Frazzled

I tell him to be quiet, in a not so loving way.  I hate driving in unfamiliar territory, and his mousy sounding 5 year old voice was just doing something to my thought process.  That darn GPS fails me, and I realize this city is still so foriegn.  The cries of a baby in the back seat let me know she hates this as much as I do.  The boys are both hungry, and I am irritated for even trying to do this.

*****

Where is that freaking library!?

*****

But it was all for him.

Trying to go to the library at 3pm was a terrible idea.  It was all blowing up in my face.  We walk in to a "small, old, smelly" place (his words, not mine, but I agree with that 5 year old spitfire).  The kids dvd section consists of some old Barney shows, Marry Poppins, and my little pony...a far cry from the hopeful Spiderman dvd he wanted to come home with. 

He crosses his arms and said loudly, "this sucks!"

So I was that mom in the library.

*****
We walk out, quickly.  I get the littles buckled in, and hear R screech out in frustration.  I calm him, encourage him to settle down, and then try to buckle his seatbelt again.  I hear that magical click sound, and he slumps down in his car seat, clearly defeated about the fight that darn seatbelt gave him.

****
Then my boss calls while I am trying to figure out the way back home.  I pull over, and she tells me I can't wear my nose stud anymore.

I act like my five year old, and say loudly (once I hang up of course), "this sucks!"

*****
He says in a sheepish voice, "can I talk to you yet?" And I instantly feel terrible about our earlier interaction.

"I liked it way back in Oregon.  The library there was so much more good."

"Better, Ryk, you mean better not good."

"Ugh, mommmm."

"And the parks were close, so close we would ride in the bike trailer to get there, I miss that.  And we could visit  P and B (cousins)."

And at that moment I was glad they were in the back seat. 

I cried.  That ugly cry, where mascara runs down your face, and you have to wipe snot on the sleeve of a sweatshirt.

*****
In Oregon I had sisters and brothers, who helped out so much with  this child raising business.  In Oregon I could wear my nose ring at work.  In Oregon the library was better, and the parks were closer...and

Sigh.

*****
But my girl has pink toenails, a first.  And piggytails, not a first.  And skinny jeans, that aren't really so skinny on her petite 14lb12oz frame. 

My Mr. will be home soon.

My boys are laughing upstairs.

And 7pm is just around the corner.

Blogging from Paul's new ipad. Goodness this thing is rad.

life at the speed of my boys

His little voice over the "Kippy monitor" lets me know it is morning.  He wakes before the sun, my little sonshine.  I'd like to say I wake up and dance, eager to greet the day at 6:00am, but I quietly swear under my breath, rethinking staying up until 11pm after I was up at 5:20am for work the prior day.  But alas, he's two and needs his mama.

I encourage him to whisper, hoping that his siblings will stay sleeping.  We creep down the creaky stairs, to snuggle on the couch.  I shamelessly turn the TV onto Dora, making a choice to hear that ever so catchy theme song...anything to be comatose on the couch for another 30 minutes snuggled up next to my littlest man.

As soon as I settle in, getting all cozy and warm, I hear little miss.

And so the day begins, sooner than I'd hoped, at 6:15am.

After changing diapers, dishing out breakfast for 3 littles, brushing teeth, and putting yesterday's dirty dishes into the dishwasher, I look at the heaping pile of laundry that has collected the last three days while I was at work...just sitting, staring at me.  I choose to ignore it.

Cause my boys want to paint.

When we paint, we do it right around here, and goodness it is fun.

It makes a mess, a huge one at that, but for 90 straight minutes the boys were content.

The focus and creativity just exploded out of Ryk.

22 pieces of paper, and 8 bottles of paint = the need to buy lots of stamps, because his "nana, and papa, and grandma, and...will want some of these artworks!"

 Ryker learned that blue+yellow=green, and yellow+orange=red, and then said "mom you are annoying me, please don't make everything into learning time."

Kip was a fan of finger painting, and was amazed "wook, wook my hands mom!"

