Max's 4 Year Pictures

October, December same diff, right?

Life has been absolutely insane.  I was taking Luke's six year pictures just about the time Max was turning four. I planned to get to Max's...sometime.  But I just realized last week, that after the move will not be any easier. And especially not any warmer.  So between an excessive number of house related appointments (yesterday was appraiser, plumber, carpet cleaner, and landscaper) and the threat of cold, wet weather this weekend, we squeezed in a quick shoot today.

And here is Max in all his 4 year old glory! He encapsulates the very best and worst that four has to offer.

Life without Max would be no life at all.

Wisteria Ice

I woke up the other morning with the words WISTERIA SNOW on my lips.  If I was right, if my black hole of a brain had truly conjured up the family room paint color, long ago misplaced, in my sleep no less, it was to be a veritable miracle.

Last week was reminiscent of the winter of 2011.  The whole city was covered by a thick layer of ice.  Through the windows, the grass was a blanket of snow.  But it only took one slippery step to realize there would be no snowballs nor snowmen. It was also made quite clear that we have no cold threshold and will freeze in Colorado.

School and work were cancelled and from Thursday evening through Monday evening, we were prisoners in our home.

Besides all the the extra bonding time,

the beauty of this circumstance was that Dan, the Great Entertainer, The Best Dad in the World, was home.  He diligently played with the kids inside and out while I diligently cleaned out and sorted every item we own.  By the end of our frosty captivity, I had filled our entire foyer with stuff we didn't need or want any longer.  At the earliest thaw, we put our mountain of trash out for the next pickup and drove a van-full to the donation center.  And when I shut the back hatch door that Tuesday, I felt as though I had just lost 30 pounds.  Unfortunately, that was not true in the physical sense, though the relief of the mental weight was almost as good.


With the house empty of much of the excess, my mind couldn't ignore all the little things here and there in need of repair or fixing or cleaning.  One of which was a short list of places that needed touch up paint.  Most colors were easy to figure out because they were painted fairly recently.  The family room, however, was done the first year we moved in.

But WISTERIA SNOW was right! It's a miracle! Really!

Also, let the record show that I fixed the shower faucet by myself! Another miracle!

We had our first appraisal today, which would have very nearly been a disaster without the generous and furious cleaning help offered by my mother.

We had hoped to get out to Colorado and pin down a house before Christmas but because of the option for a buy out of our current house, we have to get things squared away here by getting the company's guaranteed offer before we're free to offer on another.  The first step is 2-3 appraisals.  Then an inspection.  The first appraisal is done and I wish beyond wishes that the other dudes would just come today, because my house is so clean.  I want to check the whole family into the nearest hotel where they would be free to track in leaves and crunch up goldfish crackers and spit their toothpaste in the sinks. Cause it ain't happenin' here, folks!

Actually, I'm frowning right now because it is totally happening here and I can't do anything about it except plan to put in an indefinite number of very similar cleaning sessions.

Mom and Dad's mission call should have arrived in the mail on Monday.  Or Tuesday.  Or Wednesday.  Or today.  But it hasn't.  We know they were assigned last week so it's only matter of mailing and receiving the letter.  Can you tell we're all a little anxious about it?  If it's not here tomorrow the mail man might get injured.

We put up our tree while we were iced in.  We threw out our big, fake pre-lit one last year because it was no longer lit at all.  While we toyed with the idea of getting a real tree this year, we settled on setting up only the small white tree.  And I hated everything about putting it up because I felt like a cat having its fur pet in the wrong direction.  Every thing inside me screamed, "NOOOOO!" After so much time spent purging and organizing, the act of pulling out boxes, umwrapping doodads, untangling lights, was just all so wrong. I'm gonna have to put all that crap away, you know.  In like two weeks.

But it's for the kids.  They deserve at least a little Christmas.  If it was just me I would skip the whole thing all together and really embrace it next year.  But we're trying to do just enough that it still feels like the holidays but not too much that when it's time to take it all down I don't have a conniption and throw it all on the front lawn.

Ava kept asking when Chippy (the elf) was going to show up.  You may remember 2 years ago,  in desperation after my refusal for an Elf on the Shelf, she fashioned her own out of cardboard and colored pencils.  Pippy was added to the family somewhere along the way.

And don't ask me how Ava whole-heartedly believes they are real even though she made them herself.  You can't argue with magic! I loathe these characters.  I can't keep up with them and their needs. They make me feel inadequate as a human mother because I can never remember to move them or make them do messy things.  If you love your Elf on the Shelf, rest assured that I still love you.  I planned to keep these guys on a shelf, alright.  A really high shelf.  In the back of a cabinet.  Forever.  But Dan fell victim to Ava's incessant questions and decided to get them down himself.  He is so sweet.  And when I drop into bed at night and remember, Chippy! there is a great sense of... comfort? satisfaction? in rolling over and poking Dan in the back and whispering, "Go move, Chippy and Pippy!" and watching him stumble down in the dark to move those silly fellows to a new locale and write a handwritten response to the nightly notes Ava leaves them.

