So, we’re here. We realized earlier in the week that our kids had a long weekend. David did some fancy footwork at his j-o-b, and we set off. I’m sitting in my mom’s living room right now! Hi from South Dakota!

It was so worth the drive, you guys. SO WORTH IT.

Seester is a mama now! And Olive has a new cousin only a few months younger than she.

And you guys? This baby? HAS HAIR. I’ve never birthed that type of creature myself, so I might just steal this one when it’s time to leave. Or offer my sister a 4-to-1 trade? Or buy Olive a wig?

I’m in love.

You know what’s weird? This baby looks a) EXACTLY how I pictured my sister’s baby would look, b) familiar to me somehow and c) also how I always thought MY OWN babies would look. And yet my own babies? Looked NOTHING like I imagined and did NOT look familiar to me at all when they were born. Odd, huh?

My internetting these days has been reduced to one handedly pecking out tweets while trying to Keep Olive’s Face Pointed Away From The Computer, a task that was important enough to need a Title, and then watching Downton Abbey online after all the kids are in bed. (Downton Abbey you guys. DOWNTON ABBBEEEEEEYYYYY!) (I watched half of S2 E5 & 6  the other night and Oh Em GEEEEEEEEE. I… I gasped out loud over a few things.)

So anyway, that about sums up our existence these days. How about you?

This baby you guys. THIS BABY. It’s been well documented that she started off quite fussy. I’m happy to report that that particular phase seems to have passed. She’s a very happy baby now, if not also a very intense baby. She holds her body RIGID most of the time, and she notices EVERYTHING. She startles easily; I can’t tell you how many times per day that something routine (like a sneeze) scares the crap out of her and reduces her to tears. She’s always fiercely holding onto something with one hand, while wildly flapping her other hand around. She pinches me hard enough to cause tears to spring to my eyes, usually on the back of my arm while nursing. I have bruises to prove it. While she nurses, she is also banging whichever hand is free and kicking her legs. She’s… kinetic or something,  always vibrating with energy, never stopping. But she’s happy. She easily grins. Her whole body smiles with glee when you talk to her.

I was holding her in church on Sunday during what is usually her morning nap time. My arms were aching from restraining her as she writhed and reached and tried to grab EVERYTHING. Finally she gave into to exhaustion and lay her head on my chest, and I thought about how, other than while nursing herself to sleep, I rarely hold her while she’s completely relaxed like that. It took her awhile to fall asleep (there’s MUCH TO SEE AT CHURCH doncha know), and I so enjoyed holding her while she calmly looked around, almost dozing.

I think about that stuff all the time. There will never be another February in my lifetime that I have an infant in my arms, creating a damp spot on my chest from our combined body heat. It feels so special to have this longed-for baby right there, under my chin. I’ll never have a five month old again!

And while I’m at it, may I recommend having a baby when you also have a 9 year old (or two 9 year olds, in my case) in the house? Last Saturday, Kate heard Olive wake up, came into our bedroom, took Olive from my arms, and carried her downstairs, where she held and entertained her for the next HOUR while David and I slept. You guys! Did you even read that and let it sink in? I mean, COME ON. They also are helpful when I’m trying to make dinner or do the dishes or go to the bathroom or, well, pretty much any other time that Olive needs something (besides nursing) and I’m busy doing other things. Too bad they are gone most of the day! (This summer is going to RULE!)

Finally, Marin brought home an adorable craft from preschool that said “Thumbbody loves you!” and had her thumbprints made into little flowers. As David and I were ooohhhing and aaahhhing over it she said to us, totally deadpan “Um, guys? I don’t make up the projects at school. They’re actually the TEACHER’S idea?” I don’t know why, but that totally killed me. Oh, Marin.

We were trying to watch a movie, just the two of us, after the kids were in bed. David had brought home a projector from the office and set it up in our (finished) attic for the girls’ sleepover, so we thought we’d take advantage of having a “movie theater” in our home and watch a movie.

We were trying to watch a movie. Just the two of us. But Olive kept waking up. And waking up. And waking up.

We were trying to watch a movie so I finally brought her up to the attic, thinking I could hold her, but she was then WIDE AWAKE and squirmy and fussing and not going back to sleep.

We were trying to watch a movie, but we couldn’t hear it over the baby.

I put her back to sleep 3, 4, 6 times. I put her back to bed, crept up the attic stairs, turned the movie back on… and BAM. Fussing again.

We were trying to watch a movie, but after about two hours, we’d only seen twenty minutes of the movie.

