And then a month passed…

In the morning hours of October 6, a cry was heard in the OR of Fauquier Hospital as Myrah Quinn made her way into the world via a scheduled and perfectly executed c-section. She was 6lbs15oz and 18.5inches of pink perfection.

Over the course of the last month, we have adjusted to a new normal around these parts. Her siblings have enjoyed welcoming their little sister and fight over who gets to hold her. All three take turns giving her the pacifier when she cries.

Halloween was uneventful, and frankly, I was happy when it was over. Caden was a skeleton, Adele was a mermaid bottom and butterfly top, Livia was Adele’s old bumblebee costume that she wouldn’t wear, and Myrah was a pot of honey. We walked with friends through their very dense neighborhood and have all been enjoying the candy since! I wanted to donate some of the candy to the programs that send candy to soldiers, but at this point, they will only be getting tootsie rolls!

Now we are in full swing celebrating Adele! She had her friend bday party on Thursday, an intimate family celebration yesterday and we will continue celebrating our amazing oldest daughter tomorrow night with a family dinner.

Livia is excited about Adele’s presents…except for the fact they aren’t her presents. And Caden wanted to stay home from school yesterday under the guise of celebrating with Adele, but he really just wanted to play with her toys too. He went to school.

Next week we will all brace ourselves for the outcome of the election and hunker down as VA is apparently an Al Qaeda target…wonderful.

We will continue to celebrate Shawn next week (still need to get his present!) and then a brief break before celebrations with my birthday and stuffing ourselves stupid with family during Thanksgiving.

I have been able to get out and run five times this week…not bad for being three weeks postpartum. I am an “older” mom with young kiddos and I have no intentions of succumbing to the compounded weight of four children or the gravity of age. I have been lucky to return to my pre-baby weight three times now and plan to do it again. I feel wonderful, if a little sleepy, and and endlessly excited about all that is happening with our family. (I have to confess that running sends my endorphins into high gear and I tend to be increasingly optimistic and happy following a run…which I just did this morning.)

The Holiday Season is practically upon us and I really think Myrah will be heading off to college in about 10 minutes. Nevermind the past month going by in a flash…the next two decades are going to zip by. Good thing I’m not sleeping much lately so I can enjoy every minute.

Here’s to full days, full bellies, and a mind full of memories. So much to be thankful for this month of Thanks I have no idea where to begin. I am thankful for everything sun-up to sun-down and the wee hours of the night when I gaze at the sleeping beauty who has become my roommate.

The Wait.

Is here.

32 weeks ago I had the shock of my life when I learned we were having another baby. 32 weeks of feeling crummy, gaining weight, slowing down, anticipating what life will look like with another baby, wondering the gender, learning we will have girl, wondering how she’ll fit in our car…and so many more thoughts and dreams and wonders.

Now, only two weeks stand between today and meeting Baby Girl.

Her temporary room is done. There is a crib in Caden’s room for when she is sleeping better/longer, and ultimately we have plans to move her in with Livia.

I’m caught up. I began the leadership training that I was anxiously awaiting. The course that I registered for with caution, wondering what people would think of me in class with such a big belly. The attendees are wonderful and I am excited about this new opportunity and where it will lead.

All of my articles have all been submitted. Those newly assigned are flexible. I’ve found new leads for my volunteer opportunities for the next few months.

We have people, wonderful people who are willing to step up and help in the event Baby Girl arrives early. We have day time plans and night time plans.

The weather is finally changing. Fall seems like it will be arriving shortly. The days are shorter, the nights cooler. The pool will be closed in one more week. The leaves are slowly changing. The bugs changing sound.

With the changing season comes the changing of a page in the newest chapter of our life. This pregnancy has been amazing. Travelling through each month, each milestone with the kids has been so exciting. Caden asks daily when she’s coming. Adele has felt her move a number of times. Livia knows the big bump is a baby.

And so we wait.

We are ready for you Baby Girl. Are you ready for us?

Senior-Toddler Syndrome

I am coining a new phrase: Senior-Toddler Syndrome.

Someone you know may be afflicted with STS if they are over the age of 60 and exhibit the following behaviors:

– taking zero accountability for their actions

– refusing to be independent even when possible

– tantrums with unknown causes

– refusal to use their words to communicate

– demanding they receive what they want, when they want it

– little regard for others

– obliviance to any wrong doing

The significant difference between a senior and toddler is that a toddler grows out of this behavior whereas a senior grows into it.

I believe this maddening affliction is incurable.

Experiences

Life is really nothing more than a collection of experiences. Whether they are momentary, like a quick glimpse of a sunrise before it slips behind the clouds, or a lasting planned experience like a vacation, it is all just experiences. It’s how these experiences shape you that matters.

