Grow, shamrocks! Grow!

So far, 2014 has see-sawed in, with some ups and some downs. Already.

The ups:

Staying true to our goal of raising children who understand that they are contributors to this family, not celebrities in it, we gave the boys a new daily responsibility: making their beds.

Yesterday, we walked through the easy steps of straightening their blanket as best they can, placing their pillow on top of the blanket, and arranging their stuffed animals on the pillow however they want. (I'm going for a very non-Type-A, loose interpretation of bed-making here. We'll work on technique [many] years from now.)

Both boys did really good jobs!

Dean:

Cary:

Not surprisingly, Dean has embraced this chore with exuberance, and Cary has complained, three times in the span of 24 hours, that "I don't want to make my bed nice and neat, no thank you." Once, he even said to me, in the middle of doing something else altogether, "Mommy, I have an idea. You can make my bed nice and neat, OK? I don't want to. You can do it."

See how he thought he could convince me that I was getting the better end of that deal? Hahaha. Umm, nice try kid. But no dice.

I'm determined to make this a daily task, until it becomes a habit. Lester is understandably worried about the added time this will take in the mornings when we're usually rushing like crazy people to make it out the door. So our compromise is that they don't have to make their beds until after nap, putting the onus on Michelle to see to it that it gets done during the week. If this doesn't work, I'll have to insist that they do it in the morning. Pray for us.

We also started off 2014 by "doing a science," as the kids call it -- planting shamrock seeds in little eggs. This was one of their Christmas gifts from Santa.

About every hour, the boys ask if their plants have grown yet. Sometime next week, I should be able to tell them "yes!"

I'll be glad to have some 4-leaf-clovers growing in our house. We could use the good luck. Which brings me to the "downs" of 2014.

Poor Dean complained that his ear hurt on Monday. I took him to the doctor and sure enough, he had an ear infection. He's on Augmentin now (can we ever be rid of that damn drug??!) and copious amounts of Motrin, because Dr. Bodnar said he had a lot of pressure built up in his ear. He also is on the nebulizer three times a day because, unbeknownst to us, he had a little wheeze going on. (Clair's been wheezing too, so she's also on the nebulizer, although she doesn't make it easy on us like Dean does. Holy refusal-to-sit-still, Batman! That girl is such a warrior.)

Anyway, we figured a little wheeze and some antibiotics weren't too bad to start off the year. After all, last year we were all sick as dogs from late fall 'til Spring broke.

But last night, just after Lester and I got settled in to watch season 1 of "Game of Thrones" -- a Christmas gift from my Dad -- Dean came into our room complaining that he couldn't sleep anymore because his feet hurt. Huh? His feet?

Sure enough -- the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands are covered in red splotches, and he's rashy on the backs of his hands, his lower arms, and his feet and legs. He stayed in our bed, because he was convinced that this made him feel better, and this little boy tossed, turned, kicked and swatted at us LITERALLY every 10 seconds until about 3:30 a.m., when Lester finally saved us all and carried him back to his own bed. It took some convincing, and a lot of crying, to get him to stay there, but finally he fell asleep. Of course, by then, I was wide awake and couldn't drift off until sometime after 4.

And yes, today is my first day back to work. Zzzzzzzzzz.

We called the doctor (again) and he suspects hand, foot and mouth disease (which Lester had surmised) so poor Deanie has to go back to the doctor (again) this morning. Poor baby boy.

So that's one ear infection, two kids on nebulizers, one case of (possible) hand, foot and mouth disease, one sleepless night and two visits to the pediatrician.

Yay, 2014!

But actually I'm not all that bummed. Such is life with kids. Such is life, period. And in fairness, the high of possibly having two kids (somewhat) making their own beds this year is enough to carry me through the lows of stupid illnesses and interrupted sleep.

And when those shamrocks sprout - watch out! I'm predicting nothing but rainbows in our house after that!

Yay, 2014!

UPDATE: Diagnosis is back - It is definitely hand, foot and mouth and Dr. Bodnar says it will likely make its way through all the children. What did I say earlier about rainbows and all that crap? Ugh. Those shamrocks need to GROW, dammit.

Getting little pieces of myself back, 3 years later

Having children is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

But it also is the hardest. There are many, many reasons why -- some of which I discuss (ad nauseam, some of you probably say) on this blog.

One hard thing that I realized just recently, though, is just how thoroughly having children disrupts one's routines and habits, making room for the wants and needs of the little people you've created. This is not a complaint; it's just the way it is.

But just in the last few months or so, glory be, I see little pieces of the old me coming back.

For example, after I had twin boys, I somehow lost the ability to make my bed every morning. I'd make it sometimes, but not everyday. And this was a cause of stress for me. I like having a made bed. I like the way it makes even a cluttered room seem more orderly, and I feel like I sleep better getting into a bed that's been made, as opposed to one that sat all day, bedclothes in a heap, pillows flattened, sheets getting cold.

Then, before I could get back my bed-making groove, I got pregnant with Clair. So add in being pregnant, tired, wrangling toddlers, working, stressed, etc. etc., and the bed became collateral damage yet again. (I can't tell you how much it annoyed me -- and also how it somehow made me less tidy about the rest of the room too, which just compounded my annoyance and stress.)

But as of late, I have been getting up and making the bed first thing, just like I used to do before I had kids. I don't recall making a conscious decision to get back into it. I just got up one day, made the bed, and I've been making it ever since. Just like that.

My old DNA, buried under my new Mommy DNA -- and my new normal life of busy-ness and kids and schedule-juggling -- fought its way to the surface. It was a hard-fought, 3 year-long battle, but the Tanika who makes her bed every morning emerged victorious! And guess what? My bedroom is just a smidge tidier now too! Hooray!

Another casualty of having kids that has come back? Flossing!

Seriously, people. I cannot even tell you how far down on the list of priorities flossing dropped after having kids. It was like my brain could not make space for even those two small minutes -- in the morning or at night. Or ever, frankly.

But, as with my bed-making mojo, sometime recently I started flossing again every day! I don't know what prompted me to pick up the flosser -- but boy am I glad I did. I feel so much better about myself! Cheeeeeese!

I am getting this down in print for two reasons:

1) To give myself hope that more of myself will emerge over time. I love the new Mommy me. But after having kids, you do mourn a bit for your old life, or at least certain pieces of it. People who say they don't mourn are lying -- or droids. So it's nice to see these small slivers of the old me coming back so naturally, without a major declaration or a whole lot of effort. I guess this is just how long it takes to get back to the old normal.

2) To let other Moms and women-who-will-one-day-be-Moms know that this happened to me. In case anyone else is mourning pieces of her old self, know that it gets better.Whether it's big things like your career ambition or sex drive or body image (still working on that one, folks!) or little things like flossing or finding one ounce of yourself to even try to care about that pile of mail that keeps growing and growing in that basket over there. (You know the one I'm talking about.)

You can come back! You will come back! Maybe not all of the old you --and certainly not all of your old life -- but give yourself some time, ladies. And cut yourself some slack.

 *Now, if only the old Tanika who took her birth control pills RELIGIOUSLY, like clockwork, every single day would come back. That woman, if you're listening, way down deep under all the new junk I've acquired? Come out, come out wherever you are! Or I'll have to replace you with IUD Tanika. And I hear that chick is no joke.