Glue Gun Fun

Sunday was a good day. I got to use a hot glue gun! I know. Go ahead and roll your eyes. But I had so much fun. My glue gun went unused for years. In the last year or two, it has been pulled out a handful of times to reattach bows to Ree's barrettes and to complete other minor repairs. But it's been a long time since I've used it to create. 

On Saturday I cleaned out 7 boxes from all over the house and garage. Two of them included craft supplies donated to Ree's preschool by a woman in my office. The woman had been purging her mother's craft and sewing supplies, and the boxes were packed full of all sorts of things. In sorting through everything, I liberated a few items including heart shaped doilies and lots of little ribbon flowers and bows. They just screamed Homemade Valentines!, so Ree and I used the glue gun to put them together. The funny part? This took less time than assembling and addressing her store bought Valentines last year when she decided to personally address each and place them in their little envelopes. (My mom was brave enough to do this with her since I was busy with a new baby, but I am pretty sure the very word "valentine" still gives her a slight chill. And for the record, I am not sure where Ree came from. She does not take after her procrastinating parents. She made her Valentines in January, the same week I wrote thank you notes for Christmas gifts.)

In other crafting news, a few weeks ago, a mom at Ree's preschool had the kids make "quilts" by gluing fabric scraps on to a larger piece of fabric. She let me take home some of the extra supplies so we could do the project again with Leon and Michael. One night when the kids were stampeding through the house after dinner, I convinced them to slow down by filling the kitchen table with craft supplies. Instantly, they were mesmerized. (Well, on a sliding scale with Ree being very interested and Michael being interested because everyone else was doing it.) 

It turned out to be a fun and easy project (mostly because someone else had gotten everything ready for us!).

But even better, we made it through a rainy evening injury-free. 

Party Time

Yes, it is time for another round of our life in bad pictures!

Last night we celebrated Natalia's birthday. The big people got to eat pizza and salad for dinner. She had whole wheat tuna casserole. Sounds horribly mean, huh? But the thing is, she loves her whole wheat tuna casserole and none of us would like what greasy, salty pizza would do to her.

I pretty much leave all the party planning to Ree, and she does not disappoint. (Okay, so I never think about what birthdays entail other than cake, and Ree ensures we have "proper" parties.) Last night after dinner she announced she had made a Pin the Heart on the Girl game for everyone to play. The kids had fun trying to get stickers on the girl's clothes while blindfolded.

Even Natalia got in on the action, whatever it was we were doing!

After the game, it was time for presents!

Natalia mostly looked on while everyone else played with her gifts.

Eventually, Leon and Michael shared Natalia's toys with Natalia.

When in doubt, eat your presents. Containers and all.

Pru and Max, the forgotten children, were there too.

After presents, it was time for cake. For Natalia, I decided to make the same healthy-ish Upside Down Berry Cornmeal Cake I made for Ree's first birthday. In making sure our super tomboy gets all of the girlie stuff, Natalia had a heart-shaped cake with a sparkly Happy Birthday sign. Ree loved it. And sometimes moms are a little more enthusiastic than kids.

Thankfully, Natalia did love eating her cake. And I am pretty sure she had a wonderful first birthday. Whatever birthdays are.

"Foo" Fighter

Natalia is demanding. And has quite the temper. Fifteen years from now, we will be hating that. Right now, it's adorable.

Yesterday Jeff was in the kitchen. She crawled up to him and demanded, "Foo!" (Food). He didn't stop what he was doing and give her food RIGHT THEN, so she clarified, "Num, num!" To distract her, he gave her a wooden spoon. She took one look at, launched it across the room, and said, "Foo!"

Imagine what she would ask for if she knew it was her birthday?

They Mean Well

People have been saying strange things to me ever since Leon and Michael were born. I think they see our family and they just feel compelled to say something. Unfortunately, Hallmark never made a card for the woman out shopping alone with four kids five and under, and so they aren't quite sure what to say. So, with great intentions, silly things slip out of their mouths. Recently a man said, "You really DON'T have your hands full!" when he meant, "How is that your children are sitting down quietly while all the other kids in this place are running around screaming like chickens with their heads cut off?" I didn't tell him that my kids were so grateful to be out of the house that they don't want to do anything to jeopardize it. Or that when we are out we concentrate all our efforts on keeping our kids under control which means there are some pretty odd items in the shopping cart, but at least security doesn't routinely have to escort us out of the store. (Emphasis on "routinely.")

