Say What?

Two nights ago, we were getting ready for bed. Some kids were getting bathed, some were picking out clothes and we were all in the master bedroom, so it was a little loud. I was telling Phillip to get his pajamas out of the laundry basket and he was completely ignoring me. Now Phillip, mind you, is not a defiant child. He can be aggressive and loud, but not really defiant.However, he was acting as if I was not even in the same room. I was becoming increasingly frustrated as I attempted to get him ready for bed. But hey, everyone has those days when it all becomes too much and you just have to tune out the world for awhile. So, I just got him some pjs and dressed him myself.

Fast forward to last night, at "back to school night". I was coming out of Trenton's classroom and trying to make a dash for the van so we could get to the next school before 6:30. I could only go to one child's class because of the school's lack of scheduling. Parents who have more than one child were forced to choose which class to attend, or split up. Daniel was at home with the other kids, so I had no choice. Since I always talk to Phillip's teacher, I felt that the greater need was to visit Trenton's class. Anyway, we were hustling to the car when I spotted Phillip's teacher leaving. I ran over to her to apologize for not making an appearance in the classroom. She understood but said there was something she had been wanting to ask me. I was prepared to hear about some class incident in which Phillip had used his cowboy boots illegally. He had already been in trouble for using them to kick a kid in the shin, and I was bracing myself for the worst. "Don't worry, Miss Van," I started, "We already grounded Phillip from wearing his boots to school."

She laughed, "Oh, you heard about that, huh? No, actually I wanted to know if Phillip has been ignoring you lately."

I thought back to the night before. "Yeah, actually we had a problem with that last night."

Apparently he had been doing the same thing in class.

"I think Phillip may have a hearing problem. Maybe we need to get his ears checked. It is not like him to ignore me, and he did not even respond until I was right next to his ear," she explained.

So, I'm calling the doctor today to make an appointment for Phillip and I'm thinking that maybe I need to have a full checkup done on each kid to avoid weekly trips to the doctor's office. Could it be possible that Marlie has a condition that causes her to be unable to shut her mouth? Diarrhea of the mouth maybe? Or, maybe Reed's obsession with climbing and standing on the table, is really some exotic condition that can be easily treated. In reality, I think it is just good old fashioned hyperactivity, and I'm doomed to 18 more years of running myself ragged and teetering on the brink of insanity. But I can dream can't I?

Tired, Disappointed and Stinky

The day is rapidly coming to an end...thank God! Wow! I was right this morning. It was, indeed, a defining day for me. After this morning's events, I took Phillip to school and took the other three to the park so that the cleaning ladies could actually do their job w/ out my kids undoing it right after. So we went to the park in 100 degree weather. Not smart. They were tired from heat exhaustion an hour later. I couldn't return home yet, so we got some lunch. Then, on our way back, we found a baby bunny. So we went to the store and bought some rabbit care products because I am an animal lover and this bunny is adorable! Then we went home and made a little bunny bungalow. Right after that, Reed pooped and it dripped out of his diaper. He played with the poop and then proceeded to rub it all over me. I was short on time, so I just baby wiped it off of me. I really doubt I got it all...oh well.

I realized that we were going to be late for school pick up and made a mad dash for the school. We got home at 2:15, dropped off backpacks, used the potty, and took off down the hill. Luckily, I had stocked the car with water bottles and snacks for the ride, because all of the kids were "STARVING," which I never understand because I pack them enough food to feed the whole damn class. Anyway, we made it to the doctor's office at 3:40 pm. I traded cars with Daniel, and entered the waiting room. After a visit that made want to curl up in the fetal position, I headed to my mother in law's house. The plan was meet Daniel there and get ready to go out. I had a dinner party to attend. It was a dinner to reunite some old and dear friends. However, my husband was less than thrilled about it because he did not care for one of my old guy friends and hates the fact that I ever had any guy friends at all. So he did not make getting ready very easy for me. In fact, it was very clear that he wasn't in favor of me leaving at all. So I decided that instead of making an issue of it, I would drop it and sulk silently. Sometimes, being married means that you have to forgo certain events, even though you really want to go. So I ended up staying at my mother in law's and feeding the family pizza. But I did have a great talk with Daniel Jr. on the way back home, which was nice.

I am very tired, very disappointed and very looking forward to tomorrow being an easier day. And it should be, because I only have two back-to-school nights to go to, at two different locations, at the same time. But compared to today, it will be a walk in the park (as long as I get a shower!)

