My Daily Struggle

Watching four kids every day can sometimes be fun, sometimes be challenging, sometimes it's complete Hell! I'll just be honest, those of you with four kids of your own can attest, I'm sure.
This post is about one of those very challenging days when nothing goes as planned.
On this particular day, I was trying to get them all down for a nap. We do have a routine, and most days it works perfectly. This day was off- in so many ways.

One of the boys was asleep already. Harper was on the verge of sleep, but just needed to be rocked for two minutes and then put down. So, I was in the other room rocking her, per usual. Audrey and the other boy were sitting on the couch reading books. So, I thought I'd put Harps down and then go grab them. Well, Harper had just closed her eyes when Audrey screams, "Mama!"
"Audrey Rose, you know not to scream when I'm rocking. Why are you screaming at me?"
"I can't tell you, mama. I have to show you."
That's always a good sign.
So, I cart the now wide awake baby into the living room to see what could have possibly happened in a matter of 2 minutes.
The living room floor, the couch, the kid- all covered in baby powder.

I had no reaction, really. I just looked at the boy thinking, "Wow. You're fast."
He grinned from ear to ear, all the while holding the powder. He was so proud of himself.
I said, "Don't move. I have to get my camera."

Both kids ran around in the "snow" for a couple of minutes before I rounded them up for their nap.
My living room smells great!

All About Mom

For those of you, friends and family, that would like the latest on Rose...
We started a blog:
Rose and Her Pancreas

More later.
Must. Watch. Every. Single. Second. Of. The. Inauguration.

Not the Best of Days

So, this past weekend was spent with my mom. She went into surgery this morning. Half of her pancreas was removed and it has yet to be determined if it's cancerous. If they find that it is, she'll have to undergo chemo on top of all that she's been through.

I wish I were at the hospital. I wish the kids were cooperating today, especially mine. And I wish Tim hadn't been told they're cutting his hours until further notice. As if things weren't tight already. Ghat dammit.

Today= Suck.

I'm not looking for a pity party. We'll make it through all this- somehow. I just need to vent to the internets, because that's what I do.

I cannot wait for Tim to get home so I can just lose it in the car on the way to the hospital. Because how else am I going to relieve this stress/anxiety/fear/frustration? Some people call friends. I don't. I cry in the car.

Gotta go. Someone just woke up after only sleeping all of 30minutes and that's just how my day is going.

I can't wait to see my mom.

Where did this come from?

There are certain moments of the day that I always look forward to: the first sip of my morning coffee, the baby's first smile of the morning, the sigh of relief at the realization that all 4 kids are going to nap at the same time, etc. But my most favorite time of the day is when Audrey wakes up from her nap.
I love the tired, groggy look on her face, how she rubs her eyes awake, her staggered sleepy walk out into the living room and her first words after a long stay in dreamland.
The first sentence out of her mouth always makes me smile. It's a brief insight to what she dreams about, what's on her mind, what consumes her.
This afternoon, after her nap, the first thing out of her mouth was, "Mrs. Potts says "fuck" in the movie."
WHAT??????? (Yeah, no smiles today.) My jaw dropped to the floor.
"She does. She says fuck."
WHO SAYS THAT?
"Mrs. Potts"
Audrey. That is a very bad word. Don't ever say that again.
"Mrs. Potts said it! I didn't!"

I don't even know what to do with this one. Yes, my friends, she stumped me. I mean... what the fuck? Ha. Just kidding. I know she's referring to the movie "Beauty and The Beast" but what part? Mrs. Potts would never say "fuck". Why in the world would she be dreaming about that? I didn't even know she knew the word "fuck." FUCK!

Later tonight, I was recounting the episode for my very good friend with a girl the same age. I asked Audrey about it again. She said she dreamed about it.
Tim listened to us basically repeat the same conversation that we had this afternoon.

He said, "It's not funny, Audrey. You DO NOT say that word."

She said, "I think it's funny."

You know what I think? I think my 3 year old daughter is really 16.

Post Holiday Depression

So, it's been a helluva weekend.
Let me start by saying that the holiday break was wonderful. It was nice to have Tim home for an entire week. It was nice to be able to spend quality time with my kids. It was nice.
The first week back to normal life was difficult.
I really wish we, as Americans, didn't have to work 8+ hour days. I really wish we could stay at home and raise our families without worry of money or health care costs or crime. I really wish the world were a simpler place. With that being said, the week wasn't rough because of those things specifically, but because of one little toddler. I love her dearly, but she was possessed by the Devil this past week. (And this will all make sense in a minute, I promise.)
Anyway, this week Audrey regressed to the point that I thought I was going to have to put her back in diapers. No joke. She's been emulating the little boys that I watch during the day and I can't quite figure out why. She's been talking baby talk, throwing major tantrums and basically pissing me off every chance she gets.
My point from earlier is that I wish I had a chance to just focus on my kid. I feel like I need to stop everything I'm doing and grab her up, whisk her away for a week, everything would be fine. She's obviously starved for attention. That can't happen. I must work, pay bills, wash dishes, do laundry, yadda yadda yadda.
Don't get me wrong. I make a point to give her special attention, but I think coming off the holidays has hit her the hardest. Obviously.
This evening I almost snapped (for the second time this weekend). Tim looked over at me and asked, "Are you going to make it? What are you thinking about?"
I must have looked pissed or about to cry or something. Who knows.
I said, "I'm thinking about running away." And I was.
Instead, I decided that Audrey and I were going to walk up to the coffee house, ALONE.
Tim was a little scared that he was being left with Harper. (That deserves its own post- another time.) I just needed to get out of the house and try to remedy whatever is going on with Audrey.
My plan totally backfired.
Audrey was a complete pill the whole time we were there. The high point was when she refused to sit on her bottom in her chair and knocked the table over that supported our hot drinks.
Yes, coffee and hot chocolate all over the place (including our persons). She then proceeded to bawl at the loudest level imaginable and sit on the floor (in mentioned liquids). It was a lovely bonding moment.
Defeated, I almost cried in public.
I don't know how I found it in me, but I breathed a deep breath, comforted her and grabbed some paper towels. We cleaned it up together. In the end, all was made well by what remained of our beverages and a good book about monsters.

