Hide the Scissors

This week has been brutal in the parenting department.  And the uneven, choppy frosting on the crappy cake was the discovery this morning that Matt had decided to cut his hair.  Specifically his bangs?  Do boys have bangs?
I have no idea when this happened.  I suspect it happened yesterday afternoon because yesterday he cut holes in his school shirt during homework time.  I was, perhaps, a little distracted by the ruined shirt to notice the giant chunk of hair missing.  That's my theory at least.
But there it was, this morning, a giant, close cropped, chunk missing from his shaggy locks.
Then came the argument.  He didn't want his hair cut.  He had already fixed what was bothering him (apparently it was touching a part of his forehead and irritating him).  He didn't need the rest of it cut to make it look ok.  It could be a new hairstyle.  Argument for every point I tried to make.  Not awesome.
So, faced with yet another awesome parenting decision (to force him to get a haircut or not), I tried handing off the whole choice to Andy.  But that backfired.  Because Andy was all set to just let him walk around looking like a dude who lost a fight with a weed whacker.  I guess guys don't care?  I had to pull Andy aside and tell him that Matt needed a haircut.  That I couldn't walk around with him looking like that.
Thankfully, Andy took him so they could get "man" haircuts at Sportsclips.  Matt's hair is super short but that hairdresser worked some magic--he looks fine.  He definitely did some damage with the scissors.
Pretty sure I need to hide them.

It's all fair...

Sometimes being a parent sucks.
Andy and I take the hard line that we are not our children's pal, buddy or BFF.  We are parents.  Responsible for helping the little dudes grow into responsible and awesome adults.  And sometimes that means we have to enforce the rules and hand out consequences.
I really hate the whole "consequences" part of parenting.  I am not big on spanking...never have been.  Not saying my children have never been spanked.  They have.  Just not often.
More often we enforce a system of consequences as our discipline.  Didn't eat dinner?  No dessert.  Talk back?  Time out with some writing work on how to appropriately express how you are feeling.  Issues at school?  In depth discussion on what happened, why it was wrong, and a plan for doing better.  And then there is always manual labor: extra chores, dog doo duty, etc for those random times when they are just not making great choices.  It can be difficult sometimes to find a consequence to fit an issue...but that's all trial and error.
And so is rule making at times.  How much should we really expect from our eight year old?  Six year old? Toddler?  What can they understand of right/wrong, acceptable/unacceptable?  Does Matt have to hold a higher standard than Nic?  Does Nic have the same expectations on him as Matt?  How do I explain that Em is going to "get away" with more stuff because right now he is just learning?  How does fairness come into play?
This is the area of parenting where I have the most doubts.  Do I come down too hard on them?  Expect too much?  Am I setting them up to fail?  
Tonight has been kind of rough.  We have had some issues with the boys surrounding bedtime routine (specifically shower times, monkey business time wasting, and soap wasting--stuff I know I drove my parents nuts with).  Last night, after a long discussion on our expectations for better behavior and choices, we handed out some pretty heavy consequences: no "Rudolph" movie, early bedtime, and sleeping in separate rooms.  Today I tried to be very specific in what needed to happen to avoid those consequences.  And today there was still monkey business time wasting going on.  So, again tonight, there is no movie, early bedtimes, and separate sleeping.  And it's killing me.  Because I wonder if I made the consequences too harsh.  Because Matt is madder than I have ever seen him.  And Nic is sad.  Should I have let it slide?  Taken a more "hands on" approach to the whole routine of getting ready for bed?  Sat in the bathroom with a timer?
I don't know.  I don't like it.
I would rather be cuddled on the couch right now watching "Rudolph" with my two big kiddos.
Maybe tomorrow we will figure out what works.

And then there are days...

where it seems everything that comes out of my mouth is something I never in a million years ever thought I would say.
And in the midst of lost pencils, homework woes, baby mystery puke smells, and a dog that could REALLY use a grooming, I find myself amazed and blessed.  And a little weepy because I know this season of my life won't last long.
Thankful for the moments, big and small, routine and magical, eye rolling and laughter inducing.
Because really, when else am I going to say "if you don't stop licking your brother..."

Soap Box Moment

I had a long car ride today to think on somethings.  And it's all kind of a spaghetti mash up but makes complete sense to me.  I am not sure I can even explain it in a way that will make sense, tie all my thoughts together but here is what was jumbling around:
-I love and adore my children.  I had the best time this weekend watching them run around and experience a theme park.  We ate junk. They rode roller coasters and rides.  We saw and did so many fun things and seeing them through my kids eyes made my experience better.  And they were great.  Well behaved and happy for the most part.  Even Emerson was a laid back little dude.
-Today is the first Sunday of the Advent season.  It is the Sunday of hope.  Just thinking of all that hope brings us...and how much faith we have to have in God and His promises to hold on to the hope of Jesus.  That's huge and amazing.  And that hope, that type of lifting up heart happy, is something I want my children to have.  I want them to have faith in something bigger and  more wonderful than what their reality is now.
-I am happy.  Not all day everyday.  That's impossible.  But I am happy.  Content in my life.  Things aren't perfect.  I burn dinners and sometime struggle through parenting and keeping a good marriage and have moments where I would really just like to go pee by myself without a little person following right behind jabbering at me.  But at the end of the day I can look back and smile.  I am blessed with so much.  And the people in my life are fantastic.  And total blessings.  Amazing.  Life's pretty good.

So, here is where all that get's spaghetti-ed (and it makes sense in my mind to draw this specific conclusion from those three things):  My happiness is not the responsibility of my children.  They are a source of happiness, for sure of course duh, but they do not--nor should they (ever)--bear the responsibility for my happiness.  In fact, my job as a parent is to not only teach them practical basics of survival, but to impart to them how to find hope, happiness, satisfaction/contentment, and build stability so those things flourish in their lives.  My example of (hopefully) finding happiness primarily within then with other people/places/things building on what is there already is what I hope to show my kiddos.  I want them to look within for happiness and validation and all that fuzzy warm good stuff and not look to other people to give those things to them.  I feel like I am maybe not making a whole lot of sense.
And I am sure that sounds terribly preachy and soapboxy and maybe snarky.  But I really do not mean it to be.  I just know I never want my kiddos to feel pressure to do things just to make me happy.  Because I want them to know that needs to come from your own little bubble...I want them to find it for themselves and not look for other people to give it to them.  And then share the happy. :)  Sharing the happy is the best.

