the happy medium

It's not like I'm trying to be like an activities director on a cruise ship by having a daily agenda with planned activities (and snacks) throughout the day, although there are some definite similarities between managing a brood of young children and captaining a large ship.  I'll steer clear of corny puns (oh, sorry) and leave it at the skipper reference -- although any kind of group maneuver does take a long time to execute.

I'm hoping to find that elusive happy medium between being someone the bambini expect to entertain them and an all-but-absent adult presence in an otherwise kid-ruled space.  My goal is to provide an environment rich with possibilities for the bambini to learn, think, imagine, and create with loving guidance and sincere encouragement -- an environment in which virtues are cultivated by the consideration we show for each other and the obvious primacy of place our faith has in our lives.

It's a proactive approach that does take a lot of work on the front end, but I'm hopeful that we are laying the foundation for a lifetime of exploration, study, and prayer that each of our bambini will feel confident in undertaking as they seek out God's will for each of their lives.

on the agenda

This happened last year too.  The end of the school year seemed like a prolonged tsunami of music programs and special events with Mother's Day thrown in there somewhere and teacher gifts to cook up and help lads execute. We may have collectively been recovering from illness then, too. I can't remember.

So here we are a week into our summer. With no snow days to make up, the school year ended on the early side.

The early side is when these lads are still waking up, even though they're on summer vacation. This way they can have breakfast with their daddy, who has laid aside his morning school bus driver duties for the next two months.

I might be one to while away the hours in a lovely haze of crafting, coffee, writing, and piano-playing if left to my own devices, but seeing as how those times are not the norm in this season of family life I take a different approach to the "lazy" (ha!) days of summer.

a full day.  The symbols next to the agenda items are meant to be clocks.

Reams of unstructured time might work well for some families -- maybe even ours eventually (there's that word again), but for the time being we need a little more structure. The elder lad has been drafting "agendas" for us each morning (I think the main draw is the dry erase marker he gets to use). It's a loose framework for the day so we all know what's coming next and what we need to accomplish. It's subject to revision (ahem) and refinement.

Items that make the agenda are, for the most part, fairly broad.  "Cook" refers to preparations for dinner (in which I am trying to involve the elder lad most days -- we call it "cooking camp"), the whipping up of snackies, or a baking project.  "Art" could be crayons and paper, paint, beads, clay, or something else.  "Play" and "clean" are wonderfully vague.  In the past week I've encouraged the bambini to play outside as much as possible before the temperatures hit triple digits.  Picnic lunches have been the norm.  "Wii," on the other hand, means playing the Wii video game system.   Time spent playing Wii must not be greater than time spent reading.  Or something like that.

Our days don't always elapse according to the agenda.  There weren't enough nappers (or "nodders," as I like to call them) here today.  We did get to go have some happy family fun time, however, but there was no more Wii when we got home from the festivities.  Last Friday the day's agenda was drafted the night before, only to be happily upended by an impromptu trip to pick berries with Grandmare. 

Around here we go one day at a time.  Making a plan for the day is one way I'm finding to help make the most of these salad days, knowing that nothing is etched in stone and that every day is a gift from God.  When I take proactive measures like these, I'm better able to revel in the gift.  I may be ready for some downtime at day's end, but I can do so knowing that we didn't just pass time.

their stories

At last week's storytime, the kids in attendance made their own books as part of the "Day of the Child" celebration at the library.  They got to write and illustrate the stories themselves (or dictate the stories to their caregivers, if necessary).

That's what the elder lass did -- dictate to me a story about a cat who plays at the playground with her sister then has a snack and takes a nap.

Clearly, I am not an illustrator of any distinction.

The younger lad's story was, of course, about a robot.  This unnamed robot (not Sammy) dresses up like a dragon and scales some power lines before resting in some grass.

ro.bot book

While I was writing (taking dictation, that is) and illustrating (ahem) the elder lass's tome, the younger lass went to town on some illustrations of her own.  I'm hoping she'll fill in the story eventually.

younger lass's exuberant artwork, much like her personality.  PS: I'm smitten with my new gold tablecloth.

