Twins.

I want them. I don't get them. I struggle with this daily. Some reminder or another pops up daily and every day I try to not care. Try to ignore it. Try to be brave. To be strong. To love what I have. To be happy with my four (almost) perfect children. 

But it's not enough. It can never be enough. Because out floating in the heavens far beyond reach I have 2 twins. 

Charlie's twin and Delta's twin. 

I so deeply want them. Perhaps more than any mom with living twins has ever wanted twins. I ache for them. Every second of every day. But I pretend I don't. Because nobody gets it. No oft knows the loss and pain I feel. Nobody knows the secret lies I tell total strangers when they see the double stroller and ask if I have twins. Nobody knows that longing in my heart. That 3 years later I would trade every single living person in my life except for my husband and four living children for one of my lost twins. 

And I will forever live like this. Missing what should have been. What could have been. What almost was. Twice. 

Anytime life can start being fair. 

If I had a time machine and could talk to 20 yr old me

My last baby is on the verge of not being a baby. Sure, she still LOOKS like a baby with her adorable bald head. And she snuggles almost like a baby. And she almost crawls like a baby. But by definition she will be a toddler in 3 days.
My mat leave pay ended last week. And I didn't return to work. And I am spiraling into a bit of a panic. Her party is in 2 days and I CAN'T STOP MAKING TISSUE PAPER FLOWERS. And her cake has taken me hours to make (see previous post and the next 2 posts that don't exist yet). I am obsessing about her party like I have never obsessed before. It is for me. My baby girl is not a baby. My child bearing days are done. My nursing days are likely numbered. No more pregnancy, no more labour, no more births, no more sweet tiny baby heads to smell.

And I am a disaster. Now what?? I wish I could go back in time and tell myself what I should have studied so I could have a plan now. And then I think of all the things I wish I could tell myself. If only I had my time machine.

1. Those perky 20 yr old fantastic boobs that you're self conscious about? Flaunt 'em!!! Enjoy them! In 14 years you will miss them. Stop wearing 2 sports bras to try to squish them away. They are FANTASTIC.

2. While you're at it, wear a bikini. You are NOT fat. You are beautiful. You glow. Your tummy is just fine.

3. Be confident. Fake it. Stomp on all that enormous self doubt. Don't listen to that voice in your head telling you you're not good enough. And don't listen to the people that agree with that voice. You will learn this lesson eventually. Better to learn it early.

4. Your heart is about to be more broken than you can imagine. Do not let that broken heart dictate the decisions you make about dating and boys for the next 5 years. You ARE love-able. You WILL find somebody that you love that also loves you back. You will be cherished by somebody that you also cherish. And it will be wonderful. You will spare yourself and a lot of other people a lot of pain if you learn that lesson.

5. Stop wasting your time in school learning Chinese in the off chance it will make that boy love you. It won't. He doesn't and nothing will change that. Ever. Go learn something useful. And since you have NO idea what you are passionate about (and no, that boy doesn't count. You won't marry him. And you will eventually be happy about that) go take occupational therapy specializing in sensory processing. Or midwifery. Either way you will love it.

6. When you see moms bottle feeding, just can it. That silent judgment of yours? Knock it off. Karma, dear Chrissy, Karma. Also, cut your mom some slack. Still move across the country to run away from her, that's a good idea. But she tried. She really did. And one day when you are up to your ears in little kids and all their stuff you will understand. You will have these "aha!" Moments that make her human. That shed light on her terrible coping skills. She certainly wasn't perfect. And you aren't, either. You will stumble constantly as a parent. And you will wish you tried to understand her a bit more.

7. Eat. Eat whatever delicious things you want. I won't tell you why, because nothing can prepare you for your second child, but enjoy food.

8. You WILL survive your first birth. You won't feel like you will, but you will. It will be easier if you learn to stand up for yourself now and find your voice now. Practice now and it will go better. And if it doesn't, please please please reach out for help.

9. You will also survive your second child god knows how, but you will. And he will bring you so much joy and so much heart ache and he will be worth it. You find the depths of your heart and humanity with that one. You face hurdle after hurdle, and again you find your voice.

