"Don't poke me in the eye with the water!"

Some days are clearly gonna be hands on from the very start. As a lazy person I prefer as little of that as possible but, with little kids that's just a pipe dream. For instance, it took me 30 minutes to write the last two lines because I had to get up every 10 seconds and chase a screaming and laughing Perrin through the house. I now have a sore throat and I think I can skip my workout for today.

Hands on doesn't just mean physical work but some mental function, as well. I have to be able to go from one kid to another without even moving to prevent house fires or fist fights. An example: "Rowan, stop jumping on the couch - Lydia, kick him again and you're done for the day, Raina - grab your brother before he dives past me into the oven, Perrin - STOP SCREAMING, Rowan - stop jumping on the damn couch!..." This all while trying to do the dishes, make a bottle, fit in a bathroom break, change a diaper - or three, and possibly make dinner.

Yesterday was no exception. In fact, it was one of the crazier ones. The morning was spent out getting groceries. Usually I plan grocery shopping as the only event of a day because it leaves me with absolutely NO sense of humor. In the afternoon, I gave some kids baths and one a haircut. Both are One Event Day events. Baths always end in screaming and water everywhere. Lydia was upset when I washed her hair because I poked her eyes with the water. I was sternly warned to never do that again. I promised I wouldn't. The rest was chaos, of course and by bed time I think the kids were relieved because they got to get away from me. They all stayed in bed.

Today will be no exception but I do have one advantage: I don't have to go grocery shopping or give baths.

God is good

I've found myself facing some major personal changes in the last year. Things that I've held onto very tightly for as long as I can remember. I've spent many hours trying to decide if I can actually do these things and if it's worth the struggle that it will be most likely for the rest of my life. Deep down, I've known that its worth it. I have a family that I love, I have many friends that make me laugh and also encourage me to be the best me, and most importantly, I believe in a God who is good. That's enough for me on a big scale, but some days it's easy to forget those things and only see myself. Now, that is a damn shame. I know it because myself without  God, family, and good friends is lacking. You'd think that would be enough to make the right choice each day, but it's just not. Sometimes I just don't care if I'm selfish.

So, I decided that I would wake early every morning, no matter how many times I got up in the night, and pray. Such a simple thing, but not so easy to do. It means dying a little bit to myself and seeking someone other than myself. It also means that I have to put myself and my wants aside and seek the Lord who will most definatly ask me to put aside those very things that I just don't want to let go. Today, I read about Paul. I read that he considered his life dear only so that he could fulfill the ministry he had received from God. I found that so impressive. A true dying to himself for God. Paul knew that he was not his own but that he belonged to Jesus Christ and that was all that mattered to him. It was all he needed to know to lay down himself and give up the things that separated him from God. In 1Corinthans 6:19 it says that our body is a temple of the Holy Spirit and therefore is not our own. We have been purchased at a price, and therefore we should glorify God with our bodies. That makes sense to me.

I decided to write about this today because I'm learning that these things that I don't want to give up are not worth trading for the love and grace of God. That is all I need, everything else will come together because God is good.

Age, sanity.

I was just talking with someone recently not only about weight and how it re-distributes after 4+ kids, but sanity as well. Both can be associated with age. My goal is to survive the next 10-20 years not with sanity, because well, its just too late to even pretend that's an option in my life. And not with any sort of figure to speak of because I eat ice cream for every meal. What I want to hold onto is enough love and respect from my kids so that they take care of me when my body gives out. Ok, I admit that's pushing it. Guilt will work too.

Here is my game plan: bribery is first and foremost. Nothing says I expect you to change my diaper when I'm old like toys, candy and video games on demand. That and the blind eye. I'm partial to that one because in some ways it benefits me, too. "Oh, you spent 20 minutes reading a boring book to your siblings that no one wanted to listen to even though the room is completely trashed and I just heard laughing, squealing, and loud banging for 20 minutes? Well, no one bothered me and there aren't injuries that I know of so great, go ahead and play downstairs." Of course, I will not ever be the one to clean up the mess. They can do that later.

