(Not-So-)Tiny Teachers

As of this writing, my kids are 12, 10, 8, 6, and 4. Before this project is done and published, each will have another birthday, making them 13, 11, 9, 7, and 5. For some reason those numbers sound much larger and older than their current ages and I find myself taken aback by the thought of them all being that big. But big they are, as evidenced by our Mother’s Day photo from this year. Harrison is within six-to-twelve months of passing me in height and Wilson still seems on track to beat us all, Ben included! But what I see most when I look at their unique but so obviously related handful of faces are not just the physical changes they are experiencing, but the mental and emotional lessons these (not-so-)tiny teachers of mine continue to give me. 

Harrison: my first teacher of what it means to be a mother. He will always be my guinea pig — the one I am learning with and perhaps making the most mistakes with simply because he hits each milestone first. I am literally forever not really knowing what I’m doing with him as he grows and goes, so to attempt to list all he has taught me would fill 100 books all on its own. But perhaps the greatest lesson he continues to demonstrate to me is how to stay true and loyal to what one enjoys while letting the words, opinions, and shenanigans of others slide right off the back. HD tunes out the noise and inspires me to do the same.

Raegan: my mini-me to the 10th degree, this girl. She reminds me what it means to radiate care and responsibility and how one can do both with ease and grace in so many forms and settings. She keeps me connected to my own childhood passion of reading obsessively and taking great pleasure and pride in doing so. But above all, RL teaches me what it means to be courageous. To take on new challenges and activities, yes, but also to face old fears and worries with a chin held high, a deep breath taken, and a good song to keep the spirit buoyed when it feels low. RL inspires me to be bold and brave through it all. 

Lincoln: my one who is perhaps most unlike me in terms of taking after his dad more than his mom. He is my always moving, always playing, always active guy – the one who can turn any moment into a game or a competition and will pick up any sport and play his heart out while doing it. He has taught me about passion and enthusiasm both in his loyalty to his favorite teams and players as well as with his heart that has bleed baseball for years. LT also has a great passion for his people and he teaches me constantly about how to be a fierce friend and how important moments of connection are. Even though he’s almost always in constant motion, he gives the best squeezes and is a darn good couch cuddler, too. LT inspires me to get out there and DO, to practice, and to play. 

Truman: my one who charms them all. This kid has been working it from the day he was born and I am no exception to the power of his big blond head and giant blue eyes. He teaches me to reconsider, to try again, to be silly and laugh about the word “poop” or “fart” even when I’m not in the mood. He is the one who helps my head and heart understand what it is like to be so little while observing such bigness all around you and both wanting to catch up to that but embodying such youth and tenderness at the same time. He demonstrates juxtaposition with his cries for help and independence, his big hugs and his running out of the room when he doesn’t want to stop or hear “no” one more time, his go-go-go and his need for rest and recovery. TJ inspires me to feel all the feels and to enjoy the heck out of the giggles when they come. 

Wilson: my one I never knew I needed. If I’d had my way, I would have had two boys and two girls and been Done with babies. But that’s not how it went and I decided that maybe I wasn’t done and that maybe we’d get another girl if we tried another time, and oh my goodness, I can’t imagine life any other way even though Wilson was a ball of teachings from the moment she emerged. From First Sight she taught me to rely on prayer more than I ever had in my life, but also modern medicine and doctors, too. Since then she’s taught me to be grateful for the small things that are sometimes the

big things and that there is always time and room for one more “huggy” and “kissy.” WA inspires me to wear what feels good, dance to my own tune, and love, Love, LOVE along the way. 

To my five greatest examples of what it means to grow and be in this world – thank you for teaching and inspiring me. 

*Post 8/52.

Both Things Can Be True

At its heart, this has always been a parenting blog and a personal blog. Both things can be true.

However, as the years have gone by, it has been harder to know what I should share here about my kids. They have their own struggles that equate to stories that I could tell here both for my own remembering and for the connection this provides with other parents and people. But, also, those are their stories, so are they really mine to share at all? I mean, I share a lot of my own shit here but that’s because it is my shit and I’m a grown up making that decision for myself, so that’s pretty different than me telling their sh!t to the world for them.

That said, things still happen in our life that are also both things – their stories as individuals and mine as their parent. Both things can be true. But what does that mean for my writing and how I relate these milestones, lessons, and takeaways? I guess I’m still navigating that, and in true Jenni form, I’m doing so via writing.

