abc family

We've got a whole hand now

I still use the Internet lots (Twitter, Instagram, some Facebook) but this space has been sitting quiet for a long time and when I think about it, I just… don’t know what to think. Telling my stories in this medium was my original step into the online world and it is also the one that ultimately feels the most natural to me. But on the other hand I haven’t actually been doing it for so long, so is it really that natural? Do I even need it or want it any more?

Ugh, sorry, I know this type of hideously self-indulgent navel-gazing helps no one. It’s just hard to get started without it, after almost a year of silence.

Anyway, I’m back because this blog contains stories of all my children, or did until now, and I can’t let it go without the story of the newest one.

We learned that he was on the way last November (very early on the morning of the 8th, to be exact - I wouldn’t suggest waking up and taking your temperature and then telling your husband you might be pregnant at 5:00 in the morning unless you want him to actually go to the store and get you a pregnancy test right then because ain’t no one sleeping with that hanging over your heads) (now that I think of it, I guess I told him because I did want him to go get the test… but I felt dumb for not just rolling over and going back to sleep instead of reaching for the stupid thermometer. The whole thing would’ve been just as meaningful after the sun rose.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes so this pregnancy falls in the special category that, in my experience, many Catholic NFP users know well: not unplanned, but not achieved on purpose, more like: we had reached a point where we weren’t motivated enough to avoid pregnancy with any particular… assiduousness. Ergo: two bright lines on that 6:00 am test.

Of course the delightful thing about a baby is that he (spoiler alert!) is a person, an end in himself, and therefore becomes totally worth the trouble by the fact of his very existence. Even if it doesn’t feel like that immediately (pregnancy nausea can die in a fire, as can “irritable uterus;” this was unfortunately not an easy pregnancy) it is objectively true and feels immediately true and truer once I’m face to face with him.

People who’ve been reading my blog since the beginning or near the beginning *waves at all three of you* have commented to me that it’s notable that I started this blog because of our failed attempts to conceive and now here I am with so many children that I almost need two hands to count them. Believe me, I’ve noticed too. I think every summer about myself in the summer of 2005, the darkest year of my life so far, and how amazed she would be to see me now. The dawn that came after that year has been so much brighter than I imagined or hoped it could be.

And now we have added to our brood of rapidly-growing (seriously; the lengths of their legs and the sizes of their feet are starting to terrify me) big kids, a brand new tiny one:

Felix Thomas, born 12:59pm on Friday, June 24, 2016. 6 pounds, 12 ounces, 20 inches long. Blessedly healthy, close enough to term as to make no difference, came home with us. We could not be happier to have him.

Years

My parents-in-law lent us their northern Michigan vacation home, so we took the children and spent a few days relaxing together for the last breath of summer before school starts Wednesday. And while we were up there (yesterday, to be exact) I turned thirty-three.

It was just the sort of perfect day you can get when you have a spouse who's remarkable at noticing and picking up slack. I let out ALL my slack on my birthday, and he picks it up expertly. So that's nice. Being thirty-three has been pretty excellent so far, thanks to him.

Birthdays always make me think of my sixteenth birthday, now more than half my life ago, because Bryan was there then too. (And on my seventeenth and eighteenth, on which he gave me the exact same number and type of flowers without even realizing it, and on my nineteenth, on which he gave me a dress and took me up the tallest tower in town - not that many hundreds of steps, because it's a small town so the tower is small too, but I was in the middle of an awful bout of anemia and almost collapsed, and he's going to be mad at me for bringing this up but it's so FUNNY now - and on my twentieth, by which time we were married.)

But on my sixteenth birthday, we barely knew each other, and he taught me to play poker.

During the first half of 1998, Bryan was an exchange student in New Zealand and I became pretty good friends with a guy named Chris. And I spent basically the whole summer at his house (on the beach) and when Bryan, who'd been Chris's best friend for years, came home from down under, he was suddenly present at all of these casual beach parties we'd been having, including the one on my birthday.

There were reasons I was feeling adrift that night, and reasons I ended up at the poker table even though I a) was the only girl and b) had no idea how to play, but those have faded over the years. What hasn't faded is my memory of what it felt like to sit there in my bathing suit with a t-shirt over it, with cool lake breeze coming through the windows, holding cards and trying to play a game I didn't know, but warm and sure in spite of everything because of the surprise of the boy sitting next to me: his smile and his kindness and his patience and his wit, as if the two of us were sitting at the table alone. 

There were (dumb) reasons why he didn't call me the next day, but by six weeks later we were on our first date and you know the rest of the story. (And Chris was the best man in our wedding.)

It's funny how that night takes on so much significance in retrospect. Sixteen-year-old me thinking "Hey, this guy is kind of nice" was definitely not looking for "...and marriage and four children and many happy years together" but as I think about it from seventeen years later, the night glows with the potential of all the things that followed it. And I love thinking about that every year on my birthday.

There was a while when it felt like a disadvantage that Bryan and I met so young, because it was complicated and diificult in ways that it wouldn't have been five years later. But now, even just a decade and a half out - and I have to think it will feel even more this way as time passes - those extra years together feel like a gift. Who knew sixteen would bring me such a good one?

 

???

Having two four-year-olds has its benefits and its trials. One of the things that qualifies for both those categories is the number of questions they ask: many, endlessly. It can get tedious but on the other hand, it does make life entertaining.

The other day Linus came in from playing outside to ask me in a single breath, "Mama, can you get me a graham cracker? And are sharks dead or are they alive? And does water come from the ocean through drains?"

(I got him the graham cracker. I chose not even to touch the topic of possible zombie sharks.)

And the funny thing is that Linus isn't even our most prolific questioner. That title goes to his twin brother, whom I have never seen satisfied by an answer. No matter how complete it may be, he ALWAYS has a followup question.

So tonight I was singing the children one more song before leaving the room so they could go to sleep, and Camilla asked where boogers come from. I know this one! So I gave her a elementary-school-anatomy-level answer, and that was fun. I like that kind of pseudo-medical stuff.

