Paris - the traumatic

Well! We're over 10 weeks into this wild ride that is "sabbatical", and just completed the first of what we hope will be a few excursions into other parts of Europe. Destination one, as I assume you've all seen on instagram, was Paris! Meg had her heart set on Paris for no reason in particular, and it was one of the main cities I hoped to take the family, second only to Rome (which we'll do in the Spring, we hope). I did most of the travel planning in mid-September, lining up flights on Europe's super cheap airline, RyanAir, for a song, even after you added on the cost of the bus from Stockholm to the further-away airport RyanAir uses, and the Super Shuttle from the equally distant airport in France to the suburb of Paris we were staying in. I found accommodations on AirBnB. It was my first time using AirBnB, and I was a little nervous, but found an apartment with several good reviews that suited our family size and was quite affordable. So much so, that when I went to book the RyanAir flight and discovered prices had changed so it would be much cheaper for us to fly back two days later, the cost of lodging was low enough that I tacked on the extra time! In retrospect, I am SO GLAD we had those extra days! Because...

Well, I hardly know where to begin. We checked into the apartment and it was... fine. Really, it was a nice enough space for our needs. The neighborhood was, um, okay. Not great, but okay. But when we searched for groceries and restaurants to find some lunch (we'd been up since 3am, you'll recall, and we checked in around noon), they were all a pretty serious hike away. Through a park. Which sounds nice, until it turns out the walk through the park is lovely but is not actually real paths, and they're not lit, so my mind is racing with the fact that if we're coming home from Paris at night it's not a walk I'd want to make. But we're keeping our cheer up, and plotting our path to the "nearby" train station (per the ad) and figuring things out. We walked back after lunch along the road, rather than through the park, and it was loooonnng, and the road was sort of secluded and I was a little anxious about that at night as well. So I figured out some options for buses from a different train stop and we were still keeping our moods up and making our plans and Nathaniel was talking me down from feeling like maybe I'd failed at this whole planning thing. The kids were having fun playing with the huge playmobil collections in one room, then playing at the playground while I made some dinner and then we started getting everyone into bed.

After kids were settled, we talked through some plans for morning, and I took a quick look into the bathroom, mentally planning what time I'd get up to shower before we left. I saw a small bug in the tub and nearly ignored it. I'd seen cockroach poison under the sink, and while I hate the nasty things, this one was small and I get that they live in the world, you know? And in a big apartment building like this... it would be tough to avoid entirely. After a moment of hesitation, I went to get some tissue (the toilet was in a separate room from the bath and sink) and killed the bug. Then, on a whim and a funny feeling, I took it in and said to Nathaniel, "there was a cockroach in the tub. I killed it. It is a cockroach right, and not a bed bug or something? ha ha ha!" and showed it to him.

And that, my friends, is when the whole night went haywire.

Because it WAS a bed bug. In the bath tub.

Which, honestly, I consider a straight up gift from God to save us from so much potential additional trouble had we not spotted one so early.

Nathaniel was my hero through the entirety of this story. He took one look at the flat smashed bug on the tissue, said, "I think that is a bed bug.", hit up the image on google and was up moving in a flash. (Quick back story, because everyone we've told this story to so far says, "Wait. How did you know what a bed bug looks like?" A few years ago, there was a weird incident where Nathaniel found a bug in office at work that he thought was a bed bug. The university took it very seriously, sent the bug to UNL's entomology department, and it turned out to be a bat bug, which looks identical except under a microscope. Since there are bats in Nathaniel's building, that made sense. And Nathaniel is now very familiar with the look of a bed bug.) We grabbed a flashlight from my suitcase and headed into the little kids' room. It had a bunk bed and a trundle. We checked Rachel's bed on the trundle first, because it was easiest, and didn't see any bugs. Taking a deep breath, feeling relieved, we moved to Meg's top bunk. I cannot even express how awful this got you guys... We spotted one on the bed, then one in the indention where a screw head is set into the wood in the frame of the bed,

then another on the other side, then Nathaniel spotted one ON THE WALL. Not even on the bed, y'all. What's it doing on the WALL?! At that point, Nathaniel's grabbing Meg out of the bed and carrying her to the big sofa/bed in the living room where I'm trying to comfort this recently woken girl, and one FALLS OFF HER NIGHTGOWN onto the sheet on the sofa bed. So I'm stripping Meg to get her in clean clothes while Nathaniel's bringing the other littles in and waking the big girls to get them out of their bed. He killed several that had already, um, fed. Which is so gross to think about. And we're gathering clothes and shaking every little thing out. We didn't see any in the sofa bed in the living room or the bed in the older girls' room. They seemed primarily to be in the little kid room, but there were SO MANY. At very first we'd considered how we'd sleep everyone in other rooms till morning, but after what we were seeing we knew we just could not.

I texted the owner at 10:50pm for the first time, letting him know about this problem and that we were figuring out what to do. Nathaniel and I set to looking for hotels nearby that we could move to without blowing our entire budget. Nathaniel made calls to a few we found, and never did I know I'd be so incredibly grateful for the French he learned from his grandparents and during high school. Every where he called, they spoke only French (or at least, did not speak English) so he was having to strain to communicate, but he was able to get his message across. This became an even bigger issue once we had found a hotel with two open rooms (because of course none of them had rooms large enough to accommodate all seven of us in one) and he moved on to trying to find a taxi service. At this point it was midnight. He started calling taxis companies, asking for a van. But we're so far out of the city that no company wants to send a car that far for the short trip to the hotel without charging us loads extra to begin the trip. One company said no problem, but he had to input the request online. He did so, got a confirmation that it was all set, then 10 minutes later got a call saying nevermind, they couldn't find a driver after all.

While Nathaniel was making calls, the kids were all sitting up playing around on tablets and eating leftover baguette from dinner, whatever I could do to keep them calm. I was gathering all our belongings, shaking them out, looking them over for any sign of anything that might move. Everyone had changed out of their pajamas, and I tied up all the dirties and everything that had been in the littles' room in trash bags into one suitcase to be washed asap. We combed out everyone's hair and looked over bodies. I was beside myself. Not just for US but for the hotel we were headed to, for the owners of our flat in Stockholm. For a million reasons I was NOT going to take any hitchhikers with us from this apartment. Oh, and then I coached the kids on how they absolutely could NOT mention the words "bed bugs" where anyone else could hear it once we left the apartment. I could totally envision hotels denying us service if they knew why we were moving in the middle of the night.

In the end, after literally hours of calls and waiting, one cab company sent one car that took Nathaniel and three of the kids, then came back for me and the other two. By the time we got the hotel, figured out their automated check in system, and were able to rest our heads on pillows, it was 3:15am. We had been up nearly nonstop for over 24 hours.

And the fun didn't stop there. We still had to form a plan for the rest of our stay in Paris. If we were going to pay hotel prices, this was not the part of town I wanted to stay in - it turned out the hotel we'd found was in an air park or some kind of industrial area, as well as being in a fairly far out suburb. After a few hours of sleep, Nathaniel in one room with the three littles, me in another room with Marianne and Ruth, we reconvened in the breakfast nook to talk options. The gentleman running the desk was incredibly kind and chatted with us in broken English, helping us figure out how to get to the bus to the nearest train when we needed, etc. I hunted expedia and other sites for last minute hotel deals. Thankfully, I managed to find one in a different suburb that turned out to be so much better suited to us. We booked it, and by about noon we were waiting on a bus to a train to our third living space in Paris.

Of course, through all of this, I was also exchanging communications with our AirBnB host. I will say that he was courteous through all of it, and I feel for him, having to deal with this, but I was obviously frustrated as well. He admittedly openly, immediately, when I mentioned the problem, that he knew they'd had issues before, but that he'd paid a company to take care of it was very sorry to hear they were still there. Somewhat unbelievably to me, he held throughout the whole ordeal that we could continue to stay in the apartment, that the bugs were only in the one room, and he would have the company back first thing in the morning, and by the time we were done sight-seeing in Paris that day, the bugs would be gone and we could be safely back in?! I can't even wrap my head around that. Who would have magically laundered all the bedding? How would we have any assurance that more wouldn't show up?! Is it even theoretically possible that an apartment could be rid of bed bugs during a four hour extermination period?

