We made the move! CA to UT

Well, we did it. We made the move. We lifted our born and raised roots from California and planted them in Utah soil.

This is more like a journal entry, so if you want to hear me ramble on about my experience so far, keep reading. :)

I have to say I would have never in a million years thought I would end up in Utah. I worried a little that I was a pinch too liberal for Utah. What if I found myself drowning in heavy duty conservative sauce? (I love everyone, I am just not always so conservative when it comes to my beliefs) Was there going to be creative outlets for me that are a little "different"? Was it going to be culturally diverse enough? This is important to me. I grew up surrounded by diversity, it gifted me tolerance and openness, along with a thirst and appreciation for learning about other cultures and I want the same gift for my children.

Our first week here in our new home was giddy. I love the house, I love the yard, and I love the neighborhood. There is usually something romantic (in an organizational way, if you're into that) about unpacking a house. You either love it or hate it. I found joy in it. A week of deciding what would go where, what I no longer had room for, what I could use differently, and so on. There is still some excitement left in that area as I still need to buy a desk and a few dressers. I had welcoming family members and a dear friend, (we will call her Cookie) nearby. I was full of energy and smiles.

The second week morphed into something completely different. It started off exciting, Beeb started at her new elementary school and Bub started at his new Junior High School. They both had a great first week and made friends and I still had a week of little man Booski home with me before he started kindergarten. I was so happy for them that they were adjusting so well and jumping right in, so what was my problem? I felt lethargic. When I say lethargic, I mean I felt like I absolutely HAD to lie down every day. It was as if my legs were dragging behind me. If I didn't have the change in altitude to blame, I would have thought there was something seriously wrong with me. This lasted for almost two weeks! I felt exhausted, I felt down and depressed, and I felt lonely. It's not that I wanted to be around anyone either, I wanted to be alone because I felt lonely and shitty. I know and trust my feelings enough to know it was just my way of adjusting to a big change. It was confusing at first, why would I feel like shit when the change was my choice and I felt so positive about it? I had to remind myself that change is change. Good or bad, change can be rough. It can be ugly. A butterfly goes through a mess of shit before changing into such a beautiful creature.

Another dear friend, my "bosom buddy", reminded me that I can look at this change as a brand new start. I could do anything. I could be excited about it! She was right, I have an opportunity right now to do what I want with my time, to an extent. I have a few hours to myself during the day (2 hours and 45 minutes to be exact) while little Booski is in school, my classes haven't started up yet, so besides the regular busy-ness of day to day errand running, cleaning, yelling at dogs, cooking and all that fine stuff, I could start new and do new things with my time. I miss my breakfast with the bosom buddy, I miss coffee dates and walks, I have to start over and do things for me, with me. I also knew I needed to get active to help this lethargic state. I want to get in shape and lose weight and I want to have my energy back and there is no excuse not to.

First things first is trying new things. Here I was worried that I wouldn't find my kind of "things" out here. I live only 30 minutes from Salt Lake City, there is everything! There is diversity, there is natural food stores, there are meditation groups, kundalini yoga classes, there are groups that meditate and eat vegetarian dinners in the park, there are kick ass coffee shops, and brilliant restaurants. I want to try it all! These are some of the things that I wanted in California, but being in the central valley, some of these things and ideas were a distance away making it difficult to be a part of it. All of this goodness right at my fingertips!

Here's what I did first. I signed up at the gym. I'm not really a gym-girl. It easily feels intimidating, or testosterone-y. Plus my hip is still partially fractured so I'm not always sure what my limits are. The gym in town though, has a few things I thougtht I could really benefit from. First, daycare. I can leave Booski to play while I do something for myself. Second, classes. They have a ton of classes. I have craving a new sense of community, especially in the health area. So far I've done the yoga class, Pilate's, step, and I plan on trying kickboxing and zumba. It turns out the step class was advanced. When I left there, I felt like I had just done crossfit. Crazy intense, not what I expected. I plan on going every Friday and letting it kick my ass. Third, a sauna. Come on, a sauna. Tons of beautiful moist heat wrapped around your tired muscles. Love. Love. Love. There is a pool and a hot tub, and a steam room too but I mostly dig the sauna. Anyway, I'm becoming an exercise class junky and it has fixed my lethargic ways this last week. Now when I'm tired it is because I worked out, not because I'm depressed and in a higher elevation. It lifts my mood, my energy, and my motivation. Utah's slogan is "Utah, life elevated." It certainly is elevated, the inside of my nose is dry and bloody and I have to use my inhaler more often, but I will take that slogan and run with it on a more personal level, as if the inside of my nose wasn't personal enough for you.

Next I signed up for a meditation class in SLC. I have been meditating at home for a few years but I have always wanted to try a group meditation. This was a particular type, Sahaja Meditation. Anything to help awake the kundalini sounds worth a try to me. I invited Cookie to come along and check it out. It was more instructional than I had hoped for, was looking for more meditation than instruction but I did learn a lot more about the chakras and the history of Sahaja and how it relates to yoga and unity. The group setting is definitely a great addition to my practice. I already found some other meditation classes Cookie, so get ready!

I've set aside time for my kundalini yoga practice at home, my sacred cup of coffee with a side of mountain views, a gym class a few days a week, and quality time with Booski before he goes to afternoon kindergarten. By the end of week three I was feeling more balanced. I've been back to making freezer meals to make life easier. There is something about looking in the garage freezer and seeing meals ready to thaw and cook that makes me fill up with joy. It makes me feel like I have my shit together or something, I'm prepared, I'm ready, and I don't really have to cook.

The more I browsed around on Meetup, the more I could see that while being a conservative state (there are plenty of conservative things about me, just not as a whole) there are a multitude of groups and activities to get involved in. I felt less alone already.

Let's talk about the white people.

Were my children going to be constantly surrounded by white people and forget about how beautiful it is that the world is full of different poeple and history and cultures? It started to weigh on me much heavier than I thought it would. At the end of my second week here, as I was leaving Costco in Salt Lake City, I heard a woman speaking to her children in Spanish. My eyes immediatly filled with tears. It felt like the woman was hugging me. One of those deep, cleansing hugs that only some poeple know how to give. I felt like I was at home, hearing a Mexian woman speak to her children in Spanish. It may sound silly but it meant the world to me. I talked to my best friend since 7th grade (we will call her "my Janet") on my drive home. She reassured me that it was normal, that she went through similar feelings when she moved from our hometown to an area that was pridominently white. 

During week three I got out a lot more. Trips to Salt Lake City and errands in town showed me that there was more diversity than I had first thought. It made me feel more at peace with the whole thing. It makes me realize just how diverse and differnt California can be. A piece of my heart will always be there in CA, but I am embracing Utah with open arms and as of week 4, with more normal energy levels and motivation.

