Life according to Cindy...

E-mail from Ryan's Teacher

2011-09-08T05:48:00.000-07:00

I am posting e-mail back and forth because I am hoping, in 15 years, when Ryan is working on his THESIS in grad school this will be a funny memory..... *fingers crossed*

Good Morning,

Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I have been fighting a upper respiratory infection, and yesterday, unfortunately….it was winning. Honestly….I don’t know what to do. Yesterday we worked on reading. I had him read the story again, out loud, to me. I found places online about the story & made him do 3 tests about the horned toad and Reba Jo. He did well, but, that being said…I would not be at all surprised to hear he failed it. We worked on spelling words. We did the practice test twice. I printed out 4 activities off of www.spellingcity.com. He did all of them, in addition to your assignments. I doubt he’ll get even half of them right.

Even after spending over 3 sometimes agonizing hours of complete one on one time with him, with absolutely no distractions, I woke him up this morning and found next to him on the floor an uncompleted worksheet about simple and compound sentences. One that I am sure was supposed to be due today, but….with getting everyone dressed & hair combed, getting my own sick self ready, and packing lunches, and snacks before I went off to work a full day—I didn’t have any more time/energy to devote to it. He also did a math worksheet. Erik asked him what a “mean” was 2 minutes after he did it….he had no idea. So, clearly THAT lesson wasn’t sinking in. We are pretty confident he just got all of the answers off of the answer key-but I was knee deep in “a deal is a deal” Reba Jo crap and wasn’t in the position to completely switch gears and devote another hour to math. I don’t know what to do. I know he’s not stupid…but any attempts at “teaching” him are in jest. I am also afraid, through HIS behavior, that he’s creating a classroom environment where he’s being labeled (probably fairly) as a jerk. And it’s not because he’s a mean kid. It’s ironically just the opposite. He’s incredibly sensitive. He just doesn’t know how to express himself, at all, and comes across as being rude and argumentative.

So, yeah. That’s where I am. I was going through his grades last night on Infinite Campus…of course that wasn’t inspiring. The only classes he’s passing he has C’s in…and honestly I think that is only because you are being generous and there were a lot of simple assignments to earn points done in class.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t mean to sound like a horrible parent by saying this, and maybe, with four kids and a husband that struggles, due to pain, to get out of bed in the morning I may very well be in WAYYYYYY over my head (that of course was being sarcasm….there is no DOUBT that I’m in way over my head)…but I am at a complete loss. I cannot devote/waste 3 hours every night to studying with Ryan. (I say waste because I question it’s effectiveness). It’s just not possible. Physically or Emotionally. And, that being said, I don’t think it should be required. I feel like somewhere, underneath all of the hypochondria, outbursts, and apathy, there is a smart little boy that is completely capable of learning everything you’re putting in front of him…I just don’t know how to reach him.

If you have any ideas/suggestions I am completely open to them.

Please let me know,

Thanks,

Cindy K.

p.s. If I said something offensive towards you I apologize (I don’t think I did….). I am not mad or frustrated at you. I think you are a great teacher, and you are doing a great job. This frustration is not at all a result of anything you are saying or doing- it’s simply the result of years and years of me thrusting my head into a brick wall with no positive outcomes (and being sick). Sorry :(

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Sent: Wednesday, September 07, 2011 11:51 AM
To: Kilmark, Cindy K

Subject: Hi

Hey! Boy we have had a rough morning! Ryan has been very argumentative with not only me, but others in the class. I finally gave him the choice to do what he needs to do or write the school code. I came back to check on him and he was still arguing with the group he was supposed to be working with, so now he has the school code to write. He is supposed to have you sign it tonight, so please be on the lookout for that.

We found his behavior report today, it went home with his neighbor, so he will have that tonight as well.

I wanted to check with you to see if he gave you all the fluency packet I sent home with him yesterday. His DIBELS score was 73, and our beginning of the year benchmark in 4th grade is 93. I noticed that he took a big drop from his end of the year score from last year, so we are going to work hard to get it back up there. He needs to be at 118 by the end of the year and I think he will be able to do it. This packet will come home each week to help him practice at home. It really helped out the kids last year, and it also will help him with comprehension.

Finally, Ryan has been eating cookies and drinking a kool-aid drink int the morning the past couple of days. I asked him if it was from his lunch and he said it was his breakfast. I don't have a problem with him having his breakfast in the class, but I wasn't sure if he was supposed to be eating that, so I wanted to check with you. Just let me know. Thanks!!

Mrs. Fourth Grade Teacher

Letter to Chelsea…my biggest girl!

2011-03-31T12:04:00.000-07:00

Other Kids

I know that some parents smoke pot with their kids and allow them to drink at home. Believe it or not, that’s not a “new method” of parenting. It was around when I was 16, and I imagine it was also there when your nana and papa were your age. Those parents try to justify it by saying they are teaching their kids to be responsible drinkers, or that the kids are going to “do it anyway” so why not create a safe environment for them to experiment in? I personally believe that they aren’t doing their kids any favors with that approach…as a matter of fact, they are neglecting their responsibilities. I’m also not going to teach you how to hate groups of people who are different from you, shoplift, or take advantage of people (like some other parents do either) because that’s not the parent I am…and that’s not the kind of adult I’d like you to be. You may not see my point now, and who knows, we may never agree on this issue. But as your mother my job is to give you the tools to make you a responsible adult…not introduce you to all the obstacles that could make that mission difficult, if not impossible.

Entitlement & Empathy

Whether you know it or not, trust me when I say that there is a kid in your school right now, maybe even in your class, that is hungry….and didn’t eat dinner last night. There is another who went to bed at a hotel, or at a friend’s house…and isn’t 100% sure where they will be sleeping tonight. Probably more than one of your peers has the electricity or water at their house shut off in the last month. Making you the envy of your Algebra II class for being the first student through the door with an Iphone 4 isn’t anywhere on my list of priorities…ensuring that you aren’t one of the aforementioned kids…that’s MY job. I’ve provided you with your own room, a cell phone, an iPod touch, a flat screen tv, a dvd player, a class ring, driver’s ed classes….not because I HAVE to (it’s not an entitlement), but because I can. It’s not your right to have these things. There may be a day when you wake up and all of those things are gone, or more likely, there WILL come a day when one of the requests you put forward are denied and it’s not because I don’t love you that day. It’s because I can’t provide those things, I don’t think you’re responsible enough for those things, or I don’t think they are necessary. I refuse to go into debt to maintain an extravagant standard of living for those under my care. Refuse. A parent who chooses to buy their child a pair of UGGS instead of paying their property taxes that month isn’t being a good parent, they are being irresponsible. In a few years you are going to be living in a world that won’t be revolving around your wants and needs. You can’t just get rewarded for being a “good” kid. It’s important that you understand what that means. If you want/need something it’s going to require more than just saying it out loud and clicking your heels together. You’re gonna have to work for it….save….sacrifice….prioritize. They are not the most fun lessons I have to teach you, but they are by far some of the most important.

IT’S NOT FAIR! WHY?!?!?!?!

We are not enemies. I don’t spend every minute of every day looking for new ways to torture you. I enjoy harmony in my house. I like to see you happy. And, although I have on occasion, given in to something out of sheer exhaustion….for the most part, if we are butting heads it because I sincerely believe that I am doing what is in your best interest, not because I want you to suffer. Sometimes I don’t bring you and your friends to the movies because I want you to realize that I am a person, in addition to being your mother, and I am not at your beck and call. I want you to empathize, and understand, that while you were making plans for your Friday night, I was at work, struggling, pulling my hair out, putting out fires, to fund your night out on the town. I might want to go out myself to put the week behind me, or put on my jammies and pass out. I might want to watch something on tv to escape. Or maybe I have a bill to pay and extra money is tight. Or perhaps, just maybe, after working all day I don’t want to drive all over Franklin Township in the dark looking for a house that your new best friend lives in, at a neighborhood that I should be familiar with. And I don’t want to give you $40 to spend on crap when I can’t see the floor of your room and you haven’t done anything to earn it. And I don’t want to get comfortable and relaxed, finally, under my blanket in my nice warm bed only to be awoken by a ringtone alerting me that alas, my alone time is over, you need me to jump again. Please don’t roll your eyes and sigh in exasperation. Understand that there is a reason for my decisions. And, even if you might not understand or relate to those reasons….please respect them. AND, you might find, I’m more likely to bring you and your friends to Walmart the next day…

Favoritism

Now….onto why your sisters and brother are treated differently. Ryan is 9. Olivia and Rebekah are 7. When you were 9 and 7, VERY little was asked of you. Now you are 15. Soon you will be out of the house. Those are two VERY important sentences. At fifteen your life is far from free….movies, hair dye, wireless internet, taco bell for you and your friends, clothes, cell phone plans, gasoline, ball games, class rings, driver’s ed, soon to be car insurance, extracurricular fees. All of those things add up to A LOT of cash. I understand that it was my choice to have kids (of course I understand because you remind me daily!), BUT, having a kid does not require all of the above. Actually, it requires NONE of the above. That’s right. Nothing I just mentioned is required of me. Check the law books…..I’ll wait. As a matter of fact…..I’m not even required to give you your own room, but I wanted you to have a sense of privacy right now. Now, as you become older, and you prepare to be on your own, the very first hard lesson you’ll have to face is NOTHING IN LIFE IS FREE. Now don’t get me wrong, as long as it isn’t ruining us financially I have no problem trying to maintain your lifestyle….but, it will not be free. Period. You will occasionally have to babysit your siblings. Clean the living room. Pick up the kitchen. Load the dishwasher. Clean your bathroom. Even, God help us, disinfect your room. Do your laundry. Now, when those occasions present themselves (and it isn’t usually daily) I don’t want you to ignore me, or explain to me how unfair it is. It’s not unfair. You get a lot…for a little. Your brother can live all week on a box of Goldfish crackers and cable. Your sisters would be thrilled with a $1 pack of gum every other day. They don’t ask for much, so their responsibilities are less. I am teaching them to pick up after themselves, and it’s a slow process (way too slow for everyone I agree!), but if you made a list of what everyone in our house got for their buck….you would be WAY in the lead, no contest. And I’m not complaining. Your 15, that’s the way it is. And Ryan, and Bekah, AND Livy will all be 15 someday as well. And perhaps I will save this letter and print it out again….

You don’t know how lucky you are MOM!

I am well aware of all of the bad kids at your school and in your classes. And trust me, I am AMAZINGLY thankful that you aren’t one of them and continue to make me proud with your great decisions and hard work ethic. But, your being a good kid (although makes me very very proud) doesn’t earn you any extra perks. When you get your first job….you won’t get a raise because you aren’t the WORST employee. They’ll look at if you have a good work ethic, get to work on time, try hard, help others, do your best. Everyone is expected to meet those goals. You aren’t blessing us with the miracle of being a great kid; you are doing what’s expected. Let me give you an example. I come home from work every day. I pay our utilities. I purchase food. Am I the most amazing mom ever? No. It’s my job. Do I get trips to the spa because I don’t use our rent money to buy crack? Nope. Do I sleep well at night because I know I’m doing the best I can? Yep. See how that works. You expect me to do my best, and I do…..just as I expect you to do your best…not as a favor, or a reward to me, but because it’s what you should do. It’s in the best interest of everyone, including yourself, to do your best.

Friends

I didn’t have children because I needed friends. Now, don’t get me wrong, hopefully, someday, we can be friends….but right now by only priority is being your mother. When your friends with someone and relate on that level it often times results in losing perspective. If I told you, as a friend, that my biggest fear was that my children would hate me……then ta-da, every time you wanted to go somewhere and I tried to hold on to a firm “NO” I guarantee “I HATE YOU!” would be thrown out. Not intentionally to be mean, just instinctively. It’s an intimate relationship, where you share your fears….likes…..dislikes….hopes…..dreams. Honestly, Chelsea, I don’t think you should know those things about me. It might affect the way you see things, your sense of security, and it might influence who you are/become…and that’s not fair to you. You need to find who you are, without my influence….only my guidance. I think you’re a great friend. And I LIKE your friends. And I hope, someday, that our relationship will grow to a friendship, but right now, while you still need a mother….that is what I will be. I will continue to be patient, and fair, unconditional and loyal. Steady and sincere. Solid. Permanent.

I am sure there will be more letters in the future to address more issues (perhaps you’ll need a binder!) but this is a good start!

I LOVE YOU SISSY!

Fruit cremes

2011-01-19T15:51:00.000-08:00

Copy of:

This is an enquiry e-mail via http://elmerchocolate.com/ from:
Cindy Kilmark (99.163.255.82 - 99-163-255-82.lightspeed.iplsin.sbcglobal.net)

Dear Elmers chocolates,

I am a hormonal mother of four and I a being completely honest when I say that chocolate, aside from my anxiety medication, is the single most important investment I make in myself each month. Today, at CVS, when I was looking to purchase chocolate you can imagine, this time of year, how inundated I was with options! First off, kudos to your marketing team, because had I known that 50% of the six chocolates in the box I purchased were fruit cremes I most definitely would have gone a different direction, YUCK! And then comes my next dilemma, I planned on spending a large portion of my valentine's day budget on chocolate for my kids, and the thought of countless half eaten fruit cremes hardening under my couch makes me shudder! Has there been any marketing research? Does half the population really enjoy fruit cremes? Are they SUBSTANTIALLY cheaper to make than truffles and other flavors? Just curious. So needless to say, although I enjoyed half of your product, I am sorry to say that I probably won't be soliciting your company for the above mentioned reasons this Valentine's day

Another day

2009-09-18T19:26:00.001-07:00

I was itching before I even opened my eyes. It was still dark when I used my fingers to measure the old hives and discover the new ones. I hadn’t had this much stress in years. I really expected all of the drama to erupt in acne the size of a stop sign, or maybe release itself in clumps of hair. But hives? What torture! The itching, the distraction. It, along with the stiffness in the curve of my back, was the worst possible joke my body could tell me today. These women were wives and mothers, they would instantly read my guilt and worry, and by four o’clock the meeting wouldn’t even be necessary.

I woke up Erik from another evening of trying to sleep and took a deep breath. “This is it, “ I said, “The day they all find out.” He sighed and used his arms to sit up. I heard him reach for his cigarettes on the dresser and then saw his sleepy face glow in the flame of the lighter. “Are you ok?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I just hope they will all be ok,” I wished out loud. “What can I do,” I heard him ask as he exhaled the smoke he had been holding. “Nothing,” I plainly say, “Just sit with me for a minute please.” He finished his cigarette and listened to me go over everyone’s story again, as if there were going to be a new ending. Then I got up and started getting the twin’s clothes together and when I returned his eyes were closed again and his head cradled in our pillow.

I dropped off my drowsy girls at my parent’s house and went ahead and washed the nicotine out of my hair, in hopes of no one noticing that I hadn’t showered. I don’t usually try to be the first one in there, and this day of course I was dreading it, but I felt it was important. I knew they were going to be talking, guessing, and worrying. I also knew there was nothing I could do, but I felt like I should be there….consoling them for a death that they didn’t know had happened yet.

When I got to work I found a safety pin stuck on my purse’s zipper with two little charms. I instantly remembered where they had come from. When my daughter had been hospitalized earlier that summer my Catholic mother-in-law and sister-in-law had brought them to her at the hospital in hopes that their faith would be the magic Livy needed to get better. I think it just wasn’t her time and that her life was probably plotted before she even arrived…..but in light of the day ahead I decided that a little magic might not be a bad thing and I pinned them to my ID badge. “Maybe,” I thought, “along with the two Zyrtec I swallowed down, it might at least calm me enough for the hives to back down!”

I used my I-pod to drown out the questions and theories the ladies were tossing around and went straight to work. My hands were fervently playing through the class ring order forms at a speed I was actually surprised with. I had been doing this same exact thing every day for nine years, so being surprised was really….well…..a surprise. My typing speed typically stays within 16,000 to 17,000 keystrokes per hour, but today I was on a roll striking numbers above 20,000. Almost to the apex of my symphony I was pleasantly distracted on the lower corner of my screen by an e-mail alert from an old friend. I asked him on a whim last week what music he was listening to and he had just gotten around to responding. Just around as in, just in time. He mentioned a bunch of bands with strange names that I’d never heard of, but that was exactly the answer I was looking for. I know the songs on the radio, I know the music on TV., I was seeking the kind of music that you only find through word of mouth. After promising I would look them up we continued to chat about nothing back and forth a bit. I filled him in on my dilemma and he instantly offered his support, as always. It’s funny how friends happen that way. You don’t hear from them in years, days, weeks, months and then God throws them in the middle of a never ending day. I took his words and put them in my pocket next to the charms rattling on my badge.

When I took my I-pod off to let my ears breathe I walked right into the middle of the conversation I had been expecting. They had, of course, been speculating all day. “Maybe we are moving to a different building, “one would wonder out loud. “I wonder if it is company wide, or just our department?” another would ask. I couldn’t answer them. I knew the “official” answer but I was told I wasn’t allowed to talk about it. So instead I sat working intently with my headphones blaring, Dave Matthews trying to distract me with his new album, addresses and strange names needing my concentration.

Finally it was four o’clock, everyone was there.

There he stood at the front of the room, nervously wringing the plain piece of paper between his two hands. “Go ahead,” one of the friendly mothers said, “have a seat.” “Nah, that’s ok,” he said, “I sit down all day long.” His explanation seemed false. I wondered quite frankly why he felt he even needed one. The only thing that could have been more awkward then the silence following his response would be the translucent lie that now took its place. He was nervous. I knew why he was standing, close to the door, away from the women. He was chatting and joking with the ladies in the front, pretending that it was just an ordinary day like any other. It wasn’t though. He was about to change lives. After a few minutes of nervous laughter and smiling he awkwardly cleared his throat and the room started to calm down. Clearly he was here for a reason, and everyone from both shifts was here because it was serious.

He was really pale. Almost as pale as his long sleeved white button down shirt. Our job didn’t require dress codes like that so he looked even more uncomfortable surrounded by ladies in shorts and t-shirts….looking up at him with respect and trust. They were completely unaware of the objective of our unusual meeting. I pulled out a piece of scratch paper from my purse feigning the need to take notes. The paper already had details on it, from a phone conversation I had earlier that week with a nurse giving me instructions on Rebekah’s MRI. I grabbed the pink Sharpie out of my purse and began tracing the words I had written in black pen again. No eating after midnight. Be there at 6 am. I looked up and saw him unrolling the script he planned to read. “Don’t do it,” I thought, “Just turn around, no one will ever know what you are supposed to say.” I looked at him attentively but it was clear that my telepathy was failing. He had to, it was his job. I went back to tracing the instructions. I heard some of the same words that he had used two weeks earlier, but it was a much more informal environment then. He sat down with my boss, me, and the other lead operator. There was no script. He just told us what he knew. Today it was almost like he was at a press conference giving a statement. He had a script that sounded like it had to be approved by legal and signed off on by the higher ups. I heard, “due to technology,” and “department will be closed” and the date “11/25.” That perked my interest and I wrote that date down. He hadn’t given us a date before. Then there was nothing. I took a deep breath. It seemed as though it’d been the only breath I had taken that entire day.

When I looked up the woman at the desk next to me was giving me a dirty look. At first I felt as though I deserved her rage because I didn’t tell them everything I had known….consequences be damned. Then her gaze turned into a glare and I almost nervously chuckled. “Does she think I AGREED to this,” I thought, “that I voted to disassemble our careers in some secret meeting? Maybe even suggested it?!?!?!” I thought about challenging her invisible accusation with my own frigid stare, having a “stare off” of sorts to prove that I am not responsible. But the guilt of my secret got the better of me and I just tucked my upper lip under my teeth and looked away. Even though I didn’t cause where we were at, I couldn’t protect anyone from it….and that made me responsible.