One Of Those Days

Today is going to be a tough one for me. It is going to be one of those defining days as a mom, I can tell. I'm taking Daniel Jr. to his doctor's appointment at 3:45, to start his assessment. I'm feeling very nervous about it because I'm so afraid of making him feel less than normal. He already knows that we need to get help for him. I'm sure that has got to have some affect on his self worth. I've got knots in my stomach already this morning.

To make things worse, I have an impending period, which is making me overly emotional. I am the type that can feel it creeping up on me. I have that bloated, achy, real bitchy feeling welling up in me. I have to make a huge effort not to explode at the kids for doing normal kid things, like making messes. Like this morning when Ella pooped in her pants and I realized that she had underwear on, and it was diarrhea. Then when I put her in the tub, she exploded in the water too, and I had to clean the tub as well. I had to remind myself that she did not mean to do it, despite my urge to hand her the scrub brush and Comet. Still, PMS is way better than worrying whether or not this is the month I will end up pregnant. So I guess I should count my blessings. I dunno though, I've been really wanting a puppy lately. Maybe that is my way of making up for not being able to have another baby. Nicole always did say that people who stop procreating usually end up getting dogs as a substitution!!

The icing on the cake is that I have not been able to wash my hair for a few days because of my finger, and lack of time. I desperately need a good shower, but do not have the opportunity today. I have to use my time wisely, in order to get everyone ready to go down the hill after school. My house is horrendously dirty, so I took the lazy way out and called my house cleaning lady. Hey, I folded 10 loads of laundry last night...I'm not super woman! But I'm longing for a shower, which I know is out of the question, and it is adding to my anxiety.

So, I'm off to tackle my tasks. Please say a little prayer for me today!

One Way

The way to a man's ( ) is through his ( ). I'd really like for you all to leave your choice of sentence completing nouns in the "comments" section today. I'm very interested to know if I'm the only one who feels the way I do. For instance:

Last night, Daniel asked me to put Aiden to bed while he tried to fix the computer speakers. Aiden had a long nap and was not feeling very tired. So, after many attempts at keeping him in his bed, I caved. We snuggled up in my bed and I immediately crashed. Apparently, I was the only one! Daniel storms in the room about an hour later mumbling something about, "What the hell....Aiden not in bed....laundry....dishes." I wasn't quite sure what he was talking about at this point because I was too busy sawing logs. But I did manage to remember that I had forgotten my night guard. Even in my incoherent state, I knew that I would pay dearly if I forgot to wear it. So I asked Daniel to grab it for me. That is the last thing I remember.

This morning, Daniel calls me on the way to work. He was playfully giving me grief about falling asleep last night. It turns out that he was miffed, slightly, about the fact that I "ditched him out." He also was annoyed that he asked me about the laundry and dishes and I blew it off. But I did have to nerve to ask him about my night guard.

My point is...this all could have been avoided by one little thing. It is the one little thing that avoids all little squabbles in our house. It is the one little thing that can be used to placate, negotiate and ameliorate all things between us. It is the one little thing that I failed to consider when crashing out prematurely last night. I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about. It is the one little thing that would have made Daniel wash the dishes, change the laundry, start a new load, tuck Aiden in, and bring me the night guard on a silver platter. It is the life force of the male species, apparently. At least it is in our house. So my sentence completion would read : "The way to a man's everything is through his reproductive organs."

It just makes me curious to know if it is just that way here, or universally. Like I said, please leave your own nouns as it applies to your relationship!

A Big Fat Lie

This morning, while reading the news headlines on MSN, one article caught my eye. It was an article on how to get back your pre baby body. I'm positive that thousands of women will click on that link today, hoping to find some easy to execute exercise regime that will restore their once non-jiggly bodies. But perfection is relative, and the headline is, in my opinion, a big fat lie. Why? Because all the crunches and leg lifts in the world will never completely restore any woman's body to their ante-partum condition. Even the most avid fitness buff will never be able to re tone her uterus, birth canal, and other inner components. Birthing a child changes our insides for good, end of story. As far as the outside goes, without plastic surgery, there are some things that exercise just cannot fix. Things such as breast tissue, stretch marks and loose stomach skin/baby pooch. Trust me on the breast tissue part. Daniel tried to convince me for nine years that if I worked out my pectoral muscles regularly, my chest would perk up in no time. Right...I'd have nice pectorals, but hanging skin/breasts about six inches below them.

