First... 3 posts in three days!!! Go, Chrissy, Go! Must try to make some pre-post ones for the 6 months when I enter the haze of new baby.
Second.. following yesterdays post I found this and it cracked me right up. Especially the part about the little messy lunatics. That pretty much sums up everything. As does competition. Getting them dressed usually happens to "who can find their socks first??" and it works. Go me!
Third... boys are strange wonderful little creatures. But why oh why oh WHY is everything more fun naked??? We brought out the water table today. And I left the big 2 outside while I put Charlie for a much-needed nap. And in the 3.5 minutes it took to do that I came outside to see 2 very naked boys scrubbing themselves with the freezing cold water. Yelling "scrubby scrubby scrubby!!" sigh. It seems that my frequent "penises belong inside pants and it's important that we don't share them with the neighbourhood" talks have yet to sink in. Do little girls have the same affinity for being naked?
Thursday 31 May 2012
Wednesday 30 May 2012
"you poor thing"
Pre-note. This may have accidentally turned into a slight bit of a rant.
This post is dedicated to the idiotic woman I ran into at the grocery store the other day. After having a FANTASTIC day with the boys, we went to the grocery store to buy Popsicles. Charlie was in the kid part of the cart with a soother in one hand and a granola bar in the other, Bravo was in the grocery part of the cart watching all the people, Alpha was nattering away walking beside me, and Delta was making my belly huge and noticeable. Not one squawk, yell, run, or any other unruly behaviour from any child. We were, after all, there to get Popsicles. And if there was any sort of silliness I would have hauled them out. But they were being fantastic. The model of perfect children. This does not happen often, my friends. Hence, Popsicles.
Then came The Woman. Maybe early 50s, maybe late 40s. She took one look at my belly, saw my 3 wonderfully behaved boys, and said to me, I kid you not, "Oh, you poor thing. You sure have your hands full, don't you. You poor thing." She had such a look of pit in her eyes. And it both infuriated me and made me so sad. How dare she!! I could see it if all three were screaming or throwing things or running away (but again- we wouldn't have stayed had that been the case). What did she want me to say? "You're right. I hate my life."? I just forced a smile and said "I love it". And then turned around and ignored her.
I can see why some people want smaller families. I really can. More time for one or two kids. More attention for each of them. More activities. More focused-ness. More disposable income. More opportunities that rely on that disposable income. Less chasing small people. Less exhaustion (though I know moms of 1 or 2 can be just as exhausted- us moms of many don't have the monopoly on that one!), less time in diapers. Less 3 year olds. Not being out-numbered. Not taking 987 minutes to get shoes and coats and bags to get out the door for a 37 second outing. Being able to work within societies definition of the "right" family. qualifying for a family membership to something that has a limit of 2 or very rarely 3 kids. I have yet to see a family membership that allows for 4 children.
But, you know, there are a lot of advantages to having a bigger family. Is "more" for each child always better?
I think the biggest reason we have a large family is to make family. That sounds dumb, but wait. I grew up with 22 cousins. Matthew grew up down the street from his. Both Matt and I are youngest of 2 kids. And neither my brother nor his sister have or will have kids. And you know what that makes? No cousins for our kids. And that makes me sad. But they will have each other. And there's a pretty good chance that at least 2 of the kids will have kids of their own. We are building family. Building connections.
With the limited income comes increased creativity on entertainment. And more saying "no" to a child's every whim. I think there is far too little of parents saying "no" sometimes. The kids will learn we have to save for what we want, and that we have to really really want what we get. And that sometimes boring things like food and cheap t-shirts trump the exciting things. Needs over wants. I'm hoping they learn to be grateful.
They will have to learn to help out, because there are a lot of people with a lot of needs. Alpha already helps tons with his 2 little brothers. Simple things like helping Bravo to put on his medic alert bracelet in the morning or taking off Charlie's shoes. Bravo helps out Charlie quite a bit, too. Charlie just throws things on the floor. But whatever. He's 1. They have such love and empathy for each other. And slowly they are learning that their actions affect others. Bravo runs out of the park gates to stand on the road to watch the street sweepers? We all go home. Alpha flings sand at some unsuspecting child? We all go home.