So here we are at one month after moving in. After a roller coaster of feelings I feel the balancing taking place. I feel like I am exploring and settling in. I feel happy about everything there is to offer here. All of the outdoor fun, the classes, the education, the family and sense of community. It's all here.

I have to say that our family here is amazingly supportive and loving. They regularly show that they want to help and support us, they want to spend time and make memories with us, and that they love us and our children. It's absolutly heart warming. It makes a big change that much easier.

What ever change you are going through, remember to be paitent with it. It could be big lifestyle changes, moving, a new job, starting school or even small changes. Small changes can affect you more than you think. Grief stricken changes like death are probably the most challenging, but you will get through it. You will not be the same afterwards, but you will get through it and figure out the new you. Allow yourself to feel like shit, really. As long as you are aware of what is going on with you, you will be able to move past it and take something with you. Just about everything can involve self discovery. Through the good and the bad, keep doing you.

Discussion...Do you force your children to give hugs?

This topic has come up quite a bit lately for my family due to the fact that we are moving out of state soon. Due to the upcoming move, we have had and still have many visits planned with loved ones to get some quality time in before we move. There have been several times lately with a few different family members and friends, where they want a hug goodbye or hello and one of my kids do not want to give one (usually one of my boys). This has come up more than just recently and I had actually decided a few years back that I would not force my kids to hug when they didn't feel good about it. Then more recently I felt like maybe I should, maybe they wouldn't see this person for some time, and the person really wanted a hug, but why I am putting the other persons needs first and ignoring my child's discomfort? That must be the people pleaser in me that tries to creep back in sometimes and I do not want to raise people pleasers. I know all too well the internal suffer that goes along with being one.

I am a hugger. I'm not sure that I have always been, but I have become one in my adult years. I hug my family and friends upon greeting and leaving, for the most part. I've learned over the years that not everyone else is a hugger and hugs may even make others feel uncomfortable. If I can sense it ahead of time, I may hold back my hug. I'm not changing who I am, but  I don't care to give a hug that isn't welcomed, that defeats the purpose of the hug all together! I remember being extremely uncomfortable at times during childhood when I was forced or felt obligated to hug, whether it be a friend or family members.

I know that many family's, especially in past generations, feel that it is disrespectful for a child not to hug, especially a family member. I don't feel there is a right or wrong answer. I think this is one of those topics that whatever way works best for an individual family is the way to go. I will never feel disrespected or even put out if someone else's child doesn't want to hug me. They may be extremely shy (which I was as a child) and hugging may be overwhelmingly uncomfortable. Maybe they have a thing about their personal space. We are all different and I only enjoy two-way hugs.

My oldest especially, (and sometimes my youngest) has never been big on hugs, unless they are with me or his dad. He is actually extremely affectionate, but mainly with his parents. He doesn't always refuse hugs from others but it has never surprised me when he has, as he has always been that way. I wasn't sure how to respond to it when he was little. I felt pressure to force him to do it, people seemed offended if he rejected their hug. I've came to the conclusion (which may differ from other parents of course) that I am not going to force him, or my other kids to give hugs. My children are loving and affectionate when it is genuine and that means something. I had to ask myself, if they feel uncomfortable giving a hug at times, what would be the purpose of forcing them to do it? Basically it would be to fulfill the hug-recipient's needs. Like I said, I don't want to raise people-pleasers. He isn't rude about it, just looks at me in that "I really don't want to" kind of way, I may push a little and if he still seems uncomfortable, I let it go. I did force him to hug his auntie the other day, she seemed to really want the hug and mentioned how she may not see him for a long time. He eventually gave a pathetic excuse for a hug, and that showed me it is not worth it, in my opinion, to force him. I am thinking not much comes from receiving a hug like that, it wasn't meaningful or full of love, it was literally forced. A hug should be a two-way display of affection.

I don't want kids being made to feel like a lack of wanting to hug symbolizes lack of love. I definitely don't want to give them the idea that they only way to show love is through physical affection either. They love all their family and all of our close friends, they may just not love hugging. Now, my oldest will show affection through "tazering" (digging his fingers into your side) all day, but that isn't typically a two-way show of affection either LOL!

I make sure my kids say hello to people and that they say goodbye, acknowledging that someone is leaving. I think that is basic manners they need to have. Other than that, they need to find their way on the path of being a hugger or not.

Having this come up so much lately I was curious to hear from other parents about how they feel about forcing or not forcing hugs between their children and others.

First Time Mom vs Mom of Many - Self Love

I have been thinking lately about how my thoughts and reactions about motherhood differ so greatly from when I was a first time mom.  Some things I see as positives.  I quit worrying about germs, I learned to loosen up (routine is necessary, but kids need to be able to adapt to change without falling apart) I conquered my fear of dirt and mess, and I realized my kids' had their very own intriguing personalities that didn't need to mirror the majority to be OK.

There is however a few things that I have gotten lazy with after having multiple children.  I'm fine with it, they will survive and so will I. All the laziness does point to something positive, self love. I love myself more than when I started. It makes these things that I thought mattered so much, not matter much at all.

Bedtime:  When I was a mother to one, we had a sweet little bedtime routine.  It went something like, bath time, pajamas and a bed time story, an exchange of loving words, and lights out.  Same time every night.  It was just my son and I.  I had all of my attention to give and the rest of the evening for whatever it is I wanted to do with my time.

These days, depending on what day it is, we (husband and I) have either 3 or 5 children.  Bedtime usually goes a little something like this: "Bed time guys."  We exchange hugs, say our promise of "We'll tuck you in when we come up" (this may or may not happen depending on if they are sleeping or not, or if we are just too exhausted by then to follow through) and off they go upstairs to their rooms.  For about the next 45 minutes various children come halfway down the stairs to make up some bullshit story about how they didn't eat enough, or they are SO thirsty they might die, or another child is throwing things at them, or maybe that the youngest has smuggled a granola bar into bed so can't they just have one too?  Then it may be scary up there, or too hot or too cold. One gets a headache, the other won't stop talking, and the youngest becomes a terrorist if both the older boys are in the room with him to establish his alpha position as the youngest. He usually has to be moved to our bed.  At that point he comes down more than once to tell us that it is scary to be alone and he is giving us two minutes to come up. We ignore his threats and remind him that we will tuck him in when we come up.

I know, the sweet little bedtime routine sounds so much less annoying and ultimately makes bedtime easier, but we are tired.  They are old enough to slip into bed on their own. Although bedtime seems to get a little stressful, we find joy in not having to go upstairs.  That's just how it is now. A routine for 3-5 children? No thank you. I can hardly stay up later than the kids as it is, let me just sit on the couch for a few more minutes.