It just makes me angry that writers make moms feel inadequate about their post-partum bodies. As if carrying the baby and then having the baby was not traumatic enough to our bodies and egos, they rub more salt into the wound by making us feel bad for not trying to regain a perfect shape. Hey, maybe women would be better off if they weren't pressured into persuing the impossible goal of getting back a pre baby body. Maybe we are just too busy chasing kids around and trying to keep our sanity, to have to worry about being a Barbie. Furthermore, if on the off chance we do decide to partake in some physical activity, it should be for fun, not for perfection. Who the hell are these writers, anyway? Do they even have kids? Obviously not, or else they would know that pre baby bodies are for pre baby women. Honestly, they should be focusing on making women feel better about themselves and their beautiful matronly bodies. Maybe all of the less than desireable things that happen to our bodies should be praised, because those things are what make us who we are. They make us beautiful. They are the result of months of manufacturing a perfect being. They are the fruits of bringing forth and nursing those perfect beings. I'm not saying that a mother should not work out if she wants to, or even opt to have augmentation. I finally chose to augment my breasts for the fact that I was tired of the gel inserts falling out every time I had to bend over and strap a baby into their car seat, or my sons skewering them with butter knives and using them to pad their underwear. It was a personal choice. But even with the surgery, I'm not even close to what those writers would call a pre baby body. I never will be. In fact, I'd hate to see what my poor uterus looks like! Things will always hang and be jiggly. That's okay with me. I still strap on a bathing suit and my husband still thinks I'm every bit as sexy as I used to be. In fact, I'm even better, because I've given him seven perfect beings. And the sooner that the rest of the mothers in our society realize how beautiful they are too, and learn to ignore ridiculous articles like that one, the better off they will be.

A Rare Moment

Sometimes, just when I think that things could not get worse, God allows a little beam of sunshine to penetrate the gloom, and lift my spirits. Last night, for instance, the kids were getting outfits picked out for school. Daniel Jr. likes to wear outfits that matches his dad, on occasion. Last night was one such occasion. However, he could not find two navy colored shirts that were exactly alike. Even the polo shirts with pin striping, were not acceptable because the pin stripes were not the same colors. They had to be navy blue because of spirit day at school. So, other colors were out of the question. After turning down ten different choices, I was rapidly loosing my cool with his anal retentive selection process. I warned him that if he did not stop being neurotic and just pick a dang shirt, that I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I buried my head in my hands as he stormed out of the room. I knew what was about to happen. He was about to say that everyone hated him and that he wasn't going to school tomorrow. Then he would slam the door and start kicking the wall. I know this because it is the same routine every time things don't go his way.

But this time, I was wrong. As I sat on the floor, head in hands, I felt a little hand on my shoulder. It was Daniel, looking calm andand even a little humble. "I'm sorry,Mom, for making it difficult to pick a shirt. Please don't get upset," he growled (he has a very gruff voice.) He hugged me and picked up the first shirt off of the top of the laundry basket. "This one is fine," he said. I almost DIED of shock. "Seriously, what just happened?"I thought. But instead of questioning the good behavior, I just seized the moment. I sat him in my lap and just held him, and told him how proud I was of his self control. It was a rare and precious moment. I was wishing it would never end. But of course, it did. And that's okay, because I saw his ability to use self control, and his compassionate side, which instills hope that things will get better. We just have to appreciate the good moments and never give up.