"Food" for thought

While prepping for what is surely going to be an insane trip over this holiday weekend, I took some time to reflect and think about the message shared at our church this past Sunday.
It was the final message in a series addressing what is in our hearts (previous topics include guilt, jealousy, and greed).  Our clever pastor titled the series "It Came From Within".  All fun stuff aside, it has been a tough series to hear (convicted much?) and has triggered some good discussions and changes in our household.  The final installation was on anger.
Ya'll, my heart broken wide open at this one.  I cried through much of it.  It hit right in the heart of so many things...caused some pretty heavy reflection and prayer.
I am saying a lot of prayers of thanksgiving this week, and a lot of prayers for loved ones.  Prayers I can search out and address some of the anger I am holding tight to, prayers I can figure out forgiveness, and that other people can, too.
If you have a chance, it's a great series, a good listen, and a peek at what has been working on our hearts here in Georgia: http://www.savannahcanvas.podbean.com/

Trash Can

I feel like I need to move into one and change my name to Oscar today.
I am being grouchy (at best description) and probably closer to witchy (but with a "b") if I am being honest.
And I feel like I need to be honest.
Most days I can "silver lining" whatever comes up.  For example, Halloween started off kind of rough with Em waking up early and a series of unfortunate circumstances leading to a literal half-gallon of laundry detergent being dumped onto the floor.  But, I just brewed an extra cup of coffee and enjoyed shiny floors and a freshly scented house.
But today I cannot shake off my crabby cloud.  I am just in an ugly mood.
Maybe it is because I have not had a "date" with my husband in months.  Months.  Between crazy weekend schedules, the flu, colds, etc we have just not made it work.  And it sucks.  And, um, truly, I need an evening away from my children.
Maybe it is because the big kiddos have gotten lazy and whiny in regards to chores.  And the fight to get them to do their basic (oh so basic) lists is not worth it.  Or the fight over getting them to eat dinner is tiring...and the list of what they will eat without comment gets shorter and shorter.
Maybe it is because Little Em has been a high maintenance monster with a cold.  Snot everywhere. Inconsolable.  Not sleeping.  Not awesome.
Maybe it is all those things, but dang if I haven't run out of energy to "keep up" with it all.
My mojo got me through Halloween.   Super mom rocked the last minute face-painting, mummy dogs and blood soup dinner, and Trick-or-Treating with our big dudes.
But today.
Nope.
Hoping I wake up tomorrow in a better mood.  

It's a Boy!!

I am about five days post finding out we are going to have another little dude running around.
And I am still excited.  Happy.  Over the moon (to be totally cliche).
This little baby was as cute and cooperative as could be for the ultrasound and we got to see him doing some adorable things.  Like play with his feet.  He hasn't quite mastered the ability to grab his toes and hold on to them, but he was sure trying.  He also got mad at the ultra sound pressure squishing him and kicked up at it.  He put his little hands up to his face.  Wiggled around plenty.
I am always amazed at ultrasounds and what you can see with them.   We got to see his heart.  Four chambers of awesome design pumping away.  Just a few months ago all we could see of his heart was a tiny flutter in the corner of the screen.
The tech said he looked perfect.  I know they aren't allowed to really do that, but she was running an hour behind and I think felt a little bad for making us wait (with a squirming Emerson in tow) so gave us an unofficial report.
We won't get to see him again until about 30 weeks and then maybe again at 36 just to see how he is growing.  My guess--he's going to be as perfect and "big" as his brothers.
And of course his biggest brothers are super excited to have another boy coming.  They are awesome with Emerson and will be just as awesome with the new baby.  Emerson, sweet boy, has no clue how his little life is going to change.  I am thankful he will have a sibling close in age, but I know the first year(s) are going to be a challenge.  He hasn't really ever seen other babies until last night.  We had friends over with their teeny tiny newborn and Em was perplexed for about five minutes then moved on.
We have a name, but aren't sharing it.  I want to reserve my right to change it (I have been irrationally fickle this pregnancy) without having to hear the "but I thought his name was..." commentary.
And I am not putting any specific due dates out there (unless you have an awesome memory when I initially got the due date and mentioned it).  Babies come on their own time and the due date is (in my opinion) arbitrary.  Late winter/early Spring is as specific as I will get.  

4

Wake up, hold my breath, and feel out that missing piece.
It's that day, again.  That time of year where memories are not always shiny and lovely.  That day where life changed.  Or was it the weeks or the months leading to it?  The weeks after?  The years after?
Is it familiar yet?
That missing piece.
Does it hurt to find it again?
It's not like it used to be, where the thought of missing, gone, passed on were consuming and terrible.
No more crying and sadness waking up in the middle of the night or with a phone in hand with no way to call.
It still is sore and sad.  A deep sad that goes to the heart and right on through.  But now, there is joy, too.
Joy.
To have known and talked and shared and listened and loved.
To have been loved and cared for.
Joy to have had time at the kitchen table.  On the deck.  Christmases and Thanksgivings and 4th of July's. For the recipes and secret that love really is that special ingredient.
Joy for the honesty that life isn't all perfection and simple answers.  That you can and should handle yourself with class and dignity, right to the very end.  That a person can be flawed, imperfect, human, yet still be beautiful and have that beauty shine through their actions.

My Gram was an amazing woman.
There will always be a piece of me that misses and mourns her.  But growing around it, finding root where there was just sadness, is such joy and thankfulness.  I knew her.  Got to share and spend time.  She made my life better.  Made me better.  Showed me how to keep doing better.  Glad for all that.

ugh

The stomach flu hit our house hard this week.

I thought (silly me) that the mild symptoms of a tummy ache and low grade fever that the boys had on Monday were going to be all we got.

Nope.

