I keep forgetting this....

I used to be good at updating when anything happened... maybe not everyday but weekly.... and well- I forgot.

The kids are great. They are always great. Well-- ok not always, but a lot of the time they are great.

Princess is growing up--- and this is not ok. She was my baby- the little preemie who brought me back down.

Stinky is actually starting to smell now that he is 10.

Peas? is Peas. Enough said.  Seriously though- I worry about her. A lot. I see so much of me in her- that I want to grab her and say "its alright.  Even if things don't go the way you want--- it is alright they'll turn out in the end.

Pixie is in school full time and she is smarter than I care to admit. She figures things out so quickly watching her brain work is amazing.

LittleDude is not so little anymore.  Totally potty trained-- day and night *I swear he has only had 2 overnight accidents- no, don't know how that happened either...it just did.

I'm here. Learning. Trying.. and not always succeeding.

Feelings are hard for me, I feel so disconnected from them- at least my feelings--- other people? I feel their feelings deeply.

Pixie's Birthday

Meg turned 6 the other day.

I celebrated it with her in the same hospital she came into the world in--- but for different reasons, I had a kidney infection.

My silly kidney did not stop us from having a party though, we had pizza, cake, and ice cream to mark the beginning of Pixie's 6th year.

I can't believe that she is 6.  Meg is joyful, impish, compassionate, welcoming, loving, goofy, smart, silly, and an amazing kid.  I am so thankful to be her mom and to have the privilege of watching her grow.

And she sure has grown!!! From a little 3 lb baby to a big girl now.....

relaxing in the NICU

Meghan just born

Home at last

6 years old-- at the same hospital she arrived in. 

Meghan loves her chickens, she cares for them and checks on them all the time.  She can calm them down and they let her pet them.  She loves her friends and enjoys playing with them and giving them things. She is clever figuring things out are a specialties.  I can't wait to see how grows up. 

Why do they grow up

Someone posted a thing on Facebook the other night about the "Last Time".

When was the last time I nursed Pixie-- clearly there was one time that was the last time. There was one time that I held her close and had her nurse.  I don't remember when this was- which is sad- I feel like there should have been a way to mark that.  This is true for all of the kids (except LittleDude) who is still nursing.

When was the last time I picked up Stinky and carried him to bed? Or put him on my back? There obviously was a last time but I don't know when that was.

I don't know what "last time" will be next.  Will it be the last time I "muggle" Pixie and Peas?  Will it be carrying them to bed? Reading them a story? When will it be the last time to hold their hands to cross the street?

Even knowing that that this last time is looming- it can be hard to appreciate the little things.  It can be hard to remember to cherish the snuggles, the talks, the hand holding. I hope I can learn to value this time as much as I should.

Horrible Nightmare

Last week I had to go to the doctor for my hip.  While I was there, something horrific happened.

B was badly injured training at a live fire drill.

One minute we were texting each other about my hip, he said that he had to go drill, next thing I know my phone was going crazy as he had fallen trying to force open door as part of their training. When he fell he broke his leg.

Seeing the text that he was hurt but not knowing what was happening was terrifying. Not being able to help was frustrating.

As a mother, my job is to fix things. Make things better.  There is nothing that I can do to help him. Nothing I can do to make it better.  All I could do was go there and be there.

The break was bad enough and in a place that required surgery, I have had a lot of surgery, but waiting for someone to have surgery is something I have less experience with.  Sitting there, watching the screen with his case--- waiting for screen to advance to "surgery complete".

B's job has always scared me- I love and respect what he does, but it scares me.  Because he could so quickly be injured. Nothing is a guarantee.  Every time we talk we end it with "I love you, be safe".  I will not let him off the phone until he replies "I always am".

It has been hard for the kids- he is like superman.  He comes and fixes things and saves the day. His job is actually to save people.  He is not here a lot but when he is he is fantastic with them.  No one gets a better welcome than when daddy gets here.

Truth be told, I am a little jealous about how the kids are so interested in helping him. When I get hurt or have surgery nothing changes, the requests keep coming: "mama what's for dinner??" "where is my shirt?" B gets hurt--- totally different story- they are all over him helping.  Which, honestly is good.  He is dad- and a pretty darn awesome one.

Seeing the message that B was hurt was the most horrifying thing. My stomach dropped a million miles, I started sweating, I was sick to my stomach.  He annoys the crap out of me and irritates me beyond belief, but I love him.

When the doctor told me that he did need surgery, I got light headed--- and its not my leg! A doctor can tell me I need surgery and that is fine, I can deal, but not someone I care about, that makes it scary!

I do have new respect for what B had to endure in the waiting room for me- my surgeries were much longer and I have no idea how he managed.  Being the one unconscious is much much easier.

When he is better, I will have to find something new to say other than "I love you, be safe" because much like the kids-- he clearly doesn't listen.

I am thankful that he will heal.  I am thankful for my sister who saved the day. I am thankful.

Positive change

Typically, I am awful about dealing with change. When we remodeled the kitchen when I was a child, I cried for weeks.  When my mom got braces, I cried.  When my mom cut her hair I cried. Schedule changes are rough for me too.

For the past few years pole had been my refuge. My escape hatch from a busy life.  When things were rough I could count on pole to spin me back into a good mood.  Then I got sick. Really sick. I had surgeries. And more surgeries. I didn't get all the way better, I would get marginally better, then get sick again.  I had another baby. I got sicker. More surgeries.

Finally, I am getting better.  I am healthier.  But when I started back on the pole- so much that I took for granted was so hard, and it was defeating. I know that I could do something-- at one point- but now I am not strong enough anymore.  For a few weeks this was killing me.  It was depressing. It was dragging me down.

But I noticed tonight- my body is changing again, it is getting stronger. My muscles are coming back.  My flexibility is coming back.  I am not where I was, but soon I will be, I have to keep working at it.

So I owe heaps of thanks to Kymba of Kymberly's Aerial Pole Art and Fitness for sticking with me and showing me the joy in pole again.  While helping me get my butt back in shape.