Today I’m feeling rather proud of myself….a little pat on the back….a bit of positive self-talk.  Since we had a showing for the house this weekend, it’s still relatively spotless.  The laundry is completely caught up…not an easy feat in this house.  The checkbook is balanced and the bills are paid (well, most of them)…a job I dread doing.  And I’m even showered, dressed, with hair done and hold your breath for this one…make-up on…before Noon!  I know…impressed, aren’t you?  Well, even if you aren’t, I’m pretty pumped up about such achievements so early in the day.

I was actually walking around the house trying to figure out what I’m behind on and what needs to be done.  I mean, there is always something that needs to be taken care of.

Cleaning…check.

Laundry…check.

Kids fed….check.

Personal hygiene….check.

I’m finally done with the Twilight series (an obsession that I sustained for about two weeks until I got through all 4 books) so I don’t have a book to turn to either.  I even have some of the “B” list items taken care of.  The school year schedule has been added to the calender.  I have the kids’ school supply lists condensed onto my own spreadsheet already.  No, I’m not giving in and shopping yet, but I always combine the lists onto a master sheet to make shopping easier.  Anal you say.  Yes, but it’s a must when you are wrestling with other moms in the isle of Wal-Mart over the last 3 non-perforated, wide-rule, spiral- bound, red notebooks…and I need all 3!  Oh, you may think I’m joking, but these damn lists are that particular…and God forbid I send the kids to school with the wrong color notebook….I wouldn’t want to give their teachers a heart-attack if my son pulls out college ruled paper because I didn’t wrestle hard enough with that mom at Wal-Mart.

Now where was I?  Oh, nothing to do….that’s right!  Then the light went on…MY BLOG!  OMG my BLOG!  I have not posted in days…panic set in and I ran for my computer as if it was on fire.  The days seem to run one into the next lately so things I did a week ago (like writing a new post) seems like just yesterday.  Days, weeks, and even months go by and I fail to notice the time moving swiftly by me.  So here I am…blogging about not blogging!  No really…the point of this post is to focus on time.  Does time fly by this fast for the rest of the world, or is it only me?

I seem to lose track of time with many things in my life.  I will wonder why the toilets look so gross because I could swear I just scrubbed them.  I question how in the world I have so much laundry to do because didn’t I just have it all caught up merely a day ago?   Summer just started so it can’t possibly be time to start thinking about the school year again, can it?  And the dentist is already sending me a reminder for my 6 month cleaning…didn’t I just see him last week?  Well, clearly I could carry on with example after example of how I always seem to be a day or two behind the rest of the world, but I’m sure you get my point.

It’s frustrating.  It’s terribly annoying.  And it means that I have to go mow the lawn again because apparently it was not just yesterday that I completed that task as the city is now sending me a “noxious weeds” notice!  ;o)

Well summer is practically over…at least in my mind it is.  Whenever we hit the end of July…my daughter’s birthday along with the wrap up of summer sports…soccer for my son…and softball for my daughter…I always end up with a lump in my throat for about a week.  I just can’t get over how fast the time has flown by.  Every year it hits me the same way!

Each year, I say the same thing to people’s nonchalant inquiry, “How’s your summer going?”

My inevitable response, “Great!  It’s going by too fast though”….and I swallow hard as I walk away.

At this point in the season, most moms I know are more than ready to send their children back to school.  The bickering and arguing and the millionth “I’m bored!” is wearing thin on our patience.  I agree.  I am not immune to the trials and endless tests of creativity when I’m asked for the 15th time in a single day, “Mom, what are we going to do today?”  My reply, “What do you mean?  I thought we were doing it right now!”  However, instead of embracing the inevitable, I will fight it tooth and nail!

The school supplies are out in the stores.  The “Back to School” sales line racks and racks of clothes.  The buzz is in the air and I am struggling to ignore it!

I will find some way to pretend like August is not knocking on my door.  I will deny all the cries from the merchants to “buy early…while supplies last!”  Yes, I will scramble that last week before school starts to find all the millions of glue sticks and pencil erasers that are required, but I don’t care.  I will deal with the frustration when the time is appropriate, but now.

For now….I will not let this inevitable monster called “school” breath down my neck quite yet.  They cannot have them back just yet.  I am not ready.  They are not ready.  We need more time…we just need more time!

