The Five Bedroom Yacht

This morning was business as usual. It began as it does most weekdays by coaxing Lena out of bed (because she stayed up too late fixated on that second front tooth that has been dangling). Immediately followed by desperate pleading with her to eat more breakfast and quickly (always in a rush) get her on her bus, change some diapers, feed the baby, feed the boys, put a bra on, watch the snow fall outside against another gray Rochester winter day and then the first of many kitchen/dish clean-ups. Then, usually it's followed by trains, cartoons, dressing the 3 boys, nursing and getting the baby down for a nap. 
It's become our morning routine this year and it's almost the same every weekday. There is nothing specific about it that makes me unhappy yet something about it lately has left me feeling sorry for myself (can you imagine!?). All of the sudden I found myself complaining about another mess, another meal, another diaper, more laundry, exhaustion, not enough time for romance, or stimulating brain activity, or sleep (sleep!).  Just flat out ultra doses of self pity over the staleness of life day after day.
But this morning, it hit me quietly and mightily like a slap to the face. 

I was on the kitchen floor assisting Calvin with a 26-train long megatrain (normal stuff) and like a wave I was reminded (except more like reprimanded) not that my problems/ complaints weren't there or justified, or that they are magically going to disappear, but that the sort of problems I am currently and presently living and whining about every day right now are actually the BEST kind of problems to have (...said this mightily quiet reprimand slap-to-the-face). It's like as if I were a millionaire deciding between which two beautiful yachts to buy. 

Poor sad, frustrated millionaire, he is having such a hard time deciding!

HA! No, no no! That is ludicrous! Because today, it seems that poor sad Kelly is having to feed 4 beautiful, healthy children (one of which is a sweet drooling BABY), dress them in clean clothes, having to feed them good food from a stocked fridge again, having to bundle them up in warm coats and hats from our warm home and send them to schools where they are loved and their minds are nurtured. All with the support of a devoted father and loving extended family. Can you imagine such problems?! Can you? Do you have the same ones? I am humbly put in my place by my amazing ungratefulness today. So here I am, coming here to write it all down before my self pity hits the fan once again.
Because, I'll need more reminders later (this afternoon?), and I'll feel sheepish later.
And if I may third person the situation:
Truthfully Kelly, you lucky son of a B, TODAY you have some pretty fantastic problems. 

You should be so lucky, you're a millionaire vacationing on a 5 bedroom yacht! (SLAP!)

p.s. Is anyone out there? Do you read if there are no pictures? Do you want pictures? Did you miss me?

A Day In May Before We Become Six

Last week Calvin turned 2 and BabaJuje brought over a cozy coupe and treats.

The late golden light lit up his red mane and we enjoyed an evening with him as the baby in the family.

It's anyone's guess as to how he will handle the birth of this new baby brother- will he take on Lena's baby brother hostility or Simon's sweet meaty-pawed affection? Maybe he'll show us a dose of something we haven't seen yet.

I don't ever feel sorry for kicking the baby out of the baby spot to make room for another. I say, lucky them! More laughs, more fun, more helpers, more built-in playmates, more people to dote over you,

more mess, more loudness, more chaos, one more mouth to wipe red vine stains off of.

Maybe I should feel a little bit sorry for me...

But maybe not.

Cute babies are better than clean houses.

Happy laughing children are way cooler than getting to places on time.

And four small peacefully sleeping bodies beat pretty much everything.

This will be good. We can do this.

It Was Saturday and We Went To Palmyra

Sometimes the only thing to do when you have little children is to strap them down and go for a drive. So on Saturday evening, that's what we did.

Because I'm not entirely sure we've ever taken the children to the Scared Grove, and the Joseph Smith House and the Temple we decided to make that the end destination. They've never been there!? How can that be?

There's a saying for stuff like that: taking things for granted.

A little Lena running to her heart's content

And so it was the first time we had been there all as a family, walking on the temple grounds. The place Jeff and I, nearly seven years ago, inside the then snow clad-temple, were sealed to each other and to any future children we decided to bare. We were the only ones roaming around and running in the grass Saturday evening and it was nice. That's the beauty of the small temples. And Palmyra specifically has so much land and space. It's really beautiful there.

And the Grove...Jeff proposed in that grove you know. Well actually in the parking lot of that grove. He pulled that diamond ring out of a tiny clear plastic bag that was burning a hole in his pocket on a regular day in July and I witnessed something rarely seen, an awkward and nervous Jeff. Then he asked me to be his wife forever. And I said yes, and here we are together with so much yet so little life behind us.

I don't think we even knew the weight of that decision then. In fact, I'm sure of it.

We lost Boba Fett there on those meaningful and sacred grounds on Saturday, and years before found the beginnings of a life we are so blessed to have.

