Daily Dose of Cute

This morning, after our first snow, I was helping the kids dig out the winter boots, coats and hats to wear to school. I began writing names and initials in the clothing in hopes that they wouldn't be lost by the end of the winter. Charlotte asked me what I was doing. I explained I was writing her initials so she knew which ones were hers. She took back the glove, marked CEH and looked rather confused. When I asked her what was the matter, she said, "these aren't my initials. My initials are SMB"

I was quite baffled by that, but only for a minute. I then realized that SMB are the initials of her older cousin who graciously shares her clothes with us when they no longer fit. Many of them have been branded with her initials to avoid losing them as well. Trying not to laugh out loud at her innocence, I explained all of that to her.

She seemed to understand, at least a little, and gladly put on the mittens with her name, as well as the boots with SMB in them, because "I will just know that all of these initials are mine"

Happy Winter Everyone!

IL Tax Increases

Over the course of the last week I received multiple letters from my local daycare referral program urging me to contact my state representative to ask him to vote "yes" to a budget increase for our state. This increase hinges on a substantial increase in the state income tax rate. From my understanding, only states with no sales tax have higher rates than IL. And in my area, the sales tax is more than 7.5% on purchases.

This is the letter I sent in response to the cries for me to call my representative.

As a daycare provider who cares for children that utilize the system in place by the state government, I understand the need and importance of human services. As a resident of the state of Illinois I am saddened and frustrated by the inability of our elected leaders to come up with a state budget that makes sense, maintains important programs, and helps make our state fiscally healthy.

However, as a taxpayer, I do not support a tax increase in order to provide many of the services that are in danger of being cut. I have watched many of the families in my care work the system in ways that are unspeakable. The state continues to give them monies in multiple arenas, providing near free daycare, food stamps, housing assistance, schooling, utility payments, and medical care. Many of these “poor” families are able to afford luxuries that I cannot even fathom; because the money that they make is not spent on the necessities that I must spend mine on. One family I cared for received $600 per month in food stamps, WIC coupons, and care packages from the Salvation Army, yet still complained about running out of food money at the end of the month. And I fed their children two meals a day five days a week! I spend less money than that, feed a full capacity daycare group, and my family. I don’t spend less than that because it is easy or fun, but because there simply isn’t enough money to spend more, and pay all the rest of my bills. This same family received a more than $9000 income tax return, courtesy of tax breaks and earned income credits, despite the fact that they paid in less than $1500 in taxes.

When my husband’s hours got cut, I went to the DHS office and was told because I had more than $2000 in the bank, I was not eligible for the services they provided. They didn’t care that my mortgage payment is $1700 a month and once I paid that I wouldn’t be able to afford groceries, the electric bill, or pay NICOR. I had to increase the number of children I cared for in order to make ends meet. The services are based on income levels before taxes. A tax hike would mean I still wouldn’t qualify for any of these services, yet would be left with less money in my check each week.

When my budget doesn’t work out at the end of the month, I have to work out my budget better, not demand more money for watching the children I care for, or insist that my husband get a raise. I have to work with what I am given, and sometimes that means making uncomfortable sacrifices. But I live within my means, and I think that the state, and the people using the services should be required to do the same.

Maybe a drastic cut in funding would encourage (or force!) the service providers to better structure the way they provide services. Institute time limits for receiving services; only allow tax contributors to receive the services; set up penalties for abusing the system. There has got to be a better solution than placing an additional tax burden on people who are not able to utilize the systems that are being paid for.

Free falling

Here is some of what happened.

Yesterday, while he was supposed to be resting in my bedroom, Mason fell from our second story bedroom window. We are still uncertain of exactly how it happened, but he is telling us that he was sitting on the nightstand, watching tv, when he leaned back and the screen gave way sending him flying down into the garden.

It seems he hit the satellite dish with his shoulder on the way down, sending him tumbling, and then landed face first on the stepping stones in the garden. The sprinklers were on, so the landing (minus the rock) was slightly softened by the wet mud and plants that he landed on. He was bleeding pretty badly, but was able to get up and run out of the garden to escape the sprinklers!