Now, I'm not saying my kids have free reign. In fact, they're my slaves and its no secret. They do all kinds of chores on Saturday and during the week. I call these "life skills" and remind them continually of the huge favor I'm doing them in teaching these to them now.

As far as weight goes, I'm definatly not fat and likely won't ever be. I do however have areas of my body that would scare a demon on a good day. I thank my 6 kids for this. To compensate for these areas I buy too many clothes that I wear for a week or two before realizing it's still hopeless. This is totally ok with me. I figure Nate's stuck with me anyway and I'm just too damn lazy to do anything about it...and that is a beautiful thing.

Bring on the ice cream.

For God's Sake

I find myself saying these three words often. 
"Just give it back to him, for God's sake, so he quits screaming!"
"Stop acting like a crazy person. For God's sake!"
"For God's sake, don't throw things at the priest!"
I always feel a little bit like I just said a bad word after I say this. Does God really need my two year old to stop acting crazy? And if Fr. Ed is laughing, then I should just relax, right? But, I get a little frustrated from time to time. And all I can do is wonder, is God up there laughing at me or taking notes for when I end up dead? Is he gonna pull out his list and say, "Well, when Perrin threw poop at you, did you really think that I was offened? I mean, he didn't throw poop at me. So why did you yell 'For God's sake!'?" I think that's much more likely.
So, this morning when the first words that I heard out of Lydia were "Bo-ttle!" from her bed at the top of her lungs like a little princess, and then Perrin waving his bottle at me for juice while yelling at me - and when I ask him what he needs to say he says "juuice" proudly like he just said "please" (although I'm starting to wonder if "juice" and "please" are the same words in his world), and then Fela crying from her bed all with diapers spilling over with pee...I just yelled "For God's Sake!" at them and got another cup of coffee. Maybe God'll get a laugh out of us and therefore take it easy on me for the rest of the damn day. Either that or I'm screwed. But I felt better after yelling, so I think either way I win.

Add on to Grocery Shopping.

As I said before, we pretty much cannot walk into a public place without the comment "are these all yours?" thrown out there at least once - and always right away. Its like a silent alarm goes off that only normal people with 2.5 kids can hear that says "crazy lady with 100 kids just walked in! Someone go make sure they all belong to her."

Yesterday was no exception. It was one of those times where I knew all day that I had to do it and so had plenty of time to mentally prepare. And threaten. Everyone knew what had to happen and we were like a machine...until Lydia stopped in just about every single aisle to take off her shoes and scratch her feet. I think we caused enough traffic jams to have a target on our backs by the end. You know how when you're grocery shopping, you run into the same people in every aisle as you work your way to the front? Well, we pretty much pissed off everyone in the store. I even saw someone turn around and go the other way when they saw us. At least no one was screaming.

One of the people that was shopping along with us was a man with his son in the cart. I didn't get a good look at the kid so I don't know how old he was (I had one eye on my kids and the other on my kids). At one point, as I was hauling gallons and gallons of milk into our cart, I looked up at the guy and saw the dreaded look of panic. The look that I know I get when I realize we're gonna have to leave the cart and go home only to start all over again the next day. Then I heard him say to his kid (in the paniced, please don't start screaming voice) "its gonna be ok, buddy. Just please don't freak out. We can do this! We're almost done." Part of  me felt so bad for him because I've been there and it sucks...but also part of me wanted to walk up to him, slap him in the face and say "pull it together, man!" I didn't though. I just ran away. With 100 kids right behind me.

The Doctor's Office

Oh, the joy of going to the Doc.

