Tossing Fear for a New Year

A new year is upon us and I, as a compulsive goal setter even on a normal day, get undeniably giddy at the prospect of a whole new year in need of resolutions. I am aware that cynics question the virtue of goal setting at the start of a new year, given that only 8% of people who make new year's resolutions actually accomplish them. As dismal as the statistics may be, I still believe that setting goals to welcome in the new year is a worthwhile endeavor. I submit that it is not the act of keeping your goal that makes you a better person, but the act of setting a goal in the first place.

When you make a resolution to be or do something better, it says a number of things about you. First and foremost, it shows that you are humble enough to recognize a need for change; that's always the first step in any worthwhile endeavor. The act of goal setting also signifies that you believe in yourself. As long as that hope is still alive, nobody can take success away from you.

According to a study conducted at the University of Scranton, "people who explicitly make resolutions are 10 times more likely to attain their goals than people who don’t explicitly make resolutions." Even if you doubt the longevity of your commitment to your resolutions, that doesn't mean you shouldn't make them. 

So, here's to tossing out fear and setting goals despite what the statistics say. Here's to focusing on what you can do today, not tomorrow, next week or next month. Here's to a new year full of possibilities!

This year, I will not let the fear of failure keep me from doing something I feel compelled to do. I am so excited to go sit down with my sticky notes and get to work making myself and my family better.  Happy New Year!

'Twas The Night Before Christmas Remix

It's Christmas Eve.  Our stockings are stuffed, and our children are dreaming.  Before sugarplums are allowed to dance in my head, however, I need to take a moment to post some of the thoughts I have had this Christmas season. 

I've been thinking about giving, largely because of a book I read recently titled "The Mansion" by Henry Van Dyke.  It's a short Christmas story that's been around for ages, but I had never read it until now.  It's about a wealthy man who loves giving to others, but he always takes great care to give in a way that he will be recognized for his gifts.  Funding hospital wings that will be named after him, donating large sums of money to local charities that honor him for his contributions, and other such endeavors are what his life has been made of. 

On Christmas Eve, his son asks him for some money to help a dear friend suffering from a disease.  The friend will likely not recover, whether he gets the money or not, though it would ease the burden felt by the family as the head of their household suffers.  The father knows that no recognition will come to him for helping his son's friend, so he refuses.  Shortly after, he falls asleep and has a dream that he has died and gone to heaven.  There he discovers that throughout life, all the good deeds you do are built into a mansion for you to live in when you get to heaven. 

He eagerly anticipates the stately one that must surely be waiting for him, and is shocked when he sees that his heavenly home is but a small shack.  He asks why and is told that he already received retribution for each of his good deeds when he was recognized and heralded on earth.  He then asks in confusion, "What is it that counts here?" 

The answer comes, "Only that good which is done for the love of doing it.  Only those plans in which the welfare of others is the master thought.  Only those labors in which the sacrifice is greater than the reward.  Only those gifts in which the giver forgets himself."

This is exactly the way the Savior gives to us.  Each Christmas I struggle to remember why we give gifts in the first place.  I believe it is to remember the gift of a baby, given so long ago yet renewed each and every day.  Celebrating this selfless and humble giving is what should be at the heart of our christmas gifting.  Yet this is precisely what I often forget in my efforts to purchase just the right toys for each of my children, or make sure they will all feel that they have a fair share of the gifts under the tree come Christmas morning.

As another busy shopping season has come to an end and the presents are wrapped and strategically placed under the tree, I am free to sit back and admire the beauty surrounding me.  My thoughts are turning to the Savior and I'm realizing that I've done it again.  In my haste to tie up all the loose ends before tonight, I lost sight of the 'why' in my holiday gift giving.  So I have re-written the words to the poem, "Twas the Night Before Christmas" to express my sentiments, hopefully in a lighthearted way.  Because, despite the craziness of the month, it has been a truly wonderful Christmas season and for that, I am thankful!

'Twas the night before Christmas 

and throughout the space, 

Two parents were scurrying

all over the place.

 

Five stockings to stuff

and presents to wrap, 

One mom simply thinking

I just need a nap!

Five children excited, 

too hyper for bed.

Begging and pleading

for one slice of bread.

"No more drinks, no more food

Please go brush your teeth!

Your father and I--

we just need some sleep!"

When at last peaceful silence

fell over the house,

The five sleeping children

they dared not arouse.

The parents then put on 

their Santa Claus caps, 

They gathered the presents,

then wrapped, wrapped, and wrapped.

They placed all the gifts

'neath the tree with great care,

Settled down on the couch, 

cozied up and then stared.

Christmas lights shining bright

like the star on that night,

Twinkled brightly and painted

a heavenly sight.

They gazed on in wonder

thinking thoughts to themselves,

Not anywhere close

to reindeer or elves.

On a night just like this

in a stable so small,

One child was born

as a gift to us all.

Each year we remember

his miraculous birth,

And what He gave us

by His coming to earth.

Two parents sat, humbled,

exhaustion forgot.

As they took in the tree

and piles of gifts they had bought.

The presents are nice;

ones the kids will adore.

Yet their service to others

would mean so much more.

Then they vowed to remember

throughout the next year,

The night they recieved

a baby so dear.

His gift given in love,

no glory in sight.

Merry Christmas to all,

and to all a good night!

When There Are No Words

I have often thought that being a mom is like taking your heart out and watching it walk around.  I feel it especially poignantly every time I put a new little kindergartener on the bus and watch it drive away without me.  I ache sending something as fragile and precious as my own heart someplace that I can't take care of it, but it's an essential and unavoidable part of being a mother.  Our children need to learn independence and they can't do it if we keep them in little glass boxes, no matter how much we would like to try.

My heart aches and my tears fall for those mothers who have lost their hearts this past weekend in Sandy Hook.  My children were asked to draw some pictures for the funeral of Emilie Parker, who always enjoyed drawing pictures to help others feel better.  I wanted to share them here since, in a moment like this, words simply do not suffice and the innocence of a child can often make a difference where nothing else will.

by Plucky

by Bright

 

 by Mellow

by Energy

Shiny, Happy Blog

 As I write about my experiences as a SAHM it is my intent to be candid, but I have been told that I often sound pessimistic as I rant and rave about the craziness that is my life.  Pessimism is certainly not my intent (though I must admit it's easier than optimism)--I am merely trying to be realistic. 

I dislike the idea of writing only about the good while pretending the bad never happened.  Life can be hard, yet awesome at the same time.  In fact, it's the hard that makes life good, and this applies to motherhood in a very real way.  If it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worth doing.   I don't recall hearing anyone tell me as a youth that being a grown-up was hard, though maybe they did and I just chose not to hear it.  When I read back over my blog in years to come I don't want to see only the shiny, happy moments.  I want to remember it all--the good times and the difficult times together.  But, that being said, perhaps in my efforts to avoid writing an overly happy blog I focus more on the hard than I do on the good.

So, to atone for my oversight and occasional pessimism, the rest of this post is going to focus only on the sublime.  Here are my top ten shiny, happy moments from this week:


10.  I loved watching Mellow and Bright come up with an ad campaign for a new series of books they are co-authoring.  They made several flyers and advertisements for their books, with amazingly drawn pictures and persuasive wording.  And my favorite part was the disclaimer they included at the bottom of every flyer:  "Sorry, books are not done yet, but they will be soon."  We now have advertisements inviting us to come check the books out (when they are done, of course) posted all over our house.

