The Restorative Power of Rainy Afternoons

It's a dark, blustery day outside, and I have nowhere to go. The babes are both asleep. I just talked to Mr. Level-Headed on the phone, and I have the world's largest and stickiest Sticky Bun in my hands and a rich cup of Hot Chocolate by my side. Can my day get any better? I think not. Oh, wait! Yes, it can get better. What I really need in my life at the moment is a good book, so I am asking all of you for your book requests. I know you've got them. Go! . . . .

I really needed this today; I am feeling pretty worn-out after our week of soccer finals and Halloween activities. Being a one woman show is not easy, and I have a whole new level of respect for all you single moms and dads out there. Seriously, you rock! Single parenting is INTENSE.

At the moment, Zoe, Elliot and Leif are keeping me hopping. Zoe is still sick. Her new medication did not work . . . boo! And she is onto week four of being home from school. My heart goes out to her; all she wants is to be back in school so that she can enjoy her final year of high school. Sometimes life is really unfair.

Elliot is rocking high school. Most days I don't even recognize him because he does his homework without me nagging him, and he has been actively participating in Hampton High's soccer team and basketball team. The problem, though, is that when Elliot thrives, I often forget about his quirks and when he does something that is very Elliot, I lose my mind. Like last night, I sent him and Avery out to clean out the trunk of my van so that I could take the three youngest to MCS's trunk-or-treat. We were in a rush and I will admit, I was barking and yelling out orders like a cranky, old sea captain.  Elliot finds it difficult to operate in tense situations like this one. When I came running out of the house, I smelled something strange. My nose was telling me it was suntan lotion, but my mind was saying that was foolish because it is the end of October in Canada. No one needs suntan lotion anymore. Then, as I was just about to open my door to the van, I noticed it; Someone had squirted suntan lotion ALL over Leif's window.

What is this?!

Elliot did it.

ELLIOT!!!

I lost my mind. I hollered and took his phone.

Get inside and we will discuss this later.

As I pulled out of the driveway, I was fuming. I could not fathom why my fourteen year old son would do this, and then it hit me: low impulse control. Right, a classic trait of people on the Autism Spectrum. It may sound strange, but I often forget that Elliot has NLD because he functions so well for the most part. Then I felt bad, really bad. So, when I finally returned home, I apologized and we talked about the incident, and then I made him clean it up. I guess I should be happy that his episodes are so few and far between that I can actually forget about his diagnosis, but I can't help but wonder how many times I have been insensitive or oblivious to his unique needs lately . . .  ugh! Being a mom is never easy.

As for Leif, he has been over-the-top difficult lately. He is nursing more than Harriet and it seems like all he does is cry and throw tantrums. I keep reminding myself that this is just the terrible two's, or he is probably working on a new cognitive skill with his birthday just around the corner and that can be difficult. I also think it could be partly due to the fact that Mr. Level-Headed is not home. I feel bad for him because at two, he did not know this was coming. He can't understand our explanations. All he know is that he misses his dad and he has no way to express that except by pitching a fit. I feel really bad for him, but still, I can't help but want to throttle him at the same time . . . eeeeek!

All I can say is thank heavens for Avery and Harriet, my happy-go-lucky babies. And thank heavens for rainy afternoons with yummy treats and two napping babies . . .  ahhh! An other hour of this and I will be ready once again to face whatever the rest of the day has in store for me. I hope . . .

Don't forget to leave me your book requests . . . pretty please. 

The Night Shift

With Mr. Level-Headed in Nunavut, our sleeping arrangements have changed slightly. Leif no longer sleeps in his crib beside our bed because  . . . well, there really is no good reason other than the fact that I am selfish and I adore squeezing my way in between two sleeping bundles of adorableness each night. Oh. My. Land. This is my heaven! I know for certain that these moments will be those moments I long for when Thing 4 and Thing 5 grow up. I love how peaceful our nights are and how snuggly my babies are when the room is dark and we are curled up under the covers together. I quickly fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow knowing that they are safe and feeling pretty proud of myself for having survived yet another challenging day. 

