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.

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?

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.

Good jokes

Alpha is into trying to tell jokes right now. And Bravo is into copying anything Alpha does. Which makes for some pretty funny meal time conversations.

A-“knock Knock”

Me- “Who’s there?”

B- “Water Alpha!”

A- “No, knock knock”

Matt- “who’s there?”

A-“water”

Matt- “water who?”

B- “water Bravo!”

Me- “Bravo, let your brother tell the joke.”

B- “water Charlie!”

Matt- “not that brother, your other brother.”

A- “water new baby!”

Me-“you can’t water the new baby, it’s in my belly.”

B-“knock knock”

Me- “who’s there?”

B-“water new baby, Alpha, Bravo!”

A- “knock knock”

Matt- “Who’s there”               B-(at the same time as Alpha now dividing the conversation at the table

                                                         into 2 sets of crazy) “knock knock”

A- “Water”                              me- “who’s there?”

Matt-”water who?”               b- “water Alpha!”

A- “knock knock”                   me- “that’s a good joke.”

Matt- “who’s there?”            B-“knock knock”

A- “Water.”                             Me- “who’s there?”

Matt- “water who?”              B-“blahfgehbackaghwhacthshgjgyusa”

A- “Water banana!”               me-“that makes no sense. Eat your fish.”

A- “Mom, how does the joke go?”

B- “knock knock poop!”

Sigh. Everything always comes back to poop.

After about ½ an hour of this same ridiculous conversation in which bravo (while declaring repeatedly that he does not like fish) ate about ¾ of a salmon fillet to himself and Alpha (while declaring repeatedly that he does not like rice and wasn’t hungry) ate very little, and Charlie went between laughing at his crazy brothers and flinging little bits of rice, salmon, and peppers all over the floor, the 2 jokes finally did come out in more or less the right order.

Knock knock

Who’s there?

Water

Water who?

Water you doing???

Knock knock

Who’s there

Banana

Banana who

Knock knock

Who’s there

Banana

Banana who

Knock knock

Who’s there

Orange

Orange who?

Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?

But at the end of the day it all came back to one joke.

Knock knock.

Poop.

I love my boys.

a.b.c.d.e.f.g.h.i.j.k…….

l.m.n.o.POO!

Did you know that’s how the alphabet goes?? Ask Alpha or Bravo, they’ll tell you. Over and over and over. And shockingly it was Bravo who came up with this clever little gem, NOT Alpha.

We were sitting at the supper table having a normal conversation (well, as normal of a conversation as you can have with a 2.5  and a 4 yr old boy) and we were talking about what they should take for alphabet show & tell at nursery school. Bravo said he wanted to wear pajamas for show and tell, and I told him he had to wait until P day.

Do you see where this is headed?

“No, poo day!” ugh. Bravo, not THAT kind of p. Which led into a discussion about pee vs. pea vs. p. Which Bravo promptly ignored and then just started talking more about Poo Day. And L M N O Poo. And poo soup. And poo pancakes. And poo cake.

At that point Alpha joined in the fun and all I heard about for the remainder of the day was various words connected with the word “poo.”

And you know what Charlie was doing during this charming little supper? Killing himself laughing at his brothers.

Sigh. Welcome to your life, Chrissy. Want a poo pancake?

Move over, Keith Moon

If you know more about music than I do (which really is NOT a hard thing to accomplish) you will know about Keith Moon. The only reason I know about him is becasue Matthew is a music nerd with close to 600 cds wasting space on my bookshelf. And he talks about Keith Moon being the best drummer of all time ever. I think maybe he was in The Who? I might be wrong. Don't tell Matt. Anyways. Whenerb Matt says something about a drummer my answer is always "ya, but he's not as good as Keith Moon" pretending I know something about drumming. Or care. It usually gets me a slap on my behind.

