Knock Knock, Nevermind.

There are certain things that can be annoying with children.

Things like, not being able to go to the bathroom alone, or have five minutes uninterrupted in your room, or explaining what's for dinner (repeatedly), or the fact that they want dinner every single night. I mean, what's up with that nonsense?

Most of my friends understand that annoyance when it's multiplied by two or three.

Of course in my house it's multiplied by seven, and I have apparently failed in teaching the most basic of skills, as I realized today that none of my children seem to know how to knock on a damn door.

I didn't think it was hard. You lift your fist and make contact with your knuckles. They tell Knock Knock jokes, so clearly they are at least familiar with the concept.

Honestly, maybe I shouldn't even have doors that close.

I could just install a revolving door, allowing them all to come in and go out with greater efficiency. And without all the pesky harping from me about the importance of knocking.

I've started to think of things I could do that might disturb them enough so that they'll never think of walking in unannounced again.

Like naked yoga.

But that won't work on all of them. The littles especially, do not care about nudity. I blame their hippie mother for that.

So instead I've just kept reminding them over and over and over again. I think I have reminded children of all ages to knock about twenty times each. I had to remind one of them while I wrote this blog post.

It's not usually this bad, but I have a nasty cold and have spent the majority of the day in my room, not resting, because no one will give me five minutes to myself, and no one knows how to knock.

So, I need sleep. I need medicating. I need a glass of wine. And I might need to tattoo instructions on my face. Of course that won't help the ones who can't read.

Maybe I'll just put up a sign for myself instead:

*****
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The Loss Perspective

I was talking to a friend recently, about moving from the first year of grief to the second.

It's a weird journey from start to forever (since with grief there's never really a finish).

The first days are acute. Everything feels like it's happening in slow motion. It hurts more than you can fathom. But at least you're busy.

There are plans to be made and things to be done. There are arrangements.

People come out of the woodwork to support you, and offer their love and concern.

It hurts, but for a time, you can see that your loss means something to others. That they too, see the rend in the universe that has been made by the loss of this person you loved so much. It holds you up in those early days.

But then, everything that can be done, is done. People return to their regular lives, and suddenly you have to navigate this world that has not been made right for you.

I remember being shocked that I had to do things like pay the electrical bill. My daughter was dead. How could bills be important?

Then there's the first year, which I refer to as "the year of firsts". First holidays and milestones without them. The pain is still raw and fresh, and people understand as you touch each meaningful date and acknowledge your hurt.

But I think the real work comes with the second year and beyond. Because that's when you get down to the real work of creating a life without someone that was supposed to be there.

I had a whole life with Sarah that I haven't seen outside of dreams. And while I don't live in the urgency that is new grief, it's now a weight that I carry all the time.

It's a different kind of work, grieving. It's not even that it's always sad. It just...is.  

Truly, though, I think most of you know, I'm a happy person by nature. I love people and I love life. I'm not swimming around in my grief after almost ten years. But I will never stop missing her, either. I will never get to stop carrying on with a life that was supposed to include her. So, it's just always going to be there, that weight of her loss.

So, I was having this moment of annoyance at a mom who was complaining about her child doing something normal and wonderful. It's been happening a lot lately, actually. People having the totally normal feeling that their kids are growing up too fast, and couldn't they just slow down a little bit?

It's a feeling I've had.

But right now, I'm watching Liam learn how to use a spoon. He's almost 3 1/2 and he can't use a spoon. He can't regulate how fast he eats. He can't tear food with his front teeth. These are all skills that most kids get at about 18 months.

Of course, he's also getting more words all the time, and walking up the stairs (instead of crawling), and gaining other great skills. There's a lot to be excited about.

And still, when I hear mom's complain, I can't help but think that they should be grateful that their kids are doing those things. Because mine isn't. Or won't. Or won't soon.

But then, I know that there's nothing wrong with how they're feeling. It's normal. And it's the same thing that people who've lost could think about me. How can I complain that Liam's not doing certain things yet?

He's alive.

He could.

I sometimes have to remind myself that we all have struggles, and sometimes the hardest struggles we face are to remember to see things from a perspective other than our own, and to choose gratitude for our circumstances.

I lost Sarah.

But I get to keep Liam.

One child can never replace another, but I have so much to be thankful for. I have to hold on to that gratitude with both hands and squeeze once in a while.

You should too.

*****
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Seriously,People, Why?

Photo from RedAlert.com. Full Story here

It was Thanksgiving yesterday, and that was fun. I thought I might tell you about it.

But then, today is Quinn's 7th birthday (Happy Birthday, Kiddo!) and I can't believe the time has gone by so fast. I mean, wasn't it just yesterday that I was posting his birth story?

Now he's all big, and into all things Lego and Star Wars.

He's such a good boy.

So, I thought I might talk about that,

But no.

No, I saw something on Facebook and I can't stop thinking about it.

You guys, there were naked people getting married.

Hey, I get it. Wedding dresses are expensive. But you know, David's Bridal totally has a discount section. Some of those dresses are under $100. And I say, maybe let people eat spaghetti, and buy yourself a dress with the savings.

So, I went looking for a picture...so I could show you what I mean about the naked people getting married.

I assumed that there would be one such picture available. Because how often does this happen?

I was so very very wrong.

There are so many people getting married naked! Wha...why?

Look, I really try hard not to be too judgmental. I mean, to each his or her own. Especially when it doesn't affect me in the slightest. But wow.

I can never unsee what has been seen, people. And the picture of the wedding that initially led me down this rabbit hole? They're not even crazy Americans. No, British friends, this lovely couple is yours.

And I have to say, after reading the story, I'm more confused than ever. When they started the wedding, they had clothes. Perfectly good clothes, covering up all of their bits in front of their Mums and their Nanas.

But they took them off. On purpose.

Has it become unseasonably warm in Britain? It this what Global Warming means to future generations? Now everyone has to start getting naked at their weddings? Won't those be fun pictures for the mantle. Grandad will be thrilled to show of those pictures when he visits with friends.

Seriously, there aren't too many things I fear for my children. But now I have a new one to add to my short list.

Please, please don't let my children get married naked.

They can marry whomever they want. I don't care about the gender or skin color of their partner. I just want the person they marry to love them.

And now I want them to wear clothes.

I really don't think I'm asking too much.

