Kid Quote of the Day

My mom's birthday is on Saturday, so I asked Andy and Sarah to each make a card to send to her.

Here's what Andy wrote inside of his:

"Dear grandma,
Happy Birthday. I hope you stick arond. I like/love you a lot. I have a gift to haelp (the a is crossed out) you write
It is rihgt over there (big arrow pointing to the right side of the page which has a happy birthday pencil taped to it)
Sinseyley, Andy"

What Rock Did You Grow Up Under?

Charlie and I were sitting in the living room this evening watching last week's episode of Community (which is really a well done show).


Me: Hey, is that Lee Majors?

Charlie: Who's Lee Majors?

Me: Seriously? The Six Million Dollar Man?

Charlie: What's that?

Me: You didn't watch the Six Million Dollar Man as a kid?

Charlie: Nope. I'll Google it.

UNBELIEVABLE!

To Be Or Not To Be

People comment on Sarah's hair on a daily basis. Seriously, everyday. Even people that see her several times a week will stop and comment on her hair. How beautiful it is, how curly it is, how much they wished they had her hair.

I love her hair. I can say that because I'm her mom, and because I don't have curly hair. People would die for her hair. They would pay serious money for her hair. The sad thing is, I know when she gets older she's going to hate it. Hopefully she won't cut it all off, but I wouldn't be surprised if she does. Cuts it all off and then gets it straightened.

Those that know Sarah and her famous hair often ask me if Amanda is going to have the same hair. I hope so. Then Sarah won't have to go through it alone and she and her sister will be able to commiserate together. Maybe it will be something they can bond over, how much they hate their hair.

Here's a picture of Sarah in the fall and Amanda last night, right after her bath. What do you think?

Kid Quote of the Day

"No, we had second lunch."

-Sarah, arguing with me that we had not had dinner yet.

Growing Up

It's crazy how your kids get bigger without you even knowing it. Little things clue you in. For instance, their jeans start to look like floods or all of a sudden they can get a fork out of the silverware drawer. A drawer that they previously could barely open, let alone get a utensil out of. Things that you never thought they could do are done with ease. What the what? When did they get big enough to do that.

The last time I gave Amanda a bath in the bath ring she could barely sit up. She was slumped back in the seat and would have slid into the tub if it weren't for the bar between her legs holding her in. That was probably a month ago. Tonight was a different story. I put her in the bath ring and she sat there. Sat up. She didn't slump into the water, didn't lie way back. She sat there and spashed and had a great time.

Before my eyes my baby is growing up. How I wish I could freeze time.

Moving Day

I met Jim and Sharon in the summer of 1996. Charlie and I had only been dating for a couple of months. Jim was a co-worker of ours and Sharon was a co-worker of Jim's roommate. The four of us would go out and have a great time. At the time, Sharon was dating someone else who I never met but was supposedly a big jerk. Charlie and I tried to convince Jim he needed to date Sharon, which wasn't a difficult sell because Sharon is so awesome, but first she had to dump the jerk. They had a long history, so it took a while, but that's not really the point of this story.

Eventually, after much back and forth and this and that, Jim and Sharon started dating. So the four of us went out even more. Usually it involved beer. A lot of beer. A lot of big beers. A lot of very big beers. Not that we were getting overly intoxicated, not at all, we were just having a good time with very large glass mugs in our hands. We had a ton of fun. We had a lot of the same interests, we loved to watch sports, and Sharon and I were both from the mid-west. This may not sound like a big deal, but when you live in Texas there really is a difference. She was my first real friend in Texas. I had other friends before I met her, but they were all co-workers. This was my first non-work friend that I could go out with and not talk about work and just have a good time.

After a couple of years, Charlie went to grad school and then Jim went to Argentina on a short-term assignment. So, it was just Sharon and me. We still got together and always had tons to talk about, even without the boys around. Probably because we talked a lot about the boys. Jim dubbed us the Yapper Sisters, because whenever we got together we couldn't stop talking.

Over the years Sharon moved to Nashville and Chicago, but her company was headquartered in Dallas so she always came back. She has moved more times than anybody I know. Because we had grown so close, when Charlie and I got engaged I asked her to be my Maid of Honor. I think she was a little bit surprised. She wasn't my oldest friend, but she was one of my best friends and she was in Dallas going through life with me. Everybody else was so far away. She did a great job, but that's not a surprise.

After Andy was born we drifted apart a little bit, as friends sometimes do. We were just at very different points in our life. I was a new mom, living in the suburbs, trying to figure everything out, while she and Jim were still dating, living in the city, going out and having fun. They didn't understand life with a little one, and I wouldn't expect them to because you never truly understand until you have one yourself, and our lives were so about Andy and the newness of parenting that we had a hard time fitting in for awhile. We still kept in touch, we just didn't see each other as often.