So Matt has a little red drum kit that he loves but hasn't got to spend much time using the last 6 years. Becasue first we lived in a rental house that was 460 sq feet. I'm not kidding. No room in there to lie on the floor, let alone set up a drum kit. Then we moved and had a basement but then had kids. Alpha like the drums from about 1-3, but never really did that much with them. So Matt's been saying he's going to sell them (even though I know he REALLY doesn't want to, he just knows the space would be nice as would the money) and I (even though I would REALLY like to re-claim that basement space) keep telling him not to. And this is exactly why:

3 days ago Alpha had it in his head that he really really really wants to play the drums, so I said maybe Daddy would give him a drum lesson. Well, the second Matt came homw Alpha was on top of him begging for a drum lesson.So while I made dinner Matt gave Alpha a drum lesson. And I could hear the cuteness of it all. He was learning all sorts of actual techinacl things (that I know I can't do- Matt has tried to teach me and I'm just really really bad at understanding anything to do with rythem) and Alpha was doing great. And every now and then I'd hear the drums go crazy and Matt would yell "ya! Drum Solo!!" then it would be back to the lesson. After the third lesson Matt took Alpha into the living room and put on some loud annoying music music with lots of drumming and with Keith Moon. Alpha listened for a while making a comment every now and then about how it was really good and he really likes the drums and that the drummer is really really good at drums.... "but not as good as me." awesome. Move over, Keith Moon, here comes Alpha Jennings. Matt didn't have the heart to tell him that Keith Moon is in fact better at drumming but did say that with lots of practice that he has no doubt that could be true one day.

As an aside Alpha keeps saying that he and Bravo are in a band together. And that they have to go have band practice. I asked what the band was called. He looked at me like I was really stupid and said (and you could hear his eyes roll when he said it) "our band is called Rock, Mommy." Of course it is. Rock. At least you know what kind of music you're getting.

Personal accomplishments.

Go Me!!

In the last bit, I, Chrissy Jennings, have:

A)       Posted every single weekday starting last Tuesday. Truth be told I’m writing a few of them at work on Saturdays and them email them to myself and then post them all on delayed posts on Sunday night and then I don’t have to do anything for the rest of the week except to think of random stupid thing (like this) that I want to post! Yup- I’m awesome.

B)      Stopped biting my nails. And mostly stopped ripping my nails. I have not had nails since…… I think I was 6? I have a vivid memory of my dad clipping my nails down to bleeding because I scratched y brother’s face (he totally deserved it, they just didn’t see that then) and I don’t really think they had to get cut after that. Right- this is about nails. I have them!! I went to itch my arm the other day and was shocked because it kind of hurt because I was scratching with nails and not finger tips. Yay me!! It’s been 3 weeks and I only worried one nail off because I was in a movie theatre and it snagged and then I had 2 hours that I tried to deal but couldn’t so I ripped it off and then filed at home. I must get a file for my pocket.

C)       As mentioned in B., I went to a movie. Now, this may not seem like a personal accomplishment, but it is, my dear friends, it is. Because first- it was a grown up movie. No cartoons, no potty humour, no talking puppies, none of that crap wonderful stuff. Second- it was with my husband. It was a real date!! Grandma had the boys, we ditched for supper and then just went out the two of us. For three hours. Alone. Boo ya!

D)      Had three showers this week. Granted 2 of them were because I had the stomach flu and being covered in sweat and vomit is gross, but still. 3 is pretty good.( Actually as I write this it’s Saturday and I’m planning on showering tonight so....) let’s change this to:

I had 4 showers last week!!!!! Now, this may not seem like an accomplishment. But trust me, it is. I usually get 2 in, and on a really really good week (or bad- depending, sometimes getting pooped or peed on helps my showering cause) I’ll have 3. So 4 in one week is…. Really really awesome.

E)      Speaking of really awesome… I spent a whole day in bed mostly sleeping. And I read a magazine and played on my iPod touch and really didn’t move out of bed. I think I rolled out of it at 2pm and was back in it at 8pm, and stayed in it until 8:15 the next morning. OK. In my fantasy this is really awesome. How many times have I said ‘I just don’t want to get out of bed today”? A lot. HOWEVER… in my day dreams of spending all day in bed I am not barfing into a Ziploc container. And I can move without barfing. And I’m not doped up on gravol. But whatever, I can’t have everything, right?? Matthew was a wonderful man and took the day off so I could die in bed all day. I’m not sure how I would have handled life that day if he had not done that. And then after the kids were in bed he went to buy me some soup because we had run out and it’s all I wanted to eat and he was worried about the child inside of me getting only 2 crackers and a tin of ginger ale.

