help you bring in the groceries AND put them away.  A win-win.  

Yes, I chickened out, but I didn't lose my mind.   

(BTW. This whole post has spurred so many other topics in my mind: mainly:  How do you home school momma's do it? Really.  I cannot imagine.)  

A Birthday.

My dearest husband celebrated his birthday on Monday, and my boys had a great time preparing for his birthday.  I took them to Five Below to pick out birthday gifts for him and they purchased the following for him:
Q: A new set of ping pong paddles and balls.
B: Two brand new baseballs
J: ToyStory I DVD
D: A bouncy ball.
Well, the last two I'm not so sure they knew it was going to Daddy.  J pretty much is obsessed with Toy Story and during the winter months would ask to watch "Toys Stores" every day twice a day if I let him.  (not the whole movie, just bits and pieces).  When he found the DVD in the store, he wouldn't put it down.  Then when we got it home to wrap it, he wanted to unwrap it right away.  Poor kid wakes up and says "Today is my birthday?" Nope.  Sorry J.  He knows its in October.  He's got quite of few let downs coming in August (my mom's birthday and Q's and a couple cousins too).
D obviously isn't aware that it was Scott's birthday, he just loves bouncy balls.

They also got to pick out decorations for the 'party', which were skull and cross bones plates, cups and napkins.  B got to set the table and Q hung up the streamers and balloons.  They were very into it and so excited to show Daddy what they created when they got home.  I wish I had pictures, but I'm so harried, I forgot and then Q tore down all the decorations the next day before I even got out of bed.  Oh well.
Sunday night I had actually scheduled a babysitter so Scott and I could go out to dinner to celebrate.  We didn't leave til 7:30 and didn't get to our destination til 8pm.  We went to Gallo's which is in our old stomping grounds of NE Philly.  Well, its not a place known for hits hip young clientele. And actually, its frequented by OLD people, like in their 80's.  But Scott had a hankering for seafood so we went.  By the time we got there it was closed.  At 8pm! On a Sunday.  I had a suspecting that it would be, but didn't want to burst his bubble myself.  Scott was a bit sad that he wasn't going to get his pistachio crusted tilapia and fried zucchini for dinner, so, I made that for his birthday dinner.  Except I made pistachio crusted salmon instead.  The fried zucchini was awesome too.  The boys were a little sad that they didn't get to pick dinner (in fact they didn't eat it, they ate cereal bars.).  But I have to say, it was a delicious dinner.

I had actually had fore thought for his birthday (ie, about two days before his actual birthday--actually it was by a reminder of my mom on Thursday that she was sending a card to him, and I was like, what for?  Duh.  His birthday!) and bought birthday cards for him.  But I forgot about them and he didn't get them until Tuesday.  (Do you see the state of my mental capacities working here?)  I knew when his birthday was, I just didn't realize it was in less than a week.  Its the summer.  Everyday is the same.  I'm lucky if I know what day it is let alone the actual date?

But anyway.  Happy Birthday to my man.  Another year older. And better.  He keeps getting better with age :)

Ever wish for a frontal lobotomy?