They are growing up connected. Connected to us, connected to their siblings. And that's huge. I won't always be able to drop everything to give a hug or find something or help with a shoe. But there are 4 other people in the family with arms and eyes and hands.
While Delta was a very big surprise I can't wait to see how he/ she completes our family. And I'm so glad I am the very very blessed mom of 4 fabulous children. So what if I'm tired. Who isn't? I am lucky to have all my beautiful kiddos, I am lucky to live in my chaos-filled world of snuggles and tears, trucks and bedtime stories. I could do without the dinner time battles, but minor details.......
So dear stupid woman, poor you. Poor you that you can't look at my children and see the good in the world. That you don't have 3 perfect little boys to show you just how exciting a caterpillar is (and what colour its guts are) and just how much love can fit into one heart. Poor you that you can't see past whatever your definition of the "perfect" family is (I'm guessing one boy and one girl) to celebrate with someone else. Poor you that you can't see how exciting a new baby is, even if it's the fourth. Poor you that you so easily pass judgement and speak it out loud to a mother in a store.
But poor me? Nope. Blessed me.
This post is dedicated to the idiotic woman I ran into at the grocery store the other day. After having a FANTASTIC day with the boys, we went to the grocery store to buy Popsicles. Charlie was in the kid part of the cart with a soother in one hand and a granola bar in the other, Bravo was in the grocery part of the cart watching all the people, Alpha was nattering away walking beside me, and Delta was making my belly huge and noticeable. Not one squawk, yell, run, or any other unruly behaviour from any child. We were, after all, there to get Popsicles. And if there was any sort of silliness I would have hauled them out. But they were being fantastic. The model of perfect children. This does not happen often, my friends. Hence, Popsicles.
Then came The Woman. Maybe early 50s, maybe late 40s. She took one look at my belly, saw my 3 wonderfully behaved boys, and said to me, I kid you not, "Oh, you poor thing. You sure have your hands full, don't you. You poor thing." She had such a look of pit in her eyes. And it both infuriated me and made me so sad. How dare she!! I could see it if all three were screaming or throwing things or running away (but again- we wouldn't have stayed had that been the case). What did she want me to say? "You're right. I hate my life."? I just forced a smile and said "I love it". And then turned around and ignored her.
I can see why some people want smaller families. I really can. More time for one or two kids. More attention for each of them. More activities. More focused-ness. More disposable income. More opportunities that rely on that disposable income. Less chasing small people. Less exhaustion (though I know moms of 1 or 2 can be just as exhausted- us moms of many don't have the monopoly on that one!), less time in diapers. Less 3 year olds. Not being out-numbered. Not taking 987 minutes to get shoes and coats and bags to get out the door for a 37 second outing. Being able to work within societies definition of the "right" family. qualifying for a family membership to something that has a limit of 2 or very rarely 3 kids. I have yet to see a family membership that allows for 4 children.
But, you know, there are a lot of advantages to having a bigger family. Is "more" for each child always better?
I think the biggest reason we have a large family is to make family. That sounds dumb, but wait. I grew up with 22 cousins. Matthew grew up down the street from his. Both Matt and I are youngest of 2 kids. And neither my brother nor his sister have or will have kids. And you know what that makes? No cousins for our kids. And that makes me sad. But they will have each other. And there's a pretty good chance that at least 2 of the kids will have kids of their own. We are building family. Building connections.
With the limited income comes increased creativity on entertainment. And more saying "no" to a child's every whim. I think there is far too little of parents saying "no" sometimes. The kids will learn we have to save for what we want, and that we have to really really want what we get. And that sometimes boring things like food and cheap t-shirts trump the exciting things. Needs over wants. I'm hoping they learn to be grateful.
