Cracking

I like to say that I live in a bubble. Some might say that I live in denial but I like to call it self preservation. I take great measures to shield myself from the happenings in the world and sometimes life in general.

Some may think that it is irresponsible but it is the only real way I have to protect me.

In my profession, I deal with the sick of the sickest people. I watch mother's loose their children, son's loose their fathers and so on. There is sadness and pain all around me. I can't let these things into my heart. I can't get attached. This doesn't mean that I don't care. I just have to be the strong one, the one that they can lean on. I have to try and help them find hope or something to hold onto when their world is tumbling down around them.

In my home life, I am a mother. I have four children, four pieces of my heart walking around outside of my body. Walking around out there where the world can take them at any time. These little people need me. They need me to show them to goodness and beauty of the world. I need to be strong for them when life is tough. I need to be the one strong constant in their life so that they can learn from me how to deal with the hardships. Be it frustration in not getting a toy to work, be it the sting of failure or pain and heartache of loss.

So I live in a bubble. I put walls up around my heart and stand strong. I will not let life not to get to us. But sometimes, no matter how strong my will is, life penetrates my bubble. It can be just a small hole with an easy fix or it can be a very large crack needing more attention.

My bubble is cracking.

This crack is not caused my something large but by many small things that have come at me. There are many things that I need to come to terms with. There are many things that I need to stop taking care of myself and leave them at the feet of my Lord.

Because sometimes, no matter how strong I am, I am not that strong.

It is time for me to step outside my bubble and deal with things. I have to let myself feel. I have to let myself cry and for a few moments I have to let myself be weak and vulnerable.

And even though, I know that the world is full or sadness and pain and it is going to touch me. I also know that there is goodness, joy and love in the world. I am going to use this to rebuild my bubble.

I am going to stand in the sun and let the warmth bathe over me.

I am going to take in the beauty of the crisp winter sky.

I am going to breath deeply.

I am going to cry until the tears are gone.

I am going to laugh until my sides ache.

I am going to enjoy my children.

I am going to love my husband.

I am going to write.

I am going to pray.

And I am going to be ok.

We Need to Talk

Warning: Female subject matter. Guys, you may want to talk amongst yourselves.

Dear Body,

We need to have a talk. Yes, I know that we have many issues that we need to work on but the one that I am talking about has just started recently.

What I am talking about it my monthly friend. My visit from Aunt Flo. My period, if you will.

Yes, yes I know that it is normal for a woman to have this monthly visit. You are suppose to have this visit. But we are talking about me here. I have never had a monthly visit. Sure, Aunt Flo would stop by once and a great while, sometimes it seemed as if she would never leave but she never came consistently.

That is why when it came time for my to try and have babies, I had to go through all those lovely treatments. You remember those treatments, don't you? All the hormones? All the shots? And don't even get me started on all the vaginal ultrasounds.

Yeah, yes. I knew that you remembered.

So why am I bring this up?

Well, I need to ask you a question.

How come almost three years after I have birthed my last baby(s) have you decided that it would be alright for me to get my period? And not just any period but a regular, consistent period with full blown PMS with cramps so bad that if I didn't know better I would think I was in labor. And the moodiness, good lord. I am pretty sure that I put Dr Jekyll and Mr Hide to shame.

Why now? Why not before so that I could have saved myself from all the heartache and stress of those treatment?

You see, there really is no need for this. There will be no more babies coming from me. Remember, those tubes, my tubes, have been tied, cut and burned. I am no longer in the baby making business. Trust me. Done.

So if you would like to just turn off whatever switch that you turn on to make the period flow, I would really, really appreciate it. I am fine with no consistent monthly visit. I don't really need many more years of this. I am done.

Love, Me.

The Ache of My Arms

Quinn has this habit of waking up in the night because something hurts. It is usually some random body part and all he wants is a kiss from mommy. Then he is good to go back to sleep.

I know it sounds sweet and I should feel special that I have this kind of power but at 2AM, I am not feeling very special about anything.

I have tried to just let him cry but his cries get louder and louder until he is screaming at the top of his lungs. This wakes up Jake and Claire and then I have to get up and deal with them all.

So even though I would like to just bury my head in my pillows and ignore him, I get up and go give him the kiss that he so desperately wants.

This situation happened the other night, only my kisses were not working. Quinn was acting differently than he usually was when he woke up for a kiss. He was just thrashing around, crying. He appeared not to be awake. It was like he was having a bad dream.

I picked him up, trying to calm him. I tried to wake him but nothing was working. Then without even thinking, my instincts kicked in and instead of holding Quinn up right over my shoulder, I switched his position to being cradled in my arms like I did when he was a baby.

As soon as his head hit the nook of my elbow, the restlessness and crying stopped. It was like all the bad images or whatever was upsetting him just melted away. It was as if his body remembered that this was a safe place. A place that he had been held in many times before.

I stood there, rocking, in his room, with his siblings sleeping around me and I was transported back to a time about two years ago but a time that now feels like a life time ago.

I looked down at my 2 year old Quinn, who now barely fit into my arms, and vivid memories came back to me of rocking him as a tiny baby. Just me in the room rocking my baby by the light of the moon.

