And in that year abroad I learned more than I ever could have anticipated.

I had gotten bored riding horses competitively and attending college classes. Only to discover a people that would be happy to have either one of these privileges in their grasp. In fact it would be life changing. A permanent structure with food and running water, or a college education that could not be ripped out from under them were little more than fantasy for most. And causes worth dying for for the few who dared to dream.

In the short time I was there their currency devalued drastically. I lived in a home that supported the closest thing I have ever seen to slavery since my high school text books. I slipped money to needy hands through the bars on windows. I gave away left overs that were received like riches. I met a boy in a street-kid drop in center wearing an oversized sports coat that never spoke a word. I walked down streets that were bombed weeks later.

I came home to sit on a swing in a park after sunset with tears in my mind and asked a friend, “WHY?”

Why do WE get to live like this when so many live like THAT?

How do I keep from forgetting this? Keep from yet again becoming someone that takes things for granted. Like not having a rubber bullet lodged in my neck from protesting the tripling of college fees. Like not having to worry that I may wake up tomorrow morning and only be able to buy a quarter of the food I really need for my family because the money in my pocket is not worth as much today as it was yesterday.

But I couldn’t. Life got in the way.

Life as a Middle School teacher in the inner city.

Life as a Mom. Of one then three then four kids. And I had all but forgotten.

Until I read this post at Hormonal Imbalances. And it ALL came back to me.

See she just lost her twins boys at eighteen weeks gestation. One stillborn and one she held for two hours before he passed.

And there she is, where nothing else matters. Things that I have of late been stressed by, or concerned with. She would trade in a heart beat.

Smile at a lifetime of sleepless nights just to have her boys come home and be a part of her family. Rejoice to hear her boys fight with each other at the age of three. Revel in the opportunity to drag them home from Kindergarten open house in tears because they didn’t get to go to the Book Fair for a second time.

She has hit a bottom and is wondering where it is going to go from here. How long it is going to take her to get back.

But to her I say thank you. Thank you for reminding me that even if I forgot snack for the baseball team, and let my daughter go to preschool wearing her Uggs in ninety degree weather, I’ve still got SO much to be grateful for in so many ways.

And while it may feel like your pain is cruel and senseless, your life your struggles are not in vain. Even if it’s just me. You’ve altered the way I look at today.

Reminded me there is nothing to be taken for granted. Not even the air my children and I breathe.

I don’t feed the baby enough iron, she fell down half a flight of stairs on my watch.

One of the twins slipped into the neighbors garage unnoticed and let their dog out of his enclosure. Three times in a row.

And I told the baseball team at practice the other night that Saturday’s game had been rescheduled for two hours later than it actually was, I had the wrong day!

But today… Well I did the unspeakable! I let my oldest stay home from school for no good reason at all.

Now in my defense, he did have a scratchy cough sometime around four in the morning.

But when it came time to rouse the masses at 645 and even the baby was dead to the world asleep, I could not be convinced that dragging everyone through the morning ritual of getting ready stressed and dressed was worth five hours of Kindergarten for one kid.

And you know what. It wasn’t.

We got more out of a day home alone without pickups drop offs and homework packets than any day at Kindergarten was going to give him.

Not that I don’t appreciate the work teachers do. I do. Really. I used to be one of them.

But with just me and my kid that I know so well. And a few word and number games. Games that he liked and wanted to “teach” to his dad when he got home. And laugh at when dad got them “wrong”.

Now I’m not considering keeping him home in any larger capacity. In fact he’ll be back in the fray tomorrow. As will the twins.

But today. With just weeks to go before the end of his first real year of school. And first grade on the horizon. When I’ll have him in my grasp less and less. To have him home and learning the best way I know how to teach him. Was more than luxurious.

It was opportunity I know I won’t long have. To help him without him really knowing what I’m doing. Keep him home for my own selfish causes. And put down the fight of being on everyone else’s schedule.

Who knew a day home with four kids would contain moments resembling a mental health day…

I bent down to move a wet load of laundry to the dryer and it hit me.

A large part of my life from here on out was going to be defined by LAUNDRY.
The next day I had my son with no drugs and it hit me.

Labor is hard and we may have to adopt if he is not to be an only child.

A week or so later I told my husband I would pay millions of dollars for him to sleep through the night.

His reply? No you wouldn’t. You would be awake checking on him. And then it hit me.

I had taken being young and carefree for granted. In fact I hadn’t even known what it meant until it was gone.

About a year later I felt like I had this mom thing down. In fact I considered trying to find some sort of additional work to keep me busy and entertained.

And then God hit me. I was pregnant with twins.

On our first hike all together.

I spent months in uncomfortable pain on modified bedrest trying to be a good mom to my toddler from one spot on the couch that still bears a dent from my ever increasingly pregnant behind.

And then it hit me. Only having to take care of one HAD been easy (in relative terms anyway).

At twenty four weeks pregnant we took out first trip to the maternity ward for preterm contractions.

