In a Blue Moon

I had an existential crisis on Christmas Eve. I lost my purpose and it scared me so much. It was my husband's birthday, the baby turned 3 months old, the older 2 were sick, and we were supposed to leave the next day on an 8 hour car trip.

I cried, I thought thoughts that I really shouldn't think. It was just no good.

The excitement I usually feel on Christmas Eve was not there at all and it was completely depressing. "Santa" was not happy to give her gifts. The cookie baking lead to fits, the bike for Winston was a complete failure, and all the day's events were leading to the worst Christmas of my adult life.

But then the big boys wouldn't sleep and I started to get nervous about the presents I needed to arrange in secret. The nervousness led to much cherished excitement and I got everything done about the time it changed from Eve to Day on Christmas.

The Day was pretty good. I may write about the gifts that were really successful, but mostly I just want to remember the boys playing all day long, the relaxed "it's Christmas" feelings, and being able to pull together a stellar Christmas Dinner when I thought we weren't having anything but leftovers and candy.

We left on the 26th in a surreal mood. The trip was going to be long, and yet we really didn't care. We were in the van, we were traveling, and it was going to be ok.

Being with all of my Father's family usually makes me want to scream and hide, but this time I relished it. I loved every person I saw, savored every bite of my Grandmother's food, and was even better to my boys that I ever am at home.

After some time with my family we went to NM to see The Mr.'s Dad and his wife. We were snowed in and the feeling was indescribable. We were stuck, if only for a few hours, together. My boys, big and little, and me, in a kitchenette hotel room. The window in the little kitchen faced north, and when Winston woke up he ran to the window with his Papa and said, "Mommy, look! It's snowing!!"

The boys played in the snow, sat at the table to do newly gifted art projects, and swam in the hotel's indoor pool.

We went to visit Grandfather and Lamb (husband's father's wife's maiden name, and the name I'll use here when writing about her) the second day of our trip, after naptime. The Mr.'s father was so grateful that we'd come, even if our only visiting was done in the hospital waiting room. He told me my husband's nickname as a baby as I watched Lamb tear up. We didn't know if he was ever going to make it out of the hospital.

The morning before we left, we took the boys to see them one last time. The Mr. and I were both anxious. It could have been the last time he ever saw his father alive. My husband pulled out the fancy new shirt our boys had chosen for him for Christmas to wear that day and I knew he was feeling a loss even if it hadn't happened yet.

The last thing his Dad said to me was that he hoped he'd make it out of the hospital.

Lamb called yesterday evening when we were just a couple of hours from home.

Today, my FIL is going home. Home to his house, with his Lamb. They asked if he wanted to stay through the weekend, and he chose to leave early. I am so happy that he made it out of the hospital, and so proud that my little ones visiting may have helped him to get there.

Tonight, there will be a Blue Moon in the sky. I want to go home too. I want to find my home inside my own insides, and curl up in my bed there.

Today I have listened to music, read a chapter in a real book, and tried to give myself some room to breathe. My purpose, rather it remains the same, is slightly revised, or radically different, is in there somewhere. I don't want to feel any loss that doesn't yet need to happen.

I can let myself go home once in a blue moon.

Status

We are 3 full days and a little extra from Christmas Day. We have Winston and Wednesday on antibiotics for bronchitis, and the Mama is seriously stuffy-nosed with a frog in her throat.

I need oranges for stockings, another gift for my mother (the handmade thing I had planned didn't happen), and I really wanted to get The Mr. a couple of more things too. Oh! The 24th is also his birthday, so I'm cooking an extremely parred down birthday meal for him. I usually do a Feast of the Seven Fishes type thing, but I just don't have it in me this year. The grocery store and Target both need to be visited tomorrow.

The plans, as they stand, are to open non-Santa gifts on the 24th. Our has-accidentally-become-tradition Christmas breakfast will be served that morning. We were also going to take the boys to Grandma's house to see their cousins and get their biggest Santa gift that day. It's a good thing I put them together in my MIL's garage, as it looks like that's as far into Grandma's house as we'll be going.

We had planned to leave as soon as we were done with Santa's offerings on the 25th to drive about 8 hours to my Grandmother's house. The 27th we're supposed to drive another 220 miles to see The Mr.'s father and his wife in New Mexico. The boys need more long pants, the baby needs a warmer hat, and we need snacks for the car (see need for grocery store and Target).

