I'll warn you right now, this thing starts out innocent enough, but doesn't end the same way. If you are not interested in the messy musings of my heart, stop after you get to Mimi's sage advice.
I'm not sure I would have sent Finn to preschool this year if not necessary for the success of Ava's homeschooling, at least I surely wouldn't have sent him three days per week. But now that he's gotten over that two week hump, he loves it. He cries to go when it's his days off.
He's been practicing writing his name (again, not something I would have pushed at 3 years old). I find his tags all over the place. N's were tricky for him, looking more like O's, so instead of Finn, it looked more like Floo. I hate it when my kids outgrow their little quirks (the cute ones anyway). So when I realized he'd discovered the dot over his I and not to connect his N's at the bottom, I was sad.
We hope to lose the paci by his fourth birthday. He still takes a "rest" on my bed while he watches TV with his beloved taggy, paci, and elephant. On the rare lucky days he still falls asleep.
Finn and Jack are best frenemies. When it's good, it's good and when it's bad, it's BAD.
Jack is still a major pill. We discovered on our drive home from Utah after Christmas that giving him his own little kindle with Peppa Pig playing the whole time, surely exceeded reasonable screen time limits, but made our drive much more bearable.
He talks all the time, rarely shutting up. He has started calling Dan, "Daddy Pig" (from Peppa Pig, of course) and refers to large things as "huge". When he's enjoying something a lot, he'll say "love it!"
He sleeps with a special blanket of his own, also with a tag , though it's tiny. From the time he could roll over, he has gotten in bed and rolled himself like a burrito with his blanket, taggy in hand. Sadly now, he's getting so big, that little blanket is having a hard time being a tortilla. I'm not sure what to do about it, but the poor kid yells from his bed at night, "Fix blanket! Fix blanket!" because he can't make himself fit.
Max is the epitome of a 7 year old boy. He's silly, intense, and annoying, yet so full of love. And of course he wouldn't be Max if he wasn't stubborn. He knows how to push everyone's buttons, but when he's inclined, can keep the younger half of the family happily entertained.
He sometimes can't control himself and has been known to occasionally hit his brothers. On one such occasion, he lost his privilege to play the wii for hitting Finn. Later that day, Dan came upon Max yelling at Finn (it was an awesome, typical day) and Dan reminded him of our conversation. Max's reply was, "Mom told me I could scream at him, I just can't hit!" (which is not what I said, but apparently only what I specifically mention is off limits, everything else gets my endorsement!)
Luke looks like teenwolf half the time because his hair grows so fast.
He qualified for the school Spelling Bee, which is this week. And he started his first season of basketball on Saturday. They're only third graders but it was still really fun to watch. He played great and Dan kept all his stats on his phone, like some crazy sports dad.
Dan takes such good care of all of us. We thought this receipt from our dinner was a good illustration of our life.
He became obsessed Martinelli's sparkling cider over the holidays. It made him feel less guilty than his soda habit. I've found him sneaking sips from the fridge since November.
Ava is growing so fast and so much it's hard to believe. Every week she shows up for her riding lesson, she keeps having to lengthen her stirrups. I can't believe she'll be with me in Young Women in just a few short months.
She draws every day and stumbling upon her pictures always makes me so happy.
I've been riding with her every other week when Dan is off work and it has been really fun for me. I told myself that I would like to learn dressage because I'm too old and have too much responsibility get hurt. I am enjoying learning new things, but I can't lie, I really miss the exhilaration of jumping.
I talk to my mom on the phone practically everyday. She's my boo. And often she is in Kentucky at her mom's house, taking care of her. Mimi's dementia has gotten really bad. She doesn't remember me any more. In fact, every face time call is like us meeting for the first time. Though sometimes she says, "I think I know you." Inevitably, though, she tells me I'm pretty and asks how many kids I have.
Recently as we had this same conversation and I told her I had 4 kids--1 girl and 4 boys, she actually busted up laughing.
"FOUR boys?!?!HAHAHAHAHA!" Once she calmed down she passed along some advice I will not forget.
