Roommate Anyone?

Do your kids share a room?

I grew up with my own room and it was nice to have a place to call my own, to be able to shut the door and with it, the world.  It could also get lonely though.  Many nights after I was supposed to be in bed asleep I would sneak into my brother’s room and we would play.

My kids share a room.  All three of them now.  We live in an old house, a 1925 bungalow that someone else enlarged before we bought it.  We technically have 4 bedrooms, but we use one of them as a family room.  My husband and I have a bedroom downstairs and there are 2 bedrooms upstairs.  One of them is for the boys; the other is my husband’s office and a guest room.  The upstairs bedrooms are enormous.  The boys’ room has perpendicular bunk beds, a crib, a train table, a dresser, 2 book shelves, a standing cabinet, multiple toy bins, baskets and rocking chairs and still has plenty of room to play in.  I worry a little about their lack of privacy, but not too much.  Each older boy has a cabinet that is all his to put away anything he doesn’t want the other one to play with, otherwise everything else is shared.

For the most part, I think the boys love sharing a room.  After we put them to bed they play and talk and sometimes fight, but they have each other. Sometimes it’s tough, like when one has a sleep over, or one is taking a nap and the other wants to get something from the room, but generally it works.

Last night for the first time the baby slept up there with them.  We have been trying to get him up there all week and despite napping there without a problem he wouldn’t sleep all night there.  I also didn’t want to let him cry it out because the school bus comes at 7:00 and the other boys need to get their sleep!  The stars must have aligned last night because it all worked.

The older boys quieted down while the baby fell asleep and were thrilled that he was up there with them.  It’s so sweet to watch them all together….until it devolves into fighting over who gets to make the baby smile….but last night it was sweet. 

I hope they won’t resent us someday for having them all share a room, but I think (hope) the bonding is worth it.

What do you think?

I Am Not Enough

I am not enough.  How could I be really?  How could anyone be?  As Hillary Clinton said, “It Takes a Village”.  Children need 2 parents, grandparents, friends, teachers, and so much more.  Yet just for a small while, I was enough.  For 9 months I carried each one.  Me and me alone.  For a little while after that I rocked them and soothed them and fed them and I was still enough.  They preferred me for the simple reason that I smelled like food.  And I loved it.

And now it’s over.

Yesterday I took Drew in for his 6 month appointment and he is falling off of the growth chart.  At 4 months he was a small, but stable 14^th percentile in weight.  Yesterday he was in the 1^st percentile.  Despite all the pumping and the nursing, he’s not gaining enough weight.  I am not enough.

Yesterday he started formula and cereal in addition to breast milk.  Soon we’ll add in vegetables, then fruit and meat.  He’s growing up.

I never expected to be enough, but I still hate that my small window of time is over.  He’s still my baby, I like to think that I can soothe him better than anyone else (don’t tell me if it’s not true, I don’t want to know), but now the outside world is creeping in and that will only happen more and more.  With each new food and new experience he’ll grow a little more up and away from the cocoon we had together.  It’s natural and normal and I expected it.  It doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I already miss my baby.  Is that weird? 

Parenting Stumpers

Every once in a while my children throw me for a loop.  They are always saying crazy things and doing crazy things, but sometimes they make my heart break with their innocence.

Most of you know that my brother died almost 2 years ago.  It was unexpected and all of sudden a huge presence in all of our lives was gone.  My kids were 6 and 3 at the time and they are still processing it.  Several weeks ago, Toby, my 4 year old sang a song to his baby brother which included the lines, “You are the best brother ever” and “You’ll never die”.  I posted it on facebook and many of the parents from his preschool class commented that their child was talking about death also.  It left me wondering if it was the age or if my child was spreading it around his class.

Yesterday we went out for brunch and had to wait to be seated.  We were waiting outside and the boys were being pretty good—playing rock, paper, scissors and goofing around.  Toby came up to me and out of the blue said, “You’ll never die, right?”  What do you do at that moment?  We all die and we don’t get to choose when or how.  I don’t want to lie to my kids, but I don’t want him worrying that I (or any of us) might die at any minute.  It’s a hard line to walk.

Later that morning he asked me who died after Uncle Eric.  I wasn’t sure where he was going with that, but I brought up my grandmother who died in April.  He got a sad look on his face and said “She used to save me treats”.  And she did.  She always had a chocolate chip cookie or something equally as exciting when the boys would come to visit.  I reminded him how much she loved him and loved when he would visit and I held him tight.