Kids in the Bed:  I use to worry that I needed to kick them out of my bed by a certain age.  The first one we kicked out at age 2, the second one at age 3, and the baby is 4 and a half and primarily sleeps with us.

I just don't give a shit with the younger one.  We have tried several times to get him out of our bed and into his own.  I know exactly how to do it. It works for a while, but we usually cave at some point because we actually miss cuddling with him. He doesn't get in my way so I don't care. He's only little for a little while. To the older ones, sorry, you had your time, if I can't stretch my legs at night I won't be very nice in the morning and no one wants that.

Buying Toys: When I had one child, I bought him new toys.  I would see cool stuff at Target and think about how much he would just love to have it. I would buy him new toys whenever I wanted. His grandparents bought him new toys whenever they wanted. His Auntie would buy him new toys whenever she wanted. The kid had some cool shit!

I can't remember the last time I bought a new toy that wasn't a gift for some sort of holiday or birthday. I think it happened once or twice in the last 5 years.  Guess what? My kids are happy.  They have stuff to call their own.  Honestly, I don't want all that crap in the house.  I cannot begin to explain the many types of toy organization I have tried over the years.  It works beautifully when I am the one organizing it, but once they get their hands on the system, it is over.  One perfectly intentional toy bin will end up holding a few toys, some dirty clothes, a few clean clothes, a tooth brush, a half eaten granola bar, something from another room, a pair of my underwear, and who knows what else.  I end up feeling resentful of my time and effort put into the organization only to have it literally trashed. My plan for the near future is to build each boy a shelf for the their room. Whatever they want to keep has to fit on the shelf. The little guy can keep his basket in the hall closet, he actually still plays with toys, but for the most part he does whatever the big kids do so he doesn't need much.

Language: I know that many of you will not agree with me here, and that is fine.  This is just my personal take on the subject.  It's not that I didn't used to watch my language, but I had never dropped an F-bomb in front of my kid, and assumed I never would.

As we roll five kids deep, things have changed. I curb my language where I see fit, but I speak in whatever way I need to express myself. They understand that they are not allowed to use these particular words.  They youngest tried on the word "BS" for a time when he was younger, but we moved past it. If I need to drop an F-bomb, I allow myself to do so. I am an adult, which gives me certain privileges that they don't have yet. Kind of like drinking wine.  I drink wine and they know that they cannot. It is simple, and they get it.  My children may hear me swear, but they do not see me do anything that would make me look like a shitty person and that is what matters to me. They see me feel real feelings, they see me love them, they see me grow as a mother and an individual, they see me love their Dad, and they see me be the best version of myself I can be.

Being my World:  This is a tricky one.  I think that somewhere in the middle of the beginning of motherhood and my current resting place, I was stuck.  I was stuck where I needed to be, however, to grow and enter a knew corridor of motherhood.

There was a time when practically everything I did was for or about my children.  They were my world.  I think we say that quite a bit, and we mean it, but when you really break that down it isn't always the most healthy way of thinking. We all love our babies, we all want to raise them the best we can.  We all want our kids to have a beautiful childhood and a special relationship with us. I know that as a stay-at-home-mom you feel like every waking moment you are on duty, which you pretty much are. On the other hand, as a working parent, you are meeting the demands of  your job all day to come home and meet the demands of your children's needs.  There is no part time parent, you are a parent all day either way. Parenthood is a huge responsibility and we all want to get it right.

There came a time though that I quit worrying about getting it right.  I did what I felt was right for each child.  I quit wondering if I should be doing what some other people were doing. Should I be giving more of my time to the school? Should I feel obligated to volunteer on the PTO just because I am home? Should I be making more one on one time with each child just because I am gone at work all day?

I also thought about how great it would be for them to look back on their childhood and be able to have memories of me as a person, not just as their mother. Things I liked to do for me, things that made me happy, things that I couldn't stand, things they loved about me and things that bugged them.  I want my kids to see that I am important to myself.  If you don't take care of you, you really can't give as much as you think you are giving to them.  You become tired.  We are all tired because this gig is a lot of work but I'm talking about tired from the inside.  You're tired because you have made your life so full of them that you leave no life for you.  It is not selfish or something to feel guilty about, it is necessary to show your kids how to take care of themselves as adults.  You need to love yourself and put yourself first. Self love is the foundation for joy.  THAT is something I want for my children. 

Of course I still handle the needs of my children.  I'm just saying it's little things. I don't feel obligated to go to the park because they want to if I really just feel like I need an afternoon coffee and some time to write.  Or maybe I need a down day with tea, knitting, and a good movie.  I spend less time now entertaining them and more time letting them entertain themselves so that I can take care of me.  I am not taking from them, I am giving to them by giving to myself. Childhood is magical without magical efforts from parents. It is magical because you are a child, full of imagination, hopes, and dreams.

They say that professors are referring to the current college generation as the "tea cups" due to how fragile they are.  Parenting has turned into clearing all paths for our kids so that nothing is in their way, nothing will upset them, and accomplishments will be easier to obtain.  They get out into the real world and can't handle hurdles, curve balls, or disappointment. Stress is foreign and too much to handle.  Hurt is too much to bare and self love is not a focus.  Why focus on self love when mom and dad love you more than they love themselves?  I want to feel confident that when my kids are grown, they can push through hard times and problems, coming out stronger and wiser on the other end. I don't need my children to be the best at anything, I need them to love themselves and figure out what makes them happy because my worst fear is for them to grow up and feel that they need other people or things to be happy.

I love my kids to tiny pieces.  They are the majority of my world and I can't imagine it without them.  I do though, appreciate this stage of motherhood where I am focused on self love as my way of giving to them and myself. It is a dark, lonely place to lose yourself.  Your world is spinning around your children, so much so that you don't slow down to see you and your needs, you're simply hanging on for dear life. Our kids deserve better than that and so do we.  It doesn't make you a better parent because you throw every waking moment you have into your children, it simply reflects a diluted sense of time management.

So go love yourself, get back to who you are and what you need and your children will flourish.

I will be over here, enduring a stressful bedtime. Only because I love myself, enough to take those extra 20 minutes or so for myself on the couch. ;-)  They will survive, and so will I. 
<3

 

The Winds of Change: My Heart Belongs to my Yoga Pants

The winds of change are blowing hard. Actually, the way I feel about it is more of a perfect breeze and I am riding it into the next chapter of life.

After seven years of being home with the kids I am returning back to work full time. I trust the universe in it's plan as everything came about with the grace of perfect timing, the right company and position, my hip is good to go, and everything fell into place in regards to the kids, the where, what, and whens are all tied up.