9.  Seeing Plucky's beautiful smile when she walks in the door after school.  As a preschooler, she has yet to feel the burden of having homework waiting for her when she gets home after a long day.  She is therefore always in a great mood when she gets home.  Her happiness is infectious and I am (and have been for awhile now) quite envious of her cute dimples.

8.  Hearing Caboose say the word "ball" over and over again in various shrill registers and at differing levels of excitement that seem to be directly proportionate to how large of a ball he has found.  He discovers them all over the place--whether it is an errant marble that has rolled under the fridge just for him to find, a soccer ball one of the kids has left out, or even the massive red stone 'balls' cemented to the ground outside of our local Target, he is quick to point them out whenever he sees one.

7.  Sitting down to teach my children piano lessons and being blown away, yet again, at how good they are getting.  They have put in a lot of time practicing over the years, of course, but still I think to myself every time, "I did that".  If I was not putting in the effort of sitting down to teach them a lesson every week and reminding/requesting/cajoling them to practice, then they would not be where they are today.

6.  Watching little Caboose playing in the bathtub.  It's his favorite time of day and seeing his uninhibited joy while playing in the tub makes it one of my favorite times of day as well.  Plus, he's so darn cute in his birthday suit!

5.  Seeing Plucky and Caboose finally connecting in a way that doesn't involve Caboose getting hurt, as they discovered today that playing together is more fun than fighting.

4.  Snuggling with each of my kids as I tuck them into bed every night.  It is at this time of day that the walls are down and they let me see into their souls.  Though I am often tired and eager to get to the tasks that have been waiting all day for a quiet moment, I still relish the chance to receive their sincere hugs and expressions of love.

3.  Watching Caboose inadvertently push a button or bump a toy that suddenly bursts into song, at which point he halts, drops whatever he is doing, and starts bouncing and bobbing his head to the music.  And while we are on the subject of dancing, I love watching all of my kids dance.  Impromptu dance parties in the kitchen are one of my favorite family activities--the more the merrier!

2.  Sneaking into my baby's bedroom late at night and taking him out of his crib to rock him while he is sleeping.  I seem to be getting bolder as the years fly by because when my other children were babies, I never would have risked taking them out of their cribs late at night for fear they would wake up.  But I understand now that I won't have a baby in the house forever, and though babies make my daytime hours exceedingly difficult in many ways, there is still something special about having one around.  And kissing a sleeping baby who is cradled in your arms is the best thing ever.

1.  Witnessing Energy, Mellow, Bright and Plucky all dancing around the kitchen cheering that "mom's the best" when they tasted the fudge I made.  After dessert was over they called a secret kid meeting and disappeared, taking Caboose with them.  Several minutes later, they came marching into the kitchen chanting that they wanted more fudge.  Though loud, it was a very organized protest complete with signs and a cute baby meant to sway me.  I had to laugh at their initiative and I rather enjoyed being the hero of the day for making some seriously awesome Christmas fudge!  Being a mom rocks!

The Baby Bewitching Hour

A wise friend once told me of the phenomenon she had termed the "Baby Bewitching Hour".  You know, it's that hour (or two) before dinner when all babies freak out inexplicably.  (Note that sometimes the term 'baby' is applied loosley to include anyone deserving of it).

As of late, my baby bewitching hours have been particularly horrendous and I have found myself either in or near tears several nights this week.  Tonight was particularly bad and I ended up slumped on the floor of the kitchen as I finally let out the tears I have been bravely keeping in all week.

That's when little Caboose came toddling in wearing an innocent grin that lit up immediately when he saw me sitting at his eye level.  He came over and climbed into my lap, using me as a step-stool to reach for something he saw up on the counter.  Realizing he still wasn't tall enough, he climbed off and continued on his merry way.  (Did you notice the fact that the baby was merry?  Yes, the baby-like antics were not coming from the baby of the house tonight, though his  fascination for climbing on and falling off of the kitchen table repeatedly certainly did not help).

Even though my little breath of fresh air didn't stay with me long, it did bring a smile to my face and left me with a much-needed reminder of the beauty and innocence of children.  My stint on the kitchen floor also reminded me of a similar incident that occurred a year or so ago when I was pregnant with Caboose.

It was my hardest pregnancy yet and not even halfway through it, I noticed I was becoming monumentally overwhelmed by things that wouldn't normally phase me.  It was a tough winter and we had been bombarded with snow that never melted until there were four-five feet drifts crowding into the streets wherever you went.  I felt in a very real way that I was being buried alive.

It was in this frame of mind that I was asked to speak in church about the importance of children.  As part of my talk I wrote about a similar crying episode I had on the kitchen floor and what it taught me.  Luckily, I saved the talk and I went in search of it tonight to see if I could learn the same lesson again without putting too much effort into the thought process.  Here is my direct quote:

Children have a special gift of helping us to see things in a simpler way when adult issues seem to be pressing in on us from every side.  A few weeks ago I was having what we have now termed in our house as a P.I.E.B., or a Pregnancy-Induced Emotional Breakdown.  I was cooking dinner and had opened the drawer under my oven to get out a pan I needed.  The drawer has been broken for several months and always slides in a bit crookedly.  Well, this time, the drawer wouldn’t slide in at all.  I tried over and over again to get it to go back in with no luck until I finally burst into tears.  The oven drawer became instantly symbolic of all the things in my life that I couldn’t control, the most oppressive of which on that particular day was the ominous snow piles and ice dams on my roof that were just growing taller and taller each day, threatening to suffocate me.  Added to my inability to keep my house clean or get dinner on the table on time and a host of other things that seemed so important that day and it became quite a burden to carry.  My daughter (Plucky) witnessed the whole embarrassing episode because she loves to help me cook and is always right at my side in the kitchen.  She watched me crying for a few minutes, a little unsure as to what to do since this was a first for her.  Soon she looked at me and said simply, “(Plucky) loves Mommy”.  My sweet daughter couldn’t understand the things that were weighing me down, but she knew that the most important thing should be love.  And really she was right.  The love of a child is simple and pure, just like the love of our Savior.  None of those other things really mattered and I’m thankful for the children in my life that constantly remind me of the Savior’s love and what is truly important. 


Well, I'm glad I found the talk because my brain certainly wasn't headed in the same place tonight.  At this time of year especially, as we celebrate the birth of Christ, what better way is there to remember Him than to recognize the love of our children?

After Caboose toddled out of the room, the main offender tonight heard me crying and came into the kitchen, also in tears, and fell into my lap.  We both had things to apologize for and we did.  I am grateful for children who forgive me when I mess up and love me even when they have a reason not to. 

Going forward, I don't really know what to do about the baby bewitching hour.  It is what it is, I guess, and I'll just have to take it one day at a time.  As for today, I'm happy that it's over!

Embracing the Minivan

It's December 1st and I have been blogging for just over a month!  To celebrate the occasion, and taking into consideration the Christmas season, I have written a song to be sung to the tune of "Oh Christmas Tree." 