10. Your fourth child? Run with it. Stop crying about the pregnancy when it happens. Because she's a fantastic little girl.

11. Your third one will also bring you to your knees many times over. But he will have these eyes that you will fall into and never escape.

12. Everything will be ok, 20 yr old me. You will fall on your face, you will hurt a lot if people, you will be hurt. You will be ok.

Now if only 50 yr old me could come talk to 34 yr old me I'd be golden.

The perfect birthday cake and frosting

It has taken me four full years to perfect the white birthday cake and frosting. The chocolate cake is fine. Easy, even. But the white cake...... Oh the white cake! I have tried so many. I have tweaked, altered, started again, stomped my feet, screamed, and tweaked some more.
And I did it.
The perfect egg free dairy free soy free white birthday cake. And it tastes amazing. You can't tell that it is not full of eggs and butter.
The key? Beating. You beat this cake to total and utter death, then beat some more. Best if you have a stand mixer. Otherwise it's hard to beat it enough and your arms gets REALLY tired using a hand-held.

So here's the recipe and method. I will post the frosting soon and then photos of Delta's cake on Monday. (How is delta turning one, exactly??)

1 cup vegan becel (or whatever butter-type ingredient you prefer)
2 cup + 2 T sugar
1 1/2 t vanilla
1/3 cup egg replacer mixed well with 1/3 cup hot water (or 4 eggs)
1 cup rice milk (or.... You get the idea)
2 2/3 cup flour
2 t baking powder
1/8 t salt

Preheat oven to 350 and line 2 8 inch pans with parchment.
In the bowl of your stand mixer beat becel and sugar for a good 5 or more minutes. It needs to get nice and fluffy.
While it is beating combine your dry ingredients and mix with a fork.
Keep letting the mixer mix.
Add vanilla, beat for a couple more minutes.
Add egg replacer mixture.
Beat some more. Just keep beating.
Add 1/2 c milk, then 1/2 of dry, then half if milk, then rest of dry MAKING SURE YOU BEAT REALLY REALLY WELL between additions. While you're doing this it seems like an excessive amount of beating. It's a good 20 minutes or more of running that mixer. (Like I said- you can do it with a hand mixer but your arm gets tiiiiired).
Pour into pans. Bake for 50 minutes until top springs back when lightly touched and a toothpick comes out clean. Cool in pan on rack for 10 minutes, then cool completely on rack.

Seriously. Make this cake. You will not be disappointed. As far as allergy friendly cakes go, this is the best I've had. (Unless you're allergic to wheat. Then just never mind).

It's that time again....

(no, not time to change your underwear. Thank you, Animaniacs)

It's allergy testing season. Last year it was in November. This year I didn't really want to make the appointment so it's a few months later. And you know why I didn't want to make the appointment? Because then I get the results. And then I feel defeated by allergies. Again. How many times can I feel defeated by them? How many times can I plead with them to just go away?

I'm having a little bit if a meltdown this very second. I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm feeling sorry for Bravo. I'm angry that we have this fear and these limitations in my life. You know what I want to do? Tell my 3 year old that we've had a crapy go of things and then take him out for ice cream. But that would kill him. Or maybe we could eat at the food court. Nope. Death. Alpha gets to go on play dates without me. His friends grandma took him and his friend to McDonalds. Bravo will never get to do that. Will not get to go to a friends house for lunch. Will not get to do a lot of things. Because his body hates him.

I play this game a lot. The "if I got to pick 5 allergies to keep what would they be?" they would be: peanuts, tree nuts, shell fish, alfalfa, and clover. And really that's far more than 5 because there's lots of kinds of nuts and lots of different shell fish. But that list is only half (well, less than half) of what we have to avoid.
It's a pointless game. But I play it anyways. If I got to pick just one to outgrow hands down it would be milk. That's a whole food group! But I'm pretty sure that milk will be a life long allergy.

We were given the option of challenging soy this year. But I don't have it in me to put him or us through that. Nothing else has improved. So I'm thinking this years challenge if we were to go through with it would end like last year's challenge did. Badly.

