Oh Monday morning...

Why do you come around so often? And so fast? And so painfully? 

In theory I've had a fairly successful Monday morning. As far as Monday mornings go:) I've gotten four kids up, fed and dressed. Two of those kids were delivered to school safely with all their school related stuff in tow. I myself am dressed and fed. I've even washed the kitchen floor and unloaded the dishwasher. I scrubbed the kids' bathroom floor and toilet. I put clean laundry away and I'm thinking about starting another load...

But here's the real story. Two of those kids were out of bed and watching cartoons looooong before my eyes were even open this morning. And I drove those kids to school in my pjs...without brushing my teeth or hair! One kid was on time. The other was on time-ish (meaning after the bell rang but before the official tardy time). The baby had his second breakfast like a proper one year old in the high chair while I unloaded the dishwasher. Only after 90% of the dishes were put away did I realize I had just emptied the DIRTY dishwasher! Quickly I remedied my wrong and collected all the dirty dishes and started washing them by hand. This is when Levi decided to serve himself his third breakfast....

So began the cleaning the floor process. Sweeping. And scrubbing. (It was long overdue anyways!) Followed by scrubbing and dressing the baby. But before I could dress the baby I had to put away the clean laundry from the weekend. Which scarily enough only contained three pairs of kid underwear. No I don't do laundry daily! Just once a week in fact. Yes that's three pairs TOTAL for all my underwear wearing children. More specifically one child had zero pairs, another had one pair and another had two pairs. I shall not name names. But oh my goodness! Meanwhile as I was putting the laundry away and contemplating all the ways I've obviously failed as a mother Hannah had "a small accident" in the bathroom. She kindly  "cleaned" up the mess and got herself a new outfit. So thoughtful:) Hence began my bathroom scrubbing efforts. (Also long overdue!) Also the reason I considered starting another load of laundry but hunger won...

So at 10:51 AM I put the baby back in his high chair for a fourth and final breakfast so I could finally eat my cold, gelatinous oatmeal for.... brunch. Levi used this opportunity to smear banana all over himself and the high chair. His grand finale being flinging smashed banana and soggy Cheerios on my previously clean floor! At the same time Hannah started asking for lunch...

Oh Monday morning you got me good! 

Happy Leap Day. 

PS Completely unrelated but Joe started his OB rotation this morning...and I keep hoping he will text me with news of a Leap Day birth...so far nothing:(

Father-Daugher Ball

Charlotte's school has a Father-Daughter Ball in the cafeteria each year. I really wanted Charlotte to be able to go with her daddy but with him being on trauma (aka the worst rotation in his residency) I didn't know if it was going to be possible. So we just didn't tell her about it. Thankfully her reading is still very basic...so those signs advertising it at her school didn't give away our secret.

Then on the night of the "ball" Joe got home in time...thank you good citizens of our city for staying safe and allowing my husband to come home early...because this girl was OVER THE MOON EXCITED to dance with her daddy! My heart nearly melted taking these pre-dance pictures.

I obviously didn't attend the ball but I would bet they were the cutest and happiest pair there!

When Charlotte was looking at the last picture (after the dance) she told me that it made her sad. I was confused because she was clearly ecstatic when the picture was taken. She explained that she is sad because when she grows up and gets married she won't be part of our family anymore. I tried my best to explain that she will still be part of our family and she gets a new family. Win-win! I almost had her convinced. Then Isaiah told her she has to give up our last name when she gets married. Thanks big brother. So helpful.


P.S.  Happy 33rd Birthday husband! Sorry I went out of town for Valentine's Day and your birthday. Oops. I'll do better next year:) But the good news is you survived trauma. And I survived that beard! Can't wait to see your clean shaven face again. 

Love.

*small blog break to discuss love*

Happy "Loving" Day!

Last year I wrote my definition of love based upon our (then) current situation. I'd say this year my definition is almost exactly the same. It's just our situation that's changed. 

The following is love. To me. In this moment...

