Short and Sweet

I feel like this weather is cooking my brain. I felt very blah today. It didn't help that I feel like I spend every day cleaning up the same 2-3 messes. It's discouraging.

I did work out today. I also got an amazing massage. It is a rare treat, but I'm hoping to make it a more regular occurrence.

I've had a low-level headache for most of the week, most likely because of the weather.

I feel like I accomplished a lot this week, though. I managed to (finally) drop off some stuff for Goodwill, a bag of plastic bags, food at the food pantry, I straightened up even more after the big switcharoo last weekend.

I am spending my Friday night the way I most love, watching reruns of Modern Family. I watched Brooklyn fall asleep on the couch. The kids played in the pool until like 7:30. Doug ate four hot dogs for dinner. (I'm not sure I'll be able to afford to feed him soon--be on the lookout for a commercial where, for 50 cents a day, you can provide a nutritious meal for him.)

I'm not much for being out late, so I'm really quite happy to be on my couch, in comfy clothes, on a Friday night.

I'm not sure, though, why people persist in setting off fireworks. Enough already.

Soupy, Droopy Weather

I slept in today until 8 AM, which was actually quite glorious. It helped that it was raining quite heavily and therefore, the sun was not blaring through my window. I also took a very short nap around noon. I remember that I napped (had to nap) every single day, at least two hours a day. Now, it's rare for me to nap at all. If I do nap, I try to keep it under and hour. (The exception is when I give blood--that earns me a longer nap.)

Today was a much different day than yesterday. I over scheduled my morning. A generous friend was able to pick Jeremy up from band class and bring him home. (This is even more special to me because Jeremy plays the tuba, which he has to haul back and forth from the school.)

I had a walk today with a new client. It went well. I was glad to get a walk in before the extreme heat settles in tomorrow. I have two 1-hour walks scheduled for Saturday with a regular client, a giant schnauzer named Tony. I am already preparing myself for those to be cancelled. I tried to walk him a couple of weeks ago on a Saturday morning. The sun was blazing and the humidity was quite high.

This has been a quiet week for walking dogs, which has not bothered me that much. It has been too beastly hot (as my maternal grandmother used to say). It's not worth putting my health (or the dogs' health) in jeopardy.

Today, the kids were in the pool while I was prepping for dinner. This made for a much smoother meal prep. I managed *not* to burn the hamburgers, thanks to Brian manning the grill. I even managed to make homemade bread and hamburger buns.

I met with a friend this morning and had a really good chat. The older I get, the more I cherish the opportunity to have 1-on-1 chats versus being in a crowded room of people. It was nice to get to know her a little better. I shared with her about Doug's mishap on Monday and the crazy trip to the museum yesterday.

Blogging is, for me, a way to debrief my day. It's tough sometimes to unravel all the things that happen during the day. It gives me a chance to watch the tapes, so to speak, and see where I fell short, where I excelled, and what things need to just be left behind.

Right now, I am listening to Bekah read me a book about Misty Copeland. I love hearing my fierce little dancer critique things. There is a picture of Misty dancing en pointe. Bekah mused that Misty could be doing a grande battement, but then the skirt isn't in the right spot. According to Bekah, the skirt wouldn't be away from Misty's leg. Additionally, Bekah asserts that the shoes depicted are not actually point shoes but rather ballet shoes.

These kinds of observations are what amaze me about Bekah. I enjoy that she notices things like that. She has a very sharp eye for things and, like her dad, has very good judgement. She calls things like she sees them, which can be tough to do sometimes. Also, the fact that she notices things like this means that she is growing as a reader.

My dad used to read out loud to my brother and me well into high school. It's not always possible to do this with four kids, so I relish the opportunity whenever it arises. (It helps that Brooklyn fell asleep a while ago. Having her chattering around me is like being pecked to death by a chicken.)

Tomorrow should be an interesting day. I have no walks scheduled. My parents are heading out of town, so I'll be watching their dogs for a day or so. I'm hoping to finish shawl number two and progress further with shawl number three. I'll be sure to post pics as I finish. Hopefully, the warm weather this weekend will mean I have more time to sit and crochet. We shall see.

A Hard Day's Night

I missed two days. Monday went sideways in the evening. Doug, my younger son, stepped on a roofing nail. It missed his heel bone by centimeters. It threw us into all sorts of upheaval.

Tuesday was Tuesday, but more so because my parents weren't available to help me and Brian was working. I got home at 8, exhausted and hungry. I didn't start eating dinner until close to 9.

We went to the Discovery Museum in Rockford today. My kids love it there.

Prepping for the trip is akin to preparing for a military operation.

I have to pack lunch and snacks for four kids. I have to remember what each child does and doesn't like. Do we have bread to make sandwiches? Nope, it's moldy, so I have to improvise. That equalled peanut butter sandwiches out of hamburger buns.

Cut up some questionable red bell pepper, had to be okay with Bekah tossing it out.

Remember to bring the boys' doses of Ritalin.

Pack enough water for everyone for the ride home.

Repack the diaper bag (thanks, Bekah, for helping me with that, and also for cleaning out the van).

Make sure everyone has used the potty.

Make sure I have a charging cord for my phone.

Make sure I have the transponder for IPass. (I didn't.)

We arrive at the museum.

Two people want to eat. The rest, overwhelmed by the input, find my mom, dad, brother, sister-in-law and nephew.

I am already exhausted and we have just arrived.

Over the next 2.5-3 hours, I attempt to corral the children, thankfully with the help of the other adults. I do my best to sit still and eat some lunch myself, but I am always thinking about the kids.

Are they okay? Does someone have eyes on Doug? Is Brookie okay, does she need to go potty (this is our first major trip away from home post-potty training)? Have the boys taken their noon doses of Ritalin?

I played Wizards Unite, but I was always concerned about something.

Then, it's time to go home.

Do we have all the lunchboxes? Has everyone pottied? I went to get the van and pulled up to the entrance to get the kids.

Who wants a water? Who wants an apple? Do the people who didn't eat their lunch want their lunch? Are we sure no one needs to potty?

Start driving, tentatively, to make sure I'm going the right way. Realize, because Brookie points it out, that I forgot to buckle her in her carseat. Pull over, put on my hazards, hope there isn't a cop nearby. Jump out, buckle her in.

Make it to Culver's but miss the turn, so I have to sit at two stoplights. Get everyone a milkshake (it's a tradition). Almost get to the expressway and hear from Brookie, "mommy, I have to go potty."

Silently curse, then try to figure out where I can stop to take her to the bathroom. Spot a gas station, but miss the turn. Same drill, two extra stoplights.

Lock everyone in the van, take Brookie potty. It takes a lot longer than I thought it would.

Get back on the road. Pull onto the expressway, hear her say again, "mommy, I have to go potty."

I figured it was a false alarm, so I ignored it. Next thing I know, she's sleeping.

We drove through a brief but powerful rainstorm. It was cute to hear my daughter's friend relay a bad travel experience she had last year.

Get home. Brooklyn is sleeping. Have to roust her to take her to Walmart. Realize she did, in fact, have to go to the bathroom. Dig around to find clean underwear and shorts.

Go to Walmart, where she insists she can't walk (her legs are broken). She immediately needs to go to the bathroom. Again.

Basically, have a trip to Walmart that is anything but quick.

Get home, realize it's already past dinnertime.

The night devolved from there.

I haven't quite figured out our grill. I made it too hot and put too many of the steaks on it. This succeeded in charring the steak, but leaving it basically raw. I did my best to make adjustments, but I was worried for a minute that I was going to start my house on fire.

It ends up taking me an hour of fiddling to cook the steaks enough to serve them to my kids.

In the interim, Jeremy and Bekah have kept up a steady stream of sniping at each other. It is exhausting. I am a constant mediator between them. She did something he didn't like and vice versa. They know how best to needle each other and have gotten very good at doing so.

I lost my temper with them. I lost my temper with Doug. I tried, in a very exasperated way, to explain to them how tired I am and how much I just want to sit on the couch and relax.

I felt too defeated to write, but I didn't want to skip three days in a row.

I recently read something on Facebook about how vacationing with kids is really just taking care of your kids in a different location.

I know my kids had fun today, the Discovery Museum is one of their favorite places to be. I hope that, when they get older, they will forget that I burned dinner (again, it's an alarming trend lately), that I yelled at them, that I wasn't the best version of myself.

(Brooklyn is still awake. I am not sure I'll make it until Brian gets home.)

The Old Switcharoo

Bekah and Jeremy, my two older kids, are 16 months apart in age. The phrase we have used is "Irish twins." Oddly enough, I had more people than I could count ask if they were *actually* twins.

Jeremy stayed in his crib until he was almost three. He had no earthly desire to climb out. We used to joke because at bedtime, he would ask us to put all of his toys in his crib with him. We would oblige and say goodnight. Minutes later, we would start to hear small thuds as he tossed the items back out, one by one.