I try to console myself sometimes with "it could be worse". But that doesn't actually help. Then I try to just suck it up and say "it is what it is". But that's obvious. And doesn't help.

So I keep riding this emotional roller coaster 'cause I have no choice.

I'm now trying to figure out how to navigate bravo through this. He's getting.... I don't know. Angry I guess. Angry about his allergies. He states that they're not fair. He makes up songs about forbidden foods. He tells me that he will just pretend that he's not allergic. He straight up told me that he wasn't going to have allergies anymore and then touched alpha's hand (which had milk on it). I don't know how to parent him through this. I need a guide book. Or maybe I'll just blindly grope my way through this and then write my own guide book.

Ugh. It's midnight and I need to sleep. But on these nights sleep is hard to come by. And this is why I didn't want to do his stupid annual test. Because even though I KNEW that nothing would be outgrown it turns out I had buried hope. That has now been smacked into my face like a pie.

mugs of life

I'm pretty sure anybody who has read more than 3 of my posts is fully aware that I am a giant dork. Especially posts about me instead of my crazy family.

This will reinforce that.

There was a time in my life that wasn't great. I had compromised on a lot of things about me. I had let go of things that made me me. The result was a depressed Chrissy in a bad marriage who had totally lost herself in life. But you know what really stands out about that period in my life?

All of my mugs matched. The mugs matched each other and they matched the saucers which matched the plates which matched the bowls and I hated it. First thing I did when I started to get my brain back was to go to the thrift store and buy 4 mugs that made me happy. One of Matt's favourite shopping hobbies is going to thrift stores to buy mugs or glasses for me. We have some gooders now.

One day I'll do a drinking glass edition, but I'm going to start with the mugs.

I love that they don't match. I love picking out my
Mug based on my mood. I love that some of my mugs have stories.

Like this one.
Matt and I went to north Dakota a life time ago to visit a friend and I told her I thought the mug was fun. So she created an elaborate plan that included transferring her water to 3 different cups and mugs and eventually got it in her purse and stole it for me.

Or this one. It just makes me happy. Because sometimes I'm in a "Hello, World" type of mood. And it was $0.75 at goodwill but the lady saw it was chipped so I got it for a quarter. Score!!!

This one Matt loves. I think it's the ugliest thing in the history of ever and I refuse to drink out of it.

 

These ones..... Every 2 years at winners we have found a Beatrix potter mug. If the trend continues 2013 will bring the next one.

These 2 are my comfort mugs. Ones that suit a rainy day or a day when I'm just sort of crumby.

 

This one, why does it have a cow on it? A guy I used to support gave it to me at Christmas. I think it's from Dollarama.

 

This mug makes me happy. It has owls on it which make me happy. Alpha and Bravo have decided that these owls are our family. 4 babies of varying sizes, and a mommy and a daddy owl. When they're sad or sick this is the mug they want to drink out of.

 

And then there's this one. Bordering (or has it crossed the border) of questionable stereotypes. And just really really funny. I rescued it from work. It had been chosen as the mug that nobody would want to drink out of and was used instead to hold the dish scrubbers. So I traded with a boring mug from my house and brought this beautiful doozy home. I think it's one of my very favourites.

 

 

 

Food Friday.... It came to me in a dream

Fried Oatmeal

I woke up the other night from my terribly fragmented sleep (thank you, molars, teeth, croup, and a 2 yr old who discovered he doesn't have to stay in bed....) and the dream I was having was wonderful. I had cooked bars of oatmeal, all crispy and fried, and rolled in cinnamon sugar and in my dream we dipped them in apple sauce. I woke up thinking "ooooh. That sounds good!"

So. I made them. And they're every bit as good as I dreamt! excuse the crumby photos. My camera battery was dead so I used my ipod.

ingredients (scale down as needed):

4 cups oatmeal

8 cups water

pinch of salt

 

1/3 cup flour (optional- but it's crispier if you use it)

 

1/2 cup sugar

2 tsp cinnamon 

(Maybe. I forgot to measure this. more or less depending on how cinnamonny you like it)

1. put oatmeal, salt, and water into a pot. bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 5-7 minutes stirring frequently until cooked.



