I Know My Kids' Names...Really...

Status: Feeling Relaxed. Of course it's Sunday. On Monday, ask me again...

Okay, I NEVER thought this would happen to me. I mean, I'm ME, not some forgetful type who gets lost in her own house. But with each child we add to the family, it gets worse and worse.

What am I talking about? Any woman with multiple children will know...how difficult it is to get the names of your children right.

I know my childrens' social security numbers by heart. I can rattle off their birthdays, birth weights, time of day they were born, and I can tell you a million things about each of them, including a detailed physical description.

Yet, I can't get their names right.

I would think it's in direct proportion to the gray hairs I've been plucking out lately, but it's been going on for a while. I think it's related to my stress/anger level. My kids have told me they know I'm REALLY mad--when I can't get their names right. Here's an example (not using their real names):

ME: Harry! I mean Jim!

DAVID: I'm Dave, mom.

ME: Whatever your name is, stop strangling your brother and get over here right now!

HIGHLY embarrassing. Then of course there's the Futile Guessing Name Game:

ME: HarryDaveJim!! Stop it!!!

But of course the MOST embarrassing, is when I make a hybrid of their names. I'll use half of one name and half of the other, or I'll use the first letter of one name and the rest of another, and it's just plain frustrating. I'll have a "Javid" or a "Dim" or a "DaJiHarry" or something like that. Don't even get me started about trying to yell at my daughter and getting her name mixed up with one of her brothers...

Is it just me? I'm hoping not.

Yeah, I'm Angry.

Okay, those of you who read my blog know that I like to “keep it light.” I don’t normally indulge in political or religious posts, but I feel strongly about this topic, and I need to put this “out there.” You’ll just have to humor my moment of indulgence, I’ll be back to normal soon, I promise.

I’m sure many of you have been following the horrific story about the Polygamist compound in El Dorado, Texas the last few days. It is certainly a tragedy.

I am a respecter of religions, but NOT when they put children at risk.

My heart breaks for the many children held captive in that compound, who have lost their innocence, and their identity.

What really made me angry, though, is the name of this so-called sect: they call themselves the “Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Folks, there is no, and I repeat NO AFFILIATION WHATSOEVER, with the real Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, also known as the Mormons. I cannot stress this enough.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is a Christian faith, with the attitude that children are to be loved and nurtured in righteous homes, and taught to be good, law-respecting citizens. Our children aren’t even encouraged to DATE, until they are 16. Our temples are sacred places where work is carried on for those who have passed away and for couples to be married for Time and Eternity. As a Mormon myself, I have been married in the Temple, and I can attest to this. LDS temples are places of peace and tranquility, where members reflect and serve.

These so-called FUNDAMENTALISTS had rooms in their “temples” where underage children were violated. I won’t even list the other atrocities here. It sickens me to read the reports.

There is simply no correlation between the Mormon Church, and these Texas-based fundamentalists. Mormons DO NOT practice polygamy, either, by the way. I would encourage all LDS bloggers to proclaim the same, in their blogs.

My heart goes out to these Texas victims, and their families. Hopefully the criminals who violated and ruined their lives will be brought to justice.

Rain is Depressing.

Status: Feeling just...quiet.

We've had days of rain now. All the soccer practices are cancelled, because apparently you could sail a yacht on the soccer fields. All Saturday's games are cancelled too, because we're supposed to have rain for the next week straight.

You know, after it snowed, at least the SUN came out. There hasn't been any sun. It's depressing. The sun tried to peek through a couple of times yesterday, but the clouds weren't having any of it. I remember a few years back, where we had 28 days straight of rain, in the month of May. I'm wondering if this is how it's going down THIS Spring...

I got some writing in last night, but I was so tired I had to call it quits. I literally fall into bed these days. Lack of sun makes me tired. Everything seems...blah. Does that make sense?

Bought Libba Bray's The Sweet Far Thing the other day. I'm salivating to read it, but I'm waiting until late May--because I have an entire day of flying (two connections) to get home from my sister's wedding, because we used free miles. So Thing One (who is a junior bridesmaid) and I will defintely need our Ipods and reading material. The flight there is only six hours of traveling, but the flight back is something like ELEVEN hours. (Hey, it's free, can't complain.)

Well, Mount Vesuvius in the Laundry room is calling my name. Time to separate by color and start washing! I am anal about the laundry. I have darks, light blues and grays, reds, pinks, greens, whites, light browns, dark browns, and THEN I sort all the towels and sheets by color.