It took them a few years but they finally got married, as we knew they eventually would, and after that came Alex. Now they were experiencing all the things that we had been through. Sharon started calling to ask questions and I was so glad that I could help and that we were finally in similar situations again. We started getting together more often, even meeting once a month for dinner without the kids or husbands, and our friendship grew once more. Then a couple of months after Amanda was born, Sharon had a little girl, Reagan. We were both so excited that after 13 years we had baby girls at the same time that would play together, be friends and be in the same grade.

Unfortunately, we're going to have to put that on hold for a couple of years. At the beginning of the year, Jim received a well overdue and much deserved promotion. The problem is, the job is in London. So, Jim, Sharon, Alex and Reagan are moving to London for the next 2-3 years. I'm jealous of all the wonderful experiences they are going to have and all the travel they will do. Charlie and I have always wanted to live overseas but it has never worked out. There are only a couple of jobs at his company in international locations and even fewer that he is qualified to do. Even more, I am sad that my friends will be so far away. I know it's only a couple of years and we will visit and so will they, but I will miss them dearly. I will miss our monthly dinners, our "can you believe he did this" chats, and the occasional family dinner out in all it's craziness.

They left town today. The movers have taken all of their stuff, the house is sold, they are officially gone. They'll be in the states for another week visiting family and then off to London to start their new adventure. I don't want to rush them and I hope they have a great time, but I hope they hurry home. Amanda and I can't wait for our first playdate.

Kid Quote of the Day

Sarah: Amanda, stop eating the black thing (the strap to her car seat which drags on the ground and is nasty). Eat the red and green thing (the teether).

Me: Sarah, Amanda doesn't know her colors yet.

Sarah: AMANDA, LEARN YOUR COLORS!

Kid Quote of the Day

"Daddy, you should convince your company to make these chairs massage chairs."

-Andy, on the airplane home from Miami, after spending way too much time in Grandma's massage chair.

Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Have you ever been so deeply ingrained in something that you couldn't imagine it ending? I mean, you know it will but you just can't fathom it happening anytime soon. Then all of a sudden, it starts to change. Things are different. It gets better. Yep, we're almost there. I know what you're thinking, Amanda is almost sleeping through the night. No, my friends, we are not quite ready to tell that happy story. What I am talking about is spitting up.

All three of my kids were/are huge spitters. You pretty much have to carry a burp cloth (or several) with you at all times because the baby is constantly spitting up. It's not just after she eats, which of course is when it is the strongest, it's all day long. All over me, my shoes, the floor the furniture the carpet, everything. Nothing is sacred.

Andy was by far the worst. He did it the most and for the longest. Sarah was pretty bad, but I think the least offensive of the three, and Amanda falls in the middle. From day one I was covered with spit up. I'm sure in the beginning I would change the baby and change myself and try to make us presentable again, but by the time Amanda came and I was doing laundry for five people I was not going to let a little spit up and the smell of spoiled milk stop me.

So, for the past seven months I have been walking around like a spitty mess. You would think the stuff would come out in the wash, but it doesn't. There are stains on my shirt that I don't bother trying to get out, because she's just going to spit on that shirt again. I just wipe it off and continue on with my day. I'm sure I smell awful, but I can't even smell it anymore. My friends still talk to me so it can't be too bad.

I've been buying new clothes at sales over the last couple of months, but I don't dare to actually wear them. I keep waiting until the spitting phase is over and then I can throw out all my stained post-pregnancy clothes and will pretty much have a brand new wardrobe. How often to you get to do that!

Now I don't want to jinx myself, but I think we may almost be there. Amanda is drooling a lot right now, mainly due to the fact that she is teething, but there is less and less spit up everyday. Of course now is the most dangerous time of all. This is when you don't carry a burp cloth everywhere because it's happening less and less. Instead you go into the grocery store for a gallon of milk with the baby in your arms and your money in your pocket, not even bringing the diaper bag into the store because you just need that one thing, and she spits up all over you, herself, the floor and oh yes, the milk. This is a minor setback, but you still feel duped and chagrined, knowing that you were just a little too trusting of the little booter. Maybe next time. Also, the addition of solids add some color to the spit up. It's not fun to be able to figure out what your kid ate that day by looking at the color of your shirt. Oh, orange, I forgot I fed you sweet potatoes today.

I am looking forward to the day when I can stop frantically asking the older kids to bring me a burp cloth or trying to catch the light on the tile so I can see where to wipe the splatter. This is definitely one of those milestones I am not sad to pass and am glad that very soon it will all be a distant memory. Then I will only have to protect my clothes from paint, marker, glue, glitter and grimy little fingerprints. I can deal with that.