We had an incident lately that I want to share here about more than one thing being true but I’ll warn you right now – it’s going to be a little vague because I am trying to do honor my kids’ privacy in sharing this.

I’ll start with documenting, because it is helpful for my own reminding as much as anything, that sometimes my kids get along really well and are each other’s best cheerleaders. With all the bickering I referee on a daily basis, witnessing them cheering each on, being excited/nervous (Glennon calls this “scited” for scared and excited) for one another, and celebrating each others’ accomplishments would warrant a blog post all on its own – it’s that monumental. But within this same vague scenario, we had some individual wins that I want to celebration (word choice intentional – still one of my favorite toddlerisms from HD on his 3rd birthday).

During this particular group activity, two of my kids were offered a chance to split and go with an older group during a breakout session. OK, that’s great. Except that pretty soon it was obvious that it wasn’t and overwhelm on one of their faces was obvious, even from a distance. But you know what said child did? Spoke to the group leader, said they needed to join the other group, and then proceeded to walk themselves to that group instead, even though there was obvious self-imposed shame and embarrassment happening. It’s possible that said child’s mother called out, “It’s OK that you don’t know!” as they walked by – just saying.

The other child stayed with the older group and I was impressed by that too because I knew a lot of information that was going over their head was being discussed. Just like recognizing limits and honoring them can be brave, so too can be the act of sticking with something and trying it, even when you don’t know what’s going on. Both things can be true.

On the way home, I told them both how proud I was of these very different, very brave choices. And when the one who stayed and tried later told me that they thought my comment to their sibling meant I thought they should have left, too, I got right down at eye level and said, “I understand how you could have heard it that way. I hope you also heard what I said to you about your choice.” And then I thanked that child for telling me because that too was brave.

So this is me, recording (for myself and others and for my parenting self and other parents) that sometimes shit goes really right even when it is going wrong in the situation. Both things can be true. And sometimes we get a glimmer that our kids are hearing us and learning from us and, my God, do we need to honor such times because this is both the best and the hardest job.

Both things can be true.

A little trend happening here with photos that aren’t connected to the post except that you do get to see my five beautifully brave babies in it.

Both/And, Not Either/Or

To share this means to put myself out there for all to see and judge. Not to share this means to hide behind passing privilege and if I’ve learned one thing in the last year, it is that my capacity for inauthenticity is extremely low, especially if that inauthentic way comes from myself.

The gist is this: after semi-, quietly, internally questioning myself over the last 20 years, I’ve opened up my heart, my mind, and my life to the queerness that is part of me. Queer how? I don’t find just one gender attractive. Call that bi or pan or whatever you like because I don’t mean to use labels to discriminate against others; I think that love is love and the person matters far more than the gender attached to them, assuming, that is, that they ascribe to a gender in the first place.

So what does this change, you wonder? Nothing. And everything. But let me start with the nothing. I know the first question for most will be – what about your marriage? My marriage is good. My marriage is sound. Will it last forever? Well, I can’t promise that any more than any other one person in a couple can in this life, but the short of it is that Ben was the first person beyond myself that I shared this with and it didn’t change a single thing for him or how he sees me, so I don’t see why it should change a single thing for us or how I see him. He’s been my person since we met at that party at a pond 17 years ago and as long as we continue to love and support each other, he’ll be my person through all the rest of it, too.

What I also hope is nothing is how the majority of other people will see/hear/respond to this and by “this” I mean me. I’m not a different person than the one you knew previously to reading this. I’m just sharing with you the more real and honest, the more open version of me. I’m giving more language to my understanding and acceptance of myself – that’s really it.

The reason I say “everything” changes is because of my motivation for sharing this in the first place – my kids. We have always been a Love is Love house and have talked about how females can love and marry other females and the same with males who love males. But we’ve never talked about the fact that some people can see themselves with both/and, not just either/or. And because I want my kids to be their most authentic selves and love whoever the flipdiddle they want to as they grow, I need to be transparent about myself as an example of that very principle. And I can’t tell them unless I’m also willing to tell the world at large, so no more passing privilege for me in which I stay quiet simply because I am a woman married to a man and therefore not questioned or judged by our heteronormative society for that marriage/attraction.