Complete with snacks and more books, it was a festive conclusion to the school year storytime series our friend the talented librarian does so well.  We're looking forward to summer storytimes starting in June.

Inspired by his siblings' creations, the elder lad starting writing a book of his own -- a chapter book, no less.  I'm eager to see where it leads.

"The Tree house" -- a work in progress

In other book-related doings, I've updated a couple of recent book posts, including the follow-up zoo book post and the duck-themed one, with books that came to mind after I'd published the posts and photographs of the books themselves.   I'm always hesitant to assert that I've canvassed the books on a given topic for this very reason.

Whatever shall we do until summer Storytime begins?  Write our own stories, I suppose. I for one will try my hardest not to let our vast quantities of library materials go overdue, which is what usually happens when Storytime is on hiatus and I'm consequently off my routine -- in spite of the safeguards and reminders...

a work in progress

Sometimes I think this motherhood business is, aside from that whole tending to and helping form the immortal souls of our children thing, one continual lesson in time management.  In fact, I might go so far as to say that after putting someone else's needs (or several someones') before one's own, time management might be the next lesson learned -- or at least taught -- in Mom School.  I wouldn't exactly call myself an eager student of this exercise in self-discipline, but nonetheless I am still enrolled and sticking with it.

Over the past six months I've adopted a couple of strategies to better manage time and domestic responsibilities.  For example, I now consider the time between our arrival home from school until the time we have dinner together as my "kitchen hour," a term and concept I learned from The Happiest Mom.   After school snacks are dished up; water bottles and reusable lunch containers are washed; folders with school paperwork and things that need my signature/attention/action are assessed; the dishwasher is unloaded; and dinner preparations are undertaken.  All of this an attempt to get dinner served sooner rather than later, since we only have a little while between my beloved arrives home from work until Lights Out and want to make the most of it.   

Another area I've been working diligently on is laundry -- specifically, the folding and stowing of laundry.   The sight of an overloaded "clean" laundry basket (denoted as such with labels on the handles and separate from the baskets we use to collect clothes that need to be washed) with clean clothes spilling over it and all around is so very discouraging that I usually keep right on walking past it.  If I can keep it to one or two loads of clean laundry to fold at a time, that's far more manageable.  The bambini are responsible for putting their laundry away.  They each have their own ways of fulfilling this task.  The elder lad employs his big rig.  The younger lad makes his arms into a forklift to carry his clothes.  The elder lass hugs all her clothes to her body and flits to the closet on tiptoe.  The younger lass -- of course -- makes sure we know which clothes are hers: "I shirt."

And then there is the subject of bedtime -- as in mine.  I'm still the most obstinate sleep fighter in this household, staying up later than I ought to most of the time. In the past several months I've been working to change that.  In the past week, I haven't done so well to that end.

All of these concessions, studies, and strides in time management are done in the name of a more smoothly-running household thanks to the comfort of routine and clear expectations for all.  Although I am still trying to figure out how -- or whether -- to fit in little (or not so little) projects here and there, the effort is paying off as each of these salad days draws to its conclusion.

Thank you, Lord, for this day and for all your many gifts and blessings...

sanity saver: audiobooks

For his first birthday, the elder lad received a two-CD set of Dr. Suess books read by celebrities such as Kelsey Grammar, Jason Alexander, and Walter Matthau.  A second two-CD set soon followed with more stories read by more celebrities, including John Lithgow, Mercedes McCambridge (whose talent for voices is amazing), and Michael McKean. The stories made for excellent listening as we motored all over town, and they still do now five years later.  The lad will still ask for them occasionally on our drive home from school.

The latest hit in our audiobook experience is Richard Atwater's Mr. Popper's Penguins, a recommendation of one of our favorite librarians.   The hardbound edition of the book wasn't available for checkout from the library right away, so I went with the audiobook instead.  One afternoon when the lads were lobbying for some glowing screen time, I put Mr. Popper's Penguins on to listen to instead.  Initially they went about their Lego business, but slowly they started creeping toward the stereo, eventually finding positions of repose on the floor nearby.

