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