Today I told the kids we could go to the pool. After feeding them, searching the house for the lost swimsuit bottoms, changing Ellie's poopy diaper and then giving her a bath because it was THAT bad, slathering them with sunscreen, packing snacks and sippie cups, and digging through Annie's old clothes bins for the sunhat I needed for Ellie (which she then subsequently would not keep on her head), we were ready to go. It took only an hour and a half from the time we said we would go to the time that we actually went. Ellie was sleepy and needed a nap by the time we got there, but I realize that if I gave her every nap at home, we would truly never leave home.
The kids have had swim lessons on and off through the years, but we haven't really pushed the swimming agenda. To ensure their safety, I prefer instead to stand one foot away from them and shout "Not past this line!" "Hold onto my hand!". I have thought this method the appropriate next step from last summer, when I insisted that they hold onto my swimsuit bottoms even at the peril of giving unsuspecting 5-year olds with diving masks an eyeful. I'm afraid I have imparted my worrywart ways on them. They wouldn't dare put their heads underwater, and when they get splashed in the face they immediately demand a towel. So as I was in the water today clinging onto Ellie and shouting directions at the other two, the kids saw their friend Sarah. Ellie suddenly grabbed my glasses and threw them in the water. They sank. Sarah, who is four, dived to the bottom, opened her eyes, retrieved the glasses and swam to the top, triumphant and proud. I realized at that moment that my kids were in danger of becoming namby pambies for life.
The kids soon found their school friends. I faded into the background as their faces brightened and their feet quickened. I stood at the side of the pool with the other moms watching them get splashed and not ask for a towel immediately afterward. At the rest period I decided to go retrieve their goggles from the car to see if they'd go underwater. I left them in the charge of my friend while I ran out. When I returned, John was nowhere to be found. A 5-minute panic ensued, with all the school moms looking in the sandbox, the kiddie pool, and scanning the water for Johnny. We finally found him parked on the potty, suit around the ankles, singing.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
cottage
Tuesday night, before we left for the cottage, I was up with a sick Ellie. I attributed it to the massive amounts of asparagus I gave her that night. Surely it wasn't the stomach flu. She was fine the next day, so we proceeded to the cottage. I really did not want to miss our trip, especially because my sister Katie cancelled her trip to Spain in favor of spending some family time in Green Bay. The cottage is a definite rustic vacation. After mowing the lawn, spraying for the thousands of mosquitos in the yard, and burying the dead cat found under the canoe, we were ready for fun! (PS-I did none of the dirty work, preferred to leave that to my brother-in-law.) Wednesday was fun, we swam in the fly soup, I mean the Green Bay, and went for nature walks. Thursday the kids skipped rocks in the bay and my sister's 7-year old stepdaughter got hit in the head with one. After some theraputic screaming and the necessary icepack, she was fine. We had a fantastic barbeque that night and went to the frosty tip for an ice cream treat. But that night, at 2am, the 7-year old woke up vomiting. My sister rushed her to the ER, thinking she had a concussion from the earlier incident. She was kept for several hours and had a cat scan, which showed nothing but a healthy head. It was concluded she had a stomach bug and was sent home at 5am. Right around then a mysterious 3-foot figure appears at the foot of my bed saying, "Mommy, I threw up!!" Johnny then had it. Several hours later it was my niece Sara, then Annie, and finally, Matt. So in the end, we had unleashed the stomach flu on 5 people. But I'm sure that my sister is glad to have paid all that money for the cat scan to know that her little one has a perfect head, and my other sister is glad to not have had to cross an ocean for an adventure.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Ellie and my babies
Ellie now crawls, which is so exciting, but it also comes with challenges. We have a mad dash now of childproofing to do, and I need to change my thinking now to encompass things that would be intriguing but dangerous to an 11-month old. I can no longer just put her down with a few toys and go take care of dinner or go to the bathroom. It's funny, because I've already had two kids go through this stage, but I forgot what it was like to suddenly have a mobile baby.
And as life has suddenly become busier and harder with a crawling beanie, I think back to her newborn stage with a very tender heart. We were still finishing our kitchen remodel, we were trying to potty train Johnny and were cleaning up accidents several times a day (and still are, hmmm...), and soon after her birth we dealt with the kids' anxieties of starting preschool and kindergarten. It was super busy and super challenging, but at the same time we had a tiny warm bundle of flesh who would curl up on my shoulder and sleep. She knew me by my scent and for the two hours a day when her eyes were open, she would study my face as if she were imprinting the image into her memory.