Yes, a lobotomy.  Where they scramble the frontal lobe of your brain in hopes to change your personality.   Yes, that's what I want.  Sorta.  I get so sick of being a over thinking,grump.  I'd love to turn off that part of my brain now, please.   Or turn off that part of me thats just in such a fog and can't find the joy to choose it, to make myself feel like I'm in a  lovely contented place in my life.
*sigh*  Bleh, bleh bleh, whine whiney whine!
I just finished a week at VBS which was lots of fun for all of us.  Today we had big plans to go fishing and enjoy time together.  But the plans were soon turned into a work day at home, complete with a sanding and refinishing of the counter top.  Boooring! (It was necessary to ditch the fun plans because the B is sick).  But honestly, I'm struggling.  Not because I'm not getting to do what I want, but just to rise above this heavy weight of funk that seems really hard to shake.  It depends on the day, and the time of day sometimes, but it sucks and I want it gone.  I think it maybe a food thing, like too much sugar.  I spent the day yesterday over-indulging in junk and today it feels as if there is NO good in the world.  Even when there is.  Like how J just said to me, "I wuv you SOO much." And how B just was so overjoyed that I made him jello water and chicken noodle soup.  "This is the BEST dinner ever!" And I should just rejoice in the fact that no one has fought today.  And that Q was so sweet and helpful for B at 6 in the morning, that I wanted to cry.  Seriously, my sister never emptied my barf bucket for me and got me a drink.  They really are good little boys.  And I see the good.  I just cannot shake the fog today.  Maybe its from disrupted sleep.  Or I'm in the middle of some spiritual warfare.  Maybe both.
We talked a lot about spiritual warfare this week in VBS.  It was all about the armor of God and how we need to arm ourselves for battle.  I'm in it today baby!  Struggling to fight the enemy's lies that I suck and will never be a good mom, or wife, or lose weight, etc.  
Truth is, I'm in this battle, have been for a while.  I used to feel so connected to God's power and spirit and felt invincible.  In fact, when I started blogging like 4 years ago, I titled it Living on the Vine and I felt so convicted to blog about my journey and how God was working in my life.  I heard his voice (not like in a crazy hearing real voices sort of way), but He spoke to me so clearly through His Word that I was reading on a regular basis.  And that's just it. WAS.  I'm not in the Word.  I'm not connecting to the Vine.  I'm not remaining in Him, and I am feeling alone.  I'm sure the devil has me where he wants me. or NOT No.  Not quite.
So, here I go.  Back to battle.  I will arm myself today, right now!

Finally, Be Strong in the LORD and in His mighty power.  Put on the full armor of God, so that you may take your stand against the devils schemes.  Eph. 6:10-11

My Baby is One. A letter to the Youngest.

One year.  He's so old.  I'm mostly sad that this year has flown by.  I have very few pictures of this boy.  And I have guilt about that.  I'm sorry smallest one.  I swore it wouldn't happen, but yes, there are significantly less pictures of you than Q.
But little D, you are a sweet sweet boy.  You have a great, easy going disposition, and for that I am thankful and grateful, and glad.  You're so laid back, you're milestones aren't exactly hit on schedule. But I know you're good, and you'll point and speak with ease in a matter of time.  J didn't talk at all till he was two, so maybe you won't say more than "ball" and "bye!" for a while longer.  You're great at playing on your own, and have recently started to hold your own when a big brother steals your ball.  Just like Q, you love all things balls.
I've been quite reminiscent of you and your birth these last couple weeks or so.  I remember lots about you.  Like when they were cutting through me during the c-section, they were surprised to see a 'uterine window' where my uterus was stretched so thin, they could see you through it.  And how they told me both you and I were so lucky I didn't go into labor.  It would have been bad for both of us.  And I think of how God protected us both by putting me on restricted activity months before (when we were trying to pack and move), to keep the constant contractions that I was having too soon, at bay.  I also remember remarking at how much hair you had when you were first born and how you were the only one who got direct skin to skin time with me almost right away.  That was a precious time.  You were very alert and got right to eating.  You're the only one who didn't have any issues eating.  Hooray!

I remember worrying so much before you were born.  I worried that I would completely lose my mind with 3 boys and a new baby and a new house.  I worried that J would hate me and you.  I worried that I wouldn't ever leave the house and that you wouldn't sleep.  And I have to say that while some on my worry list did come true, they haven't killed me.  Yes, I rarely leave the house alone with everyone, J did hate me for a few weeks, and during some moments, my mind has been lost.  But God has proven mighty and good and I have not been overcome by any of these things.  You are a sweet boy, and I know God has blessed me beyond the times of overwhelmedness, and is still working in me.  You are a joy in our house, and everyone loves you.  The big brothers are sweet to you.  J calls you his baby or 'his D'.  He asks to play with you.  Q and B fight who gets to hold you.  Its sweet.  I pray it remains.
At one year old:

You can crawl now, and pull up to stand.  You sleep the night and have eight teeth.  You sometimes eat a ton, but sometimes not.  You suck your thumb, but only in bed.  And you've recently decided that other people besides me and Daddy are OK.  I took you to VBS today, and you didn't cling to me and cry when I dropped you off in the nursery.  It only made me a little sad.
You loved the beach on vacation and didn't mind to eat buckets of sand.  You do not care for pools.  You love to be outside and sit in the grass.  If I am holding you near the door or window, you like to whine until I submit and take you outside.  I like to call you nature boy.
I like to sit and look at you and think of who you'll grow up to be like.   I pray you will be like your name sake and be different and fear God, not man.  To have great faith and chose right and obey God even when it is difficult.
Happy birthday!!

