Our Sunday

I am extremely thankful for Robbie. Today, for instance, he made us a wonderful waffle, sausage, and egg breakfast, and he took the initiative to pick up corn on the cob and pork tenderloin to grill for our dinner. It was delicious, and I didn't have to cook today. He does so much to enrich my life, and I take opportunities to express this to my children. I want to teach them to seek out good people for friends and later for a life partner. The other day during a family meal I made a comment about Robbie being intelligent. I told the girls that someday they might meet boys who would be fun and cute, but if they weren't too smart, then that wasn't good. "Your daddy is very intelligent, and that's one of the things that I really liked about him when we first met." Evelyn immediately said, "Jack is intelligent. He's nice too. He makes homes for ladybugs, and he adds ice to keep them cool." Robbie and I exchanged smiles across the table. Evelyn is four. Jack is in first grade with Olivia, and he is the only little boy who speaks to her on the playground after school. What girl doesn't enjoy some attention?

This morning as I nursed Vivian before 7 am Robbie gave all three kids a bath before mass. After they finished Evelyn entered my bathroom to report that Henry had pooped in the tub after the girls got out. I said, "You know. Someday it will be really important for you to make sure the man in your life is helpful." Ev said, "I could ask him." "Ask him what?" I responded. "Ask him if he'd clean poop out of the bathtub." Now that's a thought. I may have to remind her of that somewhere down the line. Robbie just took it in stride.

We have family moments that exemplify the meaning of family joy. Everyone sits around the dinner table and eats their broccoli happily. They praise me on my cooking. We tell stories and everyone gets along. Today's mass was not like that. Henry is at such a hard age, newly two. He is busy every waking moment, and sitting still in a pew for an hour is a major struggle. Today Robbie and I traded him back and forth and had to exit the sanctuary multiple times. The baby woke up crying, and she had to be bounced and pacified. It was really, really hard to keep everyone quiet. Evelyn kept sticking her hand up the back of my sweater. She was moving and whispering and not meeting my church behavior expectations. I was seriously about to tell God I was sorry and tell Robbie that we had to get the hell out of there pronto. Thankfully, Olivia earned the gold star. She was an angel, and we were thankful for excellent behavior from someone. At the end of the extra long mass Robbie said, "I don't know how we're going to survive three more years of this." Olivia turned 7 on Friday, so I know how fast my babies turn into big kids. The years go fast, but the hard moments drag. I just feel so very terribly tired sometimes. The sleep deprivation is killer. Last night Henry cried out to be covered. Olivia entered our room and asked to sleep with me. "No." Evelyn woke up crying because her blanket fell into the crack between the wall and bed, and she couldn't find it in the dark. The baby woke up to nurse, as expected. By 2:30 pm today I could barely keep my eyes open, yet Henry woke up from his nap at the very moment I was about to stop folding laundry and relax for a time. It is hard to parent well while exhausted.

A friend from church who also has children close in ages to mine recently talked about how she asks God to help her see the joy in motherhood during the daily grind. Her goal is to never make her children feel that caring for them is a burden. That's my new mental mantra. It is very important. They are not a burden, but when it is 8:04 pm and the stalling starts after we have tucked them in for the night....I WANT THEM TO JUST STAY IN BED AND GO TO SLEEP. I have to try to see the joy in the fact that they want one more kiss. I need to focus on how lucky I am to have four little children who love me best.

Evelyn tells me I am beautiful more than any other person in my life. She's very tender hearted. She also has a fiesty streak. My father always says with a twinkle in his eye, "I wonder where she gets that from?" From what I remember, I never took scissors to anyone. I took Ev to the salon to get some help with her hair. The stylist blended the cut sides, but Robbie thinks it looks like a mullet. Poor little thing. There just isn't a lot that can be done. Luckily, every now and then her hair curls and flips just right, and she goes from mullet ridden to Taylor Swift-ish with her long bangs and layered sides. It could be worse. She could have a mohawk like baby Vivian. Robbie thinks she looks like Donald Trump on a windy day, and he threatened tonight to turn Evelyn loose on her baby head. That made me laugh. Robbie makes me laugh every day, and laughing every day is a good good thing.