I am determined….as I am each and every summer….to hold tight to my last month with my babies.  I will cling dearly to these last few weeks of late night walks, campfires, pool days, staying up late, and lazy mornings like crazy glue!  I will ignore the bickering and endless inquiries.  I will renew my commitment to cherishing each moment with my children.

I will fight for our time…for every last second I can squeeze out of summer in an effort to make more memories together….for just a few more fleeting moments before it is gone again for yet another long year.

I have been hearing about how we are all out of salt in this house for over a week now.   The kids were whining at me…”There’s no sea salt…there’s no ‘regular’ salt”.  And God forbid we eat anything without pasting it full of salt first…after all, my children are in a steep competition with one another to see who can completely clog their arteries that fastest…. so I understood the agony they were in.  I was sure we had some of each type in the cabinet, but when my husband, Corey, chimed in and announced that indeed the kids were right, we were out of salt, I did not bother looking and just added it to the grocery list.

I have also heard about how we are out of butter for the last week as well.  The kids kept whining that they couldn’t make toast or pancakes without butter. And they certainly couldn’t make one of their favorite snacks…popcorn…that was a double whammy…no butter OR salt for the popcorn.  I asked Corey at one point while he was digging in the fridge if we had any sticks of butter towards the back, and he insisted…”There are no tubs of butter…there are no sticks 0f butter…we have nothing in here”.

Ok..ok…clearly I need to go grocery shopping and pick up some of the staples.  I was getting even more concerned about my memory though because I was certain we had both salt and butter…but I chalked it up to the B12 not working and moved on.

Well, low and behold…I dug in the cabinet today to grab some pasta that was shoved in the back and guess what I found…An entire container of sea salt…AND...an entire container of “regular” salt!

I then moved to the fridge to grab the parmesan cheese from the back and sure enough…I found 4 sticks of butter right next to it!

So….the next time you people living under this roof want to chastise me for being senile…just remember this! ;o)

I have to declare up front…this post is probably one of the most difficult I will ever write…and it’s going to be a long one so I hope you have a few minutes to spare! I started writing it on Father’s Day, but had to put in my “drafts” folder and walk away.  I wanted to share with all of you what my father means to me…fitting for Father’s Day, but in order to do that, I need to explain much of my childhood…and that’s where it gets difficult to write while sobbing.

Corey and I were talking last night and somehow our light hearted chit-chat lead into a heavy conversation about why I’m always afraid that he is going to leave me.  It’s a fear I have.  Maybe an irrational fear because I know he loves me with all his heart, but it’s still a concern I will always carry.  When he asked me why I feel that way, I told him it was because I had 3 very influential men in my life leave me throughout my childhood…so it goes without saying that I am highly sensitive to those types of insecurities.  He came back with, “Those men left your mom, they didn’t leave you.”

And that was the point in the conversation that brought me back to that familiar place.  That place deep within me that I tuck away and try to ignore.  But for some reason, last night, I realized that so much of those feelings and experiences make me the person I am today.  There is no “tucking them away”.  They are always there…dictating much of my insecurities even to this day. “Those” men did not just leave my mother.  When you marry a woman with 3 children, you are marrying the whole package….it’s all of us or none of us.  So when they got married, we were along for the ride…and when they got divorced…we were also along for the ride.  There was no separating my mom’s marriages in my young mind from myself.   Why didn’t they want me as a daughter anymore?  What was so wrong with me?  What did I do to make them leave?  Well, you get the point.

Now, I must also state that I am not one of those people that believe if you had a rough childhood, that you have the right to blame all of your shortcomings on your past or your parents.  Quite honestly, while my childhood may have been less conventional than most, it was still wonderful.  I have more fond memories than I can express, and my mother did the best she could for us with what little she had.  She was always there for me…she loved me with all of her heart…and I could ask for nothing more.

That being said, there were times when I was younger that things were not always sunshine and roses.  We moved roughly every six months.  Sometimes to the next town and sometimes clear across the country.  The constant moving meant that my brothers and I had to switch schools every semester.  For me…it was from Kindergarten through my freshman year of high school.  Then at the start of my sophomore year, my dad said “enough is enough” and instead of moving us once again…he commuted to work every day…an hour and half each way…for years so we could finish high school at the same place.  To this day, I am not sure he will ever know how grateful I am to him for sacrificing so much just to spare us one more move.