Take a moment to see the sunrise and acknowledge its beauty. Don’t pass it over as inconsequential. The beauty of the early morning orange light streaking across the field, pouring into the living room, only to be eclipsed by a storm cloud that fills the sky with pounding rain moments later, is perfect analogy for my life at this time.

The sunrise is my family, these children, my husband, this home. These people and things fill me will happiness and contentment until I am flooding over with emotion. They are beautiful and kind and caring and thoughtful. My sweet daughter, weak with fever and misery cautioned me not to hit my head on her nightstand as I tucked her in for the third time last night. Even in her misery, she took a moment to care for me.

But there is a cloud. A dark, looming cloud threatening to cast a shadow on all the bright, beauty of my sunrise. This cloud is in the form of extended family who have the audacity to put my husband in a position where he should choose between his wife and his mother, whose mental crisis has no end in sight. A woman whose inattentiveness will one day cause harm to my children, a woman who has not earned one moment of my trust, a woman who will engage in conversations with our children that she seems incapable of having with us.

Confident in my strength and experience in shutting the door on toxic people, I am not worried. And shame on the woman who attempts to put a rift in a marriage. She is nothing to this family and thankfully lives several states away.

To the woman who stomps her foot and pouts her lip demanding respect, I have two words for her, “Earn it.” Respect is not something given out in a pretty package with a neat little bow. And it is certainly not something handed over to a woman who ignores her family for four months and then expects unfettered access to them. Demonstrate respect. Earn trust. And perhaps, just perhaps you will stop being viewed as the crazy lady you currently appear to be.

I will now turn my attention back to the sunrise and bask in its lovely glow.

School Days Eve

This summer I was hellbent on not letting pregnancy slow me down or take away anything from the kids. But on the flip side, I knew there was a good chance that I would be a little slower, less active, and less interested in the usual activities.

Tonight on the eve of the first day of second grade for Caden, I think we pulled off a fairly awesome summer. (Adele still has a few weeks before preschool and my sweet Livvy will attend “school” just one day a week.) To recap:

1. The weekend after school ended we surprised the kids with a trip to Disney World…does this not earn us the Gold Medal in parenting??
2. We wrapped summer up with a long weekend trip to Jellystone Campgrounds in Luray, VA with another family. (Definitely Glamping rather than camping. AC and electricity included.) Not surprisingly, the kids ranked this right next to Disney on the Awesomeness Scale.
3. In between, Kids 1 and 2 enjoyed two VBS camps and French camp. Caden attended weekly math enrichment courses and Adele took horse lessons every other week. Frequent trips to the library ensured there were some academics happening among all the play.
4. There were endless days swimming in our pool and others’, playdates (admittedly not too many), playground/park visits, ice cream and s’mores, many, many family evening walks to our lake, and even a trip to the bottom on a quarry to see dinosaur tracks.

Perhaps most importantly, my kids bonded with each another. Livia and Adele took their sisterly relationship to another level, which I can see taking on a new look almost daily. Caden and Livia meanwhile have an amazing bond and affection for each other. She simply adores him. Caden and Adele are a dynamic duo. Always out and about together getting into trouble, playing, laughing, and of course fighting and dealing with how best to manage that.

In my eye, summer is many things. It’s long days that spill well into darkness. It’s dark nights looking for fireflies and shooting stars. It’s lazy mornings with sunshine pouring in through every window. It’s watermelon juice running down your arm; sun-warmed tomatoes plucked from the vine; zucchinis the size of a small baseball bat. But summer is also relationship-building in an organic environment. No one tells them what to do (aside from eat, wash, and pick up). They are free to make their own schedule, cure their own “boredom” and fantasy-play about castles, storm-troopers, and puppies.

So while I may be slowing down considerably these days as Baby #4 packs on the pounds and gets ready for her grand entrance, I am so proud of Kids 1, 2, and 3 and the wonderful memories they helped create for me and themselves this summer. I feel like I say this all the time, but I simply cannot love them any more than I do. They are all beautiful inside and out and I am, without question, the luckiest person on the planet.

Summer 2016 gets an A. Here’s to an equally as awesome school year and baby homecoming in just a few weeks’ time.

 

Shattered Glass

Last night as I lay on the couch, rubbing my belly with our third daughter nestled inside, I watched history be made.

Like her or hate her, Hillary Clinton is an amazing women. Dedicating her life’s work to public service and advocacy for those whose voices often go unheard. She has taken fall after fall. She assumes responsibility for acts that we all know she did not conduct alone. She brushes off the hate, and she moves on.