Unfortunately, I had failed to anticipate that agreeing to answer Camilla's question would signal to Ambrose that it was Question Time. He started off with "why do our eyes have that blue part?" and I shouted that I didn't know, came back with the fan they'd requested to hear him muttering to himself, came back again with water cups, and left the room the final time to his last-ditch effort:

"BUT MAMA! Why do we have NOSES?"

I'll see him in the morning, when I imagine his brain will greet the day with, "I'd like some juice. What is juice made of? Oh, oranges. How do they get the juice out of the oranges? How do they put it into the jugs? Why does it taste sweet and sour?"

The trick, I suppose, is to get him to internalize this dialogue and start finding his own answers. But then I'm sure that, perversely, I'll miss it when it's gone.

On Reading

I'm in the middle of Stephen King's On Writing, and just finished his account of the paperback rights to his first big novel (Carrie) selling for four hundred thousand dollars when he and his wife and two babies were living in poverty. I needed to put Camilla and Blaise to bed but I stood by the kitchen counter instead, reading, throat choked and eyes teary. Oh how I love a well-told story, no matter how short.

Last year I read one hundred forty books, which was at least three times as many as I read the year before or any year since my twins were born, although I used to go through three or four novels a week when I was pregnant with Camilla and not working or in school. It felt good to read at that rate. I had to make time-priority compromises, absolutely, but it was worth it to do something for myself, for my mental health and happiness, and to have it finally be possible.

One of the cool things about reading many books quickly was the chance to get reacquainted with my reading self. I'd lost track of what she can do and what she likes, what bores or irritates her, what grabs her. 

In college, to give myself a break from organic chemistry equations or Latin translation, I used to devour P.G. Wodehouse stories, loved giving my brain a chance to untangle from the heaviness of academics with something perfectly light. Later on, when I was studying theology, I discovered so-called "chick lit" and found its fluffiness an excellent foil to the richness of St. Thomas and St. Augustine. 

Ten years after graduation I'm intrigued to realize my tastes have changed. I have a new taste for stories I used to think I couldn't handle. I want a villain, a struggle between good and evil, or at the very least a conflict greater than "will he ask me out?" (Or, for that matter, "Will Jeeves come up with a genius plan to solve this hilarious dilemma?")

I still like lighter fiction (Bridget Jones will always be my homegirl) but I have to mix it up with other books, lots of them. And the way I read those feels different - I'm not protecting myself from the drama, but studying, immersing myself in it. It's not like I'm reading great literature, most of the time - a lot of what I read is not literature, just stories. But not as light. It's new. I kind of like it.

I tend to recommend authors rather than specific books, because when I discover a new book I like, I go and read everything else by the author. So, if you like book recommendations as much as I do, here are some authors I've enjoyed over the past couple years, including my favorites of their work, if applicable. It's probably kind of appalling that I have only recently discovered some of these people, but try to ignore that.

(I'm not doing links because I'm lazy, but these should be easy to Google.)

(Oh, also: I'm not sensitive about profanity etc in my fiction, so if you are, uh, just be aware of that.)

• Kate Racculia: mystery-ish, off-beat, dark but redemptive. I liked Bellweather Rhapsody better than This Must Be the Place, but it's definitely dark. One of my friends read it on my recommendation and said it was too scary for her. Oops!
• Joshilyn Jackson: strong female characters, sticky/bizarre life situations, southern-ness. Someone Else's Love Story was the standout for me, Backseat Saints my least favorite (but that might have been because it was too scary for me).
• John Green: YA... you have to have heard of him, yes? The Fault in Our Stars is beautifully written but I liked Paper Towns better. Looking for Alaska my least favorite by far.
• Rainbow Rowell: love stories about ordinary people, stunning writing. I devoured Eleanor & Park (which might be triggery for some people) in a day, but loved her other books too. 
• Anne Tyler: again, you've probably heard of her, but somehow I hadn't read anything by her before last year. The beauty of her quiet prose soothes and inspires me. I never thought I could write fiction, but reading Tyler makes me wonder if I could.
• Liane Moriarty: probably qualifies as "chick-lit" but with mystery, humor, pathos, character development. I'd read some of her stuff ages ago, but it was so unmemorable that when What Alice Forgot captivated me, I didn't realize until later that I'd already discovered this author. And then I liked Big Little Lies even better.

I'm amused at myself for putting bestselling authors on this list, but if they're new to me, that counts, right?

Next up: a post about this brilliant author that I'm just a huge fan of. Maybe you've heard of her? Jane Austen?

And the minutes are even shorter, except the screaming ones

Timehop has been showing me pictures and posts from past years, and sometimes I get a pang of panicky regret that I'm not recording these days the way I recorded many of the ones when Blaise and especially Camilla were little. Maybe I'll remember just the same, maybe not, but either way, I want those words.

I've been thinking lately that we're moving into a stage as a family that feels substantively different from the baby phase: it's no longer that the days are long but the years are short, it's that the years are short and the days are even shorter. Mathematically correct always, of course, but the fact that it now feels that way is a shift. I remember so much clock-watching back when I had multiple-nap takers, so many feedings in a day, diapers diapers diapers. And now, when we go on outings, I feel more like a crossing guard (or a sheepdog) than a pack mule: I still have to herd the children across the street, but they make the journey on their own legs.

With Camilla and Blaise both in school this year, Ambrose and Linus and I spend our days together and I'm continually surprised when my phone beeps to remind me to do school pickup, because where has the day gone? Having twins has finally paid off, thusly: I am pretty sure a single three-year-old would have required much more amusement from me these months than my pair has. I mean, I've always said that it seems like having twins is excellent for the twins themselves, but now that the days of hourly nursing session and a zillion wake-ups per night have faded, it turns out it's excellent for me too. 

(We will not talk about potty training. We will not talk about potty training. We will not talk about potty training because I have promised myself, for the sake of my sanity, never to think about it unless I'm actively dealing with it, which has worked well for sanity-preservation if not for the completion of the main task itself, and talking about it would de facto constitute thinking about it while not dealing with it, so we will not talk about it.)

(Faaaaaaaaah.)

Linus and Ambrose, although they'll be four in less than a month, are still very much aged three in terms of emotional volatility, as measured by number of meltdowns on the floor per day. But if they are as loud as ever they are at least learning to use words to express frustration that was previously entirely unfocused, so... progress.

