A Lot Tougher, A Lot More Relaxed

Looking back on my years before children, I have to have a good chuckle at myself.  I was pretty darned serious.  I mean - seriously serious.  Every thing in life seemed to need uninhibited attention to detail.  Our house was cleaned every weekend.   I put 200%  into everything I did at work and had little patience for errors (sorry ladies).  Finances in order, check, yard tidied, check, groceries in cupboard, check, all nooks and crannies organized, check.  Okay, NOW we can go out and play.  BORING! 

Carry that into children.  I remember when Samuel had his first Hep B shot and he was only 5 days old.  As the nurse slid that needle into his little chubby thigh, I cried and cried and felt my chest swell with guilt that we are the cause of these little cries of pain.  Four years later, four kids later, one too many sets of immunizations later I took Samuel in for his kindergarten shots and I found myself saying "You'll be alright buddy.  Just think, these hurt a lot less than the actual diseases!"  WOW - did that come out of my mouth?  I should have more sympathy.  Especially for the girls.  And I think - hey sweethearts, I had at least 70 shots and 12 miserable trips to Sioux Falls to bring you into this world, we're not even yet.  I'm teasing!

I remember when Samuel first joined us.  If I had a day where he cried all afternoon, had a bit of vomit and a tantrum or two...my god...it was a HORRIBLE day.  I pondered this recently as Peter called on his way home from work and asked, "How was it today?"  My response was, "Eh, just another day."  As I then truly examined the day, I realized that I woke up to two poopy diaper blow-outs.  The up the back, over the shoulder kind.  Immediately after breakfast Ethan looked at me with the glazed eyes, I swallowed a frog cheeks and proceeded to projectile vomit curdled milk all over my living room carpet.  Samuel had a wicked tantrum because I wouldn't let him play play-doh after just vacuuming for the 50th time that week.  And all day I listened to, "Mommy, can we PUHLEASEE play play-doh?"  Ethan and Samuel had had a huge breakdown fight over who was the privileged party to put the DVD in the player.  A regular occurrence at our house.  And on and on.  And really, it was just another day in a house full of children learning their manners and coordinating play.

I've lightened up quite a bit over the years it appears.  Who cares about deadlines when all we are really worried about are whether or not the next ten minutes are rocking fun?  Consider the things I've actually had a good laugh about (often after I was down having a tantrum of my own). 

• You really can fit an entire roll of toilet paper into the toilet and it expands to astronomical proportions.  Add to that, bathrooms really do flood into the hallway after 5 or so flushes when clogged. 
• Farts and burps are truly the most hysterical things in the entire universe.  The louder the better.  But of course, one must say "excuse me."
• Who really, really cares if the fitted sheets are folded correctly or the wash cloths aren't in perfect little squares?  Samuel gets a nickel for every wash cloth he folds, and we put it away just the way he folds it because he's learning.  And it is sure fun to have help.
• Sleeping through the night experts forget that your sweet little babies teeth, have fevers, get growth spurts, require shots, and never sleep after a trip anywhere.
• Who needs the silverware in the proper place?  Spoons fit nicely in the fork slot.
• Linen closets are the best places in the world to hide.  Especially if you unload EVERY thing from the closet into the hallway first.
• Bubbles are great fun smeared on the mirror and across the island.
• Plant dirt is perfect for playing construction.
• There are even days when....wait for it...wait for it....my bed doesn't get made!

And of course the most important lesson is that bad things happen when you leave the room for five minutes and if it is quiet, you are about to be in over your head.

So dear 20-year old Sabrina - lighten up.  Dear 25-year old Sabrina - go travel some more and oh yeah, lighten up!  Dear 30-year old Sabrina - looking better - only 2.5 more years and your give a damn will be pretty much busted.  But you'll have a lot more fun.  Oh and psst...the chocolate is hidden above the pantry behind the apple juice.

How it Goes

It is a new week and we survived Peter's absence to Connecticut.  Ethan and Samuel both had head colds that cleared in a normal pattern with coughing, sneezing, and being miserable and ornery little buggers for the allotted three days.  The girls progressed in a much more aggressive fashion with all the same symptoms, but crying and crying for days and being up all night.  Nina's illness resulted in an ear infection in her right ear.  Noting she was in pain, I tried to give her oral Tylenol on two occasions, but her extra sensitive gag-reflex left her lunch on my lap.  Lovely 'eh?  Those are green peas mixed with formula and stomach bile gracing my front.  We're on day three of antibiotics now.  God bless hot pink amoxicillin.


