a conversation and a mystery.

In our house, with the exception of Ever-Patient, no one is left alone in the washroom.  This is a conversation I overheard between #2 and #3 in the washroom.  This is what you get when you are being raised by a health-conscious dad and a neurotic mom who decide to go vegetarian for a month.

#3 finishes peeing, wipes herself and jumps off the toilet.

#2 who is also in the bathroom, has just finished brushing her teeth, and looks into the toilet:  “Wow!  Your pee is clear!  You must be drinking lots of water.”

#3 who swells up her chest with pride:  “I know!  And my poo has been fantastic four days in a row too!”

(Only #1 is grossed out by our daily BM update/analysis discussions.)

****

#5 was in a good mood and was flashing me smiles left, right, and centre.  Like a good exploitative mother, I ran for the camera.  I started taking pictures of #5, clicking away as fast as I could without really focusing in on him.  I just wanted to capture the moment before it ended.  Within seconds of taking pictures of him, he began to wail.  Only when I looked at the series of pics I had just taken did I solve the mystery and uncover the cause of his sudden hysteria…

Direct your attention to the top right hand corner of the photo. Notice anything?

Tap, tap, tap...wonder who that is???

Look who can't let her brother have any solo shots.

Happy Monday.

(By the way, I’m keeping my kids home today.  Why? Because I want to.  Sometimes I just know when we need to spend a little bit more time as a family just hanging out at home.)

the (extra)ordinary.

This post is dedicated to my parents, my grandparents, and the family members who played important parts in my childhood.

In previous posts, I have touched on the importance on everyday life moments as opposed to the “milestone” moments because they compose a larger percentage of what makes up our life.  Sometimes in this stage of parenthood, I get preoccupied and overwhelmed with taking care of the immediate physical needs of young children.  It’s easy to forget about celebrating the ordinary days when you are sleep-deprived and are facing a mountain of laundry.  So I am extremely grateful for times when I come across reminders like the video below which I found on this blog (if you are a parent to a newborn, adolescent, teen or even a grown adult, you will definitely appreciate this):

When I think back to my own childhood and try to discern life defining moments, I come back to memories that may seem insignificant to the eye of an outsider.  It wasn’t the big events that shaped my life like the divorce of my parents or any other type of monumental occasion, it was the little lessons I was taught along the way.  It was all those ordinary days that I remember most.

I remember sitting in church and holding my mother’s hand, not listening to a word the priest was saying but tracing my fingers along hers and touching her monogrammed ring, wondering if one day my fingers will look just like hers and if one day my finger will fit that ring.  I remember watching my mom make marble cake and feel as though she were performing magic as all the ingredients came together and as she drizzled the chocolate with such an elegance that can only be compared to an artist finishing a masterpiece, I knew that someday I wanted to bake.  I remember that our dining table was always covered with papers as she was always doing homework or taking work home and I would sometimes sit on her lap and play with her calculator – never saying much but being together.  Out of all the new year’s eve spent with family as a child, the one I cherish most is the one where it was just my mom and I in our pajamas watching the ball drop.  I remember the day my dad taught me how to ride a bike in Sunnybrook park.  I remember the car rides to ballet class and the fries and gravy we would have at the restaurant in a busy department store.  I remember the tennis matches, the ice skating and the bowling days and my dad teaching me how to throw a ball.

I remember my grandmother teaching me how to pray, how to sew, how to speak Spanish.  I remember watching soap operas with her and talking about the characters as if they played leading roles in her own life.  I remember how we picked tomatoes from her tiny little pots on her apartment patio.  I remember how she was the one person in the entire world that I never wanted to disappoint.  I remember her wiping down all the utensils, bowls, and cups when we went for dim sum.  I remember how she taught me how to fry an egg.  I remember her washing the clothes by hand although a washing machine was just down the hall.  I remember her waiting for me at the end of her apartment hallway in her duster and slippers, her hair tied back, hands clasped together, smiling at me.

I remember my grandfather (Lolo Harv) straightening his utensils, his plate and cup at restaurants.  I remember trying to copy his handwriting.  I remember sitting on a case of beer in the back of his old Nova while we drove around the community I now call home.  I remember how he always put lotion on the back of his hands before he would spread it instead of squirting it in the palm of his hands.  I remember the smell of his pomade and his lavendar soap.  I remember him always letting me ride the horse at Food City.  I remember the taste of his homemade hot chocolate.

I remember how all my aunts have participated in my upbringing.  I remember how one would french braid my hair and give me chewy cookies in a bowl of milk for breakfast.  I remember how another would sing Paul Young’s “Every time You Go Away” and Whitney Houston’s “Saving All My Love for You” with me and her game of asking me, “Who do you like better, insert name here or the ghost?” – you had to be there!  I remember the chocolate cookie squares that another aunt would bake and how fun car rides were in the back of her two-seater Mazda.  I would also sit at her make-up vanity thing with the miniature chair/stool.  I remember playing dress-up with another aunt when my mom and I used to live in her living room and having hours of fun jumping on her water bed and hoping that some day I too could rock out in jogging pants and a fur coat, while smoking a cigarette (though now I’ve lost the desire to ever try to smoke).  I remember one of my aunts crimping my hair and thinking this is the coolest thing I’ve ever done.

I remember days filled with my cousins – playing school, playing cards (Capes, Bloody Knuckles, Crazy Eights, Pekwa), haunted houses, board games, video games, obstacle courses, plays, shows, clubs, dance routines (Jodi Watley Sep-Ball-Change is all I can say), and of course, wetting toilet paper, rolling it into wads, and throwing it up to stick to the ceiling in the apartment hallway.  I remember Tang and french toast, slip ‘n’ slide, hide and seek by the cemetery, and a girl wanting to be called Apollonia.