Kid Quote of the Day

"Ewww, I can't wait to get to Grandma's."

-Sarah, after we put slow, country music on the radio to help make Amanda stop crying.

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

Charlie has a very difficult time sitting around doing nothing. He always has to be doing something, moving, learning new things. If he is sitting, a lot of time he's shaking his leg, the energy trying to find a place to exit his body. Sometimes at night when we're trying to fall asleep I can even feel the vibrations across our huge, heavy, nobody can lift this thing king-sized bed. He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

He's like that with the kids too, in a way. Always wants to take them out, show them things, or teach them stuff. He started teaching Andy how to read when he was four, because he couldn't wait any longer (Charlie, not Andy) and he is already starting to lay the ground work with Sarah. So it shouldn't surprise me that one morning last week while I was sleeping in he decided to teach Amanda how to roll over.

Side note: Sleeping in is not as exciting as it sounds. We each get to sleep in one weekend morning, usually him on Saturday and me on Sunday. If you aren't up and about soon after 9a, the kids are allowed to come wake you up. It is an extra hour or two of sleep a week, but we are so behind after months with a newborn that it's only a tiny drop in the bucket of how much we really need to make up. Of course, a tiny drop is better than nothing.

Amanda was pretty close to rolling over on her own. She'd roll on her side, almost always from the right to the left, and would be about 95% there and then she'd roll back onto her back. Unlike my first two kids, who absolutely hated being on their stomachs, Amanda doesn't mind it and I think even enjoys it. Occasionally she will cry after being on her belly for too long, but usually she plays happily for quite awhile. She didn't care that she couldn't roll over, she was happy with her 95% performance, but that wasn't good enough for Charlie. So he and the kids showed her what to do and now over she goes whenever she wants.

It's not that I don't want her to be able to roll over, I do. I'd like her to make all of her developmental milestones. It's just so easy when she can't move. You put her down, go get a load of laundry to fold, and when you come back she's still there. In the same place. Now, who knows where she'll be when I come back. With her head stuck under the coffee table, feet in the fireplace, or whole body under the kitchen table.

If she was the only child, I wouldn't be that worried. However, we have other kids who drop lots of food on the floors and are not so good at picking up their toys. Little toys like Legos and Polly Pockets and Little Ponies, all with tiny pieces that Amanda would love to shove in her mouth and choke on. The kids kind of understand what choking means, but I think they'd have to really see it to understand and I'm not ready for that demonstration.

The problem with rolling over is that it leads to crawling, then walking, then running. Then my baby won't be my baby anymore. I won't be able to just pick her up and take her wherever I want without protest. She won't be hopelessly in love with her mother. Instead she'll be one of these big kids that test me and say no and talk back. Hopefully by then the older ones will be a little bit easier, but I don't think so. If they are anything like my siblings and I were as kids, they'll probably just gang up on me. Sorry Mom.

So yes, I'm excited that she is rolling over, but I also would have been happy with my plump little baby lying still and waiting for me to come back for just a little bit longer.

Kid Quote of the Day

"Second time today. Now that's bad parenting."

-Andy, on his way to time out.

Time To Dust Off My Running Shoes

It's funny, isn't it, how old people are allowed to say pretty much anything they want and they get away with it? Nobody makes them apologize or chastises them for saying something that is inappropriate. The older they get, the more they can say. I wonder if they save it all up and one day say, "hey, I'm 65 today, I think I'm old enough to tell off that checker at the grocery store", or if they don't even realize they are doing it. Do they think they are just being brutally honest, getting their digs in, or giving you helpful criticism? Or do they even know what's going on?

We flew to Miami with the kids on an evening flight. The kids had a full day of school, we picked up Charlie at the office, got ourselves and our luggage checked-in, made it through security and got settled on the plane. You never know how it's going to go, especially after a long day, but they were fantastic. Andy read a book for most of the flight, Sarah colored and kept busy with Charlie, and Amanda slept for the first half and then sat happily for the second half. We have very high expectations for our kids when we fly and they know they are supposed to be on their best behavior. I had absolutely no complaints about them at the end of that flight.

I was a little worried when we sat down about the couple in front of me. They were older and I could hear them talking about us before, during and after the flight, wondering exactly how many kids we had and commenting on on how loudly Amanda was talking. As they pointed out, she was a bit boisterous, but at least she wasn't crying. The man was very large and had a hard time reclining his chair with Amanda's car seat behind it, but he did not complain. In the end all was well and we had made it through another flight without upsetting anyone.