It's still common for me to disappear into the bedroom when Bryan comes home from work, twitching because I. just. need. ten. minutes. with. no. one. screaming. at. me. I wouldn't call caring for three-year-old twins (plus a six-year-old and an eight-year-old when they're not in school) easy. But it is, lately, more fun than work. I'll take it.

Merry Christmas!

I wish I could send a paper Christmas card to everyone I know, but sadly, resources are finite. In lieu of that, I'm celebrating the second day of this joyous season by posting our Christmas greetings here. This is the picture (courtesy of a dear life-long friend) that I put on our card this year, and the text of the letter I sent.

All of the grace and blessings of the Nativity to all of you!

Photo credit: Rebekah Mosci at Olivia's Photography

(Linus is on the right)

 

Dear family and friends,

I can't believe it's December already! 2014 has been a wonderful year for our little family.

We rang in the new year with our families in our hometown, fun as always, then it was back to work and school as usual. We hunkered down through a record number of weather-related school closings last winter, as precipitation and frigid temperatures made it too difficult to venture out. Yikes! It was a stir-crazy time.

We broke up the monotony of January with a trip to northern Michigan for skiing. Blaise braved his first-ever ski lesson in the cold and then refused to go back out for the rest of the weekend. Camilla was a trooper, though, and enjoyed lots of time on the slopes with her grandpa, skiing with such abandon that she created a number of “thank goodness for helmets” moments for her parents. Blaise and I finished the month with a trip to DC to visit his godparents and our godson. He was so calm during the trip! I guess one-on-one time with parents is soothing for kids. Either that or he’s incredibly mollified by riding on airplanes.

During February, Bryan timed a week-long business trip perfectly: just before he left, Linus and Ambrose came down with pneumonia. Nothing a round of antibiotics couldn't fix, but the few days I spent trapped on the couch under the pair of two-year-olds made me super glad we'd done their tonsillectomy the year before and caused illness to be a rare thing. Thankfully, my mom showed up to help and we powered through.

In March, Bryan spent most of a week in Vail, Colorado, with his dad. An avid skier, he looks forward to this visit to the Rockies all year. He came home happy and rejuvenated, which he deserves very much considering how hard he works the rest of the time.

When April came, the world finally started to thaw and I think the general mood in our house lifted several notches with the degrees on the thermometer. Forty degrees felt balmy, and I was relieved to be able to let the kids play outside. That month was a big one for Camilla: at the beginning, she made her first reconciliation, and on Easter she received her first communion. It was a joyous occasion for our girl. It feels like just moments since she was a four-week-old getting baptized, so this was surreal, but lovely. Camilla was beaming on the day, and is thrilled to be able to receive communion at her school's daily Mass now.

At the beginning of May we had another joyous occasion: my sister Tirienne got married. I was a bridesmaid, Camilla a flower girl, and Ambrose and Linus ringbearers, although only one of them made it down the aisle. So much for a matched pair! Linus made up for bailing on his ringbearer duties by trying to escape and reach the bride (he adores Aunt Tirienne) during the wedding. Fortunately we headed him off.

I rounded out May with a weekend trip to meet up with friends in Atlanta. After struggling through our twins' infanthood, I feel lucky to be able to make these little escapes; I come back a happier and calmer version of myself and everyone's life is better.

June brought the end of the school year - an exciting time for children - followed quickly by Camilla's first ballet recital. She’s been enjoying her ballet lessons hugely, and we loved seeing her on stage for the first time. Hopefully it was just the first of many!

At the beginning of July, we ventured up north for a week in Harbor Springs with friends. Our kids are a great age for outings, and they loved the Independence Day fireworks.

During the summer, we survived a couple longish business trips for Bryan, and I flew away to a Catholic women's social conference for a rejuvenating weekend at the end of July.

As a whole, the summer was lovely: not too hot and not too full, the perfect balance of planned activities, trips to the park, and my sending the kids outside with popsicles and an order not to bother me unless someone was bleeding. Having exhausted grubby children at the end of a summer day signals victory to me, and I hope someday they remember these leisurely times with fondness.

At the end of August, Camilla was ready for third grade and Blaise excited for kindergarten. They transitioned happily into the school year. Camilla complains that homework cuts into her free time, but is in love with her brand-new teacher. And Blaise enjoys school more than any kid I've ever seen, asking every weekend how many days until he gets to go back. Ambrose and Linus, stuck with their mother all day, are less thrilled, and are usually asking by 9am when we get to go pick up their older siblings. But luckily they have each other for company, and they've settled into the new routine.

In September I got to spend a long weekend in Chicago with dear friends, and Bryan got another week-long business trip, aka "workation," along with a trip with Camilla to visit my sister in Minnesota. My brother in Alaska welcomed a new daughter that month, whom we look forward to meeting when she’s older.  

In October, we took multiple trips to the apple orchard (mmmm, donuts) and made and devoured many batches of apple crisp and applesauce. Halloween/All Saints’ Day brought excitement and treats, along with the resultant much-anticipated sugar highs.

My Minnesota sister livened up early November by delivering her first baby, and later in the month I went to visit her and her tiny boy. Just after I returned, we celebrated Thanksgiving in Port Huron with our families, and enjoyed time with relatives we hadn’t seen in a while.

December, as usual, promises to be a hectic and celebration-filled month, and we are excited for Christmas at home with kids who are the perfect age to get the most out of the magical holiday.

Camilla turned eight in October. She is a bookworm like her mother (this year’s favorites: the Babymouse series and everything by Beverly Cleary) but also loves to do crafts and write stories. As a girl with three younger brothers would, she has an impressive ability to concentrate amid chaos. She is sensitive and kind, likes puns and dark chocolate, and looks forward to playdates with friends and her weekly ballet class.

Blaise will be six in January. When he’s not at school, he spends his time directing his younger brothers’ games, and they’re happy to follow his lead. He’s fascinated by mechanics and numbers, and often asks us to give him a “word problem:” math to solve on the go. He’s very physical, with a quick temper, but mostly agreeable and generous, and happiest when he’s playing outside.