“Oh Lord Oh Mighty, Please help us Lord,” broke the silence from the back of the room. I looked back to see one of my fellow employees lifting her sunglasses and dotting her eyes with Kleenex. The other lead operator quickly stood up and went to comfort her, but just as swiftly she stood up and announced, “Gina…..I feel sick. I’m going to have to go home.” Seconds after gaining everyone’s attention and sympathy she sat back down with a few questions. A couple inquiries were made about the employee stock or unemployment, some were retirement or insurance related, but none of them were questions that the poor man in the front of the room could answer. He obviously had done all that he was qualified to do, and, if it would be ok, he would just like to leave before all of their shock and anger found a clear target. So with that he stumbled through an awkward apology and excused himself, leaving both shifts of women….women who had dedicated their lives to his company, alone, together, to sort out their new lives.

starting kindergarten- part one

2009-08-12T13:47:00.000-07:00

Today my youngest daughters, 5 year old twins Olivia and Rebekah started kindergarten. I am sure they will be just fine, but it was stressful nonetheless. I woke up with a nasty headache from grinding my teeth all night. Erik cried. He always cries though….he’s my sweetie  Here is a picture.
Rebekah (of course) is the TINY one (she has a form of dwarfism-spondelyephisyseal dysplasia) and Olivia is the way overly excited ginormous one (there is nothing technically wrong with Olivia, by the way, we just refer to her as “special” hehe). In terms of fear, excitement, nervousness and anticipation….I think that the twins starting school was very comparable to them being born!

It was a pretty normal day in a lot of ways, but it started much earlier. Rebekah went to bed very well last night, which is incredibly unusual. Olivia not as easily, but eventually, she settled down and closed her eyes. Not as much bickering between them and their brother.

This morning Olivia must have woken up EARLY. Really early actually, because my alarm went off at 5 am and I heard her moving around before that. She started the morning watching in tv in our bedroom. Eventually though she must have gone to the living room, because I could hear the delay echoing words and bad acting. I was expecting about that time to wake up and coerce Rebekah into consciousness but aha, she came running through my bedroom door with her top on and her pants waving from her hand. It reminded me of a runner crossing the finish line with their chest carrying across the tape, announcing their win.

“Wait,” I said, “I want to get you both in the bathtub first, before you get dressed.” They were excited about that of course. Quickly I washed their hair and scrubbed them up. I dried them off and wrapped Bekah in a towel and flannel blanket on the couch to keep her warm and cozy while I helped Olivia get ready for her big day. She put on her new pink t-shirt with the embroidered hot pink daisies and the plaid green and hot pink skort. I squirted some silicone conditioner the consistancy of olive oil into the palm of my hand, rubbed my palms together, and then started rubbing my shiny hands through her course unruly mullet. After telling her at least 12 times to please go to Chelsea’s room and get me a brush, I was able to get her mane blowed dry and move on to Rebekah. Bekah was much easier of course. She had already redressed so a few minutes with the hair dryer and Viola, her Dorothy Hamel haircut was perfect. They were both smiles and satisfied with the job I had done.

There was a quick trip to Nana and Papa’s house to take medicines and pick up shoes, and the next thing you know, Erik and I were parking behind North Wayne Elementary…dropping them off for their first day.

There was a long wait in the hall of the kindergarten Cul-de-sac. We got there at about 7:45 am, and the last bell rings at 8:00 am, but the kindergarten teachers didn’t even get back to their areas until 8:15 am because they were waiting up front for all the bus riders to unload.

While we were waiting we showed each of the girls their names on the bulletin boards outside of their rooms. Rebekah was a star on her teacher’s board, Olivia was a spider.

That made them both excited. To see their names. To know they were welcome. In the long wait Bekah’s legs began to hurt so she asked me to pick her up. I told her, “None of the other kindergartener’s have parents carrying them….”so she instead asked, “if we could just sit down for a minute.” I sat down Indian style and she perched herself on my right knee, while Olivia clumsily made herself at home on the left one. Within seconds a girl named Aniyah was befriending Olivia of course. I took a picture of her and her mother to “mail to Aniyah’s grandparents” the mother divulged, “they will be so proud.” She too was proud. She just beamed her smile was so wide. The mother looked younger than me at first, but the more we smiled at the girls doing their performance, I started to see the streaks of grey that were hiding beneath her black hair. I didn’t talk to her much beyond that, so I don’t know if Aniyah was her only daughter, the oldest, or the youngest, but that day, that moment, she was most certainly the only. The two best friends quickly became robots (or “robocks” as Aniyah said it), moving their arms mechanically with their elbows bent and talking in monotone voices. Despite their loudness they didn’t draw much attention because of the noise and amount of people in the center circle. I looked around and noticed a few other scared five year olds looking from behind their mothers legs at the two silly girls, smiling. Even oozing with excitement Olivia and her new friend mustered up the best monotone voices they could find and “attacked” first the little girl’s fun mother in the blue scrubs and hair tightly pulled back in a ponytail. She clearly had played this game before, because precisely on cue she backed up against the wall and in a much exaggerated fashion protested and curled into a ball. Then Olivia’s own dad, Erik, became the target. A little more self conscious he smiled and put his hands on his hips as they marched toward him, and offered up a little protest as a token, but didn’t compete well with the more experienced mom. He tried to distract them by asking the little girl her name…..”ROBOCK” She said, never breaking character…“ My Name Is ROBOCK.” Bekah just watched them both. Checking things out. Smiling, but not letting her guard down.

About this time we see the waist high crowd begin to make its way back to the cul-de-sac. Everyone seeming to stop right in the middle as the teachers tried to sort out who went where. Bekah’s teacher, Mrs. Avance, was wearing a pretty white dress with black embroidery, which I think made both me and Bekah happy. A few weeks earlier she was talking to herself about school and I heard her say, “I don’t know WHAT my teacher will be wearing on her first day.” I quickly interrupted and informed her, “Bekah…it doesn’t matter if she shows up in legwarmers and a swimsuit! You keep your mouth SHUT!” Bekah is my diva, and choosing her clothes each morning is the most important part of her day. I just don’t know how she would have fit with a teacher who didn’t share that passion. I had showed her a picture of Ms. Avance from the night before when her dad and I went to Kindergarten information night, but when I saw her teacher confidently walk down the hall with her herd of kids I made sure to point her out again. “Look, Bekah….doesn’t your teacher have a BEAUTIFUL dress?” This seemed to bring her back for a second. She looked at me and smiled.

“I will stay here with Bekah,” Erik said. He went to Olivia’s class the night before, and I think, quite honestly, he was more worried about Rebekah. I could see him so much in her. So scared, and vulnerable. I think that in a matter of minutes he too was once again that five year old boy who was so excited to be there, but as an adult he knew the next chapter. He knew that in the hours, or days, or months to come it wouldn’t be all fun and smiles. Children would taunt her. Tease her. Break her spirit. Break her heart. Make her feel like she didn’t belong, or fit. He wanted to walk her to her desk and protect her, protect her like he wished someone could have protected him. Unbeknownst to him all of the parents escorting their kid’s that day were all sharing that same fear. About that time Mrs. Avance announced, “Say goodbye to your parents, kids!” I was with Olivia so I missed this part, but Erik said that it was symbolic, yet uneventful. He showed her to her seat, she blew him a kiss, crossed her arms over her chest and threw him a hug, and that was it. He was done. She was ready. He went to the office to deposit money in their lunch accounts, while Olivia and I waited for her day to begin.

While Rebekah was getting comfortable I was still in the center of the circular hallway where all of the classrooms came together, with Olivia. Mrs. Rushmore was handing out namecards with their names printed on them, laminated, and strung end to end with a fuzzy piece of red yarn. As she asked everyone their names, she gave them their tag and told them to get in line. Occasionally she would come across a child she didn’t know, or a language she didn’t recognize and she would pause for a second to finish that task. But then she would always return, asking once again, “Is there anyone in my class without a nametag?” Olivia was a little nervous I think. Excited of course, but nervous too. She, unlike Rebekah, was probably the tallest five year old in the hallway, but she was clueless to any of those differences. “I don’t have a nametag,” Olivia said clearly. “What is your name honey?” the teacher bent down and asked. “Olivia,” Livy stated. “Olivia,” she repeated as she sorted through her handful of laminated cards. The strings were all getting tangled, but she thread her fingers through them and pulled Olivia’s out, handing it to her, as she got in line. This made Olivia happy. Now she instantly had something in common with all of these strangers that surrounded her. They all had different clothes, and shoes, and backpacks, and parents, but in their nametags they were united. We continued to stand in the hallway, in no rush to be in the front of the line, when her teacher, Mrs. Rushmore, gave her first instructions. “Children, say goodbye to your parents and go in the room to look for your seat. There will be a nametag in front of it that matches the one you are wearing. If you aren’t sure, look at the nametag you are wearing please.” She addressed the children of course, but it was pretty clear that this plea was really to the parents. “Let them go” was honestly the only thing I got from those three sentences. The obedient line filed inside the classroom. Mrs. Rushmore knew better than to shut the door immediately of course. I stood out there with three or four other mothers, obviously peering in to make sure our children found their chairs before we felt safe enough to leave. We couldn’t leave yet! Our jobs wouldn’t be done when they got to the doors. Only when they were all sitting, attentive and ready to learn could we release the breath we had been holding since daybreak.

After that we were done. Erik and I walked to the car. Exchanged our thoughts and our first impressions. I lamented on how big they’d become, he shed a couple tears, scared about what was next. It honestly reminded me of the last OB/GYN appointment we’d shared. We were so excited, and nervous, but scared. We both knew that this was a huge moment. A dividing line that separates their lives, and ours. There was no going back. They had started the road that eventually would end without us. We would no longer be their only influence. Neither they nor we would be “perfect.” Consequences could no longer be negotiated. Personalities and meltdowns wouldn’t be accepted and justified. All of those things that we had taught them and shielded them from would be expired. Now they would be subjected to everyone else’s standards, and expectations, and uncaring criticism instead of closely guarded by ours. What a scary day!

because I said so....

2009-06-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I don’t know who is more rotten or difficult….Erik or Chelsea! I am sure he would kill me for saying that (but just between you and I) it’s right as rain. They are never just “happy,” there has to be something to bitch about. Yesterday, I made Erik breakfast in bed (which in my house meant going to the grocery, chopping & measuring ingredients, cleaning the dishes, beating the kids back from the stove)…..He responded unenthusiastically with ”this bacon is a little too crispy” And you know what, it was…..BUT, had the situation been reversed, I would NEVER have said that out loud. I would have eaten it anyway, or said I was stuffed…but criticism, that wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have the nerve, after someone went out of their way, to brush it off like it was no big deal and critique their efforts. And Chelsea has made it her mission to fight with me three times a day about every single meal. I could tell her that for dinner we are having Taco Bell Cheese Quesadillas and Cheesecake for dessert…..and she would complain…..”You know I don’t like to eat Taco Bell on MONDAYS! UMPH! *stomp off into her room and slam shut her door* It is ridiculous. And, the worst part about it, is that the others are starting to follow suit as well.

The horrible thing about all the negativity is that it’s starting to ruin my mood…..and my outlook. This morning I woke up and just didn’t even want to bother getting dressed. I don’t even want to be a part of it. I’ve just had all the wind sucked out of me, you know? I don’t have the energy or the patience to cater to everyone, and I am tired of being optimistic and expecting anything to change, you know?

erik, chelsea, happy

What have you done for ME lately?

2009-04-23T13:06:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness, I haven’t typed in this journal for a long long time! Almost a year. That’s really sad because that means that there is a year of memories missing. Actually, not quite a year. I think I have added an entry or two to my online journal, I will just have to paste them over.

Here is an e-mail I received this morning from my husband:

Good morning my love!

You said that you like having e-mails waiting on you in the morning, so I thought I'd drop you a little note to tell you how beautiful you are!!

Thanks for putting up with me.

Love,
Me

Yesterday our electricity got shut off and he had a panic attack. I borrowed 236.19 from Mom (to be paid back on Friday) and it’s all back to normal now, no one even knows any different. But he takes things like that very personally. It messes with his pride. I don’t think of situations like those as “big deals.” When the problem is clearly identified, and we know specifically how to fix it. That’s no reason to panic. Now if the electricity was off, we didn’t know why, had no idea who to call, or how much it was going to end up costing….that would make me nervous. But Indianapolis Power and Light? I knew what they wanted and how to reach them—no problem there. I just made a couple of calls and, “Vióla, problem solved.” All of that being said, I DO need to make a budget. Erik takes all of this on himself and it’s not fair. We need to be working together. He takes all of this pressure onto himself because, by not stepping up and assuming responsibility for things, I am leaving him with the impression that I expect him to take care of it. Which isn’t true of course, I don’t expect him to “take care of it,” just to let me know what he needs….which is, to him, equal to walking around the neighborhood in a woman’s brassiere and thong unfortunately.

Ryan is taking electric guitar lessons. He has had 3 lessons so far. He’s going to a guy named Phil Pierle at “All About Music” (or something like that) on the corner of Emerson and Thompson. It’s kind of pricy…it runs about $18/per lesson. He is having his 30 minute lessons on Tuesday evenings at 7:30 p.m. He got an electric guitar for Christmas (a black Fender) and has been begging for lessons ever since, and, I have to say, he seems like a natural to me.
I have been to as many lessons as him of course (being his driver and all) but I just don’t get it. Phil just has to say “G” or “F” and Ryan is strumming like he knows exactly what he’s asking for. He doesn’t even have to say it any more, he just points to the paper and Ryan READS what to do. It’s insane. He knows that this note on this line means you have to put these fingers here and strum across these specific strings. CRAZY. He’s even learning how long it says to hold that note. Although he tends to rush through the counting though. I’ve listened to everything his teacher has said and it doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s almost like my brain just rejects that information. It’s like trying to walk through a closed door. I am right with you……and then…….BOOM. Closed door. I no longer have any idea what you are saying.

I should probably comment here on Easter this year. It was on Sunday, April 12th this year (2009). It was really sketchy for a minute. Grandma Cook fell and scratched herself up really bad a month or 6 weeks before so she wasn’t quite sure if she could host Easter this year, which left all of us in a panic thinking about what back up plans we should have in place for the inevitable day when she isn’t well enough to host it (she is in her 80’s now). But she is ok now.

I went overboard on the baskets AGAIN this year. Picking up little stuff here and there since Valentine’s Day, and then, I go to put it all together, and it’s chaos. Movies, candy, yo-yo’s, bubbles, paper grass (because plastic grass is the spoils of lucipher), balls, magnifying glasses, gift cards—and yet I still feel guilty for not getting kites, sunglasses, and sidewalk chalk. Isn’t that funny? I wonder if we had a lot of stuff in our Easter baskets when we were little. I bet everything was more expensive and harder to find!

Snow Day

2009-01-28T04:56:00.000-08:00

Today, in light of being stuck at home due to horrendous snow....my husband, Erik, and I are making a list of the top 50 things we plan to do to our children when they become adults....

1. Hide all of the spoons and cups in their house.
2. Download tons of programs full of viruses on their pc's and change their homepage.
3. Color and write gibberish on their walls.
4. Put ink fingerprints all over their toilet seats (courtesy of Bekah).
5. Eat all their ice cream and drink all their pop.
6. Cry loudly til they go to burger king...then not eat anything and complain/break
the toy.
7. Break all Christmas gifts before New Year's Day.
8. Get their mail, and not give it to them.
9. Leave toys, chips and cereal all over their floor.
10. Spread hamster food all over their bedroom, and then, after they clean it up, do it immediately again.
11. Throw a fit until they allow us to wear clothes that do not fit (or match) out in public and to family gatherings.
12. Steal money out of every hiding place and spend it at the crane machines in the grocery stores.
13. Rent porn.
14. Say profanity randomly in front of people they respect and admire, just to see their reactions.
15. Walk around the house in only our underwear.
16. Always wear our shoes on the wrong feet (courtesy of Olivia).
17. Cut all of the collars off of Chelsea's clothes and steal her bras and underwear.
18. Leave Chelsea's shoes and socks in a pile under her computer desk.
19. Drop our coats and bags in the foyer, blocking the front door.
20. Break their doorbell, and when they replace it, break it again.
21. Break all the glass in their picture frames.
22. Change clothes 20 times a day so they can never catch up with their laundry.
23. Ask them to change the channel on the tv every 10 minutes, and come into their room to update them on what each character says.
24. Stand in front of the t.v.
25. Jump on their beds.
26. Play with feet...all the time....everywhere, even at church.
27. Spraypaint Chelsea's bedroom wall.
28. Scream and slam doors.
29. Throw things at them....all the time.
30. Break all of their window screens.
31. Lick the inside of their car windows and draw pictures in the spit.
32. Suck on candy and gum, and stick it in the carpet (both in the house and in the car)
33. Hide cups and food under the seats of the car and not tell them for months.
34. Steal 4 of their favorite blankets and, along with a dozen or so stuffed animals, make them bring them everywhere we go.
35. When the take us out to an expensive dinner, eat nothing but the condiments (catsup and butter).
36. Hide all of their phones until the batteries die.
37. Steal their cameras and load it up with pictures of ourselves doing gang signs (for our myspace page, of course).
38. Demand a hug and kiss whenever they leave the house...even if it means chasing their car down the street in our underwear.
39. Break all their chairs and lawn furniture.
40. Pull their cushions off of their couches in a big pile in the living room, and then, after they put them back.....do it again.
41. Spill blue gatorade on their carpet.
42. Mess with their theromstats.
43. Break their toilets so they run all the time-and only use their private bathroom in the bedroom, not the one for company.
44. Pee in their beds.
45. Call them fat and that them we hate them.
46. Start screaming randomly whenever they answer the telephone.
47. Insist that we talk to whoever calls, whether we know them or not.
48. Stand in front of them and beg whenever they get a plate food, even if we have the same plate of said food.
49. Call them over and over and over again on their cell phones whenever they go out....or at work.
50. Cry and scream outside of their bedroom doors whenever they try to have sex.
51. Scratch all their favorite dvd's
52. Never go to bed....EVER! Until they threaten lives...well, a couple of hours after that....
53. Cut our own hair.
54. Insist on watching movies that do not exist.
55. Make up different names for songs and movies we enjoy, and do not tell anyone the "secret code" Just keep asking, screaming, and crying repeatedly until they guess the right thng.
56. Change the names for all the icon's on their pc's.

dinosaurs

2008-07-09T13:05:00.000-07:00

Last night, after we put the kids to bed, Erik told me the funniest story!

We had stopped at Methodist hospital yesterday morning to pick up some x-rays before an appointment with Erik’s back surgeon. I ran in to get the c.d. of M.R.I.s while Erik stayed outside with the kids in the van.
I guess that Olivia was drawing in a notebook. Waiting impatiently Erik hears behind his seat, “Daddy, do dinosaurs have wee-wee’s?” And Erik, without much thought said, “Yeah, Livy….I guess some of them probably did.” And she took that information and said, “O.K., I’m going to draw one on mine then!” Then, the reality of her question hit him and Erik quickly responded with, “NO, Don’t draw a wee-wee on your dinosaur!” The next question was, of course, “O.K. Dad, did dinosaurs wear underwears?” Now, out of concern for the integrity of Olivia’s drawing he confidently said, “Yes, Olivia, they all wore underwear.”

Cindy's Tips and Suggestions for the Drive-In

2008-07-07T13:04:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all

Went to the Tibbs drive in on Saturday night. It was a wonderful night for it!