Bekah, on the other hand, was a ninja. She started crawling out of her crib very early. She was the reason we had to put child locks on our cabinets. We didn't have baby gates up until Bekah. She was a one-woman wrecking ball.

When we found out we were expecting Doug, we figured it would be easiest to combine Bekah and Jeremy into one room. That was back in 2007.

We always knew there would be a point that the arrangement would stop working. We kept putting off switching things around. Something would come up, or we wouldn't have the energy, or we would all get sick.

It all came to a head this past week. Brooklyn got potty trained and that was the last piece of the puzzle. We didn't want to put her in a big-girl bed (a twin-sized bed) until we knew she was potty-trained. We jumped that last hurdle. A couple of generous friends donated two twin mattresses and we were in business.

We started moving smaller things on Friday night. Yesterday, Brian worked in the evening. I wanted to keep the momentum going, so I buckled down and took on a big task, moving the boys' bunk beds. That was a huge undertaking. As it turns out, the only way to move them is to deconstruct them and then reconstruct them.

Today, Bekah and I served in childcare at church for the first time. Once we got home, we resumed the project.

By the end (we still have some minor projects to complete, but the vast majority is complete), we had 5-6 kitchen-sized garbage bags full, 4-5 garbage bags full for donation, we gave away the crib, the toddler bed and the crib mattress. I vacuumed every one of the rooms. I must've gathered up at least five pounds of dust and dog hair. It was crazy.

I was a little sad to say goodbye to the crib, but honestly, it was time. I didn't feel like we went beyond the expiration date. I was honestly sadder about Jeremy and Bekah not rooming together anymore. It feels like the end of an era.

I am excited for this next chapter. I am also excited to get some rest.

Insomnia Won't Win

It's been a long five months of waiting. I don't do patience very well. I tend to go a bit batty.

Today, I dealt with insomnia. I was up from 2-5 AM for no real stated purpose. I did managed to throw a load of laundry in the dryer and start a load of dishes.

Aside from that, I've had a nagging headache.

But today, I embraced action.

We are working to switch the kids' rooms around. It's time for the kids to be separated on the basis of gender.

Bekah has been lobbying for the change for quite some time. We have had to wait for Brooklyn to potty train, which I mentioned she finally has.

We started in earnest yesterday, cleaning up and dismantling the crib. It's really the end of an era, to not have someone in a crib.

Even though I didn't get very much sleep, I pushed through today. I wanted to get things done. After five months of being in a permanent limbo, there is something empowering about having and executing a plan of action.

I vacuumed corners of rooms today that I've not cleaned in months and/or years.

Tomorrow, I will set the kids on their room to clean up all the flotsam and jetsam that's accumulated over the past several years.

But forgive me, I'm exhausted and need to get some rest. I will share more tomorrow.

Fri-yay

My time to write this evening is incredibly limited. Brooklyn is tired. If she was child number one, I would tell her to go up and lie in her bed.

She is not child number one. She is child number four.

Truthfully, we had hoped that she'd basically be raising herself at this point. We claim no credit in the fact that she is able to hold her pencil the correct way. She knows some letters. That also has nothing to do with us.

Happily, she is potty-trained. That, I will say, is on us. We had to be a bit firm, but she caught onto it quite quickly.

In any case, she is number four. That means we have lost the ability and energy to be as firm with her as we were with Jeremy. She has developed the bad habit of falling asleep next to either Brian or me. We are in the process of switching around the rooms so that she shares a room with Bekah. It's going to be a lot easier to tell her to go get in her bed. Up to now, she's been in a crib.

She crawled in and out of her crib at will, but the funniest thing was that she would wake up in the morning and cry for someone to get her. She is the consummate youngest child.

So right now, she is sitting on the couch. She wants me to sit next to her. I know the deal, I know she's exhausted. Right now, her crib mattress is on the floor of the kids' room (which will soon be her and Bekah's room). I'm almost positive she will end up sleeping with us tonight.

I am tired myself, having been up since 6 AM this morning. I had a productive day. Worked out with Kate. Learned that I really don't like goblet squats. I used a 20-pound weighted ball. It was bearable, but they went by much more slowly than I thought they would. I'm grateful I wasn't hobbling out of there.

I went on two Wag! walks today, which is good. This week has been much slower than last. I haven't wanted to go out of my way to take a walk, but I had hoped to get a few more.

As I write this, I'm fairly convinced that Brooklyn is asleep. She hasn't been calling out for me since I started writing.

I love my kids and I love my life with them. It's busy and my hands are full, but my heart is even fuller.

Thankful Thursday

Mercy. 

It is almost 10 PM. 

It was a quiet day today. I felt oddly unsettled all day. It was like I was carrying around my umbrella, expecting it to rain. 

And then it didn’t. 

But I still felt like I needed to carry the umbrella. 

Maybe not the best analogy, but I’m pretty exhausted. 

Grateful for so much. Bekah is sleeping comfortably on her new (to her) mattress. I consider that a win. 

I don’t like all the “hurry up and wait” we’re experiencing during this season, but even in the midst of it, I know God is providing for us abundantly. 

If you’re so inclined, please send up a prayer for our little family. We’d surely appreciate it. 

Love and peace. 

Hump Day, Schlump Day

I just got done watching Bohemian Rhapsody with Brian. I am up way past my bedtime. I made a special dispensation about bedtime so that we could watch it together. He threatened to watch it without me. I had wanted to see it, it's just so tough to jockey for TV time in our house.

We also have plans to watch Stranger Things. The new season just hit Netflix. I used to be all about binging shows after the kids went to bed. Now, the kids usually end up asleep either just before me or just after me. I have no energy to be up late to watch TV.

I spent the day at the lake today with a friend. It was a blast, aside from getting some sunburn. I should know better by now, I know. I am outside walking dogs all the time, but I always have a short-sleeved t-shirt on. Today, at Brookie's insistence, I got my bathing suit on and waded into the lake. The sun was brutal and I got burnt in the spots on my upper body that aren't already tan. 

Aside from that, like I said, I had a really good time. This is a good friend of mine, someone who is a faithful reader of my blog (which, you have to understand, is rare). Our kids are similar in age and get along really well (aside from an incident last summer where are two youngest fought incessantly over a ball). 

It was good to get out of the house, even better to be in the sun and passing time with a good friend. Brian's work schedule at Walmart is very wonky. Some weeks, he's home four nights in a row. Others, only one or two. My bedtime doesn't change much. This is something I've learned as I've gotten older--I need to have a consistent bedtime. It doesn't have to be rigidly so, but I need to get enough rest. So when he is *not* working, I try to go to bed even earlier to buffer for those nights when I stay up later to deal with the kids.

I also feel sometimes like I'm a permanent Debby Downer. I hate showing up to things and when people ask how I'm doing, I want to say okay but my face fights me. So I tend to avoid and cancel last-minute, which I also hate and am also worried that people are judging me for. Again, I'm continuing to learn that what people think of me is none of my business. It's a tough lesson, but it's an important one to try and master.

In any case, we had fun at the beach. We were generously gifted a twin-sized mattress, so we went and picked that up. I finally evicted the items that had been traveling with me for the last few weeks. They are now living happily at the Savers in town. I didn't make it to the food pantry to donate a few things, but there's always tomorrow for that.

We hit Costco and Aldi and headed back home. Dinner was easy-rotisserie chicken from Costco. I went for a walk, played a little Wizards Unite, then back home to eat dinner and watch the movie.

I continue to be grateful for the friends I have who are walking this path alongside me. I love their senses of humor and the way they show their support. I know that God put these people in my life specifically to help me make it through. 

Busy day again tomorrow, but beyond grateful to have four beautiful kiddos who I'm able to shuttle around to their different activities. 

The One About How Tired I Am

I just heard the oven timer beep, signifying dinner being ready. Tuesday nights are always killer. It's been a long day, lots of schlepping kids from one place to another. Heavy emphasis on transportation to and from the dance studio.

I worked out with Kate today. Hours later, I went to scratch my head and my arm protested. It was an incredibly difficult routine, from the mountain climbers to the TRX planks, BOSU burpees and wall sit with bicep curls.

I checked all the boxes for things I wanted to do today. I didn't have a chance to return a phone call. The Toyota doesn't have BlueTooth and I don't need a ticket for using my phone while driving. That can wait for tomorrow.

I've sent a list of interview questions to one of the three women I'll be interviewing. I'm almost done with the second set of questions, but literally, sitting here and typing is making my arms hurt.

I am hoping to have the second set off tomorrow.

Found a twin-sized mattress for Bekah, so that's good. Didn't eat any food until about 6:45 PM--I need to work on that tomorrow.

Now I'm off to eat dinner, take some ibuprofen and read until I can't keep my eyes open anymore.

