Stuff I Know To Be True

There are a few things that I have picked up over my 37 years.  None are earth-shattering or will change your life immediately.  They are simply truisms that people have said to me over the years.  Some of the comments came in the form of unsolicited advice, some in the form of a narrative from the speaker, some from books.  Here are some things I know to be true...at least for my life:

1.  Do not make predictions about the future of anything.  Life shuffles the cards on you constantly and you never know the next hand you will be dealt.
2.  A friend once told me that her mom was a good mom because, "she made being a kid fun."  I want my kids to say that about me.  Not that I was their friend, but that being a kid was fun.  It really is the only chance we get to have good, unadulterated (ha!) fun.
3.  Marrying the right person makes all the difference.
4.  There is no book or expert who knows better than you how to raise your children.  Do what is right for your family.  The author of that book does not know your kids.
5.  Teaching a child to be a good sleeper is the gift that keeps on giving.
6.  Listen.  What people really need is a good listening to.
7.  Be Here Now.
8.  A good babysitter is a gift you give yourself.  Use that birthday money to pay the babysitter so that you can leave the house.
9.  Your kids are listening.  Especially when you're on the phone.
10.  Comparing yourself to others is a waste of time.
11.  Anger is a wasted emotion.
12.  Exercise is essential.  Our bodies MUST move.
13.  Eat healthy food and you will feel better.  I promise.
14.  Don't talk negatively about others.  It is a waste of your time.
15.  The days are long, but the years are short.
16.  The older I get, the better I feel.
17.  Staying home is easier than going anywhere when you have 4 kids.
18.  Whether your kids are making a million dollars or their bed, let them know that you are proud of them.  That is your job.  Your are their most important person.
19.  Don't take yourself too seriously.
20.  Even if you stray a bit, you will come back to what you know.  What you know just makes more sense.

That is what I know.  Tell me your  principles to live by.  I need all the help I can get.

Sense Of Humor Mandatory

Almost five months into our lives as parents of four, we have been asked innumerable times, "So, how is it having four?"  My response?  "It's great, really fun."  On the inside, I''m thinking, "It's a ton of work and I'm exhausted but this is what I wanted."  Honestly though, it is fun.  And a challenge.  And exhausting.  And rewarding.  And hilarious.

Jason and I have figured out that in order to get through the chaos, a sense of humor is absolutely necessary.  Having said that, Jason isn't the member of our team who is in charge of planning for the immediate or near future.  This can lead to some moments where I would like to yell at him and act like an arrogant ass however, I know that his heart is ALWAYS in the right place and that he would never mean to screw up my delicate balance with his free-spirited ways.  Nonetheless, he does.  Because he's Jason.  And he lacks the ability to plan ahead.  That is where I come in.

I planned an orthodontic appointment for Madeline very early in the morning this past Tuesday because she is attending day camp that begins at 9:30 and is located 40 minutes from our home.  I asked Jason to take her to the appointment because he is a dentist AND because dragging four children to the orthodontist's office at 7:30 a.m. sounds like a nightmare.  The appointment was to take 45 minutes per the doctor.  Now, as a regular visitor to their office, I have learned that they are ALWAYS on time (shocking, I know) and that their appointments ALWAYS wrap up before the amount of time allotted.  For those reasons, 7:30 was perfect timing for us to make it to camp.  We would need to leave the house at 8:50 and would make it in plenty of time.  I know this because I am a planner.  Our lives are planned to the minute on most days.  Any errors in judgement are critical and can send our delicate balance off kilter.  That's where Jason comes in.

