Bringing out the Duggar in me.

Some of you know that I make my own laundry detergent.  Being a one-income large family means saving where I can.  Thought I'd show those of you who have asked me how to do it.  Of course, I forgot to take pictures along the way yesterday, when I made the detergent...sorry.

Here are the things you will need to buy to get started.

1 cup of Borax 

1 cup of Washing Soda

1 Bar of Soap (any bar of soap should work, just be sure nobody in your family has a sensitive reaction to the brand you choose).

I found the Borax and Washing Soda in the cleaning isle at Market Basket, though any grocery store, Target or WalMart should have them I think.  I use Ivory soap, because you can always save the extra bars for future detergent or you could let your kids microwave an extra bar of Ivory soap and it does that fun science experiment thing.  (Heads up though, your kitchen will smell like soap for an hour or so if they do.)  It's been a while since I bought these supplies, and the boxes are still half full.  I'm pretty sure these supplies cost less than $10, and will last you more than a year of detergent.  Yes, I'm serious about that...this is very inexpensive and works great.  I wish I had known about this a long time ago. 

Also, you will need to save two empty and rinsed gallon jugs (we use the milk ones as our kids drink so much) for easy storage.

Here's what you do:

1) Grate your bar of  soap with a regular cheese grater.  The entire thing.  Put it in your pot.  

As for your pot, it should hold 2 gallons of water.  Otherwise use 2 smaller pots and split the ingredients evenly.  That's what I have to do, making two batches at the same time.

2) Add 1 gallon of water (any temperature) and cook over the stove until the soap is fully dissolved.  

3) Add 1 cup of Borax and 1 cup of Washing Soda and still well.  

4) Allow it to boil.  Then remove it from the heat and add 1 gallon of cold water.  Stir well.

5) Allow the detergent to cool a bit and then use a funnel to transfer the mixture into the empty gallon containers.

And that's it!  So easy.  I let mine sit overnight and it actually congeals.  Then I shake the gallon containers well to break up the detergent a bit.  To use the detergent I pour just a small amount (maybe 1-2 tablespoons - really) into the washing machine right out of my milk containers.  

The other good thing about this detergent is it is far gentler on skin than store bought detergents.  They typically add unnecessary dyes and scents.  I have used this detergent on babies laundry too.  No more need to buy expensive Dreft!

OK, here is the original link.  I can't claim this as my own.  But I do love it!

http://whynotsew.blogspot.com/2010/08/how-to-make-homemade-laundry-detergent.html

The Pageant

Today was the Christmas pageant.  Caroline was an angel, that was believable.

Jackson refused to be the angel he was cast as.  I tried bribery, offering to treat him to lunch at McDonald's if he wore the angel costume.  He agreed, and then back out again.  Opting to become Josh's shadow throughout the service instead.

Ryan was too young for a formal role, but he did wear angel wings for a total of 10 minutes.

Service started with a children's time at the altar.  Josh has been doing these puppet show children's moments with the help of a few church members...they are so fun and cute.  As an aside, I LOVE how our church includes children into the services every week.  Kids are welcomed and it makes the experience so much better if you ask me.  Part of this children's moment was about lighting the advent wreath.  Josh wisely advised the large group of kids to stay away from the candles on fire.  Leave it to the preacher's kid to reach right for that lit candle.  Mid-prayer I lunged towards Ryan, still too far away for me to reach him, snapping my finger, pointing at him saying "Ryan no!"  Thankfully that did the trick.  But I felt compelled to apologize to the congregation for my interruption.

Throughout the service Jackson was shadowing Josh.  While I was sitting in the pew I could see him picking his nose, several times, on the altar.  Right there for all to see.  Gross.

During prayers and concerns I blinked and Ryan dashed for the altar, adorned with angel wings, to sit next to Jackson, aka Josh's shadow.  What is supposed to be the only quiet moment of this children's service was when Ryan decides to roll around on the altar with his wings on.  Jackson then starts tying his elastic boot string things together, so if he were to stand his legs would be tied together and fall.  He's a one man show that kid.  Once the prayer was over I scooped him up and the angel wings were over.

Just before the pageant is to begin Ryan tells me he has to pee.  I didn't want to take the long way to the bathroom, because I didn't want to miss Caroline doing her angel thing.  So I tried to sneak out the side door.  Only to run smack into all of the angels awaiting their big entrance.  "Excuse me.  Sorry, Ryan has to go to the bathroom."  As I'm squeezing through the sea of 5-7-year-olds I feel my boot (yes, hard snow boot) step on a little boy's toe.  And then I realize he's not wearing any shoes, as the angels are just in their socks.  And now I'm apologizing to Charlie as he's bravely trying not to cry though he is clearly in some pain.   Awesome.  The pageant leader ushered me along and comforted Charlie.

The pageant went on and it was awesome.  Every aspect of it.

Nose picking and all, bring your kids to church people.  There's Purell at the back so it's all good.

Please excuse the finger in the photo, clearly I am a bit busy in church to notice a bad photo.

My funniest parenting story to date.

Parenting is full of all sorts of things.  And it's not easy many days.  So how do we cope?  If you are like me, you hold onto the moments that offer you shock and laughter.  And with little boys, that usually goes hand-in-hand with something gross too.  With that said, I will share my funniest parenting story to date.

Last summer was largely a blur for me.  As I was still in shock from our son Ethan's sudden death the tears far outweighed the laughter.  But, one night was the exception.

