Our Real Life, part 1

I started writing this blog with the intent that I would share what our life is really like.  In reality, I've shied away from the difficult parts of our life.

If you were to meet me in person, I'd be frank and honest with you and share the challenges of my life as a parent. But, somehow, that ease of conversation is lost when typing alone in my room.  The other reason I've been hesitant about sharing our challenges is because a lot of them focus on one child, Sparky, and I don't want to portray her as the cause of all the strife in my family, because she isn't.

Its going to take more than one post but, here goes.

I knew Sparky was an "intense" child from about 8 months old.  She would NOT go to sleep.  Everything took more.  She not only took more time to fall asleep.  She was more of everything-, more demanding of my and Tall One's time, more opinionated, more playful, just MORE.

At age 3 she would be awake between 12 and 15 times night, standing at my bed asking to get in bed. Tall One and I came up with our mantra, "You can sleep on the floor (beside us) or sleep in your bed" and said it over and over and over.  That girl has endurance like you've never seen.  We did have her adenoids out and that made a dramatic difference, but I'd say in the almost 10 years of her life she has slept through the night less than 50 times.  Ranger was born about this time and people would ask how the baby was sleeping and my response was, "The baby is a piece of cake compared to Sparky."  She once had a temper tantrum for an hour, fell asleep for another hour, woke up and continued the tantrum for another hour.  That is intense. 

We started seeking counseling and more information and strategies on how to focus Sparky's intensity in a positive way. I read every book on spirited children, positive discipline, and general parenting that I could get my hands on.  We were supremely blessed to have Sparky enrolled in the Demonstration Preschool at Project Enlightenment and to have all of the support and education they offer. 

I remember this year as a blur of tantrums (from Sparky as well as Tall One and I), crying, frustration, and fear. I knew Sparky was outside the norm for preschool behavior, but it was difficult to understand and come to terms with how this would change our life.  I thought we'd try a new doctor, medicine, strategy, or chart and it would work and we'd have that problem solved.  It doesn't work that way.  After hundreds of attempts you have to suck it up and try a hundred more times. .  When I think back I am filled with those same feelings of inadequacy, angst, anger at the unfairness, worry for our other children, and utter exhaustion. 

My House is a Sieve

My house is a giant sieve- and the holes are getting bigger. 

I've never been much of a keeper.  I am not very nostalgic about stuff, but I do have the "I might need it gene." I'm a regular at the local thrift store bringing bags of donations every few months.  My house is a giant sieve and as things flow into it some things also flow out of it.

I married a keeper.  Tall One is sentimental about objects and the people who give him things.  That quality is one of the things I love most about him- and one that drives me batty. We are constantly in conflict over what to keep and not keep.  Over the 17 years we've been together I've become less and less of a keeper.  The holes in the sieve are getting larger and larger.



I think it is because we now have four more people and all of their stuff.  So much of my life is about  cleaning, shuffling, organizing, putting away, and finding STUFF. 

I'm over it. 

I get rid of more and more stuff every week.  These last few weeks the holes have gotten huge.  I've been working to sort clothes for Sparky, Ranger and Pixie.  I have literally been drowning in clothes.  I am having nightmares of being buried in millions of little pants, shirts, and dresses.

That, in combination with an upcoming kitchen renovation, have driven me to get rid of everything I can.  I struggle every day to maintain order in our house.  I figure it is easier to give it (anything) away rather than clean it or find a place to put it.  Tall One told me he's afraid that if he sits still too long I'll bag him up and put him in the back of the car bound for the thrift store. 

I don't always have control of what comes into our house.  With four children's birthdays and Christmas within a few months of each other, we are heading into the major STUFF season of our house.  I can encourage grandparents to give experiences and time all I want, but they really enjoy giving that special gift that makes the girls' faces light up.  But then we have to figure out how to fit all those new things into our house and life.  My mom jokes that if a toy survives in my house for six months it must be a good one.  Between my constant purging of unused toys and my girls playing rough- a toy that lasts more than a few months is a definite winner. 

So- as the girls all head back to school this week, I'm in super purge mode.  I am cleaning out! Wish me luck.

9 bags total- Outta Here!

Today I worked on Sparky's clothes.  Having four girls means we have a lot of hand-me-downs.  We are lucky enough to have friends and family who hand stuff to my girls so I rarely have to purchase any clothes.  That certainly helps the family budget.

