Tonight I'm Almost Ready

Lucas, looking a "widdle bit wuwwied" about momma's return to work...

It's a work night. That's right, kids. Tomorrow, momma heads back to work. I'm feeling pretty confident, seeing as how God gave all six of the Roberts a cold for the occasion. Wow. They say He won't give us more than we can handle, so I'm thinking He thinks I can handle a lot!

Seriously, I'm good. I'm ready to take on this beast, to continue to be among the ranks of kick-ass working mothers who get things done in big ways.

I spent a couple hours in my work town, which is not only a college town but my college town, on Friday night. And I remembered then how much I miss it. Rumbling brick streets, happy spring-lovin' college kids, great eats and some incredible legendary people. Hello, Athens! How I love thee.

So tomorrow I'll be rockin' it. I'll be throwing bottles in bags, packing breast pump parts like a pro, tossing scraps of food into my lunch bag, changing last-minute dirty diapers, carrying at least five bags and strapping in four kids, and, hopefully, doing it all with a little bit of grace so that I don't scar my kids for the rest of their lives.

After I April-fooled myself on Friday by driving 15 minutes to a Zumba class before I remembered it was cancelled for the day, I realized I needed an April babysitting calendar. Heaven forbid I leave a kid somewhere. So the calendar is ready. And it's stupid. It's ridiculous. While the whole month is a bit mind-boggling, this Thursday in particular looks like a complicated calculus problem, as it will take three different sitters as well as me and Shrek to pull off that day's schedule.

It's crazy that I need a calendar for me, my husband, my mother, my sitters--my village. But I do. And Audrey, Rachel, Joel and all of you other mothers who will randomly step in to care for my children when needed, thank you.

So here we go. I'm ready as I'll ever be. I'm crossing my fingers and jumping in with both feet. Hang on; it's going to be a wild ride.

Getting It Right

My mind has been working overtime. I tell you: the details float around my head like you wouldn't believe. I am trying to stay on top of so many things: paperwork, bills, memory keeping, laundry, dishes, preschool, first grade, gymnastics, visitors, emails, on and on... oh, and the care, keeping, feeding, diapering, bathing, chauffering and sleeping of my four children.

I'm doing a decent job. I keep telling myself this--that not writing in my journal for more than two weeks is completely normal for my situation, that my mind can only remember so much, that I am doing a really good job at not sweating the small stuff. That, basically, I need not be so hard on myself. I shouldn't be my toughest critic. That I really can't feel guilty for two opposites at once: feeling bad because I can't keep up on all the things I want to do, yet alternately feeling bad for trying to catch up when I should be sleeping. It's crazy!

I do know this: random memories keep popping into my head at strange times. For instance, just yesterday I remembered how I caught myself, sometime around 5 a.m. the first night we were home with Lucas, burping him upside down. I'm not kidding. I was very tired and very groggy, and something wasn't quite right. Upon patting down the baby, I realized his head was where his legs should be and his legs were where his head should be. No lie. I laughed about it then, and I am laughing now.

I just had to call a good friend to relate a quick funny story yesterday. While I was on the phone, the boys ran amok and the baby fussed and started to root around for a snack. Somehow, I rubbed my eye and wa-la! My contact was gone... As in, it could have been anywhere on me, on my shirt, on the baby, the Boppy, the blankets, or even in my eye, and I could not find it. So I squinted my way through the next twenty minutes of mayhem and finally resorted to opening yet another new contact. I told Dave last night that I had a gut feeling it was still in my eye somewhere, but that I couldn't tell. And, just now, I remembered how this morning, after I settled back into bed after the 4 a.m. picnic Lucas has established and as Dave was rising to go to work, I rubbed my eye and out it fell. I handed the contact to my tired, befuddled husband and told him to put it in an empty case I remembered was laying on the bathroom counter.

And I made a pact with myself to pick up the video camera today because, as I told my sis yesterday, I didn't think I'd picked it up since she filmed some of the baby's first moments after delivery. After I finished the DVD today and reviewed it, I found that I had filmed much more than I thought and had no recollection of doing it until I saw the clips.

All of this really just points to the fact that my brain is on overload. It's tired and excited and overwhelmed by my newly enhanced (again) life.

In spite of all my doubts, my oops moments and my shortcomings, I am okay. I am really focusing on the kids, the essentials, the moments that take my breath away.

I might be wearing mismatched socks, Colby may have worn no socks at all under his barn boots today and I may feel like I have more socks to fold than the Duggars, but I'm okay!

I'm finally here. I've arrived. I'm savoring all I can, and I'm finally getting it right.

Give Me Twenty Minutes!

It's amazing what a mom can do in twenty minutes!

Say a mom wakes up at 7:15 and the bus comes around 7:38. A mom can sneak out of bed, leaving the two-week-old sleeping, gather up the rest of her kids, get her seven-year-old dressed, remember it's picture day so fix seven-year-old's hair, fix said kid's breakfast and shove her out the door.

Then that mom might forget it's a morning the four-year-old goes to preschool. When she does remember, twenty minutes before preschool starts, she can call a ride, get four-year-old dressed, sign 17 Valentine's on behalf of four-year-old, pack a lunch, gather up homework, and then switch gears to change the 20-month-old's poopy diaper, one that is so messy that a mere couple weeks ago would have meant bath time but currently just means baby powder and a fresh diaper. Before that 20 minutes is up, she can even pull her warm-again coffee out of the microwave and sit down for another nursing session with the newborn.

