I mean seriously? What is it about children that then seem to never, and I mean NEVER feel the need to sleep when it is dark outside? I mean sure they are good at sleeping randomly in the middle of the afternoon or on car rides, not when you are planning on them sleeping though, but they seem to have the ability to take a nap whenever.

But at night, when you want to sleep that seems to be a completely different thing. And one they can’t seem to manage. I have four kids and two of them have been good sleepers since infancy and two of them, not so much.

Right now (and I am not trying to make any changes because we are in the middle of moving) my girls all go up to bed at the same time at night, usually around 8:30. We don’t do nightly baths, we don’t necessarily read bed time stories (though we have been reading Harry Potter aloud for a while now we are still 150 pages away from finishing the Order of the Phoenix) we just say good night and send them upstairs. Yes it then takes them half an hour to brush their teeth and do whatever else they have decided they need to do before going to bed, and some nights we have to get involved and remind them.

And some nights they come back down the stairs multiple times, though in the last few nights it has only been once or twice. But they still need to come down at least once.

My almost 12 year old is dealing with the stress of home-buying by starting out the night in her bed and then moving to a nest she has made on the floor at the bottom of our bed around about 1 am in the morning. Most of the time my husband and I sleep through it and apparently she does as well, because she often seems confused as to how she got there the next morning.

My youngest likes to stall the longest about actually getting into her bed, though most of the time she seems to fall asleep reasonably quickly, but she most certainly likes to dictate the stories they tell each other, or the songs they sing or whatever the fuck else they do before actually surrendering to sleep.

My middle two daughters are sleeping in more lately. Which is fine since we are homeschoolers I really don’t care that much. It only becomes problematic if my eldest thinks we should read Harry Potter at breakfast and I refuse to read it if not everyone is up. I also refuse to allow her to wake her sisters up.

I know all of this is going to change soon. We are going to move from a 3 bedroom house to a four bedroom house with dedicated office space for me to be in the morning while they are still probably sleeping. They will have more space in the two bedrooms they get, and there is always an adjustment period while everything finishes getting moved in and we finish unpacking. Since we have a full basement I am hoping most of the boxes can go in the basement and then that way we don’t feel like all of the new house is in chaos as we unpack one box at a time and put things away.

I am also deluding myself that this will mean that I will be able to sort and put away the diaspora that has happened after living 4 years in this house and that I will be able to put like with like more easily. That and 12 closets should help a lot 🙂

Yesterday morning I started nodding off while waiting for my computer to do a massive update. I had already gone on a 2 mile walk in the brisk morning air but I was more than ready to shut my eyes for a little while. This may be because my coping mechanism in times of stress is to sleep as much as I can when I can’t do anything else. Or it could just be I am a mother of four children one of which moves into our bedroom every night which is bound to be disturbing my sleep on some level.

However my kids kept coming to talk to me about this that or the other thing so finally I had to give up on the whole being able to doze any more. I envy old people who can just drift off and then wake back up again, over and over, as a mother that sounds like a luxurious vacation to me.

To just have a day of dozing. I don’t think it will happen in the next decade, because heaven forbid my kids manage to feed themselves for a few hours, but it is nice to dream about, and hope for.

Of course by that time my sleep will have been disrupted for so long I won’t actually know what it looks like to have a normal sleep pattern again. And that will be that.

But maybe I should just try and sneak in a bit more sleep in this time of stress. I often feel like that adage of sleep when the baby sleeps, while helpful and unhelpful (because occasionally you want to have a few waking moments without the baby) should be true even when your babies are long and full of elbows and knees and no longer babies. You should sleep when they sleep.

We should declare days off to just be lie in your bed and doze days, you can read a book or color in your coloring book but let your dad and I get some sleep. We do carve out mornings and afternoons like this. It usually only happens because we threaten to be having sex, which is true sometimes but more often than not we are simply catching up on sleep, because that is actually what we need more sometimes.

But seriously why the fuck won’t kids just go to sleep?

