It's all downhill from here

Last night at Target, after David and I hurriedly ate a quick dinner and attempted to contain our crazy children for like 5 minutes in public, which is not an easy task, a nice little old lady approached me. She admired the kids, who were temporarily clean/did not appear homeless at that moment, and rave about their behavior, since no one threw anything at anyone else during that time. She told me they are a blessing, and we are lucky to have them. These are things I know, but often forget. Then she pointed out something else, probably leftover advice from when her children were young, or something she wished someone had told her when she was a mother to young children. This will be the happiest time of your life. You might not know it now, because its so crazy, but when you look back on it you will know. This is the highlight. 

While I thanked her and she left, I was left to reflect on what she said. Its fairly true. Kids bring you joy. They are pure and innocent, they find happiness in everything. Its hard to be unhappy when your children are healthy, fed, and content. Seeing them open presents on Christmas morning, or happily hug a friend, or walk through the gates of Disneyland to see how magical it is, those are the things that show me its all worth it. We all basically feel like happy little children at Disneyland. Happy children with very, very tired feet. I know that this is the happiest time of my life, because being a mom has made me happier than anything else.

At some point, sooner than I realize, they will grow up. No one will believe in Santa anymore, I won't have to cut anyone's grapes in half because they only have 2 teeth, and the girls won't need me to braid their hair everyday. My boys won't want to hold my hand in public, I won't have to watch cartoons all the time, and everyone will wash their own hair. I will be here, and I will still be their mom, but my role will be lessened. And then what?

I have run out of babies, my last one is practically a toddler. I have run out of first holidays, and soon I will watch my little guy take his first steps. Its a happy time in my life, but its bittersweet. It has an expiration date. My days of sippy cups and diapers will end, and then I don't know what I will do with myself. Get a job I guess, but that doesn't sound appealing. I know that no matter what the next chapter of my life brings, I'm always going to look back on this part and romanticize it.

My brain will remember what it wants to. It will probably be influenced by my heart, since it has a way of telling every story to end in peacefully sleeping sweet children. No matter how hard the day is, it will always end in peacefully sleeping sweet children. You  might have to practically run a marathon to get them that way, but eventually they all sleep. Then you look at their beautiful faces and forget about every bratty thing they've ever done.

I know they will grow up, believe me. I know it all happens in a moment, that's not new information. And I am painfully aware that this will be the happiest time in my life, when I'm surrounded by loud children who drive me completely insane and then turn around and make me stare at their beautiful faces with wonder. You don't have to tell me that, I know that its basically all downhill from here. But I'm going to enjoy the view while I can.

Please refrain from becoming a toddler

Oh squishy boy, you are the best. I don't know what I did to deserve you, especially after declaring myself to be done with babies. But you, you are a light in my life. You are fat and jolly and love to crawl everywhere and get into everything.

You have 2 sharp teeth that you use to eat anything you find on the floor, especially paper. You love to be entertained and carried around, and you are a giant momma's boy.

The thing is, you are 11 months old now. I know, that happened fast. I just brought your tiny newborn self home from the hospital. I held you sleeping on my chest as much as humanly possible, because time hates me and I knew if I blinked you would grow up. So I didn't blink, but you did it anyway. Now you're trying to walk, and I must ask that you cease and desist all toddler-like activities. Self-feeding? Cut that crap out. Walking? NO. Having too many opinions? Not allowed. Clapping and waving and generally interacting with everyone? While cute, still forbidden. You are not allowed to keep doing this to me. I cannot take toddlerhood so soon. I miss my baby already. You represent that whole part of my life. I don't get anymore chances, you are the final chapter of me being a mom to a baby. After this kid, I'm out.

While I do feel a small bit of me is ready to move on, that part of me is a minority and I am not listening to her. She's dumb and far too rational. You will be a baby to me forever. I will hold you and cuddle you till you're taller than me, you basically have no say in that. I am not as big of a fan of toddlers, due to their incessant opinions and thinking they're in charge. I like babies, please stay one. If there is anything I can do to change your mind about growing up, let me know. I am open to suggestions.