Caroline, Jackson, Ryan and I were pet sitting for some friends.  The four of us went into their home to feed the animals and freshen up the water dish.  I blinked and Ryan disappeared as only fully mobile 13-month-olds can do.

Ryan rounds the corner of their master bedroom (not a concern, they have little kids who sleep in their master bedroom all of the time) proudly banging two things together.  With that twinkle in his eye that proves he is a Gray boy.  (I know this as my husband and brother-in-law are owners of the same twinkle.)

"What do you have Ryan?"  Ryan couldn't respond verbally so he grinned and smiled again with his eyes.

Then I realized what they were.  Two large-sized bottles of personal lubricant.  I swear to you, that's what he was banging together as if they were drumsticks.

After rushing to take them away and washing his hands thoroughly I realized I had to put these personal items back.  But where did Ryan find them?  I stood in their master bedroom turning around in a circle looking for the obvious place Ryan must have found them.  The drawer to the nightstand was open, that must be where he found them.  So I placed them in but no matter how I did it the drawer would not shut.  It was too narrow for the size of the personal items.

Surely these amazing parents wouldn't leave personal lubricant in an open drawer where their young child would easily find them as he fell asleep in his parents' bed, right?  So I retrieved the bottles and stood in the middle of the room again.  No other drawers were open indicating where Ryan may have found them.  I wasn't about to start violating their privacy further to figure out where they belonged.  Again I put them in the nightstand and closed the drawer as far as it would go...leaving it about 2 inches open.

For the next five days I wondered what to do.  Do I leave it there and hope I was right, while believing that I was probably wrong?  Do I throw it somewhere else in their room and pretend like it never happened?  Do I cop to it and write a little note apologizing for Ryan's indiscretion, leaving the bottles next to it?

I opted for the first option, the nightstand.  The friends never mentioned the lube...and neither did I.  It was hilarious though.  And gross.  Later that night, at a sick visit for an ear infection, our pediatrician said it could have been worse.  He could have found "devices."  I hadn't even considered that.  Yes, that would have been worse.

These stories  make the exhaustion and whiny days more than worthwhile.  So, what are your funniest parenting stories?

A full moon in the morning.

The other day I was upstairs first thing in the morning, waking Caroline up for school.  I hadn't even ventured downstairs yet myself.  But I hear Jackson's little voice yelling "Ryan! Ryan!" from outside the house.  I thought, surely not, right?

Came downstairs and found both boys outside in the backyard.  They had locked themselves out of the house.  Apparently Ryan was looking for me (he didn't think to look in Caroline's room first?) and Jackson followed suit.  Then Ryan rounds the corner of the house so I can see him, and he's wearing a pj shirt, Spider-man snow boots and nothing else.  Well, good morning Ryan.

I am sure some neighbors witnessed the full moon that day.  We are quickly building a reputation surely.

Ryan's fully embracing 2-years-old, and keeping me on my toes :)

Long distance hug.

We have family who live in Florida and in Seattle, while we live in New England.  So, it's pretty hard to hug them.  Why not send one?!

Another easy craft with my kids - and one that spreads some love across the country.  Who doesn't love getting mail?  Especially if it is filled with surprise long distance hugs from your grandchildren or niece and nephews.  

No how-to here.  It's self-explanatory I think.  The next rainy day you have, and you are looking to eat up a bit of time...consider this one.

Original link:  http://tonsoffunpreschoolactivities.blogspot.com/2011/02/long-distance-hug.html

The Sleep Pee'er Strikes Again

Jackson's sleep walking and sleep peeing are nothing new.  He did make it rain pee in the kitchen after all.

The sleep peeing has continued.  The other night I stepped in a puddle of pee underneath Jackson's bed.  He had peed on his box spring mattress and it had soaked through.  Last week I found Jackson standing in the hallway about to pee - and was able to interfere just in time.  And a few nights ago we found Jackson peeing in the kitty litter.  I'm serious.  Right in the kitty litter - through that little door in the cover.  Boy has aim I guess, even when he's sleeping.  Scooping my kid's pee in the litter was something I never imagined I would be doing.

Guess it could be worse.  I've been told some kids open their dresser drawers and pee right on their clothes.  But I did just find a bunch of wet clothes that he accidentally got wet last night and then stuffed back into his dresser while sleeping.  Awesome.  So, we are back to cutting the liquids out after 6:30 pm and doing more laundry.  I really might just make him a toga for halloween and he can go as a frat boy.

Stellar Mom Moment #132

Today I put Ryan down for his nap and set Jackson up for his rest time in the toy room.  Put on a movie so he could relax (OK, so I could too) during that hour.  Two of my friends were over and we got to watching some tv and catching up.

Rest time was over and I opened the toy room door and Jackson wasn't in there.  Searched the likely places and he wasn't there either.  Then I thought Josh must have taken Jackson with him to volleyball practice.  Left him a voice mail trying to confirm this. 3 minutes later I found Jackson sound asleep in his own bed.  Apparently my boy who no longer naps decided he needed a nap today after all.  Snuck upstairs and tucked himself in.  

After laughing at my newest stellar mom moment I realized I had just left Josh that message.  The second message was something like "don't worry.  I found Jackson.  In his bed."  Meanwhile, I didn't really know he was lost.  I thought he was with his dad.  Wish I could have erased that first voice mail.

Apple Picking Fun

September in New England means apple picking.  This is our first Fall in our new town so we decided to check out the local farm and orchard.  Our kids get so excited for these traditions and Ryan has continued to talk about apple picking for the last month now.