I told him we would definitely make other arrangements and he agreed to refund all of the cost "except the AirBnB fee and cleaning fee", but by then I'd reported the issue to AirBnB as well, just to be safe, and they refunded me 100% of what I had paid almost immediately. The only lingering issue now is a 100 euro key deposit we paid at the time of check in, but he has agreed to wire that money as well, so I'm hopeful we'll end up with all our money back. I have not yet written a review on AirBnB and I'm torn... of course part of me wants to write a review, explaining how nice the host was but that THERE WERE BED BUGS. Because heaven knows if I'd read that I'd never have booked it. But then part of me hears him saying, "We thought it was taken care of. The woman who cleaned it the day prior saw nothing. We'll take care of it." and "Bed bugs, unfortunately, are epidemic in the Paris area". And I don't want to ruin his AirBnB career forever. Because it would, wouldn't it? I mean, how would he ever rent it again with a "bed bug" review on the link? I hope for his sake and his children's that he HAS gotten it taken care of... and I'd like him to be able to find renters once he has. Nathaniel says I'm being entirely too nice.

Throughout the whole crazy night and next day - and even the day after that when I was finally able to open my hermetically sealed, trash-bagged suitcase of clothes, shake them all out again and wash them on HOT, examining every tiny crevice of the suitcase, just in case - we were able to laugh. Because THIS! This will be a story that will go down in family lore. This will be a forever joke. "Remember the bed bugs in Paris?!?!"

"Good night, sleep tight, don't let..." "NO! I can't even say it now!"

This was memories in the making, for better and worse.

Do I wish we hadn't had the whole ordeal? OF COURSE. But, part of me thinks it was a godsend. The hotel we moved to was so much better for us! I didn't realize till we arrived that the hotel room that "sleeps 8" was actually an apartment in a long-term stay type hotel. It had three bedrooms on two floors, a living and dining area, a small (ill equipped but functional) kitchen, two baths/showers and two toilets. It was an easy five minute walk around the corner, on well lit streets, to the commuter train station. The trains were fancy double decker things, because it was a busy line (that ended at Disneyland Paris, though we never went that far), so the kids thought it was cushy and fun, and a nice 20 minutes to play games on their tablets at the start and end of each day. There was laundry on site. We even had a little gated yard in front of the apartment that the kids used daily to blow off steam, picking "poison berries" from the bushes and pelting each other with them.

So. Well. There you have it. The first two days of the trip were a bit of a nightmare. But by the second evening, we were standing in front of the Eiffel Tower watching it sparkle and we were back on track to enjoy our vacation. We got back all of our initial housing money, and though we spent more on the place we settled, it was much better suited to our needs. I have washed all the clothes and inspected everything we took with us. I take some comfort that we stayed two places between the infested apartment and our home-away-from-home in Stockholm, just for a little extra security. None of the kids who'd slept in the nasty room ever showed signs of bites. And since we'd extended out trip for cheaper airfare, we ended up with enough time still to make a good, long visit. I honestly can see God's hand in every step of the story, from the longer trip, to the inexplicable bug in the bath tub, to the nicer neighborhood/hotel. And now, we'll always have (bed bugs in) Paris!

We'll also always henceforth join the ranks of the paranoid - checking every hotel/AirBnB mattress before we lie down on it. We used to chuckle at our fastidious family members, who worried about bed bugs at every turn. But now... we get it! We're on board!

Coming up soon, the more upbeat stories from the trip.

A month later and a couple inches taller

I have been meaning to post an update on Marianne's surgery every day for the last three weeks. What better time to finally do it than when I really ought to be (and need to be) wrapping Christmas gifts! I'll type as quickly as I can and maybe I can get both things done during nap time today.

Bottom line: Everything is going great! Thank you for all your prayers, well wishes, care packages, meals, etc. We are so well cared for by our community of friends and family. People came out of the woodwork to brighten Marianne's day and lighten my load. I was and still am in awe.

The day of surgery was long and stressful. Although, as we sat in the lobby of Children's waiting for each update from the nurse, part of me dreaded the end of surgery when they'd wake Marianne up and I'd have to start caring for a child in pain. Does that make sense? It was a feeling I hadn't anticipated, the "don't let them be done yet!" feeling, because I was so nervous for how I would manage.

Marianne's week in the hospital continued to be long and stressful. Days were long. Nights were long. She was in a lot of pain when awake. But she was mostly asleep. I didn't feel like I could ever really leave except for a couple short breaks when my in-laws and Nathaniel popped in, and then I felt anxious to get back. The nurses and medical folks were almost all wonderful; some were even more wonderful than others. I did great for about two days then at some point very early one morning I just burst into tears and that day was especially long because the dam had cracked, you know? But I re-found my cool and we got through it.

They considered sending us home on Thursday but I was NOT ready to deal with Marianne on my own, and it turned out she couldn't get far enough through her physical therapy for the therapist to sign her out anyway. By Friday I think they were going to toss us out, ready or not, but I felt less panicky and more prepared.

The first week at home was still pretty long and stressful (notice a trend?), but, as noted, we were well cared for. I saw quickly that visits from Marianne's friends were a sure fire way to perk her up and get her motivated to get up and move (not that she was getting up and moving around them, but at least she'd work on it when no one was watching in the hopes of getting back to school eventually). We'd have good days, followed by days of terrible pain and soreness from the body's shock at the activity the day prior. Most nights around bedtime there were tears and "I'm never going to be able to be normal again" sadness and I spent a lot of time rubbing the sides of her back and offering soothing remarks that she'd shoot back at with anger and frustration. It wasn't fun, but I think it has been a bonding experience for us, so there's that.

A couple weeks out, things finally made a big turn. We'd been weaning off the prescription pain meds, and really I was in awe at how quickly she was able to cut back during the days (nights took longer). Suddenly, though she still spent most of her time in bed, she'd surprise me by walking into the room I was in without having called for help to get up. Or I'd pop into her room and find she'd rearranged her things, or brought books to her bed to do homework, or set up a nail salon and painted all her siblings nails (usually I'd smell that one before I saw it).

At three and a half weeks she made her first, hour long visit back to school. I saw her into the classroom and then bit back tears as I walked away. They were joyful tears, but also anxious tears, knowing that if she hurt, she'd never tell anyone, because that's how junior high is. As it happens, though, she did great. Last week, four weeks post-surgery, she started back to school for half days (really just over two hours a day), just in time to take all her finals. The teachers were incredibly generous with the work they let her off the hook from, and thankfully she kept up well enough that finals didn't cause her much stress. She made it to a couple of choir rehearsals last week so she was able to participate in the 5th-8th grade Christmas program, of which I took zero decent photos. This week she considered going back full days, as she spends the majority of her time on her feet, or at least upright, most days now, but opted in the end to stick to half days. She should have no problem going back to school full time after Christmas break.

If you'd asked me a week or ten days after surgery whether I thought that would be the case - that she'd be able to go back to school full time at the start of the new year - I'd have heaved a heavy sigh and said I just didn't know. She couldn't walk two houses down the block and back without leaning on me and crying from the pain. Now, she manages all sorts of feats I was not sure when she'd be able to again. She made waffles for dinner the other night, and asked to bake cookies another day. She sat on the floor and wrapped her gifts to her siblings, then helped Rachel wrap hers. She and Ruth (with a little assistance from Nathaniel) hung our outdoor Christmas lights in freezing cold temps, because they just felt like it. Every time she asks to take on a project like that it warms my heart, because there were many days of "No. I don't want to get up," in response to simple requests like, "Let's go take a little walk to the living room and back."

Because I find them insane and amazing and mind boggling, here are a few xray images. The first is the "before" xray of her spine from the front. The second is the "after" image taken at her one month follow up appointment last Friday. The third is also from the follow up, from the side, so you get a sense of the posture she's required to have now that her spine is fused. She's sits up very, very straight. All the time. Because she cannot slouch. How many utterances of "sit up straight!" have I saved myself? The world will never know.

These were taken with my phone, from the computer screen at the doctor's office, so quality is poor. A couple notes - in the middle photo, the metal rods stand out starkly and made the spine look straighter than it is - if you look closely you can see there is still some curve, probably around 20 degrees. But the improvement is vast, and wonderful. Look at her collarbones, and how much better aligned and upright they are!

So yes! She's doing great! We're doing great! I can't wait to get decent photos of her (and the rest of the fam, of course) over the holidays that I can share. She looks amazing and grew about two inches, which puts her firmly back in her rightful place as "taller than Ruth". These are critical things when you're a 13 year old.

