That One Time When I Took a Two Month Blogging Hiatus

So here I am.  I'm back.  And I have no idea how to begin.  I wasn't even sure I wanted to come back.  Taking two months off of blogging is sad.  There's so much that happened that will be left undocumented -- for who?  I don't know.  Me, I think.

But a break from blogging was also kind of nice.  I worked out.  I showered.  I did laundry.  I cooked.  I cleaned.  I played with the kids.  Some days I watched all three hours of the Today Show while sipping hot coffee.  I let the burden (burden??) of writing that usually dangles over my head fade away.  The first few weeks were the hardest.  It was pulling and pulling at me and I kept thinking, "I need to get on the computer."

But it was Christmastime and it was an easy excuse.  Too much else to do.  Then January came  and I just didn't know how or where to start again.  And because the break was kind of nice or maybe just one less thing to do, I worried if I started too soon I wouldn't be able to keep up.  Maybe at this stage of my life I'm meant to be just a once-every-two-months blogger.

So for those of you who care and even bother to check in on this here web address any longer (hi, Mom!) here, in a single paragraph, is what happened while I was gone.

Thanksgiving happened.  Warm, cozy, relaxing.  Brian went to San Francisco for ten days for work.  TEN DAYS.  Some of it was OK.  Some of it was terrible.  Someone smashed into my car.  It still hasn't been fixed.  Bobby turned one. ONE!  He is a delight.  I love one-year-olds, I think.  New favorite, for sure.  We had Christmas at home.  Warm, cozy, relaxing.  Then we went on a Northern Wisconsin vacation with Brian's family.  It was amazing.  Zero complaints.  All around good times had by all.  The new year came and we were supposed to go back to school except this fierce little fellow named Polar Vortex came to visit.  The little bastard called off the first two days of school after Christmas vacation.  Things started resembling The Shining.  Luckily Brian removed anything that resembled a noose around here and replaced it with alcohol.  We pulled through alive and well.

And here we are.

January has been tough for me.  It always is.  But this year seems different.  Brian has been busy with his new job and it seems to have put a magnifying glass on my own life which seems dull and monotonous by comparison.

I just finished some photo journaling projects.  At the end of each year I gather all the photos I've taken and make both a calendar for Brian's office and a family photo album.  It's a lot of work but it's so much better than letting all those great memories remain stuck on my hard drive.  I always get a little teary-eyed when I'm finished.  My kids are cute.  And funny.  Good kids all around.  And my husband so loves his family.  Together the six of us are quirky and silly and really, very close.

I'm so blessed.  BLAH! I hate that word.  It's so overused it has lost its meaning.  But looking at those photos makes me realize what a great life I lead.  And maybe it is only because you can't hear screaming in a photograph.  Thank God for that.

Last week I got mad at Brian for something and he, rightly, called me out on myself.  Picking a fight because I just wasn't happy.  Not happy with him, just not happy period.

It's not the kids.  It's not my husband.  It comes from within my own being.  I'm responsible for my own happiness.  I've got to dig down and find that spark again.  My own meaning.

I'm not pregnant.  No longer breastfeeding.  Just a plain old mom of four waiting for the next big thing.  Only I'm not sure what that is just yet.

I made a list of things I want to do or try in 2014.  Some things that are just for me.  Things that have nothing to do with being a wife or a mother.  Because those things are GREAT things.  The most important things.  But they aren't all the things.

And so I'll be back.  Said Arnold and now me.  Sooner than later, I hope.

It's Heaven to be Seven!

Oh, William.  I struggle with you.  I do.  I'm writing that here because I'm not afraid to tell you that in person now or when you are old enough to "get it."

When you are at school or when you are asleep I think about you constantly.  And when I think about you these are the words that immediately come to mind:

You are such a good kid.

And then I tear up for not being the mom I wish I could be for you.

You are at the top of your class.  Your teacher said so at conferences a couple of weeks ago.

You have exactly one hundred quadrillion friends.

You are seriously handsome.

You have a deep love for every one of your siblings.

But the minute you walk into the house, things happen.  And I get frustrated.  And you press on.  And I get mad.  And you react.