Berenstain Bears authors Stan and Jan Berenstain narrate the popular stories they wrote on their audiobook, as does Arthur Lobel, author of the Frog and Toad series. Glynis Johns (the mother from the film version of Mary Poppins) narrates the Frances books, which rank right up there with Dr. Suess's Hop on Pop (read by David Hyde Pierce) on the after school drive request list.  Speaking of Mary Poppins, that audiobook is next in our queue.

Other favorites of ours are A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh tales (read by Jim Broadbent) and Michael Bond's Paddington stories.

In the car, during siesta time, at happy hour -- any time, really -- audiobooks can be real sanity savers.

course corrections and mile markers

Miss July took her first few hands-free steps tonight. Her big sister is increasing the little mommy doting on baby sis, who often waves to Sis, Daddy-o, and other familiar faces. The elder lad is proud to be a first grader, getting his own library card and devouring the science kits he received for his sixth birthday. The younger lad survived his first experience at vacation bible school last week, weathering his wistfulness for Mama while enjoying the activities.

The six of us took our first weekend getaway to a destination other than my parents' house this past weekend for a family wedding. All four bambini were enthralled at the concept of the hotel and reveled in checking everything out. Like their mama used to, the lads quickly zeroed in on the complimentary pens and paper and set about writing notes and taking hypothetical orders for the hotel restaurant.

The summer days I fretted over those last few weeks of school have turned out to be a blessed time of resetting and renewal. Our midday siesta time could use some refining, but we're working on it. With the elder lad now moving into another stage of childhood, it seems the ideal time for evaluating both our routines and our expectations, tweaking where necessary. I'm sure just when we get it just right, something will change.

stride right

The raven-haired lass is now eight months old.  She's not a newborn anymore.  She's well on her way to being a mobile toddler, as she can now roll wherever she wants to go as well as push herself up to sitting once she gets there.  She's often seen up on her hands and knees (or toes), as though she's about to take off either crawling or sprinting. 

While she's still very sweet-natured, she does put up protests of considerable volume now on occasion. 

She's more aware of  my presence (or lack thereof).  She doesn't always initially notice my departure if I slip away for a little while (since that's as long as I would be away from her anyway given her age), but once she realizes that she and I aren't *thisclose*, her deep brown eyes fill with tears and bottom lip turns upside down.

Her brothers and sister can get her laughing with great guffaws.   Siblings are good for that.

With the passage of time (and some new thyroid medication), I have been able to reclaim a certain dimension of peace and sense of steadiness, for which I am most grateful.  In a few ways I find myself hitting a stride of sorts.  There are still plenty of harried moments, but there are also more freshly-made dinners (though still many from the freezer), smiles from bambini (along with the displays of displeasure), and moments of clarity when I have my wits about me and can thus employ my proactive tactics.  There are also renewed and deepening prayer practices that help immensely in everything from the minutiae to the big picture.

Having been down this road four times now, though, I know full well that just about as soon as I feel settled in some semblance of routine, at least one variable will change to cause that routine to be amended (again) -- summer vacation, for example.  Knowing to expect that helps.  I will do what I can to plan for that and pray for the grace to rise to the occasion.

playlist: quiet time

Just right for rainy days like today; siesta, Happy Hour, or bedtime; or whenever anyone's emotional temperature is perilously high...