I am so grateful for the factors that allowed me to stay home while my kids were young. Logan was three when I stopped working outside the home and Dominique and Andrew have had me home since the beginning. I have gone through my emotions about missing the kids, although I am sure it will creep up again.  I have had many thoughtful days about being at peace with losing the free time I acquired when Andrew started preschool. I am thankful for the quality alone time I have had to reflect and grow, and write, especially this last year when it meant the most to me. I am grateful for the years I had to make friends and be a part of a wonderful group of women who changed what a SAHM meant to me and what true sisterhood is all about.

There is a certain change that has been sticking in my mind the last few days. Relationships are going to change. I will not have my coffee dates or breakfast with my girlfriends, we will have to form new ways of keeping up with one another. I won't have summer break full of lazy days at home and exhausting outings.  I won't be home with dinner ready when my husband walks through the door, or all the times he is hoping dinner is ready and instead I haven't even thought of dinner yet because my brain is so fried from the kids arguing and spilling stuff. I have a feeling I have let my mind wander to a particular topic a tad too much...

My yoga pants.

The relationship between myself and my yoga pants is going to take on a whole new life. Now when I say yoga pants, I usually am referring to any kind of work out pants. I am a huge fan of my form fitting Capri-length workout pants, but yoga pants have a special comfort all their own. Wearing them is like eating a bowl of mashed potatoes, hopefully you are doing yoga in them and not eating a bowl of mashed potatoes, but I'm talking about the comfort they bring. You know damn well a bowl of taters brings you comfort, let's be real here. They are soft and stretchy, and easy. They are typically black and slimming (I tell myself this anyway so don't you dare spoil it for me).

Let me just reminisce about my history with yoga pants. I remember my first pair. It was in 2006. It was just me and my toddler. I wore them only while taking walks or my days off that were spent at home. We did not have a strong bond. I did respect them and all the comfort they had to offer, but our relationship was casual.

Fast forward about five years. At this point it is now myself, my husband, my five children, a couple of dogs, and my yoga pants. Our relationship had become intense, to the point of me feeling the need to own three pair.  I only owned three pair because on one income, I didn't feel comfortable buying more.  If I did, I would have had like, seven pair.

First it was all comfort and love. I loved how soft and easy they were. They were dependable. I respected them and they got me through the day. After a while though, things got messy. It became a co-dependent relationship.  Most people that know me, know that I cringe at co-dependency.  Only because by nature I am deeply independent (or I organically became this way at some point in life). I remember feeling a little bitter when one pair got a hole, as if it ripped its own seem just to piss me off. A friend once surprised me with a pair of yoga pants as a gift. I can remember the day like it was yesterday. They are my favorite pair to this day. There were times the husband would make comments about the yoga pants, as if he wish I would put on some jeans or making them sound negative in some form. He obviously noticed how close we had become. I was not about to let my husband's comments come between us, he knew nothing of the bond we shared. How dare he, he doesn't even wear yoga pants, how would he know!

I know that some people complain about people that wear work out clothes while not working out. I get it, but being at  home with kids is kind of like working out. Not like heart racing, calorie burning working out, but you get messy.  It is the type of 'job' that requires comfort and ease of movement. For me, I was almost constantly moving. I was either actually doing yoga or working out, I was cleaning, I was running errands, I was picking up dog shit, I was cleaning up little boy pee, I was wiping up spills, I was making lunch, I was meal prepping, I was picking up and dropping off at multiple schools.  I was doing so much laundry on a regular basis that I didn't want to waste my "good clothes" on doing all this busy work and adding to my laundry. There were days no one really saw me besides my kids and whomever was at the preschool. I wasn't showing up in pajama pants so can it!

So here we are, myself and my favorite pair of yoga pants. I've been getting in some lovely, comfort-filled days with them this last week. Next week I will reunite with my old flame, Business Casual.  It's been a long time. I have to say I am pretty excited about getting back together. We shared some stylish times and I look forward to more. I know that my yoga pants will be faithfully waiting for me. I plan on early morning yoga and of course any lazy weekend that arises. A healthy break will do us some good. I know you can't always move backwards, but I think its worth a try to get back to the casual life we used to have together. Change comes with change.

I probably would have become just as attached to my yoga pant material booty shorts, if it weren't inappropriate to leave them house wearing them. Sometimes society's pull is a good thing.

So here's to change, in many forms. Lifestyle. Motherhood. Relationships. Yoga pants.

Reaction Matters

A couple of weeks back I was in the kitchen doing whatever it is I do to help the kids get ready for school. I'm guessing I was making eggs while trying to wipe down counters at the same time. 

This particular morning I was giving my oldest son a gentle, friendly talk about how he needs to be more positive. To talk positive, think positive, and only speak of positive. That this small effort would make his day a better one by automatically adjusting his attitude. I made it sound so simple. I went on and on about how what really matters is how we react to things, not really the "things" that happen. I told him I didn't want that bad juju in the start of my day and I didn't want it for him either. He asked me (with a bit of irritable sarcasm), "So, you're saying if I don't act more positive then bad things will happen?"

"No", I said. "You will be setting yourself up for a bad day is all."

Not two minutes later, I leaned way over the counter to wipe the other side. When I returned to a vertical stance my daughter said, "Oh mom! What happened to your brand new shirt?!"

Bleach! Bleach happened! Somehow I seem to get bleach on my shirts on a consistent basis. I wasn't even using bleach!

My natural reaction was attempting to push its way through the door. I wanted to curse and maybe throw the sponge across the kitchen into the sink. 

As I look down at the bleach stain though, I noticed that it was looking back at me. There it was like on Forrest Gump, a perfect upside down smiley face made of bleach on my new shirt.

The picture doesn't do it justice. It really looks like a happy ass smiling face. 

I stood there, looking at it. I swear I could hear it saying, "Now now, let's show your boy all about that positive attitude you were lecturing about. Be sure you prove to him how your reaction is what matters the most".

I was so torn for the moment. I just bought this shirt! I wasn't even using any bleach! I swallowed hard and I had to laugh a little. Not a joyous laugh, but that "You got me you smiley face son of a bitch" type of laugh. All three kids were watching me closely, waiting for me to react. This was definitely a test. I could feel the scale swaying back and forth. Both the stay positive side and the throw a fit side were so heavy.

"You see!", I exclaimed. "This is just what I was talking about. Normally I would get so upset about this kind of thing but instead I'm gonna take that smiley face as a sign that I should just smile about it."

The kids all smiled and we all genuinely felt that it was a thing. A smiley thing for our morning. My son lightened up and I kept my cool.

I did replace the shirt, but I couldn't get rid of the bleached one. It didn't seem right (yet) to toss out a symbol of mindfulness. 