F)       I sat down and did crafts with the boys. This may also not sound like an accomplishment, but I felt like super mom. We made clouds out of a lot of glue, cotton balls, and cereal boxes. The clouds are now on their wall along with their name airplanes (red paint, white letters, and cereal boxes) to make their airplane room look amazing. Doing crafts with Alpha and Bravo is tricky. Because one paint brush is identical to the other way better than the other one, and one red crayon is bigger than the other, and one tinfoil plate has more glue on it and anyways, let’s race. Around the house. At top speed. Holding red paint brushes. Sigh……. But we did it!! And it was actually pretty fun and the world didn’t end and there was only a wee bit of bickering and the red paint came off the floor. Maybe as they get older I’ll get braver and do more. Thank goodness they go to playschool where they have somebody that has the energy to do crafts.

G)      I made a menu plan for the next 2 weeks. Sticking to it will require more planning and time to do a real shop- but I did it!

Mmm, I think that’s it. I know this all sounds pretty mundane and boring, and I guess it is, but it’s life as Mom for Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and almost Delta, and I love it. Well, I could do with less puke (mine and everybody else’s) but other than that, I have a pretty awesome life. And I have nails!!!!!

Oh wait... one more to add.

Friends

I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship lately. How they start, change, end, re-grow, all of that. Watching Alpha decide who his friends are is kind of funny. His favourite right now is a boy from playschool because we went to his house and he has the same Plo Koon Lego ship as Alpha. And, well, if you can’t base a friendship on Plo koon, what can you base a friendship on?? Alpha is really bad with names though, so this friend is referred to in our house as “my Plo Koon friend”. Which makes me laugh. At least it’s clear what this friendship is based on. Other of Alpha and Bravo's friends are only based on my friends and their children. And mostly that has worked out. Thankfully the Plo Koon friend has a really nice mom AND a child the same age as Bravo, too. And Charlie doesn’t really care yet, as long as there is a toilet to try to get into or stairs to climb.

Last year both Alpha and Bravo’s favourite friend is a boy who lives across the alley. Because we see him a lot and because he’s older than Alpha by 9 months so he’s SUPER COOL because he can do cooler things AND he’s in kindergarten.

Alpha also adores people littler than Bravo. About 18 months and under Alpha is just drawn to. He loves making other babies laugh or grab his face. He loves stroking their heads when they’re really little (but who doesn’t love stroking tiny newborn heads??)

So according to Alpha a friend is one of three things. 1: somebody who is smaller than you therefore looks up to you and adores you. Somebody who is not threatening and can’t take your toys. 2: somebody cooler and bigger than you that you can look up to and 3: somebody who you share something with.

Which really, that about sums it up. My heart is pre-breaking for when the boys have friendships fall apart. We’ve all been there and it sucks. Especially when you were the one that got dumped. Some friendships seem so solid and then just… go away. Some seem flakey and based on nothing, but those end up being the closest ones.

The beginning of my bestie friendship was when I was 8. That was 24 years ago. We were “I hate you, I love you” for a few years and then we went skiing together. We were on a t-bar and I said “my bum’s falling off” and she said “literally?” and it was the funniest darn thing and then that was that. No more “I hate you” swings in our friendship. And over the years we’ve drifted and come back. And then last 6 years we’ve grown super close because of joint experiences. We were there for each other when the rest of the world wasn’t. And now she’s married to my favourite cousin (boo ya!! She’s family now!) and we send each other stupid messages all the time and it’s funny. Her two year old (well, 3 in a month) told her this week that she has a stick up her butt. Because she wouldn’t let her have cookies for supper. Funny. But that has nothing to do with this post. It’s nice knowing that no matter what happens in my life or how dumb I get that she will be there and will be able to make me laugh in about two and a half seconds.

I had another friend (the besties cousin actually) that I was super close to. But then my life got messy and she couldn’t deal so she bailed. By sending me a letter covered in stickers. And then she never talked to me again. It broke my heart and really really confused and upset me for a long long time. We were friends for 17 years and then *poof* not friends. And I didn’t get to talk about it with her or ask her questions or explain my messy life or anything. She just… I don’t know. Got bored. Or busy. Or something.

Other friends we just drifted apart and nobody was hurt or anything. And I still have fond memories of them and if I ever ran into them I’d be thrilled and then it would probably fade away again.

I had 2 super close friends in high school. One has drifted in and out of my life (but mostly out- moving 2 provinces away does that) and one dropped off the radar and despite several attempts on my part to get in contact with her it just hasn’t happened. The one friend recently got a hold of me, and I’m loving it. It’s this weird link to my past, and now we have all these new things in common that we have yet to explore, but I’m hoping to. Because I’ve missed her like crazy. She was one of those friends that you could stay up until 5 in the morning with laughing the whole time. About things like tuna and meatballers. Because those are funny. At least they are to 15 year old sleep-deprived girls. She’s actually the one and only person who has met me in real life that knows this blog exists. And it’s kind of strange. 15 years ago she knew everything there was to know about me. All my secrets, all my faults, all my craziness, all the crumby and good things that happened. And then she didn’t. And now she does again. And it’s kind of comforting in a weird little way.

