Noted.

#15.) Gave flowers to my mom.  (She deserves more, but all in good time.  She's fabulous. And beautiful.  You should meet her.)

March 29th, 2012

1.) Leo got his first fat lip (hit in the face with a flying swing, per Aunt Leeney's report.)  Sad that he got hurt, yes, but oh-so-smitten with how super-tough he looks.

2.)  Patrick swears, on video, that he will stop sucking his thumb.  Again.

3.)  Hatch...well, Hatch is just his smiley, happy self in his new octopus jammies (which I can't bear to take him out of because a.) I am too tired and still in jammies myself, and b.) he's adorable.)

4.) Adam started day #2 of his new job (same company, new job.)  He will be traveling a lot, meaning I'll be single-parenting it at least two nights a week, but I kind of have this down now.  And the company car isn't a bad touch.  And the extra income will come in handy when we have three kids to put through private schooling.  Good work, honeybee.

It's an ordinary day.  Just a regular, quiet, giggly, lots-of-diapers, laid-back, no television, peaceful, dinner-on-the-table-by-5pm kind of day.  Proof that not every day is mad chaos around here.  Some days are just simple.  And lovely. 

13.) Apologized for something that haunts me.

14.) Told someone how he changed my life.

Happy Birthday Project

I am so far behind in all of my blogging efforts, but not for lack of preparation.  It's for lack of patience when it comes to this horribly slow laptop.  (Our main one putzed out, so I'm down to the backup.  Or the tablet, which I would rather lick clean that type out an entire post on it's touch-screen keypad.)

In short, work is fabulous, exhausting and rewarding.  The kids are insane, and I feel sorry for anyone who has to see us out.  We are our own little circus.  One might think it drives me nuts...it doesn't.  I like the chaos, and though I must say, "IF I HAVE TO TELL YOU ONE MORE TIME..."  at the top of my lungs 17 times a day, I try to tell myself that this, too, shall pass and one day, these days will be the easy ones.  At least nobody can call me lazy.  Crazy, yes.  Lazy, no. 

The most interesting thing that I have going on at the moment is my birthday project.  A week ago today, I turned 32.  As it goes, 32 feels just like 31, which felt like 28, which felt like 25...you get the picture.  I'd like to think that I am still younger than I am, but I am not.  Not that I try to hide my age (obviously), I just don't feel like I am aging.  (Well, unless I try to drink more than 2-3 glasses of wine at a time.  Then, I feel every day of 32.  Every single day...and then some.)  Back to my birthday, though.  My sister planned a lovely little outing at a cool little bar for me.  It was absolutely fabulous to see so many of our friends out...and late, too, for a school night.  (75% of the attendees were RN's.  Thank goodness for alternative schedules.)  Adam got my a lovely hydrangea plant (which I have already killed.  My thumb is black), and took me out for a sushi FEAST.  It was gluttonous...and fabulous.  He planned a date night for us in the near future...plans to be disclosed later.  It was all that I wanted for my birthday.  It was perfect.

As birthdays go, I started to reflect on the past year, on how enormously blessed I am, on how hard we have been working, on how much things have changed in the last year, on how grateful I am for everything.  Every. Thing.  So, how does one give back to spread some of the goodness bestowed on her?  She performs one acts of kindness (random or otherwise) for each year of her birth.  Thirty-two acts of kindness...which takes much longer than one day to complete.  So, right now, we are still somewhere at the beginning.  To date, my acts of kindness include:

1.) Delivered cookies to a firehouse and thank the fireman for all that they do.  (This was ultimately disappointing, which I hate to admit.  I took the boys with me because I thought it would be cool for them to see.  It wasn't.  It was a quick drop-off, a quick thank-you, a quick once-over of the sparkly trucks, and a couple of souvenir helmets.  Well, that doesn't sound like it would be disappointing, but I got the feeling we were an annoyance more than anything.  Eh.  You can't win them all.)

2.) Left a hand-written note for a deserving neighbor.

3.) Sent a card to a friend in need.

4.) Stopped in the rain to help a woman who had dropped her belongings and had a child in each arm and one in a stroller. 

5.) Returned the shopping carts in a parking lot to the cart corral.

6.) Left an anonymous note of thanks for someone great.

7.) Donated coloring books, play-doh, crayons, books, and puzzles to the children's hospital.

8.) Told someone I just met how they had inspired me.

9.) Told the kids how proud I was to be their mother.

10.) Put coins in a meter that had run out.

11.) Left a large tip for a deserving server.

12.) Complimented management on a job well done.