Summer Repeats

Last Summer, or maybe the summer before, I wrote a post about the first day of summer vacation with Q home from school (and how bad it sucked).  I get all excited about summer vaction and have all these hopes and dreams.  Oh, its so  funny.  (and just read my two posts back on summer vacation).  This year, as April approached, I started to get nervous.  Cause I vaguely remember the last two summers and how I had such high hopes and how they came crashing to rather large explosion of crushed expectations.  The first few days of summer vacation always tank.  Like, hard core.  This year did not disappoint.  Monday was awful. The fighting! The messes!  The whining! I have to say, I didn't help things and was a whiny hiney myself.  Tuesday was probably just as bad, but I took some initiative to get out of the house and made plans NOT to make dinner.  Which helped tremendously.   I like not having to make and clean up dinner.  We went to Chick-fil-a and it was actually relaxing, and I fed everyone for $20.39.  And they all ate it, HAPPILY.  There's something to be said for that.

In order to not let this summer go down like last summer, I'm trying to have a plan.  Last summer we literally did nothing but move, unpack, introduce a new baby to the family and swim lessons. (that sounds like a lot).   Seriously, I don't think we left the house much at all.  And we certainly didn't go on vacation.  My grandiose summer plans include check lists, and earning tickets and some school refresher courses (cause B still cannot write his whole name and Q needs to read more). Actually leaving the house.  And challenges.  Lots of them.  There are "mini challenges" every week day, if they chose to complete them are worth tickets.  Today's challenge is building a lego house.  I've designed the challenges to inspire them to do more than the challenge, to get the imagination ball rolling.   I have to say,  I have enjoyed making the plan and the charts and stuff.  The implementing, is not going as well.  The boys have grown accustomed to watching t.v. a lot on Saturdays and not having to do anything that requires, uh, being responsible or anything resembling work. Which isn't good.  I know.  I often would rather do stuff myself than listen to the arguing and whining that goes on when I insist on someone helping.  (So rest assured, I have a system for that).  Ha ha!  Oh the whining. My mother must be delighting in herself.  I recall her once wishing that I would have children that would possess my stellar whining skills.

As these things go, it will probably work for about a week, and then the novelty will wear off.  Probably.  But as for now, I have one kid dusting my baseboards and the other is brushing his teeth and not complaining about it.  So I'll take it.
And hopefully will have more moments like this:

All of us together, having a good time.

It is starting to get harder.  Little boys are rough and tumble.  And I like that.  I like that they skin a knee, seek comfort for about 2 minutes and then are on to the next thing.  For the past 7 years, this has been my norm.  Their little egos seem to only be bruised for a short time as well.  Until now.  This year has been a difficult one for my sweet oldest boy.  I carry such momma's guilt for him right now.  We moved one year ago, and he was a little bit sad about saying good bye to his friends at his old school.  We only moved about 2 minutes from our old place, but it was far enough for him to be sent to a new school.  This new school, it gets the job done.  But I miss the old, small school, which seemed cozy and more nurturing.  In this past year, Q has endured the following:

• Within the first month of school, someone stole his new Angry Birds Lunch Box. 
• Within the first two months of school, someone stole his very best Bey Blade. 
• At Christmastime, someone stole ALL of his secret shop gifts which he purchased for us, and was soooo excited to tell me about the day he bought them.  When he discovered they weren't in his bag, he was crushed.  But was sure they'd be in his class the next day.  They weren't.  Another girl in his class took them, then gave them all away on her school bus that day.  Her mother sent in money so he could reshop for his items.  By the time he got to re-shop, the original gifts he had bought were no longer available.  Talk about a crappy thing to do.  I couldn't explain it to him, but we talked about forgiveness, which he seemed to readily give.
• Then his 'friends' formed a club and wouldn't let him in it.  It was a club for kids who played certain on-line games and video games.  Something we do not allow him to play.  But the kids wouldn't play with him anymore, and declared him not their friends.  This incident had us both in tears.  
• Our school district decided to re-district and his very best friend in 2nd grade will not be returning.  My boy went to bed weeping. And my heart aches for him.  I know he'll get over it, eventually.  But he was so mopey today, and if he had a second to stop and think, he'd cry.  I've never seen him carry a sadness like this for so long.  His two minutes of sad has stretched in to a whole day.  Its hard for me to watch.  And for the first time, I can't fix it.  I can't make it better.  When I asked him what I could do to make it better, he simply said, "nothing."  

