Accidentally crunchy…

I’m accidentally cloth diapering. Yes, my youngest is three and a half and only potty-trained if she’s completely naked. Not the most practical definition of potty-trained. Yes, I’m a stay-at-home mom who can’t seem to get her kid potty-trained. Girls are easier? My ass. My youngest two girls have been the hardest. This one? If I hadn’t already called the baby making quits, I would now (and not just because of the potty-training – Viv’s a challenge all around).

I was buying Pull-Ups last week – for the last time, I promised myself (too bad Viv didn’t similarly promise me)–  when I decided to look at some cloth options. I found a couple of affordable pull-up-like cloth diapers and bought them to test out. I actually wanted to cloth diaper this child the whole time but living in a 250 year old house with dicey plumbing scared me off. We started this morning. So far, she thinks they’re diapers and she’s cool with that.

Between this and my mostly organic garden, I’m getting downright crunchy. Watch out – my candy coating might even disappear.

MamaChris's Great Adventure...

I took all four kids to the library. By myself. Wow. It was...a little harder than I expected, but partly that's due to how awkward getting the big double stroller in and out of DH's SUV is. I've ordered something smaller and hopefully lighter, so I'm hoping that will make a difference once it comes in. It also took longer than a normal trip to the library, but I'm still moving kind of slow and I didn't have enough hands to carry all the bags of books.

My cute little froggy baby. She's still pretty scrunchy, apparently made worse by the low amniotic fluid there at the end. That black corner is majorly distracting. I'll take care of that before I print this. But look at all her hair! She has more hair that Miss G had on her second birthday. Honest.

Today I had a fantasy...

The crazy fantasy of everyone woman is over 36 weeks pregnant. That I will walk into my completely normal check-up and learn that, unbeknownst to me (despite having birthed three children previously), I'm in labor and must immediately go deliver my baby.

Yeah, it didn't happen. In fact, nothing's happening. My body likes being pregnant. Likes it so much, in fact, that it tries to keep my babies in permanently. Looks like I'm looking at another 41 weeker (and only that by induction). I'm kind of okay with that. I've had a sudden burst of what can only be called nesting in someone as pregnant as I am. I'm throwing out all sorts of stuff, cleaning the basement, finding baby clothes and other gear that's been stored away for three or more years.

If we knew what we were having, there'd be even more crap on its way out. If it's a boy, I've got a ton of baby girl clothes that someone will love. And if it's a girl, I'll get to use all of them (yay!) and my nephews will be well-dressed. I seem to have no newborn baby boy clothes, which I finally figured out is because Mr. T didn't care to reveal his gender either (that's what this current in utero child did).

I'm sort of hoping (yes, I admit I have a slight preference, but as long as it's healthy, will be thrilled either way) that it's a girl. I love our girl's name SOOOOOO much that I will be a little sad not to use it. I like our boy's name too, of course, or else I'd still be looking for The Name. Maybe because I spent so long searching for a girl's name that it just seems like a bigger reward.

Is there a help group for amoxicillian addicts?

My almost 5 year old daughter is scamming me to try to get amoxicillin. I think I should worry about her. Although, I told Tom that if they didn't make medicine taste so good, she wouldn't fake an ear infection to try to get more. And I'm pretty sure she's faking. Not that I have any way to tell for sure, but when I told she couldn't go to preschool, suddenly her ear felt better. It really only seems to hurt when I want her to clean up or do something she doesn't want to do. I've lost sympathy for her.

This has been a rough year for me. I'm not one to run to the doctor unless there's a really clear emergency. When I broke my ankle and it was hanging at a 45 degree angle to my leg (to the left), I didn't fight medical attention. I ignored my gallbladder symptoms until I was almost in tears every day and could barely move if I so much as sipped a little water. But then I had the same pain with no logical explanation (turns out it is scar tissue and I just have to deal) and a suspicious mole and have been in and out of doctor's office since this time last year. And then I got pregnant, so even more doctor's visits.

Since I'm this way for myself, I have a difficult time deciding when to take my kids to the doctor. Mr. T doesn't complain. Ever. So if he says something hurts, off we go. He's been to the doctor for sick visits a total of three times in his life. Miss G, well, she's a bit of a whiner. It's hard to tell if she's just tired and feels a little tiny bit bad or if it's the end of the world. Usually I make her take a nap and that cures her. But she did have her first ear infection, and her first sick visit in 4 years and 9 months, just this past January. She's also fortunate to not get anything as bad as everyone else gets it. Miss S has only had a sick visit when she fell and hurt her foot. I actually had my first visit to emergent care (see January 1 or so's post). She seems to get sick more like her big sis.