Going and coming, we are like tides in the lives of our children. We are always either coming or going because when we are actually there, when we are staying with them we just become those pieces of things taken for granted, that safety, that security that everything will be fine because my mother is here.

It is only when we have to leave, when we have to have a few minutes of time to ourselves, or go and work at or job or any other reason that suddenly they realize how much they need us, because now we are gone. That firm foundation that they are attached to because they grew inside of us or because we have become their living breathing security blanket, because we are their everything and often they can not really see us as a separate from them. When we go it is like a major earthquake in their lives.

The ground beneath their feet shift. Even if this happens all the time at scheduled intervals. Even if we have warned them ahead of time. Even if they are staying with family or friends or something they really truly enjoy, we are still leaving them in their minds. Every single time.

I have been the full time working parent and I have been the default stay at home what do you mean you would ever leave me parent.

I have been both of those things and honestly they both have lovely shit sandwiches to eat. I don’t think either is better than the other, they all hurt when you need to walk away when you are going.

And the coming, when you come back from being away, whether it was for half an hour or 3 days, there is always much that needs to be done. Hugs and kisses, lots of talking and snuggling. Or if you have a preteen or teenager lots of ignoring ans silent treatment while they let yo know that they didn’t appreciate you were gone by ignoring you when you come back.

Meanwhile you might need to reconnect with your partner. And if you are a single mom there is probably at least a caretaker you need to check in with. Or they may be so excited to leave that it feels a bit like bringing eh baby home from the hospital and now suddenly you are abandon and alone with this child(ren).

And it can feel like it takes a while for your kids to settle back in, to trust that you are staying home (and maybe you aren’t able to stay at home for a while, maybe you do have work the next day or another reason to be away at night or on a weekend) so much longer than you think it will take.

They become clingy or grumpy or just turn up every time you turn around and need your attention. It can make the your transition back to daily life a little harder than you were expecting. Especially if you are tired as traveling often makes one more tired than we expect no matter how many times we do it.

But from your kid’s perspective it is all about them, because that is what they need to be like to insure their survival to adulthood. And you just left them even if it was only to run to the grocery store for 30 minutes, you just abandoned them.

They are not impressed, this is not something they gave their approval of, even if they didn’t want to go and do the thing you needed to do anyway (and honestly I think they probably would rather come and hang with you and drive you crazy because what they find that you are doing is boring RATHER than being left at home or away from you. Unless you can schedule a wonderful play date with their best friend, but even then they may not be that happy for you to go or just annoyed that you came back and are ending their play date.

But this is the reality of life. We for our sanity and ease and because sometimes we do not have any other choice, need to go and be away from our kids. And then we need to come back. This dance of comings and goings, we dance it with each child. We dance it as a family.

It can be intricate and we can feel like we never learned the steps, but the dance is going to happen whether we want it to or not and whether we feel confident in our steps. At the end of the day we need to find ways to acknowledge how we all feel and make space for those feelings and then come back together to all feel safer and closer and safer.

One of the best aspects of parenting is snuggling. That cozy time where your body touching their bodies is simply enough. Where they don’t necessarily need to talk (though of course sometimes they do) but simply just need to be held.

As I write this my 11-year-old who has been coming to sleep at the end of my bed for weeks now do to who the heck knows why, but she’s not walking me up in the middle of the night, so eventually she will move past this, has just woken up. None of her sisters are awake yet and it’s before 8 AM so she’s decided to climb into bed next to me and snuggle.

I explained that I needed to write so she isn’t speaking, she may be reading over my shoulder, I am not sure, but there is a sense of coziness to her just hanging out next to me.

I am sure this would fall under the Danish concept of Hygge of doing things to just feel really cozy and connected. I suppose if we had candle burning or were near a fireplace and it was wicked weather outside that would make it even better. Instead it is the start of another sunny spring day.

But right now it is still quiet. The only sounds are of our breathing and my light tapping of the keyboard on my laptop as I write this. There are some distant traffic noises as we live not far from one of the major routes here in Maine.