Of course, this appointment was taking longer that any appointment at this orthodontist, EVER.  So, I called Jason and let him know that I would put the other 3 children in our mini-van and meet him at the half way point in order to save time and get everyone where they needed to be.  This was an intervention that I had already constructed in case of emergency, and I was ready to head to the garage when my husband (sweet natured, not a planner) lets me know that he has taken our van.  And why not?  He had the only child in our family who is not required by law to be in a car seat.  And all the car seats were in the car he had taken.  The car that I always drive.  The car he never drives.  Because he has his own car with no car seats.  Perfect for transporting he and his nine-year-old.  So what did I do?  I did what any mother of four with a deadline would.  I successfully strapped 3 children into my husband's car illegally and left the house.  Sawyer did not use a car seat.  Eamon sat in one that was clearly meant for someone 2 years his junior.  Truman's infant carrier had some inadequate slots that were perhaps meant for a seat belt, covered up by the fabric of the carrier itself.  So, I went ahead and moved the fabric out of the way and fed a seatbelt through the slots.  And off I went.  For a 3 mile drive to meet my husband who was now speeding to meet me at the half way point.  We both pulled into the parking lot of the seedy Citgo on Purdue's campus and began transferring bags, towels, lunches and people from one car to the other.  Of course, there was no need to transfer the car seats.  Those were already in my van. Jason apologized, I let him off the hook with a promise that he would always be reminded what a saint I am, and I hopped into the car, grateful for the stress of having four awesome kids.  And a husband who does not plan ahead.

As I got ready to pull away and head to drop the girls off at day camp, I looked to my right and noticed two construction workers leaning over a barrier between the seedy Citgo and the enormous apartment construction site next door.  Both were dressed in yellow hard hats, jeans, and t-shirts, however one of them had added a bit of flare  to his outfit.  Flare in the form of 8 inches of well-tanned plumber crack.  Certainly more crack was visible than covered and I began to laugh hysterically from the humor of it all.  The stress, the kids fighting, the transfer of 1000 items for one day of DeWitt-hood, but most of all the plumber crack staring me in the face.  Jason looked over at me from his car and I silently gestured to the mother-of-all-plumber-cracks.  He bursted with laughter, and again I felt the simpatico that we have shared from the moment we met.  We both drove away and were quickly stopped at the first light out of the seedy Citgo.  I looked over to see my husband still laughing. Tears from laughter were rolling down my face and the stress was gone.  As I said, a sense of humor is mandatory when you have children.....or a husband.

Dear Time

Dear Time,

I had a baby 3 months ago.  He was a good size baby.  For a DeWitt.  Weighing in at 7 pounds, 5 ounces and 19 3/4 inches in length, he was the heavy weight of the DeWitt children.  He is now around 15 pounds (best guess).  He's huge.  And he is no longer a newborn.  Some twisted part of me wants to reverse time and put him back inside so that I can enjoy pregnancy and his being new again.  I want him to stop growing.  Time, I want you to stop.  You are moving so quickly.

Not only are you making a real baby out of Truman, you are making big kids of Madeline, Sawyer, and Eamon.  I look at my children and derive pure joy from their existence....most of the time.  Like 95% of the time.  A new record for me.  Apparently 4 children was the magic number for me.  My joy just keeps multiplying.  I want you to slow down so that I can absorb and enjoy each moment.  Every moment seems to be filled with wonder and magic.  I am truly lucky.  An older woman friend with adult daughters once said to me, "I would give everything I have just to spend one more day with my girls as 5 and 6 year olds; just to hear them ask me a million questions and listen to them argue with each other.  I would just love to hear their laughter in the backseat one more time."  This admission from her brings tears to my eyes and makes me regret every single solitary moment that I have found my children to be annoying or a chore.  They are a gift, I'm not sure where from, and deserve my respect and attention.  Please slow down, Time.  Please let me have the gift of soaking up every moment of Truman's babyhood.  Please let me revel in every moment of Madeline being an incredibly caring and responsible 8 year old.  Give me a few extra minutes to watch Sawyer dance, sing, pretend, and imagine pink sparkles and rainbows hanging around the neck of the purple pony in her dreams.  Let me have an extra hour to cook dinner and watch Eamon work meticulously at writing letters while he engages in his personal narrative, out loud for me to hear.  Time, please slow down.  There is no substitute for youth.  There is no substitute for this magical time.  Please slow down.  I promise to sleep EVEN LESS than I do.  I promise to not yell or get frustrated.  I promise to consider each day a gift that can be taken away at any moment.  Please just stretch the years out a little.  As we all see when we look back; the days are long but the years are so very short.