Ahhhh, Memories

This morning, Chrystal emailed me an eBay listing for some Pokemon cards that some kids had managed to sneak into the grocery cart, unnoticed by their mother. The story is hilarious, very reminiscent of many of our trips to Stater Bros. It reminded me of the time...
I had three kids, and needed to do some light clothes shopping for them. Marlie and Daniel desperately needed something other than hand me downs. So we made a trip to Kids R Us in Rowland Heights. I loaded up the double stroller, diaper bag, newborn car seat, and about half of the contents of the toy box (you know the drill), and took off. Oh yeah, I had the kids too. So anyway, this was my first trip alone with three kids. I was a little nervous, but determined to prove to myself that I could do it. I could be like all of those other mothers you see carting around three children who are sitting angelically in their strollers. You know, those women who always have their hair perfectly coiffed, outfit ironed, and make up neatly applied? They are usually carrying a coffee in one hand, cell phone in another and gently suggesting to their children that they keep their hands to themselves. Meanwhile, I'm sporting sun glasses to hide my under eye circles, hair pulled up into a 30 second pony tail, and wearing whatever I could find that did not have puke on it. Yeah, and I'm usually grinding my teeth as I whisper death threats to the two who have death grips on each other. That's usually me. But I knew I could pull this trip off without a hitch.
After only a few minutes of shopping, Trenton, who was only a few months old, let out the hunger cry. I couldn't very well stop the expedition for fear that the other two would get bored and figure out how to unbuckle their seat belts. So I did what any other nursing mom would do and threw on a privacy blanket. Luckily I was never well endowed, so it was not a lot to hide. I was felling really proud of what I was accomplishing. I felt like a true multitasker. After grabbing a few outfits off of the sale rack, with my free hand, I headed to the check out line. I was surprised that the kids had been able to keep themselves entertained during the whole trip. I did not even need to give them a snack as a deterrent! I praised them for a job well done, and treated them to McDonalds.
We arrived home and I started to unload the van. First the kids, next the bags, then the toy box contents, and finally the double stroller. Had I decided to just leave the stroller in, I would have never noticed the clothing shoved into the bottom compartment. But, as I lifted the 50 pound contraption out of the trunk, I saw what looked like a whole rack of clothing stuffed into the bottom. Somehow, one of my kids had managed to reach far enough down to fit some clothes into the bottom basket. How did I not notice what was going on? I pulled out about 200 dollars worth of kids clothing from the stroller when all was said and done. I was so sick to my stomach thinking of what might have happened if the alarm had gone off while exiting the store. Those people would never have believed that my little angels could be capable of such theft. I would have wanted to die. But I still had the problem of having to return the items. How could I possibly explain what had happened? Even if they believe my story, I am going to be banned from Kids R Us for being a mother who is so oblivious that she failed to notice her thieving children. After practicing my story, I went back and returned the clothes. I'm sure that my face was beet red the whole time. They were not angry or judgemental, rather shocked that I had the decency to bring the items back. If that doesn't speak volumes about the general public, I don't know what does! Now, I always do a cavity search of each kid before we leave any store, just to save myself the embarrassment of going back, or worse, setting off the store alarms. We never did shop at Kids R Us again, but I learned an important lesson that day: oblivion breeds mischief. My heart goes out to the lady with the Pokemon card listing. I hope she uses her eBay winnings to buy some handcuffs for her sneaky kids to be used on the next shopping trip.

Mam, You're Under Arrest...

What is it about getting your hair done that makes you feel so wonderful? I left my hair stylist's shop feeling cuter, smarter, taller, more confident, and ready to handle anything life had to throw at me. That is, until I got home and my kids all expressed their dismay at my blonde color and short bob cut. "Who made you the hair police?", I asked Trenton. To which he replied, "No one, but if I was, you'd be in jail 'cause that hair do is a crime." Oh well...can't please everyone. And besides, how much clout could kids who willingly cut chunks of their own hair off out of sheer boredom, really have?

Father Knows Best

I am happy to report that the kids have all been on time to school this week, even Daniel. For us, that is a huge feat to accomplish. It is because Daniel has been able to keep his tantrums to a minimum. We had to make some provisions, but it seems to be paying off. So how did we do it?

1. Outfits are selected, agreed upon and laid out the night before.
2. The kitchen must be stocked with plenty of breakfast choices to avoid the "But I HAAAATE oatmeal. I'll barf if I have to eat it!", situation. Which is usually followed by lots of gagging and drama.
3. We must give a choice between two main lunch items (sandwich or p.b. crackers for example), and let him help to pack it.
4. We must allow some TV or computer time as an incentive to get ready quickly.
5. This morning, Dad decided to curb the first approaching meltdown with a firm swat on the butt and a warning that every morning would include a butt swatting at the first signs of a tantrum. I almost interjected, thinking that Dad was just going to make matters worse. But I respect that Daniel is a parent too, and has the right to apply his own disciplinary technique. So, I sat back and clinched my teeth, waiting for the mother of all meltdowns. Surprisingly, it worked!! He cried for a minute, then changed his attitude. So maybe my "walk on eggshells" approach was not the ideal one to use in this case. Maybe he needed to know that Dad wasn't going to play his game. I'm not sure if this tactic will work every morning, but it worked today...and we will deal with tomorrow when it comes.

Monday Musings

Here are a few little questions I am pondering on this particular Monday:

1. Yesterday, as I was driving on the 15 freeway, a car next to me caught my attention. I don't know why it did, as it was an ordinary Toyota Camry, appearing to belong to an elderly lady. It had all of the signs of elderly woman decor (ie. plush dog in the rear window, lace seat covers, Nevada plates, grandma sticker on the bumper.) Yes, I should have been paying more attention to the road, but it was a boring drive. Anyway, as I gained speed to pass her car, I noticed that her hands looked a little masculine. But she was wearing a bonnet, so I had to get a closer look. I pulled up right next to the window to find a man in his thirties driving the car, beard and all. Not quite the elderly lady with manly hands that I expected to see. It just makes me wonder how many other loonies are out there pretending to be elderly ladies, because that was just disturbing.