We saw Wall-e, and then, after the kids fell asleep, we watched Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull...good flicks. Wall-e was a great movie, very cute, but for less than 4 years of age it is a little hard to keep their attention I think. Unlike most Pixar/Disney movies with the double entandres to entertain both children and adults, this film has very little language and uses the expressive Wall-e to get its point across. My 12 year old wasn’t real impressed either. Might be best to wait for video. Indiana Jones was great, of course. There weren’t as many chase
scenes it seemed. I don’t know. When the first one came out I was at the edge of my seat of course, but now, 20 something years later….after Bourne Identity, Speed, and Di Vinci Code I think that my appetite for adrenaline has skyrocketed. It wasn’t a waste of money… but perhaps it would be best to wait until it comes out on video and sit down with the whole crew on family night for an Indy Jones Marathon, you know?

Here are some tips though, for the next family that goes to the drive-in. Its great All-American fun and I think that everyone should do it at least annually and take lots of pictures, so that they too can talk to THEIR kids about it someday. You know, about what us pioneers used to do for fun when we were little.

First of all, this we knew, they only take cash....so don't pull up with your credit or debit card and expect to get in.

Then, Don't park in the front. I know, you would think that would be the best spot....but when you make SEVEN potty breaks, you want to be in the back, cause it's closest to the concession stand where the restrooms are. I thought bringing a potty chair would be sufficient, but, according to my husband, we aren't "trash" and can use the bathroom like everyone else. After about the 5th trip I was very irritable and fully content to be trash.....apparently that's no longer an option 

Next....bring balls, Frisbee, bubbles, airplanes....anything to keep them company for the hour or so before the movie starts. We know this, but it slipped our mind. Which was fine, there were a lots of nice kids that were willing to share....just FYI.

Also....don't just assume that your kids are behaving nicely in the van because it's all quiet in there. They COULD be moving the ignition switch from AUX to ON (without your knowledge, damn those Odysseys with their quiet engines!) thus
draining your entire battery---but rest assured Tibbs drive in has battery jumpers for just such an occasion. You have to bring your license to the concession stand as a deposit and they will "loan" it out for you to jump your car, then, of course, you return it for your license when you are done. It just takes a minute. But go before the movie is over, because they only have 2 and they get loaned out quite a bit. AND, here’s an interesting fact, even when your car won't start you can still listen to the radio through the speakers on the AUX position :) ALSO, good idea to bring an extra trash bag and flashlight for picking up trash after the movie is over.

Finally...If you bring Shredded Italian Beef, that you have been cooking in the crock pot all day, make sure you package it securely so that the delicious, albeit greasy, juice doesn't soak through the insulated carrier, thus soaking a now useless comforter. Also, you'd be surprised at how great a selection they have at the concession stand. We have gotten pizzas there in the past--YUMMY! We always bring popcorn and go to the Dollar Tree for cheap movie snacks...and we pack a cooler with Capri Suns for the kids to save $, but if you have $ the concession stand is a fine option.

ALSO, there is a Mug N Bun down the road (that also only takes cash) that is yummy of course....I just can't pass a breaded tenderloin!

Hope you all have a great summer!

RECIPE FOR SLOW COOKED ITALIAN BEEF
1 can of beef broth 1 jar of peppercini’s (with the juice)
1 large rump roast

Put in the crock pot on HIGH for 6-8 hours. Shred and then put on low to keep warm until needed. Great with spicy mustard and provolone or pepperjack cheese 

birdilies

2008-06-04T08:18:00.000-07:00

E-mail from mom:

Livie's question, "Do birds come when you're asleep?"

love

mom

olivia, birds

church

2008-04-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

We went to church at St. Jude today. It was cute. Olivia was watching the priest up from prepare the communion. Breaking the bread, pouring the wine. She looked at me with her eyes all big, “I’m gonna eat THAT!” You can imagine how devestated she was when she got in line (for what she thought was “snack time”), crossed her arms, went to the front of the church, and THEN, instead of giving her a cracker and drink, he had the NERVE to BLESS her. She instantly fell into a gooey pile of snot and tears, right there in front of the whole congregation.

And, if that didn’t draw enough attention….her, Ryan, and Bekah cried even louder when we went to leave and I wouldn’t give them change to throw into the Holy Water font and make a wish! I think we need to start bringing them to church more often, and feed them breakfast first!

church, olivia

four year old favorites

2008-04-02T08:17:00.000-07:00

Bekah’s has a fancy sleevless spandex ballerina unitard complete with tutu that’s loaded with sequins. She calls it her Prinkly Dress and wears it ALL the time.

Olivia’s said that she had the best dream ever… HS Musical was at Chuckie Cheese!

bekah, prinkly dress, olivia, hs musical, chuckie cheese

music

2008-04-01T13:28:00.000-07:00

We have an I-pod attachment in the glove box of our Honda Odyssey that I use A LOT. The kids all have their favorite songs. Olivia loves anything High School Musical or Hannah Montana (of course), Fergie, and lately “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield. Bekah is loving “Thriller” by Michael Jackson, “Big Butts” by Sir Mix-A-Lot, “Fly me to the moon” Frank Sinatra, and “Saturday in the Park” by Chicago. Ryan likes “Kung Fu Fighting,” Motley Crue’s “Shout at the Devil” and a song from a kid’s song c.d. called “Yucky Dinner Again!” Chelsea likes all the popular songs that are on the radio now—that almost always have some guy rapping about it “raining” in the strip club and “shortey rubbin’ up and down the pole.” There is always a fight. They each want their own songs and there is very little patience for taking turns or tolerating any song other than their own. And Ryan just sits in the back and whines because the twins can be very loud and obnoxious (not to mention passionate) about the whole radio thing and if I have to compromise to achieve silence in the car during rush hour he is usually the one that gets stuck with the short end of the stick. Poor guy. Actually Olivia is the only one who REALLY cares about music. Bekah just likes pick fights with her sister by taunting her with fairness and “taking turns,” and Ryan just doesn’t want to be left out.

Lately I have been really puzzled by a phenomenon that I cannot explain. I would be really interested to know if this is an issue just within my own family or a more universal problem. My kids often get in the car with drinks and food. I know, I know…..it’s a horrible idea, blah, blah, blah. Anyway, 20 minute lecture later, they have this very annoying and distracting habit of quickly and immediately needing to get rid of all evidence. It’s like the sippy cup or plastic cup they have been holding for the whole car trip home suddenly becomes electrified. They scream and cry until I reach back in the middle of rush hour traffic to relieve them from their angst, AND, if I am not quick enough, they have been known to hurl their dishes all the way to the cab of the van. WHAT THE HECK IS THAT ABOUT? It’s not a 10 lb. bag of sugar, it’s an empty cup! What is so uncomfortable about an empty cup that they feel the need to throw it? Has there ever, in the history of time, been an incident of a sippy cup exploding in a mini van because of inactivity? Was there a warning on the Disney channel that I missed? A safety alert that got by me? What is the emergency?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Also, on that same train of thought, what is up with taking shoes off when the seatbelts get buckled? I never do that. I never did that with my kids. But now it is almost habit in the Kilmark van: snap the buckle, kick off the shoes. It’s not a huge problem of course…except, when we get to where we are going and we can only find one shoe. You would be surprised at how many nooks and crannies there are for a flip flop to hide in the constraints of your average mini-van. Is this just my family? Am I crazy?

Helping with dinner—using many spoons, pouring own Diet Mountain Dew.

look ma, no hands!

2008-03-31T08:15:00.000-07:00

monday, march 31, 2008

Ryan rides bike for the first time without training wheels.

ryan, bike

easter 2008

2008-03-26T13:26:00.000-07:00

My goodness, it’s been a long time since I’ve written! Last weekend was Easter, so we all went to visit my Grandma Cook in Illinois. We stayed at the Baymont Inn and Suites. Usually we stay at the Holiday Inn Express, but it was booked. Honestly I don’t think it made a difference. We all stayed at the same place, so that was nice. When I say all of course I mean Beth, Russell & family; Abbie, Carl & family; and Amy, Rodney & family.

We went to the Children’s Museum of Illinois in Decatur, Illinois. It’s usually a toss up between the Children’s Museum and Scovill Zoo, depending on the weather. The kids LOVE the museum. It’s a nice size. There is lots of role playing/hands on stuff for them to do. It’s just enough to keep them interested for a while (various age groups) and not overwhelm them. I think that my favorite part is the make believe town area. It cracks me up. There is a little grocery store (complete with dairy, produce and milk sections), cash registers, play money, and little carts. It’s so cute to see your kids walk up to the register like little grown ups and unload their mini grocery carts. There is also a post office adjacent to the store. It has mail slots complete with addressed letters that need to be sorted, a mail box, scales to weigh packages…even a little honorary postmaster badge and mail carryin’ sling. Too cute. And, there is a bank. It has a drive up window, a safe, a calculator and debit lookin’ machine. There are deposit slips, checks. It’s pretty extensive in its detail. I have heard that the Children’s Museum in Cincinnati I think is this same concept but much more elaborate. I think that in the next few years we will have to make a point to go there, because even though they love a lot of the exhibits at the Children’s Museum in Illinois I think that this is the one that uses the most imagination that they have the most fun at.

After the Children’s Museum we drove around a lot. I showed the kids Millikin University (where I went to college my sophomore year), the ZTA house on the corner of Main St. and Decatur St. (the sorority that I rushed). I also drove them by the Family Drug on the South side of Decatur Lake where I worked in college to pay my bills.

We swam in the pool when we got to the hotel. Of course Olivia had a life/death experience. She is a very eager swimmer, although she isn’t as fearful as I sometimes would hope. When she has her life jacket on I have no problem with her swimming and jumping back and forth, but, when she uses the bathroom sometimes the whole “putting the jacket” back on escapes her and she jumps in sans floatation devices. Luckily she’s a good enough swimmer that she can tread water until she realizes her error and someone saves her. This time it was a nice stranger staying at the hotel who happened to be relaxing in the pool. DON’T JUDGE ME, I was on my way over….he was just right there so he grabbed her quicker 

The kids all slept well. And, the evening before Easter, I met with my sisters (Beth, Amy and Abbie) in the lobby with our bags full of goodies to fill Easter baskets-while eating Monical’s Pizza of course! Which reminds me, I still owe my sister Beth about $10. I better put that down in writing because even though I will quickly forget, she will keep it in her mental log book forever…. It was funny because before Ryan even unwrapped everything in his basket he was negotiating up and down the hall with his cousins, trying to use what he had gotten to get what he wanted!

We then went to Grandma Cook’s to eat lunch, visit with family and have the Easter egg hunt. Grandma’s house is REALLY crowded (3 bedrooms and 1 bath) so we always pray for good weather to allow us to spread outside. Not this year though, for the first time for as long as I can remember it snowed while we were out there hiding eggs. Big white fluffy flakes. It didn’t deter us though; the Easter Egg hunt went on as usual.

The only thing that I can remember that went wrong is that Ryan forgot an entire small suitcase full of his stuffed animals (I think about 11, mostly pigs) and Grandma had to mail them to us. We had told him not to bring them, but alas, it was inevitable. How Grandma got that many swine in a little 11 x 13 x 4 box will always amaze me……

This year Easter was on March 23rd, which also happened to be Erik’s birthday. I got him a DVD (Harold and Kumar goes to White Castle) and some slippers that he LOVED from Pamida, but I don’t think that he was very happy, or impressed. That night when we got home and collapsed in our own bed, completely tired and exhausted, he solemnly asked me, “Why don’t you every do anything for my birthday? I know that you are nice to me everyday, and I really shouldn’t even complain……but it just hurts my feelings…..”

The truth is…… I just don’t care. God, written out that sounds terrible…. What I mean is, birthdays just don’t mean a lot to me, so the fact that they sometimes mean a lot to others eludes me. Wow, that doesn’t sound much better. Truthfully when it comes to Erik I have a lot of ideas. Another backscratcher. A pedi-egg. A neck pillow. An I-Pod. A gift card to Best Buy. A new grill. Grilling accessories. A gift certificate for a massage. A cool/awesome electric razor. A pair of hair trimmers. Clean out, organize, and insulate/drywall the garage. But all of these things take money, which I never have. And the creative, non-expensive solutions that sound fun at first thought, become cheesier and cheesier as time goes by, thus leaving me giftless ( and without an explanation) on the special day.

And, in my defense, he’s not exactly great all the time either. When I was scheduled to be induced on 2/13/04 with Olivia and Rebekah he had a huge tax refund check in his pocket and still didn’t bother to stop at the sale table outside of the hospital gift shop to buy me a Valentine’s Day Present*—after I had given birth to not just one, but TWO of his children. I, in turn, had bought cards for him, Chelsea, and Ryan, in anticipation of Valentine’s Day the day after my delivery.

And I am nice to him EVERY single day. I send him nice notes. Drowned him in compliments. Fix him his favorite meals. Buy him ice cream. Let him sleep in. Rub his feet. I would quickly say to another, within earshot of Erik, that I spoil him a bit.

But, irregardless of that, this whole gift thing is clearly a hot topic for him. Christmas was the same last year. Money was tight. I said no gifts. Everything was going to the kids. He bought me a $20 coffeepot with a timer and carafe from Wal-Mart, I got him nothing—as agreed. Who do you think was the scrooge? Exactly!

Anyway, as I said, he was disappointed that I didn’t get the parade together on his birthday (of course I am exaggerating, lol) so I had to redeem myself, after the fact. So, with help from his best friend Chris, and his wife Amy, I was able to schedule a surprise 38th birthday party on Saturday, April 5th. It was a success. There were a lot of people. Not everyone that I had hoped, but enough to make it fun. I made little smokies wrapped in bacon and dipped in brown sugar, and spicy buffalo chicken dip. Amy made pulled Italian Beef sandwiches (see drive in entry on 7/7/2008 for the recipe!) It was a good time. He was completely shocked and surprised. Unfortunately I had to leave early because I had a nasty migraine that made me start getting sick—or maybe it was too much Buffalo Chicken dip . But he got see some friends and spend some time sans kids, so that’s always good. That was his gift. A few hours with his old friend Independent Erik.

*side note: He did, with the tax check the next year, get me a kick ass digital camera and printer. And has also gotten me an I-pod that I adore. So when he has money, like me, and almost everyone in the free world, he does o.k.

Easter 2008

A once in a lifetime experience!

Easter is always the 1st Sunday after the 1st full moon after the Spring
Equinox (which is March 20). This dating of Easter is based on the lunar
calendar that Hebrew people used to identify Passover, which is why it moves
around on our Roman calendar.

Here's the interesting info. This year is the earliest Easter any of us
will ever see the rest of our lives! And only the most elderly of our
population have ever seen it this early (95 years old or above!). And none of
us have ever, or will ever, see it a day earlier! Here are the facts:

1) The next time Easter will be this early (March 23) will be the year 2228
(220 years from now). The last time it was this early was 1913 (so if you're 95
or older, you are the only ones that were around for that!).

2) The next time it will be a day earlier, March 22, will be in the year
2285 (277 years from now). The last time it was on March 22 was 1818. So, no
one alive today has or will ever see it any earlier than this year!

Papa's chocolate chip cookies

2008-02-11T13:25:00.000-08:00

E-mail from Pauline Dahlke, Ryan’s kindergarten teacher. She was responding to Ryan bringing in a chocolate chip cookie that he and Papa made….

Hi Cindy,
I wanted to let you know about the cookie that Ryan brought in on Thursday.
He handed it to me and asked if we could share it and I so badly wanted to say "yes" but told him we'll talk about it later. Then I ended up leaving to pick up my daughter from school who was sick. On Friday, time flew and I didn't get to talk to him. Now it's Monday and I still haven't said anything but according to the school rules, we can't have anything that is homemade. The cookie looks so good but we just can't eat it. I was wondering if you want me to send it back with Ryan or whatever sounds good to you. Let me know.
Thanks
Pauline

e-mail from my love

2008-01-29T13:24:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to let you know that you're the greatest woman in the world. I know you've been working diligently on getting the house in order. All that with no help from me or anyone else. I'm sorry I don't do more. You know I'm just lazy. But I just wanted you to know that I've noticed and that I appreciate you.

I love you to no end!
Erik

world's best coach

2008-01-14T15:30:00.000-08:00

From: Margery Cook
1/14/2008 3:30 pm

Subject: Colts

I asked Ryan if his dad went to the Colts game. He said "no, he was home and he just pretended he was at the game and told them what to do. My dad is the best player. If he was there he would teach them how to win." Cute!

notes on rebekah

2008-01-04T13:22:00.000-08:00

John Lubicky, MD, FAAOS, FAAP

Radiographs

Front x-ray hard to see femoral heads

Very abnormal

Lateral x-ray- good femoral heads, in sockets

Angle is low, prevents head from turning to bone (Pressure on cartilage).

To try to do anything to change it right now would be hard, need to increase the angle at sometime.

Ryan's first kiss...almost

2007-10-05T13:21:00.000-07:00

E-mail from Ryan’s kindergarten teacher, Ms. Dahlke:

Sorry it is taking me so long to respond. This year seems so much more hectic!
Fall Party-we will be having one on Halloween. I still call it a Halloween party and we make a witches' brew. I'll be asking for donations when we meet for Parent/Teacher conferences. We do try to avoid allergy foods such as peanuts. There are 26 students, including Ryan.

Roller skating-I sent a copy home a few days ago so I hope you got it.

It is good to hear Ryan likes school. I enjoy having him in my class. :) He has many friends and sometimes, talks about a girlfriend. I do discourage that but I will have to tell you, I had to break up an almost kiss on the lips between Ryan and Jeanna. I told them that we can't kiss in school. It was cute but you know how that goes.

I look forward to seeing you again in a few weeks!

Pauline Dahlke

Audasticity?

2007-09-28T15:24:00.000-07:00

From: Kilmark, Cindy K
Sent: Friday, September 28, 2007 3:24 PM
To: Kilmark, Erik
Subject: word
Do you remember what that word was that you made up the other day?

It was like absolutely, or asinine, or something like that….

Remember, you made me look it up online….

________________________________________
From: Kilmark, Erik
Sent: Friday, September 28, 2007 3:27 PM
To: Kilmark, Cindy K
Subject: RE: word

Audastic. I still think that it's a word. Don't be making fun of me to your little friends!!

Love,
me

ps I think my ribs and everything hurt from puking yesterday. I'm such a violent puker that the next day I still feel like hell. It really hurts to laugh!

Erik Kilmark

________________________________________

From: Kilmark, Cindy K
Sent: Friday, September 28, 2007 3:44 PM
To: Kilmark, Erik
Subject: RE: word
THAT’S RIGHT! That is it! I didn’t bring it up….Gina did. What was its definition exactly? Can you use it in a sentence for me?

Thanks honey…
Sorry about your ribs. That’s strange that they hurt so much this morning…you got sick 24 hours earlier! I’ll try not to make you laugh!
When do you think you’ll be home tonight?

Love me,
Cindy

________________________________________
From: Kilmark, Erik
Sent: Friday, September 28, 2007 3:27 PM
To: Kilmark, Cindy K
Subject: RE: word

I can't believe that you are so audastic as to question my wordsmith abilities!!

Tonight's Greenwood's homecoming, so I'm going to have to leave a little earlier to get a parking spot. I may leave work in about 45 minutes and try to leave the house by 5:30ish. I should be home a little after 11:00. You can stay home and watch all the shows from last night. Always Sunny.... was really funny. Plus, tonight is the season premiere of your favorite show starring Jennifer Boob-Hewitt.

