I am sorry

Take 912

I’ve been thinking a lot about my last status update on facebook

Sometimes the re-entry after vacation is brutal! Monday I ran Friends of Scouting at Boy Scouts, today was a little league board meeting, tomorrow is a day camp board meeting, Thursday is a cub scout event, Friday is small group (at our house), Saturday is Pinewood Derby and Sunday I teach Sunday School at church. Throw in there 5 baseball practices, coop, homeschooling, an orthodontist appointment and a girls night. I’m exhausting just thinking about my calendar

There were a smattering of comments, one of my friends from high school said, “What a great mom!!!” Though it was a nice comment, it made me feel incredibly terrible.  I felt like a liar.  She doesn’t know what my every day looks like.  I didn’t post:

Just spent the last two hours on the phone with the insurance company, followed by the last twenty five minutes on the phone with my husband where I finally blew my top at my 6-year-old and yelled “WHAT IS THIS THING ATTACHED TO MY HEAD?!!!??  OH THAT’S RIGHT, ITS A PHONE!!!  I WILL TALK TO YOU WHEN I’M DONE!” Where my husband gently rebuked me and said, “That’s not very nice.” And I quickly retorted in self defense, “You’ve missed the last billion times when I’ve quietly signed I’m on the phone to him and made crazy eyes at him to underline the point that I’m busy and mouthed the answers to a million stupid questions”

Not only did I feel like a big old faker, but I felt terrible, like a co-conspirator with Satan, helping to make all of my “friends” on facebook feel a little bit inadequate or not up to par.  Not that I’m the bar that everyone should hold themselves to, because I am definelty not.

When we see these little snippets of all of our “friends” lives everyone seems so awesome.  Everyone is always smiling, with perfectly clean houses in the back ground when I don’t even remember the last time I’ve washed my kitchen floor and it’s going to take a week to catch up on my laundry and the only smiling I’ve seen on my rag-a-muffin kids is when they’ve succeeded in teasing their brother into tears. Or people with less money than us are taking awesome vacations in warm tropical climates with their perfectly toned bikini ready bodies in the middle of winter, when I of course am still trying (in the very loosest term) to shed this baby weight from 6 year’s ago and its 32 degrees and raining outside.  Or Moms who are showing these amazing breakfasts that they’ve whipped up for their kids hours before I’ve even considered being up and even though I could make pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse’s head with a side of bacon and freshly squeezed orange juice, I’m just going to set the cereal on the table and feel at least smug that their is no high fructose corn syrup in it.  Or maybe they’ve posted these amazing pictures all dolled up out to dinner with their best friends and I’ve lived here for three years and still haven’t found my Washington BFF yet.

I know how inadequate facebook can make you feel.

I remember distinctly last year when a friend had been rather prolific on facebook for about a week.  She was witty and funny.  She was posting links to tons of blogs, which I never get to read because I’m too freaking busy to catch up on blogs.  I remember thinking, how the heck can she find time to be on facebook when she homeschools her two girls (who seemingly could run academic laps around my kids)?!?  Then later I found out she wasn’t really doing very well physically.  I did feel bad for her because I do love her, but mostly, I felt relieved.  Her struggle made me feel better, because I was feeling a little bit jealous and rather like I sucked tremendously at this whole work/life/homeschool balance thing reading her news feed and thinking how the heck does she do such a great job homeschooling her kids *and* be able to read so many blogs.  I private messaged her and she sent me back the sweetest response ever.

Okay, it’s been 30 minutes, and I’m still laughing at the idea that I live some sort of “balanced” life. Seriously, you’ve got no idea how funny that is (and here I’ve been all…where does Chanel find time to travel to see friends and knit and play board games and have house guests and drink wine)!!!

Then I went through my newsfeed and looked at all of things that I have shared.  According to my timeline, I live an awesome life where I have it all together all the time.  According to my timeline, I’m awesome.  I’m a prolific crocheter, a philanthropist, I have witty kids who are amazing, a loving husband, best friends, and I love God.

And I do.

Think about that for a second.

All of those wonderful great things that you share on facebook are who you are.

I am sorry if I made your week seem inadequate to my busy schedule.