I'm glad we had this talk, so if you could just go ahead and postpone turning one in 3 weeks, we can work out a deal where I allow you to eat cookies or whatever paper you find on the floor as often as you like. I'm not above bribery, just ask Witten, I've been using it as a cornerstone for parenting him for some time. He also might be able to offer you tips in manipulating me by being extremely cute and stubborn, but I think you might be able to figure some of that out by yourself, judging by your handsome smile and overall chubbiness.

Nostalgia and Timehop are ruining my life

I am already a sentimental person. One that loves to look at old pictures, reminisce, and what-not. I would estimate I take 1,000,000 photos per year (this number is a gross exaggeration). And I'm not even that excessive. I bring my big camera to stuff, take a few pictures, call it a day. I use my iPhone for pictures, but even then I just snap a few and move on with my life. Despite what I consider moderation, my daily Timehop typically includes 2 dozen photos. And I hate it.

Every day, I have 2 dozen reminders of how little my kids used to be. How tiny and perfect, how sweet and innocent. How freaking ridiculously small and cute. Frankly, I'm tired of it. It disgusts me.

Take this picture, for example:

 This is 2 year old and apparently topless Ava. LOOK HOW CUTE SHE IS! Look at her tiny face and brown eyes. DO IT! I cannot look at this picture longer than 10 seconds without getting sad. This baby girl couldn't read. She didn't write and make me curl her super thick hair and give me maximum sassiness when she disagreed with me. She was nice, and I miss her. 

Here's another example, much worse: 

Alana was only 3 months old in this picture, and the worst part about it isn't that I can't remember her as a baby, its that I paid Sears a large sum of money to take it. I had no idea how fast she would grow up, someone please tell 24 year old Jennifer to stop wishing her first baby was a toddler already, because you can't get that time back. This little baby will be 8 and talking about boys and wearing braces before you know it 24 year old Jennifer, I know that's crazy because she doesn't even have teeth yet, but don't blink. Don't even think about it!

Another thing that no one bothers to mention in the whole pre-kids peptalk? With each kid, time goes faster. You think that time went fast when your first was a baby? When you probably had nothing more to do each day than sit around and stare at their face and watch old episodes of ER? WRONG. When you get to your second kid, and you want to sit around and stare at their tiny baby face while they sleep, you can't. Instead, you will have to put them down so that you can feed and clothe and keep your other kid alive. Then, when you think time cannot possibly go faster, your third kid comes along. Its highly possible by this point that at least one of your previous children will be in school, you know, because of the time warp thing. So each day, while your baby should be sleeping and being stared at by you, instead they are being placed in a carseat and brought along to pick up somebody from school. Instead of sleeping in and being held early in the morning, they are laying on the floor screaming while their mommy puts someone's hair in a ponytail and packs a lunch (this scenario is only until their daddy gets out of bed and picks that sad baby up). And then, because of the school errands and the field trips and the tons of early mornings and afternoon homework, you turn around and your third baby isn't so little anymore. He's 3, and he doesn't want to sleep on your chest while you stare at his face. He's a man now, he has no time for that. So then Timehop, because its a huge jerk, is like Look at your little baby, he'll never be this small again blah blah blah go cry in the bathroom now. 

That third baby and his insistence on growing up stings a little. And Timehop just has to rub it in. 

By the grace of my fourth baby not being one yet, he is not included in my daily nostalgia and pictures of sadness, save the occasional ultrasound or picture of my belly from last summer. This only means one thing, Timehop is waiting about 3 months to start torturing me. Mid-November it will start in with the hospital pictures, pictures of Liam and his siblings, the 1,000 pictures of him sleeping, all of the pictures and heartache combined in one convenient (and free minus the cost of your tears!) app. That space/time paradox of your first 3 kids is nothing, and I mean NOTHING, compared to your fourth. With number 4 you likely have 2 kids in school, a very active 2 year old to keep alive/stop from smothering the baby, and tons of crap that doesn't involve staring at your baby to do. Even if you're lucky and your husband does all of the grocery shopping and buys you tons of cookies and soup from Panera, you will still have to do the dumb stuff, because he will go back to work. That stuff shouldn't even be necessary, staring at your baby should be number one on the list of priorities, eating is a close second and showering doesn't even rank on there. You can shower when they're grown up, or when you start to smell, whichever one comes first.