2. On most school mornings, I am in a hurry to be on time, and our cat knows this. He is not really an indoor cat, but he still enjoys the occasional nap on Marlie's bed. Being that I am too busy to shoo him away, he ends up staying in until I arrive home again. This morning was no different. However, when I returned home today, I found the cat up on the counter, licking the butter in the butter dish. Since the butter is always located on the counter, next to the stove, I am quite curious to know how many times that has happened, unbeknownst to us.

3. Last night, I did not have my usual glass of wine. I have made the choice to cut out alcohol consumption for awhile, to see if it makes a difference in my sleep quality. I am so tired of waking up feeling exhausted, I'll try almost anything. We decided to retire early, being that we had to be up for school. Ironically, I had so much trouble falling asleep, and I'm not sure if it was the absence of alcohol in my system, or Aiden's feet in my back, or Ella's constant coughing in my ear. If it was in fact the lack of alcohol, does that mean that I have a dependency on wine? If the answer is "yes," does that make me a "wino"?

Is It Nature Or Nurture?

Last night was the famous GNO in our family (girls night out). We went out for sushi and drinks at Toro. It is a much anticipated evening, because it is only girls, no kids, no stress, all the fun we can stand (before 11:30, because we are all old and get tired after that point.) So I let Daniel know that I planned on staying at a sister in law's house to avoid drinking and driving. The house I stayed at is owned by Kathy and Gilbert, Daniel's big sis and bro in law. I love being there because it is so relaxed, and they are good company.
I got up at 7 o'clock this morning because Daniel decided to call my cell phone to see if I was awake yet. Which I wasn't, but I guess I'm not allowed to sleep in no matter where I am. Anyway, I made my way into the kitchen so as not to wake anyone else. Kathy's family are all late sleepers (we are not so fortunate.) As I passed through the family room, I spotted something amazing. Dominic, our 4 year old nephew, was sitting on the sofa. At first I thought he was asleep with his eyes open, because he was completely motionless. But then I realized that he was just sitting there, totally awake and motionless. "Daniel, you will never believe this!", I say quietly into the cell phone.
"What?", he answers.
"Dominic is just sitting here, awake and alone. Nobody else is awake yet, and he's not even doing anything wrong! He's just sitting! Not getting into the cupboards, or setting the house on fire...just...sitting," I say, in awe.
"I'm sorry, I've gotta go. Reed just climed up onto the bathroom counter.," as he hangs up.
That is exactly my point. Our one year old was climbing onto the bathroom counter, while being supervised. Yet my nephew, four years old, is sitting perfectly behaved on the couch, not under threat of spankings, and not supervised what so ever. Is it just a matter of genetics that makes her kids so easy going, or good training? If it is the latter, it makes me wonder what the heck I'm doing wrong?

The Dangers of Good Parenting

Good morning, and happy Friday! I'd like to thank everyone for all of your encouraging words regarding my last post. It really helps to know that my friends and family care so much about us. I have made the decision to find alternative methods to handle my stress. I am also working on ways of handling Daniel's needs.
I've been trying to do the things that the school psychologist recommended (drugs will never be an option), in hopes that it will make some small difference. I'm not hoping to "fix" Daniel, as he is not a boy who needs fixing. It is the way I parent him that needs fixing. It is easy to parent an easy child. But when you are given a child that needs something you are not equipped with naturally, it can be frustrating and make a parent feel like a failure. In any case, I'm not giving up.
So the other night, I was writing a schedule for Daniel on a white board, on the advice of the psychologist. The dry erase board that I purchased from Target for a mere 3 dollars, seemed like a great idea. However, it was cheap and kept falling off of the fridge, which nearly drove me nuts. I decided to disassemble it and adhere just the metal part to the fridge. Unfortunately, it was a little more difficult to separate the cardboard from the metal surface, than I thought it would be. I almost had it separated, when....OOOOPS! My hand slipped and I sliced my index finger on the surprisingly razor like edge of the metal. Thank God that all of the kids were asleep because there was blood everywhere! (I'm not good with pain or blood...go figure!) I could have sworn that my finger had been cut to the bone, but Daniel assured me that it wasn't quite that deep. We wrapped my finger and called Daniel's brother to come and stay with the kids. We drove to the nearest emergency room and waited for hours to get it stitched up. I was probably the only person in there who had health insurance (no exaggeration), but was still made to wait for all of the uninsured people to have their turns. I thought it pretty ironic that my taxes paid for their health care, but my severed finger did not take precedence over their viruses. We finally got out of there (Thank God) at 2:30 am, with six stitches and serious bags under our eyes. I probably looked stoned from the Demerol shot they gave me to stop the bleeding. Apparently, my fear of the stitches caused my heart rate to soar, which pumped more blood to my finger. So, getting worked up actually paid off in the end (literally), because that is where they gave me the shot! Now I just have to figure out how to do my daily schedule and care taking, without having to use my index finger. Oh, and just a side note, Daniel was mad that the schedule board was gone the next morning. So, I'm off to the store today to buy a new dry erase board, but not a cheap one. Life is just full of ironies, isn't it? But, as I said earlier, I'll never give up!