We got the full experience.  Plus a visit for me to the ER to get IV fluids to keep baby safe/make sure I didn't turn into a raisin.  Thank goodness for a sweet friend from church.  Andy was sick so couldn't take me and driving myself was probably not a terribly brilliant idea. 

 But even though the guys did not have ER confirmation of how sucky this bug was, their experience was not anywhere near awesome. 

I will say, with a hugely thankful heart, that we are generally a healthy bunch.  We don't have chronic illness or allergies or anything that even remotely comes close to what other families deal with.  But...

We are not good patients.  

The boys get restless and bored.  I get grouchy and mean.  It's been ugly and I am so looking forward when we are all back to our normal selves.

Praying today is the last day we have it hanging around.

Ability vs Desire

There is a blog out there I found via a Pinterest peruse called something like "Reasons My Child is Crying." If you have time: http://www.reasonsmysoniscrying.com/ 
Funny stuff.
And, at the moment, completely and totally relate able to life with Emerson J.

He has hit that awesome stage of budding independence and wants to do all the things!
He is walking.  Talking more (though not terribly intelligibly).  Trying out toys in different ways.  Looking at books. Stacking blocks.  All the things his little toddler self can get into he gets into.
But he still hasn't quite learned how to do all the things he wants to do.
Like put on his shoes.  Or take off his shirt (he has, magically, mastered taking off his diaper--joy). He can't quite use a fork or spoon.  He can't climb the stairs or work the baby gate.  He can't unbuckle his car seat or stroller harness.
So with each "failure" to do what he wants to do, poor Emerson melts down.  Tears.  Flailing.  Wailing and screaming.  Maybe even throwing a shoe that won't go on his foot or block that won't stay stacked.
And forget stepping in to help.  No way.  That just makes it worse.
So, this mommy can do nothing but sit down beside him.  Narrate his frustration.  And hope that the budding language development will help in expressing his extreme displeasure at not being able to do all that he desires.
And, after a day of melt downs (too many to count usually), I unwind with some web-surfing and feel a little better that there are other parents out there going through the same thing.  

Sick Day

I am not going to say I enjoy having the big boys home sick.  I hate that they are missing a day of school (especially Matt who has a very fast paced classroom).  I hate so much that they weren't feeling awesome this morning that I would have gladly been sick instead.
When Nic woke up crying about his belly hurting and Matt said he felt hot, I immediately assumed worst case scenario: they had somehow gotten the 24 hour puke bug that is going around.  I gathered the Tylenol, water bottles, and puke buckets.  I had them change into cozy but junky clothes and had the beach towels ready just in case.  But, strangely, it's been fine.
Matt's fever went away with the Tylenol.  Nic's belly is better.  No puking.  I am not calling the sick day "over" yet, but as I write the boys are happily playing a LEGO/Skylander hybrid war something on the dining room table.  And asking for snacks.
While I am not cheering that they missed school and didn't start the day feeling great, I am taking a minute to appreciate the good things about the day (other than the obvious no puking).  I've gotten to cuddle up with them.  Watch movies.  Read books.  Sit and look at their little faces all day with zero guilt that house hold jobs are not being done.

Dreaming of pink? Or blue?

So we find out soonish  if Baby 4 is a boy or girl.  Assuming he/she cooperates at the ultrasound.
With the other three, I knew before the ultrasound tech had a chance to tell us what they were.  My boys were not shy.  I am hoping this baby let's us have a peek.
Andy and I have decided on names.  But I think we may try and keep those under wraps until baby is born.  I am sure with the names we have chosen there will be some commentary.  I am normally not opposed to people expressing opinions on baby names because it didn't take a while to find names we like.  These names took a lot of discussion, so I am not risking any ridiculous comments.
I have had two dreams about this baby.  Both dreams had this baby being a girl.
The first dream was when I was just at the end of my first trimester.  In the dream I was having a lovely lunch with my Gram and she told me this baby was a girl and not to worry, that things were going to go just fine through the pregnancy, and she couldn't wait to see her because she was surely going to be as beautiful a baby as Emerson.  This was a hard dream to have, as my Gram passed away several years ago, before Emerson was born.  I miss her terribly.  But I am lucky in that she and I will have "lunch" every so often, usually at a time of high stress or worry. We talk, catch up, and I wake up with bittersweet tears.  After this dream I sobbed on and off for days.  I chalk some of that up to hormones.  I told Andy and my mom and sister.  And joked a little that wouldn't it be funny if baby was a girl.
Last night I had my second "Baby 4 is a girl dream."  I was just folding laundry, still sporting a giant belly, and the basket was full of pink and purple and obviously girly baby things.  I pulled out a beautiful blue and white sleeper (reminded me of a delicate china pattern) with birds and lacy ruffles on it.  Very girly.
So, I am either secretly hoping or worrying Baby 4 is a girl.
I can't decide which.
It's funny because when people find out we have three boys I get a "hoping for a girl this time?"  Or sometimes a "so if this is a boy will you try again for a girl?"
But, no, I don't think we were hoping for one sex or the other--just healthy.  And, no, four is the limit for this family.  Really.
I can't see myself being disappointed if Baby 4 is a boy.  I can't see being disappointed if it is a girl.  And I think it is kind of mean?rude?weird? for someone to think that we would be so disappointed that none of our awesome kids were girls that we just HAD to get pregnant again to try for a girl.  Or that we'd be so sad if this baby is a boy that we'd immediately start planning on when to get pregnant again to try for a girl.
We have our kiddos because we like our family, love our kiddos, and feel like we have room in our hearts for them.
I am counting down the days until we get to peek at Baby 4 again.  Excited to see what we can (little profile?  a nose?  tiny feet?) and hopefully find out boy or girl so I can plan out the nursery and tell our sweet boys what fun a new brother/sister will be.
I will be a little freaked out (in a pleasant way) if my dreams were right, though. 

4th Baby (lack of) Phenomenon?

I am going to preface this by saying I am in no way implying with this post that BB4 is anything but wanted, loved, and planned for.  That said...

