Virtual Reality

All thanks go to Jennifer Duskey of Jennifer Duskey Photography for this sweet sneak peek of our frigid outdoor photo shoot on Saturday morn. I can't wait to see more, and I promise to share! 

Life seems so real tonight. I am feeling a heaviness in my heart for others and contentment with my lot in life.

I have had some trying moments with my kids during this long weekend. They have been delirious, physical, tearful and helpful, in turns. You'd think they were getting as little sleep as I have.

I can't explain, exactly, why I think I need to blog at nearly 11 p.m. on a work night when I still have some other things to accomplish before bed tonight. I can tell you that I've been thinking, a lot, about the time I put in online.  My weakness trinity includes Facebook, Blogger and Pinterest. I saw a "pin" yesterday that said "Thank you, Pinterest, for making me feel creative when I've really just been sitting on my couch on the computer for three hours." Isn't that sad? Sad, but true!

As a blogger, every time you turn around (online, a virtual turnaround), there's something else to do. It's all, "Be a part of my circle; join this giveaway and get extra entries for tweeting, reposting, commenting on this post; check out this blog." There's so much to do.

And I'm not saying it's meaningless. But some of it is. And yet, I want to do more. I want to be that connected. I like these people. I do feel creative. But, at the same time, I'm not doing the fitness part of my diet (at all!) I'm not talking face-to-face as much as I could be. I'm not writing in my journal, which, for me, is where it all began: this need to connect, chronicle and confer.

So, tonight, I'm pledging a little less time on Pinterest and a little more time making the sweet banner I have in mind for Luke's first birthday party in a couple weeks, which will also be my niece Brooklyn's third birthday party. I'm going to look less at my friends' Facebook profiles and more at my friends actual faces. And I'm going to keep blogging, when I can, and not feel guilty when I can't.

I need my own experiences, my own creativity, my friendships and my family every bit as much as I think I need up to three hours online everyday. In fact, I need them more.

So, there you have it. I'm leaving you for the sweet smell of my hubby's deodorant after his shower; the softness of Luke's hair, which is growing in like crazy; the preparation of a work morning, which is rushing to greet me.

See ya later.

Feed That Fire

I don't know about all of you, but this New Year's has me feeling a little anxious. I'm not sure how best to explain it.

It started last night with the promise of my first day back to work in twelve days. I checked Facebook just long enough to get an eyeful of ambitious resolutions from friends near and far. As I tackled a mountain of dirty dishes (by hand, mind you.. always, by hand), I felt the tension rising within me. I worried about rejoining my normally crazy life, my weight, my fitness, my finances. I felt a keen sense of self responsibility. "If I can't make more money, I'm going to be standing here in this very kitchen washing my dishes by hand for the rest of my life."

And today? Well, today, I feel I should be so lucky...

The anxiety has turned tides. I still feel something out there I can't quite explain. But I feel more grounded. I feel inspired somehow by women who have attained great success at their trades. I am listening to Adele and reading Sara Gruen right now. They both have me spellbound. My favorite show, Parenthood, starts back up tonight, and this time next week, I'll have played my first winter league volleyball game.

I had this idea that I'd be published in my early thirties. I'm 33 now. I'm not sure I knew I'd have four kids and a job keeping me busy, but I know now. And it's all good. I toe that line of being my own worst critic a lot of the time. And I'm going to stop.

I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing: raising fairly well-behaved, balanced, happy children; loving my very own wonderful husband; keeping my house homey and safe; working a job that keeps me current and engaged; writing, scrapbooking, blogging; gaining knowledge in all ways; and aging well. I still believe I am a child of God, and I believe, as Max Ehrmann waxed so many years ago, "the universe is unfolding as it should."

I'm feeding that fire in so many ways. I'm happy and healthy and blessed. And that is enough for today.