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Thanksgiving Gratitude

Because I'm lazy, I'm going to copy some other bloggers and write a post about what I'm thankful for.

There is always so much to be thankful for.

For example....

I'm Thankful For Writing:

I'm thankful for my writing. Both creative, and this blog, I'm grateful for a voice in the world. You'll likely never end up reading any of my stories because they blow. But the outlet of writing is my therapy. And let's face it, I need that.


I'm Thankful For Wine:


I sometimes get wine delivered by a nice man in a uniform. It's wine. Delivered to my house. I don't even have to go out for it. Need I say more? Now I just need a glass like that...

I'm Thankful For Naptime:

When the world is too much, a nap makes everything better. Be it them or me, we'll all be happy. Napping is a beautiful thing, and everyone should take them.

I'm Thankful For My Job:

Today I got to talk to another mom for half an hour about our birth experiences. We talked about nursing her next baby and ways to make it go better than it did in the past. It didn't even feel like work!

I'm thankful for my amazing family and wonderful friends. I'm also thankful for each of you who read here. As I've told you many times, without you, I'd just be talking to myself.

Thank you.


*****
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Napping Is For The Weak!

The Motto of my children...

Filed under "ridiculous things my kids believe" has to be the idea that naptime is some kind of horrific, and undeserved punishment.

As if I'm sending them to be tortured.

As if I'm locking them up indefinitely for crimes against humanity.

It's really just a damn nap.

A nap, by the way, is something I'd love to take. Oh, if only naps were for me.

I could earn a napping crown

I could medal in napping in the sleep Olympics.

I could get a PhD from a major napping university. That's a thing, right? I might be sleep deprived.

Just give me a blanket and a fluffy pillow, and it is on.

But not my kids. What is wrong with them?

The list of things my children seem to prefer to napping include having their teeth pulled without anesthesia, waterboarding, and poking needles in their eyes.

In fact, if you come to my house at the right time of day, you might think that's actually what I've done to Liam, based on the noises you'll hear coming from his room.

The thing is, if they don't nap, then their mission changes. Instead of the usual world domination, their focus becomes my destruction.

They start with my mind, using the time-honored small children's tools of whining and crying.  Then Liam starts going for the body, with unsuspecting toddler slaps and head-butting my face. That hurts, by the way.

And why? Because he didn't sleep! Which he refused to do, because he didn't want to in the first place. But who in the hell do I think I am, allowing him what he wants?  I'm the mother, and clearly responsible for being stronger than him. He will insist that I pay if I fail in my duty.

Trying to figure out my childrens' feelings about naptime is harder than trying to stick a wet noodle in a bear's butt. Which is really hard. You should try it. Turns out they're not receptive at all.

But they need it. I need it. (The kids and the naps I mean, not the bears. The bears probably don't really need the wet noodles at all)

Naps are a good thing. I just have to convince my kids.....

*****
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Make Thanksgiving Fun

I may just be speaking for myself here, but I don't find Thanksgiving to be all that fun.

Not that I don't enjoy time with family and friends. And hey, nothing is better than when other people cook it.

It's stressful. There's a ton of food to make and things to do. And half the food I'm not even excited about eating. I mean, I'm not an amazing foodie, or a trained chef, so my turkey is probably never going to be all juicy and wonderful.

I'm not sure if the first turkey I cooked was even done.

Then we eat for two weeks, something we didn't like that much on the first day.

So Dominic and I decided that, hey, this is our family and we can make our own traditions here, so screw it. Let's make stuff we like!

We talked to the kids and came up with a basic menu of things we actually want to eat.

• Chicken enchiladas verdes
• Refried beans
• Stuffing
• Refried beans
• Cranberry sauce
• Spanish rice
• Green bean casserole
• Pie

So, we're going to make our own Thanksgiving. We're going to eat food we want, and watch movies, and maybe after the kids go to bed, we'll drink wine and play a game of  Cards Against Humanity with some neighbors. A game which always reminds me that, no matter what I like to think, I'm not a nice person.

Holidays are a time to enjoy each other. So if you can, make it fun. Make it your own. Besides, the thing I'm most thankful for, is my family. I'd like to spend time with them, not in the kitchen.

Make it a real celebration.

*****
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What Is Wrong With People?

This is a disability meme I can get behind.

A friend of mine asked me to write a blog post.

I can't tell you how much I appreciate getting to write a blog post where I don't have to come up with an idea.

That's genius, people. In fact, if you have ideas, don't be afraid to throw them out there. I totally take requests.

Anyhow, she's been frustrated an hurt by meme's she's seen that poke fun at kids with disabilities. Some of them even use images of actual children.

So, someone has posted pictures of a child they love, only to have it taken and used to create an internet meme that pokes fun of them.

It's bullying at it's lowest.

I feel this personally, since I'm a "Special Needs" mom (which I only put in quotes because really, I'm a mom period, but have to make the distinction of being a mom who has kids with various and sundry diagnoses).

Since having kids with Special Needs, I've become part of a larger community of really incredible people. Strong parents, and strong kids.

Between us, our kids cover quite a range. Unfortunately, so do the memes.

This is one of the least offensive Autism memes out there:

How about one of the many that target Tourette's, but don't actually understand it :

I'll be honest, I can't even bear to print the ones that poke fun at kids with Achondroplasia (Dwarfism) or Down Syndrome. They literally hurt my heart.

So, I have to ask the question: What is wrong with people?

Autism is a real diagnosis that presents challenges for those who live with it. And for those who are severely affected, it presents incredible challenges for their whole families, the likes of which idiots making these kinds of memes can't even imagine.

Tourette's Syndrome is a neurological condition that causes physical and vocal tics, and does not cause all sufferers to shout random obscenities. I'd love to see the assholes who write these memes try to live that way for a day. I doubt it would be so funny after that. 

I have mentioned at least once before that my friend has had people on the street take pictures of her 3 year old son with Achondroplasia. I can't imagine the kind of callous disrespect necessary for someone to do that. And I can't imagine what it would be like for someone to think they had the right to stop and take my child's picture. Little People are not just curiosities.

My friend has not yet been charged with assault. Which I'm pretty sure means she's a better person than I am.

