Tis the Busy Season

To say I've been crazy busy would be an understatement at this point. Each day has become a 'to-do' list, with time simply disappearing before enough items have been checked off. I had somehow concluded that once my husband returned from deployment there would be this blissful, relaxing period, when I could do things like read or blog or whatever involved me sitting on the couch doing nothing. In my pregnancy cluttered mind, I neglected to realize his arrival was two weeks before the beginning of the holiday season. The down time I had envisioned became so crazy, that I begged for at least one day home... to do absolutely nothing. By the way, I'm still waiting for that to happen.

He returned and the list of undone household items were tackled and his days off are a blur. My sister arrived a week before Thanksgiving for a ten day stay... during those ten days we had a (long overdue) birthday bash for our Caelan's 4th birthday (which is actually in December which is why it's been difficult to give her the kind of party her sisters have received... and she was acutely aware of this), our usually scheduled busy-ness of dance (and now gymnastics), a doctor's appointment, lab work, grocery shopping, a ton of baking and cooking for the big day and the usual cleaning and laundry. At this point I should say that it's a good thing I'm so far along in my pregnancy that I can't see my feet because I'm pretty sure they would be screaming at me if I had made eye contact. Then Thanksgiving and Black Friday (yes, I'm crazy, but it was SO MUCH FUN). Then Friday and Saturday were the last two days with my sister, so we shopped some more and visited Valley Forge.

Last week, was the basic schedule, but add some more Christmas shopping (I'm almost done... woohoo!). The weekend brought another event hosted at our home... so more cleaning and cooking. Oh, yes, and somewhere in there we got our tree and decorated the house for Christmas. Sunday was the Christmas party for my husband's work and we galloped right into today with more laundry and an additional two hours of dance class. Caelan began dance today and Evelynn is in the Christmas program that will be on Saturday. Whew. On a good day (i.e. when I'm not pregnant) I live by my daily lists. I love making them and accomplishing them. These days, I forget my lists, leave things off or have so many jotted notes to myself it drives me crazy... and then there's the actual undertaking of the lists that do survive. Yeeeeaaaahhhh, that would be nice. On the bright side, it's almost Christmas and I'm staying home, snug, warm and untraveled, and I have a nice vision of doing nothing until February when this little boy joins the family. But then there's the undecorating of Christmas and getting ready for a newborn.........

She Might, She Might

Priorities

Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.
Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Dog Vice

Our dog takes offense to the life he's been dealt every time his master leaves him for weeks/months on end with a house full of girls. His diva-like behavior (sorry to the master of the dog for that) is beyond ridiculous. For starters, he hates to walk out into the yard to do his business when the grass is wet or it's raining. I refuse to accompany him with an umbrella. Tough luck. He hasn't had anyone to take him on long walks or runs. He hates me. It rains. He hates me. He gets too much love from the kids. He hates me. He is six years old now, mid-life. There is no excuse for such childish behavior. His personal revenge has been to destroy things and once (and only once) used the bathroom in my bedroom. A distinct line has been drawn.

Chaucer is calculating, carefully planning his revenge. Most of his anger, although directed at me in the end because I have a mess to clean, is specifically in the destruction of items that are dear to the girls... and unfortunately for Caelan, the items almost always belong to her. He watches the girls, taking notice of their preferred toy of the day. He waits until the perfect moment to sneak it away from them and then mutilates it. His abuses are specific. If it is a stuffed animal, he chews the eyes out, pulling the stuffing out the eye sockets. Sometimes the eyes are enough for him and he chews out the nose, again pulling the stuffing from the gaping hole. If the toy is plastic, like a Papo animal or My Little Pony, he chews the feet off so they can't stand any more. If he's really put out, he will chew the face off, too. He is clever enough to never have actually been caught in the act of doing these deeds, but it is doubtless he is the culprit. The term 'hang-dog expression' never had a better physical description than when finding him afterward.

Yesterday, after countless toys and even a few sippy cups fell to his wrath, I was not the one to find a dearly departed My Little Pony. Caelan did. And it was hers. Hell hath no fury. The pony was on a rug, all four legs perfectly severed from the body, and its head ground in with its matted mane. I watched in fascination as Caelan gathered the pieces up and marched over to Chaucer, shoving the pieces in his face. She was thorough in her dressing down, her eyebrows lowered in anger and she used her lowest 'I mean business' tone of voice: "This is MY pony. You chewed up MY pony. HOW DARE YOU?? You are a BAD dog! STOP eating my toys!" She repeated a few of these lines to make sure the scolding sounded long enough and the dog turned an ran to his bed in the kitchen, where he did not come out for at least twenty minutes. I think he took it well. So far, he has not destroyed anything. My only regret is that I didn't get any of it on video.

Birthday Cake

    Yesterday was my birthday, and other than all the reminders from friends and family, it really didn't seem like a birthday... just another day like any other that I have when Keith is gone. I still don't think I've gotten over the trauma of Caelan's ER visit (see Pills and Gray Hair). It completely wiped me out. Plus three girls, an in utero boy, and an angry dog have all taken their toll on my well-being. Not complaining, but the highs have been high and the lows have reached an all-time low this week. Then my birthday came. Amidst all the wishes of a good day, I was having a hard time seeing past a few negative comments and letting actions of others define my happiness/mood for me... and Evelynn kept telling me that I could not have a birthday without cake.
    There was no way I was making a cake yesterday. I was not motivated to do anything. My kids didn't even sing 'Happy Birthday' to me. I was informed I didn't have a birthday cake. No birthday cake, no birthday. My Edible Arrangements from Keith and my friend Ashley were 'gifts' even though I tried to play them off as 'birthday cake'. Evelynn would not let it go. Yesterday finally ended, and today began on the same note as yesterday in all its negativity. Evelynn began the day, however, by saying in all the arm waving excitement that is Evelynn "Happy Birthday!" I said thanks, but that my birthday was yesterday. Her reply: But you didn't have birthday cake.
    This continued all day. 'Are you going to have a birthday cake today?' 'Can you make a birthday cake?' 'If you have a birthday cake, we can sing to you.' 'You have to have candles, too.' Ok, fine. We went to Giant. Evelynn informed me that because it was my birthday, I got to pick which cake I wanted, but since they were singing, they got to pick the icecream. The 'birthday party' began as soon as we got back to the house. Evelynn got the spoons and the knife while I found some plates. She reminded me once again that I needed candles. Thankfully, she didn't ask me how many I needed. Since the 'party' was in the backyard, there was no need to alert the fire department (they have been in our yard before searching for a fire someone reported because of smoke). Evelynn took a picture of me with my cake and they all sang 'Happy Birthday' to me. Birthday cake does make a birthday. The day ended with my girls (especially Evelynn) making my birthday one I won't forget... even if it was a self-induced day late.