However, it comes with a price. 
That price is time and sanity.

I spent no less than four hours today going through 8 bins and 6 trash bags full of clothes for Sparky. Two years ago Sparky started a medication that suppressed her appetite. And by suppressed, I mean decimated. She wouldn't eat anything.  We were feeding her the highest fat foods we could find; cereal with full fat whipping cream, burgers and milkshakes.  It was not a position I ever thought I'd be in- encouraging my child to eat as much fat and calories as possible. It was really crazy but the medication was helping with behavior so we kept her on it.  She eventually plateaued a bit and stopped losing weight. But she was skinny.  I mean, see her ribs skinny.  She swam in the hand-me-downs from Ya-ya.  I had to buy "slim" jeans for her and tighten them as much as possible. 

Fast forward another 18 months and we changed medications and added some new ones.  One of the ones we added was a sedative that caused Sparky to be hungry ALL THE TIME.  At first it was great- she was less picky, enjoyed family meals, and gained some needed weight.  Then it was swinging too far in that direction and she put on a bunch of weight.  As a mom I really struggled with the bizarre food messages we were sending her "Eat as much as possible," then "One serving is plenty." In the last 2 months we were able to eliminate that particular medication and now Sparky's appetite seems "normal"- if I even remember what that is. 

The end result is that Sparky's clothing sizes have been all over the chart.  And as picky as she is about some things, the girl truly could get dressed in the dark for as much attention as she pays to clothes.  She dresses by comfort (both on her skin and familiarity)  So if there is a pair of shorts and a t shirt that she finds comfortable and has worn before and liked, she puts them on.  No matter if they are clashing colors or patterns.  In fact, she still believes that dressing monochromaticly or wearing a floral and floral or stripe and stripes is matching.  I'm sure that can be done with finesse by a fashionista, but Sparky isn't quite there yet.

As of late, she has grown so much that most of her clothes are too small- but she pays no mind and just puts on what she likes and what feels good.  Over the weekend my mom took her out to buy an outfit for the first day of school.  This is the first year she has ever wanted to make a good impression on her teacher and classmates so my mom happily obliged.  In trying on clothes they discovered that she is most comfortable in a size 14.

She skipped right on over size 12 and all the size 10 winter clothes I was expecting her to wear this year.  So my four hours today was spent digging through all the clothes and pulling out the 10s and 12s and packing them up to go to the consignment store or thrift store.  I don't keep clothes after Sparky wears them because Ranger is over her own mind and hasn't worn a dress or anything remotely girly in more than 2 years.  I figure it'll be at least 5 years before Pixie hits the sizes Sparky is in now, and I just don't want to store clothes for that long.  I packed up 5 bags headed to the consignment store and have another 4 ready for the thrift store.  It was fantastic to get so many clothes out of the house!

There are still at least 4 bins of clothes that are the right size for Sparky.  We now need to go through them all and decide what to keep and what to pass on.  Yikes- that adventure will require a whole other post.

I Survive on Moments

So much of my life is hectic, frantic, loud, and on the move.  Seems that we are always living right on the edge of sanity.  I've been working full time the last three weeks and the mornings have been especially difficult.  It was the task of getting all four girls ready for their individual activities, as well as my and Tall One's lunches packed, breakfast for us all, and myself out the door by 7:15am.

What gets me though is the brief moments.  The moment when Sparky offers to help Ranger fix waffles.  The moment when Pixie walks out of her room with a soft sleepy face and reaches up for a snuggle.  Those are the moments that fuel me during the chaos.  

Sparky and Tall One have  a bit of a rocky relationship but the other morning Sparky walked up and hugged him and professed her love.  How long have we worked towards that?!?!?! That moment will endure.

As I ran around this evening straightening the house while we waited for dinner to arrive (Yay Grandparents!) I listened to Ya-ya offer to help Sparky clean her room.  That 15 second conversation I overheard will give me another month of hope for their sometimes strained relationship.

When dinner arrived and I asked Kate to turn off the computer to come eat, and she did it, without a long drawn out tantrum as has become all too regular, it was a moment to treasure.

Sleeping kids are always a moment that brings me peace.  I once had a friend tell me that when you are angry with your kids, remember what they look like asleep.  Its true, every kid looks adorable and lovable sleeping.  

