It's been a while

One year.   That is how long it has been.

A year ago today I stood in a court room and a judge ruled that our daughters would stay with us.  The further away I get from that day the more miraculous I realize it was.  There we were, becoming a family in a way that as close to impossible as you can imagine.

And here we are, a year later.  Things, today, are good.

Our relationship with the girls' mother is good.  Very good in fact.  The angst over visits passed and we have reached a comfortable spot where our friendship is beyond just the fact we both love our daughters.   Our lives, our worlds, are about as different as can be and yet in some strange way we have managed to forge something that feels strong.

This week she moved into a house a block and a half down the road.  We drive by and honk a hello, Taya calls out "That is L mama.  I grew in her tummy and we love her."   And I say yes, smile and we continue with our day.  She will send me a text during a hockey game to comment on a play.   She will call in tears if someone has said something to hurt her and she needs assurance of her place in our lives.  Visits are short and not close together, at her request, but feel completely natural.  Last week we went out to lunch, today we will attend a birthday party together.

We threw a massive bash for the girls' birthdays and for the first time had an event that combined the girls original family and our family and friends.  And we mingled and laughed and everyone was able to celebrate the wonder that is our daughters.  We realize that we, the two mothers, are leading the way way for those that follow us.  Some of her family is not comfortable with the situation, and yet because she is, they follow her lead.  And the girls benefit.

The same problems that were there before are still there.  This is not an uncomplicated situation or an uncomplicated life, and yet mutual respect has gotten us a very long way.   All for the love of two very good girls.

My life continues to be busy and at times insane.  I am home schooling one of my teenagers now, adding to the paid home schooling student that arrives every afternoon.  We are still facilitating the boys hockey , even though it is MAY and now add things like gymnastics and lacrosse to the mix.   My husband turned 40.  IEPs, therapist appointments, counselors, doctors and trying to keep sane fill the rest of the days.  

A friend asked me what I had been up to one day last week, so I emailed her this:

midnight - go to bed

2:30 am - Jayde comes into our bed.

3:00 am - Jayde is doing cartwheels so I move her into the bed we have set up for her in our room.

3:02 am-  realize teen is still up and silently hope he falls asleep soon. listen to him walk to bed

5:30 - as a consequence for yesterday's crazy behavior, another teen woken up to accompany Dad to work today

6:10 am - discuss with Shel that sending teen to work with him this morning won't work because teen has a dentist appointment.  Let teen go back to bed. 

6:20 am - jump in shower

6:35 am - turn on computer check email.  consider making coffee. Decide not to.

6:38 am - Taya up.  Watch cartoons.

7:00 am - Jayde up.

7:10 am - Caden up.

7:20 am - Teens up in theory.

7:45 am - Re wake up teens. 

General morning stuff - breakfast, getting the boys to MOVE by helping out a bit

8:15 am - phone call from school from principal to do an interview about my home schooling student. This is the normal time we leave but we dont today because the boys have dentist appointments.

8:40 - Realize teen didn't take his meds last night.  Ask him to take them.  He refuses.  Give him an ultimatum.  He takes them.

8:45 - put all six kids in the truck, drive to Kids dentist.  Leave G, T and J in the truck, bring in T, C and E.  Leave them there after checking them in.  Promise Dentist I will be returning within half an hour.  I lie.

9:00 arrive at motor vehicles branch with G, T and J.  Check in and pay ... realize that there is a 45 minute wait AT LEAST before Greg can take his drivers test.  Ugh.  Girls running all over acting crazy.  Leave with them and go to Tim Horton's to buy myself a coffee.

9:45 am - recieve call from Dentist.  Some emergency with Eric's tooth.  Solve over phone.  Feel like very bad mother.

10:00 am - go back into motor vehicle branch.  Wait for another 15 minutes for Greg to be done.  Pay again since he passed. While paying Jayde runs away and gets on the ELEVATOR by herself.  Run screaming from the DMV to grab her.  Others laugh at me. 

10:15 - go back to Kids Dentist.  Boys aren't done yet.  Go back to truck and drive Greg home ... going to drop him and Jayde off and to back to Dentist just with Taya.  No way.  Jayde flips out.  So take both girls back to dentist.

