The Chaos Chorus

The sun has set not long ago

Now my time to relax and sew

Minky blankets, bibs and bags

I work until midnight nags

Exhausted now I go to sleep

But in three hours I hear a peep

Nursing babies, soothing fears

The night wears on, dawn appears

Children wake up, wanting food

I stumble out of bed, I brood

A shower, ha! Makeup, me?

I’ll simply live in sweats so free!

A messy house that never goes

A pile of never ending clothes

Kids are fighting, TV’s on

“Time to start” I sigh and yawn

School time, the books come out

And like a bunny I hop about

Helping this one, and then the next

Finally, its time to rest

OUTSIDE TIME! I exclaim in glee!

Time for coffee, time to breathe!

At my computer, so still, so calm

I talk with adults, a soothing balm

The day wears on, it keeps me hopping

Never ceasing, never stopping

Dinner hour, the time I dread

Why oh why can’t I go to bed?

7 o clock, bedtime at last

Story time, asleep so fast

These little monkeys I love so dear

They are the reason for my cheer

For although I’m tired and weary

The bags under my eyes are oh so dreary

I would not have it any other way

And so I start another day.

The Plague... or something like it!

Pain and sickness are the same. Outside of the situation, you simply do not grasp the entirety of the problem. Even if you have gone through it yourself! Take childbirth for example, in the moment you swear to yourself  that you will NEVER do this again! The pain and exhaustion and sheer overwhelming trauma of it are all consuming. However within a year, months, or even minutes for some brave souls... you think to yourself, "it wasn't that bad, I could do that again." Some part of us, deep down, knows that that is a bald faced lie. But for the most part, we repress the bad stuff and focus on the good.

Sickness is much of the same. In the moment I lose all sense of time. It seems to go on forever and my misery is palpable. I promise myself we will wash our hands more, bring hand sanitizer with us to the store, in our times of sorrow I even promise myself I'll never leave my house again. But the sad reality is that within a few days or weeks our lives resume as normal and we are once again injected to the heart of society and its vast arsenal of diseases. I am discouraged to admit a pattern has emerged. Yes I suppose it is unavoidable. Alas, I cannot lock us up in our house never to leave again. However during this horrible season of colds and flus we get better, then sick again, then better, then sick. The small joy of getting together with family and friends is quickly dampened with the stark reality of the germs that were shared and the ensuing infection that results.

As you may have correctly assumed, we are sick. Every single one of us. From baby girl crying in the distance, refusing to be put down and smearing her snot all over my shirt--to myself feeling faint and nauseous and like I am going to cough out my innards. My counters are covered in food. I suppose I feel as though if I simply leave it out I don't have to prepare it. Buns are left in bags and when the kids are hungry they simply help themselves to what they can find on the counter or in the fridge. Apple cores litter my floors, half-eaten stale buns are hidden in the folds of their blankets. Plates, crafts, play dough, and toys are strewn about the table and the floor. Diapers are tossed on the floor like land mines to be avoided in the middle of the night. A bath tub full of cold water sits brewing with yesterdays filth while pee from my potty training toddler is forming a dried crust underneath my toilet. Clothes lay in wild abandon throughout the house and the piles of laundry are forming a small mountain beside my unused washing machine. Cold cups of coffee sit about the house like glasses of water from the little girl in "Signs" (think Mel Gibson and alien invasion). Toilet paper sits in clumps around our beds and we all live in the blessed comfort of our pyjamas. The batteries on our phones and tablet are left on empty as the kids play them ceaselessly all day long. The TV rests in the "on" position and I am sure our eyes are somewhat glazed from the lack of outdoor air and activity. Yes, this is the residence of sickness, from the people to the resulting pandemonium that is my house we practically scream DISEASE!

And so it is that in the moment I beg with myself to never leave the house. I reason that this is not worth the sips of coffee as I visit with my friends whilst my kids swap spit on the nearest toy. I promise that grocery trips will be a team effort with the strategy of one adult sitting in the car with the kids while the other fills the grocery cart. That I will stock my purse with sanitizer and be a nazi with drinking our kefir each day. But the naivety has left and the veteran is in its place. And the veteran shakes her head in the sad but inevitable knowledge that in a week all promises will be forgotten and life will resume once more.