Into Every Life, A Little Rain Must Fall

I am exhausted tonight. I did a cardio kickboxing class with my friend Kate. I love it. The time passes quickly and I get tired afterward, but a good tired, like I've accomplished something.

Brian doesn't work a lot of evenings this week. This helps my mood a lot. It's one thing for him to be gone eight hours during the day. It's another for him to be gone during the end of the day.

I am also tired because I cried today.

Let me preface that by saying, I have always been overly concerned with what other people think of me. I could fill reams of paper talking about just that very subject. Suffice to say, I worry especially that people will think I'm whiny or complaining or both.

I've been told, multiple times, by multiple people, that what other people think about me is none of my business. It's a valid point, but one that I've failed to internalize.

I've tried very hard to keep a positive outlook on all the things. Job, weight, kids, house, etc. All the things. I have kept my whining and complaining to a minimum. I have two or three friends who get to hear it. To the public, to the people who are FB friends, I've kept a stiff upper lip.

Here's the thing. It occurred to me today that I can be two things at once. I can hold two thoughts in my head at once. I can be incredibly grateful for the outpouring of love and support we've received over the past five months. I can also be sad because of the season we are in right now.

Brian spent a long time being underemployed prior to being unemployed. Being underemployed is tough. It means an utter lack of financial margins. We have no credit cards and while that ultimately is good, it also requires a lot more strategic thinking. Brain power can be in short supply when one's time is spent constantly trying to strategize.

For example.

I go to Costco every two weeks. I mostly know how much I spend there. I am not swayed by the economy packs of Sharpie markers because it's not on my route through the store. I like to eye crazy things, like a gazebo that has speakers, but it's nothing more than eyeing because it's so ridiculously out of our reach.

There are things that we buy like clockwork--bags of salad mix, hot dogs, waffles. Then there are things like Cascade, paper towels, toilet paper, garbage bags. I probably buy those things every few months. I try, as much as possible, to spread out those purchases. Yes, it's cheaper to buy those things at Costco, but the cash outlay for buying them cuts into the other purchases I have to make. So sometimes, I'll buy toilet paper but will grab two rolls of paper towels on a trip through Walmart. Or vice versa.

Again, it seems like a small problem and it is, but it compounds quickly. Every trip I make to the store, whichever store, I am always running the numbers. I am always having to consider how my purchases will impact future produce runs to Aldi or wherever. I have visited the food pantry in the past, but my kids have very specific tastes. There are only three or four vegetables that my kids eat--green pepper, cucumber, baby carrots and red/yellow/orange pepper. Trying to vary from those veggies will mean that I have rotten veggies in my refrigerator.

I'm always, always, calculating the cost of things in my head. If I make a misstep, I beat myself up for it for days.

For example.

Jeremy recently complained about not having any shorts. We went to Walmart, where Brian has a discount. I made the mistake of listening to Jeremy tell me what size he was, versus having him try the shorts on. I spent a total of $20 on his shorts.

None of them fit. Even after buying a belt with my dad, they don't fit.

It's $20, no big deal. Except, $20 has almost always been a big deal for us. It's not the end of the world, but it's frustrating and I end up feeling defeated.

I shared this experience with someone today. They told me Savers has clothes half-price on Mondays. I went after meeting with friends and spent $5 on three pairs of shorts for Jeremy. Score!! (Don't worry, I'll still beat myself up about the squandered $20 on shorts, but at least now I won't have Jeremy walking around, belt tightened as far as it goes, shorts bunched up all around his waist, as evidence of my failure.)

It's just a tough thing. There are so many things I want to do for the kids, things they could benefit from, and I just have to say no. I have had to say no a lot. I don't think saying no to my kids is a bad thing, but there's something about saying no because you *have* to versus saying no because it's the better option. (If that makes sense.)

A lot of being underemployed, or living paycheck to paycheck, is about a lack of choices. Yes, I have food in my fridge or clothes on my back. I am grateful. But it's also a little sad that I don't always get to choose the food or clothes. I graciously accept both and thank my lucky stars, but it's also disappointing sometimes not to have more autonomy.

I will admit, I'm not praying as much as I should. I've started to feel like God has to be annoyed with me for praying the same thing over and over again, kind of like I feel when Doug asks me the same question over and over again (even after I've answered it). I have done my best to get out of myself, to focus on helping other people. I try to remind myself that it could always be worse.

I am glad that the shorts I bought at Savers seem to fit better than the ones I bought at Target. It is hard to dress Jeremy sometimes. He is long and thin, like a string bean, but with broad shoulders. I always hoped he would join the swim team. I guess there's still time for that particular dream to come true.

Two Choices, Though Not Both Alike in Dignity

This is much earlier in the day than I normally write. It was a hectic day today. We had church first thing, then a birthday celebration for our resident dinosaur expert. Simultaneously, Bekah was in our town's Independence Day parade.

The parade steps off at 1 PM. The birthday celebration started at 12:30 PM. I had to make a choice about which to attend. I had to drop Bekah off at 12:30, then go station myself at the end of the parade route so that I could pick her up. Our town doesn't normally see that much traffic, so it can get pretty clogged. I have a tried-and-true parking spot, near the end of the parade route but also out-of-the-way. I do everything I can to avoid the festival parking.

I could have left her, stopped by the celebration and then left, but the timing would have been tricky. I would have had to get across town in a relatively short amount of time. I didn't want to risk Bekah getting anxious because I wasn't there immediately at the end of the parade.

Truth be told, I was a teensy bit okay with missing the celebration.

Let me explain.

Our go-to celebration spot is Chuck E. Cheese. We have a wide range of ages to accommodate. Brooklyn, my youngest, is 3-years-old. My nephew, Scott, is 2-years-old. On the other end, Jeremy will be 12 this September. It's tough to find a spot that can appeal to all ages.

Doug had recently traveled to Main Event with Jeremy as part of a NISRA outing. In the past couple of weeks, he made an appeal to my dad to move the celebration. I voted him down. My understanding is that Main Event is geared toward kids that are a little bit older. Brooklyn and Scott would not have had much to do.

I remember Chuck E. Cheese fondly from my youth. There are pictures (actual, printed photos) of me having my birthday party there one year. (I also remember Showbiz Pizza, just so you get a sense of how old I am.)

Because we visit Chuck E. Cheese for everyone's birthday, over the past two or so years, we've been there like eight times. That is, quite frankly, seven times too many.

It is my firm belief that Chuck E. Cheese is the training ground for Vegas. Upon entering, every single one of your senses is immediately assaulted. All the games have noises, and lights. Some vibrate. Most give tickets.

It has occurred to me, as I'm sure it has occurred to every parent who has ever surveyed the prize wall at Chuck E. Cheese, that a trip to the dollar store would be cheaper and quicker. There are non-crappy prizes toward the ceiling, illuminated by lights. I'm surprised that they don't have a track of angels singing on the quarter hour, just to highlight their magnificence.

Let's be frank. If I saved every voucher we ever printed from every time we ever visited for five years, we may have enough tickets to get one of those prizes.

Earning tickets is a fool's errand. There are some games where a modicum of skill is involved, like shooting hoops, playing skee ball or jumping over a lighted circle. The rest *seem* simple and easy to win, but of course are weighted toward the house (or toward the mouse, wink wink).

One of the games is Plinko, of course from the Price is Right. I kid you not, I have spent at least 15 minutes there, feeding tokens in, convinced that I'm just one token away from winning the jackpot.

Even there, the word jackpot would normally evoke elation, but I assure you, it doesn't and it shouldn't. Even if I won 100 tickets, I'd still be relegated to the lowest tier of prize possibilities.

So you enter, and are immediately assaulted on all fronts. After about half an hour, my brain shuts down. I can't carry on a conversation because in addition to the assault on my senses, my kids are running back and forth, dropping off their beloved tickets at the table.

Meanwhile, Brian and I usually tag team Brooklyn duty. She is too little to be left to her own devices. She is also too little to operate any of the games very well. But she's at the age where she *thinks* that she is old enough to do everything on her own. Anyone who offers to help her will be rebuffed. She is a pretty typical 3-year-old, who feels like she is a big girl and can therefore do all the things big girls should be able to do.

Let me assure you, she can't. Brian told me that today's visit was especially exhausting. She kept wanting to play games that were *just* out of her skill set. She wanted to play them as they were intended, but that required a gentle nudge, which she firmly rejected every time Brian tried to offer. So mostly, he followed her around and tried to reason with a 3-year-old. This is also a fool's errand.

Now, the absolute worst part of the entire trip is trying to be judicious in picking out prizes. I will admit, I have held onto several trips' worth of vouchers just to avoid having to haggle over who gets what prize. With four kids, the name of the game is always fairness. I have to try to get everyone the same (or closely similar items). Which means, after being assaulted and having my brain shut down, I have to sit and calculate how many tickets we have and how those tickets can be divided by four. Then, I have to look at the crappy prizes (which, as you recall, are almost all cheaper at the dollar store) and decide how I can get four sets of crappy prizes that are similar enough.