This is what people mean when they say I'm in the easiest stage of life right now with my little ones.  They're easy to comfort, nothing a little kiss and a snuggle won't fix.  They're easy to please with some home made cookies and backyard games.  Popsicles and lollipops.  A T.V. show and a special snack.  Now, the problems start to get a little more complicated.  Their little hurts last longer, and are more difficult to help, or not help.  My own behavior toward my oldest also seems to effect him more and for a longer period of time.  I had to discipline him last week, and did so by taking away computer privileges, and he was MAD at me.  Like didn't talk to me for two days.  Was sullen and withdrawn from me, and I hated it!.  What's that about?  Today, I had it out with B, in a huge battle of the wills which lasted a long time, and resulted in him calling me 'bad' and 'mean'.  But when I tucked B in bed tonight, the best part of his day was "You mom."  Really kid?  You don't remember that hour of time out and screaming?  But I'll take it.   And yes, I'd like time to stand still a little bit longer for my Q.  Watching him realize that people suck, well, its sucks.  

I can feel this getting more difficult.  I'm feeling a tiny bit unprepared, and unqualified.  And I feel the need to pray more and more for my kids, and wisdom for Scott and I.  

Summer Vacation

Do you remember summer vacation?  I think I do.  And by that I mean, I tend to always look back on things with rose colored glasses.  Like pregnancy.  I miss it, and seem to think its lovely.  If only I hadn't written posts about the exhaustion and vericose veins and sleepless nights that comes with it.  But just last week, I saw a pregnant woman in line ahead of me and longed to rub my belly full of life  in it (not just the jiggled that life left behind ;) Is summer vacation like that?  Do I only remember the fun things I did as a kid when there was no structure or media telling us it wasn't safe to let your kids play outside all day without sunscreen or parental guidance? Was I bored and did I get into trouble? I don't remember being bored or getting into trouble. 
But the things I remember of summer vacation:
waking up when I wanted to. 
-my mom's feeble attempt at structure and responsibility at the beginning via chore charts.  They lasted about a week, but I thought it was fun at first.
-being barefoot all day long (and it not hurting my back nor my feet).
- riding my bike with my friends/
-making chalk towns in the street with friends
-dips in our pool, having the whole neighborhood at our pool.  Poor Oma, and all that water dripped through the house when someone needed to use the loo.  (only now can I relate).
-Endless playing outside, or down the street with the neighbors, coming home only for meals or when it finally got dark.
-Catching lightening bugs. 
-Helping baby birds and other stray animals, and giving them home in our garage.
-Rollerskating
-Backyard circus performances.
-watching disney movies on rainy days.
-One summer my mom sent me to day camp.  Which I HATED!!!!!!! Awful.  Terrible.  And she must have been in cahoots with my neighbors mom, cause they went to.  And they hated it too.
-Sleep over camp at Camp Swatara.  One week of pure bliss in the woods.  I loved this.  But even now, I don't think I'll ever send my kids.  And I'm not sure why.  I don't think Q could handle it for one. 
-Not having A/C and not caring.  I can recall like 3 times it being hot enough for my parents to put on the room a/c in the living room and us all camping out in there for a night.  Its either 100 degrees hotter now in my old age, or I'm a spoiled brat (probably the later), cause we just spent too much money putting in central air for our upstairs.

