Making History

Everything from yesterday is in the past, and therefore its part of history. I happen to love history, which is probably why I document and record our family's history.

I started this blog over two years ago. Those of you that have stuck with me, thanks. I started this blog to help me get through the days when the only adult I was speaking to was my husband (besides myself of course.) I even documented my last days of teaching, which seemed tedious when I wrote it but now it makes sense in the progression of things. This blog made me accountable to my children. When I stopped teaching I was so concerned with the day to day activities. Really I was worried that I would use the TV as a babysitter melting their brains, so my solution was to set up a schedule that included crafts, experiments, and outside. I blogged weekly capturing those memories, and I'm so grateful I did.

Most everyone thinks of their day to day grind as mundane and not worth mentioning; however, they are dead wrong. Its those days that make history, your family's history. Ten years from now I won't remember that my 5-year old got his first loose tooth today and that he asked his big brother how his day was at school. I won't remember that my 6-year old told me to remember to tell his teacher that he won't be in school on Friday, how responsible. I won't remember that my 2-year old kept writing in this blog post by pressing the keys, running away, and giggling. I won't remember that my 3 month old kept rolling over for the first times only when I left the room. Figures, just when I have to pee he rolls over. If I don't write it down what will sustain me when I'm 80 in the nursing home?

When I took a hiatus from the blog when I was horribly sick carrying our 4^th baby, my husband asked when I was going to start up again. My sarcastic answer was probably something like, “I'll leave the computer next to the toilet, so between dry heaves and vomiting I might write something clever. All while taking care of the other three children.” However, that was the first time I realized that even if no one reads this, it still matters to my family.

When I got a new phone last week, I wasn't happy about loosing my old phone. But when my husband said I could take epic videos I started vlogging. That's right, I have my own YouTube channel. I know you are probably thinking what took me so long, but now I can document our homestead activities for our kids in the future. If I had a video of my parents or grandparents explaining their chores on a daily basis it would be worth more to me than anything.

So when each of my children graduate I will compile these blogs in a book for them. I might even make a video compiling all my vlogs. As high school graduates it might not matter to them then, but it will matter, someday. It's our family's history.

 

 

 

 

I'm 5

“Is my birthday tomorrow?” Was the question my 4-year old kept asking after we questioned him about what he wanted. This went on for about a month.

He knew exactly what he wanted, which was a Wild Kratt's suit with creature powers. I'm very familiar with the public TV show, which always leads me to the theme song replaying in my head. Gonna go wild is right, wild crazy.

My son picked three of his friends from his preschool class to invite along with his grandparents, cousins, and friends of the family. As everyone pulled into our drive way, they were greeted to a giant bouncy house on our lawn. We splurged on the bouncy house because I didn't want to plan games for the kid's entertainment.

Two days before the party I called the rental company to reserve the bouncy house, the giant obstacle course was the only one left. I went to the store to buy party favors, food, and decorations. The night before the party, I cleaned the house. The morning of the party I made the food for the 11am party, which didn't include the cake because there was no time. My husband picked up a cake when he picked up the bouncy house. I hung a couple of balloons on the mailbox, which was about it for the decorations.

Right before the party I was stressed and I felt like the party was going to be a disaster based on my last minute planning. I was scrambling around the kitchen when I looked out the kitchen window and saw a blur of kids in the bouncy house. Their screaming and laughing was enough for me to realize that my son and the other kids won't remember the food or the cake. They didn't care if the house was clean or if they streamers were hung. They will remember the fun they had, and my son will remember how special he felt on his birthday.

My husband and I will remember eating the hell out of that cake after the kids went to sleep at 7pm. Birthday success!

Tooth Fairy

“My tooth hurts.” My 6-year old son whined.

 

I looked at the offending tooth and wiggled it. I must have made a disgusted face because my son immediately shut his mouth and pushed my hand away. I smiled and said that he was going to loose his first tooth. He was so excited because his friends in his class had already lost some of their teeth.

 

A couple of days went by before he finally decided it was time for the tooth to be gone. He ate an apple and it came right out. I'm still surprised he didn't swallow it, it was so tiny. He put it on the window sill in the kitchen and forgot about it.

 

I started looking up the going rate for a tooth, which was crazy. The internet had the tooth fairy giving a couple of dollars to a crisp hundred dollar bill. I really wanted to do something different, which led me to discovering a company that sells animal teeth that the tooth fairy can trade for human teeth. My husband said he could just go out back and pull a tooth out of one of our pigs that had kicked the bucket. I'm still not sure if he was kidding or not, but the idea of pulling dead animal teeth gave me a shutter and a quick “No!”