Sometimes I think I don't take them in often enough, but since I know that there's nothing the pediatrician can do for a cold, I don't bother unless the cold's gone on for a long time and isn't getting better. And stomach bugs - no sense spreading those nasty germs around if we can avoid it.

...very, very thankful for good health...

Overwhelmed...

Around October of last year I was feeling completely overwhelmed by all the toys in our living room (our only living space). And aware that Christmas was coming and more toys were headed our way, I started to clean them out, as I did once a month. At first I did my usual sort-through and took out all the crappy McDonald's Happy Meal toys. But then I started really looking at the stuff I was sorting back into bins. Did they really need ALL of these toys? Before I could think twice about it (and before anyone woke up/got home from school), I sorted down to the true loves, classics, and, well, stuff I wanted them to have. We went from three racks of toys to two, one of them only half-full. I'd been hanging onto Mr. T's toys that he hadn't played with in possibly years. I'd kept every little necklace, purse and trinket we'd picked up for Miss G. And although Miss S was over two years old at the time, I still had out infant toys.

All of that is now in my basement, waiting for donation. I tend to hang on to things just in case one of the kids (the slightly anal-retentive Mr. T, if we're naming names) notices it's gone and wants it back. I'm just about up to donating.

But today I noticed (while my crazy sister had Mr. T and Miss G at hell - I mean Chuck E. Cheese's), that Miss S was really able to play with a lot more and keep up with putting it away since it was all in bins with nothing else but its own type of toy. She didn't just drag everything out looking for a few things to play with. THEY were overwhelmed too. I don't know why it took me six months to notice this.

Now I need to do the same thing with my own stuff. Maybe I'm overwhelmed too. I guess I could actually throw out the box of acrylic yarn I keep holding on to but know that I will never use. Or sort through my giant dresser full of other yarns. Or my books. Or papers from college (seriously, I think by now if I ever do make it to grad school, I'll just have to start over). And all the hundreds of other clutter maker I keep around.

Can we watch Barney?

Pregnancy has made me even moodier and bitchier than usual. Honestly, for the most part, I'm even tempered when not pregnant. But lately I have no patience. So when Miss G asked me if we could watch Barney, I sort of snapped at her. "We're not watching Barney. When have we ever watched Barney? I don't even know if Barney is on here anymore."

Then I felt dumb. "Not that Barney, Mom. Barney the policeman." It all clicked. She meant the Andy Griffith Show. Tom likes to watch old tv shows with them and their latest show (just because it comes on at the right time) is the Andy Griffith Show. So I let her watch it that evening when it came on.

We're watching a lot of old tv shows because, well, they were so much more wholesome and family friendly than just about anything that comes on today. Some of them are on TV Land and some on DVD. We have the Addams Family, a big favorite of everyone's. Tom likes just about every show, so if they're not watching cartoons together, they're watching TV Land. I got I Dream of Jeannie for Christmas and I've started watching Season 1. Miss G LOVES it. But I started to think that Jeannie might not be the best female role model. She's kind of a ho, always throwing herself at Major Nelson and stealing him from his fiancée. I didn't know all this.

A fun start to the new year...

And a motherhood first for me - a trip to urgent care. In 6.5 years, none of my children had needed anything other than well checks and two - yes, two visits among the three kids - sick visits to the doctor. Well, our streak is broken. Today I had to take my 2.5 year old Miss S to have her foot x-rayed. A fun two hour New Year's Day trip to the off-hours medical place only to find out that it's not broken, or at least isn't showing up as a fracture on the x-ray. In the meantime, she still won't walk on it and keeps forgetting that it hurts and stands up to run and then screams "my foot!" I'm told she'll be fine in a few days. Meanwhile, I should keep her off of it. Said by someone who's never tried to keep a two year old still, obviously.

And while this might seem like an inauspicious start to 2008, I'm trying to look at the bright side. I hate streaks. When my team is on a streak or a favorite player is on a streak, I get all tense and nervous every time they make a move on the field. Streaks add an unnatural element to the game, be it football, basketball or motherhood. When March Madness closes in, I always hope my favorite team gets a loss right before it starts. A win streak (which adds a bit more tension than a losing streak, because, well, no one minds if a losing streak ends) puts your mind in a different place. You don't lose yourself to the moment, you start thinking about every little move.

So our streak is broken. May it be a fresh start for the new year.

My favorite....

I've been feeling guilty lately because I think I have a favorite child. And not in the "each one is my favorite for a different reason" sense, which I also believe. No, I've really felt like one of my children over the other two was my favorite. But this morning I've had an epiphany. It's not that Baby S is my favorite. I mean, she's just so freaking cute and sweet and loving and mischievous that it would be impossible not to love her. But my thinking of her as my favorite is not because of who she is.