Then a small ache came over my arms. But it wasn't an ache from the weight of Quinn's body. No, it was an ache for Quinn as a tiny baby.

I recently realized that Jake, Quinn and Claire are the age that Hayden was when they were born. Hayden was 2 and half years old when we brought three babies into our lives. But now that Jake, Quinn and Claire are this age, there will be no more babies brought into this house.

But that is alright and I am really fine with this. The farther we get away from all the baby stuff the easier it gets but that still doesn't mean that I don't ache to cuddle a small baby once again.

Not just any baby, mind you. I ache to cuddle and hold my own babies once again. But this will never happen unless time travel is invented and perfected.

So until then, I will be happy with cuddling and rocking my 2 year olds, even if I have to wake up in the middle of the night to do it.

Right Now

Well, it is now a new month and a new year. It really doesn't feel any different to me. Yesterday, was really nothing special and today is just another day.

We didn't stay up late to watch the ball drop.
We didn't go to a fancy party and share a kiss at midnight.
The kids went to bed at normal time and Jeff and I went to bed early.
But you know what, that is fine.
It is just where we are in life right now.

Someday, we will be able to stay out late and go to a swanky party but right now is not our time. Our time right now is here.

Right now is our time for coloring pictures and playing ball.
Right now is our time for building forts and playing with baby dolls.
Right now is our time for having poppy diapers smeared all over our couch.
Right now is the time to take a walk.
Right now is the time for us to have a five year old who started kindergarten and to have three 2 year olds.
Right now is the time for us to just enjoy our children and have fun as a family.
Right now it is time to just be a mommy and a daddy.

I don't know what the next year will bring or what the next decade has in store for us. But you know what, where ever it takes us is really fine with me. I have hopes and dreams for the years to come but if they don't all come to be, that is fine too.

As long as we are together as a family, then nothing else really matters. My family is the key to my happiness (and craziness) and that is all I will ever need.

This is an old picture of us but it was the first one taken of us as a family of six.
Therefore, it will always be my favorite family photo.

Happy New Year!

Traditions

During this time of year, I tend to get a little sentimental.

For me, Christmas is all about the traditions that we share with our family and friends.

I look back at the traditions of my past like gathering at my Grandma's house and singing Christmas carols around the piano and all the Christmas concerts that I used to preform in as a child.

I am reminded of how life as changed as I think back upon all the Christmas and New Year's Eve parties that Jeff and I used to attend as a newly married couple.

And I can't help but smile when I think about all the traditions that we have started with our kids. Like making cookies for Santa, talking about Advent and baby Jesus, going to church on Christmas Eve with friends, the pure delight and joy of the kids on Christmas morning and just being able to gather with family spending time together.

But this year, when I think about all these traditions that this time of year brings, I not only smile about them but I say of prayer of thanks for them. I am just grateful to have all my family and friends around me.

In these days and weeks leading up to Christmas, there has been a lot of sadness surrounding my life. I go online and read a story of a mother losing her child in a tragic accident. I go into work and watch a family looses their father, and another family learns there is nothing else we can do to heal their mother. I hear about people not able to afford presents or food for their kids. I know of marriages hanging on by a thread.

It is just so sad.
It seems unfair.
It seems wrong.
It just shouldn't happen,
especially so close to Christmas.

But sadly, this is part of life. Life is full of good things and bad.

So this year, when we celebrate Santa and the birth of Jesus, I am going to try and smile just a little more. I am going to hug my family a little closer. I am going to try and enjoy and take in every minute, even the ones that stress me out. I am going to pray a little more.
And most of all, I am just going to be thankful for the time that we have together.

From my family to yours I wish you all a Blessed Christmas
and a very Happy New Year!

And I am going to end with four people that bring me endless amounts of joy and laughter.

Photos by jbjohnson photography

What is this Life?

Have you ever wondered what your life would be like if you made different choices or followed a different path? I am not saying that I don't want to be where I am in my life but I just wonder why I chose path that I did to get here.

I also sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I had totally made different decisions.

What if I was more out going instead of the shy wall flower growing up?
What if I had pursued my crush?
What if I had not chosen to switch schools and therefore gained the strength and confidence to attract Jeff to me.
What if I had gone to Boston for college instead of staying my home town?
What if I became the marine biologist that I wanted to become when I was 10?
Would I be living in Florida and working at Sea World, dream job, with the dolphins?
What if I was still single?
What would my life be like if I had not gotten married at 22 and had all my children by the time I was 27?
Would I be happier than I am now?
Would I have eventually ended up in same place where I am now?
What if this is not the life I am meant to live?

See, I think that everything happens for a reason. We make the choices that we do for a reason. But right now, I am kind of wondering about my reasons. In fact, I don't even think that I know the reason. Why am I in this life? What am I suppose to do with it?

Throughout my life, I have always had goals for myself. You know, go to college, find a boyfriend, get married, have a career, have kids and so on. These were my major life goals. And right now, at the tender age of 30, I have accomplished all these goals.

So now what?