Thank you again - I can't thank you enough - for all your prayers and help over the past month. I have no doubt there will be challenges ahead resulting from this surgery, possibly mostly in the form of teenage angst and attitude, but I'm grateful to be on the other side of it.

One minor prayer request as she approaches the end of this main phase of healing. There's a small portion of the incision on her lower back that hasn't healed as cleanly as the rest - the official term is "dehiscence", I believe. It should be and will be fine, but she finds it ridiculously hard to keep HER hands off of it because it itches like crazy (read: "quit picking at it!") and while it's still scabbing and opening, it's a risk for infection. Please say a little prayer that she can control herself and that the incision will finish healing without any additional challenges and without infection. Thank you!

Marianne's surgery - a smattering of prayer requests

Some background and updates and prayer requests, in case some of you haven't heard what we have going down around here...

I mentioned in passing back in July that Marianne was diagnosed with fairly severe scoliosis and had surgery to look forward to in her future. At the time, we thought it would be a couple of years out. After consulting with a pediatric orthopedic specialist at Children's Hospital, however, the plan changed. Good thing I didn't get her in for that brace fitting any sooner - saved ourselves some money and effort with that bit of procrastination!

This coming Monday, Marianne will undergo posterior spinal fusion surgery. The majority of her spine will be fused as straight as possible (still not super straight... but the doctor said it would be a vast improvement) and rods will be screwed to the spine to hold it in place as it heals. The surgery itself is expected to last around seven hours. There are, of course, a whole slew of risks when someone's whole back is opened up, but the doctor's biggest concern is the risk of infection. Please pray that the surgery goes smoothly and successfully and that Marianne comes through the recovery free of infection and with strong motivation to get back on her feet quickly. 

The current expectation is that she will be in the hospital till Thursday or Friday, and then home but out of school recovering till at least her follow up appointment on 12/6. Please pray for all of us during this time - her, for her healing and for a positive, optimistic attitude; me, that I can assist her in the ways she needs to best heal, and encourage and serve her through this. It promises to be very different from my experiences in motherhood to date. Hopefully it's a bonding experience and not solely a battle. 

After her follow up, she'll most likely return to school part time for a while before returning full time. Given the holiday break shortly after her return to school, I hope things will go smoothly and by January she should be on her feet and fully back to school with the exception of PE and sports. Oh, and band. She resigned from the trombone a few weeks ago, at least for the remainder of the year, because playing an instrument so heavy is off her options for several months. She was surprisingly bummed about it, given how much she complained about playing the thing every day since she first started in 5th grade. She also suddenly is disappointed that she's unable to try out Jr High basketball this winter. Nevermind when I suggested back in the summer that she might want to give basketball a shot, she scoffed at the idea. The grass is always greener, isn't it?

A few other surgery notes:

- SEVEN HOURS. We check in at 5:30am, and the surgery begins around 7:30, although the doctor said most likely the first incision wouldn't happen till 8 or 8:30 because of all the prep. That is going to be a loooooonnnnnnng day, folks. I think it's the part I'm dreading most for myself, because the waiting and wondering what's going on with my (teenage) baby, and just the WAITING. I don't like waiting. Say some prayers for our peace of mind while you're praying for Marianne's successful surgery. Thankfully, Nathaniel was able to take the day off to sit and wait with me, and my dear friend is planning to stop in for a visit, and my mom will be at my house holding down the fort so I don't have to give a second thought to that. Still, it's going to be long.

- The rods will be left in permanently, barring unforeseen complications. I had always assumed the rods were in permanently because they continue to be needed to support the spine, but I've learned that within the first year the spine has fully fused and supports itself, so the rods become superfluous. The surgery to remove them would be so invasive, however, and require all this recovery time again, so the doctors prefer to leave them in place unless complications arise.

- She'll come home on meds more impressive than any I've ever been prescribed. Please pray that we can manage her pain well, and that she'll be able to wean off the heavy drugs within a few weeks and continue to manage her pain with milder options. I have read a handful of horrible stories about chronic nerve pain after this type of surgery, but have been comforted by many counter-stories and by the surgeon we're working with. Still, I'm anxious. She is not currently in any major discomfort from her scoliosis, but two excellent orthopedic surgeons and a couple other medical professionals have all agreed that given the speed of development of her scoliosis and the specific way the curves are developing, THIS is the right time to move forward with surgery. The idea that I'm putting Marianne into significantly worse pain, even knowing it's for her future benefit, has weighed heavily on me. So, say a little prayer for Nathaniel and me as well. This is really no fun.

- Her surgeon said that she'll have full use of her arms and legs and therefore may have an "easier recovery than someone who'd broken his leg or arm unexpectedly". That seems overly simplified to me, but gave me great comfort, anyway. She'll need help getting up out of a chair for a while, he said, but once up will be able to walk and do stairs. She will not bend in the same way, but can look forward, I guess, to good overall flexibility? I say that with some skepticism only because I can't envision it. How does one bend over and tie her shoes when her spine can't curve? He tells us she'll learn to accommodate the stiffness. It's a bit of a mystery. For the past month, every time I think, "My back is stiff" and give a little bend-shrug-twist-stretch to ease it, I have the follow up thought, "Wait! Will she never be able to execute any of those moves?!" I'm curious to see how this all plays out.

- On a slightly humorous note, and one that surprised me, the doctor said one of the trickiest bits - and part of the reason it takes so long to make the first incision - is getting the incision straight. Because if he cuts a straight incision, then does all this work to her spine, when he goes to stitch her back up the incision will be crazy and curvy. He has to try to estimate how his spinal adjustments will affect akin around the incision, and cut accordingly, in the hopes that as he's stitching at the end, it's straight. Because while right now, today, I might not think I care much about that, he knows that down the road, Marianne will prefer the straightest, least noticeable incision possible. I'm glad I have other people to think about these things, because it never would have crossed my mind.

Thank you to everyone who's been praying since we first started investigating Marianne's scoliosis back in the spring! Your prayers have been a great comfort and I know we - she especially - has been lifted up and allowed to float through this on your prayers with significantly less anxiety and drama than I'd anticipated. Thank you, also, for all the generous friends and family who've sent care packages, or made plans to do so while she's in the hospital and after, to help keep her spirits high. I am forever in awe of the beauty of the community we live in and the family we are blessed with!

Deep breath. Here we go...

How nice for him.

I'm on my blog to write up Meg's birthday festivities, but I have to take minute first for a brief note. Last night, in preparation for a big 100th Anniversary of the ND Men's Glee Club event that we're attending this fall, Nathaniel tried on his old tux with tails. He bought it Freshman year, upon being accepted into the Club. So that's a solid 20 years from right now. And of course it fit him.

Of course it did.

To be fair (to me, not him), I will say that the pants were the tiniest bit snug, but wearable if needed. (He owns another tux from when he made his 4th degree in Knights of Columbus, and those pants are ONE whole size larger - punk - so he might wear them instead). The shirt and the vest and the tails all still fit fine.

Must be nice. To just hover around the same size your entire adult life. Without giving it a second thought. And while drinking beer. And eating candy.

Hmph.

Quick thoughts

~ I need to have company more often, because otherwise my housekeeping goes to pot. My family doesn't care if the piano is dusty. They don't even care if the dining room floor gets swept. At some point, I care about that second one, but it's definitely outsiders who motivate me to deep clean.

~ How is it possible for my children to shed so many socks throughout the house? I just collected laundry and there were socks everywhere. EVERYWHERE! If you figure five children, and they each have two feet, and maaaaybe they go through two pairs of socks a day (why?!)... the math did not work out. I can't wait for summer flip flops and bare feet to cut this problem down. Remind me of that when I'm complaining about all the grubby little toes.

