And We're In!

We are finally in.  It’s been a long time coming, like 10 months, but we spent our first night in the new house last night…. Well some of us did.  The furnace decided to stop working yesterday morning, so the kids slept at Oma’s house to be sure they would be warm enough.  We ended up with enough space heaters to keep us warm, but the house is still too disorganized for the kids yet, really.  I can’t say I slept much, though.  There’s just too much going on in my head, so here I sit, in bed, waiting for the coffee to brew at 8am, with my sleeping man beside me (scratch that… snoring man) making a mental list of all that needs to be done still.
We’re in a bit of a state, actually.  What’s finished is outstanding, especially when compared to the before pictures, but there is a lot that’s not finished yet.  When you consider that one guy (my marvelous, hero and fiancé) did 90% of the work with some help from some amazing friends and family (Elly, Dad, Jay, Jason, Matt and Lys, you are all so very appreciated) a top to bottom, inside and out renovation on 1500 square feet, in 9 months, is not so bad.
We have bones, pretty much.  There are walls with electrical outlets, ceilings with lights, a toilet, a fridge, a couple of sinks, and the most beautiful hardwood floors I’ve ever seen.  Really, they’re breathtaking.  Oh, and a whole lotta stuff that has to go somewhere in these big empty rooms!  My hugantic walk-in closet is full of clothes and shoes and linens, but they’re all in bags and boxes on the floor.  A closet organizer is fairly far down the list of things to do.  We’re aiming for a stove and HEAT first!  The living room is wall to wall boxes.  My beautiful antique (I think) cast iron, clawfoot bathtub is not quite hooked up yet and still needs a very good, very thorough cleaning before it can be used, but I can see it from where I sit (the bathroom has no door yet) and it makes me smile.
Promise.  That’s what I see everywhere I look right now.  From the missing mouldings to the missing countertops, there’s a whole lot of newness to be made in this home.  It’s going to be fun, and it’s definitely going to be home.  No, it definitely IS home.

We Are Family

I was intensely reminded recently of how much I miss my family and how important a strong family is to a healthy state of mind.  You see, I live a good two-day drive from all but my Dad and one of my brothers.  If you consider that my grandparents, on their 60th wedding anniversary, were given a single rose from each of their grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren, totaling a whopping 60 roses, I’d say that I miss a lot where my family is concerned, simply by being so far away.  I hear about all the births, deaths, marriages, divorces, and all the drama in between (or some of it, at least) but it’s only about once a year that I actually get to physically get together with my huge clan.
It’s been a big year.  My grandmother, probably the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, just turned 91 and in years since my grandparents 60th anniversary the clan has produced around 20 or so great and great-great grandchildren.  So we had a little get together to celebrate her birthday and all the new babies.  While we were celebrating, in fact, another great granddaughter was born.
Honestly, the gathering was chaos, but it was chaos of the best possible kind.  There were kids everywhere, from my second cousins one-week old boy to my nephew’s five-year old son.  My two-year old daughter was overwhelmed with all her new cousins.  As far as she knew, she only had three cousins!  She had suddenly hit the cousin jackpot.  Everywhere she looked there were new playmates, all around her age.  I remember that feeling from when I was young and living near this part of my family.  It was a unique kind of belonging that I’ve never felt anywhere else and I want it so badly for my kids.
My Gran was in her glory, with new babies to hold, and older kids coming by to chat and hug and sing happy birthday.  The pride in her eyes as she looked around at her crew was massive.  I remember a few years ago at my grandfather’s funeral, a reminder that his family; his children, grandchildren, great and great-great grandchildren, was the thing he was most proud of in his life.  I don’t know if this appreciation of my family was instilled by my grandparents alone, but I know it started with them, and it continues because of them.
Don’t get me wrong, I love and appreciate the family I share with my hubby at home, but there’s just something about the madness created by 40 some odd family members (the children nearly outnumbering the adults) reminiscing and getting to know each other all over again.  If everyone felt a part of something this big and this strong, the world would be a far better place.  It’s hard to feel lost or hurt or angry when surrounded by that much love.  Family is that double edged sword sometimes.  On one side you're stuck with maybe some people that you wouldn't choose to know otherwise, but on the other side you're surrounded by people who love you just because.  I'll take it.  It's worth it.