These are all snippets of the ordinary that filled my childhood.  These are the seemingly insignificant details that make up some of the happiest times.  Birthdays are a blur of picnics and cake (except that one time my absentee godfather paid a guy dressed up as a scary gorilla to give me a bunch of balloons) and holidays are mainly filled with memories of bad hairstyles and what-was-my-mother-thinking outfits.  Looking back, I am thankful for the almost unnoticeable moments that I happened to pay attention to and the people who were a part of them.

This morning I woke up dwelling on the disaster which I call home but then I watched the video above and realized how fast the time will go by. When I am out with the kids, I often hear older ladies say to me, “Enjoy every minute of this, it flies by!” or “I miss that age, mine are all grown now!” and I wouldn’t pay much attention to them.  But when I look at my own life, I can clearly remember being a child and thinking how the concept of having my own family was so far from my reality and only a silly little dream.  Now instead of constantly focusing on getting to the next stage with my children, I remind myself to enjoy every blessed second and to take the time to look into their eyes, hold their little hands (or big hands), and tell them how much I love them.

I think of how my oldest already closes her bedroom door which really is a metaphor for her transition into young adulthood.  Looking at her, I feel a jolt of reality, that the years of me attending to her physical needs are at an end and all I want for just one moment is to get them back.  It’s funny how in the blink of an eye it can change.  One day, they are hugging me so tight until I finally have to pull away and let go and then the next you are hugging them so tight that they are now the first to pull away and let go.

So tonight, instead of running to do the laundry, I sit and watch and savor.  I see #3 picking up my copy of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and pretending to read a fairytale to #4 who is wearing #5’s leather jacket.  I see #2 sew a pair of felt mittens for herself.  #5 is lying down beside listening to the fairytale about the princess, the frog, Goldilocks and the three pigs.  And I wait for #1 to get home from volleyball practice so I can just hug her for no reason other than because I can.

hello february.

Our family word this year is ADVENTURE.

Each month we are going to embark on some sort of adventure as a family, essentially leaving our comfort zone in some way.  We realize that being a family of 7 is an adventure in and of itself but a family challenge that we all can participate in will open up discussion and reinforce a feeling of unity as we experience it together.

This month we are going vegetarian.

(At first we contemplated about going vegan which means eliminating meat and all animal by-products like dairy but we thought we should ease into this new eating habit first…we don’t want the natives – the kids- to get too restless and mutiny too soon.)

After seeing this movie and reading this, this, and this, Ever-Patient and I are looking closer at the kinds of food we eat and why we eat them.  It’s not as if I have suddenly become a PETA activist and want to save all the animals.  I do enjoy a good grass-fed piece of steak.  The decision to go veg is a way for us to experiment, to eat more consciously, and to seriously challenge our eating habits.  Culturally speaking, meat has always been in the forefront of our diet and because of this, it has become a focus on our children’s plates which in the end, results in less room on the plate for veggies.

For the last two days, my family has been conscious of everything we put in our mouths.  Not only have we excluded meat from our diet, we are also eating organic produce, sprouted grains, quinoa, kamut, millet, spelt, and every green known to man.  By dinner time, greens are taking up more than half of the kids’ plates now and they are eating every last morsel.  It has opened up conversation about food.  #2 is curious about where food comes from, frequently quizzing me if an item is plant or animal.  At one point, I told #1 to forget about her homework because our little discussion on knowing what exactly we are putting into our bodies was more important for her to participate in.

#2 is allergic/anaphylactic to peanuts, tree nuts, and shellfish.  Eating a peanut could kill her.  I am vigilant about monitoring what she eats wherever we go and the kind of food we have in our own pantry.  Then after seeing a movie like Food Inc. and reading about the health hazards of processed food and food that comes from factory farms, why would I let my children ingest these foods knowing the effect it could have on their health?  Not to sound melodramatic but even feeding this food to my kids (which in the end teaches them that it is ok to continue eating this food in adulthood) is just like giving #2 a peanut butter sandwich.

Since this is new to us, we are now experimenting with new foods and recipes.  We are involving the kids in the entire process – meal selection, preparation, and an evaluation of the meal after we’ve eaten it.  For yesterday’s dinner, potato and mozzarella croquettes with sauteed string bean and black beans, we made everything together – the kids took ownership of the food and in the end, enjoyed eating the fruits of their labour.  We plan to take them on excursions to a few local vegan/vegetarian restaurants.

For Ever-Patient and I, we are most interested in seeing the effect that going veg has on our wallets and our health by the end of the month.  Is it cost-effective for our family of 7 to go vegetarian?  Will we notice a markedly different feeling health-wise?  Will we notice a difference in the well-being of our children?

The key with this challenge is that this is an adventure for our family.  We are cooking and eating dinner together.  We are talking and researching and inquiring.  We are becoming active participants in our lives, choosing to live just a little bit more consciously.  By going on these adventures, we can remove ourselves from the daily grind of life and grasp these opportunities to make life more exciting and to expose our children to unconventional ideas.  Our hope is not that they become lifelong vegetarians but lifelong learners that will never stop questioning and having the courage to step out of the box.

I asked #3 the other day if she understood why we are going vegetarian.  She said, “Because chickens have families.”  Then she picked up her broccoli and took a big bite out of it and said, “But broccoli doesn’t!”  Chomp.

goodbye january.