 Then he proceeded to go to the fridge and hang his saturated in paint piece of artwork on the fridge. 

and it is all fun and paint until Kip flings a brush causing paint speckles to fly into Ryk's eye, and Jovie is trying to climb over "jail" to get into this paint fiasco for the 78th time, and there is paint on the floor, and in hair, and on the carpet, and clothes, and as cool of a mama as I am...paint time ceased, right then, right there. 

Thank goodness for washable paint!

*****
and after they helped clean up the paint Ryk declared it "bean town" which consists of loud car noises and scattered beans.  The beans were nicely contained in cookie sheets for approximately 0.2 seconds, and well "bean town" in theory is a swell idea if kids were capeable of keeping the beans in the cookie sheets.  Paul thought I "bean town" was just nuts, but my little boys thought I was genius.

Notice matching outfits...Ryk's idea.

Ryk is a good sweeper, and was a rockstar during "bean town" clean up.  To assure every last kidney bean was picked up, Ryk swept, then I swept, and then Kip and I vacuumed.  We had to because little sister needs to maintain a patent airway.

*****

Kip eats in a rather peculiar fashion lately.

 and loves playing hide-n-seek.  Little man counts to 15 all by himself.  Ryk often says five-teen, then I remind him it is fifteen.  He said whoever made up that is just silly.  I agree.

11 months

I always make myself take a break at work, at least 15 minutes.

Not really for me though.

For my sweet baby girl.

In those 15 minutes I multitask.  Yesterday I was on the phone getting report from an ER nurse, for a new patient I was going to get.  During this time I was scarfing down food like I haven't had anything to eat in days, and pumping.  The ER nurse asked what that crazy noise was, she heard it over the phone.  And she is right, that darn pump does make a noise that sounds like "crazy, crazy, crazy" as it does the thing it is suppose to do.  

I have been doing this for 11 months, and as annoying as it is to pump, wash, and sanitize all the pieces, I will be so very sad the day I don't need to anymore.

That bond of breastfeeding, goodness it is something amazing, and I feel so lucky to be a mama who can and does breastfeed my babies.

I've spent 34 months of my life breastfeeding, and to think that the next  month will be the last time I do this, well it makes me a bit sad.

3 kids is enough according to Ryker...and P says he isn't quite sure how he would manage drop off at preschool if we had another - further driving home this concern by stating "what would I do, leave one of them in the car?  I only have 2 hands..."

All this to say, I'm savoring her babyhood and paying attention to the little details, her little details.

• Embracing every last second of her milk coma body, and the way she just melts into my arms after she is done nursing.   Then taking the time to sit, be still, for the 45-60 minutes she snoozes and watch her just sleep in my arms.

•  Memorizing the way her little lips move as if she is still nursing, while she sleeps.

• Soaking up the way she snuggles into me when she is in the sling.

• Or the way she looks into my eyes, reaches out to touch my face, holding onto her mama.

• laughing so hard as her little personality begins to erupt from her tiny little body

 I told her "Jovie say ahhhh" I wanted to get a peek at her top teeth that are coming in, I cracked up from the face she made.  Now she won't stop doing it.  Sister knows when she is funny :).

• Watching in amazement at how a tiny little baby can already do so much.

•  Sitting back and watching her explore, learn, and laugh as she pulls wipes and Kleenex out, one by one.

Loving every kiss she dishes out, girlfriend knows how to make her mama melt.

Because all too soon she'll have babies of her own, and I don't want to miss these precious moment of her being my little babygirl.

*****
At 11 months she-

• wears size 6 month clothes, and by the way they fit and the suggessted height/weight for that size of clothes has me thinking she is about 15lbs.
• wears size 2 diapers
• drinks 3.5oz in her bottles for daddy when I'm at work.  She eats every 2-3 hours.
• wears size 0-3 month shoes
• cruises around, and is starting to move just holding onto something with 1 hand.
• is as rowdy as her big brothers
• sleeps from 7pm until 6:30am, waking once or twice to nurse at night.

