starting kindergarten- part one

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!

dinosaurs

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.”

birdilies

E-mail from mom:

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

love

mom

olivia, birds

church

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

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

my cooking and housework, or lack thereof

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.

a conversation at the pool

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?

yet another accident...

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!

olivia's past life

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?

a day at home with the kids

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.

stay at home mom?

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.