Not much. You?

Swimming lessons for five kids starting at 9:00am every day for two weeks.

Water bottles and a snack (hopefully including something healthy in the form of fruit) for the break between the two lesson times because swimming leaves kids famished.

Lunch for the same crew moments after returning home from swimming because, again, swimming leaves kids famished.

Naptime beginning an hour or more earlier than usual because, in addition to famished, swimming and sun exposure leave kids dead tired.

Hardcore house cleaning in preparation for Wednesday's dinner party and house blessing, including unpacking and rearranging of as-yet-unpacked boxes in the office/bedroom construction area in an attempt to make it look like a real living space.

Dinner for 14 at previously mentioned dinner party and house blessing, including baked brie and pork chops in a mushroom wine sauce.

Doctor appointments, bible study, laundry...

And for my grand finale, a weekend that includes ballet lessons, lunch with friends from Colorado as they pass through town, a "quick" trip to Kansas City for a Royals game with my family, and baby Henry's baptism.

Yeah, I'm getting into the swing of things.

(Consider this the explanation for my infrequent posting, and even more infrequent emailing. I still love you all. I promise.)

*****

The house blessing on Wednesday was wonderful! For starters, it was perhaps my most flawlessly executed dinner party ever. All the food was ready when I wanted it and hot when it was served. Almost, but not quite, everything was eaten, so I know there was enough without having loads of leftovers. There were no major bodily injuries to guests or hosts.

More importantly, Father (the pastor of our parish and head of the Catholic school the kids will be attending next year, as well as a genuinely wonderful man) led our family, as well as my in-laws who joined us for dinner, through a lovely house blessing ceremony complete with songs and readings. I was surprised since at our previous home, we'd asked a priest friend of ours who was visiting to bless the house, and he simply said a few words of blessing then walked through the house sprinkling holy water. This was much more involved, and it was lovely.

I'm confident that this was not the first time this house has been blessed, and there was no bad feel about the place, so I don't expect a dramatic change in our home life or anything so obvious. I do, however, feel like we are a more complete, established, settled family, now that we've formally blessed the house and our family within it. As Father said, we have now created a "little church" within our home, and I pray that we can draw on that to find the graces we need daily - patience, love, understanding, wisdom. God knows I've been sorely in need of a couple of those.

And who knows! Maybe now all my dinner parties hosted in this house will go just as smoothly.

I scream! You scream!

Well, you know the rest.

This is so cool... Back in May, my mom sent me a link to an online contest. The deal was, I had to write a very brief statement on why I should win a neighborhood ice cream social for up to 100 people. Gee. Let me think of a few reasons... new to the neighborhood. New kids. Who are also new to the neighborhood. And therefore starting a new school. Tons of their future classmates live in the neighborhood. You get the idea. If I wasn't so skeptical of my ability to win anything (at least anything that doesn't involve being picked out of a crowd for screaming the loudest, but that's a story for another day) I would have had to admit I was a shoe in.

And I was! I got word a week ago that I won! Come August, just before school starts, we'll have ice cream for a hundred people plus bowls, spoons, etc., delivered to our doorstep. Sweet! The only question is, do we really invite other people, or just pretend it was a "win a year's supply of ice cream" contest? Mwah ha ha!

Worst. Naptime. Ever.

For the first time in weeks, Ruth wasn't falling asleep in her lunch, and I should have seen that for the omen it was. We were running a little late today because of a pancake breakfast that all three little girls wanted to "help" with. Anyone who's had a two, three, or four year old assistant knows that that sort of "help" does not speed up any process. Lunch wasn't till almost 1:00, and so naptime came just before 2:00. Sort of.

Naptime started with a lot of jumping on beds and getting out of beds and crying about who had which book in bed. After several minutes of settling that down, I remembered that the laundry in the dryer needed to be switched for a new load, and ran to the basement to take care of it. I gave strict instructions that no noise was to be made, nor was any one of the them to leave her own bed. Shockingly, I was not obeyed.

I went back to the attic to the sound of real crying. Upset, hurt crying. I heard Marianne saying something about "tell Mommy what happened". I assumed she'd been planning to come get me, but in retrospect, I believe now she was cajoling Elizabeth to NOT tell me what had happened. Elizabeth met me at the top of the stairs with a woeful story of having been bitten. She showed me the spot on her arm, and there were faint marks as proof. I asked who, and she pointed to Marianne. I sat Marianne down and asked if she had bitten Elizabeth and she lied to my face. Repeatedly. I'm sure you know me well enough to know this did not go over well. She actually blamed it on Ruth, which upset me even more. Eventually she confessed and got more than a mouth washing for having lied in addition to biting. Once the sobs and tears were finished from that drama, it was back to naptime as usual (see previous paragraph about jumping on beds, etc., as an example of "normal").