I don't need much, I don't need perfect behavior or a sparkling clean house, I just need a few seconds of calm and cooperation to be my moments of grace that are like a deep breath for my soul.  

Dinner Time

Dinner Time

Last night as the whole family sat down for dinner Pixie said, “This is an excellent dinner Mommy!”  (Love that kid!)

 

So often we sit down to dinner and one (all) of the girls complain, moan, or make faces.  

Once when Ya-ya was about 4 years old I had had enough of her complaining about my dinner choices.  I sat her down and tried to explain that it hurt my feelings.  I asked how she would feel if I criticized her artwork because I work just as hard on dinner as she does on her masterpieces..  She looked at me and said, “That will never happen because I’m a great artist.”

I just had to laugh.  Of course I couldn’t help but respond with “I’m a great cook, you just don’t know it!”

Despite the lack of encouragement, I continue to prepare dinner for us 5-6 nights a week and we sit down to eat as a family.

My good friend Rachel, a nutritionist, promises this will have benefits in the future.  So Tall One and I keep trying.  I can’t stand repetition and monotoany so I am always trying new recipes and foods.  I know that kids are just the opposite- they like repeition and are fans of the “known.”  So I do stick in favorites a few nights a week.

I generally include at least one thing on the menu that I know the kids will eat. Often, I accomplish that by serving a deconstructed version of the main dinner.  For instance, last night we had  tofu, corn, carrot, rice and cashew lettuce wraps.  I served the complete dish as well as the individual ingredients.  

Ya-ya has matured into an adventurous eater and will try anything, she ate the wraps and loved it.  The others ate the rice and carrots. I don’t know what got Pixie excited about the dinner - maybe the construction of the lettuce wrap?  Either way- she tried it all but didn't actually eat much.  

Meals are like so much of parenting, it is easy to take it personally.  When the girls complain, I take it to heart.  I need to remember what Rachel says, "It is your job to make healthy food available, it is their job to eat it."  So I back off and enjoy my dinner. 

When the girls complain about dinner I now reply, "The good news is, you don't have to eat it."  I've done my job, its up to them to do theirs.

Power of a 3yr old

I love 3 year olds.  I particularly love one 3 year old, my little Pixie.  Three year olds have amazing imagination, boundless love, and are trying to find the line between independence and relying on mommy.  I just adore this time in my girls' lives. 

The year olds can:


Put on every item of clothing backwards, even some that I would have deemed physically impossible

Simultaneously cry and laugh

Create a complete imaginary world out of a few blocks and dolls

Fall asleep anytime anywhere, when they need it

Sleep without guilt and worry

Smile and say hello to everyone

Vent their anger with no shame or hesitation.

Give hugs to anyone at any time.

Believe in magic.

Adamently state their own opinion and won't be swayed from it.

Learn new words every day.

Are amazed at their own learning, "Look what I can do."

Laugh at easy silliness.  How can pretending to tickle her and not even touch her be so funny?

Will claim everything as their own (my tree, my grocery store, my creek).

Cheer when you arrive home, even if it is just after a walk to the mailbox.

Are easily convinced to make anything into a game, from cleaning to brushing teeth. 


Last night, as Pixie slept, I went in to take a picture of her.  She was sleeping in that perfect little angel pose, with her hands under her cheek and her bow lips parted daintily.  I took the picture to keep with me and pull up when she is "Adamantly stating her opinion" or "Venting her anger with no shame or hesitation." During those times I need a visual reminder that there is another side to her.

Quiet Time

Its been a long time since I rocked a baby to sleep.  I will forever remember that feeling when they completely relax and drift off.

During the girls infancies, in the middle of the night when I hadn't showered in days and could no longer keep track of which side I was nursing, or if it had been one hour or three since the last feeding, it was the moment I lived for.

That is when I felt most "Mommy-ish."  It was the hardest, most difficult part of those first weeks and months, but it's also the part that was mine, and mine alone.

That moment of relaxation and sleep was the reward . 

Yesterday Ranger slipped on some water in the kitchen and did the classic banana peel fall.  She is tough as nails but this really rattled her.  So I picked her up and put her in my lap on the recliner. I patted her back and whispered to her.

