...When You're Carrying Too Much Weight

It's true: the baby is nearly five months old, and I can't pull my pants up much past my knees.  If it's not yoga or doesn't have an elastic band, it ain't fitting.  I'm not sure if I can chalk it up to it to being my third baby or being thirty.  No, I haven't tried exercising.  Or dieting.  I suppose I'm not that interested in how to lose the weight; however, I would like to know: At what point do I break down and "upsize" my wardrobe?

Noah was out shooting hoops the other day.  He suddenly started yelling, "I'm frustrated!  I'm so frustrated.  I'm frustrated... like Mommy!"  Yikes.  Having my two-year-old associate me with frustration sent me through a series of flashbacks.

"Knock it off!  I'm so frustrated.  Look at the mess you've made!"
"All you guys do is fight!  I'm sick of it.  It's so frustrating."
"Do you know how much you're frustrating me?  Follow the rules!"
I can assure you all of these were relayed in loud volume and a lost temper.

Yes, my boys are naked and my daughter is wearing a Cinderella dress.  And, yes, that is the silverware compartment from the dishwasher filled with blocks.  Not to worry, they're just a group of Care Bears driving a cloud car.

For the past few months, I have been dealing with very uncomfortable and sometimes painful symptoms.  Some of these symptoms include severe light-headedness and numbness of my arms, legs, and face.  These months have been filled with doctors appointments, diagnostic tests, and anxiety of the unknown.  A spinal tap eventually ruled out multiple sclerosis.  An MRI of my brain found lesions (which Nick is hoping is a sign of telepathy), but all the other MRIs found nothing.  My most recent neurological study showed a potential dysfunction in my autonomic nervous system.  So now we will be exploring that avenue.  All other details aside, living with these symptoms and not having a diagnosis has been a real weight on my shoulder.  As a result, I'd venture to say I've been a pretty terrible mother.

Miriam wearing the Care Bears night gown I wore as a little girl.  Also, my childhood pencil collection is sprawled all over the floor.

When you muster up the courage (or exhaustion) to finally tell God, "I quit!  You do it," He does.  He even will do it in very tangible ways.  I have had many people help me shed my pounds of anxiety.  My mom has watched the kids for all of my appointments and was my caretaker and nanny after being debilitated by the spinal tap.  My in-laws have flooded me with support, giving me medical guidance and encouragement.  Family and friends (and MOPS) alike have come alongside me to uplift me in prayer and visited to entertain the kids.  I've even been graced by the input and support of some east coast relatives, with whom I don't get the chance to talk to all that often.  Just this week I have been blessed with meals provided by the Holy Angels community. I am so thankful to each person who has helped me and prayed for me and am so grateful to God for His faithfulness.

He asks for a Pop Tart every day, for all three meals.  In reality, he gets to enjoy one once a week... in his super cape!

Noah was frustrated because he couldn't make a basket.  He remedied the situation by dragging a chair over to the basketball hoop.  Usually, though, when my kids are frustrated, they cry.

I am frustrated because I have ten pounds I can't lose, and none of my clothes fit.  I'm frustrated because half of my body is numb, and I am carrying kids around all day.  I'm frustrated because I'm so light-headed, I can barely think straight sometimes.  I'm frustrated that my time and money is being spent on doctors.  Slowly, I am learning how to drag little chairs to prop myself up, but I'm also learning how to cry for help.  At the end of the day, when the wave of anxiety comes in the darkness, I take comfort in knowing that someone much bigger than me is in control.  He always is... and He'll take the weight off my shoulders if I let Him.

Gus at about four months

...When the Ants Go Marching

First butterflies, then ants.  Onto the next page!  I quickly skip over the lice section.  Ew.  That tick looks gross.  I skip that page, too.  Now beetles, then dragonflies.

Taking full advantage of the California "drizzle"

Lately, my kids have been obsessed with an insect encyclopedia.  I've learned quite a bit about bugs.  Did you know that the "real" name for daddy long legs is "harvestmen?"  I didn't.  Did you know that I'm not allowed to like the morpho butterfly because the picture is a male?  Neither did I.  Miri taught me that fact.  Apparently, we only like females.  My kids seem to be the most obsessed with the ant page.  Over and over again we read about fire ants.  It's always amazing how the minds of little children are like sponges.

"Fire ants eat flowers.  And fruit," informs Miriam.
"When fire ants bite you, it stings!  So I smash them with my SUPER CAPE!" Noah emphasizes.  He also chases flies around the house donned with a broom and his super cape.

This month, our family has been bugged.  Every day, I wake up, armed with a can of Raid (or its friendlier counterpart, Orange Guard), to hunt down a few armies.  On any given day, we will find ants in about three rooms of our house.  Kitchen, bedroom, bathroom -- you name it.  We can't escape it.  I guess it comes with the hot and dry territory.  I'm just a little exasperated.  It's either time I learn to coexist with these bugs, or cough up the cash to hire an exterminator.

Augustine's Baptism, 8.17.2014

 

 

 

A few weeks ago, we were blessed to baptize Augustine Gregory and welcome him into the Catholic Church!  The sacrament was especially memorable, because Gus was baptized alongside his little cousin, Gianna.  Our wonderful celebration came to a tearful end as Miriam was attacked by hornets!  I think we ended up counting five stings.  After the initial pain and fright of it all, she was a real trooper.  "But what is the difference between hornets and bees?  Why did they attack me?  Did you used to get stung when you were little?"  Luckily, Tot shared an interesting story about working as an exterior painter and getting stung more times than he could keep track of.  I, on the other hand, used the situation as a vocabulary lesson and taught her the word "aggressive."  We then looked up her perpetrator in the Insect Encyclopedia.  Its limited options led us to label it as a yellow jacket wasp.

Brothers

 

In addition to the constant battling of ants, there are so many things that have been bugging me lately: the constant fighting and yelling, the relinquishing of the sacred nap time; the onslaught of doctor appointments.  Bed time never comes soon enough.

As is the way of irony, one evening after the kids had been all tucked in bed, I notice a big bug on the ceiling of the living room.  Luckily, I have a husband who is my Spider Hunter, and literally hunts down black widows and brown widows on a weekly basis (another reason why we need an exterminator).  He quickly encourages me not to fear! -- it is a butterfly you see!  A butterfly?  On our ceiling?  At ten o'clock at night?  Thank you, kind husband! -- now please get it outside!

The dynamic duo

He excitedly runs into the bedroom to rouse our children.  "Wake up!  Wake up!"  Reaching into the closet: "We're going to catch a butterfly with the nets from Elefun!"  So, together, we watch Tot catch a butterfly from our ceiling with a play net.  Then, we get out the flash lights to watch the butterfly escape into the dark night (and probably get eaten by a bat).  Nick grins at me, "This is what Tots are for!"

I can shoo away those bothersome things at the day's end.  It's those better memories that crawl into your heart.  Like when Miriam asks Noah to "marry" her so that they can "dress up fancy."  Or when Noah was thrilled to get his first set of army men, exclaiming, "This guy has a gun!  This guy has a gun, too!...WOAH -- all these guys have skateboards!"  And when the morning after Gus's baptism, I find his bassinet laden with all his gifts that his siblings so kindly opened for him.

It's the butterfly nights we remember.

He's always smiling

*In case you want a bug book for your toddlers, this one is actually pretty great!