More Like a Life Wish

Last night, our bed was overly-full with kids as we sat down and relaxed, watching Leave it to Beaver.  Throughout the night, we had a few pop-ins from kids with nightmares and various "dire" needs.  Today, my big kids are off to school and the littlest hugs me so sweetly and tightly.  I just wrote a note to John, and realized that soon, our team of kids will be 9, 7, 6, and 2.
 
To the woman I met this week who wondered if four children was a death wish:  It really isn't.  It's a wild and crazy ride...and it's not for everyone.  But from where I stand, being a mom to four kids like mine is a pretty beautiful thing.  I wish I had known how to convey that to you in our brief interaction this week.

just more info on kids and the internet

Last night, Lucy told me she wanted to do someone homework for her homeroom class.  "We're studying the life cycle of a frog, and I need to do a report on it, Mom.  I have to get it done tonight."
 
She went on:  "Well, it's not actually homework.  I just want to do it."
 
How my heart burst with pride for my over-achieving, studious girl!   We opened up Google and found a great resource for her unnecessary report.  She copied down notes, printed out a picture for the cover, and was pleased as punch with herself.  So was I. 
 
This morning, I got an email from her homeroom teacher.   "The mating habits of frogs???  This is my laugh for the week!"
 
And then I went back to our great resource, and realized just how descriptive it was.
 


 

Sleep-in Morning

Dear kids,
 
Before you wake up, I am sipping my coffee and wondering about the number of quiet minutes I might have.  We had a great night last night.  Dad suggested dinner at the Rainforest Café, so we picked him up from work in the minivan and made the trek.   Everyone was tickled with the moving animals, starry sky, and kids' menu.  "Monkeys!  Mama!! Monkeys!"    Even our littlest got into the fun.  I couldn't help but think back on the one other time we had eaten there as a family on Jim's 4th birthday.   It was two years ago already!   How did that time slip through our fingers?  I remember so well your joy at the sparkler birthday dessert and the Build a Bear workshop.   Frank was just a newborn in a baby carrier.
 
We stopped at Nickelodeon Universe for a few spring break rides, and we ventured home.
 
Tommy and I drove separately to grab groceries.  And get this, my kids:  Tom helped the bag boy pull a second grocery cart out to our car, unload it, and then unload the groceries at home.  And he asked to help put groceries away after that.  Pretty good stuff for an 8 year old.
 
I am so lucky to have four amazing kids.  Sometimes I forget to note how amazing you are!  You are growing into polite, creative, thoughtful people.  You are learning the nuances of friendship, failure, and determination.  It seems like every single day is packed with opportunity.   Summer is coming quickly, and I am looking forward to adventures with you people. 
 
Still asleep up there?   I can hardly believe it.
 
I love you guys to the moon and back.
 
Mom

Three in Three

It is beautiful.

They are peeling with laughter,

Tripping over one another in Twister,

Giggling to choking over popcorn at brother jokes.

Slap happy.

They are asking for a brother sister sleepover.

They are breaking one another's Lego ships and saying it's ok, it's easy to fix.

They are bitter enemies and united allies.

They are sharing their stories of sadness and sharing their glories of accomplishment.

They are doing everything they can to be like one another,

 

And yet everything they can to distinguish themselves as the best.

A sibling team.

They are three kids in three years.

More than we could handle and more than we expected.

A crazy gift of joy and chaos in every moment.

The diapers, the accidents, the naps faded away to an energy unparalleled.

Oh that their laughter would echo decades from now.

That their joy might lift up one another's life in the every day.

This team of monkeys.

A Sunny Winter Morning

Oh family.
 
Jim woke up at the **crack** of dawn this morning.  He starts out with a high-pitched yelp, somewhat from fear of darkness and somewhat to awaken the rest of the household.   It's a bit of an exasperating stage of kindergarten---farting jokes and loud, spastic gestures for effect.  Please calm down, little Jim.
 