In the last week, I've noticed people making odd comments to me even without the kids around. If a backhanded compliment is saying something that sounds nice but is actually nasty, these are the exact reverse. The speakers have such great intentions, but the words make me giggle and want to bash my head into a wall. Like the client who gushed, "You are the nicest auditor I ever met!" I smiled. It totally made my morning, but then I had to wonder, where exactly did that put me on the spectrum of niceness? Am I over there with Gandhi and Mother Teresa or am I closer to Satan and the IRS? I'm not sure I want an answer to that.

Another woman told me she loves the efficient meetings I run. I just don't like drawing things out unnecessarily. Talk about an issue, decide, and move on. Geez.

If this keeps up, I have to admit I am horribly afraid my tombstone will read, "She was an efficient auditor." Now there's a legacy.

Sleep, Part II

Nothing jinxes a good night's sleep like writing that you have been getting sleep. So, of course, last week Natalia decided not to sleep. A lot of it wasn't her fault. She is teething and miserable. Again. Poor kid ran a fever from Friday through Sunday. I would have trouble sleeping too if my mouth felt like it was exploding.

But there were a couple of nights where she was just awake. And the worst part is, she's just so darn funny when she is wide awake late at night that we have trouble being mad at her. She sings, she practices walking, she actually plays with her toys. She enjoys doing all of the normal one-year-old things she can't do when her siblings are around.

Thursday nights was one of those wide-awake nights. I was stressed and she fed off my energy by getting hyper and refusing to sleep. We gave up on putting her to bed in favor of watching the last half of The Office. While we tried to listen to the show, she started singing her own version of "Bah, Bah, Black Sheep." Her version sounded more like "Bah, bah baa she, pbbbtttthhhhh!" There was much spit involved, and she did this over and over again. And heaven help us, we laughed every time.

Sleep

It is a running joke that ever since the boys were born, we get by on false hope. False hope is that delusional sense that hey, we know this guy who knows this guy who won $5,000 on a scratch off ticket, so I'm sure we will win the jackpot. (And for the record, while we would desperately love to win the lottery, we never remember to buy tickets. But hey, maybe someone will give us a ticket!)

Sleep has always fallen into the false hope category. There has always been the story of, "This one time..." and we run with it. You know, this one time, right after immunizations, when our poor little kids felt like crud and just had a big dose of ibuprofen, they slept! So we figure if they slept that one time, they can do it again!

Natalia was actually a great sleeper until she was 4 1/2 months old. From the time she was 7 or 8 weeks old (I think) until that point, she got at least one 6 or 7 hour stretch of sleep a night. When she got up, she nursed and went right back to sleep. It was fantastic.

The last 7 months haven't been so great. There have been occasional days where she slept well, but more often than not, she had checked in many times a night. There have also been those nights where she treated any sleep before midnight as a nap and then got up and wanted to play.

But over the past week, there have been 4 nights where she has gone to bed between 8:30 - 9:00 and slept til 3:30. A couple of the nights involved "resets" before we went to bed, but all was quiet once I went to bed. Of course, she also stayed up til 12:30 last Thursday night, but I am ignoring that. Because, hey, she slept! I know she can do it again!

Kampai!

We were celebrating Jeff's birthday earlier this week, and inevitably the dinner conversation turned to who has the next birthday. The late fall and winter are a celebratory smorgasbord at our house. We start with Leon and Michael's birthday the week of Thanksgiving. Then there is Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. We have Jeff's birthday in mid-January, Natalia's in late January, and mine in early February. Oh, and the Big Gane Which Must Not Be Named is in there and we always go all-out with a crazy appetizer feast. And because we have preschoolers, even Valentine's Day is a big deal. (Then March rolls around and we are incredibly grateful for income tax refunds and post-holiday diets.)

We talked about Natalia's birthday and if we should take her out to dinner. As we talked, we discussed that no one went out for their first birthdays. Plus, unlike her siblings at this age, Natalia isn't eating tons of solids yet. It's not for lack of teeth (numbers 9 and 10 popped through last week). She is just having a tough time with a lot of food. There are some, um, icky diapies involved. (REALLY icky diapies.) And we are lacking experimental time. So she eats lots of non-wheat carbs and still drinks a whole lot of mommy milk. She's not starving. She has the cheeks and thighs to prove it.