After a few minutes I went to get up and return to whatever chore was occupying the afternoon, but I caught myself.  Why give up this moment?  So instead, I clicked the recliner back and nuzzled into her neck and remembered that late night feeling.

Ranger no longer fits on my lap like she used to.  She a tall 6 year old and her arms and legs flop over the side of the chair.  But she smells the same and she feels the same when she takes that breath, relaxes, and gives into sleep.

No feeling in the world matches that moment when comfort, love, and relaxation come together and your child falls asleep in your arms. 

The Sneaky Stink

First time parents often wonder how they will handle messy diapers.  There are special trash cans, sprays, bags, and inserts to help contain the smell.  The diaper industry has built itself up by claiming no leaks and protection against blowouts.  The companies prey upon parents' fear of the gross and smelly diaper.

I'm here to tell you that there is another source of gross and smelly that you should fear.

The car seat.

It is a sneaky and sly smell, it builds over time.  Those snacks you pass back during a long trip, or flowers your child picks for you- they all end up in the deepest darkest crevices of the car seat.  They blend with a little bit of juice or water spilled and a hot summer day and.......Then suddenly you go to take the car seat out of the car (as I did today) and you are blown away by the smell wafting from it.  You remove the cover, thinking it is just a few snack stains and the summer sun causing the smell. But oh, no, it is never that simple.

Upon removing the car seat cover today I was assaulted by an even stronger odor.  My desire to throw away the car seat and just start over was only barely squashed by my pinny pinching ways. I realized this was not a quick job.

Pixie was already wearing her bathing suit (always ready for a last minute pool trip).  She and I went outside armed with toothbrushes, scrub brushes, and soap.  After spraying it down to get all the big chunks of debris we started scrubbing.  I used the word "debris" in that last sentence not to scare you, but the reality is that we uncovered disgusting bits of food, rocks, beads, and unidentifiable fuzz and muck. 

I had to resort to wooden skewers to scrape out and clean all the five thousand compartments of the plastic frame of the carseat.  After a half our of excavating and cleaning, while being "helped" by Pixie, I gave up.  I wouldn't call the carseat good-as-new but merely less-disgusting-than-before.  Luckily, after 4 kids and numerous carseats my gross out level is disturbingly high.

I am grateful to the car seat designers that engineer such amazing protective contraptions for my brood, but if you need some ideas for future models:
-Collection tray at the bottom for all the random "bits"

-Non stick surface- then I could just rinse it off with a hose
-Maybe not the five thousand tiny crevices that are magnets for the aforementioned "bits"?
-Dishwasher safe - Ooooo, just take it apart and put the whole thing through a cycle.  How cool would that be.

My goal is to start including pictures with my posts- aren't you glad I didn't start today?

Large Family Surprises

With four children, I guess we qualify as a "large family."  I make that guess based on the comments of, "Wow, you must be busy." or "I could never handle that." or "You know what causes that right?" or just the general stares we sometimes get.  I don't really consider us a large family, but that's because to me we are just us.

I'd venture to guess that all parents have a few surprises that caught them off guard about bringing a new little person into the house.  Today, I'm going to share what has surprised me about having my "large family."


#1- They may have names, but their real names always start with "I mean...."  So Ya-ya is "Ranger, Sparky, I mean Ya-ya"  At one point I felt guilty about always calling them by the wrong name, but I got over it.  I do the best I can.  They are lucky when I don't say, "You, the tall one." or "Hey shorty".

#2- There are now 100 nails I'm in charge of. I cut fingernails and toenails all the time.  It is really insane.  I practically jumped for joy when Ya-ya learned to do it herself.  I guess it is a sign of healthy kids, but their nails grow and grow.  Sometimes I will look down to grab a hand in a parking lot and instead I get a claw.  And nothing ruins a Saturday morning snuggle like your child stabbing you like a pin cushion.

#3- There is only so much planning you can do. I'm a stickler for being on time.  And I know it takes 5-10 minutes to load the car, get buckled, and actually get on the road.  So I plan for that.  But what surprises me is that we can all be standing at the door with shoes on ready to walk out the door and suddenly..... someone is naked, or missing, or thowing up.  I mean it.  All of those have happened.  I can plan and prepare till I turn blue, and something will come up and make life unpredictable.