So the second gist is this: I am a woman who does not identify as straight but who is married to a man and together we are raising humans to love humans, in whatever form that takes (which means giving voice and pride to my own self along the way, too).

Does it scare me to post this publicly? Absolutely. But my hope is that in doing this, in sharing this most vulnerable side of myself, I’ll be able to show others that it really is OK to be who are you, however that presents. And I’ll be able to share eventually with my own children as they grow and get to know themselves that we really do mean it when we say: Love who you love. Find attractive who and what you find attractive in this world. Drop the shame for doing so. Show the world your real self; this is how we heal and live whole, healthy lives.

If you’re here for that (and by “that” I mean me) with love and support, great; please stay! If you’re bringing shame, lectures, or disgust to the table, kindly move along. While these words are worth sharing, who I am simply isn’t up for discussion or opinion.

So here’s to more moments of honesty and vulnerability, to moving through the world with more grace for others but also ourselves. And here’s to creating a better, more loving and accepting society as we do so.

The October Getchas

I realize we’ve had historical months of struggle in our house in the past…April comes to mind from several years ago when it seemed that month was always out to get us a wee (or a lot) bit. What I’m learning this year via Facebook memories and current happenings is that October has often been the same. And while the struggle is often with schedules and To Dos, it also frequently comes in germ form, too, which we know complicates everything.

Having a Rough Go with germs in October is definitely not new to our family. Even without the assist from FB, I can still remember three years ago when I had just gotten back from my DC trip and walked into a weeks-long struggle with fevers and crud that just wore us the eff down. And then, of course last year’s October was a whirlwind of COVID-life plus pre-election insanity. Thankfully we didn’t have any big bouts with illness in Oct. 2020 but the general sense I have from that time is “nuts” so yes, I guess October can officially be added to the list of Sneaky Getcha Months.

For October 2021, the hardest hit by the Getchas is me. All three Welschie girls (plus Ben) have been struggling with a cold since early in the month, but I am the one who just can’t seem to kick it/is feeling that struggle the most. Maybe that’s a sign of age being closer to 40 instead of under 10 like the other two girls, but wow, I can’t tell you the last time I had a cold that lasted 17 days.

To make sure it wasn’t something else I went to the doctor yesterday and found out that I’m somewhere between a sinus infection and bronchitis which doesn’t surprise me based on symptoms (which are not and have never been COVID-like, thank goodness). But what I also learned yesterday is that those are typically 95% viral which means antibiotics do nothing for them AND because of my gut-reset protocol, antibiotics are super not my friend right now, anyway.

So. Here I am, still miserable and trying to figure out how to turn around this ass- (nope; sinus-) kicker month. That looks like going through fluids and tissues and sinus rinses like it is my job, while also trying to rest and trying to recover because let’s face it, even though we survived five weeks of five kids doing fall sports, life isn’t slowing down any time soon and this mama has to keep the plates spinning, even when her head and chest are filled with 10 lbs. of snot for weeks on end. (And seriously, we’ve gone through so many tissues this month, I single handedly killed four different boxes yesterday. Gross.)

The point here is that one, I need to get over this crud and sooner than later would be great, please and thank you. But also, two, I want to remember that October is out there in the future. I realize making plans is a good way to make the Universe/God/the devil laugh, but it is my sincere hope that next year I can remember, in say August or September, that the October Getchas may be lurking just around the corner and maybe I can come up with some way to fortify myself, be it in prayer, Vitamin C, or sage – whatever it takes to keep this month from taking me/us down with its whirly/swirly madness. That or invest in Puffs stock; that could work, too.

Firsts and the (Calendar) Flip Side

As my Facebook memories have been showing me the last few days, this is not my first end-of-July siren song post. In fact, that one I wrote five years ago had portions that I could easily cut and paste into today’s writing as our family prepares for all that is August and the not-so-slow shift out of summer mode. And now that I think about it, with our risk dial creeping up these last couple weeks thanks to the Delta variant of COVID-19, last year’s post could also unfortunately make a reappearance here today, but I am not ready to wrap my head around all things school + pandemic again, so I’m just not. I’m. Just. Not.

Instead, I’m standing in my general awe that we’ve landed on the last day of July. How did that happen? Where exactly did the last nine weeks go? Does anyone know?