My kids call their doctor "the funniest doctor". His real name is Dr. Anderburg, but I don't think any of them know that. Every time we have to go, the kids get all excited. Same with the dentist, actually. The little weirdos...Anyway, its always an adventure for me. Six to one is pretty unfair numbers. Four to one is even pretty bad, but somehow we always survive it. In the past, I'd need a drink or two afterwards just to calm my nerves. Now that I don't drink I usually just scream into a pillow for 4 or 5 minutes when we get home. It works and no one gets hurt. Well, so far.

This morning's doctor's office adventure started the same as usual. It was just the four youngest but in a way that's worse because there's no one to hold the doors for me or grab a fleeing one year old every five seconds. We made it safely through the parking lot and through the first doorway before we heard the inevitable "are these all yours?" I have to refrain from telling people "no, I just bring extras for practice."

We made it to the room in the back without losing anyone, although at that point I'd almost thrown out my back two or three times trying to carry the always squirming and plotting Perrin in one arm and Fela in her 100 lb carseat in the other. Rowan and Fela were being seen, so we went through all the preliminary undressing and weighing and peeing on Mommy. Ro was excited, as always. Even when he knew he was getting shots. He assured me and the nurse that he likes shots. That was a red flag right there, but I think I'd rather them find out it hurts after they're on the table and all escape routes are blocked. I learned from Marek that a kid trying to avoid a shot is stronger than me and will give me bruises before we can finally hold him down long enough to shoot him up.

In the end, Rowan and Fela both screamed like banshees while giving me an evil look which I took to mean "what the hell have you done?" and "you're gonna pay for this." Yeah, yeah. After their shots, Lydia saw that the attention had shifted far from her, so she insisted on getting bandaids. Loudly. Perrin spent most of the time that my attention was elsewhere, lunging from one chair to another. I told him he was gonna fall on his head, which he eventually did. I said "I told you so," and then he got right back up and did it again. Whatever. I'm pretty sure he's already got brain damage anyway.

After all that it took another 15 minutes to pull everything together and actually leave the room and head to the check out. Fela was pissed, still is in fact. She added a new octave to her crying today. I hope she's not storing it away in her memory for when she gets older and learns from Lydia how to act mad at me. Which, by the way is Lyd's new favoite thing to say to everyone. I'm afraid to take her to church because I can just imagine her walking up to the priest and saying "I'm mad at you, Fr. Ed." She does that to Rowan. Just randomly walks up to him and says loudly "I'm mad at you Ro-Ro!" He looks up at her for a second and then continues on with whatever he was doing. He knows she's insane, I think.

So, that was today. I'm done with it.

Perrin and his weapons.

Out of all my kids, Perrin is definatly the most violent. Even his tantrums are epic. And this is compared to
Lydia, which is sayin something. But he's also the quickest to laugh and he's happy a lot of the time...especially when the other kids are gone. This past summer, the older kids spent a week with Nate's parents in Saginaw and Perrin was the only one home. I was afraid he'd be bored and crabby but, nope. He loved every minute of it. And when they got home I thought he'd be excited but he just got mad at them for playing with "his" toys.

We have some toy swords in our house. Just after Fela was born, I'd sit on the couch to nurse her. And when he saw me trapped there, he'd go find a sword and then stand next to me and hit me with it over and over again. Good thing those things are foam.

I bought Lydia a sparkly baton but had to return it the next day because Perrin used it to bash her over the head with every chance he got.

The kids are pretty tolerant of Perrin. I think because he's willing to jump in the pile and wrestle with them without crying over a few bruises - which he's always covered with. In fact, when he was born his face was completly swollen and black and blue...I should have known it was an omen of things to come. The kid almost always has a black eye. Unfortunatly, the kids tolerance of him in a wrestling match has made him pretty bold. Lately, he'll go running after the other kids, laughing like a maniac with his mouth wide open, tackle them, and then try like hell to bite something off. And all the kids think its halarious. Until they eventually get bit, of course, then they come crying to me. If they can get away from him.

So, latley I just hand a foam sword to the kid he's attacking and hope they have the skills to fend him off. We're all getting pretty good at it, actually.