You are an instigator.

So there we are.

When I sit down to analyze it, I know exactly what it is.  And you are so self aware at the tender age of seven that you even verbalized it to me.

You said: Mom, I think Mrs. S (your teacher) is better than you because she has things for me to do.  Like, activities and stuff.  And you don't.

And so there it is, my boy.  You're at the top.  The oldest.  The one with all the expectations over your head.  The one who should know better.  And take care of himself.  And help out.  The one who is expected to sit still.  And be quiet.  When all the others are not.

But your little mind cannot stop.  You are a do-er.  You need to be working constantly.

You are getting A LOT of Lego sets for your birthday.

You are reading fluently now.  I can pick any book off the shelf and you can read it with little to no trouble.

We thought you might struggle with math since you rarely showed interest.  And then, to our surprise, we received a letter from school requesting our permission to move you into an advanced math class.

You are now allowed to roam our neighborhood (within a block) without supervision.  And you always return the minute I call your name.

You love superheroes and comic books and Ninja turtles and Ghostbusters.

You can recite the entire Despicable Me movie from start to finish. Your memory is crazy.

You are a bad, bad, bad joke-teller.  And a really terrible smile-r for pictures.

Your favorite toys are Marble Run, Snap Circuits and Lego sets.  But funny thing: the minute the Lego set is assembled, you care nothing about it.  You are passionate about assembly and step-by-step instruction-following.

You are responsible when given the chance.  I'm the first to admit I'm too much of a micro-manager and you are much more capable than I give you credit.  You never forget your library books on Wednesday.  Or the days you get to have hot lunch.  You are quick to retrieve toilet paper or Kleenex boxes in the basement closets for me.  You carry full laundry baskets up and down stairs.  You take showers by yourself.  You lay out your clothes the night before.  You make your bed and take out the recycling.

You love football and golf.

You are a really good friend.  And big brother too.

You can get your brother out of his crib and downstairs before I can.  And you can zip others' coats and put on their shoes too all before I even get to the back door.

You share a room with your baby brother and many nights we let you fall asleep in our bed so that you can read with the light on while Bobby sleeps.  Later in the night Dad or I come upstairs to move you into your own bed.  And sometimes, straight out of the Love You Forever book, I'll pick up your great, big seven-year-old body and rock you while you're half in, half out of sleep.

It's the only chance I get to do this when you're not squirming about or trying to make a joke of it all.

I'm not sure if you remember it the next morning or not.  Maybe one time I'll ask you.

But know this for sure: I love you  and am so, so incredibly proud of you.  Our family would not be the same without our goofy, kind, thoughtful, blue-eyed William.

Happy Birthday!

5 Reasons I Haven't Been Blogging

 

Wow.  This is my first post for the month of November.  That...is...pathetic.  I have a few posts I started writing but never got the chance to edit or publish.  Story of my life.  Here's why I haven't been posting:

1. We got a piano!  Brian's mom gave us theirs.  And it's awesome.  I don't know how to play.  I wish I did.  Brian is the only one of his siblings who can really play so he was the obvious choice for this gift of inheritance.  Playing the piano is one of Brian's top favorite things to do of all time.  So I was a bit surprised when he protested as I was setting up logistics.  I picked the spot in our house.  I set the ground rules for the kids.  I hired the piano tuner.

And when it was all said and done, he stood back and said, "Wow, that looks awesome."

And it really does.  I'm so delighted that my kids will grow up in a home with a piano.  And to be honest, the worries we had about the kids banging on it and waking up nappers, hasn't really been an issue at all. 

2. We got our pictures taken!  With a real photographer.  Who happens to be a dear friend.   Instead of trying to get the perfect formal shot (with four kids it ain't happening) I just had her follow us around the house on a normal Saturday morning.  We did get a few posed shots at the end but mostly I wanted her to catch my kids in their element because that's what I want to remember when this season of my life is over.  She did not disappoint.  There are a few sneaks on my Facebook page if you're interested but I'm saving the rest until Christmas cards are signed, sealed and delivered.  One thing that surprised me is how the pictures made me fall in love with our way-too-small but character-filled home all over again.