But what has happened now?  I find my self asking all the neighborhood mom's what their kids do all summer.  Cause last summer, there were NO kids.  ANd then suddenly the first day of school there are 12 kids at the bus stop.  Twelve.  Do they just disappear.  Go to their shore houses?  Camp?  What?  I over heard some conversations that some moms have about which camps and other activities they are doing, and I had a couple reactions to this.  What the heck am I going to do with 4 boys home for 8 weeks.?! Save me now! THey need structure!  They need camps and VBS and a pool membership and yadda yadda.  But then I realized they are perfectly happy without those things.  Its my need for structure and schedule that they be involved in such things.  Plus, I feel like if I let my kids roam the neighborhood like I did as a kid, they'd be stolen or CPS would be called on me. Or at the very least, the neighborhood would get together and declare me unfit in their own minds.
I feel like I want to take back summer vacation for my kids.  To trash the cable and netflix subscriptions so they can only watch one of two shows that come on (like Tom and Jerry or Jem and the holigrams used to, not these channels of 24 hours of kids shows that I use to my benefit today).  To provide them with carboard boxes and masking tape and poster paint to create a lemonade stand.  To let them ride their bikes to the corner and back without me hovering.  To let them stay up late to catch lightening bugs.  To let them be barefoot and eat watermellon, and hangout out back with just shorts on (or even worse, just a diaper! how trashy would that be?).   To dig in the dirt and build forts or play in the kiddie pool, which will kill the grass (and Scott's pride).  To read endless books.  To take a vacation from technology, and possibly let them drive me crazy with the "Mom, I'm bored" declarations on a rainy day. 
 I have a couple more weeks till summer vacation starts.  And I want to change my heart to provide them with a fun summer, that is free and unstructured, but balanced. Instead of wanting everyone not to bother me, or make messes.   To not waste these years. Cause soon, they'll be sleeping till 1pm and I'll be annoyed at that, right?

Go Play!

I have come to the determination that there are people who love hard work, and get some sort of satisfaction from working hard.  And there are people that don't.  I do not love hard work.  I do love a project that I can complete and look at it and say, "I did that!" but it has to be a). short and, b.)easy.  Mothering four children is hard work, and while I do enjoy my children, I do not enjoy the work that comes along with it for the most part.  LOL. This is a ridiculous statement I know.  I'm lazy by nature.  I guess God is changing me by making it impossible to be lazy.  If I chose to be lazy, everything falls apart, rapidly. And then I do not enjoy the chaos that happens as a result. Bleh.  Anywhoo.
Yesterday, I was doing my Monday thing, restoring the house to order after a weekend of everyone being home.  I was working and hadn't sat down since 7am except to drive to pick up B from preschool.  It was about 4pm, Q was home from school and I was starting dinner and I was just about to throw something because I was sick of working. 
Q finished his homework and it was a beautiful day outside.  He begged to play on the computer.  I said no. He whined, and I told him to go play outside.  He whined again.  "Will you play with me?" *sigh* I have too much to do.  The baby will be up any minute, I have to finish dinner...I had a list of excuses.  But I agreed.  We went out back and played the 'usual'.  Baseball.  AND, I had a blast! Seriously.  Pitching the ball and then trying to run down my four and seven year olds as they got to base was like therapy to me.  It was like a weight was lifted, and we laughed and ran around like, well, four and seven year olds.  Then Scott returned home from his vacation day at work, and continued playing.  I over cooked the chicken for my chicken and dumplings, but it was well worth it.  I was more than happy to continue the chores for the day. This phenomenon happened to me one day last week when I decided to teach them how to play "T.V. tag."  A great game the whole family could play together.
I'm very sure that this is not a new discovery and that everyone knows it.  To really enjoy my family, I have to play too.  I can't just focus on the daily grind of getting things done.  I have to take time and play. Hopefully, taking a little bit of time to play won't cause the house to go into chaos.  
Remarkable how long its taken me to realize this.

Small Victories

Having four blessings has changed me.  I rarely leave the house unless I absolutely have to these days.  Sometimes, I think it might be a bit of depression, but I largely think because I am more afraid of my children's behavior when we leave the house.  My two year old, has no fear (except of heights), and doesn't listen, which makes it rather unsafe sometimes to take him out. 
I've been feeling defeated about it, but I realized that I let my overwhelmedness consume me and shut me down.  It happens a lot.  But I had had enough of my feeling of hopelessness about my kids behavior lately and have decided, its time to clear the fog, and DROP THE HAMMER! 
I've been working on the middle two boys behavior for a couple of weeks at home.  Being super concious of providing consequences and not ignoring disobediance and being consistent.  Which sucks by the way.  I'm sorry to all my clients whom I have rolled my eyes at (in my imagination)when they failed to be consistent... Yes, being consistent is hard work.  It sucks, especially when I just want to sit here and sip my beloved coffee.  But my laziness cannot trump the importance of my kids behavior and heart issues.  So, yes.  I've sorta gone boot camp on them.  I always used to tell my clients to get their behavior under control at home first and then attempt outings.  So, I've been doing that and decided to get out of the house and go to the mall to let these two run a muck a bit, and pick up some vitamins.  And it went ok.  I was in a funk yesterday though.  Feeling rather wiped because D had been up for 3 nights in a row with either a stomach virus or a reaction to antibiotics or just plain feeling crappy, and I forgot what interrupted sleep does to me.  I just felt out of it and moody.  While I was there, feeling rather lifeless, I prayed that God would give me a little gift to show me that my efforts today (and everyday) were worth it. And as we walked through the Sears a woman remarked at how beautiful my boys were and how well behaved they were.  I had to smile.  Not that I live for the approval of others, but it was enough to encourage me.  They did look pretty cute.  B adorning his faux hawk and JD chose to wear swim goggles on his head as his 'glasses'.  He chose to walk instead of ride the bus (my double stroller), and he did a great job of not touching things and obeying.  Which is a huge improvement.  So, the small victories I will take.  And keep going. 