Pills and Gray Hair

    On Wednesday, I picked up a little desk calendar from Barnes and Noble that gives a whole year (365 days) of German phrases and cultural items. After the events of last night, I couldn't sleep, so I cleaned my way past midnight into my birthday. In my overtired, somewhat cynical frame of mind, I picked up the calendar and flipped to the September 23rd day. It read "Lass dir keine grauen Haare wachsen." The literal translation being "Don't let your hair go gray." Huh. Interesting considering I had just completed my middle child's fifth visit to the ER (second this year, which I could not remember why we went the first time this year until a friend reminded me that I sliced the child's eyeball with my fingernail). Heavy sigh.
    At this point, as I have worked out the details of what happened in my mind, I should probably explain what exactly happened. It began while I was skyping with Keith. Caelan walked in, once again frantically pawing at her mouth saying "It tastes tewwible" and I'm sure it did. I asked her what she had in her mouth and she handed me a small travel tube for Advil. I wouldn't have been as frantic if it only had Advil in it, but I knew that it also contained two Imitrex pills that I take for migraines. I asked her how many she swallowed. She said two. I asked her what color they were. She said white. Advil isn't white. Imitrex is. As an adult, I can take two in a 24 hour period. I can take the first one and then wait two hours before taking the second. She took two at the same time. The child doesn't even weigh 30 lbs. My first concern was to get her taken care of and figure out the steps to disaster later. Not even a full week ago, I put Poison Control on speed dial. My irritation knew no bounds when I called them twice, was told by recording that it was in fact Poison Control and to press one for English. I did this twice. I pressed one. And the call was disconnected both times.
    I know from personal knowledge that the pill goes into effect between 15 and 20 minutes. I couldn't imagine how fast it would work on a three year old who took both pills. I called a friend and she arrived at my door as I was on the way out. The hospital is four blocks from my house. I'm not sure that's a good thing or bad, but at least it's there for Caelan. To look at her, she never appeared to be bothered by the medicine. As a matter of fact, I think some of her trauma room antics made the nurses nervous. One nurse put up the side rails so she wouldn't fall off the bed. Hahaha. They couldn't know that that was an added bit of fun for her to swing on. The nurses/doctor checked her heart and lungs frequently, but everything stayed normal. A few times she laid down on the bed and said her head hurt, that she was tired or that she felt sick, but then a few minutes after she said these things she would pop back up like nothing was wrong. It's the moment as the parent when you want to hug the child for being well and shake the child for taking the pills and worrying me sick.
    After an hour and a half, we were discharged, the nurses and doctors all expressing to me the importance of keeping medicine away from my children. I was still trying to figure out how she got the medicine in the first place. It was not my full container of the prescription and because I'm pregnant, I have not carried the medicine around with me in nearly six months. I probably haven't taken it in seven or eight months. When I'm not pregnant, I carry the small container of Advil in my purse with two Imitrex in it, but this container hasn't been in my purse for months. Interesting. So, after much thought and personal investigation, this is what I've come up with. I know for sure that she ingested one Imitrex and about 1/3 of another one because I found the chewed up pieces in Caelan's bedroom floor. It was recognizable and maintained enough shape that I know it was not Advil.
    Now, how did she get it? I found the closet door open in my bedroom and the purse I carried in the spring in the floor of my closet. It had been hanging up. I should not mention that it was hanging up high, because that's irrelevant to Caelan. I'm thinking she was after gum and found a container holding 'mints' or some other such tasty candy. I completely overlooked the pill bottle when I cleaned out the purse. It was in a small zip pocket in the side. What can I say? I haven't thought about it in months, and now I have a reasonable explanation. I supposed we'll see if there are any gray hairs... but that calendar is a 2012 calendar, so maybe it's advice for the coming year. Yeah, that sounds good.

Update Speed Dial

    Pretty sure that in the last three days Caelan has ingested several biohazards... or at least that could be hazardous to her health (or if you choose to think positively, things that will increase her immune system to bionic levels). And it all comes down to her new 'trick' of getting into something she is KNOWS she is not to get (well, aside from her licking raw pork). Picture her sticking her skinny arm through the small gap of a cabinet door. The gap, of course, is caused by the lock the we placed on it years ago. The tips of her fingers graze the edge of the dish washing soap. That's good enough. She thinks they are pretty. I get the Cascade kind that come in the little square packages, one side is the white powder and the other side is the pretty pink gel. She tried to eat it. Considering it's soap, I wasn't too concerned. Matter of fact, I sat on the stairs and laughed in her face as she was foaming at the mouth and spit was streaming down her arms, hanging off her elbows. It was two days before she tried anything like that. Then today happened.
    So far I've taken away nasal spray that she climbed up into my bathroom cabinet to retrieve and the cough medicine she found in the upper cabinet in the kitchen (thank goodness that one is childproof... or I should say is still something Caelan hasn't figured out how to open). But then she came to me, once again with an abundance of spit covering her arms and face. All she says is 'It's tewwible and it's burning my lips'. Wonderful. The substance smelled slightly familiar, as I mentally calculated all the substances that she could have possible gotten into. Well, it would appear that several days ago, she took the air freshener card out of the SUV and hid it for a while. She decided it smelled so good, she had to bite it. Sigh. As she sat on the couch, holding a wet paper towel to her lips, I immediately updated my Speed Dial to include Poison Control.

Kindergarten: Imaginative or Graphically Hindering?

   
School for us began officially last week. I say 'officially' because as we have worked through our kindergarten curriculum, I have found that Evelynn has a good grasp on the concepts so far. Mind you, it's only been a week. We've run into a couple of issues that were unexpected but definitely workable. In recent months, Evelynn has completed mazes like the one above. The difference between prior mazes and this one is the graphics. I know pictures at this point in a kindergartener's student career are to draw her interest and make the exercise entertaining. For Evelynn, they greatly hindered the process of going from the 'go' point to the dinosaur.
She studied the maze for a while and decided on the direction of the 'rhino' and the 'crane' animals. Stopping at the rhino, she said "I can't get to the dinosaur this way because his horns will poke me." She looked a little longer before moving toward the crane. She didn't say anything about the beak or the wing, but observed that she couldn't go that way either "because his feet are in the way and they probably stink." She then decided that direction would not work. She began at 'go' again and went toward the fish. She quickly nixed this idea saying "The fish would be too slippery and his tail would wiggle too much to get to the dinosaur." At this point I figured she would go the correct way. She was out of other options. However, she began at the turtle and followed the path to the dinosaur, ignoring the paths to the fossils and the diamond. I asked her how to get from 'go' to the turtle. She looked at the paper, then looked at me, and them stared at the paper before saying "But to start at 'go' I have to go by the mummy. If I do that the mummy might wake up and chase me. That would be too scary." I told her that was the right way to go and that she should draw the path completely from 'go' to the dinosaur. Uncertain, she said "Well, I guess I can draw the line REALLY fast and he won't wake up."

