Happy Birthday Babe!

You rock my socks!

My hubby after swimming one mile today- his birthday gift to himself.

But Eight Would Still Be More Than Enough

I remember when the boys were still in diapers, and we were potty training them both at the same time, and someone asked me how I could manage with two, and I'd make some know-it-all remark like, "two is actually easier than one". Which was/is oftentimes very true, but oftentimes so very not. It's easier because they always have someone to play with, and easier for me because I always have someone to play one off of- as in, "Aaron went to the potty just like a big boy, don't you want to be a big boy too?" But it can be a liability more than an asset when say, Aaron decides he wants to pull his Spiderman underwear down and flash the mailman through the playroom picture window, and Ethan takes this moment to follow in his Big Boy brother's footsteps.

And now since the girls have been placed with us, whenever I'm out shuttling all four toddler/preschoolers around in Kroger's mini-bus multi-kid shopping carts, at least once during the trip a fellow shopper will shoot me a pitying look and remark, "Wow! You're brave!". To which I plaster a smile and manage a nod and hope they don't notice the white knuckle grip I have on the cart, the vein throbbing out of my forehead, or hear my whispered, impossible-to-enforce threats ("No more TV- EVER!") as I round the corner into the next aisle.

Now, don't get me wrong. In the case of four kids vs two kids, and with the exception of meal times, bath times, bedtime routines, and getting all the little buggers loaded into the van, it generally is easier. Positive peer pressure reigns at their ages (currently 4, 4, 3, and almost 2), as they all try to outdo each other in pleasing me or Daddy. In fact, it's impossible to hand out praise for any one thing, without having three other little voices offering up their good deeds for the day. But the tough part comes in with logistics. Because of the 22 month old, I've had to pull the baby gates out of the basement. Which means that I spend a good 65% of the day hauling the two boys and their peanut sized bladders over the gate and back again. Everyone sits in either high chairs or booster seats at the table, which means they can't seat themselves without adult assistance. No one is old enough to bathe alone, and car seats do not buckle themselves. And despite my utter exhaustion at day's end, they seem to gain boundless energy as the day progresses. Meaning that while all I can think about is how soft my pillow is, all they want to do is play How Many Times Can I Talk or Get Out of Bed Before Mommy Explodes Like a Very Entertaining Volcano. And really, there are no winners in that game.

A couple weeks ago, my two oldest nieces came over to play while my sister took her newborn for a check-up. My mom babysits, and asked if she could drop her kiddo here as well while she and my dad ran some errands. So for a few hours in the middle of the day, I had 7 kids. A 4 year old, two 3 year olds, two 2 year olds, a 21 month old, and an 18 month old. And I have to tell you, it was easy. Okay, maybe easy isn't the right term. But, it was decidedly not difficult. It was like one of those check card commercials where the Acme factory cartoon-type music is playing and all the shoppers happily rotate around each other seamlessly like the gears in some well-oiled machine until a hopelessly behind the times miscreant dares to whip out her actual checkbook and halt the rhythmic dance while they wait for her to use an ink pen to sign her name. We were like that but without the checkbook offender. I kept a steady stream of sippie cups flowing from the kitchen, changed diapers two and three at a time (well, in a row), and answered demands for snacks, toys from the high shelf, and DVD changes with aplomb. There were no tattle tales, no tantrums, no skunk eyes thrown my way. My voice flowed from my throat in a velvety politeness, and I didn't once have to yell down a pint-sized challenger determined that talking over me would result in getting their way. We played Simon Says, and Duck Duck Goose and made mutant Mr Potato Heads. And while I was still thoroughly exhausted by the time my mom and sister arrived to claim their kids, I had a real smile on my face, and my kids did too.

"So, what was the difference?", I later wondered. Why is the hour at the lunch table with four kids often so stressful, but entertaining seven kids for three hours fairly pleasant? Later that night, finally in bed, it came to me.

It's because I gave in a little.

Aunt-mode provides a little more room for laxness than Mom-mode does. And lucky for them, my kids are along for the ride when my nieces are here. It's the same reasoning employed by most Grandparents that allow them to let the next generation defy all parental rules when under their roof. It's why they say, "would your mommy want you to do that?" instead of simply "don't do that". It very nearly killed my dad when we gently banned toys as presents for my youngest son and oldest foster daughter's birthday party last week. We suggested books, educational games, music or clothes instead. He screwed up his face like we asked him to eat their boogers. When discussing a recent incident of talking back, he described wimpily threatening time-out to my niece and how it was too much for him. "I'm done with parenting!" He declared, "I don't do discipline anymore!".

And, in retrospect, I guess that's what I do on a less extreme level when kids other than my own are under my care temporarily (I consider my foster kids my own while they are living here). I don't chuck discipline entirely, but I do back off in other areas. I keep the whole grain wheat bread, natural peanut butter and fresh blueberries in the fridge and pull out the Ham and Cheese Lunchables instead. In lieu of sugar free pudding cups for dessert, I might pull a few tootsie roll lollipops from the back of the freezer (we keep all gifted candy on ice as to prevent daily temptations). I ignore laundry, dishes, phone calls, email returns, dinner prep, vacuuming, dusting, and toilet scrubbing for my presence at three entire games in a row. I let them watch an episode of SpongeBob immediately following the end of Toy Story 2, and I don't shut it off just because they "aren't really watching it". I don't remove the Mom Hat, but I do cock it to one side a little and let some air in. And while, as a mom, I can't do that every day (the kids do love blueberries after all!), it's nice to do that from time to time. Even when the nieces aren't around.