I know that we were busy. I suppose anything would have felt busy after an entire summer (and spring and then some) at home last year, but even setting aside that, this summer had new obstacles, activities, and adventures for us.

For one, Ben taught summer school for the first time ever. I thought that sounded like a good idea until I realized how much it complicated the summer music program two kids were playing (three instruments) in, not to mention running various kids hither and thither for summer camps (yay for summer camps! they are great and this was also the first summer of all FIVE kids being old enough to participate in something somewhere!). We also had two boys back in city league baseball in June and my own online teaching and yeah, that month flew by.

I also continued to have approximately 237 appointments each week in June and most of July as I have continued to navigate my headaches which did not help lighten the calendar load. Fortunately the last few weeks have been a shift to more better days than bad days (hallelujah!!!) which is hopefully a trend that will continue and about which I’ll write an honest update for here soon.

Other firsts this summer included Colorado trips, both as a family of seven (first time there for the kids and first time in RMNP for all of us) AND as just a couple. Here’s the crazy part about that…we haven’t been away from the kids for more than one sleep in FOUR YEARS (NICU stay does not count. That was the farthest thing ever from a vacation)! Can you believe that? Um, I’m sure you can because it’s not hard to understand that it’s a big freaking ask to have other people watch this many kids so yeah, leaving them has been tough. But obviously that was way overdue and we took advantage of outdoor venues to see two beloved bands on our long weekend getaway, incidentally marking another first – our first live music post-pandemic (please; can we please be post-pandemic?).

During all that Ben had a ton of meetings for education association stuff and there were more hither/thither camps and we spent a week nursing sick kids through a nasty summer cold (and then damn near a week for me to recover from the same even though they were only down for two days each; I have learned that kids germs are a bit harder to kick when you’re breathing down the neck of 40).

So, yep. Just like that tomorrow is August. We celebrated by getting everyone’s school supplies this morning, which again – a first – includes all FIVE kids as Wilson finally gets to join the school schedule with her first year of preschool. About this she tells me that she will miss me when she’s gone and she’d like it to start tomorrow, please and thank you. You’ve gotta love the duality that is a 3yo!

But, actually, I get it because I’m feeling that flip side of all this, too. I’m excited for the new adventures and new schools (OK; maybe? One of those is middle school and I have not yet wrapped my brain around having a middle schooler either, but I am hoping for the best all the same). I’m looking forward to a return to routine and having, for the FIRST time ever since becoming a mom, a couple hours to myself each morning to work and be a person while they are all out of the house. But also there’s just a lot looming this fall and I like our summer bubble so I don’t really want to see it burst just yet.

I guess the good thing is, it doesn’t have to for a couple more weeks. Not officially, anyway, even though I know that first week of August is coming for us with a lot of To Dos. Hopefully it will just be good practice for what’s to come and can also give us a wee bit more time to just be before the real flip of the school year begins.

Can I Have a Hug?

For years (forever?) I have been the mom who doesn’t force her kids to dole out physical affection. This goes for hugs and kisses to me, Dad, grandparents, anyone. As a survivor of sexual assault, consent is a pretty big deal and plays into this, but overall this approach of asking first has been our way to teach the kids autonomy over their own bodies.

In our day-to-day this looks like me asking before I give them snuggles and such with the primary question being, “Do you give hugs (or kisses or snuggles) today?” and then gracefully accepting whatever they say in that moment. No pouting, no guilt trips if they say no, just check-ins to see if anyone is need of some physical love and doling it out when they do.

To be honest, as much as I personally need consent to involved, I don’t make the children ask me first before they hug me because let’s be real – I’m never saying ‘no’ to those little hugs and kisses, even when they are accompanied by dirty faces and sticky fingers (I just cringe a little on the extra messy ones because I know laundry may be involved). But apparently years of modeling this Ask First policy have paid off because I’ve noticed a trend lately where the Bigs do in fact ask before they come in for a squeeze and I love it.

Harrison especially has been asking lately and again – I’m never saying no because as my oldest who is off to middle school in the fall, I know these exchanges with him could be numbered/limited in the years to come. I mean, maybe not, but as he gets closer and closer to catching me in height (my bets are on him passing me by Christmas), I can’t help but recognize that things they are a changing and he is growing up quickly. There’s a lot to be proud of when it comes to him, but this back and forth of asking and respecting, this voicing of what he needs or perceives of me maybe needing is pretty cool to see.