I miss when we were kids and finding friends was less complicated. It’s hard now to find friends. Good friends. Friends that I can talk to about more than my kids. (Although I do talk a lot about them because they’re what I do all day and all night and I love them like cake.) But it’s hard to find that connection. It’s harder than “Hey, you like star wars and I like star wars, wanna play chase??” There seems to be so many rules around friendships now. Share. But not too much. Talk about your family, but not too much. Ask questions, but not too many, be invested, but the right amount of invested. Over invested and you’re going to look needy and you’ll get hurt. Under invested and you look like a jerk. Call or make contact, but not too much. Put yourself about ¾ out there. Maybe a bit less. Do mathematical equations to figure out how much to share, and when and where.

Why do adults have to make things confusing? Hey, old friend, I’m gonna put it out there. I have missed you. And I think about you lots. And every time I hear “it’s that time again…” you know what the answer is. When I see kids painting on the sidewalk I think of you. When I see a tall girl and a short girl walking together I think of you. So at risk of being over-invested and too in-need of a re-kindled friendship, I’m glad you found me and I’d like to keep this up. K? By the way, old friend, I still can't listen to Bite the Dust without hearing "I'm adopted!" Turns out Freddy Mercury WAS adopted, so maybe there's something to our theory. At least he's proud of his birth heritage.

Yay us!!

Charlie officially has weaned. Not even a nip in the last week. And shockingly, I'm not sad about it.

When Alpha was born I WAS GOING TO NURSE-THANK YOU VERY MUCH. And then I became his mom and it all went to hell in a hand basket. After his rough birth I had a rougher recovery and by the time we got home, 11 days post partum, and I tried to breast feed, he just wouldn't. We tried. A lot. For 8 weeks. Which I know doesn't sound like a lot. But oh, it is. He would cry when he got hungry, I would lift my shirt, get perfect positioning, hold him to my breast, and listen to him shriek like I was killing him. I tried and tried and tried. Then once he was purple and screaming and so hungry and I was bawling I would put my shirt back and get him the stupid bottle and give it to him, resenting the bottle that soothed him, resenting the crappy nurses I had, resenting my body. Then I would get him settled some where, pump, wash the pump parts, wash bottles, change him, and then he would cry because he was hungry and I would get a 20 minute break before doing it all again. And again. And again. So I gave up on nursing and felt like a total failure and then just cried for 6 months. Super healthy, I know. I wouldn't let anybody else feed him because I and I alone was SUPPOSED to be able to feed him. I let Matthew do it because I couldn't say no to him. And it gave me a bit of a chance to rest my poor brain. As soon as Alpha turned 1 I took the bottles away cold turkey and was so happy to not see them again.

Then Bravo was born. Oh cranky, high maintenance, difficult, sweet little Bravo. Carried in his sling for no less than 13 hours a day. He did eventually nurse but it took 17 weeks for him to figure it out. In the middle of the night he would scream for 2 hours instead of latching. But ooooh- I was determined. And I at last found the help I actually needed. My midwife sent me to the best baby chiropractor ever and to the GOOD lactation consultants in the city (we have some pretty bad ones). And finally he nursed. And I was so happy it was working. He self-weaned at 14 months because I was 11 weeks pregnant. And he was as stressed about weaning as he was about starting nursing. Even though it was his idea. Drove me nuts.

SO when Charlie came out and just latched with no effort and never looked back I was shocked. Floored. Delighted.

Which brings me to the point of this post (do I ever have a point though, really??). We nursed for 12 and a half months. I would happily keep going, but he decided he was done. Which makes me happy. I didn't force weaning, he chose it because he was ready. (And because I have no milk because I'm pregnant. Again.) And in that 12.5 months he had a small handful of bottles, like maybe 4 for a total of 10 ounces, and he had no Formula. Zero. Not even one drop. And I am so proud of us. Proud of myself. Not because formula is evil (although formula spit up in the house would make Bravo really sick) but because we did it.  I nursed with no pain, no formula, no medications, no infections, no problems, until he peacefully decided to stop. And that is an amazing feeling after everything I've gone through trying to simply feed my babies. Hopefully Delta takes after Charlie. Delta, are you listening????