I was frustrated at this point, to put it mildly. I tried taking their animals to punish them for being noisy and not still. I tried ignoring them except to put them back in bed if they got out. At one point, when things were slightly more settled, I was feigning sleep on the floor so that Marianne would stop talking to me. She got very quiet, and when I opened my eyes, she was tiptoeing toward me. She screamed and jumped back in bed, shouting that she wanted her money. I looked around and spotted the penny she had been after. I picked it up and told her that after nap she could put it into her bank. The result was a screaming fit of "It's MY money! I want my money! Give me my money!!" And the best part, the wonderfully melodramatic (and wishful) line, "All the money in the world is MINE!" Hard to keep a straight face through that one.

At this point, I've mostly given up the struggle. Elizabeth slept briefly until I took Ruth to my room to make her rest in seclusion as she wouldn't stop talking and playing with Marianne. While I was downstairs, Marianne woke Elizabeth up (according to Marianne "all I did was" bend Elizabeth's fingers back like she was popping her knuckles - I suppose that explains the disgruntled look on Elizabeth's face). I think now, with Marianne upstairs alone and Ruth in my room alone, they've both finally fallen asleep. That, however, is punishment for all the other kids, as it means they have to continue to be quiet well past the usual naptime hours.

Naptime is either the highlight of the day, or the part during which I lose my cool in the most horrendous way. Today it was the latter. I'll hope for a better tomorrow.

*****

On a much happier note, my sister-in-law, Renee, is in the hospital in labor as I type! She was induced this morning, and I'm anxiously awaiting word of baby Henry's arrival. Keep her in your prayers.

Living vicariously

Have I told you my theory yet about how different my life would have turned out had my mother put me in ballet (or gymnastics, tap, anything) as a child? I think I could have been GREAT! I could be a retired prima-ballerina right now (since I assume there are very few 30 year old ballerinas, but maybe I'm totally off base. I don't know because I was never in ballet so never took a real interest).

Okay, so that's mostly a joke. I have, however, always sort of wished I'd learned to dance. With that in mind, I'm now proceeding with Plan B - live vicariously through the children.
I dare you not to smile at that! Elizabeth and Marianne had been growing more excited by the day for their chances to be ballerinas. Marianne paged through "Angelina Ballerina" this morning while waiting for her turn to get her hair fixed. Once at the rec center where I found ridiculously cheap summer lessons, the girls had to be coaxed into waiting by the wall for class to start. They would have preferred to twirl around the center of the room. Since all the other children were waiting patiently, though, it seemed best to have my girls save their energy as well. (As an aside, Marci has been visiting for the past several days, so it was awesome to have her here to come along for the first lesson. Not to mention having an extra set of hands helping with leotards and the aforementioned hair fixing.)
This is horrible photography, but the best I could do during class. The teacher, "Miss Jen", introduced herself, then kindly asked all the parents to leave the room and observe through the windows so as not to distract the children. Sad, but for the best. The above picture was taken through a streaky rec center window with no flash. It was just before Marianne called Miss Jen back to ask her some questions about specific foot placement (that's my guess from Marianne's actions; it's not as though I could hear her). Miss Jen took it all in stride.

Both girls took the class very seriously but seemed to have a great time in the process. I am always amazed by how well-behaved kids in general, mine in particular, are during a class like this. If I tried to line up 10 little girls and teach them foot and arm positions, I'm pretty sure chaos would break loose within seconds. It seems those preschool teaching courses are really worth something!
The joy of being a ballerina doesn't end 45 minutes after class begins! Despite the 85 degree weather, the girls had a ball at Grandma Sherri's house, where we'd stopped to pick up the little girl left behind:
Ruth stayed with Grandma and Grandpa for the morning, as the class was for 3.5 to 5 year olds. She was a very good sport about it. I'm so glad I left her, because keeping her occupied outside the windows of a dance party for 45 minutes would have been misery. That's if I'd ever managed to drag her out of there in the first place.

Unfortunate enthusiam

Ruth has become Little Miss. Independent all of a sudden, and it's driving me nuts. (Remember these guys? "Little Miss Helpful" was the closest I could find to illustrate my point.) The problem is that, thought she has all the motivation and enthusiasm to do things for herself, she's severely lacking in the necessary coordination. She wants to buckle herself into her carseat, "I do! I do!", so we sit in the parking lot, in a steaming hot car, for an extra three minutes while I let her struggle with the buckle, searching for creative ways to nudge the plastic latch into place without her noticing the assistance. She wants to dress herself in the morning, so I line the shirt up to the best of my ability to create a straight shot over her head and onto her torso, in the hopes that she'll make it on the first, or at least the seventh, try. She wants to fetch that cup of water from the counter "By self! By SELF!", so I calmly replace it, as close to the edge as possible so her little arms can reach, and watch patiently (or not-so-patiently) as she knocks it to the ground in her attempt.

It's all part of the learning process. I know that well enough. But when I'm cleaning up the third milk and/or water spill of the day, or when I'm five minutes late for whatever I'm supposed to be doing because she's still trapped with her shirt halfway over her head, or when the beads of sweat start rolling down my forehead despite the open doors and windows of the car because that darn latch is really stinking hard to line up just so... it's really HARD to let her do it "by SELF!"

