Bread Crumbs In The Butter

Apparantly, if looks could kill, daggers would come out my eyes

Last week, while on the phone with a friend discussing dinner plans, I suddenly yelled out "Holy motherf**king SHIT!"  You see, it was the 23rd that day.  On the 19th, I had RSVPed to attend my good friend Jay's twin daughter's FIRST birthday party.  Like a spaz, I totally forgot. Words cannot describe how guilty and stupid I felt.

Tail between my legs I called Jay (after confirming with my friend that an email was the coward's way to go).  She was very good about it, God bless her, and we made plans for our families to have dinner. Which we did, yesterday.  This time, it was the ladies turn to drink and the husbands turn to cook.  We had beer. They made chicken wings.

At one point, we surveyed the chaos that comes with getting our 8 kids together. 6 girls (two of them identical twins). 2 boys.  We sucked back more beer and Jay said "So, all this between the two of us, eh?"  Yep.

When I'm around Jay and her twins, I say so many Mommy Drive-Bys that I am visibly embarrassed, but I can't help myself!  Things like "So, how do you tell them apart?" and "Oh My God. There are TWO of them!"  It's a compulsion that I am not proud of.

Erin, now almost 7, was enthralled by these two babies. So enthralled that while carrying one, she walked into the kitchen and said "Mommy. Can we have another baby? PLEASE?"

Jay says that the look on my face was priceless. So honest and quick that when I tried to duplicate it, I couldn't.  It was a mix of terror/disgust/shock.  I think Erin actually fell backwards from my stare.

I am still amazed at the clarity with which I am sure that I am done having kids. It's quite certain. Very definite.  I want to say that the thought of having more has me in the fetal position sucking my thumb under the table, but you never know what flub of modern medicine might happen and I would find myself feeling bad for saying that.

After our first three, I was ready to do it again. Immediately. Right now.  My first coherent sentence after Kristyn was born was "I can't wait to do that again!".  We didn't wait long, only 16 months.  After Erin, I once again could not wait to add a third.  We tried for two and a half years, suffered three miscarriages and a rough pregnancy and still the first thing I thought after she was born was how I couldn't wait to do it again.  I was sure I would never have that feeling of being done I had heard from some women.

I waffled a bit during my pregnancy with Alex.  I planned his birth (a glorious homebirth) almost as though I knew this would be my last.  Toward the end, my midwives and I discussed family planning for after his birth, where they again gave me a "The withdrawl method is not effective" speech. That was the first time I said "You know. I think I might be ready to consider some permanent options here."

When he was born, I'm convinced that all of my baby lust came out with the placenta. I was instantly sure. I don't think much of it had to do with the fact that he was a boy, but I won't lie and will say it was an easier sell to my husband, who still wanted to have 6 (and still does). Four just seemed like a perfect number. Even. Not too big a family, but still large enough that I can shock people, which I like to do.

As a joke, I've often said that I think God sent me Alex to help me in my decision. To know for sure that I was done.  Even though I mean it as a joke, I do think there is truth to it. Colicky, sleep disorder and a holy terror at age 2, I get tired just thinking about it.

I find this whole topic fascinating because once again it proves to me how different women are. For every woman I've met who is sure she is done, I've met another who is not.  Everyone has their reasons for being done or not and I guess I'm surprised at myself that my reasons seem so cut and dried. Cause, I'm NEVER like that.

Everything is math

Kristyn had a basketball game this morning and John is currently giving her the "Everything is math. See watch how <basketball> is math too!" (You can put anything where "basketball" is). I figured I would take a few minutes to add that we finally bought new living room furniture yesterday. Yes. Two brand spanking new black leather sofas are due to arrive in two weeks.

He does nothing slowly, this man of mine.  It took us no less than 2 years to buy our first minivan. Longer than that to buy our first house.  Yes, those are big purchases, so I understood his need to research and test drive and get preapproved and repreapproved - BUT TWO YEARS FOR SOFAS!?

So what does he do at 10am at brunch?  He says "Okay, let's go buy some sofas."

As we're walking out he said "See. Just like that. Easy, huh?"

Beat The Boohbah!

I want to thank Moxie for giving me advice on Alex's hitting. She said that giving her son something to bite other than humans helped curbed it. Brilliance!

While in Florida we purchased Alex a 2 foot Zing Zing Zingbah for $2 in a clearance bin at Super Wal-Mart. Until now, all he has done is humped this poor stuffed thing.

Well now, Alex has learned to "Beat The Boohbah!". When he gets that look in his eye and raises that fist, we yell out "Alex! Go beat the Boohbah!"