I am already bracing myself for the influx of tiny Liam pictures, but I don't think it will help. I don't think when I wake up 2 1/2 months from now and my guy is 1 that any mental preparation I have done will have me ready. Every picture will make me sad, every faded memory of holding him for the first time and squeezing in the maximum amount of snuggles with him will seem insufficient, because I will forget. Just like we forget the bad things, like contractions and stitches, the memories of the good stuff fade too. That fleeting time when their tiny butt fits into your hand and they're so sleepy that they lay on your chest and snore without any effort, that memory will become distant. All of the times that they pee all over the place and you have to change their clothes and yours at midnight, it will seem like another lifetime ago. And then Timehop will come in, acting like it owns the place, and let you know that guess what? Your kids are growing up! And you can't remember what they used to be before they were wild preschoolers and first graders and third graders, not without all of these old pictures that will make you sad! So we'll help you remember, the only catch is that you will be sad afterwards! 

This tiny guy is crawling now, and by the time he's a toddler I'm going to need Timehop and the depression that accompanies it, to remind me of a time when he did not try to eat anything left on the floor or pull my hair. So I guess I won't delete it just yet, maybe next year.

I'm Still Alive: An Update of Sorts

Remember that one time when I wrote one blog post approximately 3 months ago and then didn't even open my blog again for the rest of the summer or even one month into the school year? Yeah, that happened. I don't know that it was intentional, I would like to write more, but I've just felt kind of eh about it. I've kind of felt that way about everything for basically the whole month of August.

August has been one long and crappy month and I will be happy to bid it farewell at the end of the day. Some things are changing that I would prefer to stay the same,  and some things I wish would change, but essentially have no control over. I don't want to go outside because its hot and crappy. My poor dog is stuck out there most of the time because her insane amount of hair bothers Liam. I was stuck outside for awhile on Friday because my van wouldn't start after I picked my kids up from school.  I basically had no use of my kitchen sink for like a month and had to wash dishes in mixing bowls because I couldn't run water or use my dishwasher. I would prefer just to eat cookies for every meal but then I feel bleh afterwards, so I try to choose salad or what not instead. Being an adult is just basically the most overrated activity in the world.

In other news, despite my crappy outlook on life for the entire month of August (and probably a big chunk of June and July also), life has continued to go on. Liam is already 9 months old insert sad face here and he is inchworm crawling all over the place and trying to pull himself up to stand everywhere. He has zero teeth, he is working it with that gummy smile. This dude took his sweet time learning how to sit up without tipping over, but now he is sitting in all of the places. He is like the king of the shopping cart, sitting up front and trying to chew on it with all of its germs. Also, he's super chunky and only 3 ounces shy of weighing 20 pounds. Pretty sure all of that weight is in his thighs.

Another occurence in my summer blogging hiatus: Witten turned 3. My little guy isn't so little anymore. All traces of toddlerhood are gone. No chubby cheeks, no knuckle dimples. His arms and legs are long and skinny, and his opinions are iron clad and never changing. He's the epitome of stubborn, and just when I think I can't argue with him for another second, he's as sweet as can be. The last half hour of his day is when he reserves all of his affection. He gives me all of his smiles, kisses, and hugs, to compensate for any brattiness that may have taken place over the course of the day.

Ava, my other forgotten middle child, has ventured into first grade with maximum apprehension. She turned 6 in the middle of August, and if you think it was without tears you have not met Ava. She cried at her birthday party, because that's how she rolls, but presents made it better. Her attitude towards first grade is far less optimistic than kindergarten, and she is only now, one month into the school year, agreeing to join her class on the rug for story time. I know eventually she will come out of her shell and reveal her sassy personality to her teacher, but it will be a slow process. Either way, my fancy lady continues to be equal parts sweet and spunky, with a proud determination to be as girly as possible. She is all dresses and skirts, all the time, and only wears her one pair of shorts if I make her on days that she has P.E. She is full-time fancy, and its a hard job.