10:30 - get girls out of truck and go into dentist office.  E and C are done and want to go to school.  Drag a screaming Taya out of dentist office (its a fun place) and drive E and C to school.  Tell Tanner I will NOT be going back into dentist to get him so he can come out.

10:45 - drop boys off at school, return to Kids Dentist

11:00 - Tanner done.  Drive him to school. 

11:10 - arrive at the Bible study I was supposed to be co-hosting at 10.  Apologize for being late.  Visit.  Field a phone call from Shel who is trying to decide if we are taking Greg driving yet.

12:02 - pack up girls and go home.  Put them immediately to bed after going pee.

12:15 - check email, make sure Greg has his science work done for his tutoring later

12:28 = B (the student I home school every day) arrives. Taya gets out of bed.

12:30 - begin work with B.  He is in an awful HORRIBLE mood. He is an ODD kid at the best of times and today is not a good day. Taya gets out of bed 16 more times.

1:25 - B has completed exactly ZERO work.  I call his parent and ask him to come get him.  Put together the days' assignment.

1:29 - Jayde wakes up from nap.  Has peed the bed and herself. Is miserable and whiney.

1:46 - Parent arrives and takes B off my hands.  Taya is asleep. F I N A L L Y

1:47 - G asks for my help with a project he is working on.

1:48 - Realize I am doing Greg's project for him.  Kick his ass into gear.  

2:30 - Finish G's project while he has a snack = realize I am very late and still doing his project.

2:33 - Wake up Taya, find panties and pants for Jayde, put shoes on girls, quite possible scream HURRY UP we have to go.

2:47 - Pick up D at her Day Care

2:53 - Drop Greg off at his Science Tutoring

2:55 - Pull Eric and Caden off their school bus JUST as it is going to pull away.  I need them to watch the girls.

3:00 - Drop D off at her parental visit.  Chat for a bit so D will be comfortable. Leave E, C, J and T in the truck.

3:15 - drive to Greg's school office where I have to drop of "HIS" work with his teachers.  Pick up his report card and meet with principal, science teacher and socials teacher. 

3:27 - leave Greg's school office and drive to the high school trying to find Tanner ot pick him up

3:33 - got home as Tanner walks in the door.

3:35 - Jayde pees her pants again.  Dogs have destroyed a box of kleenix and ripped a curtain down while I was gone.  SERIOUSLY going to kill the dogs.

3:46 - realize that Jayde is outside on the trampoline naked.  The boys that were supposed to be watching her got distracted with the TREEHOUSE ??? cartoons I had put on to keep the girls busy.

3:47 - turn off TV.  Send one son to get baby, send another to to clean kitchen, another to shuck corn on the cob for dinner.

4:00 - put on chicken nuggets and water to boil

4:12 - Shel home.  He picked up Greg from tutoring for me.

4:30 - Realize Caden is late for gymnastics class.  RACE him there.

4:45 - Put together a plate of chicken nuggets, corn on the cob for girls, Shel and I and Tanner

5:00  - leave girls and G and E at home to eat.  Take Tanner to his parent teacher interviews at his high school.  Make sure he has thrown his Lacrosse Gear into the truck.  Meet with 3 teachers.  REalize our son has not been turning in any homework.  Restrain from kicking his butt.

5:45 - drive him to Lacross practice.  Realize I am out of gas - go get gas.

6:15 - return home.  house a DISASTER.  Girls are running across the front lawn, G and E playing basketball.  Apparently they forgot they were supposed to do the dishes.

6:30 - Shel leaves with G, E and their friend to drive them to hockey training.  Almost forgets to pick up Caden who calls crying because they are late.

6:40 - Put girls in tub.

6:50 - Shel home with Caden. Cuddle Caden whose jaw is hurting from his filling this morning.

7:05 - Girls decide a hot tub party would be fun.  Put on swim suit, Caden does too, Grab girls from the tub and put them in the hot tub with us.

7:25 - took out the girls, put on PJs  Shel leaves to go to business meeting. Turn on cartoons

8:05 = begin bedtime routine. 

8:30 - finish bedtime routine

8:32 - help Tanner organize his binders, go over missing French home work, check score of Canucks game and email.

9:23 - Shel comes home with G and E. 

I collapse on the couch.  And that is why I have a hard time blogging these days. 

Disappearing Act

6 kids.

7 hockey practices a week. 

10 hockey games a week.

2 gymnastics practices.