I'm tired just recounting the whole procedure.

Normally, by the end of the visit, I just want to get out of there. I want to breathe fresh air, listen to the birds chirp and close my eyes. It seriously becomes like a military exercise, trying to get the six of us, all of our presents (remember, we are celebrating someone's birthday), the leftover pizza, cupcakes, etc., out of the restaurant and into the van.

It makes me incredibly grateful that we only visit there four times a year (Scotty and Brooklyn's birthdays are close in proximity, so we combine their celebrations for now). Sometimes, the kids will come across the play cards (little credit cards that they swipe at every machine) and say, "mom, maybe we could go to Chuck E. Cheese!"

I typically use one of their well-worn strategies and pretend I don't hear them. It doesn't always work, so I go to the next tier of dismissal--"we'll see." (As Jeremy pointed out to Doug one time, "the good news is, mommy didn't say no. The bad news is she didn't say yes, either.") That phrase is the universal sign of "please lose interest in that idea so we don't have to do it, ever."

All of that being said, I know that the kids enjoy it. I am glad that my parents are generous enough to be able to provide the experience. I'm also glad that my kids still want to participate in things like that, with their parents around. I know the time is fast-approaching where they will ask to be dropped off at the roller rink. (I also am kind of looking forward to that, but I'm trying to not wish my time away.)

Also, you can see why I chose to stand in the blazing hot sun.

I'll Get Straight to the Point

I have spent all day mulling about what I should write. I wish I could say I arrived at an epiphany, but I haven't.

I have a lot of things swirling around in my head. A lot of them aren't remotely positive or uplifting. I have long subscribed to the idea that restraint of tongue and pen is a surefire way to keep one's nose out of trouble.

I will continue mulling. Hopefully, by tomorrow, the storm clouds in my head will have passed. I am hoping to have something far more constructive to say by this time tomorrow night.

A Movie Review and Fangirling for the Beatles

I made it to bedtime last night. I had a funny encounter with, who else, Doug. I was set up in bed with a book and a mindless movie on. He tried to bargain for having a sleepover in our room. I told him it wasn't a good idea because he had school today.

He walked out of the room, whining a bit (kind of a fake crying). Then he walked back in, pleading his case some more. I sent him away again. He came back and announced to me that I was, and I quote, "breaking his 7-year-old heart. You should be ashamed of yourself."

I couldn't even disguise the laughter as I texted Brian what he said. Sometimes I am able to keep a straight face, but last night I couldn't even muster it.

I swear the man has a cadre of writers working tirelessly somewhere. I don't know where he comes up with these things.

Today I had a rare treat. I got to see a movie with my dad. It's very seldom that he and I get to do things on our own. I usually have at least one child with me, or I'm needed somewhere, or I have to drop a kid off somewhere. I love my dad, as I have stated on numerous occasions. He and I have a number of common interests. (As it happens, we also have an uncanny knack to lose our keys. I currently have no idea where mine are. I even resorted to straightening the kitchen counters. No luck.)

There is a movie out right now called Yesterday. It's a British film. The premise is that the main character, a struggling musician, is struck by a bus during a freak global blackout. When he comes to, he realizes that there has been a selective deletion of things. For example, there is no more Coca Cola. He asks his mom for a Coca Cola and she doesn't know what he is talking about. (He uses Google to search for things, this is how he finds out that they have never existed.)

At a small gathering of his friends after his accident, his friend (and eventual love interest) Ellie (played by the radiant Lily James) gives him a guitar to replace the one destroyed in his accident. They ask him to play a song. He chooses to play the song Yesterday, by the Beatles.

When he is done, they are blown away. They compliment him on his songwriting prowess. He believes them to be giving him a hard time. He gives credit to the Beatles. His friends look at him with blank faces. "Like the bugs?" his one friend asks.

Upon arriving home, he googles the Beatles only to find not one single reference to the band. The only reference he can find is to the bug.

It seems like a silly premise, but I loved every minute.

I started listening to the Beatles when I was about 11 or 12, on the insistence of my dad. He gave me an education, starting with With the Beatles and all the way through The White Album.

I saw Paul McCartney in concert once, before kids. I remembered seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. When I saw the girls in the audience, it prompted eye rolls. I thought the Beatles were nifty, but I felt like their reaction was over-the-top.

I remember, though, seeing Paul McCartney come out on stage. Hearing him play the songs I had grown up hearing was a feeling I can't quite describe. I understood, finally, a little of what those girls felt. I was ebullient hearing him sing. I had played Blackbird so many times on rough days. (In fact, when I was in the OR getting prepped for my emergency c-section, I tried to get Brian to play that song for me. He was too flustered to make it happen.)

Hearing Paul McCartney sing it, live, was an amazing experience (even from the nosebleed section).

The movie today highlighted what an extraordinary catalogue of music the Beatles produced. Jack, the main character, kept remembering different songs, though he sometimes struggled to remember all of the lyrics. Every time he played a new song, the crowds went wild for it.

At my wedding, Brian and I walked out of the chapel to All You Need is Love. We had our wedding party dance to Maybe I'm Amazed (while not the Beatles, still a McCartney tune).

The tremendous thing is the staying power of the Beatles' music. It holds up, even after all these years. There are lots of universal themes in what they wrote. Hey, Jude remains one of my most favorite. At the end of the movie, they played Hey, Jude as the credits rolled. I was sitting next to a total stranger (my dad was sitting in the row ahead of me) and we sang the entire song together. I know all the lyrics.

Brian and I went to see American English perform last year at the performing arts center in downtown Crystal Lake. I was probably about 15-20 years younger than the average age, but I knew all the lyrics to the songs. The range of ages in the audience was diverse.

Toward the end of the movie, two random people show up at one of Jack's concerts. They tell him that they, too, remember the Beatles. The woman presses a piece of paper into Jack's hand and tells him that she did some digging.

There is a cameo in the movie that also caused me to start crying. I won't divulge it, but suffice it to say, the casting and/or makeup was so spot-on it was eery. Even as I described it to Brian when I got home, I got chills.

I drove home from the movie playing Hey, Jude and All You Need is Love. I love listening to Lady Madonna when I'm feeling particularly motherly and also rushed. I Will, a little gem toward the end of the first part of the White Album, never ceases to put a smile on my face. Any time I stay in a hotel, I look for the requisite Bible and start humming Rocky Raccoon.

I am not sure why I got so emotional as I was watching the movie, except we've been over this--I'm an emotional being. Hearing the songs in that setting was emotional.

It's funny because every time a new boy band explodes onto the scene, reporters want to draw parallels to the Beatles and Beatlemania. This happened for New Kids on the Block, Backstreet Boys, and I've seen it happening now for BTS.

I always shake my head when they try to compare anyone to the Beatles. In my mind, anyone else pales in comparison. Now I feel like I need to expose my kids to their music, so someday *they* can shake their head when someone tries to make a comparison.

Seeking Independence

The other night, I didn't know what I was going to write. Tonight, I know what I'm going to write and I don't really want to.

The past couple of days, I've been very busy with dog walks. This is a good thing for which I am really grateful. It's also done a good job of keeping me distracted.

I took a walk last night at a time I normally don't take walks. I explained last night, in a rambling way, that I work very hard to protect my bedtime. I operate better when I get a prescribed number of hours of sleep.

When my sleep suffers, my mood stuffers. I tend to start to droop, like a plant that's not been watered enough. Normally, a good nights' sleep will help me perk back up. I'm hoping that's the case here. I am hoping that I wake up tomorrow morning with more pep in my step.

It's hard to droop at any point, but especially on a holiday. I've purposely kept off FB today. Holidays are different when you are struggling financially or have kids with special needs.

For us, fireworks are problematic. In addition to being loud and having to endure throngs of people, both of which are unpleasant for my boys, they take place outside. My boys have a tremendous phobia about bugs. (I honestly can't blame them and feel like it's not so much a phobia as an understanding about how gross and unpredictable bugs can be.) We are really a resort family, despite much encouraging from people about how wonderful and inexpensive camping can be.

When you are a resort family but there aren't funds available for a resort, you find cheap, local things to do. Hence our frequent visits to the public library, parks and other amenities maintained by the city of Crystal Lake.

We also don't really do overt patriotism. We don't have matching patriotic outfits, we honestly have taken maybe one or two family photos over the past dozen or so years. I avoid FB because holidays seem to mean an uptick in the number of highly-coordinated, posed portraits of familial joy. I won't lie, I am envious of those families.

I also mourn because we just don't have that family. We don't hang with a lot of people as a family. I think part of that is our size--trying to hang out with a family of four kids takes up a lot of space. It can be very loud. Not everyone is willing or able to accommodate us. I totally get it and am not begrudging a lack of invitations.