 

The internet gave me the next idea of giving a quarter and a coin from another country. I loved that idea because we had a jar with foreign currency just collecting dust. At least it could collect dust in my son's piggy bank.

 

Our night time ritual went by and my 6-year old still didn't mention his tooth. I asked if I should go get it for under his pillow. He simply said no and rolled over in bed. I was disappointed because I was ready for the tooth fairy to come. I had done my research and even had some glitter to top it all off. The next night was the same, followed by the next night, and the next, until my husband said he will when he's ready. The next morning I asked him why he didn't want the tooth fairy to come, he explained that he didn't want her to take his tooth. Whew! I was so relieved that he didn't say he was scared of a little mosquito like creature that would fly into his room and his bed at night to take something that belonged to him. Yeah, because that's not scary.

 

That night my 6-year old wrote a sweet note asking the tooth fairy to leave his tooth. My husband helped him make a lego box with a lid to store his tooth and any future teeth, which was gently placed under his pillow.

 

Bright and early the next morning my son ran into our bedroom to show us what the tooth fairy left, a quarter, an Australian coin, and a note with glitter on it. We found Australia on the world map, which is where the tooth fairy had just come from before she made a visit to our house.

 

This ritual continued until the tooth fairy didn't make it to our house when he lost his third tooth. He was so disappointed in the morning, but the next night she explained what had happened. She was in Korea and had to stop across the ocean because of a thunderstorm. With her note and a quarter, a Korean coin that had 100 on it was left. My son was very excited that he had 100, which made up for any storm. (It just so happened that my brother was stationed in Korea when he was in the Army.)

 

A friend asked me what will happen when we run out of foreign currency, after all that is a lot of teeth between all four of our kids. I said, “The tooth fairy will just have to go to the bank to exchange her currency.”

Feed Them, Feed Us

"What is that sound?” I asked my husband at 3am when I was feeding our son. He grumbled that is was thunder. It had been so long since I had heard it, I didn't even recognize it. The thunder was followed by downpour rain. I elbowed my husband, and we both checked the weather on our phones. It was above freezing, but two hours north it was below freezing.


We had our Saturday all planned out. We were getting up early, putting the sleepy kids in the truck, getting breakfast on the way, and driving two hours north to the locker where our 10 pigs were done being processed. My husband had mapped out the journey to deliver all the pork to our 14 customers across 5 counties. Mother Nature sent rain, sleet, and snow.

I was driving while the kids were sleepily eating gas station donuts washed down with juice. I constantly caught myself checking the temperature in the rear view mirror, above freezing. I was speeding down the highway when I heard my 6-year old yell that his little sister was getting sick. My husband used her blankie to mop up the mess as I continued to drive.

We had to make an unexpected stop at my parent's house to clean up my girl. My husband went ahead to the locker and loaded up the meat as I got the kids cleaned and settled. We watched cartoons while the weather continued to get worse. We watched sleet pelt the windows, and heard the thunder snow. When my husband picked us up it was snowing heavily.

My husband maneuvered the truck through the snow, sleet, and eventually rain as we made our way south. I navigated and contacted our customers to give them ETAs. It was awesome to put half a hog in our customer's freezer at our first stop. Then the second and third deliveries, twenty minutes away. It was so worth it to see customer's faces as they looked through their boxes of meat, and even better to see my 4-year old shake their hands.

It was a family affair that lasted 12 hours and over 500 miles across Iowa. This is the ultimate farm to fork with transparency on all levels. These are the pigs that my sons named, and the pigs that my sons helped put into freezers. Yes, they made the connection that these were the same pigs, and it doesn't get any more personal than that. Food should be personal without any disconnection.

The day was made complete when I heard my 6-year old son say, “We feed them, and they feed us.”  

Teacher vibes

“Are you guys teachers?” The car salesmen asked my husband and I. When we both gave each other puzzled looks he followed it with, “You just give off that vibe.”

 

I thought it was such a weird thing to ask, but my husband thought it was great. He explained that the car salesmen was highly qualified because he had been in the business long enough to see all types of people and read them very well. It was pretty impressive that he had us figured out shortly after introductions.

 

So what are teacher vibes? I'm a former teacher, and my husband has a background in education for a corporation, but how does that translate into teacher vibes? With four kids, maybe the salesmen is confusing teacher vibes with parent vibes. The spit up smell, tired eyes, and unease in a quiet environment could have been the parent vibe we were giving off, which really isn't that far off the teacher vibe. The only difference would be giving off a paste, musty, earth smell instead of spit up, otherwise, I stand by tired eyes and unease in a quiet environment.