 

It's never the right time.  There's never enough money.  No one ever looks just perfect.  But I'm so glad we did it anyway.  So worth the time and energy.

3.  We've been running marbles!  What's that, you say?

A couple weeks ago while Katherine and Bobby were napping and I was just finishing my lunch I went into our porch to tidy up a bit before William and Lucy came home from school.  Earlier in the day Lucy had drug out the Marble Run box and started putting some pieces together.  We got the toy for William for his birthday last year.  It was played with quite consistently for the first few months but has been forgotten about recently.

As I was picking up the beginnings of Lucy's construction I thought to myself, "Well, if I just stick this turn-y thing here, and the twist-y thing there..."  And before I knew what was happening I blew away 45 minutes BY MYSELF putting together a massive marble run project.  I was pretty proud: I used every single piece.

When the kids got home from school I was like a little 5-year-old: "Come look what I did!"  I got Coolest Mom Award that day.

 

We played with it all afternoon and have been building new runs almost every day since.  If you have kids ages four and up, stick it on their Christmas list.  Good fun had by all.

4. I've been workin' out!  When the cold blew in, as it does every year in Minnesota, my running legs turned into big fat cry babies.  I knew I couldn't go the whole long winter without running and let all my good training go down the drain.  So I tagged on to Brian's gym membership.  I love it.  Well, kind of I love it.  I like that I'm getting my workouts in.  But I have found out that I loathe the treadmill.  It gets the job done but it's boring.  And hard on my joints.  Brian is trying to convince me to give the elliptical a chance but I'm not sold.  Is it the same as running?  For some reason it seems a bit like an easier way to say I ran 3 miles.  I like that I can set the pace on the treadmill to "force" myself to run faster and so that's why the elliptical doesn't seem like an equivalent. Gym-goers, what say you?

Regardless of my running dilemmas, one thing the gym is providing me with is an outlet to get back into yoga.  I haven't done serious yoga in quite some time.  Yoga isn't for everyone but I have found that it plays a key role in my overall well-being.  I just can't find the quiet, the stretching, the strengthening that yoga provides all on my own.

5.  We've been being awesome!  Things are getting better around here.  And what I mean by that is that when I sit down to write a post I don't immediately think about all the things I want to complain about. (Except Halloween.  I still hate Halloween.)  Bobby has been sleeping better and has, to be frank, become rather delightful and, dare I say, easy.  This month has been a blessing in that the weather has still been decent enough to get out and play and yet the sun is down early which means my tribe is in bed early which means I have more down time before Brian and I go to sleep.  It's a win all around.

Wake up, Dad!

And for the first time in two years, I'm looking forward to a winter and holiday season without a newborn.  Newborns are so amazing in their own way.  But they are tricky.  And time-consuming.  And they don't play well with others.  As Bobby nears his first birthday, I'm really starting to feel like our family is one unit.  Bobby doesn't rely on my boobs every two hours just to survive.  Instead I can make dinner, while William dishes out Cheerios and Lucy and Katherine belt out some tunes on the piano.  We still have outbursts and meltdowns daily.  That's right, I said daily.  And that's what it really is all about.  Setting the proper expectations.  But now everyone can play a part in making this family run and that's lifted a lot of weight off my shoulders.

So About This Halloween Holiday

I have a confession to make.  It's difficult to admit this because I know I am in the slight minority.

I hate Halloween.

I know.  I can hear you all gasping.

I don't like dressing up.  I don't like the endless supply of cheap candy.  Or the money I have to spend on handing it out to others.

I hate wasting two hours of a perfectly fine evening chained to my front door being all stressed out that I may have grossly underestimated the $18 I thought I needed to spend on bags of candy.  Brian, meanwhile, is on a neighborhood beer walk "supervising" the lil' trick-or-treaters.  Once again, I think I chose the wrong path.

I hate the hours wasted on the preceding days that are spent (by my artsy husband) carving intricate designs into a vegetable that will be soggy-mouthed and tossed in the garbage just days later.

But I do enjoy a roasted pumpkin seed.  So I guess there's that.