What else could I do?

Toby's song

Friends Forever

We just got back from a vacation at the beach with 9 children and 8 adults in a 4 bedroom house and it was wonderful.

My husband has an amazing group of friends that he has known since elementary school.  Every other year we try to get together for a vacation.  Two years ago was the first one and we went to Colorado.  This year I planned the trip and we went to Tybee Island, Georgia.  As stressed as I was about planning a vacation for four families, it was worth it.  It was so good to see old friends, some of whom we haven’t seen since that Colorado trip.  It was amazing to watch all of the kids play well together and listen to my husband and his friends reminisce about their second grade soccer team.

My longest friendship, not including friends I’ve been reunited with through facebook, is with a girl I met when I was 16.  I think that’s pretty good, but not as good as 5 which is when my husband met one of his friends.  (Said friend didn’t actually make this trip but we’re counting on him and his wife for next time!)

The kids on this trip ranged in age from 8 years to 5 months.  What an incredible experience for them to get to know each other and extend the friendships of their fathers.  Luckily for the fathers, the mothers all get along pretty well too.

One of the other mothers and I were wondering at what point our children will start rebelling about “having” to go on this trip.  When will they prefer to be with their friends rather than with their parent’s friends?  Will we be lucky enough that they will consider each other friends and still be as excited to see each other as the adults are?

One thing I do know.  I’m already looking forward to the next trip.

Rules

I am a rule follower.  This is something I have learned about myself over the years.  When I was in med school and I missed high honors on a test by 0.2 points (and yes it was graded that closely) it never even occurred to me to go to the teacher and fight for those points.  That was the grade I earned and that was that.  Later when I heard that others did fight, successfully, for better grades I felt betrayed that the teachers didn’t stand by their grades and dumb for not fighting it myself.

I believe that rules are important and that they should be followed.  I don’t park in front of the preschool (where it says no parking) when I am dropping off my child.  I park in one of the designated spots, and if those aren’t available, in a spot for the general population.  I dress my children according to their school’s dress codes.  Every other child may be in crocs or flip flops, but mine will be in sneakers.  I don’t mind doing this, but I do mind when others don’t. 

Lately I have been walking at an indoor track since it’s been so incredibly hot outside.  There are rules clearly posted on the wall of the track. Runners take the outside lane, walkers take the inside lane.  Children under 12 are NOT ALLOWED unless they are in a stroller or a front carrier (capitalization taken from the sign).  Nobody, it appears, follows these rules except for me.  There are walkers on the outside and runners on the inside.  There are children running all over the place.  And it burns me up.  Why do I care so much?  I guess because I feel compelled to follow the rules.  When my 7 year old asked if he could run the track I showed him the rules and said no.  But another mother has been letting her 4 or 5 year old run and play on the track while she sits and waits.  I should mention that this track is upstairs and not all parts of it can be seen from any single vantage point.  There are 2 staircases and on at least one occasion I have had to ask her child not to go down one of them because I know she can’t see what he is doing.  Then when I get to her, halfway around the track, I tell her what he’s doing.  So now I’m her babysitter as well.

I don’t know why I feel compelled to follow the rules and others don’t.  I do know that I am teaching my children to be rule followers and I wonder if this will suit them well in the long run.  I want them to have every advantage in life, do I want them to feel free to argue for that grade, or to just buckle down and study harder for the next test?  How about both?  How do you teach children that some rules are ok to follow and some aren’t?  If I bend or break the rules sometimes, will they bend or break the rules all of the time?

Clearly there are some rules that matter more than others.  In the long run it doesn’t matter which lane you walk or run in (except to me apparently).  It does matter if you run a red light though.  It matters if you take things that aren’t yours.  It matters if you do things that could potentially harm yourself or others.  As adults we are supposed to know where that line is, but we don’t always.  So how can we expect children to?

So for good or bad, I’m teaching my children to follow the rules.  All of them.  All the time.  If they don’t agree with one, they can ask to change it but until it’s changed it needs to be followed. 

I hope this isn’t one of the many ways I’m sure I’m warping them for life. 

Trying to Remember to Breathe

I am, once again, completely overwhelmed.  I am surprised that I manage to get dressed in the morning.  The daily chores are happening, somewhat haphazardly, but they are happening.  Everyday each older boy gets a backpack stuffed with a towel, sunscreen, clothes for after swimming, and a kosher, dairy, peanut-free lunch containing two serving of fruit and/or vegetables and a protein source.  Some days there is also a Tae Kwon Do uniform, t-shirt for tie-dying, lovie for sleeping or object for show and tell.