Happy flu season everyone! May your hygiene practises be vigilant and your intestinal flora be strong! :)

The Lonely World

I have long been struck but the world-wide view of Canadians as being "polite". We are the polite nation. Always using our please and thank you's, being so kind and caring and compassionate. People hear Canadian and they think "Due South". I wish they weren't wrong. Canadians are just as self-centred as everyone else. Always looking out for number one. Whether they be old or young, busy or not, it is rare to be offered a smile or a kind word. No, most often when I am out on my own with the kids I feel more alone than when I am at home in my house. Surrounded by people everywhere and yet either they can't look me in the eye or else they point and talk about me instead of to me. I was struck by this the other day. I have gone out by myself with the four kids since having Aliyah, but not shopping. If I have to go out I try to keep it to a simple thing, and the other day I decided to brave the big bad world on my own! Swimming lessons, shopping and lunch were on the agenda and I was determined to do it by myself. 

Trying to unload kids, get them to walk in some sort of unity across a parking lot and into a store is massive accomplishment. Doors slammed in my face as people tried to avoid me and I struggled through pulling my stroller behind me and holding toddler hands in front. As I hold a wobbly tray for lunch, people just whiz on by. Sometimes they see me struggling as I try to maintain control of my brood and pay at the same time or try to walk while pushing a stroller and holding a tray of food. But not one person will offer to help. They just watch me and I can't help but wonder what is going on behind those eyes. Are they pitying me? Are they judging me? Are they simply amused and watching to see how I will manage? I honestly don't know. But I can feel so alone, so cold and deserted in that sea of people. And in moments like that I don't see our country through the naive eyes of Paul Gross, instead I see us as selfish and self-involved. Too caught up in our own worlds to think about someone else. We're angry on the roads, honking horns and cutting people off. We are rude in stores, ignoring others and only saying hi when we can't avoid it. 

I may not be able to change the way I am treated when I go out with my little brood behind me, but I aim to change the way I treat other people. And even if I can't necessarily help them out while balancing my little circus act, at least offer a warm smile or kind word to make them feel a little less ostracized and ignored. And so tonight I challenge you to hold open a door for someone, ask someone how they are doing without walking by before you've heard the answer. It might not "make the world a better place" but it might make the streets of Kamloops and Chase a little less cold and indifferent for one person. 

Final Stretch

I am laying in my bed, slightly uncomfortable as always, with a quiet and yet incessant voice in my head (and my abdomen) telling me to get up and pee for the hundredth time. I try to ignore it. It persists. And so, I start the ever-increasing ordeal of shifting positions around my pillows in order to get my fat butt out of our memory foam sinkhole. It is then that I see my husband float through the door, so smooth and graceful, like a cat trying to hide its indiscretions. Calmly ignoring him, I proceed out the door to do my business and return to look at my clock. Alas, it is 5am. Did my dear husband work until 5am? No, he came home several hours earlier and watched TV for three hours. Does this upset me? You better believe it! I give him a huge lecture about taking care of himself (really for my sake because at this point in my life, I can't handle when he is grumpy because he refuses to sleep), and roll over in a huff. Such a huff, in fact, that I now have a 4 1/2 pound baby jumping in my uterus and a new, not so quiet voice, telling me to eat. I am no longer tired (although come 2pm I will be most likely a dead man walking) and decide to get up. Already planning on how I will blame my exhaustion on him later on today... I find myself wondering what to do with myself. My kids are still asleep, I can't do anything too loud for fear of waking them. So, I clean. Mopping my floors, tidying up toys, folding laundry. At last, the time came for me to sit with my green tea and do some much-needed devotions.

I have been trying to work my way through Beth Moore's "David" study. In nearly a month, I have watched the initial video and today I finally finished the first week of homework! But today was the story of David and Goliath, a favourite of all Sunday School children out there. I was struck by the wonder of it all once again as I read about David's courage and tried to imagine myself having the same faith, the same courage, the same boldness. I could not. One thing that she wrote really impacted me, and I decided with what little time I had left, I would share it with whoever still reads this poorly neglected blog.

"FAITH IN FAITH IS POINTLESS. FAITH IN A LIVING, ACTIVE GOD MOVES MOUNTAINS"

Now, turn off your sunday school brain that is telling you, "yes, sure, of course, didn't you know that dear?" and think about it. How often do we place our faith in our spirituality? How often do we feel discouraged or intimidated or even unable to complete a task because we are uncertain of our faith? Didn't we also grow up hearing "if you only have enough faith..." The problem with this statement that is stuffed down our throats, is that it leaves us thinking on our own terms, in regards to our own strengths.