2. Pour oatmeal into a 9x13 pan. If you make less oatmeal use a smaller pan. You don't want it too thin. Put in fridge and chill until cold and gelatinous.

3. remove from fridge, loosen edges with a rubber spatula, and plop onto a cutting board. cut into fingers. don't cut too wide or it's hard to brown all sides.

4. preheat griddle or frying pan, melt margarine or butter or oil on med-low heat. enough to melt the butter/ margarine, not enough to burn it. Roll cold oatmeal chunks in flour, then put in hot pan. brown on all sides cooking until golden and crispy.

 

 

5. Roll in cinnamon sugar coating all sides. Eat while warm and crispy. Yummy!!!!!

Better

My brain is in a better place this week. My last post.... I almost deleted it because I felt so guilty putting those words out there. But I decided not to delete it.
The truth is that I would not change my life. The truth is also that some days I think I would. And the bigger truth is that I can't so there's no point even thinking about the "if I could"s.
I went back to see my councilor. I was starting to worry About my sanity. I was wondering if I was going to sink into the deep dark hole that I was in after Alpha Turns out I'm just tired. Really really deeply tired. I'm not crazy. I need sleep. But that's still a ways off.
I don't even really know what I'm posting or why.
I feel guilty these days over everything. And I guess I'm trying to erase some of that. Justify my thoughts. Fix the impressions I may have made.
I feel guilty for my last post. I feel guilty for complaining. I feel guilty for not being as sad as I used to be about Thomas. I feel guilty for being lazy at home. I feel guilty for being a mom, like I was given these four perfect and beautiful children and I am failing them and will seriously screw them up.
I live a good life.
The last week the four of us (while the littlest 2 are asleep) have been crawling into our bed and reading Frog and Toad and some chapter books. And in those moments..... It does not get better than that. They are perfect moments. And I can't wait until all 4 are old enough.

Another pointless post.

One day. One day I will have more time to write on here. One day I will have clarity and the ability to write what is in my heart. One day my brain will not be full of holes.

Some days. Am I the only one?

Motherhood. I'm not convinced its all it's cracked up to be. Or maybe the way "perfect mothers" are portrayed to not-yet mothers is really damaging. I'm not sure I knew what I was getting myself into. I pictured the hugs, the bike rides, the soothing sad souls when they skin their knees or hurt their feelings. I pictured making sweet treats for smiling faces. Tucking wee ones into their beds and watching them sleep. I even imagined colic. And somehow romanticized it. How I would be so tired but would hold my sweet baby and sleep leaning against a running dishwasher if I needed to. I pictured weathering temper tantrums, sibling rivalry, picky eating habits, messy houses.

what I didn't realize is that it's hard. And exhausting. And all-encompassing.

Constant bickering, food battles, 6 years of sleep deprivation, temper tantrums that require restraining your child, mess on top of mess on top of mess, constant un ending worry for the safety of small people, bad manners, bad attitudes, sometimes it's hard to want to continue for even one more minute.

Ok. So here goes. Here's my truth. And I'm not proud of it. But I can't be the only one. Please, tell me I'm not the only one.

Sometimes the snuggles and kisses and love doesn't make up for all the other stuff. Sometimes the scale tips so far to the side of exhaustion and fighting and the desire to have just a moments peace that I wish I could re-wind the clock, go back to December 2006, and tell myself that I'm not actually cut out for mothering and should really not have babies. It's not every day I think this. Some days though I do. Matt's sister and her husband are childless by choice. And sometime I'm thinking they got it right. They can go where they want when they want. They have more disposable income. They get to keep themselves and each other as their top priorities. And some days they sound like the smart ones.

Most days I am grateful for my crazy life and my crazy kids and I wouldn't trade it.

But some days.......
So there it is.
Please tell me other people feel this way.

acceptance and love

The last two months have been rough. And I finally feel like we're coming out of a deep and heavy fog.