So yay us!!!

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.

hello baby belly, good bye brain

As my belly grows, my brain and it's abilities are shrinking. Which is a bad thing because I still have 27/28 weeks to go. I'm in trouble.

On top of being a petty criminal there are many things that have gone amiss lately.

top  5
1. brand new block of cheese in the cupboard
2. tried to unlock my house with my van key. And swore really loudly when it wouldn't work thinking that our door was busted.
3. went to put Charlie to nap and it wasn't until I tucked him in that I realized that he doesn't have blankets to tuck him in. And he sleeps in a crib not a toddler bed.... wait a minute... wrong room.
4. Wrote down a time and date for SOMETHING on a piece of paper. Only thing, I have no idea what that something is. So unless I figure it out I'm missing something on November 29th at 2:00pm. I've already called all the doctors to see if it was for one of us. Nope.
5. I made some pizza pops for lunch last week (yup, my stolen ones) and was really confused when i came back 2 minutes later and they were still frozen. Turns out you need to press "START" for the thing to turn on. Who invented these complicated machines anyways?.

there are a lot more. Involving things with the oven that are similar to #5, laundry in weird places, thermometers frozen (they don't work so well after that, those fancy digital ones. whoops.) but I think I've made my point.

I am so seriously in trouble for the next 27 weeks.

confessions on a Thursday afternoon

My name is Chrissy Jennings and I am a criminal.
Ok, not like a bad guy criminal who smoke ups and shoots people and skulks in the darkness. But a criminal none the less. Parenthood and it's accompanying stupidity has caused me to be a bad person, at least in the eyes of large supermarket and home improvement chains.

Prior to becoming a parent I shoplifted one thing. It was in grade 4. A pack of purple halls. What a lame thing to steal!! I felt so guilty though that I went to a different store, bought a pack of purple halls, and reverse shoplifted at the red rooster. Once I also ate half an ice cream sandwich at the back of the store before putting it back in the case. Also- grade 4. Not a good time of life for me apparently......

Since becoming a parent I have stolen: electrical tape, a 2L of ginger ale, and most recently a family size Rice Krispies and a large box of pepperoni pizza pops.

The electrical tape was shortly after Alpha was born. He was maybe 4 months and I had to run down the the local home improvement box store and buy some paint and other things. Alpha was getting cranky, I let him play with the electrical tape, he fell asleep, the tape fell to the bottom of his car seat bunting bag thingy and wasn't discovered until the next day. Whoops. The ginger ale was when Charlie was about.... lets say 3 months old. Matthew had a brutal flu, it was so bad that he refused to watch even one kid while I ran to the store to grab a  few things. I was cranky, also sick, feeling overwhelmed, and had 3 super miserable 4:00 kids with me. I grabbed what I needed and didn't discover the ginger ale tucked into the top of the cart beside the car seat until Alpha and Bravo were in and buckled in their car seats. And Charlie was having an apocalyptic meltdown. I was NOT going back in. I've been meaning to pay for that ginger ale since, but never remember when I'm there.

Then there was last week. The older two were and Granny's. I just had the baby (and Delta who has officially made me stupider than I've ever been in my entire life). I rushed around, spent a remarkable $362 on who knows what and then rushed to the car because it was 20 minutes past Charlie's nap time and past his lunch time and he was MAD. it didn't help that we had a dumb and exorbitantly slow cashier. Then after Charlie was in his seat and I had unloaded the top of the cart I noticed the pizza pops and Rice Krispies.  Shoot. Seriously though, the line took me 45 minutes to get through. And those people are crazy about checking to see if you have anything on the bottom of the cart (and now I know why...) but not this time. So I guiltily put them in the car, returned my cart, seriously thought about leaving my dollar inside for penance (but didn't) and then drove home. And ate pizza pops for lunch. I would tell myself that i would tell them next time that I forgot to pay, but chances of that happening are about -12%.

Sigh.

I SWEAR I used to be a good person. Watch out: I'm one stop short of cocaine and guns.

About me

So I'm going to write things about me. Chrissy jennings. Not that anybody (at all) cares but just because I feel like it.