3 days of Parent Participation Preschool.

1 each PAC Meeting, Bible Study, Church Service, Nursery

21 meals for 8 (or 9 if the neighbour kid shows up again) to prepare.  21 snacks for many to provide. 

1 trip to the bathroom every 20 minutes for every waking hour of the day for each girl, spaced 10 minutes apart just to keep things interesting.

And somewhere in there I have to grocery shop, do laundry, parent (ugh! Teenagers! ugh!) and then try to remember I blog. 

Things have been busy.  Some good.  Some bad.  Some awful.  Some wonderful.  My parenting skills have been stretched and my ability to take care of myself enhanced.  I am learning to reach out more to those who have walked this road before me.  Honestly, I did not understand how emotionally devastating parenting teenagers could be.  And not because they are doing anything BAD but simply just by the their very existence in a brain disordered state of craziness that is apparently perfectly normal when you are a teen.  And perfectly horrifying when you are a mom. 

I love my children but these prickly porcupine alien creatures who have taken over their bodies?  They can leave anytime and give me back my sanity when they do. What makes me cry is to realize that before I am done, I will have been parenting teenagers for 21 straight years.  If  am this exhausted 3 years into it, who or what will I be in another 18 years?  The gray hair is quite literally popping onto my head.

We are seizing the moments between hockey trips to squeeze in good memories and celebrate the joy that comes in raising a large family.   There will be a time, short months or years away when I will ache for all my children to be sleeping under one roof.  I know that.  I know it at a cellular level and so I remind myself to be present.  I am a good mom.  I love my children more than my own life.  I know, deep down behind their resentment of my mere presence and horrific insistence of eating supper together and not beating up their brothers, that they love me too. I have been told that chances are the aliens inhabiting will leave and my God-fearing, kind, sweet and loving sons will return, although much older, wiser and hopefully living independently and paying their own bills.  A mother is allowed to dream.

Enjoy the happy moments!

And it's not totally on accident that there are no pictures of smiling teenagers to add to today's post.

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice

I, like many other little girls, grew of with a fantasy of one day becoming a mommy myself.  That fantasy played out with my dolls who were all, without fail, girls.  I had a sister, and on one side of my family only female cousins.  I envisioned my future of daughters and tea parties and party dresses.

Then along came Son #1 whom I was positive was a girl until he was about 6 minutes old and the doctor told me AGAIN that he was a boy.  A BOY?  How had I ever had a boy?  But I had and he was perfectly amazing. Apparently I would have a son.

A few months later we started the adoption process.  Our homestudy said we were open to any gender, but secretly I believed that if we were adopting two children at once, chances were at least ONE of them would be a girl.  And 18 months later Greg and Eric, two definite boys joined our family.  And they were perfectly amazing.  Apparently I would have 3 sons.

9 months later I discovered I was pregnant.  "God knew how much I always dreamed of a daughter" I thought, "and THIS is how she will arrive".   37 weeks after conception, son #4, our precious Caden arrived. 

I was the mother of 4 sons.  And we were DONE.  Well Shel was D-O-N-E and I figured I couldn't sneak more kids past him. 

I loved being a mother of sons.  I loved how they played together and loved how they all fell in love with their mommy.  I loved the wrestling and the noise and the hockey practices and even the dirt and farts and all the rough and tumble  that goes with a house full of boys.  I loved it more than I had even dreamed possible. 

But that secret part of my heart missed that little girl.  And I begged God to take away my desire for a daughter because it hurt too much.  I knew we were done.  I dared dream when Jazzy was in our family, but in the end losing her hurt even more because I had dared to dream of tea parties and weddings and playing with make up and a future with a little girl, and then one day she was just gone and I was again daughterless.

I did not WANT to want a daughter.  I did not want to feel that ache and that absence.  I prayed, I cried, I tried desperately to "get over it".  We weren't adopting again.  We weren't fostering again.  We most certainly not having another biological baby again.  I was the very proud mother of four sons, and had been the "for a while" mom of a daughter that was gone.  I wanted, desperately, for that to be enough.

And along came the girls who became my daughters.  Unexpected. Unplanned.  And a far greater blessing than I had ever even dared to dream of.  TWO daughters.  Two.

Raising babies is raising babies.  Girls pee and poop and need clean clothes and want breakfast and supper just like boys do.  They play and are noisy and break my things and throw up in the car and spill their milk just like boys do. 