This pregnancy is weird.
There have been several times I have forgotten I am pregnant.  Really.  And I feel bad about forgetting.
I am currently just hanging out between the "I want to vomit 24/7 and/or hibernate" stage and the "OMGoodness this child moves and wiggles non-stop/I look like a giant blimp" stage.
I call this stage the "I look like I could either be pregnant or have had a big lunch" stage.   Or the "my clothes fit funny and I cry about it" stage.  Perhaps I could also call it the "I want to eat weird stuff sometimes but mostly I feel normal (as in not preggo)" stage.
No matter what I call it, at this particular point, I am feeling kind of disconnected from the whole idea of being pregnant.
Maybe because I am chasing a toddler and running around with two school age kids?  Or because we don't know boy or girl yet?  Or because I don't have the time to lay on the couch, head phones on the belly, playing a variety or music for little bebe to wiggle to?
Life, right now, can't revolve around the belly as much as it did when I was pregnant with Matt.  Or Nic. Even with Em.
It makes me wonder, is this a 4th baby thing?  Are my mind/body so accustomed to being pregnant that it is no longer a hugely consuming thing?
It isn't that I am not excited or not ever thinking about bebe.  I am pretty sure Andy is on the verge of major frustration over picking out names.  And I have so many ideas on how I want the nursery once we find out boy or girl (no unisex themes for this kiddo).  And I am excited to go through Em's clothes and either sort them all organized for new baby's use or send them on to a friend to use for her sweet one.  A friend from church just had the bittiest little cute sweet baby and I got all giddy trying to imagine what my little one is going to look like.  So the excitement is there.  And the love.  So much love for this little one.
Just not the constant preoccupation.
Yet?

Nickle Pickle...It's Your Birthday

But, you don't like me to call you Nickel Pickle any more.
Or George.
Or Trash Santa.
Or anything but Nicolas or Nico-Suave (but only sometimes and when I am helping you get ready for the day).
So, dear Nicolas, it is your birthday.
Six years ago you joined our family and made happen what I had worried so hard was impossible.  I never thought I could love a little soul as much as I loved Matthew.  But there you were then, and here you are now, reminding me that love just expands and my heart grows right along with it.
You are kind.
Compassionate.
Sweet and really, truly thoughtful.
You are silly in very purposeful ways and also in ways where my laugh (or daddy's) is so wholly unexpected you get embarrassed.
I don't know any one more honest than you.  But that works out because you see the good and the light in people.
You are a love.
And like to love.  You have crushes and if now is any indication of your future with the ladies--daddy and I are in trouble.
You are so grown up and good (really, really a good kid) I forget you are only just now, today, six years old.  I forget until I see that little boy, head bent over a drawing, sketching ideas for crazy things and having to jump up and act out what your imagination is coming up with in your head.  I forget until I see you take off your shoes, and leave them in the middle of the floor, and all of the sudden they look so small.  I forget until I sneak one last kiss goodnight, long after your lights-out, and you and Turtle are cuddled up, lost among the blankets and stuffed animals and pillows and LEGO's and G.I. Joe tanks.
I love the way you love your family.
The relationship you and Matt have is one I hope you keep up and grow forever.
It's fun to "catch" you being sweet and loving to Em.  I know it is hard to interact with him sometimes, but you find small ways to include him in your play...it makes me so proud.
And I treasure the moments we have, just us, hanging out.  Maybe it is snuggled up in bed before we HAVE to get the day going, maybe it is driving in the car, singing really loud, maybe it is just a quick hug as you pass by me, but they are all so special.
Just like you.
Happy birthday, Nicolas.
I love you a million.

Just My Opinion

I am not usually one to get down on some one for doing what they think is best for their child(ren).
Regardless of how crazy I might think it is.
Your kiddos sleep in your bed?  Not my cup of tea, but cool if it works for you.
Your whole family is vegan?  Awesome, can I have some go-to recipes?
I am the last person to judge.  Heck, I can't keep pants on Nic...that for sure has earned me a few passing judgements.  Emerson wears an amber necklace.  I promise it's not voodoo.
Each person is different and each family functions differently.  We all find what works and follow that to happy harmony--hopefully.
That said, I am going to get real irritated with you for not vaccinating your kid.  And judge you.  And I didn't know I would be that way until recently.
We had a scare this weekend.  Emerson woke up with a rash from head to toe.  It looked suspiciously like measles.  He had a fever, runny nose, and lack of appetite the week or so leading up to the rash.  I had chalked it all up to teething (he is getting molars).  But those symptoms also fit measles.
Em is to young to be fully vaccinated against measles.  And I do vaccinate my children.  On schedule.  I don't feel a need to "justify" this decision any more than to say it's a discussion Andrew and I had when Matt was young, and vaccinating our kiddos on time was what we felt was best for them.
Measles are not a "dead" disease.  They exist, infect, make sick, and kill people all over the world.  157,700 deaths in 2011--the WHO website keeps track of these things, I am not just making it up.  Just because the incidence rate is low here, doesn't mean it is low everywhere.  All it takes is one visit overseas, or visitor from overseas, and you have potential exposure.
So it completely, totally blows my mind that as a parent you would choose to risk exposure rather than vaccinate.  And up until this weekend, I may have, at worst, simply rolled my eyes and moved on.
Until Em got a rash.
And the immediate care doc said "It looks like measles."
Here is my little.  My sweet, tiny guy, potentially with this disease that I am working on getting him immune to (but he won't fully be until 18 months), and I can do nothing to help except watch and pray that it doesn't get bad.
Really. REALLY?!
I have read all the stuff about what is or isn't in vaccines.  I have heard the theories.  I can't dispute them, I am not a scientist.  But I don't take them at face value either.  And if it comes down to my child living vs my child dead...well, obviously I vaccinate.
IF something in that vaccine triggered something in a little body, would I love that little soul any less?  Nope.
I don't really know what my point is.  Other than if you don't vaccinate your child, you are putting them, and mine at risk.  And that's crappy--in my opinion.
Thankfully, Em doesn't have measles (atypical reaction to strep--something antibiotics CAN help).  But it was scary waiting to see if it was truly strep or if it was measles.
And it brought into focus my one exception to my "parent how you want to, I won't judge you" rule.