Brandon and I had been standing in the kitchen, and we watched him fall past the window. It was insanely frightening. Brandon rushed to pick him up past the garden gate, but then quickly settled in the grass due to the high volumes of blood Mason seemed to be losing. I grabbed a towel and the phone to call 911. Brandon did an excellent job keeping Mason alert and reasonably calm while we waited for emergency services to arrive. Although it did seem like awhile before the ambulance arrived, the police and a local man with a police scanner were on the scene almost immediately. When the ambulance arrived, they strapped Mason to a back board, and used a collar to immobilize his neck. Mason was slightly irritated by that, because he had gotten up and walked out of the garden, and his neck was bleeding and sore. But, he did exactly as he was told and never lost his cool.

We rode in the ambulance to the hospital and again Mason did a great job listening and doing what he was told. There were only a few "incidences" with the medical professionals regarding my choices, and all seemed to run pretty smoothly.

Within three hours of arrival, Mason had had several CT Scans, XRays, and lab tests, and he was cleared to go home. That lucky little boy has no broken bones, no internal bleeding, and needed no stitches. He is pretty sore this morning, and his neck and shoulder are swollen. There are large lacerations on his neck and throat, and from his chin to his chest has a "road rash" from how he landed.

He is concussion free, walking and talking fine, and actually slept well all things considered. He will continue to be sore for several days, but looks to make a full recovery relatively quickly.

Hopefully he will stay away from windows in the future, and we won't have any more attempts to defy gravity. I know, as a mother of four little dare devils, this is only the beginning of our trips to the emergency room. Hopefully, the ones in the future won't come with a child abuse and neglect investigation as this one did.

Super Mom

Recently it has been brought to my attention that while out in public, I may appear like I know what I am doing. While I take that as a super huge compliment, I feel obligated to share with some of my struggling new mommy friends that I really don't have super powers, super patience, or some magic secret.

I decided sometime in the last 6 years that this is what I am doing with my life. I am taking these little blessings and turning them into great adults. It will be a long trip. A hard fought war. But in the end, I think the payoff, and I guess the payoffs in the middle too, are totally worth it. That doesn't mean, however, that I act the right way all the time.

When my oldest son was born, I suffered from what I now know was severe post pardom depression. Every time he would cry (which was the entire time he was awake) I would cry. When he wouldn't nurse, I would cry. When he wouldn't sleep, I would cry. When he threw up, I would cry. For more than 8 months, my colicky son and I would sit around the house and cry. I was a Nanny, a licensed day care provider, an educated teacher, and I couldn't make one baby stop crying. Didn't exactly do much for my mental state! But, as a new mom, I thought once I left the house I was supposed to put on a big smile, parade around with my cute (but always crying) baby, and tell everyone how great we were doing. Just about the time I thought I had some sort of control over my life, I got pregnant again. Back to crying for me! What was I going to do with a second kid? Was she going to cry all day? I didn't think I could handle a screaming baby and a very demanding big brother who would only be 18 months old when the baby came.

Very soon I didn't have any time to think about what was going to happen when the baby came, I was too busy trying to figure out how to balance a full time daycare group and constant morning sickness. The days flew by, with some funny stories in between, and the baby came. She was nothing like her big brother. Still pretty demanding, as all babies are, but full of smiles and only a few spit ups a day. She boosted my confidence that I might actually be able to do this mommy thing.

Rolling right along, I got a "surprise" baby three, and he was closely followed by baby four. Discovering that babies come from beer bottles, we decided that we should probably quit while we were ahead. There were days that I questioned my own quitting decisions. No, not that I should have more. That I should have stopped a few kids ago. My fourth child was as demanding, colicky, pukey, and hard to handle as the first. Only this time I had three other kids of my own, all under 5 years old, that wanted my love and attention as well.