January…

Jan 1-7: Sick mama, sick #5…Kids going back to school and futile attempts at getting their bodies to sleep before 11pm again.

Jan 10: Lunch and movie with my mom, my aunts, my female cousins, and Ever-Patient and Q who eventually moved to sit at a separate table due to the surplus of estrogen and the never-ending dress/shoe combination conversation.  I immediately noticed how some daughters sat voluntarily right next to their moms sharing their meals while others tried (but couldn’t) sit at other ends of the table from their mothers especially the mother who decided to order a scotch with her Thai meal at 11 in the morning.  My loving and oh so ever-patient husband then hung around so I could feed the baby right before I could see a movie with the ladies and then he took Q by himself for the first time to run some errands.

Jan 15:  I went to watch my friends play in their indoor soccer game where almost exactly a year ago I had been playing.  I cheered enthusiastically and with much envy.  For me, the best part about playing with these girls for the last 6 years (though I’ve had to take breaks every other year) is the camaraderie and kid-free conversations before, during, and after the games. They’ve seen my kids grow on the sidelines, have kept me in the loop during pregnancy, and they give me a reason to get back in shape for summer.

Jan 16:  Bon voyage Lola!!  My grandmother (my dad’s mother), we’ll call her Elizabeth Taylor, who will be 88 this year, has left for the Philippines for 6 months.  She travels alone and anyone who has ever had a conversation with her knows that she credits her exquisite health to blueberries, apple cider vinegar, and of course, ginger.  She changes her outfits at least 3 times a day and insists upon walking in a kitten heel or platform even if she is just at home.  She also loves her plants more than her own children.  My kids call her Lola Philippines and if that country had a pageant for senior citizens, she’d hands down take the crown.

Jan 20:  Yoga with #4.  I signed up for a free toddler/mom yoga class that is held once a month in a small downtown studio.  She really needed some alone time with me so I thought this would be perfect for us.  I thought it would be more of a singing and playing type class but in the end I was seriously sweating, cringing ever time I heard a crack doing downward dog.  #4’s favourite parts were lying right on top of me during the meditation portion at the end of the class and going for hot chocolate after.  She now tells everyone she meets, “I do yoga.”

Jan 21:  #3 had her first playdate.  She could hardly sleep the night before and woke up at an obscene hour, excited over her little friend coming over to play.  She waited by the window singing repeatedly, “Oh where oh where could she be?  Could that be her?  Oh where oh where could she be?”  #3’s friend and her little sister came to play which meant that #4 had a playmate as well.  This could be one of the most successful playdates I’ve ever seen.  Their mother and I also get along and they were having so much fun that I let #3 skip school in the afternoon.  When the girls left 5 hours later, #3 turns to me and laments, “Mom, that was quick.”

Jan 22-23:  My first time pumping breast milk for #5 in anticipation of going to a crop (scrapbooking event) in the evening located 45 minutes away.  I finally leave the house and once I get to the crop, I just want to hang out with my friends and lie my head down on the table due to sheer exhaustion.  Instead, I push through and actually end up creating something.  It was maybe the most productive 2 hours I’ve had in a long time.  The next day I am back at the crop for the day with #5 strapped to me in this and again, I am productive and create some layouts, have inspiring conversations, and leave fulfilled.  Ever-Patient is about 2 hours away with #1 at another volleyball tournament and the other girls are with their cousin and grandfather seeing a movie.  During the crop my mom calls me and says, “We’re right around the corner from your house, do you want to go for lunch?”  I tell her the whereabouts of my family across the province and she says, “So, no dim sum I guess?”

Jan 24: Surprise birthday lunch for Ever-Patient.  Two days before his actual birthday we went out for lunch, just the two of us.  This was my birthday present for him (really, this is all he wanted!).  We were seated right by the kitchen and tried to talk over the noise of clanging pots and pans and the wait staff belting requests to the line cooks.  Almost immediately, Ever-Patient requests to be moved because come on people,  just once, could we not have to try to yell to try to be heard among a crowd of people?  So we sat in front of each other in a quieter part of the restaurant in silence for a few minutes.  I look deep into his eyes and say, “Man, you look tired.”  And he says back romantically, “You do too.”  And then there’s the most comfortable silence for the next 10 minutes.  The best part?  We sat and had coffee watching the NFL playoffs at the bar in…you guessed it…silence.

Jan 26:  Happy Birthday Ever-Patient!  We celebrated his birthday at #1’s volleyball practice as she played an exhibition game against a boys team from our neighbourhood.  One of the team’s uber-supportive parents bought Coach Ever-Patient a birthday cake and all the girls (our own and his team) serenaded him with “happy birthday to you.”  (A quick apology for all of you who had to endure his lewd comments on Facebook on his birthday that prompted grotesque images to be imagined by many family members.)

Jan 29:  Bon Voyage to my aunt!  She too has gone to the Philippines for a vacay.  We celebrated and said our farewells like most families – ingested some alcoholic beverages and exhibited some drunken type behaviour at a local family restaurant.

Jan 30:  We closed the month out with a bang at a Family Dance Party at the Guvernment – a night club that was turned into what I can only be described as a night club that allowed children to dance under a disco ball.

Cover charge:  $12 Adults $10 Kids

A Bag of Over-priced “All Natural” Chips:  $5

Specialty Drinks for the kiddies which included a twist on the perennial favourite “Shirley Temple”:  $2.50

Watching #3 get her groove on a top a platform in the middle of a dance floor as if it were her second home:  Priceless

#4 and #3 on top of the platform doing their thing to "Kiss" by Prince.