After the flight I ran into the wife while I was waiting for Charlie to take the older kids to the bathroom. We chatting for a bit and she was very friendly, asking questions about the kids. I don't remember the exact what was said, just simple, polite conversation. It was at the baggage claim that the real fun happened.

We arrived at baggage claim and Charlie and Andy went to get the bags. I stayed back about ten feet with the girls. The husband was nearby and started talking to me.

Husband: "So, you have five kids?" I still have no clue why he thought we had five kids. There were no other children around except our three.

Me: "No, just the three."

Husband: "And you're having another?" Yeah, not a nice question.

Me: "No, we're done."

Now, he had several paths he could have taken at this point. He could have said he thought he overheard me telling someone I was pregnant, he could have said he confused me for someone else, he could have apologized, he could have even slumped away embarrassed. No, he continued the conversation without hesitation or deviation.

Husband: "Oh, I just saw the pot (and with that he patted his ENORMOUS belly) and thought...".

I don't even remembered my response at that point. I think I just repeated that we were not having anymore, or maybe I just stared at the guy and screamed inside. OMG! I was amazed that someone could be that rude and think nothing of it.

When Charlie got back from grabbing all the bags I told him the story and he just started laughing. He couldn't stop. No trying to make me feel better, telling me the guy was wrong, boosting my spirits even a little bit. His response, "Man, I can't wait until I'm old and I can say anything I want to people and not care". Yeah, that's the lesson from this situation. When it's my turn, I'm really going to give it to them. Every time I would repeat the story for friends during the course of the weekend Charlie again would just giggle uncontrollably.

This is what I take away from my encounter. My baby is seven months old. I really can't use the excuse that I just had a baby anymore, because I didn't just have the baby. I keep telling myself I'll start exercising when I get more energy and sleep, but who knows when that's going to happen. It's not that I don't have time to exercise, it's that I don't make time. So, I need to get out my exercise clothes and my running shoes, strap Amanda into the stroller and go.

Oh, and I need to do about 300 sit ups a day.

Kid Quote of the Day

"Boys say punch bug and girls say punch buggy. That's the cutest way for girls to say it."

-Sarah, referring to what you say when you see a Volkswagen Beetle

Hello Blue Eyes

Nursing Amanda has gotten a little more challenging. She is easily distracted now and likes to look around instead of eat. Only when she is really hungry will she focus on the task at hand. Which means now instead of taking 10-15 minutes to eat, it takes more like 20-25 minutes. Not a big deal, but when you've got things to do and other people wanting your attention, it can throw a wrench into the schedule.

This morning was a perfect example. I got her out of bed to feed her before going downstairs to get breakfast for the older two. Her glider is right next to the closest and the closest doors are mirrored. Not a decorator's dream, but practical. She would take a few sucks, and then look at the baby next to her. Again, take a few sucks and then look away. Each time milk would spray everywhere, but she was totally oblivious. She only had eyes for that baby in the mirror.

Really, how could you blame her. If I was sitting next to a gorgeous little girl, I would have to smile and say hello as well.

Spring Break

We're back from a four-day weekend in sunny Miami. Really, the weather was fantastic. They've had some cold weather this year but it was great for us, or at least compared to what we're getting here. The kids had some quality time with grandma, ate her wonderful cooking, swam in the pool, went to the beach and saw our friends the Arzas and the Gomezes. Overall a great time.

I have lots to tell, but right now I have to get us back on track. Lots of laundry, cleaning, and had to make banana bread with the bananas that were left on the counter, ewww. I won't have as much time to myself at the computer since it's spring break for the kids, but I'll try to get it all in once the kiddos are in bed.

If I Could Do It All Over Again

Last night we went to Andy's end of season basketball party. One of the parents there, who I never got a chance to meet during the season, was forced to tell everybody how young she was. It turns out she went to the local high school, the one that most of our kids will attend, and was asked what year she graduated. 2003. OMG! 2003! Turns out she had her son her senior year in high school. Wow! Her parents have been awesome and she has lived with them while she finished high school and college, got a job, and just finally saved enough money to buy a house of her own. That's fabulous.

Some of the parents were having a hard time getting past her age. One of the moms even went as far as to mention that she was old enough to be this woman's mother. Ugh, slightly uncomfortable. Regardless of how old she was, she had done everything we had. Her son was the same age as ours, she did all the parenting things too, and it was probably a lot harder for her. It made me wonder what I would have done in her situation. I'm pretty sure I would not have wanted to have a baby while still in high school, but my family life also did not turn out the way I envisioned it would be when I was eighteen.