Alot of soul searching, decision making, and deep breathing, and I am now able to handle my life. Dare I say, I enjoy my life. Kids are fun! Seeing things through their eyes is amazing! Taking 6 kids under 6 years old to the grocery store is a challenge, but I have decided that kids aren't meant to be cooped up in the house kept away from the real world. Think of how many things there is to learn from the grocery store! It was not a fast trip. It wasn't a stress free trip. And, it was only a "kinda" productive trip. But it was a pretty educational trip for the little monkeys that had the list and had to find the stuff in the store. I did not lose my cool in public. I did not lose it when we got home either. But I most definitely had a drink with dinner. (and must admit that the stress of the day did make me a little irrational when my daughter spilled her brother's milk all over her plate at dinner time, promptly followed by the ENTIRE table and its contents crashing to my mom's kitchen floor).

But, the daycare kids went home with smiles on their faces, and my own kids still loved me enough for kisses and hugs at the end of the day, so I must be doing something right. And, all those mommies I mentioned at the beginning of this, you're doing just fine too. Everyone still breathing at the end of the day? That's a job well done! It doesn't matter that you didn't get all the laundry done (mine never does), the bed made, or even if you got dressed today. It matters that your kids love you. It matters that, despite the toll on your body and your mental state you are being the best mommy you can be, even if it isn't quite what you thought it would be.

Potty Training

I hadn’t really put a lot of thought in how I potty trained kids before.  With Mason, we pretty much just took away his diapers and let him run around in the buff for a weekend.  It seemed to work for him, and the diapers were history.  I never bought a diaper bigger than a size 3 for him.  For Charlotte, the first time I bought those size 4 diapers I got aggravated with myself for letting it go that long, and we embarked on a mission to potty train.  I don’t have any vivid memories of those events, so either it wasn’t all that bad, or I have just repressed the horror.  As a daycare provider I felt it was completely reasonable to expect that prior to their third birthday, most kids are potty trained, or at least well on their way.  I had a hand (gross thoughts just popped in my head) in getting more than 7 kids to use the “Big Kid” potty.

  It tested me as a parent and as a person, and somehow we made it through… I am not including this in the trauma-less recounting of her potty training. That is another chapter for another day! >

As Levi passed his second birthday, and I was buying size 6 diapers, it was quite clear to me that this was not going to be anything like my past potty experiences.  He would poop and give you a definite No if you asked if he “was stinky,” even though you could smell him before he entered the room.  He would pee so much while he slept at night that I regularly had to change pajamas, sheets, and blankets several times a week.  He didn’t wake up complaining of being wet, and repeatedly fought me when I tried to change his soiled pajamas, yelling that they were “just fine!”

An early attempt to train, I tried the same approach that we did with Mason.  I took the diapers away, showed him the potty, and said we don’t use diapers anymore.  I set him on the toilet and he flipped out like I had never seen before. That incident traumatized poor Levi enough that he would rather suffer the consequences of peeing on the floor than go back into that bathroom. For those of you unfamiliar with our house, we have a child sized porcelain toilet in our bathroom.  There is nothing scary about it, that is of course, unless you are more than 10, in which case the fear of not being able to stand up once you have bent down that low is a very real one.

We borrowed a plastic potty chair from a friend and placed it in the living room.  What man wouldn’t love to poop and watch their favorite show at the same time?  The potty chair seemed to be a fun attraction.  However, it mostly was for hiding army guys and storing food for later in hopes that Mommy wouldn’t throw it away. Despite desperate attempts to get him to at least try the cool seat, no potty-ing actually ever happened on it.

I am sad to say that after much seemingly wasted effort, and several loads of yucky laundry, I admitted defeat.  I was not a fan of changing the diapers of a large 2 year old who had the same diet that I did.  It was gross.  But, I would rather clean it up in a diaper than on my kitchen floor, or in the corner of the playroom.

About two weeks ago, still far from turning three, Levi announced he was ready to be a big boy.  He walked into the bathroom and asked for me to take his diaper off.  He sat on the potty and viola! Pee!  “It’s working” He screamed in excitement!