I was having a really hard time with the fourth baby. I loved Delta and wanted her, but I really didn't want the fourth baby. I didn't want the stress, the cost, the responsibility, the worry, all of the "extra" that each baby brings, I didn't want that. I simply did not want the fourth child. And I was having a very hard time reconciling that with wanting and loving Delta. And the guilt that came along with that was enormous.

I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. Like I was spiralling into a dark hole. I was not a happy person and was not pleasant to be around. Getting one kid breakfast was some days more than I could handle. Thank goodness that Matthew is a teacher as was off for the summer and could shoulder a lot of the responsibility.

Then came Thomas day. And I'm not sure what changed that day.
After we let the duckies go down the river and the kids had their rest times we went to my parents for dinner. My mom was shockingly well-behaved. She was calm and good with the kids and good with me. So much so that I even shared that it was Thomas day. This is not normally and are of my life I let her in. She was wonderful with it and didn't make it about her and her losses. The kids ate supper and were really well-behaved throughout dinner. They gave me huge hugs when we left them there for an overnight and nobody cried.

Then Matt and I went to a neighbourhood block party and just visited with people and it was nice. It got us out of our heads and was a lot of fun. We came home, put Lucy to bed, and then just chilled for a while before going to bed.

I felt.... un-phase-able. Like the world was calm and peaceful and OK.
And as Delta drifted off to sleep in my arms I looked at her and something in me broke. My fear, my pain, my misgivings, my panic, my guilt, all of it. And I looked at her and I knew she was a huge blessing. And I am blessed to be a mom to 4 beautiful perfect children on earth. And you know what? I WANT four kids. I WANT the love and the joy and everything else that comes along with that fourth child, even the tough parts.

Since that day the fog lifted.

Thomas continues to change me. I though I was changed by him as much as I could be, but he continues to surprise me. And on our second Thomas Day I became a real mom to Delta.

Happy Thomas Day

I was hesitant to say Happy Thomas Day because I was unsure if "happy" was the right sentiment but you know what? It is.

Today is a day we get to celebrate Thomas as a family. That we get to spend together and be glad we have each other and celebrate that we had another perfect and beautiful boy, if only for a moment.

There were a lot of tears last night. The one and only plan I had for today was to get cupcakes and balloons and let balloons go for Thomas. When I called to order the balloons there was no helium. Anywhere in the city. None. I lost it. Full on ugly cry with tears and snot running freely down my face. Matt held me and then suggested a few other things. I didn't want plan b though. Matt pointed out that life, and especially parenting, IS a series of plan Bs.

So my plan b had me on a hunt for rubber duckies. At 8:00 at night. On a Saturday. When most stores were closed. I finally found some and the girl at the store joking asked if there was a rubber ducky shortage or if I was just stocking up. I teared up and said it was for a memorial for my son. She teared up and asked a couple questions and gave me a hug and told me she would be thinking of me. It was nice.

Today we went to the river. We wrote messages on our duckies and took pictures and said happy Thomas day to each other and threw the ducks in the water. We sent out a ducky each for two other babies gone too soon.

Then the boys ran around in the woods for a while before we went to the near-by playground and had cupcakes. It was really really nice. Laid back, peaceful, fun. I think plan b turned out better than plan a could have.

So happy Thomas Day. And if you see a ducky in a river, think of my Thomas.

Two years

The two year mark is rapidly approaching. Sunday will mark the day.
I have mixed feelings about the anniversary. But mostly I'm sad that I am the only one here that remembers. I told Matt I had some ideas about what we could do on Sunday and he gave me a blank look. I said "august 26th?" and the blank look continued. I said "Thomas" and he immediately apologized and said we could do whatever I wanted. I know mothers aren't the only ones that hold grief, but it sure does seem like we carry it differently. And more prominently. I'm sad that nobody in Thomas' family other than me knows the date he died. Or rather, the date we found out he died.

Planning on celebrating Thomas' life now seems a bit more complicated. Delta will also know that she started out as a twin, but I don't know how to explain why her twin does not hold the same place or weight in my heart as Thomas. Her twin does not have a name, does not have a date, likely will not have a special remembrance. Or perhaps it should. I don't want her to feel like I love Charlie's twin more (and therefore Charlie himself) than I do her. Or perhaps I'm over thinking this.

