Great expectations and too much information...

Not more than an hour ago I was standing in the kitchen overlooking what was a semi-acceptable mess. I loaded the dishwasher (yes, dinner was done by 6 pm!) washed up the counter, the baby, and the highchair tray. I thought to myself, "this mess would be acceptable if my visiting teachers were to stop by unannounced, but I do need to move the vacuum out of the middle of the room..." Not 5 seconds later, I swear, the doorbell rang and there stood my visiting teacher. I didn't even have time to move the vacuum, nor was the house up to the expecations that I had thought. As we moved into the living room to visit (and for her to teach), I noticed that there were several toys sinking into the cushions of the couch. It truly seems that just when you think that your expectations might be within reach, someone or something brings you closer to reality and what is actually happening. It is then that you see the toys peering out from the cushions. At least that is my reality. The crazy part is, that even as frequently as it occurs, it still always surprises me, like one day there will be no toys in the cushions and things will be as they seem from my perch next to the dishwasher... Never going to happen! So, I have to question which is the better option, maintaining the same expectations of greatness, or lowering my standards to fit reality. I remember a day when my house used to be clean and stay clean for more than an hour. It was during this same time frame that I was easily able to take a shower before 5:00 pm. It was pre-motherhood.

I do not remember a day, however, when there was such a thing as "too much information" in my life. I grew up in a family where pretty much anything that you thought about, you could say. We asked questions of all natures, and our parents answered them. There was never an uncomfortableness in talking about even personal issues. The reason I thought of this is because the other day I was talking to my friend about her children, and she was explaining that one of them was having a medical issue, and preceded the talk by saying, "this is probably too much information." So, I was thinking, what is too much information among friends? If you were a stranger and I was discussing personal issues, then it might be somewhat awkward, then again I would probably never see you again so what would be the harm. I have a sister who does not know how to (or chooses not to) "filter" between her brain and her mouth. She thinks it, she says it. At times it is quite hilarious, at times embarrassing. We used to taunt her endlessly about her abrupt way of saying whatever she thought. I remember still the day that she jumped up during a conversation and yelled out, "I filtered a thought! Do you want to know what it was that I filtered?"

The thing is though, that my sister makes friends wherever she goes, even if it is just a temporary friend. She talks to people on the subway in Washington DC (even if they are trying to read a book), she makes conversation with the lady in front of her in the grocery store checkout. When we were younger we had a paper route that we shared. There was an elderly couple that lived on the corner, the first house we came to on our route. At their home my sister and I would divide and conquer to quicken the chore. Upon completion of our individual sections, we would meet in this elderly couple's front yard. It was on the 1st day we delivered papers that my sister became the "granddaughter" that came to visit daily. She would often be in the house eating cookies and drinking her milk. My sister would use their phone to call and beg my mom to pick us up, then we would walk home. My sister learned through her conversations with this couple that the woman was the sister of our grandparent's next door neighbor, the one we affectionately called "Uncle Joe." My sister makes friends no matter where she is or under what circumstances she is there. She talks to everyone and people listen, because she cares and she is honest. So, I ask is there really such a thing as too much information among friends and family? If you can't share the information that seems to be too much with those that care about you most, what are you supposed to do? Do you just let it bottle up inside until you pop like a shaken soda? At that point do you ramble off all of the "too much information" information that you have been saving for possibly years? I am glad that my friends can share their "too much information" with me. Sharing too much proves that you are friends, nonjudgmental, not easily offended, true friends. So, basically the world is my sister's friend...

Whose fault is it anyway....