Here I sit and I am wondering, what now? Is this it? What is the rest of my life going to look like? I am just going to be a wife, mother, nurse continually caring for someone else until I die?

It all is just so normal. It is all so normal that I feel like I am suffocating in normal. I feel like the walls are caving in on me and I can't breath. This normal is killing me!

I need something else. I need change. I need excitement, adventure. I need to run away and join the circus.

I don't know. Maybe this is just me have an early midlife crisis. Maybe this is me just not wanting to deal with the painful things in life. Or maybe I am just bored.

Are these feeling normal or should I just commit myself now?

I Know I Didn't Expect...

So this week, the theme around the blogosphere has been about Motherhood. I have read a lot of great posts. Some beautiful, some gave me goose bumps, some brought a tear to my eye, some have made me laugh uncontrollably and some made me question things. Which I think is only fitting because Motherhood itself is like this.

Motherhood is such a thing that really cannot be explained. You don't really get it until you have been in it. There is no way to tell some one of the love that a mother has for a child or how each minute can bring a new worry about that child. There is really not any good way to tell someone what to expect when they become a mother.

I know that I didn't expect to feel the overwhelming, head spinning, gut wrenching love that I have for my children.


I know that I didn't expect to be so physically and emotional exhausted each and every day.

I know that I didn't expect the frustrations and anger that can come with dealing with small children. I never understood how an adult could shake a screaming crying baby. I didn't expect to be in the situation and thankfully choose to walk away instead.

I know that I didn't expect to laugh multiple times a day at things my children say or do.

I know I didn't expect to long to return to a time when my children were newborn babies, to just hold them again one more time, just to take in there smell and feel their weight in my arms. But in that same moment, I didn't expect to be so excited and giddy to watch them grow up. Waiting anxiously for them to reach each new stage, beaming with pride when they do.


I know that I didn't expect to scream at the top of my lungs at the TV with my children because there is a snake that is going to get Rocket and then die with laughter afterwords.

I know that I didn't expect to second guess myself with every decision that I make. Even the simple ones like, should we go to the ER in the middle of the night for what seems to be just an ear infection? Maybe it is something else? Maybe there is more wrong, maybe not? Or to wonder, did I do something wrong in his first five years of life when he was home with me to cause these behavior problems at school?

I didn't expect to wonder if my children would get enough love from me. I am giving them enough? There is only one of me and four of them. How is it possible to meet their every need when I am so out numbered.



I know that I didn't expect to be able to instantly connect with other women, strangers, because they too are Mothers.

I know that I didn't expect to wish for a handbook or a guide as to how to deal with these children. How am I suppose to handle a son that wants to sleep with me every night, a daughter that is so suborn she wouldn't move from a spot that was on fire if I asked her and she didn't want to, or a son that is so anxious and unnerved when I leave he can barely eat.


I know that I didn't expect to long for a break away from my children and when in fact I got that break, long to be back with them.

I know that I didn't expect to get so much joy and happiness from just watching my children play and listening to them talk with each other.

I know that I didn't expect for this to be the most difficult thing I have ever done in my whole life.


I had no idea of all the emotions and feeling that waited for me before a became a mother. And maybe that is why we really have no idea because really, who would choose to have their heart literally walking outside of their body?

But I did choose to become a mother even though I didn't know what to expect. And you know what? I am so blessed because I did.

This post is a part of Writer's Workshop.

Hosted by the wonderful mother,
Mama Kat

How Many Times?

I can't tell you how many times, I have sat with a patient and their family as they were given the news that their life was going to be cut short.

I can't tell you how many times, my heart ached for these families as the came to terms with the words that the doctors spoke.

I can't tell you how my times I have sat with a patient and remembered the good things in the life and laughed at the bad.

I can't tell you how many times, I have hugged a daughter when she was about to loose her mother.

I can't tell you how many times, I have supported a son when he realized his father just couldn't fight anymore.

I can't tell you how many times, I have prayed with a patient and their family for peace, for comfort, for the suffering to end, for there to be some hope, for God to just be there.

I can't tell you how many times, I have heard the words, "You have Cancer."

I have been there when people have been told their live was going to end.
I have been there when people have been told that the disease has taken over.
I have been there when people were told there was a number on their days.

But these words, were just words to me. I didn't understand their gravity and the power they hold. I didn't understand how they could leave a person breathless. I didn't understand.

Until now.

Being faced with the mortality of a woman, who I love like my own mother, I understand these words. I understand the power, the breathlessness, the sadness, the fear, the anger, the finality.

And those words have taken on a whole new meaning. They will never be just words to me again.

I know this post is more serious than the stuff that I usually post but I have some very serious stuff going on in my life right now.
This is my outlet, my way of getting things off my chest and off my mind.
I will get back to the less serious stuff later but right now, I just needed to write this.

Be a Good Boy and Tell the Truth

It had been a rough morning. I was more than thrilled that it was nap time. The younger three were finally sound asleep. Hayden was in his room resting. The dishwasher was humming and it was time for me to sit down and spend sometime with my dear internet friends.

I logged on, opened up a few blogs to read when I hear thumping and jumping coming from Hayden's room. *sigh* I stopped typing and listened. The noises stopped, I hoped for good, so I continued on with my reading and commenting.