Yep, anal. But our clothes look FANTASTIC.

If I do say so myself.

The World is Ending...

Status: Feeling pretty good! Well, it's raining and my foot hurts. I guess rain and my foot will be "connected" from now on?

Hubby had a nice birthday yesterday. The kids made a big banner for him, and when he got home we had the table set, and the lights off, and dinner in the warming oven (I made all sorts of Chinese food) and we jumped out and surprised him. Then we had dinner, presents and cake, and the kids were bouncing off the walls by the time it was all over.

If I ever write a book about my experiences with Parenthood, it will be titled:

"I'm only Human...and I've given birth to Chimpanzees."

Nice ring to it, I think. Considering my kids act like chimps most of the time. Of course I'm kidding, but you know. Maybe I'm not...

Okay, so the World is ending. My comfortable world as I know it. The baby CRAWLED last night. He's been "scooting" around (mostly backwards) for a while, and THEN, last night, he decided to get up on all fours and actually crawl. Now, that's all he does. You put him on the floor, and he's not content to sit. He wants to crawl, and stretch his legs, and roll, and discover where he can go. Mostly he wants to go and play with the FUN-LOOKING electrical cords underneath the side table, and he especially loves to crawl to the potted plants and "play" with the leaves. He's eyeballing the curtains as I type this. I can almost see the little wheels in his head turning...

STRESS.

My life, as I knew it, is over. Now I get to chase after a nearly one-year old all day! He is eleven months tomorrow, and he is delayed from being in a harness for four months, so technically, I should have been doing this earlier. I'm just glad he's moving around normally. He's healthy, and that's all I care about.

Except I wish he stayed in one place still! EEEK!

Soccer was cancelled yesterday. It rained all day. It rained all night. It's supposed to rain today, and tomorrow and the next day. Anything's better than snow. Isn't it?

And, Maybe Not...

Status: Tired. Okay, when am I *not* tired? Seriously? I think I will spend at least half of my natural life tired. Until my kids leave the house. And then I'll be tired from all the sleepless nights worrying about them, out in the wide world. So, yeah, I'm tired.

Soccer practices were supposed to start today. But apparently we're getting a good storm passing through. So, maybe not. Which is interesting-- since all their first games are Saturday, and they haven't even had a practice in, yet. But the waterlogged fields are actually LAKES from all the melted snow. Can't play soccer in a lake. A little mud, yes, but a lake, no. Lakes are for waterskiing and boating. Not soccer.

Today is Hubby's birthday. I already ran to Target and got some fun things for him. I made a super AWESOME picture frame for his work, and I'm printing a pic of the kids for him that I took at Easter. So he can have a nice picture for his desk. And of course he'll get balloons at work. So now I'm off to bake a cake, which will be semi-torture because I'm on a new diet that cuts out all sugar and white flour (and GUESS what a cake is made of? WAH!) and clean the house.

I need to wake up. I've been depending heavily on Cherry Coke Zero. I think I might be addicted to that stuff. I hate the taste of diet, and so what do the minions at Coke do? Make a diet that tastes only "sorta" diet. Minions. They know I'll crave it and want it all the time.

And of course I need it, because I'm tired. Bad Lara.

Ants-In-The-Pants.

Status: Feeling pretty good! The sun is out!

Had a quiet weekend. The baby's cold is getting a little better--although I went to get him from a nap yesterday and he had a big green booger in his pincher fingers and was playing with it like it was the coolest toy in the world. Sort of like how a kid plays with silly putty. He must have thought it was really cool that he'd pulled it from his own nose. And he smiled when he saw me and of course, held it out to give to me.

YUCK.

I have a sad confession to make. I had my first three kids SO close together, I was in a constant Harried state, and was so busy waiting on them and taking care of them and keeping them from getting into everything and accidentally killing themselves and feeding them and changing them and yadda yadda yadda, I never really got to enjoy them as much. Is that terrible?

With this baby, I can actually enjoy all of his little accomplishments and phases. I see his big blue eyes light up when he sees someone he loves, and he stretches out his arms and wiggles his little fat fingers--I see him make conscious choices when he peruses his toy box and finds a toy, I see him starting to whisper words like "ball" and "dog" when he sees them. I love playing with his chubby thighs and zerberting his tummy, and listening to him giggle when I tickle him. Babies are just so...enjoyable. I guess when you have them "one at a time" they can be!

