I will look back on today and have lots of happy memories. Things my daughter said that made me laugh or that brought me tears of pride. I will look back on how sweet my son was as he fell asleep across my lap. However, as the night is ending I feel exhaustion, a twinge of failure and more than a little disappointment. I refuse to not do fun things with the kids because there are four. Today was a tough day that was filled with obstacles and disasters. Some I took in stride and others I bombed conpletely. It started last night.
My husband was working out of town, but in state and he asked me to come down for the evening and spend the night so he could give me a break with the kids. Before the twins it would have been a quick yes, but packing for 4 kids overnight is a big task. I threw caution to the wind, agreed, and prepared myself for our first road trip.
While I loaded up the car, the sausage dog ran out, and took off through the neighborhood. Luckily, I have the best neighbors on the planet and they helped me capture the dog and it was a small set back on our departure. The drive was easy, all the kids did great and we even arrived earlier than scheduled. I checked in to the hotel with no issues, and even was able to drag our luggage up to the room while pushing the stroller and not losing the older two kids. I bought dinner and had the kids sit down to eat right away, and I went to work on getting the babies settled. My daughter ran to the restroom at one point to use the potty, and then she went back to eating. The phone in the room rings and it is the front desk.
The people below us complained about the noise of a herd of children stomping their feet. Really!? First off, it is not even 5pm. Secondly, shut up. They offer to move our room and upgrade to a suite, but there is no chance I can relocate all of our stuff alone. They opted to move the people downstairs.
We left to go meet my husband on his dinner break, and the kids were so excited to see him. It was a heartwarming moment, until my son comes over with a wet pant complaint. I take him to the car and discover a watery, awful diaper is the cause. Super. I clean him up and we head back to the hotel for swim time at the pool.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Scare Free Sunday
We have season passes to World's of Fun. This is the second time we have bought them while I was pregnant and unable to ride anything. Since the twins were almost 5 weeks old I had the brillant idea to go on the weekend that my husband had to work. I enlisted the help of our 17 year old neighbor because if my son was his normal self I was going to need an extra set of hands. With every outing I learn more ways to travel with the crew, and they all had shoes for sure this time.
The park has a huge halloween crowd for Friday and Saturday nights. The place is like a giant scary haunted playground for people who enjoy that type of thing. I am a sane individual that finds that sort of thing unappealing. However, the park does want to continue getting the family guests to visit and they have come up with "Scare free Sundays" so you can enjoy Camp Snoopy without the walking zombies. Great idea. In theory.
Since I never seem to find outings close to home, we once again take a rather lengthy trip to our destination of Snoopy fun. My daughter is over the moon excited, almost shrieking in the car as we approach the parking lot. The logistics for the easiest way to take 4 kids through the theme park were a bit difficult, almost like an algebraric equation. I decided on single stroller for the toddler, double infant stroller for the twins and the oldest could walk fine on her own. Granted, we were a sight. To wait for us to pass was like watching a parade, and people cannot help but to comment on how full my hands are, or whisper about the "teen mom" which my friend took in stride.
We arrive at the entrance to the park and the kids ride the first ride of the day, the carousel. I am oblivious at this point to the decorations and scary music pumping through the loud speakers. As are the kids. We move on, starting the walk to snoopy and
my daughter starts to shield her eyes and grabs my hand. It is a bit tough to push the double stroller and hold her hand, but no big deal, we push onward. We are almost to Camp Snoopy when I see that she is sobbing and walking with her eyes squeezed shut. Not a good sign. Again, a decision must be made. Do we scrap the trip? Not this mom. I halfway pick her up and the six of us sprint towards the safety of the kids area.
Winded, and a bit flustered I foolishly think we are in the clear. One look at my daughter proves otherwise. I attempt to reason with her. No dice. I try the toughen up approach. No luck. I shamelessly praise my toddler who is such a brave kid that he is enjoying his time and not scared a bit. Sobs. Now I have hurt her feelings and insulted her courage. Logic wins out. If we leave to go home we have to walk back through the scary dead people and the skeletons, so why not just ride some rides and have some fun?