And the question that always follows is:  Why did you move so much?  Honestly, I’m not quite sure, and if you were to ask my mom that question, I’m not sure she knew at the time either.  In my second-grade psychology opinion, I believe my mom was running from much of her past…..the unfortunate part was that it always caught up to her…roughly…every 6 months or so.

Anyway, without offending anyone or slurring anyone’s character, I will try to explain this as vaguely as possible while still trying to attain coherency.  My biological father walked away from us when I was about 2.5-3 years old.  He was young, as was my mom, but he had a temper and a bad drinking habit.  It got to a point where…for our safety, my mom had to leave him…and he let her.  I have never met him.  I know his name.  I have seen a picture of him once or twice, and I know he lives in a nearby town.  That is the extent of my connection with him.  From what I am told, he has since changed.  He has cleaned up his act…grown up….and has a family of his own.  I’m glad to hear it.  He apparently knows of us and what we are doing with our lives. As it turns out…the town I live in and the adjoining towns…are not quite big enough to stop him from finding out what he wants to know about us over the years.  And to be quite frank…I guess I kind of like knowing that he still thinks about us every once in awhile.

Moving on…there were two other “fathers”…and I use that term very loosely… that came and went.  They both really loved my mom…actually were borderline obsessive over her…but us kids…well, we were the part of the “package deal” that didn’t really sit well for them.  We were truly just in the way.  My mom’s second husband was pretty abusive to us…again in an effort to not offend or insult…I will spare details, but let’s just say he created some substantial, emotional scaring for me.  Let me clarify…he was not sexually abusive…just very emotional, verbal, and at times, physically abusive.   Ha…I used the word “just” as if that were not enough or that bad!

And my mom’s third husband just didn’t like me…plain and simple.  He adored my mom and my brothers were ok…but he really disliked me.  We were with him from the time I was in 3rd grade (so about 9 years old) until I was in 7th grade (13 years old).  Needless to say, as I got older, I developed the typical teen attitude towards my parents and he just couldn’t tolerate that.  We would have these terrible shouting matches and then not speak to each other for a month.  The tension was high…all the time….and based off what I was told…it was pretty much my fault for that divorce.

Ya know, I think back to that man, and he seemed so great at first, especially considering the derelict he was following!  When my mom and he were dating, he would always let me sit on his lap while they played cards at night.  Just having the attention of a man who did not verbally accost me on a regular basis or play sick, mind games with me, made me feel like a princess.  But then it seemed to happen over night…as soon as they got married, he told me I was “too big” to sit on his lap anymore.  I used to walk away from him and just ask myself how I was “small” enough just a few short weeks ago, but now…I was “too big”.  My heart was broken yet again by another man who didn’t really want me.

Needless to say, by the time my dad came into my life (that is who he is and will always be to me…whether biological or not… he deserves the title of “dad”), I was in no mood to have yet another man pretend to like me in front of my mom just until they got married, only to turn around and hate me as soon as the “deal was done”.  So I put him through hell.  And I mean hell.  I hated him without even knowing him, and I wanted nothing more than for him to fall off the face of the earth and go away!  I pushed him away though any means possible for a solid 6 months, but he did not budge.  He was in for the long haul, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Nothing I could do was going to make him run…and he was there to prove that to me no matter how long it took.

Well, he has been my father for over 19 years now….and honestly…at this point in my writing, I am having a difficult time continuing through the tears.  He has never let me down.  He has never walked away from us.  He has stuck by us through thick and thin.  He worked his fingers to the bone to provide a very comfortable life for us growing up.

Simply put…He is my hero.

He is my father….and he is more than the man he needed to be!

My heart is breaking right now.  My baby girl, who is now 1 year and 2 weeks old, needs to be weaned from my breast!  I took her to the Dr. and while she is growing and developing well, her weight is a bit down.  She refuses to drink whole milk and the Dr said that while my breast milk still holds a ton of nutritional value for her, it cannot keep up with her caloric needs.  If she would drink from a cup or bottle…if she would drink anything other than breast milk…I could continue nursing.  But since she is so stubborn (don’t know where she gets it from), I need to wean her in order to get her drinking other things from other vessels aside from my breast.