One of my oldest and dearest friends has a child with Down Syndrome. And I have a child who is developmentally challenged. I have watched as our kids struggled, and worked tirelessly to accomplish things that come so easily to other people. To see people treat their challenges as something to ridicule, as opposed to seeing how much they've accomplished and how much cause we have to celebrate...I'll be honest. It's hurtful.

These kids work twice as hard as everyone else, to get half as far, and yet they're not bitter and angry. 

They're not unkind. 

And I'll throw in another pet peeve of mine: The R-Word memes. I was going to post one of the many that include the word, but they honestly made me too angry.

So, let me explain, simply when it's okay to use the R-Word. Unless you are using the word for some kind of scientific term paper in which you are talking about the growth of something being retarded by the application of something else, refer to this:

Because the thing is, people who are developmentally delayed or challenged, they're not stupid. They're not lazy. They have their own skills, they want to learn, and they work harder than almost anyone else. And to try to insult someone by comparing them to these incredibly special people, is insulting to those with the disability, who deserve to be in better comparative company. 

The people who make these kinds of memes need to stop trying to cover up their own lack of wit or intelligence by highlighting their own ignorance. 

I wonder how much less funny they would find their own memes, if they had a child who suffered from one of these conditions. 

Really, I feel no reason to wallow in self pity of any kind. 

My kids are here. They're growing, learning, and thriving. And while I find these memes upsetting, and I hope people know the truth about kids like mine, I also will not spend a great deal of time and energy on the people who create them.

After all, I know they won't stop. These kinds of people rarely think beyond their own immediate self-interest, and would say that I'm just being sensitive and should get over it. 

I do take some comfort in the idea that these things say so much more about the people who write them, than they do about our kids or the other people they target. And I'm grateful that the people who make the memes are few (if prolific) and that in reality, even on the internet, we have been largely embraced by people who have supported us and cheered for us.

You make such a difference to families like mine. When we feel exhausted and overwhelmed, you listen and encourage us. 

Thank you for that.

And if you know someone who makes memes like this. Please feel free to share with them some colorful words. Tell them the message is from me.

*****
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What If You Don't Love It?

Enjoying a motherhood moment with Quinn a couple of years ago

There was an article on Scary Mommy, written by an anonymous mother, who wants to tell the world her darkest secret: She doesn't like being a mom.

Reading the piece was hard.

This mom rejects the caveat placed at the end of even the most annoyed of posts, by people like me. That caveat in which say that we wouldn't change it for the world, and that we love being a mom.

For her, it's not true.

I have some thoughts about this.

First of all, this is why we shouldn't pressure people into having kids. There's this thing called "childless by choice", and it's a perfectly reasonable decision for people to make for themselves. Some people have different dreams and desires. Some have different goals for their lives. Some have different gifts to give the world. And you know what? It's none of my damn business to judge it, and it's certainly not my job to change their minds.

Maybe if we stopped insisting that people will love having kids, people would feel less pressured to have kids that they don't actually want.

Maybe if we were more accepting of the fact that some people are childless by choice, then more people would stay that way when that's really what's going to make them happy.

Secondly, I don't know if we lie to ourselves or if we lie to the world, but I tend to think that we all at some point, think about what our lives would be like if we didn't have kids.

I imagine working full time in a career that I love. I have gorgeous clothes, and really great hair.

I come home in the evening to an immaculate condo, because no one has moved anything while I was gone. There are no messes to clean up, because I  haven't made any.

I walk to the fridge and take out some delicious leftovers. Because not only do I have disposable income for things like eating out at nice restaurants, but when I put my leftovers in the fridge, no one else eats them.

I kick of my high heels (the shoes I never wear in my real life), and enjoy the fact that I still have my slender high school figure (I don't), while I kick back on a fabulous couch that doesn't have any jelly on it anywhere, listen to the sound of smooth jazz, and drink a glass of wine.

And that's funny, because I don't really like smooth jazz, like, at all.

Of course the reality is that I've always been someone who wanted a family, and my biggest career goal was to be a midwife. Really, if I were single and without kids, I'd actually be very lonely and sad. So, for me, this exercise in imagination is a temporary thing, devoid of any kind of reality.

But oh yeah, sometimes I think about it.

Of course I love my kids. And so does the mother who wrote that article.

Despite all these feelings she has, that maybe she really wasn't supposed to be a mom at all, she loves her kids. Her feelings scare her so much that she doesn't even put her name to the piece, for fear that they might see it.

If any of us are having feelings like that, we need to seek outside help. That mom can't change that she chose to be a mother. But she can find tools to help her thrive, and be the best she can be for her kids and for herself too.

There may even be an underlying issue at play that she doesn't fully understand. She shouldn't have to be unhappy.

I hate that any mother should feel that she has to walk that path in silence, and in secret, consumed by guilt.

There is help out there.

Even those of who love it, sometimes don't. Sometimes we hate it. Sometimes we go walk around Target for an hour just to have no one hanging on us. Sometimes it's hard, and it's scary, and and we don't have any clue what we're doing or how anyone thought this was something we were capable of.

But if those moments are the ones that are creating the narrative of your maternal experience, then talk to someone. Those feelings don't have to last forever.

Every mother should get to love it. At least most of the time.

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Pecan Pie: It's Our Safe Word

We've all been there (or please, lie to me and tell me we've all been there), where you're playing with your child, who is clearly having a good time, but you need it to be over.

You're done playing and it needs to stop, but there is no way to stop it without suddenly killing the fun.

No one likes to be the fun killer. Especially when you spend most of your day telling people they have to do things they don't want to. Like eat their vegetables, brush their teeth, put on pants. Liam especially dislikes that last one.

So, today I was playing with Bridget. She was trying to get a blanket away from me. It's soft and fleecy on one side and had just come out of the dryer.

We were having a good time, but I had other things to do, and she would not stop wrestling me for the blanket.

When I finally did get her to stop, she was mad at me. After all, I'm mean.

I tried to explain that I lose my big end-of-the-year mom bonus if I don't suck the fun out of things. But somehow, that didn't make it better for her.

So, I came up with an idea. Maybe what we needed was a safe-word. Something that either one of us could say to end a game without taking all the fun away, or making each other mad. It would also be a good way to say that something was going too far (that usually happens when the kids are playing with each other).

Bridget came up with "Pecan Pie" which is now our new safe word. And she says it in a funny voice, so it makes me laugh when she says it. I, of course, try to mimic her voice, so that makes her laugh too.

