Love Languages

Everyone has one right? It is the way we show appreciation, affection, and caring for loved ones, friends, and family. They, unfortunately, are not the same and they do not always translate so well.

My dad is not a talker. When I was little I had a permanent spot on his lap and nightly tickle fights and later chess games or games of catch. He would do push ups every night and I would, when I was little sit on his back then run around the house to "catch his breath" for him. Since I grew up, that does not happen, and he still does not talk. But I know he loves me and loves my kids.

My dad is an amazing woodworker. He would not tell you so. But he is. He does it for fun and relaxation... regardless his pieces are amazing. Even more amazing because he made them.

Peas and Princess are proud owners of bunk beds that he hand made for them. Stinky also has a trundle bed that Papa handmade just for him. the kids also have dressers and a little table and chairs.

The items are not cheapy stuff. They are solid oak, and HEAVY. They are also made with love. My dad gives of himself this way to show his affection for me and my children. There is no way I can thank him enough. I wish I could. I wish I could somehow find the words to tell him how much I (we) appreciate it, and how much I love him.

My kids adore their Papa. He is superman to them the same way he was superman to me. I am so glad that they have this relationship with their Papa, and I hope that they will treasure the memories that they make with him as much as the furniture he makes them.

Anyway here are some pictures of the beds!

Rest In Peace

You may have noticed that I have been oddly silent lately. There are a few reasons:

1) My screen broke
2) The day after my new screen got put in, my keyboard broke (with help from a 1 year old)
3) There was a tragedy on the Chicago Fire Department- and I need to say something, but do not know what to say- or how to address it.

The loss of a firefighter doing their job is a tragedy. It hits close to home. Way to close to home for me.

I sheltered the kids from seeing the events transpire but I admit I watched coverage on the web in my room. As the firefighters frantically searched for their brothers all I could do was curl in a pseudo tornado drill position covering my head and crying. The big heaving cry that makes your chest hurt.

How to address it? What to say? What can be said? Nothing. Nothing can bring those souls back. Nothing can fix it. We are left helpless.

Their deaths are incredible tragedies- a loss for the community as well as the department.

Of course I am thankful for the men and women who put their lives on the line daily. I am immensely thankful for their courage, for their sacrifice.

Tomorrow they will be laid to rest. Tomorrow they will be honored for their heroism. God Bless them.

Wonderful day

Yesterday was an amazing day. Correction, the morning was fantastic- so was the early afternoon- then- the whining started.

It snowed on Christmas Eve, the super giant Hollywood Snow. It was amazing and beautiful. We had pancakes and coffee before going downstairs together to watch Christmas movies.

I selected "A Christmas Story" you, know- you HAVE to know. The "You'll shoot your eye out" movie a classic on par with "Citizen Kane" as far as I am concerned.

There were so many memories that came flooding back from watching that movies as a childhood and my parents sharing their memories from the era.

I laughed so hard I could not breathe. As a mom- I saw humor in parts that I had never seen or I saw a whole new perspective. My kids could not believe that kids got soap in their mouths or that phones were attached to the wall. Nor could they believe that the washing machine was in the kitchen and dry clothes were not pulled toasty warm from dryer or pulled from a clothes line.

They were stunned that the firefighters did not have a truck to ride in- rather- that they hung on. Princess was terrified by the flag pole scene- she needed to be reassured that a someone would pour warm water over the person's tongue and not just pull it off.

One of the first time I saw the movie- I actually asked my parents what that "mother of all bad words" was. Obviously she did not tell me- but she got good laugh out of it.

Being able to share this with my kids was amazing.

Even MORE WTH?

In talking to B's aunt I learned that St. Nick did filled their SHOES! NOT THE STOCKINGS! I have been misled! I have been dealing with angst unnecessarily for years!

This made my day. I felt sweet sweet vindication. Of course- I had to crow loudly my correctness and the fact that some people were just loopy.

Next year. SHOES darn it SHOES.

Stockings!!! WTH??

Out of respect for B's families traditions, St. Nicholas comes and fills the kids stockings.

WTH? SANTA does stockings St. Nick does SHOES!

All the traditions say so- I even looked it up to be sure! WHY WHY WHY???

Also- have they not read "'Twas The Night Before Christmas"? As I recall "the stockings were hung by the children with care...."

Shoes= St. Nick
Stockings= Santa GEEZ!

So despite my irrational frustration and confusion with this- I do it. Out of love for B. Out of respect for his traditions I do it... and grumble all the time.

But Santa will fill the stockings again.

Feelings of Peace

The past few weeks when I have been to my place of worship I have felt this amazing sense of peace. I have learned something each time and walked away happy that I spent time there.

Last week I had to miss it and I found myself longing for the quiet time with G-d. I found myself wanting to loose myself in the beauty of the traditions and the rituals. To a lot of people they may be meaningless and empty but it is comforting to me. It is a way of feeling a connection. It calms my heart and quiets my head.

The services are steeped in tradition and reverence- it is not what it is all about but the beauty of it is unmistakable.