Last night we went to a Japanese steakhouse for dinner. Much like Disney World, it required a lot of prior discussion with the kids to explain what was okay when someone is cooking with fire at your table.

We were seated with another family who had two girls the ages of the boys and Natalia. Ree graciously sat next to the mom from the other family, and by the end of dinner they were best buds as Ree discovered the little girl was good friends with a girl in Ree's preschool class. (Honestly, not surprising. Wilmington is freakishly small, especially when it comes to people with preschool and school aged kids. It is challenging to go somewhere and not meet someone who shares a mutual friend. Verdict is still out as to whether or not this is a good thing.)

Leon, of course, was super excited. He was a ball of nervous energy when we got there and he wouldn't stop chewing on his fork. Once the food and the chef arrived, he relaxed. He had "kiddie chopsticks" and he ate his entire salad with them while taking in the chef's every move. His favorite part, though, was the FIRE! The table was lit with a flourish as the chef started cooking, and later the chef made a volcano. Leon was a huge fan.

Michael was...overwhelmed. Poor little guy just shut down. He couldn't even sit up in his chair. He did eat a ton of food though.

I had so much fun watching Natalia. She was her own show. Natalia LOVED it. Every little piece of the experience. She thought it was the greatest place ever. There were people everywhere to watch. There was constant entertainment. There was fried rice with eggs and peas and carrots to eat. And, yes, she too liked the fire. She clapped after the chef lit the table. She then proceeded to watch his every move. And when he said goodbye, she dutifully waved at him.

So now we know. If we do decide to go out for her birthday, there will be no visit to McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A. This girl needs her some stir-fried vegetables and a restaurant full of smiling people. Kampai!

Smart but Crafty

I am always amazed by the fact that Natalia is making progress developmentally. Go nature! 'Cuz it certainly ain't us. With Ree, Jeff and I dutifully read baby books and websites to make sure we were doing everything possible to enhance our young daughter's development. We read to her, played games with her, and narrated our lives. We made sure to keep her away from televisions (they are bad!) and we planned stimulating activities. With Natalia, it is more like, "Hey, you! Has someone changed your diapie this week?"

So, of course, I am amazed every time I catch her doing something new. (And I have to admit, after four kids, it's nice to still be in awe of my baby.) She really wants to walk and spent most of the weekend standing, although I took that in stride. It's the signs of personality that blow me away. Like when I found her playing with a Tonka garbage truck this afternoon. She was rolling it back and forth across the floor making garbage truck noises. You know, playing like a kid. Or tonight it the bathtub when I asked her if she wanted a wash cloth, and when I tossed it to her, she started rubbing it across her belly. It's like she gets it. Whoa.

And it is all self taught. The girl is freakishly observant. A couple of months ago I was alone with the kids, and I wanted to take everyone outside to play in the backyard. While I was getting everyone else ready, I left Natalia in the middle of the living room floor where I knew she would be safe from excited, jumping kids and dogs. I let everyone else out, checked that Natalia was still in the living room, and ran to get her socks or a jacket. When I got back to the living room, she was gone. WHAT? How could I lose a baby so quickly? I am absent minded, but that was a new record. I finally found her a couple of minutes later. She had left the living room, gone down the step into our sunroom, crawled across the sunroom, and went down the step to the patio. She was laying on her belly (she was still little enough she couldn't get back to sitting from crawling) playing on that patio. I'm sure she just assumed I had forgotten to take her out with everyone else.

Food is very important to her. She has a figure to maintain after all. During the day, when she is hungry, she crawls over to Jeff, tugs on his pants, and tells him, "Num, num!" while pretending to chew. She also puts every possible thing in her mouth, presumably hoping it is food. I think her brothers were just as bad, however, there weren't nearly as many choking hazards around the house when they were crawling. (Hot wheels, anyone?) On more than one occasion, she has gotten food stuck in her throat and we've had to finger sweep it out. A week or two before Christmas, she started choking. Again. Unlike her brother Michael who PANICS in most situations, she knew exactly what to do. While I was still walking over to her, she stuck her finger in her mouth, got out the offensive particle, and went back to eating. No big deal. And she sure didn't need a grown up to help.