Road Trip... Part Two

So, the adventure continues… We made it to our hotel, just over halfway between my house and my mom’s house, nearly 10 hours into Day One of our road trip.  We got mostly settled then headed to a local diner for dinner.  The diner had just changed ownership or management or something a few hours before we arrived, which apparently meant that it had a whole new menu.  Unfortunately for us and every other diner that night we got copies of the old menu to order from.  I’ve never heard “I’m sorry, we’re not serving that anymore” so many times in my life.  Regardless, we did end up eating, and it was food, so I guess I can’t complain too loudly.  After dinner the girl and I went for a swim in the hotel pool (which I had confirmed was in working order before booking the reservation on-line).  Then it was bedtime, which was a challenge with a two year old sleeping in a room with three adults.  It took until nearly midnight to even get her into the bed we were sharing, but that was followed by an epic toss-and-turn session which included having her feet in my face and on my pillow a number of times.  Then there was the temperature issue… too hot, too cold, too hot… each time having to get up to “fix” the thermostat thingy.  On a positive note, the little man only got me up once in the night.  Of course, it was right in the middle of the longest stretch of sleep I had all night, but whatever.
The morning was a new beginning, with both kids sleeping a little in the car.  Then, well, all got turned upside down.  The girl was happily playing in her car seat when all of a sudden she turns to me, panicked and says, “Mommy, my tummy hurts!”  As I ask her whether she’s hungry or wants a drink of water, she begins to cough and I know what’s coming.  “She’s throwing up!” I yell and begin frantically looking for something to “catch”.  Enough details.  We had to pull over and clean up both her and the carseat (luckily everything was contained to the car seat, but I’m still trying to get the smell to completely disappear).  Once everything was cleaned up, though, aside from the smell, the rest of the trip was uneventful.
We spent the next few days at my mom’s.  She lives in a fifth wheel (aka great big camper) which doesn’t leave much room for 3 adults, a toddler and a newborn so the girl and I slept in a tent.  She was so excited the first night that she shouted, “We’re sleeping in a tent!” at the top of her lungs the second she was all tucked in.  Oddly enough, after the weather reports said it was going to be clear and hot all week, we, instead, got thunder and lightning storms with typhoon style rain.  Imagine my concern every day as I watched the clouds roll in and the rain begin to fall, then my pleasant surprise as, every evening, the clouds disappeared and it warmed up just in time to go to bed.  It was always a little touch and go, and there was a back up plan, but it was fun and so sweet to wake up each morning to the beautiful sleeping face of my little girl.  We never got even a little damp (my step-dad really knows how to put up a good tent!) and add to it, one morning the girl’s first words were “Mommy, you’re the best friend I ever had.  We’re going to be friends for ever and ever.”  It was all definitely worth the risk of a wet night’s sleep.  So, here I am now, sitting at my cousins kitchen table, waiting to feed the little man for the last time before going to bed.  I’m glad to say, in a few weeks time, we will be flying home.  I’ve had enough adventure for a while