He is a good, good Daddy.  Here is the video he requested me to make. Of course neither of us saw the fall coming at the end .  And yes, when we get to Colorado we should probably invest in a proper sled.

Somewhat unrelated but equally deserving of blog time is,

Finn pulling up on furniture  and even climbing two stairs today.

As well as pulling a curtain rod on his head. He

played with a rubber glove balloon while he waited for the ct scan. As suspected, it confirmed that he is totally fine, but afforded me the ability to sleep that night.

Colorado Coltons

So the good news is, Dan has a job.  The other/bad/exciting/sad/scary news is that it's in Denver.  Over the past few months, we've run through all the possible job scenarios and all of them included staying here in Dallas until at least June.  I know I need to just be grateful that we still have a job (and I am!) but Dan's company wasn't really concerned with our theoretical timeline scenarios and informed us that Dan will be needed in Denver at the start of the year.

We had a really smooth drive to Chicago last week for Thanksgiving.  Seriously, these children of mine have their faults and quirks, but man, have they turned out to be awesome road trippers.  They inherited my bladder of steel and I inherited my dad's motto of not stopping.  And since I'm the driver, we just cruise until the all the tummies and the gas tank are empty.  We fill up and drive on.  The only casualty of that first leg was one stupid speeding ticket (I also inherited my dad's heavy foot).

I love being cooped up in the van with all of these people.  When nobody is crying or whining, of course.

We arrived at my brother, Ian's, house on Tuesday evening and Ava and Sofia immediately disappeared.

 The boys did the opposite; they remained a blur of constant motion. So much motion that Luke burned right through his socks.

And there we were, minding our own business, when a phone call from Canada delivered the job news.  And from that point on, my mind thought less about turkey and Christmas trees and more about moving boxes, and cleaning, and house hunting.

As I let the news digest, my heart settled down.


Mom and Dad were already there and Leah and Chris and kids arrived on Thursday.

Thanksgiving was the usual feast. So, so yummy.

  I got to meet my sweet new baby niece, Thea.

 And the rest of our days were spent in delicious contentment.

Our drive home was equally pleasant.  Not unlikely due to the fact the kids were absolutely exhausted and fell asleep within 20 minutes of departing.

I didn't get any more tickets, but Finn probably would have issued me one if he could write.  He was so pleasant that I totally overlooked the need to change his diaper.  At all.  So for ten hours he sat in his car seat, soaking his clothes and socks until they were dripping and he finally started to cry.

At least he didn't hold it against me.

And now that we're home, the Denver move is official. I have more to do than I can imagine accomplishing and all of my Christmas plans are sitting in the dust somewhere between here and Chicago.

Monkey Brains

Well, I've all but forgotten that our future hangs in the balance. Avoidance, denial, acceptance, all or some clearly in play here, but it feels really good not to be worried about it.

My parents are waiting on their mission call any day now.  I'm anxious to know where they'll be going and so are they.  I realized that our situations are quite similar at the moment. With the decision out of our respective hands, we both wait to find out where we'll be.              

We've begun the descent into the holiday season and I can feel the wheels picking up speed as we roll over the edge of the hill.  The kids have all kinds of little things going on forcing me into mind limbering mental exercises.  It's like I'm eighty and playing Sudoku to keep the old hamster wheel turning, only I'm 31 and I lying in bed at night thinking,

 Can't forget Ava's poster for her genre project tomorrow (which we totally forgot, by the way).  I need to make her bonnet for Colonial Day on Thursday and I should put money on her lunch account so she can buy lunch with Grandma and Grandpa on Grandparents Day.  Don't forget tomorrow's dentist appointment! Luke needs popcorn for his feast party on Friday, gotta get that at Costco.  I need to return the book I borrowed before book club. Don't forget to get the turkey I forgot to buy yesterday for the six sandwiches Max needs to make and bring for his sharing feast at school.  And don't forget to cut them in quarters! 

And so on and on and on...

Sunday night, right before bedtime I remembered that Luke was "Moose of the Week". The hamster hadn't run properly on Saturday, I suppose. So we borrowed a posterboard from the neighbor and whipped this baby up.

 Here's a closer look. I loved his answers and his spelling of "Engineer".

Last weekend we hit the zoo for one last fling before Grandma's membership ran out. The weather was perfect and we enjoyed ourselves.

The kids always love to climb on the elephant statues.

Want me to take your picture, Max?

 We started at the opposite end from our usual and consequently spent a lot more time in The Savannah.  The giraffes were a highlight because they came so close.  Ava pet this one quite a few times.

We loved the lions.  They were in perfect view as they sat on a huge rock on a hill.  The very next day, one of the male lions, in an apparently calm fashion, leaned over, wrapped his mouth around the neck of one of the females and killed her, just like that.  I believe that was the first time that has ever happened in a zoo setting.  It breaks my heart to think of it.

 We rode the monorail.

And finished with the birds.

Wherever we go and even with all of the beautiful animals we saw, my camera always seemed to find its way back to this monkey.