I find I overthink things a lot just prior to these anniversaries.

I also have a hard time with believing everything else will be OK. I wonder if it's only a matter of time before Charlie goes to be with his twin. If Charlie sleeps in my mind jumps to worst case scenario. When in reality he was just really tired. Crappy things have happened in our family and I know we are not exempt from more crappy things.

I spent a lot of time in the middle of the night last night thinking about Thomas. I find my hand STILL goes to my belly when I think of him because that's the only place I ever held him. I wonder how our lives would be different. I wonder how Charlie would be different. I wonder if Delta still would have arrived.

So many what ifs. But they don't change anything. So I hug my babies and plan a remembrance for the babies I don't have. Maybe we will add Delta's twin into the day. Then Thomas can celebrate with his sister.

A sibling for Thomas

Delta is here at last! One of the bigger shocks is that she's, we'll, a she.
Delta has come with so many surprises. Her being here, her being a girl, her giving Thomas a sibling.

After deltas whirlwind of a birth (I think I preferred my 32 hour labour with Bravo over my rocket ship labour with delta) the placenta came out. And then the second placenta came out.

My suspicions were confirmed. The heavy bleeding and cramping very very very early in the pregnancy was another twin loss. The placenta for her twin developed, but the baby did not.

I'm still unsure how I feel about this. The emotions of losing this twin are very very different than losing Thomas. I think in large part that is because of timing. I have ultrasound photos of Thomas' tiny body while Charlie nuzzles into him. He was a fully formed and perfect little baby. Deltas twin, it's different.

Life seems so unfair though. Why did I conceive twins twice just to lose one both times? Why was my body not sufficient to carry those little lives? Why do I have 2 babies growing up without their twin? It's just not fair. Other people get the excitement of twins. I get the loss.

Shortly after delta was born, Matt went to get us some breakfast. While he was gone I was alone with delta. I started thinking about her as I snuggled her tiny body and smelled her perfect head. My thoughts drifted to the news of her twin and then settled on Thomas. Big moments in my life often have my thoughts drifting back to Thomas. I stared out the 3 floor window of my hospital room and watched as the sun was coming up. O

Out of nowhere two white birds came up from the ground, swirled and danced and intertwined around each other and flew up into the sky, twirling and dancing round each other until they were out of sight. And at that moment peace filled my heart. My two twin spirits were together, safe, dancing and happy. Delta lost her twin and Thomas has a sibling. Hoooo. Here come the tears.

Goodbye, my two perfect angels. Look after each other. And if you can, look out for us. And one day, when I meet you, I will hold you and squeeze you and give you a whole lifetime of love in one moment. You are my babies, and I love you with each and every beat of my heart, down to the depths of my soul.

Dear baby sleep gods

We have been through a relationship not once, not twice, not thrice, but FOUR times now, and I am beginning to think you don't really like me. If you did I would not currently be on the basement couch at 3:51am in the most uncomfortable position known to man reeking like baby barf because I have projectile vomit in my hair and all down my shirt while a baby sleeps on me for no more than 47 seconds at a time unless I sway my body and pat her bum aggressively.

Could we at least make a deal??? Do you deal??? I get through whatever it is you keep throwing at me and then at 6 months all my children sleep through the night each and every night??? Please????? How about you just say yes to give me hope do I don't plunge forks into my tired burning eyes???

The next chapter

I am so ready to welcome this little baby into my arms and into this world.
I am so ready to start the next chapter.

This pregnancy has been hard. It started unexpectedly, nearly didn't make it, almost started pre-term labour, and is now overdue. The emotions of this pregnancy have been beyond overwhelming. After losing Thomas my optimism has been shaken. I used to sit in the baby room and dream. I now sit in the baby room and fight back tears, working very hard to convince myself that I WILL bring home a healthy baby.

I am looking forward to the next chapter because in this part the baby will always be wanted. I feel sad that the child was not planned. That when I found out I was not happy. I feel sad that I cried for 15 weeks about being pregnant. It hurts my heart that I couldn't and didn't cherish every second I knew about this sweet child.
In the next chapter, from the second it arrives, it will be wanted and loved and cherished. Delta will know nothing else.