• You Are My Sunshine :: Elizabeth Mitchell my Papa Jack sang this to me, as I have to both my now almost 18-year-old sister *and* my bambini 
• Ladybug Picnic :: Elizabeth Mitchell This is a sweet, slower version of the rootin' tootin' tune first seen on Sesame Street, now immortal on YouTube 
• The Bells of Ireland :: Dan Zanes A beautiful, humble tune 
• Hush Little Baby :: Dan Zanes fresh lyrics and color commentary make this familiar lullaby both endearing and entertaining 
• Good Night, Good Night :: Dan Zanes I always take a deep, cleansing breath as this song gets going. 
• Foster: Slumber, My Darling :: Edgar Meyer, Yo-Yo Ma, Mark O'Connor, & Alison Krauss from Appalachian Journey, a gossamer song -- a mother's lullaby -- now almost achingly poignant as I sit rocking my own bambini 
• All Eyes On You :: Justin Roberts part poetic observation of childhood, part prayer for a child 
• Firefly Lullaby :: Recess Monkey I'm not one to catch the winged creatures, but a field trip of this nature is just my speed.  
• I Will :: The Beatles This song could so easily be about my beloved and me, traversing the same college campus for years but not crossing paths until much later -- or did we? 
• Better Together :: Jack Johnson One afternoon when the elder lad was much younger (and should've been napping), I put this song on, and he said "this is a nice, quiet song." 
• Fruit Jar :: Justin Roberts featuring Nora O'Connor gentle acoustic guitar and gentle encouragement to keep on keepin' on 
• A Place For Us :: Dan Zanes & Friends An extended instrumental coda at the end of this beautiful dreamer makes for peaceful, hopeful imaginings. 
• Tiny Telephone :: Recess Monkey The elder lad thinks of his aunts and uncles when he hears this song. 
• From Scratch :: Justin Roberts  a masterful child's point of view with no shortage of wisdom and wistfulness 
• Smile Smile Smile :: Dan Zanes & Friends one of my most favoritest Dan Zanes songs -- and that's saying a lot 
• I Will Be Your Friend :: Guy Davis a rugged, charming, musical expression of self-giving and charity -- lessons never too young to learn 
• Rocketship :: Justin Roberts some things to think about as one is drifting to sleep... 
• Side By Side :: Dan Zanes & Friends I sang this one to my baby sis, and then (years later) to the elder lad who could not be convinced to sleep any other way. 
• One Tiny Light :: Recess Monkey As if it isn't difficult enough to fall asleep -- and stay asleep -- as it is, who can resist investigating a twinkling star outside one's window?   
• Linger For Awhile :: Dan Zanes & Friends Wouldn't we all love to live in a neighborhood like this, where everyone is out until way past bedtime just visiting? 
• Banana Pancakes :: Jack Johnson We're big on pancake breckies around here. 
• Little Raindrop :: Justin Roberts waiting on rain to come and water the freshly-planted garden... 
• I've Just Seen A Face :: Dan Zanes covering a Beatles favorite, Dan Zanes style 
• Belle :: Jack Johnson short and sweet; par les vouz Francais?  (me neither) 
• Apple Tree :: Justin Roberts little people someday grow up, God willing into loving, giving beings 
• I Will :: Alison Krauss some more of Alison Krauss's sweet singing would be just lovely right about now... 
• In My Life :: The Beatles To sum things up, all roads have led to this moment with these precious people.

vaporlocked

The moms from my elder lad's kindergarten class gathered last night to catch up after the long snow break.  I really wanted to go, but I didn't.

It wasn't that I didn't want to socialize and develop relationships with those moms.  I did. 

It wasn't that I didn't need some time to regroup after a day frought with the emotional highs and lows of life with four young children.  I did.

As much as I would have loved to have gone to the gathering of moms from my elder lad's kindergarten class last night, when it came down to it, the price was too high to pay for a few hours out on this particular school night -- for everyone. 

Yes, I know Mama needs some time to herself.  Yes, I know Mama needs to have friendships with peers such as those in this group.  Yes, I know it's just a few hours of one evening every once in a while.  Yes, I know it's good for my bambini to rely on other people (such as their father) for some things.   Yes, I know everyone benefits from Mama having aspects of life outside of child- and home-tending. Yes, I know I might come across as deferring too much to an overly child-centric approach at the expense of my own needs.

This was the discourse chattering in my brain much of the day as I weighed the decision to go.  I was one big stress ball about it, as I could all too easily imagine a frantic baby, a Kindergartner up too late because of that, and the two middle littles similarly upset by the departure from our routine.  I had my beloved's support either way I decided (for which I am so grateful), but I really wrestled with making a decision and being at peace about it.

