Sniff Sniff

Doesn't this just melt your heart?

I love my boys!

P.S. Since taking this picture a few days ago, these beautiful daisies? (I truly don't know what they are) have succumbed to my black thumb. They are dead. I don't know what happened. One minute they were alive and thriving and the next minute they were shriveled up brown nubs. (Insert snicker here.)

Have a nice day.

Life With Boys

Warning: This post is kind of gross. Just saying.

Michael went to the bathroom. The hallway bathroom which he shares with his siblings. He usually calls either adult to help him wipe so his dad was nearby waiting for him. This is how he saw Michael make a mad dash to our bathroom and so of course he followed him.  His dad asked, "Why did you change bathrooms?" To which Michael replied, "Because it got too stinky in there."

MIA, Summer, and Randomness

Well, where can I start.
I've been MIA.
I have 5! kids.
This summer wiped me out.
Did I mention I also have a daycare? I do. So that means there are between 5-9 kids running around every day at any given time. Did I also mention that I've loved it? Maybe not all the time, but I do. I love having my babies at home at the same time. They get bored. I get annoyed that they're bored. They bicker. And fight. And cry. And I get annoyed. They also love each other. And read books together. And play together. And help each other. And laugh together. It fills my heart with joy. Pure joy. I don't know how to explain how I feel.

I love them. They are healthy, beautiful, smart little people. How God thought I was worthy of them I will never understand. They have shown me how to love unconditionally, forget about the big picture at times and cherish the little things. Nothing is forever. Nothing is set in stone.

I do have to admit, it isn't always easy. Times are tough. Money has to be put away. 5! college educations to pay for - because they will go to college. Budgeting and lists are my best friends. But after all is said and done, they have everything they could possibly want. Or need. They have a mommy who thinks they hung the moon. And that they are simply amazing little people who will grow up to be amazing big people. Who will make good choices. Who will respect life and themselves and their family.

Ok. So I'm rambling. I've just been thinking. That's all. Thinking about what the future holds and how tenuous a hold we actually have. I had an epiphany. At Wal-Mart of all places. In the sippy cup aisle. I was getting some sippy cups for Isaiah because he doesn't like to drink juice from bottles. Or formula. He's cornfed. So I'm there and it dawns on me that I will never again have to purchase sippy cups. I'm talking never, never say never, again. And it made me so happy. Not bittersweet happy, but genuinely happy. I could actually see the next phase of our lives that did not include baby paraphernalia. Does that sound mean? I hope not. I'm happy that after 5! kids I feel complete. I'm happy that it didn't take 10 kids. I'm happy I really enjoyed their babyness and that I didn't want to let go. I'm happy they have stayed babies for a long time. With the exception of 1. He just grew up too, too, way too fast. It's like he couldn't wait to grow up! I'm happy that Isaiah is the last baby. I'm happy to move on to different phases of our lives. All of that at Wal-Mart. Go figure.

That being said, ask me if my soon to be 13 month old still nurses. Yup. Sure does. Do I have any plans to quit anytime soon? Nope. Hypocritical say you? Nope. Just different phases of different phases. I need him just as much as he needs me. His needs are those of comfort over nourishment. If he gets startled, or happy, or hungry, or angry, or simply senses that another sibling is getting too close to his mommy, he nurses. Do I need him to need me right now? I do. I need to feel his chubby little body against mine. I love how his other hand just wraps itself around my shirt as if he could never part with me. How his body sometimes has a mind of its own and he twists and turns trying to get comfortable while never breaking his latch. How he does this deranged ape act, banging on my chest when he wants to nurse and I take too long to produce the goods. How he knows when I try, and I loosely use this word, to put him down in his own crib. In his own room. Because I'd like to sleep 1 night without having him rest his entire body on my pillow. And he won't cooperate. And so I bring him back to my bed all the while asking myself why I didn't just leave him on my pillow and move to the foot of the bed. Again. I need him more than ever because he is the last baby. At least from my loins. Then I remember that it won't last forever. He will grow up and probably not want to be associated with me at all. And that will be ok. Heartbreaking, but ok. So for now, it's the last time i'll buy sippy cups, I'll still continue to nurse, and I'll enjoy all 5! of them. Until the next phase.