As I lament my inability to secure work within the perimeters I have set, I watched Clinton’s bio unfold as a woman who simply never gave up.

I have three daughters to raise in a world that doesn’t quite see them as equal to men. Three girls to raise into women. A son to raise to respect women and see them as equals.

And last night, thanks to the tireless devotion of one woman, as my daughters lay sleeping in their beds, one not ready to enter the world, a stranger blazed a new trail for them.

When they get older, I will tell them the story of July 28, 2016. The story of one hot summer night, when storms finally came through to break the heat and offer relief, other things were broken as well. Ceilings were smashed. Phrases said aloud that they will read about in their history books, “When there are no ceilings, the sky’s the limit.” I will let my daughters know that they can truly be anything…even President.

This morning I woke up proud and filled with hope. Proud to be a woman, proud to be a mother, proud to be an American.

Big belly, Work Wanted

Shawn and I share responsibilities fairly well in our marriage and household. Although he can barely boil water, he will toss a load of laundry in, fold a load of towels, sweep the floor, etc. as necessary. And likewise, I will weed whack and do the majority of the mowing (which is a total blast now that we have a 0-turn…game changer!) and help out with our little farmette.

He is primarily responsible for earning money for our family while I am the primary care giver to our children. This is the deal we made. He absolutely helps out with the kids and whatever money I make gets tossed into a savings account.

Before we learned that we would be having a fourth (!!) baby (only 9ish weeks to go…I round down) the plan was for me to look for and take on more work when the kids went back to school in the fall. And because I am still really fond of that plan, and our list of needs/wants/desires has grown exponentially, it would be outstanding to have a little bit more cash in the kitty. I have continually looked for work throughout the summer, despite my growing belly. Because you see, that is the one thing, we cannot share.

As much as I would have liked to have said, “Hey babe, I carried three kids. Almost died delivering that last one, would you mind carrying/delivering this one? KThanksBye” It’s not that easy.

And yes, I left a wonderfully-paying fulltime job with an impressive company working with literal geniuses to lead a life of leisure. Because let’s be real, laundry, crying/fighting/screaming kids, meal prep, and cleaning is nothing if not luxurious. It was a “selfish” move. Focusing solely on myself and the careful attention to ensuring that our spawn were given love and attention and raised at home with one another, blah, blah, blah…

Let me tell you how successful I have been gaining employment at 30 wks preggs. Yea, not so much.

And for those employers who cannot see my swelling belly through their email, my request to waive benefits in lieu of a remote, work from home situation, appears to be a red flag.

For anyone out there who believes a mere mother cannot get things done. I have two words, “Try Me”. My entire day is a series of episodes of minute to win-it. Whether that is laundry, cleaning, a craft, an article, interview, volunteer work or one of the 10,000 errands I seem to do…I.GET.IT.DONE.

Never underestimate the efficiency of a mother. We know time limits. We KNOW deadlines. We get it all done. If I were an employer, I would ALWAYS hire the mom. And pay her more. Because she deserves it.

Tenacious

When does tenacity become desperation?

When I stopped working in 2010, we said over and over again, “I can always go back to work” and frankly…that’s simply NOT TRUE. I have looked, with consistency mind you, for work over the past 6+ years. I have looked for freelance opportunities and contract work. I have accepted a number of opportunities that either did not pan out or simply weren’t worth the meager income.

Today I was turned down for a job that I am 100% qualified for. The salary was 50% less than what I was making working FT before Caden was born and it was for a FT job, in the same town. (Granted a vastly different industry.)

Why was I turned down? I was told that the job had been offered and accepted by someone else. Now, this very well may be true, but I suspect it wasn’t the case as to why I was turned down.

I am 26 weeks pregnant and have 3 children at home and no childcare*. *For the record, when I have a job, I will get the childcare. There is little point in paying for childcare when I’m not working. 

I sincerely believe I was turned down for the job because I am friends on FB with the person doing the hiring. And that person sees all my posts. See pictures of my kids. Sees my growing belly.

Mind you, I never complain about being overwhelmed. I never complain about the items on my plate or being overloaded. I just don’t do it. Why? Easy, I am not overwhelmed. Somehow, I have found a balance between laundry and freetime. I have no trouble telling the kids to figure out something to do so I can write or do that damn laundry–7 loads today! I do most of my writing when I am inspired…regardless of the tornado swirling around me. I draft during moments of inspiration and finalize in the evenings.

Today has been incredibly frustrating. I am confident I would have accomplished and excelled at the responsibilities of the job. Screw the 40hrs a week…I don’t take work on for the hours. Is the job done? Who cares how long it took. 30 hours or 50 hours…it’s done.