Striking the balance between caring for these young children and tending to my own spiritual, physical, and psychological needs is an ever-present challenge.  I am actively working on ways to develop and nurture friendships as well as my own faith life without causing undue stress on my six-month-old baby who is by her God-given nature meant to be at home with her mother at bedtime (and everyone else at the same time).

Maybe I make too much of it, but in our particular circumstances with three other young children, this is how it is for the time being.  It won't always be this way.  Maybe things will be different even by the time the moms get together again next month.

We go one day at a time around here.  I may miss out on some fun and worthwhile things, but in choosing to stay home with my littles and my beloved and end the day in peace, I haven't missed a thing.

best medicine

With temperatures now in the 50s and 60s as opposed to those hovering around zero last week, the blanket of snow that tucked us in at home for a good ten days or so (with a few exceptions) is melting rapidly.  In spite of all my yammering about cabin fever and cracking of potty jokes, I must admit the time spent at home was -- for the most part -- peaceful, pleasant, and suffused with grace.

Still, humbling as it is to admit, I am prone to gloominess at the prospect of being unable to get out and about at my whim.  When I sense this mood coming on, I try to put it in perspective by thinking of the untold numbers of people who simply do not have the same freedom due to infirmity or even political circumstance.   Such realizations help snap me out of my pity party.  

We are humbly blessed to have been able to retreat from the world and ride out the impassable conditions without much recourse.  My beloved was able to work from home (albeit with one or more bambini pressing noses up to the glass in his home office door wanting to make appointments with him), and we pretty much stuck to the routine (ever-evolving as it may be).  I was truly grateful not to have to answer to the alarm clock after the usual multiple rousings each night to tend to one or more bambini.  And my laundry-folding table stayed refreshingly visible throughout the week, as I was able to process the loads of clean laundry in smaller batches rather than chipping away at the usual mountainous pile. 

On Friday the elder lad returned to school, and we went to school Mass.   It was our first real outing in a week.  Our Kindergartner sat with us this time rather than with his class as he usually does because we were celebrating Catholic Schools Week -- observed a week behind schedule because of the snow days the previous week -- and there had been a special invitation issued to families for this particular Mass (not that they aren't always welcome at school Mass, because they are).  After receiving Communion, I watched the elder lad walking ahead of me spontaneously grasp his little brother's hand as they navigated through the lines of people back to our pew.  I thought I just might dissolve in a puddle of Mama mush at the sight of it.

The white out of the past two weeks is now a colorful memory.  We were all definitely ready for a change of scenery.  Emerging from our cave to go to Mass was more than that, though.  As it had been for us the first week of the snowstorm when we'd gotten out to go to Sunday Mass at our home parish, school Mass on Friday was the best medicine ever prescribed.

not this year

Christmastime is here, and with it much merriment with family (and coffee filters).  Getting to the celebration was a challenge, as in the final days of Advent we were all fighting The Sniffles whilst trying to "get things done." 

Decking the halls for Christmas is one of my favorite things to do, but not with the full array.  Not this year. 

Many of the (breakable) Christmas decorations I wanted to put up at the end of Advent are still in the box  (which means less to put away later!).  Our Christmas tree went up on the Third Sunday of Advent, and I marveled to myself how it has evolved since the first year I had a Christmas tree of my own -- one waist-high number in my first apartment, trimmed in a monochromatic white and silver scheme, my massive Persian cat shedding on the velvet tree skirt underneath.  That tree has been replaced by one trimmed with ornaments that tell the story of our family life thus far (but only about three-fourths of the way up its nine-foot stature, with breakables at my eye level or higher for obvious reasons).  I like this one better.

There have several family gatherings over the course of this past week.  It's always wonderful to see everyone -- so much so that we have a difficult time extracting ourselves from the festivities in time to make it home for a reasonable bedtime.  After so much fun commotion, it's difficult for little ones to wind down, which makes us question why we even went out after contending with the late night and the resulting fussiness in the morning. Even while trying to stick to our routine, the inevitable deviation catches up with us eventually.  Someday, we'll be better able to partake of the later evening festivities, but not this year.