I'm looking forward to the next chapter, knowing that delta will complete our family. I am thrilled to see how the older three react to the new one. I am beyond excited to watch them grow up together. I'm excited to have a newborn to snuggle ONE MORE TIME and then excited to leave the baby stage behind us.

I am SO excited to not ever be pregnant again.

So Delta, come on out. Please. I love you and can't wait to meet you and snuggle you. And you're late.

So bring on the baby, and say goodbye to the belly.

random little things.

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?

"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.

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.

the things that I say

Do you ever hear yourself saying something and then question your own sanity as the words are coming out? And as the words escape your lips you think to yourself "what the heck am I saying???"?
I do. Regularly. Since becoming a mother I say really dumb things. Often.

Hear is this morning's breakfast conversation between Alpha, Bravo, and I. (Insert random dino roars from a 15 month old throughout the conversation.)

Alpha- "I turned you into a robot with my bagel remote control!"
Bravo- "No! No! I don't want to be a robot!"
"Alpha- "You are! I used my super bagel remote and turned you into a robot. Ha ha ha!!"

Bravo' "Moooom! (large tears streaming down his face at this point) Alpha turned me into a robot with his bagel remote".
Me- "Bravo, you are still a boy." "alpha, you need to ask permission before you use your bagel remote control to turn people into robots because you might hurt somebodies feelings."

What???

In no other time, place, or context would that even make a little bit of sense. I have lost my mind. It has been eaten by small people.

It broke.

My self protective mechanism broke. And I am both happy about this and deeply annoyed. Annoyed because the thing about self protective mechanisms is that they protect. And I need that.

As of tonight I realized how deeply and badly I want this baby that is growing rapidly inside of me.

I know that sounds dumb. Of COURSE I want my own baby. But I honestly thought that I didn't. For a really long time. I wanted Thomas back, not this "replacement baby". I mean, of course I wanted everything to be ok. I just didn't think I really wanted this child. And I was hoping that when it's born that the feeling would change.

And now I find myself here. Deeply in love with this little creature who is sticking its fist into my cervix and foot into my ribs at the same time. And deeply, badly, achingly wanting it.

And here's where the problem comes in. I'm TERRIFIED. what if Delta isn't ok? I know now all too well that it happens. That babies don't always make it. My heart is still so broken over Thomas. Things don't always go according to the "happily ever after" plan.

I went to the midwife last week and I was measuring 28 (at 30 weeks) which is the same as I was measuring at 28 weeks. So she had me come back yesterday. And I measured 27. So between 26 weeks and 31 weeks I went up 1. Likely it is because baby WAS head down and stretching up madly and is now sideways (allowing for the cervix punch rub kick ninja moves) so my uterus is being stretched more sideways and not up. But to be sure I'm off to fetal assessment next week.

I'm not REALLY worried. But this seems to have broken my mechanism. And I didn't realize the comfort that it was providing. Now I am left with sheer terror. Much less comforting.

So bring on the ninja moves, little baby. Because if you can make 4 spots hurt all at the same time chances are you are doing ok.

The un-expected side-effects of having a severely allergic child.

Obviously having bravo and his allergies in his life has changed me as a parent and as a person, in a lot of different ways. But I’ve noticed one change that I would never have thought about. And I’m not alone. Matt has the same problem now.

We cannot watch TV or see an add or go to a conference or see a new restruaunt without thinking of Bravo. And his inevitable death if he consumed whatever it is that is being promoted.

You know that stupid Philly Cream Cheese commercial? “spread a little love, today, spread a little happiness blah blah, something neener neener to remember” (I’m good at lyrics, can’t you tell?) wait…   that’s the song. Not the commercial, but the real full song. And I just listened to it and I WOULD think it was a happy cute little song that I would add to my “bobby head music” playlist IF…..
if I didn’t think of stupid cream cheese every time and if in my head the words didn’t change to “spread a little death today, spread a little death to Bravo, make it a shitty day to remember”. But seriously, that’s what goes through my head. Every single time I see the commercial. Because yes, the food does look delicious. And I would LOVE to cook with cream cheese! But, and this is a big hhuge BUT, it would kill bravo. In about 12 seconds. So, um, they can keep their love.