Linus and Ambrose turned three in May. Three-year-olds are such a mixture of adorable and volatile, and our twins are no exception. It’s a good thing we’ve survived two previous three-year-olds so we know this stage ends! But in the meantime, we’re alternately sighing with frustration and laughing ‘til we ache.

Linus is our organizer and idea guy. He is serious and determined (some people might say “stubborn”). His straight face makes it even funnier when he breaks out one of the jokes he cracks regularly. (You’re probably shocked to learn that many of them involve potty humor.) Linus works hard, but only on things he wants to do, and enjoys eating, roaring like a dinosaur, and running everywhere, including indoors.

Ambrose is our mellow, more cuddly twin, but that doesn’t mean he can’t commit to a tantrum, because he certainly can and does. He amuses us with his malapropisms and spoonerisms (he recently asked me to read him a “Tog and Froad” book) but has broken ground as the first of our four kids to be willing to tell his name to adults who ask. He also enjoys eating, making long lines of toy cars and trains, and asking constantly to take trips to the library. (Linus, wherever we take him, always asks immediately to go home.)

I hope that your home has been filled with joy this year, and I pray that 2015 brings whatever you are wishing for. From all of us: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

It's Good Here

As I age, I become more aware of my privilege. This is a mixed bag. On the one hand, I think it helps me be more self-aware and happier (because my life is indeed hugely blessed). On the other hand, I have guilt.

Getting ready for the Edel Gathering this past weekend, I was excited. I love to travel, I can always use some extra time to myself, I was rooming with some dear friends, and meeting new people invigorates me. But I also felt a little guilty because I could go - by which I mean I have the financial and childcare means for things like this - and because I didn't think I needed it as much as some other people might. I started blogging in 2004, had my first in-person meeting with an online friend in 2005, met my best friend through the Internet in 2008, went to my first bloggy gathering in 2010, and have since then ramped it up to the point where my husband is starting to be a little bit like, "How many girls' weekends does one really need in a year, hmm?"

(Although he was very supportive of my going to Edel. I guess he must have sensed what I really needed.)

I don't feel isolated in my daily life. I - like many of us, I think - have an ongoing quest to find more simpatico local friends, but my online community has been a source of love and support for me for years, including helping me get through four hospitalizations of children since 2009. I have people whom I can and do call and/or text daily. I'm lucky; I have a huge amount of privilege in this area. So going into this past weekend, I was thinking that maybe I was being greedy, that I should have left the opportunities for the people who need them more than I do.

And yet. And yet. When Hallie stood up and passed on the words God had given her for us: "It is good that you are here," my heart squeezed. I blinked hard and was glad I'd worn waterproof mascara.

This is what I heard: it is good that you are here.

I am not underwater the way I was a few years ago, but I am still susceptible to the same lies that have always been easiest for me to believe. Everyone around you is managing; what's wrong with you? Look at how poorly you are coping. This is a life full of failure.

I have learned to argue with those voices, and there are people in my life who are always ready to help me shout them down, but they are not silent. Never quite completely silent. I guess that's the way the battle of life on earth goes.

It was good that I was there this weekend, and the biggest reason was not what I expected. Yes, I loved seeing/meeting old friends and making new ones. I enjoyed being able to eat meals in peace, and go to the bathroom unaccompanied, and spend a leiurely hour on hair and makeup. I laughed and danced and sang karaoke and drank one too many margaritas that the bartender had promised were weak. (Perhaps he and I have different definitions of that word?)

But most importantly, I got spiritual nurturing that I didn't even know I needed. That is why it was good that I was there: I'd been bopping along, managing pretty well, feeling grateful that I sleep through the night now and no one has thrown up on me in months and isn't life EASY? And GRAND? And making myself oblivious to the fact that underneath, I still waver.

I need to be told that what I do matters, that I am not alone, that God loves me, that I am called to grow in love and become the best version of my unique self. I know this intellectually - I've certainly spent enough time writing it down over the years - but that doesn't negate my need to hear it, to affirm it, to recommit myself to it. 

And since I came home, the goodness of the weekend has been rippling through my life, morphing itself to fit into every corner.

It is good that you are here: I am the right wife for this husband, the right mother for these children, the right person to catechize fifth graders (a daunting job I've recently signed on for) and to support a person I love through a crisis and to live in this little house with this rowdy family. I belong here, this is my life, I'm right for it.

It is good that you are here: there are a hundred little joys in this life, and I am blessed to be the one who holds these little people and comforts them through their trials and witnesses their joys, blessed in my marriage and my friends and my family and in so many ways. This is a good life.

It is good that you are here: as tedious and tiny as it feels sometimes, this life is my vocation, exactly as it is. And things that make me feel sometimes like an outsider: not being a homeschooler, not having a baby or being pregnant; or (in alternate circumstances) having four (so many!) children and being one of those crazy religious people... well, those are the things that make me me and my life mine. I get to love those things, love being here, without apology or self-doubt.

Today I don't get to dress up or dance or drink margaritas (well, maybe that last one after the kids are in bed) but I get to love. I get to be exactly where I should be (It is good that you are here) doing exactly what I am supposed to do, and that is how I become each day a little happier and (hopefully) a little holier.

I recognize my privilege: it was a privilege that I could even consider attending the Edel Gathering, and certainly a privilege that I got to enjoy it as much as I did. But in the end, it turns out it's a privilege that I deserve, because everyone does. I pray everyone gets her Edel - whatever that looks like in her life - because we all deserve to know: it's good that we're here. It's good. We're good.

(And if you don't know that yet, or believe it, you're on my heart and prayers in a special way today.)

Thank you, Hallie and Jen and Edel. Thank you for giving me exactly what I needed.

Little Kid Summer

 Camilla finished second grade Wednesday.

It kinda freaked me out when I realized it means she's halfway through elementary school, but when I mentioned that at the dinner table she didn't know what I was talking about.

"What's elementary school, Mom?"

She goes to a K-8 school, so of course she doesn't have an idea of the distinction between elementary and middle schools, but I am sure that when she starts sixth grade it will feel huge to me. And she's halfway there from the start of kindergarten.

Our kids are seven, five, and three (and three) and I'm aware these days of a constant wish to freeze time. Bedtime stalling and tantrums over dropped popsicles notwithstanding, life with little kids is hilarious and busy in a way that makes my heart squeeze with the goodness of the moments.