Love,
me

2007-09-23T12:16:00.000-07:00

I think that this post will probably be a little angst ridden.

a little obsessive....

2007-09-16T10:39:00.001-07:00

On Friday my oldest sister Beth had said, "I'm glad you wrote about the impending sense of doom on your blog. I have been suffering with that too." At first I was kind of taken aback. I forget that people are welcome to read this. No one had ever really talked to me about what they had read, so I just assumed it was kind of my private little thought area. Like I was writing to myself. I was almost a little surprised, how did she know that?!?!?!

Anyway. It was funny. I was real leery about even publishing that post about "impending doom." It wasn't a huge deal to me at the time, but, if it had come to fruition and my nervousness came true....then it would have been really scary. All those rumors of me being a psychic would have been confirmed! I mean how many times on Montel has Sylvia said, "He/she knew that she was going to pass soon." Did they really know it? Or were they just a little paranoid, like me, and coincidentally it came to light. And my loved ones, would they blame me? Would they read my blog after my passing and think that I had some kind of secret that I was keeping from them? Like I intentionally didn't pay this bill, or take care of this issue....knowing full and well that my days were numbered. I assure everyone now, and in the future if need be, that I have no evidence or reason to believe that I will be leaving anytime soon.....I'm just a little neurotic sometimes. Sometimes people think that when you put those thoughts out there you are "tempting" destiny. Perhaps. I am in the school of belief that you choose all of your trials and lessons to be learned before you even come over. Although there are a lot of technical stuff with that theory that I can't reconcile in my head. I believe that you choose your children, and that they choose you of course. But how far does that stretch? Did I choose my stepfather-in-law? My son's kindergarten teacher? What was under my control and what did they decide? Where there negotiations? Was there a contract? Did they give me everything they wanted to accomplish and I agreed or disagreed? Did several apply? Did I just pick the number of children and God filled in the actual vacancies? Where is the line drawn?

Anyway, all of that aside, when I was talking to my sister I mentioned a little of that and I also referred to a cross that I have hanging from my rear view mirror in the van. Because, as all of you mother's know, the van is an especially stressful time. Construction. Rush hour. Wiggles songs repeated over and over and over again. Screaming. Windows going up and down and up and down and up and down again. Arguments. Drama. It's just a lot going on. And I mentioned that, in addition to that cross and the serenity it provides, I had considered writing a "prayer" and posting it on my dash to read before each of my trips. Just to provide a little bit more of calm and consciousness before my drive. And Beth said, "but you are afraid you won't be able to not read it?" Am I that predictable? I second guessed it, just like she said. I have a little bit of a tendency to be obsessive and I was afraid that it would become a routine that crossed the line of neurotic. Just like I always feel compelled to instantly set my odometer thingy to zero when I get gas, although I have no idea how to use it. And I always have a need to push the cruise control button and get that light off of my dash as soon as I am done using it....although my car could care less. It's just a touch of OCD. I've never really talked to a medical professional about it. I just thought of it as being a quirk that amused my husband, not really a problem.

Maybe I need to get my Prozac refilled.

I need to get going now. My husband is watching the Colts game and the children are distracting and annoying him. His yells about "flags" and "bullshit" are being constantly interrupted by screams to "get out" and "go away." I love football. I hate the urgency of it though. He ran home from church to watch the game while I tried to make a spaghetti lunch...fighting all of them every step of the way. Even though we have Tivo and he could literally stop time, he didn't fill the need to do so and provide me with any much needed support. That, after all, would be like postponing Christmas. UNTIL, lunch was all done and he wanted to fix himself a plate. Then alas, he paused the action on the television screen, and filled up the plate. Left all of our children plate less and to fend for themselves. And when I mentioned it to him he had an almost "dumb" expression on his face. If I had told him to dye his hair black I would have had a more thoughtful response. Like I had violated some secret contract we had signed on our wedding day, assuring him a 4 hour window of bachelorhood every week to be dictated by the Colts NFL schedule. Like it was completely understood, and I was an idiot. Luckily, because of the timing of my sarcasm it didn't become a fight, he he. There was a kickoff in less than 30 seconds so there was no time to start an argument. And, in three hours, when it is all over, his memory of our day BC (before Colts) will be replaced with all the details of this tackle and that fumble.

Ahhhh, a typical fall day. Nice, sunny, cool, a little nip, windows open, and the breeze of profanities floating uninvited along the crisp, autumn air.

Erik is also stopping smoking today. I am praying that goes well. I think that how the Colts play might have a direct relationship to that commitment.

chivalry isn't dead

2007-09-13T08:14:00.000-07:00

E-mail from Nana:

Ryan said he needs to bring his teacher lunch money.

She said "bring me lunch money every day" so he thinks it's for HER lunch. Bahaha.

Love

Mom

ryan, school

decorating 101

2007-09-05T08:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I got lots of stuff from my MOMS secret friend (aka Raechel-holler). I got a card, AND a bag with chocolate, another card, and a magazine from Better Homes and Gardens 100 Weekend Decorating Ideas. Lots of great stuff and ideas! I think she was inspired to encourage me because last weekend, for the very first time in the five and a half years I’ve lived in my house, I decided to decorate. I painted the two long walls “chocolate kiss,” and have used some brick red tapestry curtains with beige, dark green, and goldenrod hues that I found at Wal-Mart in the clearance aisle for $5 as the accent (and as the mat to frame some cute black and white pictures of the kids). I also spray painted a coffee table black to let it fit in (look out Martha Stewart, here I come!) and have plans to prime and spray-paint the TV stand as well. To unify all the different shades of wood. Well, maybe. My mom wants me to use her entertainment center, so I might spray paint it instead. Anyway. I am trying to work within a budget to “class” up our home. It is baby steps…but it has potential I think. I have just been very impressed and inspired by all of the homes I have been to in my MOMS group, and very embarrassed/ashamed of my own. The dirt, unfortunately, I have grown somewhat accustomed too…but the lack of creativity…it’s suffocating. And that’s so strange, because if I had to pick 5 words to describe me, creative would be number 2 or 3. I guess that only serves as an example of how exhausting being the mother of four can be, and as they are becoming older and more independent the light at the end of the tunnel is becoming a little bigger and brighter.

Anyway, just for laughs, this is my favorite decorating idea from the magazine, #74. Here is the description: Put old action figures and fashion dolls to good use as fun spots to store frequently misplaced keys. Simply drill a hole in the back of GI Joe or Barbie and then hang his or her on a screw or nail you’ve driven into the wall. Extend their arms for the perfect key ring catchers.

I wonder if that works with fisher price little people. Oh my god, it’s opened up a brand new world, he he. Just imagine how much space on the floor I would have if I nailed all the kids toys onto the wall …Or, better yet, if I started using Happy Meal toys to make mobiles. Hot wheels to make wind chimes. What will those Better Homes and Garden people think of next?

Decorating, MOMS

that kid....

2007-09-04T09:51:00.000-07:00

The nurse from Ryan's school called me today to pick him up. She said he had a low grade fever and had thrown up all over the classroom. I called Erik and he was devastated. He was afraid that from here on out Ryan would be known as "that kid." I reminded him that it doesn't matter because, like Chelsea, he will probably change schools a dozen times due to re-districting and starting new grades. (So far, in the sixth grade, Chelsea has been to four schools....one for kindergarten, elementary school, another elementary school-redistricting, intermediate school.....then she will have middle school, freshman center, and high school!)

This is the response from Ryan’s kindergarten teacher, Ms. Dahlke. My e-mail apologized for Ryan getting sick at school that morning…and asked how he was doing in school.

Tuesday 9/4/2007 3:20 PM

Don't worry about him getting sick! He did end up throwing up some more in the waste basket. Poor thing-I know throwing up is no fun :(

I hope he feels better. Ryan is kind of quiet in class but he does enjoy talking to a few kids, like Eric and Jeanna. He plays well with all the kids and I sometimes have to remind him to stop talking in the whole group situation. I can tell he has quite an imagination because I think he gets caught up in ideas when I tell him to stop talking. He is working well in class but his table, and I believe it is table location, has trouble paying close attention. I had to add another table to the classroom due to more students and since we are limited on space, his table has a harder time paying attention. They seem to get caught up more in conversation. I haven't seen him get frustrated but we also are working on things that are familiar with kindergartners, such as shapes, families, colors, etc. He appears to have a positive attitude so I am excited to see him grow and change as the year goes on. I enjoy having Ryan in class...he was able to do a chin up on the playground, which I think he felt pretty proud of.

I hope I answered your questions. Tell Ryan we missed him and we hope to see him tomorrow or the next day!

Pauline Dahlke

I thought that was interesting. I've never really thought of him as being that "social." He is more laid back and quiet....I thought. That's good though. I mean I don't want it to interfere with his learning of course but making friends is a very important skill. In my mind just as important as some of the academic lessons that he will learn. It will be very interesting in a few years to look back on and see what changes he’s made…that and it’s my duty, as a parent, to document for posterity’s sake all of the embarrassing moments that I have knowledge of.

Erik brought him to the Dr. that afternoon and apparently he just had a cold. Nana thinks that maybe he got an upset tummy from taking cold medicine before school on an upset stomach. No ear infection, no flu, and he was absolutely fine the rest of the day.

It was funny though, because on the way home from picking him up I asked him where he got sick. He said, "On the floor, by the calender, and by my friend." "You didn't hit your friend did you...because if you did he might just not be your friend anymore," I said. He said he has TWO friends. And no he didn't hit him. I asked him their names. He said he didn't know. They hadn't told him yet. Too funny.

my night owl

2007-08-31T19:54:00.000-07:00

There really isn't any point to this post. I just wanted to document it for prosperity's sake:

Bekah is naked, again. She has been wearing various ballet outfits throughout the day (thanks to my friend Rae-holler) but, every time she has to potty we have to start ALL over again. She is such a night owl. She RARELY goes to bed before 12:30, and hates to wake up before 10 am. Just like her dad.

Right now Ryan is asleep on the couch, Chelsea is in bed, Olivia WANTS to go to bed but won't close her eyes for fear that Rebekah will change the channel, and Bekah, well, she's just as wide awake as a pilot over the pacific. And Bekah is a little bit of a troublemaker so that makes it even more difficult.

I have finally gotten her dressed again and she is standing at my side saying, "She don't like it," trying to convince me that we need to turn the light on in the living room because the hamster is scared. And the music has come on the t.v., so she wants me to know, "It's over. It my turn."

Spongebob now.

Anyway...I have to watch her with the hamster. She just opens his cage to say hello, and he is just looking for a few seconds of "unsupervised" time with her to give her a bite and a little retribution for her shaking his exercise ball like a snow globe every time we turn our backs.

She's back again, something about buying a princess lala (Cinderella) thing at the store? Sleeping in the living room? Playing Dora games? I don't know. She doesn't make much sense. Now she's found the plastic hamster bed that Olivia broke earlier tonight and she is convinced that the hamster wants to sleep on it. She says, "Mom, we get a tape for this." "Maybe daddy can do it in the morning" I say, trying to stall. Now she says, "Hey Manny can fix it." I think that's a show. Apparently, according to Bekah, Manny's forgotten his car, but he will be here soon.

Now she doesn't want to watch Spongebob, she wants Pinky Dinky Doo. Of course that is one of the only shows that they've taken off of Cable on Demand. Now, to show her anger, she has started panting and ripping pieces of paper in half and yelling.

HOORAY. Erik's just called to say he's coming home. She has to talk to him of course. It's 10:47 pm. She's talking to dad about the hamster bed, told him he needed glue. He's clearly trying to get off the phone. Bekah says, "In a minute, I have to talk to you." Now she is talking about how they got into Chelsea's makeup tonight. I don't know if he's able to follow any of it though. You can only understand every other word or so, and to just hear and not watch her explain is especially tough. "I'm not done yet." I hear her say. She's wandered in the living room now. Something about "smack your butt and run away." "I'm not done yet" again. "Mom, someone's hang up the phone. Someone's not talking!" "DAD!" "DADDY!" "Mommy, which button?" "Dad, I need your help." "HELLO" "I can't talk now and I need to tell him something, RIGHT NOW!" "Daddy! Daddy! Don't hang the phone." Now she's really mad, she's counting. "One. Three. Five. SIX. HELLO!" "Mom, I need to talk her something."

She's found a digital camera. She is convincing me that I want to have my picture taken. She has announced that if I don't cooperate she's going to smack my butt and smack my face. "Where is the button?" "Say Cheese." Of course the lens if facing her. Now she is playing with the accordion blinds in my room, looking outside. She still can't get off the digital camera. The batteries are dead. It doesn't work....she's not dissuaded.

"Aren't you tired?" I ask. "I'm not tired mom," she says. She's found herself in the mirror.

"Hello." "Do you like my tail?" she asks in her pretty innocent voice (she is referring to the skirt on her ballerina dress). Now she is singing to herself in the mirror, while throwing the accordion blind over her head. Some song about smacking your butt and smacking your face. That must be the theme for this evening, hehe.

Now it's 11:05. "Go lay down" I sternly state. "I don't want to lay down," she replies. She's found a little people and a plastic train and she's playing with it on my bed.

Now she's crawling into the living room, "like a tiger" she says. The cartoon must of lured her in. Just for a second though, she's back now. She's giggling and shrugging her shoulders. "I love you now," she says.

Now she wants to sit in my lap. She's picked up the phone, "Hello, can I sit in mommy's lap?" she asks. "He says yes" she said. "I need to see the picture please." Once again, back to the camera. Oops, now she's moved on to singing to herself in the mirror again. She's very busy obviously. "I said YEAH," is apparently the name of this current song, because that is all she is saying. I think it's been carried on from the phone call where she asked to sit on my lap.

Now she's talking about the movie store.

Back to the "YEAH" song.

"Mom, I don't like cartoons, turn on Pinky Doo." "It's not on," I say. "I want to watch PINKY DOO!" Like if she repeats it over and over again and says it louder Comcast will hear her.

She's asked me to carry her to the couch, with the camera of course, but she's not done yet. She wants a pillow. I get the wrong one, it's a pink princess pillow with an iridescent crown. She wants me to put Livy in bed because she now wants to lay down on the green chair Olivia has finally collapsed onto. I get Olivia a blanket (because now, somehow, she's only wearing her Christmas underwear-she calls it that because it has snowflakes on it) and ignore Rebekah's requests to relocate her. She still doesn't like the cartoon, but it's apparently peaked her interest because she's been silent for a few minutes.

It's now 11:26.

"Can you turn on Ed and Eddy and carry me back to the couch?" She's holding her butt so I suggest a potty break and then carry her back to the couch.

"Mom, can you get me a pillow?" The princess pillow I brought her 10 minutes ago is on the floor. I go for Pooh Bear this time and get no complaints. I turn on Ed, Edd, and Eddy...and listen to her talk to the hamster. She's moved to the opposite side of the couch so her face is right next to his cage.

"Mom, I need a band-aid for my finger." It's 11:32 pm now. I don't know why, when, where or who--but I can assure you...it's NOT going to happen.

Once again, a few minutes of silence.

11:41. She's back. Explaining to me about the Ed, Edd, And Eddy episode she just watched. Something about a penguin, a helicopter, and flying far far away. She's found the paper she was ripping up earlier. Now she wants to color. She's upset that I'm not allowing that. "I want to color" she whines.

"You need to go to bed." "No, I want to color. I don't want to go to bed. I want Ed, Edd and Eddy again. Can I sleep in the chair?" "No," I say, " Olivia's in the chair." "I had the chair" she says. "I wanna lay down in the chair," she wails. Once again, repeating the phrase over and over again to emphasize her frustration. "Mom, I don't want the couch," she cries. Now the clothes are coming off again. "I don't want the couch!" This time more adamant. I get up threatening to paddle her and she runs to the couch screaming, holding her butt. I turn off the t.v. and sternly say, "It's time for bed." She runs into my room, throwing the door open. I get up from the computer and she runs, once again, for the couch...both hands protecting her little bottom. I tuck her blanket around her naked body and she is still continuing to scream, "I don't want to go to bed."

11:50 pm. She's standing outside my bedroom door, naked, screaming. "Mom, I want to watch t.v." she's saying. "Mom, I don't want to go to bed."

Where the heck is my husband! What a long day. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure though. It's 11:52 now. Erik's not home yet, but I am exhausted.

11:57 pm. I get her dressed....AGAIN. "I wanna watch a movie." "OK," I say to pacify her, "daddy will put one in when he gets home." That's not good enough. She tried to do it herself. "Mom, it's stuck, " she announces. I put in Charlotte's Web. She said I yelled at her and made the hamster cry. I made him sad. I suspect that's not the case, but I am too tired to argue.

12:01 pm. "Mom, I love you. I love you. I love you," she says from the couch in the living room. "Now for the feature presentation" the t.v. declares.....the music starts.....I hear the garage door open and shut meaning Erik is finally home.

Good Night!

my cooking and housework, or lack thereof

2007-08-31T18:49:00.000-07:00

I know, I know.....I already posted today. What can I say? My mind is filled with irrelevant thoughts!

As I was writing earlier I was "cooking." I'm not a "bad" cook mind you. I don't experiment much. I pretty much make the same stuff over and over and over again. If you are a lover of variety, I am not your chef. Lately though I have been so distracted by the kids even my old standbys are not turning out well at all!

Thursday I made goulash. Simple recipe. 1 package of whole grain elbow macaroni noodles, cooked according to package directions. 1 lb of ground chuck, fried into miniscule pieces (Erik hates "chunky" meat--although he likes his wife chunky...ok, ok, I know, inappropriate and silly- I couldn't help myself). ANYWAY, back to the goulash. I fry the hamburger with chopped green onion and vidalia onions. Sometimes add mushrooms. Season it with salt, pepper, Italian Seasoning and sometimes garlic powder. Sometimes minced onion instead of fresh (depending on how low my checkbook is). As I am doing this step I always think of my husband saying, "Season the meat" over and over again in my head. Now keep in mind, when we first started dating he didn't own a pan, nor did he know how to fry hamburger--but now, 8,000 pizza rolls later, he's Emeril Lagassé. Then I add a can of diced tomatoes to the hamburger/onion/green pepper mixture. You can get fancy here and add the diced tomatoes with garlic. After the diced tomatoes I add 1 jar of Prego and let it all heat up. And then I just wait for the noodles to finish, drain them, and stir them into the sauce mixture. Add some whole wheat garlic bread and I am good to go. I know this goulash recipe has had you at the edge of your seat, right? "What's your point" you say? My point is...this is EASY. Cooking 101. No glazes, flambay, or thermometers needed. Just your basic open the can and heat it up. But lately I get so distracted by the kids. I can't concentrate. I can't focus. I totally screwed it up. I did the sauce. It was fine. I did the noodles, they were great. Then, at the pivital moment I missed the exit. I didn't drain the noodles before I added them to the sauce and ended up with this bland, watery, tomato soupy mixture--with REALLY mushy noodles. YUCK!

AND tonight I made Chicken and Noodles. Stay with me now....I am going through the recipe. Thaw the boneless skinless chicken breasts. Check. Heat the oven up to 375ish. Check. Put chicken in 9 x 13 casserole dish. Check. Cover with one can of cream of mushroom soup, one can of cream of chicken soup, and 1/2 can of milk. Check. Cover with tinfoil and let cook for about an hour. Check. And yet, after doing this for the 1200th time, the chicken was dry and not cooked all the way. Meanwhile, on the burner....boil water. Check. Add one package of egg noodles. Check. And that's as far as I got. The water all boiled out and the noodles burned into one rubbery pile. "So," you say, "adapt." Of course, I thought that too. I am a grown up. I'll just make some whole grain brown Minute Rice. That will work. Heck, that's kind of where I got the recipe to begin with anyway. It was one of Erik's favorites so I got it from his mother. It starts out the same....chicken breasts, cream of mushroom soup, cream of chicken, milk, tinfoil. But, 10 minutes before it's done, you take the casserole dish out, add refrigerated biscuts to the top of the soupy mixture and let it cook until they get brown. Then you spoon it onto rice and you have Chicken and Biscuts (always served with green beans for some reason).

