Hook 'em Horns

Although the Longhorns got knocked out in the second round of March Madness, the babies wanted to show their support anyway. (Outfits courtesy of my sister who went to graduate school there.)

A2 would also like to announce that he has a tooth. While it's not exactly a new skill, he's thrilled to have finally mastered something before his sister.

And like most photo ops, this one ended in tears.

Don't doubt the memory

Two important things to know about me: First, I have a freakishly good memory. Phone numbers, important dates, and lots of weird facts that no one in their right mind would remember.

Second, I love being right.

Yesterday, I found two $10 bills in my diaper bag. That, in and of itself, would be a banner headline, but there's more to the story. A was about to head to the store and so I tossed the money onto the couch where he was sitting and told him to use the cash.

Thirty minutes later, he's back and I ask, "Did you use the cash?"

"You never gave me the cash."

"Of course I did. I tossed it on the couch right next to you."

Thus began quite the conversation and search for the money. We looked on the couch, under the couch, and in between the couch cushions. I checked my pockets; he checked his pockets. We really looked everywhere.

He kept insisting that I had never given him the money, and said I must have done something else with it. "Maybe you put it in your wallet." "Did you leave it on your desk?" But I knew I had given it to him. I could even picture myself tossing the money to him.

Still, he would not believe.

Then, I remembered that he had been wearing his pajama pants before he went to the store. I ran upstairs to our bedroom... and lo and behold, the money was in his pants pocket. Oh boy—that was quite the "I'm right and you're wrong" dance that I did in the kitchen.

Don't ever doubt the memory.

How I've missed you

Growing up, my mom bought Girl Scout cookies every year. (I was a Brownie myself in first grade, but never advanced beyond that). Her favorites were Thin Mints. I quickly fell in love with the caramel coconuty goodness of Samoas, all the while cursing that there were only 15 in each box. C'mon, 15?!

It's been years since I've had Girl Scout cookies. I've had a few Thin Mints here and there, maybe, but I don't think I've ever bought a box as an adult. As a self-professed cheapskate, I could never seem to get past the price tag.

Last week, my mother-in-law came over to watch the older kids and very nonchalantly handed me two boxes—one box of Trefoils and one box of Samoas. "They were selling these at the grocery store, so I got you a few boxes."

I think she may have been a bit disturbed by how I began lovingly caressing the Samoas box."It's been years since I had these!"

I ate my first cookie. Heaven. Pure heaven.

The kids asked for one. No.

A had a few. "I don't love them as much as you do, but they're all right." Then why are you taking three of them?!!

I savored every last one.

Oh, sweet samoas. How you've been missed.



P.S. Yesterday, I found a recipe online to make my own samoas. Hurray!

In a funk

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Dealing with random baby ailments. Wondering if I'm speaking a foreign language to my children. Crying about weird things (watching Girls Just Want to Have Fun—and no, I am NOT pregnant.) Realizing, once again, that I am probably the only one in the house fighting the good fight against the descent into chaos.

I was all set to blog about my grievances. But after writing some of it down, I stopped. And then I deleted.

I thought about people in my own family and neighborhood who are dealing with really hard things. And I realized that in the grand scheme of things, I don't have a lot to complain about.

Our life is good. Sure, I wouldn't say no if an obedience fairy showed up to teach the kids a thing or two, but when compared to the sadness and trials that go on all around me, I have to stop... take a deep breath... and say, "Life really is pretty good."

Farewell, dear friends

You've served us well. When two parents were bleary-eyed from severe lack of sleep, you swooped in and saved the day. You gently rocked (and vibrated) our precious babies for over 600 hours each, and yet, you never complained.

You were puked and peed on, and you came out of the wash looking brand-new every time.

The older children leaned on you countless times to say "hi" to their siblings.

As the babies got older, they tried to pull down your mobiles onto their heads. And you still stood strong.

I shudder to think what we would have done without you.

May you both rest in peace in A's parents' basement, until the time that someone else in the family needs you.

You will be missed.

On sleeping

Several months ago, S started having trouble falling asleep at night. It got to the point where she was routinely awake until 9:30 or 10 every night. We tried nightlights, no nightlights, letting her read for a while before going to sleep, getting water, and more. It got pretty bad for a while, but then slowly started tapering off to where she only had issues maybe once a week.

Last week, the sleep issue reared its ugly head again (no doubt brought on by my recurring friend, Daylight Savings). Not only does she have trouble falling asleep, but she's become terrified by "noises" she hears in the house. Dad checked her closet for anything suspicious; we talked about how houses make sounds, but they're not bad sounds; we talked about how our imaginations can sometimes run wild (which got a giggle out of her); we turned on the nightlight again; we turned up the noise machine in her room that's for N; and we even said special prayers. One night when I came in to grab something for the babies, I saw her huddled underneath her blankets, absolutely terrified by whatever she heard, or thought she heard. She was finally able to get some rest last Thursday night, but then it started up again on Friday night and hasn't let up.