"I can't do this because I am not strong enough, because I don't have enough faith, because I don't do enough devotions, or don't pray enough"

We may not put it into words like that, but I often feel discouraged, even in my day to day tasks because I just don't feel like I can do it. For example, right now I am 8 months pregnant. I feel big and uncomfortable. I have constant heartburn making eating a chore, bending over a literal pain up my throat. Sciatica so bad my hips pop with EVERY single step I take and shooting pains whenever I twist the wrong way. Varicose veins that throb all day long and get worse every time I can bear to look at them. I am irritable, impatient, annoyed, and most of all exhausted. I am so physically tired, I will look at my day, at a situation with the kids, at the clock even, and think to myself "I can't do this". I feel like I am failing as a mom every time I snap at my kids, but I feel like I can't help it, because no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to achieve more patience. So I sit in my little slump of the day-to-day, feeling sorry for myself and feeling like a failure.

Then I read this and I am once again reminded.... IT IS NOT ABOUT ME! It is not about my strength, or my ability to have more patience, or my ability to ignore my hormones, or my ability to have a better attitude, or even my physical ability to survive. I can't do it. That is the whole point. It is about God's ability. It is about his strength and his love for me and my kids, and his unwavering goodness that I can depend on. That I can lean on, that I can dip into like a well and drink deeply and say, "I can't do it God, help me". I often pray that prayer throughout the day like a drunkard on his last legs, "ahhhh! God, I need you!" But do I believe it? Do I actually give up trying to do it on my own strength and surrender to the Lord of my life? That is the key. Not saying it, but surrendering. And I never stop trying. I always think that now that I have prayed the prayer, I can just try harder and the strength will be there somehow.

And so today, dear readers, I challenge you to truly surrender to God. Put your faith in him, and stop trying so hard to do what we simply cannot do on our own. Have a victorious day! I am off to clean the basement before my little monkey's start clawing at me :)

The Language of Sickness

If you assumed that it does not take a linguist to decipher an illness, you would be incorrect. I have all but given up on the medical professionals due to the fact that  there is very little they can do for most sicknesses. But me, I am learning the language of each illness that presents itself within these walls. First of all, let me clarify that I am not complaining that we are sick. While it is never a pleasant experience, compared to last year and worse yet the year before, this year has been a breeze. I remember the days when NOT being sick was something worth writing about.

I don't know if I would really be able to understand these viruses if I didn't have three kids and ample time to study their effects and patterns. However, as I am appropriated the honour of nursing my little darlings back to health, I make sure to take notes for when the inevitable occurs and either Jonathan or I succumb to the bodily fluids that get coughed on us, sneezed on us, kissed on us, and wiped on us all day long. And so it is that I have met Connie Cold. Connie presents itself as a typical cold, mild croup like in its symptoms and sounds. Somewhat dry in its nature, Connie continues on in each unsuspecting individual in this manner. Day one and two of the cold appear to be much the same, however day three brings an unwelcome surprise... fever. It started with Caleb, and this sweetheart of a boy just lays everywhere when he is sick. He wakes up, and goes to lay on the couch, he lays on the kitchen floor while I make dinner, he lays downstairs and just looks around at the kids. He does not often whine, he does not often complain, he just "rests" and pretty much melts my heart. I wish I could spend all day cuddling this sweetheart of a boy. On the eve of his fever day, I asked him if he wanted to lean on me (lean back on my belly while we watched TV), he smiled as if that was comical and said, "ya mom, I would like that, but I'll hurt your baby (as if, 'don't you KNOW better mom?!?!?!)". SO SWEET, even while he is sick, he thinks of others.

Selah was running a bit behind, and usually she is the one to get the least sick and oftentimes she doesn't get sick at all. She definitely has the strongest immune system, but when she falls, I know that I am not far off from the inevitable. She got the cold, but it did seem milder than the rest, and sure enough, a couple of days after Caleb, she woke up last night shaking and crying, trying to walk downstairs. She couldn't sleep and was dreaming about fire, and wanted to go play her computer game. I rushed to pick her up because she was trembling and I felt fire. I have NEVER felt a fever that high (explaining her dream I suppose). Every breath was laboured, and with the crying it sounded like a whoop with every breath in. As she was immunized for whooping cough,  I tried not to over-react. But of all the colds I have experienced in my children, that was one of the worst reactions and definitely the worst fever I had seen. Of course, you can guess that every thermometer in our house has a dead battery so I was unable to confirm my theory, but I laid with her until the medicine kicked in and her breathing was less laboured as I was too concerned to go back to bed. When Selah is sick, she cries, she moans, she makes sure that everyone knows it. With mild sicknesses I lose patience quickly, last night I just wished I could take it all away. My poor little princess, she sounds the same this morning. But sure enough the fever has broken and she is happy as can be!

Malakai, ever-eager to follow in his sister's footsteps, decided to follow suit this morning. Waking me up with screams. A fever more like his brothers, but he obviously is not feeling well. I got him medicine and cuddled him until it kicked in and now sit sipping my coffee with the sounds of him and Selah running circles upstairs. Amazing what one little tablet of children's advil can do!

