The ol' switcheroo

In addition to Finn's surgery yesterday, the kids are all on Spring Break this week, and we've been in the process of moving kids around. Lilah has moved in with the twins and is now sleeping in a big girl bed. Finn is moving from our room into his own room (previously Lilah's room, and previous to that, Joey's room). It's a work in progress.

~~~

This is how the twins' room looked originally, from all angles:

Last Saturday, we got their two twin beds put together as bunk beds. Daisy and Annabelle argued over who would get to sleep in the top bunk and finally settled the matter by agreeing to sleep together in the top bunk. That first night did not go well at all. The girls chattered and fooled around until 10:30 p.m. Annabelle fell asleep several times but Daisy was restless and kept waking her up, so she would cry, and Lilah was so amped up over being with the big girls that she kept getting out of bed and climbing up to the top bunk to play. Finally we put Lilah back in the crib in her old room and Annabelle in the bottom bunk for the night.

Lilah in the bottom bunk

On Sunday, we got Lilah's big girl bed put together. Oh look, it looks like Daisy is on the verge of a tantrum. Once we got the new bed put together, there was a new fight: everyone wanted the new bed because it has a pretty new quilt on it. Sheesh.

Lilah won. The second night went much better. We only had to shush the girls 19 times. They did eventually all go to sleep, however.

There is still work to be done. I need to get a new rug for the room, move pictures around on the walls, touch up paint, and I'd like to put a new wallpaper border up. Today I started moving Lilah's clothes from her old room into her new room. Again, a work in progress.

There's not much to be done to Finn's room. It's always had a beach theme, so it's worked for both Joey and Lilah and will be fine for Finn. Right now Lilah's name is spelled out in wood letters on the wall, so I'll take that down, but other than that, he's pretty much good to go.

I also started to put together a new dresser for Lilah today. Let me start by saying that when I ordered it online, I had no idea that the whole damn thing had to be built from the bottom up. I thought they were going to deliver a dresser to my door, not a box filled with 3,000 parts and 8 pages of instructions! And of course, mid-assembly today, I discovered that an essential part is missing, so now I have to call and have them ship me the missing part, and in the meantime, I have dresser parts littering the living room.

Ashes

Today is my dad's birthday. He would be 62 years old.

Ten years ago on what would have been his 52nd birthday, I, my brother, my dad's wife, and a couple of my dad's closest friends gathered to scatter his ashes in the ocean where he loved to fish.

There are certain events that stand out in my memory like a series of photographs. That day is one of those events.

Everything surrounding the gathering was strained. My own marriage was in shambles and I was planning to drop the bomb on my husband after this trip and leave him for good (I ended up being sweet-talked with promises by him into staying, but I did leave him a few weeks later, only to return, and then a few weeks after that, to finally leave for good . . . but that's a whole other story). My brother and his wife (who was also there) and I were estranged and had been for some time, but we were thrown together to say our final good-byes to my dad. And things had always been strained between my dad's wife and me, during the entire 17 years they were married. I think she never was able to accept my dad's kids from his first marriage, especially since she wanted kids of her own and never had them.

All of us from "down south" as my dad called it (meaning Southern California, as opposed to Central/Northern California where he lived during the last several years of his life) made the 5-hour drive up to Ben Lomond for this occasion. We stayed at my dad's house by invitation from Robin, his wife. It was bizarre - there we were all in the same house but most of us not even on speaking terms with one another.

On April 5, my dad's birthday, a friend of my dad's was going to take us out on the ocean in his boat so we could scatter his ashes. The day dawned with rain and wind that grew more fierce as the morning wore on. My husband stayed behind at the house with Kevin, who was only 2 at the time, while we made the trip to the coast. I remember being in the back seat of my dad's car while my dad's friend and Robin, my dad's wife, were in the front seat. I don't remember who was in the back seat with me, but I remember my stomach being in knots during the entire drive, and I remember Robin talking about how she was going to have a will drawn up to make sure that when she died, her neices would get everything. My dad died without a will, and we, his kids, got nothing monetary when he died. I don't know what I expected. I know that they were pretty well off and I think my dad would have wanted his kids to get something, but left to Robin, it's not surprising that we got nothing. Still, I remember thinking how absolutely crass and hurtful it was that she was talking about who she was going to leave her money to at a time like that, with me right there in the back seat and still reeling from my dad's death.

The weather was horrible by this time, and we were driving down the winding mountain road at a snail's pace. It became obvious that we were not going to be able to take a boat out onto the ocean in that weather. I think there was some discussion about what we should do: abandon the plan to scatter his ashes on his birthday and come back to do it when the weather improved? Or make our way to the harbor anyway and decide then?

We arrived at the shore and everyone got out of their cars. It was freezing cold and pouring rain. Clearly we couldn't go out on the boat. What to do? Somehow it was decided that we would just scatter his ashes off the pier.

The next picture I see in my memory is of us gathered around a hole cut out in the pier. There was a wood railing around it, and looking down, the ocean sloshed around wildly about 15 feet below. Robin had a boom box with music she wanted to have playing as we scattered his ashes, but I don't recall the song. I'm sure the stormy weather drowned it out anyway.

My brother had the box of my dad's ashes in his hands. How was it, I wondered, that the 6'1" man I knew as my father could be reduced to fit inside a box that could be held in my brother's hand? He opened the box, and inside was a clear plastic bag that contained the remains of my dad. It seemed completely inconceivable that the man who had always seemed bigger than life to me was reduced to what looked like sand. That was my dad. That was all that was left of him, all that was left of the bear hugs and the big hand I held so many times.

My brother opened the bag and let the ashes fall through the hole in the pier to the water below. It somehow felt like we were cheating. This wasn't what we had planned, and it seemed like a sorry excuse of ceremony to say our final good-byes. I'm sure my dad would not have cared. He was the type of man who never wanted a fuss made over him, and he was uncomfortable being the center of attention. He probably would have chuckled over the fuss that was being made. As his ashes fell to the water below, the wind and rain whipped like mad, and a strange thing happened: my dad's ashes were whipped around by the wind and rain and suddenly it was in my hair and clothes and on my skin. And in a strange way, it seemed right. I wasn't creeped out or disgusted. It was my dad. Maybe that was his final embrace. We dropped roses into the water after the ashes and stood there for a while watching it all be churned by the ocean and disappear.

We drove back to my dad's house afterwards, and I still had his ashes clinging to my hair and face. I didn't want to wipe any of it away. It felt like he was with me in a way. When we got back to the house, I didn't tell my husband about it. It belonged to me, it was my secret, my memory, and I didn't want to taint it by sharing it with someone who was causing me so much pain. I kept it to myself for a long time. And when the time came for me to wash my dad's ashes out of my hair and off my skin, I watched it swirl down the shower drain and said good-bye.