Awash in the many expressions of delight from our four bambini at the wonders of the Christmas celebration, we draw them close and are reminded once again of this brief but intense season of our family life.  Together with our extended family, our celebration of Christ's birth continues.   We might not be out and about as much as other folks, but that's alright.  Grateful for the gift of this time together, God willing, we will never forget this Christmas.  Not this year.

the eye of the storm

Kind of a tough day here:

The 21-month-old lass is running a low grade fever and has needed extra "Mommy-O" attention.  In the final minutes of dinner preparation, the younger lad took a header off the sofa during a jumping episode (still against house rules) and hit his jaw with a sickening whack on the corner of the coffee table.  He's OK, if a little puffy and sore.  All the emotional residue of a day filled with fussiness converged at the table, when the eldest and youngest bambini had reached their limits and let the stress they felt be known in their respective ways.

Had we not made it to school Mass this morning, I think the course of the day would've been much different.  The graces poured out upon me there sustained me as I tried to manage the rest of the day in a triage situation.

Since the lass had not been able to sleep during siesta time today, both because she fell asleep on the way home from school Mass rather than at siesta time and because she felt so crummy, she hit the hay early even as her three-month-old sister lamented some tummy trouble of her own.  With one lass asleep, I was able to snuggle the elder lad for bedtime prayers, whose snuggling requests are often fulfilled after his sisters have gone to bed.

Truly the grace of God infused this challenge-filled day from beginning to end.  He got us out the door and on the road to Mass at a time when I am often still trying to get myself together (not to mention everyone else).  He held me up as I held both lasses and corralled the younger lad during Mass.  And he kept my head in the game, so to speak, throughout the long day with no pause for resetting myself.  It is for this last gift I am most grateful (though I am for all of them).  It was the difference between me hitting a wall and me having the grace to go on, the peace that surpasses all understanding.

Yes, I know the Grace is there for the asking, even if I'm not at Mass when I ask for it.  Going to Mass and receiving the Eucharist opened the door, though, and helped order my thoughts and heart in such a way as to receive that Grace.

I have wanted to make weekly school Mass part of our regular routine but been daunted by the logistical considerations.  Experiencing the surge of spiritual nourishment from having gone (even if I didn't catch every word of the readings or lose myself in prayer because I was trying to keep the younger lad's truck-vrooming noises in check those last few minutes of Mass) helped confirm the desires my heart has continued to express to put forth every effort to make it to that weekly liturgy.

The elder lad asked if we'd come back to Mass again.  I told him we will.

And now I'll go finish my dinner...

natural consequences

Stalling during the bedtime routine does not delay Lights Out.  Choosing to dilly dally means there is no time left for book reading, something everyone looks forward to.

Haphazard handling of the slicing and dicing of homegrown peppers means fingers en fuego.  Good one, Bon. 

Consideration of one's siblings and their feelings (in the form of inviting them to join the "bug club" on the school playground at day's end) means more fun for everyone.

Prompt response to "it's time to go" (after fair warning, of course) means we get to come back again.

mixed feelings

Reconciling the fun and adventure to be had at Kindergarten with missing one's family and the familiarity of home life...

Eager to expand upon an already impressive knowledge base with fresh books, learning toys, art supplies, musical instruments, and computer games versus the freedom of being able to set one's own agenda (one that wouldn't include "quiet rest time" -- or P.E. if it were me)...

Meeting children one's own age and having fun with them yet feeling shy and hesitant to jump in to a group of kids who already seem to know each other pretty well...

Special one-on-one time with Dad in "the big truck" spotting construction vehicles -- after getting up before daylight to hurriedly eat the traditional bagel with cream cheese in time to be on the road...

Five days at school and only two stay home days...

and to top it all off
Knowing one's younger brother is at home watching "I Dig Dirt" without you...

tough stuff for a five-year-old (and his parents).

a full day

The first day of kindergarten seems to have been a success.  The morning drop-off went well (both traffic- and farewell-wise), and the elder lad was wearing a big smile when I collected him this afternoon.  He likes his teacher, the new friends he's getting to know, the gym, and the playground.   It helps a lot to have a familiar face at school as well: one of my beloved's aunts is a teacher there, and she checked in on the lad throughout the day, delivered him to the car after school, and reported him looking to be doing well throughout the day.  