I like it when I don't have to solve every issue all by myself.

*****
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The Perfect Mother Dilemma

Can I just say that I think the Mommy wars are bullshit?

I don't know what the draw is in having women fight each other instead of support each other, but it's really a giant waste of time or energy.

Whether you are a SAHM, a WAHM, or a WOHM you work. You are up early and you go to bed late. You do a full time job, and are on call 24/7. Your kids won't suffer just because you're doing it one way over the other.

Granted, my 3 year old is screaming bloody murder at the moment, but that's because we're assholes who took a pencil away so he couldn't poke himself in the eye with it. We clearly didn't understand his grand plan for world domination with nothing but that pencil, and now all he can do is rail against the inhumanity of it all.

We ruin everything.

But it's not because I got a job. It's because I'm mean.

I have breastfed and formula fed. I have diapered in both sposies and cloth. I have given some of my babies pacifiers, and others I didn't. I have made a hundred different parenting choices, that I thought mattered so much. And they did. But not because I'm so perfect and have all the answers. But because they were what my family needed. Or what that particular child needed. Or, imagine this: sometimes, it was what I needed.

Perfection is just not possible. We will drive ourselves crazy trying to achieve it.

So, do you want my advice for being an awesome mother? Of course you do!

Make mom friends. Having other moms to commiserate with, and to share the excitement with, is priceless.

Don't trash talk your kids. Being frustrated with something going on is fair. Talking trash is just not cool, and it's not fair to your kids who trust you with their most intimate secrets. You wouldn't want them talking that way about you, don't do it to them.

Respect their privacy. I know, I write a blog about my family, what do I know about privacy? Well, there are a lot of stories I don't tell. They'd be freaking hilarious, but they're just not my stories. And at a certain point I don't share things without my kids permission.

Since perfection isn't possible, stop judging yourself (and other moms) by an unattainable ideal. We're all doing the best we can with whatever circumstances we have.

Kids who know they're a priority, do better. They know they matter and that they're loved. But you have to have something to give. So, remember to take care of yourself. You matter too.

And when you need it, take a time-out. Because sometimes that five minutes alone is what you need to remember that we are not a species who eat their young.

Tonight I think I'm going to celebrate being just a super-ok mom with a glass of wine and an early bedtime.

After all, they're going to be thinking up new ways to rule the world tomorrow, and it'll be all up to me to thwart their plans.

Like I do.

*****
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A Shameless Plea

I have a whole lot of kiddos on my couch right now. They're watching How To Train Your Dragon. Next week, should we all make it to next week, we'll watch How To Train Your Dragon 2, Revenge of the Winged Puppy, or whatever it's called.

These are some of my favorite moments. When all of the kids are quiet and nice to each other, equally excited about something fun.

I'd sit with them, but sadly there's no room left for me. So I'm at the kitchen table, pondering my blog.

There is so much to write about. I just don't know what people will want to read. I try to write for myself, about things that interest me, or things my family is doing that I want to remember.

But I'll admit that I'm happy when people read it. 

And people get weirdly excited about posts I thought were no big deal, while seeming to skip over posts I though were really fun. I'm not sure I totally get that. 

There are other blogs out there. Some so much more well written than mine, some far less well written. Some with moms who are experts, which always surprises me when some of them seem to have been moms for all of about 12 minutes, but hey, maybe that was all they needed. Me, I'm still learning.

So, instead of telling you about my exceptionally boring day, which mostly involved me, data entry, and a close personal relationship with a box of kleenex, I will instead leave you with a shameless plea to click the banner below which casts a vote for my blog. I have fallen from number 13 and it's making me feel downright unloved. 

Also, if you've ever had a burning question about me or how I do things, feel free to ask. I'd love to have some posts I don't have to think so hard about.

Children Will Listen...

I love Into The Woods. Deeply, passionately, I have loved Into The Woods for decades now. I could not be more excited about the movie coming out. I need some kind of count-down calendar for it.

There are a host of themes from Into The Woods that have resonated with me over the years, and so many ways that Stephen Sondheim taught me to be a better mother. For example, I have yet to lock any of my daughters in a tower.

But one theme especially, that stood out to me, is the idea that whatever we do, our children are listening, learning, putting away ideas and sorting them out in ways we don't always see at first.

This is on my mind especially because a couple of years ago I decided to give up yelling. Sometimes I succeed very well with this commitment. Other times I fail.

A couple of days ago, my oldest was supposed to help my 1st grader with his homework, so I could call some clients that I needed to get a hold of. It was simple stuff, nothing too complicated. But somehow, it didn't get done. It was a miscommunication between him and Quinn.

This was not the first time I had been stretched thin and asked my family for help getting it all done, only to be let down. This time I was mad.

But more than that, I was frustrated. I felt overworked, stressed out, and helpless to get everything done without help.

I felt vulnerable.

So I lashed out.

Nothing mean or nasty, by any stretch. More the standard, Why isn't this done, I needed your help, and you let me down, type speech. And definitely not delivered at a low volume.

Everyone was quiet. I don't yell very often.

I looked at my teen. He looked stricken.

I had forgotten for a moment how much my approval means to my kids. And the yelling wasn't about him. It wasn't that big a deal. He did not deserve to be yelled at. The yelling was all about me. My stress, my needs, my frustration.

I felt like shit. And rightly so

I took a few minutes and called him downstairs. Then I apologized. I explained how it was not about him, but instead, all about me. I told him that I'd forgotten how much it hurts him when he feels he's disappointed me. I told him that I was not disappointed in him, and how much it means to me that I have a son who is helpful, dependable, kind, and pretty much everything I could possibly hope for in a son.

See, the thing is, children do listen. They watch and they learn. And they don't always need to learn to be perfect. I think maybe it's just as important for them to see what we do when we screw up and fall short of the parents we know we should be.

Mother of the Year I am not. But I'll keep working at it.
*****
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Sometimes The Big Challenges Are The Little Things...

As a parent, I have faced many challenges. But few challenges have made me feel as inept as the one I currently face with Liam....

Diaper changes. 

You were expecting something more serious, I'm sure. But I am serious. Changing this child is an exercise in...well...it's probably really just exercise.

He can get violent, too. Liam actually kicked me in the throat the other day while I was trying to wrestle him into a new pull-up.