And there are moments that take my breath away that are possibly more precious now than I would have ever known if my heart's desire had been granted back when I thought it should be.  Like putting a ribbon in a pony tail on a Sunday Morning.  Smoothing lip gloss on pursed upturned lips who want to be just like mommy.  Painting toe nails and lacy tights.  The little things that add up to a full heart.

And then there are the big things.  The dreams I never dared speak out loud because to hear them fall on deaf ears would hurt more than having never spoken them.  I was married in a (circa 1994) wedding dress.  Large, fluffy, long and to me, at that moment, the fulfillment of all my little girl, teenage obsessed wedding fantasies. 

After my honeymoon as I wrapped the dress up to put away I knew that one day I would turn my wedding dress into Baptismal dresses for my future soon-to-be daughters.  And it never happened.  The dress was sent away to be locked into a basement closet at my father's house.  Once every few years I would peek at it and touch the tulle and satin and remember that dream.  And then I would pack it away and the dream with it.

In a few weeks we will stand as a family before God,  friends and family and we will acknowledge our responsibility to raise the girls to the best of our ability.  And I will remember the cries of my heart and rejoice. 

“This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. ¹⁵ And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him.” 1 John 5:14

I do not believe that the girls, or their family of birth, or our family, went through the losses we all did in order to become a family because I had a desire for daughters that God intended to fill, but I do believe that out of the ashes of addiction and loss and pain and suffering, great joy has come.  And I will celebrate that joy without reservation.

Seventeen going on Thirty

I have disappeared into a potty training, hockey mom black hole of hell.  The day after my last post, Shel, my beloved (and helpful) husband left town for the weekend.  A weekend that included 9 hockey games, 2 birthday parties, running the church nursery and a potty training two year old. 

He came home to a wife on the brink of a nervous breakdown.  And the next day my 17 month old decided - in fact demanded - to be potty trained.  In case you wondered potty training a toddler and then potty training a SECOND toddler is not nearly as fun as it sounds.  

The next week is a blur of pee and panties, potties and laundry. Blogging for adult readers seemed an impossible mental feat.

And then Jayde started climbing out of her crib. 

Sigh.

So in the course of one week my BABY.  My seventeen month old INFANT potty trained herself, moved to a bed and gave her mother a nervous breakdown.

Oh and did I mention the 3 teenagers and 2 toddlers, and the thankfully easy tween?  I won't even MENTION the 2 Jack Russells in this post and the case of the fence climbing, neighbour annoying,  escape artist mutt who is supposed to be healing up her leg.

These are my days on an endless repeating tape.  I put the pee soaked laundry on, the girls get into three boxes of Jello powder.  Did you know that turns into a sticky mess when combined with baby tongues and a linoleum floor?  So as I gather the Jello covered dishes and load up the sink.  I turn to wipe up the floor, or answer the phone, or you know go pee MYSELF.

This, or some version like this,  is what I come back to.  Fully clothed IN THE SINK. 

And in between all of that the girls started their Strong Start Pre-School program, the boys started Rep Hockey, Caden and the girls both started gymnastics, there was a Grade 8 parent night, a Sunday School meeting, my mother came for a visit, Greg coached a power skating school and I took 2 babies to the potty ninety seven thousand times.

Life is back in full swing.  I promise to be a better blogger this week. 

If I don't strangle myself with toilet paper first.

Twenty Seven Years of First Days

There are many good things about parenting children in groups.  First, I get a second chance to do everything "right" (or at least better) that I messed up on with the first batch of kids.  Second, the older kids learn alot by having younger siblings and having teens hanging around happy to babysit is also a big bonus.  I am a wiser and less nervous parent this time and much more appreciative of the speed in which parenting happens.  So, that's the good stuff. 

There are also some negatives.

Not the least of which is the realization that by the time my youngest child graduates high school I will have had twenty-seven STRAIGHT years of "First Days" of school.   Yes you read that right.  My oldest started kindergarten in 2000 and my youngest will graduate in 2027.   Coincidentally I was also 27 when my oldest started first grade and I will be 41 when my youngest does.  I will be 39 when my oldest graduates high school and I will be simply O-L-D when my youngest does.  As in, I haven't done the math and am really sure I don't want to. 