Fun times ended shortly thereafter with my son's massive meltdown, a clear indication of a needed naptime. With a brief pep talk we begin the trip back through the dead guys towards the exit. My daughter is behind me, using my sweatshirt as a blindfold and is stepping on my heels as we shuffle our way out. It is a slow, heart wrenching walk. She is screaming and crying and I cannot make her calm down. We finally reach the entrance and I am furious. I am mad at myself for scarring my daughter, I am mad at the park for false advertisement, and finally, I am mad at my husband who I blame for all bad things.
Safe in the car, we strike a deal to not return again past September. We head out again with the promise of ice cream and the guarantee she will be sleeping in my bed until further notice.
The park has a huge halloween crowd for Friday and Saturday nights. The place is like a giant scary haunted playground for people who enjoy that type of thing. I am a sane individual that finds that sort of thing unappealing. However, the park does want to continue getting the family guests to visit and they have come up with "Scare free Sundays" so you can enjoy Camp Snoopy without the walking zombies. Great idea. In theory.
Since I never seem to find outings close to home, we once again take a rather lengthy trip to our destination of Snoopy fun. My daughter is over the moon excited, almost shrieking in the car as we approach the parking lot. The logistics for the easiest way to take 4 kids through the theme park were a bit difficult, almost like an algebraric equation. I decided on single stroller for the toddler, double infant stroller for the twins and the oldest could walk fine on her own. Granted, we were a sight. To wait for us to pass was like watching a parade, and people cannot help but to comment on how full my hands are, or whisper about the "teen mom" which my friend took in stride.
We arrive at the entrance to the park and the kids ride the first ride of the day, the carousel. I am oblivious at this point to the decorations and scary music pumping through the loud speakers. As are the kids. We move on, starting the walk to snoopy and
my daughter starts to shield her eyes and grabs my hand. It is a bit tough to push the double stroller and hold her hand, but no big deal, we push onward. We are almost to Camp Snoopy when I see that she is sobbing and walking with her eyes squeezed shut. Not a good sign. Again, a decision must be made. Do we scrap the trip? Not this mom. I halfway pick her up and the six of us sprint towards the safety of the kids area.
Winded, and a bit flustered I foolishly think we are in the clear. One look at my daughter proves otherwise. I attempt to reason with her. No dice. I try the toughen up approach. No luck. I shamelessly praise my toddler who is such a brave kid that he is enjoying his time and not scared a bit. Sobs. Now I have hurt her feelings and insulted her courage. Logic wins out. If we leave to go home we have to walk back through the scary dead people and the skeletons, so why not just ride some rides and have some fun?
Fun times ended shortly thereafter with my son's massive meltdown, a clear indication of a needed naptime. With a brief pep talk we begin the trip back through the dead guys towards the exit. My daughter is behind me, using my sweatshirt as a blindfold and is stepping on my heels as we shuffle our way out. It is a slow, heart wrenching walk. She is screaming and crying and I cannot make her calm down. We finally reach the entrance and I am furious. I am mad at myself for scarring my daughter, I am mad at the park for false advertisement, and finally, I am mad at my husband who I blame for all bad things.
Safe in the car, we strike a deal to not return again past September. We head out again with the promise of ice cream and the guarantee she will be sleeping in my bed until further notice.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Little Brothers
My oldest is an angel. She is sweet, loving, and will forgive you for anything provided you give her enough sugary dessert options. With the arrival of our son, I was expecting a similar temperment from him. I could not have had more opposite kids.
As an infant he was more demanding. Cried more, and seemed to be judging you. He would defy reason. Screams that were so alarming that we had a sitter call and ask me to come home because she was convinced he was crying in pain and she was unable to console him. He was a calm baby if I was around, but he would torture anyone else.
