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. 

Two

My J turned two a month and a half ago and I need to write down the things I remember about him at this age.  He's a lot like me and B, emotional and not afraid to show it!  But his happy moods are the best and he's so funny.  When I look back to this summer when D was born, so much has hanged in such a little time.  He barely talked when D was born.  In fact, "baby" was like his first word.  He calls D 'baby' all the time.  If you ask him what D's name is, he says "baby" even if you correct him.  Its cute. 
When we first brought D home, J couldn't see him over the edge of the pack-n-play we have in the dining room.  He is now so much taller he can see over and reach over the edge of the pack-n-play to see him and he can touch him.  He's very fond of his baby brother.  Its sweet.  Although he will tell me not to pick up 'baby' when he feels like its his turn with mommy.  He's a chatter box now.  Says all sorts of sentences.  When Karen left in August, he was saying a word here and there, when she saw him over Thanksgiving, he was speaking in sentences.  Crazy.  He calls Q, "nun" or "noo noo", and B "mi mi".  One of my favorite things he says now is "Not Good, Mom."  It often comes out "not dood".  And it cracks me up. 
I'm constantly saying to J, "Guess what?  I love you."  and try sooo hard to get him to say " I love you."  It doesnt' work.  He never says it back.  Last night, he climbs up on the couch next to me and snuggles up to me and says "I love me!"   
He loves to say to me, "Guess what mom?" I say what, and he says "baby go to bed!" and then laughs hysterically.  I have no idea why that's funny, but its his go-to joke. 
He eats a lot during breakfast and lunch, but rarely eats dinner.  And I"ve learned  not to make a big deal of it, and let it go (oh how far I've come, when I used to make Q a separate dinner of mac n cheese so he'd eat!).  If the kid doesn't eat, he doesn't eat.  He loves his big brothers, but B is his punching bag.  B always has scratches all over his face from J.  He is fierce when he's angry.  (and much kudos to B, he doesn't fight back-usually). 
He has taken to carrying a Woody figurine around with him whereever he goes.  Last night, Woody lost his leg.  J was only upset for a second about this, and now carries a leg-less Woody around everywhere.  He used to call him "Buzz" all the time, but now he's "oodie". 
This kid is wicked cute.  My mom calls him a Hummel.  And he does have that German angelic baby look about him.  Fat cheeks, big big blue eyes, he's a darling.  Just don't cross him.
Oh, and for a twist, he is super fond of all daddy's or daddy figures.  He calls all men "Dad".  And prefers Daddy over me any day.  I used to go get him out of his crib and he would tell me to "go away, I want Daddy!"  But he's recently allowed me to get him, but then asks "where's Dad."  I guess somebody has to like dad best...actually I think they all do, but I'm not hurt.  I'm pretty fond of Scott myself. 
I could go on and on, but its enough already...

argh, I had a picture, but blogger won't let me upload from my phone..what's that about?

I'm going to design a t-shirt...

I'm going to design a t-shirt that says:
"Yes, I have four boys." 
"Yes, God HAS blessed me."
"No, I wasn't 'trying for the girl'."
"Yes, I am done, (not that its any of your bees wax)."
and on the back it would say,
"Please know people, that I wouldn't be taking my four boys by myself to BJ's if I absolutely possitively didn't have to.  But because I"m out of diapers, chicken nuggets and peanut butter all at the same time, and my husband is away, I decided to do it, just for fun (and for your judgemental comments and to allow you to have a conversation at dinner about how terrible my parenting skills are) You're welcome!"

;)