Now, I say peaceful, and for the most part, I am blessed because both babies sleep soundly most nights and if they do stir, they are quickly soothed back to sleep with a quick nursing. However, there are some nights when Harriet's insatiable appetite for milk gets the best of her and she is plagued with tummy pains, or when Leif decides that sleep is a waste of his precious time and that it would be better spent talking to his mama and practicing his gymnastics moves. I will be honest, those nights are rough and during those nights I fantasize about grabbing the car keys and getting out of Dodge all by my sweet lonesome, but thankfully, like I said, those nights are few and far between.

So, the other night when Leif woke up excitedly practicing his newest word, I instinctively began to look for my keys.

Nice knowing ya babies; I am outta here!

BUTT!

what?!

butt . . . butt . . . butt . . . butt . . . butt . . . butt

ugh.

Yes, my niece Ava says words like over-zealous and my boy says butt. I swear I am living in an episode of The Simpsons sometimes.

Anyhoo . . .

Over and over again, while clearly enunciating the last t sound, Leif would whisper butt in my ear and then erupt in giggles. I started to feel my frustration mount as he refused to listen to my soothing suggestions to go back to sleep:

Time for sleepies, Leif.

butt . . .

Lie down on your pillow, Leif.

butt . . .

The dragon mama was about to make an appearance and unleash her fury when I noticed two large blue saucers peering up at me. Harriet was wide awake now and was excitedly kicking her feet and swinging her arms:

Yay! Mom and Leif are up. Let's party!

Knowing that he now had an adoring fan, Leif took it up a notch:

Butt . . . Butt!

And for some reason unbeknownst to me . . . okay, let's be honest, it is one hundred percent due to the fact that I have officially lost my mind, I began to laugh and my heart filled with joy watching these babies giggle and play together. Sure it was 3am and I was exhausted, and yes, we had to get up in four hours to get ready for church, but oh my goodness, I could not get over how cute these two babies of mine are. I really am the luckiest mama in the world!

awwwww . . .

 Then after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a minute, I decided the dragon mama's fury was not my most useful tool at this moment and opted to unleash an even more powerful trick of mine . . . the boobies. The babies did not stand a chance and within minutes they were both back to sleep.

Mom: 1

The two-under-two crew: 234, 768, 999

. . . tee hee!

At least I can say I won one.

Late Night Thoughts

Last night as the big kids prepared for bed, Mr. Level-Headed and I sat on our bed watching the two-under-two crew play. What are those babies doing up so late? We were wondering the same thing. Leif was practicing jumping with two feet while Harriet was practicing blowing raspberries; I guess some things are more important than sleep. Mr. Level-Headed and I smiled as Leif bent down to kiss Harriet on the head after each jump and she returned his thoughtfulness with a grin and a coo.

This is the most challenging stage of my life so far. I am being stretched in more ways and in more directions than I would have ever thought possible. It's funny because when having more children was simply a dream of mine, I would envision them just joining us for the ride. I forgot that each baby brings with them their own purpose, their own unique set of needs and their own dreams, and that my role as their mom is to ensure that they are able to find their own path and have the tools they need to navigate it successfully when that time comes. These babies are not mine and all of THIS has nothing to do with me. THIS is for them, all five of them, and by being given the opportunity to raise these five amazing individuals, I have found my own path. Although I often feel like I am completely incapable of taking yet another step, I do and then I take another step. My entire life has prepared me for this moment. All those years I cared for and toted around my plastic baby, Laura, I was preparing to love and nurture my real babies. All those years I spent getting an education and eventually obtaining two degrees has helped me to teach, inspire and encourage my own children to do the same. And all those years I longed to hold more babies and all the pain and heartache I suffered trying to have them taught me how to truly appreciate my babies when they finally arrived. My life has taught me patience. It has taught me perseverance and it has shown me that I can do hard things. No matter how difficult my days of being a mama of five are, I know I can do it. I was made for these days, and I am going to cherish every moment of them. 