#4 collecting snowballs in the champagne room.

Our aerial view of the dance off: Yeti vs Mountie

#3 letting loose on the stage beside the DJ.

The girls and cousin J lounging it up after some serious dance floor action.

Dinner at a friend’s house (the playdate of all playdates’ house) capped off the evening but #3 could not stop moving to the music that apparently could not stop playing in her head.

Good times.

a winter manifesto.

Last winter, I spent most of the time on my living room sofa recovering from a severe ankle sprain while constantly trying to devise creative ways to keep my kids playing together (without the use of a TV or my legs).  While lying on the couch, longing for winter (and my inability to walk) to end, I came up with a winter manifesto to follow this year.  Now keep in mind that when I wrote this, I didn’t know I would be caring for a fifth child in addition to the four crazies during these long winter months…

1. I will spend at least 5 minutes outside each day. (Sometimes, I just take the kids out on the porch for exactly 5 minutes and other times we walk down the block….although I could see myself out with the kids more if I had a couple pairs of these mittens) :
   

   Love these mittens.

2. I will “make stuff” once a week.  (I wasn’t doing so well on this one until last week when I did 5 layouts…I think that should make up for my first month of winter where sleep was more of a priority.)
3. I will find the beauty of winter through daily gratitude.  (Mostly, I am thankful for the relatively mild winter thus far and the fact that only 2 out of 5 kids have been sick simultaneously.)
4. I will spend a portion of my day cuddling with the kids under at least 2 heavy duvets.  (Check.  Although some days the kids seem to think that I spend TOO much time cuddling – which to them has felt like I was keeping them hostage.)
5. I will learn how to knit a scarf.  (#2 has been a very patient teacher with me as she is sharing her knitting knowledge with me…we’re not quite at scarf…it’s more like an extra long necklace…)
6. I will myself with comfort thoughts rather than comfort food.  (This has been the toughest so far since I LOVE to bake during the winter…my solution: substitute white flour for spelt flour and sugar for maple syrup and plenty of batches of my friend Michelle’s recipe for Spelt Cookies.)
7. I will keep in touch with 5 friends a week.  (Email has been my method of choice since me having a phone call is close to impossible.)
8. I will play in the snow twice.  (There hasn’t been a large enough snowfall yet to do this but as soon as it happens, the kids will hop in #3’s new sled that can also hold two more kids and I will for sure join in specifically because i have invested in these.)
9. I will at least read 10 books (under the covers of course).  (I have been realistic with myself and read about 10 minutes a day…I have been reading this book for the last 2 weeks mindfully.)
10. I will enjoy a cup of tea every time the gray and cold bring my spirits down.  (I’ve been drinking peppermint mocha lattes instead…liquid joy for me.)

In an effort to participate in some winter fun in our city, we will be partying it up here tomorrow.

Get outside and have a great weekend!

scrapbook layouts (yay!)

A big thanks to some wonderful ladies who scrapbooked with me this past weekend.  I was able to become inspired and rediscovered the desire to just sit down and create.  Loved it!  And thank you to Shanley who took the pictures of my layouts (see below).  not sure how I would have been able to post these without the photos since I haven’t been able to take my own pics…I am in the middle of caring for a sick #4.

Speaking of #4, I realized #4’s scrapbook hadn’t been updated since she turned 1.  All that is missing from these layouts is some more of the story I want to tell:

"otay" - that is how she says "okay"

"our little runt"

"me & mike"

"my little shadow"

Here is #4’s favourite knock knock joke which she tells daily:

#4: “Mama, knock knock!”

Me:  “Who’s there?”

#4:  “Voodoo!”

Me:  “Voodoo who?”

#4:  “Voodoo you think you are! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

And then she will repeat this knock knock prompt about 57 times.

to my best friend…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

You are still a big kid.

Today I celebrate the birth of my best friend.  He turns 33 today.  I can still remember celebrating his 18th birthday.  For the last 15 and 1/2 years, we have celebrated many occasions – birthdays, Christmases, anniversaries of many sorts, the birth of a few children, thanksgivings.  Each and every year, his birthday rolls around and immediately he says not to make a big deal and to treat it like a normal day.  He tells me and the kids not to stress ourselves over getting him gifts or doing anything special for him.  He says it’s enough that we love him.  This attitude towards his birthday is reflective of his attitude towards life.  He gives and gives and gives – sometimes almost to a fault.  His happiness revolves around taking care of me and the kids and then himself.  I constantly remind him that life will not fall apart if he chooses to be selfish – in fact, I encourage it.  But somehow, he is wired to have this purpose in life: to make sure his family comes first.

He has rearranged his work schedule with the birth of our fifth to ensure he can drop off #1 and #2 in the morning, pick up #3 at lunch to take her to school, and pick up all 3 in the afternoon.  His free time consists of running a volleyball club which in the beginning was for our oldest daughter but now he takes pride in coaching and being a positive athletic influence on the kids.  For example, this past weekend the club attended a tournament in Barrie.  He took two teams – my daughter’s team and another team who is a year older.  In the past two tournaments, he had focused on our daughter’s team for obvious reasons.  But this time he felt that the other team needed him and he devoted all his time and energy to these girls and barely saw our daughter throughout the tournament.  She wanted him with her but he explained to her the value of commitment which he made to the entire club and to the development of all the girls.  It was a difficult decision for him but he knew the impact even one tournament could make on this team.  When he’s not coaching, he’s at home replacing light bulbs, grocery shopping, cooking, blogging, filming, listening to #2 read, helping with homework, carrying #5 in the wrap, giving piggy back rides, changing diapers, giving baths, tucking them in their beds, paying bills, and taking out the trash among other things.  After all that and when the kids are in bed, he’ll look me in the eye and ask me about MY day and how I’M feeling.  Then he’ll take the baby so I can get some sleep before the next feed.