Kid Party

As perfect as these photos make last night's bedtime look, it wasn't so pretty in actual life. Daddy had gone back to work, the baby wasn't going down without a fight, and I was just trying to get the snack and pajamas part of the process under way. The toothache I've been drugging all week was making me more than a little grumpy. Truth be known, I was exhausted and mirthless before the final kid finally gave in.


So there is my disclaimer. Many times in this Facebook/blogosphere/online world, we don't see the truth of each other's lives. Who wants to admit they yelled until their throat hurt, as I often do? But it's life. It's the good, the bad and the ugly, and it's a blessing.


Hot cocoa, cinnamon grahams, apple slices, siblings. Reading books by flashlight. It's the stuff of childhood. It's a kid party on a Thursday night.

And while you might not see Colby right away in the photo below, he's there, on the right side of the frame, squinting into the flashlight he's shining into his own eye.

Happy weekend!

Be That Person

This post has been writing itself in my head this evening, begging me to share. And if it would please send its first line out, I'd get right on it.

It's something about a stream of consciousness, because that's what this is going to be. I've had a good day off. I ran the preschool carpool this morning and decided to stop in to see Miss Ava, our six-year-old friend and cancer warrior. I teared up as she and Luke carried on a babbling conversation and swapped smiles. I was reminded of life's goodness then and shortly after that when I watched her stand, for the first time in a long time, with the help of a clever contraption during her physical therapy session. It was a gift.

I did all the usual things I do on my days off, which means I busted my *^% around the house, conquering dirt and grime, organizing endless clutter, changing diapers, assessing the fact that food in the cupboards, refrigerator and freezer was scarce. I let dinner prep go, admittedly because I was at a loss for what to make. But I spent that hour surrounded by my kids, helping Lily write a play that she and her friends plan to perform at recess tomorrow, marveling at Max's hours of quiet coloring and drawing and singing today, babying Colby because he's needing his momma right now and nursing nursing nursing Luke, who is well on his way to becoming the giant we think he might be.

I did a lot of thinking while I did a lot of driving to fix the food scarceness problem this evening. At the first grocery store, I was aware of the reactions of others around me as I cheerfully struggled to bag my own groceries with a fussing, uncomfortable baby nestled to my abdomen in a front carrier. I was bouncing and singing and stooping at weird angles to grab cans and other objects and pitching them into bags. Some people ignored me, one woman kept smiling at me knowingly, but nobody offered to help.

Outside the store, I loaded the car, returned the cart to the corral and left my quarter, just like I always do. A happy good-looking man, who I perceived to be well-off, was approaching. He greeted me warmly and told me I'd forgotten my quarter. I told him, no, I was paying karma, and that maybe karma would pay me back sometime. At that, he grabbed my quarter and told me "karma" was paying me back right now, to put it in the baby's piggy bank.

At my second grocery store, I ran into a friend and loyal blog reader no less than five times. (Hi, sweet lady!) I fretted about money, noticed how much of my groceries seemed to be landing in my cart at six-dollar intervals, and stretched Luke's patience.

On the way home, I heard a great story on the radio--ok, I was listening to Delilah--about how a group of strangers, somewhere this very day, all stood in a grocery store line behind a young single mother whose food stamp debit card hadn't yet been loaded. The cashier, who sent in the story, said the woman was embarrassed and starting to reload her cart when the person behind her offered $20 toward the cost, and then the one behind her said she'd give $5 and on and on through the line until the woman's grocery bill had been paid.

And that's what I'm talking about! That's my kind of story, right there!

While we live in a society that encourages us to look out for number one, to get the best parking spot, the best deal, the best salary, we all have free will. I want to be the one who remembers, in spite of my self-occupation with all I have going on, to offer to help the person who needs it bag those groceries, to continue to pay karma that measly quarter every chance I get, and to be the one in line who says, "I will help this distraught person pay for these groceries, which she clearly needs."

I want to be that person, and I hope you do too.