Fast forward to toddler years. He is a sweet boy, in general. Hell on wheels, but in a sweet way. He is on the go non stop, and in turn makes our awareness levels on high alert 24/7. Its exhausting. When a baby becomes mobile, you childproof the house. He seemed to take our safety measures as a challenge. The outlet covers were like flying projectiles for his amusement, the baby gates a mere nuisance in his plot of destruction. Cribs were trampolines, the stairs amusement park rides and we never knew what level of terror he was going to unleash on us. Yellow? Orange? Is orange even a threat level? Or do we go right to red alert, all hands on deck-the boy has lost his mind.
We are lucky that our oldest is a reporter. She does not engage in the said destruction, nor does she attempt to prevent it. She will walk calmly up to you, almost bored, and say," You better come and see. He is being really dangerous." And you run around tbe house to find what disaster awaits. Did he color the dog again, the walls? Maybe he just ate the markers. She will follow us as we race to the scene, and only answer the exact question you ask and not a piece of information more. She will watch our reaction, and then counsel our son afterwards. "Mama gets scared when you climb the outside of the stairs. It's really dangerous. You don't want boo boo's do you?"
Speaking of boo boo's, he has incurred 3 while typing this.
As an infant he was more demanding. Cried more, and seemed to be judging you. He would defy reason. Screams that were so alarming that we had a sitter call and ask me to come home because she was convinced he was crying in pain and she was unable to console him. He was a calm baby if I was around, but he would torture anyone else.
Fast forward to toddler years. He is a sweet boy, in general. Hell on wheels, but in a sweet way. He is on the go non stop, and in turn makes our awareness levels on high alert 24/7. Its exhausting. When a baby becomes mobile, you childproof the house. He seemed to take our safety measures as a challenge. The outlet covers were like flying projectiles for his amusement, the baby gates a mere nuisance in his plot of destruction. Cribs were trampolines, the stairs amusement park rides and we never knew what level of terror he was going to unleash on us. Yellow? Orange? Is orange even a threat level? Or do we go right to red alert, all hands on deck-the boy has lost his mind.
We are lucky that our oldest is a reporter. She does not engage in the said destruction, nor does she attempt to prevent it. She will walk calmly up to you, almost bored, and say," You better come and see. He is being really dangerous." And you run around tbe house to find what disaster awaits. Did he color the dog again, the walls? Maybe he just ate the markers. She will follow us as we race to the scene, and only answer the exact question you ask and not a piece of information more. She will watch our reaction, and then counsel our son afterwards. "Mama gets scared when you climb the outside of the stairs. It's really dangerous. You don't want boo boo's do you?"
Speaking of boo boo's, he has incurred 3 while typing this.
Twins
On my first visit to the obgyn she felt that I needed an ultrasound because "she had a
feeling" that we needed to make sure everything was normal. In the ten minutes that I waited, panic rushing through me, I had no way of knowing I would not feel "normal" again. I text my husband that I was sent to have an ultrasound and he was now nervous too. I mean, we have been through this before this was our third pregnancy. We go in, pee in a cup and ta da! Yes, the at home test you took was correct. You are officially expecting. The ultrasound happens later.
So as I wait, I prepare myself for bad news. Its finally my turn and I go in the room. Since I am nervous I start babbling on and on, actually annoying myself. The tech is great, smiles and says to me, "Oh! That's why she wanted an ultrasound, there are two. Twins. Congratulations!" I stared at the screen and the first thing I did was cry. Then I thought of what my husband, who is a twin, would say. Then, I just stared again. The tech printed the pic and typed twins on the screen to help provide validity for me to break the news to him.
I had both kids with me since like I said I thought it was a simple appointment. Now I am suppose to meet him for dinner at a restaurant and somehow say the words to change our lives forever. Clutching my picture, I numbly accepted the office staff's congratulatory remarks, as I herded the kids out the door. Twins. Two. Doubling our amount of kids. Double the pregnancy risks and weight.