The laundry is getting done, although folding is not.  Meals are being prepared and dishes are being washed.

The baby is fed, changed, played with and occasionally naps.  Although we’re all too lazy to actually walk upstairs to put him in his crib so he’s still sleeping in a co-sleeper in the dining room.

Play dates have even happened—on more than one occasion.

Here’s what’s not happening.  Our Disney trip in October is still not planned. 

If you read yesterday, you’ll see our beach trip next week almost didn’t happen.  I’m currently completely overwhelmed by the selection of beach cabanas on Amazon.  Do we really need shade?  Yes, yes we do. 

I can’t decide whether my 4 year old should be a full or half day preschooler next year and his preschool starts next week. 

I haven’t managed to actually sign the children up for any of the activities I’ve promised them they’ll be doing in the fall.

My attempt at turning my blog about Eric into a book has completely stalled.

My mood is steadily growing ever more sour, and everyday is feeling more like a chore than a chance to live life abundantly.  Every time I look at the baby I note a new, more grown up change, and mourn his passing babyhood.

More and more I think about Eric and the tears are just below the surface.  I feel like I’m back to where I was when I started writing the blog about him.  I’m stuck.  My jaw constantly aches from holding it so tightly.

I don’t know how to make things better so I just go on.  That’s not to say there aren’t good things, there are.  We just had a fabulous weekend visit with my parents.  We have good friends and are making more.  We have each other.  It’s just things are moving so quickly and I can barely find the time to catch my breath, let alone get organized.  Soon the school year will be here and my oldest will be in second grade. 

Soon my husband may not be so forgiving when I can’t take a second to hug him because all of the junk cluttering the kitchen counters is really stressing me out.

Soon my boys will grow up and if I can’t get a handle on the laundry I may miss it.

PANIC!!

Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night in a panic because you’ve forgotten something?  I did today.

This is actually something that happens to me fairly frequently.  On a good night, it’s something I’ve forgotten to put in a backpack for the morning and I can do it and go back to bed.  On a bad night it’s something that I can’t do anything about until business hours but the panic keeps me awake anyway.

I bolted awake at 5:30 am with the sick feeling that I had forgotten to send in the second half of the payment for our beach vacation next week.  I knew I hadn’t sent it in, but I couldn’t remember when it was due.  If I messed this up it’s not only my family’s vacation I’ve ruined.  There are three other families coming, one from as far as Colorado.  I sleep with my phone by my bed (it made more sense when I was feeding the baby in the middle of the night but now it’s just become habit) so I sent myself a quick email to check the rental agreement.  If I missed the deadline I couldn’t do anything about it at 5:30 anyway.  Well, it wasn’t that easy.  I couldn’t go back to sleep and I started having a stomach ache from the worry so I just got up and checked the rental agreement.  Then I really panicked.

The bulk of our payment was due 3 weeks ago.  No way I was getting anymore sleep after that.  I almost puked.  I headed to the shower (might as well panic and get ready for work at the same time) holding back the tears.  What if I’ve screwed this up for everyone???  We’ll have to reimburse people for airfare; we won’t get to see our good friends we’ve REALLY been looking forward to seeing.

I showered and dressed and made the big boys breakfast.  I unloaded the dishwasher and packed up my pump.  I sat with my 4 year old for a while trying to act as if everything was normal.  The baby woke up so I went to go feed him.  As I fed him I checked my email.  There was the one from myself reminding me to check the rental agreement.  And there were three from the rental agency thanking me for my payment and giving me directions to the cottage and instructions on how we get in.

What???

Turns out back in January when I booked the vacation I was smart enough to know I would forget to send in the last payment so I told them to go ahead and charge my card when the time came.  I almost melted I was so relieved.

The emails from the agency came in last night at midnight—after I went to bed but before I woke up panicked.  Too bad I didn’t check my email when I sent myself that other one.  I could have saved myself hours of stomach roiling, tear inducing panic.

I wish I could say I’m sure it will be smooth sailing until we get to the beach next week, but I haven’t packed yet.  I haven’t even started planning what to pack yet.  My husband says I’m not happy unless I have something to worry about.  He may be right, but I could do without the panic.