The List

    Thank you, Lord, that I have ONE child that likes to go to bed and does so without a fuss... at least not the kind of fuss that is the kicking and screaming refusal of bedtime. Twice a day, McKenna goes to bed, naptime and bedtime. Naptime has lately been initiated by myself, but bedtime, that is never the case. She goes willingly, even grabbing me by the hand and leading me to her room. It's a beautiful moment. It's a victorious moment for me.
    McKenna, however, has a list of items that must be present for her to be in bed and to sleep. Every afternoon and every night we head to her room. Up until recently I put her into her crib, but in the last few days, my preggo tummy is not allowing me that. I'm encouraging her to break routine a little and climb in herself. She's not sure what to think about this because bedtime always happens the same way. Once she's in the crib and laying down, she says "Blanket." In goes her blanket, covering her from feet to neck. She peeks over the edge of the blanket and says "Milk". Into her waiting hands I place her sippy cup. She doesn't drink it at this point. She just looks at me like I should know what comes next. "Monkey, Monkey," she says. This is one of her stuffed animals and by far the most important. She can do without Piglet or her baby in bed with her as long as she has her monkey. I place the monkey next to her, but she's still not ready to drink her milk and go to sleep. "Mooskit," she says. I turn on her MP3 player and place it on the bed. Once the music starts, she's just about ready. She begins drinking her milk, but doesn't break eye contact... my silent cue to turn off the light and leave. And that's it. Goodnight.

She Did It

As a new mother, I couldn't wait for my children to progress enough developmentally that they could speak and to converse with one another. Then they started talking. And it seems that more often I want them to stop.The information flow from oldest to youngest is too quick and my cute little 'rainbows and unicorns' fantasy of children speaking pleasantly to me and to each other has disappeared in the wake of the "She did it" line.

It's only in complete silence that I know someone is doing something they should not (and unfortunately it's Caelan that is silent more often than the other two). Evelynn comes running with the "She did it" or "She's doing something bad"... which the whole tattling thing with Evelynn is difficult enough to deal with because Caelan's usually doing something that's hazardous to her well-being. Sigh. The moments of "She did it" have come too frequently in recent days (and will go away soon as long as I'm the Mama in this house) and I cringe every time I hear it.

But it has now become that 'phrase'... you know, the phrase that becomes your children's go-to in every situation. "She did it. She spilled the water." "She did it. She didn't flush." "She did it. She took all the toys out of her toy box." "She did it. She took all the pillows off the bed." "She did it. She took her clothes off." "She did it. She put her toy in the dog's water." "She did it. She ate the tomato." "She did it. She moved that book." "She did it. She colored in that coloring book." "She did it. She drew on the wall." "She did it. She put her plate in the sink." See? Half those things aren't necessarily 'bad', unless of course she were stripping down naked in a public place and definitely if she drew on the wall. It just all begins with the "She did it." Grrrr...

They say it so often now that today at lunch, McKenna dribbled her food on her hand and immediately said "She did it" and when I walked into the bedroom that seemed to contain pleasant children, one said "She did it" as if the only reason I was in the room was to discover the guilty one. Then it turned out that no one had done anything. Now they could say "She did it" because I naively wanted them to speak in the first place.

Drawings

Flowers, sunshine and rainbows appear on paper or magna doodles straight from the imaginations of Caelan and Evelynn. Hundreds of these drawings litter the house and are frequently gifted. This newfound joy in expressing themselves has been wonderful for a mother to see, even though the piles of paper come from important notebooks or pages from books (Caelan in both cases). I love the concept of a magna doodle, the screen holding enough space for one picture, then it can be erased. Definitely works to keep down the paper usage.

However, there are some pictures drawn on a magna doodle that I wish I could keep forever that had been drawn on paper. For instance, the picture Evelynn drew while I removed Caelan's broken bed from her room. Evelynn brought her magna doodle to me and said "This is a picture of you, Mom. You're mad because we broke the bed. See your face?" Another doodle of Evelynn's was a picture of Caelan. The stick-person-Caelan was in a circle with a line drawn diagonally across it. Evelynn, ever my observant child, said this was a picture for Caelan to know she was not to go into Evelynn's room. Ah, all the warning signs she has observed in recent weeks have paid off.

And then there are the drawings of our family. "This is Daddy. See right there, and we're all in the picture together." Why must all the pictures I want to keep end up on a magna doodle? Why am I surrounded by papers of rainbows, rainbow houses, princesses and unicorns? I've thought of taking photos of the magna doodle, but once the drawing has been shown off to me, it's immediately erased. Maybe I should encourage more paper usage.

Pregnancy and Olfactory

    Pregnancy is a curious thing and now that I'm on my fourth one, there are things about it that are just weird. This pregnancy I have a heightened sense of smell. Wonder Woman would kill for the sense of smell I have, but it's by no means a pleasant experience. I find myself grossly hindered from the most mundane of tasks... like cleaning and grocery shopping because of the odors that assault my olfactory senses. Some things smell strange or awful because they just do and normally shouldn't, or because they just do and should.
    Some instances are the fault of my children. Like Caelan spraying half a can of Lysol in the kitchen. I have yet to be in the kitchen longer than I can hold my breath. Other instances are no one's fault really. Seriously, how many people can walk down the cereal aisle in the grocery store and become physically ill because they smell the cardboard boxes of cereal? Not exactly anything you can blame but my nose. It's a little difficult to avoid that aisle when my children eat so much cereal.
    Another instance of overwhelming stench was completely my fault and one I've dealt with continually since arriving home two weeks ago. In April, I carefully planned my two month long absence from home, but somewhere in the planning failed to realize that there were potatoes and onions in the pantry cabinets. The day after we arrived home, we went for groceries. Evelynn helped me put them away and she opened a cabinet in the pantry, immediate revulsions followed... from both of us. Loud exclamations and severe gagging ensued as I gingerly removed the food items in the pantry to find the source, wearing rubber gloves of course. There on the side of one shelf was a bag of potatoes (small, white, new potatoes) putrified in an inch of their own decaying juices. Shudders of horror. For two weeks, I have not been able to rid the area of the smell. It has lessened quite a bit, but I still smell it. I refused to put any food back in the cabinet until a couple of days ago. I can't stand cluttered, covered counters, so it had been nagging at my inner peace of cleanliness. I had to see my the tops of my counters again.
    So today, I decided to put the food back in the pantry. I opened the cabinet opposite the one I have cleaned and disinfected repeatedly for two weeks. The stench in that cabinet nearly knocked me off my feet. A sweet potato and two onions. Fantastic. To just go on record, I don't know why these potatoes and onions were in found in these locations because it's not normally where I keep potatoes and onions. It's been a very unpleasant surprise. So, yet again, I'm cleaning out another cabinet and scrubbing down the shelves. And with minimal energy, these things are the only things getting done today. I'm not thrilled that my life is now run according to the sensitivity of my nose, but this too shall pass, yes?

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

    The last few days have been scorchers and I have had little motivation to get off the couch. I'm still in the first trimester, so the sickness that has gone with that and the ridiculous heat made me call for a movie day. BUT, we would be watching movies that I wanted to watch. If I couldn't get off the couch I was not going to sit there and watch their regulars... like Barbie movies, Clifford or the Backyardigans. Nope, we watched my favorite musicals. Yes, that's right. Musicals. Gigi, Singin' in the Rain and then today, it was Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. This last movie has been in the movie library for years, but the girls never got into much of it. I had a hard time convincing the girls that this was the movie of choice.