1. My name is not Chrissy Jennings, but we've covered that before. I like having a fake name. It makes me feel..... special. Or really dorky. And really sneaky when I tell the too skinny girl in the store that my name is Chrissy but it's totally not. And then I just get my happy "I'm so sneaky" smile on and the chick thinks I actually like the dress that makes me look terrible and washed out and 75 pounds heavier than I actually am.

2. I'm awkward and shy and stupid around people and don't know how social skills work. I make comments to little old ladies who are being... interfering.... like "oh go stuff it you old bat" before realizing that my mouth actually opened and words actually came out instead of it being the inside thought it was supposed to be. I try to hide that I'm awkward and shy and don't know how to be around people, but it's really really hard. And sometimes I fail. Badly.

3. I like to knit. And I especially like to knit things that have to do with food. Because it's funny. I think most food things are funny.

4. Linked to number three is the person I am most jealous of in this world, Saxton Freyman whose job it is to make stupid things out of food and then take pictures of them.
     
Like those. And I own every book he put out plus some playing cards and I think 4 years of his calendars. Because I love him. And i wish I had done that first.

5. I know lots of people think their husbands are the best. And maybe they're right. but Matthew is the very very best for me. I don't know why he loves me, but he does. He loves me like cake, and that's a lot. And I love him like cake, too.

6. I also know everybody thinks their kids are the cutest. And they're wrong. Because mine are. Well, I've seem some freaking cute little girls at Alpha's play school. And they're the cutest girls I've ever seen. But mine are the cutest boys. Maybe because they all look ecaxtly the same and there's extra cutenss involved when there are duplicates- especially three little tiny people that have heads shaped kind of like lego men.. I love them more than bacon. And that's a lot, too. Because cake and bacon are probably my two most favourite foods in the whole world.

7. My first love is George Clooney, circa Return of the Killer Tomatoes and Sisters.   
He's still freaking hot now. I love him ALMOST as much as bacon and have since I was 12. And now I'm 32. I think 20 years classifies as true love. He broke my heart when he got in that car and died from the car bomb. Poor Falconer.

8. I regularly watch Top Gun and I regulalry cry while doing so. You think after all this time Goose would know about the jet wash and STAY AWAY. But nope, into the jet wash they go, spin spin crash and then he dies. Oh- who's up there? (the only correct answer is Cougar and Merlin adn Maverik and Goose.)

9. I like car racing movies. and heist-y movies. And for some reason people have not figured out that Edward Norton is evil. NEVER TRUST EDWARD NORTON, PEOPLE!!!! He is just trying to get all the loot for himself.

10. My fvourite time of day is nap time when all three babies are in their rooms and I get to do nothing. My least favourite time of day is 4:30 when everybody goes crazy and make me want it to be bedtime.

11. I like fall the best. It smells good, has no bugs, has crunchy leaves, doesn't make my face swell all gross, lets me wear sweaters and sneakers, and is just the pretiest.

12. I used to like winter becasue I have a nice warm home and hot choclate and books and baths and I can watch the cold world from my warm blanket on the couch. But then I had kids and now I am burried in a huge heap of mis-matched mittens (seriously, where are all the left hand mittens????) and snow pants and parkas and boots and toques and socks and scarves and some how I'm supposed to find time in the day to dress three small people in all of it to get outside at the time of year when the days are shortest. It's cruelty. It now takes an hour to get all of my small people peed and dressed and booted and out the door. And that's when I usually realize I'm still wearing pajamas and haven't brushed my hair. Or teeth. I hate winter now. And I can't wait for the day when my small people can put on their own snow suits and I can get back to liking it.

13. I don't care about salt but I am a sugar junky. Matthew though loves him some salt and I've started to veer ever so slightly to that side, but not too far.

14. If I got to eat any take-out food I wanted it would be Chinese food every single time. But that's not often becuase it would kill Bravo, and well, I like him even more than Chinese food. And again, that's saying a lot.

Ok. 14 things seems like a nice round number. The end.

wait.
15. I'm really really bad at spelling and even worse at typing. I mean really bad. And right now spell check isn't working so it's not my sault... see?? Fault that this post is going to be hard to read. Not my fault at all. Blame it on the few year period in Alberta that the school division I went to decided to try a new approach to spelling "let's not correct kids spelling... just teach them to read and write and we'll woryy about the spelling later". Then in grade 4 I switched divisions and they expected me to already know how to spell so it just never got dealt with. The sheer amount of times I don't write the word I want to because I don't know how to spell it and then I settle for a less appropriate word is astounding.  And computers weren't mandatory in school- so I seriously suck at typing.