Her eyes have drifted closed so I know that right now at this moment all is good in her world. Her needs are being met. And let’s face it as parents, that is something that should be celebrated and appreciated, that right now things are good.

No emergencies, no fighting, no hysterics, right now things are good.

When my babies were well babies one of the best parts of my day was when they would fall asleep on me. I would be content just holding them for hours (often times in a baby carrier especially after my firstborn) knowing that all was good in their world, that I had done everything they needed me to do.

When they were toddlers and so into exploring their worlds and at times it felt like a never-ending high alert suicide watch, I would hold out for when they would take a nap. Even if sometimes it was on me and they were all sweaty and hot and I was all sweaty and hot. It created such a good connection, such a good bonding experience to have them sleeping on me and knowing that once again everything was good. I could take a deep breath and just relax for a while.

When my daughters were little and where we lived was small my hubby would often reconnect with them when they slept on him. It was the favorite part of his day too. His love language is touch and I am not sure there is much in the world that makes him happier than having a slumbering small child on his chest. I really think that is one of his favorite parts of being a father.

But children grow. And we want them to because that means they won’t stay in this stage that is driving us crazy forever. And as they grow it can be so easy to lose that connection. To lose that time to be in touch with the other person. I don’t have sons so I don’t know if it is different than daughters, but there comes a point where you really have to wait for them to ask for hugs, rather than them giving them as often and with such free abandon as they did when they were little. They become almost sacred.

I used to do something we called the “lap thing” when I got too big to fit in my mother’s lap. There were just two of us, my brother being 3 ½ years younger than me and my mom would read us many a chapter book aloud as part of our homeschooling (though I am pretty sure she would have done it even if we had remained in school longer). Anyway it was often after lunch cozy time and we would put our heads on either side of her lap while she was reading. Often giggles and silliness would ensue.

But what I remember most other than getting the opportunity to stare at the ceiling for hours on a regular basis (which really does change your perspective of the world) was that we had that regular physical connection. We had that regular touch.

My girls often jostle over who gets to sit next to me on our too small couch when we watch television together. And some days honestly I am touched out and need to go sit someplace else. I do my best to help everyone have a turn and make sure that the ones whose turn it isn’t know that most likely at least one of them can curl up by their dad. There seems to be something so important about these snuggle times. Just like curling up to my hubby at night is often the highlight of my day.

She has fallen so far asleep that she is snoring. Which she needed. And I am sure my bed has got to feel better to her body than the floor. It feels really good to have this connection time with her. One that doesn’t require my brain to be on. One where my mere presence is simply enough.

I am enough

For her

Right now.

I am going to sit here and breathe that in for a while.

There is a new section in the Children’s section of the library. Have you found it yet? It’s small in some libraries and quite large in others. It seems to magically draw any child over the age of three, and certainly any child who has a grasp of what books are, what they are for and their ABCs.

It can be a dangerous section, depending on your library and whether they separate the middle school years from the high school years for these types of books. And while I am okay with kids reading beyond where they are ready, especially where books are concerned, the fact that these books are so heavily illustrated leaves a lot less to the imagination.

And I get that graphic novels, this new type of book that is really just a much longer length of what we grew up with – comic books is really helpful for certain type of emerging readers. It really can help bridge that gap between the visual of the drawings and the written word of what you are reading. And so much of the storytelling is still behind one just by the illustrations in panels rather than the words.

A great cross over. Providing your child has a good grasp on the level of reading that particular graphic novel requires.

But if they don’t. If the reading is beyond them, or they found a siblings copy and they can’t even read it yet themselves, well that can lead to you having to help them.

I don’t mind helping with occasional word, or even sitting there while they sound out the words and read it aloud to me.

But when I have to read a graphic novel out loud I just want to tear my hair out. Literally, can I do anything else for you right now, scrub a toilet?

Clean up vomit?

Walk the dog?

Anything?

Because it is so hard to read a graphic novel. There are so many made up words that are just sounds that for some reason have to be shown as letters and are way more complicated than just pfft. I can be hard to know if your child is ready to move on from that panel much less that page in a timely manner, because the illustrations can be so deep.

