A phone promise to myself

I spent some time in Panera this afternoon while Frick and Frack were at Hebrew School. It was 5pm-ish and a woman about my age came in with her two little girls (about the same ages as Fred and Four) for dinner. They sat at a table right in front of me. It was pretty crowded there, and the younger girl picked the table because it had three chairs and they had three people. The girls sat nicely and waited for the food. They decided they didn't really like the food that Mom had ordered. But, they wanted the apple and chips, just not the soup or sandwich. Mom was ok with that and then the trips to the garbage can started. First the older girl found a chip that was green. Need to get that in the trash immediately. Then the younger girl found a brown spot on her piece of apple. Immediate trash also. Then they wanted more drinks. One spilled and the napkins needed to get into the trash can right away. Mom was not at all paying attention. She had her phone out and was checking her email or Facebook or any of a variety of things you can do on your phone. I get it. I do it all the time too. But it was very clear to me that these girls were trying pretty darn hard to get their mom to see them.


One thing that I think we're all guilty of is not seeing our kids. Sometimes life gets in the way. You are expecting that important email about something. Or need to obsessively check Facebook to see if your cousin posted pictures of her newborn baby. This is the way of the world these days. We are expected to be connected at all times. And we expected it of ourselves as well. So, in the (not-so-distant) past, if we weren't home when the important email came in, it would have to wait until we got home. And we'd have to wait until our cousin sent those pictures of the newborn to us directly, instead of seeing them on Facebook immediately. It was ok if things had to wait 30 minutes or 3 hours. The only life that happened in the immediate was what you were doing at the moment.

So if you were out to dinner with your kids, you didn't have the option of obsessively checking your phone or playing Angry Birds or Words with Friends, you had to see your kids. Really see them. You were given no choice but to notice that they were getting up and throwing things in the garbage can repeatedly. You saw them spilling the water and sometimes (not all the time, but sometimes) were even able to catch the cup before the water got everybody soaking wet. Now, it's just water, and it dries - no biggie. But the biggie was those little girls wanted to be seen by their mom. And she was too busy to see them.

This made me sad. Really sad. Not just for those girls - their mom is probably a great mom who does see them a majority of the time, but for my own kids. How many times have I been that mom. The non-seeing mom. I'll bet it's more frequently than I'd like to believe. So, I'm making a promise to myself right now. I'm going to be better about this. No more endless phone checking when I'm with the kids. I'm not giving my phone up, but I'm going to be more moderate about it. I will see my kids. I promise.

Awake? Yup. Of course.

When you have insomnia, one of the things you learn to live with is having completely disjointed thoughts that seem to be the cause of your wakefulness. Since my normal thoughts can be pretty disjointed and random, it isn't at all surprising that the ones I have during my bouts of insomnia are equally bizarre.
I have this awesome Rabbi. Rabbi Matt is exactly the kind of person you want as your spiritual leader. He leads by example, isn't preachy, is accepting when others don't completely agree with him and always remembers the name of everyone he meets. Not only that, but he thinks my kids are pretty awesome. Most importantly, he's able to see the Holy (you know, those moments when you feel the presence of God) in things that don't seem otherwise Holy. At Family Services (the second Friday of every month) he generally tries to keep the kids engaged by asking them questions that somehow relate to the Torah portion of that week. This week we were talking about when you feel the presence of God in your life. And the first thing he did was address us, the parents in the room. He asked what is the last thing we do at night. We all knew exactly what he was saying - check those kids. They consume your waking thoughts, your worries, your hopes, your giggles. The last thing you do before settling down for the night is take one last look. When you have a baby in the house, you check to make sure the swaddle is still holding or that the tiny little tushie is up in the air. Is the pacifier within in reach? Is the room too warm? Too cold? White noise machine still on to hopefully glean an extra few minutes of sleep? When your kids are a bit older, it may be the only time you see them not moving. Are all the arms and legs still attached? Is the face relatively clean? Is the favorite stuffed animal still in the bed or was it accidentally flung to the floor? When the kids are still older, it may be the only time you see them at all! And really, you want to just take a nice long look to make sure they are still there. I'm not at this stage yet, but I am getting dangerously close with Frick and Frack. That folks, is THE moment. The last look of the day at the kids. That moment is when I know that I feel the presence of God. No matter what else has gone on that day, I know that God exists because I have these beautiful little creatures - the ones who I adore, the ones who get Double Stuf cream in my bed, the ones who leave their dirty clothes on the floor directly in front of the laundry basket, the ones who wrap their arms around my neck and tell me they love me, the ones who trip walking up the stairs because they are too engrossed in a book to put it down, the ones who had a screaming match with me - just beacuse they love to push my buttons. That moment, in the quiet of the house, is the most Holy moment of all.