Today we went to a birthday party/playdate and there was no hitting involved. I even held a 7 month old baby for an hour and he didn't bat an eye.

I took these earlier. He wanted to show me how good he is at "Beat the Boohbah!"

   

Speak slowly and leave nothing out

When you were in high school did you have that friend that you talked to about 10 times a day? Even if you had just seen her in the hall, you still called her up the minute you got home to talk about the day?

The phone rings alot in this house. It's usually either my Mom, John's Dad or Suzanne. If those three people were in my house and the phone rang I would look around and say "Who the heck is that?"

When it's Suzanne, alot of giggling and gossip ensues. Mostly we share funny stories about our kids, shit, shopping and how being a stay at home Mom can really suck sometimes.

However, we seem to have entered an interesting phase of our friendship where we discuss food in a way I can only assume is getting close to porn.

We discuss what is for dinner in hushed tones. Listing the ingredients one by one. It's even dirtier when we discuss alcohol! Grocery day is a free for all. We both freely admit that the only reason to go to a baby or wedding shower is for the food. You know, where the sandwiches are so small that no one will see you eat five or six. We both freely admit to being royally pissed if the food sucks.

When one of us gets to go out for dinner, there is the assumption that that person will call the next morning and give a play by play of the meal from cocktails to dessert.  The conversation starts with "So what did you get? Remember. Speak slowly and don't leave *anything* out!" and ends with a blissful sigh and an "Okay, talk to you later!"

I was trying to think of a way to end this entry, but I got to go out for dinner last night and I just heard my Instant Messenger ding. It's Suzanne.

"How was dinner?"

That should do it.

A Gift From My Son

It's about 8:20pm. Alex has been in bed about 20 minutes. A couple of minutes ago he called me up there (very loudly).

"A-MA!" (That's me)

I walked in and said "What, Alex?"

He held out his cute little hand and said "Ere!" (Here).

He called me up to his room so he could give me ... a snot.

Erin's Dance Results

When we walked in and her dance teacher gave her a big kiss and a hug, I knew she had done well.

Erin received a grade of "Highly Commended" on her exam Saturday. The examiner said it was a pleasure to evaluate her.

Now I will be a shameless bragging Mom and say that Erin was the only student in Ballet 1 to get Highly Commended. Yay!

Monday, Monday... So good to me.

It might be hard to believe, but I actually enjoy Monday mornings.

I reserve early Monday morning as a time to decompress from the weekend. The Girls get on the bus at 7:50am and I let Meg and Alex veg out in front Dora.  Right now, I'm sitting in my comfy pants (I've now started saying "comfty" a la Cowboy in BB5), drinking coffee out of a gorgeous mug I painted and listening to the dishwasher.

We had a very productive weekend!

Erin had her first dance exam on Saturday and her teacher said she remained very focused and poised. It was the first time I had to do a real dancer's bun, complete with hair net and clips.  At the recital last year, they had someone do that.  I was all on my own this time. We got it on the first try. Thank God for hair gel and spray!

I think I did pretty good?

(My monitor is quite dark, so if I edited this one too bright, let me know).

Other than the exam, we were free to plan whatever we wished.  I think we had every child in the neighbourhood over for hot chocolate.  I also think that I went to the grocery store about 5 times in 24 hours. It's a goal I set for myself every weekend; How much money can I throw at my local Independent Grocer?

Our cleaning lady recently went on maternity leave so it has been up to me to keep this house as clean as she did.  Well, I think I'm doing a pretty good job.  I cleaned like a fool yesterday and I must say, it looks pretty darn good.   About halfway through I discovered something. I have four kids! Four healthy, able-bodied kids!

From 3pm to bedtime we all cleaned and scrubbed. Kristyn folded laundry, something I hate to do, and Erin put it all away.  Brilliance!  Not wanting to be left out, Meghan and Alex folded towels. Mostly they bunched them up and jumped in them, but they were trying.

During this time, John packed up quite a bit of the business to bring to the farm. Progress is starting to show and I think when we're done, this house is going to be so clean and clutter free that I will never want to leave. Of course, if we stay, I'll just clutter it up again, so it's better that we move to a bigger house that will take me longer to clutter up.

Wow. This entry seemed much less boring in my head. I think I need more coffee to wake myself up!

Coming of age...

I knew this day was coming.  I'm not sad that it happened. Just sad at what it represents.

I played soccer tonight and when I got back, John had all the kids doing "quiet" things. Alex and Meghan were watching "Bear In The Big Blue House" and Kristyn and Erin were reading in their rooms.