And then it hit me. I was going to have to fight for everyday of a healthy twin pregnancy. And hire help even if she wore hot pants in December and texted her friends half the day.

At thirty seven weeks and zero days I gave birth to my twins ninety seconds apart no c-section or NICU time required.

And when their big brother came to meet them and play bassinet basketball (via throwing rolled baby socks at the swaddled babies with the instructions, “baby catch”) it hit me. This was just the beginning. And there was going to be some time before we all adjusted to this new family.

And pretty much everyday of their first year I think I woke up with the feeling that I may never be anything but tired again.

We’ve adjusted now and even added another. Who is adjusting to life with all of us.

But that is the thing about motherhood. And parenting in general. There is now training course for this. It is the toughest job I have ever had. And everyday is my first day on the job.

This morning I woke up to my first day with a six year old. Just when I thought I might have figured out the whole being the mom of a five year old.

Just as soon as I figure out how to handle three year old twins, they’ll be four.

And the baby, well she won’t be a baby anymore.

When did it hit you? What this gig is all about? Or, like me, is it continuing to fall on your head dawn on you?

A couple years ago there was book written by a mom with a title something like this. Or maybe it was “Hell has Nothing on other Kids Parents” or “Nothing Sucks More Than Other Kids Parents.”

Either way I was NOT on board.

See at the time I had one kid. And all the other parents I knew where my friends.

It worked out quite nicely.

None of our kids were in school. We each had ONE. And we got together to bitch about little blips in our new lives as moms.

Sleeping teething eating pooping. The basics.

And after a couple of hours we packed up our charges, their sippy cups and went home to nap times.

But then there was the woman at the park. She had given her kids wooden swords. And NO ONE else was allowed to touch them. Even if they were lying in a heap on a public bench.

That was when I started to get this HELL concept.

Especially now that I have four kids and three are in some form of school.

It seems this ups the anty by quite a bit. Complicates things. Or the HELL as the saying goes.

I now have friends with one, two, and sometimes three kids.

My kids have friends whose parents I don’t even know.

So it is not just random moms at the park that were dealing with anymore. In some cases it is kids and their subsequent parents on a daily basis.

All of whom have differing parenting styles, and kid styles.

And ways of coming to conclusions.

Some of us offer advice.

Some of us do not.

Some of us just stare and judge silently.

And others plain step in where their toes do not belong.

Now I am just as apt to intervene in the face of imminent harm to any other human being physical or emotional no matter what my relation is to them.

But aren’t there some unwritten laws to when and where this is ok? And how?

This parenting thing is tricky.

And the stakes are high.

The pressure is on.

So is there really a need for all this?

Why do we do this to each other?

Yes, lots of questions I know.

But I am a bit short on answers tonight…

Maybe I need to go find that book I can barely recall the title of and see if she has some tips.

Or maybe it is just all my imagination.

But at the end of the day. These are MY kids. And you mess with them you mess with me.

Due mostly to the fact that the SUN was NOT yet UP.

But, the baby WAS.

So, after an enormous cup of coffee a slice of cold organic spinach pizza. Plus thirty minutes of mixing butter, cream cheese and powdered sugar…

I frosted the cakes determined to impress with stunningly smooth frosting, I answered ten thousand requests of, “I wanna Help!” And, “Can I have a taste?” With increasingly agitated “NO NO and NO!”

I wanted these cakes to be beautiful! Artistic. Impressive. And not a pint sized finger print in sight. Ok so I can be a little obsessed about my cakes…

In fact, after the initial coat of frosting I was planning a trip to Micheal’s to purchase fondant and some tools of some sort or another. Which I would then (in my over ambitious imagination) blend the perfect colors that were sure to offer up the results I was after. Maybe even get my creations pinned??? Ok so I was dreaming.

But then I decided to let go.

Running to the store in search of fondant, and the possibility of not finding it was just too much. Coupled with the over whelming desires to HELP.

So, I gave each kid a scoop of frosting with their choice of food coloring. And let them mush it to their hearts’ content.

And when the coloring was complete we snipped a corner in each bag and decorated birthday cakes in abstract kid style.

They could not have been prouder to tell the recipients of their handy work, over and over again.

And to top it all off I don’t even have an accompanying picture of said cakes. I was too busy letting go of perfection to make sure my blog got the benefit of it all. But, my kids have not stopped talking about it since.

So, who wins?

a cake form last year that I actually slaved over

Well let me preface this by saying there is a lot to hate about being a stay at home mom. The hours, the dishes, the lack of a paycheck. And there is the laundry. Yes, the laundry needs its own sentence.

But all that aside there are a few reasons I really do love my job. And consider myself lucky to have it.

Like the chub on top of little feet and the rolls on little thighs.
Watching the baby learn to crawl and eat her big brothers legos in her first pair of hand me down skinny jeans.
Listening to her babble an entire conversation to the hungry hippo game board.
Being able to stay home with her and her runny nose.