I called as I left the office, reassured him that everything looked ok, and that I would meet him at the restaurant. I kept quiet while we were seated, while drinks were ordered and my daughter excitedly reported that the Dr had a fish that looked just like Nemo in her office, and then I could not take it anymore! I was going to burst, so I calmly slid the ultrasound photo across the table. The smile he was giving our daughter, clearly amused by her story, slid off his face. He jumped up asked me what? Then he asked if it was for real. He is kinda chanting "No way" and still standing. We are in a restaurant, and I am starting to feel he may not be as happy about this as me, when the server came back with drinks, and he apologized to the server and explained his odd behavior. He laughs a real, full belly laugh and reaches across the table, grabs my face and kisses my cheek. I am relieved he is happy, and I am getting emotional at the thought of how much I love him when he says to the server, who was feeling out of place by now, "I am having twins, man! Take all of this back, I just want crackers and water." There you have it. A father of twins for all of two minutes and he is already concerned about financial limitations.
feeling" that we needed to make sure everything was normal. In the ten minutes that I waited, panic rushing through me, I had no way of knowing I would not feel "normal" again. I text my husband that I was sent to have an ultrasound and he was now nervous too. I mean, we have been through this before this was our third pregnancy. We go in, pee in a cup and ta da! Yes, the at home test you took was correct. You are officially expecting. The ultrasound happens later.
So as I wait, I prepare myself for bad news. Its finally my turn and I go in the room. Since I am nervous I start babbling on and on, actually annoying myself. The tech is great, smiles and says to me, "Oh! That's why she wanted an ultrasound, there are two. Twins. Congratulations!" I stared at the screen and the first thing I did was cry. Then I thought of what my husband, who is a twin, would say. Then, I just stared again. The tech printed the pic and typed twins on the screen to help provide validity for me to break the news to him.
I had both kids with me since like I said I thought it was a simple appointment. Now I am suppose to meet him for dinner at a restaurant and somehow say the words to change our lives forever. Clutching my picture, I numbly accepted the office staff's congratulatory remarks, as I herded the kids out the door. Twins. Two. Doubling our amount of kids. Double the pregnancy risks and weight.
I called as I left the office, reassured him that everything looked ok, and that I would meet him at the restaurant. I kept quiet while we were seated, while drinks were ordered and my daughter excitedly reported that the Dr had a fish that looked just like Nemo in her office, and then I could not take it anymore! I was going to burst, so I calmly slid the ultrasound photo across the table. The smile he was giving our daughter, clearly amused by her story, slid off his face. He jumped up asked me what? Then he asked if it was for real. He is kinda chanting "No way" and still standing. We are in a restaurant, and I am starting to feel he may not be as happy about this as me, when the server came back with drinks, and he apologized to the server and explained his odd behavior. He laughs a real, full belly laugh and reaches across the table, grabs my face and kisses my cheek. I am relieved he is happy, and I am getting emotional at the thought of how much I love him when he says to the server, who was feeling out of place by now, "I am having twins, man! Take all of this back, I just want crackers and water." There you have it. A father of twins for all of two minutes and he is already concerned about financial limitations.
Apple Orchard
The apple orchard is a jaunt from our house. I dress, feed, pack and successfully load all 4 children into the van and head out. I am feeling awesome. Sure, it took almost two full hours and more than one of us crying at a time, but that did not matter. We were on our way. I only had to stop once to adjust bottles and hand out capri sun, and before long we arrived at the Apple Orchard. I glance back in the rearview mirror to find the toddler asleep. Not going to stop me. I unpack the crew and with a bounce in my step I head off towards the general store to get our apple picking buckets only to see my toddler who did have two shoes on when we walked out of the house, is now standing in the gravel driveway with one shoe and a naked foot. Sigh. A CSI worthy search of the van turned up nothing. Decision time. Do I call it a loss, load everyone up and head home? Maybe I can find a store that sells shoes? Nah. I am no quitter. I throw a sock on his bare foot and call it good enough. Once again we bound towards the store, pick up our buckets and hit the orchard.