Without further whining on my part, here are my children on their respective First Days - Year 11.

This is Greg.  15 and heading into Grade 10.  Also quite possibly his last year at home due to hockey.  No, we aren't going to talk about this because I will cry.  And no, apparently I am not allowed to be his roommate.  And yes, I asked.  By the way this IS smiling for the camera when you are 15.  Remember 14?

This is Eric.  14 and heading into Grade 9.  We have found his niche with the school he attends and he is thriving.  Well at least on day 1.  Ask me again in 6 weeks.   He was far more worried about Rep Hockey Team tryouts than he was his first day of school, which is a very good thing! 

This is Tanner.  Almost 13 and in Grade 8.  From a small elementary school to a high school with over 900 kids, letting this one head off has been HARD on me.  As you can see, he is growing like a weed upwards, but still disappears when he turns sideways.  For perspective - go look at the little boy he was on his first day of grade 7.  TRUST ME the growth in this kid is shocking.

My wee one, Caden is 9 and in grade 4.  A new "guy" teacher this year has him nervous and excited.  He is still my cuddler, my son happy to hug me in front of his friends and usually has a smile on his face.

And not to be out done.  Here are the two that will make me feel old and keep me being young. 

Miss Taya is wearing Big Girl Panties now that are mostly dry.  Mostly.  She is not quite two and a half but thinks she is 15.  Make sure someone checks in on me when she is really fifteen because this one knows what she wants and how she is going to get there, and she keeps up hopping!

By the way that is Annie in the background.  Our completely, totally fine Annie. 

We are SO thankful for sedatives that kept her resting!

Miss Chunk Of Love Jayde is 18 months and demanding to be potty trained along with big sis and mom is demanding she stay in diapers. I already have two dogs and one toddler peeing on my carpet THIS one can wait a while.  And yes, this is the best picture I could get of her this morning.  There are far more interesting things to do than stay still and actually look at the camera!  And see?  She has HAIR in PONY TAILS.  My baby is growing up!

Just think, only sixteen more years to go. 

Smokey Hollow Part 2

Things here have gone from thick to thicker.  Rain should arrive shortly but in the mean time we are laying low and avoiding breathing at all costs. 

Of course that means we have extra time on our hands.  So in celebration of hair growth of note, Jayde would like to tell you that she has TWO pony tails today.  This is a first for my bald babe.

And then her brothers went a bit nuts.  Smoke will do that to you apparently.

Things to Remember

I love camping.  LOVE IT.  The camp fires, the family time, the making memories.

Sort of like giving birth, there are things you forget.  Or things you are never told.  So to spare all those other mothers out there I am going to share them with you.

Camping by yourself for 8 days at a campsite where you cant have hot water or electricity is hard.  Doing that with six kids without your husband there is plain old crazy making!

It will rain.  Inevitably it will rain. 

 

Six kids stuck inside of a tent trailer makes for a crazy mom.

But good memories.

Kids will get dirty.  Babies will get very dirty. 

Dirt will not kill your children.  You, however, after 8 days camping and no shower, might.  Or at least try and lose the dogs in the woods.

Two year olds will quit napping, one year olds will wake up before dawn and teenagers will want to stay up until midnight.   And you will decide that Jesus Himself made the water into wine and you will support that miracle in anyway possible.

But the sun will shine and the beach will call and you will forget all the reasons why it was hard because you are making memories with your kids.

And then you will come home and have to do laundry for a week. And take a very, very long shower.

The Ever Boring Normal

We wake up.  We have coffee (well the grownups anyways).  We eat breakfast.  We get dressed.  We play outside.  We go to preschool.  We eat lunch.  We have naps (well the kids do).   We play some more.  We eat supper.  We have a bath.  We go to bed. 

My days are the same as they have always been yet I breathe.  I laugh.  I honestly do not know what to do with myself.  With all my free time.  With all my energy.

I do not have to email social workers anymore.

I do not have to write daily notes about what the girls do or who we talk to.

I do not have to lie awake endlessly worrying about the what-ifs. 

I had no idea how much energy stress and worry was robbing from me.  It had been a very, very hard year.  And on May 6th when the girls became "ours" the emotions still rang sharp.  The next day I felt more relaxed.  I felt myself smile a little bit more.  The next day, and every day for the next week this just increased.  Until finally I remembered what normal felt like.