Saturday evening together felt like real proof of power in the small and simple things.

And expressing so many feelings this consistantly sappy and sentimental as of late doesn't necessairly mean I'm pregnant.

At least I hope it doesn't. It's time for precautionary measures. Did I just talk about birth control on the blog? Yes, I think I did.

When I got pregnant before Lena (an early miscarriage) I knew it the instant I started bawling while watching Patch Adams at my sister's. Patch Adams, people. It was 2005. And that movie is awful.

Here's to more trips to the sites and more space between baby number 3 and 4. You know, if baby number 4 is to exist.

The Bitter and The Sweet

It's near September and schools around here won't start until after Labor Day weekend.

I'm now a parent that has to know about school starting and stuff.

Can I take a moment and point out how strange that feels?

Having a kindergartener is like finding out you're pregnant for the first time. So insignificant to the other people walking around this world yet so incredibly monumental on your own timeline. Life changing and chapter closing. The choice of welcoming the change and the letting go that always follows.

Did you know,

I gave birth to beings and they get older every day?

the Vaisey's do the Fairport library

I am young and old and wise and inexperienced.

Wasn't I just 19?

Lately the realization of my oldest child's childhood slipping away has really begun to sink in.

Also I should point out here, my pessimistic tendencies.

When it's the end of the day and I am exhausted beyond measure and I can't do dinner, and I don't want to do bedtime and if one more child asks me for something(!!), and I can't remember the last moments to myself that didn't involve laundry and very late nights, it's hard to see past to tomorrow.

I want them to grow up and stay small all at the same time. I am self-diagnosed with Motherhood Bipolar Disorder. I long for quiet and peace and order, but really enjoy the baby's fat face and the boy's tender sweetness and her lispy clever-talk- those things that can only be found in small ones. But I need them to grow up so I can feel sane. I need to feel in control of something again.

I know growing up brings so many great things. I know we will go on family vacations without diapers or crying babies, go to soccer games and spelling bees, drop off dapper young teens at school dances and cry over first heartbreaks. And I bet sometimes, then, I will be alone. Alone! Imagine that? I can and I can't wait.

But then.

Then they go to sleep and something magical happens.

I stare at their little faces and have that familar overwhelming feeling of peace wash over me. It consumes my soul and I remember in that instant what it's all for. It feels like a Mack Truck. My chest feels heavy and I'm breathless and thankful and my eyes welt up all at once. I am newly inspired to be better and to be everything I can be for them. I will move mountains. I am undeserving and they are so cute and small and I am so happy to be needed. So grateful to be needed.

That's why God invented sleeping children.

It is sometimes only then that I get to revel in the greatest cliché ever thought up:

They grow up so fast.

There, I said it.

Now I can have time to enjoy it while it is here and eventually let it go and welcome change. It's the rejoicing and the mourning and it's the bitter but the oh so sweetness of parenthood. It's the stuff I'm still trying to figure out.

Just A Wednesday From Many Angles: To The Future Us

Hey, remember how on any given day in the summer months we could be found buying and spending time at Bop Bop and BabaJuje's, swimming and jumping the afternoon away?

It was fun and you didn't know that we did it partially because sometimes the house needs to stay clean for more than 10 minutes.

I just didn't want us to forget. I really loved those summer days with you.

Also helpful picture reminders- Calvin: in case your hair darkens like your father's has with age, remember it was on fire at age 15 months. On fire.

Self: there was a time in your life when you rocked a deep v neck t-shirt. Your welcome;)

I Wrote You This Big Sexy Post I Think You're Going To Really Dig

When we weren't hauling children to and from the pool and the cottage we could most likely be found spending our in-between time s'more-ing, camping, swinging, sliding, watering, eating, talking, laughing, re-desiging living rooms, talking, You-Tubing, Hulu-ing, laughing, laughing, laughing, drawing, painting, talking, eating, eating, and swimming with our clothes on.

We tried our darndest to cover all our bases, but in the end, we were just left wanting more. More madness, more late nights(more sleep), more time.

and so let's get to it

This is the tale of Captain Jack Sparrow

a pirate so brave on the seven seas

a mystical quest

to the isle of Tortuga

raven locks sway on the ocean breeze

Captain Jack

Johnny Depp

Davy Jones

giant squid

Now back to the good part

Thanks to Juje for hosting the loud and the crazy and the very sticky

Thanks to Bek for scrubbing up paint in the bathroom grout for over an hour and for the laughs- always for the laughs.

Thanks to Dylan- uncle of the year goes to you

Thanks to Mini Jeff for sleeping through the night every night

Thanks to Bop Bop for succumbing to peer pressure and taking the full-clothed dive

& Thanks to heaven on high, for I feel blessed blessed blessed to be a part of such a crazy family

My beloved Vaiseys: you complete me(<-click).