Now, I don't want to give you the wrong idea, here. There are things that are harder than changing Liam. You know, like...performing brain surgery..on yourself. That's probably a little harder.

It's just, he thrashes around like a small rabid monkey on crank, and if you, by some random stroke of luck, manage to get one foot in, then he will immediately pull it out as soon as you reach for his other foot.

And damned if he's not fast. It's like wrestling a really strong octopus, sometimes. A strong, kicking octopus.

If it were just the pull-up, we'd probably be okay. I mean, we'd be tired and shaken by the sheer force of nature that is a determined 3 year-old. But we'd be okay.

But that's not all. No. It's Minnesota. And it's turned cold.

To send this child to school in the morning I have to wrestle him into a pull-up, then pants, then socks, then snow pants, then boots. By the time I'm done, I need an ice pack and a shot of tequila.

Things I would rather do, include:

• Giving birth while simultaneously passing kidney stones.
• Interacting with the IRS
• Having an intellectual discussion with Michelle Bachman
• And
• Being stranded on a desert island with nothing to listen to except Justin Bieber albums

It can't be like this forever though, right? He'll potty train someday, won't he? I'd love to ponder this further, but unfortunately, I have to change Liam and get him ready for bed. 

I'm too old for this shit. But he's ridiculously cute. So, I'll keep doing it.

*****
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It's Diggle, Apparently, And I'm A Terrible Mother

I'm still going to call him Giggles

I came home from book club tonight, to find my forever-geek family watching Arrow together.

I don't watch Arrow. I tried, really hard, but it lost me in the first season. That said, if they're all as good as what I was watching tonight, I might have to give it another go.

Anyhow, I misheard a name. It's Diggle, apparently, but I heard "Giggles" which I thought was a pretty hilarious name for such a serious comic-book show.

My loving family corrected me, but I found myself disappointed. I really liked the idea of calling someone Giggles.

"Reagan, can I call you Giggles?"

"Well, really mom, I don't giggle that often. I think the name would be better for Quinn or Brennan."

And of course he's right. But the funny thing is, as happy and sweet as my little Brennan can be, he's also incredibly stubborn, and can be super pouty when things aren't going his way. He's kind of notorious for his black moods, actually.

So, I said, "I will totally call Brennan 'Giggles'! But only when he's really unhappy. Like when he's sitting at the breakfast table, all scowly because I've given him a silver spoon instead of a pink one, but he's too grumpy to ask me. Oh yes, then I will definitely call him 'Giggles'. He will love that!"

Knowing Brennan like they do, my family found this idea hilarious.

But, despite the great fun that would be had by everyone (except Brennan), we all acknowledged that I'm a terrible mother for suggesting it. Because it would make Brennan something beyond angry, and when he gets like that, I find it irrationally funny. I've been known to have to leave the room because he's so mad and I think it's hilarious.

But you have to understand, you guys, one time he got so mad, he looked right at me and threatened to get naked. Oh yeah, that'd show me!

And I can't let him know it's funny, because it won't be when he's bigger. I have to take it seriously.

So yeah, I'm a terrible mother. You're not surprised, I hope.

And I'm still going to call him Giggles. Even if it's only when he can't hear.

*****
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Dear Kirk Cameron, This Is Becoming A Thing...

Dear Kirk Cameron,

This is becoming a thing, isn't it? In some ways you are far and away more entertaining now than you were when I was a kid. Unfortunately, the joke now seems like it's at your expense, and that's just sad.

So, you're out promoting your movie again. Good for you! But maybe you should stop talking about things that you clearly know nothing about. Last time it was Samhain, and this time it's Yule.

So, once again, I feel like I need to correct you. Because honestly, someone should, and I think maybe you live in some kind of echo chamber, where all you hear are the crazy people who think you're brilliant.

So, you told the Christian Post:

"I'm a sucker for all of it, and of course the nativity, and there's a lot of people who really want to put a big wet blanket on the celebration,"..."It starts this time of year. You have people who want to pull down nativity scenes, you have lawsuits showing up in schools that can't have Christmas performances ... it has to be winter break or holiday break or sparkle season ... they want to take that out of Christmas so they don't offend people who hate Christmas. And then we have a new group who are telling us, convincingly, that Christmas is actually a celebration of paganism...we kinda drink the Kool-Aid and believe pagans when they tell us they have ownership of these things"
, 

Let me clear a few things up for you.

There is no effort to remove religious symbols from churches, homes, or private property. The only places that people have objected to having those things, are on public property like schools, and courthouses and such. And it's not because they hate Christmas, you one trick pony, but because it's exclusive to one faith.

We are not an exclusive nation. We are a nation that is made up of many religions, and the freedom to worship as we wish, or to not worship at all. A freedom, by the way which protects Christians as much as it protects the state. I mean, you wouldn't want to be told which denomination was the right one, would you? Hell no!

Now, allow me let you in on a little secret: We don't hate Christmas. For most non-Christians, Christmas is our favorite of your holidays.

You focus on peace on earth and goodwill to men.

There are presents and joy.

It is truly the least objectionable of any holiday you celebrate. But that doesn't mean we like it shoved down our throats especially in places where religion shouldn't be an issue.

So yes, Holiday concerts and performances, and Winter Break. Because that is respectful of the faith of all of the students, and not just some.

But hey now, because I know you want to, let's get to my favorite part of your quote, the part about Pagans.

I'm sure this will come as no surprise to you, but your whole premise is wrong. Pagans don't "own" any of your traditions, and we aren't out to take them from you.

Now, I'll try to explain this to you as simply as I can:

We believe you are celebrating whatever it is you think you're celebrating. To Pagans, intent is everything. We do not believe that you can be secretly worshiping other Gods, if your intent is to worship and honor your own.

Also, in the world, there are a limited number of symbols. So, many cultures and faiths will use the same symbol to mean different things.

We also live in a world, where we can all see the same cycles in nature. So, there will be things that are similar across different faith traditions, and it doesn't mean anything other than we all have eyes.

So, when the Solstice occurs, and the days start to get longer, we Pagans acknowledge the wonder of that. In my tradition we believe The Goddess gives birth to her son, and with him, light returns to the world. We see the lengthening days as evidence of that, and are grateful.