I’m sorry if you went to kids school and proceeded to feel like crap when they asked someone to head the teacher appreciate week and in the back of your head you felt a little bit of pressure from me.

If it makes you feel better, I can’t quite remember the last time my twins got a bath.  We ordered pizza last night because my refrigerator contains condiments, beer, rotting lettuce and a jar of pickles.  At 11:03 am, I still haven’t showered.  I fed my kids cold pizza for breakfast (and I’ll probably do the same for lunch).  I just put away the Christmas decorations yesterday, almost a full week after the Epiphany.  I finished making my extended family and friends’ Christmas presents well before Christmas but haven’t mailed them out yet.

Please know that I, most assuredly, do not have it all together.

Also know that I really don’t want to see all the nitty gritty of your life.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I want to know that you’re normal, but I mostly want to see the good stuff.  I want to see your adorable kids, I want to know all the awesome stuff you do, because I want to know that I can be better at some of those things that I struggle with.

I found this gem this week, and I am weaving it into my heart, may this burrow itself into your heart too.

“You deserve better than to define yourself by your own interpretations of secondhand lies, spoken by the Accuser through the mouths of others. Know that I [God] love you. You were wonderfully and fearfully made, planned out from the beginning, assigned a special place in Creation and in the story of salvation. You are not a failure; you are part of My success. You will stand, for I am able to make you stand. You are an instrument in My hands; a vessel formed by the Potter, a branch grafted in by the Master Gardener. You deserve better than the things you tell yourself so often, simply because of the One who created and redeemed and is refining you.”

 

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Just when you think the novelty may have worn off…

I distinctly remember a phone call when my twins where a few weeks old.  This is pretty amazing when you think about the sleep deprivation I was experiencing at this point of my life.  From about 30 weeks on in my pregnancy, I was experiencing such horrible carpel tunnel that I was probably only getting a few hours of sleep at a time.  I remember looking forward to the birth of my babies so I could finally get a decent few hours of sleep.  It’s rather comical what a pregnant mom thinks.  At a few weeks post birth, I was probably averaging somewhere around 45 minutes at a time every few hours.  I was still on singleton baby mentality.  One baby would wake up, I’d change him, feed him, rock him, love on him and then put him to bed and lay down.  As soon as I fell asleep the second little one would wake up.  Repeat and repeat and repeat until you realize that there is a reason they use sleep deprivation to torture people.

Anyways, I distinctly remember my best friend calling to share the good news of a pregnancy.  All of our kids are within a year of each other.  We’ve never actually shared a pregnancy, which is why we  probably kept having kids because we always got to hold an adorable baby and then wanted one of our own.  For every kid I have, she has a little girl.  Some people have all of the luck.  (And from the week I’ve been having with my teenager, I’ll just say it’s me.)

Her:  I’m going to have a baby!

Me:  OH MY GOODNESS ARE YOU SURE?!?!  Because this is miserable.  I am so, so, sorry.  Why did we not remember how miserable this was.  Why did you not remind me?  This is not fun.  You know how you dream of all these bonding moments, breast feeding in the middle of the night, holding hands, looks of adoration?  It’s all BS, these babies have no feelings they just want the boob and want you to change them.  And the laundry they make and I’ve been defecated on no fewer than 8 times today.  And it’s not just the babies who are needy, it’s all the other kids too.  And quite frankly, at this point I have more invested in the other kids, so the guilt is unbearable.  When I just want to take a nap, I find myself laying on the floor pretending to do a puzzle with my eyes closed because I know the four-year-old needs some mommy love.  I am so exhausted.  Infancy is hell.  I sure hope we haven’t misinterpreted the data for toddlers.  Because at this point, you should really reconsider getting pregnant.  Like maybe adopt your baby to your worst enemy.  Or at the very least give her to your sister for a the first few months.  Win.  Win.  I am so sorry.  You’re life is going to suck.

My poor best friend.  She probably was not expecting that.  I rained all over her parade and then invited Godzilla to come run through the soggy wet mess.

I remember this phone call every time someone gets pregnant.  And then each month when I’m not.