How can you say no to your kids asking you to pose with them?  You don't.  :)

And then it was off to the picking.  The best apples are always at the top.  This is how it's done Gray style.

And there's always some tasting.

And one really good picture :)

Until next Fall.  

October is here!

October is here.  While Caroline was at school Jackson, Ryan and I spent the morning with great friends at our place today.  In between bike, scooter and wagon rides in the driveway I snuck in a little craft.  Hand print spider webs.

Go on, break those paints out with your kids.  You can do it.  I know some parents avoid this stuff because it can get messy - but kids really LOVE it.  Washable paints, cheap paper plates and white string or yarn - that's all you need.  So, deep breath...and dive in parents!

Punch holes around the paper plates.  Let the kids choose the color to paint their plate.  Jackson chose blue, as he always does.  Ryan went along with orange.  Then paint their hand (minus the thumb) with black or brown and make two hand prints - overlapping the palms.  Glue some googly eyes (you can use white paint if you don't have eyes around) and let it dry.  Let your kids practice pushing the yarn or string through the punched holes (Ryan needed some help with his, but made a great effort).  I knotted and taped the yarn behind the plate to secure them.  

These make great Fall decorations for your home, or if you like, grandparents and long distance relatives love hand print crafts from the little ones they don't get to see often.  Happy October!


To check out the original link:  http://www.momendeavors.com/2012/10/halloween-kids-craft-handprint-spiders-in-a-diy-lacing-card-web.html

The evolution of "me time."

Before I had kids I went to the gym 5 plus days a week.  For more than an hour usually.  Weight training was actually included in my workout instead of just the treadmill, stretching and some core exercises.  I showered and then made dinner, read a book or watched some TV.  I couldn't have told you what number the Disney Channel was even on.  My days were filled with a wonderful job as a counselor in a residential and therapeutic day program.  Josh and I had weekly dinners, "family" dinners if you will, with our best friends every Wednesday night.  Weekends were filled with...I can't even remember how I used to fill so much time to myself.  Sleeping in surely.  Naps whenever I wanted to.  Church on Sunday mornings.  Eating out regularly.  A movie sometimes.  But really, I don't even know what I used to do with all of that time.

Then Caroline was born and "me time" came in the form of going to the gym for a quick run when Josh and I were both home from work.  Timing it in between nursing feedings.  The occasional dinner and a movie night out with a babysitter at home.  And scheduled trips out of the home without Caroline - usually it was hanging out with a friend doing something.  I could go to the bathroom alone.  Having just one baby was busy, but very manageable.  But I could still hear my inner monologue.  Josh could take care of her for me to shower, or vice versa.  Leaving me alone to my thoughts.

Less than two years later Jackson came along.  "Me time" became the occasional Saturday morning of sleeping in.  When Josh would take Caroline and Jackson to the bagel place.  Showering alone started to drift away.  As Caroline would open the door, just checking in or having something she needed to tell mommy, and leave the door wide open so the bathroom filled with cold air.  Caroline would usually insist on accompanying me in the bathroom.  You know, I might miss her or get lonely in those 3 minutes.  Me time was the short car ride in between work and daycare.  Lunch breaks at work were opportunities to remember I was a person, not just a mother.  Things were active, but Josh and I were still playing the parental man-to-man defense with our kids.

Add Ryan into the mix, 3 kids under 4-years-old, and "me time" turned into doing the dishes while Josh took a turn giving baths.  By this time Caroline was 3, Jackson was almost 2 and Ryan was a newborn.  Showering alone was a thing of the past.  There was almost always a baby sitting in that bouncy seat on my bathroom floor.  As I sang tone deaf versions of "You are my sunshine," the "ABCs," and "Twinkle twinkle little star," hoping to get the conditioner out of my hair before I had to get out.  I could hear crying approaching the bathroom and braced for the tears and sadness of the 2 and 3-year-olds that were bound to come my way.  All while trying to shave my legs with goose bumps from the cold air again.  My version of me time usually meant there was still a baby I was taking care of somewhere in the room.  Going to the bathroom was a family affair.  And if I actually shut the door and locked it toddler fingers were visible on the bottom of the door.  With banging from Jackson and cries of desperation that they weren't included.

A fourth child blessed our family for a brief period of time, and the non-stress tests during that pregnancy were times to sit and relax.  While someone was usually taking care of the older kids.  Today I find my "me time" scheduled weeks in advance in the form of the rare dinner out with friends.  And last week, I had my annual OB-GYN exam in Boston.  That is one appointment I will do anything possible not to bring the kids to.  You know you are a mom when your OB-GYN appointment is your "me time."  Seriously.

Inside my head there are voices asking for milk, a snack, or some other request nowadays.  But it's all good.  I love my family and chaos.  I wouldn't trade it.  And really, how important is that weight training anyway?  That's what carrying your kids is for.

Yup, he just said vagina.

Tuesday mornings Jackson and I have some rare one-on-one time.  With his sister in first grade and one of his younger brothers in an early intervention group, Jackson and I sneak away for some grocery shopping.  And perhaps a doughnut.  When you have 4 kids so close together, it really is a treat to get this time to soak in the child that your baby has become.  And glimpse into what kind of person he may be in the future.

Yesterday we had had our doughnut and began our grocery shopping.  (Yes, this is what your quality one-on-one time turns into with a busy family.  Grocery shopping becomes the exciting time for Jackson.  The key is to pitch the excursion as special mom-Jackson time.)  I was meal planning on the go, my usual, and said "hey Jackson, how about we have lasagna for dinner this week?"