 

I hope all parents give off teacher vibes. After all, they are their child's first and most influential teacher. A parent teaches their child how to eat, how to dress, and how to speak. In our case, if the parent swears, the child swears; if the parent dresses in booty shorts, the child dresses in booty shorts (I have to talk to my husband about those booty shorts); if the parent wipes their mouth with their sleeve, the child uses their sleeve as a napkin too.

 

So here are the 10 things that we were doing to give off that Teacher/Parent vibe:

 

1. We weren't wearing sweatpants. It was a Saturday, and we were both wearing jeans. I usually don't get out of stretchy pants, but if I have to go somewhere I break out pants without an elastic waist.

 

2. We drove up in a mini van, and we were looking at an affordable, practical truck with a topper. The guy (With his Dad) in the office next to us was rollin out with a brand new Hummer. He was not a teacher.

 

3. We smiled and were polite to him. I'm sure he was surprised we weren't a-holes that told him to take his price for a truck with a cracked windshield and shove it.

 

4. We walked at a normal pace. Walking extra slow, says that you have all the time in the world or that you need a wheelchair. Walking extra fast, says that your a busy body or that you aspire to be a track star.

 

5. We did not ask stupid questions. Many teachers say there aren't stupid questions, but there really are. Come to think of it, we didn't ask any questions because we have smart phones that tell us all the answers in the world.

 

6. We didn't use slang. We know that saying, “How are ya, brah?” is the ultimate lazy wording. Your too lazy to say brother, so you shorten it to bro, then shorten it to brah because saying it is shorter than bro, but writing it is longer. It's a slang for a slang, dumb.

 

7. We know word definitions. We know that saying, “I literally died when I saw that truck.” isn't accurate, even if the Kardashians say it is.

 

But now I have to give off the mom vibe because the baby just woke up from his nap, and I just heard my 4-year jump down from the top of the bunk beds. It sounded like the ceiling was going to collapse all around me, which brings me to my 8, 9, and 10. Kids, kids, and kids. He couldn't miss our 4 kids with us that probably made him assume we like children. All the aforementioned qualities matter, but not as much as those kiddos.

And Baby Makes Six

“Maybe you guys could have another baby, so we could get another movie.” My six-year-old son announced at supper. He was given arrival gifts from his new baby brother, which included a movie. Maybe it would be easier to just have another baby, at least in the eyes of a six-year-old.

 

With the birth of our fourth child, our son, there are two questions that people constantly ask. I've come to expect them because they are the same questions I was asked when I had our other children. “How are the big brothers and sister taking to him?” and “How are you feeling?” My automatic reply is “They are good.” and “I'm fine.” These are the polite conversation reply’s because no one wants to hear about the gruesome details. However, I thought I would document them here for posterity. Also, I know you all reading this are interested.

 

Seven weeks ago, my husband dropped me off at the hospital to get checked into registration. He went back home to take our 6-year old and 4-year old to school, while my mom stayed with our 2-year old. She arrived at our house early that morning to manage the circus while we were away. Many of the nurses I passed in the hall gave me a pitying look, which I imagined was because I was alone. I felt compelled to tell them why, which we had decided was much easier than my mom taking them all to school. I was led to the delivery room that I was so familiar with and to the awaiting nurse. I smiled and felt so relieved that I gave Loretta a hug. She is the nurse that was there for my first two labors and deliveries. I requested her, but the midwife was unsure when she was going to be working. Loretta started the IV and went through all the necessary paperwork. The midwife checked me and tried to break my water. She gave me the sorry smile because she couldn't do it. The baby's head was blocking my tipped cervix. My husband arrived as I was getting the Pitocin. Loretta spent the morning getting the equipment ready because she said, “I don't trust you. Once that baby moves its head, it is coming out.”

 

By noon, I was unplugged from the many hoses and tubes and was walking the halls. When we got back to the room, my husband had a velvet bag laying on the bed. I opened it to find a pair of pearl earrings. He smiled and helped me put them on. I had some chocolate ice cream and water for lunch, while my husband had Sub City. The midwife came back to check me with little results, but enough to break my water. It was a trickle because the baby's head was still blocking everything. I went a couple of hours on the birthing ball and pacing the room. By 5pm, I was really concerned that I wouldn't deliver by 7, which was the shift change for the nurses. I also hurt like hell with no epidural. I was holding out because I thought the baby would have moved his head by then. I ordered the epidural, which upon completion was followed by my midwife declaring that I was ready. Before I started pushing my husband gave me another velvet bag with a pearl necklace. He helped me put it on and said that now I was ready to deliver our baby. With each push the midwife had to move the baby, who was facing the wrong way and had his arms chicken winged out. I pushed three times with a lot of finagling from the midwife, we welcomed our son. After a while I noticed the room was completely silent. The nurses had wheeled out all the carts and took the chaos with them. My husband took that time to give me the third navy velvet bag, which held a pearl bracelet. He was helping me put it on when I saw a nurse out of the corner of my eye walk in and turn around. She later said she didn't want to interrupt such a wonderful moment.