I always assumed I would meet my future husband in college and get married soon after graduation. That's what my parents did, sort of. They actually met in high school. The worked at the same restaurant. They dated seven years and then got married after college. My mom had her first baby right before her 27th birthday. Eight years later she had me, her fourth. I didn't think I'd be exactly like my parents, but thought it would be kind of like that.

I met Charlie when I was 23 and we started dating a few months before my 24th birthday. He had plans for himself and I was not going to tie him down (okay, I'm being a little dramatic here). So after dating two years and then waiting patiently (okay, I'm exaggerating here too) another two years for him to go to grad school, we finally got married in the fall of 2000. I was a ripe old age of 28. I agreed that we would enjoy marital bliss for two years before even thinking of starting a family, and after reneging on that and lots of begging I got pregnant in the summer of 2002 and Andy was born in February 2003.

My goal was to have three kids and to have them all two years apart. Unfortunately nobody told the baby fairy that and it took a year and a half and a little help from a crazy doctor to get me pregnant with Sarah. Sarah was born in May 2006 and due to some health issues with her that were not found during my pregnancy and the fact that we now had a girl and a boy, Charlie was done. It took me a long time to convince him to have Amanda and some serious devine intervention for me to get pregnant the last time. My healthy baby girl was born in August 2009.

Now I have the family I always dreamed about. Doing the job I always dreamed about. Sharing it with the man of my dreams. Awwww. So what if it had happened the way my eighteen year old self had envisioned? Even though we didn't get married as early as I had hoped, we did so much during that time. We had flight benefits and we saw the world. We used to go to Europe at least once a year. We went on ski trips. We went on cruises. We went to the Caribbean, Mexico, Hawaii. We got engaged in Australia. We did so many things many people don't get to do until they retire. In fact, when Charlie complains about how far away retirement really is (and how long it will be before the kids will finally be out of the house), I remind him that we've already done some of our retirement. We've done a lot of things that people don't get to do until they retire or maybe never.

Would I do things differently if I could do it all over again? There are little things I would change. Not buying our first home so far away from the office, maybe. Quitting my job sooner to stay home with Andy, sure. Using a different fertility doctor, definitely. But getting married right out of college and starting a family soon after, no. It was good for me to be on my own. It was even better for Charlie and me to spend all that time together before we became a family so that we could really get to know each other. We have the same goals and values and ideas about where we are and where we want to be and he is my very best friend. I don't know if we would have had time to get where we are if we had done it so much earlier. It might be easier to juggle three kids on five hours a sleep if I were a tad bit younger, but I'll accept that as one of the pitfalls.

Unconditional Love

Nothing makes you feel better first thing in the morning than peeking into the crib and seeing a giant smile on your baby's face when she recognizes you. She is so excited to see you, so genuinely happy that you are there to get her and talk to her and give her some attention. All the annoyance of having to go into her room so early in the morning washes away (okay, not completely, but most of it).

I love babies. They are so simple. You smile at them, they smile back. They go where you go and are happy to do it. They don't complain or whine or talk back. They do cry, but it's usually because you have forgotten to do something important like feed them, change their diaper, or give them a nap. They love you so much. I'd like to think it's unconditional love, because who wouldn't want to be loved unconditionally, but it's not. They love you because you feed them and bathe them and change them and take care of them. Yes, they appreciate it, but they wouldn't love you half as much if you didn't do those things. So I understand why Amanda loves me so much.

Andy and Sarah are a different story. They don't do anything for her. They don't hold her or feed her or diaper her or do anything that falls under the label of general care. In Sarah's case, most of the time she isn't even nice to her. Last weekend she tried to smother her with a blanket, gag her with a teether and banged her in the head repeatedly with a rubber ball. Those are just the few I saw. In fact, Sarah isn't even allowed to touch the baby anymore unless we are nearby, and I can't leave them alone in the same room for fear that Sarah will do something to her. Yet, when Amanda sees Sarah, her eyes light up and she gets the biggest smile on her face. Sarah speaks gibberish to Amanda and she can't stop giggling. Sarah laughs and she laughs. They yell back and forth at eachother as if they have their own, crazy language. It's similar with Andy. He does silly dances for her to calm her down or make her giggle. He speaks nonsense to her and she eats it up. She sees him in the back seat of the car and beams.

That is unconditional love. Nothing offered, but so much love given in return. I hope the bond between my children continues to grow, but for right now I'm just delighted to hear them make her giggle.

Fifteen Minutes

Would you trade 15 minutes for two hours? More specifically, would you be willing to perform a 15 minute task so that you could sleep an extra two hours every night? Duh, of course! Who wouldn't? Wait, let me give you a little more to think about. What if the 15 minute task you were performing was preventing your baby from sleeping through the night so that she continued, over and over, night after night, to wake you up to perform that 15 minute task. Still interested in the trade? Do you know what the heck I'm even talking about?