$5

This morning Paul volunteered to run to the store before work, we have sick kids and needed some essentials to combat the cold symptoms.  I wanted him to utilize his work day to the fullest since I am at work for the next two long days, so I declined his offer.  I said something along the line of "single moms have to take sick kids out to the store all the time, I'll be just fine."  

I knew it was a bad idea to brave the store with 3 sick kids, but I was not prepared for the snot nose wiping, red chapped lips, and dry irritated cheeks that had overtaken my once healthy kids' faces.  So we went, in and out I mentally told myself.

We were in aisle 9, Ryk wanted Spongebob soap.  I said not today.  He cried.  Atypical for him, he is use to being told no to things, but being sick I guess his coping skills were out the door.  I was not wanting to pay $2.50 for soap just because Spongebob was on it.  But alas, the soap made it into the cart.

At least he will use this new soap to wash the germs away.

Add in a Superman coloring book, like we needed another coloring book... and a bag of bouncy balls, which made their way into the trash can quickly because they are total choking hazards.

 The added junk the boys put in the cart came to a total of 5 wasted dollars. 

I was thinking as I headed up to the checkout stand, P will mention something about "never getting into a house," you know, cause we are saving up for a down payment - or at least suppose to be.

But, Jovie was in the sling screaming, Kip was crying, and R was lethargic sitting in the basket of the cart.  And I just needed to get Kleenex, chapstick, and juice and get home.  So I did the pathetic thing, I got those darn things they wanted, despite initially telling them no.

Because I suck at being a parent when my kids are sick.

Lesson learned, I am NOT a single mom, next time I'll let my husband help us out.

Brothers

Today Kip came up and hit Ryk in the head, for no reason at all.

Such a bully my middle child is.  But we are teaching him, and goodness, brother hates the corner.

I try to stifle my laughter, not because Kip hit...not funny at all...but Ryk's response to it - "Mom, he is breaking my brain, what if it oozes out my ears!"

After the longest 2 minutes in the corner, Kip comes out and says "I so sorry Rykie" (he probably doesn't mean it though) and they continue on.

*****
Ryk is the great puzzle master.  It use to be our thing, we'd sit there together and say how we were great puzzlemasters.  Now though it has changed, my 5 year old doesn't want my help :(.  "I can do it by myself mom, but thanks for trying to help..."  And he does it by himself, all 100 pieces in just a matter of 30 minutes.  His patience, and concentration during puzzle time amazes me, if only he was like that when he was learning to read...

He lets Kip join in, and Kip doesn't even know what he is doing.  He is almost 2.5 year old, so he just forces the pieces to fit together...though perhaps he'll still be doing this at 21 - like my sister still does.  Some people are made to be puzzle masters, and well others aren't.

*****
The cold weather around here has my kids skin all dry.  So they are using Jovie's lotion, excessively, and it makes me smile when I see this...

 *****

The cold weather finally delivered today, though pitiful, but enough to get a few cute pictures and make memories with my little boys.


There wasn't enough snow to actually play in, but the boys had a grand time dancing in the snow with me.  Paul and Jovie decided to stay inside, and watch from the window.  Ryker might have even mooned them...like father, like son.

I had to convince Ryker that he couldn't wear shorts and flip flops outside -seriously.  So he came downstairs in a pair of pants - no socks, or shirt...It was a chore to get him dressed appropriately so we could go outside.

 and despite the "silly hat" he had a grand time. 

We gathered up enough snow to throw a few tiny snowballs around, and the looks on their faces was worth the near frostbite I had on my mitten-less, freezing hands.

 Kip wouldn't keep his hat/mittens on, and because we were only out there a short bit I didn't make him.  My kids are not use to hat/mitten weather, I think they should be Californians.

5 and funny

He is 5, and funny, and I don't want to forget today.

I picked up Ryk from school, and for the first time he actually had his backpack on his back.  He use to be the goofy kid who carried his backpack (which is about as big as he is) all awkward like, refusing to put it on his back.  But today, he did it right, and it was cute.  

Ryk climbed (over all sorts of junk, because the van is the catch all area) to get into his seat.  He buckled himself in, then proudly discussed with me so many things on our brief 4 minute car ride home...