Alana, not to be forgotten, is proudly embracing third grade and her role as eternal teacher's pet. She got glasses over the summer (she is just far-sided and will probably outgrow it) and she got braces in February, so she is a proud nerd. She is eager to please, loves to make new friends, and continues to sing much louder than the car radio. She is the friendliest girl, she always has been. I know I will never have to worry about her not having anyone to talk to, because this girl is one chatty lady. I can't believe she will be 9 in a month, she's halfway to adulthood. Good thing she still plays with Barbies, I couldn't handle it if my first baby decided she was a grown up already.

When I look back through these pictures of my wild hooligans, I don't feel as bad about the crappy month of August. I have people who fix my stupid plumbing and people who give me and my 4 kids a ride home when my van won't start and people to share my cookies with. I have a very squishy little guy who just woke up and is complaining that I am typing instead of holding him, and a 3 year old who keeps making me change the channel after he has watched no more than 5 minutes of a TV show. So I guess I'll go hold my baby and change the channel, those things aren't going to do themselves. I'll be back next month, because my poor neglected blog deserves slightly more attention.

Farewell to Thee

So. The school year is over. Well, like 2 weeks ago. Cue sad music. I've come to terms with it,  because hello, its been 2 weeks. But when it was fresh? I was a little emotional. It isn't that I don't like summer, even though its toasty and I feel as if I'm melting when I go outside. It is more that the beginning of summer signifies the end of a whole chapter of life. A whole year, gone with the blink of an eye.

So goodbye kindergarten, you were good to Ava.

You brought her first lost tooth, loads of new confidence, a love of reading, a few inches to her height, and a view into her future fashion sense that promises many years of fancy outfits with matching earrings. 

Kindergarten, you were gentle with my girl on her first day, she didn't even cry. You gave her lots of preschool friends in her class, and a teacher she already loved. 

You brought poems, books, field trips, concerts, Bobcat rallies, Ben's bell and Bobcat Citizen awards, and a Mother's Day flower I've already killed. RIP flower, I had good intentions. 

And when you were over, you brought tears and lots of the feelings I was avoiding. You brought some awards, some smiles, and a goodbye with a teacher that I was hoping to postpone forever. 

You brought my Ava a love of learning, an amazing teacher she will never forget, and the confidence to take on first grade. So thanks kindergarten, I'll hit you up when Witten turns 5. I can't promise he will be as well-behaved. 

As for you second grade, you were less emotional. Alana is a veteran of this whole "school thing". She is a social butterfly, loves everyone, and is forgiving to a fault. So if I had one beef with you second grade, its that your kids can be a little rough around the edges. Less caring for one another, and more prone to pointing out each other's faults. My girl doesn't know how to be mean or callous, so I wish you could've taken it easier on her. 

Second grade, why do your students have to be so growy? Why do they grow many inches, and get braces, and start to look oh so awkward? I like cute kids, this awkward business isn't cute. Do something about that please. 

Second grade, you brought strengthened friendships and the ability to see Alana's true kindness. You, or your students to be more specific, weren't always kind. But did my girl let that make her mean? Of course not. She showed everyone that even when treated unfairly, she would not turn around and do the same. So when your kids were mean, she was still nice to them. When they told her things that hurt her feelings, and in the same turn, hurt mine, she never gave up on them. She showed those exact same people kindness again and again, no matter what. Even when I almost wished she wouldn't. 

 Second grade, you brought learning, laughter, lots of math that Alana was weirdly excited about, and friendships that I hope continue for a really long time. You brought Alana's first experiences with mean kids, and I'd like to think she came out okay. She's still friendly and incapable of doubting the kindness in others, and I hope she stays like that, so let third grade know to take it easy on her. I'll catch you on the flip side, in a year or so, and please try your best to be good to Ava, or else she might have to punch you in the face.