Then I was exhausted because once my body relaxed it needed to recuperate. 

And now?  I am learning to live with normal. 

Well as normal as a stay at home mother of six kids can be! 

Teens, Tweens and Toddlers Part 1

I was once her.  That young mom with a whole load of toddlers racing to play group while worrying about my gym class and whether or not we would be meeting friends for lunch.  I was 23 when Tanner was born, and 25 when we adopted Greg and Eric.  I look back and wonder how - WHY - did a social worker ever trust us to adopt a sibling group?  But alas, they did and there I was the very young mom of three very young boys. 

Then I was 27 when Caden was born.  A pretty average age to be becoming a mom in the grand scheme of things although the few times the hospital referenced me as being of "advanced maternal age" I wanted to drop kick someone.  It wasn't until I realized I would be sharing my hospital recovery room with 3 other mothers, not one over the age of 17, that I saw my age in a somewhat different light.  Apparently I was mature. Experienced.  Capable.   I was placed in the roll of "mentoring mother" by the hospital during my week of c-section recovery.   Our first act, gently correctly a young father who was trying to buckle his newborn into the car seat upside down. 

I felt like a pro at the whole mothering business.  And pretty much any mother out there that can juggle four pre-school age boys should be given a medal, that I do not dispute, but oh I was PROUD.   We were YOUNG parents.  We were doing things the right way.  Our kids would be gone by our early forties and we would be spending our adult years travelling the world.  Our mantra?  "We might be OLD now but we are going to be YOUNG at 45!" 

I am ashamed to admit that when I, at 28, stood in line next to a 45 year old mother as we waited to pick up our First Graders I actually had the secret thought that quite possibly I would rather be shot than be 45 and have a child in elementary school.  You do realize what comes right after pride right? It will be here that the older, wiser me mentions the naivety of youth and begs your forgiveness.   

If you are reading this you know the end, or at least the middle, of this story.  (by the way this sentence will terrify my husband who now believes that kids just will keep appearing on our doorstep forever  and ever)

I am 34 and 35 years older than the girls.  I suppose, by no means an ancient mother, but certainly not a "young mom" anymore either.  I am older and slightly less perky version of the mother I once was.  I am also calmer and wiser and infinitely more aware of how quickly this phase of life passes. 

I attend those same play groups I attended a dozen years before with the boys.  I am surrounded now by young moms obsessing over the dates of kindergarten registration and what type of diaper works better.  I participate in the conversations but I walk home knowing that what I was so worried about when they were two means nothing at fifteen.  I like that knowing, but it terrifies me far more than it used to that one day, inevitably, my two year old will also be fifteen.

Fifteen is so infinitely harder than two. 

Today I talked drugs and death with my teens, snuggled my tween and tried to prevent my two year old from flushing my dish cloth down the toilet.  Guess which phase is easier?

My Toddler Terror & Rasta Dog

I have raised, at least partially, 4 sons.  Boys who everyone told me were the busiest of the child creatures.  "4 boys?  Wow! How do you do it?"  people would ask.  "Oh, it's busy but I love it" I would reply. 

Little did I know that those 4 boys were simply basic training for parenting a toddler girl.  Or at least THIS toddler girl!

Having 3 toddler boys and a newborn baby boy at home was a BREEZE compared to Miss Curious and her counterparts Miss Tiny and Miss Precious.  All 3 babies are now one year old.  Miss Curious is actually 11 and simply trapped in a one year old's body but that is besides the point. 

Either I cursed her or accurately read the future when I named her Miss Curious for the blog's sake.  She is into EVERYTHING. 

Looking back on the boys toddler years I have the few obligatory pictures of  Tanner getting into my lipstick, or the time Greg painted his nails, and Eric was a bit more of a handful hiding food under his bed or eating candy when he wasn't supposed to. 

With Miss Curious, I take a picture a day.  A DAY.  Today (and its only just after lunch time)  she got down a tin of coffee grounds and dumped it onto the kitchen floor to make a sand box.  Then she ate at least a tablespoon or more.  All this while I was putting the two little ones down for a nap.   While I got the babies up from their nap she figured out how to turn the spiggot on my laundry detergent (after getting into a closed door).  Yesterday she emptied a jar of nuttella on herself and her sister.