The extreme cold broke this week, so I sent the big team outside at 7:30.   There was a flurry of tree-climbing activity (Jim fell), and some ice-throwing.  Then they settled into Team USA bob-sledding in the backyard.   In their minds, it was all gold.
 
Parenting has been a challenge for me lately.  The older kids are SO busy and loud.   They hunger for more and more exercise, food, books, crafts, etc.   They actually amuse themselves very well, but it's their overall energy level that keeps the house feeling frenetic.  I'm weary and agitated.  Just their arrival home from school, with all its noise and commotion, gives me a bit of a nervous tick.
 
Frank is not quite as loud as the team, but he's toddler-boisterous, anyway, and certainly monkeylike.  I can not believe how much of the day he spends finding chairs and stools to push over to a counter for a boost in height.  Now that I think of it, I suppose it would be rather frustrating to feel like all the good stuff has been put out of reach.  I can't quite imagine it as an adult!  
 
It is not all bad around here.   I think the winter has left me in a cooped-up funk, but I don't want to paint the picture as so dismal.   Being a mom to a team of elementary school kids is a proud and beautiful thing.    Just this morning, I cleared the fridge of the fruits of kid labor:  a special napkin sending phonetically-spelled love from Jim for Mom, a carefully drawn picture of the family in some kind of space war.  We also have a crazy troll chia pet, some banana bread, and a Hello Kitty wallet claiming space on the counter.
 
If I were an outsider looking in, I would see so much love and energy in this house. 
 
Thank you for these kids, my God.  I forget to say it too often.  Thank you for their love of brother and sister and mom and dad.  Their love spills over and they can not stop it.  They have so little hesitation in opening up their hearts again and again. 
 
Time to rally the school train.

Big Boy

Dear Frank,
 
You are sleeping right now and I thought I would grab this quick moment of silence to write you a letter.  I used to sit down and write much more with your older siblings.  I haven't spent quite as many words on you.
 
But wait---before you get mad, let me say this:  With you, I have spent the time.
 
I have pulled you out of bed to rock for ten more minutes.  I have sung to you and admired you and let you spend a half hour dribbling apple sauce into your mouth bite by dropping bite. 
 
Oh how we have laughed Frankie!   And built towers of cans and hugged and hugged.
 
This week, you began to finish the songs we sing.  You told me this morning that you were going poop.  
 
You are not really a baby anymore.
 
Oh kiddo, I am so lucky to be your mom.  This has been an upside-down roller coaster, and the crazy love you have grown in our family is something we couldn't have predicted or deserved.
 
Better wake up, kid.  There's another adventure on the horizon.
 
I love you.
 
Mom

School Days for the Big Kids

It's September, and that means the scent of freshly electric-sharpened pencils is in the air.  Oh how I loved school!  Getting organized and doing things in an orderly fashion appeal to the concrete sequential in me.  (Seems like that part of me has been hiding very deep down lately.)
 
The kids are off to a good start this year.  Tom is tackling 3rd grade, Lucy is in 1st, and Jim is taking a new route as the first of our kids to try Montessori-style kindergarten.  Jim is a little shy, peeking his way into the classroom each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  I hope the year fills his heart with a bit more comfort and confidence as days continue.
 
This morning, Tom was so excited to hop out of the car and race into school that he opened the sliding van door and bolted.  "Tommy!  Get back here!"  I called, "You forgot my kiss!"
 
He puckered up, and gave me a quick-as-lightening smack.  "I love you!"  I called, watching he and Lucy bolt for the building.  "Have a great day!"

 

"You too, Mom!"  he called back.

 

And off he was, on his big journey.

Goodbye!

The end of summer!   
 
So many mourn the passing, carefree days, but I am here to tell you there is a silent minority cheering for summer's exit.  And it's me. 
 
I can't take another day of 3-a-day gushing milk spills on the kitchen table.  I don't want to step on another spilled goldfish cracker on my living room floor.  I've grown weary of hanging towel after towel on the deck.  I'm fresh out of ideas for patiently guiding siblings away from boxing matches in the car.
 