Seven and a half years into this parenting gig, I shouldn't be but still am continually surprised by the paradox of living with and caring for people who are so much a part of me that I can't see how I'd manage to breathe if I no longer had them, but who are also so very much themselves not me. I'm responsible for them, but I don't - can't - determine them, and my pride in them ends up being not recognition of my own achievements but an astonished acknowledgement of who they are. That they, themselves, are IT. I am just a lucky recipient.

Camilla's second grade teacher wrote a certificate to recognize each child for a virtue exhibited during the year, and hers was meekness, defined as "serenity of spirit while considering the needs of others." Along with loving that definition of meekness (I feel like the standard accepted definition is much weaker), I also laughed because... well, she definitely didn't learn that virtue by MY example. Serenity of spirit! Ha!

But there's the beauty of it: that Camilla is mine, heart of my heart, and yet distinctly other than I am, so that even at seven she has virtues that I at thirty-one have not yet learned. And simultaneously she is exactly me: she curls in the big chair and reads a Ramona book in a day, and I get an instant sense memory of spending so much of my childhood just that way.

I am grateful for what Camilla's childhood has been thus far, especially because I recognize how little of the goodness I can take credit for. We have a school we adore and she is secure and happy there. It's been a beautiful year for her, full of friendships and fun and the reading and writing she loves. (She actually hopped with excitement when she told me they were going to begin writing stories in class. That's my girl!) Second grade has also meant first confession and communion, and the joy of seeing our girl hit those milestones... honestly indescribable. Even as I love having little kids I'm getting glimpses of the good parts of having big kids and it makes it hard to be upset about the passage of time.

Blaise will be in kindergarten this fall, and now that Camilla's half done with elementary school (even if that means nothing to her) I feel more keenly aware of the sensation that I'm sending a ball rolling down a hill, that I'll be struggling hereafter to catch him for a moment before he's off again, tumbling toward graduation at a pace far faster than seems appropriate for someone who was a nursling two blinks of the eye ago.

But he came out of kindergarten testing (fairly intensive, as our private school can choose not to accept children it thinks aren't ready) with a grin and request for "more kindergarten testing, Mom!" and every time we're at the school he talks about how excited he is to go there. He turned five in January and he's ready for this step, and so I will have to be ready too.

For now, though, between June 4th and the first day of school on August 26th, I have a moment.

I can pretend that this is our life forever: tricycles and scooters and sidewalk chalk, the swingset, windows open and all the sounds of imagination drifting through, dinner outside, trips to the park in the evening, holding them on my lap during prayers and smelling the summer on them, reading the Narnia chronicles at bedtime (an extra chapter okay because they can sleep in tomorrow). Lazy pace, sticky dirty happy children, a chance to pause and breathe and enjoy the fact that they're kids, just for now, just mine. 

Whew.

Outrageously overnarrated day in the life

I tried to do one of these posts a couple years ago, but abandoned it when I had written down 15 unique tasks in the first 40 minutes and realized it would either need to be too general (and thus boring) or tediously specific (and thus exhausting to read). Life with a four-year-old, a two-year-old, and two babies was just too much life for this format.

But now I can manage it, so here you go! This is from Tuesday, February 25th.

(ETA: And now that I've written it... oh my word this is long. WAY too long. But I've been writing it for ages and I don't want to edit. I won't blame you at all if you skim, or skip reading entirely.) 

5:20am - I awake to Ambrose... what? Is he sitting on me, or just next to me? He's grumpy, that's for sure. But he's yelling for Bryan, and it's Bryan who is heroically handling nighttime wakeups to protect my sleep so I don't get as many headaches. They quickly disappear to the kids' bedroom and I'm back to sleep. Sweet sleep. 

7:27am- Oh, here's Linus. I squint at the clock and see that Bryan and Camilla have now left the house; on Tuesdays he drops her at school and goes straight to the office. Blaise, our morning-person child, will be amusing himself (which he is luckily excellent at) but the twins come straight to me when they wake up. Linus demands to "yie on yo ahm, Mama!" I let him put his head there as it lets me continue half-sleeping for a while. But then...

7:45am- here's Ambrose, and he wants to "cuddeh you!" on my other arm, and I cannot sleep that way. I roll away from Linus for a while, and then back to him when Ambrose decides to go join Blaise. Linus also leaves after a bit, but returns, and he and Ambrose are in and out of the bed for the next hour while I bury my head under the pillow and pretend to sleep.

9:08am- I finally give up; it's silly to stay in bed pretending to sleep when I could get up and have some caffeine instead. I switch on the light, reach for my glasses, take my temperature quickly while turning my phone off airplane mode, and head for the bathroom.

9:12am- I'm sitting in a daze on the toilet (Blaise didn't get his morning-person genes from me) when I hear yelling. "Linus is bleeding, Mama!" Dang it, I hate an adrenaline rush before I've even had a chance to brush my teeth. Oh, but phew, the trauma is minor: it's a tiny cheek scrape. He's fine.

9:14am- Back to the bathroom. Teeth brushing, contact inserting, etc are slowed considerably by the fact that I'm concurrently checking email and iMessage on my phone. This kind of "multitasking" would surely draw criticism from any efficiency expert who observed me, but those killjoys are not invited. My line to the outside world keeps me sane.

9:33am- I head to the kitchen to get my breakfast. Notice on the way that, as expected, the Cheerios Bryan left out for them are now strewn all over the living room floor. (They can't be trusted in the kitchen so he has to leave sippy cups of juice and baggies of cereal in the living room for them. This has predictably messy results, but the extra sleep is worth it.)

In the kitchen, I fill the electric kettle with water for my tea and stick two slices of bread in the toaster oven. Take some big glugs from my water cup and down my allergy pill, which I have to take now so I can take my headache meds later, as the two drugs don't behave well together. (Not a big deal. Weird tingly hand thing. I don't know.)

9:39am- My small informants tell me that Ambrose was the culprit in the Cheerios-dumping incident, so I hand him the dustbuster and order him to make reparations. Cue outrage. How could I forget that vacuuming up cereal is an enormous privilege when one's sibling is given the chance to do it? (Although not, of course, when one is ordered to do it oneself.) I hand over the other dustbuster and order the three boys to take turns.