My Cup Runneth Over,
Katie

Braces, Birth, and Kindergarten

In the course of one week, we had braces put on one child, I gave birth to another, and registered a third for Kindergarten. Yes, Madeline now wears braces, has short hair, and looks like a little lady. Sawyer is headed to full-day Kindergarten and Truman DeWitt was born.

After 9 months of guessing, it turns out that my hunch was wrong and another baby boy was born. He is nothing short of a little doll. He does nothing but sleep, eat, and poop. I feel like he should be doing something else however, I'm grateful for the reprieve and built-in time for recovery from c-section #4.

So, I now have what I had always hoped for. 4 kids. I feel great and the kids seem to be adjusting very well to the new dynamics of our household. Jason is enamored with baby Truman and has repeatedly stated that he is thrilled by the birth of our second son. As many know, he was not the leader (or follower) of the campaign for child #4. He is now the president of the Truman fan club. I wonder if he is finally in a place where he can truly enjoy the wonders of a newborn baby. Each previous birth was somehow punctuated by a stressful event and I am so happy that Jason is seeing the pure joy of new life. I was able to truly enjoy when Eamon was born and I can only echo Jason's words upon the birth of Truman, "It was magical." At nearly 37, I can't believe how relaxed we both feel having this baby in our house. I was nearly in tears for the last week of this pregnancy, fearful that I had upset the delicate balance that we had finally struck with the 3 children we already had. I was concerned that our marriage would suffer, that our kids would be a mess, and that I would simply not be up to the challenge. In an interesting unfolding of events, Jason has risen to the occasion in a way that was beyond any expectation that I could have had, the kids LOVE Truman, and I feel very Zen about the whole thing.

Truman is now 12 days old and I know that we will never have another baby. I am too old and I would not do that to my body ever again. Closing the chapter on this part of my life will be a challenge. However, knowing that our family is complete will help me finalize that phase. It is no longer time to reproduce. It is time to grow.

3 weeks, 3 days...And Counting

The days since we found out about this somewhat unexpected fourth pregnancy have ticked away rather quickly. In the beginning, there was a feeling of complete and utter disbelief; coupled with a feeling (total honesty here) that if said pregnancy did not come to fruition, that would be ok. Today there is a feeling of utter disbelief that I will be holding my son or daughter in less than a month. The baby will be born on President's day by c-section. Ironically, this child, if a boy will have a presidential name. The name was chosen long before the date of removal. The timing just turned out to be kind of fun. If a girl, it is likely that the little darling will go by the name of Jane Doe. As of today, there is no agreed upon name for a little girl. We shall see.

We have worked hard to prepare our family for this new addition. We started the internal family renovations the week we found out about our new DeWitty and have found, in the last couple of weeks, that some of our efforts have been successful. Maybe the kids have grown up. Maybe they were ready to be more responsible. Maybe we realized that things could be much more organized, streamlined, and efficient. Maybe all of the above. I think one of the misguided notions that I had about being a stay-at-home-mom is that I am to be and do all things to and for my children. FALSE. I think I stifled them slightly by taking the easy way out when allowing them to allow me to do everything for them. It struck me, in the process of internal family renovation that they were essentially useless around the house. My fault. I simply found it easier to do everything for them and then play the martyr. In doing so, I created 3 dependent monsters. It hit me hard one morning in this process when my 8-year old came downstairs in the morning (after dressing herself in the clothes I had set out for her) and sat down at the dining table, waiting for her breakfast to be served to her (on the hypothetical silver platter, with the silver spoon). I looked at her and got a little testy, "What are you waiting for, princess?" "Breakfast" she replied. Really? I try not to brag about my daughter so forgive me for saying that she is really bright. This is no joke. She is in a high ability classroom and has mastered the work. Her powers of logic and deduction are fantastic. Her memory is impeccable. She reads at nearly an 8th grade level. She can get her own damn cereal. And I told her so. And she did. Now we are working on lunch (toasting a bagel is not that complex). I realize that there is a nurturing aspect to preparing food for your child. I'll nurture her at dinner. After she sets the table.