Talking her through all of this has brought up all of my issues with sleep, and I think I've discovered why making sure everyone in the house sleeps well is so important to me. I've had trouble sleeping for most of my life, starting when I was in 7th grade or so. Most of the time, I just can't turn off my mind, but as a kid I would get so freaked out by noises or shadows in my room that I wouldn't be able to fall asleep for hours. Reassuring S made me remember my poor mom saying many of the same things to help me calm down and fall asleep. I could never turn my imagination off, so I guess it's no wonder that S has problems with it, too.

If anyone has any ideas for helping S fall asleep faster, I'm all ears.

Does Power Bar do baby food?

I think I may have found the next great thing in baby food: meal replacement bars (maybe puffs or mush would work better for the toothless set) or even better, high protein baby shakes!

I'm only half-joking here. If there was a way that I could feed N just one or two times a day, oh boy, would I jump at that. I get so tired of fighting with her to finish her bottle (or just get close to finishing). And the baby food sessions? Forget it. It took her at least two or three weeks to get used to rice cereal. And now, whenever I try a new food, she freaks out. So, I tried putting just one spoonful of the offending food mixed in with the rice cereal and she still freaked out. I make airplane noises, smack my lips, sing silly songs, and have even just resorted to putting food in her mouth while she's crying. Before I could feel bad about doing that, she outsmarted me and now just keeps her mouth open indefinitely, until all the food either falls out or I just wipe it away. And then, there's always the two or three times she'll gag during a feeding. And all the while, A2 sits next to her with this look on his face that says, "Give her food to me. I'll eat it!"

Random Loves

Children (and I don't think it's just mine) are masters at showing love when you most need it—even if you don't realize that's the case.

The other night, I was lying on the couch in the after-dinner I'm so tired, hopefully there won't be any major fights so I can rest for 10 minutes haze—when all of a sudden, T appeared in front of my face and said, "I love you." Be still my heart! I hugged him and hugged him and kissed him all over. Such a sweet boy.

We've taught the older kids a little trick to say "I love you" when we're out in public. You hold someone's hand and then squeeze it three times. The kids love doing this, especially S and H. H always seems to know just when I need that "I love you" squeeze. And he looks so proud of himself for knowing the secret language.

I wish I were better at being more patient with them, but I'm so grateful that I have little people who are so good at knowing just when Mom needs a little extra love.

Dear Mr. President,

First things first: I'm not going to pretend that I voted for you, or that I'm even remotely pleased with the job you're doing so far. I didn't, and I'm not. But that doesn't mean I can't ask for a tiny favor, right? Glad we can finally agree on something!

Daylight savings—it kind of stinks, doesn't it? I mean, when I was a teenager, that extra hour of sleep in the Fall came in handy, but nobody likes "Spring Forward", do they? And now with kids, it's all bad because their little internal alarm clocks don't know that they're not supposed to go off at the normal time. The kids just get up as usual, whenever their little eyes pop open. Every March and November, everyone in the house is tired and cranky for at least a week until their bodies adjust. And with five children, I really don't need more crankiness in my life.

And really, I don't understand the whole thing, Mr. President. It's you that decides when it happens, right? Is it for the farmers? Or maybe so we can have more daylight in the summer for BBQs and baseball games? I'm all for fun during summer evenings, but frankly, I value sleep more.

If you're not able to do away with it entirely, I understand. But, is it ok if my family and I just opt out? Arizona does... so, if it's all the same to you, I think we'll just pretend we live in Arizona, ok?

Thanks for reading,



P.S. Please stop spending my grandchildren's money.

Horrors

There is a room in my house that I dread entering. I never know what horrors await me, and most of the time, I don't want to find out.

Which room? The kids' bathroom.
My biggest fear in this room? Toothpaste.

On the wall.
On the front of the cabinets.
On the floor.
On the toilet.
On the hand towel.
And my favorite, in S's hair.

And this is with me wiping down the counters and sink every day (S does it when she remembers to do her job). It's horrifying in there and I hate it.

Please tell me that my children aren't the only ones who seem completely unable to get the toothpaste on the actual toothbrush.

Hats

Sometimes, good things come to those who whine on their blogs.

We've been rewarded with a few great days of spring-like weather (which, of course, will be followed by rain and snow later in the week). Yesterday, I pulled out several cute new outfits for the babies. Two included headgear. When the boys saw them, they insisted that the babies wear their headgear all day long. And really, who could blame them. They did look pretty dang cute. For some reason, I was especially amused to see them crawling around in their diapers... and hats.