To celebrate this monumental day, we tried out a new pancake recipe and had breakfast for dinner.  The elder lad made the pancake batter pretty much on his own.

We're off to a good start here.  God willing, we'll get some traction and gain some momentum, and soon this will all seem old hat.  This day has been a long time coming.  I'm grateful for its arrival.  Here's hoping it's the first of many fun days for the elder lad, and an instrument of grace to help our family grow in holiness together.

bedtime music

Music has long been a part of our bedtime routine, along with reading, prayers, and snuggling.  After lights out, the music comes on.

 I've been playing Perchance to Dream, piano pieces mainly from the Romantic era of music performed by Carol Rosenberger, since I was a child.  It went to college with me.  Now our bambini fall asleep to it.  I often do also, as it's so ingrained in my psyche as the "night-night" cue.  If I manage to fend off its sleep-inducing effect, I mark time by it, since the order of the pieces is by now very familiar.  A few of the pieces were among the repertoire I studied as a piano major in college, including "Mignon" by Robert Schumann (track #8) and Johannes Brahms' Intermezzo in E-flat Major, Op. 117 No. 1 (track #16).  This latter piece is probably what I would consider my hallmark, closest-to-my-heart piece of piano literature I studied.  Inscribed to an unnamed loved one with words akin to "Sleep softly, my child.  It pains me so to see you crying," the piece endeared itself to me long before I had children.

If pressed to name one favorite composer, Johannes Brahms is probably mine.  The sonorous melodies, rich harmonies, and expressiveness of his music speak to my particular brand of musical taste.  Brahms at Bedtime: A Sleepytime Serenade is an instrumental compilation of orchestral and vocal works by various performers and instrumentation (no voices).  Brahms' "Lullaby" is, of course, included (track #1), as is my dear Intermezzo in E-flat Major (track #11).  Among others is the lied (or song) "Wie Melodien" transcribed for cello and piano (track #7) and one of the variations (track #12) from Brahms' much larger work Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel, Op. 24, an intriguing and multi-faceted piece first introduced to me when my college piano professor was preparing it for recording and would perform it for his students in our weekly studio class. 

Intrigued by an elementary school marimba ensemble concert in a microbrewery/pizza parlor on our honeymoon to Portland, Oregon, my beloved and I sought out some marimba recordings upon our return home.  Our favorite quickly became Christian Roderburg's marimba transcriptions of Bach cello suites (BWV 1010-1012).  I've read that Bach is actually not the best music for sleep because it is so complex and stimulating to the brain, but the marimba seems to counteract the complexity and lure the listener into a nice rainy-day kind of sleepiness. 

Sleep is elusive around here these days (at least for some of us, the raven-haired lass being the exception).  Good thing this collection of bedtime music is queued up and ready.  With such strong sleep associations these recordings have, eventually drowsiness overtakes even the most obstinate sleep fighter -- that would be me.

flying solo

For as challenging as the fourth pregnancy was for me, the wee raven-haired lass has shown herself to be a sweet-natured, fairly easy-going young lady.  She pretty much has to be, doesn't she?

My beloved returned to work today following a week's "staycation."  Our parents have likewise returned to their work-a-day routines.  Thus, with much humility and deep gratitude (and I'm sure thanks to much grace and a barrage of prayers on our behalf), this first full day of Mama and bambini flying solo went fairly well.  Sure, it had its ups and downs, but I've come to expect and weather those with the knowledge that comes only with hard-earned experience that, given a chance (and a prayer), the tempest will pass if I get out of the way.

The same experience -- all five years of it -- tempers my relief at the relative success of this day with the knowledge that not every day will go as well.  At such times, I pray both for mercy and for God's grace to make up the difference between what the bambini need and what I'm able to provide at that moment. 