~ Speaking of kids' feet... let's talk shoes for a minute. I tend to buy my kids cheap shoes, because when they inevitably get shredded, I don't get as frustrated. Peter tears holes through the toes of shoes at record speed. Less than a month ago, I bought him a new pair (of admittedly VERY cheap tennis shoes, even by my standards - like Walmart $9 shoes) and he's already ruined them. There's a hole all the way through one toe. Typically we get a little longer; I find a pair of Target's $15ish shoes last him three or four months. This leads me to speculate - if I sucked it up and spent more money on a pair of quality shoes, would they last long enough to make it worth the money? Or would they get scuffed and ripped as well, leaving me grumpy and snippy and always telling my kids to play less hard for the sake of the shoes? I want my boy to run around and ride his bike and leap off tall things (except when it knocks teeth loose) because that's what kids do. I love it! I don't want to be saying "slow down!" and "be careful!" for the sake of the clothes he's wearing. For the sake of safety, sure, but not for material things. What has your experience been? Do you have some rough and tumble kids? If so, have you tried cheaper shoes versus nicer shoes and found there to be a better way to go? Advise me! And if you buy higher quality shoes for your kids, where's the best place to get them for the best price? I have a similar issue with the girls (especially Ruth) so tell me about those, too. I focused on Peter because he has set new records for shoe replacement time.

~ In a similar vein, what's your view on kids' swimsuits? I typically buy Target suits, but despite a good cleaning at the end of the season, the elastic has often turned crunchy by the following summer, so handing down is a big fail. Also, any white in the patterns yellows very quickly, which makes them look perpetually dirty. They're cheap enough and my kids' tastes change often enough (in addition to them having notably different body types, so handing down swimsuits might fail even where the suits survived), so I don't mind buying new ones most summers. That said, I noticed Boden has suits for a reasonable price (about twice Target's). Do any of you highly recommend a higher quality suit that might last longer? Nothing too high; frankly, I can't afford it. Lands End suits, for instance, appear fabulous, but they're out of my price range unless on super sale. However, if I could pay $25 instead of $12 and have the suit last a few seasons or hand down to younger girls, that would obviously be financially sensible.

~ In addition to the words "lay-lee bud" (lady bug), my favorite thing to hear Rachel say these days is "no tank-oo pees" (no thank you, please). It's how she turns down another helping of dinner or a game she doesn't want to play. Could she be any more polite?! (We won't talk about the times when she turns down the game Peter wants to play by screeching and slapping him repeatedly on the arm... not sure where that came from but we're trying to nip it in the bud.)

There may be more posts coming in this style, because I'm thinking often of things I want to share or ask or record. Thanks for "listening"!

More assorted over-shares and life lessons

Ask Peter what he wants for lunch any day of the week, and the answer will be either peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and honey. He doesn't get one of those options every day of the week, but he'd be 100% happy to eat it. He also eats pretty much any dinner set in front of him, so I'm not worried about him being a picky eater. The kid just loves his peanut butter sandwiches.

When Marianne was very young and in her first daycare, I had to pack her breakfast and lunch each day to send with her. I remember being excited once she was one, because I could throw in a peanut butter sandwich once in a while. Only once in a while. I didn't want to be that parent, the one who fed her child peanut butter and jelly every day. I wouldn't let myself do it more than once a week, if that.

Looking back on those days, as with so many things, I laugh at myself. It's certainly not the unhealthiest lunch on our docket - there's protein and usually whole wheat bread and always something healthy on the side - but there's something about taking the easy route that first- or even second-time moms feel bad about. I don't give Peter his requested lunch every day, but we probably do peanut butter twice a week, occasionally three times, in some form, whether it's the ubiquitous sandwiches, pb-apple-granola tortilla wraps, or a spoonful on the plate with apples and crackers to dip in it. By kids #4 and #5, the easy options seem a lot more satisfying.

*****

I've lamented for years that my hair has continued it's post-baby shed way longer than seems reasonable. Happily, I think I can finally report that the hair loss tapered off to standard human shedding levels, right around Rachel's second birthday. That means that I was losing hair almost steadily from Peter's birth, so for four straight years, by the handful. Gross, I know. And it wreaked havoc on my hair. I'm grateful that the natural curls make it hard to notice when my hair is down, or partly up, but when you see how many times I have to wrap a hairband around my ponytail, or how small a bun my hair twists into, it's noticeable! I'm on the upswing now, though. Regrowth is happening all over the place, most remarkably around my hair line. There are times when my hair is especially crazy - when I've just gotten up from bed, or when I've let the kids play beauty shop - that I feel like a cabbage patch kid, with a crazy fringe of curls framing my face from ear to ear. Lovely. Thanks again, postpartum hormones!

*****

I made a huge parenting mistake yesterday.

Have I mentioned Marianne's upcoming dental/orthodontic work yet? The dentist told us last August at her cleaning that she should see an orthodontist sooner than later, so being the responsible parent I am, I took her in in October. After a follow up, more complete study of her mouth in late November, I got the final plan for her mouth in December. She needs to have four permanent teeth (and one remaining baby tooth) extracted. Ugh. A week or two after the extraction, she'll get braces put on to adjust her current teeth and guide in the remaining permanent teeth that are currently working on impacting up there in her gums. Dentists have been telling us since she was three that we should be looking toward braces, because her teeth have always been fitted so tightly together.

Yesterday the oral surgeon's office called to set a date for the extractions and talk through the process. Hooray for IV sedation! Knowing Marianne, I think her having to feel the tugs and hear the crunching noises of the extraction would not go over well, and we'd have to sedate her again to get her in for her braces with those memories. I'm very happy to have her sleep through the process. This will be her first time being put under, though, so I'm praying she doesn't have a bad reaction to the anesthetic.

The mistake. She specifically requested that she not get braces prior to Confirmation in late February. The orthodontist said a few more weeks wouldn't be a problem, so I booked the extractions for the second week of March. When she got home from school yesterday, I told her, cheerfully even, that I got it schedule and she could relax because it's well after Confirmation. Woohoo!

Not woohoo.

She's traumatized. "I'm NOT getting any teeth pulled! I won't go!" She didn't actually say much last night but she was in a terrible mood this morning and even before I asked for an underlying cause, I knew what it was. She's so, so anxious about the dental work, and truth be told, I'm incredibly anxious for her. Nathaniel says he can't understand dental anxiety, despite having had a couple teeth extracted and braces himself, probably because his grandfather and uncle did much of his dental work when he was a kid. I can totally understand it and am kicking myself for not realizing what a bad idea it was to tell her 7 weeks ahead of time about a stressful upcoming dental procedure. What was I thinking?! Not that I should have waited till the morning of to spring it on her, but I could have at least waited till after the (inexplicably) already anxiety-laden Confirmation weekend.

Lesson learned. {sigh}

Prayers for her peace of mind and acceptance are greatly appreciated, as well as for her as she approaches Confirmation!

Life is like a box of chocolates

With the dawn of the new year, and the end of holiday parties and uninhibited eating, came the need to get my diet back on track. I'd been maintaining pretty successfully since reaching my goal back in April, but I'd gained back a few pounds. Over the holidays, I packed on quite a few more (I blame Pioneer Woman's cinnamon rolls, and my inability to leave any in the pan). I rebooted my MRC diet from last winter, but on my own at home, just till I get back down to goal.

The following post is from an email I sent to a couple of friends this morning. They're serving as my accountability partners. They both rebooted their own diets (similar concepts, but all a little different) at the same time, and we check in with each other often and encourage each other. Well, I check in often, and they chime in in response to my tomes. But they put up with me, and that's good.

(I apologize in advance, and cringe to admit it, but I seldom use capitalization in personal emails unless it's for dramatic effect. I considered retyping this, but it's getting late, so I'm just leaving it. I promise not to start blogging with such disregard for the rules of proper writing. Forgive me this once, dear reader. I also have a serious issue with overdoing the emoticons, but I appear to have somehow avoided that here. Small miracle, that.)

last night, i was lying in bed hungry. like really, stomach growling, slightly uncomfortable hungry. my stomach was growling one other night last week, but this is the most i've noticed hunger since getting started on this plan. and it was fine. i mean, sometimes it's GOOD to feel hunger. it reminds us of people who don't have everything they feel like eating in any given day. you know, the majority of the population of the world...

i digress. as usual.

so what does my mind fixate on? i want a box of chocolates. for valentines. i want nathaniel to bring me a big heart shaped (or rectangular. whatever) box of mixed chocolates. probably russel stovers. i want to pick through them and enjoy the mystery of whether they'll have some funky colored fluffy center, or a soft chocolatey fluff, or something more fudgy. 