I do not think that you need these things to talk to G-d, I enjoy what the represent, the familiarity of them, the comfort of them. It is like my mom's mashed potatoes, warm and cozy.

Looking forward to next week.

Thrive on Chaos

Even when I have a 'break' things are always chaotic here- if it is quiet people are sick.

Today I dropped the three older kids off at B's parents house. Leaving me with Pixie which in theory, at least, would allow me to catch up and maybe rest a little. It did not work that way.

Pixie is far to busy to want to rest. She is in that fantastic fun stage of being into everything all the time and wanting to be involved in everything up close and personal.

Add to that- White Fang who is the same age as Pixie and exceptionally frustrating.

To point this evening I warmed up dinner for Pixie put our plates on the table and when to chase her down. From the kitchen there was a crash.. White Fang had knocked the dish off the counter and the dish shattered. Porcelain everywhere. Mixed with potatoes and chicken.

Pixie of course wanted to investigate and came toddling in to the kitchen to see what had happened. I swooped her up so she wouldn't get hurt and put her in the living room, then chased the dogs out of the kitchen as they were trying to eat the broken glass and the food, meanwhile Pixie came back.... repeat a few times making minor progress on the clean up. Finally I got the big stuff cleaned up and dragged the vacuum up to get the shards..... finally the chaos was calmed down... for now...

Not ready for this discussion

Princess came home from a friends house the other day and informed me that all girls had eggs in them which would become babies. I said yep thats right- and I reminded her of how her siblings grew in my tummy and came out. She me took it a step further and remembered that there was a girl part and a boy part that came together to make a baby.

At this point I was feeling so good about my handling of the situation. I should have taken more care not breaking my arm to pat myself on the back. Because no sooner had I taken a breath of relief did she follow up with a really great question. "what is the boy part called?" and "how does the boy part get inside the mama?" hmm well. hmm. I darn naear choked as that was not what I expected to disc

When I was pregnant with Stinky she was very afraid of him being born covered in - exucuse me- poop. She was relieved to learn that there was a special place in mama's that kept them from getting all messy in that sense. Somehow I did not think that this question would be handled with that kind of ease. So I told her I had to think about the right way to explain it and we would talk about it later- so far she has not asked again..

What am I supposed to say??

We Wouldn't Have Missed It

It is no secret that Stinky loves trains. Love is and understatment. He adores them. He thinks they are the coolest thing ever. Toy train, freight trains, metra, or CTA it makes no difference. It is a train and that makes it awesome. No one else in our house likes trains- we all tolerate them because they give Stinky so much joy. The same way we go along with Princess and her American Girls etc..

Cantigny, a museum, estate, park thing the next town over was having a exhibit of Lego Trains. Super cool for Stinky two of his most favoritist things ever. When I read about this I got so excited to tell him about it- I just could not wait to see the look on his face and hear the excitment in his voice.

So when I told him he was practically levitating with glee. Trains! Legos! OH MY! a four year old boy's DREAM!

Of course we went. All of us. Princess was not that excited to go because "there was nothing there for her" and she was "bored, and not having any fun." She was reminded that Stinky went a long with her to The American Girl Place even though there was nothing there for him.

We started in the center room and I was imopressed with the detail that was included in the displays. The people who made them had some sense of humor!

The next room we went in had a really big layout that included a model of things that were pop culture references and secret- or hidden humor clearly aimed at the adults.

In the final room we went to I was impressed immensly. There was a model of the Sears Tower (Sorry, I cannot bring myself to call it the Willis Tower) it even had lights inside and a superman on the top. The details were amazing, from a town set up with a fire department responding to an acident to a haunted house, and a large display of Toy Story items, there was also part of the display dedicated to Star Wars. (Why does Lego have so many Star Wars things???). Stinky especially liked the Toy Story 3 pieces because he just completed building a Toy Story 3 Lego train.

Being a mama, my thoughts went to how much of a pain it would be to clean all of that up, and how I was so glad that I would not have to have any part of that.

Of course there was a Thomas train- what train thing attracting children would not have Thomas themed things? It would be a travesty!

We were only there for an hour or so- I started to hurt a lot and could no longer hold the kids so they could see. Stinky was sold though- I'll have to keep an eye out for when it comes back.

Where on Earth

Where on Earth am I supposed to find 30EE bras? Really? Victoria does not know that part of the alphabet. Darn- really- I wish I could have gone there and just got some pretty things.

This is all kind of irritating. I can't buy clothes at Target because they do not carry my size. Bra size?? forget it. Which means that a lot of my clothes are a lot more expensive than I would like them to be.

Anyway.

When I was in high school and I started developing (late bloomer here) I was not a girl who wanted bigger girls. I wanted them to go away. I wanted to cut them off. But finding a bra that fit was a lot easier when I was in the beginning part of the alphabet.

When I got pregnant I was a size 30b ish- When I delivered Princess I was 34H.. H! It was not fun to grow that way. Things went back down after a while but not all the way. After each subsequent pregnancy things never went back. All I really want is perkier girls- not the "do your ears hang low" ones that I am sporting now. Finding a bra that will help in that way will not be as easy as hitting Victoria's Secret apparently.