Jackson: "Nope, I don't like vagina."

And there it was.  Simply stated.  My 4-year-old just said vagina in the Brockton Market Basket.  Apparently lasagna and vagina sound similar to a child with a speech articulation issue.  And people were all around us.  I just said "OK," and moved onto the next aisle.

This stuff happens all of the time in our family.  And I am beginning to realize that these antics seem to happen more often in our family than in most.  Blessed chaos indeed.

Distraction

Over the last six months or so my grief has shifted.  Or perhaps only on the surface.  I am no longer visibly crying all of the time.  But I still do that at times too, just not in front of people often.  People have stopped asking about how I am most of the time.  Probably because they don't see me cry as much, if at all, any more.  I guess they think I'm "better."  But here's the thing, I'm still screaming inside.  I don't have much free time at all, but with any that I do the thoughts tend to drift back to my dead son.

About six months ago I discovered Pinterest and distraction became a primary coping skill for me.  Painting the house, arts and crafts, building furniture...anything to drown out the "my child died" inner monologue while the world around me is pregnant and delivers healthy children.  So here are some of my more recent projects.  Josh is a nice, and smart, husband not to say anything about me and my crafting.  I think he knows it serves a greater purpose for me.

Today I finished a DIY mirror for our downstairs bathroom and this week I made a monogram for our front door.

And yes, our front door needs a new coat of paint.  :)

Here is the start of our gallery wall.  I made a bunch of canvas photos as well as photos applied to wood.  I kind of like it so far.  

I made this piece of art out of butterfly cut outs a friend gave me.  They just appeared on her kitchen table one day, when she had been thinking and praying for me, when no one was in her home.  Yet somehow, over 100 butterflies found their way to her table, and then to me.  

Don't worry, I do still take care of the kids and the rest of the family responsibilities.  Most of the time.  So distraction is my way to healing.  Or at least occupies my mind when the waves of grief roll in.  

Let the children come to me.

The other day I took the kids down the street for a bike ride.  We live close to a small cemetery - a great, safe spot for a 6, 4 and 2-year-old to cruise around on their bikes.  Caroline is now 6 and stopped to look at a grave that was prepared for a funeral later that morning.  With her dad being a minister and her youngest brother having died a year ago, Caroline has more exposure to death than most children.  But this trip to the cemetery I think she actually got it.  These graves were the sacred places for others' loved ones.  As Ethan's Macintosh tree is a sacred place for our family.

On the way out of the cemetery Caroline noticed a statue of Jesus at the entrance.  I looked up and all 3 of my kids had stopped and were talking about Jesus.  This was a moment as a parent that made me thankful and proud.  That my children know Jesus.  And love him.  Hey - we may have our hot mess moments but this moment reminded me that we are doing something right as parents.

Caroline face looked as if something dawned upon her.  "Ohhh.  This must be where Jesus died."  She thought the statue of Jesus was his actual grave.  So sweet.  Our quaint New England town is not exactly The Holy Land.  It makes complete sense if you are a 6-year-old.  I explained otherwise and read a scripture quote inscribed on the statue.  Reviewing that God sent his son Jesus to our world to tell us he loves us and so we may go to Heaven when we die.  Jackson and Ryan gently touched the statue - I think they were assessing whether this statue of Jesus was really alive or not.  Much like they assess mannequins in stores.  Even the ones with no heads mind you.  The boys and I moved along and I glance backwards to see Caroline patting Jesus' head.

  "What are you doing Caroline?"

  "Telling him he did a good job."

  Oh, sure.  Providing positive reinforcement much like we do in our family.  A 6-year-old is an amazing thing.  Yes Jesus, you did a good job.

  Let the children come to me.  And the Gray children followed.

Making it rain

Parents out there, you know that blessed moment of the night when your kids are finally in bed, leaving you alone for a few minutes and you actually get to watch a show that you DVR'd?  That's another sacred time around my home.  That sacred time was interrupted the other night by another story that I couldn't make up.

Josh and I were watching a show and I thought I heard a dripping sound.  Josh muted the TV and he quickly said "that's water!"  We split up looking for the source.

Jackson, our 4-year-old, has a slight sleeping walking problem.  Only when he really has to pee but doesn't wake up fully to get himself to the bathroom.  So the thought did cross my mind that he was peeing somewhere other than the toilet again.  But no, it couldn't be that.  The dripping sound was coming from the first floor and I didn't hear Jackson come downstairs.  Boy, was I wrong.

Josh discovered it was raining pee in our kitchen.  Seriously.  Right through the kitchen ceiling vent that went to Jackson's bedroom floor.  He had, in fact, peed on his door (again - this really does happen occasionally in our house) but this time it landed on the floor vent.  Making it rain pee in the kitchen.

Don't worry though, Jackson was fast asleep again in his bed by the time I opened his door.  I ran downstairs with an old rag for Josh to clean the pee up saying "don't use the kitchen towels!"  Round the corner and see Josh with the twinkle in his eye, half crouched over with the kitchen towels already in the pee.  Awesome.  Well, at least he was cleaning it I guess.

Josh cleaned the kitchen and I cleaned the bedroom.  Then we went right back to our spots on the couch as if nothing unusual had happened.  Because, in fact, this is a normal part of our blessed chaos.  I do think Jackson will be rushing a fraternity come college though, he's got it down already.

A surprise in the mail!