So, when Mr. Level-Headed looked up at me, smiled and commented:

These two are going to be so close.

Even though I was very tired and wanted nothing more than for this day to finally be done, I smiled back:

Yes, they are, and that is why we are doing this.

I love you, two-under-two crew!

The Big Three . . .

Yesterday summed up perfectly what I find to be the hardest three things about this particular phase of mamahood that I am currently immersed in. It was a beautiful fall day, and Zoe had an appointment to get her Remicade infusion in town right after lunch. Since her appointment typically takes 2 1/2 hours, I decided to take the two-under-two crew to Rockwood Park while we waited for her to finish up. Like I said, it was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining and there was a gentle cool breeze blowing that made it the perfect temperature for jeans and a t-shirt. We had the entire park to ourselves, but unfortunately, thanks to Leif's recent aversion to a full night's sleep, I was exhausted. Rather than run and play alongside Leif on the climbing structure like I typically do, I sat on a nearby bench with Harriet on my knee, encouraging him from afar.

Good job, Bud. Now go down the slide.

As any parent will tell you, this does not work well, and Leif quickly became bored. Can you blame him, though? It really isn't fun playing by yourself. Thanks to boredom, Leif did not stay in one place for long and so we spent the majority of our time at the park meandering back and forth between the lake and the playground.

I really hate being tired and this is one of the hardest parts of being a mama right now for me. I become very cranky and impatient when I am tired and neither of these qualities are conducive to handling an equally tired toddler whose tantrums increase in duration, intensity and frequency with each hour of sleep he misses. Let's just say that Leif and I were not the best of friends yesterday, and those days make me sad. I know what kind of mom I can be, and I really like her, but on very little sleep, it is like I can see that mom drifting out to sea and as hard as I try, I cannot reach her to bring her back.

Ugh . . .

Leif has not been sleeping well for the past two weeks. He wakes up numerous times at night and then is waking up for an hour or so at 4am and falling back to sleep just as my alarm goes off. Then, because he is in a state of over-tiredness, he is not napping well either - 30 minutes tops. We are both about to lose our mind. I suspect this inability to sleep is thanks to the abundance of words he is all of a sudden able to say. With my older three kids, monumental milestones always accompanied an inability to sleep. I think it has something to do with the flurry of activity that is going on in their little brains at that time.

But I also think that this sudden disruption in sleep could have something to do with our lack of routine. Since school has started, as hard as I try to stick to nap times and daily routines, it has not been working because every day brings a new schedule. With five kids, someone always has one appointment or another - doctor's, dentist's, physio, etc. Throw three different school soccer schedules in the mix and we find ourselves running this way and that most days. I suspect all of this disruption has really thrown Leif's system out of whack, and this brings me to the second hardest aspect of my current state of mamahood - a lack of routine. With five kids ranging from infant to teenagers, our life is busy, crazy busy and I am really struggling trying to establish a routine.

Anyhoo . . . 

Back to the park. Growing tired of chasing Leif back and forth for an hour and a half, I plopped him and Harriet into their double stroller and we went for a walk. After his initial fuss over being restrained, Leif quickly settled into his seat and began to enjoy the sights of our walk.

Wuz zhat? Wuz zhat?

Then my phone buzzed. I looked down to see that Baby Girl had texted me. My heart leapt . . . woohoo! She is done.  Then my heart broke as I read the next three words.

It happened again.

I knew exactly what she was talking about; two infusions ago, Zoe had a reaction to her Remicade, which caused her airway to swell and made it difficult for her to breathe. This is one of the many, and probably least scary, side effects of Remicade . . . Ugh. For the record, I HATE colitis and I hate the fact that I have to give my big, Baby Girl this drug, but after dealing with this disease for almost four years now and having nothing else work, this is what we have to do.