Surprisingly, the memories of that torture haven’t diminished but they’ve been overshadowed with thousands of other memories so precious that all the sleep deprivation in the world couldn’t tarnish.  Memories of late night nursings that do involve cuddling, sleeping infants with full bellies and sweet smiles, sloppy wet toddler kisses, the first coos, the first I love yous, spontaneous hugs and kisses, chubby little hands and fingers, the way a toddler walks,  those moments when you are the funniest lady ever, infectious baby laughter.  Those memories win out every time.

Let’s hope it’s that way with a puppy too.

 

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Who knew scissors could provide so much entertainment

for whatever reason, this is Mike’s go to picture face.  Some kids have silly smiles, do self bunny ears, this kid puts on this face.

A few weeks ago we went to a garage sale and found a file folder filled with printed money.  Not counterfeit money, just money graphics printed on green paper.  It was labeled something ridiculous like $5.  I passed it off, thinking I could just find a pdf on the internet and print my own money.  But then they announced everything 50% off and $2.50 didn’t seem so bad, especially since I knew I’d be way to lazy to do double sided printing.   It was probably $2.50 worth of heavy weight paper.  So, I brought it home and tormented the kids with it.

Nate: Can we cut this?

Me:  No, you have to wait until I can help you.  We have to cut this very carefully.

Jake:  I’m a really good cutter.  I can do it.  It’s not even a squiggly line!

(In my head, I was thinking, BUT YOU MIGHT RUIN THEM!  But then I realized I was worried about paper.)

Me:  Fine.  Be very, very careful.  Cut slowly, in straight lines.  Take finger breaks often if your hands are becoming tired.  

And it was seriously the best $2.50 I ever spent.  In hindsight, I would have totally paid the $5.  For probably 2 weeks straight, in every spare moment Nate and Jake cut out fives, tens twenties and the occasional hundred.  The were serious ballers.   We have a gaggle of kindergarteners come over every week and one week they had a cutting party.  Turns out cutting is universally considered fun among the 6 and under crowd.

Also, it turns out that moms find scissors just as entertaining when they mustache their children.

 

 

 

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Lullaby

Bedtime is one of my favorite parts of the day.  It’s not just the peace that comes after a long day of noisy boys.  Nor is it the moment when all the kids disappear into their rooms and I can have an adult conversation without any arguing or fart noises, without any sounds of armed attack or crying or complaining.  That is nice though.

It’s the whole bedtime routine I love.  The reading and the cuddling, the singing, the tucking in, the million drinks of water, the giggling and talking long after they were tucked in.  I especially love it when Dave is home and he sings to the kids.  Dave has this amazing ability to remember any song he’s ever heard.  He can sing all the words, he’s got the general tune.  From a tone deaf wife, who can’t remember the words to the “Wheels on the Bus”, I’m constantly amazed.  I rarely participate in this nightly singing ritual.    It’s too much pressure for me. I am glad that my children haven’t inherited this fear of performing.  Nathaniel will sing along whether it’s the hundredth time or the first he’s heard the song.  He’ll sing along even if the song’s in a different language.  It’s rather sweet.

Dave’s song selection runs the gambit from Contemporary to hymns.  The twins especially love the duck song, it’s usually their first request, it’s the Freebird of our house.  They also regularly request The Man in the Moon Song,but Dave normally saves that one for the eve of a business trip.

When Dave is gone, the song repertoire is much smaller (and sometimes replaced with an extra chapter or picture book).  I class it up with songs like: Jesus loves me, The Barney Theme song, the ABC song, George of the Jungle, or Jingle Bells Batman Smells (as an aside, my cousin taught the kids this song when he came to visit.  When he left the twins told me how impressed they were that he had made up such an amazingly awesome song right on the spot. I let them go on believing he was the author of that little gem.)

Some nights, when Dave is singing, I’ll walk down the hall and hear Our God is awesome God, in Spanish.  Or maybe some B.I.G.G.Y.  Nothing is really off limits for Dave, but each session is normally ended with a hymn.   Nothing sounds sweeter than a couple of five-year-olds singing about Jesus.