About 6 weeks ago the kids and I sat down at the kitchen table to eat up a bit of a rainy morning.  My addiction to Pinterest has helped during the times when outdoor play isn't an option, so off I went to my trusty iPhone Pinterest app and came across this activity.

Did you know if your child/children writes a note to a Disney character and mails it off to Disney World the word on the street is that character will send your child/children an autographed picture to them?  Mickey and Princesses tend to run the house according to two of my kids, so I thought it was worth a try.  Unfortunately I wasn't thinking in advance that morning and didn't get any pictures of the letters and drawings Caroline, Jackson and Ryan made for Ariel, Nemo and Mickey.  What I remember is that Caroline actually wrote her letter to Ariel and chimed in to finish the letters for her brothers.  Ryan scribbled a few crayons on the paper and that was the end of his masterpiece and Jackson actually got distracted and ditched the activity truthfully.  But what are big sisters for, if not to step in and finish the job?

And today, 3 excited kids opened the mailbox to find these!

Each child has their own signed photo/postcard mailed to them.  What kid doesn't love getting mail?  Ours love it!

If you are looking for a quick, easy way to kill some time with your kids this might just be it.  The address to mail them to is 

Walt Disney World Communications

PO Box 10040

Lake Buena Vista, FL  32830-0040

And the results are these faces...

I have become my mother.

My mom's a great lady.  She'll give you the shirt off her back, that's just her style.  So when when I say that I am turning into my mom that's not bad.

But, I remember being a kid and thinking she was a little crazy when she would make her mind known to strangers.

The other week I was in line at The Dollar Store (my favorite store and quite a mix of patrons by the way, especially the one I go to) and there was a line of 4 people waiting to check out.  We were third in line, and a new register opened.  The cashier said she could help the "next" person in line.  Hello, the next.  Not who can get their things over there first.  And this guy from behind me cuts me and the woman in front of me.  It was clear that this man knew he was cutting us.  Out of my mouth came "Excuse me sir, this woman in front of me is next."  The guy looks me straight in the eye and smiles, acknowledging that he doesn't give a crap and continues to move to the register.  And the lady in front of me thought I was nuts.  She pretty much told me so, saying that if she were my child she would be embarrassed by me.  Well, thanks lady.  Serves me right for shopping in Brockton's The Dollar Store I guess.

And then yesterday I was helping the kids cross our busy street to ride their bikes on the dead end across the way.  Cars often drive really fast by us, 3 little kids on their bikes waiting to cross.  The nice thing to do would be to slow down and offer these kids on 2 bikes and 1 trike to cross the street.  And this does happen sometimes.  But often people see us and continue right on.  To which I have found myself saying "Thank you" loudly as they drive by.  A very thing my mother used to do when I was young.  To which I would think was embarrassing, because it was to me at the time.  And here I am doing it myself.  Except this time I didn't need to say it, as my cute 5-year-old daughter in her princess helmet and bike yelled "thank you" for me at the car driving right by her.  Like mother, like daughter, like grandmother I guess.

So how are you turning into your parents?  You know it's happening.  No use in denying it.

Pirate Penis

Here's one of my favorite gems of my parenting days thus far.

Jackson was two and found bathroom humor hilarious.  There was a long phase where he ran around yelling "penis, penis, penis."  The giggling of his 4-year-old sister in response spurred on such behavior.

One night after bath he was naked and yelling this go-to phrase.  I asked him why he loves his penis so much.  (clearly the real answer is he's a boy, and that's fine.  But I asked the question anyway)  Jackson's answer was "because it's a pirate penis."

A what?  A pirate penis mom.

What's a pirate penis?  You know, like, a sword.

Like a sword?  Yeah, like "On guard!" said as he thrust his naked pelvis forward.

I just about peed my pants laughing.  As did Caroline.

Going stealth

A year ago, when I was hospitalized on bed rest during my pregnancy with Ethan, Caroline took to coloring and drawing at all times.  Not a bad interest and/or coping skill for a 4-year-old to develop during a family crisis I might add.  When I came home from the hospital 2 weeks later, sadly with no baby, my kitchen table was missing underneath piles of her artwork.

Her passion for coloring, drawing, writing stories and more has continued this year.  I keep many of her pieces of artwork.  Hang them on the fridge, around the house.  And even save some in her pile of art that I have from the time she was a baby.

But I can't save it all.  I would already be classified as a hoarder if I did.  This beautiful parsonage we live in would have no wall space left.  So what do I do?  I save the new things, hang them places.  Place them in piles for a few days.  And then, occasionally I weed through them.  Recycling some of the pieces that she didn't pour her soul into.

But I am no fool.  I don't recycle them in front of her.  Usually I have to make a special trip out to the garage and place them in the large recycling bin so she won't see.  The last thing I want to do is hurt her feelings.  Or stifle her creativity and coping skill.  And today she caught me.  I had slipped a picture into the kitchen recycling underneath a box.

Caroline, aka Harriet The Spy, busted me.  She pulled that construction paper right out of that bin and said "Mom, what happened here?" or something to that effect.  (She's busted me more than once I will add)  Shaking her head, insinuating that I clearly had made a mistake.  Her mother wouldn't intentionally throw out her art, right?  Um...  Course not.  So on the fridge that crinkled blue construction paper went.  Where it will remain for an undetermined length of time until Harriet The Spy is asleep one evening and I head out to the garage for round 2.

