Well, if it was left up to my kids they would most likely cover the following topics:

She doesn’t let us have chocolate for breakfast.

She makes us eat carrots before dessert.

And we have to brush our teeth before bed EVERY night.

If you left it up to the fashion police. They would site me for:

Wearing maternity clothes months after the baby was born.

Sporting teal Crocs from two years ago more often than not.

And being in desperate need of a pair of sunglasses to cover the dark circles under my eyes.

If left up to my husband:

The To DO list grows faster then any human can keep up.

Balancing the budget consists of asking which credit card to use.

Folding laundry is a prerequisite if you are going to get your way on any topic. And (a note to Congress) if you don’t know how to do that, at least learn to do dishes.

What would the opposition say about you?

Photocredit: DCJOHN

You spent yesterday with one assistant in a tutu…

and the other smeared in chocolate…

And in the late hours of the evening you have 60 signed cards, two batches of brownies, two batches of krispy treats, and one half eaten birthday cake to show for your efforts.
Because Daddy’s b-day is always Valentine’s Eve.

Then the day of, when it’s time to pack everyone off with their corresponding loot.
This random picture shot by your three year old turns out far more interesting than your attempts to document anything.

Including your last minute effort to put your cookie cutters to good use on dinner.
AKA heart shaped grilled cheese.

How did your day go?

Like losing a spouse. A woman in Plano Texas recently lost her husband to a chemotherapy induced lung condition. After successfully battling cancer. He entered the hospital thinking he could be treated and released within a few days. When in fact he only had a few days to live. His wife nearly full term with their fifth child decided to induce the birth in order to give him an opportunity to meet and hold his daughter before his passing.

She is now left with five children to raise on her own. Yet more immediately, she is in the midst of a crushing personal tragedy while simultaneously trying to recover from birth, take care of a newborn, and help the older children cope with the loss of their father. A task larger than life in my eyes.

I had a hard enough time trying to move forty miles down the road with a four month old, two preschoolers, and a kindergartener. Trying to put my own stress aside and help them adjust while still finding time to unpack and nurse the baby almost made my head explode on multiple occasions. Even with a husband to take the blame listen to me vent.

My heart seriously goes out to this woman. I hope to GOD she has an army of understanding and helpful friends and family around to help her in the years to come. This isn’t the kind of thing a casserole and a condolence card is going to cure. Life is stretching her thin.

How do you cope with stress when your kids need help coping too?

Could you make it through something like this?

I pray we never have to.

If you give a mama with a penchant for animals even the slightest inkling that her child may want a fish tank, she’s gonna tell Santa.
And Santa is going to deliver one complete with water conditioner, bacteria starter, and a fancy new filter. Sure to keep the tank healthy and beautiful.

If you give a mama a beautiful tank she’s gonna take her kids on boxing day (Dec 26th) to pick out each their own fish and a sucker fish to boot.
And she’s gonna wake up for the next three days to the news that her children have discovered another dead fish.

If you give a mama a tank that doesn’t seem to support the fish from her local pet store she gonna put the baby in the Ergo carrier while everyone else is at school and consult a more reputable establishment. Or the geographically closest result on her google search for tropical fish. Which turns out to look more like a mob front than a fish store. And is located ironically next door to a sushi joint.

But she’ll come home with a new supposedly hardier fish and seventeen dollars worth of testing materials for the tank water. And at least it will live.
Until it somehow causes a bacterial bloom that leaves the tank water looking like mud.

If you give a mama a fish tank that looks likes mud she’s gonna search a little harder and drive a little further to find a much more reputable fish establishment.
And thankfully this establishment will trouble shoot and cure the problem in just few days.

If you give a mama a solution to her nasty looking tank she’s gonna return to your fine establishment with four kids and her husband in tow. And when he notices the three for the price of one offer they will leave with a bag full of new fish.

If you give the now clear tank a bag full of fish they will look happy for a handful of days before showing signs of a parasite. A nearly always fatal parasite.

If you give a mama a tank full of fish with a nearly always fatal parasite she will not tell her children they have it or that she is ready to throw the whole thing out the window. But treat it and pray that at least one fish will survive.

If you give a mama a fish tank with one surviving fish (yes just one) she will begin to wonder what the hell she was thinking when she told Santa this might be a good learning experience for the kids. Until later that day when her eldest peers into the murky tank of death and says, “Look that big fish just poofed out a baby fish!”

That mama is not going to believe him. Thinking it was most likely a piece of fish poop.
Until she looks for herself and sees three tiny (like smaller than a quarter grain of rice) baby fish hiding in the neon plastic tank plants.

If you give a mama a big fish trying to gobble up baby fish right before her children’s eyes she’s going to throw all four of them (the kids) into the car wether they’re wearing underwear or not and head to the local pet store even if it is raining and tell the store manager to find someone that knows how to save said baby fish from imminent death possibly at the hands of their own mother.

If you give a mama a floating plexi glass fish baby incubator and a net…
She’s gonna fish not three, or five, or seven, tiny fish babies away from the jaws of death. But nine!

And finally the kids will have at least one day to learn something from this whole adventure. So long as they don’t all die over night.

Photocredit: VXIXIV

No not MRSA or anything like that. But one of those cold bugs that doesn’t conveniently disappear after a day or two of rest. The kind that drags on just long enough to make everyone crabby, tired, miserable. Taking this mama just to the brink of thinking she might lose her mind.

It has lingered on amongst my four small children for over a week now. With fevers, vomiting, coughing, throwing up, runny noses. Not all at once mind you. And not the same set of symptoms for any two kids.

No. That would just be too easy.

Just randomly picking and choosing kids and days for different symptoms. All mixed in with the intermittent good days just to throw me off.

So, here is my question. When you have been in the trenches of germ warfare for this long, and are starting to think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, how do you know when to send them back to school?