No, I'm not waking up Amanda in the middle of the night, she's waking me up. She's seven months old today, SEVEN MONTHS, and she is still not sleeping through the night. Charlie and I are just a little bit beyond annoyed and way past loopy. What's worse is she's upstairs snug in her bed, making up all the lost sleep and I'm here with you.

Andy slept through the night at 11 weeks. He was my first and I was a naive new parent and I thought that was normal, or that I was some fantastic mother who knew some trick that nobody else knew. There were hiccups every once and awhile, a week here or there where he woke up every night crying, but in general he was sleeping 12 hours a night from 11 weeks on. Sarah was much more of a challenge. She had health issues at birth and I was so happy she was okay I didn't really try to get her on a schedule. When I finally couldn't take it anymore she was set in her ways and wasn't going to appease me. She was a horrible napper and didn't sleep through the night until a few weeks before her first birthday. Because of Sarah, there almost was no Amanda.

But Amanda was different. She appeared to be more like Andy. She definitely naps better, but I think that's because she doesn't get to do it very often. So when she does, she makes the best of it. The week she turned three months old she slept through the night for almost a week. I'm not talking that fake sleeping through the night, 10p-6a. I say it's fake because if you have to hang out with your kid that late and don't get any time in the evening to yourself or with your spouse, then they aren't sleeping through the night. She was sleeping 7p-6a. 11 hours. Heaven! During that week I didn't really take full advantage of what was happening. The first couple days I woke up anyway because I was used to being up at that time. Of course, instead of rolling over and going back to sleep I had to check on her and make sure the reason she was so quiet wasn't because she was really dead. I don't care how many kids you have, that is always a fear. The next few days when I relaxed and knew she was actually sleeping, I was woken by the other two having to go to the bathroom, having nightmares, or just "wanting you". By the time it was my turn to start sleeping all night long, she stopped doing it.

Then came Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I wasn't about to work to get her on a night time sleeping schedule when I knew it would just go out the window when we travelled for the holidays. So I continued to get up every night and waited until the holidays were over. In January I got tough. Seriously. She would wake up around midnight or 1a and I would rock her or hold her or sing to her, anything but feed her. She would usually last about two hours until she exhausted herself and finally fell asleep. I refused to feed her. I was a walking zombie the next day, but still I wouldn't feed her. This happened day after day after day. My goal was to refrain from feeding her until 6a. I started to give in around 4-5a because I was so tired and rundown.

I was so close. So, so close. Then we went on a weekend trip with the kids at the beginning of February. Four days away from home, in a pack n' play, in a very small hotel room. I had to cave. I didn't want the older kids waking from her crying in the night, so I fed her to keep her quiet. She refuses to take a pacifier, basically I am her pacifier, so there weren't a lot of other options. After four days, she was completely deprogrammed and back to her evil ways. Another trip at the end of February sealed the deal.

Now she wakes up about twice a night. The first time at around midnight or 1a and the second around 4a. Even worse than before. I am absolutely exhausted. Which brings me back to my original question. If I feed her when she wakes, it takes approximately 15 minutes. Sometimes a few more, sometimes even less. She goes back to sleep and so can I. If I don't feed her, we're up for about two hours trying to convince her to go back to sleep. The doctor says physically she can make it 12 hours at night. She's just used to getting up, so she does. We need to break the habit. We need to stay home, don't travel, and be firm and not feed her when she wakes. The problem is, I don't know if I have enough energy to do it. Even with the extra two hours of sleep I'm still not getting enough.

She's my last baby. Should I try to enjoy and cherish these last few months we have together, just the two of us nursing in the night, or should I stand strong and refuse to feed her so this whole rigamarole can end and I can finally, after seven months, get a good night's sleep? Really, in the end, it's just 15 minutes of my time.

Shower of Love

Now that Amanda is almost seven months old she has finally started eating solid food on a regular basis. However, you have to take the word "solid" with a grain of salt. I wouldn't call anything that you can drink solid, but that's how it's referred to in the baby world. Since she is my last baby, I wasn't in a rush to feed her solids. I've done it two times before, the excitement is kind of over. I'm not sure if my delay was due to the fact that I want to hold onto her babyness just a little bit longer, or because I don't have a lot of time to sit her down and feed her properly. I have to schedule things just right to even nurse her - before we go get this one, after we drop off that one - and she has eaten more than one meal in the car of the preschool parking lot. But to actually sit her down in a high chair, put on a bib and feed her with a spoon, that takes time and preparation that I don't always have. But when she reached six months old I knew we'd have to dive into it, or she'd still be nursing when she went of to preschool, and I really didn't want that.