Sometimes, though, as fun as it is to see her little mind at work, it's disturbing. She woke me up at 3am today. For the past two months, she has been a full-time co-sleeper, and she was laying next to me in bed. She didn't wake me up by crying, or wailing, or kicking the wall. (All favorite tricks.) I woke up as she tried to pry my eyelids open with her grubby little fingers. Apparently she was awake, and she was checking to see if I was awake too.

As her doctor said at her six-month checkup, "You'd better be careful. This one is smart...but crafty."

Proud Parenting

For the past six years, at practically all times, I have been pregnant, nursing, or both. (This is actually month 62, but who's counting?) And people talk about pregnant brain, and nursing brain, and new mommy brain. But what they really mean is between the hormones and the sleep deprivation, you are going to be a blooming idiot. (Not to mention being Captain Crankypants. And the Folger's commercial with the son coming home from the army to surprise his family for Christmas? It will have you crying every time. And that's just when you think about it in July. You shouldn't even turn on the TV after Labor Day.)

But despite this, I think I have held it together pretty well. Really. (Denial and the ability to repress memories are what make us do silly things like think going through labor more than once is a good idea.) But in December, I hit a new low. I could not get my shit together. Holy cow. I could not concentrate on anything. I can't tell you where my mind was. It was racing through some insane thought. Making to-do lists instead of getting stuff done. Worrying about, hmm, I don't even know.

Going back to work this week has really made me realize how bad it was. This week I have quickly knocked out tasks that I struggled with for hours before giving up in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Oops.

I suppose I should've been clued in to my sad mental state the night I found Leon standing in the bathroom holding an empty bottle of infant ibuprofen he just drank. Now there is a proud parenting moment! We had been telling the boys for months that when we got back from vacation, it would be time to use the potty all the time. And they foolishly agreed to the silly plan. And of course the week we started potty fun, the toilet in the master bathroom broke. And the kids take baths in that bathroom. That particular night I took the boys into the bathroom and got Michael undressed for his bath before I remembered the toilet was broken. So while I took him streaking through the house, Leon was alone in the bathroom. Normally, I am anal retentive about double checking that the cap on any medicine is secure, and I keep the infant ibuprofen in a high cabinet in the kitchen. But I had only been getting about 4 hours of sleep a night in 30-45 minute bursts in the week or so since we had been back from vacation. Natalia had been miserable, so I had given her meds around 3am the night before in a desperate hope that she was just waking up because she was teething and the magic medicine fairy would make everything better. (Apparently, I was just full of great parenting moments.) So, anywho, I just put the bottle on the bathroom counter and I probably didn't close the lid that securely. So Mr. Eagle Eye Busy Hands spied it among all the flotsam on the bathroom counter. And in the brief time it took Michael to tinkle, Leon managed to climb on the counter, unscrew the cap, and have a little snack.

So then I got to spend 10 minutes on the phone with Poison Control and a lovely woman named Stephanie who was calm and refreshingly nonjudgmental. He would be a-ok although he might experience some side effects of having just ingested about 15 doses of ibuprofen and we could expect vomiting. (And do you know, he was just fine? Somehow it doesn't seem right. It was a good time to discuss the book about Curious George going to the hospital after eating something he wasn't supposed to and having to stay there all by himself. Bwahaha!)

And when I got off the phone, I had to laugh. I was relieved, obviously. And there was poor Michael, just standing there butt naked, a concerned look on his face, wanting to know if "my brother" would be okay.

Where's the Dishwasher?

(This is an update to an earlier post. I finally found the image online! Granted, I probably should've looked a little harder in the first place, but I am lazy like that.)

I am always amused at what the kids notice (and what they don't). The kids' bedrooms are at the front of the house, and when you walk out of them you look directly at the living room and the couch at the back of the house. (And we have a little house with an open floor plan. It's not far to look.) On Christmas, Santa was kind enough to leave all the kids' gifts and their stockings on the couch so they would be the first thing they saw when they woke up. Santa's plan worked for Ree and Leon. Michael, however, was totally oblivious. Without even glancing at the bright mound of toys displayed in front of him, he ran to the dining room where he studied the plate of cookies and carrots left out for Santa and his reindeer. It took some convincing to get him to the toys.

For Christmas, one of my brothers and his wife gave me a shirt with a cartoon cat cooking on it. I put the shirt on for the first time the other night, and Michael exclaimed, "I like your new shirt!" It made me smile even though Michael is quick to comment anything something is different. I usually shower at night after they go to bed, but if I shower during the day and Michael sees me with wet hair, he will comment, "I like your new hair!" At least he notices.