 

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A Day in the Life of me

8:00 am  I’m awoken to my phone chirping that I have a text message.  I roll over and it’s from McKayla, “Can you pick me up, I’m feeling sick”.

We’ve been battling the weirdest stomach flu ever at our house.  It started with Nathaniel who complained his tummy hurt and the announced he was going to throw up and then promptly threw up all over the bathroom.  Afterwards, he was completely fine.  He ate dinner, he helped clean the kitchen, he read to me, I read to him and he fell asleep.  This was followed by Michael screaming his stomach hurt and then throwing up all over the other bathroom, declaring himself better and going back to bed.  And then Jacob woke up in the middle of the night to cry how much his tummy hurt, “Why does God make my tummy hurt?  Please pray over me!  I think I might die.” We tend toward the dramatic in this house.  Everyone woke up one more time, threw up all over the floor and then went back to bed.  We would have labeled it possible food poisoning, except the following night Marshall was hit and Michael once more.  My poor, poor carpet. On the bright side, my bathrooms are sparkly clean.

So, when McKayla said she wasn’t feeling well, I came to get her right away before she threw up all over the halls.  She’s having a hard enough time without being known as “the girl who lost her breakfast all over the halls”.  I don’t think anyone could ever live that one down.

9:00 the glamorous life of homeschooling 4 boys.

9:23  SQUIRREL!  no, not a distraction, an actual squirrel.  The largest squirrel we’ve ever seen.  It was looked less like a squirrel and more like a cat with a bushy tail.  It sat right by our bird feeder, stared through the window with a look that said, “WTF People, why is this bird feeder empty?  This is unacceptable!”

9:40 back to learning.

11:17  OH CRAP PEOPLE!!!!  GET YOUR BATHING SUITS ON RIGHT NOW!!!!!  GO!!!  GO!!!!  GO!!!!  WE HAVE TO BE AT SWIM LESSONS IN 13 MINUTES!!!!

11:22 

Jake:  Oh no mom!  I forgot to take off my underwear!

Me:  Oh, well.  That’s okay, you can swim with them and we’ll come home without underwear.

Jake:  I don’t want to go home with no underwear!

Me:  Sorry, We don’t have time to change when we get there.

11:26 Jake:  You don’t have to worry about my underwear.

Me:  I wasn’t terribly worried, but why don’t I have to worry?

Nate:  ‘Cuz he was getting naked back here!

Jake:  Yep, I took off my swim suit, took off my underwear and then put my swim suit on.  All while buckled into my car seat!  Now I can have dry underwear!

Me:  For the win!

11:30  We make it to swim lessons right on time.

I have thought about doing something with those 30 minutes of freedom.  I could totally go run for 20 minutes, but then I’d have to give up the entertainment of watching swimming lessons.  For whatever reason, Jacob is absolutely terrified of water.  He doesn’t like getting his head wet.  He doesn’t like letting go of the wall.  He doesn’t like the whole idea of getting in the water.  It’s rather comical.  Though its rather hard to swim holding on to the instructor like they are your personal life raft during a tsunami, it’s hysterical to watch.  When they got to the pool the instructor had them put on floaties that go around their middles.

Jake:  This is ridiculous, there is no way this can ever hold me.

Instructor:  No, really this works great.  Let go from the wall, I promise you won’t sink.

Jake:  No, thank you.

Jake’s swimming looks, less like swimming and more like motion by electrical shock.  Meanwhile, Nathaniel swims circles around him trying to convince him he’s completely safe.

Jake:  NATHANIEL!  You are going to drown.  Touch the wall!

Nate:  I’m fine. Perfectly safe.

Jake:  MOM WE ARE GOING TO DROWN!!!  (we tend to the dramatics here)

12:15  We arrive at home.  I’m not sure if it’s the combination of the chlorine and the screaming at the pool or the lack of caffeine but I have a killer headache.  Lunch is made, school is wrapped up and I decide to lay down before my head splits into two.

 

1:00  “Mom, are you asleep?”

Me:  I was.

Random child:  Can we jump on the jumpoline?

Me:  Okay, open the door so I can hear you.

For the next 45 minutes I hear kids happily bouncing on the trampoline intermingled with whinnying, complaining, crying and laughing.