Road Trip... Part One

So there’s progress on the house, if you count having no walls, no electricity, no kitchen and one barely useable bathroom progress.  I keep telling myself that it must get worse to get better.  It has and it will.  I can walk through the front door and see the beautifully large living room space, followed by the huge dining and kitchen area.  The kitchen is so large, in fact, that I’m a little lost as to what to do with it.  It’s the entire width of the house, about 25 feet, and pretty close to square, with a separate large pantry area (that used to be attached to a bathroom oddly enough) AND another separate area we are planning for a built-in breakfast nook (the bathroom, minus the walls).  The problem is that there is very little wall space for cabinets, so we’re working on a creative way to build the island that will be both ultra functional and kinda cool looking.  Anyway, there’s progress, but we’re a long, long way from moving in.  And did I mention that we’ve rented out our condo so we’ve moved into a 2 bedroom basement suite that’s about half the square footage of the condo until the house is ready?  Packing was a real treat.  I always had three boxes on the go; storage, basement suite and trip.  Then once we moved into the basement suite I went through the kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms again to purge nearly another fifty percent of stuff into storage.  This is what prompted a month long “vacation” to visit family, that starts with a two-day road trip.  Hubby is staying at home and using the next month to get as much done as he possibly can on the house… when he’s not working his real job, that is.

I currently sit in the back seat of my dads minivan, between my two year old daughter and my two month old son and we are about six hours into Day One of the road trip.  The kids have just traded places in the sleep department.  The girl finally passed out after a couple episodes of Toopy and Binoo and several rounds of The Ants Go Marching In, just in time for the Little Man to open his eyes and want some playtime. I tried to plan for every possibility and so far, knock on wood, I’ve been well prepared.  We’ll see what the next few hours bring.  As I type now, I just glanced up at the battery life on my laptop.  It’s in the red.  I guess that means it’s time to go.

Inspiration Interrupted

I’m not feeling particularly inspired these days.  I don’t know if it’s the utter exhaustion due to the middle of the night feedings of my little man (who, by the way, does not sleep as well as his big sister did at this age).  Or maybe it’s the preparations to move into a temporary home this weekend, a week before embarking on a month long vacation to family-land (the question at every turn is whether what I’m looking at should be going to storage for the new house or into the far smaller temporary home or whether it will be needed for the trip).  Or maybe it’s the million ideas I have for the reno swimming around in my head (pink and blue bedrooms, bathrooms that won’t have walls for a few months and a huge kitchen with limited wall space are really making my head spin).  No matter what the culprit, I’ve found myself sitting down many times over the last couple of weeks with absolutely nothing swimming around in my head.  Perhaps the problem is not a lack of inspiration, but rather too freaking much of it.

I get writing about the renovations and I go on and on about all my ideas, which I then decide no one really cares to hear about (unless I can provide drawings and pictures, which would be far too much information).  If I get going on the kids and how they inspire me every day with their changes and unique insights into life, I feel like I could go on forever.  (Short story about the little miss…  I was feeding the little man at 3am the other morning and noticed the little miss’s favorite stuffy “Tiger Baby” in the living room.  When I was done with the boy, I decided to take Tiger Baby in to the girl while she slept.  She was awake, at 3am, and as I leaned down to kiss her, telling her she should be asleep, she asked “ Mommy, did the cow jump over the moon yet?”  Priceless.  “Yes, Baby.  You can go to sleep now.”  “Mommy, you’re the best friend I ever had” and she drifts back to sleep. Yes, it brought tears to my eyes. Yes, she talks that well at only 2 and a half.  Yes, it seems that every moment grants me some kind of dream of that calibre from my kids.  I am a very, very lucky Mommy.)

Anyway, I guess I just needed to say that it’s not for lack of trying that I’ve not posted (again) for far too long.  Time just gets away from me and my mind spins with too many ideas.  It feels a bit like an overcooked soup that has too many good things in it.  Mush, but tasty mush that you’ve got to really focus on to find your favorite ingredient.  Wow, I just compared my brain to the chicken noodle soup I made the other day (It was really good, by the way).  I think it’s time for bed… after I feed the boy…

I am Super Mom!

So, my mom has been gone for about 3 days.  She came to stay with us when the boy was born about a month ago.  Having her with us made life so much easier.  We took turns at getting up with the boy in the night or getting up with the girl in the morning.  Getting out of the house was easier with one of us to dress each kid.  Honestly, I thought I would never leave the house again after she went home.  I was terrified of her leaving.  I would suddenly be outnumbered and I wasn’t sure I could deal with that.  I know, I know, I should have thought about that before I got pregnant with kid number 2, but I didn’t exactly consider the logistics of it.  Anyway, I was so stressed about the prospect of being on my own that, the night before Mom left I burst into tears over a burnt pizza, thinking “If I can’t even cook a pizza properly, how the hell am I going to take care of two kids?!”