I hate the classroom parties where the school and teachers think it's a great idea to stuff the kids with juice boxes and cupcakes and, you guessed it, more cheap candy before they send them home tired and on a sugar high so that they can be forced to eat a quick dinner before returning to their store-bought costume to go beg for more candy.

Then they come home and can't understand why they can't eat all of their candy RIGHT NOW.  I force their sticky hands and faces in the bathtub screaming BECAUSE YOU HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW!

They wake up the next day with two less hours of sleep than they are used to and totally crashed from last night's binge.  And they're asking for their candy.  At 7 a.m.  Have fun with that today, Teachers.  Payback's a ...

And I know, I know.  The pictures on Facebook and Instagram of all our little ones shoved into a monkey suit are adorable.  But sometimes I wonder if it's really all that cute or just slightly cruel.

Halloween is huge in our neighborhood.  Which, perhaps, has only added to my distaste in recent years.  I think I liked it better in our townhome 'hood when we were lucky to get three kids at our door.

Who are you people who say "Halloween is my favorite holiday!"  Seriously?  Seriously?!

A juicy Turkey with all the sides.  A beautiful tree with presents to boot.  Or how about fireworks at dusk.

No?  Really?  You choose a painted face and a fun-sized Kit Kat over all that?

I don't get it.

Oh sure, I'll participate in the all the pomp and circumstance just like the rest of you.  You'll see photos of my dressed-up four-pack floating around social media.  And I'll answer the door with a smile on my face.  And I'll steal candy from my kids' buckets.

It's all part of the secret contract we signed before they let us take our newborn home from the hospital.

But hear me now: I am not happy about it.

Two!

You are sometimes Kate.  Sometimes Katherine.  But mostly Kaf-rine.

And you are totally two.

You love fried rice and Rice Crispies.  Rice, in general, I guess.

Your hair is almost always in your signature pigtails.  While most your age are just starting to grow their locks, you've already had a gazillion haircuts.  And it's still halfway down your back.

You are almost never without your sidekick.  Your partner in crime.  Your almost twin.  Bobby boy.  After baths we plop the two of you in the crib with your nukies and some books and have dubbed it the K&B Lounge.

Daddy is your favorite.  I'll admit it.  When the back door creaks open, even if it was just the wind playing a mean trick on you at 10 a.m., you scurry at lightening speed on your two short legs to greet him screaming his name over and over.

I don't get quite the same reception.

You talk a mile a minute.  And with great emotion.  But we have no idea what you're saying.

Sesame Street is the only show you like.  And you especially love Cookie Monster.

You love to read Llama Llama Red Pajama.  And Pajama Time.

You are a climber and a hanger.  Like scary, climb as high as you can and dangle over the edge.  And you want to hang and swing from everything and anything.  You are freakishly strong.  You protest loud and clear if I don't push you high enough on the swing.

You've got mad t-ball skills.  We're not sure if it's natural-born or learned from the Bigs.  And you can kick a ball hard and fast.  Yet you make no show of it.

Your favorite place on Earth is in the top bunk of your bunk beds.  And with a broken arm already on your resume, this gives me an anxiety attack every single time.

You have been sleeping in a big bed for quite a few months now.  You made an easy transition from your crib.  Every night you go to bed happy and when you wake up you sweetly wait in your bed for someone to come get you even though you are fully capable to getting out unassisted.

Your favorite toys are blocks and puzzles and stuffed animals.  You like to copy your older sister and talk about all things princess but I don't think you actually care all that much.

You are scared of the potty.  This frustrates me to no end since you were going on the toilet for some time before you suddenly refused.  But I'm trying to be patient while you figure things out.

Everyone says you look just like Lucy. And you do.  How lucky am I to get two daughters with such striking beauty?  A rarity indeed.

You want to be just like your older siblings.  But you are your own person and don't ever let anyone put you in a shadow.

You are a caretaker.  Concerned.  You are cautious of strangers yet fearless and brave in the face of danger.  You care less about dramatics and prefer to figure things out on your own.  You spend much of your day alone, wandering about the house, yet rarely do you get into trouble.  When I go in search of you, nine times out of ten I will find you quietly crouching in your room reading Sandra Boynton.