So…Dear Ever-Patient,

Today, I celebrate YOU. Just YOU and the boy I have watched grow into the greatest dad and a truly good man.  I appreciate each and every little thing you do for us – from making sure my gas tank is always full (literally and figuratively) to being our sole source of financial support giving me the opportunity to be home with our kids.  Your work ethic is incomparable and you deserve more credit than you give yourself.  The kids ADORE you – #1 loves her time with you at volleyball, #2 cherishes her early morning routine with you (getting up and hanging out with you before the rest of the house gets up), #3 could just give you “movie kisses” all day, and although #4 is normally attached to me, she lovingly runs to you to change her diaper   And of course, there’s #5:

You and your son.

Thank you for showing me how to see the best in people when I believe in the worst.  I am grateful for that day almost 16 years ago when we met through a high school fashion show.  I am grateful for every day since then.  I am grateful that our girls will see that there are men out there like their father and for our son to see the kind of man that he can be.

I love you…still.

And from the kids:

(#4 was not in the mood.)

Happy Birthday.

3 months.

Q at 3 months:

To my big boy:

These last couple of months have blown by much like the rest of life these days. You currently weigh almost 15lbs and are wearing 6-12 months sized clothing.  The biggest difference between now and a month ago is that you have definitely lost your novelty around here.  Your sisters don’t run to greet you when they get home from school, they don’t fuss over you when you cry (in fact, they have mastered the art of completely tuning you out), they cringe and hold their noses at diaper changes looking away now instead of being fascinated with how “different” boys are.  In fact, the only time they are interested in playing with you is when you are sleeping and they will squeeze your cheeks, pick your nose, and kiss your head endlessly until you wake up screaming.  But they love you.  How do I know this?  The odd time you are  not strapped to me or are in my arms, they inquire nonchalantly about your whereabouts.  They rock you (though sometimes too violently) in your car seat when you cry.  Most of the time, when you are sleeping, they whisper and try not to play with the toys that make noise.  They proudly say “This is my brother” to strangers on the street.

Of course, the novelty has not worn off for your father or myself.  Although we’ve already experienced this stage of baby 4 times already, we still get excited when you reach all the mini milestones.  You now coo and smile anytime someone talks to you or smiles at you…especially if it’s a woman.  You especially love it when someone claps your hands together (or makes you do the macarena).  You have finally gotten into a routine with sleep at night.  I can read every cry that you make and discern whether it’s hunger, exhaustion, dirty diaper, or if you just need to be held and whispered to.  But, the best part is “the gaze.”  This is what your father calls it when you just stare at me.  More often than not, even if you are in your father’s arms, you will scan the room for me and “gaze.”  When I am feeding you, you will stop intermittently and “gaze” up at me.  This for me is the biggest change I have noticed in the last few months.  You have transitioned from an infant newborn just trying to survive through nursing, sleeping, and pooping to a baby who recognizes his mother – and not just as a person who is there to supply the milk.  When you look up at me and stare, I look into your eyes and melt because there is a sense of recognition in your eyes that I have been waiting to see.  It is something that I failed to appreciate with your sisters.  The moment I became YOUR “mama.”  In my mind, I was always your mama from the moment I knew of your existence.  But now, YOU know it too.

We love you,

Mama

****

A highlight moment of the last 3 months:

Me to #3 and #4 in a stern whisper:  “Your brother is asleep on the couch.  Do not speak and wake him up.  I have to go to the bathroom.  I will be right back!”

Upstairs, just as I am finishing up, I hear the baby screaming.

I run downstairs only to witness in horror #3 and #4 jumping on the very couch where their brother is laying 2 feet away.  Oh, my heart.

Me: “What are you doing?”

#3 whispers: “We haven’t said a word!”

And then she proceeds to make the motion of zipping up her lips and throwing away the key.

Note to self:  Be more specific.

a belated happy new year.

For some reason, we experience some type of chaotic event around this time every year of which I am just too exhausted to recount at the moment.  As we celebrate each new year, we have a little tradition that we started.  Each member of our family writes a letter to themselves a year from now, e.g. “Dear Me on Dec. 31, 2010.”  We write about who we are at the moment, all our likes and dislikes, and what we hope to do this year.  We then read our letter that we wrote last New Year’s Eve, e.g. “Dear Me on Dec 31, 2009.”  This is fun to see how we have changed (or haven’t changed) and the kids also trace their hands on the back and they love to lay their hand down to see how much they’ve grown.  #1 and #3 are basically still the same – sporty and dramatically inclined respectively.  But how #2 and #4 have changed.  Last year #2 was still into sparkly headbands and dresses whereas now her favourite outfit has become jogging pants and a hoodie with Converse shoes.  #4 was a baby last year, barely putting together sentences, and now, she has definite preferences:

Me: “What do you love right now?”

#4: “Mama, Dada, and baby.”

Me: “What about your sisters?”

#4:  “No.  I don’t like them.”

Last year I wrote the letters for #3 and #4 and this year, #3 is perfectly capable of writing her own (with a little help).  These letters are a great way for you to reflect on the past year and are a way to track how your kids are growing into themselves.