I stay safely on my side of the kitchen gate and deal with random kitchen mess (there is always random kitchen mess) until my breakfast is ready.

9:48am- I sit down to my hot cup of tea and buttered toast, one of my day's small luxuries. I'm on the home stretch of a book I've been reading for a week, and I'm very excited to start my next one, so I am hoping I get a happy quiet fifteen minutes to enjoy here.

9:50am- They've spotted my toast, and cannot believe I have cruelly failed to make none for them. Shoot. Nothing for it but to give in to stick another couple pieces of bread in the toaster oven. Ambrose and Linus hang on the gate and whine, but I can't let them in until their food is ready due to the high probability that they will fill the time with mischief making. 

9:55am- The boys' toast is ready. The twins fall on it hungrily. Blaise whines at me that he didn't WANT toast. (Odd, since he very much did five minutes ago.) I remind him of the ever-present option of leaving the kitchen and refraining from whining at his mother. Amazingly, he takes it.

9:59am- WHY, when there are six chairs at the table, do they always decide that a particular one is the Chosen Chair and start pushing each other off it?

My toast is now cold.

10:00am- I inform Ambrose that he will have to leave the table if he can't stop spitting. Linus solves the problem by deciding he is done eating and removing himself. Temptation removed, Ambrose tucks in.

So do I. A quiet few minutes! At least my tea is still hot. 

10:06am- Blaise and Linus are fighting over the dustbuster again. Apparently the battery has died on the older one, and they both want to use the newer one. I take it away (my standard solution to bickering over objects), deciding to deal with the rest of the cereal mess later. Ambrose complains about his diaper, which reminds me that I really should get the boys dressed.

10:07am- They follow me to the basement and start playing in the playroom, which is just across the hall from the laundry room, so I decide to take advantage of the lull to do some laundry. I put a load in the washer and sort the clean load that's in the dryer, then look for clothes for the boys to wear today.

10:18am- Pause to help Ambrose put on a random shoe, too small for Blaise but far too large for him, that he's found somewhere. It doesn't have a mate, but he doesn't care, and wants to wear it over his blanket sleeper.

10:21am- Head back upstairs, armed with outfits, but don't yell for the boys yet because nature is calling...

10:25am- ...and as usual when I forget to lock the door, someone barges right in. Linus this time. Luckily I'm done, and I grab him and head to the living room to change him and get him dressed.

10:32am- He's done. Blaise and Ambrose are upstairs now, but they're all playing happily, and I'm now in a fascinating conversation with friends on iMessage about a whole mess of topics (including this study about acetaminophen and ADHD that Susie wrote a fantastic post about, and I'm proud that my voice is in one small part of that piece).

(Here's what they did while I chatted:)

10:51am- I head to the kitchen to start making lunch for the boys. Grilled cheese! Slice bread, grate cheese, stick sandwiches in Griddler. Unload the dishwasher while they cook. I take the first of my two headache-prevention pills right now, turning the bottle upside down so I'll know I've already taken one when I go to take another one later.

11:14am- Lunch is ready, and I round up the troops to eat, thinking as I do so about how nice it is that they play together now. It wasn't so many months ago that the the little ones were all over me all day long, but the trio of boys is pretty independent now, and I am so much freer - and saner - because of it.

Being a bit choking-paranoid, I sit down with them while they eat. But I'm not so paranoid that I'll pass up the chance to read a little while I sit.

11:34am- They've eaten some sandwich and Ambrose and Linus have escaped from the kitchen, but I realize that Ambrose is rather... aromatic. I chase him down and change his diaper, then get him dressed. 

11:44am- On my way back from dealing with the diaper, I glance into the kitchen to find Blaise standing at the kitchen table wearing his gleeful-puppetmaster face and holding a box of Lucky Charms. Where did he even get those? His brothers wait nearby for spoils. Hmm. Maybe they're still hungry.

11:48am- Okay, second lunch. Fruit. Bagels. I sit back down with my book for Choking Watch (very important, Choking Watch) and mentally thank heaven for Costco.

11:52am- Linus is screaming "my bagel!" What? Is his bagel in danger? Oh, yes, that's right, Blaise loves to tease his brothers. He's not actually touching Linus's food, therefore staying within the letter of the law, but I know by his devious grin that he's well aware he's outside the spirit of it. I order him back to his chair, threatening banishment.

12:02am- Yogurt. I mean really. It's actually pretty hilarious how much they can eat.

12:18pm- While tidying the mess from the lunches, I notice that Blaise is still wearing his pajamas, so I send him to the living room to get dressed. Amazingly, he does it quickly and efficiently, without waving his bare bottom in anyone's face. (When I say amazingly, I mean: this is honestly rare.)

12:22pm- We have a full afternoon and are on a time crunch, so I have to get the twins down for their nap asap. I herd them to the bedroom (I would just carry them, but that evokes cries of "I WALK!" and induces them to run back to the living room in order to get a chance to do it, so...) and shut the gate and the door behind us. (Yes, we really need a gate AND a door in their room. Trust me.)

I remind Blaise that it's his job to clean up the living room while I put the twins down. He's usually pretty good about this, except when he's tired. We'll see.

In the bedroom, I lie down to play iPad games with one twin on either side of me. If they are ready to nap, this works brilliantly. If not, they bounce up to play, yell, throw things, climb on me, try to climb the walls, etc. (This is why there is no furniture in this room, only mattresses on the floor.) 

Today is a bouncing climbing day.

1:06pm- I desperately need a bathroom break, so I leave the door open and the gate shut and pop out to do this. Check on Blaise's progress.

So... that's going well, then.

1:23pm- I take a picture of Linus (left), Ambrose (right), and me, the last one I do before I forget to keep documenting my Life, Day in the. Don't they look happy? Why are they so happy? They should be sleeping!

1:34pm- I abandon ship, because it's far too late for the twins to take a nap before we have to leave anyway, but I still need them out of my hair for a bit, so I leave the iPad in the bedroom with them and shut the gate. (This is where having twins comes in handy, because they will play happily together for quite a while.)

