and there you have it…



sweet sleep

When we moved we upgraded to a king size bed, if it was just us or we had less children I would have really seen no need. We do like each other still and don’t feel the need to sleep on opposite sides of the room from each other. However, reality is, there are five of us, and by morning (especially chiller ones like this one) all five are in our bed.

This is what I woke up to this morning, and it just made my heart melt. Look at that tangled up mess of baby snuggles.


posting again about…trash cans

Look at me! I’m posting again! I am proud of myself, you should be too, since we know none of us really believed this was going to happen. My sister and I put together a bunk bed from IKEA on monday. I feel as if I could just leave this post with that statement alone and it would be enough. I have never seen so many little unidentifiable pieces. But it is together and seems to be servicable. Jena is slightly terrified of how big it is, but Grant is loving it. Just one more adjustment to add to the mix, we like keeping it raw over here.

On the moving front, I still have the same half dozen boxes sitting in my garage that I had there since a week after we moved, and we are now coming up on the one month mark. It is mostly stuff for the kids’ room, and well, there’s usually someone sleeping in that room. Also I need trash cans. I have a million places to put them and I only own four. I actually picked up more at IKEA when we bought the bed, but somehow they managed to not come home with me. I think there is a trash can conspiracy going on, they know they will be used for nasty diapers and they bailed on me. I don’t blame them really, but I still need them. In the meantime I have decided that the upstairs can only have one of the aforementioned trash cans. So I aimlessly wander the upstairs trying to remember which room I have most recently decided is the most strategic place for the sole trash can…kid’s room, guest bathroom, master bath, ect.

And well that’s all for now.

working much?

The other night I was sleeping on the couch, let me pause for minute. No I was not in the dog house, no I was not physically separating myself from my husband, there was no fighting, arguing or anything like that going on. I don’t really remember what was going on, but it probably had more to do with Jacob being a bed hog and the couch bed already being made into a bed, probably.

So anyway, I was sleeping on the couch and I vaguely hear Jacob wake up, one of the dream like wakings, where you’re not really sure what’s going on. I didn’t get up, I was a bit disoriented, and all of a sudden I look up and there’s Neil, standing at the side of couch holding Jacob.

Neil: he needs the special stuff

Me: wha?

Neil: the special stuff Joy, from the special pages.

Me: pages? webpages? what are you talking about?

Neil: the special pages, the special pages!

Somehow we all ended up back in bed and Jacob nursed and went back to sleep. The next morning when I woke up I got a good laugh out of our midnight delirium. I think my husband’s been working a little too hard on the online development portion of his job, either that or I’ve developed some special pages I’m unaware of…

the new normal

School started this month. We’ve made a few adjustments in our schedule to accommodate.  Neil comes in earlier in the morning and does afternoon pick ups, and I come in later after I’ve dropped all the kids off. We are adjusting, some days are better than others. This morning was, well, special.

Guys you can skip this paragraph. Women, a little context. I got my hair cut last night, and I hate it, for the first time in like forever. I waited for 45 mins to get said haircut and then had to follow it by going out in public to buy everything we ran out of while I was working overtime last week and couldn’t shop. Since we’d used Jacob’s last diaper putting him to bed, this was not a delay-able trip. I didn’t get home till after 10pm only to find my period had started while I was out! Yippie! Then I woke up with cramps this morning, which I haven’t had since we started having kids. On to the morning.

As per the new normal, the alarm goes off at 5:30am, and wakes me up. Unfortunately, I no longer need to be up at 5:30.  As it continues to go off I hear movement in the adjacent room, Jena’s signature door slam as she exits their room gives her away. Before I can plan for her attack, she’s climbed into our bed, barely missing her sleeping brother. Just as she’s quieting back down with me I figure it’s about time for the alarm to go off again. Sure enough, there it is, that mechanical cell phone sounds I’ve grown to loathe. This time I feel Jacob begin to stir on the other side of me, with in minutes he’s managed to accomplish what the alarm had been attempting for the last half an hour.

Both kids are plopped in front of the TV, Neil jumps in the shower and I desperately throw a pillow over my head and try to go back to sleep. What seems like 5 mins later my alarm starts going off and I hear Jena come in as she’s dressing herself to say ‘THANK YOU FOR BUYING ME GOLDFISHES MOMMY!’ My half asleep brain only notices that I don’t have to get her dressed and she was polite, how nice I think. Only now as I’m writing this do I realize I never checked to make sure she took her nighttime diaper off and switched to panties (she frequently forgets this part of the process), hmm….I wonder how that turned out.