So, ummm, HOLY MOLY YOU GUYS.

We have sickness, we have travel preparation with a new baby, and we have unfinished Christmas/Birthday stuff.

I am slightly overwhelmed and extremely calm all at the same time. I guess that's Christmas.

Alive and Well

Hello, Beauties!!

I'm an awful blogger, I know. But I'm here, right now, so...Ta da!!

We are all doing pretty good these days. Winston is so big. I was four feet and eight inches tall in the fourth grade. My oldest son is two inches away from being four feet tall and he is four years old!

Tomorrow is his big Hanukkah show at school (where he is reading and ready for Kindergarten, according to his teacher). He has an assigned seat where I have to bring him in the morning so he can get his flashy golden gelt costume on. We are both very excited.

Wednesday is still the most silly and hilarious boy I've ever known. He turned three, you know, and he is most assuredly not a baby anymore. Now, if we could just get him to potty in the potty it would be glorious. He is right at the age where he is so very big, but I can still scoop him up for spontaneous snuggles without much of a fight.

Minnow is huge. He is divinely cute. Minnow is my favorite snack and just the most snuggly bug of a baby I've ever known. He is laughing, and squiggling, and charming everyone he meets. He got fussy in Barnes and Noble yesterday and caught the attention of the four or five ladies in line. I turned him toward the Giant! Yellow! Gift Wrapping! Sign! and he started laughing. He won over every single one of those women in a flash.

What else do I need to tell you? Thanksgiving was darn tootin'. Whatever that means. My food turned out better than it ever has in the past. Wednesday had two friends come and play on his birthday. They decorated enormous sugar cookies, are squash-berry muffins, and played outside until Winston came in and said, "I'm having a big problem out there, Mommy! I'm too tired to be nice anymore!".

We're spending Christmas at home; a tradition my Mama started in my own family that I appreciated then and do even more so now. A visit to my Grandmother's house and The Mr.'s Dad's house are in the works for after Christmas.

The Mr.'s Dad fell about two weeks ago and broke his leg. They expect him to be fine, but he is tired of being in the hospital and kind of down-in-the-dumps. His wife sent the most beautiful quilt for Minnow with the entire alphabet embroidered on it. His name is at the bottom, with a well placed "Z" to finish it out.

I think I'm just rambling now, but I've missed you so, little blog o'mine.

Some questions I've been pondering: What is a good way to introduce Karate to Winston before he starts once a week next year? Have any of you ever cooked turnips and LIKED them (I really want to try them this holiday season)? Does anyone have a good, Christmas-y, molded, jello salad recipe? I've always wanted to make one of those too.

Love to all of you.....

First Things First

This post must be written before the one about my gorgeous new baby so these thoughts won't contaminate his loveliness.  Let me preface this by saying that I love my mother and I very much appreciate her coming down here to help before, during, and after the baby was born.

BUT

I'm still bitching about all the things that she screwed up while she was here.  I was going to let this go, but I just opened the package of onsies she bought for Minnow and I can't contain it any longer.  

The Kitchen:

She does not rinse the dishes before she puts them in the dishwasher.  My dishes don't get clean.  She puts them away DIRTY.  Then, I have to inspect each thing she put away and put at least half of it back in the sink so SOAK and then be washed again.  I love when people do my dishes for me; except her.  And she will do them even if I tell her not to.  There is no stopping her.  Also, she puts things away in the wrong places.  Bowls with the tupperware, serving spoons with regular ones, cookie sheets with pots and pans.  It's just really frustrating.

The Laundry:

When Wednesday was born my mother did at least 10 loads of laundry in the time she was at my house.  Not one of those loads was actually dried all the way.  But she folded those damp clothes and piled them on our bed.  So when I got home from the hospital I had a bed full of mildew-smelling clothes that I could neither wash or fold by myself.  My husband had steam coming out of his ears.  This time, she did less laundry, but succeeded in DESTROYING the Big Brother shirts I HANDMADE for Winston and Wednesday.  Like hand-sewn patches, hand lettering, iron-ons.  They are ruined, and I'll have to re-do them now.  The other laundry she did was, of course, not dried all the way.  I managed to rescue it from her clutches right after getting home from the hospital.  Lastly, she bought the baby an outfit he already had, in the same exact size, and would not take it back.  And the onsies she bought??  They say "I am the boss", and "It's all about me".  NO, MOTHER.  NO.  Good golly, Miss Molly.

