Parenthood

Exactly three years ago today, Billy and I became parents when two-day-old Mikea was brought to our home.  Three years later we are parenting five children and asking ourselves, how did this happen and how will we survive?  The only way to deal with it is knowing that our family was brought together by the hand of God.  Apparently He thinks we can handle it.

Right now we're in the middle of one of the rough seasons.  Every child is currently battling at least one form of sickness.  Today I had to make a special trip to the store for extra toilet paper and pull-ups, if that gives you any idea of what we're dealing with.  Joe has already missed 3 days of school, including what would have been his first-ever field trip today.

Each night either Billy or I spend 3 hours away from home as we take turns visiting Adrianna in the hospital.  It's starting to take a toll on us, but I tell myself that if she were home we'd still be exhausted because we'd be up in the middle of the night for her feedings.  It's also mentally and emotionally exhausting not knowing what the outcome will be.

Right now the house is a disaster.  Books, blocks, shoes, socks, clothes, pillows, packs of toilet paper, toy phones, toy dishes, blankets, and stuffed animals litter the floor.  The dinner dishes are still on the table, and bits of dinner are still on the floor.  (For some reason the dogs won't eat lettuce.)  The laundry room is bursting with what else but laundry, laundry, and more laundry.

Today I struggled to get all four children to take naps at the same time so I could have a few moments of peace and quiet.  It didn't happen. 

Today I pulled a 15-month-old down off of the table countless times.  I chased and snatched him off of the stairs even more times.  I also watched him pull bags of frozen vegetables from the freezer and perfect the fine art of the temper tantrum. 

Today I cleaned poop off the floor, off of clothes, off of multiple behinds.  I picked up dog poop from the back yard.  My kids watched too much TV.

Today I made the mistake of not previewing an online video before letting my kids watch it. What began as a benign clip of a soaring falcon ended with it picking apart and eating a bat.

Tonight during dinner my oldest son held up his hamburger and said matter-of-factly, "Mom, nobody likes these." I don't think he meant to insult me. I laughed to keep from crying.  Then I left the table.

Tonight while reading bedtime stories, I was interrupted at least eight times to correct misbehavior or to stop the incessant barking of dogs. (It's a lot like having two more children.)

Tonight while singing bedtime songs to the boys, Mikea came over from her room and shushed me.  Apparently I was singing too loudly.  And after singing to Mikea, when I checked on the boys again, Joe informed me, "Dan just slobbered on me."  

There are days when I long to be able to just jump in the car and go to the mall, the library, the park.  I wouldn't even mind bringing a kid or two.  But it's impossible with four.  And someday with five?  What's harder than impossible?

It's a grueling life, I tell you.

But do you know what else I did today?  Today I taught my children how to play Follow-the-Leader, which is a lot more fun when you have five players.  Today I caught a fuzzy caterpillar and watched my children examine it in excitement. Today I witnessed Daniel bring a blanket and favorite toy to Joe who was miserably sick on the couch.  Today I heard Mikea tell her daddy that he is "a nice man". Today Baby Adrianna gained two more ounces. And today I recieved countles hugs and kisses from four children who are teaching me how to love, even more than I am teaching them.

All I ever wanted in life was to be a wife and mother.  I have it all, and then some, including that "nice man" who is at Wal-Mart at 11:00 at night picking up a few missing pieces for butterfly, spider, and pirate costumes for his children.

I had no idea it would be this hard, but I also had no idea it would be this sweet. 

Thank you, God.

Random Rambling

That's probably the worst blog post title ever in the history of blogdom.  But it's the best I can do at present.  You see, I wish I would have listened to the voice of reason in my head last night that said not to drink that cup of coffee so late.  Because then I was up half the night.  And now I feel like half of my brain is missing.  And my body is begging for rest.  But there are children to feed, diapers to change, dishes to wash, and laundry to fold.  Ok, ok we all know the dishes and laundry will wait.  But I really feel badly that my kids are getting a mom who's only 50% with-it today, if that.

And I also feel badly at being so random, but there's simply no avoiding it now and I have to share this picture because it just makes me so, so very happy:

This was taken a couple of weeks ago when the kids turned in their summer reading logs at the library.  Each one got to pick out their very own book.  Afterwards we went to the dollar store and gave each one $1.00 to spend however they chose.  (This was intended to be another reward for the potty-training success when I was gone.)  Dan picked a ball, Joe chose a car, and Mikea selected a little tea set.  They loved it!  (Now we just hope they don't expect to buy something every time we go to the store!)

True Love

I was out of town for much of last week.  This meant that my dear husband was sole caretaker of the 500 Babies for 3 1/2 days.  I didn't care what happened to the house; all I asked was that he sweep the kitchen floor at least once a day. But when I returned, not only had he kept the house tidy, he also got caught up on the laundry.  I'm talking washing, drying, folding, AND putting it away.  He also managed to take all four kids to Home Depot by himself.  I can only imagine what that must have looked like! Oh, I almost forgot - there is one more thing Billy happened to do while I was away... 

HE POTTY-TRAINED THE WONDER TWINS!  Sorry for yelling.  But holy smokes, people - do you get this??  My husband single-handedly potty-trained two toddlers.  We've both made attempts to train them over the past several months, but this time he really got serious.  And it worked.

How'd he do it?  Well, I think the main thing is he gave Daniel and Mikea lots of praise when they had successes and stayed positive even when they had the inevitable accidents.  The first couple of days he gave them lots of water and made them go to the potty every 15 minutes.  Joe helped by being in charge of the timer and helping Daniel in the upstairs bathroom if Mikea was using the one downstairs.  We had been giving the kids candy sprinkles as rewards, but Billy nixed that and reverted back to sticker charts.  But the genious part, at least to me, is that he didn't bother using a chart with days of the week and boxes.  He just stuck paper on the wall and let the kids pick their own stickers - 1 sticker for wee-wee and 2 stickers for you-know-what.  When the charts were filled up they celebrated by going out for ice cream.  Yum!

He also played "The Potty Dance" for them over and over and over. Another gimmick Billy used was to hang up their underwear on the clipboards in the kids' bedrooms.  He did this during naptimes.  I think it was just another way to get them excited about wearing underwear.  Of course the underwear had to be clean and dry for to this happen.

Today, both Daniel and Mikea are initiating going to the bathroom on their own and most days are completely accident-free.  We're going to keep practicing and practicing and I'm thinking that very soon we will be ready to ditch the diapers for good! 

Another outcome of Billy's time alone with the kids was a better understanding of what I go through on a daily basis.  He's always been supportive and appreciative of me for staying home with them.  But now that he's experienced it first-hand he knows exactly what I mean when I say there are days when I want to just go into the laundry room and shut the door to get away from the madness.  But I also know that he bonded even more with the kids during my days away.  Billy told me his favorite moment was one evening when Joe walked over to him, plunked himself on the floor and said, "You're my best buddy, Daddy."  Amen, Joe!  He's my best buddy, too.

Potty Training the Wonder Twins

Let's just get the cuteness out of the way and start with a photo of the Wonder Twins back in the day:

All together now, "Awwww!"

Ok, on to business:
I try to keep the bathroom stories to a minimum around here.  Really, I do.  If you're relatively new to my blog and you're not squeamish, you might want to read about the time the contents of a diaper went missing or the time Dan exploded.  But it's entirely up to you.  I refuse to claim responsibility if you're grossed out.

Anyway, a year ago while Joe was learning how to use the toilet I remember thinking what a circus it was going to be when Daniel and Mikea would be potty training together. (It really was pure madness back then.) I'd been making half-hearted attempts every now and again, but a few weeks ago I finally decided enough was enough and we just had to get serious about this potty training business.  And you know what? We've actually had a lot of success.  I think the success if due to two factors: The kids are truly ready for it now and I reward them with M and M's.  Forget the sticker charts.  M and M's are the ticket.

However, there are still many days where the madness takes over again.  Let me set the scene from a couple of weeks ago . . .

There are five of us all crammed into our downstairs half-bathroom.  The kids have just finished lunch and have been taking their turn on the toilet before they go down for naps.  Joe is standing on the stepstool at the sink washing his hands: I am reminding him the proper washing sequence and technique.  Daniel is perched on the toilet: I am coaching him on how to "aim" and not make a mess.  (I am sitting on the floor directly in front of him so if he misses, I am toast.)  Mikea has already finished her business and is wiggling around on the floor:  I am trying to put a clean diaper on her.  In the middle of all this Baby A. is crawling on top of me:  I am trying to keep him from climbing onto the toilet and getting in the way.  And they're all talking/babbling/screeching at once.  And I think to myself, "I am going to remember this moment for the rest of my life.  And now I will laugh just to keep myself from crying."  And I did.

I must confess that now I get a kick out of how proud the kids are when they put on their underwear or how cute it is when Mikea asks for her "W".  (For some reason she started calling M and M's "W's" and although I'd love to think it's because she recognizes that an upside-down M looks like a W, I don't think that's why.)  And I should add that even though Joe's a master at using the toilet, sometimes he likes to bypass the hand-washing so we give him an M and M if he remembers to do it on his own.

All-in-all it's pretty easy to forget the headaches of it all and see the big picture:

Oops, not that big picture . . . the big picture that the 500 Babies are growing up and I'm simply beyond blessed to guide them through these precious days!

Parent of the Year

So the other night we were watching Supernanny.  We watch the show for two reasons:  1. To learn Jo's techniques (don't you just love how she says "techniques"?) and 2. To be thankful that our kids aren't as out of control as "those other people's kids".  It was the episode with the family of a 5-year-old and 3-year-old triplets, and Billy and I found ourselves nodding our heads in agreement as we related to the parents' frustrations with dealing with so many little ones.  But then the program showed the dad taking all four kids on an outing, and he wasn't holding anyone's hands!  Even when they were about to cross a street.  We were saying, "Dude, what are you thinking?  Parenting 101.  Get a clue!".

The next day I was still thinking about how ridiculous it was for the father to not be holding the kids' hands.  (And congratulating myself for having more sense than he did.)  Not two minutes later I discovered this:

My child.  Playing with matches.

So I guess the lesson is I shouldn't worry so much about other parents' lack of skills and work on my own instead.

What I've Recently Learned . . .

1. Just because you see a two-year old naked, holding her diaper, and standing next to a pile of poop, it doesn't mean she's the culprit. Check your pug. If he looks guilty, he probably is.

2. Just because you see another two-year old fully clothed, standing next to a piece of poop, it doesn't mean the pug's the culprit. Check your toddler. If somehow his diaper fell off even though he's wearing pants, the poop is probably his.

A Christmas Story

Billy and I weren't sure we'd ever tell the following story. It's not one of our finer moments of parenting. But through the passage of time we've forgiven ourselves and even have a good laugh about it now.

It was mid-December of 2007. Billy and I were still reeling from going from 0 to 3 children in less than 30 days. We were sorely sleep-deprived, trying to juggle night-time feedings of a one-month-old and a three-month old, and getting a 15-month-old adjusted to life in our home after having been uprooted from the only other home he'd known. The Christmas season was in full swing and we were trying our best to celebrate despite feeling completely overwhelmed.

We needed to make a trip to Wal-Mart, and so for only the second or third time since getting all of our children, we bundled up and took them all with us. We put Daniel and Mikea in the double stroller, and Joe rode in the cart. Wal-Mart was packed, and I remember feeling like I was sleepwalking as we pushed our way through the store. We went to the garden area where most of the Christmas decorations were stocked, and after making a few selections, we walked out of that section into the main part of the store. We then paused to discuss where to go next.

Suddenly, it hit both of us at the same time. "Where--???" I stammered.

"GO, GO, GO!" Billy shouted.

I sprinted back to the garden area in a panic. We had left behind the stroller containing Daniel and Mikea.

When I got to the aisle where we left them, I quickly composed myself and walked up to the stroller as if I had been there all along. I sheepishly pushed it back to Billy where we congratulated ourselves on being the Worst Parents of the Year. All I could think was that somewhere within the bowels of Wal-Mart, a security officer had been watching the whole thing transpire.

The babies had been alone for no more than a minute, yet it felt like forever. Certainly long enough for someone to notice. Billy and I were mortified. I know I questioned if I was even qualified to be a parent.

But we've forgiven ourselves, and know that while it may have been the first, it's certainly not the last Parenting Fail we'd have. In fact we may have a few more stories to tell . . . when the time is right, of course!

Rites of Passage

Today I completed another of the official rites of passage of motherhood. It's something that I hadn't experienced yet, a rather remarkable feat considering the multitude of young children that I care for. In fact, I thought perhaps my children were a little more refined than other kids, simply because I hadn't encountered this problem with them yet. But no, the sight (and smell) that greeted me when I walked into the boys' bedroom this morning confirmed that at least one of my children wasn't going to leave toddlerhood without putting his mark on the wall, so to speak.

I won't mention names. But it wasn't Joe. And it wasn't Mikea. And it wasn't fun to clean.

Later on in the morning Mikea colored the kitchen floor in five different places with black crayon. I don't know how she did it, because I was right there the whole time. Then a few minutes later she brought me a bar of soap she'd been gnawing on.

Between the antics of the two-year-olds and a baby who's becoming mobile, these little people run me ragged, I tell you. But I sure do love 'em, poop-painters and all!

Nebulizers Anyone?

The two-year-olds went to the doctor today because they've had coughs, congestion, and a bit of fever for the past few days. Turns out they have breathing issues so the doctor prescribed nebulizer treatments for both of them:

The doctor said Daniel especially had really bad lungs, and that it wasn't because he was sick. He wondered if we had mold in our house but clearly that's not the problem because this house is only 2 years old and it was just inspected. Apparently it could be the dogs, it could be the change in weather, we don't really know. Both kids are going back in a few days for check-ups so maybe we can get some more answers.

Right now I just need to figure out how I'm going to give these guys their treatments in the midst of the chaos that is our daily lives. Daniel's are supposed to be every 4-6 hours and Mikea's every 6-8 hours. The treatments take about 10 minutes each, but I NEVER have 10 uninterrupted minutes to focus on doing one thing. (For example, today I reheated the same cup of coffee at least 4 times because I could never finish it in one sitting.) Maybe I can train them to hold the mask on by themselves. Poor little guys. They're troopers, though, and did really great for their first treatments tonight.

Top 3 Signs You Are Sleep-Deprived

3. You discover a box of aluminum foil in your refrigerator.

2. You try to feed an infant with the non-nipple end of the bottle.

1. In the middle of the night you think you see a pig carcass on the floor. Turns out to be a shirt.

From past experience, it's clear that my mind plays unusual tricks on me when I'm sleep-deprived. See Return of the Phantom Baby for an example. But a pig carcass? That's just bizarre. I don't read creepy books or watch horror movies so it's very puzzling as to why that image came to mind. There was a dead bird on our sidewalk recently, so maybe that had something to do with it. Or maybe I'm just weird.

Strategeries for Potty Training

Dan wanted to share a few "toilet learning" tips with you.

1. Always be prepared. A backwards cap, plastic dinosaur, and a book are all a must. And by all means, do not let any of them go!

2. Concentrate. An open mouth works well for this. Keep holding those toys. 3. Enlist a buddy to provide moral support.. A sister with wild hair and boy's pajamas works every time. But remember - don't drop your book or your dinosaur!

Daniel does a great job of sitting still when he's on the potty seat. Mikea is very squirmy and climbs around on it. She recently discovered what happens when you go on the potty when the lid is closed. We've had one or two successes with them, but honestly I'm not making a big deal about getting this done. It'll happen when they're ready. Or when I'm ready. And because my house currently looks like this, I'm not spending a lot of time putting kids on potty chairs:

Underwear on Hold

We thought Joe might be ready for the next step in his journey towards independence: underwear. I think I was more excited than he was when we bought the underwear at Wal-Mart on Wednesday. (He chose Cars and Spiderman designs over Sesame Street). He stayed dry for about 3 hours on Wednesday afternoon/evening, but on Thursday morning I had to clean up 2 puddles within an hour. At that rate we would have run out of clean pairs before lunch.

So it's back to diapers for now.

Improvising

I've heard many stories about desperate parents who've had to improvise in diaper emergencies, rigging up makeshift diapers that usually include the use of duct tape. I've come close a few times, down to one or two diapers before someone can go out and buy more. I also have a pack of swim diapers from last summer that I figured would work in a pinch. I'm sure you already know where this is going. This morning during a totally unrelated experiment I discovered last summer's swim diapers are too small (we're going to the coast this weekend so I was trying them on to see if they fit. Ha ha not me, the kids!), and this evening when the tab ripped on the second to last diaper in the house, this is what had to happen:In full disclosure, it was my husband who did this. I don't blame him, though. He made a diaper run once the kids were in bed and we now are fully stocked with 252 diapers.

One Night, Two Kids, Two Visits to the ER

The title says it all and I'm so tired I don't even know if I can tell the story but it's a pretty good one so here goes:

Midday Sunday in the midst of dealing with Joe's sudden illness, Billy noticed "something" in Kiki's nose. I couldn't tell what it was, but Billy eventually figured out it was a piece of foam from a book we had given the kids for Easter. She had been chewing on the book as usual and apparently bit off a chunk and decided to store it in her nostril. We tried everything we could think of to get it out, but it was pretty far up there and Kiki soon had enough of us holding her down and would cry so much we were afraid the foam would get sucked higher. It didn't seem to be bothering her and her breathing was fine, so we decided to wait and see. By Monday morning it was still exactly where it was the day before so Billy made an appointment to take her to the doctor. Her doctor said he did not want to try to get it out and referred Kiki to the ER. A few hours later they were finally able to see the ER doctor who only took 10 seconds to extract the foam from Kiki's nose. Now here's the good part: If you've been around Kiki any length of time, you know that her favorite word is "up". Up, up, up, she always wants to be picked up. In fact, as Billy was laying her down on the hospital bed she kept saying "up". Here is the piece of foam that was stuck in her nose:

Yes, it says "up". Actually it is the middle of the word "puppies", but still. Her favorite word.

By the time Billy and Kiki got home it was almost 10:00. I had been home with Joe and Daniel, and Joe's fever was rising despite the Tylenol I had given him. He was still not keeping anything down and seemed to be growing more weak and lethargic. We decided it would be best to take him to the ER rather than waiting until the morning. Since Billy had already done ER duty once that night, I knew I had to be the one to take Joe. Long story short, he was diagnosed with an ear infection and another four hours later we were home. The doctor seemed amused that we were the same family that had been in earlier.

Not wanting to be left out, Daniel took it upon himself to vomit in his crib last night and fill his diaper with diarrhea. Right now he and Kiki are fighting and screaming at the top of their lungs. Joe is spending his morning on the potty chair and I am just trying to keep up with the dirty laundry and keep it together until reinforcements arrive. Or at least until nap time and I can take a breath.

Confusion

Apparently I don't know how old my children are. We took Kiki to the doctor yesterday for her 18-month check-up where they informed us she is still 17 months. Hmmm. Honestly it does get confusing because Dan and Kiki are only 6 weeks apart. So sometimes their "ages" are one month apart and sometimes two months apart. Most of the time I just kind of guess when someone asks how old they are. But I guess doctor's offices like to be a little more precise.

Triple Threat

Presenting the first ever triple Time-Out:
The offense was that all three where climbing on top of a file box they had just been told to stay off of. And before you get too carried away with your thoughts about how awesome I am to have all three in control like this, you should know that I had to keep turning one little child around so her face wouldn't be in the picture. And when I finished with the picture she just got up and walked away.

Thoughts on Potty Training

I felt a little twinge of both guilt and jealousy the other day when I learned a friend is beginning to potty train her 18-month-old daughter. I assumed I wouldn't begin with Kiki until Joe has mastered it himself. Granted, this friend's little girl has been taking off her pajamas and diaper at night and wetting the bed, and I am SO GRATEFUL we are not having those kinds of issues (yet). But these types of things always make me wonder if any one of my children would be better off if I could give them more individual attention. Attention they aren't getting because there are 500 of them and only one of me.

Anyway, Joe is making progress. At 10:30 every morning he visits the potty and does his thing. But allow me to illustrate a typical session so you can see why I don't think I will survive this with two more children:

I begin by suggesting to Joe that he go sit on the potty. He eagerly complies and we go into the bathroom, followed by Dan and Kiki who begin grabbing the urine guard off the potty chair. I distract them by asking them to go get some books for Joe to read. While they toddle off, I get Joe situated on the potty. Dan and Kiki return and hand their books to Joe. I then announce that Joe needs privacy and try to shoo the little ones out. Kiki attempts to close the door herself and Dan sits on the floor, blocking her from being able to shut it. Screeching and protesting ensue. I finally get both of them out. A few minutes later Joe calls out "Poop! Poop! Wee-Wee!" so I go back to help him. I then dispose of the contents of the potty, clean the potty, clean Joe, put a new diaper on him, help him wash his hands, dry his hands, and help him put a sticker on his potty chart, all the while fending off Dan and Kiki who are grabbing the potty chair, holding onto the toilet set, playing with the toilet paper, falling into the bathtub, or ripping Joe's sticker chart off the wall.

It. Is. Maddening.

And it is entirely possible that in a few months all three kids will be training at the same time.

Something I'm Sure You Other Moms Already Knew

One of the hardest jobs I have right now is dealing with the mess the kids make when they eat. Food ends up everywhere at meatimes and snacktimes, both by accident and on purpose, and it drives me nuts because I have to clean everything five times a day: faces, hands, chairs, the table and the floor. I try to at least pick non-messy snack foods to give myself a little break, but today I failed miserably. A giant Ziploc bag of Oreos appeared in our refrigerator the other day and for some reason I temporarily lost my mind this afternoon and gave them to the kids for a snack. I thought it would be a "fun" treat. But besides being completely non-healthy, Oreos simply do not mix with toddlers. I should have stopped after giving them the very first cookie, but I panicked after seeing their hands and faces covered in slimy black crumbs. So of course I did what makes no sense at all: I gave them another cookie. And then another one. And that's when I noticed the inside of Daniel's ears were caked with cookie mush and realized that now I would have to give everyone a bath in order to get them clean.

Thus ended the Oreo experiment.

Adjustments

It's been a bit of a rough adjustment for me this week after two weeks of having Billy home to help out. Monday morning I realized that once again I was responsible for changing every diaper, filling every drink cup, cleaning up every mess, and settling every argument. For the first few days this week I became so weary of saying "no" and "stop" and "share" and "be nice". I was starting to lose my mind, but now I've regrouped and I'm using these strategies to help:

1. "Ignore". I asked Joe's therapist today if it's better to ignore him or tell him to stop when he throws a tantrum and kicks his legs. She said to help him label his feelings and then just ignore the behavior if he's not hurting anyone. I've started applying it to other situations and it's very freeing.

2. Sitting with the kids when they eat lunch. Meals were just becoming ridiculous with plates flipped over, forks flung across the table, and food thrown. Today I found that when I sit at the table with them I can intervene more quickly and model correct behavior.

3. Perspective. There's always someone else out there who has a bigger parenting challenge then I do. Yesterday I watched a show about a family that has 5 daughters: a 12-year-old and 2-year-old quadruplets and another program that featured a family with 6 children ages 5 and under: a set of twins, a set of triplets, and one single. That's just crazy, I thought. I know many people think that what I'm doing is crazy. But really, it's all about perspective.

4. Nap time. Somehow over Christmas break all three kids transitioned to one single nap time all together in the afternoon, which means two hours of peace for me.

Finally, I am reminding myself what a tremendous BLESSING it is to have been given these three beautiful children to raise. Somewhere, somehow my little babies have turned into toddlers, and my little toddler is starting to look and act more like a "kid". (You know what I mean!) The future excites me: I can't wait to see the little people they will become, but I am also enjoying who they are right now, this day, this moment.

Dan's New Digs

We finally did it. We moved Daniel out of the pack 'n play and into a crib. We waited so long because we've always been afraid of losing Kiki and then having no need for two cribs, and also because he's been perfectly happy sleeping there and hadn't tried to get out. Yet.

But recently all three kids have been trying to climb into the pack 'n play (Joe can actually get in and out). And the other day when Dan was supposed to be sleeping (while Kiki's case worker was here, might I add), we heard a very loud thud and then crying from the bedroom. He was ok, but I think he was trying to climb out and fell back inside. Daniel has also started pulling up the pad lining the bottom and playing with it. So we decided enough is enough, he's outta there.


We tried about 3 different furniture arrangements until we finally found one that kept Kiki away from the blinds, both cribs away from cords/outlets, Joe not too close to either one, and still left room to play. He slept so well in his new bed the first night that he didn't take a nap until 3:30 the next afternoon!