My 4 year old has a type.

I think it’s funny watching the development of little personalities. I never know what’s going to pop out of Bravo’s or Alpha’s mouths. Especially Alpha because he’s older and has just that much more vocabulary. I love watching who they’re turning into and what their preferences are.

My whole life I have had a “type.” The tall and wee bit scrawny are a minor part of it and I would happily give those up for the other parts. The biggest physical attribute that I’m drawn to is dark dark brown hair and big brown eyes. I like lips with a nice dip in the middle of the top lip. And I like nice bums. But really, who doesn’t?? So no surprise that Matthew has super dark brown hair, brown eyes, fabulous lips and a really nice bum. He’s also a big complete idiot. He’s not afraid to make a total dork out of himself just to make me laugh- even if we’re around other people.

I don’t remember when my “type” started. But Alpha already has one.

There are a couple of girls who walk by our house regularly. They’re young-ish, maybe early 20s. They both have dark long hair and are skinny and quite pretty. Whenever Alpha sees them and we’re outside, he walks around our yard and sort of follows them and says hi and introduces himself. Other people he doesn’t so much care about, but those 2 girls he LOVES.

We were talking about marriage the other day when he was fiddling with the rings on my finger. He said he wanted to get married and have a nice ring. I asked what type of person he would like to marry. His answer was cute. And then just plain funny. He said he wanted a nice pretty funny girl with long dark brown hair. And then he patted my shirt and said “and nice big things like you have.” Awesome. My 4 year old wants a pretty, funny, nice girl with dark brown hair and kmockers.

The End.

Motherhood is hard. I'm finding it really difficult this week figuring out what percentage of time, energy and attention to spend on each of three kids, my husband, my house, my parents, cooking, cleaning, and somewhere down there, me. And I feel like I'm doing a miserable job this week of taking care of any of those things.

Kids are tricky. Each boy has his own wonderful-ness, and each boy has his I-could-sell-him-to-the-gypsies-ness. This week there is much more of the later and less of the former. Or is it the opposite? I can't really think about what later and former mean right now...... Fevers and teething and allergic reactions and too much time at Grandma's and the challenges of each age is proving to be a lot. Everyone is cranky and clingy and aggressive and tired. Including me. Only there is no me that I can cling and cry to.

This week I can feel the power of being mom. When I am tired and suck at patience, the whole house follows suit. We are all over-reactive this week and we all just need to chill.

I don't even know what on earth this post is about. Nothing I guess. Just that sometimes being a mom is hard. I have wonderful moments, I have wonderful days and weeks. This week just isn't one of them.

for a friend

It’s just not fair. That’s what it is. The world can be so beautiful, so warm and inviting, and in the next breath so cold and cruel and… I don’t even know the word. Painful beyond imagining. When I hear of babies who are sick or who are just not going to make it my heart breaks in a way I never ever thought possible. Many of us have been there. Many of us have felt the deepest of grief, the loss of a child. I don’t even pretend to think that losing my Thomas was the most painful thing that could happen in the world or the worst thing that could happen to a child. It was however soul crushing. When I heard that I had a baby inside of me that would never open his eyes, would never fill his lungs, would never cry or laugh or cause me to threaten to sell him to the gypsies the air went out of the room. He had lived in me with his brother for 4 months. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I was stunned. And I lived in that state for a long time. And it never really got better. It got different, I’m not in the thick of it, I’m not in that protective fog and disbelief, I’m almost 17 months past that day and life carries on. But it is forever changed.

And so when I hear of a wonderful Mom whose heart is breaking, whose little beautiful boy will never breath or laugh or cry I feel sick. And I don’t get it. Why is it too much to ask that all babies everywhere are OK? Death happens, I get that. Why does it happen to tiny babies and little kids? Why can’t it happen to people who have lived their lives, to people who have made their choices, to people that aren’t so… tiny. A life so innocent, so new, so not even begun. To have that lost is cruel and sad.

And I wish I could hug that Mom. Hold her, cry with her, make her endless cups of tea and buy her a Costco case of tissues (or 2). I wish I knew the words to say. I didn’t know what I needed to hear then, and I don’t know what to say now. I wish you weren’t going through this. Know that you are not alone. That we are crying with you even though we are far apart. Know that the moms that have babies in the arms of God are aching for you, crying for you and your beautiful boy. Know that even as time passes and the days go on and this is all in the past, I will never forget your boy, I will never forget his name, I will remember him as I remember Thomas. Your boy will never be forgotten.