I'm going to say that again.

I am not whining about not being invited places or not being included. I am, quite frankly, grateful when we are excluded because it stresses me out having to take the boys places. We have two parties coming up with really the only two families with whom we gel well. That is just fine with me.

That doesn't mean that it's easy for me to scroll FB during holidays and not mourn a little that our family isn't like others. I think it's easy when one is droopy to scroll FB and get even droopier.

So I've kept myself busy today, with crocheting and reading and playing Wizards Unite. I had two dog walks. I hit my step goal.

I ate some things that I don't normally eat. Part of it was for comfort, part of it was because between yesterday and today, the heat has been oppressive and I needed the salt.

I hope someday I can celebrate my independence (see what I did there) from these expectations I put on myself about how the holidays *should* look. I know the people that care about me and my family are not judging me. Those that are, they are in luck. We live in a free country, where people are allowed to think as they please.

This year, we are going to try the fireworks. We are able to watch them from a relative distance, which minimizes both the noise and the crowds. It gives us a way to make a fast exit in case things get hairy. I can guarantee that there will be discord and discontent, both about the bugs, the heat, the proximity of one sibling to another, the list stretches on.

I would write more, but Doug has just informed me that Jeremy broke the protective shield (after more investigation, he means the curtains) in my room. I'm positive it's not going to improve my mood, but the silver lining is that bedtime looms near.

Ramble On

It has been a very long day today. I was up at 6:30 and didn’t stop moving until about 5 or 6 PM. 

I started off with one Wag! walk today. By 2, I had walked 5 dogs. I am sitting on a patio with today’s final client, Floyd the French Bulldog. I have been advised to keep my petting interactions short, as he can be a bit unpredictable around new people. 

I made an appointment with a friend for coffee. We both joked that we considered cancelling, which is really the mark of true friendship—neither of us really wanted to be in regular clothes out in public, but we made an exception for each other. 

More and more, 7:30 PM is late for me. I used to stay up pretty regularly until 1 or 2 AM. That was the norm more than it was an exception. I struggled with sleep apnea for years (unbeknownst to me). It meant I never really got restorative sleep. I would fall asleep just sitting on the couch. I would fall asleep driving. I’m not exaggerating, when I was pregnant with Brooklyn, I had to go to Park Ridge for a Level II ultrasound. Brian had to take me. I was not confident to make the 45-minute drive without nodding off behind the wheel. It was actually very scary to drive any more than 20 minutes away—I literally could not keep my eyes open. 

It’s been two years since I was fitted with a bipap machine. The structure of my throat, according to my pulmonologist, is not great. It’s likely I’ve had sleep apnea for years and just didn’t realize it. 

I was musing the other day about how different my life would’ve been had I received a diagnosis decades ago. I struggled in high school, as most kids do, to get up in the morning. Part of me wonders if that really was out of my control, if I was asking my body to do something it just wasn’t capable of doing. 

I feel like I missed a lot of life because I napped so much. It may or may not have contributed to my depression. It may or may not have contributed to my weight gain. 

In any case, the life I lead now means I am in bed by about 10 (if not sooner) and asleep before 11. I make plans based on how soon I can be in my pajamas, sitting on my couch. I used to close down parties. Now I’m typically one of the first to leave. 

My kids are early risers, with the exception of Doug (to no one’s surprise). By the grace of God, they are old enough now to fend for themselves in the mornings. When I get downstairs, the older two have already made themselves breakfast (usually waffles in the toaster). 

I don’t exactly know where I’m going with this, I’ll be honest. I was sweaty for about 80% of the day. Not a glistening sweat on the forehead, either. A full-on, sweat dripping down my back. The humidity here has been through the roof the past few days. The dogs I’ve been walking haven’t been too keen on staying out in it, either. It’s the same problem I had when it got crazy cold in the winter. 

I didn’t drink enough water because then I have to go to the bathroom. In most cases, I will use the restroom at the dog’s house. There’s always the chance, though, that the owner is home. Then I have to gauge how badly I need to go. I was so self-conscious today about how I looked and smelled. I didn’t feel okay going into someone’s house smelling worse than their dog. 

I also didn’t eat very well today. 11-2 is prime time for dog walking. At 1:45, I wolfed down two hard boiled eggs and drank some cold water. I ate dinner at 6:30. I am more tired than hungry right now. Tomorrow, I have no walks scheduled. That may change, but my hope is that I can eat lunch at a normal time of day. When I don’t eat, I get really squirrelly. And irritable. 

Again, I feel like all I’ve done is rambled today. I’m going to chalk it up to prolonged heat exposure. I am looking forward to getting a little more sleep and rest tomorrow. 

Terrific Tuesday

I really don't want to write tonight.

There has been a cluster of storms passing through over the last couple of days. It has wreaked havoc on my head.

I woke up early this morning. On purpose. I'm not one to do that normally. I was hoping to get a walk done before the day started.

I didn't have any dog walks lined up when I woke up. By the time the day was over, I had walked four dogs (two at one time, then two other dogs on their own). I had a job lined up for this week, but it fell through.

I hadn't already committed the earnings anywhere. I've learned the hard way, over the years, that I can make plans but I can't plan the outcome. I knew in my heart that the job for later this week was tentative at best.

When it fell through, my natural inclination was to feel discouraged. Luckily, instead of doing that, I started praying. I prayed that God would fill up my schedule for the week. It's been kind of slow in the Wag! app for the past couple of weeks. In addition, any jobs that have come through seem to be snatched quickly.

With that in mind, I tried to keep an eye on the app but not be obsessive. It paid off. I booked some jobs for September for a recurring client. I also lined up a dog sitting for this weekend and some walks over the next couple of days.

I love to walk dogs and am fortunate to be able to earn money doing it. I'm not out looking to make hundreds of dollars a week. That being said, Brian being unemployed sure can be a kick in the pants to get out there and take more jobs.

I walked 18,000 steps today. I was mildly surprised that the two workouts I did yesterday didn't leave me feeling incapacitated. I was sore (more so when I try standing up than sitting down).

It continues to be muggy beyond comfort here. I am trying to keep up with the daily walks, but it is like walking with a hot, wet towel over my face.

I am beyond grateful for all of the free places to go to cool off in Crystal Lake. We stayed out of the pool today because it was a very busy day, but I'm hoping we'll be able to swim tomorrow and also visit Three Oaks in the evening.

I started another shawl, which I am enjoying. I am on my fourth book in a week. I still need to figure some other things out, but I feel like overall, I am headed in the right direction.

Never Miss a Monday

I want to start by saying that I'm still compiling a list of questions for my upcoming interviews. I'm probably overthinking it, as I am wont to do. I am hoping to have the first interview done by mid-July.

It is 8 PM right now and I am workout dumb. I worked out twice today, once with my trainer and then later I did a cardio kickboxing class. (Or, as Doug likes to call it, my fight. I think he legitimately believes I go to actually fight with people.)

I feel amazing. There is something that activates in me when I workout very intensely. I have done a good job lately of hitting my step goal (to be fair, there is much to be said for people overstating the importance of simply hitting an arbitrary number of steps every day). I have not, however, done a good job of increasing the intensity of my workouts.

In my area, a lot of people do workouts with Beachbody on Demand. I have yet to take the plunge and subscribe to the service. I don't have a dedicated spot to work out (aside from in front of my TV, which involves a fair amount of straightening up). I don't have a lot of equipment, though I've been adding to my arsenal a bit at a time.

I like having someone plan the workout for me. I like having someone cheer me on. I'm not normally one for group classes, but this cardio kickboxing class is small and intimate. The instructor, my friend Kate, is not too over-the-top with her enthusiasm. I've known her for a long time and she's my kind of dark and twisty.

I also managed to finish the first shawl today. It came out really well, I am quite pleased with it. I am itching to get started on the second one and will do so after I post this.

I talked with friends today about getting into action, about doing the things that I know I need to do, even if I don't want to do them. Our brains are magnificent organisms, but they like efficiency. It's good for a number of reasons to try and learn new things. Every time we have to learn a new skill, it's like a workout for our brains. It ends up creating new neural pathways.

It's also why it's so tough for us to break bad habits and implement good ones. Our brains ultimately want to follow the path of least resistance. It's easier to sit on the couch and binge-watch the new hit show on Netflix. It's easier not to get up a little earlier and have more focus. It's easier to eat a second helping than to drink some extra water.

In any case, I'm hoping that upping the intensity in my workouts will help with a bevy of things.

I am continuing to enjoy a joyful spirit. Again, I don't know why. It would appear, to the untrained eye, that things are still in disarray and joy should be fleeting. I'm not going to poke the bear and wonder why; I'm just going to continue to ride the wave.