On our way home, I could hear Harper's screams from outside the house.
My job, it never ends.

7 Months

Harper Jane is now 7 months old. She's still just as stubborn of a baby as when she arrived!
What other baby do you know of that screams when you take her for a walk? Screams so loud you think your neighbors might come out of their houses or pull back their blinds to see what the commotion is all about. Yes, that is what happened tonight. Harper pitched a fit half way through our walk and I had to take her out of the stroller and carry her the rest of the way home. She was fine once lifted out- perfectly peachy. I tried only once to put her back in again. She wasn't having it. She rules me.
And although she's very dependent in some ways, she's very independent in others. This is the side I see most of my younger daughter:


She began crawling at 5 months and is now a pro. She's faster than me on any given day and always heads straight for trouble. (ie- the dog bowls)
Recently, she's been pulling herself up on objects that are not so stable. The toddler chairs are her favorite. She's slid a couple of times and really slammed her head more than I'd like to admit. I've caught her balancing herself standing a few times. I'm betting she'll be walking come the end of February. She's so close.

She's a very serious baby, but also has a good sense of humor. She thinks Audrey was put here just for her entertainment. No one, I mean no one can make this kid laugh like her big sister. I might have mentioned that before, but it's truly a sight to see them interact. I love it. I love it more than I can ever put into words.
Harper has continued eating solid foods although she doesn't find them very interesting. She seems happier with finger foods. A sippy cup has been introduced but she doesn't have the hang of it, yet. She still likes to thrust it off the side of her high chair though. What fun!
She babbles and screams and I swear she said, "I love you" the other day. Tim even witnessed it. For the record, her first word was/is "Blah". I need to get a recording of this because she says it like a pro. It's a very heartfelt "Blah".
She doesn't like to have socks or shoes on her feet. She hates to wear a hat. Like most babies, she'd rather be naked. She's happiest when she's crawling at free will. She even giggles when I put her down. She takes off like a race horse.
Her sleep pattern is the worst on the planet. Yesterday she only slept for an hour during the day. Her longest period of sleep was only 5 hours. So, at about 2am and every hour thereafter she was awake. Harper, you need to cut this shit out. Mommy is going to be a walking zombie if you continue these antics.

Harper, I love you. And even if you wake me up every hour of the night, I'll still love you.
Tootie Too, you're such a big girl already. And that's a little bit scary for Momma.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So, Tim and I had a pretty spontaneous New Year's Eve. The neighbors called us and asked if we were up for throwing the kids together and drinking some beers.
Lemme think about it.... Uh, yeah!
The kids tore up the house, we tore up some beer and rang in 2009 with a kiss. It was perfect.
I absolutely love all of our neighbors.

As I'm typing this, my entire family is asleep.

I find myself thinking back to last year around this time. We were headed to the the doctor's office to get an amniocentesis. Not fun.

I can't say that 2008 was great, minus of course, the birth of Harper. It was a trying year. Tough on so many levels. I have high hopes for 2009 and I've already begun my New Year's Resolutions:
-Make friends. Don't be a hermit.
-Go to the gym, fatty.
-Don't be so critical of yourself or others.
-Take more vacations.
-Reach out.
-Make art again

So, there you have it. It's not your typical list but hey, I'm not your typical broad.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite poems:

Advice to Myself

Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don't patch the cup.
Don't patch anything. Don't mend. Buy safety pins.
Don't even sew on a button.
Let the wind have its way, then the earth
that invades as dust and then the dead
foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.
Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome.
Don't keep all the pieces of the puzzles
or the doll's tiny shoes in pairs, don't worry
who uses whose toothbrush or if anything
matches, at all.
Except one word to another. Or a thought.
Pursue the authentic-decide first
what is authentic,
then go after it with all your heart.
Your heart, that place
you don't even think of cleaning out.
That closet stuffed with savage mementos.
Don't sort the paper clips from screws from saved baby teeth
or worry if we're all eating cereal for dinner
again. Don't answer the telephone, ever,
or weep over anything at all that breaks.
Pink molds will grow within those sealed cartons
in the refrigerator. Accept new forms of life
and talk to the dead
who drift in though the screened windows, who collect
patiently on the tops of food jars and books.
Recycle the mail, don't read it, don't read anything
except what destroys
the insulation between yourself and your experience
or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters
this ruse you call necessity.