I learned a very significant lesson yesterday, Ipod Nanos and Motorola Razor cell phones do NOT work to their full capacity once they have been cleaned in the washing machine.  It was never intentional for me to wash either of these items, which both belong(ed) to Olie.  We arrived home from Father's Day celebrations at about 11:30 pm on Sunday night. I needed to take the boys to meet their mom on Monday morning, so I had them gather all the clothes that they had brought from her house that were still dirty and put them in the laundry room. There was a pile of clothing on top of the washing machine, so I washed them.  Monday morning as I was changing the laundry loads I realized that I had neglected to see the basket with clothes from Lucy's (their mom) house in it.  In a panic I poured the clothes into the washer that was already half filled with water and towels.  No, I didn't take time to check the pockets.  No I didn't take time to separate colors...I was under a strict time frame in which these clothes would be pushing to be cleaned and dried within.  As I listened for the washer to finish, I had this nagging feeling that I should have checked the pockets.  As I was moving the load from the washer to the dryer, it was obvious why...there was the Nano, mocking me from on top of the towels at the bottom of the load.  I honestly felt sick to my stomach and that was before I found the phone.  I immediately called D before I told Olie what I had done to the items that he had worked so hard for.  The Nano he purchased with his own money.  Money that he had been saving from birthdays and Christmas and doing chores around the house.  The phone was a reward for working hard and being on time to school when he was struggling on wanting to be there... In one brief moment I destroyed both!  D, in what I can only assume was a lapse of judgment, reprimanded me for not checking pockets before starting the load.  I defended myself by telling him that at 11, a child should know that he needs to check his own pockets before throwing the clothes in the hamper (and yes I know that at 32 a parent should know that an 11 year doesn't always do what they should do either---obviously neither do I).  I decided I needed to just break the news to Olie.  So, I marched upstairs to the family room where the boys had spent the night.  I announced the need for them to wake up and get ready immediately, and in the same breath told Olie that his Nano and phone were clean and dead.  I hated breaking his little heart and was so sure that he, like his silly father, would be angry at me.  He surprised me though.  He responded with, "Awe...I should have made sure I checked my pockets before I threw them in the hamper."  I knew I loved this child!  I told him we were both at fault and then we rushed through the house looking for an old cell phone that would accept his SIM.  The reason we so desperately needed to find a phone is because without Olie's cell phone then D is at the mercy of his still-bitter-4-years-after-the-divorce-has-been-final-even-though-both-are-remarried ex-wife.  Without Olie's phone, she decides when and if she wants to allow the boys to talk to their dad.  It can get pretty ridiculous, since the boys aren't allowed to call D from either the home phone or her cell phone, so he has to hope one of the boys are around to answer the home phone when he calls. Finding a back up phone was of the utmost importance. Luckily we found one, an old razor even.  Which really came in handy since the boy's mom called us on Olie's phone 10 minutes after we arrived at the meeting spot (which we arrived 20 minutes early) to tell us she would be 30 minutes late.  If you have ever spent 50 minutes with 4 kids in a gas station parking lot, then you can feel my pain right now.

Payback for D's reprimanding (which he did apologize for) came this morning though.  D couldn't find the key to his car.  I loving pulled it out of the washer.  He had washed his jeans last night and didn't check his pockets.  And, through some sort of miracle, the Nano works today, the phone, however, is still DOA...poor little phone.

Has anyone seen Fuss' turtle....

I don't remember how it has come to this, but my day has succombed to looking for a plastic turtle wearing little black sunglasses. When your 1 year old's favorite bath time toy is missing, a person will go to great lengths to try to retrieve this "precious" $3 toy. I know we had it when the boys were running through the sprinklers and Fuss was in his pool. When I brought Fuss inside, I grabbed the turtle from the pool and wrapped it in the towel (the white towel--that shouldn't have been brought out for an outdoor towel, but since it was I used it on Fuss, knowing he wouldn't get it too dirty). I changed Fuss' clothes and started rocking him to sleep. Upon nearing the door, I heard Moo crying in the garage. I went out to find Skater with my white, clean, protected towel lying on the ground. Moo was crying because my white towel (the largest towels we have that are for the master bathroom, the ones my mom gave us for Christmas) was bigger than the one that he had. I quickly reprimand Skater and took my towel back...the turtle that was once inside has not been seen since. Whether he was accidentally thrown away, or discarded unnoticed as the towel was tossed about, I will never know, and my little Fuss will continue to look for the "trrrtl" when he gets in the bathtub. So, I spent the day looking through toy boxes, under beds, through the laundry, in the yard...no "trrrtl" to be found anywhere.
I remember the day, about 2 months ago, that my days were consumed with getting reports in, training, and "holding people accountable." In the grand scheme of things, I would rather look for a little green and blue turtle with sunglasses, because what I do now truly effects lives. You can go to an office or a store and "develop" adult employees, but when they say you're mean and they hate you, it's because you are most of the time. When you get to stay home and "develop" your children, when they say your mean and they hate you, it's because you love them so much you want them to have and be the best. It's because you are right where you want to be and doing what you need to be doing. I think the world is a better place because of mothers. My husband's solution to the turtle problem is to just buy another one (which is what we will end up doing), and even though my 1 year old may not understand that I have spent the day looking for his turtle now, someday he will realize that I will have spent my life looking out for what is important to him. That truly is my goal, whether it be my "own" children or my step-children, I want to be the one (or one of the ones) that is always there looking out for them.