On New Year’s Eve, we also came up with our favourite moments of the year as a family, and individually.  There were lots of hellos and goodbyes in 2009.  It was a huge year in our household and last year at this time, we would have never have guessed that our lives would be this different.

Here is my own TOP TEN Moments of 2009:

1. Hello #5. We welcomed our boy.  Hello family of 7. Goodbye family of 6 with dad heavily outnumbered (now he is just moderately outnumbered).
2. The ankle incident.
3. A Summer to Remember.  Swimming lessons at my mom’s house.  Marineland with cousins and uncles and aunts.  Family memories by the pool.  Science week.  Art week.  #4 jumping in the pool with just water wings.  Savouring every moment with the kids before September.
4. Hello new schools. Goodbye old schools. I have had to watch my eldest daughter start middle school and slowly let go as she maneuvers her way through a social sphere complete with dances, lockers, and cafeteria food.  I have also had to persevere through a tough transition with #2 as she began her journey in grade one at a new school – her fourth new school in four years.  I’ve said goodbye to #3 as she has wholeheartedly and enthusiastically embraced school leaving me each afternoon with a wink and a “See you later, alligator.”
5. A Guilt-filled trip to Disney WITHOUT the kids. Early in the year, before the ankle incident, Ever-patient and I went to Orlando for our first trip away together since 2001, leaving the girls behind to cope with blizzards and wind chill.  Ever-Patient had a business conference and I enjoyed time alone.  I actually read books, ate meals in solitude, and did everything on a self-imposed schedule.  We even went on a backstage tour of Disney to see how the place ran seamlessly.  I couldn’t even look at Mickey Mouse without feeling like I was cheating on the kids.
6. Goodbye to my neighbour. My grandfather gave up his apartment which was just around the corner from us.  This was an apartment that he lived in for over 22 years, and many of those years was with my grandmother.  It’s difficult to pass by there still and know that he is not there watching “Jeopardy” in his boxers or sitting at the dining table planning his horse-racing bets for the week.  It was hard saying goodbye to a place where I would frequently stop by for afternoon snack where he would make me tea and toast with butter or where I spent a lot of summers in my childhood.
7. Goodbye to Urban Scrapyard.
8. Hello Family Mission Statement. “Live simply. Live healthy. Celebrate relationships. Learn continuously.”  Creating this mission statement has allowed us to make decisions quickly and has helped remind us of what we value and how we want to live our life.  We have set life goals using this mission statement and it has also helped us cope with many challenges we have faced this year.
9. Hello Blog.  This blog has been many things to me: a place to document, a place to vent, a place to share ideas and thoughts, a place to keep in touch with family and friends, a sanctuary, a love letter to my children and my husband, a source of inspiration for some, and most importantly, a way for me to tell my stories.
10. Pancrea-what?? We closed out the year with a hospital stay and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

My word for 2009 was “RELEASE.”   At the beginning of the year, I promised to let go.  Let go of unrealistic expectations, of sweating the small stuff, of accepting what is and letting everything unfold the way it was supposed to unfold.  It has been one of the most eventful and life-changing years I have experienced.  Everything that has happened this year has forced me to focus all my energy on remembering this word release.  Every obstacle or unexpected occurrence was met with surrender.  On many occasions, when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, I simply surrendered and immersed myself in that particular moment – feeling the exhaustion or the pain or the anger or the shock or the frustration with every ounce of my being.  Not fighting it, just letting myself be “in” it.  I look back at this year and am grateful for it all.

2010 has already started off with a bang with more trips to the emergency room and the doctor’s office but we’re all still hanging in there with a smile no less.

My word for this year is “SIMPLIFY.”

Goodbye 2009.  Hello 2010.

my name is rozanne and i’m NOT an alcoholic.

(Warning: Super-Long Post ahead…this is for ME to remember so skip this if you are not in the mood to read a long-winded story.)

Here is another example of how life throws you curveballs, hands you lemons, and gives you a gray cloud when you least expect it.

This was the original plan for one of our weekends this December:

Have family movie night on Friday night.  Go to bed fairly early.  Wake up early Saturday morning.  Drive to #1’s volleyball tournament (about an hour away) with my dad (Ever-Patient and #1 would leave earlier to ensure they would get there on time).  Enjoy a day watching volleyball with our family.  Stop by my in-laws on the way home to celebrate my father-in-law’s 62nd birthday with a yummy dinner and possibly some cake.  Chill out on Sunday at home by watching some football, making some teacher gifts, and catching up on what else?  Laundry.

This is what actually happened:

Friday night went according to plan.  #2 and I had some alone time together as she accompanied me while I ran out to take care of some errands and then we had a nice family dinner early so we could enjoy a DVD and turn in early.  Early Saturday morning, Ever-Patient and #1 left early, as scheduled, and my dad came by to pick the rest of us up for the long drive up north to the tourney.

It was during the drive that things started to veer off course.

After a fairly uneventful 45 minutes in the car (although some may differ in the opinion that #3 singing along to the Black Eyed Peas is uneventful),  I began to feel a bit of cramping in my stomach.  Within minutes, as I began to break into a cold sweat, the cramping morphed into excruciating pain.  I unbuckled my seat belt and put my head between my legs hoping beyond hope that maybe if I could just squeeze the pain away.  (I’m obviously not trained medically whatsoever.)