There are often not chapters or other obvious stopping points, so you could be stuck with reading the whole book from front to back in one sitting even though they are well over 100 pages.

If you are the type of parent that skims over the truly gross, cruel or violent portions of books when you are reading them aloud to your young children, that really can not be done in graphic novels. Your child is going to know that something bad or evil is going on just by the drawings not to mention the words. And by and large graphic novels take from their comic book roots and there is a lot more violence than your average middle school aged book.

And it’s not like they come with a rating system! They aren’t rated with reading difficulty or violence level or even liberal vs conservative view points. I home-school my kids so that stuff doesn’t bother me as much because my kids will talk to me about what we are reading, what they have been reading and we will discuss things (because even their Readers books have occasionally had things in it we have had to discuss).

And it is probably no worse than the same kind of TV show. I keep my kids on a pretty tight reins for what they can watch on TV and they are girls so they aren’t even interested in watching Power Rangers, or Clone Wars (though they are amazingly quite fond of Dino Trucks and Troll Hunters), so I am not sure what the current violence levels in those books are.

And I totally understand the draw of reading a graphic novel, especially when you are bridging from picture books into chapter books without pictures. But they are so hard to read aloud, to share with another person at the same time. You can totally read it, and then have someone else read it and discuss it, but the act of enjoying them simultaneously, well maybe I am just not wired to do that?

Oh and I should throw out there, that they are usually soft sided paperback books of weird shapes and sizes which can make finding them and keeping tabs on them when they have been borrowed from the library a bit of at trick at times. And believe me you would rather not have to buy a missing graphic novel from the library, because when you eventually find it again, it will now be your copy and that means you might get asked

To Read it Aloud

Again.

My kids are muddy monsters. I don’t know how many times I have to remind them to leave their muddy things, especially the things attached to their once cute feet, by the door, and not to just keep walking all through my house, up the stairs and then plop down on my bed. It’s disgusting, and gross and it feels like it is only the beginning of mud season and I have miles of floors to wash before I can rest and it’s just

Not

Fair

I really do feel like a four year old ready to through a big tantrum. It isn’t fair that I have to be the one to clean up all their messes. And this is not a complain about my husband part because he does pitch in and help, though his version of help is usually getting the kids to do it, but hey it’s nice to not always be the person reminding the kids to clean up after themselves.

But still it is like never ending. Never, never, never ending.

And I know they have busy little brains that are busy working on all the things they are working on and that figuring out how to do a cartwheel or ride their bike on the grass is taking all of their brain power, but I mean

Mud

Everywhere

Absolutely everywhere in my house.

I just want to cry

But that would just mix with the dried mud on the floor, that I just swept, I swear and make more sticky mud.

Is that peanut butter on the stairs?

How did peanut butter fall on the stairs?

Food is not allowed in the upstairs of my house, everyone knows this. This has been a long standing agreed upon by the two adults who live here, rule.

There is chunky peanut butter on two of my steps.

I think I am going to cry now. I am out of paper towels at the moment, because hello, I am trying to be environmentally conscious and use washable rags as much as possible.

I don’t want to pick up this peanut butter with my hands. None of my kids are claiming to be involved, and I seriously doubt the cat has had anything to do with it.

Of course my dad would point out that if I had a dog I would never have found the peanut butter on the floor because the dog would have eaten it first. Completely ignoring the fact that a dog would mean four more feet to track more mud, dirt, ticks and burrs into my house. Not to mention that dogs have gross bodily fluids like kids, and this cat at least seems happy to go potty outside when it’s warm enough. And she buries her dropping so it’s not like I have to clean up after her like a dog.

Seriously peanut butter on my stairs. And I am sure each of my children have walked past it (managing somehow not to step on it I am not sure how that possible) at least 20 times…. Granted the stairs are painted brown and peanut butter is tan, but these are girls I am raising they are suppose to be good at picking out nuances, I mean we are trained for the gathering portion of hunting and gathering, so really, it shouldn’t still be there!