It's her age. She's two and a half. My favorite age with each of my children. So I probably don't have a real favorite in the long-term, just a child who happens to be at my favorite age. I feel better. There's just something so incredibly fun and amazing about this age. She talks all the time and you just never know what she's going to do next.

As the stomach turns...

Ugh. Evil stomach virus hit our house on Monday. I'm guessing Miss G brought it home from preschool. Then Miss S drank from G's juice cup Tuesday night. She got it Wednesday afternoon. Not surprisingingly, after cleaning up two kids' puke, I got sick Wednesday night. Yesterday I could barely pick my head up off the pillow. So far Tom and Mr. T have been spared (knock on wood). Today, I'm full of energy - well, sort of. I have lots of mental energy and physically enough energy to do what needs to be done, but just folding the laundry made me so tired I had to lie down for a few minutes. Still better than yesterday when just walking to the bathroom was too much effort. I actually went to bed with my teeth unbrushed. Um, ew. I don't do that. Ever. The few other times I've been that tired, I woke up halfway through the night because I needed to brush my teeth.

I was so sick yesterday I couldn't even knit. My head spun every time I picked up the needles. Here I had such project enthusiasm for my baby blanket and couldn't even take advantage of it.

The worst part of being sick? I couldn't drink anything with caffeine in it (the very thought made me sick). I had such a caffeine headache. Actually, I still do. I could probably keep down some Excedrin today.

Stuff floating in my head...

Someone very close to me is pregnant. Which kind of changes my plans. Tom and I had sort of decided to try to conceive baby numero quatro this month. But I don't want to steal this person's thunder, to be a little Friends Monica about it. We decided we didn't want Miss S and the potential fourth to be a full four years apart in school, like they would be if we waited until January, like I'd been planning. So now I'm kind of torn. I probably would advise myself not to worry about it and go ahead with what we'd already planned. I just don't know. We have to wait a while anyway, so I'm just going to see what happens.

And then there's that football team I like. Dude. What is up. I mean, come on. Although I have to say it's almost better than last year where I expected them to win all their games and they got demolished. It's almost easier to have low expectations.

Other than those two things, I guess the other stuff is pretty normal day-to-day stuff. You know, knitting some hats (all part of my winter plan - I hate taking Mr. T to school in the mornings with wet hair in the winter, but I hate my hair when I first wake up. So I've been knitting hats to cover it up. Then I can come home and shower and let my hair dry inside. Don't suggest a blow dryer. I don't own one and there's a very, VERY good reason for that. Frizzy hair + blow dryer = people running screaming from me in fright.

Quirky kids...quirky football season...

I sometimes wonder if I, being the quirky and appreciative of quirks person than I am, am a little too indulgent of my children's odd little habits. Like Mr. T likes things arranged a certain way on his bed. He always sits in the same spot on the sofa every morning. Just a bunch of little things that makes him a twinge obsessive. Miss G has her weird little things (like her Fran Drescher laugh that no one I know does, nor have we ever watched the Nanny in her lifetime, so I have no idea where she picked it up). I'm sure in time Miss S will pick up her own little quirks. And I'll encourage them. I like individuality.

Sometimes it seems Mr. T is a little too rigid in his habits and that laugh of Miss G's can really grate and I wonder if I indulge this too much because I like quirky types. Maybe I should be discouraging these things. It goes against everything I believe in, though. I guess really what I need to do is figure out how to encourage their unique qualities while helping them fit those into an often narrow-minded society (no offense, society).

Seriously, though, do not speak to me about Notre Dame. Unless it is to commiserate. In which case, dude. What's going on? ND and Michigan playing for their first win of the season? Yikes. College football is all shook up. My preseason picks to win it all haven't won a game yet. I really though Michigan had it this year. Returning some really quality players, fired up over their losses last season, but no. They had to go and lose my dollar I bet my brother. His preseason pick (Texas) is still in it, but not without some close calls. I'm kind of liking LSU for the national championship. I hate to say it after the way they beat up on ND last year, but they're looking just as strong this year. Some excellent games have been played though. Double and triple overtime? Awesome.

Gender constructing...

Back before I had kids and was stuck in post adolescent idealistic phase (post regarding quoteable movies, like Clueless, to follow), I thought that all you had to do was buy your kids all the boy and girl toys and they'd like everything. I truly believed that we made girls like babies by buying them babies. I had major moral objections to the girl aisles being pink and boy aisles being full of violent predators. I questioned my grandmother on the choice of a toy broom set for one of my cousins. "Why don't you buy that for one of the boys?"