The words to this song were inspired by the sentiment I hear from moms all over that they wouldn't be caught dead driving a minivan.  I happen to love my minivan and, quite frankly, I don't really see what's so bad about them.  They have lots of seat belts--enough for all my kids plus a friend or two, the trunk space is about a hundred times what it was in the Ford Expedition I drove up until two years ago, and I don't leave the gas station in tears every time I have to fill it up. 

So, for all of the minivan haters out there, or for anyone who needs a little persuasion, I hope this little tune will encourage you to embrace the minivan, too!

Sing to the tune of 'Oh Christmas Tree':

Oh Minivan, oh minivan,

you hold us all so nicely.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan

long trips--they don't get dicey.

You fit our fam'ly, 

all seven.

And still a belt

for one more friend.

Oh minivan, oh minivan

you hold us all so nicely.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan,

your virtues are amazing.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan

the perks--they're never ending.

Sunglasses case,

hidden sunshades, 

secret compartments,

space in spades.

Oh minivan, oh minivan

your virtues are amazing.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan,

gas used to be expensive.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan

now it's not prohibitive.

Pain at the pump

has really eased, 

since when I drove

an SUV.

Oh minivan, oh minivan

gas used to be expensive.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan,

you help me carry groceries.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan

loading them up is a breeze.

Return from Costco

with our junk, 

Entire cart

fits in the trunk.

Oh minivan, oh minivan

you help me carry groceries.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan,

your fold-down seats astound me.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan

making more room is easy.

And when my kids

with all their stuff, 

require some space--

always enough.

Oh minivan, oh minivan

your fold-down seats astound me.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan,

you make me smile all day.

Oh Minivan, oh minivan

now that you're here to stay.

My happiness

it is complete, 

now that I have

an Odyssey.

Oh minivan, oh minivan

you make me smile all day.

Shooting for the stars--yes or no?

Today Energy came home from school with yet another proof of my failing mathematical intelligence:

It's a division problem.  Using fruit.  To solve it you are given one tiny, enigmatic clue in the bottom right hand corner.  Okaaaay...

Once he finished solving it (with minimal help from me since I couldn't get much farther than figuring out the answer to the clue), he asked if I could make him some sample problems that were similar so he could practice for next time.  I laughed and told him that I wasn't that smart, so sorry.

Later in the day I got to thinking about his request and wondered why it seemed so ridiculous.  If I had enough time on my hands, I could probably come up with something meager to satisfy his request.  Possibly not with a clever clue, but I think he just wanted help solving problems with tricky variables.  And if my brain failed me, there is always the internet to turn to where I would most likely be able to find someone else who had the time and inclination to come up with tricky math problems for sixth graders that I could borrow.  So why was I so quick to deny his request?  Was it because the request was impossible?  Or was it just because it was hard?

Thinking back over the years, I can recall several seemingly-impossible requests that I have hastily denied (somehow I don't think it's a coincidence that they have all come from the same child).  One Halloween, Energy begged me to make him a Yoshi egg for his costume.  He wanted it to look just like a real egg but with polka dots, be big enough that he could fit inside, and have the ability to open so he could sit on someone's front porch and then pop out when they answered the door.  Yeah, I shot that one down pretty quickly. 

He also begged me to give him permission to build a seven-story clubhouse in the backyard, complete with a ninja training studio on the top floor one summer and hounded me mercilessly when I said no.  Additionally, I ixnayed the secret underground tunnel that he wanted to build (okay, Mellow was in on this idea as well) to connect their bedroom to a friend's bedroom who lives next door.  Frankly, I blame Phineas and Ferb for giving my kids such crazy ideas and making them think they are attainable.

As a child, I don't ever recall having any lofty goals, with the possible exception of my desire to become a professional musician (a goal I quickly relinquished as soon as I became old enough to understand the mathematical improbability of it ever becoming a reality).  I never tried to build a working spaceship, I never tried to dig a hole to China and I never tried to fly.  I was always too practical for things like that.  Sure, I had an imagination and did my fair share of playing in the backyard, but I never believed that I could make the impossible possible. 

I am extraordinarily happy with the life I have led so far and the things I have accomplished, but still I wonder what would have happened if I had let myself believe that anything is possible.

Thinking of why I am hesitant to set lofty goals, I am struck by the idea that it's not the 'hard' that bothers me, rather it's the uncertainty of it.  Obviously, I am okay with taking on things that are hard.  I have five kids, after all.  But there is a relatively simple formula to follow in taking care of them: feed them, bathe them, keep them safe, play with them, listen to them.  Those are often hard things to do, but if I do them, I feel fairly confident that my goal of raising these kids will be attainable.  It's the uncertainty of life's loftier endeavors that scares me and causes me not to even try.

So here's the question: is it wrong of me to discourage my children from trying to shoot for the stars by telling them that it's impossible?  Am I doing them a disservice by trying to instill in them a healthy does of practicality?  Perhaps these children are the ones who will be inventing things I never dreamed of several years down the road, but it won't happen if I squash their dreams with my never ending reality checks.

As a parent, how do you encourage your kids to dream big while still giving them the confidence to be okay if or when they fail and to not be afraid of trying again?

Maybe the first place to start is with me.

Why I Love the Mess

Thanksgiving day is almost over and I successfully cooked an awesome meal for friends and family.  Now that the crowd is gone and the kids are in bed, I am thinking about what I'm really grateful for.  I'm thankful for my home, my freedom, and my husband's job, among other things.  At the risk of sounding cliche, I have to say that I'm also very thankful for my family.  My family means a lot to me and I express my gratitude for them often, but I thought it would be instructive to stop and explore why, exactly, I'm grateful for my family.  More specifically, why am I grateful for my children who make messes and drive me a little bit bonkers?  (Of course it goes without saying that my husband is perfect, so obviously no explanation is needed there.)

Here are some reasons I came up with for why I love the crazy little people in my life:

1.  I am grateful for my built-in alarm clock.  It comes snooze-button-free as an industry standard and for the past 11 years, God has given me a replacement every time one gets old enough to think twice before waking their cranky non-morning-person mommy.  These little alarm clocks have encouraged me to embrace the adage, 'Early to bed, early to rise; makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.'  Just for the record, I am far from embracing said adage at this point in my life, but I'm grateful that they have given me a reason to get an early start for the past 11 years because there's no way I would have otherwise.

2.  My children inspire me.  For reasons I can't explain and will never understand, I get my best ideas when there are kids running around creating chaos.  I can't control when inspiration strikes so I have learned to accept it.  And keep lots of sticky notes handy to record my ideas.  (Oh, and I'm also thankful for sticky notes--up until a year ago, that is--and now I'm grateful for my iphone with a built-in pad of never ending sticky notes.)

3.  They give me something to look forward to every single night.... bedtime!
Just kidding.
Sort of... let me explain.
While I do relish the silence that spreads through our home after the kids go to bed in comparison to the noise of a crazy day, one of my favorite things to do is to sneak into my kids' rooms while they are sleeping and just watch them sleep.  They resemble angels in this state, and I feel privileged to witness the innocence on their sleeping faces every single night.  Watching them sleep melts the hard out of any day and fills me up with peace in preparation to tackle yet another tomorrow.