The summer days have been long, and unscheduled.  Towards the end here, they have loomed before me like ominous storms.
 
A couple weeks ago, a woman with two kids commented to me that it sure gets easier when they're older.  I took a look at my baby, toddling through the waiting room at swim lessons with snot dribbling down his nose and mixing with drool and slipping down his chin.   He was giddily trying to grab up everything in sight that didn't belong to us, and I bit my tongue from saying out loud:  I've got a long time yet before that comes.
 
But still:  deep breath.  Next week, with fresh number twos and Crayolas and minds, three of my kids will march into a productive, sibling-free zone.  They will read and do math and stay away from video games without me reminding them all day long.  They will prosper!   They will flourish!  They will joyfully take up the task of learning!
 
Or maybe it's me that will prosper and flourish.  And breathe. 
 
It's the end of summer!

The Morning Chaos

I am so much more of a perfectionist than I realized.

Every day, I wish the day could start with a kid-free workout and a cup of coffee before the chaos ensues.  I haven’t yet worked up to the 5AM wake-up call that would require for me. 

So, it isn’t that. 

Instead, today began around 6 when my eyes popped open with a bit of sunlight streaming in through the bedroom curtains.  I grabbed a shower, knowing my exercise would be on hold because we have a morning playdate scheduled.  I heard Frankie cry out for a moment, but I ignored him as I ran down the stairs and pulled out of the driveway to grab coffee for John and me. 

I feel a constant pull between perfection and reality.  I dream of a family in which no boys talk about poop or penises.  A family where people pretty much always say please or thanks.  A family where I ask for help, and the answer is, “Sure, happy to lend a hand!”  Or at least yes.

Don’t get me wrong:  my kids aren’t horrible.  There are lots of pleases and thank yous, and lots of helping hands.  Just this morning, Jimmy unloaded the dishwasher and Lucy played nicely with Frank, keeping him out of trouble.  But in between those nice moments, there are children who scream just to experiment with how screaming can sound.  There is a baby grabbing all my recycling from the container with the broken lid.  There is laundry coming from every orifice of the home, and a particularly demanding child who yells in my face in a way that is embarrassing and infuriating.  I am trying to keep my cool, but just being around this much action is giving me a bit of a nervous tick.

Parenting is so indescribably hard.

I’m having one of those days when I wonder if I am really cut out for this.  Can I even get it done?  It seems like I’m slipping.   Beyond wondering if I can ever leave the house with it being in reasonable order, I wonder if I can raise these kids into relatively competent adults. 

Logically, I know other homes are going through the same struggles.  But it feels so lonely and isolating to be here as the primary caregiver.  I feel unqualified; my own weaknesses glaringly revealed when a child has a short temper that mimics my own.

It is a hard morning.  But there is sun outside and I suppose we will get through it. 

How many days until school starts?  

A Leader in the Faith of our Family

Every so often, I walk into a room and find my breath taken away because my husband is the man of my dreams.
 
Quietly, ever so quietly, he remembers to teach our children prayers, to read to them about our faith, to pray the rosary.
 
We don't have to make a strategic plan.  He doesn't let me know each time he shares a kernel of wisdom with one of them.
 
He just does it because he believes, and in the quiet of his heart, he listens to God telling him how to be a wonderful dad and how to lead our kids in a way that is soft-spoken, but powerful.

June 11

Lazy summer days.
Tie dye tshirts, cotton blowing through the breeze.
Lucy on the monkey bars.
Trip to the dollar store.  "This is my heaven!!" -Tommy
Planning boys' birthdays.
Swimming lessons.
Baby walking behind a push-stroller in the front yard.
Lucy losing another front tooth.
Jimmy keeping up with the big kids---not just quite.
Sleeping the afternoon away in Mom and Dad's bed.
Love these children.
Need a glass of wine. 