I head to the kitchen to grab some food.

1:44pm- Blaise wakes up as I walk back through the living room and follows me to my bedroom. It's the coziest, warmest room in the house, and I'll camp out with my book on the floor as I eat my snack. (Not on the bed, because I hate crumbs in the bed.) He cuddles up next to me and I enjoy his warm quiet presence. I read the last 50 pages of my book (which was, frankly, not that great, although I suppose it was horizon-broadening) and start my next one which, based on the number of times I laugh aloud in the first 20 pages, promises to be much more enjoyable. 

2:08pm- Ambrose and Linus are yelling that the iPad battery has died, and it's been more than twenty minutes, so I go to let them out. Blaise is fully awake now, and the three of them run off to find some mischief as I put my hair up on hot rollers. I add a little makeup then dig in my dresser for a presentable outfit, because we've got to head out presently.

2:28pm- I stick my feet in some shoes and run to the garage to get the car warming- even though my kids have compressible coats they can wear safely in their car seats, they will still yell at me about the cold unless I preheat the car. This infernal endless winter, I tell you. And it's warm today! 22 degrees or something!

2:31pm- Rollers out! Hairspray sprayed! Basic jewelry on! I find coats and shoes for the boys and discover they've hit me with my favorite pre-leaving-the-house challenge: the double poopy diapers! But I'm on fire, so I handle it and we're still out the door on time.

2:48pm- Someone always yells about his car seat buckles. But it's a different kid every time. Do they coordinate this on a secret schedule?

2:52pm- I hook up my headset and call Lauren on the drive. We'll only get a short chat today, but no day is complete without checking in with her.

3:06pm- Pickup at Camilla's school is from 3:00-3:15, and I like arriving right in the middle - neither too late nor too early. (They don't call her name to come outside until I get here.) She skips out, bright in her pink coat like every day, and I let her in the car and then drive to the other side of the parking lot to meet our friends.

3:14pm- On Tuesdays Blaise and Camilla have Atrium, the Montessori-style Catechesis of the Good Shepherd at our parish, which is just down the road from Camilla's school. Her (school but not Atrium) classmate's younger brother who is Blaise's best friend is in Blaise's Atrium class, and to simplify things for his mother we give him a lift to Atrium on Tuesdays. She pulls into the parking lot, he hops in, I check seatbelts and we're off.

3:25pm- Ambrose and Linus, predictably, are soundly asleep in their car seats. I ask the big kids if I can just drop them at Atrium - it's a tiny building full of familiar faces and they know right where to go - and they're amenable, as usual, so I drop them and I'm off.

I need to go to the grocery store, and I debate heading straight there, but I suspect my twins might sleep for a while. Better to head home, which is almost on the way, and where I can have conveniences.

3:41pm- In my garage, with my book. I guess I'll just... stay here and read. Hey, it's nice and quiet. I run inside for a quick bathroom break and to refill my water cup, but otherwise I'm just sitting here in the car. This book is very good. My life is leisurely. Although my butt is kind of sore.

4:32pm- Calculations tell me the snoozers should be waking soon, so I put the car in gear and drive the 5 minutes to the grocery store. Sure enough, Ambrose is awake by the time we get there. I unbuckle him and jiggle Linus to awaken him. I hold their hands tightly and we head in. I probably can't hear them fussing about the cold wind. (I feel you, buddies.) 

4:42pm- Hello Meijer! We're ready to shop! My list is fortunately not long, and the catalyst for the trip is our need for a new kitchen garbage can, so we head that way first. Linus is clingy and won't let me put him down, and Ambrose wants me to hold his hand. As you might imagine, I'm having trouble pushing the cart while sustaining this. But here, look! A display of garden ornaments. We admire ladybugs and butterflies and soon everyone is cheered and ready to shop. (Although they still won't put their hoods down. The endless winter is getting to all of us.)

We grab a trash can that looks pretty good, and then hit the grocery side of the store for some miscellaneous staples plus ingredients (if you can call them that) for tonight's dinner, my go-to when I'm at the grocery store at 5pm and don't have other dinner plans: a rotisserie chicken, romaine lettuce, croutons, and a hunk of Parmesan. Chicken Caesar salads it is!

5:24pm- We're in line, and we check out. I like to make conversation if the people around me are pleasant, which luckily they are today. The cashier asks me if my twins are always this quiet. I look down at them, confused. Um...?

It's funny to suddenly come up against those perception gaps and realize that your children are totally different people to you than they are to those who don't know them like their own hearts.  

5:34pm- My twins want to ride the mechanized pony, and I have a couple pennies, so I indulge them. Linus, who's in a braver phase currently, is up first. He wants me to hold him while the horse moves, but he stays on for almost the full minute. Then it's Ambrose's turn. "Mama, you hold on-oo me!" I insert the penny, my arms tightly around him, but the pony's jerking is still too much for him, so he's done. 

5:38pm- And just in time, since my phone is ringing. It's Bryan - he's picked up Milla and Blaise from Atrium and is now home, wondering where we are. I assure him we'll be home shortly.

We troop out to the car - owwwww that wind is bitter - and I deposit L & A in the van and close the doors so they stay warm while I open the back and load the groceries. Shut the hatch, run the cart to the corral, then back to chase them down (they are, predictably, crawling all over the car) and buckle them into their seats. 

5:48pm- I collapse in the driver's seat and we're on our way. Somehow I'm both freezing from exposure and sweaty from exertion. Winter is... special. 

I call Bryan on the way and tell him that if he'll come out and grab the boys, I'll bring in the necessary groceries and get started on dinner right away.

5:52pm- We pull into the garage. I collect bags from the back, Bryan collects kiddos. I go to the kitchen and start organizing. He comes in and carves up the chicken while I ready the other food. Lettuce, chicken, grated Parmesan, croutons, dressing, and a big bowl of grapes on the side. Everyone will eat some combination of these foods, thank goodness.

6:02pm- We pour cups of milk and call the kids to the table. One parent on each end, two kiddos on each side. Although I'm often kind of burned out by now, I love this part of the day, talking and laughing with my favorite people.