    Then I noticed that the castle on the DVD was Neuschwanstein. Ha! I showed it to Evelynn, and yes, we had to watch Chitty Chitty Bang Bang immediately. She was very excited to watch it then. Both Evelynn and Caelan were drawn into the movie, engrossed in every action. Once Neuschwanstein made an appearance, Evelynn excitedly told Caelan "I went there!". Now, unfortunately, it's been so long since I've seen this movie, that I had not realized how much of Neuschwanstein was utilized for the movie. Even some of the courtyard inside the main gate is used in the movie. My second surprise came a little later when Caractacus Potts (Dick Van Dyke) landed Chitty in the village of Vulgaria. It was strangely familiar and Evelynn told me we had been there, too. I didn't question her, but I couldn't tell where this footage had been taken. After a quick search, we have been there. It's Rothenberg ob der Tauber. Evelynn is ecstatic. There is so much footage of Neuschwanstein and Rothenberg in this movie that it has now become Evelynn's favorite movie. Oh, and FYI... Rothenberg is not near Neuschwanstein as portrayed in the movie. It is not the village that belongs with the castle like they would have you think.

Starting at about the 5:00 mark, the footage of Neuwchwanstein and Rothenberg ob der Tauber begins. There are quite a bit more of the area in the movie, but this is a glimpse.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UemArxy7soo&feature=related

 

Getting Outer and Outer

It's been a little interesting this go around of pregnancy. I've never had children old enough (or curious enough) to notice, and they have noticed a lot more than I thought. Here are their thoughts on the matter.

Caelan: Do you have a baby in your tummy right now? (Somehow she came to the conclusion that when I'm sick, the baby isn't in my tummy and when I feel better, the baby is there. Evelynn thinks the same. Maybe they had their own conversation about it.)

Evelynn: Is there a baby sack in your tummy? (I was surprised by this one and told her yes, actually, there was a baby sack called a 'uterus'. Now she says it all the time. If she volunteers this information, it's the only technical term she knows and she's still convinced that baby's are in mommy's tummies until the doctor gives the baby to the family. She has yet to ask how the doctor gets the baby, so don't worry if the 'uterus' conversation comes up.)

Caelan: If you're sick you can take medicine... you can take my medicine. (Her medicine being Tylenol. She's so thoughtful.)

Both girls check my tummy at some point every day, asking "Is there really a baby in there?"

Evelynn: You are getting outer and outer. There is a baby in there!

There are daily fights over what I'm having, boy or girl. Evelynn wants a 'brother... because we don't have one of those. All we have are two sisters.' Caelan secretly wants a brother as well, but she has never owned up to that in front of Evelynn. When she hears Evelynn say she wants a brother, Caelan immediately responds by saying she wants a sister. And then the fight breaks out.

Evelynn: "But McKenna is our baby. What will we do with another one?"

McKenna, of course, is oblivious.

Full Moon Antics

It seems every few months my children lose their minds and forget everything they've been taught. They have exceptional abilities to completely ruin a day or two and can only tell "I don't know" when I ask why. I've heard enough "I don't knows" in the last two days to question just about every bit of my parenting abilities. Tomorrow they will wake up and more than likely be back to normal, but I have to wonder if in fact they are howling at a full moon when they go nuts like they have yesterday and today. These two days have put a, well, fresh spin on childhood insanity. In other words, they have really outdone themselves.

When these days occur, I immediately consider their behavior a reflection of my parenting skills... which appear to be grossly lacking. It's like a cycle. We do well for a while, I think I'm on the right track, they go nuts, I go nuts, back to doing well, etc. I guess it's knowing that they will wake up tomorrow in their right minds that makes me even write this post. A lot of you will think what they have done today is quite hilarious. I, on the other hand, have been completely ashamed of this behavior, questioning my decision to have any of these children and to admit utter insanity in  producing another Brannon in the new year. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, hind sight 20-20) there's not much I can do about those decisions except trudge onward and upward. It is what it is. This, however, does not mean I didn't take the time to ball my eyes out this afternoon after sending them all to their rooms. I hit 'The Wall'... that place that's covered in tears and self-doubt, not seeing what's on the other side. I took a break. I have wonderful friends who rescued me. Now, with a somewhat clearer mind, I'm trying to figure out what the heck is wrong with my kids. These are things I've come up with in the last two days.
Q: Why is every toy, every book, every game they own covering the floors? A: I'm pretty sure it's because my children have not been at home for more than two months. It's like Christmas in a candy shop. They're still enjoying the fruits of the Easter Bunny (our travels began the week after Easter).
Q: Why do they not listen to me? A: Again, traveling has its downfall in that I've been separated from my children in spurts, they've been surrounded by doting family members they see once a year, and there was always another adult to back me up.
Q: Why does most of their mischief happen when I'm on the phone with my husband? A: Caelan has expressed her semi-anger in not finding Keith at home when we returned Tuesday night. The two youngest children have not seen him since the end of April. They even talked to him on the phone before this afternoon's mischief, he encouraging them to be nice and to help me out. Apparently it was reverse psychology day. Whatever is said the opposite must be acted upon. They did a smashing job of that.
Q: Why do my children have such 'bathroom' issues? A: Two days ago, I was thrilled with the prospect of having three children out of diapers before #4 made an appearance. Today it seems like I will have three maybe four in diapers if my children continue to regress.

Oh, and to give you the icing on the Mom's-gone-insane-and-hit-the-wall cake, I will tell you the one incident that completely tipped the scales to ruination. After all their conversations on the phone with Keith, I finished the call by heading upstairs to put the sheets back on McKenna's bed (think Piccasso art of #1 and #2...oh, yeah... that's how the day began). In those minutes, my children completely trashed the living room. Not even kidding. Game pieces from three different games, water on the coffee table (I assume it was water but since I never found the vessel the water could have been transported in, it's highly likely that the liquid came from the completely naked McKenna), pencils and crayons thrown about, stickers on furniture, wet wipes ripped out of the box, every toy strategically placed on all visible surfaces in the room, and smashed animal crackers in the rug. This was NOT the breaking point. Certainly it all needed to be dealt with but that's not what I saw at first. On the way back downstairs, my two older children ran past me to conveniently play in their rooms. I should have known. Standing on the bottom landing of my stairs, I saw my youngest child (completely naked) standing on the couch and the brass chandelier only inches away from her. THE CHANDELIER WAS RIPPED FROM ITS WIRE IN THE CEILING. I sat on the stairs and fell apart. Ten minutes at the most had passed since I had left that room. HOW COULD THEY? HOW COULD THEY HAVE ACCOMPLISHED THAT? They know, after a bazillion scoldings, to not touch the chandelier. I have never actually caught them swinging from it, but have walked in to see it swinging. There is an undeniable lure to touch the pretty fixture. It's shiny and has at least fifteen bulbs on it. It also hangs directly above the couch and a console record player table, accessible. Sigh. Is this a sign of a full moon? Is this a sign that something is going on in the mind of my kids that I'm totally missing? Is this a sign that we have been away too long? Or is it because they know I'm not at my best right now and their Dad isn't home? Who knows. At least we're finally getting a new light fixture. One closer to the ceiling. My husband even suggested one with a climbing rope attached. I guess he sees the humor in it, I still haven't.

"Tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet."

L.M. Montgomery



Traveling Circus, Jetta Style, Part Two

It took five hours to go from Hot Springs to Memphis. On a good day of traveling, it should take about 3 1/2 to 4 hours. My overnight stop was set in Knoxville, which is seven hours from Memphis. The odds were not looking good for us the first day. I stopped at least half a dozen times to buckle children back into their restraints, namely the Caelan trunk incident. By the time we reached Knoxville that night, I was more than ready to be done. And yet I faced another full day of driving.

McKenna began the trip by moaning, yelling and crying. And she did this for an hour. Mother insanity set in well before the trip was well underway. Claustrophobia set in, the Jetta shrinking around me. The din of McKenna carrying on combined with two sisters yelling at her because they were equally as fed up with her as I was, threatened to bring this circus to a screeching halt. I don't handly whining/crying/yelling very well but I refused to pull over. I had stopped too many times the day before. There was not going to be a repeat performance of that, circus or not. Things did calm down and a couple of them drifted off to sleep. The hours and the miles passed easily, with one traffic incident in Virginia. By the time I made it to Winchester, Virginia, McKenna was resigned to her seat... for the most part. She still had random spurts of anger. If I understood all her  baby babble, I'm pretty sure she was yelling profanities at her carseat while hitting it violently.

At one point, Chaucer had moved to lay between Caelan and McKenna, his back to Caelan and his face and paws toward McKenna. That dog put his paws on McKenna's carseat. She came unglued, yelling at him to get his paws off. For the next thirty minutes, Chaucer would put his paw on her carseat for the reaction and then remove. It was like having another kid in the back seat. She was furious. He kept right on teasing her until finally he decided to put a stop to it by put his entire leg across her body, pinning her shoulders back against the seat. She was livid. And I was laughing. Shoving his leg off, she began a tirade against him. Whatever she was saying, she was not joking. She covered him with her books, blanket and pillow. Out of sight, out of mind... or just complete vengeance on the dog. She won. He got up and went to the trunk, where he stayed for the last two hours of the trip. Those last two hours were very calm for McKenna. I think she finally got all her frustrations out.

Traveling Circus, Jetta style, Part One

    I dreaded the drive home immensely. I never had any desire to get back into a car with three kids and a dog and drive for two days. Unfortunately, I really didn't have much of a choice. As it turned out, it was my least favorite trip of all time. It's hysterically funny now in retrospect. At the time, I thought I would go insane. We set out from PA in a VW Jetta. Packing had to be light and strategic. We left AR with a tiny bit more than I had originally considered (like three Arkansas watermelons that are gigantic). The set up in the Jetta goes something like this (at least how it should work in my mind and foiled a few times by children and said dog): Evelynn sits in the front passenger seat, Caelan sits directly behind me, McKenna sits behind Evelynn. The middle seat in the Jetta flips down for access to the trunk. The dog stays in the front until he gets fed up sitting between Caelan and McKenna and goes back to the trunk. With this arrangement, I don't have full use of trunk space. As it happened, both the back floorboards were full up to the seat, and about 2/3 of the trunk was full.
    This is a great way to go even if it's cramped. So how in the world did I lose a child??? How does anyone lose a child in a Jetta that's packed to its gills? Well, it did happen. We had stopped to eat and take a bathroom break at Sonic (of course... and it's easy access/convenient location to a bathroom without unloading everyone at once). After that we got back on the road and Keith called me. After about ten minutes of conversation, I looked in my rearview mirror and did not see Caelan. I thought maybe she had fallen asleep and was leaning toward the door. I looked closer. There was NO child sitting in the carseat. My heart stopped. I'd finally done it. I'd forgotten one of my children. Did I leave her in the bathroom? Did I really leave her at Sonic? But I distinctly remembered buckling her in. Evelynn looked and didn't see her either. I called Caelan's name several times. No answer. I was feeling ill. I took the next exit, calling her name one more time. I heard a muffled response. "I'm back here." WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE TRUNK!!!! "I just wanted to pet the dog." Oh, dear Lord, I'm so glad I didn't leave her at Sonic and I'm relieved. Then strangely I got quite a bit upset. At that moment it was nowhere near funny. Now it's just another fantastic, hilarious example of what it means to be a parent to Caelan.

Observations on a Drive South

I always find myself wondering about my surroundings as I drive through the South. Of course, when all is said and done, I end up driving 26 hours one way to reach  my destinations in Arkansas and Texas... not to mention, that I do it with three kids and dog... and this time in a VW Jetta. Good times. And lots of time to consider too many things.

For instance, where do States get their inspiration for naming their cities and parks? I typically drive I-81 S through Maryland, West Virginia and Virginia and then hit I-40 across Tennessee. And let me tell you, there are plenty of things to ponder in the names. One name that always strikes me is "Hungry Mother State Park"... wow, really? If anything, I want to go just to know why it's called that. Look it up on Wikipedia. The answer is short and sweet, but why call it that? Why not Molly Marley State Park or Marley State Park? City, park, and street names that I find intriguing or slightly ridiculous are: Fort Defiance, Mud Pike, Bulls Gap, Crab Orchard, Long Hunter State Park, Pigeon Roost Road, Pig Branch Road, Dead Horse Lake Golf Course, Bucksnort, Palestine, Fairplay Cemetery, the originality of Texas roads named CO RD 2206 or whatever the number and the 'FM' roads in Texas (FM for Farm to Market and then a number), Hooks, Fate, Decatur (does every state have one of these?), and Vashti.

You can always tell a truck is from Texas whether you're in Virginia, Tennessee or Arkansas, by the color of the dirt (which is very fine and a sandy red-brown) and by the license plate. Other than the obvious 'TEXAS' written on the plate, the plate itself is inevitably smashed in the middle where the truck has run into a trailer hitch. I guess that's the way Texans get the trailer in the right place, just run into it.

The further south I go, the more conscious of my own Pennsylvania plates I become. I feel the urge to look over my shoulder frequently. As friendly as people in the South are, they can be suspicious of people from north of the Mason/Dixon. Can't imagine why...Which, by the way, NEVER take the first exit on I-40 in West Memphis after crossing the Mississippi, especially if you're a white girl traveling by herself with kids, a dog and driving a Volkswagon. Pretty sure I did a few illegal things to get out of there and to the safety of the highway.