Almost 5 Jim

10 Current Things about Sweet Jim
 
1.  Playing baseball for the first time on a team with Lucy and cousin Walt.  (Go Rattlers!) Made up his own snakelike cheer before the season started.  Favorite part of the game is chatting with the coaches while they are pitching/catching.  Seems less interested in hitting the ball, because the longer he stays at bat, the more small-talk he can make with them.
2.  Randomly introduces himself to people.  Today?  A barista.
3.  Compliments mom on new outfits or jewelry.
4.  Has a running list of several girlfriends.  Recently wanted to bring cupcakes to school for them with real engagement rings as the token gift in the frosting.
5. Has trouble controlling physical exuberance.  Ran right into a parking lot today, narrowing evading death after a loud shout from mom.    When I asked him why he didn't stop upon seeing an oncoming car, he responded that while shouting, "Yay!" his body just couldn't stop going.
6. Loves a good cleaning project.
7.  Reads quietly and puts himself down for a nap by choice often.
8.  First one awake in the morning.
9.  First one asleep at night.
10.  Philosophical and inquisitive.
 
What a sweet, crazy, loving guy. <3

Almost Eight, Pretty Great

Dear Tom,
 
Tonight I held you in my arms on our new deck chair.  We were wrapped up in a pink heart quilt, and you told me about The Lemonade Wars and wondered when the stars would come out.
 
You talk in third person.
 
You look like a young man.
 
Where has the time gone, Tommy?  Somehow, my oldest child, life has sped up and you've grown into someone so funny and intelligent and strong.  It's hard to even remember you as a little guy.  Now you're holding Frank and grabbing my bags to carry them for me.  And even holding open doors.
 
I am so proud of you, Tom, for the love you have shown me this year.  You are learning to feel what is deep within you, and to show it.  You are going to be an amazing man when you grow up.
 
I love you.
 
Mom

Wrinkly Chlorine Toes

Baby,
 
It was your first time swimming at the pool tonight.  This spring has been so long in arriving.  I piled you and the big kids into the minivan after school, and figured I'd take my chances supervising the rowdiest four kids in town.  I didn't expect you to be terrified!  I just walked into the water with you in my arms, and your arms wrapped around me for dear life.  Your face collapsed in tears, and your siblings and I didn't know what to do.
 
After about 15 minutes, we climbed out of the pool and watched from the sidelines while your teeth chattered and you warmed up in a few gym towels.
 
Later, we tried again.  This time, you started sitting on the sidelines of the zero-entry area, getting used to the idea of the pool.  (Apparently a professional mom should have figured this was the best approach.)  You were much happier.  You smiled cautiously, and wandered about with a dive-stick in your mouth. 
 
I can hear you peeping in the crib upstairs right now.  I guess it's time for real instead of virtual parenting. 
 
Thanks for today, my little Frank.  You are such a sweet, sweet part of our family.
 
Love, Mama

The End of Winter

It is one of those weeks when I can't seem to stay on top of what I need to get done around here.  Every time I think I'm making headway cleaning a toilet, the kids are busy dumping tiny legos out in a fury of creation in another part of the house.
 
I keep trying to chill out and understand that this phase of my life will not last forever.  But it has been a long time.
 
Truly, I often dream of a week in which I can clean the whole house for a day (or even two!) and then just sit in a clean house without one additional thing breaking or tumbling down the stairs.  I guess everyone has a dream, right?
 
It's been a long winter.  When I look back on my adult life, it surprises me to realize that the times of great joy have almost invariably been times also of great challenge.  Every birth and infancy in our home has been that way.  I suppose there is a euphoric elation that accompanies challenges, allowing us to see our blessings even when we are entrenched in a trial.
 
Frank is asleep, and there are about a hundred things I wanted to accomplish in the the short window before he is crawling around and stick fingers in outlets again.
 
Back at it, I guess.    Friday Funday.

A Mother of Many's Confession

It took me 3 practice kids before I realized what a true blessing it is to hold Frankie long into the night, rocking him as he is sick, holding him when he needs me.  It is amazing to me how much love continues to grow within me:  when it seems your heart is bursting and full, there is room to love beyond what you believe is your capacity.