Finally I just laid down with Olive. She refused to nurse. She just wanted to squirm and fuss and flail around. I tried swaddling her. I tried unswaddling her, thinking it was pissing her off to be wrapped up. I tried shushing her, rocking her, rubbing her little cheek. I tried nursing her again. Singing to her. Patting her butt, just the way that usually soothes her.

Meanwhile, David was waiting for me. Because, you see, we were trying to watch a movie.

But she wouldn’t just settle down. She was fed. Warm. Dry. Being cuddled, for Christ’s sake! She wasn’t sick. She USUALLY was asleep at that time of night. But she WOULDN’T SLEEP. We were trying to watch a movie, just one single little movie, and she wouldn’t let us.

And that’s when it happened. I got so frustrated and angry that for a brief moment, I really wanted to hurt my baby. I want to hit her. Or push her off the side of the bed. Or throw her.

I’ve had plenty of those bizzar-o mothering thoughts; you know, like not wanting to stand on a balcony for fear that you might just suddenly drop your baby over the edge. Or being near a body of water and thinking calmly “…if I just dropped her… would she… float?” Those thoughts are troublesome and weird and (thankfully) very, very fleeting. But they also come to me in moments of calm. Like, they just pop into my head. And they are rare. RARE. I think with each of my babies, I’ve had them only a couple of times. They just happen. And then they are gone.

But this? This was anger. This was temper. This was why they teach you over and OVER “Don’t shake your baby!” Because? I wanted to shake my baby. We were trying to watch a movie, see, and we were trying and trying and TRYING, and she kept interrupting us.

Is it so much to ask to have less than two hours, just my husband and me, in a different room from the baby, to watch a movie? TWO EFFING HOURS. That’s all. I’ll nurse you all goddamn night, and HAVE– every night of your life, for the past 4.5 months– but I just want TWO HOURS. I felt myself, teetering there, on the edge, deciding should I or shouldn’t I. I felt myself WANTING to hurt my baby, wanting the satisfaction of giving in to the impulse. I imagined myself doing it, and in that dark, dark moment… IT FELT GOOD, imagining it.

I didn’t hurt my baby. I did pull out her paci and yell/growl at her “What do you WANT, Olive?” and I did sigh a ton, and I did feel very, very sorry for myself. But the moment of wanting to hurt her passed quickly, and David came in and took her and rocked her in a different room.

I didn’t hurt her because I know better. Or because I have a husband who was there, who was willing to help in any way I needed. Or because God stepped in and put his hand on my shoulder and whispered peace across my body. I don’t know why I didn’t hurt her, honestly. But I didn’t.

I didn’t hurt her. But I wanted to. I’m a good mother. I am an educated person. I have an excellent support system. I live in an emotionally healthy household, with an emotionally healthy relationship with my husband. I am not depressed or anxious or suffering from any kind of mental illness. We have the financial means to seek help (babysitting, therapy or drugs if needed, etc) and provide for ourselves (plenty of food, clothing, entertainment, a nice place to live etc). I am very bonded with my baby. I have resources I can rely on to help me in times of need. And yet, I wanted to hurt my baby. Briefly. In passing. A flash, a flare, then it was over. But still. I felt it.

I wanted to hurt my baby because she was interrupting me. She was interrupting my MOVIE. She wasn’t screaming for hours on end. She wasn’t doing anything all that “hard” to parent, really. There was only ONE of her, unlike when her twin sisters were this age. But I still wanted to hurt her for ruining my plans for the evening.

The next morning. The sun streaming in the windows. The baby awake in the crook of my arm. Wiggling with smiles. Squirming with glee at the sight of me. Hi! Hi, hi, hi Mommy! I’m awake! You’re awake! HI! Hi, hi, hi, hi! I’m so happy to see you! We’re both awake! Hi!

The emotions of the night before seems so silly, in the sunshine. Seem so silly with this impossibly cute, impossibly happy, double-chinned little cherub. How could I have wanted to hurt her?

The sunlight that comes into our bedroom in the morning is all-illuminating, filling all the space, leaving no corner unlit. My baby’s smiles are the same way; when she looks at you and grins, it fills all the cells of your body with its light and joy.

In the morning, in the sunlight, darkness seems impossible. Cuddling my cooing baby, kissing her squishy cheeks, I can barely remember wanting to hurt her. Was it a dream? A vision? Something I made up?

No.

No.

It was darkness. Because no matter how much light is coming in the window now, no matter how much I have to blink my eyes because of its brightness, no matter how warm it is on my skin, there is still darkness in motherhood.

There is darkness in motherhood. But thankfully, there is also so, so, so much light.

Hi!

I have a sleep post that I’ve been working on but am afraid to post. It’s such a touchy subject! We’ll see.