I'm typing this post on my dying netbook. It's been dying since the end of November. A slow, painful death. I was hoping that it would die before Christmas/Chanukah, and someone I know would give me an iPad or Kindle Fire. But sadly, the last nail is not yet in the coffin. However, this week, the desktop computer started it's death dirge as well. So shortly, the only working computers in the house will be Apple products. Several months ago SS Dad purchased an iMac for us. Unfortunately, I haven't taken the time to sit down and properly introduce myself, so anytime I need to use it, there are a lot of four-letter words bandied about. I really need to just do it. To take the hour or so that it takes to learn how to use the stupid piece of machinery. However, until this past week, I didn't have an hour for that purpose. Perhaps now, with Four in preschool all day three days a week, I can find that hour. I hope though, that I don't kill it. Because lately, it seems that "I repel technology" (if you don't know what movie that is a direct quote from, you can google it. hee hee)

Finally, I worry that my grammar skills are starting to atrophy. I was a straight A student in English for my entire school career. If you look at this post, it would seem that my grammar is atrocious. I mean, half my sentences aren't actual sentences. I am appalled - and Mrs. Bolton, by 9th grade English teacher - would be appalled as well. (She's probably on Facebook and I should really look her up. See another disjointed thought.) But then I think that my blog is sort of stream of consciousness. Maybe it's more like Def Jam poetry than it is like "real" writing. It's sort of unstructured in a structured way. Right? But I worry. It seems they no longer truly teach grammar in school, so my kids are in need of a grammar paragon to look up to (clearly not me, since I was perfectly content to end that sentence with a preposition!) They love School House Rock, but is that enough? Should my own speech be more precise? Do I have the energy to worry about making it more precise? Do I even remember how?

Yeah, these are the disjointed thoughts that I have during the night (well, it's actually early morning. If it were a weekday, SS Dad would already be getting ready for work.) Don't worry though, the thoughts aren't what's keeping me up. I'm up because I'm hungry, nauseous and have a migraine. The thoughts are just what I'd rather dwell on then go downstairs, find something to eat that will relieve the awful feeling in my stomach without giving the baby a huge burst of sugar, so I don't end up with baby acrobatics in my belly and take some Tylenol (which is about as effective at relieving migraines as a gunshot to the head.)

I'm not the kind of mother I thought I was

Four has started full day preschool. Not everyday, but M/W/F. She'd been going from 9-12:00, staying for Lunch Bunch after her class ended. She loved it. She was begging me to let her stay in the afternoons. OK. Last week, I let her try it out on Wednesday. Happy as a clam. On Friday when I went to pick her up right after lunch, she ran and hid, saying she wanted to stay all day. So, I signed her up for all day.


Yesterday was the start of it. Honestly? I thought I'd be the mom who had a party on the driveway the day I sent my last kid off to school. However, I was sad. I dropped her off and went to run my errands. Then I realized I didn't have to rush back. I went off to visit friends (my moms & Daniel group) called Bagels and Blocks. I was sad. I came home, had lunch and even laid down for a power nap. Then I raced out the door to pick her up. She was happy as a clam. Smiling. I was so glad to see her! We raced home to get the other three off the bus. And I realized something.


I had thought that perhaps I crazy, starting over with a new baby. After all, Four is out of diapers, in school, practically reading. Going back to the beginning definitely seemed a bit nuts. But, I'm not ready for that next chapter. I still have a little left in this one. And it'll be here, June is right around the corner. I'll be back to diapers and nursing and sleepless nights. There may be colic, the witching hour from 5-6pm and baby spit up on all my clothes. That's exactly what I am ready for. Frick, Frack, Fred and Four may be growing up, but this new baby will be just what I need. We'll spend our days driving Four to school, taking all the other girls here and there but I'll still be doing the baby things too. And I'm happy about it.

Please remind me of this is in a few months, when I'm bleary eyed from lack of sleep, walking around in spit-stained clothes and my hair looks like a haystack. I'll need the reminder, I'm sure!

You want me to let my kids do what?

The truth is, I'm not a ski-mom. Actually, I'm not the mom of any outdoor winter sport. I prefer to stay inside during the winter. Unfortunately, I married a man who loves all things outdoor-winter-ish. So, here I sit. At a very uncomfortable picnic table in the "lodge" at the "hill" while Frick and Frack are in ski school. This is their first year of real ski school, prior to this they took lessons. Now, they are good enough that they are in ski school. There is nothing about this that makes me comfortable. Coldness and hard benches aside, the thought of allowing my kids to get on a chair and go up a mountain is very anxiety producing for me. I'm a mom. My one job is to protect my kids. Yet, I stuck them into hard boots, attached them to fat sticks and sent them to the chair. I just about died. This is not what I think of as safe. SS Dad thinks this is amazing. His little girls, hurtling down a mountain and loving it. However, he's nice and toasty warm in his office and my cold behind is parked on this bench. The girls have this everyday this week, a week in February and every Saturday until there is no more snow. I just texted SS Dad and told him to take off that week in February. By then, my large pregnant belly will not fit at these old picnic tables.