You've got the toughest spot in the family.  No longer the baby.  Not the first born.  Not even the first girl.  Someone will always beat you to the punch.  And yet, instead of fighting to be seen and heard, you seem content with your place.  It's why I've been known to call you my favorite.  And you know, not really, because that would be wrong.  But when a mom has four, she'll choose the one who gives her the least attitude during the day and the most sleep at night.  You win, my dear.

Happiest of birthdays to our two-year-old.

Just an Excuse to Post a Really Cute Picture

I'm sitting here at the computer and out of the corner of my eye I'm watching Katherine take an entire roll of floss out of a brand new container.  It's giving me some peace and quiet so I don't even care.  And it was free from the dentist so, you know...

Now she's trying to press the buttons on the netbook where William and Lucy are watching It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.  William tells her no but she insists.  Then he says, "Katherine, you're almost going to be two.  You need to be a better listener."

And that's called irony, my dear boy.

I took the babies to my mom's this weekend.  Brian went to a Notre Dame football game and dropped the older kids off at his mom's on the way there since school was out on fall break.  It was a lot of shuffling around and a really long two-and-a-half-hour drive by myself with two babies but it was worth it rather than spending the weekend as a football widow with four kids.

The boys were battling strep throat last week.  I used to get all stressed out when one of the kids was sick.  Now, with four kids, two in school, it's just become a way of life.  The school year begins and I wonder, again, why our clinic doesn't have some sort of punch card program.

But Bobby's situation was especially tricky.  He's just ten months old today and that's pretty young to get a strep case.  At first I wasn't even certain that's what it was.  He was prescribed a powerful antibiotic since our area, in particular, has seen a lot of amoxicillin-resistant strep strains.  The antibiotic is disgusting with a capital D.  On his third dose he actually gaged himself and threw everything up.  And the diarrhea and subsequent diaper rash that it causes...I haven't seen anything like it.

I had so much anxiety around giving him his medicine that by Day 3 I convinced myself he didn't really have strep so I quit the drugs.  And so by the next day he had a full on strep rash.  I tried to call the clinic to get a new antibiotic but the on-call weekend doc wouldn't budge.  I wanted to punch someone.

Regardless, I still had a relaxing weekend at my mom's with half of my kids.  The weather was cold but I took the babies for a quick walk outside anyway just to get some fresh air.  Katherine refused to wear her mittens even though I'm certain the windchill hovered just above zero.  She also refused to leave the playground as Bobby and I were most certainly getting frostbite.  Definitely a Minnesotan, that one.

Stop the cuteness.  Stop it right now.  I mean summer's my favorite with swimsuits and sun-kissed skin.  But a babies in beanies?  I feel sorry for Florida babies.

I beat Brian home yesterday by four or five hours.  We did a quick dinner and bath and early bedtime.  Then I had time to get my ducks in a row before the rest of the army arrived.  And then I got the text.

"L just threw up in the car."

An expletive may have escaped my lips.

I mean c'mon.  Give a lady a break.

When she got home she seemed fine.  And Brian said she ate dinner fine.  I was confused.

"Tell me exactly what happened." I said to Brian.

He said she was reading in the car with the light on.  And then playing with his iPhone.

"Brian," I said, "she got carsick."

It happened one other time to her but it was so long ago it didn't even occur to me until I put all the facts together.

She slept soundly through the night.  Woke up and ate breakfast like normal and went to school.

But I'm not going to lie.  Even though I was certain she was only just carsick and not bringing a virus into our home, I still went to bed with a pit in my stomach.  Tossed and turned as every other child woke that night for some reason or another.  But not Lucy girl.  She was healthy and happy.

Oh dear God, please keep it that way.  The Pukes have no place in our home.

Thank God for Weekends [And A Recipe for Soup!]

Albeit the dreary weather this weekend it turned out to be a nice series of days for us.  It was a good end cap to a very long week in which I think most of you were worried about my sanity after my last post.  I entered Monday morning thinking I was a fool for writing what I did on Friday.  And then 3:00 hit and I was most certainly sure that what I wrote was pretty all true.