At the same time, Amanda has taught herself how to blow raspberries. Believe me, it's cute, but not something I would have taught her. She does it quite a bit, especially if she's sitting in her car seat or somewhere where she's not doing much else. Like her high chair. You guessed it. You would think she's busy enough while learning the art of eating from a spoon. But no, now I have to sit there and try to avoid being bombarded with bananas, applesauce, rice cereal and oatmeal on my arms, pants, shirt and face while she spits away. All the while she's pretty happy with her performance, smiling away. It's hard to be mad at such a cute little thing, especially when she's so proud of herself, but I may have to start wearing my raincoat during meal time.

If I Had A Million Dollars

I never understood why people were so impressed that celebrities had children and actually took care of them themselves. For example, I remember reading in a magazine how Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie didn't have a live-in nanny. It seemed like this was a pretty big deal. However, that doesn't mean they don't have a nanny, it just means that the nanny doesn't live with them. I find it hard to believe that anybody with six kids and gobs of money wouldn't have a nanny (or two). Why torture yourself when you don't have to?

On a day to day basis, I try to do stuff with the kids without spending too much money. Go to the park, have play dates, play Wii and whatever else we can find to keep us busy. I find myself repeating over and over, "no, we can't go to Sonic because that costs money", "no, we can't go to McDonald's because that costs money", "no, we can't buy x because it costs money". It's not that we can't do some of those things, but you want to teach the kids that they can't do everything they want to do all the time and that in order to do some things you have to work for it. I'm always telling Andy if he wants to go on nice vacations when he gets older that he needs to study hard so he can get good grades so he can go to a good college so he can get a good job after college so he can make good money to go on nice vacations. Otherwise he's going to go to a bad college get a bad job make bad money and go on bad vacations or no vacations at all (notice that not going to college is never an option in these scenarios). Somehow, with all the great trips that we've been on, this actually sinks in with him.

I always feel like moms get the short end of the stick. We're with the kids all the time, so even when we do fun stuff it gets overshadowed by all the other things we do, like make them go to the grocery store or force them to go to spanish class. Based on the amount of time they spend with us, the rewards are few and far between. Dads, however, are often the hero. When do we go out to eat the most? With Daddy. Who takes them to the museum, zoo and all the other fun places on the weekends (in a very short, condensed amount of time)? Daddy. I'm usually along for the ride, but Daddy is the one who pays and plays and makes it all happen in their eyes.

Whenever I leave town for a girls weekend, which only happens a couple times a year, my husband turns into the single dad with weekend priviledges. They go out to eat, they go do tons of fun stuff and the money flows. Part of it is because my husband doesn't know what else to do with them and part of it is he wants to get out of the house. When I get home I'm so happy that they had a good time, because then I have a good chance of getting to go away again in the future, but I'm also jealous that he has that option to go do things and be the fun daddy while I generally have to say no and be the mean mommy.

This weekend, while he's been gone, I've tried to have a little more fun with the kids outside of the house. While Andy was at a birthday party last night Sarah and I went to dinner with friends at Joe's Crabshack where the adults sat on the outdoor patio and the girls played on the playground. Then today we met friends at the park and stayed for a bit before heading to McDonald's for lunch and to play some more. It was fun and relaxing and different from what we normally do.

If we could afford it, however, it would be nice to have a nanny and a cleaning lady and a chef and all those extra people around that would make my life so much easier so that I could spend more stress-free time with the kids. Or even better, with my husband. Per the Barenaked Ladies, if I had a million dollars we would still eat Kraft dinner (otherwise known as macaroni and cheese), because who doesn't like macaroni and cheese, but we'd be rich. Then maybe, hoping we could still keep that balance so the kids didn't turn into spoiled brats, we could relax a little bit and not worry so much about how much fun costs. Yes, I know that it doesn't take money to have a good time and money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure doesn't hurt.

My Little Man

Andy, my oldest, has always been an early riser. When he was a baby, we would hear him around 6a everyday, and he would play happily in his crib for about an hour before he started yelling for us to come get him. It is physically impossible for him to sleep in. He is that kid that no matter what time he went to bed, he will always get up at the same time in the morning.

He started sleeping in a twin bed at a crazy early age, around 19 months, so at that point we had to get up when he did. Charlie and I would take turns getting up with him on the weekends. I would get up on Saturdays and let Charlie sleep in, and he got up on Sundays so I could sleep in. We both really like to sleep, so getting up with Andy was tough work.