And now, I feel it. In my nose, in my lungs. Sneezing, tired. This week is Jonathan and my 5th anniversary, we can't afford and can't find anyone to watch our kids so we can go away, so we planned instead a nice date night, full of shopping, dinner, an auction, a movie, etc. However, if we truly are getting Connie, I know to expect fever day to hit tomorrow or the next and am dreading the thought of cancelling this much-anticipated evening in favour for chicken noodle soup and a night in bed. :(

And so it is that I have deciphered Connie's whimsical ways. I highly doubt with all the slobbery kisses that I will manage to escape her wiles, but at least I know what to expect. The worst is yet to come. But after about 12 hours, I should feel better and be back to "just a cold".  Happy holiday's everyone!

NOT a walk in the park

I have long been under the misguided impression that my adorable little brood of children are a joy and wonder to all we meet. All "baby-less" couples we know, Jonathan and I innocently assume that a simple visit from us will soothe all their fears and make them long for a family of their own. 

Let's take a moment to observe our family from the outside... 

A Visit to a Friends

Just today I decided to dress all my children and take them to a friends goodbye open house. The beginning should have been a clear indicator for me, but my pregnant-fogged brain failed to pick up the classic signals and instead I persevered. Getting ready is an hour-long endeavour involving stress, palpitations, minor hyperventilation, and a whole lot of sweating (darn it, tell me I didn't forget the deodorant this morning!). I dressed Malakai and moved on to choosing Caleb's clothes. As Caleb dressed himself, I went to help Selah, trying to rip the knots of leftover food and gum out of her hair so I could attempt to put it up. After much complaining (on both our parts) I returned to the boys' bedroom to find Caleb with his pants half on, playing with his cars or watching a show. Trying to maintain my sanity, I turned off the TV, made a few mindless threats about "we'll stay home if you don't hurry up!" (which, by the way, have NO effect whatsoever) and moved on to getting myself ready. For this part, I am slowly learning to shut the bathroom door and lock the chaos out for a few minutes. This morning I remembered this time-saving manoeuvre and was quite proud of myself as I applied many layers of makeup to hide the bags under my eyes and the hormone zits. I walked out of the bathroom feeling somewhat human only to find Caleb yet again half dressed, preoccupied with some thing or another and Selah and Malakai fighting in the bathroom behind me. Upon returning to the said bathroom, I found my adorable toddler throwing cups, toys, and other items into the toilet and flushing it with grandeur. Selah was screaming in terror, horrified at what her little brother had done, and I was rushing in with my hand down the toilet (freshly used I might add) trying to dig out the remains of this small catastrophe. Crises averted. 

Shutting the bathroom door, a little too forcefully I might add, I go back to the boys' room and find Caleb has finally dressed himself and we are ready to progress to the second stage of dressing, the front door. Herding my little brood I go to the front and deal with Malakai's meltdowns, Caleb running out without his jacket, Selah whining in abandon that she "can't do it" and myself feeling slightly overwhelmed trying to complete the task in record time, we still have a 20 minute walk ahead of us! Deep breath Rebecca, this will pass. Just get them outside. My inner self speaks reason, it sounds so nice and calm, my outer self feels like hitting it with a large baseball bat. Finishing my feat, I make sure I have all my supplies and get the kids into the stroller and begin my walk. I'll save you every single detail of the day, but suffice it to say we got there in one piece. My kids even made it most of the way through the visit without destroying the house or embarrassing me. I was starting to feel relaxed, proud even of my "good little kids". And then, it happened. The true essence of my life emerged. I sit, I stand, I sit, I stand. Caleb is licking nanaimo bars off the table, leaving a smear of chocolate all over his little face and stuck fast to the table. Selah is stealing trinkets and putting them in her purse. Malakai is taking toys and throwing them into the toilet. Selah is screaming because her shirt strings on her back as she went potty made her sure she had a bee on her bum! After soothing her and fishing my SECOND item from the depths of toilet (also, freshly used), I decide the time has come to leave. I get the kids dressed yet again, boots on, shoes on, socks on, coats on... and Caleb walks through the house leaving a trail of mud. I scolded him and told him to sit on the front step, which he did so well, only he chose the second step, smearing his muddy shoes all over the carpet. Malakai and Selah are eating tostito chips with vigour, leaving a trail of crumbs all over the landing. All my embarrassed inner-self can think of is "retreat, retreat!" So we do, and as we make the trip back to the safety of my home, which can surely be destroyed no more than it already has... I think to myself, it's true, I really am crazy! 