Turns out sometimes boys really just like boy toys. The gender constructing thing is more after the fact than a marketing ploy. My girls are into babies. My son is into cars and trucks. And since I have both male and female children, we have ALL the toys (it feels like a freaking toy store most of the time). They could choose anything. Sometimes Miss G likes to play with cars and dinosaurs. Sometimes Mr. T likes to take care of a baby doll (only for a minute or two, though).

And so now both Miss G and Mr. T are playing with Barbies. Oddly, Miss G is Ken and Mr. T is Barbie/Mom. Barbie/Mom thinks they need to leave their baby with its aunt, but Ken thinks they should just leave it home alone.

More on children's television...

I can justify anything. Seriously. I have had to eat ice cream every night this week because I have acid reflux (apparently, although my gastroenterologist had to delay my follow-up appointment even further than two months). I mean, I can come up with a semi-logical rationale for doing damned near anything. That includes my parenting decisions. Like watching television.

1. Fact: Television is part of our pop culture. Almost everyone can relate to something on television. It's a unifier. I'm supporting unity.

2. There is no end of children's programming. This is most assuredly true. 24-7. Freaking PBS Kids is on. The point is, if the television is going to be on, it should at least be tuned to something appropriate for children.

3. Most of the television we watch is educational - Animal Planet, History Channel, Discovery Channel.

Got something you need rationalized? I can do it. No problem.

Sharing something with another generation...

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to share with my children the most magical, wonderful movie moment. You know the one. Dorothy's up inside the cyclone and suddenly the house drops. First she opens one door, then she opens the second door onto...color. Glorious magical color. Tom and I let the two older kids stay up late Sunday night to enjoy just that very moment. Miss G loved it - the way I love it. Mr. T was less impressed, lol.

I've been conscious lately, especially as my children start to express their musical tastes ("I don't like this song, Mom." "Turn this one up, Mom."), of just how my music could be shaping their musical tastes. I know at some point they discover their own music, but for now, I am sharing my favorite music (courtesy of my beloved iPod). Some of it is music of my own parents that shaped my childhood that I get a rush of nostalgia and intermingling joy that I can share the same songs that I remember hearing in the back of our mint green wood-paneled station wagon.

So my kids will remember Fleetwood Mac, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Dave Matthews Band, Sublime, Kelly Clarkson, Pink, Herman's Hermits, the Beatles, ABBA, Garth Brooks and Jimmy Buffett. To name a few.

On Children's Television...

I admit it. I'm a total television addict. In a totally dorky way, though. My favorite channels are the History Channel, Discovery Channel, Food Network, HGTV and DIYNetwork. I only watch a select number of shows on the big networks (House, Bones, Scrubs, My Name is Earl...I can't think of any others. That might be it).

So it seems only natural that my kids would occasionally watch tv. No more than half an hour per day, right? Yeah, sorry, that's not going to happen. First of all, I'm not a morning person, so the hour it takes me to wake up is tv time. And then my almost 2 year old likes to turn the TV on. So I make sure it's tuned to something I don't mind them seeing. Like public television or other programming designed to be educational for toddlers and preschoolers. There's just so much quality television for the under-5 set that I can't see letting them watch shows not intended for little kids (like Spongebob or Rugrats - is that even on anymore?). My only exception is Jimmy Neutron, which is usually clean and promotes child geniuses. Can't argue with that.

Unfortunately for me, I am unable to tune out some of the weirdness of kids shows. Like the Berenstain Bears always makes me question what Mama and Papa were thinking when they named Brother. What if they hadn't had another kid? For that matter, wasn't it rather presumptuous of their parents to name them Mama and Papa as infants?

Oh, there's more coming another day...

A very important date in MamaChris history...

Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of the single most significant event in my life. I love my husband, but it is not our wedding anniversary - although that is the second most significant event in my life. I love my daughters, but it is not their birthdays. It is the anniversary of the birth of my son, the sixth anniversary of the day I became something else entirely - a mother. At 2:02 a.m., Sunday, May 6, 2001, I gave birth to a perfect baby boy. And my life changed. Not instantly. I was not one of those who just instantaneously became a mother when their child was born. But I immediately grasped the larger responsibilities of being a mother.

This year the calendar falls the same way it did the year my son was born, the year my son made me a mother one week before Mother's Day. It has me thinking more than usual about everything I was doing that year (working until Thursday despite being in early labor).

Today that boy is absolutely amazing. His very own little person, so small and young and yet so very grown up in so many ways. Frustrating and complex, loving and totally innocent.

To my sweet son, the song I sang to him when he was small enough to hold. How wonderful life is when you're in the world....