I had only planned to breast-feed her the first year anyway; but I really didn’t think it would be this hard to wean her.  She absolutely refuses to fall asleep on her own.  For every nap, and every night at bedtime, if I am present, she wants to be nursed to sleep.  And then on nights like last night, she wakes up every two hours and needs me to nurse her back to sleep again.  After last night, I realized that this madness has to end!  I cannot take it anymore and now I know that all this breastfeeding is actually not helping her any either.  The time has come, but wow is it hard!

I put her down for bed an hour ago, and she is still crying!  I have tried everything.  I go in every couple of minutes to lay her back down, rub her tummy, and let her know that I’m still here.  The second I walk out, she stands up and starts wailing again.  I thought perhaps if I spaced out my visits that would help.  I started going in every ten minutes or so, but to no avail.  She freaks out every time I walk out of the room.  Like I said, we are rounding the hour mark and she is still going strong, but I am wearing thin…very thin.

I am about ready to crack and go in there…..scoop her up…..

Ok….she broke me!  As I was writing I just couldn’t take it anymore so I went in and rescued her from the hell I was putting her through…or perhaps me picking her up was her rescuing me…either way, I just couldn’t let her cry any longer.  I picked her up and sat down in the rocking chair where I usually nurse her to sleep.  I held her close…told her that it was going to be ok…that somehow we would get through this breakup…and rocked her in my arms.  I did not nurse her nor did she even try to get to my breast at that point.  She simply closed her eyes and buried her head in my arm.  I laid her back down in her crib after a few minutes and she started to fuss again.  I rubbed her tummy for a second or two, just long enough to stop the tears before they really started again…and I left her nearly asleep in her crib still doing that tiny little baby gasp that baby’s do after a good, long, hard cry.

I have to be honest…I feel like the cruelest mom in the world right now.  Why does the “tough love” have to start so early in their young lives?  I know by going in there and picking her up after an hour of crying, I just taught her to cry for an hour and ten minutes next time to get what she wants.  But seriously…is it that big of a deal? So what if she needs me to rock her to sleep.  So what if when she is the most vulnerable she wants her mother.  Heck, I’m 33 years old and I still want my mom to rock me to sleep at times and tell me everything will be ok!

I guess I will just try to do better tomorrow.  I will hold out on the breastfeeding since it has now become a health issue, for as long and as much as humanly possible.  But I think for now I will have to trade one bad habit for another.  If my little angel needs to give up nursing, I’m not going to make her give me up too.  One battle at a time.  Let’s just try and get her to sleep without the boob first and then work on getting her down without me holding her tight…perhaps a gradual approach is what we both need at this point.

And hey, by the time she’s off to kindergarten I bet we will both be well adjusted!

UPDATE:

I wrote the above post a few days ago and we have made some progress…daddy gets up with her when she wakes in the middle of the night.  Just not having me there as temptation has helped.  I also put her down kicking and screaming tonight, but this time I held out.  She cried for roughly 40 min….20 min shy of last time….and I only cried for about 30 min ;0)  So all in all…we are making some head way!

Corey and my 3rd anniversary was two weeks ago yesterday.  I dropped the ball on the actual day.  I was crabby and barely acknowledged it.  I mean, I was so terrible to him that I came home to a dozen pink (my favorite) roses, a “Happy Anniversary” balloon, and two cards; one was a cute, funny card that he gave me with the flowers…the other one was a romantic, sweet card I found on my pillow when I went to bed that night, and I didn’t even so much as give him a card!!!  I know….I know….I am the worst wife on the planet!!

Needless to say, the fact that he was sleeping out on the couch by the time I found the second card, after we had argued and I told him not to bother to come to bed, reallllllyyyy made me feel like a winner of a wife.  Looking back, I don’t even remember what we argued about or why I was in such a terrible mood, but I do know that I single handedly turned our 3rd anniversary into a disaster in short order.  I’m not one for taking all the blame for our fights, but this time…it was all me!