Today, weeks later, I decided to wear that bleached shirt. I was in a piss poor mood and I thought the shirt would help remind me of the lesson we learned that day. It reminded me, but it didn't change my mood. I will give myself credit for wearing a bleached shirt to aide in my mindfulness, but I will also be mindful that sometimes you are just in a shit mood. If you can recognize that, it's the first step towards moving forward. Everything has to run its course, right?

Holiday Memories

 

Every year around this time I tell myself that next year, I will buy gifts throughout the year and put them away from Christmas.  The idea is that by the time Christmas thrusts upon us, I will be all ready to go.  This is most likely a total pipe dream for me for many reasons.  For one, we are on quite the budget while I am home with the kids, work fluctuates, and we have five children.

I always think it sounds like such a good idea.  Every year we end up having to shop within days of Christmas, and I am not one that enjoys the Christmas crowds, especially while on crutches this year.  Our anniversary is only a few days before Christmas, so it's all meshed together.  If Christmas is on a budget, that usually means anniversary is limited or non existent. One year, we asked Grammy and Pappy to watch the kids while my husband and I used our anniversary day to Christmas shop and enjoy dinner together.  That was a nice night, but I'm avoiding going out as much as I can while I can't walk freely.  Using crutches makes me sweat.  Sweating while not working out and intending to sweat irritates me.  No thanks.

This year I have felt different about it.  We tend to keep Christmas pretty simplistic around here.  For one there is that budget thing I mentioned and for two, I like the kids to enjoy the excitement of gifts, but to see that the focus is on being together and having traditions.  The kids get 2-3 small gifts each and that is that.  We don't have a huge extended family to buy for either, so gift giving is to a minimum. I don't tend to gift to all of my friends, maybe randomly one or two.  Our friendship is worth more than a gift.

Each year since becoming a family of seven, the holidays have seemed to become more and more simplistic.  I love this!  I love it for me, for less stress, and I love it for my kids. We have incorporated some traditions along the way that mean a lot to me.  The first few years of becoming a family it was pretty much gifts in the morning, and then off to whom ever was hosting whatever.  I don't mind that sometimes, but the bigger we became, the more I felt the need to slow it down and have our very own time together and traditions to start and keep.  I want my kids to look back when they are adults and remember things that we did together each year. 

The first Christmas without my dad it was difficult to muster up the Christmas spirit.  I didn't want a tree and I didn't want to decorate or even think about Christmas.  I wanted to get the kids a gift and call it a day.  My mother in law gave me the push I needed.  She gave me a small fake tree and started to set things out.  Christmas was strange that year.  Dad wasn't there, Christmas day was spent at home, at my in-law's and at my sister's with my mom and my brother in-law's family.  Everything had to be rushed to be in three places in one day.  It was even my daughter's first Christmas, but I was sad and lost in grief.

For us we do gifts when we wake up.  Once the oldest two get here from their mom's house, we do a Christmas breakfast.  I set the table extra special and we have homemade biscuits and gravy. Each child has a letter at their place setting and gets to read it  aloud.  In the letter to them I talk about all the accomplishments, growth, and goals they have reached.  They then share with us some of their goals for the coming year.  It's nice for them to each get the spotlight and it's sweet watching their bashful faces beam as they read compliments about themselves aloud. I am admittedly selfish about this part of our day.  I don't want to rush through it because it means something to us, and I don't want to share it because I feel it's important to have something of our own. I have had enough Christmas's that are rushed.  Rushing to get here and rushing to get there, all to appease other people.  We need to appease ourselves first, I don't want my kids growing up to be people pleasers, it's too draining. Not to mention, rushing yourself and five kids is chaotic and quickly drains the holiday spirit.

Maybe they will carry this on to their children in the future, maybe not, but they will remember it as a family Christmas memory. In the time frame of Christmas Eve to the day after Christmas we always spend time with both grandparents and aunts and uncles, also cherished memories for all.  They will remember Christmas Eve at Aunties house with cousin Aidan and Grammy and Pappy and Uncle Jon and Monica, having a big meal, eating Grammy's fudge and cookies, and relaxing around the tree together and playing with their cousin. They will remember years that we spent time at Granny and Grumps on Christmas day, with Auntie Lacy and Grandpa Frank, pulling poppers and playing with all their new stuff. Eating my fudge and pumpkin pie with tons of whipped cream. We also have a holiday get-together with my dad's sisters that live in California, either before Christmas or after. We have a simple tasty meal, gifts for the kids, some mimosas and time together.  It makes it feel like my dad is incorporated into Christmas in some ways, spending the day with his sisters, plus they are fabulous ladies and I love the time I have with them. We have a nice full Christmas season with lots of love and family visits.

Did your family have traditions you enjoyed every year?  Did you stay home?  Did you go to grandma's house?  Did you take off and go somewhere non-traditional.  I have always wanted to sneak off some holiday, the seven of us and go somewhere cool and just spend the day completely different and new, not the norm. When I think of doing that, it always makes me think of the scene from the movie "A Christmas Story", when they have Christmas dinner as a family at a Chinese Restaurant. 

"Fa-Ra Ra Ra Ra, Ra Ra Ra Ra".

My childhood holiday memories?  I have several. 

Leading up to Christmas, my dad would always take my sister and I to a nearby tree lot and help us pick out a tree.  I don't have specific memories of decorating it, but I'm sure we did.  I do have specific memories of decorating a tree at my mom's house.  It was always fun to see the ornaments that you haven't seen for a whole year.  There is something special about only seeing something once a year. I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that up until the last two Christmas's, I didn't let the kids decorate the tree.  I was anal and anxious about it.  I waited until they went to bed and I put out all the décor and decorated the tree.  I know, I know, way to share the cheer right?  Hey, they were really excited to wake up in the morning and see the beautiful tree and all the décor out.  I learned the last few years that I enjoy watching them decorate the tree now.  Yes, I still get a little frantic about fragile pieces or putting heavy ornaments on the bottom and unimportant issues like clumping too many together, but I remind myself to shut up and enjoy the moment and it works.

My dad liked to take us driving around to look at Christmas lights.  I was able to return the favor during his last Christmas with us.  He asked me to drive him around.  It was a quiet drive.  It was sad and special all at once and I think it meant quite a bit to both of us. We usually do a few drives with the kids.  There are some great houses around Granny's house, including Granny's actual house. There is also a spectacular house in our town that has an amazing amount of lights that flutter and blink to the music station that you tune your radio to.  It's a must see every year.

My mom and step dad always had mistletoe hanging in their house and they always stood under it and smooched!  I thought it was pretty cool then and I think it's even cooler now.  It was sweet.  Seeing the affection was healthy.

I remember my dad collecting these tiny little ceramic houses, I think from Gottchalks.  Eventually he would have a small Christmas village that sat on the mantel in December. 