Anywho, I stumble out of the bedroom, trying to duck for cover, but I’m spotted. Screams of help ensue as Jacob strains to get out of his high chair. I’m too tired to do anything yet and there is no way I can let him down to play while in the shower. He has mastered the climbing of EVERYTHING, the proper method of descent however still eludes him.

With a clearer head, after a quick shower, I walk into the living room and Jena’s sweet little ‘Thank you’ this morning comes rushing back. It is a gold fish grave yard in my so recently cleaned living room (mistake one, cleaning the living room; mistake two, expecting it to still be that way when I got up). I removed the bowls of semi surviving fishies from the couch among the chorus of screams. Jacob still wanting to get down, Jena traumatized I had taken her fishies away, and Grant who was just trying to make me hear above it all that he was indeed still hungry!

We do our breakfast mayhem, peppered all through out with screaming fits for MORE FISHIES MOMMY WHAAA!!! Making me regret every buying them in the first place. When we are all finally somewhat satisfied with breakfast poor tired Jacob is finally about to be released. As I’m getting him out of his high chair I realize he’s not been changed yet this morning. So rather than let his soaked diaper leak all over more stuff I strip it off and throw it in the trash. Thrilled to be free he toddles off to play. I figure I’ll give him a minute to air out and I got to the laundry room to grab my work clothes (mistake one, not putting my work clothes away this week; mistake two, thinking there’s a difference between a 5 minutes shower and a 30 second trip to the laundry room). When I come back in Jena gleefully greets me with ‘MOMMY JACOB POOPED ON DA FLOOR!’ Looking back now it seems enormously funny, though I’m quite sure shock and/or dismay was my initial reaction.

I grab some toilet paper and chokingly grab the enormous turd that was adorning my living room rug and deposit it in the toliet…hmm…I can’t seem to remember flushing. Did I mention Neil is the first one home in the evenings now? Surprise honey! After depositing it in the proper place I notice there’s this pretty splash pattern on the side of my couch that wasn’t there before. Then I realize that’s about the right level for…yay for boys! There’s also poop foot prints? on the rug? Sure enough, Jacob, who was continuing to poop while I was preoccupied cleaning up the first mess, had stepped in part of it and was now spreading it around the rug as he toddled along.

This called for a change in direction. New mission: project clean baby. Grant runs for the diaper wipes, Jena keeps him entertained while I get the poop off his butt, his legs, his feet, and in between his toes (gross). Once he’s properly diapered and off playing in their room, I go back to cleaning up the carpet.

Jacob, however will have none of this being left alone thing, and the other two are WAY to interested in the poop to be persuaded to leave the living room. So I’m being pestered with poop questions from both of them while I scrub my rug. I somehow managed to get the last of it cleaned up before Jacob makes it into the living room (if you know the size of our house, you’d really know what a feat that was!)

I pick him up and start rounding things back up to leave, because yes we still have to get off to school and work this morning! I scrub my hands, I change my clothes, but I can’t seem to get rid of the poop smell. I then look at my smiling baby boy on my hip (since carrying him is easier than listening to him complain to me about being woken up at O dark thirty this morning, I can’t give him a nap it’s time to leave!), and realize he’s somehow managed to smear poop along the side of his face and into his hair.

Now that’s it lunchtime and I’ve had cookies and hours of relative peace (at work), this seems humorous. It will also be useful black mail later.


Dear Vacations,

Vacations you rock. I may venture to say you make life worth living. There are those that would feel that is taking it to far so I suppose it could be modified to say at the very least you make living life feel possible again. You take the lead out of my step and the knots out of my neck. Your ability to turn our 2:3 adult:child ratio to a more favorable number on the adult side is a win in all directions. I’ve even found myself enjoying the weather, the formly deplorable, hot, humid weather. I’ve been told it is still hot and humid, but when you’re at the beach or sailing, it just feels right. Maybe that’s what hot and humid was made for! I’ve had an epiphany! I hearby declare all hot and humid days must be spent at the beach or on a boat. Vacations I feel you will support.