Can you come. I am pretty shaken up.

I picked up my pace and quickly returned to the van with the two-under-two crew. Leif, who was soaking wet from wading in the lake, needed to be changed but I did not want to waste any time. I whipped his pants and shoes off, strapped him and Harriet into their seats and drove off. My heart was racing. I was so mad at myself for not being there . . . again . . . for Zoe during this scary experience. Yes, I also missed the first reaction . . . ugh.  

We pulled into the parking lot. I stopped the car, and jumped out. I quickly found Leif's change of pants and slipped them on. Since his sneakers were too wet to put back on, I placed him on my hip and put Harriet on the other and then ran inside, where I was greeted by the nurse.

She is sleeping right now. We gave her more Benadryl. We have restarted the IV and she seems to be okay. Since we had to stop and restart it at a much slower pace, she will not be done for another two hours. We will text you when she is ready to be picked up.

I stood there looking in on Zoe who was peacefully sleeping under the fleece red blanket I had made her two years ago. Looking at the two babies on my hips and seeing how many patients were currently hooked up to IV's in the tiny, cramped clinic, I felt completely helpless. I knew I couldn't stay, but I really did not want to leave her side. Her nurse must have read my mind:

She is going to be okay, Krista. When she wakes up, I will tell her that you stopped in.

Thank you.

With my babies in tow, I turned around and walked back to the car, much slower this time. I felt like all the life had just been deflated from my body.  No matter how hard I try, I consistently let one of my kids down. By attending the older kids' soccer games and appointments, I have disrupted Leif's sleep schedule. Because I have two babies to care for, I can no longer sit with Zoe during her appointments. Because I am not getting much sleep, I am not as patient as I once was while doing homework or as fun on the playground. . . and so on and so on. I think not being able to attend to all of my kids' needs is definitely the hardest and most frustrating part of being a mama of five.

I could have really beaten myself up, but I chose not to. Instead, I headed to my mom's house where Coca Cola flows on tap and where there is never a short supply of arms or laps to hold and entertain two babies under two.

By 7:30pm we had all returned home. As I stood at the island, putting the day's dishes in the dishwasher, I looked around at my family:  Mr. Level-Headed was discussing Elliot's soccer game against Rothesay High School with him, which they tied . . . woohoo!, Leif and Avery were in the middle of an intense game of tag, and Zoe was snuggling with Harriet, who has recently found her voice and currently spends most of her days telling us off . . . er, I mean . . . telling us stories. I couldn't help but smile at all of them. They are all mine. I may be doing a craptastic job at this mama of five gig, but I am trying my best, and I think that my sincere love for each of them and my desire to be the best mom I can be will shorten the gap between the mama I know I can be and the mama I actually am. I hope.

Elliot #20, rushing the goalie. Thanks Monique for the pic!

Keeping It Real

Oh, the difference twenty-four hours can make. Yesterday, I was swooning over motherhood and today, well . . . to be honest, I was ready to run away and ship Mr. Level-Headed the baby after he or she was born without a return address attached. I was done, completely and utterly done. It was just me and the boys this afternoon because Derrick and Zoe were in Fredericton for a volleyball tournament, and it is typically just the boys and I, so I don't know why today was such a disaster but it was. Perhaps because, yeah, well, it is typically the boys and I, and frankly, I think we were all a little tired of one another. While I was helping Elliot write up a rough draft for his Heritage fair project, which is due early next week and which he forgot to inform me about until late Wednesday evening . . . anyhoo, Leif and Avery fought. There may be ten years between the two of them, but man, can they fight. Then when they were not fighting, they were beating each other playfully with Styrofoam bricks, which left a lovely dusting of white pieces of Styrofoam all over my already destroyed living room that is littered with Kleenex, toys, and remnants of the day's snacks. The TV was also on for far longer than I care to admit and this always aggravates me to no end, but in spite of all my attempts to redirect their attention elsewhere, whenever it was off, a fight would ensue and I would cave, once again, and turn it back on. All of this lead to me standing in the bathroom at 7:30pm, crying my eyes out and praying to God for just a morsel of strength so that I could get up off the floor, face my darling little hellions once again and cook a few pancakes before they began to eat one another. Yeah, so that was my day. It was fun . . . not, so why did I feel the overwhelming need to share this with you at 9:30pm, after Leif finally fell asleep? Well, because this is what parenthood looks like. Not just this moment, but a combination of moments like yesterday and today. Like everything in life, there are good times and bad times. Unfortunately, today was one of the bad times for me, and I think it is important that we all remember that they happen to everyone, no matter your circumstance. We are human, and life is tough, for everyone. So, let's try to be a little more kinder, a little less judgmental, and a whole lot more patient with one another. Deal?