Yes: the workload has increased.  Curiously, it seems our dishwasher is running all the time now along with the washing machine.  This baffles me, because the raven-haired lass dirties no dishes.

And yes: I'm pretty tired.  But seeing the raven-haired lass's three older siblings doting on her in their various ways gives me hope for the days to come, not to mention a collective lifelong legacy of laughter and looking out for each other.

normal (whatever that is)

As we try to get back to normal, or rather find a new normal, striking a balance between allowing myself to rest and heal from the younger lass's birth and wanting to be right back to "normal" with the older bambini is proving to be the biggest challenge.  Overdoing now could spell trouble down the road, and I don't want that.  There's just a lot to be done, and I know all too well how much more manageable the tasks are with multiple hands working to accomplish them.

I so appreciate the continued tender loving care we've been receiving from our loved ones.  My beloved is likewise working overtime to pick up the slack left by my sitting idle in my comfies and spectacles.  I am torn between wanting to rest and sleep and wanting to be as ever for my young children, who still depend so heavily on Mama taking care of them.  This time of transition is already confusing and challenging enough for them.  While it's good for them to learn to receive loving care from someone other than me, it's also essential for them to know I'm still here for them.

In less than two weeks the elder lad will start kindergarten, and we will once again redefine our "normal".  In the in-between, all I know to do is do our best to stick to the basic daily routine we've had for a while now, and make the most of the blessing of each moment together.  We'll work our way back to normal -- whatever that is...

resetting

When our elder lad was about a year old, my sister would on occasion bring him to me after holding or playing with him for a while and tell me "he needs resetting."  Some quality time with Mama, and he'd be back ready to play with other folks.

We've been very blessed to have family helping us for the past couple of weeks with all manner of things, from bambini care to household maintenance, for which we are so grateful.  Since we got home from the hospital, we've been "resetting", reconnecting with the bambini after our brief separation and getting to know our raven-haired lass.  She has us all beguiled by her discerning contemplation of us and her sweet nature.  She's a week old today. 

I hope to make the most of this time together before the elder lad starts kindergarten in a couple of weeks.   With everyone reset, we stand the best chance at long-term success.  Please keep us in your prayers.

epic failure: a success story

Blessings upon the angel of mercy in the person of my beloved's mother who came to our domicile this afternoon to wrangle three overtired bambini so that I could rest. I am beyond grateful.

Her arrival was well-timed, as Mama was reeling from a lack of sleep and a need for a successful siesta time.  That wasn't happening.  The lass awoke within minutes of falling asleep, and the younger lad fought off the sandman despite having circles under his eyes dark enough to resemble a raccoon.

The bambini all seem to be on a heightened state of alert just as I am, and this translates into a more intense need for physical closeness at times of rest.  Usually I am happy to provide this, awed by the intimacy of those moments just as they surrender to sleep (which may have been a *long* time coming -- this is one reason why I don't pray for patience) and humbled by the trust they have in me to be with them as they drift off.  This afternoon, however, Mama needed a bit of a retreat.  Without help, I wasn't going to get it, and the rest of the day would likely have been doomed to lots of ups and downs -- possibly (probably) even tears from some or all of us.

After some time alone in my room which included some much-needed shut-eye, the elder lad came in to check on me, and I was very nearly busted when he spotted the little container in which I keep bittersweet chocolate chips in for quick snatches here and there.  He eyed me coolly when I told him it was empty and left the room.  He came back a little while later complaining of something in his eye, snuggled up with me, and fell asleep.  Like his mother in his gallant sleep-fighting tendencies as well as his selective eating habits, this shed some light on the earlier less-than-charitable comments and less-than-gentle handling of those around him as we were attempting to settle down for siesta. 

"Just what we needed, right?" I asked him as we snuggled.  He concurred.  When we emerged, we found the younger lad and lass happily splashing in the bathtub (brave woman, considering what can happen).  Not only had my mother-in-law kept them awake so as not to derail bedtime (which came on the early side for them), she had also brought us dinner.

With some tender loving care, what was looking to be a failure of epic proportions (maybe I exaggerate) turned into a sweet success.