Which sounds pretty gosh darned similar to your tradition where God's Son is born, bringing light to the darkness. The fact that the church decided to celebrate at the Winter Solstice isn't an accident. And I don't think it's because they were trying to "steal" the Pagan holiday (although that probably made it more inviting to the Pagans they were trying to convert) but because the lengthening days became an easily understood symbol for the theological point being made.

But let's not re-write History, Mr. Cameron. The Church has repurposed many traditions, first because they thought it was a great symbol of something they were teaching, and second because it made it more familiar to people converting.

That doesn't mean that your symbols or celebrations are any less valid. So, I applaud you for standing up for the continuation of those traditions. You should celebrate your holiday without fears that you'll somehow end up Pagan.

But where you lose me entirely, and actually start to piss me off, is when you misrepresent Paganism in order to make your point. You could actually leave us out altogether.

We don't need to own anything. All most of us have ever wanted, was to live in a world where mutual respect of our faith traditions, was a thing. A simple thing that you can't seem to do, and feels especially rich when you are, at the same time, complaining about people being disrespectful of your faith.

Have your Christmas, Mr. Cameron, and keep Christ in it. It really doesn't bother me. But couldn't you, even if you don't agree, respect that I have just as much right to keep the Yule in Yuletide?

And for the love of all things bedecked in holly, stop thinking that other people trying to have their faith acknowledged or respected, or just wanting to be left alone, means that somehow we're trying to suck all the joy from your holiday. Your holiday is everywhere. Seriously. Get over yourself.

Signed,

Me

P.S. Here's a quick read about some of the Pagan traditions that we see repurposed in Christmas. Which, again, doesn't mean we own them, but is just History. Don't be scared.

*****
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Boys And Girls Are Not That Different

Excuse me while I get on my soapbox for a minute.

See, I have to admit something. I bought into the hype. Into the idea that's sold in every Target store. I bought into the premise that girls and boys were supposed to like certain things, or were supposed to be a certain way.

To be fair, this idea was instilled over a lifetime.

I remember my dad telling me how happy my grandmother was that she had two sons, because boys were so much easier to raise. And I thought that must be true.

The funny thing is, I don't think my dad agreed with her. But that's not the part of the story that resonated with me. Probably because this lie about the differences between boys and girls is sold to us in so many ways that we don't even realize.

I have walked through children's stores and seen the most adorable displays of girls clothes on mannequins, but noted that there weren't any little boy mannequins, as if I wouldn't want to dress them in cute outfits too. By the way, retailers, many of us really do like to dress our sons in cute outfits. So, if you put the displays up for them, we'll probably buy more.

Seriously, why bring us up to love dress up and then make it seem like the only babies who are going to be fun to dress up, are the ones born without a penis? That's just not fair.

So, I bought it. But then I had these kids. And they don't always fit the mold of "boy" and "girl". It turns out that they're people, and that can mean that they like just about anything.

I have a daughter who asked for a microscope, and is fascinated by Science and Engineering.  But the science and engineering toys aren't marketed to her. And the frilly pink clothes she loved, never had dinosaurs on them. Even though dinosaurs were cool.

And I have a little boy whose favorite present in a long time, has been a pink cape with stars on it. He showed me how he could wear it as a veil, and he told me that maybe he'd wear a veil when he got married. But he'd still be a boy, he said. Because he likes being a boy.

All of my kids seem to be pretty comfortable with their current gender. But that doesn't mean that they aren't interested in things that are supposed to be distinctly for the opposite sex. And they should be. They're kids. They should like anything they want. Girls can love baseball, and boys can love kittens. It won't signal the apocalypse, I promise.

So why is it that we encourage our little boys to build, create, and love things like science, but we basically tell our little girls that their dreams should be of princesses in castles?

They can all be princes and princesses in castles who are also curing cancer and studying fossils.

Problem solved.

And I'm going to say that the idea that any child would be harder or easier to raise because of their gender, is bullshit. I get why it feels true, because it's so subtly (and sometimes not subtly at all) ingrained in so many aspects of our society. But it's not true at all. And I never want my daughters to think that there is anything more difficult about them just because they have a vagina.

Vaginas may be inconvenient, sometimes. But, as I understand it, a penis can be from time to time, too. My girls may cry when their hormones go crazy, but when my oldest son went through puberty, he would get angry. We used to send him outside to walk, until the irrational rage died away. Because he knew his anger was irrational in the same way my girls know that they're crying for no earthly reason.

And the difference there is that my girls are being bombarded with estrogen, whereas my son was being bombarded with testosterone. But it has nothing to do with who they are as people.

Yes, boys can be hormonal, too. Just because it's a different hormone, doesn't make it any less true.

I can tell you that in my experience, none of my children have been harder to raise based on gender. Each of them has come with their own set of unique character traits, and they can all be hard in their own way.

Honestly, they can each be easy in their own way, too.

Kids are kids. And they deserve better than the stereotypes. Our daughters can logical, and our sons can be emotional.

They can all be capable. They can all be magical. They can all be special. They can all be loved for being exactly who they are. Which is something I think most of us instinctively know, but we're not challenging it as an idea. And maybe it's time we did.

*****
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Sibling Rivalry

"Shut up! I don't want to hear you talk anymore!"

These are just a few of my least favorite words.

They always mean that my kids are arguing, which hurts my heart.

But they also mean that I'm going to have to stop what I'm doing and go actively parent. Which, don't get me wrong, is exactly what I signed up for when I had kids. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather be watching Netflix and poking needles in my eyes.

I really hate it when my kids fight with each other.

When kids argue, I can't take sides. I have to be on everyone's side. We're a team. Or...some other appropriate sports metaphor. And I sometimes don't want to. But other times I just want to tell someone that they're being an idiot, and to stop it.

But I'm the mom. I have to listen to both sides. Tonight Bridget was supposed to be picking up the playroom, but got distracted and played on the computer. Piper got mad about it. Pretty straightforward as sibling spats go. It ramped up as feelings were hurt.

I could see where Bridget went wrong. So could she. She needed to stay focused. But that's hard for Bridget, and it's not helpful for me to tell her something she already knows. If I can't tell her something new, then I have to teach her a new way to look at it. Otherwise I'm just lecturing her, and neither of us wants that.