Then I heard it again. More thumping. More bumping. More jumping. This was suppose to be quiet time. What in the world was he doing up there?

I heaved myself up from the desk chair and ran quickly but softly up the stairs.

"What in the world is going on up here?" I sternly said as I opened his bedroom door.

"Nothing," Hayden said as he scurried back into bed. "I wasn't doing anything."

I put my hands on my hips ready to give him yet another lecture about how this was quiet time and that meant that he was to lay in bed quietly until rest time was over, when I saw it.

A picture from his wall had fallen down and cracked.

"Hayden, What happened this picture?" I asked as I crossed the room.

"The babies did it," was his quick reply.

And there it was a flat out lie. Hayden has been lying a lot lately and I am really not sure how to handle this. Some lies like this one, where he was the only on in his room and the babies couldn't have possibly knocked that picture down, are easy to catch but others are not so easy.

I have tried to tell him that lying will only get him in more trouble. Each time I catch him in a lie, I punish him more than if he would have told him the truth. But his is difficult to do because I am not always sure when he is lying. I don't want to punish him unfairly.

But there in this moment where I knew that he knew that he was lying, I lost it.

"Hayden, why are you lying to me?" I yelled. "The babies could not have possibly knocked that down. They are sleeping in their beds and you are alone in here. I know that you knocked it down because I heard you jumping around in here. Why did you lie?"

He continued to look at me but said nothing.

"I makes me very, very, angry when you lie," I continued in my harsh tone. "When you lie you are not being a good boy! You hurt my feelings when you lie and you hurt Jesus'. Why don't you just tell me the truth? Don't you want to be a good boy? Only very bad boys lie."

I took a breath and looked at him. I saw this lip begin to quiver. I saw his head hang down in shame and then I saw the tears.

"I don't want to be a bad boy, Mommy. I don't want to hurt you or make you mad. I am sorry, Mommy. Sorry," he wailed.

I looked at him sitting there on his bed, his little body shaking with each new sob. I could tell that he felt terrible for what he had done and I knew that my words had not helped.

I stood there helpless. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to run to him and comfort him. I wanted to tell him that it was alright, that I was sorry for yelling. But I knew that if I did that the lesson would have been lost.

I took a deep breath, suppressed my urge to pick him up in my arms and said, "That's alright, Hayden. I forgive you. Now you sit up here and think about telling me only the truth."

"Ok," he said in between big gasping sobs.

And with that I walked out of his room as quickly as I could because I did not know how much longer I could resist my urge to comfort him. I closed his door quietly and slipped into the bathroom to take my turn sobbing.

So help me out here, my fellow Mommies.
How do I deal with lying so that I don't become an all out sobbing mess?
How do I teach him that honestly is really the best policy?

He is My Baby

I am a little distracted.

I have been a little off.

Every time I think about tomorrow, I get little pangs of anxiety.

My brain tells me that everything will be fine. It will be simple and quick, no need for worry or fuss.

But try and tell that to my heart. My heart is saying is a whole other story.
My heart is aching. My heart is full of fear.

My baby is having surgery.

It is minor, very minor surgery, but I can't help it.

Jake is tongue tied and tomorrow he will be untied.

It needs to happens.

It is a good thing that is going to happen.

But I can't help but worry. I feel kind of silly for worrying. There are many parents out there with terminally ill and very sick children that have been through so much more than I can ever imagine. Their daily battles are mind boggling and gut wrenching. My worries about sometime so small and simple seems silly and a bit of an over-kill.

But, still I worry.

Every time I look at him, I just want to cuddle him in my arms and never let go.

He will not understand tomorrow.
It will be scary for him.
Many strangers in a place he does not know.
And they will put him totally to sleep.
Will he wake up?

Silly worries, I know.

But I can't help it.

I am his Mom and he is my Baby.

Maybe Its Because.....

I need to vent. I have some things on my mind. I have hinted at some of these things on twitter so it maybe familiar if you follow me. But I am tried of thinking about it so I have to write it and get them off my mind so hopefully, I can come to grips with some of it.

I am in a mood.

I don't really know whats wrong but I am just feeling funking and sad. Last weekend, I spent time in my dark closet crying.

Maybe it was because I hate all my clothes and nothing fits right. I really don't like the way my body looks. I want to change it but lack the motivation and energy to do so.

Maybe its because there are people around me, whom I love dearly, who are hurting. Sometimes life can be so cruel. It is not fair. It makes absolutely no sense. It makes my heart heavy and sometimes I wonder if praying will help at all.

Maybe its because my youngest three children have decided that sleep is really no fun. They don't want to sleep at night and want to start their day at the ass crack of dawn. No matter how much I exhaust them during the day. No matter how early or late I put them to bed. No matter how long or short their nap is during the day. They just won't sleep at night. The other night, I settled into sleep and got to do it for about 30 minutes when the first escapee came into my room and woke me up. I spent the next 2 and half hours bringing that child and others back to bed. I have joked in the past about tying them to their beds but now I am not kidding. The next time I work, I am taking some restraints home with me. And don't even get me started on the battle to get them to go the sleep at night.