~~~

This rocking chair and teddy bear are two of the few things I have of my dad's. The rocking chair originally belonged to my dad and my mother when they were still together. The teddy bear was my dad's from babyhood. It's stuffed with sawdust and is torn and threadbare, which makes it all the more precious.

Homebirth Questionnaire

I usually ignore the questionnaires on Facebook but this one was on Homebirth. I couldn't resist.

For Lilah's birth (homebirth #1)

1. What was your due date? September 24, 2006
2. When was your baby born? October 3, 2006
3. Did you know from the beginning that you would birth at home? Yes
4. Were you born at home? No
5. Was your home birth a VBAC? No
6. Midwife or UC (unassisted childbirth)? Midwife attended
7. If assisted, how long did you wait before calling your midwife? My mw was in and out of our house for several days before Lilah finally made her grand entrance! I had prodromal labor for a week :( Sue, our mw, ended up spending the night on our sofa the night before Lilah was born and was with us all day the day she was born.
8. Was there a Doula present? No
9. Did you have any cravings? Throughout my pregnancy I craved Indian food! And ice cream, of course. During labor? No
10. Did you have an ultrasound? Yes, I had several during my first trimester due to a subchorionic bleed, as well as a NT ultrasound as part of a first trimester screening to screen for birth defects (how ironic), and a 20-week u/s because, really, I just HAD to know the baby's gender.
11. Did you have other children at the birth? Kevin was at school when Lilah was finally born; Annabelle and Daisy were home, but napping (and slept through the whole thing). Joey was home and awake and being looked after by our wonderful babysitter. He did not witness the birth.
12. Was it a water birth? Yes.
13. How long was your labor? Gosh, that's a hard one. As I said, I was in prodromal labor for a week. Active labor? I don't know . . . a few hours.
14. Red raspberry leaf tea? Yes. Well, actually, RRL capsules, as I can't stomach tea.
15. What did you eat during labor? My mw convinced me to eat an english muffin with peanut butter and honey, and I think some cottage cheese.
16. What room did you give birth in? Our bedroom
17. How big was your baby? 7 lbs 10 oz
18. What did you name your baby? Lilah Peggy
19. What did you do with your placenta? My mw wrapped it up and stuck it in our freezer downstairs, where it remains to this day. Still don't know what to do with it. Have thought about planting it, but haven't done it yet.
20. How old were you when your child was born? 38
21. What was your favorite part of pregnancy? I adore being pregnant. The best part is feeling the baby moving around inside. It's like magic.
22. First thing you did after your baby was born? Gosh . . . cried, probably. And hemmoraged :(
23. How old is your baby today? 2.5 years old
24. Is your child still nursing? No, but she nursed for 16 months.