The Trouble with Soup

This baby likes food.
Fall food.
Not sweet or cold.
This baby likes food for the season.
Leaves change colors and drop.
The wind picks up and it is *almost* chilly out.
Sweaters and boots and bonfires.
Star gazing on clear nights and a kitchen warmed by home cooking.
Chili.  Minestrone.  Butternut squash with sea salt and cumin.
Tastes like happiness.


It's gross outside.
The classroom is hot and sweaty.
Full of overly excited children.
The gym is worse.
I blast the car's air conditioner in my face.
Deep breaths of cold, sweet, chill.
I like cookies.  Apples are ok.
Dinner has not been ok.
The soups.
Thick.  Spoons are hard to eat with.
It smells weird.
Everything tastes like it has beans in it.
She probably put beans in it to try and trick me.
I want sushi.  Ramen Ya or hibachi.
I would settle for musabi.

Rough Day

My heart is pretty heavy today.
There are some things that happen in life that just are heartbreaking.  
A good, sweet friend recently had a miscarriage.  Our due dates would have been close together.
Another friend struggles with trying to decipher her body and her bodies reaction to being pregnant...and why she can't stay pregnant.
Frustrating and sad.  And nothing I can do but pray for peace and maybe answers.
Today one of our Church Ohana lost their baby girl during childbirth.  I am sad for the momma. Broken hearted for her.  And for her husband.  His Facebook updates end with optimism and excitement at seeing his baby girl.  And for their other children who are waiting for a new sister.
Awful.  And nothing to do but pray.

I feel guilty at being joyful about my own pregnancy.  I don't want to talk about it.  Or put anything on Facebook or complain about morning sickness or being  tired all the time.  I don't want my happiness to be hard for anyone else.
And it all makes me sad and feel like a terrible person.

Compare and Contrast...

It is hard not to compare children.
I don't necessarily mean in a bad way, I just mean in a "A did this, B did this, C does this" way.
For example:  as a toddler, Matt only had to be told "no" one time to leave the cabinets alone and (I swear, no exaggerating) he didn't touch them again.  Nic was a little more persistent.  We discovered, though, that if he got his "own" cupboard, with toys and books and whatever else in it, he left the other cabinets alone.  Emerson only stays out of the cabinets now because I have purchased cabinet locks.  For the first time in eight years of parenting, my cabinets have locks on them.
When I just had Matt and Nic, I would often get frustrated that I couldn't do the same ABC things with Nic that I did with Matt.  Or that is was easier to do XYZ with Nic than it was with Matt.  A wise person told me, after I got so sad when I compared the amount of one-on-one time I had gotten to share with one child vs the other, that we cannot treat our children equally and that instead we must treat them uniquely.  Their personalities, abilities, preferences, development--all of that is going to differ (wildly to mildly) with each child.  So I try (key word here) to treat each of my boys as their own person with their own specific needs and abilities.
But like I said, it is hard not to compare.  And I struggle.
Especially when it comes to my "across the board, all of y'all are doing this, no exceptions" stuff.
With the older boys, school, homework, Boy Scouts, and soccer help dictate what that "stuff" is.  But no matter what, we eat dinner together everyday, they have household help expectations, and a solid weekday bedtime (which I reserve the right to bump ahead based on their crankiness).  
I am struggling a little more with Emerson.  Having a regular schedule was always something I was a crazy momma about when the big boys were little.  Waking time, eating times, napping times, and out of the house/errand times followed a rigid schedule.  It worked.  Kids were happy, I was sane (relatively).  Yeah, maybe we missed times we could have had lunch or coffee with friends.  But, dang it, naptime was important at my house.  And you could always tell when a kiddo missed his nap.
Despite my trying, and trying, and trying, Emerson does not have a solid schedule.  Or even any semblance of a nap schedule.  He just refuses to nap some days.  And then the next day naps perfectly, two one-and-a-half to two hour naps.  And then sometimes will only nap in the morning or only the afternoon.  Or maybe he just naps for 45 minutes.  And forget the whole "cry-it-out" business.  Little man will cry the entire time he is in his crib some days if he is that intent on not sleeping.  I never know what kind of day it will be--a no nap, barely nap, half nap, or perfect nap day.  Anytime he doesn't nap well, he is beastly.  It's frustrating.
So, after much internet research (lot's of gems there...or not) I have decided to try something new.  Something neither of the big boys did before age 2--transition to one nap per day.  It will mean a different daily schedule for Emerson (lunch at 10:30?) and an earlier bedtime.  An earlier bedtime sucks because I am going to have to work a little harder at a consistent 5:30 dinner and Andy may not make it home to eat with us.  But, if it means a better schedule for the little and a happier Em, then it will be worth it, right?  I just feel like a crazy person, because part of me says "you never changed like this for Matt or Nic, you can out stubborn Emerson...he's a baby, you are an adult!!" But then if I truly believe you can't treat each child equally, then I need to look at Emerson's unique needs (he needs to take naps lest he become a devil-child around 3:30 in the afternoon) and work with those needs.
Starting tomorrow, we are going to try out this new schedule.  Give it a week, see how it goes.  I am hopeful.  If it doesn't work out, it will be back to the idea board.   