The next couple of days I felt terrible…I felt ashamed of my behavior and was so embarrassed that I barely mustered up an “I’m sorry” under my breath.  I just hung my head and wanted to forget the day ever happened.  Somehow, as he always does, he forgave me for being such a royal b#%ch, and we moved on.   As if his forgiveness wasn’t enough, he told me last night that he is taking me out on Saturday night for a belated anniversary date!  He is taking care of all the arrangements…planning the evening…setting up the sitter…everything!

So now ask me how I feel…..

Yep…

You guessed it…..like an even BIGGER failure as a wife!  I realized that I blog about every major event in our lives…for every holiday I blog about the details of the festivities…for every birthday I write a special post for each one of the kids…but I didn’t write a word about our anniversary.

So today is the day.

Today is the day that I truly make amends for dropping the ball as a wife.  Today I officially apologize for being such a shmuk and declare that I am the most blessed woman alive for finding such a genuine, amazing, loving man!

To the love of my life:

It’s been 3 very quick years, and I cannot believe how blessed I am to have you as my husband. You mean more to me that words or any post could ever express.  You are truly my very best friend, and my love for you grows stronger with each passing day.  Thank you for this wonderful life you’ve given me.  You work so hard to provide such a fabulous life for us.  You are my protector, my lover, and my best friend.  You are the most beautiful man I know.

Corey, you managed to not only love me in a way I have never been loved before, but more importantly…you found enough room in your heart to love my four children…and for that, I will be forever grateful!

All my love today, tomorrow, and forever,

Your wife.

My oldest child, Kylie, is turning 13 in just a few, short weeks.  I am blown away at how quickly the time has gone by.  I cannot believe she is almost officially a teenager, and more shockingly, is that I have been a mother for nearly 13 years already!  I’m still trying to wrap my brain around being a mom, much less being a mom of a teenager!  Every year when her birthday rolls around, I am amazed at how fast she is growing up.  How do I stop this from happening?  How do I slow down this metamorphosis from my baby girl with pink toes and chubby cheeks…to a glowing, beautiful, intelligent, young woman?

I mean, I don’t know what I’m doing here.  I have no idea how to actually parent a teenager.  I have read all the books and magazines on how to handle their first ear infection and how to stop a toddler from biting their friends.  I can manage their firsts…their first steps…their first day of school…their first sleepover….

But a teen’s “firsts” are way too scary and uncharted territory for me.  We are now entering a completely new world of sexuality and rites of passage that parallel their lives a little too close to an adult’s life.  Something I am not nearly as comfortable with as I am with the little ones.  We are staring down the barrel of her first period…her first kiss…her first date…her first day of high school…her first prom!  We have all the monumental birthdays lying ahead like officially becoming a teenager…her sweet 16…and the ever so cherished 18th birthday when she is “officially” an adult!  I know her first boyfriend and her first heartbreak are lying ahead.  I know there will be numerous questions about sex and temptations I can’t even think about right now.  She will hate me as she never has before, but we will also build a friendship like never before.

No magazine or book has prepared me for this phase in our lives together.  Because I had her at such a young age (I was pregnant for my 20th birthday), I am unable to turn to most of my friends for advice.  Many of them are asking me how to deal with teething issues and potty training, so calling them up to ask how I should handle cat fights with friends and how I can protect her virtue is not an option.

So where do I turn to find my way this time….

I guess I am going to figure it out as I have in the past.  Blindly feel my way with her by my side….hand in hand we will figure it out together.  I think that’s the beauty of a first child.  All of their firsts are your firsts too.  I know she will help me navigate the way through this parenting maze.  I will screw up royally as I have in the past, and when I ask for forgiveness, she will pardon me as she always does.

And I will PRAY…pray like I’ve never prayed before!   Because no matter how clueless I am going into this new phase in our lives, I know that God has the answers and always seems to be there to take up the slack where I am lacking.

I will thank Him for such a gift….for such a wonderful; terrifying blessing it is to be a mom!

I read somewhere that Vitamin B12 is supposed to help with memory issues.  Since the birth of child number 5, I cannot remember my name most days, much less anything important…so I decided to stock up on B12 and see if it helps.  I had a bottle of chewable tablets that my husband discovered….and subsequently helped himself to nearly 3/4 of the bottle.  Not sure why he felt the need to down the bottle within the last week as he never has issues remembering anything…I mean, I can ask this man on what day I got my last tetanus shot 5 years ago and he will pause ever so briefly and whip out the day…time…and what color shirt I was wearing!

