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.