Because apparently I am going about it all wrong.

See, the twins only go to school two days a week, and beg and plead for the other days as well. So, taking one to school and not the other can be grounds for an all out holy war.

Therefore I try to decide the night before who is well enough and who is not. The coughing boy clearly was not but his sister seemed fine, and plenty eager. So off she went into her preschool bliss.

However, when I went to pick her up the aide said she spent the morning saying she didn’t feel well and didn’t want to eat her snack. But, then came home and ate a huge lunch and played all afternoon.

{shaking my head in wonder} Is she trying to make me look like the worst mom around or just practicing for a career in Hollywood?

And then today I arrive with all the kids in tow. All seemingly healthy. Only to find a note in the cubby about the health guidelines of the school. Including symptoms with which children should be kept home. And the words SORE THROAT highlighted in day-glo yellow. The one symptom NO ONE has complained of at all… All week.

So, now here I sit. With a sick baby upstairs. Who could not breath and sleep simultaneously unless I was holding her. ALL night. Questioning ALL of my judgement skills as a mother with all the older ones in school.

Wondering. Worrying.

Emailing the teacher to apologize for being outsmarted by germs. Little tiny invisible evil sleep depriving germs.

Photocredit: Skippyjon

What would you do if someone handed you an extra thousand dollars? The idea is of course to spend it on yourself. But that meaning can be interpreted any way you wish. It is after all your money.

At first I thought I knew exactly what I’d do. But then another idea came to me and another. In the space of about five minutes I had spent it ten different ways.

Do I buy clothes for myself? After four kids and five years of being a SAHM my wardrobe is getting a bit dull. But what if I finally lose the baby weight I’ve be planning on for four years and then all that money went to waste?

Do I put it away and add to it all my spare change every week? And then take the kids camping this summer? Would it even amount to enough anyway?

Do I insist we use it to go see my in-laws half way across the country? And the grandmother most of my children have never met? It would just barely pay for all the airline tickets.

Or ten (non-consecutive) days at the spa? It would be cheaper than therapy, but not leave me with anything tangible to show for it in the end.

I could use it to put the twins in preschool for more than just two days a week. A privilege they beg for on an almost daily basis. But waking the baby for an extra pick up time more than I already do might not be outweighed by the extra few hours of quiet.

Hmmm what’s a mama to do?

What would you do?

Photocredit: Kevin Dooley

See, sixth months ago today I was holding the newest member of our family.

And today, well it seems like she’s been here forever. Like I can hardly remember what it was like to be without her.

That’s not to say it has been easy. In fact, I spent this happy day with one kid throwing up, another one coughing up his lungs, and the oldest asking why he can’t be sick and stay home from school too. Topped off by a quick trip to the doctor for inhalers with all four kids in tow. Followed by a very slow trip to the pharmacy to find the right inhalers. And miraculously enough she just smiled through the whole thing.

Even though it has been crazy at times, it has been equally amazing to see how much her siblings adore her. From the moment I heard them cheer over the cell phone just minutes after her birth to the way they compete to see who can get her to laugh first. I’m just glad they haven’t realized she too will someday be capable of stealing their toys.

And because I still remember the day I thought she may not end up being here I’m grateful for every moment I’ve had as a mother of four so far. The fuzzy hair on her head, the raspberries her brother blows on her belly, the way she grabs his hair to get him back, and even the two little teeth sprouting from her gums. The chubby little rolls on her thighs, the dimple in her left cheek, and the way she turned three into four.

Happy six months baby girl.

Do you celebrate your momiversary?

It’s not that I don’t spend a LARGE part of everyday cleaning. I do.

But I always seem about two solid days of non-stop cleaning behind.

And while plenty of other moms claim to be just as resigned to the mess as me, I don’t see it.

However, I am determined that I am not the only one.

But just in case I think I may plaster this on my front door.

To whom it may concern,

Please be advised that in this home resides a group of creative mischievious and fun loving critters all under the age of five. All of whom are presently in the care of ONE mom. That means there are just two hands to hold the baby, fold the laundry, dry the tears, hug away the bumps and bruises, match the socks, cook the meals, read the books, pick up the puzzles, fill the backpacks, and drive the car to school. But there are eight hands ready and willing to draw on the table, eat the meals, spread the pieces of the puzzle back out, lose the socks, empty the backpacks, wake the baby, throw the books, and push each other down.
Therefore the mama that lives within these walls is fighting an uphill battle everyday against the messes that be.
But she does not measure her bottom line by how many dishes and loads of laundry got done. The measure of more importance to her is that each of her children goes to bed full. Not just with a belly of food, but a head with happy memories and a heart with love.
So, consider yourself warned.
And be sure to step over the pile of shoes at the door.

That way if you are a member of this secret sisterhood that values motherhood above housekeeping perfection then you’ll know you’ve found a familiar place to land. And if not. Well you have been warned and the choice is yours.

Are you a member? Or at least a supporter?

Well, my reflex answer is that being a public school teacher barely pays the bills for daycare. So the decision was easy.

But the truth of the matter is, in my heart no amount of money would have been “enough” to make me want to go back to work. Of course I would if I had to. As plenty of mothers out there do. And my hat goes off to them. Because I know they still come home to a whole other job. And struggle more than I can imagine to fit it all in. I don’t know how they do it.

And then of course there was that other reason…

I thought this would be easy.

At least in relative terms.

I was a public school teacher in the inner city!

One hundred and fifty hoodlums a day.

How could one baby be harder than that?

In more ways than I can mention here.

And just when I thought I had that ONE baby figured out?

Well, twins came along…

So much for easy.

At least the hoodlums went home a three and didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night.

But we’re getting used to chaos.

Little number four is making sure of that!

Ok mamas, how did you make your decision?