Have a great weekend!

Oh, and while I soak my miserable day away in a scorching hot bath and ignore the dishes, the laundry and the mess, I am going to be thinking about those moments when I love being a mama, like yesterday, when Leif and I were putting stickers on our noses and taking selfies.

Or like today, when we introduced Leif to bubble wrap for the first time.

bubble wrap . . . . . .

Parenting the Second Time Around

Being pregnant and caring for a toddler are not the easiest things to do when you are pushing forty. Especially, if this is not your first time around and you have older teenagers who still require lots of parenting; however, I have to say, although it is more physically challenging, it is definitely more rewarding. Parenting in my twenties looked very different from what it looks like today. My energetic, twenty-something body needed to move, needed to be actively immersed in something productive, and craved social companionship. My spirit was eager to experience all that the world had to offer me and so being a part-time student while parenting three children under the age of six made sense. I needed it. It was good for me . . . then. 

My almost forty-something body wants nothing to do with all that nonsense, and although, I am sure my first three children benefited from having an energetic, enthusiastic, youthful mom, I am equally sure that Leif and Thing 5 will benefit from having a mom that is more patient, more quiet, and more present. Afterall, I truly believe that children come when they are suppose to come; I don't believe in accidents or mistakes, only opportunities.

This morning was one of those moments when I adored being an older mom. After the kids went off to school, Leif and I ate breakfast. It was not rushed. We did not have to be anywhere anytime soon, so we sat quietly side by side enjoying the warm sun streaming through the patio doors and our yummy bowls of Life cereal. When Leif was done, he asked to nurse (he signs milk and it is adorable). 

Time for milkies?

And like always, a smile erupted from his face and he clapped. I picked him up, washed off his face and hands, and headed for our big, comfy chair, where Scout curled up at my feet on the footstool. He nursed for about twenty minutes and then decided it was time to play trucks. We pulled his favourite garbage truck off the shelf and filled it with blocks and then scooted it around the floor. After about fifteen minutes, he was done with that, and we moved onto balls. Then it was time to nurse again. Then it was time to play trucks again. Oh, wait, where is the ball now? And back to nursing. 

I swear this rotation went on for about an hour.

Thankfully, he then decided it was time to read books. After a few books and a couple rousing rounds of This Little Piggy, he was ready to nurse again. When he was done nursing, and yes, my toddler is a boobie addict and I fear Thing 5 may have to be bottle-fed, he was just about to go for the trucks again, when this wise mama came up with a new idea - crafts! So, we glued some fuzzy balls onto construction paper, we ate some glue (not too much and more him than me), we tore the fuzzy balls off the paper, and we covered our hands in stickers. Then . . . you guessed it . . . it was time to nurse . . . tee hee!

Read books

Play trucks

Nurse

Kick balls

Throw now-glue-smeared, fuzzy balls onto the floor

Nurse

And finally, Leif was ready for his nap.