This is just a sad post. I am sad because I missed out on those little "sigh" moments with the others. I didn't get to enjoy them as much as Thing Four. I worked 60-hour workweeks with the first two, and even though I got to stay home with the third one, I was always running, trying to keep the other two in check. Sure, I had my "moments" but I never got to S-L-O-W down and truly "enjoy" them.

And I thought of getting older (my birthday is next month, and hubby's is this month, and we're getting "up there") and I thought how sad I will be when the babies are gone. I love my kiddos, but there's nothing like a bouncy baby. They're just...FUN!

On a different note--I have ants in my pants. I want Spring to be HERE!!!

Soccer starts tomorrow, and this time around, we only have two kids in soccer. And as Providence would have it, they both have practices on identical days of the week, at the SAME time. Do you know how wonderful that is??? No more running and dropping one kid off, then RUSHINGLIKEMAD to the next field and dropping the other kid off, then waiting for half an hour and taking the third kid back to the first field, then rushing to pick up the other one, then the next one,and so on, FOUR days a week.

This time it's two days a week, same times, same field, and games on Saturdays. My only complaint this time around is it seems Thing Three has EVERY single game at 8am. Which means to coordinate with the baby and breakfast and all that jazz we'll be up at 6am every Saturday morning.

Oh well, all in the name of sports. Thing Two opted not to do soccer. It just isn't his "thing." We're letting him do Tennis and swimming instead.

Time to get going...happy Monday!

"Houston, We Have a Linus..."

Status: Sleep deprived yet again. I think the baby might have an ear infection now. He was moaning in the night...

Okay, so when Thing Four (aka The Baby) was born, we got a chenille-knit baby blue blanket. It is very soft and cuddly, and the baby has really taken to it lately. So much so, that he is NOT to be without it.

Well, as you can imagine, the blanket gets very dirty. Especially after yesterday, when the baby used it numerous times to "wipe his snotty nose" and chew on, etc. etc.

So I figured out an attack plan. Once he was asleep, I'd trade out blankets and wash it really quick, and replace it right before I went to bed. Good plan, right?

WRONG.

Just before ten, I did "Operation Blanket Swap" and it was successful. I threw it in the wash with a ton of other baby clothes, and started the wash. About ten minutes in, I thought I heard something, so I walked to the foot of the stairs, and to my chagrin, it was the baby, crying like his heart was broken. I ran upstairs and he was inconsolable, he was in his crib, crying (not screaming) like he'd just lost his best friend. Apparently he'd woken up and realized his beloved "night night" was gone. In fact, he'd cried himself into little spots on his face. I felt horrible. I gathered him in my arms and cuddled him, until he closed his eyes, but as soon as I tried to lay him down, he started crying again.

One thing about the baby, he rarely cries. He is usually very happy. So when he does cry, it breaks my heart. So I took him downstairs, and Hubby and I took turns holding him for the next 40 minutes while the wash and drying process finished. He was sooooo beyond sleepy. I grabbed the blanket out (it was still damp but he was upset) and as soon as he saw it he smiled and clapped his hands and went immediately to sleep.

WHEW.

But the blanket was still damp. So I waited fifteen minutes, until I was sure he was out cold, and swapped out the blanket again. Luckily, he was so gone he didn't notice, and I replaced it fifteen minutes later, all warm and dry.

We have a Linus. (For those of you who have lived under a rock for 30 years--"Linus" is a character from the Charlie Brown cartoon, who is always dragging his blanket around. He's never without it.) I just hope I can find another one of those blankets somewhere. I don't know what brand it is, it's one of those "boutique" blankets that doesn't have a brand or label, but it DOES have a UPC code on the tag. So we'll see if I can track another one down. Wish me luck!

I hope everyone has a relaxing weekend. I think Spring might actually be finally "springing" here in freaking cold Wisconsin! Woo!

The Sickie-Go-Round...

Status: Barely alive. Was up all night with fever-y, sniffly baby...

The one thing I detest about sickness in our house, is that once it's introduced, it takes FOREVER to weed it out. And because none of us ever get sick at once, someone goes down one week, and the next week another family member gets it, and the next week and so on, until by the time the last family member FINALLY gets sick, the virus/germ/whatever has mutated to the point where it's completely new and we get all sick all over again.

So at the first Exposure, I become Mom The Germaphobe Germfighter. I change sheets and toothbrushes, I Lysol everything to death, quarrantine people, etc. etc. Anything to get us all better and get the germs OUT.