At some point in my long drive across Tennessee, I know I will stop to refuel and I know I will be schooled at the pump on some ignorance the attendant thinks I have. Usually, the attendant will turn my pump off, making me go inside to beg and plead for it to be turned back on. "Ma'am, you are parked at the wrong pump. To get gas you have to move to another pump." "I don't want gas, I want diesel." "But ma'am, you can't put diesel in a car." "Trust me, I can. Please turn my pump back on." "You're going to tear up your car if you put diesel in it." "Then that's my business. Please turn on the pump." "Are you sure, ma'am?" "Look, I drive a VW TDI, which means turbo DIESEL injection. I means my car takes diesel." "Ma'am, they don't make cars that take diesel." "Yes, they do. You are more than welcome to come outside and look at the cap to my tank that says 'Diesel Fuel Only'." Then they either come outside and look at the cap or they look at me like I've completely gone nuts and turn the pump on. I cringe when I'm in Tennessee and driving a TDI.

It's a bit interesting to travel with two girls that are now potty-trained. Interesting because they only need to go when we are stuck in traffic or when I'm navigating my way through Winchester, Bristol, Knoxville, Nashville, Memphis, across the Mississippi, Little Rock, or Dallas. These are the only times when they claim they are dying from the need to go to the bathroom. Every. Single. Time. The above instance about the West Memphis exit is one of those cases. They COULD NOT wait until I got over the Mississippi. It's amazing. All those miles and hours between the big cities and they are good until I can get them to a decent exit, but once I can't pull over immediately, the morale in the car goes downhill fast.

"Sei Kein Frosch"

As we walked around the quaint town of Büdingen, Germany, it was quite clear the residents have a love of frogs. "Don't be a frog!" is a saying that goes back to the year 1522, the year Count Anton married Elisabeth of Wied. The legend goes that when the Count brought his bride back to Büdingen, she was delighted with the town and the residents and the feeling was returned. The couple were welcomed with banners, music and a festive banquet. As the evening progressed, the Count fell asleep and eventually so did Elisabeth. A little while later, the bride woke up to a chorus of croaking frogs. She immediately woke the Count and told him that either the frogs had to go or she would. The Count woke his Council and asked the people of Büdingen to remove all the frogs in town. By afternoon the next day, all the frogs had been captured and were in bundles in the market square. However, they were distraught at being captured and were much louder than ever. The people of Büdingen then decided to dump the frogs in the river, believing they would drown. This was the perfect solution. The Count and Elisabeth were invited to view the drowning of the frogs. The frogs were released into the river and were not seen again. Büdingen still boasts of being the most 'frog-free' town in Germany. The saying "Don't be a frog" refers to the frogs themselves because they had spoiled the coming of Elisabeth to their town. The residents of Büdingen are also referred to as "Fräääsch"... the frogs.

Garmisch-Partenkirchen Fresco Paintings

One of Garmisch-Partenkirchen's best attributes is the many murals on the buildings. Business, homes, churches... they are all painted, and it's done so well that sometimes you have to look closely to see if what you are looking at is real or has been painted. Some of the houses bear the dates of the original painting and the when it was updated. One said it had been painted in 1937 and then redone in 1974. The tradition of these frescoes is beautiful and the essence of Bavaria.

Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

    One of the greatest things about having friends in Germany is that when we are here, we are completely immersed in the language. It's fun to see Keith brush up on his skills, brush up on my own (though I'm much better with listening) and watch Evelynn try to figure it all out. She told me today that she's learning a lot of German. Well, maybe. She has now come up with her own language. One that is no where close to German or English. I find myself wanting to dive for cover when those who speak little English want me to explain what she just said. I understand her developmental need to express sounds, but hearing the two languages simultaneously has created a communication problem by itself.
    While in Germany, we would like to do as the Germans do. It's hard to do that when your child creates her own gobbledigook, and that's just about what it amounts to. We've somehow managed to get her to say 'Danke' and 'Tchuß' fairly often, but that's about it. It's probably overwhelming to suddenly be surrounded by a language she doesn't understand, but from my and Keith's perspective, that's when the learning is best.
    In the last four days, two of those days have been spent with friends who speak very little English. And I have begun to dream about German vocabulary and in my dreams I'm trying to translate what I'm dreaming. It's quite unusual and my brain hurts, but it's great for me. I wish Evelynn would be a little more serious about the language, but she is five. It's a completely new cultural experience for her. Now that she's caught up on sleep and more like herself she will stop making noise. Maybe. Meine Mädchen ist nicht so klein, aber Sie ist nur eine Kinder. (My girl is not so little, but she is still a child.) I hope she picks up a little more before we head home.

Planes, Snot and Sparkles

    Evelynn's first airplane trip went off without a hitch, and she loves it. I'm not too surprised by this considering Keith's love of airplanes. Evelynn literally can't wait to get back on the plane next week. She mentions it everytime she sees a plane in the sky. Take-off, which she calls 'blast off', went smoothly. I kind of expected her to be a little more excited about it. Once we were in the air and above the clouds, she asked if it was okay for her to go to sleep. Well, okay.
    We had a few bouts with turbulence and that's when she really perked up. Between the 'This is so much fun!' and the 'I'm so excited!' she was fairly calm. The only thing that freaked her out was flushing the toilet, which was quite loud and forceful. We had some issues as we began to descend. She couldn't get her ears to pop. We tried chewing gum and teaching her to hold her nose to release the pressure. It wasn't too successful until I held her nose for her and she covered my hand with snot when she blew too hard. I'm pretty sure it was laughter that cleared her head.
    Keith and Evelynn did sleep for a while. I really wanted to sleep while Evelynn was awake and then when she finally went to sleep, I was wide awake. So it goes when you're the mom. Oh, well... I logged too many awake hours for those two days. We arrived in Frankfurt at 6am on Thursday and we did our best to stay awake until bedtime. It's really the only way to get adjusted to the time change quickly. Evelynn has taken a bit longer to adjust, but she's just about there.
    Evelynn's excitement has never let up and the closer the plane got to Germany, the more questions she asked. The most important question was 'Does Germany sparkle?' That's what every five year old girl wants to know, right?
   