Now, if you read this post and had an overwhelming urge to knock your head against the wall, I get it. I was there once, in my twenties. Now, in my almost forties, these mornings are magical. They are quiet. They are peaceful, and they are ours. The greatest thing about being a mom for the second time around is that you gain perspective. There will be plenty of busy moments with Leif, where I am driving him to his soccer practices, doing school projects with him and forcing him, er I mean encouraging, him to practice the piano, but for now, all he needs, all he wants is me, right there beside him  . . .  and maybe a few balls and a stick of glue.

I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be.

Morning Mayhem

*please note that this post goes through periods of where there are no capital letters used due to the fact that I had a nursing infant attached to me and could only use one hand . . . carry on.

i woke up late this morning, and that pretty much guarantees that our morning will be crumby. i woke up avery and he hopped into the shower. then i went downstairs and harassed elliot until he dragged his lifeless body out of bed. 

come on, bud. you can do this! we are late and you need to start moving.

I rushed into the storage room to grab two cans of Alpha-getti for the boys' lunch (nothing but the best for my munchkins) and then I bolted back upstairs to get breakfast made, lunches packed and two boys dressed and ready for the day. like every other morning this week, though, i had to wade through the previous night's supper dishes in order to even find a space big enough to spread their lunch boxes out. At this point, I decided to scrap the pancakes I had intended to make, according to the lovely menu plan I had so painstakingly created on the weekend, and declared breakfast to be cereal . . . again. BUT, then I remembered that Avery's goat's milk was all gone, and since he gets terrible pains from cow's milk and he does not like rice milk on his cereal, pancakes were back on the menu. ugh!

come on boys! you are going to be late!

So, as the Alpha-getti was cooking and I was throwing in crackers, apples, clementines,and brownies into their lunch boxes, I was also scrambling to wash out the mixing bowl and gather the pancake ingredients.

do you boys have your soccer stuff packed for practice today? Elliot, get your socks and sneakers on.

mom, the baby pooped.

i will change him after.

mom, where are my cleats?

at the back door.

mom, I have no clean socks.

check the laundry pile in the living room.

mom, did you sign my homework folder?

yes.

mom. the baby is in the dishwasher.

just remove the knives.

Text: are you guys ready for prayer

(we've been saying our daily morning prayer via speaker phone with Derrick just before he goes into work)

give me two minutes. 

At 7:35 (five minutes before the boys leave for the bus) i placed pancakes in front of them and we all gathered around to say the world's quickest prayer.then i dashed outside in my jammies to grab their soccer socks that had been left on the clothes line. i finished packing their lunches, closed up their book bags and sent the boys running up the driveway to catch the bus that was seconds away from our house. 

i love you!

we know!

Glowing with pride over my ultimate, super mama skills for getting the boys out the door washed, fed, and watered just in time to catch the bus yet again, I felt pretty invincible.

Take that Thursday morning! You are no match for me. Now, I am off to tackle a dirty diaper and feed my baby. Leif!

And there he was elbow deep in the bin of flour I had left opened on the floor . . .

ugh! foiled again.

Every super hero has one villain that brings them to their knees daily, and mine happens to be an 18lbs, blonde, blue-eyed baby with a penchant for stirring up shenanigans.

At least he keeps me humble.

A Few Laughs

I am so grateful for the utterly ridiculous moments in our life because they break up the monotony of  my day: let the dog out, make a meal, wash the dishes, change a diaper, nurse the baby, let the dog in, teach a lesson, wash some laundry, mark a few lessons, let the dog out, make another meal, wash some more dishes, change another diaper, nurse the baby, dry some laundry . . . you get the picture. Luckily for me, spending my days with four kids and a dog means there are plenty of ridiculous moments, and I am still laughing about one that happened yesterday:

Leif was sleeping in his crib. Avery was downstairs playing Lego, Zoe was lying on the couch working on her math lesson, and Elliot was sitting at the kitchen table finishing up his grammar exercise for the day. I was standing at the kitchen counter, mixing up a new chicken recipe for supper. As I stared out the window, happy to see the sun shining and all the slushy puddles of ice melting in the driveway, I marveled at how quiet and peaceful the house was, and I thought to myself:

Wow! It is so peaceful. This has to be the best moment of the day.