Emerson J

Dear Emerson J,
Today is your birthday.  Your very first celebration of the anniversary of you coming into our lives.  It's been a funny year for our family: a long deployment followed by a PCS to a place none of us had been before.  But there you have been.  Growing and thriving and loving through all of it.
You didn't cry or shy away when daddy came home.  You nearly jumped into his arms and smothered him with kisses.
You handled the long, long, flight from Hawaii to Atlanta like a champ (as long as you were in my arms) and charmed everyone along the way.
Your personality is so big and lovely and funny.  I couldn't have listed out a better combination of awesome.
Here is a little snapshot of "You", right now:
You love...
...your brothers, dog, and daddy.
...anything green: avocado, spinach (so long as it is cooked), peppers, and cucumber.
...playing while carrying something in each hand.  Usually you like these to be two of the same thing (blocks, balls, books).
...singing the "Tiny Turtle" song.  Your favorite part is the "bubble, bubble, POP!" part.
...shoes.  Specifically your shoes.  They are a very novel concept at the moment.
...banging on things.  We are pretty sure you are going to be a drummer at some point--you have more rhythm than momma (which, really, isn't too much of a feat).
...books and reading.
...giving out big kisses and hugs.
...standing at the window and hollering at whatever you see outside.
...feeding the dog straight off your high chair tray.
...garbage trucks.
You REALLY don't like...
...napping.
...when daddy leaves for work.
...being held/strapped into your stroller in a new place.  You just want to get down and explore!
...walking.  You can do it.  But seem to prefer crawling.
...falling asleep on people.  This one makes me a little sad--you were such a cuddle sleeper when you were little.  But I am supremely thankful that you can and do sleep soundly independently your crib.
...not getting to play with your brothers toys.  You are just dying to get your hands on some LEGOS.
...cabinet locks.  These seem to be the worst thing ever and you get so mad just looking at them.
...folded laundry.  You do your very best to make sure any laundry around the house is in a giant, unfolded, wrinkled, crawled on heap.
I cannot wait to see how you grow and change over the next year.  Lots more big changes coming (daddy in grad school, a baby brother or sister) but I know you will keep smiling through it and it will be just as awesome as your first year.

So Guess What...

I thought I had the flu.
When we first got home from our whirlwind Illinois trip, I swear I had the worst flu.
Tired.
Nauseous.
Not a bit of energy to do anything but get the kiddos through the day fed, dressed, and mostly entertained. As I lay in bed, staring at the bathroom trying to decide whether or not to get up and puke (again), Andy so sweetly suggested: maybe it's not the flu...Maybe it's a baby.
No way.  I mean, possible, yeah. But, really?  No.  What?  Maybe, but, no.  No way.


Yeah.
Not the flu.
Happy surprise...

Littlest Foor will be joining his or her big brothers mid-March.

Really

Really...I hate Georgia.
Like, really, really hate it.
But the only good thing about living here is Andy's schedule.  That's it.
There is nothing else lovely or good about here.

And that sucks.  Because I like to be happy.  I like to enjoy little things and write about funny stuff and how great our life with the boys is going.  I like to be upbeat and encouraging, maybe a little snarky, maybe sarcastic with a dash of sass.  I prefer to reach out to friends and family via this blog in a way that (for the most part) leaves them smiling and not frowning.  Not worried.
Since moving, my blogging has pretty much stopped because there is all this crap with the house and stupid hoops to jump through to get anything done with school or medical stuff and dumb tickets with even dumber court system and fees and bugs.  Dear Lord the bugs.
In all my tropical/sub-tropical living I have NEVER had a bug problem.  EVER.  One bug here or there MAYBE.  But here...we think (and the professionals seem to agree) that they were here before we were.  I just cannot handle it.  It sucks.  We are doing everything possible, professional bug people, internet remedies, natural stuff, everything.
It's embarrassing.  And gross.  I hate cooking now. I hate even being in the house.  It's yucky and is joy-stealing.
It's terrible to say it out loud or put it in writing.  Like it is this terrible reflection of me and my family.   Ick.

So, that's where I am, mentally.
Are there good things going on?  Yep.
The boys are at their second day of school.  It is funny how they would be up before 6 a.m. all summer but I am dragging them out of bed at 7:15.  The mornings (other than not being happy to be awake) have gone well.
Em is a joy.  So funny and silly and stubborn.  He's on the edge of walking.  He talks and jabbers and yells out the window.  He missed his brothers when they were at school yesterday.  But, he's has definitely had fun having run of the house while they are gone.

Monsters

It always makes me wonder that children make up "monsters" to fear.  Like, dudes, just watch Animal Planet or take a look outside--plenty of creepy, gross, poisonous, weird stuff to choose from.

Last night the boys were in their pj's (ok,  their undies because my children refuse to wear any more clothing than they have to) playing a video game with Andy as we all kind of lounged and soaked up the last little bit of lazy of the day. Until they heard the ice cream truck.

HOW they knew it was an ice cream truck I have no clue.  We have never really lived anywhere that an ice cream truck frequents.  But, those melodious, repetitive, tinny notes got them all (including Andy) on their feet, scrambling for pants, and out the front door.

I leashed Buddy and met them in the drive way as they returned with their loot: two sno-cones, a drumstick, and an ice cream sandwich.  I suggested eating on our front porch as it wasn't raining and/or sweltering and I feared for the cleanliness of the carpet if sno-cones were allowed inside.  We settled into chairs.  Well, Andy and I did.  The boys paced, danced, wiggled around the front porch like a couple crazies.

And then Matt made a bee-line to my chair.
"Mom," he said, "I think there is a poisonous spider over there.  A blackwidow."
Cue my eye roll.  And Andy's.  In Matthew's eyes, everything is dangerous/poisonous or at the very least primed for attack.  So he pointed.  We looked.
And I freaked.
Yep.
Big Spider.
Yep.
Red hour glass shape on the abdomen.
But it was brown.  Not black.
Still freaky.  Still poisonous.  Still dead as a door nail after Andy bashed it a few times with his size 13's.

I may or may not have worried on our house being invaded by spiders as I tried to fall asleep.  May or may not have scoped out all the corners and floor boards and ceilings in the baby's room before putting him to sleep.  Five times.  