the funny part is that i don't even really like those sorts of chocolate. i know they're not a great quality candy, and that there are tastier things out there (hello, donuts). it's the nostalgia, though, i think. each of the kids got a little four-chocolate box in their stockings from sherri this year, and watching them eat them, even though i knew what was in each one based on the shape, totally took me back. my dad used to get TONS of boxes of chocolates at christmas time from drug reps and other doctor's offices and heaven knows who else. it was ridiculous! it was before people got really good at corporate gift-giving. i remember the first time he got this super amazing creative gift basket that was something unique and had been created for the specialist's office by a corporate gift COMPANY and we were all like, WHOA! is that a THING?! and i said, i want to do THAT for a living. and now we have pinterest and giving a box of chocolates as a company gift would be an embarrassment.

anyway, back to the chocolates. he'd keep a few at home, but most of the boxes he'd keep in the office for the gals who worked there - the nurse, and front desk gal and my mom and the nurse practitioner. i worked there sometimes, too, after school or on breaks. the main receptionist would work her way through the box by poking holes in the bottoms of each one to see what was in them, and leaving the ones she didn't want in the box. it was both really sensible, and really annoying. but now i'm totally in the mood for a big box of chocolates. i think right now, i'd even eat the weird orange cremes. 

i think i just wrote a blog post in this email. don't be surprised if you see it there later :)

In case you're wondering, the refresher diet thing is going really well! In the first week, I lost over a third of the weight I'm looking to take off to get back to my goal, and so far in this week I'm continuing downward (though obviously at a slower pace than I started). It feels good to be back in control of what goes in my mouth. The sense of lost control is really unpleasant... I hate to say it, and it's not a life change I'll ever commit to permanently, but I LIKE the way I feel when I'm totally off sugar. 

Not enough to quit dreaming of boxes of chocolates, though, I guess.

Frivolity

This time of year, my kids spend a little time each day with their noses in the toy catalogs. I put most of them straight into recycling, but they're on to me, and they know we're getting at least one or two new catalogs each day. It's ridiculous how much mail these companies ship out! It's ridiculous what silly toys my children flag and add to their Christmas lists. There are things I know they'd play with once and be bored by, or things their siblings already have, or things THEY already have (Another magic set, Ruth, really? You've learned three of the dozen tricks in the one you got last year.). Part of me wants to shut it down, but mostly I get it. I've been the kid, dog-earring the pages of the Sears' Big Book, and as an adult I'm not immune to the lure of the shiny, pretty pages of THINGS. Most of the non-toy catalogs also go into the recycling right away, but I have my soft spots. Uncommon Goods, CB2, and lots more. Heck, I love to page through some of the kids' catalogs as well. Land of Nod is so much fun.

With an appropriate appreciation for how totally unnecessary any of these things are in my life, I felt like sharing some of things that have caught my eye lately. Things that I would scoop up in a second if they were free, but will most likely never spend the money on, since they will forever be nudged down the priority list by someone's high water snow pants needing replaced, or the braces we're arranging to pay for over two years. Like the kids, though, I can find fun in dreaming. I figured I might as well share.*

- Throw Pillows.

I have a great love of and longing for throw pillows these days, but I feel like few things are less of a need and more of a want. They're hardly even useful. I can already hear myself telling the kids, "Don't lie down on THAT pillow. I can't wash it!"

These Target ones are simple and lovely and actually coordinate pretty closely with my living room. Heck they're even on sale. {sigh}

  

More expensive and less mainstream, I'm in love with the state bird and flower hand made pillows from Uncommon Goods.

If you check out the "Birds and Blooms Map Art" you can get a feel for what each state's image would be. I would love to get Kansas and Nebraska for our living room. I think it's perfect that they have the same bird, but different yellow-toned flowers. I might also like to get Indiana and Colorado, to complete our "places that have defined our lives" pillow theme, but mostly the two home states.

The biggest problem with throw pillows is that I don't just want one. If I did, I'd get one of the sale ones from Target and call it done. I want a whole bunch that coordinate without looking "coordinated", and that I can swap out seasonally, and suddenly it's not a $20 project but $200+. I really need new slipcovers for the sofa before there's any point in new throw pillows (or whole new sofas, but that's definitely not in the works for a while).

- Serving ware.

You guys probably know by now that I have a problem. It's an addiction to hosting parties, small and large, and to collecting fun serving pieces to make it possible. Okay, it would be a problem, if I actually indulged myself. As it is, I keep a constant running mental list of all the things I want to buy someday when I win the lottery.

A mason jar drink dispenser has been on that list for years, most recently this offering from Bed, Bath and Beyond:

It's almost comical how inexpensive it is ($25, less the constant barrage of $5 off coupons that come in the mail), and that I still haven't bought it despite how frequently I could have used it. It just never rises high enough on the priority list. Of course, Pottery Barn has the gold standard of this item, but this one is the closest imitation I've seen, for less than half the price.

Also, tea towels... I have a drawer full of perfectly serviceable kitchen towels, but every time a William Sonoma catalog finds it's way into my home, I get a little sparkle in my eye for the pretty towels. Ooh, and tableclothes!

 

We have a few tablecloths, all very simple - hotel white, a deep holiday red, etc - that come out for parties. I don't really need any more at this point. But so, so pretty.

- Jewelry.

I don't buy much jewelry, and typically what I do buy is from Forever 21 or NY&Co (read: dirt cheap, in price and quality). Every now and then a piece catches my eye, though. I saw this bangle from Uncommon Goods a year or two ago and have wanted it ever since:

I have no idea where I'd wear it, but I flatter myself I'd find countless occasions. Never mind that wooden beaded necklace I caved on and bought myself last spring and have only worn twice.

I could go on and on, really, but I'll quit. At least until the next round of catalogs arrive and I find more fun things I want to share.

(It makes me laugh, as I look at this handful of items, that I don't even have expensive tastes in my "dream" list. I suppose I don't let myself bother looking at the things that are completely out of my range.)

*Despite how it might appear, this is not intended as a Christmas list to my mom. I promise, Mom. I don't expect any or all of these under the tree this year. I mean, I wouldn't return them if they were... but it's not a poorly veiled (or totally unveiled) beg for stuff.

As I approach 37, way more than you wanted to know...

My birthday is quickly approaching and since it's been an eventful year for me, I wanted to write a quick post about it. But when have I ever written a quick post? The truth is, it's an odd post to write, because I make an effort NOT to talk about my weight and my issues with body image and food and all that stuff here. Or really anywhere... except with a few close friends, or when asked direct questions by other friends. I have no problem talking about it; I like honest. But it's not really the most exciting or uplifting topic. Also, I'm pretty obsessed with the desire to instill in my daughters (and Peter, but I tend to view this as a bigger issue for the girls) a healthy mindset about weight and nutrition and an appreciation for the bodies God gave us.

That said, a lot of you saw our family photo from Easter and the response was overwhelming! I totally agree that my family is STUNNING, thank you very much, and I did put some time and effort (more than I want to admit) into coordinating those outfits, so I appreciate the kudos. You also commented on FB and via email about me, and I appreciate that as well. 2014 has been a very good year for me, as many of you noted.

Here's the scoop. I'm not trying to sell you anything, but people have asked. Feel free to scan past this if it bores you. It won't hurt my feelings one bit. Alternately, feel free to call or drop me a note if you want more info.

I was tired of being overweight as 2013 came to a close, but I wasn't feeling motivated to really do anything about it. I prayed about it, a lot, and repeatedly rejected the pull I was feeling toward a particular diet plan. At some point, though, it struck me that maybe that was the answer to the prayers, for all that it seemed silly to me. I sort of just expected God to grace me with extraordinary self control and high metabolism, or to help me find peace with my body as it was, not encourage me to sign up for a program. But it turns out he did all of that. The program is called Metabolic Research Center (which I can never say without joking about how infomercial-ish it sounds) and I knew a couple women from our parish who'd been wildly successful on it. One of them is now a consultant. I reached out to her, and she signed me up. I started on January 1, on a 17 week program to lose 48 pounds to get to my goal. In reality, it took me 14 weeks to lose 50 pounds, and I've been at my goal weight for the past two weeks! I can hardly believe it myself. It really went so smoothly and easily for me, that it seems unreal.

The basic plan is high protein, tons of veggies, low carbs, low overall calories. No sugar, no caffeine, no alcohol. I figured I could do anything for 17 weeks, though, and I stuck to it to the letter. They offer all sorts of extra supplements and things, but the whole idea of dieting through pills turns me off, so I declined any of the additional stuff, and they were fine with that. I had a couple days at the front end, while detoxing off sugar, that were sort of miserable, but once I was past that, I was in awe of how easy it was to not eat the junk food. I could look at cake and see that it looked delicious, but not crave it. I was in control. I was almost never hungry, despite the low calorie intake. I was occasionally bored with my food choices, but it wasn't difficult.