Then all of a sudden, Elliot jumped out of his seat and screamed:

How is a man supposed to work in these conditions!

and he stormed off into his room.

. . .  what!?

Okay, so maybe you had to be here to truly appreciate the hilarity of the situation, or spend your days all by your lonesome with four kids and a dog, but for me, this was priceless and made my Monday just that much more tolerable.

Here are some other notable moments from the past few weeks:

Bowling:

(at first Leif found the lights and sounds too much)

But, then he decided it was all good.

Playing outside:

Waiting in the car for Elliot to finish up his gym class:

Potty training:

Singing a little Guns n' Roses:

Playing dress-up to the tune of "I Like Big Butts"

 and channeling our inner nerd and wearing sweater vests to church:

Yep, I really like our kind of monotony.

A House Full of Laughter

Yesterday, Leifer giggled and my heart burst open! There is nothing I love to hear more than the blissful, belly laughs of a wee baby because you know that the only thing that lies behind them is sheer joy and contentment. 

Leif, we had been downstairs in the basement switching a load of laundry, and I had just carried you upstairs lying on top of the laundry basket. You were thrilled! You smiled at me the entire time. As I set you and the laundry basket on my bed, I could not break away from your loving gaze. Your smile makes me smile. I continued to talk nonsense to you as I always do and your smile grew larger and larger. I couldn't take it any longer. Your cuteness factor had just blown the charts and I was overcome with a deep desire to squeeze the stuffing out of you. I bent down and nuzzled your chin with my nose:

I could just eat you up . . .

And then you did it. Your smile cracked open the vault and out came the sweetest giggle I have ever heard. Your 11 pound body jiggled with excitement as I looked down at you in shock.

Your first laugh and you shared it me with!

It was the best early birthday present a mom could ever ask for. Thank you, Leif, for bringing so much joy into my life.

Speaking of joy and birthdays, on this day ten years ago, my other baby boy, Avery, was born. 

Avery, you are a handful. You have limitless amounts of energy. I marvel at how you can come home from playing an entire morning of soccer and still spend the rest of the day jumping and bouncing your way around the house. You have earned the title of House Comedian and as much as I try not to laugh at your antics, there are times when I can not hold it in. Like the other day, when Zoe's friends were over for supper and you, never missing an opportunity to entertain, put on a one-man comedy show. You danced, you drank pop through your nose, and you tormented (and probably terrified) the newbie who your sister may or may not have a wee bit of a crush on. As much as I wanted to be the adult in the room and reprimand you for all the times you crossed the line, I couldn't. You were just too darn funny! And then, when all the big kids were going out the door with dad following behind to drive them to the movies, you hollered:

Hey, Boy, good luck! You're gonna need it . . .

I thought I was going to pee my pants!

Avery, I love you with all my heart. Thank you for bringing so much laughter into  my life.

Avery and his young protege. Heaven help me!

I am one lucky lady to have all these handsome, smiling boys in  my life.

My Little Leifer

Homeschool lessons!

The other day I read Our Journey to Here for the first time since my little Leifer was born. It struck me how scared I was and how reluctant I was to get my hopes up. It seems funny now with Leif  so neatly tucked into our life that I could have ever been so anxious or fearful. I am grateful that those days are behind us, and I am beyond grateful that we were granted our happy ending after all. 