To be fair, she probably didn't want any of it, but my Mom bonuses are calculated based on this kind of thing. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

Anywho, Bridget is going to get distracted from time to time. Or she's going to make some other mistake. We all do. What she has to learn is how to react.

They actually both need work on that. So, that's what I made it about. Neither of them could control what they felt, but they can control what they did. They can take tension and make it worse, or they can diffuse it.

I'm not an expert, by any stretch of the imagination. But I don't think we teach kids enough of these skills. They need to know how to actively listen, how to hear what people mean, even if they're not using the same words we'd use. They need to know how an "I'm sorry" can make a huge difference in how someone is feeling about you.

"I'm sorry" by the way, is one of the best phrases I think we can learn.

And I'm teaching them that the response to "I'm sorry" should be "thank you". Because I think "I'm sorry" is a sort of gift. Especially for kids like Bridget, "I'm sorry" is a very vulnerable thing to say. "Thank you" shows that it's appreciated.

I was reminded as we went through this tonight, and both girls thought of ways they could approach the other that would be assertive, rather than aggressive, that I can always take a step back and rethink how I want to respond to something that's upset me, too.

Because I have eight kids in my house, a husband, a dog, and it's possible that occasionally I might have just the teensy weensiest little bit of stress that makes me want to do things like yell and scream and stomp my feet until everyone sits the crazy lady down, and give her chocolate.

Crazy, right? But I'm not going to be that mom.

I have to make sure that every day, I'm being their example. Which also probably means not heading to bed with a glass of pino and some Ben & Jerry's.

That kinda blows.

Being their mom, though? That part I wouldn't trade for a gallon of Ben & Jerry's in a hotel suite with a king size bed that I could sleep in alone, a hot bath, room service, and a masseuse.

Although, some days, I'd probably think about it for a while.

*****
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Butterflies & The Lessons of 12 Year Olds

I went with Piper on a field trip today to the Science Museum, for their butterfly exhibit.

The experience left me wondering why Middle School Teachers don't earn hazard pay. Because these kids are too old to use many of the organizational methods of Elementary kids, but not possessed of as much self-discipline as High School kids. They're on the border of everything, and completely exhausting.

I was assigned a group of ten kids. 3 girls, 7 boys. All of them Middle School awkward and also pretty nice.

Still, the group was squirrely and loud. They ran and jumped. And so help me Baby Buddah, one of them sang The Wheels on The Bus until I started to contemplate the consequences of beating him with my shoe.

I didn't, of course. Because hitting kids is wrong. Even if it's super tempting from time to time. And the poor kid thought he was keeping us all amused. 12 year old humor is the kind of humor I think you may have to be 12 to really appreciate.

I kept thinking that despite the noise and the repetitive children's songs, I was really glad I was able to go. My parents never did field trips with me, as they were busy in their own schools and their own classrooms.

I learn things on these field trips. And not just how scientists discovered that the Monarch Butterflies were migrating to Mexico every winter. Although, that does happen to be a really interesting story.

I learned that Piper, while thinking butterflies are beautiful, is terrified of real ones. Her reaction to being in the exhibit with live butterflies, was something along the lines of someone putting me in a room with live spiders that could crawl on me. I let her leave, and sit outside of the butterfly house before she started to hyperventilate.

I also learned that my daughter is proud of me, and likes for people to know that I'm her mom. Which is...humbling, actually.

And while there is nothing like spending several hours with sixty 12 year olds to realize how lucky you are to come home to a house full of kids that you feel very comfortable telling to be quiet, I think I'm especially lucky to have a preteen daughter who still loves me and actually wants me around for things.

Maybe I don't completely suck at this mom job.

*****
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It's A Feature, Not A Bug

I spend a lot of time with people who have strong personalities.

Personally, I'm a fan.

I like people who speak their minds and know what they think. I like people with whom I will always know where I stand. I like people who can advocate for themselves and others.

But I'm getting a little tired of so often seeing others in terms of negative.

I think that a lot of time the only difference between a quality that's a feature as opposed to a bug, is how we look at it.

Granted, this doesn't work for everything. Racists, homophobes, and people who talk too loud at the movie theater are clearly bad people and should be destroyed. Or at the very least, shamed deeply.

But for the love of all things purple, sometimes we need to have a little more patience with people. It's not as if any of us are little packages of perfection, wrapped in rose petals. We're all big jumbles of issues and insecurities, and the vast majority of us are just trying to do our best.

I think we're not being the people that Mr. Rodgers knew we could be. And why not? What good can it possibly do us?

I'd like to be the person who sees certain personality traits as features, rather than bugs. In a brash and opinionated friend, I can be grateful for the loyalty and the fact that I'll never wonder where they stand. In a busy friend, I can be grateful for the responsibility that they take on so I don't have to.

We can't change people. But we can change ourselves. We don't give other people enough credit, and if we're honest, we probably don't give it to ourselves either.

We can do better.

I can do better.

*****
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Hug Perks, They're In The Mom Contract

My kids are better than sliced cheese on crackers.

Or cheesecake.

Or something better than sliced cheese on crackers and cheesecake.

But this job, like any other, comes with a few frustrations.

For example, the communication between home and school is unnecessarily complicated. I have signed permission slips that sit in Ciaran's backpack for weeks. I have never gotten field trip notices for Bridget. How hard is it to bring things home and then take them back to school?

Really hard, I guess.

Then there are the six holes in the drywall in the playroom. The first one I understood. I mean, what is anyone to do when a rocking horse goes on a rampage?

But the others? Why? What happened? How can kids be so destructive without even trying?

Word to the wise, by the way, don't have four little boys in six years. But if you do, bolt down everything possible, create a savings account for home repairs, and never let anyone out of your sight. It might help. Maybe.

And of course, nothing would make me happier than seeing my children really listening to each other and getting along. I keep telling myself that the time I spend explaining to them what another is trying to say, is an investment in their interpersonal skills, and my future sanity.

I don't know why children insist on assuming that someone else is hurting their feelings on purpose. They're all new at this whole tact thing. Hurt feelings are almost always accidental, and the benefit of the doubt is a beautiful thing that friends and family will be grateful for. Or, you know, me. I'd be grateful.

These are the days when I have to remind myself that my patience is an investment in our future. And the possibility of a really posh retirement home one day.

Eight Is Enough, The Brady Bunch, and 7th Heaven were not really honest about what it's like to raise a big family. Granted I probably shouldn't have learned about parenting from TV. Even if I would like to be Lorelei Gilmore when I grow up.