Another sad situation that I am embarrassed to admit, is the little fact that I have been dressing my 5-year-old to save time in the morning. Mommy fail. Girlfriend can dress her damn self. I just want her to hurry up. And she wants to be 2. So she lets me do all the work. And I let her let me. Seriously? That jig is up. It's not like she hasn't been playing dress up and dressing herself in princess attire since before she turned 2. Sadly enough, I was also dressing my 3-year-old.....and picking all of their clothes. No more. They pick their own clothes and put them on their own bodies. Just like nature intended. Additionally, they pick up their own clothes and take them to the laundry room and sort them. They vacuum. They clear the dinner table. They clean their room (all 3 sleep in one room, therefore confining the mess to a small area). They can and do shower by themselves. They put their dishes in the dishwasher. They get their own snacks and drinks. The buckle their own seat belts. They carry their belongings into and out of school. They do a lot of things that I felt guilty for expecting them to do 7 months ago. My guilt was allowing them to avoid being responsible for themselves. Sad.

The fact is, impending fourth time mommy hood has allowed me to do some soul-searching that was much needed. I used to be pretty angry at the members of my family for expecting me to do everything for them. I now realize that they were simply following my lead. I am so much less stressed now. I am also proud of them when they take initiative and complete a task without being asked. I recently read an article about instilling personal responsibility in children. The author was clear in stating that not allowing kids to learn to take responsibility for themselves at home is just as bad as not letting them learn at school. Although a bit dramatic, there is some truth to this comparison. It's pretty unfair to avoid teaching children how to take care of themselves and then turning them loose into society. How would they function? What kind of annoying burden would they pose to their future partner? Who would they latch onto because they were unable to figure out how to navigate their daily needs? Scary stuff, if you ask me.

Well, our period of extreme internal renovation is coming to end, as dictated by the upcoming birth of DeWitty #6. However, I have learned some important lessons and the kids are much more prepared to be without Mommy's help. I won't be much use to them anyway when I haven't slept through the night forever and have infant strapped to my bosom. I'll keep you updated on how they fare.

We're Going To Need a New Blog Name

As most know, I am soon going to be in the market for a new blog name. Somehow, The DeWitt Five doesn't seem quite fair to the unnamed person in my belly. Speaking of that unnamed person, we are getting close to meeting him or her and we are finally starting to show signs of genuine excitement.

Let me get this straight. I am not an ingrate. I realize how fortunate I am to have such ease with fertility, to have the resources to maintain a household of 6 and to be able to stay home with my children. I am grateful on a daily basis. I have focused on the good in all of this. The fact is, the idea of being responsible for the well-being of 4 other human lives is daunting. This is not a joke. There is no dress rehearsal. I have to pull the resources and knowledge necessary to being a good mom out of a hat. I have had no training. Often, parenting books do not seem to apply to my reality, and my entire biological family lives in another state. My husband's family does not live in our town. We are figuring this out as we go along. I am just scared that I will mess up these precious human lives and see my children in therapy because of my mistakes. I know that I lack some of the emotionality and tenderness necessary to motherhood. I know that there are certain things my upbringing did not provide that would have been beneficial. I know that we all come to the parenting table with our fair share of downfalls. I just keep telling myself that there is no perfect parent. Not even the ones that I envy because of their patience and what seems to be a natural affinity for parenting.

With some of my concerns voiced, I can also say that the level of excitement surrounding this kicking, dancing person in my uterus is at an all-time high. We did not find out the sex of this baby and are keeping his or her name a secret. Not that we have a girl's name. Jason's suggestion that we name the baby Campbell if it is a girl arose from the circumstance of my sitting across the table from him in a restaurant, with my back facing a Campbell's soup ad. Not exactly the story I want to tell my poor daughter about the process of creating a special, unique name for her to carry through life. If it is a boy, I think we've got a winner.

The good news is that this pregnancy has been a breeze and according to my first trimester testing, I have the eggs of a 20-year old. Plenty of time to have more children. Just kidding. I think we can do this. Undoubtedly, there will be some tears of joy and pain. Without question, my children will feel the burden of being a part of a large family. They will not be getting expensive gifts at Christmas or for their birthdays. They will wear hand-me-downs (that were probably purchased at the second hand store). They will have to compete for attention. They many not have the opportunity to participate in every activity they desire. They will feel jealousy and contempt for one another. I know all this and yet I still believe there is a privilege to being in a large family. You always have a playmate. It is always a sleepover. You have someone to watch make mistakes, therefore avoiding all kinds of pitfalls. You learn the latest trends earlier. You can steal cool clothes and music from older siblings. Your parents can't pay quite as much attention......