4.  They take my mind off of other things.  As a perpetual worry wart, I am prone to working myself into a tizzy over whatever national or social disaster is currently ensuing.  Taking care of my kids pulls me out of panic mode and helps me to focus on the things I have control over rather than the things I do not.

5.  Okay, I simply must put in one about my husband.  Even though it's a given that I'm thankful for him, because he's so perfect... (are you reading this, babe?).  Anyway, I am grateful for a husband who knows me better than I know myself.  He believes in me.  He grounds me.  He encourages me to shoot for the stars, but only if I decide to first.

6.  I'm grateful for the little worker minions that we have bred.  Sure, it took a few years for them to mature enough, but they are really useful these days.  This past summer they worked very hard in the backyard pulling weeds, they have been raking leaves all fall, and just yesterday they helped me clean the house top to bottom in preparation for the Thanksgiving group we were hosting.  They aren't always happy about helping, but when push comes to shove, they buckle down and get it done.  (Although I do have to admit that sometimes money is involved.  Like with the fall leaves.  But yesterday they worked to pay me back for the privilege of living in our home rent-free these many years.)

7.  They remind me that I'm not alone.  If I were, my house certainly wouldn't be this messy!  But, as annoying as the messes usually are, they remind me that my house is full of life and I wouldn't have it any other way.  There are six people here who will love me forever (even if on some days they would argue otherwise).


Happy Thanksgiving!

Lamenting My Lost Brain Cells

I have long felt that my brain cells are slowly dying, rushed prematurely to their deaths by each of my pregnancies.  This evening I had a rude awakening, and I saw just how far gone I really am.  My son Energy, who is in 6th grade, came to me with a question.  He was really just making conversation and the words he was spouting sounded vaguely familiar, but I really had no idea what he was talking about after the first sentence or two. 

The question was this:  "Mom, what is the atomic number of an oxygen atom?"  He then proceeded to discuss protons, neutrons, electrons and isotopes; and atomic mass vs. atomic number of a hydrogen atom.  He was wondering if I could tell him the same information for an oxygen atom and explain how they were different.

Ummm, no.  I couldn't.  I did take chemistry, both in high school and in college and I'm pretty sure I used to know the answer to that question, but today after the first sentence I felt my eyes glazing over and my ears going on vacation until I heard nothing but gibberish a la Charlie Brown listening to his parents.  Also, I'm pretty sure I did not know the answer to that question in sixth grade!

I knew this day would come eventually, when my kids would be smarter than me and sigh in exasperation when I told them to wait 'till daddy came home to get help with their homework.  But I honestly didn't think it would happen this soon.  The math questions Energy comes home with are similarly perplexing, and even Mellow, my fourth grader, had one the other day that Energy had to help him with because I had no idea how to do it. 

So today I am lamenting the loss of my gray matter.  We had a fun ride and I hope it has not all turned to mush yet, but the day's events are leading me to believe otherwise.

After my children were all in bed, however, I got to thinking and realized that, although I can't tell my son what the atomic number of an oxygen atom is, I have still learned a great many things since my days of sitting in a classroom.

For example, did you know that spit up, even the clear kind, can leave a horrid stain that will never come out unless you immediately remove the clothing and soak it in Biz or OxiClean before washing it?  I certainly didn't learn that from school.  I have also learned, since my classroom days, how to make really awesome homemade rolls.  In fact, I made approximately 120 of them just today and put them in the freezer in preparation for the Thanksgiving dinner I will make for 9 adults and 10 children in a few days. 

I now know that it is possible for me to run more than one mile without dying.  I know how to shovel snow effectively from my driveway.  I know how to make a hermit crab Halloween costume.  I know how to restore and repaint an ugly old piece of furniture to give it new life and spice up the decor in my home.  I know how to snake a toilet after one of my children has been using their imagination with the toilet paper.  I have mastered the art of changing a child's sheets in the middle of the night with only one eye partially open so I don't have to fully wake up.  I've learned that pasta roni is a side dish (and not a very good one at that), NOT a full meal.  I have learned how to artfully arrange a bookshelf so it's contents are aesthetically pleasing.  I know that I can do well on a standardized test for graduate school.  I know how to play Bach's piano invention number 8 by memory and kick it's booty.  I've learned how to kill a spider without screaming (though when the kids aren't around to watch, I usually do anyway--old habits die hard).

The list just goes on and on.  But mostly, as an adult, I have learned that I can do hard things.  I can be brave.  I can look at a challenge and, knowing that failure is a possibility, agree to attempt it anyway.  I never would have done that as a youth.  In fact, whenever I heard adults telling me as a teenager to dream big and I could do anything, I always felt deep down that they were lying.  I stuck to dreams that were safe.  Not easy, mind you, but ones I was guaranteed to succeed at if I put in enough work and didn't need any luck.

Now as an adult, I am finally starting to accept that the world is full of possibilities.  If I am willing to put forth the effort and not be afraid of failure, I can accomplish great things.  Knowing that I have made it through five pregnancies gives me courage, since those were five of the hardest things I have ever done.  I have earned my battle scars.  And though my textbook smarts have faded over the years, I am grateful for the lessons life has taught me and wouldn't trade them for anything.  For now, it's okay that my kids tease me for not being as smart as them.  They will understand someday.

Are you crazy, too? Take this quiz to find out!

To celebrate the awesome day I have had, I've come up with a little quiz.  Take it to see if you too, like me, are slowly (or not so slowly) losing your mind.

1.  How many children does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
     a.  two
     b. three
     c.  who knows?
     d.  only one, but it takes exactly five to push their mother over the edge

2.  If a mom says something but nobody hears her, did she really say it at all?
    a.  yes, but only if she said it at least five times
    b.  no, the "if a tree falls in the woods" logic applies here, so if no one heard it, she didn't say it.
    c.  yes, but only if she did a song and dance to go with it
    d.  no.  It's her word against theirs and they always win the fights that mom if too tired to fight.

3.  How many conversations can a mother have at the same time before all she hears is "wah, wah, la, la, mmmmmm, la la"?
     a.  The limit is two.  Any more and they all fade into just noise.
     b.  It depends on her age.  It seems that the older she gets, the fewer threads she can follow at one time.
     c.  She should be able to listen to and respond intelligently to any number of conversations at one time, as needed by her children.  Obviously.
     d.  What was the question again?

4.  On average, for how many days can a mom own a new shirt before it becomes a child's napkin and forever sports a flashy stain right on the front?
     a.  two days max
     b.  one week
     c.  ten days
     d.  Eww, you let your children wipe their dirty hands/faces/whatevers on your new clothes?

5.   How cold does it have to get outside before a mother's home is officially turned into a jungle gym?
     a.  50 degrees
     b.  43 degrees
     c.  27 degrees
     d.  I would never let my children climb on the furniture or jump off of it.  Gasp.

6.  How many cheerios does a mother have to step on before she will feel compelled to finally pull out that broom and clean up already?
     a.  one
     b.  three
     c.  ten
     d.  I do not give my children cheerios.  Didn't you know that Cheerios contain Tripotassium Phosphate, an additive that is also used as a fertilizer?