At this juncture, the kids are all talking to me at once asking if I’m ok.  I try my best to yell as calmly as I can, “Shhhh! Stop talking right now!”  Yelling hurts.  Talking hurts.  Moving hurts.  Just breathing hurts.  My dad suggests we pull over somewhere so I could go to the bathroom and see if that will relieve the pain.  He frantically looks for some sort of fast food restaurant.  Again, let me remind you we are now almost an hour away from home, a couple minutes away from the tournament, and in unfamiliar territory.  However, there is now dead silence in the car  – a miraculous achievement for anyone who has ever been in a car with 4 children between the ages of 7 weeks and 6 years old.

We spot a Subway Sandwich place and I am sure I look as awful as I feel.  I run in, clutching my stomach and breathing heavily, I ask, “Bathroom?”  The scared shitless teenager pointed in one direction and I stumbled towards it unsure of how going to the bathroom would alleviate my suffering.  I spent the next 5 minutes throwing up in a toilet in a washroom in a Subway in a small town wondering if this was all for real.  The pain remained intense.  I sat on the floor and could not get up.  I remembered that my poor father had 4 small children with him in the car with probably at least one crying their lungs out.  I held my breath as I clutched my stomach and ran out of there (I was thinking that breathing would make the pain worse – again, I am obviously not medically trained). I opened the passenger side of the car.  In a frenzy, I emptied one of the plastic bags carrying our snacks and water.  It was like the pain was taunting me, “I am going to make you hurl woman!”

I crumpled in the seat with my head leaning on the middle console.  The kids were still silent.  I told my dad to drive me to my mom’s house which was about 25 minutes away and then realized she was in L.A. and told him to head to my in-laws.  I wasn’t sure how this would medically help me.  I think I really just was concerned about the kids and lying down on a floor somewhere.  In the end, my dad made an executive decision and took me to the nearest hospital.  Besides the sound of vomiting, there was nothing.  The kids had thought that making any noise was making the pain worse.  I can’t imagine what they were thinking or feeling as they watched me heave and struggle to cope.

We get to the hospital and my dad pulls up to the front of emergency.  He grabs a wheelchair and wheels me in to triage leaving all the kids in the car.  Although I am still consumed with pain, I somehow have the wherewithal to remember to grab my health card out of my wallet (after minutes of cursing trying to locate it since I carry 6 health cards in there) and talk to the triage nurse as I send my father back out to the kids.  I’m conscious.  I know my name.  GO TO THE KIDS.

My head is on the nurse’s desk.  My eyes are closed.  Each breath is laboured.  I am starting to unconsciously grunt.  She says, “So on a scale of 1-10, I’m assuming your pain is a 9/10?”  I nod politely although I am thinking in my head, “No shit sherlock.” She rushes me into a room.  I tell her that I have to nurse #5 soon and wonder how the logistics will work.  She tells me she’ll bring the baby in and not to worry.  Bless her heart.  All I can do now is worry.  How will my dad handle the 4 kids in an emergency waiting room?  Will they touch everything in sight?  What if they get hungry?  What if one has to go to the bathroom while another is having a tantrum?  My mind is going in circles which in the end was a good thing as it helped distract from the pain for brief moments.  The pain begins to dissipate a little bit.  It is not blinding anymore but I am still very uncomfortable.

My dad brings #5 to me for a feed and I assume that the nurses were watching #2, #3, and #4 although I never confirmed that tidbit.  After I nurse, I tell him to take the kids to my in-laws so that he can focus on taking care of #5 and because I don’t want them in emerg – a veritable petri dish of germs.  I can see he is torn because he doesn’t want to leave me alone but knows I’m right about what is best for the kids.  I am also torn.  Do I call Ever-Patient and let him know what’s going on when I don’t even know what’s going on?  Or do I wait?  I had an initial visit from a doctor who at first asked me a number of questions regarding alcohol consumption and proceeded to prescribe some gravol to manage the pain, they’ve taken my blood, a urine sample, and am now awaiting a visit to x-rays.  I know nothing new though I am just grateful the pain has subsided a bit.

I tell my dad to make the call to Ever-Patient just for the reason that if the roles were reversed, I would want to know what was going on.  My dad tries to call.  No signal.  What God-forsaken place are we in?  No cell signal??  He tries to text and nothing.  Lovely.  He leaves and I am alone, wondering again if this is all for real.  (Actually, I am not alone.  I am sharing a room with an elderly gentleman and we are separated by a super-thin curtain and I am fortunate enough to hear every cough, snort, and moan he makes.)

After a few hours, my father returns with #5 who is famished.  I nurse him and hand him back.  I ask about the girls and he assures me they’re fine, fed, and happy.  I am relieved.  My father’s phone rings.  A miracle!  It is Ever-Patient in a panic wondering what the heck is going on. He received an obscure text message from his brother that read:  “Did you know Rozanne is in emerg?”  I speak to him and reassure him that I’m feeling better but don’t know anything and am still awaiting someone to come get me for x-rays.  I tell him to stay put and I will call him once I know something.  Of course, the man doesn’t listen and he calls back a few minutes later saying he’s on his way but he hasn’t told #1 who is currently on the court playing a game.  He relinquished his coaching duties to a willing parent and made arrangements for #1’s godfather, who came to watch that day and whom #1 hasn’t seen in maybe 5 years, to take her back to my in-laws. On one hand, I am happy he is coming to be with me as I am feeling anxious about my situation but on the other hand, I am concerned that he has left our oldest daughter behind.