Then I stopped. Why? It's 9:30 at night by now. Clearly the kids aren't hungry. By now the undercooked chicken I put in the oven is REALLY dry and the soup has formed a dark brown frame around the inside of the casserole dish. Nobody cares. Besides, I have Oreo cookies, a frozen pizza, and a few corndogs that can be heated up in case of an emergency. Or a peanut butter and jelly sock 'em in the belly sandwich.

Fast forward. 9:45 pm. I go into the kitchen to make the usual. Time to get everyone ready for bed. Olivia wants apple juice. Ryan and Rebekah want chocolate milk. And when I turn the corner to the foyer, there is Olivia, scraping her finger around the inside of the casserole dish and licking the cream soup mixture. Asking for a bowl! I don't know if that means A. Even when I fail horribly I am still a good cook, or B. Olivia will eat anything. BUT I am guessing B is probably the best answer. So that is what she is doing now. Sitting in front of the tv butt naked (oh, scratch that. She finally did put on a sundress and a pair of underwear with snowflakes--she calls them her Christmas underwear), watching PeeWee's Playhouse on demand.

It's been a long night. Erik works Friday nights for the local paper during the football season so it's just been me. I thought about cleaning, but why? With all 4 kids at home it's like treading water....you can work for hours and not get anywhere. I did buy some paint today though. Lots of my friends have been painting their houses, so I thought I would give it a try. It's Labor Day weekend and we have no other plans. I bought a dark rich color called, "chocolate kiss" and picked up some curtains on clearance at Walmart. They are a brick red tapestry kind of pattern. It's kind of funny. We have this hideous, albeit comfortable, bright emerald green lazyboy rocker recliner that we got from a friend of Erik's mother's. It's never matched anything. It's always just been out of place. But alas, when I put up the curtains....it finally belonged! And we also have a couch and loveseat that has been with us since Erik's bachelor days (I shudder to think of the things they've seen). They are tan, and NASTY. They have been washed a thousand times. Erik got me some denim covers for them a few years back, but they aren't in great shape anymore either.... Anyway, when I put up the curtains, the couch and loveseat didn't look quite as hideous anymore either! My plan is to paint a few accent walls the dark brown color...because all the crayon and marker really stand out on the current matte white. Then I will pick a few of my favorite pictures, print them in black and white, frame them in black frames in white mats against the brown wall....and viola. Not so crappy. Then I just need to prime and spraypaint the coffee table and the beat up tv stand enamel black....add some baskets with black and white gingham print....and what do you know? We are on the next home tour. OK, maybe not. But not so crappy would be ok.

my legacy

2007-08-31T17:43:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been plagued with an impending sense of death. Maybe it's just invaded my life too much lately. My friend's 7 year old son died in July, my father-in-law died in March, my stepgrandmother-in-law passed this month. Perhaps it's because I am getting to the age that I remember my dad being sick, and it's made me more cognizant of all of the near death situations he faced. I don't know. But it's really been laying on my mind. Right now the twins are 3 1/2, Ryan is 6, Chelsea just turned 12. How much of me could they possible remember if I didn't wake up tomorrow? And what would I want them to remember?

I have thought about making a box for each of them. Full of pictures. Little stories. Maybe a bottle of my favorite hand lotion (bath and body works brown sugar vanilla) to get their senses all attended to. But let's be honest....I'll never do that. If I had received a diagnosis of a terminal illiness I might make that a priority, but short of that...it will never happen. Which is sad, because most deaths don't give much forewarning, and all of that information in a cute little box made especially for them would be priceless if I were to go. But, in my defense, I do have this blog. It's not much, but it is an insight into who I am and how much I love them.

All of this though....the death issue, the box, what would they remember, had made me start to think. What would I want them to know? What have I learned that I would want to make sure they benefited from before reaching adulthood? They sound like easy questions, until you have to answer them, huh? You have to reach DEEP.

I guess the most important thing I would want them to know is that no matter how horrible and desperate a situation is, you don't have to look long to find something to be thankful for. Concentrate on that.

Also, separate what you have control over, and what only time can resolve--and don't waste time on the first one! My husband spends soooo much time getting stressed out over things that aren't important. Things he can't change. I feel badly that he wastes so much time, but in his defense, irregardless of how little control he has over a situation, he passionately is disturbed by it.

I guess the biggest lesson I have learned: Don't give anyone else your independence. Love someone because you want to...not because you need to. Never put yourself in a situation where you have no choices. Don't substitute someone else's judgement for your own, because they might not have your best interests at heart. They may have a motive. It might not be a conscious motive, but it may lead them to guide you into bad decisions nonetheless. Don't let a boyfriend/girlfriend choose your friends, or your job. Don't allow them to influence your relationships with your family. Keep control of your finances. I learned in my first marriage that loving someone doesn't mean revolving around them. A spouse can be the most important thing, without being the ONLY thing.

The last thing I want them to know about themselves is that the deserve a good life. If they go out to eat at an expensive restaurant and the food is cold, send it back...they deserve better. If they are in a relationship that causes more tears than laughs....re-think it, they deserve better. If they are spending 40 hours plus a week at a job they don't like...look into something else. Find a hobby, go back to school--don't settle for mediocrity. Life is too short and unpredictable to spend unhappy.

Now, in hindsight, after writing all that invaluable advice (hehe) I have to go back and read it....and see if I am following it. Yes. Reading back over it, I think I am. I am optomistic. I am independent (while still in a healthy relationship). AND, most importantly I am happy. I don't have a career, but I never wanted a career. I love the people I work with. I like being able to leave my work behind when I clock out at 4:30 pm. I adore my husband...he's funny, smart, loyal. He's stable. He's also independent. He's not very optomistic, but that's ok. Sometimes there is a fine line between optomistic and naive, and I need him to keep me grounded. The only thing that I have ever felt as though my life was missing was writing. And now, with this blog, I feel better. I feel as though my thoughts are being expressed. Granted, it's not the widely published novel I had fantasized about in the past. Truth be told, I doubt more than a handful of people even read it. But it's all I need. I have a great life.

the tooth fairy

2007-08-27T09:24:00.000-07:00

Ryan- 6 years, 2 months (lost 1st tooth)

Ryan lost his first tooth. About a week ago he ran into my room excited and nervous because his “tooth was shaking.” He was really excited about it. I told him that he wasn’t allowed to lose it. And if he lost his tooth before his very first picture day I would glue it back in…but he wiggled it nonetheless. He lost it at school and was very excited when I picked him up at Nana and Papa’s that day. He had it wrapped in toilet paper and carried it carefully in a ziplock baggie. But then it wasn’t even talked about for the rest of the night…so needless to say the tooth fairy kind of “dropped the ball.” It wasn’t until the next day when he came grumbling out to the car that I realized what he was upset about. I brought him the dollar bill she left, and explained that she had put it on his t.v. so it wouldn’t get lost. It didn’t satisfy him though…he only got a dollar, and apparently Ben Ben got TWENTY FIVE CENTS! I've attached a picture of his new imperfect smile.

It reminded me a little bit of when Chelsea lost her first tooth. We put it on the dresser so it wouldn’t get lost and in the morning we saw what the toothfairy had done. It was a big tadoo with a card from the toothfairy congratulating her on doing such a great job brushing her teeth, and sugarfree gum, and $5. The next time she lost a tooth we put it under the pillow, as is custom, and she got a dollar. And then the third time, when it was time to leave the tooth again, she said she didn’t want to leave it under the pillow, she wanted to leave it on the dresser. Because when she left it on the dresser she got $5, gum and a card….but when she put it under the pillow she only got $1! Like there was a secret spot in the room that inspired the tooth fairy to be more generous! It was priceless.

pictures from my living room

2007-08-24T08:04:00.001-07:00

secret friend

2007-08-23T11:51:00.000-07:00

My MOMS group at church: Ana, Maria, Raechel, Angie, Melissa, Jenny, Jessica, and Lisa are doing a secret friend exchange and I decided to include my survey on my blog because I think that maybe it will be insightful to my personality? It’s a little more elaborate then the questionnaire I handed in, but here it is:

Date of birth: 09/22/1973

Husband: Erik and Date of marriage: 03/29/2003

Children’s names @ dob: Chelsea 08/24/1995; Ryan 06/08/2001; Olivia & Rebekah 02/13/2004

Favorite color: Green

Favorite restaurant: The Cheesecake Factory; The Melting Pot

Favorite food: Cheesecake; breaded tenderloins; pork BBQ; chocolate; vienna fingers; nutter butters; moist white cake with coconut frosting

Hobbies: Scrapbooking; reading; thinking about decorating, but never getting around to doing it; I would like to start gardening…have commited to doing it NEXT year, taking pictures. Very few of these hobbies do I actually DO mind you, but I would “like” to do them, when my children get a little older and independent and I get some of my life back.

Allergies: cats, dogs, feathers, dust mold, grass pollen, flowers

Biggest vice(s): cigarettes, casual attitude towards appearance, staying on top of housework, really BAD episodes of Maury Povich with paternity tests

Your Ideal vacation would be: a cruise to Alaska maybe; anywhere alone with my husband without the kids would be a vacation; L.A.-go see the Dr. Phil and Ellen Degeneres show…. Hawaii? Go to Macinaw Island, West Baden Springs, the Biltmore hotel, travel to New England when the leaves change color.

Something you’ve always wanted to do? Take a YOGA class, take another photography class, take a weekend trip alone with my husband to Brown County; Walk/Run/Train for a marathon

Your favorite music/ singer/ band? James Taylor, John Mayer, India.Arie, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Jack Johnson —although I am forced lately to listen to A LOT of Hannah Montana...it's kinda growing on me.

Do you collect anything? I have dozens of teapots (which is funny ‘cause I’m not that much of a tea drinker); I also collect cookbooks (ok, that’s really an exaggeration. I like the Gooseberry Patch cookbooks. I have 2. Country Quick and Easy and One Pot Meals. I also have a few other random ones, aka. Pampered Chef, blah, blah, blah.) I don’t know if it’s really a collection or an “interest.”

Favorite kind of movie? Romantic comedies, suspense/mystery thrillers. I LOVE Napoleon Dynamite. Lately I have been into the Bourne Triology. There is something very ordinary and attractive about Matt Damon that I find alluring and irresistable.

Favorite Drinks? Cherry Coke Zero; Diet Pepsi

What is your favorite candy bar? Reese’s Sticks (although I can never find them anymore- I will have to find a new one). I don’t think there is a candy bar created though that I wouldn’t eat slowly and enjoy.

If you had 4 hours completely to yourself, no kids, no husband, no chores, no commitments…how would you spend that time? That’s a no-brainer….I would sleep.

Favorite Holiday: Halloween and Favorite time of year : Fall

What skill/talent of yours are you the most proud of: I am creative; I write and draw well; I think I am funny although I don’t know how much agreement I would get with that; I make friends easily.

What do you believe is your biggest flaw? I am a horrible listener, lol. I procrastinate a lot. I am really bad about trying to avoid conflict. I don’t have as much patience as I would like with my kids. I sing in the car loudly, like I have talent (much to the shigrin of my children.) Actually, until last year or so I would have told you that I actually can sing, but then, after being stuck in a car for hours upon countless hours I have re-thought that stance. I mean honestly, all of my kids sing their hearts out convinced that they have talent as well, and, not to be a Simon Cowell, but they are NOT the next American Idols. So perhaps I am not a gene abnormality, just in denial.

Who would you like to meet? President Clinton; Sylvia Browne; Matt Damon (see favorite movie section); Peyton Manning

What TV show do you NEVER EVER miss? Man vs. Wild; The Office; Survivor; Big Brother; Hell’s Kitchen; My Name is Earl; Amazing Race; Montel (when Sylvia Browne is on); All My Children; 48 Hours Mystery (any forensic stuff really); Dateline; It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia

What are your pet peeves? People who send e-mails and forget to include the attachments (I do that ALL the time); holier than thou non-smokers; republicans; Elizabeth Hasselbeck from the View; people who cry ALL the time; children (just kidding)

If you could change one thing about your life what would it be? Your life, not you! I would be a writer going back to school part time to get a nursing degree. Each morning after I dropped my kids off at school I would go to Starbucks for a nice warm cup of tea and 30 minutes of book reading before I headed to the gym to work out a bit. I would have a much bigger house. A 6 bedroom ranch with a nice crisp pool. I would be my kid’s room mothers at school and bake them homemade cupcakes to send in on their birthdays. I would be a brownie leader. I would take them each on sporatic one on one trips to fun places (yes, more fun than even Walmart). I would have plastic tubs and tubs of decorations for every season and holiday and on Christmas I would have a bathroom filled with Santa’s and a living room filled with Snowmen. I would be more organized, with everything labeled and in it’s place. I would have date nights each week with my husband and at least 4 times I year we would go on weekends away. He would bring me coffee in bed each morning with 4 sugars and 4 creams…and get the kids dressed while I leisurely enjoyed the news. OK, ok. I guess I am rambling a bit.

Your husband’s most annoying habit? His negative attitude and “chicken little” sense of urgency; his tardiness; his snoring (and denial of snoring); using all his t-shirts as bibs; licking his plates clean…and teaching it to our kids. His non-affectionate nature? Does that sound right? He’s not very “huggy/touchy” and sometimes I REALLY need that.

Your favorite day of the week: Friday; because it is always payday!

What is the last book you read? Babyproof; it was ok.

What is your biggest fear? The death of any loved one.

If you could be reincarnated what would you come back as….and why? I would come back as a butterfly I guess. They just get to flitter and flutter and look happy and beautiful. They don’t have to work as hard as ants or bees. There is always a tree they can hide under if it rains or the sun shines too brightly. What would they possible have to worry about?

What do you believe was the most important decision you’ve made up to this point in your life? Boy, these questions are getting rough! See the irony there, I made the questions :) I think up until now the most important decision I have made is divorcing my first husband. I was very vulnerable at that time and it was an excruciatingly hard decision. I think I would of swore at the time that it was the beginning of the end, but in hindsight it was the best decision for not just me, but Chelsea as well. I learned after that experience that I don’t have to be dependent. That being alone doesn’t always mean being desperate, depressed, and pathetic.

another wake-up call

2007-08-15T08:13:00.000-07:00

Today I am mad.

I want to scream, pout, and throw myself on the floor like my three year old until I pass out, or stop time. Isn’t that a visual?

I went to the dr. on Monday 8/13 for an “annual” visit. She pointed out to me that my blood pressure was “elevated.” She was very impressed that I weighed 40 lbs less than our exam last year….BUT, she was quick to tell me that my headaches, my hip pain, and world hunger, would all be resolved if I continued to lose weight. Well….to be honest with you….my plan was just to freakin’ stop. I was happy. I know….I was still over 200, but I was closer to 200 than 300 now, and I had reached that happy balance where I could still eat a little crap on a daily basis and buy clothes from regular merchants instead of having stuff custom made or online. To me this is her saying, “Chick, you are getting old, and if you don’t grow up and start taking care of yourself you are going to have to take medication every day for your much shorter, more painful, life. So put the Spunkmeyer muffin down and walk around the block.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad at HER. Heck, she is probably pushing 300 or so herself…. I am mad at life. I am mad at having to be the grown up. I am mad that there has to be consequences. I am mad that I can’t eat those mini-vanilla sandwich cookies that Grandma (well, not my grandma…that sweet old lady that works at Kellogg) made for me and put in the vending machine RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR. Taunting me….singing my name every so sweetly….. ”Cindy…..we’re waiting….” I am feeling guilty because my daughter is only 12 and I have clearly influenced her to follow my example, and I worry about how her future will be influenced by those choices. She won’t be a cheerleader? Will she date? Will she still participate in sports? Will she have friends? Will she become an outcast? Kids are cruel. I didn’t have to bear the brunt of it so much, because even though I felt like jabba the hut the most I ever weighed in high school was 150. She is already way above that. Will it prevent her from getting a job? Cause her health problems earlier than me? What is my role? Do I damage her self-esteem by encouraging her to change herself and set her up for a life time of “never being good enough?” Do I give her dirty looks and sigh every time she eats something that I don’t think is necessary?

And then there is the smoking. I LOVE SMOKING. I love taking time just for me. I love the way it tastes, I love the way it makes me feel. I love being a part of a small little “bad boy” group that society protests fervently against. I love that despite dedicating 98% of my life, time, thoughts, energy to being a mother—I have maintained one completely selfish outlet that serves no one but me. It’s like my last shred of independence and identity.

I know, reading back, that sounds absurd….but that’s how I feel. I feel as though most of my life is not my own. Most of my choices are already made for me before I get out of bed. I know what time I have to wake up and get ready. I know what kids I have to get dressed and carry to the car. I know what time I have to be at work. I know how fast I need to type. I know what food choices I have to pick from to make dinner that night (something easy, because I will be tired, but balanced….and something for Ryan.) I know which kid will ask to watch Ed, Edd, and Eddy at 9:30 pm….Ryan. I know which kid will fight bedtime and sneak back into the living room to watch TV with her brother….Bekah. I know who wants Apple Juice, Chocolate Milk, and Dad’s pop (diet mountain dew)….Olivia, Bekah, and Ryan. Aside from smoking, and choosing my food, the only control I feel as though I have sometimes is picking out my clothes in the morning. Everything else is already decided for me, or controlled by someone else (a.k.a. one of my kids). SO, when someone tells me that I have to stop smoking, it makes me mad. I feel as though they are telling me that I am not even entitled to that one little thing, and in order to be a “good mother” I need to check that 2% I had been holding in a death grip at the door as well. I have to sacrifice everything in me and just live vicariously through serving the children’s wants, needs, and whims. It’s a little childish rebellion I guess. I need to just suck it up and get over it. Quitting needs to be done. I know this. I need to substitute it for something else. But what? I’m not supposed to eat, I can’t drown my stress in Jell-O Pudding’ Pops or Nestlé Drumsticks. I have too many kids and not enough time to take up Origami. I don’t have enough money to start a shopping addiction. I suppose I could start exercising, reluctantly. Kill two birds with one stone. But that will take some time as well. First I have to convince myself that I LIKE exercising, and then I have to trick my mind into thinking that I am looking forward to it, and, finally, I have to find time to do it. There is time. It’s much, much easier to find 100 excuses NOT to do it, I’ve got that down to about 2 minutes even…but this whole “walking” crap is at least 30 minutes each day. I know, I know….If I “loved” myself I would make it a commitment, because it’s good for me….good for my soul. My soul is tired. Being a mother, a co-worker, a daughter, a wife—it’s a hard job, it wears me out…and at the end of the day the only thing I want to do is just put in my ear plugs and drift away. Not put on my jogging shoes and walk briskly around the block in 98 degree stagnant heat.

health, smoking, weight, blood pressure

a conversation at the pool

2007-08-14T03:22:00.000-07:00

Erik brought all the kids to the pool on Sunday and he told me this conversation the twins (Olivia and Rebekah, 3 1/2 years) had....