Broken Butt

I overheard the following conversation as my husband and Aiden, age 3, were walking down the hallway:

Aiden: "Dad, my butt's broken."

My husband: "Your butt's broken?"

Aiden: "Yeah, it has a hole in it."

I did not hear my husbands response to this. Mainly because I was on the floor LMAO!

The Important Things In Life

So Little Michael's preschool teacher asked the class to draw what they would put in their suitcase if they were going to the moon:

And I quote:

"I would take an apple, orange, my dad, my mom and whole family. Toys to play with. I have a new Bakugan and I would bring the toilet and the toilet seat."

Hmm. Interesting. A toilet and the toilet seat.

That's right baby! Bring 'em both!

(What about the toilet paper honey? Just askin'.)

Needless to say, my son will grow up to be a fine young man who truly recognizes the important things in life ;)

Burn Rubber Baby!

So my son my husband decided that the training wheels were coming off.  Even though I was excited for him, I'm his mom and all I could think of were broken bones, fast cars, stationary cars that he might pedal into, scraped knees, cracked skulls, dumbass drivers, etc. etc.  If it were to cause him a potential hurt, I thought about it.

Here is my son, getting the 411 on two wheelin'.

 Here is my son walking back to the 411 on two wheelin' after a small scare (which sent me into hysterics!). Be proud of me...I just kept taking pictures and kept my mouth shut. Almost shut. Ok...I yelled at my husband. Out of fear for my child I tell you.

Here he is taking off. Right after the 411 lesson. Isn't he so cool? and awesome? Did I mention he's 4? Oh, and he took right off. Did I tell you that already?

 I just feel the need to clarify: That is not a look of fear on his face. Ok? Ok. Glad we cleared that up.

 Here's my baby boy! I'm so proud of you!

 Now if I could only wrap him in bubble wrap.

They're Heeere!

The teeth are here.

See that glare? There on the upper right? Nope. Not a glare. It's the matching tooth. 4 of those suckers came in at the same time. Lovely.

Please pray for me.

Ahh, I mean him, totally him. 

And maybe just a little bit for me.

Please.

Then he just goes and makes me forget the sleepless nights, chin bites and did I mention I still nurse? melt with this:

Ignore the snot.  It's been a crazy, illness filled week. Or two. Definitely two. And please don't forget to factor in the teething.

Years from now, I'm sure I'll fondly re-read this post and wish for the days where you were still my little baby boy. 

But for now. Just pray people. Just pray.

Diego and Dora The Explorer

My firstborn son, Manuel, told me his first semi-dirty joke. He's eight and in second grade. That should explain it all. I've been expecting it since most of his comments, questions, and statements usually start with some sort of snort and snicker, followed by uncontrollable laughter, some inappropriate word, then some more snorting and snickering. Have to admit though, I wasn't expecting to laugh. A lot. Almost peed my pants. 5! kids really messes with your bladder. Just sayin'.


I will never see Dora and Diego the same way. Ever. Again.


And yes, I told him not to repeat it. Ever. Again. Gave him the talk and all that too ('cause you know I'm 'sponsible like that! You know that, right? Right?)

But if you want to know the joke, call me. It's funny as heck. ;)

EVOO

Started out as a regular, slightly chilly, but sunny day in April.  You know the kind. Where Spring plays peek-a-freaking-boo on frazzled mommies whose kids have had to stay one too many days indoors you.  Alyssa came home from school and I spent a few minutes in her room with her being hella nosy asking subtle, veiled questions about her day, who she hung out with, what she had for lunch, oh, you spoke with "that" guy? What's his name? you know, acting dumb to pump her for all the information I could possibly get my hands on. Our conversation started out with simple, everyday things, and then turned into WTH? And yeah, she pretty much tells me everything (or so I delude myself into thinking).

Alyssa: "Mom, my friends' sister told her she lost her viginity 5 times."

Me (picture my eyes bugging out, eyebrows raised to my hairline, yeah, not pretty, I know): "5 times, huh? Honey, baby, do you know what virginity is?"

Alyssa: "No."

No? No! No? 