This happens with our odds and ends toys as well.  The random pieces that are broken or are useless now that the rest of the toy is missing.  Pay attention rookie parents.  DO NOT THROW THEM AWAY IN THE KITCHEN TRASH.  Don't even bury them.  They will be found and you will have to answer to that 3-year-old of yours.  While trying not to lie to your child (it's not like I'm trying to have them nap or something).  But trying to avoid becoming the next episode of Hoarders.  Take an experienced parent's advice.  Go stealth.  Recycle and throw away under the cover of darkness.

Give him a Toga

From the time he was born, Jackson was ready for college.

As a newborn he was easy going...just liked a good party, a drink and a nap.  He didn't care who was holding him.  Was never really the size of a newborn, as the nurses had to switch the stocked size newborn swaddler diapers for size 1 in the post-partum room.

This is a picture of Jackson (on the left) 1 day old, next to our best friends' daughter Chloe who was 3 weeks old at the time.  My nurse got them confused upon walking into the room, as Chloe was the size of the newborn, not Jackson.  Excuse my leg by the way.

Jackson had an easy going personality as a baby, but the nursing proved far more difficult than it had with Caroline.  Despite a month plus of trying (and I mean really trying, you la leche people out there) it was evident that he wasn't taking to nursing.  Jaundice was still kicking around, so we supplemented with formula one day, after he had nursed for 40 minutes.  He downed, and I mean chugged 4 ounces.  By 2 months old he was eating 12oz of formula (the pumping couldn't keep up with the demand) every 2-3 hours, around the clock.  Seriously.  I would stop him after 8oz and then try to soothe him in other ways.  But he would cry and root until we fed him.  Eventually I would cut him off at the 12oz mark.  He was drinking about 6 pounds of milk a day.  Earning him the nickname chug-a-lug.  And very quickly, we realized he was ready for college.  This kid can drink faster than anyone I know.  

Fast forward a couple of years and his true personality abounds.  He's no longer the easiest going person every day, and that's more than OK.  But he's the life of the party.  Just check out this picture below, it says it all.  He's on the right. 

And he's loud.  He will be the kid everyone can hear without him trying in a crowd.  By the way, he literally cannot whisper.  Irish whisper they call it - sure to get him in some trouble at school one day.

And as described in a previous post, Jackson loves to streak.  Just last week I caught him mooning the neighbors.  Great.  

My first night of orientation at Boston College people decided to have a toga party in the dorms.  Everyone walked around in their white sheets wrapped around themselves.  As my memory serves most people wore the toga over their clothes...but I wouldn't be surprised if Jackson were the type to fully embrace the toga and go without.  

The combination of chugging milk faster than humanly possible, his hilarious personality, and nudist tendencies makes me think he's ready for a fraternity now.  Lord help me in high school.

And then there's the fact that Jackson has fallen asleep on the hardwood floor of our upstairs hallway before.  Using a damp bathmat for a pillow.  Gross.  And didn't seem to be bothered in the least.  He had apparently been playing past his bedtime and crashed right where he was.  Again, harking to the days of college.  How many times have you stumbled upon a friend who fell asleep in some awkward position and place?  We have a friend who fell asleep in the bathtub before, thankfully without any water in it.

And last night I awoke to find Jackson opening my door.  Clearly he had to use the bathroom but was sleepwalking - having no idea where he was in the house.  This is not the first time this has happened. Thankfully I caught him and redirected him in time.  He's used his bedroom door as the toilet before, poor kid.  And we even found him in his sister's room before - again catching him just in time.  That one reminds me of a college friend who awoke to her roommate thinking she was the bathroom.  Very unfortunate.  

Jackson may be a handful at times, but I love having him in my life.  He makes it beautiful, and funny, and entertaining to say the least.  And we are thinking about giving him a toga for Halloween.

The Sacred Nap

The nap is one of the greatest gifts God gave us parents.  The nap allows me to remain a nice mom.  It holds my sanity many days.

Caroline is approaching 6-years-old, and she knows there is still a rest time, if not an actual nap, in her day.  Jackson is close to 4 now, and he is starting to push the nap thing.  Wondering if he can get out of it.  So I am transitioning him into the fun of "rest time" in his room.  Some days it doesn't fly, but I remain determined.  Ryan just turned 2 so he naps daily still.  Thank goodness.

With the nap being so vital to the health of my family I am not above little white lies.  Here's my go-to trick to get them to nap when they aren't all that into it.

I tell them that they only grow when they are napping.  

Before they sleep I ask them which parts of their body are going to grow during nap.  Then I tickle their feet, or their bellies, so they grow and tuck them in.  Sometimes I even make that silly raspberry sound on the chosen spots to grow so they have "growing juice."  After nap we admire how tall they became.  How long their arms and fingers are now.  And they buy it!  And I remain a nice mom for the rest of the day.  It's a win-win in my book.

Sometimes I even tell them they grow more when it rains outside.  Or that it's possible their younger sibling may wake up taller than them if the older one doesn't nap while the younger one does.  That one often gets them laying in their beds at least.

So what are your tricks to keep the nap going?  Or did you say goodbye to the nap more gracefully than I did?

God bless the nap.  Amen.

Starting a tradition

Our oldest, Caroline, is 5-years-old and is finishing Kindergarten next week.  Hard to believe she should be part of the graduating class of 2025.  

I resisted Pinterest for far too long, and now am addicted.  That little app on my phone kills so much time and I find amazing ideas almost daily.  You know I have a problem when I need to add clean up my Pinterest boards to my chore list.  As if I don't have enough to clean already.  But this mess was my doing.