We always had a chain made of construction paper.  You know that ones. You cut one link off every night before bed and when you get to the last one, it's Christmas!

Every Christmas Eve evening we would spend with my mom (and dad) at my maternal grandparents house.  We would have Christmas dinner, or sometimes KFC (LOL), and exchange gifts.  The evening was full of my grandfather's jokes and jabs at my grandmother and she always came back with a quick witted comment.  All the cousins were there and it would be a blast.  I always felt a little bummed when it got late and it was time to head home.  I didn't want the fun to end. The best part about going home though, was that dad always let my sister and I open up one gift from him that had been under the tree.  He always seemed as excited as we were.  One gift right before bed to build up the anticipation for tomorrow. 

In the morning we would open the gifts from my dad and usually go to one of our aunt's homes, or my paternal grandparents house, again having fun with the cousins and being so excited to see grandma and grandpa.  They lived far enough to where we didn't see them a ton and it made it super exciting to visit with them.  My grandfather was always great about showing his enthusiasm when it came to us grand kids.  He would crouch down with arms open wide, cheeks pink, and the biggest smile I'd ever seen, exclaiming "kiddo!".  Those had to have been my favorite hugs as a child. My grandmother always had the most elegant, loving touch. She made me feel delicate and pretty, like a flower, her soothing voice alone made me feel safe and warm. The "Jane Adams Potatoes" were a special treat, a family recipe. Creamy comfort food.  I always wondered why they were called that.  I figured Jane Adams must have been a chef, or someone of importance, or maybe just a description of food that I didn't comprehend.  I learned only a few  years ago that my grandmother got the recipe decades ago from a lady who lived down the street, her name was Jane Adams. So, she called them Jane Adams Potatoes.  Perfectly hilarious.

It was easy as a kid.  You just get really excited, put a pretty dress on and go wherever your parents took you.  Now you have your family,  your spouse's family, plus your own nuclear family and sometimes one or both of those families are split and do not celebrate together.  It's just too much to be expected to be everywhere, but we do what we can.

I tried to branch out last year and do a gingerbread house kit.  Not sure I'll do that again.  It was fun and all, I can't remember if everyone wanted to just eat it, or if no one wanted to eat it and I had this food house sitting around.  We don't even visit Santa every year.  I'm going for simple, so I don't want to feel obligated to cram too many activities into one month, and the kids don't mind a bit. They have no expectations besides being together, opening a gift, seeing family, and biscuits and gravy. I want to go this year because my youngest has never been. When I was a part of a local mom's group, we attended some activities like caroling, cookie decorating, Christmas crafts.  These were great fun, but as they get older we are slowing down.  I'm still trying to figure out every year how to buy the kids' gifts without them around since we end up having to wait until they are already on Christmas break. I don't even have the urge to bake this year.  I plan to make fudge, as my mother in law won't let me in if I don't bring it (just kidding Granny) and my stepson has already requested peanut butter fudge, so I'd love to make that happen.

I still feel like it was just summer a few weeks ago.  Football practice, shorts, sweat, sunscreen, and popsicles.  Now it's almost time to roast chestnuts on an open fire!?  It creeps up faster every year.

So have a wonderfully busy season or a laid back slow season, which ever you prefer and enjoy it while it's here.  Soon it will be spring and everyone will be coloring eggs.  Enjoy your traditions and enjoy your visits. Don't drink and drive and don't be a hater.  Haters suck all year long, but especially during the holidays ;-)

I am one of those people that say "Happy Holidays".  I am not against "Merry Christmas", but the way I see it, November and December are months that are full of holidays of all kinds.  It doesn't have to be exclusively dedicated to religion.  It's a time for remembering thanks and it's a time to give and be grateful for everyone, as we are all the same in that way and we all can feel joy from it.

Happy Holidays, from mine to yours.

Since when did "STEPMOM" become a dirty word?

I have had this conversation with a dear friend, (also a stepmom) many times. Missy, my stepmom road dog. Tonight I read a blog that a friend posted shared on Facebook.  (Thank you Jennifer!) I do not have a close relationship with her, but from what I have seen of her, she is a strong woman who has been through some difficult times. It seems to me that she has taken these hard times and molded them into appreciation for the good times. She soaks in beautiful moments whole heartedly. She shares her appreciation openly, but is honest about life sometimes being hard, or sad! She has seen both sides of life, like most of us and chooses to be real about it, like the blog post below talks about. To me that speaks volumes of a person, to feel AND say what is real rather than what you know people are comfortable hearing. There is a bundle of complexity in that department when it comes to stepparenting.

http://www.scarymommy.com/the-secret-that-parents-are-too-afraid-to-say/ It technically has nothing to do with stepparenting, but to me it had everything to do with stepparenting.

Stepparenting is hard. I find it to be a little harder than biological parenting. Not that parenting isn't hard, I have 3 children of my own and it is not a cake walk, it's a roller coaster. One that can make you scared, queezy, exhilarated, and full of joy all at the same time. There are different dynamics to stepparenting, even in comparing different stepfamilies. There are different rights and more people involved in the parenting process. There are times you feel like a special part to it all, and there are times that you feel like you have put so much effort, love, tears, and only the universe knows what else into it and there you stand, alone with no say in certain things. I have to say, my husband is absolutely amazing at including me, we are a team when it comes to all of our kids, his, mine, and ours, but there are certain things I cannot decide or push, and it can be incredibly frustrating or incredibly sad. Either way, it is what it is. The life of a stepparent. 

We have several dynamics in our home. My husband is a stepfather to my son, although he is never refered to as such due to the fact that he has been in his life since the age of two, and the biological father has no presence in his life. My husband is the only "dad" my son knows. My son knows about his biological dad and has a relationship with his other sons, by way of myself and their mother, but he calls my husband "dad" and that is what he has been to him. Technically, yes, he is his stepdad and it is OK to say so, we just usually don't. Back when my son called him Louie, he was too young to remember. He remembers him becoming "dad". The kids don't refer to each other as stepbrother or stepsister either, only because they are so close, growing up together starting at ages 2, 4, and 5. If they did though, it wouldn't be taking anything away from the love they have for each other. It would simply be a technical term. 

Our second dynamic is my husband's two children. I am their stepmom. I came along when they were 4 and 5 years old and they have their mom in their life on a consistent basis. They live in her home and we see them regularly, following a typical visitation order. I am a mother figure in their life and I have been for over 8 years. I have what I feel is a close relationship to both of them. If they wanted to call me  mom, I would be fine with that. The fact that they call me "Jen", I am fine with that too. I AM the stepmom. I married their father and I am the mom of our household. They ARE my stepchildren. I love them like my own, I sacrifice for them like my own, and I treat them like my own. They are my children, but when did it become icky to say the word "stepson" or "stepdaughter"? I will,tell you! It became icky when people started making up pathetic terms like "bonus kids". Hopefully you do feel that your step children are a bonus to your life, but why make a sugary word for them that implies the real term is mean or degrading? 