Rebekah to little girl: I like your Princess Ella swimsoup (Cinderella swimsuit)
Olivia to little girl's mom: Where did you buy that?

first day of school

2007-08-13T15:17:00.000-07:00

Ryan starts kindergarten today. His teacher's name is Ms. Dahlke. She seems very nice. 13 years experience. Very pretty, exotic asian features. Probably a size 2 after a HUGE meal. It makes me sad. I don't want him to give HER a marry ring too! I was willing to share my proposal with Nana but that is enough! I know, it's pathetic, I treat this teacher like the "other" woman. But she is! She's taking my baby away. She is going to be spending more time with him than me. She is going to teach him to read, so he won't need me to tell him the directions on his playstation games anymore. He's already taking showers! He doesn't need "mom" to wash his hair anymore. He can make a hotdog by himself in the microwave. He's stopped playing with "piggies" as much.....he's just growing up before my eyes and it makes me sad :-( As soon as he learns to make chocolate milk by himself and do his laundry he will have no use for me anymore :-(

Erik made me laugh. Ryan has kind of made up his own "sign language." Milk in ASL is taking your fist with the thumb up and squeezing, kind of like you are milking a cow. Ryan only drinks chocolate milk, so his "sign" for that is to also take his other fist with the thumb pointing down, place it on top of the first, and squeeze it too....in unison with the bottom one. To respresent the chocolate syrup being squeezed on the milk. We just take it for granted I guess, because he does it all the time. Every night he comes up to me squeezing both hands and I know....he wants chocolate milk. Erik said the other day, "I wonder what the lunch lady is going to say when Ryan goes up to her and asks for chocolate milk with his hands, lol!"

The girls are very sad that they aren't starting school. Well, more Bekah than Livy. She walks around talking all the time about her "cool" (school). She said that she needs a "pack pack" (backpack). She called nana the other day and told her that she needed to find her "flippers" (ballet slippers) because she would need them on her first day. I went ahead and bought both her and Livy folders with kittens on them to bring to Nana's house and told her that Papa would be her teacher. She's started calling him "Mr. Papa. " I don't know if she's going to buy it, but it's distracted her a bit.

I picked him up this afternoon. Erik said he told him he had, "the best day of his life." I don't know if I believe that....he's had quite a few great days with me! Anyway...this is the conversation we had in the car after I picked him up on the first day:

MOM: Do you have any friends?
RYAN: Yeah, one boy.
MOM: What's his name?
RYAN: I don't know his name, he speaks Spanish. Only
once. I don't know
how to speak Spanish.
MOM: Did you ask him?
RYAN: Yeah, he said Spanish.
MOM: Is that little boy your friend?
RYAN: Yeah
MOM: How do you
know?
RYAN: He told me it. The boy just made a friend with me, duh. I didn't
make a
friend with him.
MOM: So he's not your friend?
RYAN: Yeah.
MOM: He is your friend?
RYAN: No.
MOM: Why not?
RYAN: I don't
take crying people for my friend.
MOM: Did he cry.
RYAN: Yeah, he cried
two times.

He also learned a song about the library. It was cute. He brought his Buzz Lightyear lunchbox to school....Papa made his
lunch....peanut butter and jelly sock 'em in the belly, goldfish, cookies
and
chocolate milk. He said they had yummy muffins for breakfast, and the
cafeteria
sells chocolate milk, so that was good. When he got home he had a
HUGE
breakdown, but it's expected I think, he had a BIG
day!

Today is Nana's 61st birthday so we will have having
cake and ice cream soon and heading home.

our new pet

2007-08-13T15:13:00.000-07:00

Well, so far Ryan has caught a cricket, a lightening bug, and a caterpillar this summer to be his pet....his best friends. The cricket got dumped in the car (he may still be there, eating cold french fries that fell under the car seat...), the lightening bug died in a tragic container lid incident, and the caterpillar is petrified in the jar it came home in.....in hopes that it's just "hibernating." I know, it's disgusting, I plan on throwing it away when he stops checking on it.... SO, FINALLY, we gave in and got him a real pet. We are allergic to everything in this house, so we settled on a hamster. Of course Ryan got the one with the beady red eyes....the only one we weren't excited about....but it seems to be working out well. It doesn't make much of a mess, stays to itself, climbs around and nibbles on their hands when we let it make an appearance. I put it in the ball tonight when Erik brought the kids to practice in hopes that it could roll around a little bit in peace. BUT ALAS, it tried to make a break for it! I went to get the camera and the ball was on the floor, with the lid 10 inches away, and Buzz (or Dash, or Buddy, or whatever it's name is) was trying to crawl under the closet door in the foyer! That was a CLOSE call! Ryan would have never forgiven me! Anyway, here is the picture you have all been waiting for....

a mother's autumn prayer

2007-08-10T08:12:00.001-07:00

I am sorry….I have been really lonely lately. There is a lot going on that I really can’t get into, and unfortunately I can’t talk to my husband about it either. It just leaves me in a lonely, scary place. Fall is always a rough time for me. Ironically it’s my favorite time of year…..but financially it’s difficult, with football season it’s difficult, everyone starting school, never seeing my husband, keeping up on housework, work picks up. It just becomes an impossible juggling act that physically and emotionally drains me. I usually don’t get to leave to house much of my own free will from August thru December. If you see me in the next few months at Wal-Mart, or on the way to or from a football game or cheerleading practice, and I have on worn out sweatpants, a stained t-shirt, crazy hair, and a blank stare on my face….don’t take in personally. My spirit will be back in January. Sometimes I think my soul kind of leaves my body and takes a vacation until everything calms down and the holidays are over, just to keep my sanity from going over the edge, you know?

I know I have a lot to be thankful for, so don’t waste a lot of time……but if you have a few extra seconds say a prayer for me. I just need a little more patience and strength; I have a lot on my plate.

prayer

kindergarten

2007-08-10T08:12:00.000-07:00

Ryan starts all day kindergarten on Monday.

Last week we went to Kohl’s and he got to pick out his first book bag. It’s Spiderman, and it comes with a mini-skateboard that attaches itself with a strap to the front. He thinks it’s very cool. At first he was leaning towards the “Buzz Lightyear” one but it had wheels and that wasn’t allowed. He is keeping his Buzz Lightyear lunchbox from preschool last year. He is such a picky eater I don’t know if he’s going to be eating in the cafeteria this year. They offer free breakfast at his school and they bring it to his classroom in a crate….juice, milk, and a muffin or whatever. They can eat one or all of the selection. Hopefully if he sits down and sees the other kids eating he might try some new things too. But lunch, I don’t know. He’s pretty particular. He has invented his own “sign language” of sorts for different things. Milk in ASL is taking the left hand, making a fist, and squeezing it….like milking a cow. So, since Ryan always wants chocolate milk, he created a new sign. It starts out the same, with the left fist squeezing, but then he added a right fist squeezing over the top of the left fist (to represent the bottle of chocolate syrup being squeezed into his sippy cup). Of course to our family this has become common knowledge, but Erik the other day said, “I wonder how the lunch lady is going to react the first day Ryan walks up to her and uses his hands to ask for chocolate milk?!?!?!?!?!”

His teacher’s name is Ms. Dahlke. She seems very nice. 13 years experience. Very pretty, probably a size 2 after a HUGE meal. She has some erotic Asian features, dark thick black hair, a “cute” personality that I am sure lures 5 and 6 year old boys into adoring her. It makes me sad. I don’t want him to give HER a marry ring too! It took a lot of time for me to adjust to sharing my proposal with Nana. I know, it’s pathetic; I treat this teacher like the “other” woman. But she is! I don’t want to share Ryan! She’s taking my baby away. She is going to be spending more time with him than me. She is going to teach him to read, so he won’t need me to tell him the directions on his play station games or read his birthday cards to him anymore. He’s already taking showers! Well, not your typical showers. He still sits down in that bathtub and plays with toys; he just does it under a raining shower head instead of sitting in a bath. He doesn’t need “mom” to wash his hair anymore. He can make a hotdog by himself in the microwave. He’s stopped playing with “piggies” as much…..he’s just growing up before my eyes and it makes me sad. As soon as he learns to make chocolate milk by himself and do his laundry he will have no use for me anymore L He’ll have jokes that I don’t understand. He will have friends that I’ve never met. He’ll learn words that I haven’t taught him (some good/some bad). He’ll have a whole myriad of experiences that will help to mold and shape him into the person he’s going to become, and my influence will become only one of many.

Tonight I have to plug in my camera and download all my pictures so that I will have room to take all the pictures I need for posterity’s sake on Monday. Pictures of him in front of the school sign, with his beautiful teacher. I don’t remember this being so difficult with Chelsea. Probably because she came out of the womb so independent. I wonder if it is going to be so difficult with the twins. I way over bought clothes for Ryan, but I want him to be cool. I want everyone to like him. I want him to enjoy school……….I will just miss him. Oh my god, I am already crying like a baby and it’s not for 3 more “sleeps.” (Sleeps= nights before something). I remember talking to mothers and thinking how embarrassing and upsurd it was for them to cry when their kids start school. What’s the big deal? Now I know. After Monday I will have to start preparing myself for the first “sleepover” I imagine. It’s good for me to write all of this down though, in 9 years when he’s 15, starting his freshman year I will be obsessing about the drama of puberty and a driver’s permit…..and these thoughts will all be a memory.

The girls are very upset that they aren’t starting school. Well, more Bekah than Livy. She walks around talking all the time about her “cool” (school). She said that she needs a “pack pack” (backpack). She called nana the other day and told her that she needed to find her “flippers” (ballet slippers) because she would need them on her first day. I went ahead and bought both her and Livy folders with kittens on them to bring to Nana’s house and told her that Papa would be her teacher. She’s started calling him “Mr. Papa. “ I don’t know if she’s going to buy it, but it’s distracted her a bit. Maybe I can print them out some color sheets with different letters and colors to keep in their folders.

Chelsea is ready for school too. I found a lot of bras on clearance at JcPenney’s the other day, so that was great. She still needs some underwear I imagine, but other than that I think she has enough to get started. I don’t remember my mom ever buying me bras. I guess she probably had too, but I don’t remember it. I had two older sisters so maybe I just got hand me downs. I know for a fact I didn’t get a special shopping trip every fall just for “school clothes.” I got $100 for my birthday in September and she let me use that towards school clothes. I guess that made me lucky, because my little sister’s birthday was in March. I was always so jealous of those kids whose first 2 weeks was a fashion show. Walking in on their first day with new backpacks, pencils with no teeth marks, flawless pink pearl erasers. Their confidence and excitement radiated so much it almost distracted from their blinding white shoes. I remember one year being sent to school with just a pencil…..my mom said I wouldn’t need anymore than that the first day. I am sure I probably got more supplies later, after the next payday, but the first day a pencil was all I had. She was probably right. We probably didn’t reach into our desks for anything else that first day; or if we did I just borrowed from my friend, but I never forgot that. Maybe that’s why I am so zealous about school supplies. I have a whole tote of extras. I buy for my little sister’s daughters. Whenever there is a sale for 5 cents, or 15 cents, I grab whatever the limit is….crayons, paper, pencils, pens, rulers, hole punchers…..whatever. Sort it out later. Don’t get me wrong, I am not upset with my parents or feeling sorry for myself. It just was what it was. I think I of course have a much better understanding of poverty now that I have 4 children myself. Enough of an understanding to know how lucky WE were as kids, and how lucky I am now. Heck, the school fees alone here in the State of Indiana are horrible. Chelsea and Ryan’s were a hundred dollars each before they walked in the door….and if Chelsea still wants to be in band somehow I have to come up with $125 for her Tuba mouthpiece, music stand, and instruction book. I imagine when Olivia and Rebekah start kindergarten, Ryan starts third grade, and Chelsea starts high school, we will have to take out a small loan! It will be like Christmas in August. And then the winter coats! And Halloween costumes! And Christmas! Anyway, I am sure even with Chelsea’s new shoes, new bras, new t-shirts and capri’s she will still look around and be jealous of the kids with brand name stuff on. It’s just the hierarchy of pre-teen girls.

ryan, dahlke, first day of school, kindergarten, school, money, school supplies, sign language

brave?

2007-08-06T15:07:00.000-07:00

Now that I have started to write in this blog….and transfer stuff I have already written into it, I am starting to become nervous. The biggest question in my mind is, how much do I reveal? I know that I have been able to just put in a person’s name and essentially look up their “diary.” Should I use this as a forum to discuss my thoughts towards my husband, my children, my job, God? Should I open those thoughts up to anyone who enters my name on a search engine? Should I let the public at large into my mind, my heart, and my soul? I enjoy reading everyone else’s innermost thoughts, and have no anxieties about it. But I don’t know. I have two friends whose relationships have been fundamentally changed because of views that they thought they shared were shattered at 2 a.m. on a Sunday night while one person was “browsing.” Do I tell my husband? Do I open up that part of myself? The only part that is still mine? AND, if I do tell my husband, or friends, is that going to alter what I write? Will I “rephrase” and second guess my entries if I know that my loved ones are going to log on and see the behind-the-scenes thoughts behind my eye rolls and sighs of exhaustion. Do I really want to have an argument and defend every little thought that races through my head? Do I want to jot down all my ideas and thoughts as they come, or do I want to strategically write what will make me look good and avoid conflict? Do I trust people to really get to know me that well? Heck, just writing this makes me a little nervous! I didn’t realize how closed off and secretive I must be, to be this nervous and concerned about being so “exposed.” I also didn’t realize how brave and courageous all those other bloggers are…exposing themselves that way. Maybe I’m not that brave….

yet another accident...

2007-08-02T10:31:00.000-07:00

Ok....so I am not exactly sure how this happened. I was in the bathroom at the time. Livy came running into the bathroom with her nose bleeding saying she hit the couch....hard. Apparently they were playing the age old, "Monster under the rubbermaid tote." You know the one. Ryan hides under the empty rubbermaid tote, Olivia sits on top, Ryan rises up, she slides off..... They used to play it all the time (it's on hiatis after this recent incident). Anywhoo....Apparently Olivia did a nose plant into the arm of the couch. I tossed around bringing her to the ER.....AGAIN. But, in the last 3 1/2 years of her exsistance she has had her head glued together once (fell off a chair in the kitchen and cracked it on the leg of the chair), her face next to her eye stitched together once (fell off the bed at nana's house), lost a couple of fingernails (doors, enough said), stuck a chewable claritin into her nose to dissolve (that was a fun day! You should have seen the moms at the ball park looking at my kid with the purple goo dissolving out of her nose. She might as well had leprosy, like it's never happened to them or something, lol)....and my mom wisely noted that at some point the hospitals will have to call the authorities, lol. In my defense, I have 3 other children that have never had wounds that required medical attention....but OLIVIA! OMG! She is just an accident waiting to happen. I don't know if it's cause she's a tomboy roughneck that likes to keep up with her brother, or naiive about cause and effect, or just plain clumsy--but it has become I real challenge to just get her to adulthood without any major scarring!

e-mails

2007-08-01T08:07:00.000-07:00

Here are some emails that a couple of girlfriends and I sent back and forth today, I put a lot of thought into my responses and think that A) it says a lot about me and my state of mind right now, and B) might be helpful for myself to look back on someday when I need that advice!

To Angie re: having a bad day

I am so sorry that you had such a bad day. Some days are just like that! I had a yucky day too. I just cried and cried and cried off and on all day. Anyway, I started my period, I have only $16.42 in my checking account until Friday (I couldn’t even get a drink at Starbucks, I had to get all parched and then suck down the warm diet cherry coke I had left in the car when we were done at yoga last night—although of course I didn’t tell ANYONE that!). The little light on my gas tank came on when I pulled into work, so I am going to have to use most of that $16 to get some gas to keep me going until Friday morning. I had some leftover pizza when I got back last night, only to discover that Chelsea had broken a glass on the counter earlier that evening and the secret topping in my pizza wasn’t really hard/gritty onion, but instead shards of glass, lol. I suspect she is trying to kill me, hehe. I guess she didn’t succeed, because I haven’t had any side effects as of yet……..btw, if you happen to run into a dr. today at work ask if small pieces of glass can slowly kill you or rip apart your intestine, lol. And I guess tonight I will have to write a bad check to Hungry Howies (because I have no food and they take DAYS to process their checks). OR, go to Kroger, buy some groceries, and write the bad check for $20 over the amount so I can have some gas money too…..Kroger takes about 3 days too, so I MIGHT just get away with it.

Hope you have a better day today!

Have faith in yourself, you know what’s best for your son. You are a great mom.

Be nice to your husband [a police officer] (I like him, and he carries a gun, lol).

Men are jerks sometimes. I mean, we mothers can’t be perfect ALL the time for goodness sakes! Even God took off the seventh day! It always amazes me how Erik never notices me juggling 1200 balls effortlessly, but is so quick to stop the world from rotating on its axis if God forbid one hits the floor. Don’t let your husband make you feel bad for dropping the ball….make a point to recognize all the great things you accomplished this week, heck….even just today.

But seriously, time will fix all of these problems. Just “keep swimming.”

To Melissa re: Happy Birthday

The kids are doing fine. Chelsea has registration tonight. She is just “itching” to buy all her school supplies and stuff. We can’t even start until we know what class she is in because each room is so freakin’ specific. Sometimes it makes me wonder if they are all teaching the same curriculum. How come one needs a protractor and the other needs a disposable camera? Ryan has a “meet the teacher” on August 8^th. It’s not for the kids though, just for the parents. I have to bring in his school supplies and stuff (which is good because they have to bring in SOOO much stuff-I didn’t want to send it all in on that first day). I went with him the other day and let him pick out his backpack. He got a Spiderman one with a mini-skateboard. What a little man! The other day I brought him and and his cousin to Burger King and to see Ratatouille (great movie by the way-Finding Nemo good) and I stopped at Target to get their pics taken—my little men, getting ready to start kindergarten! They are so cute! Flexing their muscles and stuff.

Chelsea, well…..she’s just Chelsea. Drama. Drama. Drama. Sometimes I think her entire world is a stage and her family is just the inadequate understudies she got stuck with. It’s as though she has some invisible script that no one else can see…..and we just keep have to keep doing the same scene over and over and over again until we get the lines right and complete it to her satisfaction! The arguments are so ridiculous, and redundant. Usually it’s her attitude and tone, which of course is a gray area that pre-teens like to exploit. I can’t PROVE that she rolled her eyes, so in her mind she can’t be called out for it. I think it will be a close race in the end….her graduating from high school alive, and me keeping my sanity. I just hope there is enough left to struggle my way through the other three’s adolescence.

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Mine is coming up September 22^nd. I pretty much have put it on the calendar as being a sucky day. It’s not as though anything catastrophic happens to make it horrible, but any not so great thing is WAY exaggerated when it happens on your birthday. That is the day you were born. The day the world changed. There should be parades, ballads, sonnets for Christ’s sake! People should be reflecting on how your birth changed their lives (the world at large) and singing your praises. They should be thanking you, honoring you. It should be the one day a year when you are not taken for granted-----BUT, it’s not. And it won’t be. Probably ever. Put it on your calendar as just another day, cause truth be told…..your kids (and maybe even your husband), they aren’t thinking about the enormous ramifications of your birth and how thankful they should be that you came into their lives—they are just wanting cake! And probably, in your husband’s case, sex. You have to make this day special, if not “today” then some day soon. Do something for yourself. Ask your mom to watch the kids at your house and go to hers to take a nap. Call a friend, ahem, and schedule a movie. Meet someone at the Cheesecake Factory for some well needed sugar. Or do all three. Honor yourself. Reward yourself. Be proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished a lot these last 6 years Melissa, and you are working hard to make some big changes in the future—for yourself and your family. They will be proud of you for that someday, but you owe it to yourself to be proud today. Just make a decision that no matter what you are going to take a deep breath and be happy today….I mean look at all you have to look forward too….cake AND sex, lol.