Winning

The other day I promised on July 1 I would do a mid-year review of my New Year's resolution, to "Do What {I} Love." Well, I then went AWOL and returned, forgetting my plan to give myself a mid-year grade.

I remember now. And I give myself a B. I am doing what I love, plenty of it. But there are still some things that I need to work on. I am a busy, busy lady. Some things fall by the wayside. These things include working out, working on my writing career, keeping up with photo albums, scrapbooks and baby books. Finding clothes that fit, ridding the house of clutter.

My reasons why I should do all of these things and my reasons why I just don't have time are the same: these four gorgeous kids are keeping me on my toes all the time. I'm doing a lot of laundry and dishes, I promise you. And I'm kissing a lot of boo-boos, wiping a lot of tears, doling out hugs like crazy. I'm mothering.

Mothering takes a lot of time, passion, love and patience. In spite of all of the things I'm not getting done, I am doing this--day in, day out, I am mothering these reasons.

So, I guess I am doing okay on that resolution. While life isn't perfect, I am "doing what I love" most of the time. And that means I'm winning.

Skinny by Summer

One of the things I said many times in my early unexpected pregnancy was that with the baby due in February, I'd be "skinny by summer." Well, it's summer, and I'm not yet what I would call skinny. But, seriously, I'm not really the skinny type. I like to be healthy and strong, and have never been, nor wanted to be, anything like fragile. I have begun to miss working out, though, and I really do need to "whittle my middle" just a couple of inches. Just a couple of inches would expand my fitting wardrobe by about 100 percent.

And so, tonight begins a sit-up regimen. I'm going to work these obliques. I can't promise a lot right now in the way of fitness--other than the fact that I go through my life in an intrinsic ballet of motherhood every day--but I can promise sit-ups. And if I can get that done, I'll eventually want more of those feel-good endorphins. You know, if you give a mouse a cookie... Ah, well, maybe that is not the best analogy.

At any rate, I have about a million better things to think about than how I look in a bikini after having had four kids in seven and a half years, the youngest of which is only five months old. I am a smart girl, after all.

Life with my four blessings continues to amaze me. There are new challenges and rewards everyday. My little man Luke seems to be hitting a growth spurt. I'm getting even less sleep right now with all of his nighttime waking to eat, and he continues to love every spoonful of baby food. The other kids are tired, always it seems, but hanging in there. We will get caught up soon.

I'm excited for a long weekend of camping with several other activities sprinkled in. I'm ready for family visits around the campfire and pigpen kids climbing out of the creek. It's summertime in America, and I must get to a fireworks display.

But first, one hundred sit-ups! Isn't this fun?! Check back on Thursday, when I hope to post my midpoint review of how I'm doing with that New Year's resolution I made back on January 1st.

And how are you doing?

Flying Solo

It's a rare night in the Roberts house. It's not my usual summer fare to be home on a Friday night.

The kids enjoyed a movie earlier with Daddy's popcorn. I swear, the man makes the best popcorn around. It's a treat for all of us, every time. Luke isn't so lucky yet, as you can see in the photo above. He has started on the baby food, and man! Is he hungry! He's eating more than I would have imagined at this point. And so the square of Roberts kids that will eat Shrek and I out of home is complete.

All four of the young ones are asleep, hubby is off to a bachelor party, and I have been given a gift. The house to myself (kind of), a little bit of energy to spare since I took it easy today with the kids... The thoughts than ran threw my mind went something like, 'finish putting the pictures in the album!, figure out if I've set aside the birth pictures yet on the scrapbook pile!!, take a bath!!!, turn on the TV to see if a chick flick is on!!!!" And then, I had the good sense to just go pour a glass of catawba wine and sit down to this blog. Of course, I turned the TV on too, which isn't usual for me, but now I'm sucked in, watching "Pretty Woman," because, really, have I ever seen the whole thing?