I want to work. I have a thirst to work. Before that insane pregnancy test on Valentine’s Day, I had planned to find more work this fall. Livia will be in school one day a week and we would have a sitter one day a week. I still want to have my perimeters met though. I want to work primarily from home with flexible hours and will give up benefits for these considerations. And frankly, staying close to home, I can’t possibly command the income that covers childcare AND leaves something leftover. I can’t realistically look for FT work in my area. It just won’t pay me enough.

I have two other opportunities that I am waiting on…neither seems terribly promising though. And I just sent my materials off to a new opportunity that I am fairly certain I will not hear about either.

I am a determined individual. I do not give up easily, but I do feel that my tenacity is becoming somewhat desperate.

Low Moments

It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be me, alone, trying to make it all happen. Keeping kids entertained (or in the very least alive), keeping a house clean, a kitchen stocked, meals prepared, events on the calendar, tying to create and sustain a freelance career, planning for our financial future, all the while growing another child. This is what I do.

Alone. There is no support system that doesn’t include writing a check at the end of the visit. The only “downtime” I get is when I literally beg the older ones to content themselves while the baby naps. And that is peppered with “Mom?” no less than 50 times. The other “me time” I have is the ONE HOUR between their bedtime and mine. Sometimes that is two hours, and that’s when I am working on an assignment. This too is met with a 4-yr-old who creeps downstairs repeatedly asking to sleep with us. Ultimately she gives up, only to come into our room around 3am, at which time I give up and pull her into bed.

I have no mother that wants to be with me to lend support or spend time with her grandchildren. I have a mother-in-law going through some degree of a mental crisis and frankly, it’s best she stay away. I have a childless sister who I think would rather drink glass than help. And that’s about it. I have an aunt-in-law more than willing to help at the end of the day when she is off work, but by then it’s movie time and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Today, I tried to take a 2-yr-old to a brief meeting with an art gallery that I do a little bit of writing for. I wasn’t supposed to bring her. I rescheduled the meeting for this morning because Shawn was home. But he was too busy to keep her with him.

They didn’t know about Four and it isn’t possible to conceal her at this point. They are also childless. Of course Livia pooped the moment our meeting was scheduled to begin and then threw an impressive tantrum. Did I mention this was in an Art Gallery? An ART gallery…basically, I brought a bull to a china shop. I suggested we meet outside as they have a lovely front porch. And as I made that suggestion, I caught Livia before running into the street. They recommended we reschedule. I was mortified. I was the unprofessional mother with a wild 2-yr-old expecting another, hoping to take on work. I am still mortified and humiliated.

I kept a poker face as best I could, buckled the screaming toddler back into her stroller and went next door to buy a white hydrangea where Livia continued to scream bloody murder and the (again childless) shop keeper eyed me with equal parts annoyance and pity.

It takes a village, and I simply don’t have one.

Waiting Ain’t My Style

The impatience that I possess is simply remarkable. No sooner do I leave a message/send an email that I eagerly await a return call/reply email.

10 days ago I applied for an opportunity that, put bluntly, I want. It is communications for an organization protecting rain forests. It appeals to my high school-self who bought trees and schwag in an effort to save said rain forests. And the decade-younger version of myself who dedicated her thesis subject to a case study of environmental awareness.

I would just love this job. I would enjoy learning more about what they do, efforts made to save rain forests and animal habitats, and the sharing of this information with a broader audience.

Upon sending the email I immediately received an automated reply saying that the organization would follow-up within a few weeks. A few weeks? No joke, that weekend I thought, “Must be a generic reply to buy them time, but surely they aren’t going to wait weeks.” I also hoped my phone would ring that weekend because they simply couldn’t let me get away.

Now granted, assuming I get a call back for an interview, there are some perimeters around which I have to work. Actually four: Caden, Adele, Livia, and Merlin. Yup, my kids. I simply need an opportunity that will permit me to work primarily, if not exclusively, from home with flexible hours. In exchange for this arrangement, I waive all benefits. I just don’t need them. Seems fair…

I understand that I expect a lot. It’s fine. I have references that can attest to the fact that I don’t miss deadlines and always show-up…for volunteer opportunities. I am a reliable person. A trait that appears to be in short reply if I can speak to my own personal experiences…but that is fodder for another entry.

And so, I wait…and wait…and wait..

And hope that I get the call, schedule the interview, they love me, agree to my requests and we all live happily ever after.

edit: as I typed this, my phone rang. eager beaver that I am raced over, prepared to schedule an interview. it wasn’t them. wait continues…