My father is now sitting on the edge of my hospital bed holding the sleeping baby.  He keeps shifting his weight in discomfort.  I feel awful that we are here, stuck in this makeshift hospital room, and I feel helpless as I curl into an even tighter fetal position.  I finally get x-rays done.  As the doctor walks in, he is looking down at my chart, and asks me if I am a “heavy drinker” only to look up and see me nursing the baby.  I give him an obvious “No, I don’t drink at all” look and he is still waiting for an answer as if to doubt that I am telling the truth.  “No, I don’t drink any alcohol nor have I had any drink for over a year now.” He tells me that there are no obstructions like gall stones or kidney stones though he thinks that I had an attack of acute pancreatitis and an added bonus – a urinary tract infection (and my bloodwork also shows I am anemic – what’s new?).  He orders fluids and antibiotics to be given intravenously and says I have to stay over at least one night for observation to have an abdominal ultrasound the next day.  And oh yes, nothing to eat OR drink until after the ultrasound of which the time is still uncertain.  Just to remind you, I haven’t eaten or drank anything for the last 6 hours at this point in time.  In fact, I threw up most of what was left in my stomach a few hours earlier.  I ask the doctor if the baby can stay with me overnight and he makes arrangements for me to stay on the maternity ward so that Ever-Patient will be able to stay overnight with me as well.  After the doctor leaves, the nurse sets up the IV, and I ask her what’s with all the “heavy drinker” questions.  She tells me that normally they treat old men who are alcoholics for this condition.  I really can’t believe how random my life can be.

It has been about an hour since I’ve spoken to Ever-Patient and I begin to worry since the hospital is only 10 minutes away from #1’s tournament.  Then it hits me.  When we spoke, I never mentioned which hospital I was in.  He probably assumed I was in the hospital that is close to my in-laws since I mentioned that the kids were there.  Crap.  Almost immediately after this thought, my father’s phone rings.  Finally a signal!  It is Ever-Patient and he is at the other hospital frantically searching for me, pissing off every single front line health care worker in the joint.  I break the news to him that I am at a different hospital and have to stay overnight.  We decide that it’s best he go home and grab clothes for the kids, him, and myself for our little overnight adventure before coming to see me.

They set me up in a nice little private room on the maternity ward.  (Originally, because we don’t have insurance, I was set up in a room with two other women and their newborn babies and was specifically told that I could not have a guest stay over and should I experience another bout of pain, the nurses would not be allowed to help out with the baby.  My father suggests I move to the private room which would cost us quite a bit money and basically says, “Merry Christmas.”  Another small miracle.)  Ever-Patient comes and relieves my father of baby-duty.  I ask about the kids and they are more than fine with their doting grandparents and #1 has made it safely to their house as well after catching up with her godfather and his wife.

I end up staying a few days in the hospital (apparently at this hospital there are no ultrasounds done on a Sunday).  During my stay, I have met kindest nurses who sympathize with me having a newborn while dealing with this and who sympathize even more when they realize that we have 4 more waiting for us to come home.  During my stay, I get more rest than I have ever gotten in the last two months and I am grateful that Ever-Patient is who he is – Ever-Patient.  He has been there for me through my many hospital stays over the years – sleeping on hospital floors after surgery to lying on cots snuggling his newborn children.  During my stay, we are both able to catch up and have conversations we’ve been meaning to have but haven’t been able to as we pass out from sheer exhaustion day in and day out.  During my stay, the TV people come just in time for Sunday football which I can watch without interruption or guilt.  During my stay, I lose 5 pounds from my “no food or drink” diet which turned into my “clear fluid” diet, although #5 drained me of most of those 5 pounds.  (After my ultrasound was postponed 24 hours, the nurses told me that I could eat.  As I was alternately stuffing a slice of pizza and a handful of perogies in my mouth, the doctor walks in stunned and says, “I told them you could eat CLEAR FLUIDS ONLY!”  Ooops.)  During my stay, as I worried about the kids and my health, Ever-Patient kept my spirits up by amusing me through his stories of walking down the maternity ward halls with a rather robust #5 pretending he was just a very very HEALTHY newborn to some very shocked hospital staff and parents-to-be.  During my stay, I counted my blessings.  I was grateful that none of my children or my rock, Ever-Patient, were lying in this hospital bed or that none of them had felt the horrible pain I had felt.  I was grateful for having my father, my in-laws, my daughter’s volleyball team’s supportive parents, and her godfather all helping us while I was in the hospital.  During my stay, I have an ultrasound which reveals no cause or preventable measure I can take in the future and only shows fluids around a pancreas that indicates it had been inflamed at one point.  There are no answers only questions, “Are you sure you don’t drink?”  or “Maybe it was due to your fluctuating hormones after pregnancy which may have caused a large excess of triglycerides to be released in your bloodstream?”  I think we’ll go with the latter explanation.  During my stay, I send Ever-Patient to the gift shop to find me a good book or magazine to pass the time after our TV time was up only to discover he just couldn’t decide amongst the vast array of Harlequin novels they had for sale.  He actually said to the cashier, “I just can’t decide which one to get.”  During my stay, Ever-Patient remarks that I look rejuvenated and calm. During my stay, we are flooded with concerned texts and phone calls from family including one from my witty aunt who said jokingly, “Where did she stash the bottles?  Under the bed?  Now we know how you can handle 5 kids!”

I’m ok now although I find that from time to time I feel a discomfort and brace myself for the excruciating pain which hasn’t returned thankfully.  I am finding comfort in sharing battle stories with my cousin who has experienced something similar since she has had her baby this summer but who has endured far worse. (Green tea baby!)

I realize that everything happens for a reason. This is the universe’s way of telling me to slow down and to take care of myself…and of course, to stay off the hooch.