#4- They are each their own people.  When Ya-ya was born I read all the books and did everything "right."  I then had the perfect child who took naps, cleaned up her toys, and obeyed her mom.  I was a great parent.  Then I had Sparky.  I did all the same things, kept all the same routines, and had a child who didn't sleep and who is independent and fierce. I realized God served me a dose of humility.  Ya-ya is who she is, not because of my "expert" parenting but because of who she is.  And Sparky is a different person. Then we followed up with Ranger and Pixie, who are just as unique.  They all physically favor each other, but hang around for 5 minutes and you'll quickly figure out the differences.  The lesson for Tall One and I is to build on each girl's strengths and support their challenges.

#5- This too shall pass.  The good and the bad.  The sleepless nights of infancy (and beyond as is the case with Sparky) and the wonderful joy of first words.  Everything that seems huge or tiny is in our life for such a short time.  Just when Ya-ya and I are at each others throats about cleaning her room, I wake up one day and it is over.  Granted, some other issue arrives, but at least it is different.  Now, when Pixie is having a temper tantrum over wearing the same dress for days in a row, I remember that it is just a phase an it will end.  She won't go to kindergarten wearing the same dress.  The knowledge gives me peace to make it through the tough stuff and reminds me to slow down and remember to play dolls or Battleship and to listen when they talk.

#6- I will never, ever match up all the socks. This is not really a surprise.  The surprise has been how many unmatched socks accumulate and how many of them I don't remember ever seeing before.  Where did they come from?

No Decisions Please

Last weekend I went away with 4 of my best friends for a Girls' Trip.  We've done a similar trip for the last 9 years.  After that many years we've really perfected it and have found the perfect ratios of sightseeing, sleeping, eating, drinking, with plenty of talking and laughing.

My very favorite aspect of the trips is that I refuse to make any decisions.  As we begin to plan the trip, I share my schedule and preferred dates but beyond that, I shut my mouth.  I will go anywhere and do anything as long as I don't have to decide on it.

My ordinary days are full of decisions.

Wake up early to exercise?
How long should I go?
Do I have time before the girls need to wake up?
Shower before or after they wake up?
What should I wear?
What to eat for breakfast?
Do I let them sleep or wake them up? What do we have going on today?
How should I structure the day? Do we have errands or appointments?
Do I let the Ya-ya and Sparky stay home if they don't want to come along?
Do I fight with Pixie about what she wants to wear? (Tthe same dress for 3 days)
Which store?
What is the best way to get there?
What to buy?
Does that cost too much?
If I adjust my budget, where do I take the money from?
Do I fight a battle with Pixie about walking alone or let it be? (Can you tell she's 3?)
Do we have time to do one more errand before we need to get home for lunch?
What will I fix for lunch?

And by that time it's what- only noon??
Making that many decisions is exhausting.  Granted, most of them are not earth shattering or of any great meaning, but it is like being pecked to death by chickens.  

So, the annual Girls' Trip is my chance to pass off all decisions to someone else.  This trip we went to Philadelphia and I made no decisions.  Well, I did decide what to pack- although I tried to have my friend Jennifer come over to pack for me.  I will go to any tourist attraction or site, eat at any restaurant, and follow any schedule as long as I don't have to decide on it.  This trip was even better because two of the nights we went to restaurants and had the chef's tasting menu so I didn't even have to decide on my meals.  I love that the other 4 in the group will step up and plan a great trip.  I am grateful that they make all the decisions. 

It was bliss. 

Scooter Ride

Last night we went for a family walk around the block.  Well, a partial family walk.  The older two stayed home so the Tall One, Ranger, Pixie and I took the dogs out.  The girls rode their scooters.  

A few months ago I had taken to hiding Pixie's scooter because she was so terrible at it that a 100 yard walk took 30 minutes and always ended with me carrying a scooter (is there a comfortable way to do this? I always end up banging myself in the leg no matter how I carry it) and a crying 3 year old.  Not fun. 

But, last night I was in a good mood and decided that after hours of practice in the driveway we would attempt for her to scooter around the block.  And Tall One was along to carry the scooter if it all fell apart.  We rounded the first two corners with no problems as Tall One and I talked about how much better Pixie was on the scooter and watched Ranger perform tricks on hers.  Then, right as we stop to talk to a neighbor there is a crash and a cry.  