Maybe its because I am sick and tired of worrying about money and if Jeff and I will still have a job next week or next month. We really don't have reason to worry but you never know. Remember, life is cruel and just when you think that it can't happen to you that's when you are hit the hardest.

Maybe its because I feel left out. I don't feel like a belong in real life, on-line, anywhere. In my friendships, I feel like I am the one that picks up the phone, write the email, composes the texts. I don't feel valued.

Maybe its because I am bored. I feel like there needs to be change in my life but that actually scares the hell out of me. I am terrified of making that change no matter what it might be.

Maybe its because there is no ice cream in the freezer.

My Ovaries are Screaming for Another Baby

After the birth of Quinn, Jake and Claire, I had my tubes tied aka tubal ligation. It was the perfect time since my belly was already wide open. The doctors could easily reach in there and tie those tubes up making sure that there would be no more little babies coming from me.

I was fine with this. I was what I wanted. When Jeff and I started the process of child making, we had decided that 2 kids would be all we wanted. So getting double was more than enough.

During the whole conception part, we hit bumps in the road. Going through infertility treatments the first time was difficult but going through them the second time was an emotional hell that almost crippled me. I knew that I could not go through that again and survive emotionally.

So 4 kids is enough.
Done.
Family complete.
There should be no longing, no urge, no need for another baby.
Right?

Well, you would think so. But even though I am happy with and love my children very much and I can't see myself having another baby.

There is still a small part of me that yearns to be pregnant again. A part of me that aches to hold a tiny newborn infant. And yes, there is even a part of me that wants to wake up for those 2am feedings.

Most of the time, I can silence this little voice. Well, my current children do the best job of silencing it but there are sometimes that it just gets the best of me.

All I can think about is having another baby. I think about what it would be like to have a 'surprise'. My tubes just untie and I magically conceive without medical help and there you go, a fifth baby for us.

When these feeling come up, I often wonder why? I am very content with the children that I have. I don't think I could handle anymore without being committed.

Our family is complete.

Why do I wish for more?

After reading this post, written by one of my good friends, a light bulb went off and I got an answer to this question.

During Hayden's infancy, I had no idea what I was doing (still don't). I was a nervous wreck. Always second guessing myself. Always calling my mom for advice on what to do or not to do. Always learning new things about what it was like to be a mother.

I also feel like I rushed his younger years. I was constantly wishing for him to do the next big thing. I was constantly reading ahead on how to handle the next step that I didn't enjoy was he was doing at that moment.

I was so excited to have another child because I had learned so much from my successes and failures. I felt more confident as a mother. I knew that when the second time came, I would be able to enjoy it and go more with the flow.

Well, the second time came and it was triplets. Back came all those fears and uncertainties. How was I going to be a mother to triplets?

After they were born, I figured it out but it was a blur. I have very limited memories of the first 6 months of their lives. I was in survival mode, moving from one task to the next.

I never got to enjoy them and when I felt that I could slow down and enjoy. It was too late. They were no longer tiny babies.

I feel like I was cheated out of my turn to enjoy having a baby. I don't mean that each time I had a child or children, it wasn't a joy. But I did not get my turn to take it slow and really cherish each and every moment of having a new tiny baby.

So do I really yearn for a new baby or just a chance to go back in time and do it all again but at a slower pace?

Most likely, the latter. But I will never get either chance so I am just going to have to slow down and enjoy the curiosity and wisdom of a five year old and the energy and giggles of three two year olds.

Are You Guilty? Not Me.....

Mommy guilt is something that most mothers deal with. I say most mothers because I try not the let it get to me. I feel that I can keep all that guilt bottle up and pushed down. I don't let it come out. Let me share some examples from a typical day at my house.


Quinn did not eat any breakfast because he did not like what I made for him.

Did I feel guilty?

No. I am not a short order cook. You eat what I make or you will wait until the next meal.


Jake climbed up onto the cupboard and was playing with all the baking ingredients and then almost fell but didn't because I came into the room just at the right moment.

Did I feel guilty?

Not really. I wasn't watching him as closely as I should because I was on the computer but he should not be climbing on chair and standing on the cupboard.


Claire had a major tantrum during lunch that ended up in her room and I slammed the door three times because it wouldn't close and screamed at her at the top of my lungs making things worse and scaring her.

Did I feel guilty?

A little bit because I shouldn't scare my child and a picture fell off the wall and broke.


Claire had another even bigger, even loader tantrum when I did not pick the right shoes for her. She wanted to wear a pair that was way too small. I was so frustrated with her tantrum and lack of reason that I slapped her.

Did I feel guilty?

Well, sorta. I hate it when I loose my temper. I should be able to control myself and my reactions. I am the adult after all.


During the chaos of the day and all the tantrums, Hayden very quickly got his shoes on and ran into the car after I asked and then said, "Did I do a good job, Mom? Are you not mad at me? I listened and obeyed very fast."

Did I feel guilty?

You bet your ass. I felt so guilt that I almost cried. For the most of the day, he had taken the brunt of my frustration with his siblings. It was not fair. All I could do was hug him and say, "Yes Hayden, you did a great job. Thank you for making me so happy."