So can you have a hug? Yes, you bet. Anytime.

Spring Board

In a lovely turn of events, Saturdays are now our quiet days, our days to do nothing (or everything depending on how you look at it) and will be for the next five weeks as tomorrow marks the start of Spring Sports in high gear for our fam. Miss Raegan’s already been at it for a few weeks with her running program, Girls on the Run, and the two biggest boys started with flag football practices this past week, but starting tomorrow our weeks will be full of all of that plus Sunday football games and then weekly practices for the new kid track program that Ben is helping coach here in town, and while we’re at it, why not throw in orchestra rehearsals for HD and Kinder Orientation for TJ, this week too, eh? Because, yep; all that is happening, too.

And this is why this sweatshirt has the best-ever job descriptor of what my life is like as a mama of five busy Littles because chaos coordination is exactly what I attempt to do all the live-long day, and especially now that we’re getting into high levels of activity again with this new season.

To be fair, I often find spring a little overwhelming for these very reasons – all the things happening at all the times takes a lot of organization and planning, not to mention remembering and executing. But this spring has that not-so-little extra bit of anxiety built into it because we’re coming into this level of activity after a year of basically going nowhere and doing nothing and the overwhelm is not just to our calendar but also our senses and energy levels, too.

The good part of this is that Ben and I have both been fortunate enough to receive our vaccinations for COVID-19 in the last month, at least the first dose. He actually had his second just yesterday and I will have mine this coming week, so once we get through two weeks after that, life going back to semi-normal will feel a bit more possible. But there’s still so much to process from everything that is happened in the last year that makes it hard to just dive back in to active, calendar-full life, on multiple levels, which brings me back to these quiet Saturdays.

I need them.

My kids need them.

My husband and my house need them.

We need some time to decompress and be away from all the going and doing because we haven’t quite figured out how to re-enter that again, which I think is OK. Actually, I’m not sure I ever want to go back fully to what life was like before, but with this many kids in our family, even keeping them limited on activities still means we have a ton going on and eventually I am going to have to find a way to navigate that that keeps us all happy and sane. In the case of this year, maintaining that meant saying “no” to soccer for the littlest two because we just needed to keep one day of the week to ourselves while we still could.

I’d like to think that we can still keep quiet days moving forward and we’re doing well to lay that foundation now. I have to believe that the spring board back to the world at large can still leave such space and grace for ourselves and our families. Time to take walks and think. Time to play games both inside and outside. Time to listen to music. Time to unwind and reset for all that is to come (because, again, even with just a little, it all quickly becomes a lot in this house).

Is it wishful thinking to hope we can keep this forever? Yes. I know that. But for this year in particular, this feels like the best strategy possible to keep ourselves in one piece while also putting some feelers back out there for what that semi-return actually looks like for us. I think coordinated chaos plus once-a-week quiet days are a pretty good way to start.

Church Away from Church

It’s been ten months since our church has gathered in person in our church building. In that time, the church leadership has been so careful, considerate, and cautious which has been greatly appreciated as we have monitored local COVID-19 numbers and trends. Thankfully the church has also been extremely creative in keeping us connected during this time which has been possible thanks to technology and those who know how to wield such tools well. There have been outdoor services (last summer and fall) in the park, drive-through-town processions while listening to Sunday service on the radio, remote Sunday School lessons recorded and shared on the church’s YouTube page, and, of course, the weekly LiveStream on Facebook.

Since this post is about church, I must be honest and admit that I also have some confessions to make. The first is, although I have listened to/watched many if not most weeks, I have not made my family do much of that. The kids have been pretty consistent with their Sunday School lessons at home, but that credit goes to their dad, not me. When we were doing eSchool to start the year and I was in charge of three kids zooming and such from home every day I absolutely could not entertain the idea of making them do videos on the weekend, too. Thankfully Ben wasn’t as daunted by that idea and he’s continued to keep them engaged with those this whole school year. It helps that he is an actual Sunday School teacher and has even recorded two of the lessons along with some of our Bigs as helpers.

But the LiveStreams? That has been a time for me while the rest of the family does their thing around the house. The one part they consistently catch is the very end when our pastors sing “We are the Church” and as a giant side note: oh my, how all of us love that song and hope very much that that little benediction stays as part of service even when we are someday back in the actual sanctuary on Sundays.

