I am officially the worst "blogger" in history. I think about writing everyday, but have had to compete for computer time with my children who want desperately to play on the computer every time my backside hits the chair in front of my desk. But I'm hoping that that changes today. I have a new toy in my life, my new laptop and I love it so. I can stand in my kitchen and put it on the counter top and write while i do laundry, wash dishes, cook meals and clean them up and so far, no one wants to use it but me! The kids are totally disinterested, which is unfathomable to me. But alas, I will go with it and enjoy the fact that no one wants me to share it with them...yet.

Life at the moment is up and down, as it always is with my group. Meghan has gone without her binky for two full nights. This is just about the most amazing thing any of my kids has accomplished, for I fully expected her to be like a heroin junky in withdrawal when the day came to say goodbye to this faithful friend of hers. She is remarkably unfazed and only whines about it occasionally. I am so stinking proud of her. I seriously thought this day would never come.

Elizabeth has successfully switched over to Alimentum formula with no trouble at all. Yay Alimentum! I was so nervous to attempt it, but after keeping her on Elecare turned into an insurance-driven, prohibitively expensive nightmare, it became apparent that it was time to try. She sailed through the trial and switched over completely in a week's time. As a result, I have three cans of Elecare for sale! Anyone who wants it, contact me.

School officials evaluated Erin for her issues with separation and anxiety. She clearly has an anxiety and mood disorder, and possibly attention deficit disorder. I have to find a counselor for her, and possibly for us, to help all of us deal with these issues. I am struggling with her. I admit that much freely. But I'm not surprised at this conclusion given what life has been like with her for all these years. I watch her go from happy and content and at peace with her surroundings to having everything fall apart a moment later. She screams, she hits, she throws uncontrollable tantrums and there is no consequence available to my creative parenting mind to make her want to do better, or at very least avoid the threatened consequence.

I know that there is relief in suggesting a classification, but I never wanted to label my kids. I never wanted to think of them as having something "wrong with them." No one does. But there are always issues, and there always will be. Christ, I'm riddled with them. I don't really know anyone who doesn't have some sort of hang-up, some issue with anxiety or lack of coping skills. But to watch this bright, sweet girl sinking further and further inside of herself breaks my heart. To watch her scream and cry and tug at her hair and clothing when she's upset or worried hurts so much. I want to take her pain away and make everything feel comfortable for her. This is the most difficult struggle we face as parents.

But it is a beautiful Sunday, the last of summer, and the Eagles play at 4:15. I have the makings for homemade tomato sauce and dinner is defrosting. Erin has a birthday party to attend for a boy in her class and we can walk right up the street to the boy's house. Pete and I had an awesome night out in Philly, hung out with our friends, and had both of our mothers here to take care of the kids for several hours. For these things I am grateful, and need to focus on them and maintain my perspective about these issues with Erin. I must remind myself that each of my children is an individual with strengths and weaknesses, and Erin, as the oldest, must forge these roads with Pete and me for the first time. None of us has ever done this before. It is true that it gets easier with each child, there is no doubt about that. But the oldest needs to be given some slack...they are the guinea pig and the parents are the scientists, constantly tweaking and trying and experimenting with variables to figure out what works. Maybe just focusing on all of the good and keeping my view at 10,000 feet about this challenging time will help us sail through it with a little more ease.

Pete and Me

To be perfectly honest, all has not been peaceful on the homefront lately. How could it be, really? We moved to Maryland and I cried nearly every day I was there. And I didn't hide it. I cried to him. I cried and cried and cried. And I puked nearly as much as I cried, because I was so sick during the pregnancy with Elizabeth. So we get her home from the hospital and I told him, "I love you but I can't be here anymore. I need my village. I need to go home."

This prince of a man went to interview for another job. When he was on his way to that interview, he got into a crazy car wreck and but for a few inches and some serious heads-up driving, would have been gone. Forever. That reality is one I continue to digest on a daily basis. After getting the call, I loaded three kids, one of whom was on a nasogastric feeding tube that had to be dangled from that little hook in the backseat that holds your dry cleaning and whatnot, into my oh-so-cool (and really, it is) minivan and picked him up from Harrisburg, PA, where his car remained. We drove back home that day to find the shingles of our roof blowing into the driveway. Seriously? Hadn't we been through enough?

Apparently not. We listed our house on a Friday in April and I drove to NJ with the kids that Sunday to see "the house." This house, the one in which we are currently living. I loved it. I bid on it. I bought it. Pete agreed, said yes, trusted me. And here we are.

We sold our house in the worst housing market in decades in a period of 30 days. He got the new job, after managing to get back up to interview for it without getting into a car wreck. And so we went for it. We took a loss on the house in Maryland and paid too much for the house in New Jersey. But we went for it, believing in fate and things happening for a reason.

So we've been here a month, and Pete's started the new job. He is so busy and under a tremendous amount of stress, but I believe that he is happy with this new company and with the amount of responsibility and input he has. And I am happier than I have ever been. I've caught up with my friends, given the kids oodles of playdates and friends to see again. We've run errands to all of the familiar places and had our family in and out of our house as if we had a revolving door put in place. Things are great.

So why all of the tension and stress between us? Why does he believe that I'm slacking off and not pulling my weight around here? Why do I feel like he's a monster once he's finished his 10-12 hour work day who just wants to yell at everyone? Why are the kids acting like caged, uncivilized animals?

Because...everything has changed. Again.

We've gone from place to place, house to house, state to state, school to school, job to job, lack of routine to lack of routine. So what do you do when you realize that you are settled when you have never been settled before in your life?

You lash out at the ones you love the very most in the world.