Where did the time go...

A week has come and gone, and I have barely had time to sit down for even a few minutes. We have had the joy of having all 4 boys with us this week. Since our marriage, 3 years ago, this is the first time that I have spent all day every day for an entire week with our boys. As a sister, I know that sisters tease, and borrow each others stuff, and taunt, and annoy each other, but none of what we ever did compares to what brothers do to each other. With boys teasing involves "sword" fighting (with whatever crazy type of "sword" they can find); "borrowing" involves taking bean bag chairs out from under someone who is already sitting in it, or waiting until your brother leaves the room and then secretly using his stuff with the hope that he won't find out; taunting involves anything that will make your brother feel inferior; annoying includes every other waking moment. I swear, it is nonstop. The only days that we truly had peace and quiet were the 2 days that the boys were grounded from TV and video games for fighting. These should be the days of my life. I relished every minute that the boys were outside running through the sprinklers. I cherished the quiet of them reading the "new" books that Nana purchased for them 6 months earlier. I embraced the sound of laughter as the 3 of them sat around the kitchen table playing the game of Life. I even felt sentimental as Olie offered to share the popcorn he had made. These were the moments that I hoped would last, and didn't. It was within the first 5 minutes of having play station privileges back that the fighting began. Someone called someone a "cry baby" and what do you do when it is the truth. You teach your children not to lie, but is it more important to be honest or nice??? Ahhh, the age old question. As a parent, I did my duty and told Olie that he shouldn't call his brothers names, and then told Moo that he shouldn't be a cry baby and then his brothers wouldn't tell him that he was....which to my detriment only made him cry more...but, seriously, he was being a cry baby which is just not right for his age.

All I ask for is 1 day of happiness in our home. Just 1 day...we are getting there at times, I think. Sometimes we can go for a few hours of bliss, but then....wham, someone is mad at someone for something that I am sure I will find to be ridiculous...it is always the same. And still, I wouldn't trade them in (yet). My favorite part of the week was when I got to have a night with the girls. I started a Bunco group. It was our first game, and I was the hostess. So, D took the boys to the movie, by himself, just him and the boys...all 4 of them! I sent him out to the theatre that has restaurants inside so that he could buy them dinner so they could eat dinner during the movie. By the time they returned home (only 3 hours later), D was ready to trade them all in for puppies. Fuss wouldn't sit still during the movie (shocker). D had to stand with him and missed half the movie (funny how he doesn't mind when we go together and I have to miss half the movie). I asked what the boys had had for dinner. The response, "by the time we got popcorn, treats, and drinks, there was no time to go buy dinner." Really??? I have to ask myself where his fathering skills stepped in. In my dear, sweet husband's sense of reality did he really think that he would have an enjoyable time with 4 children ages 11 and younger if he fed them sugar, possibly caffine (he doesn't know how to say no), and popcorn without any nutritional value given to them prior? I wonder why it wasn't so much fun for him. At least it gave him a dose of my reality on a daily basis (at least for the last week).

My greatest joy in life has gone from trying to balance motherhood, working, housekeeping, cooking, etc...to just watching my husband balance fatherhood all on his own.

The brothers are coming....