I sit here at work and I just ate a cream egg (I keep hoping they’re going to be good like I remember from when I was a kid and then I just feel nauseated from far too much sugar in one mouthful. Which is saying something because I could eat a spoon of straight sugar and still think it’s not enough sugar) and as I bit into it and the gooey mess dripped down the side I thought “how many ingredients in this would kill Bravo?”. I can’t help it. It’s this automatic reaction I have.

Matt went to a conference the other week and there was the typical lunch buffet. He got to the first part with the fruit plate and the cheese platter and the meats and buns etc etc etc. And he made a random passing comment to his co-worker of “huh, Bravo wouldn’t be able to eat any of this” The co-worker, who knows all about bravo, asked why he couldn’t eat the fruit. Matt’s answer? “look at what you’re doing”. She had used the same pair of tongs from the cheese buns on the strawberries. Making the whole platter of fruit death-on-a-plate. A light went on int the coworkers head and she asked if there was ANYTHING that our boy would be able to eat. And the only thing there that would be safe would be a banana from the bruised basket of fruit at the end. Worst case is he would get a rash on his hand from cross contamination on the peel. He could eat the apple if he took it to the bathroom first and scrubbed it with soap. But anything else…. Nope. Milk, mayonnaise, cheese, soy, beans, nuts, peanuts, they lurk everywhere. They’re the buffet’s best friend. He would be able to do the plain salad if he talked to the hotel first and ensured proper preparation conditions and then he got to the salad before anybody else put dirty tongs into it. But that would be taking a big risk. Sad when eating lettuce could be the end of you. Or at least cause a lot of pain and drama and an ambulance bill.

I don’t like this change in me. I don’t like feeling bitter at all the yummy commercials. Campbell’s mushroom soup? Death. I hate food commercials.

I was watching some really crappy cooking show on Shaw TV or something lame like that and I watched the first 45 seconds. And in that 45 seconds they used 5 different ingredients that Bravo is allergic to. So I turned it off.

Every time I hear about something, like a family road trip, all that goes through my head is the logistics of that with a bravo-type kid. No starting the road trip with McDonalds drive through. Meals…. That terrifies me. The amount of research we would have to do first is insane. Where along the whole route could he eat? And where near that is the nearest emergency facility? How far is the longest stretch between hospitals that could care for a small child in anaphylactic shock? Divide the longest time by 15 minutes and that’s how many epi pens we would need to have on us. Is the break between hospitals 45 minutes? Then we need 3 epi pens at all times. Because if he somehow gets bad things into him, an epi pen may only last 15 minutes before he needs another shot or other emergent care.

I can’t go through normal life, seeing and hearing every day stories, without thinking of how scary this world is for a little tiny child with big huge allergies. And I worry for him when he is older if he doesn’t outgrow this. Band trips? Sport trips? Road trips with friends? TERRIFYING. And likely not possible.

I wish this wasn’t a constant presence in my head.

Or that at least the allergic community would start making and advertising affordable and safe foods for people with multiple food allergies.

And I also wish I lived in Montreal. For this one reason.

I would LOVE to take bravo out for supper.
A restaurant that bans all the major 8 food allergens. Amazing. That doesn’t count legumes aside from soy and peanuts, but I’m pretty sure they would take all precautions when informed. And they carry epi pens in case a diner has a reaction and doesn’t have their epi pen on them. That amazing!!

Maybe one day I’ll win a whack load of money and then get the people who made this restaurant to do a franchise in Winnipeg. If you do live in Montreal, you should go there and then tell me how it is. And if the food is good despite being made of all Bravo-friendly things.

Oh- My new answer to people when they find out about Bravo’s food allergies and then ask “so what DO you feed him?” It's “soylent green” And I’m delighted when I get the response back of “it’s people!” instead of the confused look I normally get.

What am I even talking about any more???