So yes, I’ve been a little selfish with my Sunday mornings because I want to actually hear the message and not be so distracted by wrestling kids at the same time like I would during actual in-person church. This leads me to my second at-home confession: I’m not very good at just sitting and watching the LiveStreams. I blame this in part on the fact that in our 5ish years of attending First Pres, we have always had a bunch of little Littles in tow so, no, church service has never been a calm or still experience for me. I’m holding, shushing, feeding, or taking someone (or multiple someones) to the bathroom all the live-long (Sun)day, so how would I know how to just sit and listen?

At home my inability to just sit has transformed into some productive sessions while I watch/listen to service. I have had my coffee, I have done dishes, I have prepped and cooked meals, I have folded a LOT of laundry, and I have started feeding the kids lunch which is why they so often catch the final prayers and song around 11:30. I even used service to wrap Christmas books in December! But even with all this activity, I am listening and probably hearing even more than I get to when we are there in person.

This morning’s sermon touched on turning away from disconnect and distraction and it struck some cords with me. While I suppose my house-holder duties done during church might look like some icky, distracted multitasking to some, I’ve been quite grateful to have these months of hymns, prayers, announcements, and sermons to keep me company while I do the necessary tasks of caring for my family (even if I don’t let them listen with me) in a prolonged time of stress and loneliness. It makes me feel more connected to my broader community to use my church time to lighten the load of a busy mother (who is, yes, often distracted); it’s like a layer of blessing is added on top of those chores that would otherwise just be, well, chores.

There was another takeaway message from today’s service that charged us with checking in with our church family and to pray for those we would normally sit by on Sundays. I mean, seriously – maybe there is a church out there that doesn’t do voluntary assigned seats, but I have yet to be part of one, and in our current life we are Balcony People all the way where there are lots of wiggly, noisy kids and their tired parents plus some very patient other adults. As chaotic and sweaty as all that is, I miss it. I miss getting time there with the friends, family, and church family who love on and help take care of my not-so-little crew as we navigate Sunday mornings together. And now, as I reflect back on my own Sunday morning routines during the pandemic, I am also curious to know what those same Balcony People (and those who sit down below) have been doing with their Sunday services at home. Perhaps I am not the only one doing two things at once?

All told, I can’t wait to be back in person, as I’m sure all of my church family agrees. Will I miss being able to fold laundry or clean the kitchen at the same time? No, not at all because those tasks are always going to be there. But if we’ve learned anything in the last year it’s that what is is not a given. When we can safely gather again in places and spaces with our people, it is going to be such a welcome gift, one I hope we carry with us in the years to come as we continue to move with love, service, justice, and humility in this world.

Here We Go Again

After months (and months) of asking Wilson if she was ready to start wearing her big girl undies and use the potty, she finally decided this week that now was the time and she was doing this.

Before I go any further, let me remind you: this is not the first time I have blogged about potty-training and also not the first time I have admitted that I know nothing about potty-training. Five kids in and I still don’t know how to do it in a sure-fire way. Perhaps that has something to do with each kid being their own person, eh?

All I know is that in the past, we always had the incentive of places to go and things to do in order to entice children to start using the bathroom at a certain age. If 2020 hadn’t happened the way it did, we would have started WA with preschool in Jan 2021 (i.e. now) and that would have been our motivator to get on and off the pot, so to speak. But 2020 did what it did and we don’t go anywhere now, so what was the point in forcing the issue besides the fact that that is one thing I do know about potty-training…until the kid is actually ready, force is not the way.

So she got undies last fall (trainer style) and then in her stocking for Christmas (regular style) and still she told me an empathic, “NO.” each time I asked if she wanted to wear them. That is, until two days ago on Wednesday, when apparently she decided that a new dawn for our country was as good a time as any to start a new chapter in her own story, too.

And honestly? She rocked it. She went the entire day in undies (minus nap) and had no issues. Same on Thursday, but even better because she shocked everyone in the house by fulfilling both *ahem* duties on the potty-seat before the day was done. I mean, I have never been more shocked/pleased to hear a kid yelling, “I pooooooooped!” from the bathroom (and yes, that is the Bat Signal in our house; classy, I know.). She totally earned that handful of M&Ms, I tell you (not a technique we’ve ever used before, but again, 5th Kid. What do you do?).