But the highlight of my week?  The jar of loc'ing wax.  You don't know what that is?  Ahhh let me tell you ... its a beeswax based product that comes in a jar - with a screw top lid.  It is SPECIFICALLY for locing hair into  locs or dreads.  In other words its incredibly sticky stuff and made to NOT come off, of anything.

Back to my story ...

It was playgroup day and the babies were needing changing and packing up into the truck.  When you have 3 kids that need to be put into carseats you realize that it is a PROCESS.  Miss Curious cannot be left outside while I load the non-walking babies as she is a "bolter" (again my first child that lives to run down the road to see the interesting dogs and cars down the block) but I could see her happily playing in the corner of the kitchen with the dog and some random toy.  All was good.  All were safe. 

I loaded the babies and came back to grab my precious almost-two-year-old. 

She was covered.  COVERED in wax.   "Kweeme Mommy?"  she asked.

"Nooooooooooo" I wailed for probably the 47th time that day.

And then I saw the dog. 

Annie would like to know that she isn't overly thrilled with being a Jack Russell with waxed locs.  I would like you to know that loc wax is incredibly difficult to get out of baby hair. 

It is impossible to get out of dog hair.

Three days later, she is covered in dirt and dust that won't come out, Miss Curious has hair that looks like it has been soaked in grease and I think that quite possibly the couch is ruined.

In case you ever wonder, all the things that parenting your first four children teach you is thrown out the window for number five.

Red Color Day

This was my 18th Valentine's Day with my husband.  On our first,  I was only 18 years old.  As we collapsed into bed one night this week I promised that one of these years  decades we would do something romantic.  This year "romantic" seemed a laughable idea in the face of hockey, laundry and you know those six kids.   Instead we both agreed that we would consider the holiday a success if we managed to pull off our traditional Valentine's Day for the kids.

Our tradition started the second year we were dating when I sent my long suffering fiance to work with a sandwhich with pink tinted mayo. 

And Pink Supper was born.  This is also known as the day I go through an entire bottle of red food coloring.

This year Shel made Pink Waffles for Breakfast, and after sandwiching church, lunch, nap and 2 hockey games, I threw together our Pink Supper.

I promise next year (ah the babies will then be 1.5 and 2.5) the year after next I will be back to our former glory.

ONCE IN A LIFE TIME. Or not.

When it was announced that the Olympics were coming a few years back I was thrilled.  Not only were they coming but they were coming to my home town.  Vancouver 2010.  The boys and I danced around the living room and I told them grand stories of that day, 5 years away, when the Olympics would come to Canada and all the ways we could participate and enjoy this ONCE IN A LIFE TIME activity.  It was hard to imagine my gangly 10 year old as a 15 year old.  My 3 year old would be EIGHT and would REMEMBER.  We could go to events!  And see PARADES!  And take PICTURES!

Its 2010.  The Olympics start on Friday.  And we aren't going.  We aren't even going to be able to be IN Vancouver and I am sad. 

And so when I realized the inevitable reality that tickets are expensive and I have alot of kids and my husband hasn't had much of a job for way too long I decided we would focus on the Olympic Torch Relay. It was coming to town.  OUR TOWN.  And it was a ONCE IN A LIFE TIME OPPORTUNITY.  We could be part of the Olympics.  And come hell or high water WE WOULD GO.  Because its the Olympics.  And its ONCE IN A LIFE TIME.  

And then Caden got the flu.  And then Shelby.  And then Tanner.  I did not care.  We would go.  We would go and experience the Olympic Spirit.  Because this is ONCE IN A LIFE TIME!

I started throwing up at 1 pm and the party started at 5:30.  At 5:15 I was wishing for death.  Apparently I was going to miss this ONCE IN A LIFE TIME opportunity, so looking over my bucket I sent my ill husband and the 3 reasonably healthy children out the door to go EXPERIENCE the Olympics.

And then Shelby lost a child and panic ensued.  And my kids remember this ONCE IN A LIFETIME experience as a long and scary night where they searched for their brother, who was clueless to the fact he was "lost" and having the time of his life. 

And I got one fuzzy picture of one kiddo enjoying her "Olympic Experience"  (aka the Glow Stick) she will never remember and I will watch it all on TV when it starts on Friday

 

And those pictures up above?  Those are from my sister because she actually got to experience it all.

GO CANADA!