This is not Four's birthday post

When Frick and Frack were little, they didn't need a best friend. In preschool (when we lived in CT) they shared one, M, and enjoyed spending time with her. But they didn't wake up everyday and ask to see her. When Fred was in preschool, she was way too shy to have a bff. She liked the other kids, but her sisters filled the need for that closeness. Four? She's got a bff that she adores.
Curly is this awesome little girl. They go to preschool together, but are in different classes. Curly is nearly a year older, so she's in the pre-K class and Four is in the four-year-old class. But, they eat lunch together. And we are friends with her parents. Four's birthday celebration was today. (Yeah, I know. I need to do her birthday post.) We had the usual suspects here - my parents, AYS, SS Dad's mom and her hubby, and Four asked if Curly and her family could come. Her first real friend. Very cute.
It was great to see them together, Four acts like a different kid when Curly is around - MUCH less bossy. And when it was time for Curly to leave, the girls did their goodbye hug. They do this everyday at school when I pick up Four. It's this huge hug, complete with Curly lifting Four off the ground (she's a full head taller than her!) Very sweet. I'm so glad that Four picked such a great kid for her BFF.

Yeah, I'm mean, wanna make something of it?

I'm the meanest mom on the block. But you knew that already. Tonight, I'm "forcing" Frick and Frack to taste lasagna. I make a mean lasagna, if I do say so myself. It's a combination of my grandma's recipe and the Kraft No-boil recipe. I do think it's the only recipe that Grandma made without the use of Lipton onion soup.
The girls are almost 10. I think it's time to stop being so picky and start eating. They cannot survive on chicken nuggets alone. Yes, I am exaggerating. They eat tons of fresh fruits and veggies. They are great that way. But, in terms of real food - like food you can order in a restaurant - they eat next to nothing. I want them to learn to love all different kinds of food. At their age, my favorites were scallops and Hibachi steak. I still love both. I want them to broaden their horizons food-wise. So tonight they must try the lasagna. I have no doubt that Frick is going to hate it - she hates red sauce and cheese. But Frack? She loves pizza. Sure, the crust is the favorite part for that carbovore, but still, she eats the cheese and the sauce. It's worth a shot.
Now, I will admit to not liking pasta as a kid. In fact, I didn't truly learn to like pasta until I was an adult. But, I don't want my kids to be quite so limited. So mean mommy is making an appearance this evening. Actually, mean daddy is coming too. I've got quite the headache and am in bed, so he'll be doing the enforcing.

The thing is

Every pregnancy has it's own "thing." With Frick and Frack, the thing was vomit and worry. There was a whole lot of both going on. For 19 weeks, I threw up repeatedly on a daily basis. Then there was the worry. Is there a membrane between them? Are they growing enough? Should they come out now? How small will they be? How long will they stay in the NICU? Fraught with worry.
My pregnancy with Fred was the pregnancy of Meggie. Meggie was our sitter. She came around and I got to take a nap. There's very little I remember from that pregnancy. Frick and Frack were not yet 2 and I was still massively sleep deprived. When I went in the middle of the night to deliver Fred, Meggie came running to watch Frick and Frack.
During my pregnancy with Four, the thing was 4pm. At 4pm every single day I needed to lay down. On the dining room floor. Just lay there. And I did. Every single day. I'm not sure why it was 4pm, but that was the time.
Last Spring, I got pregnant. That was the pregnancy of loss and sadness. From the first appointment, it was clear that something was wrong and I ended up losing that baby at 10 weeks.
Well, a short 12 weeks ago, we learned that we are expecting again. Yes. You read that right. No need for a double take. We'll be having another baby in June. Yes. We are crazy. Yes. We will have 5 children. This pregnancy has a thing too. The thing is the "blechies." You know, that awful feeling that at any moment you may vomit. Combine that with a bit of dizziness. Add in massive migraines. The final symptoms of the blechies is exhaustion. The kind of tiredness that causes people to ask if I'm ok because I look like I haven't slept in weeks. The thing is, we kind of don't mind. Well, I definitely mind feeling blechy, but at the same time, it's ok. Frick and Frack have requested a brother. (This would be good because 2 days prior to finding out I was pregnant, I gave away 11 bins of baby-girl clothes. Everything smaller than size 3T.) Fred would prefer a puppy. (I don't think so!) Four has said that if it's a boy, she won't be it's sister. (Hey there - you get what you get, and you don't get upset. Or throw a fit, if you are from the Midwest.)
So, there it is. I'm pregnant.