A birthday tradition

Today is my birthday, and my family does not disappoint in carrying through our tradition.  For the last four years, some kid of mine or I have vomited on my birthday (and all due to stomach bugs).  This time its B's turn to deliver my birthday gift.  YAY! Note previous birthday gifts~
And true to March 6 fashion, we're expecting a winter storm.  Its either been snowing or wintry mixing on my birthday, for as long as I can remember.  Good times!
We've been dealing with stomach issues a lot lately in our house.  Not viruses, but Q has had an upset belly for weeks and eventually stopped eating much of anything.  When I took him to the doctor, he told me he doesn't think anything is wrong, and to wait another couple weeks to see if it will go away.  I hate that answer.  I was initially OK with it, but then as I watched Q become a shadow of himself, and just lay around and not eat, the more I needed to do something.  We did try some miralax over the weekend with him, and are waiting to see if that helps.  I understand not wanting to do unneeded testing, but come on.  This same doctor has lectured me about being late for appointments, when I hadn't been late, it just took the front desk forever to get to me to check me in as I stood in line.  He also openly questioned a mother of newborn twins why she was 30 minutes late (in front of a waiting room full of people).  When she barely spoke English and said she "Lost herself", I wanted to punch the doctor in the face! The nerve.  I can't tell you how many times I've waited at least an hour to be seen by him.  So on Friday, when I saw him run into the office front door 20 minutes PAST my appointment time with him, it was HIS turn to be questioned.  I very respectfully and calmly asked him if he "cared to explain himself and why he was late".  Which is his very own wording when someone else is late.  Argh.  I'm contemplating switch doctors, or at least having a conversation with.
Sorry for a random ranty post. It's really all I'm good for these days, so I rather not post.  I just had to document that my Happy Birthday Vomit struck again.
Well, happy March. 

Humbled

Sometimes, I get a little on my high horse about how well I'm handling things.  And then something happens and am humbled.  For instance:
Scott was away this past weekend and I decided, since I was such a great household manager, that I'd paint the powder room while he was gone.  You know, to show him (and maybe myself), that I can totally cope and then some, when he's not around.  I was going to surprise him.  Well, I got my paint, trimmed and did the first coat on friday night, and was feeling pretty proud.  Saturday nite I was to do touch ups and clean up.  I got the paint poured into the tray that night, and feeling oh so confident and proud (and looking forward to being done in less than an hour so I could watch some girl t.v.) then, promptly threw up.  It came on instantly, and I was totally debilitated.  AND to make matters worse, I broke out in hives, and HAD to call my mom to come rescue me, incase I was totaled for the night and the kids got up.  If you know me, I HATE calling my mom to help.  Its admitting defeat, and a total pride breaker. Gasp.

 Saturday, I was also successful in getting the big boys to help me shovel the driveway and walk, and then made it out to get Valentine's for school parties.  We even had the Valentine's filled out on Saturday and assemebled and ready to go that night.  Then, fast forward to today. I went to put B's into his back pack for his party today and they were no where to be found.  I'm pretty sure I threw them away in my efforts to clear the island of paper clutter.  When I'm 'decluttering' the island, I pretty much rant as I'm doing it, because I feel like i must do it 4 times a day! Its like a magnet for papers and toys.  So I probably was disgusted at one point on Sunday or Monday or Tuesday and was just tossing things, and mistakenly tossed the box of valentines as well.  poop.  Or a two year old made off with them and hid them in the best of hiding spots (the trash can).  This morning I was so dissapointed in myself that they were lost.  Blah.
So much for doing things ahead of time (and yes, doing them 4 days ahead is probably a record breaker!). I ended up sending him in with odds and ends that I had to write his name on instead of his own 4 year old precious signature!

