Figuring out life with four (warning: there will be yelling and crying)

Let's quickly get past the fact that I've been MIA here for the last few months. I was massively pregnant, then massively pregnant and angry because I was still massively pregnant, and then all of a sudden I was in charge of keeping four kids alive.

Four. Kids.

In Accordance with the Laws of Parenting

In accordance with the Laws of Parenting, the following list must be fulfilled in the 24 hours before one or more parents can leave on a trip sans children. 

People Who Acknowledge

One of the things I clearly remember being taught as a child is manners. I was to call adults "sir" and "ma'am", and never call them by their first name unless I was invited to do so. When I needed to get the attention of my mother who was already engaged in a conversation, I was to (politely, never screaming) say "Excuse me" and then wait until I was addressed to speak.

And I was always, always, always to say "please" and "thank you."

I do this with my own kids now. We start practicing "please" and "thank you" early on, arguably before they know what it means (or can even properly say it. Although there is something to be said for the insane cuteness of a one year old's "tank too"). I'm a firm believer that being polite and gracious will get you so much farther in life than demanding, entitled behavior.

2015: The Year of Just Doing It.

At the end of last year, I hit a breaking point. The every day ins and outs of being a stay-at-home mom were starting to wear on me, a thick itchy sweater that I couldn't take off or find peace in. I was frustrated and restless, and I knew I needed to find something outside of the identity of "parent" to channel my energy. I even knew what I wanted that something to be. The only feeling bigger than the discontent with the rut I was in, was the fear I had about climbing out of it. I was stuck in an endless cycle of my own making (and of all the cycles to be stuck in, one you actually made yourself is the most irritating).

So, I just kind of...stewed for a while. And obviously by that I mean I complained. To God, to my husband, to all of the crazy voices in my brain and heart. I complained about the lack of motivation I felt every day and the hollow, unfulfilled part of myself no amount of Target shopping runs could fill (forgive me, Target. It was a weird time). I yammered on and on about needing a creative outlet for poor, oppressed moi, all the while avoiding actually doing anything about it. I wanted to write, and in particular start a blog, but I didn't want to do it until I was sure it would be perfect and without fault and I was the best writer I could be. Clearly I had very realistic*, attainable** expectations.

*idiotic

**unreachable, never going to happen

And then one day, a tiny whisper broke through all of the noise I was making about why I couldn't do what I wanted to do (and I'm just going to straight up point out the divinity of this whisper, because I can be quite loud and distracting when making nonsense noise).

Just do it. 

But I can't    

Just do it.

But    

Just. Do. It.

Oh.

You mean I could just try something out and not have to be immediately fantastic or perfect at it? That maybe I could find joy and peace even when things were messy and I was stumbling my way through? Hmm, that seemed super unlikely given my personality. But dissatisfaction with the way things were was at an all time high, so I (very, very, I can not overstate how very slowly) started writing and then sharing. And you know what?

It was hard. And scary. And I didn't always find immediate joy and peace in the moments of messiness and stumbling. Sometimes I was happy right away with what I had written. Usually though, I wanted to scratch my own eyeballs out.

But it was also wonderful and fun and heart changing. And most of the time those things had nothing to do with what I had specifically written, but because I had written anything at all. I didn't stop being scared, but I stopped letting that being my deciding factor. The strength I found in opening up when writing translated into being more honest and bold in my every day life. I found encouragement when I thought I'd find criticism (or at least eye rolls and heavy sighs), and level ground with people I hadn't previously thought I had much in common with. I stopped thinking of every tiny reason not to step out of my comfort zone and instead just focused on actually doing it.

So, cheers to you, 2015. You beautiful, responsive, unrelenting year of growth, I'll never forget you.

AGAIN

If you had told me eighteen months ago that I would be pregnant AGAIN, less than a year after my youngest had been born, I would have laughed in your face. And possibly hit you (but that would have been the pregnancy rage hitting you, and I’m sure I would have felt badly about it. Sort of).

   

If you had told me eighteen months ago that not only would I be pregnant AGAIN less than a year after my youngest had been born, but that it would not be an “Oops!” baby (or the more PC term “surprise!” baby. It’s okay, I understand. Can I introduce you to my third born and resident "oops/surprise" baby?), but rather a planned and hoped for pregnancy, I would have immediately cut off all contact with you because I have a policy about not letting crazy liars speak into my life.

An Absentee Blogger

Heeeeeey. Remember me? The writer of this blog who was all "I'm going to write twice a week!" and then "Once a week! Count on it!" then "At least once every two weeks" until finally the dark days came and it was "See you in six weeks, buh-bye now" ?

Oh, hey.

I would like to present my case for Reasons I've been an Absentee Blogger:

Exhibit A: Books

Just stacks and stacks of books. Logically, I know there are other things I should be doing, but then my heart goes, "Yeah, but wouldn't you rather read that new YA series until your eyes fall out of your head?" Yes. Yes I would, heart. And then my laundry sits on the couch for a week straight, unfolded.

Exhibit B: Fall

At first this was because it was Fall and 70 degrees out and it was too glorious to be cooped up inside on the computer. Then it was because it was Fall and 40 degrees out and rainy and a reminder that life in Michigan was about to suuuuuuck and I needed time to mourn (ie. watch Hulu and pretend outside didn't exist).

Exhibit C: Hamilton the Musical
I can get roughly six minutes into a conversation with someone before I have to bring up the genius that is Lin-Manuel Miranda's Hamilton (which is three minutes longer than I've probably wanted to say something about it). A hip-hop musical about history shouldn't work, but holy crap IT DOES. Sharp, witty, heartbreaking. BRB I'm going to go listen to it again.

Exhibit D: Birthdays
My oldest and my youngest turned 7 and 1 respectively within 5 days of each other. And it didn't stress me out at all*

*totes a lie. SO MANY EMOTIONS.  I don't care to talk about it, actually.

Exhibit E: Slater Baby #4

Oh yeah, also we gleefully lost our minds and decided to add another hooligan to our brood. NBD. Except VERY BIG DEAL and we are super pumped to meet him or her come May (or June. Slater babies do not give a crap about due dates). We are also excited to write the book "Wow! Another One...Yikes." Working title chapters include: "Why, yes I do find my husband attractive." and "Wait, what do you mean THAT leads to BABIES?" ;)


Evidence not submitted (you're welcome):

• Cheeseburgers, and the Gollum-like enthusiasm this baby holds for them. My preciousssss om nom nom.
• Morning sickness. Even if Mabel did tell me I looked pretty "holding your hair back when you threw up in the sink, Mom."
• Misery, form of pregnant-did-I-shower-this-week-oh-wait-I-have-to-throw-up-again Me.

 Case closed.

Home School: The First Week

Ella, talking to Dan at dinner tonight: "I did so good in school today, Dad! I didn't cry once!"

It took a full week of home schooling, but on the sixth day Ella made it through all five subjects with nary a tear in sight. Last week's crying was sponsored by:

• Math (double digit addition)
• Math (double digit subtraction)
• Mom's inability to find seeds anywhere to do the "make something grow!" science experiment (yes, I actually do understand planting season ended long ago, Mr. Home Depot employee. But science is for all seasons apparently! And also I didn't open up the teacher's guide and find out about the needed seeds until class started, so please stop looking at me like that.)
• Mabel getting to "do whatever she wanted" (re: destroy my house) while Ella had to do school work. 
• Mabel making Matty laugh while Ella had to do school work. That's HER job.