The Big Things

Normally, my blog is full of the little, everyday incidences that occur here at home. Some postings are meant to be funny, some more serious, but most are written to relay the small scale things that I experience as a mom. Today, I am going to share something on a larger scale. I'm sharing it because I feel that it is important to share the big things as well, in order to paint an accurate picture for you. After all, what would the Sistine Chapel look like if DaVinci left out the major parts? It just wouldn't make sense. I know some people believe that others talk too much and share too much (my husband is one of those people,) but I disagree. I think that one of the problems in this country is that we do not share or talk enough. We think that our crosses are ours alone to bear. If we just communicated our hopes, fears, joys and struggles more, I think our sense of community would strengthen, and our little differences wouldn't matter as much. So, with that being said, I will share the events of yesterday. I'm going to try and make it short, and quick.
It started with my decision to have my son, Daniel, assessed for behavioral issues. Many of you know Daniel, but do not know that he has a lot of issues. These issues occur mostly in our home, because he has the ability to somewhat control it in public. I am talking about severe mood swings, aggression, the inability to calm himself and respond to situations using appropriate behavior. He has been this way since I can remember. As a toddler he had to hold his breath for short intervals in order to get to sleep. He throws mind boggling tantrums, several (at least 10) times a day, punching holes in walls, and hurting others. He tells me that he hates me and is going to kill himself on a daily basis. These are just a few of the behaviors in a very long list. We have tried so many times to follow the advice of psychologists and other parents. I'm at the point where I cannot handle his behavior any longer. It is greatly affecting the other members of our family. I will be taking him to the doctor this month to start a series of assessments. I am extremely opposed to drugging children, so I'm very apprehensive about the findings. But trust me when I say that this is not just an attempt, by him,to get attention. It makes me feel quite incompitent as a parent, and worries me beyond belief. I cry for him so much, because I know his heart is good, but something in his mind is making it difficult for him to behave properly.
That is where my second problem ties in. I have recently expressed in postings, the pain in my jaw. It is to the point that I cannot chew food very well. I have had TMJ symptoms for a few years now, and it has gotten progressively worse. My mouth guard does little to help, and I decided to visit the doctor. To my great sorrow, the doctor informed me of a few things. The tension and pain in my jaw, is a result of my inability to handle the amount of stress that I carry. There is little I can do to remedy this problem. I have too much anxiety and stress, so it manifests itself at night and when I clinch my teeth all day. I also suffer from mild depression as a result of my inability to deal with my stress. He wants me to take muscle relaxers at night to stop my teeth grinding, and serotonin in the day to help my perception of stress. So basically, he wants me to become a pill popping mommy because I cannot handle my career choice. He also suggested to take the serotonin until the kids are all older.
I left his office and sat in my car and cried my eyes out. Who wants to hear news that they are unable to handle their job/life? Who wants to have to take their child to a doctor because they are unable deal with his personality? It was just too much for me to handle in one day.
I am at a crossroads right now. I'm not really sure what we will encounter in these next few weeks, months, and years, but I am scared. I want to be able to handle all of my children and not destroy my body/mind in the process. There are moms all over the world who feel the same. I know this because I read it and hear it all the time, from the moms themselves. I hope that this posting serves as evidence that even seemingly competent mothers have problems at some point, and that they realize that sharing them with others is okay, and appreciated. We are not alone in this mission to raise our children.
So what does a person do when they are unable to handle what they have been given? For now, all I can do is pray. And ask for your prayers, that Daniel and I make the right choices for our family's sake.

Cheese?