Yes, I'm a failure.  I'll never have it together.  And as dissapointing as that is, its what I need to figure out sometimes.  As try as I might, I can't do it all, or be the best.  I can't do anything to make God love me any more or any less.  He loves me for my failures and successes.  And its by HIS strength and grace that I can get up everyday and try to share that love and grace. 

Catch Up

December has come and gone.  I haven't posted in a while, and am thinking of abandoning ship on the blog. 
But I will update for the sake of it. In case one day I look back...
December started off slow, and I did not feel ready or wanting Christmas to come at all.  I think it was because Thanksgiving was earlier and I wasn't prepared to decorate and stuff right after Thanksgiving. 
We decorated and got a tree as usual.  This years tree was so much smaller than the years past.  I have no pictures of it to commemorate our first tree in our new house.  Everytime I looked at the tree, I thought it looked puny and sad.  At our old house we'd get a 10ft tree.  It would use 6 strands of lights and boxes and boxes of ornamaments.  This smaller tree took two strands and our two boxes of meaningful family ornaments (non of my favorite glass balls).  But it was a blast to decorate it.  Q and B really got a kick out of picking up every ornament and remembering when they got it.  JD was somewhat of a terror during the process, got bored quickly then tried to do things himself.  Which is never good. 
D chilled and watched us decorate it, then slept through the rest of the day.
Scott also put up the lights outside.  Later that day, we had my Dad over and the boys took him outside to view their handiwork.  Then they didn't come back in for a LONG time, and I instantly knew what happened.  They decided to take a walk in the dark, in our unlit neighborhood, without sidewalks, in which idiots like to speed down the street, in the dark, with my Dad who can't see, nor does he know the neighborhood, and the kids don't either, and my heart.  Oh my heart.  It dropped to the pit of my stomach, in seconds when I went out side and yes, they were gone.  Scott jumped in the car to search for them, and found them approximately 15min later, which was just long enough to make me sick.  Because, while I was running through the streets screaming Q's name, with D in my arms probably looking and sounding like a crazy person, while doing that, I heard sirens, and my mind went from zero to "their dead", in half a second.  I know I'm dramatic, but I was scared.  But they were fine, and I lectured Q (not my dad), about how unsafe what they did was, and they always need to ask Scott or I if they leave the yard. Oy!
Moving on,
D had his first illness which consisted of a horrible upper respiratory infection in which he had a fever for 5 days.  After the 3rd day of fever, I started to panic.  I don't do well when my babies have fevers for days like that.  I start imagining the worst. He got over it.
We experianced a family first of 8 stitches to the chin.  Q fell at school (in class, just walking), and split his chin open.  When they called me I had a shopping cart full of Christmas gifts.  This was friday before Christmas.  Learned several lessons in this ordeal. One of which was, stop waiting til the last minute to do Christmas shopping.  (I never got those presents, I did go back to get them, but they were gone).
My Dad, once again, was in the hospital for Christmas.  This time with gal stones and pancreatitis.  Its not Christmas without a trip to the hospital to see Dad! Awesome.  Thankfully, he's fine now.
JD woke up from his nap the same Friday Q required stitches with an ear infection.  Scott insisted we take him to an urgent care that night.  So he did, he waited 2 hours at the CVS minute clinic to get him his course of antibiotics perscribed. 
Christmas eve and day were fine.  And the kids were well behaved and thankful for their gifts.  Scott had the whole week off between Christmas and New Years and we did nothing.  We did take them bowling, B and Q love bowling, and this was JD's first time.  He was a mess, and it made the whole outing really difficult.  He couldn't grasp the concept of waiting his turn, and when his turn did come, he was so hacked off that we made him wait, he didn't want to play.  Being 2 must suck. 
We don't go anywhere anymore, and I'm growing more content in that.  Its really a crap shoot as to whether or not it will be worth it.  We did go out to dinner at Red Robin last week and it was nice, up till the last 10 minutes.  I figure it was worth it, cause I didn't have to make the food, or clean it up.  Definately worth it.

So that is it.  Not exciting.