I’m sure you know where this is going.

1:45  I hear mike scream like he was just pounced on by a tiger.  Followed by Nathaniel screaming and then Jacob screaming.  At first I wonder if maybe zombies attacked them and they are now pinned inside the trampoline net.  This may not seem like a likely scenario, but it’s probably as likely as all three of them being hurt simultaneously with enough damage to elicit the amount of screams I’m hearing.

Mike comes running in the house dripping blood from his head “He broke my head!!  Oh my gosh!  HE BROKE MY HEAD!!!! CAN YOU SEE MY BRAINS???  (the drama)

I assess the head damage and it’s minor.

Me:  You’re fine.  Jump in the bathtub so you stop bleeding all over everything.

I assess Nathaniel.  He’s completely fine.  No blood anywhere.  We can’t find Jacob.  McKayla goes to look for him.  Marshall gets out all of the first aid supplies.

Marshall:  I am completely qualified to wrap his whole head in gauze.  I have almost earned my first aid merit badge.

Me:  Okay, Tell me exactly what happened.  Marshall I think we can hold off on mummyfing your brother for a few minutes.

Mike:  HE BROKE MY HEAD!!!  We were jumping and Nathaniel’s chin hit my head and broke it!!!

McKayla:  I found Jacob, he was crying under the bed scared.

I look more closely at his head, but can tell if it’s ER worthy or not.  I call Dave.  He doesn’t answer.  I call him 4 times in a row.  Still no answer. I call my mother-in-law.  No answer.  I take a photo of his bloody head and text it to dave.  I call my best friend whose been to the ER for two head injuries on two separate kids.  No answer.  I call her cell.

Me:  THANK GOD YOU ANSWERED!

Her:  What’s up!  Did you know they sell vanilla vodka!  I have some in my cart!

Me:  Why do you live so far away!!!  I need Vodka!  (I promise, we always speak in such a way that requires all of these exclamation points).  How did you know that you needed to take the boys to the ER?

Her:  The copious amounts of blood on one kid and being able to see his skull on the other one.

Me:  What does skull look like?  Do you think I could text you a picture?

Her:  Didn’t you just meet your insurance deductible?

Me:  I know, but I hate the ER.

Her:  Just think of it as a little break.  Bring a book.

2:15  So off we went to the Urgent Care. There wasn’t anyone there but the intake lady was on the phone.  A nurse came by to see if we were okay.

Me:  Um, can you look at his head and let me know if you think this might need stitches?

Her:  Oh, yeah, that’s probably going to need some s-t-a-p-l-e-s (in a mock whisper).

Mike turns a little green.  While we wait for the doctor I text Mike’s coach.  “Mike probably won’t make it to practice.  We’re at the ER.  Tragic trampoline accident.  Mike’s head vs his brother’s chin.  Chin wins”

Mike:  Did you call dad?

Me:  I did but he didn’t answer.  I texted him a picture of your head.

Mike:  Is he coming?

Me:  I haven’t heard yet.  Probably not.

Mike:  Oh, I kinda need him.

Me:  What am I?  Chopped liver?

We get back to the doctor and explain the whole story. She washes the wound and offers us staples or super glue.  I was really trying to sell the staples, but Mike wanted the super glue.

Me:  Come on!  Don’t you want to see the medical stapler?  Maybe it’s run by an air compressor.  Kachunk!  Kachunk!  Kachunk!

I don’t know why that didn’t win him over.  I can’t imagine why he wanted Dave and not me…

Mike:  Do you think I can go to baseball practice?Doctor:  I don’t see why not.

3:45 We head home, Mike quickly changes into his baseball clothes and we’re off to practice.

 

6:00 Home from baseball everyone quickly eats frozen pizza, prepared by chef McKayla and changes into Awana uniforms.

6:30 All of the boys are dropped off at church.

6:45  I run home and take a quick shower, down some more Advil, because my head still feels like it might crack open at any minute and my eyeball will fall out.

7:15 I run to a Cubscout leader meeting.

8:15 I leave the riveting leaders meeting, mid discussion on Fish drops and run to pick up all the kids from church.