Ok. That's all now. 15 is a nice round nuemerhb  (see???) too.

Food Friday

Ok- I've seriously sucked at putting up new recipes. And this week is not going to be any better. But next week I'll do my dairy-free cream and mushroom sauces.

This week is the pregnant edition of food friday. Also known as
Everything I wish I was eating RIGHT NOW.

1. popcorn chicken form KFC
2. Sushi rolls
3. Chocolate cake
4. double pepperoni and mushroom pizza
5. cinnamon buns with icing
6. Hot dogs
7. A big mac
8. Mashed potatoes with gravy- but not gross gravy. Really really good gravy.
9. Poutine
10. nachos
11. Apple pie
12. Chicken pot pie with yummy crust and lots of sauce all piping hot.
13. Popcorn twists (you know those melty things that have no resemblance to real popcorn what so ever? those things. And maybe some hickory sticks.)


Hmmm. It seems like sweet or savory all I really want to eat is cmofort foods high in simple carbs. mmmmm, simple carbs. How I adore thee! It's a good thing I'm broke and too lazy to make these things or I'd be up 58 pounds 10 weeks in!

I was not expecting this.

The grief is subsiding. And I feel so guilty about that.
I have still thought about Thomas every single day, but it's lessening. And the grief is easing. After nearly 15 months the grief is lessening. And I feel so so so guilty about it. It feels like I'm forgetting him. Or that this new baby is replacing him. And because of this new baby the grief has eased in frequency and intensity. I know grief ebbs and flows. I've had so many times of it flowing that I'm well over due for an "ebb".

I feel like if I'm not sad about him then I've forgotten him. Or that I'm passing on the message that I don't miss him. I feel like if I'm not in the thick of grief with him then maybe he didn't mean that much after all. I KNOW all this is ridiculous. And I can only hope it's normal. I've never really lost anybody THIS close to me before. I've lost grandparents I was very close to, I've had friendships fall apart suddenly and that felt like a friend died, but I've never lost a child. And I don't know how the journey is "supposed" to go.

I miss Thomas, but it isn't the raw emotional loss and grief that I felt so intensely even a month ago. There's a lot on my brain and heart lately, and there's a lot of getting used to the idea of Delta and it makes me sad that the first thing to go in my brain was the Thomas spot. That his spot has been taken up by thoughts over the new baby.

I was not prepared for the guilt to kick in when the grief finally starts to ease even a little.

This is a long journey. And I'm tired. I'm tired of traveling it, and I'm tired of looking backwards to see where I was, and I'm tired of trying to figure out what comes next and I'm tired of trying to be OK and I'm tired of the guilt and I wish...... I don't even know. I wish I could sleep for 2 months and give my poor brain and heart and body a break. I wish this had happened to not me. Not that I wish it had happened to somebody else, and not that I wish him away, but I wish Thomas was here and I didn't have to grief for him. I wish he didn't need to be grieved at all. And I wish I could give myself permission to be OK with everything, and be OK with "replacing" him. Geeze- maybe that's why I'm having a hard time still with Delta is maybe I feel like I am trying to replace Thomas.

Bah! I need out of my brain.

Now, how's that for a completely non-flowing, everywhere, no-real-point post??

Thankful- for the sweetest thing

Every night before I tuck my self in I go check on my boys (well, not Charlie because his feeding schedule demands that i still hang out with him eleventy times a night) and I sneak in their rooms and give them a kiss. And sometimes they stir and sometimes they don't. And sometimes Bravo wants me to sing him Winnie The Pooh as he drifts back to sleep. And that time of the day is my favourite. Becasue I truely don't think there is anything sweeter than sleeping little kids. Alpha gets all sweaty and I flip his pillow over more nights than not. And Bravo twists himself into the strangest little positions. And they both heave these heavy sighs and mash their mommy-knitted blankets into their faces. And it warms my heart. And I love them.

Thankful... for my family

Ok. Time for a happy post!

Especially in light of my friend's husband just up and leaving, I am so so so thankful for Matt.
He is strong and brave and caring and helpful and wonderful and handsome to boot. The poor man can't cook (unless you count instant oatmeal as cooking- He does, I don't) but that's about his only fault. And he cleans up my giant cooking mess, so that's a fair trade-off.