Lazy Sunday

I am sitting outside right now, watching my husband play in the pool with the kids.

It stormed today and that messed with the rhythm of my day. I woke up with an upset stomach, something that used to happen more frequently. Now, it only strikes every once in a great while. It caught me a bit off guard.

Storms rolled in around 12:30, which dashed our plans to hang at a local splash pad with my mom's group. We ended up taking a detour to the library. Spent a little time there, then headed back home. By the time we left the library, I had the beginnings of a migraine. I have medication that I take for it, but it tends to knock me out for a couple of hours.

I was determined to hit my step count today. I've been on kind of a tear the past week and a half. Most of that is probably owing to participating in Wizards Unite, but all the same, it's become another part of my daily discipline. I went on a lengthy walk, came back and snacked on some saltines and 7UP. I'm hoping that my stomach will be back to normal by tomorrow.

In any case, I'm sitting outside. This is not normally where I choose to write, but I'm trying to harness the break in bad weather.

I'm enjoying watching my husband with our kids. We have been together for almost eighteen and a half years. We have been married for fourteen. We have four kids together. We have lived in the same house on a quiet street for eleven years.

He has been out of work for almost five months. He had previously been with the same company for almost twenty-one years. His work ethic is epic. He is dependable to the nth degree. I've discovered that it's easy to scare him. He has a lot of routines around the house. I tend to hide in our closet, with the light off, and wait for him to open the door. I know about how long it takes him to walk the perimeter downstairs. I know he has a set routine for how he places his things on the armoire.

He continues to work part-time at Walmart and has been on several promising interviews, though none has panned out to this point. It is tough to see him struggle to find work. He has taken to making self-deprecating comments and though I know they're not true, it's hard to hear him make them.

We have been staggering under the embarrassment of blessings that has come our way. It's gone a lot more smoothly over the past five months than we could have ever imagined.

That's not to say it hasn't required a lot of spiritual and emotional fortitude. The kids, especially Bekah, are old enough to want things and to ask about why we don't have things. Last night, for example, we went to Three Oaks. She really wanted to visit a pool. We had received some money from my dad after the movie on Friday night. I explained to her that we didn't have a lot of extra money, and that going to the pool could be expensive. I said she had a choice, either we go to Three Oaks, which is free, and get ice cream, or we go to a pool and get no ice cream.

She was nonplussed, but ultimately, she decided on the ice cream. (Actually, it's custard. And I'm gonna stop you right there, because you're going to say it's the same thing. It's really not. There is only one place for custard and it's Julie Ann's. There are many places in the region for custard, but Julie Ann's is the only one of consequence.)

There is a part of both Brian and I that wants to just be able to do things, without having to get out the adding machine and abacus and trying to see if it's feasible. We want to be able to say yes more. At the same time, we see how entitled our kids already act. We shake our heads about that and lament how much worse it would be if we actually were able to say yes more.

Ultimately, whatever job God decides to place Brian in, we are going to have to continue to be good stewards of those resources. It may make it easier to maneuver (we don't have credit cards, we only use cash), but ultimately we aren't going to be able to travel to Hawaii.

I am not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that I love my husband a lot, both because he's a great husband and a great father. The kids all love him tremendously and enjoy being with him. I am hopeful that this period of unemployment ends sooner rather than later. I am trying hard to keep the faith that God has a plan. I'm doing my best not to wrest the pen away from him while he's in the middle of writing it.

Lovin' Summer

We just got home from the beach. It's not the ocean, though my kids (two of whom saw the Pacific Ocean when they were quite small) think that it is.

A few years ago, our city repurposed a quarry. They dredged it, filled it with water, and erected a splash pad, park and other buildings around it. It's free to get in. Every year, we do our best to get there more than a couple of times. It gets tough because of the kids' schedules, the weather, etc.

Earlier this week, we went later in the day, around 5:30 PM. It closes at 7:30 PM, so by 5:30, the crowds have thinned considerably. The kids had an absolute blast, though I was on my own with the kids. This makes it a little overwhelming. The place isn't huge, but it can be difficult to keep eyes on everyone. A few nights ago, I met up with a mom friend and we were able to keep our collective eyes on everyone.

Today was a busy day, as most Saturdays are for us anymore. I got up early to do my normal Saturday morning thing. Then I cleaned out the Toyota. I hadn't done that in a while. We have started carpooling to dance with one of Bekah's friends. The thought of her getting in the Toyota, that was quite full of garbage, was embarrassing.

By the time I finished cleaning the car out, I had to go get her, then Bekah, and drop them off at the dance studio. I walked a dog, Tony, for 60 minutes. It ended up being a longer walk because the poor guy, a black giant schnauzer, was really overheated. It was 90 degrees by 10 AM and he and I were both fairly miserable.

After I was done with the walk, I had a few minutes to mess around on my phone and then go back, pick the girls up and take Bekah's friend home.

In an attempt to prevent my face from gracing the walls of the library, I'm trying to be a more conscientious library patron. So we headed over to the library to return a couple of books. Back home for lunch, then I took a walk to play Harry Potter.

Back home, then Brian and I tackled the garage. We are going to inherit a freezer for the garage, something I know is usually a waste for people. We have a refrigerator that is 20+ years old, so the freezer side (it's a side-by-side) is miniscule. We love to shop at Costco, but sometimes struggle to fit all the frozen items in the freezer at one time.

Once we finished that project, we made dinner and loaded up for Three Oaks.

It's one of those days where I am feeling grateful and I'm not even entirely sure why. It was glorious to have kind of a letter-perfect summer day. I didn't take a single picture at Three Oaks. I didn't feel the need to plaster Facebook with everything we did. I just kept moving the whole day. My kids kept moving the whole day.

Jeremy is already headed off to bed, which is pretty normal but also glorious. The rest will drop like rocks. I have to say, there have been years where I couldn't physically keep going to get them worn out. Lately, even though the scale hasn't been budging, I've had a decent amount of energy. I am okay with sitting still, but I don't have to take a nap every day (I used to take at least a 2-hour nap every day).

I have dinner heating up, thanks to my dad. He volunteers with Salvation Army once a week. He goes around to local businesses and rounds up all the bread (normally *just* bread) and then takes it back to the Salvation Army church. This week, Costco had given them quite a bit of meat and other things. Nothing is technically expired, it's just at the very edge of it. We had pork tenderloin buttons last night and are having ribs tonight. No muss, no fuss.

I feel silly being so grateful when it seems unwarranted. I'm going to go with it, though.

That One Time We Tried to Be Normal and Do Things

It's late and I can feel the sleepiness creeping over me already. (I will say, it's odd to consider 9:35 PM late, but here I find myself.)

My mom and dad took the kids, Brian and I to see Toy Story 4. The last time Brian and I took the kids to see a movie was Zootopia. Brooklyn was still on the inside. We were unaware that she was going to make an early appearance.

Taking kids to see a movie is one of those things that seems fun in theory. I am grateful that my dad treated us today. I am also grateful that it's such a rare occurrence.

As soon as the lights in the theater went down, Brookie fell asleep. I didn't realize this until about 10 minutes into the movie.

Meanwhile, Doug made loud proclamations during the previews. After the Frozen II trailer, he said, quite loudly, "are you freaking kidding me with this? November?" I was pretty grateful the theater was mostly dark, as it allowed me to pretend that he was a stray child who just happened to wander into our group.

There was Jeremy, who always wants to be Jerry Lewis but is mostly relegated to being Dean Martin. He gets the most laughs when he isn't trying so hard to make everyone laugh.

Bekah did her best to seem small and unassuming, though she did occasionally shush her brothers.

I smuggled my Contigo mug of coffee into the theater, because a) I love coffee and b) I like to break rules (not always, hence my full name on Facebook instead of the name most people call me). I drank most of it while we were there. I did regret taking a sip at one point after a well-timed line by Forky. (It was all I could do to keep the coffee in my mouth and not spit it out or have it come out of my nose.)

Probably about halfway through the movie, I had to use the washroom. I'm a woman who has had four kids. I love coffee and I drink a lot of water. It wreaks havoc on me. I forgot to check RunPee to see when I should make a break for the bathroom. As soon as the end credits started rolling, I made a beeline for the bathroom.

As I walked out, I heard Doug and Jeremy signal that they were ready to go. I left Brian to deal with it, so as to avoid an embarrassing public incident.

I needn't have worried, it turns out that Brookie had that taken care of. She just recently became potty-trained. We had her wear underwear to the theater, thinking of course that we would just check in on her throughout the movie. The thought occurred to me, partway through the movie, that it would be better for her to have a diaper on. Unfortunately, as I've been doing the "hallelujah-my-12-year-streak-of-buying-diapers-has-concluded" dance, I stopped carrying the diaper bag. (Honestly, a diaper bag with number four has been hit-or-miss for me. I just rifled through the bag last week and found a pair of 18-month pants and a 2T shirt. The girl's been wearing 4T for several months now.)