Every other Friday we have this ritual in our family, we start telling Fuss early in the morning that "the brothers are coming today!" As I was telling him this last weekend, I realized we make it sound like this massive event, like we need to hang lanterns: 1 if by Dad's car or 2 if by Nana's. The thing is, is that it is an exciting event. When 3/4 of your children only come to visit every 14 days, it is very exciting when that 14 days is up. It is amazing to me that at only 1 year old, Fuss gets so excited every time he sees his brothers. He doesn't remember grandpas from one day to the next (or at least he teases them and pretends not to), but he does remember his brothers, and he loves them! Fuss has become such a daddy's boy that no one can take him away from his daddy, except Olie, Skater, and Moo! So, I have to wonder, what is it that builds this brotherly bond? Is it genetic, or is it learned? I have to admit that it is funny to watch 3 boys tumble into the room, with this little tyke waddling after as fast as his little legs can carry him. He thinks that he is old enough to do whatever the brothers do. In the past 2 days he has learned to play "Rock Band" on the playstation. Of course, he has always liked anything that makes noise...but the drum pedal has become a great new addition to his list of talents.

Happy Birthday to my Sweetie...

Yesterday I had a brilliant idea. In an attempt to put Fuss on the schedule that I wanted him on, I had him skip his afternoon nap (and if you have ever tried to keep an exhausted 1 year old up...). That way I could put him to bed between 8:00 and 8:30 p.m. rather than 9:30 to 10:00 p.m. It worked! By 8:30 Fuss was sound asleep. The part I didn't think through was the morning schedule. Normally Fuss wakes up around 6:30 a.m. then goes down for his first daily nap around 9:30 a.m. This morning Fuss woke up at 2:44 a.m. and stayed up until his morning nap, 3 hours later, which was truly wonderful because my alarm went off at 4:50 a.m. and I was already up. I tried to sleep through Fuss' awake time, but with him playing in between D and I, laying his head on my chest, bouncing on the bed, and chattering, it was difficult. At 3:30 I lost what was left of my sanity when he head-butted me awake and I am pretty sure it was an attempt to break my nose. I sat up faster than...well, faster than I normally would, picked him up, carried him back to his own room, and threatened to put him in his crib (I wonder why he doesn't like it so much when we treat it as a punishment). He got the "fear of mom" look in his eyes, laid his head on my shoulder, hugged me and whimpered a little. I carried him back to my room. It's also no wonder why he thinks he is in charge around here. So, here I sit with 4 hours of interrupted sleep, listening to the chatter of my little boss.

When did I start losing to a 1 year old? Was it that way from day 1? It could have been, after several hours of waiting for his arrival, Fuss decided to come when the doctor had stepped out of the delivery room and the nurses had to go chase him down. It could have been the first day I brought him home and he tested positive for jaundice and had to sleep in the bili-light box. Every time I walked past he would raise his little hand and whimper, even with his eyes covered he knew when I was there and he made sure I knew that he was in control. My stubborn, determined, hard-headed child is pretty sure that this is his world and we are all just in it. I am a bit frightened for the teenage years. Even my mom, who raised 6 children and now proudly has 17 grandchildren, has mentioned that she has never met a more determined child.

Windy, overcast day...let's swim???

I had a brilliant idea. Fuss loves the bathtub (we call it his baffins), so I thought he would love a swimming pool...of course, I was right! I bought him a little wading pool, because whenever you are unemployed you should frivolously spend money on things like wading pools. I justified it in my mind by telling myself it was an extension of his birthday present. D didn't agree, he just rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and said whatever. But, because I am such a great mother, I decided that our activity today would be "swimming" in the front yard. So, while Fuss sat in his highchair eating a delicious lunch of cottage cheese and cheetos, I blew and I blew and I blew his pool up. It took a lot of air for a 2 ring pool with a "shade" rainbow. This pool was so small that I could almost give it a hug with my arms completely around it. At first I thought it might be fun to invite the little neighbor boy over, but after seeing it all blown up there was no room for a second child. I opened the door to take the pool outside and the clouds started to roll over the top of our house as if to mock my hard work. I didn't really care...like the great mother I am (no sarcasm implied) I filled the pool with freezing cold water from the hose and put my child right in the middle of it, clouds and all. I know, you are probably thinking "poor abused child" but that is so not the case! Fuss loved the pool! He didn't care that it was too cold for my feet to be in. He didn't care that even without the rainbow shade cover, there would have been no sun in sight. He didn't care that the light breeze was quickly turning to high winds. He loved it! He even discovered the joy of putting your face in the water...nothing says fun more than a blue, snot-covered frozen face.