9 months

 

Baby Frankie.  My doodler.  You were rolling around with stinky toes and then crawling around after Christmas.  And then exploring the knobs and giggling when we looked at you funny.  And sucking down your bottle, except getting distracted by all the action at our house.

 

 

 

You were growing and growing, reaching for cords and sticking your fingers in outlets.  Grabbing for tiny legos and laughing, laughing, laughing when we told you no.  Eating whatever food we put on your tray.  Stuffing your face with Cheerios and almost choking.  Snuggling so sweetly while we read Goodnight Moon, or while we sang karaoke on your sister's new machine.  Or while your siblings played piano and Daddy read the paper on the big blue couch.

 

You were held in a fort of blankets and playpen.  You were protected by a team of 5 older housemates.  You were loved and loved and loved in a way that means the heart can keep growing wider and beyond the capacity than any human believes it can grow.

 

You were standing up after Daddy taught you, even though Mom told him not to teach you.  Just stay little.

 

You were eating spaghetti and gulping down a drink of water...and in the same night, standing up in your crib and crying for Mama, Mama.  And then when Dad picked you up, saying it finally, nine months old:  "Daddy!"

 

Oh how we love you, Frankie.

 

Love,

 

Mom, Dad, Tom, Lu,  & Jim

Satisfaction Guaranteed

It would be nice if raising kids came with a long-term guarantee.  For instance:  After all the hard work and years of doing laundry, enforcing discipline, creating opportunities and trying your best to be a good role model, your kids will turn out remotely normal and they will shake your hand, say thanks, and love you unconditionally. 

The Shining Moments

Dear Tom,
 
Oh, parenthood!  It is so easy to get overwhelmed when you kids are squabbling and asking for stuff.  Not always politely, I might add. 
 
Let me go backwards a bit, though.  This week, you have had some TRULY shining moments:
 
-Boldly inquiring as to whether Grandma M might like to purchase a copy of your first book report for second grade.  (She did...for $1.  Go businessman!)
 
-Sensitively drawing a picture for sick Grandpa M of you and him fishing side by side.
 
-Singing like an angel beside Mom at church after sitting quietly and reading...without interrupting me once...for a very long parent meeting at church.
 
Let me remember these moments, Tom.  Let us both celebrate the love and ingenuity in your heart.  Too many times in families, the hard parts drag us down.  I want to remember that you fill my heart with joy and affection and pride.
 
Love,
Mom

Parenting Boys

I've given up, in some ways, on the idea of a perfect family.  As any real parent might tell you, one of the more difficult things about being a mom or dad is accepting that you can not control what your children do.

Even typing that out is difficult.

One thing I have struggled with tremendously as a mom is witnessing aggressive behavior traits in my children. 

Aggression in children is normal behavior.  Children feel angry when their toys are snatched up by one another.  They feel jealous when a sibling receives more attention.  They feel hurt when they are left out of an experience.  Sometimes these strong emotions cause them to want to retaliate in sometimes violent ways---tantrums, hitting, powerful words, throwing items. 

I don't want my children to use these methods of retaliation.  I want them to own their feelings, to seek solace independently or from me.  Sometimes, having three children so close in age (now 7, 5, and 4) seems to create this impossible situation whereby I must be a patrol guard as well as a full-time baby care-giver to Frank. 

How can I do it all?  Am I even strong enough to be this mom?

I want to do everything I can to protect my children and to prepare them to be amazing, selfless adults in the future.  I want to give this parenting thing my full shot of effort.

Sometimes there are intense moments when John and I wonder, Are we giving enough?  Are we getting this right? 

The finished product is so many years off yet.

One thing that has been on my mind for quite some time now is parenting boys specifically.  I feel ill-prepared to handle the special qualities of energy and emotion-bottling my sons are (so far) prone to exhibit.  I can already see Tom bottling feelings up and hiding from me.  How do I change this trajectory and encourage him to share himself with me?