The last time I got fitted for a bra we had a different president and it was a few children ago. And given the bra I am currently wearing is literally falling apart, I decided to go on a little adventure--- ALONE! So I got a few items- Not granny panties but pretty things. I can't wait to wear them.

Having pretty panties always makes me feel better and pretty. Small pleasures are awesome.

Betrayal.

Ever since she has been home from the NICU I have not been apart from her for long. Never overnight until I had my medical issues this summer even then I usually pushed hard to only be away overnight.

When I had my big surgery a week ago I knew that it would be hard on her to be away from me for so long. Seeing as sitting a 13 month old down and explaining to her that Mama needs to get something fixed and I'd be back as soon as I could- is not really reasonable I was pretty nervous about leaving her.

She was sad that I was gone. She was wimpering like a sad puppy from what my friend told me. I was not worried about the care she would receive but I was concerned about how she would react- added to this she had a cold.

Typically, the hospital stay for the procedure I had is 5 days. Despite my complications I complained and pushed to come home sooner. I made it home in 2 days.

When I got home, Pixie was not thrilled to see me. She was angry! She looked at me like I had betrayed her on some base level. She was pissed! How dare I? How could I do that to her? It was heartless of me. I also think that she was not sure if I was a baby mirage or not. Once she figured out I really was there, then she was more pleased to see me. Like turning on a dime she went from angry at me to not letting me out of her sight. If I went out of the room she was terrified I would leave again. If I went pee- she woud go too. I could do whatever I wanted- as long as she was with me. Heaven forbid you put her in the carseat-- that was NOT ok.

Even now a week after getting home she is still not thrilled if I am out of her line of sight. Maybe by the time she is in high school she'll have gotten over it.

Pixie's treats

Otherwise known as: thank goodness for nontoxic crayons.

Pixie thinks these things are the best treat this side of cookies. I am baffled as to why- wax just seems unappetizing.

But as there are three other kids here- we keep Crayola in business- crayons colored pencils- markers abound. What confuses me is I can have the kids pick up their crayons and other coloring implements (then I follow and pick up the missed ones), then Pixie toddles around in without fail she finds some little scrap of a crayon and proceeds to pop it into her mouth like a lifesaver.

Sometimes I catch it and fish the crayon out- other times I only find out a day or so later when well *ahem* things come out colorfully.

No matter how many times I say "no no Pixie not food" she just looks at me with her huge eyes and goofy grin and laughs then toddles away.

Stinky's trophy

In going through Rubbermaid bins I found an old baseball trophy of B's. Stinky saw it and was so excited. He asked a thousand questions about it. Seeing as I was not there, I have no idea as to the circumstances of the win- but to know that Daddy was so awesome he got a trophy pretty much settled B in rock star status.

I gave the trophy to Stinky and he has taken it with him everywhere. To the pool, to the park, to soccer. Everywhere and everywhere he goes he tells people that it was his daddy's trophy.

Now it is on his nightstand. He likes it to be close to him where he can hold it if he wants. At least once a day I am reminded that the trophy was Daddy's and it is really old so he needs to take care of it.

This will be one of the things he treasures I bet. I am glad that he can treasure it.

Its been a while huh?

Darn surgery getting in my way.

Tuesday was the big day. I had my kidney and ureter fixed. I was terrified of having a stroke or a pulmonary embolism. Which did not turn out to be entirely unfounded.

The surgery went well- I guess. I found out I have a big tongue and a small mouth (thanks anesthesia lady). Who knew I had a big tongue and a small mouth and throat?
My ureter had a few issues with it- it had a large "S" kink and scarring and a vein was in the wrong place. All of that was fixed. Yay!

In recovery things got hairy. Bearing in mind my memory is kind of foggy I remember signing for B- the told me of course he could not be there. My heart rate was way to fast and apparently I had a problem breathing what seemed like 30 doctors descended into the room- and the were afraid that I had a pulmonary embolism. I could not have the one test that would tell them for sure- but they decided that given my clotting issues, as well as my symptoms I most likely had one and the proceeded to give me blood thinners to dissolve the clot.

Giving someone blood thinners after surgery is not usually a good idea- I mean you bleed more. Which then made me need to get more blood. The doctors were concerned because I was bleeding too much and my blood count was dropping, I was disoriented and not waking up well, and my heart was still beating too fast- to the ICU I went.

The poor ICU nurse. I was not kind to him- I really wanted ice and he would not give it to me. To him: I am sorry.

When I was stable- the next day I got to go down to the regular floor. All was well until the doctor had to pull the drain out. Worst pain ever. No way to describe it. Just worst feeling ever.

A few days later I was allowed to come home- earlier than anticipated- thank goodness.

I am so so so thankful that I had such great care. I will write about the exceptional care I had and the amazing friends who took care of my kids later but I just wanted to put it out there- that now I hope my kidney is fixed. I am ok. I am thankful.