So, it turns out that she was asleep hard enough that she wet her pants. Brian had to deal with that situation in addition to Jeremy and Doug being ready to forcefully exit the theater. Meanwhile, Bekah and I didn't know where anyone was. We finally connected with my parents, only to discover that we had missed a post-credits scene.

Upon arriving home, Bekah got angry (thanks, tween hormones), walked into the house just ahead of me and slammed the door in my face. I told her to go to bed, but she felt compelled to be extremely emotional in close proximity to me.

I bailed and went on a walk because between that and Brookie's situation needing to be managed, I had hit my limit.

Irony of all ironies, Brooklyn had taken a very chintzy paddleball (not the normal-sized one, a smaller, plastic one) into the theater. In the melee of leaving, we left it behind. She cried when she realized she forgot it. It became an important lesson in why we don't let the kids take their toys places. It was also an important homage to Forky.

This American Life

The days of this week have whizzed by. I have been getting up early and then the next thing I know, it's time for dinner.

I started playing Harry Potter Wizards Unite (because if it wasn't clear already, I'm a nerd). I'm not obsessive, but I'm enjoying it. It's been getting me outside more, which is good. It's been helping my mood quite a bit. If you're so inclined and you want to add me, my name is NoelCharbonneau and my code is 0802 9601 2596.

I have had to shake my head this week, that this is my life.

My kids have kept me on my toes, to be sure. Jeremy has been doing coding camp at a place called Code Ninjas. I am excited for him because I feel like this could be a real thing for him. Brian has dropped him off the past couple of days. It seems like, at least in Brian's estimation, that every other kid in there is like Jeremy. He seems to be enjoying the class. He is developing an app, that's about the most information I can get from him. He's not a man for small talk, as he's so indelicately informed me on multiple occasions. I am fortunate for the small tidbits he lays out for me from time to time. Other than that, I usually get monosyllabic answers like, "fine," "nothing," "yes," "no."

He's in class from 1-4. It seems like a good amount of time, but it gets eaten up quickly.

11-1 is the time of day most in demand for dog walks. Even if a walk is only for a half an hour, with transport time to and from it can add up to an hour. (Add in side trips for Wizards Unite to recharge energy or complete challenges and it takes a wee bit longer.)

If I'm checking in on dogs, as I was for most of the week, then it becomes a whole thing. I start at 10:30 and it seems like I don't get home until 2. It's fantastic to be earning money. It also makes time go much faster than I'm used to it going.

In some ways, I focus myself more when I'm at home. I've imposed a schedule on my day. It's kind of a loose latticework. I'm trying to spend less time on my phone and more time building into the things that give me joy.

Mornings are for crochet. I've got a line of projects in front of me. I didn't get around to making end-of-the-year teacher gifts, so I'm working on them now. I mostly watch YouTube to learn new stitches. Right now, I'm toward the end of making my first shawl. I've gotten lots of compliments on it. (I will post a pic of it when I'm done with it, I'll include it in the comments section of an upcoming blog post.) But mornings are for crochet. I spend at least an hour working on my project. I'm planning on doing a couple more shawls, some dish cloths and then a blanket for a friend's daughter who's headed off to college in the fall.

Midday is dogs. It's fun, I get outside, I get exercise, I get to play Wizards Unite.

After I get home from that (and also from transporting whichever child from whichever activity), I start thinking about dinner. I normally try to be thinking about it sooner. This is the point of the day when I go into a dead panic about whether I have all the necessary ingredients. I'm realizing, as I write this, that I need to start meal planning again. We had been doing a meal delivery service, but we quit because too many of the meals weren't compliant with our personal food protocol. I need to sit down and actually write things down, make an inventory, make a shopping list. It's just that my head has been spinning so much lately, I've not been able to plan and execute things well.

Once dinner is set aside (even if I've not executed anything), then it's time for reading. I sit down for a little while (again, depending on the schedule) and try to move the bookmark a little further along.

Then, dinnertime. I try to prepare a meal while being peppered with questions in the world's most repetitive press conference. Most questions are centered on how soon dinner is going to be ready. There is also an equal smattering of dinosaur-related questions. Recently, Brookie has opened a line of questions relating to Halloween (because it's never too soon to prep for that holiday).

It's under this barrage that I attempt to create dinner. I've long abandoned trying to make nutritional meals. The kids get a rotation of chicken nuggets, frozen pepperoni pizza and hot dogs. I tend to make a separate track of food for Brian and myself, usually something big on taste, lots of veggies and protein, and plenty of healthy fats. I aim for leftovers because it makes less work for me.

Then, after I've managed to satiate my children's hunger (which, these days, seems nearly impossible), I make some decaf, have a serving of dark chocolate and write.

I don't know why the rhythm of the day is working so well, but there's something about it that has been helping tremendously. I get to the end of the night, and I can point to the things that I've accomplished. I'm still trying to work in Bible-reading time, but it's been about a week. I'm still ironing out the kinks.

But this life I'm living (I digressed from that train of thought). My kids are just amazing people. Bekah's passion for dance is extraordinary. Last week, the studio was closed. It was a well-deserved break for the instructors and staff. Bekah, however, floundered. She didn't quite know what to do with herself. Someone commented to me, after one of the shows for her recent recital, about how well Bekah had done. I thanked the person by saying, "thank you, she works so hard!" And the person responded, "oh, yeah. Everyone knows how hard Bekah works." It was that compliment (echoed by her instructors) that gave me pause.

She loves to dance and she wants to be the best, and she's willing to work as hard as she needs to. It is so much fun to watch her on stage. I cry almost every time I watch her. She is always a bundle of nerves leading up to the performance. It's a lot to manage, trying to help reassure her that we are going to be on time. She went to great lengths to help me keep the most recent round of rehearsals straight. I am a mess when it comes to scheduling, though I've been working extra hard to get everything lined up. (I actually have all the kids' activities in my Gmail calendar, imagine that!)

The other compliment that touched me is that Bekah is very kind and thoughtful with her fellow dancers. I love her work ethic, but I'm so grateful that she sets that aside to love on people. She has done an amazing job lately with Brookie. After dinner, when bedtime is looming and my patience is a thin piece of vellum dangling between me and lunacy, Bekah starts running interference. She has even, on occasion, gotten Brookie to sleep.

I don't like to take credit for Bekah because I've mostly just tried to get out of the way so God can work. It's the same with all the kids. Brookie came up to me today as I was cutting zucchini and said, "mommy, Bebba is crying. Can you come see her and hug her and tickle her?"

And maybe that's partly me, the compassion and caring. All the kids are good at cracking jokes to lighten the mood, which is maybe also me. But they are their own people. I could only dream about being as funny as Doug. He has a sense of timing that is second to none. Today, we went to the dollar store for some buckets. I told him he could pick something out. I was fairly certain it was going to be a dino, but he surprised me and got a shark. As we were walking away, he said, almost to himself, "yeah, this is perfect for my Jaws collection. It's a megalodon." (So it was dino-adjacent, I suppose.)

He also has been doing this thing lately where we will joke with him. He will laugh along, but then he will nervously ask, "you're just joking, right, mommy?" The boy calls me his best friend, which can only absolutely melt your heart. And all of it balances out the disasters he wreaks on our house, like the art on the wall and crashing the curtains off of my bedroom wall.

So this is where I'm at. I feel so grateful that I've been chosen for this. I had a conversation with a friend this morning about the times we say, "why, God?" And this morning, I was able to turn it around. "Why, God? Why didn't that happen to me? How did I get away with that? How wasn't I caught doing that?" I mean, it's really the truth. The people that have done things and been caught, I'm not better than them. I just haven't been caught. Not truly heinous things, but I mean, I've sidestepped some serious things. And I marvel that this is what God has given to me.

Things are not perfect in my life. I'm still waiting on some answers that I think I'm owed, though the reality is that they will come when it's God's perfect time.

So here I sit, watching TV, my girls snoring quietly on the couch next to me. And I'll be up again tomorrow, ready to do it all over again.

Something in the Summertime

It's late and I'm tired.

It was a glorious summer day. The weather was hot and humid, which is what you'd expect on a day in late June.

Everyone had something to do today. Bekah played with a friend from school. Jeremy went to coding camp. Doug had summer camp.

Brookie and Doug swam in the pool after Doug got home from school. After Jeremy got done, we went to Three Oaks, a manmade lake and park that's close by.

Brookie swam her little heart out, both in the pool and in the lake. She was happy as a clam.

We ran into some friends who moved away a year or so ago. It was good to catch up with them.

I met up with some mom friends. One of them helped me with Doug, who went far afield a couple of times.

I walked 17,000 steps today. I have been playing the new Harry Potter game. It's fun and it's been helping me get outside and get moving.