7.  After how many glasses of spilled milk at dinner does a mother toss the popular adage and bawl her eyes out?
     a. two
     b. three
     c. Oh silly, spilled milk is never worth crying over.
     d. Just one--that adage was written by someone who has never had to clean up spilled milk after spending at least an hour in the kitchen dodging a crying baby, with a "helpful" preschooler stirring dinner, and three other children firing off homework questions in rapid-fire succession.  One glass of spilled milk once we all sit down for dinner (sans daddy, who is still at work of course) is all it takes to induce tears.   

8.  How many bowls of chocolate ice cream will this mom need to recover from today?
   a.  one
   b.  two
   c.  ice cream won't solve anything
   d.  Oh yes it will!  I'll take the whole carton, please!



I think by now those of you who belong on the crazy train with me probably know who you are.  Welcome aboard!  Here's to bedtime!

It's One of the Perks!

Oreos, that is.  I maintain (and have for many years) that it’s my right as a stay-at-home mom to buy a special package of the delectable brown and white cookies (or two, when the events of the day call for extreme measures) and hide them in a place where no-one but myself will ever find them.  I also reserve the right to pull them out after everyone else (my husband included) is sleeping, and munch to my little heart’s content.  Guilt is not invited to my evening forays—as I said before, it’s one of the perks of my job.  And it’s a perk I will take over mandatory monthly employee training any day. 
 

The perks of being a stay-at-home mom may seem few and far between to the amateur observer.  Hardly enough to entice a gal to give up the luxury of a blissfully self-satisfied life in exchange for a job where you may be spit upon, spilled upon, and (how to put it delicately?) defecated upon at any given moment.  

I don't receive health benefits (unless you count building up my immune system one elementary-school-bug at a time as preventative care), sick days, or paid vacations (or any vacation at all, for that matter.... or pay either, while we're on the subject).  I don’t get overtime for services rendered after midnight and before sunrise, and I don’t have the luxury of handing in my two-weeks notice when I decide I have finally had enough.

So why, then, do I choose to do it?  Though the perks of my job may not seem like much from the outside looking in, those of us down in the trenches together understand that the perks of being a stay-at-home mom are beautiful and priceless nonetheless.  I would like to share with you some of the reasons why I have the best job in the world.  Additionally, a well-timed package of Double-Stuf Oreo’s never hurts.

Flexibility 

For starters, I get to be my own boss, without the inherent demands of a risky business venture.  I am lucky to have a supportive husband to stand in  as my partner-in-crime.  However, his domain is largely at work, and during the day when he is not at home, I am the one calling the shots (of course I am also in charge when he is at home, but don't tell him I said that).

I have never been one who responds well to others telling me what to do.  My motivation and drive come from within, and left to my own devices, I have always performed quite well.  (The contrary is also true, which may explain why I hate workout videos so much—they are so bossy!).   

As a stay-at-home mom, I have the freedom to plan our days’ activities and be accountable to no one but myself for them.  At the beginning of each day, it is up to me to decide if we are going to the park, the mall or the store.  Whether we will have a play date or stay home.  And ultimately, whether we make good use of our time or not.  And if our plans veer off the intended course for any number of reasons, I can choose to go with the flow, or throw a world-class tantrum (unfortunately I tend to choose the latter—I am working on that).  But, the choice is entirely mine.

I enjoy having the freedom to craft our schedule to suit my tastes and the temperaments of my children.  Being the night owl that I am, for example, I love the fact that I don’t have to appear at an office promptly at 8:00 am, in a stuffy, pressed lady-suit, with my hair expertly blown dry and my makeup impeccable.  That’s not to say that I won’t receive a wake-up call the moment the sun rises (or, yes, often before), but the perks of my job allow me to remain barely functional until a more decent hour.  And who else can say that they are allowed to show up for work in their pajamas?

Reality Check

Secondly, since becoming a stay-at-home mom, I have unlocked the secret of youth.  What better way is there to spend your day than by traveling back in time to revisit your youthful innocence?  Now, I will be the first to admit that I can only take so much of a game of Barbie or Polly Pocket.  But on those occasions when I can sit back and observe my children’s imaginations at work, I am effortlessly transported back to my past.  To a time when my greatest concern was whether Barbie would have time to marry Ken before my mom called me for lunch. 

I have come to understand that the best way to escape the stark realities we face as adults is to spend an hour sitting on the floor, playing with a child.  (Occasionally this scenario also leads to an unintended nap, but most children have radar for picking up on the early signs of this would-be tragedy and ensuring it never comes to fruition.)

The art of playing gets lost as we grow older.  We focus more on to-do lists, fret about perceived injustices and feel slighted when our friends succeed where we have failed.  Sometimes I long for a return to the days when I was free to ride bikes with my friends from dawn till dusk, coming in only when compelled by an empty stomach.  Taking the time each day to play with my children, or at the very least, stop and watch them playing together, helps me recapture some of the magic of youth.

My biggest fans  

            Finally, how many people are able to say they have witnessed a miracle?  In my job, I see them every single day.  It’s a miracle, for example, that my children are even here at all.  Somehow, I survived five pregnancies, births, and subsequent “first years”, and chose to do it all over again each time until our family felt complete.  It’s also a miracle that my rambunctious four-year old has yet to land my baby in the ER with her overly enthusiastic big-sister hugs. 

            However, the biggest miracle of all, and perhaps the one that keeps me going day after day is the fact that my kids love me even though I’m not perfect.  They love me when my hair’s not done, my face is bare and my middle is frumpy.  I am just mom and they love me, no matter how I come.  How great is it to know that one little person (or five, in my case) thinks you are the best thing on the planet (even better than ice cream, though they may not always admit it)?

            When my daughter Plucky was born, she introduced me to a whole new level of love.  I am one who enjoys solitude, so having a daughter who insisted on being glued to me every waking moment (and, as an infant, every sleeping moment as well), took a toll on me.  My instincts were to push her away, and sometimes I catch myself doing it still as I clamor for my bubble of free space.  But it struck me a few years ago that it really is great being the light of someone’s life.  I know her adoration will only last so long and soon I will be the one clamoring for her attention before she saunters out the door with her friends.

            My favorite part of the day is walking into my baby's room in the morning (despite the fact, as you may remember, that I am most definitely not a morning person) and watching the ecstatic and immediate grin light up his precious face.  He is grinning because of me.  He is sublimely happy to see me and as a mom, it melts my heart to see it every single time.

Babies and children are very forgiving and even if I denied my kids a treat after dinner, wouldn’t let my baby play in the toilet before bed, and took away screen time from my older kids because they were fighting, by the time they wake up the next morning, all is forgiven.  Forgotten too, and they will not be reminding me of my shortcomings or throwing my failures back in my face at a later date.  Possessing the elusive ability to forgive is part of the magic of being a child.  

In the end, I am the sun that lights up my children’s days and they love nothing more than seeing me first thing in the morning (though they like me even better on the rare occasion that I have bought them a box of fruit loops cereal for breakfast).  Of course they do sometimes get antsy and decide that their sun needs to rise before it’s fully ready.  But even a grumpy sun can’t resist the delightful smiles of the ones who love them best.  Not for long, anyway.

So here’s to the perks!  And here’s to repeating the mantra ‘It’s One of the Perks’ in your head every time you discover a new one.  The hidden stash of Oreos is just the beginning!

The Smell of Winter

Winter is officially here, and my poor Japanese Maple did not get a chance to say a proper good-bye before the snow arrived yesterday.