Mommy guilt...

I try not to feel guilty, but sometimes I just do. Intellectually, I can tell myself that moms are allowed to be in bad moods since everyone has bad days. That's just how it is. But my emotional side saw my bad mood and won't stop hounding me about it. I had next to no patience with the kids and was just sort of detached yesterday. I didn't yell or scream, I was just sort of distant. I hate feeling like that, especially since there really wasn't a reason for it.

But the really stupid part of the guilt comes in when Tom got home. I let him take over and I just sort of zoned. And felt immensely guilty for taking twenty minutes while the kids were still awake to just be inside myself. Like I can't turn the reigns over without feeling guilty. How stupid is that? He's their father - I didn't hand responsibility over to some stranger off the street.

And I'm going to face this again this weekend when I go out. I have a baby shower for an old friend on Saturday and a craft show (whole other post there) on Sunday. Tom is going to be gone the following weekend all weekend, so it will actually be nice for me to get out while I can, but I'm already feeling guilty for leaving him alone with the kids.

Moms are weird. Maybe not all moms. At any rate, I'm weird.

Shoe Shopping: A Gender War

Shoe shopping with a (four year old) girl:

Girl: Hmm, that shoe is pretty, but the bow is blue and I like pink. That shoe is beautiful. Mom, can I have it?
Mom: No way. You can't have platform flip-flops when you can barely walk in sneakers. How about these? They have princesses on them.
Girl: Um, I don't think so. I like these sparkly pink ones.
Mom: But they're three sizes too small.
Girl: But I like them!
Mom: Then go ahead, try them on.

Girl proceeds to try on six or seven different pairs of shoes. Including ones that aren't her size but are "bee-yootiful" like the sparkly pink ones. After much debating, she ends up saying let's get these (princess shoes that Mom had pointed out).

Shoe shopping with a (six year old) boy:

Boy: Hey those look just like the shoes I have on my feet. And they have my size.

Boy tries on shoes. They fit. We're done.

One of these kids is going to give me fits when she's a teenager.

A mother's confessions...

I have some things to get off my chest.

1. I refuse to eat the slimy, chewed on food my toddler offers me. I just can't.

2. While I think of myself as laid back about messes and things, it really bugs me if the kids don't put toys back in their appropriate bin. I have to go through and re-sort the toys at least once a month.

3. I sometimes drink Kool-Aid in a glass that matches the color of the Kool-Aid and tell the kids it's water.

4. I lose my temper and yell. I hate that. Yes, they probably did something wrong, but I hate losing it anyway.

5. My kids talked late (26 months and 30 months respectively for the first two. The third is 20 months and has only a smattering of words) and I think it's my fault for not talking enough to them.

6. I actually used the phrase "Because I said so." This morning.

7. I've been known to turn two pages of a very long book together just to get it over with. Of course, now that Mr. T reads, that doesn't fly anymore.

8. I sometimes disagree with my husband about how to discipline, but I never say this in front of our kids. And I don't usually argue with Tom about it after they've gone to bed and I have to remind myself not to question his lectures because I would never want him to question my methods.

9. Some days I count the minutes until bedtime and curse daylight savings time for it being light later.

10. Sometimes I think one of my kids is cuter than the others or one is my special favorite. Then I change my mind to another one. Then the other one. They're all cute and special and my favorite for different reasons.

To Miss G, on her fourth birthday...

You came into this world in a most unusual way. Well, I mean, technically, it was just the normal way, but the cast on my left leg made it unique. I think I was a first for both my OB and my orthopedic surgeon. 34 weeks pregnant with a broken ankle. Delivered at 41 weeks (you just have do things at your own pace, don't you?) with cast still on.

Four years later, and you still do things your own way. You pick out your own clothes (dresses and skirts only - princesses don't wear pants), you make your own lunch, you get things done. If you want to. You have ambition. You have drive. Even if it's just to spread your own peanut butter. One day that drive will serve you well.

You started preschool this past fall and let me tell you, they love you there. You are thriving in the school environment when I worried you wouldn't like it because you can't do your own thing. Turns out the independence they teach is right up your alley.

I hate to confess this, but of my three children, for some reason you have always tried my patience the most. I don't know if it's our similar independent streaks or that you're so much like my sister (with whom I get along - now that we don't live together) or why exactly it is you test me. I often feel like I have failed. I hate that.

Your moods are changeable. Crying and angry one minute, laughing and happy the next. No exaggeration - it happens that fast. Sometimes I don't know what to do with you and your moods - usually I just wait you out, since I know the stormy moods don't last long. Or I ask you do something grown-up because anything that appeals to your sense of independence is good, right?

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.