December and January

December and January just flew. FLEW.

 

And I am kind of grateful. Because we were sicker than sick. And there were a great number of trials. including a broken septic system and cars in and out of the shop and less sleep than I can ever remember not getting.

 

So here we are, halfway through February, and I am making another feeble attempt to resurrect the old blog. Again. You know.

 

 

 

 

February 17, 2016

My days are filled with moments like these, that prevent me from doing much of anything. I like to kid myself and believe they prevent me from doing things that waste my time. In reality, clean bathrooms and hot meals *might* not be a waste of time. The jury is still out on this.

 

These children are wonderful. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They make my hair turn white. I have never, in my life, done anything quite so rewarding or unnerving as being a mother.

Chuckles

 

This was a bad day. A really, really, really bad day. The day that nearly all my children tried to get sent to the emergency room, I decided to revisit the whole "becoming a nun" thing, and everyone went to bed at 6pm.

Belleholm was built in the 1850's. We are only the fifth owners of this "house on the hill" in over 160 years. The neighbors who've been around the longest say it's never been as lively as it is now.

I am certain they mean it has never been as loud.

This particular picture was taken in the 1940's, we are told. It looks so peaceful.

Halloween 2015

We live on a road where houses are spaced far apart and cars drive fast. It isn't conducive to Trick or Treating. So, the kids go from back door to front door of our home, ringing the doorbell and pretending they do not know us and that we are most kind for emptying our entire bowl of candy into their bags. It's hilarious. Every time.

The children play dress up most days, so they've been planning and "testing" costumes for a few months in preparation for the big day.

 

 

Daniel

Daniel may or may not end up an engineer...

 

He dances like his father.

And my father.

 

 

 

 

 

He is funny and loud. He is demanding. He is sweet and intelligent.

 

He is TROUBLE.

 

Sarah and I say it all the time: "He is a two year old stuck in a one year old body!"

He fell off the front porch this past weekend. As in, I thought I could trust him to just toddle around and play with the children, and he decided he'd had enough and he was going to go down the steps and out into the great, big world alone. It didn't work out well. He got pretty banged up and cried for quite a while. I thought this would deter him from wanting to get back out there and do more dangerous things like climb stairs and try to ride the cat.

 

I was wrong.

 

He is trying even harder now to assert his independence. He tries to jump out of my arms, acting like a worm or as stiff as a board until I put him down. Then, he makes a beeline for whatever hot, dangerous, sharp, steep, muddy thing he can find first.

 

We bought new baby gates. We are closing doors. He even learned how to open the garbage can door! Nothing is safe.

 

Yesterday, I found him randomly walking up and down our kitchen step with a FORK! A FORK! YOU KNOW? A sharp tined utensil for eating! Just going up and down steps!

 

He is sleeping better. We started sleep training him, which basically means we try to let him fuss and sometimes cry himself to sleep. I was going in to soothe him every ten minutes, but it only got him more worked up. And I am weak, so I ended up nursing him all night every night. Matt has, just recently, started going into the boys' room when Daniel fusses, calming him down, rubbing his back and holding his hand. It's been working beautifully.

 

 I thought children were supposed to get easier, the more we had. It turns out, each one feels exponentially more difficult than the last. As hard as that is and as painful as it seems when I am in the thick of it, I have also NEVER BEEN HAPPIER. NEVER!

 

These babies bring me so much joy. I believe, now that I have gotten over myself and all the parenting books that insist they know the "right way" to raise a child, I am able to appreciate more of these moments...whether hard or easy, happy or sad.

 

I had an incredible phone conversation with Grandma Schwalm not too long ago. I reiterated for the thousandth time how I just don't know how she did this! And her laughing response is still crystal clear in my heart: "You do it because you HAVE TO! You don't have a choice! Believe it or not, it will be over before you know it and you will miss it!"

 

Throw your hands in the air and giggle, Anne. It's gonna be a bumpy (and amazing) ride!