Ode to Aunt Lisa who stopped in and supplied us with chocolate and laughter for the boys.  Hooray for grandma, my mom, who arrived after Lisa left and held and snuggled sobbing babies.  Couldn't have done it without two of my favorite ladies.  Thanks Lisa and Mom!

A Little Foolish

If one fails to learn from something over and over, we call them unteachable. If one does the same thing and they get the same result, and they continue down this path, it is lunacy. We call them stupid, we call them crazy. I'm beginning to think I fit that description when it comes to waving Peter out the door for this trip or that trip. Knowing what I know, I'm definitely cracked.

So I was feeling bad for Peter around the end of December because he was way over-babied. In his defense it does take the patience of a saint to wake up to babies, go to sleep with babies and do everything baby and toddler between. Particularly for a man who loves kids, but struggles with anything prior to about 18 months. With Samuel and Ethan he changed diapers, gave baths, fed them solids and held them often. But if a wail ensued, I found the baby back in my arms. With the girls, he didn't really have a choice and for the first 4 months of their lives he took the first shift and was left alone to deal with all their needs from 8 pm to about 1 am every day. I was seeing the stress around his eyes and in his response to situations. Feeling generous, I offered that for his 36th birthday, I'd send him on a trip. The rationale behind this generosity was that the girls would be around 6 months old, they'd be eating some solids, they should mostly be sleeping through the night. We'd be a-okay!

But I forgot that I'm cursed. It is inevitable that when Peter goes anywhere, the children get sick. Take these examples.

1. In November of 2007, when Samuel was 8 months old, Peter had a business trip and Samuel ended up with 9 days of vomiting and diarrhea due to rotovirus. Ssomething they vaccinate against now.
2. In April of 2009 when Ethan was 11 months old, Peter's closest childhood friend's father passed away, so Peter traveled back to Connecticut for the funeral. I said, "Go, go. Ethan is just teething...that is why he is running a fever. We'll be fine!" Ha! Two days later, during a South Dakota spring blizzard I was sitting in a hospital. 2 year old Samuel was jumping on the bed and Ethan was completely dehydrated, lethargic and on an IV with wicked antibiotics for bacteremia (a blood poisoning) and once hydrated again developed viral pneumonia.
3. Later when Peter joined the fire department and had to travel to training in Cody WY for fire school, we had a second round of rotovirus in our lives. I was sicker than sick, Samuel's body expulsions lasted about 4 days, and Ethan sat around grinning at all of us, because he had been vaccinated for this evil bug.

And the list goes on and on. Whether it is a quick two day trip or a week long adventure, we end up with anything from minor head colds to hospitalizations. I don't tempt fate before he leaves and make the children lick shopping carts at the local Wal-mart or dip them in the swimming pool and say "drink up!" So why does this happen to me?

To complicate matters, lately the rule has been not only do the children get sick, but What can go wrong will go wrong if Peter is out of town. Take his last business trip in January to New Orleans. Not only did all the children develop a nasty illness, but the van stopped working because a non-ignition switch seat heater drained the battery, the temperatures dropped to 19 below, and the pellet stove malfunctioned filling the house with smoke. The second, or maybe third night (who remembers in my delirium), Nina was up all night sobbing. My mother happened to be here to help on that trip and she stayed up for the 3 am to 6 am shift. The next night, Jocelyn did the same. Thank goodness, by then Peter was home and let me go to bed. Somewhere in the middle of Peter's sojourn I was either outside moving car seats from vehicle to vehicle, charging a battery, or dismantling much of the pellet stove and carrying out buckets of smoldering pellets. It was delightful. But the man came home and this prairie woman had it all together and in working order with rosy-cheeked children.

Why the ranting and raving now? Peter is on that 36th birthday trip for 6 days to Connecticut. We're at the beginning of day 3 and guess what? All four children and mom are coughing and hacking, sneezing with dripping noses, sleep deprived and running fevers. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Remembering why Peter shouldn't go anywhere. Noting that I am indeed a lunatic.