Life with One Child

    It's a positively surreal sensation to have three children and a dog one day and then just have one child the next. The two youngest girls and the dog have been packed off to Grandma and Grandpa's house and I'm left with the oldest. I have been mentally flopping between giddiness and melancholy since the day we parted ways. I know Caelan and McKenna are having a blast. I know that I am enjoying my time with Evelynn, too. But it's just plain weird.
    Evelynn still wants to share everything with her sisters (which is a gesture I'm pleased to see so deeply instilled in her). This sharing goes from food to hairbows to toys. Evelynn wants to save things she can't share. She's finally (after six days) realizing that she is the only one. She flops between giddiness and melancholy. "We can go into the store together? I don't have to ride in the cart? We don't have to have the extra long cart? We don't need diapers? We can go in to eat?..... But I want Caelan to have a hairbow, too. But that's McKenna's, I can't play with it. When Caelan comes home, she can eat that. I'm getting my hair cut? Yes! We can go to the library? We're going to the bookstore? Can I get Caelan a book? Caelan doesn't have this book. McKenna would think that's so cute."
    Things I've dreaded doing and things I'm constantly doing with the whole family home, have dwindled. Instead of two loads of laundry a day, I did three yesterday and I'm done. All the clothes are clean. My house is clean. Normally, I wash the dishes at least three times a day. I decided not to wash the dishes for two days. The sink was not even full when I did do them. If I want to go somewhere, we go. Usually it takes twenty minutes to get out the door. I have not picked up any toys in six days. Evelynn has cleaned her room every day. I have had a hundred more conversations with Evelynn than usual. She has no one else to talk to. And sometimes she talks to herself. We went on a bike ride. Evelynn had the entire bike trailer to herself. We've gone shopping. It's been too long since I've seen the inside of a dressing room. I have told Evelynn to be quiet three times in the last six days. I tend to say it a dozen times in one day. All in all, though, I miss the bustle. I feel lazy. It's amazing what two extra little bodies create in just cleaning and noise alone. So my house is too clean and far too quiet. I miss my babies and so does Evelynn.

Cross Country

    It's a good thing I love to drive and I know that I've put more miles on my kids than an average adult has under their belts. It's 1500 miles one way to my hometown and 1200 to my in-laws. Needless to say, Evelynn has logged at least 40,000 miles. Impressive, considering she just turned five. The trip we took last week was a quick two day journey, a mere 1460 miles. It was heavenly. With three kids, the dog, the luggage, and of course, myself, in the Jetta, we hit the road. Two 12 hour driving days loomed ahead of me. I looked forward to it and I dreaded it. The Jetta does not have a DVD player. And two of my children now need a bathroom break. This trip had the potential to be ugly despite going only half the distance.
    Surprisingly, however, the trip went off without too many set backs. I had intended on leaving the house by 6am, but it ended up being 6:30. This first set back being my own doing. Hey, a girl has to see the future queen of England at least get down the aisle. We somehow managed to stop every 2-3 hours after that. The girls had their pillows, blankets and one special toy apiece. I had easily accessible snacks and drinks, and a charged/loaded iPod. YES! Turns out that an iPod is just as good as a DVD player.
    With so much travel, I have found over the years that I get 'attached' to my fellow travelers. That there are other family travelers along the same stretch of highway can be comforting and a decent gauge of progress. I shared the road with a Jeep with a license plate that said "TEXN4EVR" (and yes, I loved that and would like to steal it for my own, but find myself married to someone not from Texas who would never allow it), a Kia SUV with the plate "PUGLUVR" (I'm not keen on pugs, but I have a sweet friend who is), and an extra large, dually Doge Ram four door truck (I follwed this family forever... at least 600 miles). And to top off the list, I shared the road with Lady Gaga. I'm personally not a fan, but it was hilarious to see other cars on the road slow down and the see all the cell phones out snapping pictures as they drove by. And, of course, I shamelessly joined the masses and whipped my phone out, too.
    There was one stretch of road, however, that threw my momentum out the window. About 7-8 hours down the road in southern Virginia, all traffic slowed down for what was posted as "road work". It was work, all right. Not paving or striping or what one thinks of with construction. The highway quickly became a parking lot. Not  from the the road work, but severe rubbernecking. It's one of those moments in life where time slows down and your mind feels numb as it tries to keep up with the intake of information from the eyes and to emotionally process those images. It has been years since I have seen tornado damage, but I have never seen it up so close before. The tops of trees were completely twisted off, hundreds of trailers from a truck stop littered the median and the shoulder of the road. One trailer rested heavily in the median, about 15 feet from me, battered and smashed.
    As I was processing the view from my side of the car, Evelynn asked "Mom, what are those people doing?" I looked out her window and was unable to talk for a moment. The emotional understanding became greater than the images. Homes had been levelled, others a dumping ground for the trailers across the street. These were homes and the families were searching through the rubble. For some homes, the structure was still visible. A few of the homes were left with the foundation. It was one of those moments as a parent, that I wanted to hide her eyes and not have to explain the images, but I knew there was no choice in this matter. We have talked about tornadoes (having spent some minutes in the basement the week before for one), but this was more real than anything I could have said. She understood the images and she began to understand the emotions of loss.
    With so many miles logged and thousands more in the future, there was bound to be a trip where there would be little I could do to prevent her from seeing some kind of devastation. I think we handled it well. We slowly moved on and put it behind us. For those of us on the road, it was a brief period of humbling reality, understanding that everything we know can fall apart in a matter of seconds. The remaining hours of travel went smoothly, but Evelynn revisited the conversation many times. It's hard enough for an adult to process and I'm glad that we've had open dialogue about it.
   

The Oddities of Spring

I have waited months for Spring to throw off the frost of winter and it has attempted it several times. Now that greenery is returning and buds are blooming, I am wondering two things:

1) Why is summer already crowding in on my jubilation of spring? I waited six months for spring, the least it could do is let me revel in the warm sun and newness of life without breaking into a sweat. Because, to be completely honest, once I knew that I was leaving Texas for Pennsylvania, I was elated to finally experience all FOUR seasons. I guess, as most high expectations go, I was fooled into thinking that out of twelve months, each quarter would be a different season. I realize now the folly. It's six months of winter, two months of autumn, three months of summer and one month of spring. I should be happy considering I came from seven months of sweltering summer, one month of coolish autumn, three months of winter that combines the look of the frozen dead with temperatures normally reserved for the months of autumn/spring, and one month of something, I'm not sure what, that rounds out the year. I would like to see my flowers bloom before the temperature hits 85 degrees. That really does not sound like too much to ask. Is it?

2)Why don't my children understand Spring the way I want them to? Evelynn is a bit of a conundrum regarding spring. Yesterday, the windows were open and the breeze was flowing through the house that has been closed up tight for six months. It was lovely. The smells of the neighbors tulips, the large trees in bloom beside our house, the blooms from the tree across the street and even the fresh smell of laundry from my dryer vent outside wafted through my home, rejuvenating the spring in my step and pushing out the walls that had been closing in on me in recent weeks. "Isn't this amazing?" I asked Evelynn. Her answer, "My room stinks. What is that smell?" That smell is called 'freshness' and it comes from the tree outside her window... and she doesn't like it. She cannot be my child.

There is also the curious way Evelynn and Caelan refuse to acknowledge the science of how flowers grow. No matter how many times I've explained the process, they have chosen not to believe that flowers grow from seeds. Now as the 'flowers' they have picked are crammed back into the dirt in the backyard, I'm waiting for the moment when it dawns on them that they will not grow. Not to mention that I doubt their father wants dandelions planted in the garden.

They also don't seem to understand that flowers last much longer when not picked for enjoyment. I hope they learn that before my peonies and hydrangeas bloom, but maybe the lesson will be better learned if they try to pick my roses... hmmm...