 Now that isn’t the end of the story.  He didn’t just wake up one day potty trained.  I don’t think the poor kid pooped for about 4 days because he knew he wasn’t supposed to do it in his new Transformer underwear, but wasn’t so sure about the toilet just yet.  We had a few, but only a few, “Oops I think I peed” accidents.  I have again got to visit EVERY public restroom in EVERY store we have gone to.  But we are rockin’ and rollin’ with the whole thing.  I have made up a pretty spectacular celebration song and dance, which I have the joy of performing 20 or more times a day.  I thought that after the first week I could retire that dance, but so far that hasn’t been the case. It’s a small price to pay for not having to change any more of those size 6’s though!

 I have heard lots of cute stuff as he processes the whole “How does this work?” in his head.  And his newfound interest in all things poop is ever so amusing.  The over interest in everyone else’s “peanuts,” not so amusing.

 I realized in all of this though, that I STILL don’t know how to potty train a child.  When I share our success with friends, many of them enviously ask, “How did you do it?”  Sometimes I offer advice, but mostly I just shyly grin and give credit where credit is due.  “Levi is just a big boy.”

You look good...

For having four kids.

How do I gently explain that, even with the best intentions that isn't exactly the best way to word that?  This phrase is generally uttered by someone I haven't seen in a long time, or worse yet, someone who has significantly fewer (read: NONE) children than I do.

Do I only look good if the "for having four kids" is added to the statement.  If I had only one child, would I look like a train wreck?  If I had not yet had children, would I be a disgrace to mankind?  Would people talk about me behind my back about how I have let myself go?  If I wasn't carting a Suburban full of kids with me, would everyone wonder how many children I had given birth to to put my appearance in such a horrendous shape?

I understand the sentiment, I think.  I have gained and lost 60lbs a year for the last four years. The majority of the gain and loss was primarily in my abdomen, which somehow manages to still remain reasonably flat and allows me to button most of my jeans.  Wearing most of my clothing, bathing suits excluded, I am fairly presentable.  But, no, don't invite me to the beach for Spring Break, I simply cannot compete with scantily clad beauties in bathing suits that resemble dental floss.  I can build a mean sand castle though.

My poor boobs have varied from barely there to Bunny quality (sometimes overnight!), leaving me with an extensive bra collection in a wide variety of sizes, as well as a lot of extra skin and stretch marks there!  They have suffered the wrath of nursing four babies for a year or more a piece, through feeding difficulties, teething, infections, and nursing strikes.  Fortunately, nothing a WonderBra hasn't been able to fix.

My face has lines and dents in places that were buttery smooth before, but most of that is because I just hadn't smiled enough before any of my children were born.  My hair is short, frayed, and what hasn't fallen out is mostly gray.  That doesn't really affect my ability to change a poopy diaper in the dark or kiss a boo-boo, so I guess no harm done there just yet.

My hands are a bit chapped from multiple washings a day and my nails haven't seen polish applied by anyone over the age of 6 in a while.  But, I wear my purple sparkles with almost as much pride as the little girl who painted them for me.

My clothes are frequently wrinkled, and I often find a small sock or Dora underwear in my sleeve while standing in line at the grocery store.  I have passed the time where I smelled of designer perfume or fragrant lotions and now I walk around emitting the aura of baby vomit, and am generally sporting a variety of toddler snot, ketchup, and (thanks to Levi) blood.  My kids are well dressed each morning on their way to school.

When I get up each morning and get out of the shower, catching a glimpse in the mirror could be disappointing or frustrating, but then again, I generally don't have time to look in the mirror while getting four kids ready each day.  Nor do I have hours to spend at the gym, unless it is watching my kids wrestling, dance, play basketball....

I guess for having only four kids, I'm doing okay.  

And by the way, "You look pretty good too, for not having any kids."

I should proof read better

I posted the last entry with out doing a final read through.  I wanted everyone to know that yes, I realize now I used the phrase "pretty much" an excessive amount of times.  Apparently, I do not feel as well as I thought I did, and my brain is not yet functioning at full creative speed.  I guess I will just have to go to bed early tonight to ensure I am up to par before I attempt to write another blog entry.  That, and there isn't anything on TV any way.

I tried to edit what I had written, but it wouldn't let me.  Possibly another indicator that I need additional recuperating, the computer being able to outsmart me and all.