Last time we were all sick for two months straight. We've enjoyed a fairly healthy run of one and a half months. Hopefully it will be a couple of weeks and we'll be back to normal. I am getting "sick" of the Sickie-Go-Round. But it is inevitable. My kids go to public school. My husband works in an office with other workaholics who come to work sick. The weather here is hot/cold/hot/cold/cold/warm/cold/cold/cold/warm/cold and well, you get the point.

We're doomed. :-D

Trouble.

Status: Sniffly. The baby and I got stuffy noses from being out in the rain two days ago. Darn it!

Well, I'm officially in trouble. The baby is mobile. He's not crawling yet, but he's "scooting." I'll sit him down in one place with toys, and I'll turn around and he'll be three feet from where I sat him. He'll be eleven months next week. He's a little delayed, because of being in the harness for four months. But he's study and strong now!

Time to babyproof the house! I told the boys I'd give them a day to get every Lego they own into their room, where they will stay. If I find any Legos on the floor in any room after the "Day of Gathering," I will throw them away. And I mean it. Into the garbage it will go. I won't care if it's a "vital piece of the Star Wars ship." It will be gonzo. I've already rescued the baby from choking on one of their checkers, so I'm done with small toys.

Luckily I believe in playpens. For my own sanity. Once he's truly mobile, I will use it. My SIL is adamantly against playpens. She was complaining the other night about how her crawler was into EVERYTHING and she had to pull all the curtains up, the cords, the knick-knacks, and basically alter her entire way of living. But she won't hear of a playpen. I call it "Self-inflicted Misery." She's nuts--and I don't mean crazy. She's constantly nuts, trying to get stuff done and keep him out of everything.

I don't see anything wrong with playpens. Playpens teach kids how to entertain themselves. Of course they're not for the child to be left in for hours at a time, but if one needs to get something done, and the baby needs to be "safe" then a playpen is ideal.

I'm gearing up to get writing again. I miss it. I miss the flow of words, and the churning of my brain. I miss being "in the Zone." I miss feeling...accomplished.

And now I'd better eat something before I collapse. Lots of Orange Juice!

Murphy's Law Day.

Status: Enjoying the calm before the storm...for now. Soccer starts up next week.

Had a "Murphy's Law" day yesterday. It was raining. And I don't mean a light drizzle. I'm talking fishhooks and hammer handles.

Thing One had her annual eye dr. appointment across town, so I packed her and the baby and our assorted stuff into the car and we drove 1/2 an hour, and the rain was actually pretty light. I parked the car in the only parking space available at the office complex, which was probably the FARTHEST from the entrance door.

As soon as I killed the motor and got out to undo the stroller, the rain decided to become a WHOOSH downpour. Luckily I had the back door up so I could take refuge underneath it somewhat, but THEN the baby's carseat belt wouldn't cooperate and I got a liberal soaking while I was trying to get him out of the seat. THEN I ran to the building with Thing One trailing behind me, and of course she got the stroller wheels STUCK on a parking block and couldn't move so I had to run out and save her and we were all sopping wet by the time we got inside.

Luckily we were early so I went to the bathroom and dried the stroller and baby off with paper towels. I'm just glad his coat shed the rain, and he was dry.

The Dr. was running behind, the waiting room was filled with crying babies, and she decided to dilate Thing One's eyes (after 50 minutes of waiting) and a half hour later, we were finally finished. The baby was beyond tired from lack of a nap, and Thing One was whining about the light being too bright, everything being fuzzy, etc. etc. and the BEST PART was as soon as we got to the parking lot again, the light drizzle became a WHOOSH downpour. Yes. Right at the moment we wanted to run out into it. Murphy's Law.

We stood under the awning, waiting for the rain to lighten up, but in only got worse. Finally, we just made a run for it. We got soaked again. But I'm glad we went for it because the rain stayed steady until we got home.

It was like someone Upstairs was watching us, and every time we needed to step outside, they pushed the "Torrential Downpour Button" or something. I was not amused.

On the writing front, the Muse has left. I am struggling with the subplot, because the main plot doesn't make up enough material. Granted, I am excited to write the rest of it, but I need to write the "gratuitous teen material" first, before I get to the exciting History part. I know, I know. I just need to start writing and see where it takes me. I will do that...and soon.

Right now I have to wrestle an eleven-month octopus into his coat so we can go and buy diapers...he's down to 2 left and frankly, that's a FRIGHTENING thing...