The Children:

After being with her for any amount of time they were like demons on crack.  They were rude, mean, and did not listen to anything that my husband or I said.  This was not a helpful occurrence with a newborn in the house.  We had two of the worst mornings ever in the history of our family as a result of morning visits from my mother (my Dad was here too.  But I don't have anything bad to say about him.  He follows my rules, is calm when the boys need him to be, and cooked dinner for us).  Just GAH.

Me:

She kept trying to be all lovey with me.  I don't do lovey with my mother because she takes it WAY overboard.  I tried not to grimace and flinch, but it was really difficult.

The Hospital:

The morning we were going to the hospital after taking the boys to school, my Dad called her about 6:30 to make sure she was awake.  She told him we were all still sleeping and that she didn't need to get up.  She didn't get up until 7:45 when we needed to leave by 8:15.  AND she went to get ready just as my husband was walking to the bathroom.  We were so close to being late for everything because of her.  Both times my obgyn came into my hospital room during my stay my mother my snoring like a dying elephant on the couch bed.  I was already up and dressed and my mother is laying on the couch snoring so loud that the nurses kept looking at her like, "Shut UP, Woman!".  It was embarrassing.

There are a lot of other things.  But that's enough that I feel cleansed and better now.  Thanks for letting this be a ranting place.  Once again, I'm glad she was here, even if it was hard to put up with.  We couldn't have gotten me in and out of the hospital without her.  

Baby Boy's Bloggy Badge

So, I have narrowed it down to two options for the soon to be born Little Mister's blog name.  I have a favorite, but I wanna know what y'all think first!  Let me know which one fits with the other boy names in the comments if you wanna...

1.  Woods:  Implies nature, has the descending syllable thing with the other boys names (Winston, Wednesday, and Woods).  Plus, it's a slight play on the origin of the baby's real name.

2.  Minnow:  This was kind of hubby's idea.  Instead of having 3 W's, flip the third one upside-down to make an M name.  This one ends in a W though, so the flow is good.  Also, it's funny to think of this guy as Minnow when he appears to be so HUGE.  Adorable word as well!

So, whatcha fink?

School Rules

When the last session of summer camp started after a two week break this year, I was overwhelmed with how sad I felt.  It wasn't the reaction I expected from myself, especially when you consider what a handful Winston (and Winston and I together) had been during camp's intermission.  But there I was, bawling my eyes out, clinging to the boys and wondering why in the hell I paid for more camp when it felt so wrong to send them again.

That singular reaction started a thought process that I'd been trying to avoid for at least 2 years:  Homeschooling.  Suddenly, I felt like maybe there was a reason why I gravitate toward blogs written by homeschoolers, and why I enjoy planning learning activities so much.  Having been bogged down in a constant struggle with him, a method of reconnecting with Winston in a meaningful way that we both thrive on was an imminent option.  Storytime, during projects, and planned activities were our only saving graces during most of the summer.  Would homeschooling allow those peaceful times to expand and improve our relationship?  Also, keeping Wednesday home and teaching him things in a setting where he felt comfortable, instead of him weeping at school drop off, came as a welcome relief, even if it's not quite time yet.

So I got on Amazon until the wee hours of the morning and searched through books.  Then I went to the library, list in hand, and checked out everything I could on homeschooling.  I started reading, and encountered far more positives than negatives in the books I'd found.  There was only one instance when I just couldn't finish a section for the principle of it.

Then one day, I happened to be on Facebook when my former voice teacher mentioned spending the afternoon doing math with her 7 year old.  Remembering that my mother had said she was homeschooling I sent her a message almost immediately.  Was she homeschooling?  Yes.  Could I talk with her about it and ask questions?  Sure!

It was fantastic.  Someone I knew as a teacher and friend had already been teaching her boys at home for three years.  I asked her everything I could think of, kept reading, and then asked more questions.  What did her typical day look like?  How did she teach part-time and homeschool simultaneously?  What method did she use?  Curriculum?  EVERYTHING.