I guess mommy guilt effects us all. Some days are just filled with more guilt than others. And that is why I keep a well stocked wine rack and hug and kiss the kids more the next day.

This post was a confession inspired by Writer's Workshop
Hosted by Mama Kat.

Don't Wait Until Tomorrow, Do Things Differently Now.

It has not been the best weather for playing outside. So in an effort to save my sanity, I packed up the kids and took them to the infamous mall play area.

This is what we did at least once a week, all winter. There are three malls in my area and we just rotate through them. Some are better than others but they all fulfill the purpose.

Now, most people have a love/hate relationship with the mall play area and I am no different. But I get over all the little things that drive me crazy because it is a free place to take my kids where they can run around and play. The babies just love the slides and usually Hayden will make a friend so I am left to sit in peace for a while.

This trip was going well expect for the fact that Hayden was the oldest kid there. There was no one for him to befriend. He was bored.

Which means he was trying my patience by climbing on the seating area, kicking me in the face, and teaching younger kids some not so good tricks.

I just kept telling him to go and play. I kept trying to think of things for him to do so that he would leave me alone. "Why don't you try and jump on all the gray rocks" Go and try and count all the little balls in the hour glass."

He finally left me and went over the corner to sit down and pick at his sock. I sighed with relief, looked around and did my head count, 1... 2... 3... and 4 Hayden still alone in the corner and I tried to sink back into my seat and enjoy my quiet time.

But I just couldn't get comfortable. There was something that was nagging at me. I looked around again at all the kids doing there own little thing. The babies were happy enough with the slide and Hayden had moved onto a puzzle on the wall but there was just something about his face.

His eyes did not smile like they normally do. He looked hurt.

I tried to forget it and get lost in my thoughts but I just couldn't. There was something nagging me. Then I had this thought, "Man, I wish that Kate (our babysitter) was here. Then she could play with Hayden."

Wait! Hold the Phone! Did I just wish for some one to come a play with my kid? What in the world is wrong with me? Am I that lazy and in need of that much mommy time that the two and half hours I just spent on the computer by myself was not enough? I still need more time? This is crazy? If I did not want to spend time with my kids then why in the world did I have them?

Enough!

Right then and there I decided that I was going to change things. There was no need for me to continue to be on the side lines like all the other mommies here at the play area. I was going to do something about it. I was going to do something that is not done in the mall play area. I was going to play with my kids.

I got up and said, "Hey Hayden!?! Want to play Hide and Seek Tag?"

He looked up at me and gave me a smile, the smile that had been missing. That smile that I love so much.

That made the fact that I got stuck in the tunnel and embarrassed myself all worth it. And you know what else, all the other kids wanted to join in our game and when we left, I saw another mommy get up and continue to play with her son.

Now that is what its all about.

This post was inspired by the prompts at Writer's Workshop.

I Can't Handle 3 Toddlers, Can You?

I can handle 3 infants. It is actually easy once you get the hang of it. Its all about the schedule. Once you have that you just repeat it over and over and over again. They ate, the play(in one spot), the poop, they sleep and repeat.

I can handle 3 wobblers. It is a little more difficult than the infants but not too much. Sure, they are on the move but its not too bad because they are slow and they are too short to really reach anything dangerous. They are also pretty dependent, still not really interested in doing things for themselves.


But

I

Can't

Handle

Three

Toddlers!


More specially, I can't handle three 2 years olds. These kids are going to put me in an early grave. The truth is that they are not even 2 yet and my white flag is already more than half way up the pole.

If you want to know what I am talking about just think about your own two year old, kid not two think of when they will be or when they were and multiple that by three. Yeah, you feel me now. It is non-stop three fold.

But if you truly don't know, I have examples.

Claire has learned to climb out of her crib. So now when she is suppose to be sleeping she is out in her room playing. She is free, I tell you free. The one place that I could put her where I knew that she would be safe and contained is gone.

We have had a total language explosion. Words and phrase are flying at me from every corner of the house. Everyone wants to know, "What's that?" "Where's Daddy?" and then there is the "Look, Momma Look!" and the "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy" My head is usually spinning by 9am.

Along with this language explosion has come back talk. Every single time I ask Jake to do something or go some where, I get a big fat, "NO!" and then he runs in the opposite direction. Oh and Claire, she loves to scream "Mine, Mine, Mine!" whenever anyone touches anything that she has. And I am not going to even talk about the temper-tantrums, good Lord, they are fierce.

The other thing that goes along with being two is the independence and the limit testing. They want to do everything themselves from stripping naked at the most inconvenient times to drinking from a non-sippy cup like Hayden and then proceeding to throw the contents all over the house when they are done.

Some days I feel like I am in a constant state of battle, a battle of wills that is. I tell them no and they tell me no. I say it louder and they say it louder. I slap their hand and they slap me. Back and forth and round and round we go, all day long. Its no wonder by the end of the day, I am done. I just don't have anything left in me. Some days, I just give up all together. Discipline, whats that?