9:00 When we are all finally home, Dave inspects Mike’s head.

Mike:  How big is it? Do you think my brains will leak out?  Do you think we should make a doctor appointment to get my bones checked?  Don’t you think my skull has to be really wimpy because Nate’s baby chin could crack it?  Should I wear a helmet all the time? Should I sleep sitting up?

No wonder he wanted Dave.  All these unspoken fears he’d been carrying around all day.  Poor kid.

 

 

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you wouldn’t believe it

I have this looooong list of possible topics I should blog about.  I keep a little file on my laptop of the funny things my kids say and do.  It’s a list I don’t share on facebook, because I need to hold back some material if I ever decide to write a blog.  Every time I add something new I think about actually logging into wordpress and writing something and then more pressing things require my attention.

Things like repeatedly feeding the masses of hungry mouths that seem to be hungry the moment they leave the table.  I think I might start teaching my children to expand their culinary skills outside of pancakes, waffles, and quesadillas and scrambled eggs, and then I will stop cooking all together.

It’s also possible that the lure of cleaning my house and doing the monotonous job of laundry always pulls me away.  Never mind, no one would believe that.

Or maybe it’s the latest book I’m reading that is so much more enticing than actually putting finger to keyboard.  I started pinning the books I have read in 2012 on Pinterest.  Currently, I’ve read more than 60 books.   I had no idea that I read so much.  Before you get all jealous, you should go check out the list of books,  but be sure not to judge me too much.  I guess it was the year of zombies, vampires and smut.  I’d like to say that’s not typical, but obviously it is.

Without further ado, enjoy the hilarity.

We’re classy

We only have two rules for what you can wear for church.  (1) A shirt with a collar.  (2) No holes in your pants.

Sometimes, these rules lead to an exciting outfit combination. I know you love those black and gray plaid pants combined with the red and white shirt.  This was also paired with rain boats.  It was stellar at Sunday School.

***

For whatever reason, Boy Scout of America has decided that every registered person in scouts NEEDS a magazine.  Dave and I each get Scouting magazine and both Marshall and Michael get Boy’s Life.  They come bundled together in a shrink wrapped package monthly.  I disperse them throughout the house (aka in various bathrooms).  Personally, I never read them (it might have something to do with the 63 books I’ve read this year).  It turns out that I’m the only one in our family who does not.

McKayla:  Yes!  The new Boy’s Life magazine.  I love Boy’s Life.

Dave:  yeah, it’s a pretty good magazine.  Lots of girls read it.

McKayla:  I always read the “Scouts saving lives” section and then if the guy is cute I’ll go add him on Facebook.

***

Continuing on the scouting theme:

Marshall:  I’m really glad that I’m in scouts.

Me:  Me too.  Why are you glad?

Marshall:  They’re teaching me good life skills.  If I decide to be homeless I can totally pack a backpack full of all the necessary essentials.  Really, everything a homeless guy needs is right here on my back.

I’m not sure if Boy Scouts of America wants to go with the slogan, “Teaching Boys how to survive being homeless for over 100 years!”

***

McKayla:  Can I invite some people over this weekend.

Mike interjects:  Yes, as long as it’s less than 2.

(this still cracks me up.  We were all so surprised by his quick wit)

***

Recently Nathaniel and Jacob have started playing Lego Harry Potter on the xbox.  I don’t think they have any concept of the rules of the game, the object or how to actually win, but they have a great time doing it.  For those of you who don’t know, the XBOX Kinect has voice commands.  Theoretically, you can control the whole system with your voice.  I can browse the internet by saying, “XBOX BING ‘The Walking Dead'” and lots of movies and games will pop up at the sound of my voice.  We frequently browse and turn off our system with this method.

Nate:  Mommy!  Mommy!  Hurry come quick we can’t get off this level.

Me:  Who is the expert at Xbox?  Definitely not me.  (I was thinking he’d go to Marshall or Michael)

Nate: “oooooo  I have an idea!”  He runs into the other room. “XBOX!  GET US OUT OF THIS LEVEL”

***

Me (during some reading to the boys):  What are skills?