Now I'm in their "transition" phase for a few weeks, then I'll be on their "maintenance" plan indefinitely. I'm getting back foods I'd given up (hello, morning coffee!). I've cheated a bit here and there while on transition. There was the doughnut at Elliot's birthday party at Renee's, and I had dessert AND wine on Easter. I can see the increase in cravings as a result, but I still feel a level of control way above where I was last year. I find it all so interesting, to analyze my own body's responses to foods, and which cause me to crave other foods, etc. I'm curious to see how this will play out on their maintenance plan, but I'm taking it one step at a time right now.

I've gone round and round about this post, because there are so many things I want to say, but I don't want it to come across as begging for compliments or comfort, or whining, or looking a gift horse in the mouth. Yet it feels weird to gloss over it, as well. Here's the thing... I've had body image issues for... a long time. Most women have, right? So now, it's incredible, because I'm AT MY GOAL. I see that number on the scale, and I see the clothes a size smaller than I ever even dreamed I'd wear again, and I am glad and proud and comfortable in my skin.

And yet. I'm still very self-conscious. Partly because I'm not used to "the new me" yet. Partly because I only have a few clothes that fit right, and I'm wearing baggy shirts, half tucked into my new jeans as a temporary fix till I get around to buying new. Partly because I feel like people must wonder why I'd stop here. I'm still just sort of average sized. Wouldn't I want to keep going? To be more conventionally "thin", or even "skinny"?! Why was THIS my goal?

I would like to get more exercise and see the toning benefits of that; that much is true. But the fact is, I did choose this goal, and it was very intentional. If I'm being honest, it's lower than I would have chosen if I'd thought I'd ever actually succeed. My primary hope is to be able to maintain this, and I know my body too well to think that I could maintain "skinny", if I ever even got there. One of the things that impressed me when I first went to MRC for info was that the "goal range" they provided me felt realistic. It wasn't just based on BMI, but on a whole bunch of factors (that some magic scale they have can tell them?! Technology these days is crazy... or they just made it all up. Whatever. It worked.), and the goal I'd tossed out was smack in the middle of their range, even though my BMI wouldn't quite be below 25. So I guess, technically, I'm at goal but still a touch "overweight". I'm okay with that.

I weigh less than I did on my wedding day. Less, in fact, than I did when I graduated from college. I'm wearing the same size clothes I wore when I started college. I can be content here. Confident even! It's just taking me some time to get used to it all.

Before we got a good family photo, I'd asked my friend Sarah to take a few pictures of me so I could show myself off in my new jeans, when I shared this bit of success with all of you in the blogosphere. You've seen me now, all dressed up, but I'll still share a few of her pics. Can I just say first, though, how awkward it is to pose without a kid in my arms, or in front of me, or even in the photo at all?! I felt ridiculous. Sarah is a champion good friend, and she coached me through it. We had a lot of laughs in the process. And still, my favorite photo is one when I'd looked away because I may not be hiding from the camera any more, but that doesn't make me love to see myself in the frame.

Thanks for bearing with me and reading about my little journey and all that. I'll just wrap up by saying that you needn't worry that I've changed in any essential way ("In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was." -Jane Austen). As my birthday quickly approaches, I'm still dreaming chocolate cake dreams and one of the highlights of getting to maintenance for me is learning how to fit in a regular glass of wine without having to call it "cheating". Every time I read the quippy tidbits around the MRC office like "Remember: Food is not a Reward" followed by a list of non-food reward suggestions, I laughed internally and run through a mental checklist of foods that really are a reward, because they are just that good and just that worth it... Check out my pinterest recipe board if you doubt me. I've been hoarding all the recipes I can't wait to try. Maybe my attitude is bad and I'll fail miserably at this whole maintenance thing. But I feel a strength and a control now that I haven't had in a long time, if ever. It feels good.

Contemplating laundry...

Because when you're a stay at home mom, you do things like "contemplate laundry". I'd say I'm kidding, but I'm not. It's all part of figuring out how to run this big company we call our family. I'm the COO, CFO and most of the other C-Os for this company, and I have to stay on top of my employees. And their laundry. Or something. I lost track of my analogy there.

My contemplation started the other day when a friend wrote on FB about her husband training her son (who's in Marianne's grade) to do the laundry. Let's set aside the fact that her husband did something with laundry, which just set her house completely at odds with ours. But I'm okay with that. Laundry was one of the chores we officially discussed prior to marrying, and I agreed to wanting control, so long as there was no expectation that I would iron. Because I won't. I don't. You wouldn't want me to; trust me.

Anyway, so my friend was referring to the sorting and starting the machine and whatnot, I was pretty sure. But then there was a comment that led me to believe it went all the way through the process and back to the dressers and I was intrigued. I asked how her son managed the folding, because Marianne and Ruth can sort and wash and transfer to the dryer if I ask them to, but I've seen them "fold" and there's a reason I just used quotation marks on that word.

Suddenly, something I'd suspected for a while, came to light. There are a whole lot of moms out there (and dads, I guess, but I still view things in our household's system, in which the dad has very little to do with these things) who don't fold their kids' laundry. They just give them baskets of unfolded laundry and the kids put it away, folded or not.

I blew it off, mostly, though it's crossed my mind over the past few weeks as I've folded load after load of laundry. Then today I saw this short blog post, shared by another friend: 6 Reasons Why I Don't Fold My Kids' Laundry. It covers the same basic ideas that I'd read on the FB discussion a couple weeks ago.

Can you feel my mind spinning? My heart racing a little? I can't decide what I think about this. I am, um, let's say particular about how laundry should be folded. I spend a fair amount of time folding laundry each week. Although not as much time as some... I follow a weekly-laundry-day system, as opposed to many of my friends who do a load or two every single day. I power through the washing in one day (occasionally running into a second day) and then spend one or two long evenings binge-watching The Good Wife, or The West Wing, or my new favorite, The Americans, while I slowly bury myself under piles of neatly folded clothes, sorted by family member. The next day, the kids put all their clothes away in their drawers.

Here are some of my thoughts as the wheels of my mind spin on this topic:

- If I give up folding the kids' laundry, when would I watch tv? I have a tendency to feel guilty about watching television if my hands aren't kept busy while I do it.

- Maybe I could pick up the sewing projects I've been unable to find time for if the laundry weren't filling my evening hours.

- But the wrinkles?! What about the wrinkles? The above-linked blogger says she shakes the clothes out as she tossed them to their baskets, and hasn't found wrinkles to be a big issue. She says no one has told her that her kids look unkempt. Would you ever tell someone that her kids look unkempt? Are her friends perhaps protecting her?*

- What sort of lesson are you teaching the kids? I mean, there's the good lesson, the "how to take care of your own things" lesson, but there's also the missing lesson of "how to fold your laundry well". My mom taught me how to fold laundry. She also, if memory serves, did most of the folding during my childhood. But when I went to college, I knew how to fold my laundry well. (Also, my friend Ginny taught me how she learned to fold shirts when she worked at Express, and that lesson has always stuck with me.)

- I make a point of not looking in my kids' drawers often, because I don't want to see the mess they create there. I want them to own that space, for the most part. (I will begin looking in their drawers when they're old enough to stash drugs there, but that's a topic for another day, going back to the talk from the Public Safety Director.) It's possible that those drawers are nothing but giant wads of unfolded clothes, and all my folding is a waste of time. But I don't think it's quite that bad. Probably.

- I take some pride (maybe too much pride) in those piles and piles of folded laundry surrounding me on the futon when I'm done. They give me a sense of accomplishment. Is that bad? Is it a waste of my time?

- Would my mom have any respect for me, ever again, if I quit folding my kids' laundry? Not that that's my determining factor, but... Mom?

The bottom line is, I don't think I can do it. I'm too obsessed with the neatly folded little shirts and things. I even fold their underwear (I wish I were kidding). If I'm being totally honest, I sort of like folding laundry... at least, I don't hate it the way I assume some moms do. I do, however, think it may be time to start training them to fold their own things well. Maybe once I see those capabilities formed, I could move on to handing them the baskets of unfolded laundry and trusting them to do the right thing.**


*If Lisa or any of my other FB friends who said they don't fold their kids' laundry are reading this, I'd like to say for the record that I've never suspected them of not folding their kids laundry. I've never noticed them looking unkempt. And I'm not just saying that!