I went to see them one by one and got to Kristyn last. She was reading her new issue of  Discovery Girl magazine. We looked through it (I love it!). Then she asked "Where did this come from?"  Since it didn't arrive quite in time for Christmas, I guess she didn't know. So I said "I got it for you for Christmas."

You could see her thinking.

Then she said "But, doesn't Santa bring gifts?"

I had been thinking about just telling her anyway. I didn't want her to hear it from some mean spirited kid at school. So I asked her "Has anyone at school said anything to you about Santa?" She told me that yes, someone had said Santa isn't real.

I think my smile was a dead giveaway cause she said "You mean he's really NOT REAL!?"

She actually seemed kind of excited. Like I had let her in on some huge secret only for big people.  I told her that I would need her help to keep it a secret from her sisters and brother, but that no, there was no Santa.

Sick parent alert: Is it okay that I prefer her to know?  Is it okay that I finally feel like I'm getting some recognition here?

In any case, my first baby now knows all about it.  I'm okay with it, but man, turning 30 and having a daughter know the truth about Santa in one year is hard to take.

I am "That" parent.

This might seem a bit disjointed cause I'm high on NyQuil. I can't write or say NyQuil without thinking of Dennis Leary. "NyQuil! NyQuil! NyQuil! We love you. You giant fucking 'Q'!" It's just good writing all around.

I watched the first episode of Survivor tonight and saw a commercial that made me roll my eyes.  A bunch of suburban Mommies were standing in the kitchen and "Oohing" and "Ahing" over Keri Lotion. I thought it was so retarded. Like, who actually does that?

Crap. I did that. This morning. While at a playdate, we "Oohed" and "Ahed" over some diaper salve that was handmade.  Shit.

Anyhow, it was the first time in a while that I attended a real playdate and I was pumped. Until I realized that I am that Mother.  The Mother to that kid. The kid who hits, bites, punches and generally terrorizes the playdate.

Alex was in relentless pursuit of one of my friend's daughters (who is 12 days older).  Not only did he get her totally beside herself, he seemed to enjoy it. At one point, he hit one another little girl because she looked like the first girl from behind.

What's worse? I have no idea how to handle it!  My girls were always just happy to be anywhere with different toys.  I don't want to make it look like I'm ignoring, dismissing or permitting his behavior, but I honestly have no idea what to do.

What makes it harder is that it seems that John is taking a "Boys will be boys" attitude and that sucks. We discussed that tonight and I think I've opened his eyes to the fact that he never would have chuckled had it been Kristyn, Erin or Meghan who had done that.

I'm sure I'll figure it out. He really is a sweet kid. (Really Susie! I swear!). 

I really can't say much else about it. I think the NyQuil has taken over.

So accomplished and so deflated

I accomplished alot today.  I got the entire main floor all tidy like I would if my cleaning lady was not on maternity leave. It's alot less exciting to do when you know that you're the one who will be scrubbing it after, but anyway... I washed the floors, vaccumed and steamcleaned part of the carpet, and dusted the living room.  Of course, you can't tell anything was down now, but the point is I did it.

I also did many loads of laundry. I cooked a roast in the crock pot. I worked my way through hundreds of business emails. I even filed!

I am very proud of my Mommy-ness today (and my secretary-ness, but John, if you call me that ever again, I will throw alot more at you than potato peels).  I mean, most days, I am a good Mommy. Today, I rocked it.

So why do I feel deflated? Meghan. I just don't get this kid.  It pains me to say it, but why is she always so upset?  Just when I figure out what sets her off, it all changes. Today she sat in the hall for 30 minutes because I wouldn't let her wear that stupid 2T denim dress to school!   When we got to preschool I thought "Okay, now she was 2.5 hours to vent it all out and when I pick her up she will be refreshed."  She picked it up right where she left off.  Yelling at her sisters. At me. At the man in the car in front of us for having a car that was "too dirty"!

She is again refusing to eat meat. Okay, honestly, I find this part totally endearing.  She is aware now more than ever that meat was once an animal.  That's okay. I can't (won't) force her to eat it, but does she have to cry all through dinner?

Allright, the more I write, the more I am reminding myself of all the great things that Meghan does. I love her drama.  She won't be easy to live with, but I think it's pretty safe to say that I won't have to worry about her being taken advantage of, eh?  I guess it's that it's 7:30pm and she is still crying about Alex pinching her 20 minutes ago. She'll go to bed and in the morning I will say "Good Morning!" like she hung the moon in her sleep.

It's all good. I'm just tired. But I have cinnamon rolls baking!  And I won't share.