And though I'm sad, as I always am at this time of year, I was surprised when the undeniable smell of winter assaulted me as I carted groceries in from my pre-storm Costco stock-up trip and I felt a little thrill.

I was surprised because I have never enjoyed winter.  A California girl to the core, I cringe every time the temperature drops below 50 degrees.  The first winter we lived here I was certain I would never be warm again.  By the time the next one rolled around, I was so miserable that, since we couldn't just pack up and head back to the west coast, I decided I needed to do something big.

Thus my "Reasons Why Winter is Great" list was born.  (Have you caught on yet that I just love to make lists?)  The list began merely as a way of convincing myself that winter was great, even though I knew deep down that it really wasn't.  But somewhere along the way I won myself over and, while I still hate being cold, there is a certain charm to winter that I miss during the other three seasons. 

In C.S. Lewis' fascinating book, "The Screwtape Letters", he writes of the seasons and how humans love them because every time a season begins, we are given just enough change to keep things from getting boring.  Yet each season is familiar in that it comes around every year.  We know what to expect each time, even though the season itself is starting afresh.  We are therefore left with the impression that we are experiencing something new, without the fear of the unfamiliar. 

For me, after living through eleven of these crazy New England winters, I feel as if I know what to expect, and this winter I am looking forward to the change.  Strange, right?

In a few weeks, though, I'm sure I'll need to pull out my trusty old list again, to remind myself just why winter is so great.  So here it is:

Reasons why Winter is Great

1. The bugs die--no more mosquito bites 'till spring!
2. All the weeds die--I have never seen weeds grow at such an alarming rate as they do here in New England, but in the winter they shrivel up and return to dust, where they belong.
3. Cute boots, scarves and coats--need I say more?
4. No more yard-work (unless you count shoveling snow).
5. No more lawn mowing!  Instead, the lawn is covered in a beautiful blanket of white and I can ignore it for the next six months.
6. I love the whirring sound of the heater as it kicks on.  Even though it should sound like the sound of my money (or rather, the money my husband earns that I abscond from him) going up in flames, it still just reminds me of my childhood in California, when the only time the heater ever had to kick on was at Christmas time.
7. I can slack off in the leg-shaving department.
8. The kids go to bed earlier, and think they are being allowed to stay up late because of how dark it is by 6:00pm when we are eating dinner.
9. My baby sleeps in longer in the morning when it's dark.
10. Warm, cozy jammies are the best!
11. Hot cocoa warms my hands and my heart.
12. Christmas time!!!!
13. I very much enjoy watching my kids make snowmen while I stay inside the house with the baby.  (Don't know what I'll do when I no longer have a baby who wants to stay in--I'll have to find another excuse then.)
14. I love blow drying my hair in the winter thanks to the morning chill, so my hair always looks cuter in the winter than it does in the summer.
15. Uggs.  They are so wonderful!
16. My favorite Yankee Candle scent--Pomegranate Cider--wafts through my kitchen all winter long.  For some reason, it doesn't feel right lighting it in the summer time.
17. Christmas baking--fudge, caramels, sugar cookies, toffee, turtles, the list just goes on and on.
18. The crisp, fresh smell in the air is amazing. 
19. I'm a homebody at heart, so I really love snow days (in groups of three or less in a row) when we get to stay inside in our pajamas all day.
20. I don't even notice my roll of belly fat as it hibernates under layers of cozy warm clothes until spring.
21. I LOVE late start days.  It's the best of both worlds--we get to sleep in a little, but the kids still go to school so they don't get stir-crazy.
22. My drinking water from the tap never needs ice.
23. I would much rather exercise when the air is cold than when it's hot outside, and though I don't get skinnier in the winter, it does help me counteract the holiday baking.
24. My uber-soft bathrobe greets me every morning.
25. I have always loved a good, long, hot shower, but I just can't enjoy one in the summer when my house is sweltering and I am sweating as soon as I get out.  Hot showers were meant to go with cold winter mornings!

 Here's to a happy winter!

When the Last Leaf Falls

Ever since we moved to the east coast, I have been enamored by the fall colors that appear overnight in stunningly vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow and purple.  I have often been known to pull over to the side of the road whenever I catch sight of a great view and ooh and ahh at it for five minutes or more before continuing on my way.

It is for this reason, that my kids dread getting in the car with me between the months of September and November.  They never know when a quick car ride will turn into a painfully slow sightseeing tour, a la Disney's "Its a Small World" ride.  (To be fair, I do enjoy that ride, but only since I became a mother).

The reason I always stop to gaze at the leaves is really very simple:  I know that it's only going to be there for a few short weeks, if even that.  Once the last leaf falls, I will have to face six months of cold and ugly before spring arrives to save me from the gloom.  As I sit there in my car, sometimes with complaining kids in the back, enjoying the beauty of whatever fall scene I happen to be taking in, I can feel it filling me up as I drink in the gorgeous views.

This scenario plays itself out every single fall and once it is over for the season, I can't wait to do it again next year.  I was met with a shock today, however, when I left my house for the first time in over a week (thank-you, hurricane Sandy) and found that fall is almost completely over and that I missed the best part of it this year.

Of course I've been stopping at my favorite spots for several weeks now, waiting for them to be just right, but they never quite got there.  Now they are gone and I have missed it.

Indeed, I am grateful for all the times I did stop over the past few weeks, even though I knew the colors weren't at peak yet.  I thought I would have plenty of time later to look at them, but still I stopped anyway and now I'm so glad that I did.

This is a minor tragedy, of course, and I know I will get to see it all again next year.  Even though I didn't get to fully experience the joy of the fall season this year, I know there will be plenty of chances to do so later.  But what my kids don't know, and what I haven't told them, is that I feel the same way about them as I do about the fall leaves. 

Venturing out today only to discover that I missed my favorite part of the year while I had my head down during the storm we faced last week, was a poignant reminder that I don't want to do the same thing with my children.  If I don't stop to look at them and drink in their innocence every chance I get, then I might just miss it and winter will set in all too soon.

Unlike the seasons, there will be no second chances this time.  This is it.  Now is the time to bask in the beauty of the season that is childhood.

And just so you don't feel too bad for me, I will let you in on a little secret.  Though it is true that my favorite neighborhood leaf-gazing spots have slipped into hibernation and I will have to wait until next year to fully experience them, the last leaf of the season has yet to fall.  There is a Japanese Maple tree in my backyard that is always the last to turn.  Every year, after all the other leaves have fallen, it changes slowly, allowing me to savor the last little bits of the beauty that is a New England fall before silently bidding me farewell.  It's my final reminder to enjoy what I've got, while I've got it and for that, I am grateful.

Thank-you, Japanese Maple for reminding me to savor the important things in life.

The Halloween Candy Conundrum

Halloween has come and gone and now we have four bowls full to the brim of coma-inducing sugary goodness sitting on top of our fridge.  There are items in these bowls I haven't seen in years.  Sixlets, Lemon Heads and Razzles only seem to come out on Halloween, and they come out every year only to fall back into extinction for 11 months until they are called up again. 

There are others like 100 Grand, Heath and Almond Joy that I completely forget about every year until they show up in those wonderful bags.  They greet me like long-lost friends, reminding me exactly what I have been missing out on when, upon finding myself in the candy aisle, I force my eyes to glaze over the many temptations vying for my attention and hurry on to the more practical grocery items.