I struggled with this the first few years we were married. When we would introduce ourselves to people, my husband always said "This is my son, Logan", about my son. That made me think I might sound like an ass If I said "This is Kristian, my stepson", about his son. I found though, that if I said they were mine, my step kids might feel uncomfortable, especially when they have mom reminding them regularly that I am not their mom, I only married their dad.  What if they didn't want me to say I was their mom? Then there were the times that I left it vague to avoid it all together and people would ruin it by adding comments that led to me feeling compelled or obligated to explain. Things like "Logan sure looks just like his dad" or "Wow, you sure look great after having 3 kids" (when I had only had one). Then there are the questions, we still get to this day, "So wait, what school do they go to?". They live in a town an hour from us so our kids do not currently go to school together. Then the most current question for my stepson, "So, what level of Patterson Ravens Football do you play for?". Well he doesn't, he plays for the team in Escalon where he lives. 

I remember the one and only time I used the term "bonus kids". It was some sort of status update or hashtag. I used it, and I will blame it on social pressure, lol. I used it and it felt dirty and wrong. It felt gross and fake and I never did it again. What people don't get is that by making up these sugary sweet terms and cheese-ball labels for different family dynamics, they simply draw more attention to it as if it's not the norm, as if it's so delicate and sensitive that we can't call it what it is, we need a special name? I feel that these names separate the family more. By saying I am their stepmom, I'm simply and clearly explaining our relationship. By calling them my bonus kids I am acting as if I need to give our relationship a special name to make it sound special. Being there stepmom IS special! 

Yes, there is no need to explain to EVERYONE we talk to what our family dynamics are. There are times where we simply say we have 5 kids. Sometimes I introduce my step kids as my kids, because they are my kids, and my husbands kids, and their mother's kids. It just depends. In the beginning though, it was difficult. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say, and what was appropriate or what might not make sense. All this "bonus" crap put a lot of pressure on the table, plus my husbands step parenthood being so different than my own. As we all grew as a family things became more comfortable. We had two children together, making us a family of five. Now we usually just say that we are "His, Mine, and Ours" or that we have "five all together".  I'm at a wonderful level of comfort now in my stepparenthood and I no longer care to explain unless someone is asking, I never feel obligated anymore. I know that my step kids respect me as the mom of our household and that referring to them as my step kids does not offend them, as they call me their stepmom. I also feel that it is perfectly acceptable for them to correct a stranger if they refer to me as their mom and the kids want to correct them or inform them that I am their stepmom. I know that when I refer to them as my kids, they look honored, as I feel when they refer to me as their mom. The only expectation we have of each other is love and respect, and whether they know it or not, I would go to great lengths to protect them.

Another pet peeve the link above reminded me of are the step parents who go way overboard with making sure everyone knows they love their stepchild as their own. I've always felt that if you feel the need to say something of that nature repeatedly, you are most likely trying to either

A. Convince yourself

Or

B. Convince everyone else

Just relax, man. Just enjoy your stepparenthood for whatever it may be. Everyone else can go climb a tree! It's hard to share children. I have not had to share my biological children, so I can't say I know exactly what it feels like, but I share my step kids, and it is hard. When they are here, the family feels complete. It's not that we don't operate as a whole family in their absence, but when they are here there is an extra aura of completion to the circle of our family. We become the 7 of us, and that is different than the 5 of us. They are here and then they are not here. There are times they are not here for 2 whole weeks! 

Stepparenting is tricky. It can be trying and it can be genuinely rewarding, but let it be what it is. Be a stepparent, be the other mom or dad, be the best you can be, but don't pour sugar all over it. How can you see the beauty in something when it's smothered in gooey BS? Let it breathe and be real. I guarantee you it will blossom. It's a big responsibility to be a mother or father figure in a child's life who is not your own. Take pride in it and grow it into something beautiful. It never takes the place of the other parent, even if the other parent is not around. My son only knows my husband as dad, but it doesn't make him his biological father, it makes him his dad, a wonderful loving father figure in his life. I try to be a wonderful mother figure in my step children's lives. I'm here to listen, I'm here to teach. I'm here to give hugs and I'm here to tell them when something is not OK. I am another mom. 

In my experience as a stepparent, and even as a stepdaughter, (I had a great stepparent that proved to be a great example for me) I have learned to only focus on your relationship with the kids and your family as a whole. What is best for them and what their needs are. When you go worrying about everyone else and what they may think or not think, what to introduce yourself as, holding onto a label just to make others think or feel a certain way, or even worrying about a high conflict biological parent, it just takes away from your relationship with the kids and your family. Let it all go, the special names, the itch to control a situation that shouldn't be controlled, and the stress that you can easily cause yourself. Just love them, plain and simple, whether they are new to your life, or you've been raising them for years. Love them, make sure they know they are loved and there is trust among them. It's hard enough having a split home, especially when the parents have conflict. Be the rock that they need, be a good stepparent, not a silly, sugary name.

Big Family Zone - You Might Have a Big Family If...

I was thinking today about how different it was when I had only one child. I was a single mom with one boy. I suppose it was hard doing it alone, but it was also all I knew of parenthood. It was just him and I from the start.

When Louie and I moved in together and started having his son and daughter (my now step children) on a regular schedule, we all of a sudden had three kids! They were 5, 4, and 2 years old. It was new and felt like a lot of work!  The weekend would feel like a whirl wind of little loud voices, tattle telling, laughing, crying, arguing, hugs, scraped knees, bike rides, picky eating, and lots of love.

I was used to one kid. This meant one bath before bedtime, one meal to accommodate only one little person's pickiness. This was one kid to keep track of while out and about. This was the time of one kid to buy tokens for at an arcade. The time of throwing one birthday party a year. Bickering was never an element in our lives, as my son had no one to bicker with. I would soon learn that he is the most argumentative child I would have. A time of worrying about one kid's happiness and health was no more.

I remember the weekend that I had a realization. I was watching the three of them go from room to room, leaving trails of whatever they were getting their hands into. Toys and books were everywhere and without notice, they were off to the next thing! It was too much chaos and too much mess. It was then I realized that it needed management. I never thought of it that way with one child. Things were pretty simplistic, there was no need to make it more complex by adding unnecessary schedules. We had a nap and a bedtime, and he had daycare while I had work. Three little people though, with no management was chaos.