**This is in no way intended as a criticism of those parents who opt out of folding their kids' clothes. It is merely my tongue-in-cheek take on the whole situation, and my way of working through my whirl of thoughts on that matter. Power to you, who are able to let go of that chore!

Things we learn

It's funny, the things you learn as you have more kids, and the first ones get older. Like this week, I've learned how much a parent can appreciate her older child coming down with a stomach bug in comparison to her toddler who's had the same stomach bug for the past three days, off and on. Because the toddler just spews where she stands, while the 8 year old books it into the bathroom and contains her mess.

Not that I wish my older kids sick! But if it has to be one or the other, I'll take the sick big kid. Not only can she aim for a bowl, she can read to herself and find ways to stay content in her bed, while the toddler wants to roam the house despite the risk of hurling at any moment. Significantly lower stress situation.

Ruth's the fourth kid to fall to this quick-but-yicky bug. Prayers that Marianne, Nathaniel and I might escape unscathed (and that Rachel will get over it, as hers is lingering longer than Peter's and Meg's versions) are appreciated.

The themes of our winter thus far

This has been the season of Frozen in our house. I know I talked about going, and about the girls loving it, but MAN did they love. They do still. Nathaniel bought the main song for them on iTunes, then went back and bought the whole cd. He burned two copies (because the first one wasn't in order) which worked perfectly since this way one of them can be listening to her favorite songs upstairs while the other plays her favorite songs in the kitchen, and Meg floats back and forth, singing and dancing. Peter hasn't seen the movie, but he knows all the songs by heart. I know them all by heart as well. (I don't actually mind... shhhhh).

This is the first time I have seen the girls choreograph elaborate dance numbers and strive to recreate scenes from the movie in detail. It takes me back to memories of my sister and a couple of our cousins, listening to Tiffany and Madonna in a back bedroom of our grandparents' farm house, coming up with dance routines as we belted out the songs.

*****

This was the season of Peter driving us to ends of our ropes with potty training. (If you're not a parent, you may choose to skip past this section, as it's going to be about poo.) The boy WILL NOT poo in a potty. We've been patient, focusing on the staying dry, and assuming the rest would follow as it always had for our older kids. But no. He's killing us. I can't stand the thought of cleaning out any more poopy underpants. Finally, at our collective wit's end last week, we made a decision. When he shows any sign of pooping, we get him to the bathroom, and then he stays there. In the bathroom. With no pants. Until he poos.

I spent over three hours with him held hostage in the bathroom one afternoon because he said he was poopy but there was almost nothing in his pants, so I KNEW more was coming. And he tried, honestly. And then I took him some books and some puzzles and he hung out. But when Nathaniel got home for dinner, he let him put his pants on and come out. And guess what? Yup. He pooped in them. So the next day, he showed signs that got him contained in the bathroom again. Two hours later, I had to pick up Meg from preschool, so the pants when on and within a few minutes of our arriving home with Meg, he pooped in them. Killing me. The next day, happily, I had no where to go. He showed signs of approaching poo around 9:30 and into the bathroom he went. At noon, I brought him his lunch in the bathroom. For real. At 12:30, he POOPED IN THE POTTY! It was like mardi gras around here - the celebrations and noise and excitement. It's happened twice more, but today he filled his pants again. {sigh} At least we've made some progress.

*****

This is one of many seasons in which Rachel is too stinking adorable! She's in a phase I'm going to refer to as the "in, on, under" phase. I'm sure it happens with all one year olds, but it's no less precious for that. She wants to be in something (the tupperware cabinet she just cleared of bowls), or under something (any table will do), or on something (she's not picky, but there's a box in the kitchen that is her most favorite) at all times.

I realize she's not actually on the box in the last picture, but that is THE box. Also, she's holding her current favorite toy, small composition notebooks that her sisters got for Christmas. Who needs plastic baby toys with lights and music when you have real, tiny notebooks. All day long, she comes into the kitchen, carrying the notebooks. She sets them on the box, climbs up and sits on the box, then picks up and puts down, opens and closes, puts down and picks up... over and over... those little notebooks. It's the sweetest thing. One day she played with the books for 45 minutes while I made dinner and was generally productive. It was amazing!

Food

I could write this entire gratitude post as a joke about how much I love food and how grateful I am for all the yummy foods out there. Donuts, pizza, cake, cheeseburgers, brownies, garlic bread, cookies... I love food way too much for my own good. And I am thankful that we live in a world with such wonderful variety of tastes and textures and general awesomeness of food! I'm sort of glad I live in an era that, for the most part, has moved on from jello salads with shredded carrots in them (unless it's for an ironic, retro effect), and now we all think we're at least a little bit foodie-gourmet. We get foods from all over the world, available at our grocery stores and restaurants. It's a good time to be alive, enjoying food!

But what I'm actually thinking of today, as I reflect on my many blessings, it's much more simple. I'm grateful that we can put food on the table. Ample food, and for a large family. I feel like it's a blessing that's easily taken for granted, and I often bemoan that we aren't able to eat out more than we do if we're sticking to our budget. If I stop to think about the issue even for a second, though, I remember that we have more to eat each day than many families throughout the world have in a week.

*****

I sat down today to go over our monthly budget and try to get us back on track as the holidays approach. (Hey there, Dave Ramsey! It's been a while!). As I looked at our spending for the past year, the average amount we spend on groceries didn't surprise me, exactly, but it did make me curious about what a typical grocery budget looks like in the US. I like to think of myself as a frugal shopper, nearly always buying store brands, and making most things from scratch. I don't often use coupons, but that's because nearly every time I've set out to do so, I find that there either aren't coupons for the items I buy, or the store brand is still cheaper than the name brand with a coupon.

I'm going to throw some numbers at you now, but keep reading if you've stuck with me this far, because near the bottom there's a question I'm posing to you, and I really would love to get some responses, whether here or in private.

I did some quick internet searching and found a lot of data for families of four. Given how young our kids are, that's probably not far off from our family of 7. I found one government survey break down here, from 2008, that gives enough info to calculate for various sizes of family, so I tried using that one. (I like that in the footnotes they show how to adjust numbers in a way that appears to take into account economies of scale - meaning that you save some money by cooking for a large group over a bunch of individuals. I know I'm a nerd. Remember, I have a degree in Accountancy. Just the fact that I didn't say "a degree in Accounting" should highlight the depth of nerdiness.)

Based on our last 10 months, I show that we have an average monthly grocery expenditure of $860. Again that's for a family of 7 with kids aged 10 and under. It includes our regular weekly grocery trip, as well as trips to Sam's Club every couple months and occasional Trader Joe's runs. I keep fairly detailed record of our spending, so it's safe to say that's accurate. If I look at the family of four info, that puts us somewhere between their "low-cost" and "moderate-cost" ranges. If I actually calculate the number for a family of 7 with our demographics (how funny is it that I have one kid in each of their five child age categories?), we bump down to between "thrifty" and "low-cost"! Here are the family-of-7 numbers I came up with:

Moderate - $1200
Low-budget - $976
Thrifty - $757

This honestly makes me feel so good! I wish I could get our grocery budget down much further, but since I already feel like I'm a cautious shopper, it's comforting to know that I really do rank on the low end for spending! And given how much I think grocery prices have gone up in the past five years, I'd guess that a more recent report would show I'm spending even closer to "thrifty".

The next question this raises for me is how much additional money most families spend on dining out. The info above is for the "cost of food at home", but if average families are spending that much on groceries plus eating out an average of five times a week (a stat from a 2011 survey I came across in my morning's research), their combined spending on food must be significantly higher than ours. We eat out at most once a week, typically less.

In NO WAY am I trying to make anyone else feel bad about what you are spending. There are lots of things that I wish I could spend more on, organic fruits and the like, but don't because I know we can't afford it. Obviously someone with higher income can spend more on groceries and there is nothing wrong with that! But I am very, very curious whether these numbers are at all realistic among the people I actually know, you know? It's possible that the report is heavily skewed by more expensive parts of the country, and given our low cost of living city, I'm not really all that thrifty at all.