Leif, you are a tremendous blessing! Yes, you have wreaked havoc upon our life. Many days I fear our house may be swallowed up by the mountains of dirty laundry I can never manage to get caught up on, or that my brain will eventually disintegrate thanks to a scarcity of sleep, or that I may never fit into my jeans again. In spite of how challenging our days have become, I never tire of seeing your smiling face. I never tire of holding you close when you are crying from all your tummy troubles. I never tire of waking up at 3, at 5 and then at 7 to find you groggily reaching out to me and searching for a boob. I am okay with the fact that right now you are totally using me for my body. I love you Leif, and if there is one thing that I have learned from all those years I waited to hold you it is that as hard as a moment may seem it is only but a moment. In the flash of an eye it will be over, and to tell you the truth, I am not ready for this to be over. No matter how much laundry I have to do, or how tired I am, or how flabby my belly is, I am not ready to say goodbye to these moments; therefore, I hold onto them, I treasure them and I enjoy them. The laundry will eventually get done, I will eventually get a full night's sleep again and, okay let's be honest, my tummy will never be flat again, but you will not always be 11 pounds 6oz . You will not always sleep beside me and you will not always need me as much as you do right now. And so my little Leifer, for now, I will continue to kiss your cheeks off, to squeeze the stuffing out of you every chance I get, and to whisper I love you about a million times a day just because I can.

There is nothing cuter than baby toys strewn across your bed!

Okay . . .  this definitely may be cuter . . .

Leif, you were definitely worth the wait!

A Quick Catch-Up and then Tubby Time!

I am really kicking myself for not updating my blog more consistently over the past six weeks but man, newborns and Christmas do not mix even if they do provide some great photo ops:

Oh, and because having a newborn six weeks before Christmas is not crazy enough for us here at Shenanigans Inc., there was a new job for Mr. Level-Headed (hallelujah for paychecks and medical benefits!); yet another, and completely unexpected, flare-up for Baby Girl (grrrrrr . . . oh how I HATE colitis!); and an ice storm, which knocked out our power for forty-eight hours. Seriously, I wonder what life would be like with just a little less excitement. By noon on Christmas Eve, after spending about thirty hours in the cold and dark, with still far too much to do for Christmas looming before me and no means of being able to get it all done, I stood crying over the kitchen sink and thought for the first time in the six weeks since we have had Leif:

Maybe I really cannot do this.

Just then, my kids walked into the kitchen, and I felt ashamed of my momentary display of weakness, but I had had enough. I was done. Elliot hugged me and assured me that everything was going to be alright. Then Baby Girl started barking out orders (she is so much like her mama!):

Mom, we are going to Nanny's. Boys, start packing everything up. 

And they did. Within an hour, we were warm and cosy at Nanny's house, and I was sent to the spare bedroom for a much-needed nap with Leif. When I woke up, I felt much better. My optimism and energy had returned, and we were able to enjoy a wonderful Christmas surrounded by family and friends. 

Last year, after a picture-perfect Christmas filled with homemade goodies and handmade gifts, I sat in my living room surrounded by nothing but the Christmas tree lights and the stillness of a late December evening. In spite of how beautiful and magical our Christmas had been, my heart hurt. With tears in my eyes, I quietly pleaded with Heavenly Father for this to be the last Christmas I had to spend without my baby, my Thing 4.  For some unknown reason, that prayer, at that time, was answered, and so this Christmas, as crazy, as overwhelming, and as disorganised as it was, I tried to cherish every moment of it. I tried to keep it all in perspective and remember what a blessing it truly was.

THERE . . . we are all caught up, and now we can focus on how precious this little monkey is.

Tubby Time with Leif

If you have not had the pleasure of spending a good chunk of time with my little man, you may be shocked to learn that he is one royal, fuss mudget. He grunts, groans, whines and fusses all day long. This now infamous picture of him at Costco, pretty much sums up Leif's persona:

The Crank Meister

But there is one time of day when Leif is in his element, when he is happy and carefree, and that is tubby time!

In the tub, he practises his feats of strength and kicks up a ruckus. He splashes and squeals. This morning he discovered that if he squirmed down enough to put his feet up against the end of the tub, he could arch his back and push himself up out of the water. What a kid! I think my dad may be right: Leif's fussiness is simply a display of his frustration over the limitations of his six week old body. All he wants to do is run and play with  his big brothers, and I guess the tub is where he can train his body to do just that.

Don't worry, Leif. I fear it won't be too long now.