Somehow, standing still, Pixie had managed to fall and hit her eye.  Our dear neighbor gets a bag of ice, but in the way 3year olds have, Pixie refuses to actually put the ice on her swelling eye.  We’re talking about a cut on her eyebrow and abrasions under here eye and a black eye forming as we watch. We offer to carry her home but she wants to ride the scooter.  I gotta say that my heart swelled a bit with pride.  

That’s my girl- not stopped by busted eye.  Mommy finally let her ride that scooter around the block and she is NOT giving that up.  

We did stop by another neighbor’s house for a quick medical consult that she didn’t need any stitches, and then all the way home.  We washed it out and put her to bed.  She was asleep before Tall One left the room.  We hope to make family walks a habit but I could do without the drama.  That will never happen- not in our house.

Labels

Labels

So, so often I hear parents say they don’t want their child labeled.  Drives me batty. Everyone has a label- either self proclaimed or given by others.   Great reader, polite, bookworm, troublemaker, athletic, funny, and so on.  The parent who says, “I don’t want my child labeled” is lying to themselves.  

You child already has a label.  

Do you want it to be, “Child whose parents are in denial” or “Child whose parents won’t get her the help she needs” or “Child who has so much potential but his parents’ pride gets in the way”???  If an educational professional is counseling you to pursue special education services for your child DO IT.  Get the testing, get the information, learn everything you can about your child and how he learns and what you can do to support that.  A label of Learning Disabled, Autistic, Dyslexic, Apraxia, Developmentally Delayed, or any other string of the ABC’s is just a search term to look up on Google.  Its just a name to give you direction in finding support and guidance for helping you child. Bring on the labels!  

Bring on the acronyms and committee meetings and new vocabulary to learn.  Your child will be labeled and categorized by her strengths and weaknesses, whether you are conscious of it or not. So be conscious of it- be proactive.  Listen to the teachers, childcare providers, and friends who tell you that your child may need some additional support or may learn in an atypical way.  

A label merely provides you a handle to hang onto as you navigate the educational system. By being a participant and advocate in the special education system, you and your child participate in choosing a label and have ownership of it.  Empower your child to claim his label and love it! 

Introductions

So here I am, going out of my comfort zone.  I've joined the masses and am blogging.  For purposes of annonimity, I've decided to use our family "camp names."  In Girl Scouts, when you go to camp, you are called by your camp name.  At the end of camp, other campers try to guess your real name. So, to introduce us:

Me- Buttercup (can you guess my favorite movie?), wife to the Tall One, mom to Ya-Ya, Sparky, Ranger, and Pixie.  Current stay-at-home mom working to create pockets of peace in our crazy life.

Tall One: My mom told me to marry him after the first date.  She said he had height and musical ability and we needed that in our family.  And here we are 22 years later celebrating our 17th wedding anniversary with 4 children.  He is a hard working hubby who loves loud music, coffee, and being goofy with the girls.

Ya-Ya: My first born.  11 and just finished 6th grade. She is taller than me, wears a shoe size bigger than me, and we can share clothes. What??????   She is a huge help and I'd be lost without her.  She loves to read and I mean  ALL THE TIME. 

Sparky: She picked this name because she loves the fire when we go camping.  But the name says so much more.  She is 9 and a rising 4th grader.  Her mind is constantly on overdrive and she amazes us with her vocabulary and ideas.

Ranger: My only blondie at 6 years old- she was given the gift of coordination and strength like no other.  She has boundless energy and a kind heart.

Pixie: Our bonus baby.  She may be only 3years old, but trust me, she thinks she's 11.  If those big sisters can do it, so can she.  Best snuggler in the house.

Molly: 14 year old beagle.  Only another beagle lover can understand living with an old beagle.  She is stinky and messy and drives us batty but she's ours. I always tell our children she an example of how we show unconditional love, because nothing else explains her survival in our house after all the trouble she causes.

Shastie: our 8? year old mutt.  Easygoing and smart and tolerant of the lopsided cuts I try to give her every summer.

Midnight, Sugar, Spots- our 3 mice.  Yes, I PAID to bring mice into our home.  We got them from a local rescue organization.  Can you believe there is a rescue for mice?  They've turned out to be my favorite pets.

So, now you've been introduced to us all.  I've been kind and gentle, presenting us all in our best light.  Keep reading the blog and I'm sure the truth will come out.