Today, while the kids were at school, I decided to clean out their art supply/educational cabinet. It was such a mess from the summer usage it got (mostly the art supplies). Everything was going very well until I lifted out a stack of workbooks. Behind them, was a chunk of half eaten cheddar (I think) cheese. The smell was not putrid, like I expected it to be. What worried me more so than the smell, was the fact that this particular chunk was not even moldy. It was kind of petrified. It sat in a small puddle of oil, looking like those fake food specimen you can use as home decor. It was perfect looking. Something was not right. Shouldn't it be moldy? Shouldn't it be making me gag with its pungent, rotten odor? I tossed the chunk in the trash, and am left to wonder exactly what brand of cheese that was, because whatever it was, it clearly was not an authentic dairy product. I may not be perfect, but I do try to serve my family unprocessed food, not food "products", and that definitely was not one. Gross!

I Hate Pregnant Women

No, not really. But it does make my stomach turn when I realize that my kindergartner has a pregnant teacher. Now why on earth would a pregnant teacher make my stomach turn? It seems that I, of all people, would be very sympathetic towards a gestating woman.
Not when it means that she leaves half way through the year, and is replaced by a "teacher" who is not credentialed and has no idea how to handle a class. Not when my kindergartner is so neglected by the replacement "teacher", that he back pedals in his progress, and ends up barely promoting into the first grade. Then I end up paying 45 dollars an hour during summer break just to make up for the less than adequate education my child received during the regular school year.
I cannot believe that this is happening again! It is like Murphy's Law was written just for me. I'm already beyond pissed that they divided my four elementary aged children between two schools (AGAIN), making my life harder than it naturally is. But I decided to tough it out until the new school is built in February, and they are all reunited at one school. I'm even adjusting to the fact that I was first in line at Kinder registration, and they still stuck my son in crappy afternoon Kindergarten. That can all be dealt with. But I freaken refuse to go through the same scenario that I went through last year, with Trenton. The poor kids is terrified that he isn't ready for the first grade, because he knows he is still behind.
You had better believe that I will be in the Principal's office ASAP for a class change, which makes me one of those "complainer" parents, but so be it, if it means that I avoid an under educated child and an overinflated Sylvan bill!

It Only Comes Once A Year

How can four little words make a mother so happy? Yep, you guessed it...First Day Of School!!! I will be up at 5:45 am tomorrow morning with a smile gracing my crooked jaw, packing lunches and making breakfast for four (yes, four) of my children. While all of the other Kindergarten parents are holding back their sniffles, I will be burning rubber out of the circle drive, laughing hysterically as I go. I will be booting kids out of the van so fast that they wont know what hit them. I will enjoy every minute of my 3.5 hours of peace and quiet. I will relish the time that I get to spend with my cute little toddlers, w/ out the interruption of fighting or complaining. I will admire my freshly mopped floors and clean counter tops until 2pm every day. I vow to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee, while reading the newspaper. I will call people that I have not been able to converse with in three months, for fear of what my unattended evil geniuses will attempt while I'm distracted. I will have carefree afternoons at the park, (and actually look normal,) with only three children. I will grocery shop with out wanting to cuss out the other shoppers for their snotty remarks about my "brood". I will go to the restroom without having to threaten a slow and painful death to any kids who breaks a rule while I'm indisposed. I will sport a hair do other than the classic "tired mommy ponytail". And maybe, just maybe after a few weeks, I will miss the having all of my kids around to laugh at and learn with. But for now, I'm just gonna revel in the "Back To School " joy that a mother only gets to experience once a year!

Remember When...

I'm pleased to report that yesterday turned out very well. The kids were pretty well behaved during the mass (except for Ella yelling "I have to go poop!" a couple of times). But who can blame her...she really did need to go. After the mass and burial, we all congregated at Grandma Itzaina's home for a reception. Despite the lack of A/C and small square footage, it was lovely to be there. I had never been to Grandma's because of the fact that her house is full of breakable trinkets, and we've always had kids. And all of you parents know that the two combined, equal disaster. My favorite part of being at Grandma's, was hearing the stories of her grandchildren. Chrystal shared her memories of growing up at Grandma's, and it brought back my own memories of my time at my grandparents' house. It seems to me that children really need those kind of memories. The kind of memories that can take an adult back to childhood instantly, just by closing their eyes and remembering when.
I can still smell the clean sheets on Grandma Vette's bed, and her favorite perfume. I can smell the roses in Grandma Schleicher's garden and her freshly baked rolls. Daniel remembers his Grandpa's homemade Thanksgiving pies, and Grandma's stories about relatives of whom he has no recollection (which did not matter to Grandma at all.) It assures me that the world still has the potential to be a wonderful place as long as there are Grandmas and Grandpas like Daniel and I have. As Marlie read the poem she wrote for Grandma, last night, it made me realize something. We live entirely too far from my children's own grandparents. I am robbing them of the memories that they should be storing up for later. Unless we get back down the hill, they will never know the smell of Grandma Jackie's perfume, or Grandpa's great singing voice. They will not know what Memere's little house on 56th street looked like, or hear the creaking of her wood floors, as they think back on childhood.
I suddenly realize just how important it is for us to be near our parents. Not just for the convenience of babysitting, or the trips to Starbucks, with Mom and Hannah, that I miss so much. It is for the sake of building childhood memories while we can. Life goes by too fast to take things like that for granted. I need to give my children the gift that my parents gave me. The gift of memories, so that when they have to say a final goodbye to their own Grandmas and Grandpas, they will have something to keep in their minds and more importantly, their hearts. That is truly how a person lives forever, and Grandma Itzaina has plenty of loved ones to keep her memory alive.