Jake:  I know!  They’re like bones, bones in your head.

Nate:  No, those are skulls.  It’s like nails.  They are long and twisty (he proceeds to turn in a circle) and you need a skill driver.

Maybe I should have their hearing checked.

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First Day of School!!!

Yesterday was the first day of school for all the kids residing under our roof.

The poor, poor, teen’s bus picks her up before 7, long, long before 7 am.  Really, I should put all of the sympathy upon myself, because though I have nowhere to go, I woke up early and made her some pear bread.  Okay, I made it the night before, but I woke up early to serve it to her.  It makes up for the fact that I refuse to drive her down the driveway, across the street and 1 block north to the bus stop and then sit in the car with her and the heater on.  If I am going to drive her to the bus stop and wait for the bus, I might as well drive her to school. (and that’s not going to happen)

Her:  “But all the other kids’ moms do it!”

Me:  Then you should ask to sit in one of their cars. I am not wasting fossil fuels on that! Some poor brontosaurus died so that millions of years later we could make gasoline.  His life shall not be in vain!  I will be PISSED if in a million years we are still using fossil fuels and my decomposed body is being used to warm the car for a lazy teenager.

Her:  Mom!

Me: I will walk you to the bus stop and keep you company.

Her:  Never mind.

It was also the first day of school for all the homeschool kids here at BDB Academy.  Oh boy!  Normally we start the week after all the public school kids.  We have  a “Hahahaha Suckers! We homeschool” extravaganza week filled with empty theater movie trips, empty swimming pool swims, empty mcdonalds playland lunches, empty park trips and empty museum visits.   Alas, with company coming soon and public schools not starting until after Labor day, I figured our “Hahaha Suckers” week followed by company would probably give us a start date some time after October 15.  Though I would be very happy with that, I don’t think the boys would be happy finishing up the year in August.

The first week of school is always meticulously planned and organized.  Normally, I over schedule, overbook and generally make everyone cry on the first day of school.  I think the past 4 years in a row has ended with everyone in tears by the end of the day, including me.  What I’m trying to say is that it’s terribly fun!  Don’t you want to homeschool too?

I was very much dreading this year because I’ll have a 7th grader, 4th grader and two kindergartners.

I’m not even sure why I was dreading it.  What could be harder than homeschooling with twin toddlers? And I survived that.  By the way, don’t you just love Nate’s long nap tousled hair?  My gosh, it seems like yesterday that they were that little.  It kinda makes me want to cry thinking about those block playing, sipping drinking, nap taking boys who can now pick up a book and read it or ride a bike. Yep, blubbering mess over here.

Just one more picture of those cute baby cheeks!

Yep, blubbering mess over here.

Nonetheless, I was dreading the first day of school a little bit.  It may have something to do with that I’m crazy and I tend to think I am much more patient, have more time than I actually do, and have the stamina of a race horse. Or it might have to do with the fact that we are doing 3, yes THREE, cores from sonlight this year. After yesterday I have determined that I will be incredibly hoarse this year.  If I start to sound like a chain smoker, rest assured it’s not because I actually took up smoking, but because I’m reading aloud for an hour and a half a day not to mention all the other talking I’m doing helping everyone learn everything else.

It might also have to do with the constant complaining the last few weeks as books have been showing up in the mail or as they’ve been slowly accumulating at home?

Marshall:  Whose Pre Algebra book is that?

Me:  Yours!

Marshall:  WHAT!!!  THAT LOOKS WAY TOO HARD???

or

Mike:  Why is there a stack of paperbacks on the bar?

Me:  Those are your first readers for school.  Aren’t they exciting?

Mike:  WHAT?  I only want to read about World War II!

I am relieved and glad to announce that there hasn’t been one official complaint on my choices of curriculum so far.  I was informed that Writing and English are Mike’s official worst subjects, but I expect that to change pretty soon, and even if it doesn’t, I’m okay with that.  You don’t have to like it, but you must be proficient at it.  That is my new mantra.  Or it may be rephrased if I am channeling my inner Tiger Mama to “you don’t have to like it, but you must excel at it”.