Three kids, soon to be four, all 4 and under! No wonder everyone looks at us as though we are losing our minds, we really are. And yet, as I look at my kids asleep in their beds, peaceful and so darned cute, I wouldn't change it for the world. Do I expect to bring my kids over and "endear" my friends to have kids? No, I think those days of naivety are over. The only testimony that I can give for our insanity is this:

Our lives are chaos. Every day is an adventure, often ending with at least some form of bodily fluid on me, kids screaming all day long, and a house that is DESTROYED. And yet, we choose to have more kids.

What greater testimony to family can I have than that? Despite the list of crazy that goes on in my home (you don't even WANT to know the half of it), we love it. We choose to have more. And yes, we are pregnant again. Not because we are unaware of how it happens, despite popular opinion :) No, there has got to be something to it if we just can't get enough. I had my fill of crazy years ago, but my fill of children? My fill of kids, of adventure, of being challenged beyond anything I ever thought, of having my heart fuller than I ever imagined? Of watching a part of me, no, 3 parts of me, grow and change, and become little people of their own. Of watching my kids interact and love one another? Of watching them even fight and wondering at their differences? No, I will NEVER have my fill of that. So, I can't promise to come over to your house, although I can almost guarantee you wouldn't want the chaos over there anyways. Instead, I will stay in my safe, mostly destroyed house. And I will survive. But I will survive in the knowledge that despite being half crazy, and crazier every day, there is NOTHING in this world that compares to being a mom. And no matter how crazy it gets, I wouldn't trade it for the world!

** Special thanks to Christa, a good friend and a great mom! Thanks for putting up with us today, and all the best in your big move!

Sunny September

I am happy to say that life is getting more and more normal. I have had my bad days and my good, but recently we looked into billeting for the Chase Junior Hockey Team and two days ago we received a call that there was a boy for us, could we take him the next day? Ahhh! Talk about stress, my house has been falling apart at the seams. Needless to say, it forced me to get some of the house back in order, the school/play room, the laundry room, the office. It is all switched up and moved around, and it feels so much better. I am fully caught up on laundry, and I think after 5 years I have FINALLY found a system that works for me and is even enjoyable! Now that I am more on top of things, I am finding myself with blanks in my day where there is nothing to do! The house is clean, the laundry is done... now what? I always have a list a mile long, I remember this as being my favourite time. I was never more organized in my life than when I was pregnant, I don't know why it works that way. I just find it easier, mentally and emotionally to get in that space, do it, and then it is done. It is one of the many perks of pregnancy for me. Once the sickness fades anyways.

Our billet's name is Damon, he is 18 years old and very nice. I don't think we will be seeing a lot of him with practises and friends and volunteering, but it is kind of nice to have someone else in the house to visit with over a cup of coffee while Jonathan sleeps. I didn't realize how much I missed just small talk, a reason to get out of bed in the morning, motivation to make dinner and stay on top of the house. My husband and kids should be enough ;) But there is something about company that just kicks your butt into gear. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

The kids are doing good, I find Caleb the easiest kid in the world right now. He doesn't nap, he is finally out of the whiny stage when he doesn't nap, he is happy and cheerful all day and sleeps good at night. Selah is coming out of her "stage" for which I don't even have a name. She is so solitary, the kids will be outside, and she is usually inside with me just puttering around, pretending to go shopping or go to work or putting her stuffed animals to bed. She flounces around everywhere, upon meeting Damon yesterday, she was asked her name... and with her princess crown on and her little princess purse she grinned and announced "I'm a princess!" She is the most girly girl I have ever met in my life, and I am in complete awe of this flouncy little girl that is mine. Malakai is adorable, mixed with tiny terror. He screams at everything, says "no" to EVERYTHING I say, whines, pouts, cries. After being through it, I am taking it far less personally this time around and am way more relaxed. I guess I have finally figured out that this is not some huge character flaw in him, it is a stage that they all go through that he will grow out of. Please God, let him grow out of it soon!

Otherwise life goes on. I am hoping to start up a Bible study soon, and we are considering trying out some different churches to find one that has a nursery for our kiddos. It would just be nice to go to church and actually get something out of it. Hopefully this week we will be able to try out the one in Sorrento. I am feeling so discouraged with the lack of church in our lives, and am really hoping that God is leading us SOMEWHERE. My beautiful sister in law is due to have her baby any day now, and I can hardly wait!

Anyways, today is shopping day. Poor Jonathan has only slept a few hours, but we have a major costco shop to do that just can't wait. So off we go to our favourite place in the world... I am kind of scared to find out how much we spent over the year. :o Have a great day everyone!