I had to email the family coordinator sorta-like-a-school-counselor lady today about Kate. She’s been coming home upset about her interpersonal relationships at school. It all sounds like fairly mild and normal stuff to me (she and another girl are both vying for the “best friend” title of a third girl), and Kate is probably just as involved and just as guilty as anyone in perpetuating it all. HOWEVER, she does not handle these things well, and stews and STEWS about it, over and over. None of my suggestions are helpful (Tell them that everyone can have more than one best friend! Tell them that you don’t want to choose! Tell them that choosing favorites isn’t necessary!) She insists she’s TRIED everything I have to offer (doubtful) and that NOTHING WORKS.

So, I emailed. This woman is someone who Kate responds very positively towards, so possibly hearing (probably the same as I’ve given her) advice from someone who’s NOT MOM will be helpful?

Having an anxious kid is tricky because validating her feelings (which is how I handle it with my others) only makes her feel it MORE intensely. But downplaying it makes her amp up her anxiety so that she can PROOVE to me how bad it is. I don’t want to give her a ton of positive attention for turning little things into big things, but I don’t want her silently worrying, worrying, worrying, either.  The good news is, I *think* that she’s getting better at coping, as she’s getting older. Sure, she’s going through some anxiety right now, but it’s mild compared to, say, her 1st grade year. So I’m hopeful that she’ll keep learning how to deal with it.

Speaking of my big girls, they turned nine this week. NINE! Nine is a lot of years! If I think of myself as, say a 10 year old and then a 19 year old… whoa! Those nine years were HUGE! Even thinking of age 20 compared to age 29! So much happens in NINE years. I can’t believe that’s how long they’ve been with me. How wonderful! How mind-blowing!

Their birthday was on Monday, so their sleep-over party is this Friday. Have I shared with you how I feel about sleep-overs? I haaaaaate them! Haaaaaaaaaaaaate! The girls are at this age where very often, on a Friday night, they are invited to sleep over at a friend’s house (or they are begging to invite someone to sleep over here). This, in and of itself, would be no biggie. HOWEVER, at least at several of their friend’s homes, they don’t go to bed. The girls got home one time and said they were up until 3:30 am and then one of the girls woke everyone up again at 6am! In case you don’t have any 8-9 year old girls in your life, guess what? That ISN’T ENOUGH SLEEP. AT. ALL. for a child of this age. (Joan and Kate typically go to bed between 8:15 and 8:30 and get up at 7.)

So then they come home and are RUINED for the weekend. So crabby and touchy and screamy and stompy. Truly, they are ruined human beings for the rest of the weekend.

When they have friends stay over here, we always make them to go bed at, like, 11pm at the LATEST. I know that definitely doesn’t make us the cool parents on the block, but COME ON. These are young children we’re talking about here, and in the case of my girls, they don’t/won’t nap or sleep in, either. Even staying up until 10:30 or 11 makes them Crabby-crabby pants the next day. It’s PLENTY late.

But anyway, I will tolerate a sleep-over for their birthday. Now I’m just trying to figure out what to DO with that many girls for that many hours (THAT’S THE OTHER THING. It’s SO MANY HOURS.) They’ve each invited two girls over, so that’s six girls, plus Marin. They are coming over around 3pm (there’s no school on that day, so my girls were all “They could come over in the morning!” Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Riiiiiiight.) (NO.), and I’m thinking… let them just hang out until dinner? And then after dinner play a  movie? David has access to a projector, so he thought he’d set up a “big screen” for them.

And what to do with Marin? She’s going to want to be included, and THEY are going to want her to bug off, so…. I’ve toyed with the idea of inviting a friend over for her, just until after supper. Maybe? But do I really want to add ANOTHER child to the mix, and then have Marin and her friend wanting to do fun stuff (probably DIFFERENT fun stuff) as well?

Man, I miss the days of inviting MY friends and their kids over for dinner and cake.

But see, hear me out. I have a certain kind of yoga pants that I loooooove. They are sold at Sam’s Club and ONLY at Sam’s Club if my (fairly skilled) googling skills are accurate. But see, they’re not ALWAYS at Sam’s. In fact, the last 2-3 times I was there, they didn’t have them. I rarely go to Sam’s (1-2 times/year), so this means it has been a long, LONG time since I was able to purchase my favorite yoga pants. Meanwhile, I was pregnant and had a baby and spent many days in yoga pants. And my yoga pants grew very sad and very tired and eventually had holes in them enough that I really shouldn’t wear them at all.