For Finnian's birth (homebirth #2)

1. What was your due date? July 19, 2008
2. When was your baby born? July 7, 2008
3. Did you know from the beginning that you would birth at home? Yes
4. Were you born at home? No
5. Was your home birth a VBAC? No
6. Midwife or UC (unassisted childbirth)? Midwife attended
7. If assisted, how long did you wait before calling your midwife? We initially called her when my water broke at a little after midnight. She told me to check for cord and if I didn't feel any, to try to go back to sleep and call her when my contractions picked up. She came over the next morning to check me, but I still had not started active labor. Later that night, around 10 pm, I guess, when my ctx suddenly became noticeably more intense and closer together, we called her to come over.
8. Was there a Doula present? No
9. Did you have any cravings? Throughout my pregnancy I craved tangerines and macadmia nuts! And ice cream, of course. During labor? No
10. Did you have an ultrasound? Yes, I had one at 7.5 weeks to rule out twins, and a 20-week anatomical u/s (and of course, I HAD to know the baby's gender).
11. Did you have other children at the birth? All the kids were home and slept through the whole thing.
12. Was it a water birth? Yes.
13. How long was your labor? Active labor was about 3.5 hours
14. Red raspberry leaf tea? Yes. Well, actually, RRL capsules, as I can't stomach tea.
15. What did you eat during labor? I was eating ice cream when my contractions suddenly kicked into high gear :)
16. What room did you give birth in? Our bedroom
17. How big was your baby? 6 lbs
18. What did you name your baby? Finnian Hendrix
19. What did you do with your placenta? My mw wrapped it up and stuck it in our freezer downstairs, where it remains to this day. Still don't know what to do with it. Have thought about planting it, but haven't done it yet.
20. How old were you when your child was born? 40
21. What was your favorite part of pregnancy? I adore being pregnant. The best part is feeling the baby moving around inside. It's like magic.
22. First thing you did after your baby was born? I'm sure I cried.
23. How old is your baby today? He'll be 9 months old in a couple of days
24. Is your child still nursing? Yes

The boys

Michael had his final radiation session this morning. Phew. It's really caught up with him over the last week or so - the fatigue, internal pain, and scorched skin. The effects of the radiation will take a couple of weeks to resolve, but at least that part is behind him now. This round of chemo will be finished as of Monday and then a month off.

What more can I say about it? It's been really difficult to watch all this happening to him, and it's been very difficult for him to go through it. The road seems so long right now, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel. We still have about 9 months to go until the end of this process. In a way it feels like our life is in limbo, or on hold, or something . . . but I guess it's really not. The kids continue to grow and keep us busy, work continues to get done, meals continue to get eaten, messes continue to get made and cleaned up, the sun continues to rise and set. Life goes on.

~~~

Finn is scheduled for surgery Monday morning to have his testes relocated to their proper positions (they are lodged up in his abdomen). It will be done laparoscopicly (?? I can never get that word right), and will be outpatient. It's considered a relatively minor surgery, but I'm still feeling anxious about it. Stay tuned.