" Mrs. E had new name tags for us, they have our first and last name.  I have a long last name, and it has a silly letter in it that is hardest to write.  Hardest than a S to write, and S is hard, mom"

 - It is "harder than S to write, Ryker, not hardest than S to write"

"sure."

"LOP, RIN, ZI (said in a sing-song way)- yep that is it.  Easier to say, than to write.  How come it is so long."  He counts his fingers as he quietly figures out how many letters are in his first name.  "How come my last name can't be just 5 letters too, mom?"

 - "I'm not sure, Ryker, ask Daddy.  Mommy's last name use to be 5 letters long."

"You have got to be kidding me, you changed your name...no stinking way, that is just crazy!"

*****

"I got to pick something from the treasure bin today at school, cause I beed the fastest at picking up.  Yep I picked up the most stuff."

 - I think you meant to say "I was the fastest at picking up" Ryker, not "I beed the fastest"

"MOM, let me finish."

he shows me his rad purple finger monster, insisting that even though I was driving it would be okay to turn my head and take a "quick peek and the rad monster."

"I told Mrs. E I know how to pick up fast because I always race you and Kippy at home, and you always know I'm going to win.  And I do it fast because I don't like to hear you sing the clean up song."

So apparently we do a few things right (parenting wise) around here, except sing the clean up song.  Kip, well he loves that song, and joins in singing a Kiplin version where he repeats "Cwean up, cwean up everybody share."  My Kip, yep he is a super picker-uper.

*****

"I was playing freeze tag with Tedi at school, then a girl ran by so I chased her.  She giggled and it was funny."  Apparently chasing girls on the playground begins in PreK now...

*****

While in the kitchen getting lunch ready, all the kids seated at the table, I hear a kitchen chair rumble.  The boys giggle, Kip announces "Ryker farted!"  I overhear Ryk explain to Kip, "yeah baby, and it smells so good.  Kip, boys like the smell of farts and disgusting stuff like that.  Mommy won't like it, but my daddy does cause he is a boy, and stuff."

*****

While in the basement (per Kip, it is the basemen) jumping on the trampoline - "my butt is telling me I gotta go take a dump.  A big one."

Kip and I head upstairs because Kip says "I get my beeshies (blankies), and go night-night."  As I'm tucking K in, R comes in K's room and says "hey I thought we were jumping in the basement, I dumped the jumping time away?  Oh man."

Sweet Sunday

P was suppose to go into work today, but because of a new building and not having access he ended up home.

Right where he was wanted.

It wasn't anything out of the usual, just a typical day at home.

Where boys were, boys.  Notice the Paul-like smirk on both of the little boys faces, and P hiding from their simultaneous attack.

Jovie accessorized

and showed off her latest skills...

crawling at the speed of light across the room, then flashing her heartmelting smile when she hears her mama say "Jovie Reese"

When you say - "Jovie, how big are you...SO BIG" - she throws her hands up in the air.  

And she is really cruising around now with this little walker, which just seems so strange to see someone so tiny cruising around.

We ventured outdoors, to an empty church parking lot and let the boys run wild.  The boys had all sorts of fun exploring...

Ryker made a wish with P

 and picked some treasures for his mama

then he held out a stick, in typical boy like mindset, and said "look at my giant wiener."

Jovie enjoyed some mama time.

She slowly, snuggled in...

 and fell fast asleep.  And I loved every single second of it, soaking her in.

 Kip would say "ready, set, (then start running as he yelled) GO!"

 When everyone was tired (especially mama) we headed home, where both boys wanted to hold my hand :)

We came home just in time to calm down.  R enjoyed some much needed one-on-one daddy and R time.  Goodness those boys were loud wrestling downstairs while I was bathing two sweet babies.  Bathtime, it is always magical, and always delivers.

Sweet baby girl curls.

 and smiles, and coos.

and bubbles, and "I love you mama"

and baby talk conversations between my favorite babies, and the smell of Johnson's baby lotion on warm little bodies.

I