No Comment

Time Management or Lack Thereof

    Tomorrow evening, I will be teaching a ladies' class on Time Management. A week ago, I jokingly updated my Facebook status by saying that I was "teaching a ladies' class on time management next Wednesday. I started working on it last month. And I will more than likely be scrambling to finish it before delivery." And it would appear that the scrambling has begun. So, why am I blogging and not finishing the lesson? Because I live in a land of sometimes ill-controlled chaos and my mind needs a good clearing before the lesson commences.
    My tetris grid is smashed at the moment. I've begged, even pleaded with my kids to give me a break today so I can finish. Apparently, that means that they need to cover the dog with shaving cream, eat incessantly, spray an entire can of Glade throughout the house and all over the floors, bounce on the beds, and they've taken every opportunity to strip. Between the odors of the shaving cream and the Glade, I'm on the border of migraine territory, the moment when any type of time management goes out the window.
    So, it's naptime... indefinitely. Why would I be chosen to do a lesson on time management? I'm a mother three kids under the age of five. Time is not managed. It's saying "Thank you, Lord, I made it through another day." Now, to finish... To be continued, I'm sure.

When I'm Old, I'll Be Five

    Several weeks have gone by with Evelynn reminding me that "On April 14, when I'm old, I'll be five," and I've mulled over in my mind what I would put in this space in honor of her birthday. My heart and soul want to be cliche and bemoan that fact that my oldest is five. Where has time gone? Time flies. They grow up so fast. I can't stand that so many of you with grown children are right about this. But then I thought maybe I could fill this space with her witticisms. Honestly, after all the thoughts about Evelynn's 5th Birthday, I still don't know what to write. It's surreal.

    Her interests are so different from previous years. She's incredibly specific about how she sees life. She's my little responsible person. She is thoughtful, kind, protective. I can't say that I know too many five year olds that voluntarily clean their room, help me clean other rooms, take care of her sisters, watch over her sisters, and show such a mature level of concern about life. She is the advice giver. She is brutally honest, but somehow knows to temper it with love. She calls it like it is. Of course, we work with her on appropriateness of her talks and when to just remain silent (which for her can be quite hard), but I love that she already has a healthy sense of boundaries, what's wrong and what's right.

    Evelynn loves music, adores her dance class, loves writing/drawing and is desperate to read. Already she can be found late at night, with her light low and a pile of books beside her. Having spent so much of my life doing the same, I have a hard time telling her it's bed time. She has a quick ear, capable of picking out anything that is said or sung, whether it's in English or another language (particularly German). I look forward to introducing her to another culture and immersing her in another way of life and language when we got to Germany next month. She will tell you all about that, too. Time is not moving fast enough for her, but yes, it is for me. I want to put a brick on her head, tell her to quit growing like a weed and tell her she's supposed to stay a little girl. But I won't. I look forward to the next year of her life more than I wish it wouldn't come.

Target with 5,3 and 1

    Shopping has become a major ordeal, and not necessarily because my children are misbehaving. Take yesterday, for example. I had 45 minutes to get the few things on my list and make it to Evelynn's dance class on time. We make it through the door, load up in that Cadillac cart (the new three seater at Target, it's an improvement on the last one, but the seats for the two older girls are too narrow and look really uncomfortable and the buckles for all three of them are not efficient in holding them down). We walk twenty feet into the store and two of my children have to go to the bathroom. Ten minutes later we are back in the cart. Then it really begins.
    McKenna smiles and says "Hi" to everyone who passes us. Evelynn introduces our entire family or talks nonstop to anyone who even looks our way. Caelan horrifies any observers of the other two gabbing girls with her antics in this new cart. I become an incessant stream of "What are you doing? Sit down. Stop talking. They don't want to talk to you right now. Sit down. Stop growling. No, we don't need every box of fruitsnacks that are made. Sit down. Where are you going? Get back in the cart. Keep your head in the cart. Your head almost hit the shelf. That lady can't get by. Your body is in the way. Are we not taking up enough space as it is with this big cart? We don't have to tell everyone everything we know. Now is not a good time to show that person how you can dance. Sit down. Please, stop talking. No, we don't need peanut butter. Yes, I know it's peanut butter. Get back in the cart. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You're not listening to me. Did you hear what I just said? Then why aren't you doing it? SIT DOWN. How on earth can you still stand up when you are buckled in as tight as I can make the straps? Caelan, that man does not want to speak to you. Really, he won't speak to you. Stop talking to him. Yes, he's wearing something like a dress and yes, his hat is... well, I wouldn't call it cute. Yes, we are going very fast. We need something on the other side of the store. Away from the man wearing the head covering. I know you were just saying hi, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't speak to any women. Yes, dear, I know that sign says to sit down and stay buckled. It also says that if you don't you could get hurt. That lady is trying to shop. Leave her alone. She does not need to know about your birthday. We're almost done. Let's keep it together. What do you mean you lost your ball? Didn't I tell you that if you brought it in, you had to keep up with it? You gave it to McKenna? And it's her fault. I see. We don't have time to look for it. I'll check back next week when we come. Sorry, you should have kept up with it. That's what happens. Nope, no crying. Sit down. Please stop crying, we're almost done. Caelan, sit down. Buckle up. The straps were not meant for Tarzan tricks. Quit swinging on them. The cashier has a job to do. Stop talking to him. He doesn't know where your ball is. How far apart in age are my kids? Too close apparently. How old are they? 5, 3 and 1... but they aren't mine. That would just be insane."

The Birthday Party Planner

    Yesterday morning, Keith went in later than usual which thrilled the girls. They don't usually see him until he gets off in the evening. Somehow, by intuition or something, Evelynn knew that it was Keith's birthday. She sang out the first 'Happy Birthday!' and was delighted that it was someone's birthday and that would be her Daddy.

    No sooner had Keith left for work, Evelynn called a meeting. "We need to make Daddy a cake." And she had it all planned out. It had to be chocolate. And she really, really, REALLY wanted it to be in the shape of a dragon. Toothless (from How to Train Your Dragon) to be exact. I agreed to the chocolate and added the idea of peanut butter frosting, but wasn't so keen on a dragon shaped cake. There were other things to accomplish before his return home.

    The lack of a dragon-shaped cake did not slow Evelynn's planning down any and she quickly thought to put her 'Toothless' toy on the cake. She went on a rampage looking for her dragon. Digging through one basket she found two of her other dragons and insisted they had to be present for the birthday. She finally found Toothless, but his wings were missing. It was a near crisis, but she was vigilant. She eventually found the wings and could not wait to see the cake.

    Then Evelynn asked me who was coming to his party. Well, we weren't exactly having a full blown party, but told her I would call some friends of ours to see if they would swing by for cake. Evelynn, the party planner, was pleased and began counting down to Daddy coming home. She even cleaned her room and was quite upset when Caelan messed it up a little by playing with her Barbies. Keith finally came home and our friends came over. Evelynn was beside herself with excitement and was so glad to plan this for her Daddy. The evening was a success and Keith and I have marvelled at the nature of her heart and her party planning abilities.