13.) Did not throw my shoe at the crazy neighbor who shouted, "Oh, Catie!  I am so sorry to hear you had another boy!" over the back fence yesterday.  (Fine, that doesn't count.  But it should.  By not giving her an obscene gesture, at the very least, I did her a favor.)

Eesh.  I feel like I was further than this!  I guess I need to work on it.  Shoot.  This is going to take me weeks, but it's a work in progress.  And I'll update that progress as I go.  Assuming, that is, that I somehow find the patience to deal with this laptop long enough to keep up with my blog postings. Does practicing patience count as an act of kindness?  It should.  That would at least bring me one step closer to that elusive 32...

I just removed my first (of most certainly many) splinters.  If you ask Patrick, I removed a giant piece of wood from his hand.  If you want to know the truth, it was probably about 1mm by 2.5mm.  Tiny.  But to a tiny kid himself, it was monumental.

This rite of passage, and the official start to our "outdoor season," I'd like to believe, leads me directly to this.  It's as if Erin Jo lives in my walls.

Boys in my House

Author: Erin Jo Kilmer

There are boys in my house - and Spiderman shoes

And 200 papers in various blues.

There's Bob (he's a builder) and Thomas the Train,

There's a fireman coat to wear in the rain.

They have cars on their shirts and frogs on their hats

There's a glove and a ball and a red plastic bat.

There's dirt on a face and a smudge on a nose;

Grass stains on knees and sand between toes.

There's bathtime at night with bodies to scrub,

And when we're all done there is dirt in the tub!

There's bandaids and bruises and curious bumps,

There's smiles and laughter and sometimes there's grumps.

There are odors most icky; there's boogers so green

 There are more yucky things than I'll ever get clean.

There are piles of laundry; there's stories at night;

There's bedtime and bathtime and dinnertime fights.

There are cars and there are trains and there are books about trucks

There's Scoop, Lofty, Dizzy, and Travis, and Muck.

Sometimes there are bugs, and sometimes there are frogs;

Sometimes they are lions, or dinos, or dogs.

There are cute little vests and darling neckties

Dragged right through the mud - oh what a surprise!

There's running and climbing and jumping and falling

And laughing and crying and hugging and brawling

And rolling and losing and finding and creeping

 And whining and stealing and sometimes there's sleeping.

There's tantrums and time outs and extra loud noise -

There's love in my house, shaped like three little boys.

My friend, Alison, has the funniest take on parenting.  (Funny because it's true.  The best kind.)  As stolen from her FB page (assuming that is ok--thanks, Alison!):

Once upon a time, I saw this on PostSecret.  At the time, I was looking for a sign. This was it.  So I did it.  And he/she was right; it is amazing.  Maybe you need a sign, too? 

Oh, Leo...

My guess is that I have appoximately seven minutes to write this, as Leo is currently up-and-at-'em, which means a clean-up is likely due soon.  However, I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge Leo.  Our little Gorilla.  Sweet Leo.

He gets a bad rap.  By me.  Leo is not as bad as I make him seem (though should any one of our children ever be responsible for accidentally setting fire to a local bowling alley, it would be Leo.  It hasn't happened...yet, but it could.)  He is funny and clever, affectionate and no-nonsense.  He's solidly built and quite witty for a little guy of few words.

His talking has taken off recently, though he still talks much less than Patrick ever did.  His verbal skills remind me of Yoda, if he would have been Native American.  (That sounds completely racist, but this method works!  It does.)  He's good at putting together sentences, though he likes to use the minimum number of words to get his point across.  For example:

Just a few minutes ago, Leo (whose new fascination is pouring water in and on everything) poured a glass on his baby brother.  When I hollered out "Leo!" his explaination came like this.  "Water went 'whish.'  Baby say 'ooh.'"  Which, in his defense is exactly what happened.  Currently, he is repeating, "Outside to go.  Jump and jump" (which means I want to go outside and jump on the trampoline.)

This kid is incredible.  He keeps me moving.  A lot.  If it weren't for the fact that I really love food, I would look like a Sports Illustrated Swiumsuit model from all of my constant activity.  In the middle of a giant mess of dog food/water/toys he will shrug his shoulders with a big, beautiful grin and say, "Loooo-ooove."  He instantly stops a tantrum with an "I'm sawwy," if it means he will get a treat.  He jumps off any surface with a decent amount of grace for a 22-month-old and, as I found out today, is more adept than I am at cracking eggs. 

Thank God for Leo.  Should he ever set fire to a bowling alley, I'd love him all the same.  Maybe more.  It would just be so...Leo.

There Are 17 Things I Should Be Doing, But...

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t his eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.