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...

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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."