That's when the enthusiasm to be independent becomes something much nastier. Ruth, when assisted by another person without first granting her explicit approval, does not just cry or scream or whine. She squawks. I can hardly describe the sound in any other term. It's like a large, loud, threatened bird. "AWK!" (pause) "AWK!" High pitched and shrill, and enough to have put us on our guard from the very first episode. Now, in addition to the "no whining rule" and the "no screaming rule" we have in place, there's a strictly enforced "no squawking rule". You squawk and you get precisely the opposite of whatever you're wanting.

At least she's trying. With the practice will come real independence, which will be very welcome in a house with so many kids to dress and feed and buckle. I just pray for the grace to be patient and help her get there. And one of these days to have enough energy to potty train the poor kid, who is all but begging to be taken out of her diapers. For the time being, it's leaps and bounds in learning for her, and baby steps in assistance and acceptance of these new skills from me.

Just the 7 of us

My new profile picture:

photo courtesy of Nathaniel's brother, Sam

Tired nights

Last night I got a much-needed break from the bedtime routine by attending my first meeting with Renee's bible study group. It was wonderful and fun and the women could not have been more welcoming and friendly. I'd met several of them at the church or as they'd pass my house on walks with their children, but it felt good to talk to them more at depth and get to know them better. Making friends! Fun! For all my loudness, I'm not a brave person when it comes to meeting new people. I'd say I am outgoing, when forced to be. But I can easily retreat to within my own little home bubble and stay there mostly happily in order to avoid too much unknown. I do like having friends, though, and it makes my life more complete to have adults outside my house to visit with. Thankfully most of the neighborhood knew about me before I arrived, so I've had to do very little to meet new people.

Speaking of making new friends, Sara and Jacob are across the street and down three houses, playing in the backyard sprinklers of some very sweet, friendly neighborhood kids. I'm so glad they thought to come and invite them to join in the fun! Sara was understandably nervous at the idea of donning her swimsuit with a bunch of near-strangers, but some not-so-gentle prodding got her moving, and I hope she'll be glad of it. One of the girls is her age and will be in school with her, so I feel like it was worth giving her a push. {fingers crossed}

I digress all over the place today, it seems. My point was going to be about bedtimes. And staying in bed. That's been one of the biggest challenges over the past couple weeks. Even before Elizabeth came to join the attic girls, Marianne and Ruth had been getting feisty about not wanting to go to bed when told. It's always a challenge when it's still light at bedtime. You can't do the whole "the sun's in bed, so you have to be too" thing. Then, when we were in Kansas picking up the kids, bedtimes were misery for me. I'm a sleeper. I love sleep and I want every minute of it I can get (so be very, very flattered that I'm typing right now rather than napping - it took a lot of reminders to myself that you all are out there wanting to hear from me before I managed to pry myself off the girls' floor, where I'd been keeping the peace and nodding off over a book till they fell asleep). To see two little girls fight bedtime and jump and scream and talk and play when I want them to be still for two minutes, because I know that's all it will take for them to pass out cold in their over-tired states, KILLS ME! Without Nathaniel to help me out at my grandparents, I felt like I spent half of each day trying to force the girls to sleep, and the other half trying to relax myself after the process. It's hard to explain if you haven't been there.

I've been nervous about adding Elizabeth to the napping/bedtime mix, because I knew she'd be a challenge. She's used to falling asleep watching television, or being rocked, or in someone else's bed, and often not till 11pm or so. We're not into that sort of thing around here. I'm not saying it's a bad thing if it works for your family, but no way would Marianne or Ruth take kindly to the new girl being allowed to stay up late or, heaven forbid, to sleep in Mommy's bed when they've never received that luxury. Nor would I get any sleep that way. It's never worked for me to have a kid in the bed; I just can't relax. Again, I'm getting off topic. For the first night or two with Elizabeth, she did well. Since then, it's been hit or miss. She cries because she wants her sister to come up to her room. She cries because she wants me to stay with her "forever" or at least "for all night". She cries because it's just not what she's used to and she's in a new place and really, can you blame her? But then Marianne cries, too. She repeats Elizabeth's whining pleads for me to stay, which is not something she's done in the past. When Elizabeth is finally settling into bed and just whimpering herself to sleep, Marianne comes downstairs to let me know that Elizabeth needs me. They play off each other in a way that is cute and infuriating all at the same time.

Some nights it's easier. A couple nights ago, probably 45 minutes after we'd put the girls to bed, I could still hear talking. I went upstairs and told Marianne and Elizabeth that they had to be quiet and sleep now (Ruth was already out). Marianne responded, "But there's just too much to talk about, Mommy! Elizabeth says I can't have Honey Bunches of Oats AND Raisin Bran for breakfast, but I think that I can have both!" Indeed, that would keep me awake at night, too...

I'm rambling terribly in this post, but I guess what it boils down to is that this? It's work. Maybe, someday soon, they'll have a happy little routine and after five minutes to settle down, they'll be quiet and content in their beds and we won't have to send them back to bed three times every night. Or maybe, having three girls in one room means a slumber party every night, and I should get used to the idea of girls talking late into the night whether I like it or not. Time will tell.