They will have to learn to help out, because there are a lot of people with a lot of needs. Alpha already helps tons with his 2 little brothers. Simple things like helping Bravo to put on his medic alert bracelet in the morning or taking off Charlie's shoes. Bravo helps out Charlie quite a bit, too. Charlie just throws things on the floor. But whatever. He's 1. They have such love and empathy for each other. And slowly they are learning that their actions affect others. Bravo runs out of the park gates to stand on the road to watch the street sweepers? We all go home. Alpha flings sand at some unsuspecting child? We all go home.
They are growing up connected. Connected to us, connected to their siblings. And that's huge. I won't always be able to drop everything to give a hug or find something or help with a shoe. But there are 4 other people in the family with arms and eyes and hands.
While Delta was a very big surprise I can't wait to see how he/ she completes our family. And I'm so glad I am the very very blessed mom of 4 fabulous children. So what if I'm tired. Who isn't? I am lucky to have all my beautiful kiddos, I am lucky to live in my chaos-filled world of snuggles and tears, trucks and bedtime stories. I could do without the dinner time battles, but minor details.......
So dear stupid woman, poor you. Poor you that you can't look at my children and see the good in the world. That you don't have 3 perfect little boys to show you just how exciting a caterpillar is (and what colour its guts are) and just how much love can fit into one heart. Poor you that you can't see past whatever your definition of the "perfect" family is (I'm guessing one boy and one girl) to celebrate with someone else. Poor you that you can't see how exciting a new baby is, even if it's the fourth. Poor you that you so easily pass judgement and speak it out loud to a mother in a store.
But poor me? Nope. Blessed me.
Monday 28 May 2012
Chrissy sucks at blogging
Yup. It's true.
But I have excuses!!!! Mostly that I have no brain. That's valid, right??
I have very little to say right now, but if I don't do this now it will be another 6 weeks before I get around to it. And at that point I will be even more sleep deprived and my post is likely to make no sense what-so-ever.
I have officially entered the last stage of my last pregnancy. This is the stage of pregnancy referred to in our house as the "chocolate pudding stage". Meaning I eat chocolate pudding. A lot of it. Often. It has happened with each child. I don't intend for it to happen, it just does. Right around now. And it's sooooooo goooooood. I think it's highly related to the "heartburn can kill and it's going to be the death of me" stage of pregnancy. Because while that smooth cold milky chocolaty goodness is sliding down my throat it fights back the heartburn for a solid 3.5 seconds.
The end of this pregnancy is very different than the others. With the first three by this point I wanted the baby OUT. I was done, thank you very much, and the baby needed to just be born. This time, not so much. As much as I am excited to never ever be pregnant again ever, I am loving the kicks and the wiggles and the knowing that there is a little person in there. I am relishing each last little jab and rib shattering kick. And if it's inside I can't forget it at the park. Nor can it yell.
Charlie is now 16.5 months old. And today he walked 10 feet!! He took his first steps about 2 weeks ago. He operates on his own time table. I'm hoping that he's walking reliably before this one makes its grand entrance.
Alpha and Bravo are so pumped to met this baby. Bravo has decided that the baby shall be a boy named Luke (which would be a possibility if Matthew wasn't crazy and didn't hate every good name left) but he can't say Ls very well, so it comes out Wook. Which was quickly changed to Wooky. Which is the cutest darn thing I have ever heard and was almost enough to get Matt to change his mind. Almost. Alpha has decided the boy shall be named Dino. After some large construction vehicle in mighty machines demolition site. Of course. They haven't really talked about girls names lately. Go figure.