This morning? Same thing. Undies all the way. Getting herself to the bathroom time and time again (we had hot chocolate after playing out in the cold, snow-globe-falling snow), no problem. And then nap time came and all the independence came right back to bite me in the butt because Not-So-Baby Girl decided she was NOT going to wear a diaper for today’s nap because, because, well, who knows? She’s 3? She thinks she a pro already? She can actually do it?

I guess we’ll have to see if she really can/does because I wasn’t willing to have the knock down, drag out fight to get a diaper on her, so I made her use the bathroom and then we did our normal go-down-for-nap routine with her in not a diaper, so help me Sweet Baby Jesus.

Will this work? I highly doubt it. She’s still in a crib with tall sides and assuming that none of her siblings have taught her how to crawl out of it, she’s stuck there until I get her up and I am fully, fully counting on there being a mess when I do. But I’ll still have time before bed to get her sheets and whatnot washed, and no matter what happens, she will be in a “night-night diaper” because Mama and Daddy don’t play when it comes to messing with nighttime sleep. But for now? Sure. Fine. This is a gamble I’m (sort of) willing to take.

On the flip side, as terrifying as this all is, it’s also terribly exciting because if we can make this happen, we will finally (11.5 years later) be out of diapers in this house. Now that is a New Era also worthy of great celebration (and definitely more chocolate for all).

Update: she did not make it through the nap unscathed but the mess was not the mess I feared, so I will take it! She also gave me a sweet little apology and agreed that she would put a diaper on for nap the next time mama asked, so I think we came out of that little experiment just fine.

Third First Day of Third Grade

Moving and/or starting over in the midst of a school year is something our family has never experienced before, but this year, our kids have had a number of transitions surrounding First Days. For the Big 3, it was eSchool in August, followed by in-person school in October. For Truman it was a new preschool in October. And, unfortunately*, for RL, it is a new classroom for in-person school today. That means she’s started over three times in one year of school (and we’re only halfway through!); even though kids are resilient as all get-out, that’s an awful lot for a little person to process, especially for a little person who asks so little of others but always makes life easier for those around her.

*As to the use of the word “unfortunate”: this is nothing against the teacher RL is joining today. It’s actually the same teacher she had for eLearning which is why this is happening in the first place. The District isn’t offering eLearning to those without a doctor’s note to remain doing so, so her eTeacher needed to return to the in-person classroom and that just happens to be in our kids’ elementary building. So the good thing is, Raegan already knows her and how sweet she is. And of course we understand that the school had to do something in this situation, but trust me when I say, I did not expect our eSchool option to come back and bite us in the butt right before Christmas break like it did when we got this news.

The thought of making Raegan change classrooms again (for the third time in less than six months) was heartbreaking because she worked hard to establish herself and make connections in her in-person class during second quarter. And that was after staying home and quarantined far longer than most, so the social aspect of all this was very upsetting. There were a LOT of tears shed in the last two days before break as all this went down and we tried to figure out just what was happening, and I don’t just mean from her and her friends; I mean me on the phone with the school, too, because if nothing else, my job as a mom is to advocate for my kids whenever and however needed, even if I’m a sobbing mess while doing so. And even when I know it’s not going to change a darn thing.

I was worried break might be a pretty blue two weeks for RL, but she had a really nice time up until the last two days when school was looming and then the quietness/questions started coming. And then this morning, on the actual day of First Day, Take Three, her tummy and her heart hurt and we definitely had tears while trying to get kids ready and out the door.

I did everything I could think of to send her wrapped in love today, from painting her fingernails last night (rock star color for my Rock Star Raegan) to putting Sharpie hearts on her new mask so she’d know which side was face-side (and so I could give her some love each time she put her mask on today), and even some Stress Away essential oil dabbed behind her ears after she got dressed – anything I could do to help her remember that I’d be here at the end of the day to listen to and love on her because she is capable of handling this sucky situation, even if I wish she didn’t have to do so.

The good news is, the day was good (enough). She came home full of stories and (enough) smiles to put my mama heart at ease because I can see that her heart is as at ease (enough), too. (My WoTY is coming in really handy, I see, even with parenting!)

May this please, please be the last First Day she has to have this year!