~~~

Kevin is back from Outdoor Science School, and had a great time. In fact, he has very openly admitted that he didn't want to come home. I was right: the experience changed him a little. We are all the sum of our experiences, and this is one more notch in his belt as far as his very own life experiences. I'm glad he had such a good time, and also glad he's home.

~~~

Joey's Open House at school was last night. We have discovered that Joey is quite the ladies' man! He actually seems to be pretty popular with all the kids - even kids in different classes and second graders - but, it seems, the girls especially like him. One mom confided to me a while back that her daughter is in love with Joey because "he's so little and so smart!" (He is little . . . and sadly, he's beginning to get a complex about it.) Anyway, I found out just this week that his current best friend is a little girl in his class named Lexi. They play Spy Club together at recess, apparently, and she and Joey are dying to have a playdate over Spring Break next week. Also, Joey confessed to me that he has a crush on another little girl in his class by the name of Junie. He likes her because "She's as smart as I am." Yes, Joey thinks pretty highly of himself :)

Joey with Lexi in the middle, and another classmate

Joey with his teacher, Mrs. Phillips, who likes to ask him if he's going to leave his brain to science :)

Box Slide

This is the box that contains the parts that will be assembled into Lilah's new big girl bed. In the meantime, the girls have found another use for it.

This morning

This morning, Daisy had her first meltdown exactly 3 minutes and 27 seconds after she got out of bed, because the bandaid I put on the owchie on her knee yesterday was coming off and she wanted a new one RIGHT NOW and I said, "You'll have to wait a few minutes." Crying and wailing ensued.

But I did not yell.

Daisy had her second meltdown not long after that because I sliced her banana for breakfast rather than putting it on her plate whole.

But I did not yell.

Lilah refused to sit on the potty when she got up and I had to physically manhandle her onto the toilet while she played floppy noodle girl.

But I did not yell.

Lilah then refused to eat her breakfast and instead sat at the table wailing at the top of her lungs for a solid 15 minutes because, I guess, I did not make the exact perfect breakfast Her Majesty desired.

But I did not yell.

Annabelle had a tantrum because I told her she had to wear pants today (if it were up to any of the three girls, they would wear dresses every single day of the year, and I'm sorry, but some days dresses are just not appropriate attire). This involved laying on her bedroom floor and kicking and screaming.

Still I did not yell.

Joey chased Annabelle around the living room trying to take from her a paper flower she made at school yesterday. He was totally pushing her buttons, and she was shrieking like a banshee.

But I did not yell.

Joey and the twins piled into my bed and started playing whatever game it is they play which involves tearing all the covers off, which drives me crazy, and which I pretty much have to tell them not to do every. Single. Morning.

Did I yell? No, not I.

When it was time to go, and we had cut it to the last possible minute to get out the door and still get Joey to school on time, Annabelle sat on her bedroom floor trying to get her doll dressed, and thereby holding everyone up.

Still I did not yell.

When I got all the kids marching down the stairs to the backyard where the truck is parked, I chanted to them, "Just get in the truck and get in your seats . . . just get in the truck and get in your seats . . ." When we got outside, two of them start kicking around a ball in the driveway while the other two start fighting over who is going to open the truck door.

But I did not yell.

I got Joey to school on time, and I managed to do the whole morning song and dance without yelling. I hope Michael sees what an awesome mother I am for not yelling.

Criticism

I'm trying to figure out which hurts more: criticism that comes from someone whose opinion you actually care about, or critism that reflects something you know to be true (as in, the truth hurts). When it's both, it hurts all the more.

Tonight over dinner Michael commented on how when he got out of the shower this morning, all he could hear was me yelling at the kids. Upon hearing this, my defenses immediately went up. But deep inside, the criticism leaves me feeling small, and ashamed, and cut down.

It's true: I do yell at the kids a lot. I'm a yeller. I wish I wasn't. I wish I were one of those serene moms who speaks softly but firmly, and her kids actually listen. I wish my kids had so much respect for me that all it took was a stern glance from me to take command of any situation. But that's not my life.

What I defensively responded to Michael with was this: "I'd like to see YOU do what I do every morning! I'd like to see YOU deal with all six kids, by yourself, and get them all out the door by 7:20 every morning!" And that's the thing. I get up at 5:15 and spend the next two hours feeding, cleaning up after, getting dressed, brushing teeth, combing hair, making lunches, dealing with tantrums, breaking up arguments, urging them to hurry up, we have to GO! By myself. There's no time in there for me - I usually have about two minutes out of that two hours to throw on some sweats and put my hair up in a ponytail. Michael, on the other hand, gets up at 6 and spends the next hour and a half (simultaneous to my frantically getting the kids ready for school) getting himself ready for work, at a pretty leisurely pace, I might add. How dare he criticize me?

All that is true, and I do believe that I deserve some handicap points for that.

However, his criticism hurts because I know it's true. I do yell too much. Patience is not one of my strengths. The dilly-dallying, the bickering, the having to tell the kids 6, 7, or 15 times to do something before they actually do it . . . yeah, I just don't have the patience for that stuff. So I yell. And my yelling makes me feel like a failure a lot of the time, because that's not the kind of parent I set out to be. I don't beat the crap out of my kids, I don't berate or belittle them, but yell? Yes, I yell. And I throw the occasional (okay, frequent) swear word in there.

Michael has a lot more patience than I do. He's generally just a much more laid back person than I am. I'm pretty high-strung by nature. That said, Michael does lose his temper sometimes with the kids, and I have to say that when he yells at them, I almost feel a sick sense of satisfaction. "See," I want to say, "You're no better than me." And I really do think that his patience level correlates to a great degree to how much time he actually spends dealing with them. Let's face it, he's gone all day. He barely deals with them in the morning before work, and by the time he gets home from work, it's dinner and bedtime shortly thereafter - so in the evenings he's with them for about an hour. I really do think that if he spent as much time with them as I do (and I'm not complaining . . . much), he'd not be the saintly Mr. Patience that he is now.

Anyway, it hurt. It hurt because it came from him and because I know it's true.