I took a kickboxing class on Monday night. I felt better leaving that class than I have felt for months. I am hoping to be able to start training with my friend again. I am realizing that hard physical activity is necessary for my mental well-being.

I wish I had more profound things to write about tonight. I really did have a lovely day. It was good to be outside, to see friends (new and old) and to be out and about, without heavy expectations on who I'm supposed to be.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. It's been a long time since I was able to say I was looking forward to the day that's on the horizon. I'm gonna count that as a win.

The Good, the Bad and the Poorly Written

I have always loved reading and books. Always.

I remember in third grade (or maybe second) that I started being sent to fifth grade for reading. I enjoyed it. It helped reinforce that I was different. (I'm now realizing that was a good thing, but back then, having just transferred in to a public school from a private one, it was not wonderful.)

Anyway, in my school district they tested for the gifted program in third grade. I desperately wanted to be a part of the gifted program. However, while I tested well in most areas, I missed qualifying because my math scores weren't high enough.

I feel like I've told this story before, so I won't dwell on it.

It was in sixth and seventh grade that poems and images started appearing in my head. I wrote some of them down. In high school, I returned to them when I started taking creative writing.

Most of them were your typical tween angst fare. I remember in high school, Carol had Aaron Anstett, a friend and published poet, visit us for an assembly and reading. (He is the author of a poem, Grace, which is one of my most favorite.) He read several poems and we sat, attentive, trying to read between the lines and "figure out" the poetry. He read us one poem and we sat there, blinking. He then informed us that poetry could be funny.

This blew our minds. Up to this point, I felt like poetry had to be the product of a tortured soul, a broken heart, a tragedy.

In any case, my writing in high school matured a bit.

Carol's mantra for writing was to write what you know, which was originally penned by Mark Twain. She attributed it to Raymond Carver, one of her favorite authors.

Back then, we (those of us in the creative writing program at Elgin High School) were quite snobbish about what good writing was. We had very definite opinions on who was a good author--Margaret Atwood, Li-Young Lee, Aaron Anstett, and who was not good--Robert James Waller, Danielle Steel and, though she wasn't a thing back then, I would include E. L. James in this part of the list.

I had a very low view of fantasy writing in general. When I stumbled upon Harry Potter in 2005 (yes, I tend to arrive at trends later than most), this upended most of my thinking.

Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Honeyduke's. These were not real places. They were not things that someone knew because they spent time in the physical locations. It seemed to nullify the "write what you know. J.K. Rowling didn't know the subject, in the traditional sense.

I have read the Harry Potter series multiple times, from book one all the way through. It usually takes me about a week and a half to get through all of the books. Every time I read it, I find more things that I either didn't remember or hadn't noticed before.

I realize, now, after reading the series and reading corresponding articles, that J.K. Rowling knew about the Potterverse. She new absolutely every intricate detail of that universe. I don't doubt that she could answer back stories to any character, however inconsequential to the overarching storyline. She immersed herself in the subject. That was her passion.

I have no desire to read George R. R. Martin, but I suspect the same would be true of him. Even though he's never encountered a dragon or seen the Night King, he knows the subject, he understands the intricacies of his own universe.

There are several others that I wouldn't consider Great American Authors, but are authors that I enjoy reading. Fundamentally, reading has to be fun. I have tried to suffer through Anna Karenina on multiple occasions and I just haven't been able to get through it. That's not to say it's not an amazing novel, but it's just not (or wasn't, at the time) something that moved me.

The four authors to whom I am incredibly devoted are John Sandford, Michael Connelly, Kathy Reichs and Jonathan Kellerman.

Kathy Reichs is, in my opinion, a top-notch author. She is, in real life, a forensic anthropologist. She helped create the show Bones that aired for twelve seasons. She is legitimately a genius when it comes to science and anthropology. As well, she does a good job of constructing a narrative. I have read all but one (or two) of her novels. Her character development is excellent. I cried when she killed off one of her characters. I don't often do that.

John Sandford and Michael Connelly are strictly authors. They write detective novels. I know there are a lot of authors who do that. I couldn't tell you specifically why I like them. They both do a good job of moving the story forward. The character development isn't on the same level as Ms. Reichs. That's not to say they don't write well, it's just that they aren't as good as Ms. Reichs.

Jonathan Kellerman writes detective novels as well, but his characters are a bit unique. His main character is a psychologist. He works with a detective to solve cases that are hard to solve or have an unusual angle to them. I mention him because it's still within the detective genre, but different enough from the others I've mentioned. I've not read him for a couple of years, more than anything because I don't make time for it. His wife, Faye Kellerman, also writes. In my opinion, she does better with character development than her husband.

I am an incredibly faithful reader of these authors. Again, they are not writing To Kill A Mockingbird, but they write novels that help me escape into another dimension.

I will also mention an author whom I stopped reading. I'm hoping this shows that although I'm loyal to authors, I am discerning.

I started reading Patricia Cornwell many years ago. She is a medical examiner who is also an author. I read her novels in order and enjoyed them. She almost lost me when she brought a character back from the dead (Carol taught me that I should not trick readers and I look down my nose at authors that do).

Then, I made a trip to the library for one of her new novels. I just looked online to see what novel it was. I believe it was Blow Fly, though I am not positive. I got home from the library, cracked it open, read the first page....and slammed it shut. It read very differently from all of her previous novels. It felt foreign to me. I didn't even give it a chance. I have never returned to her books.

Alice Hoffman is another author who lost me. Seventh Heaven and Practical Magic are two of my favorite of her novels. (The movie is a bastardization of the book. If I didn't know the book existed, I would love the movie. It's just too hard, as a lover of books, to have that attitude.) I have read several of her other novels multiple times. She writes magical realism and she does it beautifully.

Some years ago, I read one of her newer novels, The River King. It was, for lack of a better word, awful. Horrible. I read it because I felt I owed it to her, but it was not done well. I didn't fall in love with the characters, I didn't get lost in the scenery, I didn't get hooked in.

I haven't read any of Ms. Hoffman's works for a long time. I might, now that I'm reminiscing, go back and read one of her early works. For that matter, I need to read The Handmaid's Tale. As she was one of Carol's favorite author's, we were tasked with reading some of Ms. Atwood's works. I remember reading Cat's Eye and I know I read some of her poetry, but I don't believe I ever read The Handmaid's Tale. I am leery because I know how much Carol loves her (and I love Carol), but I am worried that I either won't relate or won't enjoy it. I will, however, read it because I feel like it's important.

I need to mention an opinion that I know may not be popular with my Christian friends. I do not care for Christian fiction. I feel it has a valid place in the canon of fiction, but it has never resonated with me. I find that, for the most part, the characters feel like purified versions of what Christians deem as morally and spiritually fit.

The one exception I will make to this is the Elizabeth Gail series. I remember this series fondly from childhood. The protagonist resonated with me. She had an attitude, she felt like an outsider, she struggled. That felt real to me. It wasn't a whitewashed version of things. There wasn't swearing or sex or anything (to be clear, I don't believe a novel has to feature that to be considered well-written), but it was relatable.

Aside from that, I do not read Christian fiction at all. I apologize to my brothers and sisters who write it. I know you have an audience and I know you are good writers. It's just not my bag, in the same way that though Tolkien was an amazing author, The Return of the King kept me in a semi-vegetative state while I tried to get through it.

I went far afield, but here is some of what I was trying to say.

First, I now (in large part due to Carol's encouragement) consider myself gifted. I may not understand discrete equations and calculus, my grasp on physics may be tenuous at best, but that does not negate the true talent I have.

I love to crochet and for a long time, I hesitated to share my work with people. I have acquaintances who crochet and who have been doing it for a lot longer. I was ashamed of my work because I thought it was inferior to theirs.

Here's the thing. The things I crochet have been well-received. I have improved from when I started. I now receive compliments on my work. That doesn't mean the others aren't also talented. Me crafting beautiful things, be it in the written word or in yarn, isn't negated by what someone else creates. It's not an all-or-nothing proposition.

Second, I feel very strongly that evaluating writing as good or bad is very subjective. Everyone is different and has different tastes. This is why there are so many authors. This is why there are millions of different books and genres and types of fiction.

I have been in the process of writing a novel. I stalled out a couple of years ago. I developed a lot of self-doubt. Someone asked me what genre it was. Someone else asked me another question about it. I allowed those questions, which weren't bad questions, but I allowed those questions to take all of the wind out of my sails.

This is day number eight of my current writing streak. Every day that I write, I get new confidence in my abilities and I feel myself getting more empowered. I still am not sure what genre the novel is and whether or not a traditional publisher will every be interested. I have no idea if it will make money or change the trajectory of my family. I do know, however, that every day it lies dormant, I make myself vulnerable to believe the lies I tell myself.

I need to dust off the Google doc and get on with it. Stay tuned.