Great family fun was had and I agree to visit the petting zoo area when I discover my son needs a diaper change. The bag is in the car, naturally. Which is about 25 feet from where we are taking pics on the benches. I run to the car and back just in time to see my son wander into the store. I grab the other 3 and the chase is on. I corner him by the windows and he notices there are over two dozen bees swarming by the window. Before I can stop him he scoops up a handful and holds them out to me proudly saying "Bee" which quickly turns in to screams that would stop your heart cold. Of course he was stung not just once, but twice on his fingertips. I rush him towards the teenage worker that has a line at her register, and I call over the howlish cry, asking for a first aid kit. Well, this stumps her, and thankfully there is another worker that grabs one and helps us out.
During the chaos, both babies are crying and my oldest has her hands over her ears to drown out reality. We hasten to the car and while I am fighting him with his seatbelt I see his arm has swollen up to his elbow. Super. Thank goodness I travel with benedryl and we are safely headed home with apples and memories for a lifetime.
I let out a sigh of relief as we make the last turn homeward and my oldest catches my eye in the mirror and safely states, " I told him to stay by me on the bench. He didnt listen. He had to run away and get in trouble. Now I dont get to see the animals." Later that day I posted a pic entitled in over my head on facebook. If you look, you will see the one shoe on and one sock that sums up our day.
Great family fun was had and I agree to visit the petting zoo area when I discover my son needs a diaper change. The bag is in the car, naturally. Which is about 25 feet from where we are taking pics on the benches. I run to the car and back just in time to see my son wander into the store. I grab the other 3 and the chase is on. I corner him by the windows and he notices there are over two dozen bees swarming by the window. Before I can stop him he scoops up a handful and holds them out to me proudly saying "Bee" which quickly turns in to screams that would stop your heart cold. Of course he was stung not just once, but twice on his fingertips. I rush him towards the teenage worker that has a line at her register, and I call over the howlish cry, asking for a first aid kit. Well, this stumps her, and thankfully there is another worker that grabs one and helps us out.
During the chaos, both babies are crying and my oldest has her hands over her ears to drown out reality. We hasten to the car and while I am fighting him with his seatbelt I see his arm has swollen up to his elbow. Super. Thank goodness I travel with benedryl and we are safely headed home with apples and memories for a lifetime.
I let out a sigh of relief as we make the last turn homeward and my oldest catches my eye in the mirror and safely states, " I told him to stay by me on the bench. He didnt listen. He had to run away and get in trouble. Now I dont get to see the animals." Later that day I posted a pic entitled in over my head on facebook. If you look, you will see the one shoe on and one sock that sums up our day.
The dog factor
We met and fell in love over eleven years ago. We dated for four, we were engaged for two,and married for the rest. Our lives are so jam packed and full of chaos, that in moments of watching the absurdity, we coined this phrase to help us laugh at stressful situations, vs screaming and running for the hills. Allow me to break it down some. Lets start with the first "addition" to our lives. We have a puggle which is a pug/beagle mix. She is the fatest dog I have ever seen. That is her biggest downfall. This dog can scale kitchen counters, knock over small children and even seek food from outside sources. That is not a joke. She ran away once and we found her sitting outside of a Sonic, hoping to score food. Then, a movie came out called Marley. In it, they claimed they owned the worst dog ever. I would challenge that every day of the week. So, in a moment of genius, I decide to get a yellow lab as a companion to the bored attention seeking sausage like puggle. Stupid. We deal with that serious error in judgement daily as well. That is how we live, though. Almost challenging the universe by asking "Its like that, is it? Okay. Let's figure our way through this mess!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)