It means a separate trip for me. Because I almost never go up or down the stairs without having my hands full. I usually have a tote bag on my shoulder with my knitting, phone, tablet and book (s) and a drinking vessel in the other hand at the bare minimum. Plus I broke an ankle less than a year ago, so really peanut butter on the stairs is a huge safety hazard.

Maybe they just think it looks like mud?

Maybe as the comedian Dennis Leary once shared, it’s like a PB & J sandwich that was flying around and needed a place to park. In the VHS player. Where you put a VHS tape.

Thank the Goddess I have never found anything parked in the DVD player.

I think that’s why we keep it sideways so it doesn’t look like a drawer of any kind.

But seriously PB on the stairs?

I truly believe you can’t control the weather.

So why get upset by it? I mean it’s just weather, you are either prepared for it, or you’re not and you have to scramble and get prepared for it.

And yes I have lived through hurricanes. So I know that weather can be contrary and devastating and downright annoying.

But most of the time I don’t waste any energy being annoyed or angry at it. I don’t have that many fucks to give as it is – why waste it on the weather?

But this extended winter this year in Maine is beginning to really get under my skin and sit on the last of my nerves.

I knew the prediction going into the winter was that we were going to be front loaded, we were going to get a lot of snow and colder weather earlier in the season than we sometimes do. Here in Midcoast Maine sometimes we don’t get any real snow until after the January thaw where everyone acts like we are not going to get any winter at all and then we get slammed in February. But not this year.

This year we had cabin fever by January because not only were we buried in snow but we also had such wicked cold weather that it was too cold for the kids to go outside and sled in said snow or do anything other than their chores of looking after the ducks. It hurt your face to be outside, and it’s hard to convince the babies you love to go outside when their faces hurt. Just Sayin’

But I had made the erroneous assumption that being front loaded for the winter meant that maybe it would get better by March, that maybe we would have one of those early Marches where everyone goes to the beach before the end of the month.

Nope, we continued to get snow in March. We have continued to get snow in April. We have gotten sleet and hail after the 15^th of April this year. And I am getting tired of it. We unfortunately (though at the time it seemed like a wonderful act of God) had some lovely weather a week or so ago and the kids were outside, wanting to get their bikes out (but the ground wasn’t ready for those tire treads) and building and just hanging out in the duck pen for hours.

It was awesome, it was like a reminder that life could get quiet again because all four of my daughters could be outside playing in the outside. Not needing me, and making all the noise their little hearts need to make and I could actually be able to think a straight thought on my own.

So getting slammed by more wet yucky weather is like when a toddler deprives you of sleep for more than two nights in a row. I am just irrationally angry at the whole god-damn world. Like seriously what the fuck is wrong with the world?

I don’t have a basement, and my house is currently an unspeakable mess because I have had four kids locked up in it for 5 months now!! And with the few warm spells we have had it has meant that they have tracked buckets of mud in my house as well, and even though we have swept, and swept and washed (so much for a stay-cation last week with hubby) it still feels like there is a layer of mud and grime on everything. Now I understand the importance of mud season. I love eating my fruits and veggies as much as the next person, maybe even more so as there are only a few I won’t eat (I’m looking at you Okra), but oh my god, as a mother I hate mud season. I just hate it. For the love of all that is holy I would be happy to never have to deal with another mud season ever again. And by and large my girls are past the need to make mud pies. But they still track in mud on their shoes and bodies. I need an airlock chamber with a hose and a shower. That would be my perfect world so that the mud never made it past that airlock chamber. Because most houses here in Maine the door you use goes into the kitchen. Which means that’s where the mud ends up. And no one wants to eat mud with their food.

So even though most of the time the weather really doesn’t bother me, this Spring, (which is beyond drunk and belligerent) needs to go either back to bed and wake up when it is ready to be serious or can just get it’s act together and stay warm. I can only imagine what this is doing for the maple syrup production this year.

Seriously may the mud stay in the duck pen (because like pigs they love it) and may it forever stay out of my house.

Because this wait 5 minutes the weather will change shit is just not working this year.