It's my husband coming home bone tired and needing sleep after a grueling 15 hour shift, during which too many patients with traumatic injuries couldn't be saved and sitting down and listening to me. Really listening to me. Listening to me complain about our sick children and my concerns. And then despite being completely exhausted - physically and emotionally - grabbing the otoscope and checking ears, dosing Tylenol and rocking kids back to sleep without being asked. 

Sure flowers and candies and jewelry would have been nice. Oh and I would have loved a date with my husband. But that just wasn't going to happen considering he needed to sleep today to be ready for his night shift tonight. (Someday!) Regardless I felt loved today. My husband saw me. He saw my needs. And stepped in and helped me with three feverish, needy children. It wasn't grand. Or extravagant. But it was unexpected (given the day he had). And completely selfless. 

That's love. And I'll take that any day over flowers and candy and jewelry. 

When teething costs $1,000

Levi is your classic teething baby. Cranky and drooly and just generally mad at the world.  The kind that makes me say things like, "I'm sorry. He isn't usually like this. He's TEETHING." Except his crankiness is exclusively at night. During the day he's his usual happy self. Just a little extra slobbery. Meanwhile at night he's a screaming, non-sleeping mess! Two AM seems to be his preferred time to cry inconsolably. So the only people I'm uttering these apologies to are myself and a half asleep Joe. However last night Joe was working overnight so I was the only one up with the crying teething monster...errrr....baby. After an hour of rocking and soothing and consoling the raging screams had simmered down to a few random whimpers and I was able to crawl back into my bed. I was exhausted and ready to sleep except my mind wouldn't allow me to relax.

See this is the year I need to take my re-certification exam as a (non-practicing) PA. Truthfully I could have taken it last year but I didn't. I had a whole laundry list of reasons why I didn't take it including pregnancy, a new baby, a cross-country move and Joe starting residency. But they were just excuses. And now we are one month into this year and I'm starting to feel panicky. Panicky because I've done NOTHING to prepare for this not easy and extremely important exam. I'm wishing I had taken it last year (because it would have given me more time to fail and re-take it. Pessimist...who me?). So instead of going back to sleep I stayed up and "researched" the exam. Something I admittedly should have done about a year ago. Better late than never, right?! Along with my internet researching, I sent Joe a whole slew of panic filled texts in regards to this test and my inability to A) find the time and childcare to take the test and B) to pass the test...because I haven't prepared!  Initially Joe was responding with appropriate reassuring messages and clarifying questions. And then *NOTHING*. Which only spiraled me further into my crazed I'll-never-be-a-PA-again panic mode. Which is how at 3:30 this morning I managed to spend (almost) a thousand dollars in under five minutes! First it was national dues for $130. Then it was $350 to register for the PANRE (the test). And finally it was $500 for a review course that garauntees a 99% first time pass rate for its attendees. Those are the kinds of promises I need. Although I'm somewhat convinced that I fit in the 1% category. Raising 4 babies + 0 clinic experience / 3.5 years  = slim chance of success. Or at least that would be my assumption. Time will tell. 

Speaking of time, these pre-test jitters have me reminiscing on the last time I took this exam. Not this text exactly. But the original certifying exam. It was five and a half years ago, just a week and a half after I graduated from PA school. Isaiah was 2 years old and I was 38 weeks pregnant with Charlotte. Joe took his MCAT exam the same week. My parents who lived just one state away watched Isaiah for us. I thought it was hard then. And it was hard for me then. But now I look back and wish it were that simple this go around. Four kids and a resident husband who is scheduled to take his boards exam this spring as makes that test taking experience look like a piece of cake (by comparison).

Anyways all that too say this here blog might go back to being a little quiet for a bit. As much as I would love to write about the nitty gritty details of our life I really need to study. Because at this point I am studying just to prepare to go to the review course later this month. Basically I'm studying to get ready to study....fun, eh?

*Apparently he had not one but two patients trying to die on him in middle of the night and he couldn't stop to read and respond to my texts. The man has priorities.