Matt puts 2 of the 3 kids to bed each night. He does bath time often, he reads books and sings songs and cleans potties and kisses owies and deals with temper tantrums and teaches sharing and referees and tells endless stories about Winnie the Pooh eating toast. He sweeps the floor, does 97% of the laundry in the house (maybe closer to 98%.), rakes, does garbage, cleans the eaves and the furnace filter. He tells me he loves me every day, he showers the kids with attention, he's fantastic with even the teeny baby stage.

He really is the ideal made-up type of husband and father. And when I thank him or tell him that he's wonderful he just shrugs it off and thinks that all men are like this. I really really did luck out with him. And he (although he strongly disagrees) is too good for me. But he loves me to death. And I am so thankful for him.

too much grief

Every where I turn people are grieving. People who have lost babies, people whose husbands are leaving them, people who in secret had a baby 40 years ago and gave it up for adoption because of family shame and still regret it. People who lost jobs, a friend whose 14 month old baby died. They knew it was coming and were waiting for the day when sweet baby Rachel wouldn't be with them, and then poof. She's gone and their grief entered a whole new world. There is big grief and little grief, long term grief and "get over it fast" grief. But every where I turn people are hurting. And that makes me sad.

My good good friend's husband just left her and their 2 beautiful boys. And I can't stop thinking about her and feeling so sad for her. I've been telling Alpha and Bravo all day that Daddy and I love them and that Daddy and I love each other. All last night after we found out Matthew and I just kept touching each other's leg or arm or whatever and telling each other "I love you".

I seem to be more touched by people's grief since losing Thomas. I mean, I had empathy before. I hated to see people sad, I would (usually) try to do something to help, but I wasn't grieving, I was OK, so it just didn't affect me as much.

Since losing Thomas I weep when I hear about a baby dying or a pregnancy not ending happily, or even a child getting recoverably sick. I feel so deeply sad for people when they are hurting. Because I don't want people to hurt. I want to get big colourful emotional bandages and stick them on people and kiss them and make them feel better. But life doesn't work that way.

One phrase that has started driving me a little crazy is "you'll never get more than  you can handle". I don't believe that. Not even for a second. I know some people deeply believe that. I don't. Just because you come out the other end doesn't mean you can handle something. I think of Matt's Grandpa who was an old-time war vet. I have tried to think about what it would be like to be in that war. To have bullets zooming all around, to be spraying bullets yourself. To be covered in your own blood and your friend's blood. And I can't even begin to imagine what that does to your heart, soul, and brain. And then like so many others, when he finally came home 5 years later he was an alcoholic. Clearly, it was too much for him to handle.

people do what they can to cope. And sometimes it turns out that they can cope in good and healthy ways, and sometimes they can't. We don't have a choice but to "handle" something. It doesn't make us strong, it doesn't make us brave, there was no choice given. It just is. And these events change us. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the better. And sometimes it's hard change and it's for the worse. If people were never given more than they could handle there would be no suicide, no alcoholism, fewer cases of true depression, fewer heart aches. Less crying and more joy.

I have had a few things in my life, 3 events actually, that have honestly been too much for me to handle. One event led to me never speaking to my brother again. The last time I spoke to him was 10 years ago, and I will never speak to him again. At least not until my parents die and then he's my "responsibility" But even then I will try to talk to the workers involved and not him. That event, or rather culmination of events, was far more than I could handle. And it changed me. It made me bitter, it made me me cynical. I changed from the happy-go-lucky sweet, laughs easily, innocent girl that I was. And I miss that person.
Another event just changed me. Not in any way that I can articulate, but it changed me.Although since then I am far more careful. With people and with things, with words and with wielding my emotions. And Thomas changed me. Both for the good and for the less-good. I am more empathetic. I am more caring. And I am far more sad. I appreciate life more, but I am overly cautious. I no longer jump into life with both feet.

I don't even know what this post is really about. I am strong. And I know I will survive whatever things life throws my way, even really awful things, because I have no choice. And most people are the same way.

I guess I just miss being a kid, miss life before my heart was so broken I could hardly see through tears to put it back together. And it breaks my heart to know that other people have pain and grief and are trying to put their souls, hearts, brains, and lives back together through a wall of tears. And though I have had grief, I know that it has never touched the level of grief that others have. And that makes me even sadder.

wah wah.......(you know the sound effect, right?)

wordless wednesday- things on the interweb that crack me up

I saw this on Ellen and it made me smile.