Old Yeller

I need a way to yell at my kids w/out having to actually open my mouth. My jaw is worse today than it was yesterday. The visit to our chiropractor was painful and ineffective, which was not his fault. He thinks that the disc in my jaw joint has something wrong with it. I cannot open my mouth very far at all. Which means I look utterly ridiculous trying to eat, and even more ridiculous yelling at my kids. The neighbors must have had a good laugh this morning as I loaded up the kids in the van. "Hey, Ella...get out of the gutter. No, Trenton, do not ding dong ditch the neighbor!! Aiden, come back, come back....COME BACK!!!!" And while I'm yelling, I'm holding my jaw and contorting my face because of the shooting pain I'm experiencing. I guess I could always resort to the sign language I used when the laryngitis plagued me. Or I could use the finger painting pad to hand write death threats to the rule breakers. But neither of those will be effective during the funeral mass tomorrow. Maybe I'll take the advice of a very wise man and "Speak softly, and carry a big stick." Or in my case a big wooden paddle! Maybe they'll just be good today, in light of the fact that I'm injured. Maybe their compassionate sides will come out and they will all play in peace. Okay, really...I need an alternate method of yelling.

Re: At A Loss

I realized, after writing the last post, that some may think the content a little inappropriate. I apologize to any readers who may have been offended by the post. I, in no way, meant to make light of Grandma's funeral or passing. I only meant to ask advice on the situation, and give some background on why I was feeling concerned. If it came across as comical, or crude, I am very sorry. It was not my intent.

At A Loss For Words...I hope

Grandma's funeral is tomorrow. We are bringing all of the kids, for lack of a baby sitter. Never in a million years would I bring all of my kids to a funeral. I even hesitate to bring them all to Chuck E. Cheese because of our last visit (think "food fight scene from Peter Pan meets Gladiator"). I'm pretty sure we are banned from the Hesperia location after that incident.
Anyway, bringing them is against my better judgement, but we are. The problem is, I'm not sure what to expect from them. Sometimes, I think they are going to act horribly, and they surprise me. But other times, the decision to bring them places makes me swear I will never do it again (for example: the trip to see Ratatouille). So in an effort to prepare them for tomorrow, we had a talk. The following is an excerpt from our conversation:

Me: Let me just tell you that the funeral is NOT happy fun time.
Trenton: It might be fun, Mom, you never know.
Me: NO! No, it is not going to be fun. It is a sad occasion.
Phillip: But we just had a occasion.
Me: No, that was a vacation.
Phillip: Is the funeral a vacation?
Me: No, it is a time to remember Grandma, quietly...with no playing around, and no fighting.
Trenton: Will she be there?
Me: No, not her spirit. Grandma went to heaven.
Daniel: How about her body?
Me: Well, yes.
Daniel: Will we see it?
Me: Ummmm, yeah I suppose.
Trenton (a light bulb appearing over his head): Her dead body?
Me: (Sigh) Yes.
Trenton: Cool! A real dead body!
Daniel: No Trenton, not cool...it is sad!
Me: Yes, exactly...it is sad.

A short moment of silence falls over the car.

Daniel: Okay, maybe just a little cool... but sad too.


So, I'm a little worried about how things will unfold tomorrow. I'm really considering bringing the roll of duct tape, just in case Trenton gets that little light bulb over his head again. The last thing I want to deal with is offended family members who do not know about Trenton's tendency to come up with witty (and often crude) observations at inappropriate times. Maybe I'll just secretly stash an economy pack of gummy worms in my purse to keep his mouth occupied. And I'm pretty sure we'll be steering clear of the coffin all together. If anyone has any other ideas about how to handle th