I'd love to stay and chat, but my gut feeling is that I should put my feet up, drink a second catawba and enjoy watching Julia Roberts make America fall in love with her. And damn, this wine is delicious!

It was a great week. I lost some things, I won some things, and in the end, I'm grateful for all of it. Life is meant to be lived, and I plan to do just that.

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.

Balancing Act

So I'm waiting on a baby.

I'm feeling upbeat, nesting, getting a lot of things done. I'm back at work, but much refreshed. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel! The days are long; I miss my naps. But I'm hanging in. I'm finishing projects, sending important emails and trying not to bust my ass on the newly waxed hallway floors. It's all good.

And I'm balancing. I'm balancing the urge to see this baby soon with letting this baby mature and gestate as long as possible. I'm trying to both spend extra one-on-one time with each of my three kids while enjoying any alone time I can find, knowing it will soon be more scarce than it already is. I'm balancing the urge to nest feverishly with the knowledge that it might just be better to relax and know that things will fall into place as needed.

I'm amazed by how peaceful I can still feel while knowing what's ahead. I'm no spring chicken mother. I know this is going to be tough, especially since big brother Colby will be only 20 months old.

I know, from experience, that I'll be rather tied to an adorable, but demanding, nursing newborn, that I'll sit on the couch nursing for hours on end looking at the mess that is my living room and wanting, craving, desperately seeking ten solitary minutes to run around the place, monkey-do-style, to clean it up. I'll yearn for my Kenmore, for a stunt double to keep the house the way I want to keep it.

I'll be up all hours of the night, so tired at times that it won't be funny at all, that I won't even be able to do it justice in a story to my sister on the cell phone on her way to work the next day. I'll be pouchy and leaky and will have numerous physical oddities occurring all over the map of my body.

I'll hate my husband. I'll resent the fact that the buck stops here, that I am the end-all, be-all. I will look at his sleeping figure during the third feeding of the night, and I'll want to kick him. I'll feel the horns growing from my forehead. And then I'll wake up the next morning and forget all about it. He'll turn back into my lifeline: the half of me that goes out of the house for normal life, the one who picks up the dark chocolate or the Teddy Grahams or the coffee creamer that helps me carry on. He'll melt my heart as I watch him melt the first time the baby smiles at him. He'll be the one who goes through the experience with me, as much as anyone can anyway.

I'll struggle through some days and soar through others. Caring for a newborn in addition to my three other children will likely be one of the hardest physical challenges I'll ever live through. And I will live through it.

I'll take the amazing, heartwarming moments motherhood will bring whenever they present themselves. I'll tuck them into the folds of my heart. I'll savor the funny things the kids say, cherish the times when four little heads lean together in affection, squirrel away the memories for the sunset of my life. I'll resolve to hold fast to the moments that take my breath away.

And it will be awesome...

So, baby, I'm waiting. I'm growing and thinking and enjoying. I'm prepared to take the balancing act that is my motherhood to the next level. Take your time in there, and know that your momma will be ready when you are.

It's going to be epic.

A Self-Portrait

Well. It's been a long day. A long three days. I'd like to write, but I'm just not so sure I need to demand anything else out of this tired head.

Instead, I'm going to recycle something I wrote about 18 months ago (so I've had another child, etc.) Some of you have read this already. To me, it still feels like it really describes me, which means it must have all been true in the first place.

In a phrase, These Are My Reasons.

1. I grew up on a truck farm (peppers and tomatoes). It was a hard job but it gave me tremendous respect for my family and a kick-ass work ethic. I made minimum wage "plus a dime" ($4.35). All subsequent jobs have been incredibly easy and lucrative.

2. I was very close to my paternal grandfather, Bernard Strahler, who owned the big farm mentioned above. I've called him "the man of my life" and "the last American cowboy." I was holding his hand when he died in the spring of 1998, and I still miss him.