So anyway, I had to stop at Sam’s Club REALLY BRIEFLY before work the other night to return the K-cups David had purchased. He bought them for me- all 80 of them. He had the choice of Caribou K-cups, Green Mountain K-cups, and Folgers K-cups and guess what he chose? JUST GUESS. Yep, Folgers. Well, nothing against “the best part of waking up” or anything, but if I’m buying EIGHTY K-cups, and I have the choice of three brands for the same price, I’m not choosing FOLGERS. Especially when, ding-dong HALLO, there’s CARIBOU in the mix.

So I went to exchange them, and as I was walking through, there were my yoga pants, with only ONE package left in my size. I thought about it, I really did, for all of 3 maaaaybe 4 seconds before snatching them up. Then, since I was officially out of the contest ANYWAY, I bought some rolls of tape. Tape and yoga pants are what brought me down.

Like I said, I go big or go home, y’all!

So, we’re out of the contest, and I’ll happily be bringing a meal to whichever family wins. I’m sort of RELIEVED that I CHOSE to be out as I’ve been living in fear of buying something without realizing it until it was too late.

And now I’ve written an entire post about yoga pants, and my devotion to a variety only sold at Sam’s Club, and how yoga pants made me a LOSER. THE SHAME!

Also, completely unrelated, but my baby? She feels the need to HOLD ON to everything. I know this is somewhat common in babies her age, but she’s far more intense about it than any of my other babies were. When she’s nursing, she clenching my shirt. When I change her diaper, she grabs onto my hand and won’t let go. She constantly get gobs of the girls’ hair in her sticky little fists. I don’t know… I think she realizes she was born into a busy household and she better HANG ON or be lost in the shuffle. Poor girl!

Who, ME? Nah. See, while I’m young and my ideas about evolution are not yet fully formed, I’m not convinced my mama isn’t part ape (have you seen her LEGS?). JUST IN CASE she wants to start swinging through the trees mid-feeding, I HOLD ON. I mean, wouldn’t you?

P.S. A mere HOURS after writing that last post about our BEAUTIFUL WEATHER, it turned cold and nasty here, getting colder and nastier by the day. Today when we woke up it was -11, with windchills around -30.  I didn’t even leave my HOUSE today–nay, my BED– it was so cold.

(I can go for WALKS. OUTSIDE. WITHOUT A HAT. And I’m a hat-wearer until, like, May usually. I don’t like to be cold.)

This year is off to a good start, what with the new job, and happier-by-the-week baby, and the not-cooped-up big kids. And the weather. I mentioned that already, though.

Even though we are not buying anything new, I felt like the new job, first paycheck, etc deserved some kind of nod, so I  signed Joan and Kate up for ski school at a local ski hill, which allows David three (3!) full Saturdays in a row to ski while they’re at ski school. (After only a couple of hours the girls were already skiing like they’d been doing it since birth, so I’d say it was a success.) As for David, it had been about 8 years since he’d been skiing which is far too long to go without doing something you love.

As of Saturday, Olive can roll both back to belly AND belly to back. She had done neither before that day, and then she up and decided to do BOTH. She’s grabbing her feet and wiggling all over the floor and grabbing toys with intention to shove them in her mouth. She’s still an intense baby, but she’s happily intense now, at least. (MY GOD can that baby make happy screams loud enough to cause wincing throughout the land. Jeesh.) (Speaking of never leaving her, I’ve started pumping every day now, in the hopes that I’ll– SOMEDAY — be able to leave her, if only to go into the next room. I’m saving up milk, one excruciating drop at a time.) (After THREE days I only have 8 oz in the freezer. WEEP.)

On my more trying days with THAT BABY, I’ve often described it as “this baby is ALWAYS! ON! MY! ASS! about something!” She just never lets me come up for air, or take a piss, without totally fussing at me. I’ve been reflecting how certain parts of our kids’ personalities are evident from Day One, because when I think back to my pregnancy with her? Yep, she was always on my ass, irritating my uterus and causing contractions, back then too. I think this baby is shaping up to be the kind of kid that wants to be with MOMMY and MOMMY ONLY for about the next six years. I guess I’m flattered?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m head-over-heels for that child. Honestly, I look at her all the time and think last year at this time you were a mere blueberry-sized ball of cells! My body MADE you. Made those perfect little eyes, made those lungs breathing so easily, made that brain of yours, firing away so effortlessly. Not that it was an easy pregnancy (ha, ha, HA), but it seems like MAKING A HUMAN should require more of a physical feat than simply being pregnant, ya know? The whole thing continues to blow my mind. Those sweet eyelashes! Those perfect little toes! 