It's still my favorite job though, and worth every gray hair I haven't gotten yet, but have certainly earned.

Maybe if I have some cheese and a nice dream about some cheesecake, I'll be all psyched to do it again tomorrow. After all, the hug perks alone are worth all the frustration.

My kids like to say that I never run out of hugs. That I carry an endless supply. But I get my supply from them. My hug perks are in my contract. I think I might need to negotiate a raise, though.

*****
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I Voted!

I know, Ryan Gosling, I know.

I won't tell you who I voted for, since I'm clearly a liberal wing-nut hippie.

Also you can probably guess.

And it's boring.

But I follow election coverage like other people follow football.

In other words, I'm slightly crazy about it.

I like to call it passion, and a strong sense of civic duty, but I know the truth. I mean seriously, I have crushes on newscasters like other people have crushes on actors.

Tonight's election coverage is a total nail-biter. There are races so close they just can't be called. And the stakes are high.

Will the President be blocked from achieving even more than he is now? Did Democrats throw away an advantage by not sticking by the POTUS?

I may not understand encroachment or what pass interference is (seriously, I just asked my husband for a couple of football rules since I don't know any of them), but I will watch the deconstruction of the midterm election for weeks. I will listen as they discuss voter registration laws and how they decrease voter turnout, campaign finance reform, and how our economics are affecting all areas of our society and the desire to vote at all.

I find that kind of thing bizarrely fascinating.

But really, I'm enthralled by the whole process. And I have this dream about what could happen if everyone exercised their right to vote. Big business has nothing on the democratic process when it's fully engaged.

I heard once, in a documentary, that in the United States, the people are afraid of their Government, but that in France the Government was afraid of the people. It's not because the people are carrying guns in France. It's because more than 70% of them turn up to vote. The French will pour out into the street in protest if they don't like what their government is doing. I wish we had that kind of power.

But we could. We could accomplish anything if we voted to make it happen.

So, whether you're a liberal wing-nut hippie like me, or a staunch conservative, I hope you voted today.

I truly believe it is our civic duty. If we do nothing else for our community, we should vote.

*****
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The Bright Side

Despite speaking fluid sarcasm, I'm an optimistic person by nature.

I believe that things will work out for the best. I believe that people are basically good. I believe that there is an answer to every question, and a solution to every problem.

So let me tell you, it's a thing when I can't find the solution.

The good news in my house today was that the sink was unclogged. A plumber came, and for a small sum (thank the Good Gods above), there is no more standing water in my sink.

The bad news today in my house was that the van started doing this weird thing on the way back from taking Dominic to work this morning. The RPMs were way up, and not dropping down like they should on an automatic.

Turns out there's some cylinder in our transmission that's cracked. To repair it on the cheap, is going to be $2400.

Twenty-Four-Hundred-Dollars

I don't know about you, but our family doesn't have that lying around. We've looked into a number of options, none of which have worked out. I literally don't know how we're going to pay for this.

That said, I put this on Facebook, and was truly touched by how much people care about us, and how many people understand what kind of a stressor this can be.

We are a one car family. We have kids with special needs, and one who is currently having more tests and appointments than usual, as we try to figure out how his neurological condition is affecting him, and how to help him.

I'm beyond grateful for the support and encouragement. I guess I'm still an optimist, because I keep thinking something will present itself. A friend has recommended that I offer a short e-book on tips and tricks for every mom, covering newborns, breastfeeding tips, discipline, and communication. If I charged $5 for it, and got 500 people to buy it, it would cover the cost of the repair.

I think I could do it, too, but I'd have to get 500 of you to throw in $5 for it. I love the idea, and I think I will probably write it and make it available, but I have little hope that 500 people are going to buy it.

But I love that someone thinks I could. And I love that I'm surrounded by people, both in real life and virtually, that care about our family. It's a gift I can't really put into words.

*****
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I Really Need A Wine Tap

In my parents house, things worked. If things didn't work, they called someone who came over and fixed it. Then everything worked again.

I never wondered how much these magical people who made things work, cost. I never saw my parents drive themselves crazy trying to fix complicated issues.

This impression on my part, was a lie of childhood. My dad once told me that there was always something going on that they had to deal with.

Being the adult is a totally different ballgame. What I lack in funds to hire professionals around my house, I make up for in an ability to YouTube answers. But nothing in my house is ever easy, it seems.

Toilets bolted strangely into wood panels. Pipes on sinks that are welded to one another, and have to be drilled apart. Today, even a simple bathroom drain clog, isn't simple.

I wonder if I could put the time I've spent plunging that sink, into My Fitness Pal and have it count as my workout today. I actually plunged long enough that I had some plastic piece that looked sort of like a whistle mouthpiece, come up out of the drain. And my fingers won't unbend.

I think I need bengay or something.

And of course, the water is still at a standstill.

If the water hasn't gone down by tomorrow morning, I'll call a plumber. And then I'll hope to God it's an easy fix, because I have no idea how we'll handle an expensive one.

Even our new internet provider hasn't been easy. It's taken me days to finally get a signal around the house that maintains a decent level of connectivity.

And I have fixed, adjusted, plunged, and researched all while mediating arguments, providing necessary hugs, kissing boo boos, and doing laundry. Among the thousand other things I do every day.

I think I need a vacation.

I've said before that when people find out I have seven children, I get one of several reactions. There's the "that's cool" reaction, the "that's really interesting" reaction, or the "Oh my God, why?" reaction which is usually accompanied by someone looking at me as if I have herpes on my face.

The most common question to follow that last reaction is, "Are you crazy?", and no, I'm not kidding, people ask me that outright.

My usual answer is, "Well, if I wasn't before, I am now". And today, this week, this is why. I feel like I'm in emergency mode and I can't get out of it.

I need a good night's sleep. And wine. Wine would be good.

Which reminds me, I had to tell my mother not to worry, that for as often as I mention wine, I get it less than 1 in 10 times. Mostly because, by the time my evening has calmed down enough for me to have some, I'm too damn tired and I go to sleep.

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Have a glass of wine with me, and click the banner below if you wouldn't mind. It registers a vote for my blog, and after a week like mine, I could use the validation. And the wine. I could really, really use the wine.