As much as I’d like to continue this tribute to you, I must desist. I am obligated to continue to enjoy myself, and right now I feel like sleeping. So as I know you would want me to do, I am off to bed. Carry on with your awesomeness. I will be with you again tomorrow.


why is my rug wet…

so we took Grant’s diaper away a couple months ago. Mommy just got sick of it and decided no more.  He did great. I was amazed and a bit chagrined (like that big word?) that I hadn’t taken it away earlier. We were down to only two in diapers. The Grant’s recent bout with allergies started (don’t get me started) and he started wetting the bed at night.

lots of blah blah blah not important stuff I don’t have the energy to get into right now, and we’re up to present day. Grant occasionally wets the bed, but on those nights he actually changes his own pants and goes back to sleep. But the majority of the time, he’s fine.

So three days ago I get out of bed and as I’m walking out of the room I step on a wet spot on our rug. That’s strange my tired brain thinks, but goes no further. I start getting ready, wake up a bit, go to the kids room to get their clothes out and step on another wet spot on their rug. hmmm…what’s that, I wonder. I look around the room and find a discarded pair of underwear in the corner, still damp. So I figure this pair sat on the rug last night instead of in the dirty clothes, that’s why their rug is wet. Case closed.

The next morning comes, I go into their room to get their clothes again, and step on another wet spot on their rug. This time I find no underwear any where in the room. I put them to bed last night and I know that Grant is wearing the same underwear and pjs this morning that he was the night before. I ask him if he had an accident anyway, check his underwear to see if they’re wet, his sheets aren’t wet, he’s insistent he didn’t have an accident that night. I can’t figure it out. I tell Neil. He thinks maybe Jena’s diaper leaked. I check her, and it’s not that. Jacob was in our room all night, so it wasn’t him. We know for sure the cats were both out that night too….what could it be?

Then we have last night. I’ve already gone to bed. Neil is still up, it’s about midnight. All of a sudden the kids’ door opens and Grant peeks out, sees Neil and closes the door. Neil jumps up and goes in the kids’ room, but he’s not fast enough. When he opens the door he finds a wide awake little boy with his pants down using his rug as his own personal john.

And if that’s not bad enough, tonight when we were watching Wall-E together on the couch after dinner he runs into his room and starts peeing on his rug again! There wasn’t anyone in the bathroom, he had no sleep brain excuses, what is the deal?!?!

I’m not sure which is worse, repeatedly changing and washing sheets from a kid who still has accidents or having a kid beyond having accidents intentionally peeing on your rugs! I had a cat like him once, would only pee on throw rugs. We switched her from an inside cat to an outside cat.

I’ve got an unused tent and sleeping bag in the storage area kid…I’m just saying.

Grant reads me a bedtime story

I took a video of this too, but it’s pretty dark, and my finger was over the lense for the first little bit, and I didn’t even have Grant in the video at all in the beginning, just the book. It’s not my best work, I couldn’t see, I believe I mentioned the dark part.

Now I greatly enjoy it anyway, but I’ve been told I’m a bit biased when it comes to this kid.

I tried my best to transcribe the story for you. It was his version of a little animal book. It’s one of those one picture, one word a page board books. Grant’s version is more involved, and more entertaining in my opinion. Perhaps we have a budding author on our hands, only time will tell. Here goes.

OK. Once upon a time.

*opens book to the monkey page* de monkey got died, and then he got killed (building excitement). One day dey fixed him wit da trees and flowers (excited whisper voice).

*turns to giraffe page* de giraffe was going for a roph one soph (it’s like he just forgot he was speaking english for a moment…and he’s back) when a lion pic him daway *lion sounds* an God jus didn make no lions no more, and din he was fixed, and din he was really happy had an iPhone. dat what da giraffe did.

*turns to elephant page* da elephant was so happy. he was haves new friends wit da dogs, kitties, and fish. And he could liked it two at a time (got a little Noah action going on there).

*turns to the tucan page, that he thinks is a macaw* da cawcaw. here comes da bird. he was he called whatcha eat some food. hes hungy, hungry.

*turns to frog page* (turn down volume Jena’s coming) hey frog i’m hungry, I want to eat some hair. (million dollars if you can decipher this…if I end up posting the video…)

*turns to turtle page* hey turtle! I neber a (more Grant language) turtle. can you get me some food please?