 

That night, my parents brought our three older children to meet their new baby brother. They each held him and were given their presents. Once the presents were given they lost interest in the new baby. They did ask when we were coming home, and we had to explain that they were so lucky to have Elmo and Papa (my parents) there to take care of them. Each day they visited the hospital, and loved it so much that our 4-year old didn't want to leave.

 

The love that the older siblings have shown the newest member of the family always amazes me. My oldest son likes to give him his blanket, his paci, and tell me when he needs to be fed. He is forever the helper. My second born son likes to hold him, sing to him, and pray to him. He imitates what I have done for him since he was a baby. My daughter loves all the baby things. She loves to hold him with her other babies. She tells me to “get him” if I'm not holding him, which she thinks he belongs in my arms forever. If he cries, she shshsss next to his ear. She is my mother hen. They all take such good care of him.

 

Having our fourth child cemented my belief that we are giving our children the greatest gift in each other. They will adventure together, imagine together, learn together, make trouble together, and fight together. Through it all they will forever love each other.

 

Dear Rosina

My sweet baby girl, Rosina,

 

Tomorrow we will give you a younger sibling, and you will have to give up your title as the baby. As we prepare for tomorrow's arrival, I can't help but think about all the wonderful moments that you blessed us with. You won't ever remember these little moments, but I will forever hold them dear. With everything about to change, I take solace in knowing that these moments will never change. My rose colored glasses will forever stay in place when I think about all the naps we shared, all the hours I spent holding you, and all the books we read.

 

I didn't think our third baby could change our entire world, but like your older brothers, you did. The moment that you entered the world, you enchanted us. We spent most of the first day of your life in tears by just the sight of you. Your delicate features and your trusting gaze were enough to disarm us. We had been blessed with a healthy, happy, baby girl.

 

When you were born, I set a goal for us. I whispered to you in the wee hours of the morning in my hospital bed that I would feed you for the first year of your life. You looked at me with those big blue eyes and that sealed our agreement. I nursed you at the zoo, at the park, at the pool, and at your first birthday party. With that goal met, you made me feel like an accomplished mother.

 

Your older brothers and I spent most of our days just watching you. We were in awe of your little hands and feet, which were constantly being mauled. Your bows, frills, and pink things were a little frightening for us all, but your brothers insisted that you wear them.

 

While your brothers were engaged with dinosaur fights, I adorned you in crystals, faux pearls, and glass beads. I was charmed by the jewelry of my grandmother when I was a child. I never new the woman that wore it, but watching you happily wear the pieces of costume jewelry makes me feel the connection like nothing else has. I dream of the woman you will become-elegant and wise, graceful and bold, determined and stubborn.

 

When I realized that I was carrying your little heart in my body, I made the decision to stop my career. I have never regretted that choice. Everyday when I look at you and your brothers, I know it was right for us. You have never known daycare, which means I was always the lucky one to get your snuggles, your kisses, your smiles, your laughs, and your “I love yous.” I didn't have to jealously hear about any of your firsts because I was there to experience them. I was there cheering for you every wobbly step at a time. You will never know how much you have given me with your presence. I am the lucky one that gets to be with you.

 

I catch myself staring at you, wondering whose carefree spirit has imprinted on your heart. Your ballerina twirling and horsey hopping has such a sweet contagious feel that I can't help but join in. Your smile is like a corner of sunshine after the long snow that requires everyone to smile back. You make everyone around you happy. Your a wild child that I would be ashamed to tame.

 

When you call yourself “Big girl, Sina,” it startles me to see how grown up you are. I still watch you curl up in your big girl bed and fall asleep with those same baby sighs that I remember. I still smell your head and will your hair to grow just like I did when you were an infant swaddled in my arms. You may get bigger, but I will always try to solve every problem with a hug, a kiss, and a cookie.

 

I will never get tired of watching you play. I will never get tired of brushing the hair from your face. I will never get tired of painting your little toes. I will never get tired of smelling your head. I will never get tired of returning your smile. I will never get tired of watching you wrestle with your brothers. I will never get tired of kissing your owies away. I will cherish these moments until you feel you are too big for me to do them. I will keep trying them no matter how old you are. I hope you will never drift away from me as you grow up.

 

Your family will always be there for you, to love and support you, my sweet baby girl, Rosina.