Today I proved to myself I can handle it with an interesting trip to the park.  I put the kids in the double stroller and headed down the hill with a friend.  All went well as Friend, two kids and I dropped off some mail and got a coffee, even after leaving Friend at her front door and making our way the rest of the way to the park.  That’s when things started to go awry.  The girl wanted to go on the baby swing… no problem.  As soon as I got her into the swing though, the boy started to fuss, and cry, then scream.  I had to take him out of the stroller, but duh, had forgotten the snugli at the house.  So, there I am, holding a screaming 5 week old in one arm and pushing a swing with the other.  Really, not so tough, in the scheme of things.

But wait, there’s more...

The boy continued to cry and scream and, even though I had fed him shortly before leaving the house, suddenly started rooting… desperately rooting.  I thought it might just be gas, but after a few minutes of back patting and swing pushing I decided I’d better pull out the bottle I’d brought with me for just such an occasion.  So then, there I am, baby in one arm, tucked into my hoodie (great on the fly snugli replacement, by the way) bottle in the crook of my neck, pushing a swing with the other hand.  I noticed strange looks from other moms as they passed by (all of them with only one child each, by the way).  The sweet old gentleman who was pushing his granddaughter on the swing next to ours must have thought I was crazy, and said as much when he laughingly remarked “Boy, you’ve really got your hands full there!”.  Yeah, thanks for offering to push my kid for a second, buddy!  No, really, he was nice enough to take the girl out of the swing a few minutes later.  And he was, like 90 years old so that was more than enough.  And if he had taken the pressure off for me, I wouldn’t have figured out that I am Super Mom.  I can do this, even in the awkward, unplanned, crazy moments.  I’m not saying I don’t need a little help once in a while (okay, as often as I can get it) but when it’s not there, I’m enough.  Like I once said, in all of my Oprah-like wisdom, to a cousin who was expecting twins, “You just do what you do.  There is no question of whether or not you’re capable when you’re a mom.”  Apparently, I may have known what I was talking about for once.  I just do what I do because I’m a mom.  Today, I felt like a Super Mom.  And when you’re outnumbered, you take what you can get.

Different is good.

I’ve never been too fond of parenting advice, or any kind of advice really.  So much of it sounds like something that’s been translated from Japanese into German then into English.  You know that somewhere along the line the translation got screwed up and a “don’t” turned into a “do”, or, worse,  a “cool water” turned into “puppy saliva”.  If it makes you question the sobriety of the advisor, it’s probably not the best advice.  Instead of advice, I prefer the “What works for me” approach.  My best friend gave me her version of this insight when I was pregnant with my daughter.  Basically, take the information you can use now and file the rest away in the back of your brain until it sounds like a good idea at 4am and your newborn won’t stop screaming.  The conversation usually goes something like this…

ME:  My kid keeps…. And I wish she’d stop it.
FRIEND:  Well, I don’t know if it will work for you, but what worked for me was….

It’s almost as if the person giving the “advice” can’t quite believe it worked and doesn’t want to be blamed if it doesn’t work for me.  That type of suggestion is far better than the “only way to do it” kind of advice.  I don’t generally respond well to the “Only Way” of doing things, and most people I know are the same.  That’s the thing about parenting and kids.  Every parent, child and situation is different, vastly different, so no one solution will work for everyone.  Even with the same parents, kids are individuals and need different approaches for the same problems.  That’s possibly the largest thing I’ve learned over the last two years.  My kid is different from your kid, and even my other kid, and that’s okay.  In fact, it’s good, it’s what differentiates us from robots and computers.  Different is good, and that definitely works for me.