So you see, there is no way that I can handle three 2 year olds. No way! I just can't because then I start to think ahead to 3, which if Hayden is any indicator was much, much worse than 2, you will know why I have totally given the house over to the kids and crawled into the corner with my bottle of wine, rocking until it is all over or at least until they all hit 4. Yes, I think I can handle three 4 year olds.



Now I know that I must limit set and discipline my children and I do. This post is just me venting because Good Lord this is hard. I remember being pregnant and crying because there was no way I could handle 3 babies. Well, if I only knew. I would go back to 3 babies in a heart beat, 3 babies that was the easy stuff.

Sometimes Being The Parent Sucks

Discipline.

It is something as a parent that we all have to do. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't but there is no way around it. Disciplining our kids just has to be done. Unless of course, you are going for the totally out of control life.

I am not very good at discipline. The first time that I put Hayden on the naught chair, I think that I hated it as much as he did. I wish that I didn't have to be discipline but life is full of consequences and kids need to learn this. It needs to start at home.

There are many ways to discipline. I think that as parents you have to find the best way that works for you and your kids. Some kids will respond well to the naughty chair, others need privileges taken away and some might even need to be spanked.

Spanking is not our choice for discipline but there have been a few occasions where I have spanked my kids on the butt or slapped their hands. It is always my last resort and I always regret it after I have done it because it is usually out of anger.

After my hand makes contact with that little butt and I feel the sting of the slap on my hand, the guilt that washes over me is enough to take my breath away.

And the thing that makes it even worse, is the fact that that little person that I just hit, the one hit out of anger, the one who really didn't deserve to get hit in the first place, instantly forgives me as soon as I pick them up and love and cuddle them.

I am the adult here. I am the one that is suppose to be able to better control my emotions, anger and impulses.

Sometimes I wish that kids weren't so forgiving (and maybe this is coming and what the teenage years are for). I wish that they would get mad at me. Scream at me. Tell me that it is not right for me to loose my tempter. Tell me to better learn to control myself.

Don't just instantly love me back, I don't deserve your love right there at that moment.

But maybe that is my 'punishment' in itself. Knowing that no matter what, my kids will love me. Their pure, innocent souls know nothing else but how to love. And really, should it be any other way?

Discipline.

Sometimes, it really does sucks being the parent.

I Don't Want to Be a Mommy or I Do?

I feel like a really bad person. Today was not a good day here under the pile. The children did not take good naps at day care yesterday which means that they did not sleep well last night which means that mommy did not sleep well last night either.

So needless to say that I was grumpy and very short tempered and so were the kids. There was lots and lots of screaming and tears. Oh and there was yelling, don't even get me started on the yelling. I seriously was counting down the hours until nap time for every one.

Once nap time was over and we all were refreshed with a little sleep. Life was good and we actually had a fun time playing outside under a gorgeous periwinkle blue sky.

Now onto why I feel like a bad person. This morning I did not like my kids very much. In fact on several occasions, I wished that they would just go away and I could be by myself. I did not feel like being a mommy today. I could barely muster the strength to make coffee and dress myself let alone feed, clean and dress four young children.

But then this afternoon, I learned of a mommy who lost her one and only daughter very suddenly. I bet she would give anything to be a mommy again today.

I feel like a putz, a jerk and a generally bad person for having those thoughts of wanting my kids to go away.

I can't imagine what this mommy must be going through. The thought of losing a child, losing one of my kids, one of my kids dying, just stops me in my tracks and takes my breath away. It was like the slap in the face that I needed to see just how lucky I am.

You see, my babies were born prematurely, but only 6 weeks. They did not have any of the complications preemies can have. They were only in the hospital for a little less then 2 weeks and then we got to take them home. They were not delayed at all in their development. They are happy, healthy, 'normal' babies or I should say toddlers.

This little girl that died today, her name was Maddie and she was born 11 weeks premature. She was over a year old but still died of respiratory complications from prematurity or so that what is sounds like.

My heart goes out to this family. I don't know them but my heart aches for them.

My friend, Rachael over at Little Bites of Heaven is a follow triplet mom and her babies were born 11 weeks early as well. They are all fine today but they spent many, many hours and days of not knowing, of praying that everything would be alright.

Learning of Maddie's story today, caused me to do something that I have been meaning to do since I saw the button on Rachael's blog. I clicked that button and donated to sponsor Rachael and her family as they walk in the March of Dime-March for Babies.

It is just a small thing but hopefully the March of Dime's slogan, "One day, all babies will be born healthy" will come true.

If you can, I ask you to donate to this cause. You can give for Maddie. You can give for the Schirano triplets or you can just give for thankfulness that your own children were and are healthy.

That's why I gave.

I Got a Lot On My Mind

I got somethings on my mind so forgive this post because it is going to be rambling mess of things that I have been thinking about, things that have been keeping me awake at night.


I have been feeling out of balance lately. I don't claim to have mastered the skill of balancing all the things in my life but I do feel that I do a pretty good job of keeping all the balls in the air per say. But lately, I feel that something is askew and I don't know why and I don't know how to fix it. Something is just not right and I can't put my finger on it.