We actually started kindergarten weeks ago to get a head start on the year.  It’s always easiest for me to skimp on the youngest because they are so easy to make up later.  Hence, the four lessons of phonics each day last June and July to finish Nate and Jake’s phonics book before this year.  I have vowed that won’t happen again.  Thankfully we now have a 4 week buffer built in.

The day ran smoothly and surprisingly efficient. There does need to be a little tweaking done here and there.  I didn’t anticipate crying when Marshall and Michael shared writing time.  Nor did I anticipate how much Jake and Nate enjoyed reading to Michael.  I also didn’t anticipate starting on time and finishing an hour early.  That was very nice!

I also can’t tell you how thrilled I am with the Bible curriculum I picked this year.  It’s hard to find something that will feed and engage a 12-year-old boy while still keep the attention of a 5-year-old.  The combination of scripture reading, drawing, coloring and writing has everyone excited.

We are kitchen table homeschoolers.  Though I could technically have a school room, we seem to gravitate to the kitchen and that’s where we spend most of our day.  This year I have decided to overtake the game room.  I’m hoping that this will in turn, corral the mess that we seem to generate.  We shall see.  Our downstairs is also freezing.  Whoever designed the heating in our home deserves to have their duct work designing license revoked.  Hopefully by employing the fireplace downstairs we can warm up the whole house and make the downstairs less frigid during the winter here in the arctic tundra of the Pacific Northwest.  Again, we shall see.  We may be frozen out and slowly trickle upstairs.

All I know for sure is that today, the second day, everyone wanted to start early.  There wasn’t any complaining or crying, it went incredibly smoothly.  I couldn’t ask for a better day!

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Sometimes

Having a teen isn’t always fun.  Sometimes you want to beat your head against a brick wall and then crawl into a deep whole.  Then sometimes they say things that knock your socks off.  Either they are incredibly insightful, sensitive and sweet or they are hilariously funny.

Having a teenager isn’t half bad.

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My babies aren’t babies anymore

Today my heart grieves.  It sits in my chest like huge blubbering lump of an organ, kinda like my ovaries.  In two days, my twins will turn 5.  They will no longer be babies.  They won’t be anywhere near babyhood.  Every day they say, “Please, don’t call us babies.  We’re big boys”.

Logically, I know it’s ridiculous, to be so upset about a fifth birthday.  I’m expecting these kids to live to be 100.  They’ll see things I can’t even dream of.  They’ll crest a new century.  They will probably get to go to the moon on vacation.  It’ll be amazing lives these kids lead. If we round this birthday up or down compared to 100 years, they are closer to babies than wrinkly old men.

But lately, every time I see an older person I think about how they were once small helpless babies.  Once, they were precocious toddlers who delighted their parents with their views of the world. Once they were little.  They were new.

And when I see a baby, a little piece of my heart shatters knowing that I will never again have a baby.  Never again grow little hands and feet in my womb and feeling little legs and arms stretch within the safe confines on my body.  Never again, will I rock a sleeping infant in the dark of night.  Never again, will I nurse my baby, wear them on my hip, stand over their sleeping shapes in the dark and listen for the sweet sound of their breath.

I think of all of the lasts that happen every day.  The things that I didn’t even know where the lasts.  The things that I didn’t even know I would one day miss.  Things like onesies under feety pajamas, rocking little ones to sleep, and playing this little piggy on small toddler toes.

There should be mother books for things like this.  This way we could keep an exact record of it.  We could cherish all those things we rush through every day to get to the next thing.  The last time I nursed you.  The last time I needed to hold your hand while you walked.  The last time you feel asleep on my chest.  The last time I played the Tooth Fairy.  The last time you called for me in the middle of the night to kiss your head and tuck you in.  Sometimes they are small things we can’t wait to get past.  The last diaper change.  The last time I had to tie your shoes.  The last time I brushed your teeth.  The last time you cried for your pacifier.  The last time they wore those small tiny training pants on their little tiny hineys.

This is just the beginning of the lasts.  There isn’t anyone behind these little two to rock and hold and baby.  This is the beginning of the end of this phase of my life.

It just breaks my heart.  It breaks it into a million pieces.

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