*closes book* did it. de end.

cringe and smile

So I came here to tell you about our crazy morning this weekend and I found this post. Apparently I’d never published this from February. Reading this first made me cringe, it made the chain reaction wake ups starting at 4:30 that morning, and then starting over again once they were all asleep, really not seem so bad. Because it’s not the norm anymore. But when I wrote the below, it was normal, and had been normal for months. This was about an every other night occurence, if we were lucky. 

But the end made me smile, because I really do love these crazy kids of mine.

Enjoy the blast from the past.

There have been many mornings I have wanted to post on our typical morning, which would still be night for most of you. The desire is the strongest after the worst of said mornings. Ones where I’ve gone back and forth between a teething toddler and a hungry baby from about 4 in the morning until I just give up trying to sleep. Ones where I can barely fit in any of the beds I’m attempting to lay down to nurse in. Ones where I plead with God to just let me fall asleep before the next one wakes up. Unfortunately for you, on those mornings I can’t put a coherent sentence together, so you’ve missed out.

This morning, being a weekend, and following a few days of unusually decent sleep for me, I was able to see and put on paper, the humor. Jena’s been teething her two year old molars for months now. She FINALLY broke one a few weeks back and we’ve had a bit of reprieve from her early morning shrieking. It was glorious. I say was because it’s back, I can only assume one of the other three is on it’s way. But there is no way I’m sticking my finger in there to find out for sure. I’ll wait till she wants to show me, I need all my fingers to stay attached.

So 4 something or other this morning I hear Jena shrieking and stumble in the kids’ room before she wakes up Grant (not that THAT is all that easy to do, he does sleep like his father). Where’s your binky Jena? I doonoo, she sobs. So we search around for it so she’ll stop while I try to get my foggy brain to make a plan. I figure I’ll take her to our bed, it’s been known to put her back to sleep, which means we all sleep longer, and everyone is less grumpy the next day. 

I thought it was relatively open when I’d left it, so I decide this is the best route. However, I then turn around and see ‘fake Grant’ tucked into his bed. This partially explains Jena’s waking, most nights if she wakes up and sees Grant still in his bed she’ll go back to sleep. But she is a middle child and does not know or like alone, so if he’s not there, she’s not happy. Apparently his ‘dummy’ didn’t fool her.

Now knowing my bed already has all the boys in it, we decided on a new course of action. Grant’s twin bed it is, she nursed and we both slept, oh sweet sleep. Jacob slept wonderfully last night, so the one time with Jena wasn’t enough to ruin the night. When he woke up to eat around  6ish, I got up and went back to our bed. Sliding in I found where Grant had been hiding, at the foot of our bed buried like a little mummy under the covers, no wonder I didn’t know he was there.

Jacob eats and I drift back to sleep when all of a sudden I feel a little monkey crawling over me. I look up and both boys are wide eyed staring at me with grins on their faces. I’ve already forgotten half the funny things Grant started saying at this point, but what made the biggest impression was his take on ‘our space.’ Which is a constant complaint for me trying to lay down with one nursing baby or another squeezing 2 into a bed designed for 1 or 5 into a bed designed for 2, space for me was a joke. But for Grant there was ‘all dis space!’  ‘Look at all dis space mommy!’ ‘dere’s so much space in yus bed!’ After Jena wonders in. ‘Come on up Jena, there’s lotas space up here!’ ‘Here’s a space for you Jena’ ‘There are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 of yus in dis bed mommy!’ ‘Come on Jena, we need more babies in dis bed.’

I’m trying so hard not to laugh at him, but I couldn’t hep but smile, in fact I didn’t even try. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. Glad I got a little this morning.

so i’m raising a…monster?

I went into the kids’ room this morning to open their window since it was still nice out and I noticed there was something on the window sill. It’s the window right over Grant’s bed, and I know he stays up and plays in there after we put him to bed. However, I didn’t know what he could have had that would have made the window that dirty. But as I got a little closer I realized that wasn’t dirt. Part of the window sill is actually missing. Did you hear me? It’s MISSING. As in gone.

Judging from the tiny little surrounding all the missing pieces I think my son is eating the window sill at night. I guess we should stop calling him the ‘silly monster.’

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