NOW---Go get your cake on girlfriend.

angie, melissa, chelsea, ryan, birthday

erik in the morning

2007-04-10T08:50:00.000-07:00

For the last couple of weeks Erik and I have had to ride to work together. He bought me a new van (2007 Maroon Honda Oddessy) on his birthday, March 23rd….and then, on the way home, the van he had been driving died. His friend, Mike, gave him a new car, but until that title comes in we have been having to carpool. It’s been a very strange experience. My usual routine is to leave the house by 6:30 am so I can get to work at 7:30 am. I don’t get in trouble if I am late…..but I don’t get paid until I get there, and I can’t work late to make it up, so I try to get here at 7:30 am so I can get an 8 hr day in. Because Erik isn’t a “morning person” I have been trying to aim for leaving the house at 8 am. That way Erik can drop me off at work at 8:30, and then bring the kids to Nana and Papa’s house. But this whole situation has been very enlightening. First of all, I am gaining a new appreciation for how much pain Erik actually is in every day. All of the drama of getting himself ready usually goes on after I’ve already been at work for several hours-so I wasn’t really aware of the moaning, the pain, the dryheaving. It’s really sad. And he isn’t laying around being lazy until Little House on the Prairie is over…..he is waiting until his pain medications kick in. He can barely function before that happens. I have been trying to help….getting his drink in the morning, bringing him his pills, getting the kids ready without his help. Some days I don’t think I have as much patience as I should have. And I feel guilty for being grouchy or sensitive to his mood swings. I need to just realize that he’s in pain, and it’s not my fault. He’s not mad at me, he just doesn’t feel good. On an entirely selfish note, It also scares the begeebees out of me because it makes me more aware of the fact that his “good” days may be more numbered then I had thought. My biggest fear is that his ability to work will be compromised sooner rather than later, and all of the responsibility (for children, household stuff, and finances) will rest on my shoulders. I question whether or not I am capable of handling that. Our house right now is A MESS! After working all day, driving back and forth to daycare, buying groceries, and zooming back and forth to practices and games I am too exhausted to think straight—let alone do laundry and dishes. Part of me thinks that I should just give up t.v. entirely. That would free a couple hours every day that I could use to try and catch up on housework. But part of me needs that downtime every night. Besides, that is kind of the time Erik and I share to reconnect. I am just overwhelmed.

August 1, 2007

Well, Erik’s days have gotten a little bit better. After some insistence he went to a pain specialist who gave him a epidural injection of kenalog (cortisone) and lidocaine. He had a headache for a few days after, but then he started to feel better. He started complaining about his feet and neck (which is a good sign, because that means that his back pain must not of been as intense for him to have noticed other areas that weren’t AS troublesome). He started football practices on Monday, July 30th, so we will see if he is continuing to improve. He is coaching 1st and 2nd graders this year (Ohio State) so the practices will be 30 minutes shorter and hopefully not quite as intense. He has also chosen to take himself off of his “anti-anxiety” medication. He thinks not being in pain will decrease his mood swings. I think it may be a little early to make such a big decision, but I will support him. I am excited to see him optimistic!

August 18th, 2007

Well getting off the anti-anxiety medication turned out to not be such a good idea. He had LOTS and LOTS of dizziness. He complained about it for about a week, then refilled the medication, and ta-da, it's gone. So that's good. I was a little afraid that the dizziness was a side effect from the epidural, so it's reassuring to know that it's just the medicine and it's not an issue anymore. This last week he had a cold. Well, to most it was just a cold. He always experiences all of the common day things....colds, headaches....much more intensely. He seems to be over it now though. Overall I think things are looking up for the most part. Last week he took the kids with him to Chelsea's practice so I could take a break, that was very much appreciated! I am just hoping that this "good" streak continues on for a long time. Of course, if you referred to it as a good streak he would come up with a myriad of complaints. He's not an optimistic chap....but, from an objective family members point of view, he's doing well. We also went out last Saturday to see his friend, Andre, perform at a Comedy Club with Erik's sister and her friend....the service at Jillian's for dinner was horrible. But, Erik didn't wear his braces all night, and I think that was a small milestone. He doesn't wear them at the pool of course, and I think he gained enough confidence to try and get along "without" them in public. He has to wear them on both legs because during his hip replacement he suffered nerve damage and a "drop" foot on one leg. The other one he wore just for balance sake. He doesn't like them. They cause horrible calluses and occasionally infections....but more than that he just doesn't like that he has to wear calf socks (to protect his legs from the rubbing braces) and can only wear New Balance shoes (because they are the only ones wide enough to accommodate his braces). He has been tossing around the idea of just getting "regular" shoes again, so he can wear them without his braces. Once again, a small glimmer of optimism. Of course there is no cure for S.E.D. I just want him to be comfortable. I want the pain to be more of the exception than the rule. I want him to be happy and optimistic again.

September 6, 2007

Today is Thursday. On Tuesday night Erik fell on some dirty laundry piled on the floor and there was a very loud, audible "POP." He couldn't walk on it yesterday so he went to see the Dr. for x-rays. There was clearly a fracture, but they aren't sure if it's a stress fracture or a new break so they sent him this morning to do a bone scan. When we receive those results we will have more information as to what the course of treatment will be.

olivia's past life

2007-04-09T08:44:00.000-07:00

I don’t know the appropriate word…..if it’s intuitive or psychic, but Olivia most definitely has some “abilities.” I am writing this down now in my journal, because I don’t know how long it will last, and I don’t want to forget the details.

My first experience was in the van a few weeks ago. I had picked up the kids at Nana and Papa’s house and was on my way home. I was zoning out, thinking to myself about what I was going to make for dinner, running an inventory of everything I had at home in the pantry when I thought silently to myself, “Well, I don’t have to worry about pleasing Olivia, she loves food.” When all of a sudden, out of nowhere, Olivia says, “Mom, I love food!” I was startled. I thought for a second and confirmed to myself that I hadn’t said that out loud, and yet she recited by thoughts verbatim. What a strange coincidence, I thought. Then I went back to planning my evening.

THEN, a few weeks later we were in the van on the way home and I was once again daydreaming. We had been in the car for about 20 minutes and were on the south side of 465 when we passed a Country Inns and Suites hotel and my thoughts started wondering to my ex-boyfriend Steve. I was just rambling in my head…..I wonder if he still lives in the same house, if he’s with someone now, if he’s married…..when all of a sudden, once again out of the blue, Olivia says, “Mom, I want Steve!” This of course made me turn my head around quickly and almost stop the car! I know I didn’t say anything out loud. We don’t have any family members or even friends named Steve….I had no idea where that came from! When I said, “What!?!?!?!?” She replied, “My Steve doll (from Blue’s Clues) it’s in the floor….. Why would she ask for that after we had been in the car for almost half an hour, out of nowhere?

I have been trying to talk to her off and on, asking her questions, searching for answers….. so far I discovered that she had two doctors, Michael and Dharma, that gave her medicine that she liked to drink. They had a camel, but she couldn’t remember it’s name. And an elephant, named Döya (pronounced Doy-like toy, ya). She said her name used to be (spelled phoetically) Duh dee yuk.

August 1, 2007

The other day I was cleaning Chelsea’s room, after cleaning Olivia, Ryan and Rebekah’s room, and Olivia was talking about a ghost in her room. I asked her to describe him to me and she said his name was, “Gary.” Which was weird. Her grandpa Bear, who died on March 17th, was named Gary of course but I don’t think she’s ever heard us refer to him as that. To them we always call him Grandpa Bear, and other than speaking to them it doesn’t really come up much. BUT, I don’t think, at 3 ½ she has the mental capacity to make all those connections. That Grandpa Bear is Gary. That Gary is dead. That dead people become ghosts. I had never even heard her use the word “ghost.” She’s talked about monsters before. She’s had nightmares about monsters and woken up screaming from a dead sleep, but she’s never talked about ghosts….or Gary either for that matter. It was just strange. I believe, in my heart, that she probably did talk to Gary….and just didn’t recognize him. Maybe he presented himself as younger, perhaps even a little boy, and she didn’t recognize him as Grandpa Bear. I mean she hasn’t seen him in over five months now, and when you are 3 ½ that’s almost 1/7 of your life.

August 13, 2007

This is just a post note I forgot to mention. Another quirky thing. Ever since Olivia was a baby whenever, "Rock a bye baby" came on the radio she would break out into horrible heartbreaking sobs....for no reasonable reason. Now that she is older, I had totally forgotten about her "phobia." I popped in a favorite cd that we hadn't played in a while, and ta-da, she started crying uncontrollably again. Now, though, she is more verbal of course, so I asked her, "Olivia, honey....what's wrong?" She replied, thru her tears and snot soaked face, "Mommy, that song is so SAD." Well, yes, of course, it is sad, when you really listen to the words I guess.....but has she always known that? Has she always understood the words? OR, does she associate it with something else...maybe from a life before this one? It's just strange, unexplainable. The song is sandwiched between "Hokey Pokey" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" but it never slips by unnoticed. Even music boxes that play that tune, without the words, get her crying unconsolably. Why?

we've only just begun.....

2006-05-27T18:23:00.000-07:00

Last week we were searching through countless VHS tapes looking for that obscure copy of 101 Dalmations when I came across a video labeled, “home movies, zoo, 1st birthday, christmas.” I decided to pop it in, just for fun, not expecting to see anything unusual or exciting. Chelsea being Chelsea, Ryan being Ryan, Olivia and Rebekah being Olivia and Rebekah. The kids went along with it too I think, under the guise that all of our home movies were produced by Walt Disney and this too would be a “magical adventure.” Amazing enough, however, there was a transformation. It started out simple enough, mommy still looked the same despite a dozen failed diet attempts, and daddy was still playing with all the camcorder features like a kid on Christmas day. We hadn’t changed much in the last two years. Rebekah (one of my two year old twins) though, while watching our memories, became very sad. At first it was discreet, just a little lip quiver and sad puppy eyes. By the time we got to the merry-go-round at the zoo, however, she had sprinted into deep heavy sobs, and by the time Christmas came around, she was distraught…..gasping between cries. Of course we were all in awe at what started this dramatic reaction, and turned off the t.v. when she sounded so upset, but that was the strange part. When we turned off the t.v., she cried harder….throwing herself onto the floor. It was like a car wreck she didn’t want to helplessly watch, but couldn’t forgive herself for turning away from. And Rebekah isn’t the emotional one, Olivia (her twin sister) is the sensitive hopeless romantic that transforms into a ball of snot and tears when mommy holds a dolly too closely. Of course shortly after the episode was over there were dishes to wash and laundry to do. I talked to my mom about it for a second later that night and we decided tossed around theories. Maybe the moment that she was watching WAS scary, and she just didn’t recognize it when she was in the moment. Maybe later when she was watching it she realized how scared she should have been. Or, maybe, she didn’t recognize herself and was jealous of all the attention mommy and daddy were giving that strange baby. I guess, because of all of the drama, I had watched the movie and made observations, but didn’t put much thought into what I had seen. I put the whole thing in my “that’s strange” shelf on the right side of my brain and continued on without giving it much thought.

Today, however, I awoke from my nap and all of a sudden that shelf in my brain had collapsed. I was dreaming about going to a barbeque we have planned this weekend. I was talking to my husband’s best friend’s wife, she’s expecting this month, and we were talking in my dream about the babies and how much they’ve grown since she had seen them last. I guess that conversation, in connection with Rebekah’s outburst the other day, and my observations that I never paid attention to—everything all came together.
I woke up startled, having to come to the computer and write down every thought in my revelation. In my epiphany. In the home movie the twins were just babies. There were snippets of them learning to walk, and short clips of them talking gibberish here and there. Of course they are sooo much different now. Olivia looked like a little boy with her short hair, and now her cascading curly ponytails almost reach her shoulders. And Rebekah, she didn’t have any hair at all in that video, and now I spend five minutes every morning putting it into spunky little ponytails that crown the top of her head. I remember seeing in the video how they were trying to walk to their daddy, with his legs outstretched they would both take one or two steps and then dive right into his belly, certain that he could catch them. And he laughed and giggled, without expecting any kind of different outcome. Now they run back and forth in races, each wanting to beat the other. And the jump. And skip. And hop. And dance.

Perhaps that is why Rebekah was so upset when she watched that movie, because they ARE different children. The children that I fix milk and apple juice for now aren’t the same ones that I nursed in the middle of the night when they were first home from the hospital. Olivia’s breath doesn’t always smell like corn, and their skin, although perfect, doesn’t always feel soft and squishy as they’ve grown into their lean toddler bodies, always on the move.

In my mind, as I was dreaming, I instantly realized that my babies were gone. And I became emotionally devastated. How could two people that I loved and adored SOOO much, people that I revolved my life around, disappear, and why didn’t I notice? When did it happen? Was it that day last year that I went to bed early when that migrane hit? Did it happen overnight on their 2nd birthday? Did they go to sleep babies and wake up toddlers? Emotionally it was like the death of my closest best friend, that I had conveniently forgotten about until I walked into the funeral parlor. I had such a sense of sorrow, it penetrated my heart, making me cry uncontrollably, for seemingly no good reason. All of a sudden Rebekah’s unexplainable outburst made sense. They aren’t gone physically for crying out loud, they are 300 feet away in their cribs finishing their naps. They won’t be out of their diapers or in big girl bed’s for a few months now. The revelation though, that they are gone reverberates in my mind, causing me to go on an insane search to “recreate” them. I’m afraid I will forget them, those babies that I didn’t notice disappear. That I won’t remember how Olivia used to growl in her deep voice, and Bekah used to crawl like a teeter totter using her fat little tummy as an axis. I am so scared that all of those memories and thoughts are going to be replaced with what they said and did today. Like it’s some kind of sophisticated military experiment to brainwash new mothers.

I don’t understand why I’ve become so emotionally attached to these children. My son Ryan, who will be five next month, asked me the other day when he would lose his teeth? Without even thinking I replied, “Not for a long time buddy….” And then I thought about it, that’s not true. He will be losing his teeth soon, not later. I guess by not starting him in kindergarten this year I was delaying in my mind that he was becoming a “big boy” but unfortunately he will age irregardless of the state’s mandatory cut off date. I guess he saw my sadness because he replied, “It’s ok mommy, my old teeth have seeds, so when I lose them they will plant the seeds and new teeth will grow.” Unfortunately that response only made my heart sadder. By the time he starts losing his teeth he will know the real reason, he won’t imagine creative explanations, and he won’t need me as much anymore.

I’ve never been the kind of mother that fears change or growth. I could never relate to those parents that cried on their kid’s first day of school, or became sad when they played in their first ballgame. I was always excited when they mastered new skills or said new things, it made me proud. I always smile and make a big deal of their accomplishments. It makes me happy when they learn new words and can tell me the things that are going through their little brains. Now though, because of this dream, this epiphany, my life will be forever changed. While I was being happy and oblivious to the world, they were changing, being replaced. For the rest of their childhood when they go to sleep I will make a conscious effort to grieve the loss of my babies and remember all of the little memories that my brain will hold…and in the morning when I wake up I will make an unconscious effort to fall in love with the new Chelsea, Olivia, Rebekah, and Ryan all over again, unsuspectingly replacing those little memories.

my new job

2006-05-27T07:23:00.000-07:00

Last Monday (May 22nd) I started a new job. It’s 80% the same job really, but I was promoted to the lead operator instead of just an operator. It’s year round, so I don’t get the summers off. But I got a $2/hr raise and everyone/thing is getting more expensive. I knew eventually the time would come that I would have to work year round, but I was hoping to put it off longer, until the twins started school. Honestly though, there never would have been a “good” time. I started searching for this job when Chelsea was five, the summer before she started kindergarten. I realized that her “childhood” was over in a sense and the only time I had spent with her were those frustrating, exhausting hours before 6 pm and 9 pm, and that hadn’t been enough. I had paid off all of my bills and at the time, financially, I was in a good position, so I looked for more flexibility….hence, my job. I worked September til April I got the summer off to draw unemployment and play with Chelsea. Of course within 30 days my situation had changed, I had broken up with my three year boyfriend, and moved back in with my parents. And, shortly after that I became pregnant with Ryan. But he was due in the summer, when I was laid off, so it continued to be an arrangement that worked. I loved having my summers off to make up for some of the time I was at work and denied them during the year. I was truly lucky to have had that opportunity for all of the years that I did. That being said, everyone is getting more expensive. Last year I couldn’t even buy a present for Chelsea’s 9th birthday, because it fell in the month of August when we are out of unemployment and seriously struggling until September when I go back to work and my checks start coming in. I was raised in a family when we were constantly denied because we didn’t “have the money” and that wasn’t a legacy I wanted to continue. I didn’t want them to miss opportunities because we couldn’t afford it.

What’s been the most surprising is Erik’s reaction. He hasn’t really said much, just little conversations here and there, but I think he has a lot of mixed emotions about it. He’s always said that going to work full-time was my choice, and he didn’t mind struggling in the summer because kids “need their mommies.” I always thought that was sweet, that he was supportive. He’s never been controlling, and he’s never “put me down.” We always have had separate checking accounts and I was in complete control of my finances and my life. I always felt as though we were equals, somewhat. I mean I always instinctively took control of the house, because with work and coaching he didn’t have much time to devote to it. And he always paid the bills because he worked year round and his finances were more stable. But I think our relationship isn’t always the partnership that I believe it is. I think he liked it when I was home all summer because he could leave with the house a mess and feel no responsibility towards it….it was “my job.” And he’s hesitant about my new job because now our roles might change. I doubt it would inspire him to do a load of laundry, but he feels guilty now. Almost like he’s jealous, kind of, that we are equals. Last week I was looking through the bills and I saw quite a few that were late….not substantially, but I didn’t see the need in paying late fees when I once again will be getting a paycheck. I told him to let me know what he couldn’t pay with this check and he replied, “Oh, you just pay daycare, groceries, and gas….I’ll take care of the rest.” It kind of hurt my feelings. I mean here I am bringing in paychecks and finally in the position that I could contribute to the family financially, instead of always feeling like a burden, and instead of welcoming that he’s not acknowledging it. For years we have been praying, if Erik gets that $200/month raise then our world would change….we could get a new car, get new furniture, etc, etc, etc…. Now my income has changed substantially and he’s not really excited about it. After overtime we will probably bring in the same amount. He said it won’t really “change” his life that much, and that he liked knowing that the kids were at home with me and they were safe. I think he liked knowing that he was taking care of us….that we depended on him….that we needed him. I think that he feels as though he has somewhat failed, because I have taken on more financial responsibility, and that makes me sad. I don’t think he’s failed at all. We have all of our needs met because of him. That being said, I am glad that I am working. He gets so stressed and depressed and frustrated, as do I, at our inability to make ends meet. I was hoping that I could help him. That we could work together. That I could be an asset instead of an expense. But he’s not open to that yet, I don’t think his ego will allow it. The only thing that I can do, I guess, is pay bills that come in before he sees them (which won’t be really hard because he doesn’t pay close attention to the mail.) He isn’t one of those people that knows the power bill will be due the 7th of each month, unless he sees it he doesn’t pay it. And, I can build up a savings account. And pay for little things…..dates, concerts, camps. Extra things that will help our family but aren’t in our budget.

a day at home with the kids

2006-04-13T12:13:00.000-07:00

What a morning! It is only 1:14 pm and I am EXHAUSTED! And I haven't really done anything!?!?!?! I worked a very little on laundry, which I will have to focus on this afternoon (after my quiet time nap of course). I made a simple lunch of salad, hot dogs, and mixed vegetables and then cleaned up that mess. Well, salad, hot dogs and vegetables for the babies. Ryan exists on chocolate milk and saltine crackers. I stacked up the dishes to wash, but never got around to doing it. We all went outside for a little playtime. Its a BEAUTIFUL day 76º outside. The kids insisted on bubbles, which, up until this month I always thought of as a simple, serene, happy activity. Ummm, not anymore. They can't share. They each want not only their own bubble wand, but their own bubble mixture. Ryan is fine. Bekah knows how to blow bubbles, but she likes to giggle at my reaction when she sticks her finger in the soap and then her mouth. And Olivia, she's just pathetic! Her allergies cause her nose to run like a faucet as soon as it hits the outdoor air, and she can't blow to save her life. Olivia, you see, is a spitter. She gets excited. She takes a deep breath, gathers up her strength, and the spits all over the wand annialating the chance of any bubble ever surviving. She doesn't get discouraged (I don't know if that's a good or bad thing). And no one can help her, she is too big (and stubborn!) for that. She just keeps spitting and spitting until finally she dumps the last remaining bubble solution all over herself and anyone sitting close to her, which today was Bekah. Then it turns into a whole new game, or drawing on the concrete with soap, jumping up and down in soap puddles. All of which results, of course, with me dumping both Olivia and Bekah into the bathtub and Ryan, because he couldn't let a good bath time go by. Then there is the rest of it. The bathing part is just the beginning. I have to sit on the floor, next to the diapers, raising my voice over and over again, calling their names, as they dance around crazy in their robes and eventually naked. Its such a predictable, redundant routine. They completely ignore me, its like some kind of primal trance that forces them to wave their arms around, giggle, and dance. Finally, when my patience wears thin, I grab them each up one at a time and place them on their backs as they wiggle and protest my attempt to assimilate them towards a clothed society. Then I dry their hair. This is always their most fun part. They shake their heads back and forth like little crazy rapid dogs, trying to speed up the process. I remember Chelsea, when she was their age, used to sing at the top of her lungs. She was always kind of shy, but the blanket of noise that the hairdryer provided gave her the confidence to belt out all kinds of tunes from Mary Poppins, to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. No matter how far she was in her performance though, as soon as the hairdryer turned off, she stopped. Returning back to herself. Concerned about the opinions of others. Now, clean, diapered, dressed and hair dry, I was finally able to lay them down and have a few minutes for myself! It's so funny, how something simple like bubbles could be turned into a huge extravaganza of work and exhaustion!