Well, SOMEONE is fussing so I’ve gotta run. We’re off to the library for storytime, and I’m wearing ONLY a fleece instead of my parka. AND my car windshield did not frost over last night. WHAT MONTH IS IT AGAIN? (Spriiiiiiing!)

I love me a good competition, so of course we said we were in. However, this contest comes RIGHT as David started his new job, which means for the first time in quite awhile we have a little bit more disposable income. At first I was sort of cursing the TIMING of this contest. ANY OTHER MONTH I could have had the contest IN THE BAG (well, maybe not, as my competitors are GOOD), but NOW? WHEN WE HAVE MONEY? But then David and I realized that now is the perfect time. No need to spend just  because we CAN, right?

We each chose a category that we could buy new; I chose stuff for Olive as ours. I have purchased very few things for her new, but if I see something adorable and on sale? I want to buy it, ya know? This is my last chance to buy twee baby things. (I mean, it would be JUST MY LUCK that during this contest Zulily would feature Zutano or some such, right?) So, I can buy stuff for Olive, if I wish. So far I have not.

I think it will be interesting to see who wins and how long the contest runs before there is only one family (out of 6 or so) left standing. Just as interesting will be WHAT the losing families purchased that bumped them out of the competition.

Wish us luck!

P.S. We’re reading Not Buying It by Judith Levine for book club this month. Timely, huh? (Also, that is not an affiliate link because I’ve always figured why bother.) (OR. SHOULD I be bothering?)

You can find my past years here: 2010, 2009, 2008.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Felt ambivalent about pregnancy. Spent 5 days out of phone contact with my husband (while also super-pregnant, even). Saw my grandma very frail. Bought a major appliance (a fridge). Delivered my baby MYSELF in my living room. Sent my daughters to THIRD grade. Watched my daughters sing a duet (talent show) and a solo (Grandma’s birthday) on a stage in front of a large audience. Parented four children. Met Ina May Gaskin, while wearing my own homebirthed baby in a moby wrap.

And then I remembered that Christmas Day would come… and then it would go. We would spend the day in the car, and it might SUCK, but it would soon be over. And we’d get to see family and eat good food and then it’d be over. Like, it seemed COMFORTING somehow that all the work and preparation would be OVER because Christmas itself would be OVER.

This makes me sound like I was wishing Christmas to be over, and I WASN’T. I enjoy it. But it’s somehow good to remember that it ENDS and the craziness ENDS and then normal life resumes. Am I even making any sense? (DOUBTFUL.)

Anyway! Moving on! How about some photos, yes?

Olive got baptized. And she was pretty pumped about it, as you can see.

Marin (and Joan & Kate) were angels in the church program. Here’s Marin, in front of the whole church, screwing around showing the other angels how to fly. SIGH. At least she’s cute?

Kate and her baby sister. Yes, it’s grainy. No, I don’t really know how to use my camera. But I still love this one.

Oh, just hanging out with Olive one morning. No big.

Santa Baby, and her big sister. I made Olive wear that hat around town and on our trip in the days before Christmas. Why? BECAUSE I CAN. Babies. So easy to push around.

Holy crapola,  you guys. I have four kids. FOUR. KIDS. And the all four started out exactly the same: Female, bald, and pukey.

Our family on Christmas Eve. I have no idea why there’s an American flag featured prominently in the background.

This was our drive into the Black Hills (from my mom’s house in Rapid City, which is in a valley) on Christmas Eve. We were on our way to go to a little country church with my dad for candle light service. And there wasn’t even any added bullshit this year! Score!

Baby’s first Christmas morning! I totally wanted to let her rip into that gift, but it wasn’t TIME yet, and we’re TOTALLY the kind of family that opens gifts one at a time while everyone else watches. There are RULES to follow, is what I’m saying.

My girls, ice skating at sunset on Christmas Day. This was possibly the highlight to our trip, and I’d like to do it every year. (It helps that the weather was SUPER MILD- like upper 40s.)

All in all, our trip to South Dakota wasn’t bad. There were a few moments of total asshattery, but isn’t there ALWAYS when it comes to family-of-origin gatherings?? Olive did fine in the car; it was more tense traveling with a baby who fusses (and sometimes screams), and we definitely stopped more, but we made it.

Anyway, I hope your holiday was wonderful, and if not wonderful than just pretty good. Also, if I’d love to hear what your favorite gift was this year, if you’re willing to share. Mine was probably the necklace David got for me with all four girls’ names. Though it’s not actually HERE yet, so BOOO on that. I also got Smartwool socks and a Fiesta serving bowl with a lid and a Fiesta serving tray. Score! (Why do I keep saying “Score!”???)