Oh heeeeeeeeey

I think I have been procrastinating writing.
I am waiting to say "we are all settled!!" and then show pictures and talk about our fabulous new life and house and friends and all that.  So I feel like a teeny bit of a failure for every day that goes by I can't say that.    And that feeling makes me stare at a blank screen and decide that writing about anything is silly.
But not today.
Yes, there are still boxes to be unpacked.  Two of them.  Full of the random flotsam of our lives.  Not quite sure how to tackle any thing in those boxes and sorely tempted to seal it with packing tape and hide them in the garage.  But, for now, they remain, flaps askew and glaring at me, in the living room.
There are boxes to be moved to the attic.  Boxes (and boxes and boxes) full of what the homeowner left behind.  Things not important enough to take with her to her new house but not unimportant enough to throw away.  The idea of leaving something behind to use later is weird.  I asked what she wanted us to do with the curtains, books, hangers, clothing and she said to just throw them in the attic.  So we have boxed it and stacked the boxes near the attic access and are waiting for a free evening to move them up there.  Weird.
No, we don't have friends.  This is a reoccurring issue for me.  Every move brings mega anxiety that our family will be lonely.  It always works out though.  Our family is ridiculously blessed when it comes to the friends we have made along the way.  I am just impatient and miss my good neighbors.
I will say today was the first day I woke up and felt like I was home.  After sleeping on a borrowed bed for several weeks, a hotel bed in Waikiki for a week, and a hotel bed in Savannah for two weeks, waking up in MY bed has been lovely.  And waking up in my bed in my house without the feeling of "where the heck am I?!" this morning was really lovely.
Our house is nice.  Big and open and colorful.  My two favorite rooms, the kitchen and the family room, are blue.  The living/dining room, hallway up the stairs, and master bedroom are a muted yellow-gold.  Em's room is a mauve color.  Nic and Matt's is the flat white of rental homes with a bright Kelly green wall in the desk nook.  The guest room is a mish-mash of blue and stencils and is on my "project list" for repainting.  It might seem strange that I am talking more about the colors of the walls than anything else about the house but after living in rental spaces since college (grand total of 14 years) where painting was absolutely forbidden (or at least a huge pain in the rear end), having a home with color on the walls and the ability to add/change colors is awesome.  Luckily for Andy and our budget I hate painting, so I plan on changing just the guest room.  And maaaaaaybe Emerson's room.  Maybe.
We are all settling in...adjusting to a new life and routine.

Matt's Idea of College

College is where you learn to be a grown up.  You live in a small apartment with your friends and have to do your own laundry.  You go to a school where you learn how to do your job.  It's the best adventure of your life.

Eight Months, Baby

Emmy is eight months old today.
That's right.  Eight months.
And I called him "Emmy"...he has a lot of nicknames: Em, EmJ, Emmy, Emmers, EmEm, Little Brother.  
He is a pretty cool baby.
Lovey and cuddly.
Silly.
He crawls now.  And is all over the place.  Into everything.  It is a good thing our house is pretty empty of everything. Although he does love cords of all kinds: cell phone, cable, blind.  It's awesome trying to remember how to baby-proof.
He also talks.  Ok, jabbers.  Yells.  Growls.  He is a monster baby.  It's funny.
Just for fun and to tease us he will throw in words:
Da: Dad
Ma: Mom
Braaar: Brother
Buh: Buddy
siiiy: silly
More:  Give me what you are eating
Hiiiiiii: Look at me
He is not much for using Baby Signs.  He occasionally will use the sign for "all done".
He will play peek-a-boo and the "how big is Emerson...Soooooooo big" game.
He loves to be outside.  I think the wind is his favorite thing.  If he can't be outside he is happy to look out the window.
He likes "school."  He has been going to the Mom's Morning Out program (at the school I taught at last year) for two days a week since March.  He really likes his teachers and Jeff gets some extra hang out time in the mornings.
He is pretty happy most of the time.  Anytime he is mad or cries he is soothed by a good snuggle.
Em is a lot of work--babies just are a lot of work, though.  And it's good work.  The best kind.  The happiest and most smiley kind.  It is awesome to see him play and figure things out and watch him think.  It makes up for his late hours and midnight snacking.  It makes up for the puking (although that is much more under control).   It makes up for the shanky finger nails and sharp baby teeth.  

You look just like your kids!

Andy is home.  Life is lovely.  Life was good before. No real complaints.  But now we are all together and getting ready for our next adventure and, really, truly, it's lovely.  The big are so excited to have Andy home and able to take them to football and the pool and talk science with.  Emerson is SO in love with Andy and Andy is wrapped around the baby's little finger.  I was worried about how Em would react but that was silly of me.

Sunday was my last morning at Chapel.  It was sad and difficult.  I have been blessed to have great jobs with great bosses everywhere I have wanted to work, but this job was incredibly special.
It was also the first Sunday Andy has been to church with us since I started working at the Chapel.  His schedule leading up to deployment didn't allow for many Sunday services and being gone for six-months meant he was only known to our church family from stories and what the boys shared.  So he got a lot of "welcome back, sorry to see you go" and "wow, you look just like your kids!"  It was interesting for him, I think, to see my role in the Chapel and to see me at work.
I kept the tears mostly at bay (save for a little as we stood in front of the congregation and said "aloha") until we were home for the evening.  Leaving a job/church family is hard and I am already praying for us to find some where amazing in Savannah.

We are still in travel limbo.  No official date/flights set.  Which means it is difficult to plan our last days here and hotel in Savannah.  It will work out fine I am sure, but the control freak/planner/worrier in me is antsy.  We do have a "window" of travel time and it is coming up too fast.  I swear I say it every move: I thought I would have more time.

We are going to be making the most of our last few weeks in Hawaii.  We have a beach cabin trip, a "May the Fourth" party, Em's dedication, dinners and lunches with friends, and some pool and beach time coming up.  All good things.  And all things we are blessed to be doing as a family.

Surprise!!

On time from Guam

The boys think they are there to welcome a friend of Mrs. Karen's to the island

Seriously NO clue

Calling to say "meet you at Customs"

Waiting

Here he comes...

"Are you really here?"

 

"Let's go home, dad."

Wednesday

It is emotional and disconcerting to watch your worldly goods be packed away.
It is happy and sad and lovely and good and crazy.
It is hard to sit still and chat with friends, text, surf the internet while complete strangers touch your things because you aren't allowed to.
There goes the couch.  The baby's high chair. Your favorite mug.  Your books.  Your pictures.
It is weird.

It is hard to pin down the way I feel knowing the packing and emptying of the house is a prelude to our family leaving of the island.
Leaving our friends. Oh, what amazing and lovely friends we have been blessed with here.  I prayed for good people and had those prayers answered.
Leaving our church.  Where I have worked the past 8 months and fallen in love with.  I didn't know a job like the one I have existed, and I could never in a million years come close to re-finding what I have in my employment or chapel ohana.
Leaving our home, the second one since we have lived here.  A beautiful big place that my dear husband had a grand total of 22 nights in.