Finn at 8 months

I don't remember it being such a challenge with the others, but maintaining our home as a choking-hazard free zone is proving to be quite nearly impossible. And there's no denying it now, after weeks of planks, 

and downward dogs, wheelbarrowing, 

backwards moving, army crawls, and getting stuck under furniture,

 Finn  is officially on the move, making that feat harder than ever.

This video is from October 30.  His hands and knees skills have improved dramatically since then.

Now explain to me this, weeks before he developed the ability to pick up small pieces of food and self feed at the table, he stealthily managed to finger pinch the tiniest bits of carpet fuzz, paper bits, food crumbs, etc. and with expert precision, direct them to his mouth and dutifully attempt to swallow them down.

How does that work?

He barfed an entire meal up on my shoulder the other day, completely out of the blue.  It took me a minute to realize that he was gagging on a Halloween candy wrapper.  I caught glimpse of it for a second and tried the old finger sweep, before he finally swallowed it down, never to be seen again.  

Once more, I'm reminded to lower my standards.  Just keep the kids alive and I can consider myself majorly accomplished in life. Just keep 'em alive.

 Finn remains keenly aware.  Just as he's always been.  Stranger anxiety has never been higher and a couple of times now, he's done this similar thing. The first time, as Dan laid on our bed and Finn sat on his chest, Ava and I sat near by. We were casually chatting, when Finn picked up Dan's hand and shoved it in his mouth.  While definitely not noteworthy, it was cute and we giggled about it.  And then Finn looked up at us, his bottom lip started to quiver just as the tears flowed. The expression on his face said he was upset we were laughing at him.  And I know, at 8 months old, it's not really likely that he would care about such a thing.  

And I may have written it off myself, but a day or so later, he sat in his chair at the table while my mom was feeding him.  I sat at the table too.  Again, he did something simple and cute and my mom chuckled.  And again, out came the lip and the tears and that same expression of self conscious embarrassment.   You don't have to believe me, it's a crazy claim, but I know what I'm talking about.

His hair is growing in now, though it's natural inclination is straight up.  

It's kind of his signature now.  I smoothed it down after a bath yesterday and could hardly recognize him.  Not to fear though, as it dried it resumed it's prominent posture.

He's come to prefer his tummy for sleeping.

He is on the cusp of so many delightful little developments.  He will clap if you ask him.  He claps when I enter his room each morning to get him from his crib.  He has figured out how to click his tongue and he's beginning to mimic head movements.  

He LOVES to eat.  And even in all caps, that's an understatement.  His palate is becoming more discriminatory at the table however. (Though on the floor he still lacks any discrimination at all.  See above.)

He continues to be a bright spot in our home, guaranteed to improve any mood.  It's absolutely impossible not to smile when you see him. 

 

Max Saves the Day

I want to wake up tomorrow 15 pounds lighter.  I'd totally settle for 10.  Is that took much to ask?

My level of stress is easily manifested by how I eat and I classify it in two stages.

  Normally, I'm...normal.  I mean, I eat fairly well. I try not to eat too much, I try to eat minimal amounts of sugar and wheat since they seem to cause me the most trouble.  Generally, I function in a socially appropriate way (in regards to eating, that is).

Stress Level 1, where I presently find myself, is when significant stress comes along and I move from socially appropriate to garbage disposal.  I eat anything and everything regardless of whether I really want it, whether its worth the calories, or the sick way it's going to make me feel later.  It's times like these, that I am very, very glad I don't drink alcohol.  Right now, I just feel sick and can't fit in my clothes, but things could be worse right?

Stress Level 2 is when the stress escalates enough that I can't eat at all.

So I guess the bright side of all of this is that while I am totally ridiculous right now, I'm technically only moderately stressed, not an alcoholic, and still have an appetite.

The bad part is, I hate the way I feel, I hate the way I look, and I hate my closet and everything in it.

I waved Max off to preschool this morning in my old, worn out, crotchless yoga pants, faded tshirt, and sweatshirt jacket.

I took a two hour nap when the baby did.  Between the 12-14 hour days/6-7 days a week of Dan's work, plus Halloween, plus Young Women in Excellence and all it entails, plus organizing play group parties, driving carpool, endless ear infections, planning lessons, having four kids, worrying about our future, and life in general, we're kind of exhausted over here. Today was the first day in a couple of weeks to actually sit down (or in my case, lie down).

When I got up, I put on real clothes.  Real, nice clothes.  And I hated how I looked.  But the baby was crying and I had to run a few errands before picking up Max from preschool.  So I went on my way, dressed, but feeling bad and ugly.


When Max walked out of his classroom and saw me, his eyes literally shone.

"Mo-om!" he smiled.

"You look fantastic!"

"I love your red dress!"

And as we walked down the hall towards the car holding hands, He looked up to my face and said,

"I just love you.  You're my Mommy."

And for a moment I forgot every annoying thing he's ever done.

  For a moment, I felt pretty.

 My kids are changing me, shaping me, stretching me, and today, encouraging me.

Max reminded me that I am a mommy; a hard working, hard loving mommy.

Max reminded me today, that in the grand scheme of things, the woman I want to be, the one they are helping me become, is the kind who doesn't need to go around feeling bad about herself.