3. I've been through a lot in my life. There are things I wish wouldn't have happened, but they have played an integral role in who I am today. I am a very calm and centered person, and there isn't anything I can't handle now. After you've seen hell, life can be easy. You just have to decide to step away from hell.

4. I started writing in a "serious" journal the day after my 12th birthday. I'm now on journal #65. This time-consuming and simple hobby has taught me how to be my own best friend, and how to recognize and accept life lessons and the ebb-and-flow of life. I'm proud of my writing, and it's very cool to celebrate my journal anniversary the day after my birthday each year.

5. My earliest memory of my husband is watching him play basketball his senior year for the rival high school. I was only 12 years old and sitting with my friends in the "junior high section!"

6. My husband has taught me how to slow down a bit in life, that I don't have to run around the house like a chicken with my head cut off all the time. I firmly believe that we get better and better every day. I love you, baby!

7. I have two children --Lilith Jane and Maxwell David -- and am currently searching for names for Baby #3, due in June.

8. I always knew I wanted to be and would be a mother. I love motherhood and wouldn't trade it for the world.

9. I come from a family of strong women. We've been nicknamed "The Maggots" for our swarm of activity and noise, but a couple of us decided a couple of years ago (over wine) to change it to "The Magnets," because we stick together and when one of us falls down, the others pull her back up. I love these women dearly and wish we treated ourselves to nights out together more often.

10. I truly believe that my mother is an earth angel. She is such a wonderful person. She deserves the world.

11. I'm the second of four children, and I am very close to all of my siblings. We span seven years, but it was commonplace for all four of us to show up at the same parties and places growing up.

12. Family is the most important thing in my life. I have given up places, jobs, opportunities and trips for my family, and I don't regret a single decision. Life Lesson #1: It's not the places, it's the people.

13. I have an amazing group of friends from college -- actually from before college -- that I still rely on today. There are four women and four men in our group, and we've always called ourselves "The Bitches." It's been nearly 15 years, and I am convinced our friendships will go to the grave.

14. I used to get together much better with men than with women, at least in groups. I think that's leveling out a bit, as I now have more girl friends than boy friends. In high school, I consistently raised hell with the same four guys. Because of them, I bought and still own my own slingshot.

15. I firmly believe in God. I thank Him daily for good health, wonderful family, my home, my children and for giving me a sister, and I pray that He "helps us all to love one another better."

16. I work part-time in the Scripps College of Communication. I love my job. It's very busy and fulfilling most of the time. I love that working three days a week keeps me in the loop but also allows me to be the primary caregiver to my children.

17. I love coffee, pasta, cheese, mushrooms, tomato products, A&W root beer (especially with beef jerky) and cheap wine.

18. My favorite place in the world is Lake Tweet, a part of the old family farm now owned by my uncle who's a mere six years older than me. I've spent countless weekends there. Now that I live in "town" and have children, it's more important to me than ever. We spend nearly every weekend there from about April to October. We have a 30-foot camper that is truly our second home. If you're around, come out and join us for a campfire!

19. One weekend we aren't at Lake Tweet is the third weekend in July, when most of my camping family and friends are at Jamboree in the Hills. JITH is a blast! I've been going to Jamboree since 2001, but missed 2006 and will likely miss 2009 due to having a newborn about a month old. Ah, but I'll be back, old friend, I'll be back.

20. I've always loved my name, my birthday and, for the most part, my body. I feel like all of these things are uniquely me, and all have served me so well for more than 30 years.

21. I'm a huge country music fan, but I also LOVE the Indigo Girls. I've seen them in concert six times, and I'm not much of a concertgoer.

22. I would say my biggest fault is not being patient with people. I have a low tolerance for laziness, selfishness, stupidity and shallowness. Sorry.

23. All four of my grandparents died fairly young (all between the ages of 55 and 72) of various forms of cancer. While I try not to dwell on it, I am keenly aware of my genetics, and I live my life to the fullest.