"When those boys get big enough to chase girls...LET THEM!"
Then it was my turn to bust up.
Life is so hard right now. I don't feel there are many people (or really any people) that I can understand my life. I feel like I belong to a few exclusive clubs and even my membership in those is twisted just enough that I don't fit in there either.
I have five kids. It was hard when I had one. It was hard when I had two. It was hard when I had three and four. But nothing has compared to this. And when a mother of two (three, four, whatever) tells me she knows how I feel, I want to laugh and cry. Because she doesn't. There is no comparison for the amount of crying that goes on in this house. We have been so desensitized by it, as parents, we have to make New Year's resolutions to feign sympathy when someone gets hurt and not just tell them to be quiet. All we want is for the crier to be quiet. All we want is quiet. I know other members of the mothers of five club, but then I throw in the homeschool wrench.
I'm a member of the homeschool club because I homeschool my child. Not all of them though, which I can honestly say I have no idea how that feels. But I do know how it feels to homeschool one child with a learning difference. And that difference makes a huge difference. There is no independent work. There is only very intensive attentive work for the two of us. (But mix that with taking care of very demanding two and three years olds at the same time.) Not even to mention the huge weight of this obligation in general. And then I still have my foot in the public school club which means after full days of teaching at home, I still have to play the homework game with the other two school age kids. I don't know anyone in this circumstance.
And then my calling. Being in charge of the Young Women's youth program at church is challenging physically and emotionally. It requires time, attention, motivation, and sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifice is mine, but often it's my family's, and sometimes it's both. There are things I love (like the girls) and there are things I don't. In technical terms, it could qualify as a part time job with no pay. There have been many times I've thought about quitting, but one special experience reminds me that I am in the right place and the difficulties are worth the effort.
Before I was called, I was serving with the cub scouts. Out of the blue, I had a feeling that I was going to be put back in YW. The feeling only got stronger and occupied my mind for weeks along with fear. I told Dan. I called my mom. I expressed this feeling, along with my concerns, to both.
Of all the time and years and places I had served in YW this was the one situation I did not feel very comfortable or adequate. Soon enough, the Bishop and counselor showed up at my house. I found out later it was supposed to have been a "feel her out" type of visit, but when I opened the door and saw them, I knew exactly what was coming. After chatting for a few minutes, the Bishop extended the call and I should have left it at "Yes, I will do it." Instead, I think I went on to explain that I thought this was going to happen. Not everybody can appreciate my intuitive nature and I think I made myself sound crazy. Nevertheless, they couldn't change their mind after that and now here we are, a year later. I'm hanging by a thread but I'm not giving up. Because I know this is what I am supposed to be doing. A similar experience with feeling like I should get pregnant right after having Finn and then turning up pregnant despite our efforts to the contrary, has comforted me many days when I can't handle all these kids.
And when I add it all up in my head, that's two full time jobs (mom of 5 and a teacher--that I have to do at the same time) plus a part time job, all with no pay, no recognition, and with a lovely side of criticism. All of my heart emptying efforts are basically invisible to all around me.
When people see me, they see a lady who doesn't have it together. That probably had too many kids. When I see me, I see a lady spread too thin, whose demands far out weigh any human being's ability to meet them. And even though I can cut myself slack, I don't feel that slack or understanding from anywhere else.
I think there are only rare times that others know exactly what we are going through, most of our lives we find people who share commonalities and friendship, people who may not have the exact same struggle, but people who can relate, who empathize and care.
And then there are times we just feel alone. Like no one on earth can understand how we feel. I think God allows those times so that we will seek comfort in the only one who always knows exactly how we feel, Jesus Christ.
This is one of those times for me. I keep telling myself that one day I will emerge on the other side of this mountain I'm tunneling through. One day the sun will hit my face and I will look back and wonder how I did it. And I will feel confident as I remember the little experiences God gave me along the way, that He was fully aware of me, that my sacrifice and hard work was seen, it was appreciated, maybe only by Him, and that for the five people that bought my membership in the mom of five club, it was absolutely worth it.