Doing something right

I have a LOT of days, especially lately, that I think I am doing a lot of things wrong. Dinner times are a loud stressful disaster, my house is just plain gross, my children spend most of the day beating on each other, they watch too much TV, don't eat enough vegetables, the list could go on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

But every now and then I get the feeling that we are doing something right. Like maybe my kid's WON'T be ruined for life with no social skills or ability to behave in the real world.

Like last night. We had a hodge-podge dinner, which is good because it's about the only dinner that I can actually enjoy because they're not being big giant freaks. Anyway. The dinner included a left-over fruit plate. And while my kids don't eat enough vegetables (well, Bravo anyways, Alpha loves raw veggies and Charlie throws most things, veggies or not off his tray. Gravity testing.) they certainly eat enough fruit. Berries in our house are gold. No, more valuable in gold. And I've spent the fortune on it to prove that they're worth gold.

Right, so we had a fruit plate and I just plunked it on the table and before I could blink the older two had snagged 4 strawberries each so I quickly grabbed 2 for Charlie and then noticed that somehow Matt had invoked his super ninja stealth skills and was munching on a strawberry. I'm very used to not getting strawberries in our house because they are the gods of fruit. SO Alpha was sitting at the table counting (always counting, never ending counting) how many strawberries everybody had. He looked at me and asked if I had eaten my strawberries already. "no, honey, I don't have any strawberries. You got 4, Bravo got 4, Charlie got 2 and Daddy got 1." He looked heartbroken. He had little tears in his eyes and said that he loves strawberries and I would to and Daddy should go buy some. I assured him I was fine and next time strawberries were on sale we would buy more. He then picked up one of his 2 remaining berries, walked over to me, kissed me on the nose, and said "here you go mommy, it will be delicious."

Like I said, we're doing something right. And that was the best tasting strawberry I have ever eaten.

life got busy/ my upcoming ultrasound

I hate it when I feel buried by life. It just all sort of... crept up on me. My job that I went back to simply so I can leave in 6 months, my 2 older boys in nursery school, Christmas, new years, sick children, more allergy fun (this now makes 3 serious allergic events in 6 weeks. Ugh- this is not a good track record. But at least only one required the hospital.)

And I am feeling a little over whelmed. I want some time back. I want to be able to write on here more. I think it's good for me. Good for my brain. Somewhere where I am only known as "Chrissy" and can't be googled by my actual factual name. Where I can write about my struggles, write about my grief, write about my sometimes disappointment with life.

I want to have a cleaner house. I want to start baking again. I want to have more time to knit. I want to have time to focus on this little tiny baby inside of me and to get excited.

Really what I'm thinking about is my ultrasound in 2 weeks. I'm terrified. TERRIFIED. My last 20 week ultrasound didn't go so hot. Before Charlie and Thomas I though that bad things at 20 week ultrasounds happened to other people. You would hear the stories, but statistically it couldn't happen to me. Guess what, Chrissy? Statistics don't give a rats behind about you. They pick randomly and here you go. And now I know that bad things can happen to babies. They DO happen to babies. And now I know that I am not exempt from that. It can and has and could again happen to MY family. And There are a lot of bad things that can happen to babies.

I am so scared for January 27th. It's not that I think the same thing is going to happen as last time, I don't. But now that I know that not every baby is developing perfectly, and now that I've had it happen to me, I am just so scared for this baby. And maybe that's why I am still not excited. I mean, I am excited, but mostly the terror is over-riding the excitement right now. I think my brain is trying to protect itself. But really, if something is wrong, then I know I will just feel guilty because I wasn't excited enough about this child.

I want to fast forward. Or at least get a glimpse of life in a year. I want to know if we're all happy and healthy and living. I'm scared for this baby and I'm scared for Bravo. And I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of worry. I'm tired of feeling so emotionally on edge. I'm just plain tired.

Why do kids have to get sick? Why do babies have to not always be OK? Sometimes it just doesn't seem fair. Not just my kids and my babies, but all kids and babies. It makes me so sad to hear of babies not being hunky dory. And to imagine what the parents are going through breaks my heart.

Ok. Before I start spiraling I'm going to end this really focused and happy post now. And I really am going to try to write on this more.