Island life and Ohana will not come along with us.  We are starting over (nearly from scratch) in Georgia.  I cannot imagine the "goodbye's" yet.  Do not want to think about boarding the plane and having a final look at the gorgeous island and Pacific as we take off.  Going to put all that on the back burner for now.

And really, I am happy.  Happy to have our family whole again.  Happy to start a new chapter where job demands will not be as 24/7.  Happy to be close to Illinois and family in Florida.  I guess I just wish I could smoosh Hawaii and all the good people here closer to Georgia.  Build a bridge, create teleporter, or tow the island a few miles off the Georgia coast.  But my ohana here know (I hope) they always have a place to stay when they are in Georgia (and where ever else we may end up).  And I know that the Navy is small, and I will undoubtedly run into my friends again.
Also, east coast friends and Illinois friends and family: expect a visit scheduled soon!

I feel a little like this...

http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live/video/surprise-party/n12233

It's all sunshine and rainbows...

It is.  Kind of.  Hawaii sunshine and rainbows.  Where it will be pouring down rain on one side of the island and gorgeously sunny and lovely on the other side.
I feel like life has been like that the past six months.  Half of me bummed and sad and missing Andy.  Half of me loving the life we built together.  It's weird.

Boys update:
Matthew is a reader.  Like a devour-a-book-in-a-day reader.  He got that from both Andy and I.  It is exciting.  I can't wait to read books with him.  At the moment I pre-read his books (he is way into the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series and just starting the Magic Tree House).  But in a few grade levels I can read the series with him.  My dreamer self envisions evenings snuggled up on the couch in front of the fire place (oh yes, our next house MUST have one) Matt reading on his Kindle, me reading on my Nook.  I hope our next house also is close to a library.
Nicolas is beyond words.  He is funny and sweet and sensitive and just a good kid.  Wednesday night the Chapel hosted a Military Child event.  A group came and had lots of cute freebies--stress balls, airforce pins, glow sticks.  And gave away a lot of stuff to the kids there.  One of the ladies was charmed by Nic (imagine that) and made him this really cool multi-glow stick necklace.  He and some other kids were running around and one of the older kids noticed Nic's necklace.  He started crying throwing a fit that he only had one glow stick and Nic had so many.  Without any hesitation, Nic took off his necklace, disassembled it, and gave all but one of his glowsticks to the other kid.  I had watched from across the room and a little later when Nic was buzzing around my end of the room I pulled him aside, hugged him, and told him what a sweet boy he was.  He just smiled, kissed my cheek, and went on his way.
Emerson is fun.  He absolutely has a friendly, trusting, loving personality.  He smiles and laughs at his brothers and the dog.  He loves peas and avocado.  Not so much a fan of carrots. He is finally getting a little chunk on him.  The meds he started on a month and a half ago are working.  Less puke=more food in his belly.  I am a little sad that he will never have the happy rolls Matt and Nic had at this age, but that is ok.  Little man is healthy, gaining weight, and will hopefully be able to go off meds by a year old.

Move Update:
We have official orders to Savannah, Georgia.  Our house is getting packed a week from Wednesday.  Estimated arrival date in Georgia?  My birthdate.  Yes, for real, that long.  While our stuff is in transit, we will be using furniture and "stuff" (dishes, cookware, etc) from the Navy loaner closet as well as friends. We still are not sure of when we are leaving yet...and that is ok.  It is easier to be without our things here  than when we get to Savannah.
I have been a craigslist/internet junkie looking at places to live, neighborhoods, schools, commute times to try and make it easier to find a home when we get there.  I have seen several houses that I LOVED and were in great areas, but, I am not about to sign a lease without a walk through and I know I can't ask for the homes to be "held" until we get there.  It will be fine.  I know we will find a great and perfect place.
I am hoping to get to talk with Andy sometime and figure out how to plan travel.  Flying with all three kids and the dog with all of our stuff (clothes, baby gear, toys) is going to be CRAZY.  But fun and awesome at the same time.

Easter

"Official" photos courtesy of the lovely and talented Karen

Happiness

Is snuggling on my couch with my babies after a long, busy, fabulous weekend.

My event at work went great.  Amazing.  There were no major bumps in the morning and everyone of the deployed spouses seemed to leave with a smile.  I even had enough volunteers.  And lot's of pie (one of the workshops was a home-made pie crust demonstration).  It was nice to see everything come together and work out (well).  Super fun, but nothing I want to do again for a few months.  I was in bed by 8 at night and slept some pretty amazing sleep.

I was able to have some awesome one on one time with the big boys this weekend, too.  Last night Nic and I went to dinner.  I told him he could choose where ever he wanted and he picked IHOP.  My little gentleman opened my car door for me, held my hand, and even sat next to me in the booth.  He also ate half my dinner, but that was completely ok with me.  This morning Matt and I grabbed some breakfast at Wright Brothers Cafe on the Airforce base.  It is one of our family's favorite spots.  It is right on the channel that goes into Pearl Harbor so there is always ships and boats passing by.  And the food is pretty yummy.  Matt and I sat and enjoyed breakfast (a bowl of cereal, milk, apple juice, 2 scrambled eggs, 2 slices of bacon, 2 pancakes, and some fruit for him and a fresh papaya and coffee for me) while watching the water.  Then we took a walk, saw some fish, and talked our deep conversations.  It was good.  I hope to do the "date" thing more often.  It is always interesting to see the world from the perspective of a child and see how different those perspectives can be from one child to the next.

We all went to the beach.  We also had a massive sunscreen fail.  We are all toasted.  Even Emers.  And I feel terrible.  I slathered the stuff on thick, and reapplied.  But the sun still got us.  Thank goodness for aloe.  But the beach was fun and I am sad we won't be going again for a while.

So, here we are...enjoying eachother's company on the couch.  Lovely.
And here are some pics from the weekend: