Birthday

Yep.  I had one.  

It was kind of hard to tell, at first.  Since J worked like 12 hours that day, and I spent it cleaning bathrooms and organizing the basement and covering my ears and rocking back and forth signing REALLY LOUDLY to drown out all the WHINING from the kids who were stuck in the house due to a mosquito invasion of apocalyptic proportions, and neglected due to the bathroom scrubbing and basement cleaning.  

As a special treat there was the insurance adjuster who came to assess my birthday present this year, which will be a new car door, seeing as how I smashed the other one into a wall.  Tricky, those walls! He knew it was my birthday, so he brought me a back-scratcher shaped like a bear claw.  Er.  Thanks..

He also tried to give me the gift of "hey, you're not that old" by giving me his number, and repeatedly telling me to call and text him, but not to tell my husband.  Or to tell him about the back-scratcher either.  And if he were my man, he wouldn't be mad at me for wrecking the car.  ('Don't tell your husband I said that').  And then after he left, he sent a few text messages and then came back, texting me from the driveway to ask if he could come in and borrow some duct tape.  Really? At which point I directed him to the furthest hardware store and went back to the basement, where it was less creepy.

The Sisters wanted to throw me a "party", which means they got out every piece of everything and flung it around the room, draping beads and scarves and, ahem, my bras ("they're so fancy!") from the furniture and lamps and taping stuff to the walls.  

Then, while I tried to wrestle a two-ton angry crocodile (or maybe it was Mister, hard to tell which was what that day) into a nap, Sisters decided to bake me a cake.  I guess the floor in there was white anyways, so whats a bunch of flour and sugar and stuff? Right?!

The whole gang of them wanted in on decorating it, too, so we got out- the sprinkles. Which, all the moms who shuddered upon reading that know, are almost as bad as glitter.  

J had offered to bring a birthday dinner home, but he got stuck at work until after bedtime, and couldn't text me until the children were already gnawing on their own elbows they were so hungry.  So it was microwaved tofu-dogs and freezer peas for dinner.  And wine.  For me. 

I re-wrestled the crocodile into bed, and stopped at the door to chuckle.  

Because I mean.  

This day.

This day guys! 

Then, guess what?

I walked back to the dining room, where I'd left the sisters finishing their dinners, and there they were. Grinning. With such a beautiful chocolate brownie cake, a banner that said "happy birthday mommy we love you so so so so much", a stack of handmade cards, and two gloriously decorated boxes.  

They sang to me.  

We had cake, and I opened the boxes, which they had apparently been hiding under their beds for weeks.  They were filled with little treasures.  

We chatted and laughed and I was showered in hugs and kisses.  

It was the best birthday ever.  

It was the first time that my children, all on their own, threw me a birthday celebration.  They worked hard and they did it because they love me.  

I realize that as I've aged and grown another year, so have they.  There has begun a great tectonic shift beneath the surface of our relationship, a change by which now, and more and more from now until forever, I not only take care of my children, but they take care of me, too.  

My children have always saved me, taught me, and brought me joy.  But now, they do it on purpose. 

On my birthday I realized, there is certainly a gift in that.  

Miss Magic

On our way home from a day trip, Little Miss pipes up in the backseat.

Missy: "Mommy? You know I think I am little bit magic.  I think I have some magic in me, in my inside me.  Buh-cause, you know what?" 

C: "wow, tell me!"

Miss: "Well.  When I'm sometimes tired, even I'm too tired to try foh being magic, still when I'm tired, sometimes, my own eyes just... Close. All by theh-selfs."

C: "They do?  Well that is pretty cool."

Miss (in a voice of awe): "Yes.  Mommy.  Isn't that a little bit of...a miracle? I think.... I think it might be a little miracle."  

Bus Crash

I took the Little two to check-ups.
We'd spent a long day out in a park with friends, Mister had missed exactly one point five naps, and lunch, and was playing on the giant school bus in the waiting room when we were called back.  He could not be enticed to leave the huge steering wheel, so I fetched him.
As He wriggled and complained, I stooped to get through the doorway of the bus.  My heel caught on a frayed bit of carpet on the top step.  And, if you'd like to imagine how I fell, you should be thinking to yourself "tiiiiimmmbeeeeerrrrrrr!" as you watch me fully fly off the steps, with Mister in arms, and eat it.  In the middle of the packed waiting room.
Now.  If you are going to massively fail in this epic manner and fall, crashing into the wooden armchairs, and crack your kids head open and break his leg (which, incidentally, I do not recommend), it can be said that the best place for this to happen, if it has to, would be a pediatrics waiting room.
Because crowds of people will SHREIK with compassion and rush up around you, office staff and nurses and medical technicians will come rushing en force, and multiple doctors will be ripped away from their duties and thrust upon you to assess your emergency.
However.  IF you are going to massively fail in this manner as fall, as above, while instinctively cocooning your baby in a scooped-out hollow of your thoracic cavity which you didn't even know you had, so that despite the epicness of the fall He is FINE- which I don't recommend either- I can tell you.  The actual worst place for this to happen is the peds waiting room.
Because people will SCREAM and SHRIEK and began squealing in Spanish "His face! His Face! It broke His Face! AAHHH! THE BABY'S FACE!!!" Which only adds to the confusion as the office staff which has also rushed over starts yelling at random people, "what? What's she saying?!" who throw up their hands "I dunno! I dunno but she saw it she knows what happened and the kid is hurt!" At which point the nurses flock and the doctors are wrenched from their patients and thrust upon you to make sure your baby, who didn't get hurt but did get scared, is really, totally, fully, and exquisitely FREAKED OUT.  Because "WHO-are-all-these-crazy-people-and-why-are-they-screaming-in-my-face-and-touching-me-and-shining-lights-into-my-eyes-I-want-to-drive-the-bus".
And then, because He bit His tongue a tiny bit (so tiny they couldn't even find the cut when they SEARCHED HIS MOUTH for it later- oh He loved that)- and one single drop of blood appeared at the corner of His mouth- Baby's Face Woman starts again shrieking "His Blooding His blooding!!!!" and Her family member has to help her to her chair and the whole thing revs back up.
Mister and I had to have full examinations.  We had to be checked for concussions.  We had to sit for 15 minutes and be monitored.  You know what an over-tired toddler who just got His bus stolen from Him and is not happy with these crazy people does NOT want to do?  Sit for 15 minutes and be monitored.  So He would get up and run towards the open door, and I would chase Him down and bring Him back to the Chair Of Shame.  And He would cry.  Because He wants. the. bus.
And the nurses would hear Him cry and come running- Is He ok?! Did He fall again?? Is He hurt?!
Little Miss, meanwhile, is doing Her absolute best to actually disappear into the corner, because She wants NONE of that loco.  Our doctor was out, so we saw a new lady, who gave us an extra-thorough examination because, frankly, I think she doubted my capacity.  And then, we headed over to immunizations.  But that's another story.  

Summer Vacation

Little Miss:  "So, now that school is ovah, foh me and foh sistah, it's summahtime.  Right?"

C: "Yes!"

LM: "So, that means that Daddy gets to stop wohking too!!!"

C: "Oh! Nooo, he has to keep working sweetie.  All summer."

Dead silence.

Miss: "But. But.  But....so...when does he finish?"

C: "finish working?  you mean for the day?"

Miss: "No when does he FINISH.  When will he finish his big job, so he can STOP wohking!"

C: "He can't love.  He has to keep working.  All the way till you're a grown up!"

Lots of stunned silence.  Contorted faces of disappointment and outrage at the injustice of the world.

Miss: "Well.  It would be bettah, you know.  If he just could wohk on-y on the days I go to gymnastics."

C: "You'd like it better if Daddy only worked on Saturdays?"

Miss(grumbling): "YES!  At LEAST for the summah."


Well.  J gets no such luck.  In fact, he will be working almost all the hours this summer on some difficult rotations.  Sorry J.  But for the rest of us, it's summer!  We are celebrating.  The Littles have been staying up late catching fireflies, playing until they must be revived by popsicle, swimming, playing with friends, and checking out all the books from the library.  Mister can't believe His luck.  Sisters are with Him all the time!  

News From The Ark

Well hello there.
It seems that every time I post here, I start out with some iteration of "it's been a long time".
It's like a person who loves to cook grand, multi-course meals, whose life speeds up so fast they realize one day they've had nothing but drive-through take-out for months.
Me, I like to write overly involved stories about things that are important to me, trying to preserve these gorgeous, fleeting moments, but it's come to a point around here that Instagram is about as good as it gets.
But the busy cook-at-heart would surely stay up late stirring spices into a pot from time to time, for the sake of remembering who they are, right?  And now and then, even though I should be doing other things, I pop in around here.
Hey.  It's been a long time!
But we're all still around.
This has been a rough year in some ways.  In the last six months, we lost J's remaining grandparent.  And his father, unexpectedly.  We lost my Nana, as I've mentioned.  And then, just a week later, my grandfather.  My grandaddy was a really, really important and special person to me.  I think I just shut down for awhile.  But I'm just carrying on, as we do, and missing him quietly.
We have also been adjusting to not only having J in residency (with the erratic, stressful schedule that entails) and having me go back to work (from home, mostly, with the erratic, stressful schedule that entails), but doing both at once.  We've had some struggles with Little One and school, plus, you know, Life.  Waah wahhh wahh.
The last year almost, it's felt like our little family was sailing through a storm.  We hunkered down, getting tossed around and soaked and bumping our heads on the rafters and just riding it out.
But, slowly (and with the help of J's parents and my mom, bless them), we've adjusted ballast so that, even though it's still windy out there, we've got a pretty even keel and strong sea legs.  Balance.
I returned from a trip to Ethiopia just in time for the last week of school, and all that fun and chaos. Little One had one more snow-day-make-up on today, and now we are FREE for the summer.  Freeeeeeeee!
It is possible that this change will knock me sideways again for awhile, but I have to admit I am incredibly excited to have long days spread before me with all my littles home.
Here are a few updates on those little monkeys, since it's been awhile:

Little One
Well for one thing, She lost another tooth tonight.  The growing up just will. not. stop.  It's crazy.
Little One has had a great year at school with friends, and a rough year with the learning part, but She handled all of it like a star.  I'm so proud of the way She has faced Her challenges and been a good friend and not stopped hugging me goodbye at drop-off yet.  She might be a little boy crazy.  But this is not really new.

Miss
Missy has traveled light years in Her ability to express Herself and handle Her emotions.  She is still our drama queen, no doubt. But She's able to reassure Herself that the world is not actually ending if She can't find Her favorite shoes.  She was the darling of Her preschool teachers, who really truly will never believe that I could call Her dramatic or accuse Her of refusing to get dressed for school in the morning, leading to Her arrival at school in nothing (I mean nothing) but a bathrobe.  She painted Her way through preschool, but somehow learned to read. It's because She quietly notices everything. She's the most cuddly, loving, kissy Little of all time, and also hilarious.  Mostly on purpose.

Little Mister
This guy.  He has his moments.  Moments in which He is hangry, and then gets frustrated, and reacts by throwing Himself backwards with all His might, whacking His head on the floor, and then, every time, freezes for a moment- in complete shock, as if it's never happened before- and then cries because, you know.  THAT HURTS.  In those moments I can only look at Him blankly and wonder if maybe I drank heavily during pregnancy and forgot about it.  But most of the time, most of it, He is sweet and fun and adorable.  He talks all the time, constantly, and we are realizing that He is actually saying stuff.  We can make a lot of it out now, and He's pretty funny.  He loooooovves His sisters.  He loves raisins.  And shoes.  And, ok, all the things.  He loves all things.  Except the ones He can't have.  Those things are WAHHHHHAAAAHHH!  Lucky for Him, with two doting Sisters wrapped around His pinky, there aren't a lot of those.

J
Not a Little.  But he counts right?!  I hear he's doing fine.  If you see him, you can ask.  I'll have to take your word for it.  Kidding, kidding.  Sort of.  J is working long hours and long weeks.  But he's still making time to be superdad, and I'm trying to accept the extra housework and kid-wrangling he's been picking up lately as we adjust that ballast.  It's funny how difficult it can be for a person who considers herself to be a feminist to allow someone else to do the laundry.  I just bite my tongue really hard, and breathe deeply in a quiet place for awhile repeating, "it's ok that he sorted into only two piles. If they all turn out pink I can buy all new clothes. Let it go. Let it goooo".   That Frozen movie song really applies to mis-sorted laundry.  Which never turns out pink.  He's basically a champ.

Me
Well I have a laundry problem, clearly.  But I'm thankful that J is so supportive of the new balance we are finding as a family.  I'm thankful to have a job I believe in that I can do without hiring help with my Littles, and that our moms step in at crucial times when I otherwise would have had to hire help.  And I'm especially thankful for this time when my Littles are all going to be with me all day, all summer. And like it.  At least, hopefully they'll like most of it.  I know these days are finite, I know they are precious.  I take none of it for granted.  And, despite the rough waters at times (that's life!) I am thoroughly enjoying the ride.