But back to my post.  Caroline.  The sweetest girl around.  I found the idea of ironing 2025 decals onto an adult t-shirt and taking a picture of it annually.  Here is Caroline in her 2025 shirt at the end of her Kindergarten year.

This is her from her preschool graduation last year.  I am imagining how quickly the next 12 years will fly.

My not-so-best mom moments

When I was 5 my mother left me at the Oak Street Pharmacy accidentally.  She was preparing dinner, taking care of the four of us kids, one of whom was sick and needed medicine, and was trying to get us fed and out the door for my elementary school's holiday party that night.  She was multitasking and forgot me.  I was looking at the lollipops and couldn't find my mom.  Because she had already gone home.  The nice lady behind the counter called my house and asked my mom if she had forgotten something.  "No, I have my checkbook," my mother replied.  "Your daughter dear."  My poor mother.  Now that I have 4 children of my own I intimately know how this can happen.

So here are my two not-so-best mom moments so far.  The ones that I can recall at least.  Perhaps Josh will comment and remind me of additional highlights.

*  I was so tired from a poor nights sleep that I accidentally feel asleep on the couch 5 minutes before Caroline's bus arrived.  I awoke 25 minutes later and freaked out.  Didn't know where my daughter was, as the school didn't have our brand new phone numbers.  Frantically calling her elementary school while waking up Ryan and Jackson from nap to find out that my poor, sweet girl was sitting at the other elementary school in town.  Threw the kids in the car, Ryan with no shoes on, Jackson wearing snow boots and shorts and flew over there.  Rush through the lines of students pouring out of the school with Ryan and Jackson in tow.  To find Caroline sitting in the front office, with a bunch of strangers to her, waiting for me to show up out of thin air.  On the ride home she said she "just didn't look out of the window because all of the other mommies were there to pick up their kids, and mine wasn't."  Yup, that one stings the most as a mom.

*  I dyed my 6 month-old son's hair blonde.  Really, I did.  Ryan's head grew at an astronomical rate when he was a newborn that his head flattened out like a pumpkin on the back.  So he had to wear a corrective helmet for 23 out of 24 hours a day for 9 weeks.  Twice a day I would take it off to clean it with alcohol.  Except that in my sleep deprived, distracted and newly pregnant brain I used hydrogen peroxide by accident.  Hey, the bottles seemed similar in my cabinet.  It did clean the germs on the helmet too.  But one day I was rushing to make it to Ryan's 6 month well visit at the pediatrician.  So I thought the helmet was dry before it was, and put it on his head.  Twenty minutes later I took the helmet off for the nurse and realized that his hair had two big skunk stripes of blonde running down his hair.  I was perplexed.  Wondered if something was up with the lighting in the exam room?  And then realized what I had done.  Immediately came clean to the nurse and Dr. Jones, and started laughing at myself.  The following week I came clean to the orthotist (the person who adjusted the helmet) and he laughed at me.  Not surprising, I am the only one to have ever done that.

So, what are your top not-so-best parent moments?  You know you have them.  Or you will.  Just you wait.

How do you wake up?

It's been five plus years since I've needed an alarm clock.

6 plus years since I've been able to sleep through the night and been able to wake when I wanted to on the weekends.

4 pregnancies (which I loved all of them - yes, I'm that lady) = thousands of trips to the bathroom overnight, overnight feedings and all of the associated glory, and waking up for the day before the sun rises.

So I can tell you that the morning wake-ups go in phases.  Some include cute little babbling on the monitor, but most include crying or "mommy" in an urgent tone of voice.

This is the phase my wake-up routine is currently in.

Insert grunting of a 2-year-old that is clearly working hard physically. 
Followed quickly by "Mommy, heggy.  Heggy."  More grunting.  "heggy."  (sounding like heavy with a "g" instead of a "v")
My bedroom door opens and I hear the grunting shuffling around to my side of the bed. 

As an aside, you dads out there.  How nice for you that the kids skip over your side of the bed in the morning and aim directly for the moms.

"Mommy.  Guck.  Guck.  Guck.  Heggy.  Guck.  Mommy."  
Open my eyes to see my adorable, huge Ryan holding a full gallon of milk and a his milk cup, ready for a refill.

Yes, he has already drank the entire cup of milk we left for him in the fridge the night before, anticipating this encounter.  But you see, 1 cup just isn't enough for Ryan.  So he grabs the full gallon of milk (hence the grunting from physical exertion up the stairs while holding it with one hand, as the other hand holds his cup) and brings it to us for a refill.

Every morning.

If he weren't waking me up I would find this quite hilarious.

So, what phase are you in?  Do you need an alarm clock?  How do you wake up in the morning?

My alarm clock says "Heggy Mommy, Heggy.  Guck."

A Typical Night Out

It's freaking hot here, for New England that is.  Mid 90s and humid.  And we have no central air, for the first time in 5 years.  It's fine, but an adjustment.  We have a few window units to offer partial relief, but we might have killed each other if we stayed in close quarters much longer.  So out to dinner we went.

We're walking into Chili's when my sweet daughter leans over and says this.  "Mom, I forgot to put on underwear."  Said while wearing a dress.  Perfect.  I guess I will have to re-title my last post and make it plural, The Nudists.

Dinner was good, typical.  And by that I mean Jackson drank two cups of milk before his dinner even arrived, multiple trips to the bathroom and walks around the lobby and even outside on the sidewalk.  A couple sat next to us with one baby in a bucket seat.  How easy those days with one were...another lifetime to me.  Eventually we left dinner, and began our search for a red toy car that had gone missing during the walk outside.  The hunt produced nothing, causing me to find that damn car in my bag, next to my keys.  Of course.