I figured that Leon (aka Chef Lay-ohn) would love the shirt, but when he saw me, he just stared. After studying the image for several minutes, he finally asked, "Where's the dishwasher?"

Natalia at 11 Months

Last week Natalia made it to the 11 month mark. And despite her best attempts to injure herself, she did it in one piece!

There is no convincing Natalia she isn't at least three years old. We took the kids to the park on Sunday, and you can tell it drove her nuts that she wasn't physically able to climb and keep up. Thankfully, she was also happy to sit with me and swing.

She imitates everything her siblings to. Somehow, a nightly game has evolved where after dinner the three big kids and Leon's Baby Mickey all crawl in bed with me and pretend to sleep. (I get to lay down and close my eyes for this game. I like it even if it means elbows to the eyeballs and the occasional foot in the ribs.) Natalia can't climb on the bed yet (thankfully) but she joins in too. She stands next to the bed and lays her head down on the mattress and grins like mad.

On the day she turned 11 months she celebrated by standing unsupported for the first time. And, of course, she did it in the bathtub. It's more fun when you are naked and there is lurking danger. (Then again, isn't everything better that way?) Tonight she stood in the middle of the room and clapped along while Ree sang (REALLY loudly - Leon complained his ears hurt).

Natalia loves the dogs, although I'm not sure the feeling is mutual. When Pru is stretched out on her side, our little tank likes to crawl back and forth over her. From Pru's back to belly, belly to back, again and again. Max was her bestest friend in the whole world til he growled at her. Not that we blame him. She is always playing with his collar and tags while they are attached to him. We've caught her holding his food dish in the middle of a meal. Twice. And he just stood there wide eyed wondering what to do. So when she decided to climb on his bed and steal his blankie to tuck herself in while he was sleeping he finally got in her face and growled. If he could talk, he would've been shaking his head saying, "Enough is enough, kid."

Happy New Year!

I've always thought New Year's resolutions were dumb. The last time I made any was in the fourth grade when we had to make "wash and wear resolutions." I have no idea what my resolutions were - I know I made a list of all the things I knew I was "supposed" to want to change. I then had to dutifully write them within a t-shirt shape mimeographed (Yes! Mimeographed. We used to have the "Mimeograph lady" at my elementary school and the poor woman had permanent purple fingers. And probably a nice contact buzz.) onto a piece of paper. I then decorated the t-shirt, cut it out, and it was hung on a fake laundry line on the classroom wall. Being not artistically inclined, mine was definitely not the cutest t-shirt, and my resolutions were neither original nor sincere (although I am sure I tried to convince myself they were since I was also "supposed" to believe in them).

I have no idea why this experience has stayed with me. Maybe because it's taken me a long time to be even a little okay with the idea of failure. For most of my life I only did things I knew I would succeed at, and it's a running joke in a society that people do not follow through with New Year's resolutions. It's always been my M.O. to just quietly make changes when needed throughout the year. Plus for me, the year always starts around Labor Day and finishes just after Memorial Day. I have never gotten used to a calendar year. January is just an awkward time to change anything.

But this year I feel like making resolutions. I know I will break them, but I like the idea of at least changing my intent. They are pretty simple.

1. Clean and decorate our house.
We have been in our house for almost three years, and it has never been decorated or (sadly) really cleaned. I've decided to tackle a room a month (some months).

2. Begin migrating to all natural skincare, hair care, and makeup.
It took many years (at least 5+) for me to migrate to all natural cleaning products. And I still cheat at times, especially if someone gives me non-natural stuff to use. But I try. And now it's time to start improving what I put on my body.

3. Write every day.
Writing makes me happy. Writing helps me relax. I should do it more. No, it doesn't necessarily mean that I will be blogging more (I know you are relieved!), but it does mean that I will try to steal a few minutes to myself each day to jot down a few thoughts. Or I will enjoy the writing I do at work. (At least aside from writing audit workpapers. Those will never be enjoyable.)

Also, I will continue to change what I share here. I started blogging when Ree was a newborn in an effort to share her little life with family and friends. But as she, and her brothers and sister get older, it feels weird writing about them. Like I am going behind their back and gossiping. So I will continue to share some tidbits, but I will probably be writing increasingly more about me, or at least my perspective. So you've been warned.

May you have a wonderful new year - resolutions or not.