Due to the nice weather I also had to go through their summer clothes from last year. Also a huge event in the Kilmark household. All of a sudden all of their favorite clothes are resurfacing and they are just realizing that they can't live without them, irregardless of whether or not they fit anymore. Olivia's Strawberry Shortcake short ensemble became a crop top/daisy duke outfit this year, but she's yet to notice. Its always amazing to see how much they grow in a year! Today Joan Rivers and all the fashion critics would have gasped in disgust as they saw each of them prancing down their make believe runways wearing crop pants, stars and stripes swimsuits, and cardigan sweaters all at the same time! Colors be damned, today, in our living room, you could wear navy blue, white, peach, orange, and yellow--all in one beautiful rainbow of cotton and polyester. And the smiles, they smiled from ear to ear like they were strutting down the red carpet. Proud of their creations. Ryan was the sweetest though. He's going to be five this summer, and is growing into quite a young man. He's all obsessed with Ed, Edd, and Eddy, and Playstation games. Yet today he was grabbing onto his old t-shirts like he was visiting his childhood claiming Rugrats and Spongebob as mine! It made me sad. I wanted him to go back to last summer as much as he didn't want to let it go.

Olivia said something cute today too. It really isn't much, but it made me giggle. She has a huge pink bunny rabbit that is about the same size as her, and it was chillin' in her Dora chair watching TV. Olivia came walking into the room with a chocolate poptart and said,

Good Morning Bunny Rab! Here, bunny, want a tart?

I just thought that was hilarious. Not only her having a complete conversation with this stuffed animal, but being such close friends that she could refer to him as bunny rab instead of bunny rabbit! And then being courteous enough to offer him some of her breakfast, how sweet is that? She is so funny. Sometimes I am envious of her, living in a world where every stuffed animal is your best friend and everything you pick up off of the floor is a snack.

ryan

2006-04-12T07:19:00.000-07:00

Today is a fun day so far. Lots of dancing, laughing, and Wiggles. This morning I had to make a dinner for a woman in my M.O.M.S. group that recently had a baby, and the twins had to help of course. They sprinkled on the cheese, and ate most of it, and sprinkled on a little more. I took pictures of them and printed out the recipe to give to the mom. It’s a dinner that we have, and enjoy, a lot.

Yesterday Ryan said I few things that cracked me up so I jotted them down.

First we were on the way to Nana and Papa’s house and I said, “Ryan, aren’t you excited to play with your friend Ben Ben and Carter?” And Ryan replied, “I don’t play with Carter. He doesn’t talk like us. He doesn’t have a good brain. He only says ‘Ka’.” Of course this could be interpreted badly, I don’t want him to discriminate and not play with the not-so-bright kids (and in Carter’s defense, he’s not stupid, just not real talkative yet). But Nana said that’s not the case, Ryan played with him well all day. I just thought that it was interesting that Ryan not only noticed a difference but knew how to articulate it.

Then, on the way home from Nana’s, I was talking to Ryan about how we were going to Illinois for Easter. To the Scovill Zoo and the park. All the places that I used to play at when I was little. And I said, “We are going to where I lived when I was a little girl, like you” With which he responded quickly and appalled with “I was a GIRL!” Of course that was funny. After everything I had just spent 20 minutes talking about, the only thing he remembered was the last phrase.

The girls are napping and Ryan is watching The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl so I need to rest for a bit. There is a lot still to do this week before our trip to Illinois. I have to clean out the van and work on more laundry—in addition to all of the other chores.

stay at home mom?

2006-04-10T07:14:00.000-07:00

This is my first day after layoff, at home, with all of the children.....I really realized that I miss my co-workers, and bathroom breaks, and ability to communicate in a language that all involved understand. My husband, who I dare say doesn't let them outdoors on his watch, wanted me to pack all three up (Ryan, 4 and Olivia and Rebekah, 2) and run them downtown to the city/county building to drop off papers, meet him for lunch at the statehouse, go to the bank to cash a check, fill the van up with gas, return overdue movies to Family Video, drop by CVS to pick up some Tylenol and athletic tape, AND do a load of whites. Of course I got the wrong kind of tape. WHAT A LONG DAY! OK, to be fair to Erik, he just asked me to pick up the tape, go to the attorney, and do a load of whites—everything else just kind of evolved. But to be fair to me, I also make breakfast, supper, picked up the living room, gave all three baths, and folded (although not put away) 2 loads of laundry. I am quite proud of what I accomplished, although I wish it wasn’t followed by a melt down of screaming and crying before the day was over.

And for all of you in my M.O.M.S. group this will have some significance. Although I am sure it is illegal and dangerous, I stick that votive candle we received during class in the cup holder of my van and light it very so softly while I am driving to remind me to find my inner self, relax, and ask the spirits/saints for help through the day. It is silly but it helps me to find peace, and drowned out the Rugrats in Paris cd that’s on eternal replay.

I've realized that I have to do some journaling this summer! And I have to arrange some playgroups. And clean carpets. And sort through summer clothes. Speaking of which---if any of you have any summer clothes for sizes 18 mos girl, 3t girl, and/or 4t boy PLEASE let me know and I will take them off of your hands! Even for a small fee. I couldn't imagine taking everyone shopping! And our budget when I am laid off doesn't allow for much. And I have to teach the girls to blow bubbles, 'cause right now they think those sticks are soapy suckers! I have to work on teaching my son the alphabet and fine tune colors. Potty train the girls. Get the wheel on the double stroller fixed. AND, if I have some extra time, they had kits on sale at Target the other day so I picked one to fix me up some rather fashionable leg warmers :)

I don't even know where to start!

On a happy note though there were a lot of happy moments! Last night after the girls were in bed we put Ryan down and we heard some rustling so we turned up the monitor....imagine our surprise and delight when we heard our 4 year old serenading the babies with the sweetest song....."Go to sleep, Go to sleep. Go to sleep Olivi-wah and Beka-wah" Isn't that sweet? That's what he calls them. Of course even after two and a half years he doesn’t know which one is which, but he at least he knows their names. Most of the time he just refers to them as “the babies.” I guess he doesn’t want to get attached. And they all behaved well today, saying hi and see ya’ when appropriate. That's an improvement! I remember when Ryan was 2 he was having a meltdown at McDonald's and when the sweetest little old woman stopped to tell him it would be OK he looked at her and cried, "I hate you!" The before mentioned story will always be known as my most embarrassing moment!

Jeez, I feel like I am writing a column for some demented mom newsletter. SO anyway, my husband popped in long enough to say hi and watch the kids for 15 minutes so I could run my last errand---he has a Pacers game with his buddy. With that being said after I put the kids to bed, at 8:02 pm to be exact, I will be opening up the year old Berringer in our fridge, taking a long shower, and "melting away" in some kind of pseudo-celebration of my first day, this summer, as a stay at home mom!

Later….

OK, its 9:02 pm (Damn that new daylight savings time! How can I put the kids to bed when the sun is still shining!) And I haven’t popped open the Berringer. I don’t want to face tomorrow with a hangover…..and besides that I am afraid that unbeknownst to me I may have an addictive personality disorder. I don’t see it in myself so much, but it frightens me when Olivia jumps up and down and crumbles into a ball of snot and tears like a heroin addict when I refuse her the 20th popsicle…..and my son with his chocolate milk in the morning….well, it’s reminiscent of a 50 year smoker jonesin’ for that first hit of the day. Besides, who needs wine? It’s the week before Easter and there is a special on Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Aha! Maybe my addictive personality is not so much a secret.

I don’t know about the shower either yet. It’s still undecided. I know it will make me feel better after the fact, but I am SOOOOO tired!

You know it’s so funny when we go out in public and five hundred people look at me with the double stroller and the boy holding onto the side and remark, “Boy, you have YOUR hands full!” That always strikes me as funny. Not real funny of course, because stating the obvious is just asinine. But it’s almost like a backhanded compliment it seems. I mean I know that they are just trying to make conversation and taking notice of my obvious overwhelmed ness (is that a word? Wait, never mind. Word tells me it’s not. But I can’t think of a simile so bear with me). It always seems to imply to me though that I “got in over my head.” And, although I used protection for 3 out of my 4 children, I “asked for it.” Now that my twins have left their infancy though I realize….I didn’t “ask” for it, I was blessed with it. They are each SO special. And I don’t say that as a “idealistic mother earth” person—you know, one of those people who think their destiny in life was to be a mother, breastfeed their children ‘til their five, and seem to have perfect children. I say it as an exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed mom.

Chelsea, although challenging, is so compassionate, and has such a strong sense of right and wrong. She is so quick to defend the underdog and so much smarter than me.

Ryan, he is SOOO sweet. He’s not feminine, just sweet. He has a hilarious sense of humor as well. Like singing to his sisters. And the other day, when Chelsea had misbehaved and I punished her by not buying her a candy bar at the store---he matter of factly have her half of his, with a nonchalant, “Here, Chels.” Not to undermine me, just because it was the right thing to do.

And Olivia, she is the most sensitive. The artist’s soul. The poet. She’s the one that will sit with crayons and paper and disappear into her own world. Not casually making marks on the paper like her twin, she is very precise in her markings, almost as if she were entranced. She could sit alone for 30 minutes with only a pen and a blank piece of paper to entertain her. She is social, but has no fears of being alone. She always amazes me with her compassion and empathy. Every time she sees a new kid she immediately runs up to them and comments on their shirt, or their hair. Whatever stands them apart, just to let them know she accepts them. And it’s so funny to see her play with others….every time one of them falls (which is rather common amongst toddlers) she falls right down with them. I’m not sure if she thinks it’s a game, or if she doesn’t want them to be embarrassed—but I think it’s an insight into how amazing of a person she will be. Just the other day her daddy was playing that crazy game where the parent pretends to cry if they don’t get a kiss, and instead of the usual giggling reaction….Olivia bawled for five minutes. Just devastated that she had caused her daddy to cry.

And Bekah, well, she’s a personality all her own! She is a funny one, like her brother. She would rather laugh then do just about anything. She is going to be the boss of whatever she does in life. She shares Chelsea’s determination. She has a little OCD I think. Well, a little from me and a little from her dad…so actually it’s quite a bit! She has determined herself my helper/supervisor. Every chore I do throughout the house she is standing in waiting, watching my every move. When I start to load the dishwasher, she is scrimmaging under the sink grabbing the detergent. When I am washing dishes she is sitting on the countertop deciphering what should be done next, “Here mom” she says matter of factly, as she hands me a bowl or a cup. When I am doing laundry her little 20 pound self sits perched up on the corner, throwing clothes in, shutting the lid, pushing the button, and then, when I put her down, she walks away patting her hands together like she’s just accomplished the task all by herself and is ready for the next one. She has this “exactness” in all of her chores. She throws her diaper in the trash. When it’s time for bed, she runs across the room and turns off the TV, like it was her decision. When it’s time to pick up she immediately stops everything she’s doing and puts each thing in its place while the others whine, argue, and delay the inevitable. I swear if I don’t get them both potty-trained soon she will be changing her sister! Every time I lay Olivia on her back she scrambles to the basket to bring me the diapers and then the box of wipes. None of my other children even notice detail, and yet it seems to be what rules and motivates her. I’ve never seen that kind of preciseness in a spirit so young.
So, back to my original point (you may have to refer back to page 2, I’ll wait), saying that I have my hands full……albeit true is just ludicrous. I have a family of such different spirits and hearts and souls, the idea that I should have stopped at two is just ridiculous. That’s like God saying, “You don’t need a right AND left arm, I’ll just take one, you’ll never notice!” Even though they all got here at different times and under different circumstances, they are not by any means more than I can handle. I couldn’t imagine living without any single one of them. They together make up who I am, and without each individual piece it would all crumble as a whole. They are amazing….and I am just lucky to love them.

With that being said I guess my goal tomorrow is the same as every day before today, be patient. I did fine today until about 3:30. I don’t know if it’s because Chelsea came home from school with her customary “Bull in a China Shop” entrance or because I was exhausted and didn’t get as much nap as I needed. I need to not blow up and teach them to yell and snap at one another tomorrow. And lead by example. Focus on using my words, and saying please and thank you. Help them to find solutions, instead of yelling at them all and taking prisoners later. Take lots of deep breaths, and then a few more, and then…..when I can’t take it anymore…..put in Rugrats in Paris and breathe for a few more minutes. I know it’s easy to say all of this in reflection when they are in bed and the house is quiet, but I need to really work into implementing these ideas into my life. I have a doctors appointment tomorrow, so I won’t be in the “swing of things.” It’s harder when you aren’t on the same day with your schedules in synch. But this week I am not going to expect much of myself, I am just scoping things out and trying to come up with a schedule. Maybe by Friday I will pull out the crayons and paper and in a week or two be ready for play-doh. Introduce the letter “A.” Watch less TV, read more books. Start teaching them instead of watching them.

My hope is to one day let all my children read this—so they will know that although their memories are sorted, I really did my best. I think that when you become “middle aged” (ha ha) you forget how hard and emotional it is dealing with kids, and I want them to read my journal as solace to their struggles—preferably while I am retired in an RV down in Florida. I think that as children we never really get to know our parents as people. Even as adults. We never open ourselves up to the idea that they have thoughts, and hopes, and dreams, and their own lives. Maybe this will help close that gap. Give them an insight to my personality. We will see how it works. Maybe if I turn to this as a source of communication while I am home for the summer I won’t be as frustrated, it seems to help.

how to be a mom

2006-04-08T08:06:00.000-07:00

I am only 32 years old. I know, to my children, that is old. One day though, 32 won’t be old. I will fondly look back upon it as my “youth.” I still have a lot to do, a lot to see, and a lot to achieve. I want to be a writer. I want to give people all of these random thoughts in my head. I want them to laugh and cry and think, as much as I do when I write them down. I want to sleep in. I want to hop in the car and visit my grandma Eichem. I want to runaway with my husband and laugh, and talk, and sleep, and date. I want to do all the things we never got a chance to do, because we were parents before we were even newlyweds. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a path. I don’t know what to do with the time I have. So my plan now is to make a plan.

Right now as I am typing the babies are finally asleep. Ryan is hidden under my quilt playing with my feet. Talking. Wrapping his fingers in between my toes. Humming with his binky in his mouth. They always have to be touching me. It can get claustrophobic sometimes, all the touching.

how to be a big brother

2006-04-08T07:20:00.000-07:00

Today this journal writing is a practice of discipline. I am really tired and would rather be sleeping…but I made a commitment, so here I am. That being said, I never commited to it being a long entry.

This last weekend we went to Illinois for Easter, yesterday Olivia had an appointment at the eye doctor, and today….well, today I am just exhausted. Hence the irritability and lack of thought.

Ryan said something the Friday before we left that I thought was funny though, so I have to get it down. I can’t find the paper now that I jotted it down on though, so I have to remember it. I repeated it a couple of times over the weekend though, so hopefully it will be accurate. I told Ryan, “Hey, did you know Ben Ben is going to have a new baby?” “Is it just going to be one baby, or two?” he asked. “Just one,” I said. “So, you know” I replied, “you are going to have to teach Ben Ben how to be a big brother. What are you going to tell him.” Ryan said, “You can’t let your babies get hurt. And you can’t let people throw toys at them.” He paused for just a minute and continued on, “You can’t let your babies get hit by a car. I know everything about babies.” Finally, he ended the conversation with, “And you can’t let your baby get lost, or someone will get he.” I just thought that was a funny conversation. You know I tell him things here and there, unaware of how much he retains, so it was interesting to hear what things he remembered. What he thought was important to know.

Another idea that I wanted to talk about was being a mom. You know I am only 32 years old. I think it’s important to say that because I know to Chelsea, Ryan, Olivia, and Rebekah think that is old….but when they are in their late twenties/early thirties and read this journal they will know, 32 isn’t really old. I still have a lot I want to do, a lot I want to see, a lot I want to achieve. I want to be a writer. I want to intelligently throw together all the random thoughts in my head and give them to people. And then, when those people are reading those ideas, I want them to laugh and cry and think---as much as I do as I write them down. I want to sleep in. I want to hop in the car in a moment’s notice and visit my grandma Eichem in Enfield, Illinois….who I haven’t seen in almost 10 years—‘cause I miss her, and I need her. I want to runaway with my husband and laugh, and talk, and sleep, and date….things we never got a chance to do because we were parents before we were even really newlyweds. I love meeting people I don’t know and building friendships with them, because in their eyes I see who “Cindy” is….not mom, or wife, or employee, or daughter. But, unfortunately, because time doesn’t allow, I can’t nurture those relationships past their infancy….and I don’t have a lot of “close” friends. And that’s my fault, not anyone else’s. Erik would allow me all the time I wanted or needed if I asked him, but I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a path.

So my commitment now, other than this journal, is to make a plan. First with baby steps, to meet with one person one on one for a little “build the friendship time” once a week, and to plan a play group once a week as well. That’s as far as I am going right now. That is really a big step, there is so much to do here around the house that any time I take away from this address seems causes all kinds of guilt.

Right now as I am typing the babies are finally asleep…and Ryan is hidden under my quilt playing with my feet. Talking. Wrapping his fingers in between them. Humming with his binky in his mouth. They always have to be touching me. It can get claustrophobic sometimes, all the touching.