It's still too hot and early to return home, so off to Lowe's we went.  Josh was in the bathroom and I had the kids helping me get polyurethane.  By the way, how many freaking kinds of that are there?  Too many I say.  Ryan's climbing out of the family cart while Jackson's scaling up the side of it.  Then Caroline giggles and I turn to see her lifting her dress, proving to the world that she indeed forgot her underwear, while doing a little shimmy.  WTF?!  A quick reprimand gets her back in order, and thankfully nobody was in the aisle with us.

The rest of the Lowe's excursion included Ryan climbing cement sheet rock stuff, piles of 2x4s and grabbing hammers.  Oh, and lots of running in the opposite direction we desired.  Making me look like the expert parent I am clearly.  One father drove his family cart by me with one little girl in tow, sitting properly - giving my scenario the raised eyebrow.  Well sir, you have no idea how easy you have it.  Another father drove his family cart by me with two kids in tow.  He replied to my "sorry, you know how it is" with a simple, "yes, yes I do."  I love these moments of solidarity among us Blessed Chaos parents.

As I am in line to check out with my screws, polyurethane, and 5 2x4s sticking out of the family cart Josh says "hey Annie, here's a bench that's probably less expensive than the one you are going to make us."  I told him my bench is going to be amazing and he's going to like it.  Josh left chasing the kids in the opposite direction as I checked out.  A nice guy who had witnessed our blessed chaos got in line behind me and asked where my family was.  I told him I gave the kids away.

Blessed Chaos indeed.

The nudist

I know we can't be the only family with kids who shed clothes at any occasion.  A few of you assure me that I am not alone.  But it's so regular that I find one of my children, usually Jackson, streaking that our 9-year-old neighbor declared "your kids are naked a lot."  Yes little girl, yes they are.

Am I to blame for this?  I'm not saying I run around the place naked.  But when they were babies and toddlers I used to give them a few minutes of naked time after bath.  You know, to let them breathe  - living in a diaper must be so uncomfortable.  (Sidebar.  I'm not looking forward to returning to that stage when elderly)  I think they fell in love with it.  And now, well.  Now it appears hopeless.

Easter we hosted 15 people, a feast and all that entails.  Twice Jackson was seen streaking, butt ass naked throughout the sea of people.

It's not unheard of to find Ryan or Jackson riding their motorized Dora The Explorer Jeep while naked.  Oh, and in the FRONT yard.  Remember now, we lived in the Church owned parsonage.  Awesome.

The nudity thing is so entrenched with our children that it inspired one of my only two Gray Family Rules.  You must wear underwear when we have company.  In case you're wondering, the second family rule is no head shots, when wrestling or rough-housing.

Here's a little gem for you.  The story of how I learned Jackson, then 20-months-old or something, could open doors.  I felt a draft in my kitchen, rounded the corner to see the door to the garage wide open.  Then I notice the garage door itself had been opened and there was Jackson, one-and-a-half standing with just a shirt on at the end of our driveway.  In the drizzling 50 degree weather at 5pm, waving to the cars driving by on their way home from work.  And yes, he had let our dog Fred out.

Guess I shouldn't be surprised that neighbors didn't bat an eye at it.  The week before I had found Caroline and Jackson in their bedroom window mooning and "sunshining" (Josh's term for flashing the front side I guess) the world.

So to the 9-year-old neighbor, yes, they are naked a lot.

This is not 7th Heaven.

About a decade ago, maybe more?, there was a crappy TV show called 7th Heaven.  They had a billion kids, the mom was named Annie, and the dad was a minister.  Eerily similar to our story.  But, we are not the edited CW version.  Instead, we are the "shoot, my kid's outside naked again" version.

Josh is a Congregational minister at a wonderful church in the Boston suburbs.  We are blessed to live in a beautiful town, have great family and friends, etc.  I am a social worker.  Translation for those of you who pretend to know what that actually means is, I am a licensed mental health therapist.  For the last six months I have been a stay-at-home mom, and love every minutes of it.  What a blessing that is for me.

5-and-a-half years ago God blessed us with a healthy, compassionate girl Caroline.  Less than 2 years later Jackson graced our family, followed by Ryan less than 2 years after Jackson.  A surprise to all, God blessed us immensely with a beautiful soul, Ethan, who was born when Ryan was just 11 months old.  Ethan was born too early, unexpectedly, and for no known reason.  Medically no answers were available.  The specialists said it was "shit luck."  He lived for four days in the NICU before he returned to the arms of Jesus.

When I walk around town, or grocery shop, just live my life really, people often ask "are they all yours?  Or are you a daycare?"  Not that three is an outrageous number of children to tote around, but seeing me pregnant while doing it was a shock for most during Ethan's pregnancy.  Also, Jackson and Ryan are giants, so people often mistake the kids for being similar ages.  Hence the daycare comment I think.

The antics of our day-to-day grind raise laughter and eyebrows alike.  I'd have it no other way, for we are living life.  Our life of Blessed Chaos.

This is a little space for me to share our blessings and our chaos.  Chime in with your own versions of both in the comments if you like.  It's healthy for me to "talk" with other adults so I don't end up asking my poor husband if he needs to go potty, or did he wash his hands?, when he comes home at night.  Hasn't happened yet, but it's a real possibility.