Surely you can understand why I find it necessary to swipe these tiny morsels one-by-one from my children's bags when they come in for the night.  I consider it to be one of the perks of having young children.  Yet, however entitled I may feel in my pilfering practices, there is always a certain amount of guilt involved, and if one of the kids catches me with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, there is always a price to pay.

So, to help me work through the candy conundrum that is Halloween, I have made two lists.  One contains the reasons why I should not eat my kids Halloween candy, and the other lists reasons why I should.  Hopefully we will all find it instructive.


Reasons why I should NOT eat my kids Halloween candy, even if they aren't looking:

I'll get fat

I always end up with a tummy ache

I can never stop at just one

I like to munch them while I'm cooking dinner and then I'm not hungry when the food's ready

The kids will get mad at me if they find out

The more pieces I eat, the fewer I will have to barter with, and I have learned that throwing their candy in the trash one piece at a time is quite effective motivation for inducing model behavior.

The first bite always tastes the best and the experience just goes downhill from there

Cheap chocolate always leaves a bad aftertaste

The candy bars are so tiny that I often don't even register I am eating one before it is gone, especially when I get distracted right after I open it and eat it while doing something else.

They did all the work--I just stayed on the street watching them beg for handouts from a distance.



Several compelling reasons why I SHOULD eat my kids Halloween candy:

I would rather get fat myself than allow them to get fat, therefore I am doing them a big favor

Eating it makes me feel so happy

If I rotate between the kids bowls just so, they will never notice the missing pieces

If I eat it all, then I am saving my husband from facing the same dilemma--oh, the sacrifices we make for love!

The whole "Free candy on Halloween" thing won't last forever, so I better enjoy it while I can.  Or get a dog to dress up and take out when the kids get too old.

Because I can

I work for free and it's about time someone started paying me.  Since the kids don't have any money, other than what we give them, I think it's only fair that I allow them to pay me in chocolate.

The poor candy bags feel neglected while the kids are at school or sleeping, so I am really doing everyone a favor by giving them some attention when the kids aren't there to do it themselves.

Someone paid for it, so we can't let it go to waste

The candy needs to be tested out to make sure it is safe for the kids to eat.  Since it's impractical to take a bite out of every single piece of candy, the most effective way to test the candy is by conducting a simple random sample.  I will selflessly perform said sample over time, choosing a new subject every time I walk through the kitchen. 



Reasons why I should throw all the candy away and not let anyone eat it:

???



To all parents everywhere, Happy Halloween Candy Snatching!  Don't get caught!

Fifteen Minutes to My Unravelling

I should have known we were headed for trouble that day.  Silly me for not foreseeing that fifteen minutes of quiet time was too much to ask for nursing my newborn baby (who did not nurse well with distractions), when said baby had three older siblings ages two, four and six.  But fifteen minutes was what I had decided to ask for that day and I was determined to get it.  Have you ever noticed how the harder you try to make something happen, the more elusive that thing becomes?

And so it was for me that day.  Over four years have passed since, and yet it still lives on in my mind as the day I knew for sure that I was in over my head.  It was the day I came to accept the possibility that having four kids just might be the end of me.

It was that same day, however, that I learned an important lesson about the chaos that is having four kids (and yes, we have added another one since then and I can tell you it holds true for five as well).

Now, let me set the scene for you.  My three month old nursing baby Plucky, had recently started to become aware of the world around her.  She became easily distracted by noises, refusing to nurse if there was anything even mildly entertaining happening within earshot, so I had taken to retreating from the vicinity of my three older children and hiding in her bedroom whenever she needed to nurse. 

I had just started potty training my two year old, Bright, which is a nightmare in its own right and she was sitting at the kitchen table coloring.  Mellow, my four year old, was playing with Legos on the living room floor, and Energy was bouncing around the house, hopping from one activity to another in his unique way.  Oh, and my husband was out of town.

I asked Bright if she needed to go potty and she answered with an emphatic no.  Plucky was getting hungry so I stole off to her bedroom to nurse her in peace.  I settled down into the soft armchair, sighing as I did so, as it was the first time I had stopped moving all morning.  I got Plucky all situated and she began to nurse eagerly.

Anyone who has ever nursed a baby knows that once the milk starts flowing, it doesn't stop, and mine had just begun to let down when Energy bounded in the room, exclaiming, "Mom, I'm hungry.  Can I have some popcorn?" 

Plucky opened her mouth and turned her head to size up the distraction, milk spraying her in the face as she did so.  I struggled to get her back to the task at hand while milk spurted everywhere.  I told Energy that he could have some, if he could make it himself.  I was pretty sure he knew how, since he had done it just a few days ago and had become, as of late, an expert microwaver.

Only once he had left and slammed the door shut behind him did Plucky re-focus and return to her job.  I heard Energy rustling around in the kitchen and soon he piped up with, "Mom, how do you do this again?"  I debated not answering, knowing that my voice would cause Plucky to lose focus again, but also knowing that if I remained silent then Energy would be back in the room in no time, so I shouted out some directions to him, Plucky glancing up at me in surprise as I did so.

Once again, she re-focused and I thought I was in the clear when, only moments later, I heard the words every mother of a potty-training child dreads to hear.  Bright shrieked from her perch at the kitchen table, "Mom!  I'm peeing!"

My reflexes took over and my focus on the breastfeeding baby was trumped by my focus on the potty training toddler.  "Run to the potty!" I screeched at her, jumping up from the armchair.  I cradled Plucky in one arm and hoped she would continue nursing while I rushed to the kitchen to assess the damage.  Of course she couldn't, but she was hungry by this point and voiced her outrage at my sudden movement.

As I ran down the hall to the peeing toddler, I passed Energy in the kitchen.  He was staring at the package of microwave popcorn in his hands and queried as I rushed by, "How do you do this again?"  I might have answered with a mystified, "Ummm", or I may have remained silent.  I don't really remember.  But I do know that I wasn't able to form a coherent answer to the question in that moment.

I arrived in the kitchen to find Bright, standing on her chair in a puddle of pee, trying unsuccessfully to hold it in.  Mellow glanced up and, seeing me entering the room asked nicely, "Mom, will you play Legos with me?" 

Now, Mellow seldom requires my attention, preferring to play by himself most of the time, so when he asks to be played with I usually try to accommodate him.  Of course, now was not the time and I answered him with a terse "No".  His little face fell and he burst into innocent tears.  I immediately felt awful, despite the undeniable fact that I couldn't play with him at the moment. 

Pee was dripping down Bright's legs and, still holding Plucky in my left elbow, I grabbed her under the arms with my right and helped her hurry down the hallway to the bathroom, leaving a trail of pee in our wake. 

By this time, baby Plucky was not a happy camper and was wailing enthusiastically, trying to locate the source of her meal while I bustled down the hallway.  Mellow was sobbing brokenheartedly in the living room, and Energy was getting increasingly more frantic and frustrated by my lack of assistance in his microwave popcorn endeavor.  Bright, my fashionista who did not deal well with failure, was also crying; weather from the fact that she hadn't made it to the potty in time or as a result of her outfit being ruined, I will never know.