It went on like this for the first several years, until Charlie finally set some rules for Andy. Rule #1: You cannot get out of your bed before 7:30a on the weekends. This was not to torture the kid, although it truly does, but to prevent him from waking up at an ungodly hour and getting up instead of going back to bed. The hope was that he would see it wasn't time to get up yet, and he would roll over and go back to sleep. Of course, I don't think he does that. Overall he is a rule follower, so he stays in bed as he's told, and most likely just stares at the clock until 7:30a pops up. In fact, we have been woken up on more than one occasion where Andy is fighting with Sarah telling her they cannot get out of bed yet because it's too early.

Side note: Andy and Sarah are currently sharing a room and Sarah, being 3, cannot tell time.

Andy mastered the tv and remote control years ago. He is truly a power tv watcher, like his mother. If he's watching tv, everything else gets blocked out. So, he doesn't need to wake us up to start watching tv in the morning, and we don't want to watch the shows he likes anyway. A win/win for everybody. Rule #2: Turn on the tv in the game room to Playhouse Disney before going downstairs to watch your own shows. This was an ingenious rule. Basically it meant turn on the tv for your sister so that when she wakes up she can watch what she wants, you can watch what you want, and mom and dad can continue to sleep without any fighting. So, now Sarah knows to go into the game room when she wakes up, which unfortunately is now soon after he does, and watch her shows until we get up. Don't get me wrong, we don't let this go on all morning. One of us will drag ourselves out of bed by 8a to be with the kids, and now that we have Amanda it's usually even earlier than that.

So that's the weekends. During the week Charlie is in charge of Andy, so I don't really know what he does. He doesn't have an alarm clock, so usually gets up, gets himself dressed and then goes down to watch tv. Occasionally Charlie has to wake him up, but that may be once a month if that.

This morning I was in charge of driving Andy to school because Charlie was out in Vail for a "work" ski trip. Don't get me started. Anyway, I showered last night so I'd be ready to go this morning, and I set my alarm for 7a. He starts school at 7:45a and we live less than a mile from the school, so that gives me plenty of time to get him there. Suprisingly I woke up around 6:50a. I was still lying in bed when Andy and Sarah came into my room at 6:59a, right before my alarm went off. He was already dressed. Fantastic! I asked him if he could get his own breakfast. His response, "I always do." Excellent!

I got Sarah and myself dressed and headed downstairs to finish his lunch. I made the sandwich the night before and put it in the fridge, but needed to put the rest together. By now he had already eaten breakfast and cleared his place. Nice! He had taken his sandwich out of the fridge and put an apple next to it for me to cut. I had left an apple on the counter ready and washed the night before, but good for him. I cut his apple, threw in some crackers, and grabbed a frozen Gogurt to put in his lunch box. Already there. The kid thinks of everything.

Now, either he was trying to be really helpful, which is a good possibility, or he didn't think that I would know or remember what to do. With Andy and his belief that I don't know much, I'm pretty sure it's the latter. Even so, I am so proud that the kid knows how to take care of himself better than some grown men. I am also so happy to know that all those years of getting up with him painfully early have finally paid off.

Hopefully more and more of those things will begin to show. The hard work you put in wondering if your kids will ever get it. It's days like these and little things like this that let you know that all this work is not for nothing and someday my children will be functional human beings. However it's also just a tiny bit sad (and I mean a really, really tiny bit) to know that my little man is growing up and sooner than later will be out that door.

Finally!

I've been wanting to do this for awhile. In fact, I tried it once before, about 15 months ago. I had just found out I was pregnant with Amanda, baby number last, and I wanted to finally write everything down. I didn't do it with the first two, but this time was different, I wanted to remember and compare and have history. I started out well, but after a couple of entries I started to get all the aweful pregnancy symptoms - nausea, extreme tiredness - and I stopped. Mostly because the only time I had available to write was in the evenings after the kids went to bed and by then I couldn't function. When I finally was ready to start again it had been three months so I just let it go.

But I can't really let it go. Throughout the day, I often find myself writing little snippets in my head. Something funny the kids did or said, and I can't stop thinking about it until it's perfectly scripted in my brain. I get some relief through Facebook, but you don't really get to write enough, and a lot of my FB friends haven't seen me in 20 years and don't really know my sense of humor anymore. So I keep thinking, I'll write a blog. At this point I don't even care if anybody reads it. I just want to get out all these crazy thoughts and be able to go back and see what I was thinking or what the kids were doing or saying and how I handled it, good or bad.

Someday, when my kids have kids of their own, they can go back and read some of this stuff and realize that their kids are doing to them exactly what they did to me...taking a perfectly sane, intelligent person and turning her into a crazy, impatient, sleep-deprived weirdo.