If you're willing, I'd be very interested to know, for those of you who track such things, what your monthly or weekly grocery budget looks like (along with your family size, if I don't already know, for comparison's sake). You can reply in the comments or email me if you'd rather not put it out there on the web. If I get enough response, maybe I'll compile a little report about it to share with you, my lucky, lucky readers!

Now that I have spent more time researching nationwide grocery budgets than I should have spent working on our household finances at all today, I'd best finish my task.

Notre Dame

I got a mailing from ND today about the upcoming Class of '99 reunion. Aside from all the reunion talk making me feel really old, the reunion committee has done its job well and I feel appropriately nostalgic.

I am beyond grateful for my college experience. Our Steubenville neighbors jest about how we made it out with our Catholicism in tact, but the truth is, I learned my faith there. I learned the depth and beauty of the Catholic faith, partly from Lit Choir, partly from classes, partly from friends, mostly from Nathaniel.

Oh right, and that. Of course I'm grateful for my college experience, right? I met my husband there. And dated him the whole time I was there. (The top left had phrase on the reunion material, big and bold, answering the question "why come back to campus?" is "It is where you met and fell in love with your spouse". They know their target market, alright.) Of course that shaped my college experience in a huge way! Heck, I imagine it shaped the experience of all my friends to some degree as well. Would we have gone to THAT MANY glee club concerts if I hadn't been dating Nathaniel?

Okay, maybe.

I didn't know much of anything about Notre Dame when I started applying for colleges. I am not exaggerating when I say that I had only heard of it the year before when two grads from my high school went there, and one of them, when she came home the following summer, told me how much I would love it. I then went on to send my ACT scores to the wrong Notre Dame (a college in... Ohio maybe? who's brochure all but started with the phrase "This is not the Notre Dame you're looking for." I don't think I was the only person ever to make that mistake.) Once I got on the right track, though, and got the correct ND mailings, I fell in love with the University. Their's was the first acceptance letter I got (apart from KU), and I told my mom that same day that I wanted to go there. She suggested I at least wait and see whether I got into any of the other schools I'd applied to. So I did, and I prayed, and I knew that Our Lady was calling me.

I loved everything about college. I loved my dorm; I lived there all four years. I had a great roommate from the start, and we lived together for three years, then next to each other in singles the fourth. I made amazing friends, both in my dorm and out. I studied abroad in London, and even though it meant a year of long distance relationship, it was so, so awesome! I loved the classes I took. I loved the cheeseball dorm dances and the crazy campus activities. I loved South Dining Hall and the student center, which, at the time, had almost nothing in it but lounge space and a convenience store. We had The. Best. Time.

I'm always glad, looking back, that I shared those years with Nathaniel. It gives us a huge foundation of life together before we were married. We can reminisce about that first Easter, when campus was mostly deserted, but he stayed to attend all the services that Lit Choir was singing, and on Easter Sunday night into Easter Monday we stayed up till dawn in the 24 hour lounge of my dorm, discussing our hopes and dreams and fears (and Jaime, the security guard kept checking in on us). Almost all of my memories of our courtship are on that campus.

We'd love to take our kids there for a visit. We talk about it often lately. "Where could we plan an inexpensive roadtrip that would allow us to tack on a day visit to campus? Who could we visit along the way?" It helps that Peter is obsessed with the IRISH. Everything sports related is "Go IRISH!" (although it's frequently followed by "I'm a Husker!" which still throws me for a loop).

We don't have any plans to attend the reunion. I don't think it's feasible for us at the time of year it's held, and the logistics of it make me tired just thinking about it! I suppose if we could leave our kids behind... but I really do want to take THEM there. I want to walk around the lakes with them and eat in the dining hall with them. I miss my friends, and I would love to reconnect with them all and introduce my kids to them. (Hi, guys!) I look forward to seeing their pictures, and I'll be envious the whole time. But it's not in the cards for us. Maybe in five years, or ten...

In the meantime, I hold so much gratitude in my heart for my alma mater, for everything I found there and learned there and for the person she helped make me. It's fun to be reminded by the reunion mailer of how much good came from those four years. I can't even begin to imagine how different my life would be if I'd gone somewhere else.

And our hearts forever
Love thee Notre Dame!

Update on the happenings

We're a week into school and the routine is getting a little more routine. Meg had a crying fit last night over what to wear, and I thanked my lucky stars it was happening last night, and not this morning. Having her lay out her clothes ahead of time will be one of the keys to maintaining sanity until she's wearing a uniform jumper. I do not know how parents manage without uniforms; I'm so spoiled!

Nathaniel started teaching classes today, including an 8am class three days a week, so he's out the door early. I have to keep the morning as streamlined as possible. I told Meg I'd walk her to school this week, but starting next week I'll send her out the door with her sisters. I could probably not bother this week, even, as she jumps right in with the other kids and barely glances my way again, but she said she'd like me to come along, and I'm happy to do it for a couple days more.

Peter's potty training is coming along. No success with poo yet (tmi - you're welcome), but he stays dry for most of the day if we remind him to go once in a while. That's awesome given how badly it always went with the girls! He's not telling us when he needs to go, though, so we're far from finished.

In more exciting news (at least to me), I nearly have the coloring room all reorganized and tidy and lovely. I already am so much happier with the space. I'm waiting on one small piece of furniture to arrive and then I'll post some before and after shots and pretend like I have any skill in interior decorating (I don't) and you're all interested (doubtful). The ironic part is that I ordered a bunch of bins from The Container Store to help clean up the space, and now the big boxes the bins arrived in are what is making the space look like a crazy mess. The kids are having too much fun with them for me to toss them out quite yet, but I'm thinking when the recycling truck comes on Wednesday, the boxes will have to go.

Scrumptious

Have I mentioned how cute my baby is? Cause dang, y'all!

How's that for pretty writing? Instead, I offer you pretty baby:

Random strangers ask me whether I just want to eat those cheeks, and I say, "You betcha! I do it all. The. Time."

She has the most ridiculously round face. In a good way. Her perky little dimpled chin and bright blue eyes...  I can't get enough of her. Don't get me started on her thighs and toes. Nibble, nibble.

She's not exactly doing a whole lot these days, apart from being decorative and occasionally noisy. She's gaining balance toward sitting, but is still in need of assistance. She has some strong, bounce-loving legs, so she spends a fair chunk of dinner-prep time in the door jumper thing, cracking herself up. We started rice cereal a few days ago (can you tell we're just not rushing things here on baby #5?) and it's going fine. She's had it all of three times and I'm already thinking I want to move on to some mashed bananas or other more interesting options. I mean, rice cereal? Ick. I wouldn't be all that enthusiastic either. I figure I'd better hold off till she has a poo, just to make sure the cereal isn't constipating her before I switch to even more constipation-causing foods, though. Yes, you read that right - she's hasn't had a poo in three days since we started the cereal, but that's not actually abnormal for her. She typically only does that every four or five days. Ruth was the same way; there's nothing to worry about. Is this t.m.i.? I thought so. Sorry.

You know what she's NOT doing? Sleeping through the night well. Don't get me wrong, I'm not desperately sleep deprived. I've heard some horror stories from friends, so I'm counting my blessings. Rachel is still up twice a night to eat, though, and I'm at a bit of a loss how to "fix" that. My past several kids have just started sleeping through the night nice and early, so I've been spoiled. I feed her and put her down around 7:30pm, then she typically wakes between 11pm and 12:30am and then again between 3:30am and 5am. The earlier of those two often comes right around when I'm heading to bed, so it's not too much of a hassle, but I still am hopeful that introducing some solid foods will help fill her up so she doesn't need to eat till about 5-6am, ideally. I'm wondering whether I'm producing less milk this time than with past babies, but she's growing and thriving, so I'm not going to worry about it. If I reach the desperately sleep-deprived stage, THEN I'll worry about it.

Also, she's teething. Probably. At a bare minimum she's drooling like she expects it to be made an Olympic sport and she wants to make sure she earns the first ever gold medal. Then again, she's been doing that for a couple months and still has no teeth to show for it, so maybe she just loves a wet, slimy chin. To each her own. Nathaniel thinks one of her top teeth is about ready to erupt. That would be novel, since all the other kids have gone the more typical, bottom-first route with teeth. I'll keep you posted.

*Thanks to Hillary and DB for the super cute onesie in the photos. Clearly Rachel loves it!