24. EXCEPT I haven't yet written a book. I truly hope I get my act together on this one.

25. While I've been typing this, my unborn baby has been doing acrobatics in my womb. My husband just got to feel it for the first time. Life is good, and I am BLESSED!

A Perfect Weekend

My sweet Colby and I about to dip into the lake!

I'm pretty beat tonight, but I made an effort this weekend to take more photos of my life to share with all of you. After a Friday morning of yard sales with the boys, I headed off to shop with Lily. It was fantastic! And then, to Lake Tweet!

We've been spending most of every weekend at Lake Tweet. I keep thinking I need a break, but come Friday, what sounds better than a free campfire with amazing friends and family and endless fresh air? I also keep telling myself that soon enough I'll be cooped up in a germy house and the whole family with nowhere to go but the germy mall or other people's shut-up houses. (Doesn't winter sound lovely?)

Anyway. Let's just see some photos:


Red-headed cousins enjoying a camper bath before bed Saturday night.

Momma and her cubs floating on Lake Tweet.

The kids were bathed at the camper and asleep with their Pillow Pets by the time we pulled in to our driveway at 7:45 p.m.

Yes, I bought the Pillow Pets, and they are worth more to the kids than the money was to me!

I didn't take any photos of volleyball, my best girl Berta, my hunky husband or delicious food, but they were all part of the perfect weekend as well.

It's summertime, and the livin' is easy. Peace out.

I Want to Grow Old With You

I realized today that I haven't yet written a whole lot about my amazing family and how blessed I am just to have been born into it. A good place to start would be with my sister.

With only 22 months between us, my big sis and I have shared so much. It's hard to even begin the story of us, to do it any justice at all. I suppose I should regale you with stories, memories or inside jokes. We've gotten ourselves into so many binds, and, God knows, we have had some fun!

When we were about 7 and 9, we filled some of those big pong-pong balloons with water and tried to carry them up the stairs to our dormer bedroom. Both of them burst on new carpet, and we had the grand idea of sucking up all the water with our mom's Electrolux. In high school, we dressed as Elvira and a farmer for a costume party and were the talk of the night when we arrived as the only revelers in costume. I once wrote a note berating her for not letting me tag along with her and her boyfriend to dance at Davlin Lake that made her cry so hard and so dramatically that it woke my parents in the middle of the night, but left me fast asleep in my bed.

While on our way to JJ's Pizza to "hang out" after a high school basketball game, my sister took a right turn too sharply and tore off the side of my parents' sedan. We can still laugh until we cry when we think of me walking down the sidewalk that night, my long hair free under a "doo-rag," to look for the side runner we'd lost in the mishap. Some random guy on the basketball court yelled, "Hey buddy! You a guy or a girl?...... Your piece is in the yard!"

We then made it through college together, suffered without each other while working in different cities in our early careers and grew closer than I ever thought possible. Our similarities were most evident after we both married redheads a mere ten weeks apart, bought houses five lots apart on the main street of our hometown, bought nearly identical dark green Honda vans and then proceeded to have three sets of children: my daughter born four months before hers, then her son born four months before mine and finally--a twist!--her second daughter born four months before my second son.

Having her as a fellow mother warrior has been unbelievable. Our kids are incredibly close. Kim and I are known for throwing theme parties for them at the drop of a hat, for swapping kids in identical vans to keep them happy, for marathon shopping trips that we've considered successful only because we've sprung ourselves and our six kids out of our houses.

We've often had fits of giggles, many times uncontrollably and inappropriately. We've fought, but not much. We've been there for every birth, every major milestone. We choose to hang out together because we're friends by choice. My sister is beautiful, kind, funny and, inherently, good. I knew I couldn't do her justice. And I haven't.

But my sister is one of my reasons. She is a blessing a million times over. I couldn't have picked a better sister had I tried. I'm not letting go of her. Ever.

You're stuck with me, sis, and there will be no end. I want to grow old with you.