Bryan and I have lots to do, disbursing various food items, dropping the hammer on grape throwers (there are, at different moments, three. I won't reveal their identities) and trying to keep track of who is eating and who might need a spoonful of peanut butter before bed. (This is our family's preferred solution to the problem of dinner-haters going to bed hungry.) It's a busy half hour, but it's fun.

6:34pm- Bryan suggests I take some writing time while he handles the post-dinner craziness, so I run downstairs to collect small pajamas.  I save myself some time later by grabbing Camilla's uniform pieces now too. Switch a load of laundry while I'm down there, then back upstairs with clean pjs, which I toss on the couch.

6:45pm- I duck into our bedroom and shut the door (which has a magical twin-invasion-prevention doorknob cover) behind me. Brush my teeth (I'm sure I've forgotten to mention several teeth brushing incidences today. I'm obsessive about brushing right after I eat, not because I'm conscientious but because I hate the way my mouth tastes with food/beverage particles. I also carry xylitol gum with me everywhere I can't brush.). Spend a few minutes tidying our bedroom, because I can't sit down to write until it's tidy.

6:54pm- Blaise is yelling from the other bathroom, which is right outside our bedroom door. Quick break to wipe him, since Bryan is still dealing with the neverending dinner.

7:01pm- Grab my laptop and crash on the bed to write. None of the drafts in my folder are inspiring me, so I start a freewriting exercise which turns into this post.

Our bedroom still has twinkle lights that I left up after Christmas to give me a bright cozy spot through the dark winter. I love it in here, and I'm savoring the warm bed and my big cup of water and my fingers pounding the keys. I can hear Bryan dealing with the miscellany of the post-dinner pre-bed routine and I'm quietly grateful for his competence (as I am a zillion times a day).

7:43pm- Camilla and Blaise burst in to tell me there's a surprise for me out in the living room. The "surprise" is always the same, but I follow them out and express the appropriate amount of (not-fake) glee at the living room, which they've obviously worked hard to tidy. It looks great.

7:46pm- Family prayer time. We say the Magnificat, personal intercessions, the Our Father, and the prayer to St. Michael. There's almost no way to keep the twins from running in circles while we pray, but the older two are reasonably quiet and reverent for their age. (So, you know, 70% of the time for Milla, 50% for Blaise.)

8:06pm- My fingers are wiggling to get back to my piece and finish a paragraph that has grabbed me. Bryan agrees to give me a few more minutes. He reads to the kids on the couch while I escape back to the bedroom for the finishing touches on my post.

8:26pm- I take over with the big kids, and the twins are Bryan's for now. I set a timer for ten minutes so C & B won't dawdle while brushing their teeth and gathering their pillows and stuffed animals into our bed. I put them to bed every night in our bed while Bryan puts the twins down in the room all four kids share, and then we transfer the big kids to their own beds later. It works. 

8:37pm- We're settled in the bed, Camilla and Blaise with me between them, for one of my favorite parts of the day. They each choose a game for me to play on the iPad while they watch (I try to keep an eye on the clock and do no more than 5-10 minutes per game, depending on what it is), and then I choose one. We chat during this time, making jokes and rehashing our day. Then it's cuddle time, and I do a hug-kiss routine with each kid, and say "special prayers" (an evening blessing I made up) for them. 

9:24pm- Bryan is in the bedroom with the twins now, but I can hear that they're still full of beans. (They're at that awful phase where they either skip their nap, or take one but then stay up very late.) I know Bry has work to do, so I stick my head in and offer to take over with the maniacs. He escapes, and I'm in for the duration.

9:32pm- Except, wait, I forgot that I meant to do a sinus rinse - hoping to relieve some of the pressure in my head- before I came in. Quick SOS text to Bryan, who takes back over while I run and do that.

Salt water. Goop. Etc. Gross. 

9:41pm- Back in. This time, really for the duration.

I catch up on blogs, text with friends, fire mental expletives at Candy Crush level 500 (I've been stuck for weeks) and kill time 21st-century style while my goobers roll around, chat with each other, and refuse to go to sleep. I won't let them get up and play, but while I can make them lie down I can't make them actually sleep, so I'm stuck here. I console myself with the fact that, hey, at least Bryan is working, and I've survived his work hours in worse ways.

11:03pm- They're finally both asleep. Fiiiiiiiinally. I venture out of their room, hoping that Bryan (who is not an evening person like I am) has not dozed off over his laptop. Hooray! He's awake. I ask if he needs to go to bed right now, but he swears he's good, so we sit down to watch a Parks & Rec episode together before heading to bed.

11:34pm- Teeth, contacts, facewashing, etc. I'm still reading The Rosie Project, which is excellent, and I'm happy to beat Bryan to bed, because it means I can read in bed with the lights on for a few minutes before he comes and needs to crash.

(But the reason I beat him to bed is because he moved Milla and Blaise over while I was in the bathroom, and now h's refilling humidifiers and checking locks and turning down the heat, so I feel a tiny bit guilty.)

11:48pm- Lights out. Cuddling. Bryan crashes in about two minutes, and thanks to the half a Unisom I took before we watched TV, I'm out pretty quickly too. Ahhhhh sleep.

Photographic Evidence

It's been a long stressful week and I had to abort a migraine with my special migraine-killing drugs tonight, so no fancy words are coming out of this brain, but it occurred to me that it would be easy to share some photos. And also I haven't been blogging so long that if you haven't been catching photos on Twitter, you might have no idea what my kids look like now! Whoa!

One of the really fun things about this stage with our munchkins is that their activities offer lots of natural photo ops. Except for the one at Costco, where I did ask them to gather nicely around the shopping cart, none of these was posed.

They're not really supposed to get in our bed, but how could I scold when they're so happy? (Linus in blue)

The children are looking odd here, aren't they?

(Ha! But seriously, they worked together to make the snowman family and then demanded I photograph it. I certainly hope that creature in the back isn't supposed to be the mother.)

Family trips to Costco are a fun way to get out of the house (since the outdoors is off-limits due to frigidity). (l to r: Linus, Ambrose)

I just love this one because it's so cute and it would be perfect... and then there's the kid at the end picking his nose. Oh, Ambrose. So hilarious and ridiculous and adorable.