Anyway, because the bottle was gone, I went to Walgreen’s and they did not have any chewable tablets so I just grabbed a bottle of the old-fashioned pill form that must be swallowed whole.  My husband found the bottle on the counter last night and decided to help himself AGAIN to my B12….

The catch….

He thought they were the chewable type, so I came into the kitchen only to find him gagging and spitting feverously into the sink.  At first I thought he was throwing up, until he finally stopped spitting frantically to explain what happened.

I couldn’t stop laughing!  That’s what he gets for stealing my memory tablets ;o)

P.S.  I’ll keep you posted if they actually start helping with my memory issues…if I remember!

What a wonderful 4th of July weekend.  I don’t even know where to begin.  My husband, Corey, had a few days off of work, which doesn’t EVER happen so I think that was the best part of the long weekend.  We actually got to enjoy time together…and when he is around more, I start to remember exactly why I married him and love him so much!  It’s amazing what a few days together can do for your marriage….go figure!  We didn’t have to go away together.  We didn’t plan any fancy night out on the town.  We did simple things with family and friends and that was more than enough to remind me why he is truly my best friend!

On Friday night, we had family and friends over for a cook out and fireworks.  It’s a tradition in our house to go to a local fireworks store and load up on all sorts of fireworks to shoot off at home.  We always have people over…feed them…and then at dusk start the real festivities.  The kids have so much fun running around the house in the dark playing kick-the-can with their friends, and I love all the great memories I have from the years of this tradition.  Our entire driveway is lined with chairs and people chatting waiting for the big display to start.  Corey is a pyro at heart so this is one of his favorite holidays.  There’s nothing quite like the smell of bug spray in the air and colored smoke bombs staining my driveway to really say, “Summer has officially arrived”!

Saturday, the 4th we actually broke tradition for the first time in 13 years!  As you may notice, I am huge on traditions.  I believe kids need traditions in their lives to create familiarity and memories that don’t fade with time.  Normally, we head down to the local park and enjoy the mini carnival they put on.  Then at dusk, we curl up on blankets and enjoy the city’s fireworks show.  This year, we were invited to go up North to a friend’s cottage so we decided to take them up on the offer.  We spent the day boating, tubing, fishing from the dock, and just soaking up the sun.  That evening, we sat around a campfire, eating smores, and watching numerous fireworks shoot off over the lake.  It was a beautiful evening.  I felt a bit melancholy over breaking tradition, but I realized that as the kids get older, our traditions are going to change from time to time.  As long as we are together, making new memories is all that really matters!

Sunday was a very eventful day.  We left the house at 7:15am…and let me tell you what a feat that was to pull off.  We didn’t’ get home the night before until 11:30pm.  So waking 5 children up at 6:15am…getting them bathed, dressed, fed, the car unpacked and repacked, myself showered and ready to go, and have all of us out the door within one hour was quite a task.  We did it though, and I was so pleased with myself that I beamed all the way to Chicago.  My brother lives in Chicago so we met him there (and my other brother drove there to meet us as well) and they surprised the 4 older kids with a Cubs-Brewers game.  We have a strong rival within our family…half are die-hard Brewers fans, and the rest of us love the Cubbies!  So this game was the perfect match up to take the kids to.  We sent my two brothers off with the 4 kids and wished them luck!  My one brother has one daughter and my other brother doesn’t have any children.  Needless to say, they were in over their heads…and I was impressed with their gallant attempt to manage my herd for the day.

Corey and I, along with my parents, took Natalie and my Goddaughter (and only niece) to Shedd Aquarium.  It was a place I had always wanted to visit in Chicago and for some reason had never taken the time to go.  I finally decided that Sunday was the day to go.  The girls loved seeing the big “fishies” and I loved seeing the dolphins.  They are so precious and when I saw a baby swimming tight to her mommy…well, that made my day.

All in all, it was an incredible weekend….one not soon forgotten.  There is nothing I cherish more than quality time with loved ones.  Spending time together…creating memories…simply basking in the fleeting moments of summer…that’s what I call a great 4th of July weekend!