So far, since we've been home with baby #4, we've only had a handful of mishaps, like when Max peed his pants, was told to dress himself and then somehow got all of his body parts in the wrong holes of his underwear. Colby got into sissy's purse and used her brown lipgloss to paint a bandit mask on his face and into his eyes. And Lily? Well, she's amazing as long as we make sure she gets enough sleep, which we haven't been doing.

But life is good and full and busy and wonderful. Here's a snap of our Luke, who was two weeks old today on his actual due date. He is doing well, and so is his momma.

It Takes a Whole Village to Raise a Child

Or, say, six children. This is what my sister and I have come to know is true. We are both working mothers. She works full-time, but locally, whereas I work part-time an hour from home and an hour and a half from most of our doctors. (If, of course, you time the path I have to take if I have to come back through the hometown for a child pick-up for said doctors...)

My mom, Kim and I moved a couple of small mountains in order to meet at Gabriel Brothers yesterday after work for the annual toy sale. We spent a fair amount of money on Christmas gifts for the kids in our lives and then -- gasp! -- got to eat out, just the three of us at Olive Garden. Our conversation was nothing short of hilarious. It went a little something like this:

Me: Kim, I moved my 8:30 appointment in Athens, so Lily no longer needs to come to your house early to get on the bus with Jule.

Kim: Oh... well. That's good, because I forgot she was coming. Oh, but I need you to take Jud to Thursday School on Thursday because Cecilia will be out of town.

Me: Oh, sorry, I can't. We have that doctor's appointment for Max. But call Traci... Oh, wait, I think she goes to work for awhile first... Call.....

Kim: I'll just call Missy. (Calls Missy, leaves detailed message about Thursday School.)

Me: Oh! Missy! I need her cell phone number. She's a great one to have.

Mom: It really does take a village to raise a child...

A couple minutes later, Kim's cell phone rings....

Kim: Oh, Missy! I forgot. You guys don't even do Thursday School.... No, it's OK... No, really, I'll find someone else... No, really, I am so sorry. ....

Hangs up; all three of us burst into giggles.....

Me: I still have to leave early to pick up the kids and get to Marietta by 4 p.m. for dentist appointments tomorrow.

Kim: Oh, crap! That reminds me, Julia and I have dentist appointments tomorrow at 6 p.m.! I have to run all the way back home to pick her up and then back to town for the appointment.

Me: No way! Send a note to school for Jule to ride to Johnny's on the bus with Lily. I'll just pick her up and bring her when I come. It'll save you an hour of driving!

Kim: Do you think that would work??

Me: Totally. I'll call Rachel right now. She is so great.

Kim: What time are your appointments?

Me: 4 p.m.

Kim: So you'll be at the dentist's office at 4 p.m. with four kids? How are you going to get your teeth cleaned?

Me: Oh, well, you know what they say: It takes two near-seven-year-olds to raise a 17-month-old. Jul and Lil can take care of him!

Kim: Uh, I guess. I'll be there by about 4:45 p.m.

Me: OK. I'll just try to get Lily and Max in the chairs first....

The whole meal went like that. I swear, it was hilarious. We talked about how the details never stop. There are days kids need to wear tennis shoes, days they pack and days they eat lunch at school, money for this, money for that, meds for one kid, a canned good needed for another's charitable offering. There are spelling tests, field trips, diaper rashes that need that one kind of cream that works. The sitter is out of diapers, the sitter is off Thursday. This mom helps us make Tuesday work, while Thursday is possible because of another.

It's insane!

So, the dentist appointments? A train wreck!!! I tell ya! I felt like Mrs. Duggar there for awhile. NOTHING worked out very well. We arrived on time, after an hour and 45 minutes of calculated driving and pick-ups on my part. I was feeling good, great even! And then, Max was supposed to be here at 3 p.m. You and Lily have appointments at 4 p.m., but he was to be seen at 3.

Oh.

Well. I didn't get that information. Luckily, they were able to work him in. (Thanks, Kayla, for doing such a great job with the kids!!)

Then, in spite of my hygienist putting Dora on the big screen in my exam room, the books, the crayons, the toothbrush and the groovy sunglasses, Colby would not stay put. He spent about 15 minutes on my six-month pregnant self as my hygienist tried to clean my teeth. At one point, he grabbed a full Dixie cup of mouthwash, which I promptly saved from his grasp... and spilled. Seriously! I spilled it... everywhere.

Kim finally came, took the baby from my hands and we finessed our way through the next 30 minutes of craziness at the dentist's office. I thanked everyone, including the dentist -- a sweet-as-he-is-adorable father of six -- for putting up with my circus. They were great.

But it all proves that, in spite of the best-laid plans, it takes a village to raise a child sometimes. Or at least a team of two amazing sisters.

Thanks, sis! I couldn't have done it without you. (And I hope we never do it again.)



p.s. A fond farewell to Governor Ted Strickland. The state's students should all be weeping today. You were amazing, and you will be sorely missed by those of us in the education sector.