Ellie has now tripled in size and babbles, stands, eats people food and recognizes all the important people in her life. Just a few days ago as I was rocking this 11-month old giant to sleep, I looked around in her room fantasizing about the color I want to paint it and making a mental note of the holes I wanted to fill and the colors in the bedding I wanted to buy her. Then I looked down at the chubby angelic face and I thought of how my two older kids can't be held in the crook of my arm anymore. I thought of how they once were 11-month olds who howled through the night when their teeth were coming in and felt safe when I picked them up and held them in that rocking chair. Then I thought of the shitty apartment that we lived in when Annie was a baby and the tiny house that we lived in when Johnny was a baby and I remember how much I wanted to move. As my kids grow bigger, I love them as babies even more. I would trade my soul to the devil to shrink each of them back down to babies and rock them to sleep in their shitty, tiny rooms, just so i could kiss them and inject as much love and affection into them as I possibly could.
When Matt and I were in pre-cana classes before we got married, one of the couples gave a talk about having children. I remember so clearly what the woman said about how it felt to have your own kids. She said it was like pulling your heart out of your chest and watching it walk around with its own arms and legs. And I guess now having gone through this three times, I can finally see that it doesn't matter what color my walls are or how many holes I need to fill in them, my kids will never be this small again. They will never be as dependent, and never be as willing to love me back as they are at this very moment.
My friend's dad was telling me about when his kids were babies. He expressed how hard it was, but he said, looking back, the best years of his life were when his kids were babies. I know this to be true. For me, this is the reason I live. I understand life through my parents' eyes now better because I'm living it, and I can understand my kids better because I've been one.
"There is nothing more sad or glorious than generations changing hands." (John Mellencamp)
PS- And yes, I know that I am a schmaltz ball.
And as life has suddenly become busier and harder with a crawling beanie, I think back to her newborn stage with a very tender heart. We were still finishing our kitchen remodel, we were trying to potty train Johnny and were cleaning up accidents several times a day (and still are, hmmm...), and soon after her birth we dealt with the kids' anxieties of starting preschool and kindergarten. It was super busy and super challenging, but at the same time we had a tiny warm bundle of flesh who would curl up on my shoulder and sleep. She knew me by my scent and for the two hours a day when her eyes were open, she would study my face as if she were imprinting the image into her memory.
Ellie has now tripled in size and babbles, stands, eats people food and recognizes all the important people in her life. Just a few days ago as I was rocking this 11-month old giant to sleep, I looked around in her room fantasizing about the color I want to paint it and making a mental note of the holes I wanted to fill and the colors in the bedding I wanted to buy her. Then I looked down at the chubby angelic face and I thought of how my two older kids can't be held in the crook of my arm anymore. I thought of how they once were 11-month olds who howled through the night when their teeth were coming in and felt safe when I picked them up and held them in that rocking chair. Then I thought of the shitty apartment that we lived in when Annie was a baby and the tiny house that we lived in when Johnny was a baby and I remember how much I wanted to move. As my kids grow bigger, I love them as babies even more. I would trade my soul to the devil to shrink each of them back down to babies and rock them to sleep in their shitty, tiny rooms, just so i could kiss them and inject as much love and affection into them as I possibly could.
When Matt and I were in pre-cana classes before we got married, one of the couples gave a talk about having children. I remember so clearly what the woman said about how it felt to have your own kids. She said it was like pulling your heart out of your chest and watching it walk around with its own arms and legs. And I guess now having gone through this three times, I can finally see that it doesn't matter what color my walls are or how many holes I need to fill in them, my kids will never be this small again. They will never be as dependent, and never be as willing to love me back as they are at this very moment.
My friend's dad was telling me about when his kids were babies. He expressed how hard it was, but he said, looking back, the best years of his life were when his kids were babies. I know this to be true. For me, this is the reason I live. I understand life through my parents' eyes now better because I'm living it, and I can understand my kids better because I've been one.
"There is nothing more sad or glorious than generations changing hands." (John Mellencamp)
PS- And yes, I know that I am a schmaltz ball.
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