Thomas has been on my mind again lately. But it's mostly a good kind of on my mind. Some days it still really stings, most days I am just so glad that I carried him and that he is a part of our family even if he's not here. I had a good cry because he went to a birthday party last week. And it made me sad that he was there and it made me sad that she had her first birthday in heaven. I also met a Dad at a soccer game who was one of 4 boys and he was the youngest and the last 2 were twins and his name was Charlie. And I was just shaken because it was like I was looking at who Charlie should be in the future. But instead Thomas will be missing from his story forever. I would not change Thomas though. If I could change anything he would be here. But since that's just not possible I would never wish him away. He has made me a better person. More compassionate, more careful with my words and questions, more empathetic, more caring. We are rapidly approaching the 2 year mark. It's crazy. If somebody had told me 2 years ago what this journey would be... I don't know. I don't know what I would have thought. I still have yet to see his face in a dream. And I still look forward to that. One day I will. One day I will hold him. And until then I hold Charlie and know he is there, too.
This post has no direction. I suppose that's because I haven't written in 37 years.
If I try really really hard I will post again this week. Hopefully with awesome results and pictures of some sort of chocolate chip cookie cake creation for Matt's 33rd birthday. No, 34th. Wait. How old is he?? 34.
But I have excuses!!!! Mostly that I have no brain. That's valid, right??
I have very little to say right now, but if I don't do this now it will be another 6 weeks before I get around to it. And at that point I will be even more sleep deprived and my post is likely to make no sense what-so-ever.
I have officially entered the last stage of my last pregnancy. This is the stage of pregnancy referred to in our house as the "chocolate pudding stage". Meaning I eat chocolate pudding. A lot of it. Often. It has happened with each child. I don't intend for it to happen, it just does. Right around now. And it's sooooooo goooooood. I think it's highly related to the "heartburn can kill and it's going to be the death of me" stage of pregnancy. Because while that smooth cold milky chocolaty goodness is sliding down my throat it fights back the heartburn for a solid 3.5 seconds.
The end of this pregnancy is very different than the others. With the first three by this point I wanted the baby OUT. I was done, thank you very much, and the baby needed to just be born. This time, not so much. As much as I am excited to never ever be pregnant again ever, I am loving the kicks and the wiggles and the knowing that there is a little person in there. I am relishing each last little jab and rib shattering kick. And if it's inside I can't forget it at the park. Nor can it yell.
Charlie is now 16.5 months old. And today he walked 10 feet!! He took his first steps about 2 weeks ago. He operates on his own time table. I'm hoping that he's walking reliably before this one makes its grand entrance.
Alpha and Bravo are so pumped to met this baby. Bravo has decided that the baby shall be a boy named Luke (which would be a possibility if Matthew wasn't crazy and didn't hate every good name left) but he can't say Ls very well, so it comes out Wook. Which was quickly changed to Wooky. Which is the cutest darn thing I have ever heard and was almost enough to get Matt to change his mind. Almost. Alpha has decided the boy shall be named Dino. After some large construction vehicle in mighty machines demolition site. Of course. They haven't really talked about girls names lately. Go figure.
Thomas has been on my mind again lately. But it's mostly a good kind of on my mind. Some days it still really stings, most days I am just so glad that I carried him and that he is a part of our family even if he's not here. I had a good cry because he went to a birthday party last week. And it made me sad that he was there and it made me sad that she had her first birthday in heaven. I also met a Dad at a soccer game who was one of 4 boys and he was the youngest and the last 2 were twins and his name was Charlie. And I was just shaken because it was like I was looking at who Charlie should be in the future. But instead Thomas will be missing from his story forever. I would not change Thomas though. If I could change anything he would be here. But since that's just not possible I would never wish him away. He has made me a better person. More compassionate, more careful with my words and questions, more empathetic, more caring. We are rapidly approaching the 2 year mark. It's crazy. If somebody had told me 2 years ago what this journey would be... I don't know. I don't know what I would have thought. I still have yet to see his face in a dream. And I still look forward to that. One day I will. One day I will hold him. And until then I hold Charlie and know he is there, too.
This post has no direction. I suppose that's because I haven't written in 37 years.
If I try really really hard I will post again this week. Hopefully with awesome results and pictures of some sort of chocolate chip cookie cake creation for Matt's 33rd birthday. No, 34th. Wait. How old is he?? 34.
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