I do need to know though, is manipulation genetic or is it learned? Fuss has both D and I wrapped around his little, tiny fingers so tightly. For example, while lying on our bed and trying to get my attention, he threw his sippy cup on the floor. Before I could even get up to pick it up for him we made eye contact, he pointed to the purposefully distant sippy, and innocently said "danu" (thank you for those of you that don't speak Fuss). He knew that I would get up out of my chair, walk over, pick up his sippy, and give it to him. He didn't even question it in his little head. He controls us with his cute expressions.

His "Fuss face" lets us know that he is frustrated.

His "Whoa is me" face tells us he is upset or saddened. His raised eyebrows show us that he is curious about how we will react to whatever it is he has done. He teases us by offering whatever he is holding and then pulling it away at the last second. He turns to grab something he knows he shouldn't while watching us out of the corner of his eye. He is so very much in the copy-cat stage of life...which makes me very aware of everything that I do, which, by the way, is not an activity that I enjoy so much. I used to think that I was in control, but now I realize that I am so not in control of anything...he even gets to choose if he wants to swim in the arctic that I created in the front yard...

Pretty good day...

Today is the first day of the rest of....something.  Today was the first day that I officially took over the role of Fuss' mom--as in for all day long.  Since the time he was 6 weeks old we have had a babysitter watching him.  Even though I haven't been working for the past 2 months, we have still had him watched during regular business hours so that I could pursue training to become a medical transcriptionist.  I just have to say, I LOVE BEING A MOM!  I didn't mind waking up at 5:30 in the morning to study, I don't mind that I will probably be up until late tonight to try to get a little extra studying in...it is all worth it when I look at his little grin.  It was truly worth it when I was rocking him at nap time and he looked up and smiled at me.  He has recently demonstrated his understanding to questions by shaking or nodding his head to let us know "no" or "yes" when he wants or doesn't want something.  So, while I was snuggling him I asked him, "do you like having mommy home with you all day?"  He grinned and urgently nodded his head yes!  It makes everything in the world worth it!  It is worth giving up the corporate world, it is worth not having an outside social life, it is worth giving up everything for this little guy (luckily I don't have to give up everything, but it would still be worth it if I did).  Now if I could just get him on a schedule...

I realized this morning that Fuss is used to taking his morning nap in either a moving car or the arms of his Didda.  He does not like to be put down or even rocked to sleep.  So, my expectation of studying while he slept in the a.m. didn't exactly work out.  I finally gave up and decided to run my errands, within 2 minutes he was sound asleep...perfect.  By the time I got home he was wide awake...even more perfect.  We got to spend a lot of time together...folding (me) and unfolding (him) the laundry, vacuuming (me) and spilling on (him) the floor, mopping (me) and throwing drinks (him) on the tile, making (me) and bouncing on (him) the bed...you get the idea.   I love being a mom!

The day did start off pretty darn great though...I lost 2.6 pounds last week--go Weight Watchers! Therefore, I have only 1.4 pounds left to lose to hit my pre-exercising weight and then a significant amount more to hit my pre-baby, pre-marriage, and pre-insanity weights.  The best part is that my pants were slipping off yesterday...normally that would only be a great thing if I was alone with my husband ;), but when you are trying to lose not only weight but inches too, it is a very good thing.  These weren't 3 day worn, stretched out pants either. These were straight out of the hot dryer, as small as they go pants.  Yeah, thank you, I know.  My confidence that the week might end good started on Saturday.  We were with my family and my sister told me I was looking skinnier (thank you Spanx--but I am still taking some credit).  I couldn't help but wonder, what exactly does skinnier mean?  For example, if people were like beds, a king size would probably be obese, and while a queen size is skinnier than a king size, it isn't really skinny...but, it is better than being a California king...I think I am queen...working on the full, hoping to get to twin...and if I am lucky, I will end at the toddler, I don't think bassinet would fit on my frame, toddler will be pushing it.  Either way, I am not giving up hope.