I know this is a crappy quality photo above, but this is the photo that depicts our life perfectly when we were new to three. We were tired, but happy, and had kids climbing all over us, some happy, some rowdy, and some grouchy. That was three.

I remember the very moment I had everyone clean up their mess to get ready to play with clay. I had them sit at the little Wiggles table together. It was time to play with clay. That was all we were doing and we would not be moving forward onto anything else until playing with clay was over and cleaned up. I immediately felt the confidence I needed to be a mother figure to three young kids when just the prior weekend I was the mother to only one. 

We moved on to dinner. After dinner we took turns on getting these three baths done. We read a story before bed, and we tucked our wild ones in. I have to admit, car rides were challenging. We were trying to squeeze three boosters into the backseat of my Chevy Malibu. It was hard to buckle, it provoked whining and arguing. Dad had a great idea to keep the belts buckled and let them slide in and tighten it up once they were in. This saved us, another wise management desicion. We continued to become better "managers" and adapted to our new roles as a step mom and a step dad and the dynamics that came with the territory.

A little over a year later, we found out we were having a baby together. A little girl. This meant four kids! To me, four kids was stepping into "big family" zone. I always felt that 1 or 2 kids was a "small family, and that 3 kids was "medium", but 4 and up? That was treading on territory where it could be possible that all the stockings may not fit on the mantel at Christmas!

That year was huge, I got married, I became a step mother to two children, I spent my pregnancy helping to care for my dad while he lost his battle to cancer, and I had my baby girl. We decided I would not return to work. I stayed home with the kids and we ended up buying our first home in a new town. This is where we decided to have one more baby. Five kids!

We were having a boy! He had two, I had one, then we had two together. His, mine, and ours. There is no doubt at the 5 kid mark that you are in the "big family" zone.

Here are some signs:

Making sandwiches for lunch requires an entire loaf of bread.

A regular size box of cereal will barely make breakfast happen. And neither will a gallon of milk.

No one likes the same veggie. Except corn on the cob, everyone likes that.

A normal size box of cheeze-its, will only last as a snack for one trip to the park, not a snack for the week.

You need a vehicle that has a third row.

When at local festivities, they already know to discuss what flavor smoothies (or other fun beverage) to agree on because we are NOT going to buy five over priced smoothies! It will be one for the boys, one for the girls, and one for the little guy to share with mom and dad.

There is lots of arguing. Like, a lot. It's mostly about the most stupid shit you could imagine. Other times I hear a valid argument and let both sides plead their case. There are 5 personalities that think they are right and often feel they have been wronged, so again, lots of arguing.

No matter how much arguing has occurred in a day, they will band together and stand up for one another like a small, loving Gang, if an outsider intends to do harm.

You don't invite many kids to the birthday parties you throw because your own children are like a small party already.

When everyone needs new shoes, it's a big deal.

No one likes dinner at the same time, ever. Someone, always, will say they don't like it.

Special one on one time can consist of running an errand with momma without your siblings, it does not have to include a stop at an ice cream shop or some special event, the focus truly is the alone time together. You cherish it as much as they do.

Picture day is a little hectic 😳

Laundry. That's all I have to say about that.

Showers are quite the process.

You develop a habit of counting your kids when you are out. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, OK" Then one veers off from the crowd, "1, 2, 3, 4, ...... Dammit! Where's your brother?!?!"

When you are out in public, no one has to use the bathroom at the same time, but at home everyone has to pee, causing an argument of who gets to go first.

People will make comments like "wow, you have your own basketball team", or "I don't know how you do it!", or maybe "you sure do have your hands full".

There are also people who make amazing comments like "good for you! You don't see as many big families anymore!", or "that is beautiful". 

Your house is exploding with love and diverse personalities.

There are so many smiles in a single day.

You never feel guilty about using the carpool lane.

Holidays are filled with extra love and joy, and lots of mugs of hot chocolate. 

Seeing your small, loving gang get along and love one another is a priceless beauty only you can understand.

Now don't get your panties all bunched. I am in no way implying that being parents of one or two kids is a piece of cake, I've been there and most of the above still applies, but I would say at 5 kids, it intensifies a bit and is always a little louder.

😉

I know a few parents who have more than 5 kids. I'm sure you can add some more signs of a big family to my list! 

For someone who doesn't like noise or mess, I sure do enjoy this large family we have created and teamwork it takes to keep it flowing. I wouldn't have it any other way.

All the baby stuff is gone!!

A few months back I remember feeling a tad emotional as we got rid of Andrew's toddler/crib mattress. He is the last baby of the house. He was moving on to a regular twin mattress. 

I started thinking today about the fact that all the baby stuff is gone! There is no evidence in the house of a baby residing here. Well, I guess that is because he isn't technically a baby, he is three and a half years old.  He IS the baby of the house though. Our kids are 13, 12, 10, 6, amd 3 this year. 

I sat here itemizing the missing baby items in my head. No baby matress. No stroller. No little baby spoons. Well I have a few but I use them for my loose-leaf tea now. We ditched the sippy cups well over a year ago along with diapers and pull ups. The nobly was over before age 2. No more carriers, baby toys, attachments for random baby gear. 

What is left? Well, a car seat for at least 7 more pounds and some plastic kid bowls. The bowls will stick around for a while, there is always a good use for a tiny bowl. Recently all the toys moved upstairs. We moved "the baby" into the boy's room and his previous room is more of a playroom now, video games, toys, movies. Of course he still sneaks toys back downstairs but over all it is mostly toy free.

I have to say, as sentimental as it is sometimes, it is nice to have my house back. Don't get me wrong, there are still 5 kids here leaving their stuff all over, but the bonus of my baby becoming a big kid is that my house doesn't have to look and feel like a preschool. 

I miss those enchanted baby days of tiny feet and coos and swaddles, and the scent of baby head as he laid on my chest and I would him the national anthem to him (I have no clue why, but that was what I always sang to him), but I love my baby turned big kid and all the fascinating things he has to say. I love that he dangles from the kitchen sink to rinse his own dishes off and offers to unload the silverware from the dishwasher. I love that he randomly brings me a thoughtful glass of water. I love that he teases me by telling me he is Daddy's Baby, but when alone he hugs me and says he is mine. I love that he made his own peanut butter sandwich yesterday and was beaming with pride. He can buckle himself in, but I like that he can't unbuckle ;-)

I love that he falls asleep watching my iPad.

I no longer have to make sure the diaper bag is set to go as if I am preparing to go camping just to run to the store. All he needs now is a pair of matching shoes (he wore a tennis shoe and a sandal to school a few days ago), whatever, he had shoes on, right? 

The last baby in the house is a big kid now. OK, he is a little kid, but he's not a baby! We are entering the next stage of being parents to a bunch of big kids! He will though, always be "The Baby".