No matter how much I get done during the day, no matter how much time I've had to myself, no matter how well-napped the babies are, all hell breaks loose when the Bigs come home from school at 3:00.  Are we the only house?!  Suddenly all at once every one wants my attention.  And a snack.  And a new diaper.  And to have a full on meltdown.  They want to go outside but they don't want to change out of their uniform.  And when they do go outside someone gets poked in the eye with a  stick and screams bloody murder.  Then they come inside and it's a fight to hold off screen time for as long as possible lest their brains turn to mush.  All the while I'm trying to piece together the ingredients we have on hand in my head to make a healthy and delicious family dinner.

Only three more hours until Dad gets home.

So we took a break and didn't get a thing checked off our to-do list this weekend.  But we did take the kids bowling and we went to church as a family and we went to the apple orchard.  It was full and joyous.

On Friday, to warm the souls of my family on what was a rainy, windy and cold day, I made my annual butternut squash soup.  I found this recipe years ago on Foodnetwork.com but I've altered it so many times that it now has become my own and resembles almost nothing of the original.  This soup is crazy amazing and my kids all ask for seconds and thirds.  And whenever kids eat that many vegetables in one sitting, the recipe must be shared.

This recipe does take some lovin' care. It would not be filed under Quick & Easy. I let myself off the hook on rainy days.  I go through backpacks and then I let them pick out a movie and get all cozy on the couch while I immerse myself in the kitchen.  In some ways (a lot of ways!) rainy days are easier. So I recommend keeping it in your back pocket until a wet and cold day just as I did.

Ingredients

1 Butternut Squash, peeled and diced

2 Carrots, roughly chopped

3 Tablespoons butter (or more if you're into that)

1 Onion, peeled and diced

2 Celery stalks, diced

1 Apple, peeled, cored and diced

1 Red bell pepper, diced

1 Teaspoon dried rosemary

4 cups chicken stock

1 cup heavy cream

Salt & Pepper

Olive Oil for roasting

Directions

1. Arrange the squash and carrots in a single layer on a cookie sheet.  Note that the smaller you dice the squash the more caramelized it will get.  Some like this, some don't.  If you've never cut up a butternut squash before, see this helpful guide.  Drizzle the squash and carrots with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a cast iron oven or stock pot over medium high heat.  I used my beloved Le Creuset that my MIL gifted to me so many years ago.  Toss in the onions with some salt.  Sauté until translucent.  Add the celery and other pinch of salt.  After two minutes add the apple and some more salt and then the red bell pepper and some more salt.  I add salt after each addition because I think it enhances the flavor better during the cooking process than it does when I add it at the end.  I also feel like I end up using less salt this way.

3.  Let all those veggies hang out over the heat until the squash and carrots are done roasting or until everything is nice and tender.  (If it's taking too long for the veggies to get soft you can always add a bit of the chicken stock and simmer it.)  Then add the squash and carrots and rosemary.

4.  Now you'll want to puree everything into a soup.  I have an immersion blender which I believe to be one of the best inventions of all time.  But if you don't have one of these you can just use your blender or food processor or even a food mill.  You'll want to make sure and puree it in batches though.  Which is why I love my immersion blender because I can do it all at once without dirtying another item.  You can make the soup as smooth or as chunky as you'd like.  I happen to like mine a bit on the chunkier side.  During the pureeing process it helps to add a little bit of stock.

5.  When the ingredients are pureed, return to the stove and add the stock or what you have left of it.  Bring to a simmer for 15 minutes.  Add the cream and simmer 5 more minutes.  Enjoy!

I serve my soup with par baked ciabiatta rolls that I cover with olive oil, sea salt and rosemary before baking.  This soup keeps really well and can be refrigerated and reheated though I'm not sure for how long because ours was gone in less than 24 hours!

Now if this recipe were really Pinterest worthy, I would have taken some great photos of it.  But I did not.  Mostly because my hands couldn't be bothered with anything besides a spoon.  So instead, you'll have to settle for some apple orchard shots.  There's an apple in the soup so it's kind of related, right?