I'll let you know how the transition goes. Surely it will not be easy however, I think it will be possible.

Oh, That's What This Is Called

I like to think that my 8-year old is a great kid. I won't go into all of the wonderful things I think she is capable of. I am also aware that she is not perfect. I am not a clueless parent. However, generally speaking, she has been in the business of making my life easier, not more difficult; and for that I thank her.

Unfortunately for Madeline, she has been dealing with some difficult social situations for the past couple of years. I know there is a strong push at this point in history to identify bullies and victims. I am starting to disagree somewhat with this labeling process. For my child, she has adopted the role of victim, because that is what they taught her in bully awareness training. Unfortunately, she has been playing this role quite well. Of course, when other children (family members included) are unkind, it is easy to start feeling sorry for one's self. It is easy to feel like the victim. Now, the fact is that Madeline is kind of a victim of bullying. She has been repeatedly spoken to unkindly. She has even bore the brunt of a bit of unprovoked shoving and pushing. Because she is a relatively confident girl, she stands up for herself. Because she is not the most sensitive kid around, she can brush some of this off. Furthermore, I don't expect her teachers to be able to police every social interaction and make sure Madeline is safe and sound at all times. However, a kid can only take so much before she needs a break. I wish that parents of bullies knew about and dealt with their children's behavior. Unfortunately, this is not always going to be the case. I am most certainly not going to call any other kid's parents and inform them that their child is inflicting pain on my child. This is not my place. I honestly don't care how others choose to parent their kids. I care only to help my child cope with the cards she has been dealt. As I tell my daughter, we can't change others, we can only adjust ourselves.

I am beginning to understand that "relational aggression" (yep, that's what this type of bullying is called) happens really, really early for girls. It can start as early as first grade. This is a sad prospect when you think that school is a long road and will be full of these types of situations. Again, letting Madeline play the role of victim is simply not an option. Playing the victim will never get her anywhere...unless she wants to use the role to some manipulative advantage. And to that I say, "Not in my house, kid." And so I reprise the role of therapist as I help my own daughter develop strategies to improve her social interactions. Re-assuming this role for the benefit of my child has been more than heartbreaking. Trying to coach her on how to navigate the waters of her early friendships has been heart-wrenching. Listening to her cry and admit her anxiety about going to school is simply awful. I admit that I have broken into tears during our lengthy discussions more than once. A total failure on my part. However, I am pregnant and I can hardly stand to watch Madeline experience this kind of pain at age 8. It is simply not fair.

Having said that, Madeline needs to suck it up. I have taken the approach of therapist and mother, telling her that she needs to find new friends, stop feeling sorry for herself, and make lemonade from the lemons she has been given. Her response to my coaching? "I don't really want to watch my lemons rot, Mom." That's my girl. Last night, we discussed that driving down "Vicky Victim Road" is not going to lead her anywhere but to a dead end. She promised to take a right onto "Proactive Pam Drive", a road that could only lead to puppies, unicorns, and rainbows. I have now vowed not to mention the names of the people who Madeline has had difficult with. We have agreed that they are not worth our time. We have promised to focus on solutions, not on problems.

As I said, having to deal with this relational aggression at age 8 is unfair. It would be nice if elementary school were a nice, safe place where everyone could be friends. However, this is not the case. Children of all ages converge on schools every day, bringing with them myriad emotional, psychological, and social issues. It's kind of like the rest of the world; full of people who are sad, confused, hungry, tired, happy, excited, spoiled, needy, and more. Believing that elementary school, or anywhere else for that matter could be a place free of difficult social interactions is completely absurd. My hope is that learning various strategies at such a young age, Madeline will be better prepared to deal with the endless number of difficult social interactions that are to come. If history is any indicator, Madeline will fare quite well. She is, of course in the business of making life easy and livable. Many times for others, but also for herself.