How could my straight A beeeautiful daughter not know?  As I'm racking my brain trying to remember the specifics of what I've told her and come up blank on the whole virginity situation. Oh, I know. 'Cause the entire time I was explaining STD's and showing her medically explicit pictures of what could happen to her (hoping against all hope that the images would burn onto the back of her eyelids), explaining the whole 'your body is a temple' thing, and pretty much making sure she is super duper well informed, I somehow forgot to tell her that it all starts somewhere. Duh. Slap forehead.

Me: "Babe, once you have sexual intercourse you are no longer a virgin. You know, like extra virgin olive oil (what?).  It's made from the oil of the olives. So it's pure. No one or anything has touched or messed with it (grasping at straws here and failing). So, you can't lose your virginity 5 times. You can only lose it once."

Alyssa: "I get it mom. It makes sense."

Ok. This is where WTH comes in. Clearly it was not my best 'mom' moment and I know I got caught like a deer in the headlights. EVOO and virginity?  Who knew that analogy existed? I sure didn't. But it worked people. I blame this mental fart lack of coherent thought on peek-a-freaking-boo Spring.

Now, should it bother me that she made the nonexistent fleeting connection between EVOO and virginity? I can't afford to be picky my friends. I take what I can get.

Oh, and that friends' sister was 18. I asked. What kind of mother would I be if I didn't? Yeah, don't answer that.

Aiden Turns 3!

Aiden - According to Google, Aiden means, "Little Fire."

Ha! That is so him.

Aiden, you love to play, jump, roll, get dirty, play with mud, water, or anything that makes a mess, cake, cookies, candy, bugs, not spiders, soda, juice, chocolate milk, chicken with rice, your brothers, your sister, dad, mom, you say please and thank you all the time, Dora the Explorer, Diego, Thomas the Train, trains, cars, the Wiggles, more trains, super hero underwear, more trains, and the park.

You are one busy little boy who makes my world a better place. The wet smooches, "squeeze hugs" you give and the "suuuuckaaaah" you call everyone when you don't get your way are the staples of my life.

You are the most wonderful little boy and an integral part of our family. Sure, you "sometimes" throw your temper tantrums and show us how in a family of 5! kids you need to show who's boss. But in the end you cuddle up to me and tell me "sowee" and all is right with the world.

You're not a fan of Isaiah right now. Oh, you love him. I know that because you are kind to the baaabee. But I see how you struggle with wanting to be the baaabee again. That's my fault.  You see, I wanted you to stay a baby as long as possible so I really spoiled you (and I told everyone not to let you touch the ground or else!). No, really. Like you were attached to my hip spoiled. I would hoist your big ol' 1 year old baby body onto my hip and your leg would automatically go over my shoulder and your chubby hand would wind itself in my hair for a better grip. (My hair is still very thin in that spot son thankyouverymuch!) But would I put you down? Nope. Or how you learned to crawl at 10 months. And walk at 13 months. And start speaking at 20 months. Yeah, yeah, I know. That wasn't the best thing to do. But in retrospect, I wouldn't change a thing.

You love the idea of school. When you come with me to take Little Michael to school you do not want to leave...ever. You love the teachers, the kids, the colors, the toys, the play structures, everything. I hope you show this much enthusiasm about school when you get to high school son :) You know what, you'll be starting pre-school in August. And I'll be right there trying not to cry on my camera.

The zest of your life is the park. You calmly put on your shoes and wait patiently by the door until I'm ready. Ok, who am I kidding? You run to the door and pound on it all the while shouting "park" at the top of your lungs until I open it. And that's on a good day. So I've learned to get you ready first and then tell you where we're going.

Your hair. OMG! Your hair is the bomb! I love the ringlets after your bath. I don't love the matted mess it becomes 5 minutes after.  But it's so you. I love the golden colors in the summer and the thousand variations of brown in the winter.

And your tiny dimple on the right side of your mouth. Love it.

Ok, Ok. I could go on forever listing every attribute, every angle of your face, every emotion that I feel when I see you. But the world wide web isn't big enough room fo' all that!

So my lovely little fire, I love you. Happy birthday. My hope is that you live a life of happiness, that you make good choices, and that you always remember that your mommy loves you. No.Matter.What.

Oh, and thank you for choosing me as your mommy.