The way my little guy runs with a jump in every step.
Gives kisses and hugs the second I pretend to be sad.
“You happy now, I am hugging you.”
He’s always got someway to make me smile.

The first time my oldest tells me he really does love having a fish tank.
It makes the remove dead fish before anyone notices missions a little more worth while.
And crazy hair days. AKA school picture day for the big guy.

The way he jumps into things without fear. At least his own.

The way the little girl shows up at my bedroom door every night with all that she needs bundled in her arms.
Jammies, toothbrush, toothpaste, pillow, blanket.
And asks without speaking if she can sleep beside me.

Making their birthday cakes myself.

Having my own personal live in photographers anytime I need a portrait taken.

Well not until the middle of the day anyway.

But guess what? Something really cool happened. We celebrated it on accident.

Not that I don’t love the earth or anything. I really do.

But I rarely even know what day of the month it is let alone what obscure genuinely time worthy holidays are coming up.

So when I discovered what day it was half-way through the day while barking orders at my husband to hop to it rallying the troops to get ready for our trip to the tide pools, I was thrilled. And just the slightest bit proud not to have missed it entirely.

Anyway, what is really important here, is that we got out and appreciated Mother Nature on the appropriate day! Because who doesn’t need a day to remember we live on planet earth? Complete with…

Hermit crabs. Whose little hearts would have been broken had they set claw in my truck.

A whale sighting! OK so maybe only the grownups were watching that one.

And a terrible picture of me trying to keep the baby warm. Since it was a brisk fifty-five degrees on the coast regardless of the sweltering temps we left just a few short miles down the road at home. See, even the supreme Mother Nature herself isn’t perfect!

Ten days of Spring Break with four kids under six?

Well I’ll admit it was not ALL fun and games.

In fact, one evening early on in the week, like MONDAY, that I told my husband HE needed to handle bedtime. And I sat in my car in the driveway ’til all the windows were dark because I was too tired to go back in before any possibility of even one being awake was OVER.

However, aside from that and a few other bumps in the road, it actually went pretty well.

We went to the park…

We tried out the swings…

And a new art project…

We filled our buckets with eggs… And then some.

We built.
Which means I got something I have wanted for a long time.
But that will have to wait for another post.

How was your spring break?

He will finish tomorrow morning in the Balboa Park Basin of the San Fernando Valley. And at that finish he will have made a difference in the lives of thousands of children.

How?

Because he is running to raise money for a groups called CATS (children assault treatment services). A group of highly trained forensic nurses that specialize in collecting evidence in cases of assault, abuse, and neglect.

Basically they collect evidence in these cases in order to prosecute the criminals behind the acts.

Why?

Because without them victims would end up in emergency rooms in the hands of unspecialized doctors and nurses that received a fraction of the training the CATS staff has. And a fraction of the compassion and demeanor that helps to prevent any further trauma in the lives of these victims.

However, their funding is in question. And it is up to donors and heroic efforts such as these to keep their services available.

Trey Barnes (the runner) is hoping to raise 8760$ by tomorrow morning, and simultaneously pay tribute to the journey survivors of assault in endure, by raising one dollar for ever every hour the CATS office is in operation for a year.

And he’s almost there! In fact over ninety percent of the way there!

So, if you have a minute please watch the following video and then click through to his website for ways you can help too.

One small contribution may just help prevent a tragedy in the life of a child you know. Maybe even your own.

Fleet Feet Encino Click here to help!

Anguish because… Well, have you ever tried to grocery shop, or anything shop, with a five year old who’s got lightening fast legs, two three year olds that could fight over who is breathing better air, and a baby? Yes, well you get the picture. I should probably not be sitting here writing this post but preparing myself by stock piling ten days worth of easy to prepare meals, healthy snacks, and every crafting material I can get my hands on.

However, since this is my last three hours of peace, and the baby is sleeping, I am here. And maybe for no other purpose than to alert you to the fact that you may not hear from me for the next week. But, if it goes much beyond that you may want to send in the troops.

No but seriously. I am really excited too because I will not have to dress and ready four kids for drop off, wake the baby to be on time for pick ups, or run around like a crazy woman trying to find all the backpacks and accompanying lunch boxes, library books, homework packets, share toys, just to get angry stares from the back seat of my car.

But, most especially because we can go out and explore our new neighborhood!

We have a new zoo, we’re close to the beach, there are ponds and trails everywhere, full of lizards and turtles, just waiting to be discovered. Plus, the weather is great and the baby is willing to sleep in her stroller. So the possibilities are limitless!

Well, sort of. So long as the possibility seems doable with four kids.

Which means the kids have to be onboard.

So, I decided to ask them. This morning before departing for their last day of school.

ME: We have ten whole days off from school. Watcha wanna do?

The Big Guy: Stay Home!

The Little Guy: Play Cars!

The Little Girl: Sleep!

Ok. So, maybe they don’t quite grasp the spring break spirit just yet.