I looked up everything she said online and had another brain flash:  One of my best friends from High School was homeschooled until she was a freshmen!  Again, I very quickly sent her a message and hoped for the best.  I wanted her impression now, of how being taught at home affected her.  She responded right back, and had nothing but excellent things to say about her experience.  As one of the most artistic, creative, and expressive people I know, this was very exciting.

But as this break between the end of camp and the start of school stretched on, I got nervous.  Winston loves school, and is in a very good environment right now.  Could I really take him out of there and provide something even better?  I had just started to think that maybe I was getting in over my head when I woke up in a panic Monday night.

There was a meeting for the parents at the boys school Tuesday evening.  The bubble of our experimental "homeschooling" learning (I want to tell you more about this, I even have pictures!) was coming to a close, and school was about to start.  I went to the meeting and left feeling pretty heart-broken.  Hearing everything through my newly educated ears was so sad and worrisome.  The main focus of the directors entire speech was money and not being late.  As I sat reading, I saw that they even included the states guidelines for "healthy" lunches in the handbook!  As a parent, I am already following Kosher rules (for the school), my own families dietary needs (husband is diabetic), and keeping in mind any food allergies that may be present in the boys' classroom.  Please don't tell me them, to include "healthy soups" in lunches when there is a very clearly stated rule that they won't reheat anything for longer than a minute.

Sigh...

On top of all of that, the new director repeated to all of us that she'd had to reassure some parents that the could pick their children up early or only send them three days a week.  This was really disturbing to me.  We are talking about pre-school.  It's not required, and we're paying for our kids to be there.  Of COURSE we can pick up our kids early and send them when we deem appropriate!  

Winston's teachers were awesome.  They're well certified, in love with their jobs, and eager to teach.  The assistant is actually my preferred person for him, but the main teacher worked with him last year quite a bit when one of his teacher's hurt her arm.  But there was one thing that the head teacher said that just ruffled my feathers like nothing else.  She mentioned wanting a better play kitchen for her classroom, and then that she wanted to make the little house next to it into a doll house.  Up to here it was all fine.  Then she said "for the girls".  The kitchen, dress-up clothes, and house were "for the girls", while the carpet with roads on it (!!!  not exactly exciting) and the train table were "for the boys".  I think she must have gotten a look from more than one of us because she corrected herself and called it "dramatic play".  This may not seem like a big deal, but Gosh Darnit if I haven't worked for my boys entire lives to teach them that it is ok to play however you want to.  If you want to dress up?  Then do it!  If you want to imagine you're a chef, or cooking dinner, or changing a diaper, or a dancer then you are more than welcome.  ...It just really ticked me off.  I'm not interested in gender stereotypes AT ALL.  My boys have trucks and wagons and trains and super hero toys, but they also have a play kitchen, a tea set, a baby sling, and dress-up clothes.

I'm going to send them this year, even though Wednesday weeps every time I mention it.  He'll get two weeks to settle in and adjust.  After that, if the crying continues I'm just pulling him out.   I'm going to pick them both up before lunch everyday, and after nap, we are going to learn something fun everyday with Mama.  Because when next year comes around, I think we're staying home.

I have a lot more that I'd like to write about when it comes to this decision, what others might think about our family, etc.  So if y'all don't mind reading it I'd love to keep going in another post!

He Dreamed a Dream

Wednesday, right now this morning, as best I can recall:

"There was a FishLady and a GirlPapa and da GirlPapa bit me right dey onna arm (points to his forearm above his wrist)!!"  He bit you?  "Yes he bit me right dey, and I screamed like this:  ahhh (very quiet scream)".  Like that?  "No, like this!  AHHHHHH!!!!"  Oh My, and what else happened?  "And the GirlPapa was mean!  And dey put da fish back in!" They did?  Where did the fish come from?  "Da FishLady's neck!"  The fish came out of the fish lady's neck and they put it back in?  "Yeah!  Right dey (points to the front of his neck)!"  What else happened?  "And the GirlPapa went back to his blue stuff, and the bite came off!"  

And then right now, he walked up and added:

"On the wall in my dream there was a mean song, it was a biting song!"

I don't ever remember Winston articulating a dream so clearly, and that was completely unprompted.  He just walked up to us, after loving on his cat, and told us all of that very animatedly...  

"I had a dream last night, and it looked just like a dream" -Gibby Haynes