I love ebay shopping but boy oh boy is it every addicting. I love winning the auctions, being the winner is such a thrill. The bad part is that sometime I bit too quickly and win stuff that I really don't need or want all for the thrill of being a winner.


I feel like my marriage has hit a plateau. I don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I know that we have a very strong marriage, it has been build and a super strong foundation. We have been able to weather many storms that life has thrown at us. In the beginning pre-kids and even with one kid, we did things to nurture our relationship and it grew and grew. But now, I just don't know. It has seemed to stop growing. Is this just life? Is this suppose to happen? Is it good or is it bad? I just don't know?


Why do I have to do laundry each and every week? Is it wrong to want to buy more underwear for Hayden, Jeff and myself and bigger laundry hampers so that I can go 2 weeks or so with out having to do the dreaded tasks?


How come some bloggers are so popular? How does one get to be a popular blogger? What do they have that I don't?


Why can't I just be content with where thingns are in my life? Why do I always push for more, for bigger and better things. Everything I do in my life needs to be pushed to the next level. I am killing myself trying to keep up with the Jones'.


I want to have a open and honest discussion about sex. I want to know how other married couples with children have and maintain a sex life? I like sex. I think is it fun. But it often feels like just one of those things that I need to do or I am suppose to do. Why does is it so easy to make it such a low priority? How do other couples handle this? How do you find the energy? I have tried the scheduled sex thing, like every Tuesday and Thursday night and it works for a while but then it starts to become something that has to be done all fun the fun is gone. Its is just another one of those tasks that needs to be completed before going to sleep. I hate feeling like this.


I don't like change but I also crave it. Isn't that weird? What does that say about me?


A couple days ago, I sorted and organized all the toys in the house. Now I spend most of my time running after the kids putting toys away, back into their 'proper' place. It was so much easier when I could just dump everything in one big box but then the kids didn't play with anything because they couldn't find it. I just can't stand clutter. The fact that I haven't cleaned my house in weeks, not so much but the fact that I can't walk with out stepping on a toy annoys the heck out of me.


I love ice cream.

Operation Bottle Removal is Done

To read the Operation Bottle story from the beginning, go here.

So this afternoon, we did it. We packed all the bottles away. For most of the week, I had been talking to the babies about the fact that today the bottles were going to go away.

After their nap, I got out all the bottles, we 'played' with them for a little while and then I told them that we had to say 'Bye Bye' to the bottles and pack them away in a box because they were big boys and girl now and don't need a bottle any more.

The babies were actually excited about this. They seems to like gathering them all up and putting them away. Once the box was full and closed tight, and as I wiped away a quick tear from the eye, that was that.

The bottles are gone. Done.

I was expecting some protesting after their bath when they usually get the bottle but there was none. We filled sippy cups with milk, warmed them slightly, and they took to the milk cups like a fish to water.

It was no big deal.

Hopefully, this is not just beginner's luck. Hopefully, it will continue. It will be interesting to see what happens later when they wake up for a bottle. Who knows, maybe just maybe they won't wake up at all. But that might be pushing my luck a little too much.

*************************************************

I am glad it went well, I really am. I didn't really want there to be a big mess of crying and tears but couldn't they just have had one tear? Well, one tear other than mine. I mean the fact that there were none just shows yet again, how big they are getting. They are so not babies any more but they will always be my babies.

*sniffle, sniffle*

To get happy again, enter my giveaway here.

Operation Bottle Removal

There is something that needs to be done but I am having a really hard time with it. The babies are almost 20 months old and it is high time that I get rid of their bottles.

It is time to commence with Operation Bottle Removal. But I have been totally dragging my feet.

I don't really like that fact that they still have a bottle or 2, 4 if its a really bad night. I especially don't like the fact that they turn them upside down and either leave a trail of milk all over the floor or 'color' the TV and entertainment center with milk. This is not really the look I was going for, black with milk smears.

Its just that its so easy at night, before bed to give them a bottle and then in the middle of the night, and yes there is always some one up in the middle of the night, to quick give them a bottle.

I am also scared that we waited too long and there is going to be a HUGE protest to Operation Bottle Removal. And I already have to listen to a lot of crying during the day, I don't want a night or nights full of crying too.

But I think that the biggest reason that I am dragging my feet is that putting away that bottles pretty much seals the deal that they are not babies anymore. Once these bottles are gone, they will never be coming out again.

Well, on the one hand this makes me happy (I want them to grow up, I really do) but on the other it makes me very, very sad.

I seriously blinked and my babies were not babies anymore. It seemed like Hayden grew up fast enough but with 3 of them, they seemed to grow up at the speed of light.

Because there are 3 of them, I don't remember a lot of their first year. I didn't get to sit and rock and cuddle each one. I didn't take a lot of pictures or movies. We were just in survival mode.

I would give anything to go back in time and just hold each of those little tiny babies once again. To sit and rock each sweet little baby as they soundly slept in my arms. I fear that with time, my arms won't remember that feeling any more and sometimes they just ache for that feeling.

So, Operation Bottle Removal must be done. I know it must. It is more than time for the bottles to be packed away and I know it may be hard. I just don't know who it's going to be harder on, mommy or the babies.