It was at this moment that I wondered if we had done something horribly wrong when we decided to  have four kids.  I recalled the 'no return policy' that came with each one of them and I wondered if I could really do this.  Of course, that was just the crazy talking and I soon came to my senses.  I love each one of my children and each one is an incredible blessing.  But there is no denying that being a mom is hard work.

So, the lesson of the day?  Crises happen.  They do, it's just part of life.  And having them on a daily basis is par for the course when you have as many kids as I do.  Though you may not agree that my debacle deserves the classification of 'crisis', it certainly felt like one to me in that moment.  And perception is everything.

But, no matter how bad the crisis gets, there is always an end.  For me, that day, the crisis lasted a mere fifteen minutes when all was said and done, though I have to say that it felt a lot longer than that at the time.  I got the pee cleaned up, helped Energy with the popcorn, nursed Plucky and put her down for a nap, then apologized to Mellow while I sat and played Legos with him.  Order was restored and peace returned to our home, if only temporarily.

Having lots of kids is hard.  And there are moments when I wish someone would fire me so I could just go home and sulk before looking for a new job.  But the hard is mostly short-lived, and knowing that gives me the strength to get through the hard bits of each day.  It also helps me appreciate the peaceful times and enjoy the many moments of non-urgent chaos.

So, though I learned that day that it only takes fifteen minutes to unravel me, I also learned that there will be plenty of time to stitch myself up again before heading back for more.

A Baby's Laugh

I realized after composing my top ten lists yesterday, that I left out one very important thing that is quite possibly the best part of parenting: laughter.  Especially when it's coming out of your kids.  There is just no better sound on earth than a child's laughter.  

Several years ago, on one of Mellow's birthdays, he had several rowdy boys over for a party and they were sitting around the table eating cake and telling jokes.  These were little boys and the jokes were pretty lame, mostly revolving around bodily functions and food.  But they were hyper, and happy to be together and so every joke each one of them made was met with maniacal peals of laughter from everyone around the table.  Just watching them and listening to the cacophony brought a smile to my face and my husband and I couldn't resist joining in on the laugh fest.

Additionally, I remember with each one of my babies, the first time they laughed it was like music to my ears.  With Energy, the first time we heard him laughing was when my husband and I were playing tennis.  Energy was about three months old and we had him sitting in a stroller off to the side of the court, while we hit the ball back and forth.  Every time the ball hit one of our rackets, Energy let loose with the cutest, most amazing baby laugh I had ever heard.  For some reason, he thought the sound was absolutely hilarious and his giggles escalated until we were all rolling.

Laughter is infectious, and it has the power to chase the blues away.  Baby laughter especially, is like sunshine to the soul and for that reason, it deserves something special.  In honor of this amazing gift our babies give to us every time they let loose with a great laugh, and to atone for my oversight in leaving it off of my top ten lists completely, I wrote a special poem about it.   

Here is my tribute to the role laughter plays in my life:

A Baby's Laugh

The best sound on earth

Is a baby's light mirth

It warms up the heart and the soul.

And a smile so rare

Is the standard fare

Paid by witnesses, both young and old.

   

Mommy Wisdom: Then and Now

Back in 2001, as a stay-at-home mother of a new baby boy, I sat down at my computer one day and compiled a list of all the amazing things I had learned so far as a mother.  I entitled it "Mommy Wisdom".  I felt certain that I had things all figured out and was happy to share my new-found knowledge with anyone who would listen.

Now, eleven years and four additional children later, I realize how naive I was.  Motherhood is a work in progress, and I will never know all there is to know.  And even if I manage to figure things out for one child, the next one is guaranteed to be completely different.  That being said, I have learned a lot over the years and thought it would be entertaining to share my version of the ups and downs of motherhood with the world.  

I am 33 years old, and have five children with my husband of 13 years.  I decided to give the kids nicknames here for privacy.  My oldest son, Energy, is 11.  My second son, Mellow, is 9.  Next I have two daughters:  Bright is 7 and Plucky is 4.  Caboose, my baby boy, is fifteen months old.

Just for fun, I have consolidated my original Mommy Wisdom list into a 'Top Ten' and written a similar list based on my knowledge at present.  Both are included below.  Enjoy! 

Mommy Wisdom 2001

10

Don't take Nyquil at night and expect to be fully functional the next morning.  In fact, any medicine that requires a full nights sleep should be tossed now because you won't be able to use it until your kids go to college.

9

Baby can and will turn off the computer while you're working on it, so be sure to save frequently. 

8

Baby's favorite trick is to pee when you take his diaper off.

7

Baby will always spit up the moment you stop patting his back and remove the burp cloth from your shoulder

6

Daddies possess the amazing ability to sleep soundly through a baby crying in the middle of the night.  The super-human power has been so honed throughout the centuries that he will often wake up in the morning and exclaim in surprise, 'Wow, the baby slept all night!'

5

The actual labor part of having a baby is nowhere near as bad as the nine months preceding and the two weeks following giving birth.

4

Letting baby cry it out is much easier said than done, especially in a tiny apartment with paper-thin walls.

3

Baby will head for the phone, cable, or power cords and prefers playing with these over his own toys any day.  In the absence of cords, a remote control will suffice.

2

It's fun watching baby learn that he can't pick up the sunbeams he sees on the floor near his window.

1 

After a few weeks of sleepless nights, your body will adjust and you will realize that baby is just as cute at 3:00 am as he is during the day, and the time you have to spend with him in the dead of night is precious and fleeting.  (Although this one is true, I have tested it now on five different occasions and I have never been able to accept it as such until baby is consistently sleeping through the night and the midnight feedings are a thing of the past).

              

Mommy Wisdom 2012

10

The moment you think you have things all figured out is the moment one of your children will kindly point out just how far off you actually are.

9

Kids say the BEST things, but don't assume you will remember them.  Always write them down.  Memory loss come with the territory.

8

Your ability to form a coherent sentence decreases exponentially as the number of children living in your home increases, until all too soon you find yourself babbling like an idiot several times a day.

7

When you don't know what the right answer is, having a Magic 8 ball around never hurts.

6

Sometimes there is no right answer, but you have to pick one anyway and stick to it.  Trust your gut.

5

Before you decide to 'bend the rules' for the day, keep in mind that kids have excellent memories and will be imploring you to bend the rules again starting the very next day and lasting until the end of time.  

4

Children have an amazing capacity to forgive perceived injustices and forget them by the next day (although for some reason the forgetting part does not hold true when it comes to bending the rules, as mentioned in number 5).  Often all they need is a good nights' sleep before you become their favorite person all over again.  (Please note that this may not hold true for teenagers, as that is still uncharted territory for me).

3

No matter what went down during the day, watching your kids sleep is still the best medicine ever, no matter how old they get.  Oh, and just for good measure, always be ready with your camera in case any good blackmail material presents itself in the process.

2 

Kids love their moms, but at the end of the day, it's daddy all the way.  (I'm hoping this one will change when they go to college and realize just how much I do for them.)

1

The notion that the more kids you have, the harder it is to love them all, is a complete fallacy.  The truth is, with every child you invite into your home, your capacity to love grows and your heart effortlessly expands to include them all.  They are each my favorite.  

Energy, Mellow, Bright, Plucky and Caboose, I love you all!