The kids are coming down from a most insane roller coaster ride that has taken up pretty much their entire childhood thus far. We've only been married seven years and we've moved four times and lived in two states. What does that say for the stability of the world we've given to our children? Not much. It tells them to live in suspense, and continue to wait for the proverbial shoe of change to drop. And Pete and I are exhausted, by life, by our roles, our jobs...by each other. I've spent a lot of time this week in both of our sets of shoes, appreciating both of our sides and wondering if we'll get back to zero. Will we find that equilibrium we want, and how hard will it be to happen upon it?

Then I walked out of Lizzie's room tonight, pulling her door shut quietly behind me with her tucked soundly into her bed, and peeked in on Pete and Erin and Meghan. He was supposed to be tucking them in, and bedtime has been a major point of contention lately, with me wanting peace and him wanting quiet, and both of us only acheiving chaos. I was nervous. I was afraid to even look in. Would there be more punishment and yelling? Would this be yet another cog in the "This Family Doesn't Look So Good" wheel?

No.

It would be the beginning of the next chapter. The chapter of peace. The chapter of quiet. The chapter where Daddy is telling stories about the dinosaurs that used to roam the earth, standing between their beds with little girls staring at him with amazement. He was C-3PO and they were the Ewoks, listening to tales of days long ago, when none of us were here, but clearly, Daddy knows all about it. And with that scene, my frustrations fell away into the God awful shag carpet in the hallway that we need to replace, and my love for him came welling back up inside of me like it did when I saw him for the first time fourteen years ago, when I was a child myself. With that I know that we will be ok. I can see that in the eyes of two of our daughters as they watch their father, the man with whom I made them, as he lights up all of our worlds and continues to hold us all together.

There are way too many people trying to piss me off today. And my breaking point lies with Pete's dog. I realize I am being cruel and impatient and mean and not a lover...and I do not care. On top of everything else, that dog just peed on my kitchen floor AGAIN!

He peed on my kitchen floor last night, too.

Add this to the people from whom we bought this house who are haggling with us over the $500 that we put into escrow because they couldn't figure out how to get their crap out of this house in time for closing, even though they'd been under contract for three months. They are offering us $250.

Yes, I'm serious.

I'm trying to pay bills, cancel my gym membership in Maryland (no one will call me back), set up a playdate/birthday party for Erin for tomorrow, shop, get a cake, get 400 other gifts for birthdays in the months of August and September (because people love to get busy and make babies between Thanksgiving and Christmas), clean the house, plan a family party for Sunday, get physical appointments for Erin and Meghan, and dentist appointments for all four of us. Not that I really have a hope of being able to make and keep appointments for myself. I have had a temporary filling in place for nearly two years because I can't keep appointments.

Yes, two years.

Now the dog is howling to come in the kitchen.

Meghan has been crying over the breeze blowing in the wrong direction for a week. The baby is teething, had hand, foot and mouth, a bacterial skin infection on her face and a yeast infection-diaper rash. And as far as Erin goes...it's her birthday today and she's happy and pleasant and wonderful and feeling very six. But please refer to blog post below about battles on the home front with her.

I don't sleep. I eat crap food. I don't exercise. I haven't had a pedicure in years, nor a haircut since March. Just had my color done on Friday...now can't have a haircut for another six months because the freakin' highlights were so ridiculously expensive, I almost passed out at the checkout.

So is the dog peeing on the floor that big of a deal?

In a word:

YES!

Unconditional love

A year ago, we moved to Maryland. With the exception of going to college, I had never lived far from South Jersey, the place I had always called home. And even when I went to college, I came back home more frequently than most college students. Pete picked up and went to Vermont and Colorado in his former life as a wandering hippie. The relocation concept was not so alien to him. So when hubby was transferred, I felt ready to take on an adventure, to start over, have a clean slate, make our life happen in new surroundings. I could make friends, find my way, feel comfortable. I was so certain.

And I was so wrong.

Starting over is the hardest challenge we ever undertook. And I know that there are many folks out there who are transferred every couple of years, and they can just pick up and go. I have learned that it isn't the way that I'm built.

But then I think about our parents. How painful it must have been for them to watch us go. They supported us, they came down to our new house, made the three hour drive, unpacked boxes, and helped us. And then they put on a smile, wished us luck and pledged their love to us...and left.

I hope that I can be this kind of strong for our children. I want them to have their roots and their wings, and I want to genuinely be happy for them when they spread their wings and fly. And I will also be thrilled if they desire roots that are close to mine. I never realized before this move how much our parents truly mean to our family. The extent to which their influence and love is embedded in our home is staggering. And I honestly cannot wait to have them near us again. Yes, the babysitting perks will be wonderful. But just knowing that their comforting presence is within arms reach will make each day easier. And knowing that our roots are waiting for us back home provides me with a sense of peace. I'm sure that somewhere inside each of them, our parents would like to wring our necks for doing this...for picking up and leaving just to turn around and come back. But they'll never say so. They'll make the drive to our new digs, unpack more boxes, smile and again pledge their love to us. And they'll leave, but the drive back home will be much shorter.

That is what the unconditional love of parenting is all about.

Days of worth

The best parts of my days as a stay-at-home mom come to me late at night, in a reflective state of mind...and this is terribly unfortunate, because if I spent a fraction of my days being as happy with and appreciative of my kids as I do my nights, our days would be even better than they are. I kissed my four-year-old goodnight tonight and told her that I love her, as I do every night. And do you know what she said to me? Do you know what she did?

She took my face in her hands and said, "Mommy, I love you bigger than my whole heart."

And that's when I knew that my day was worthwhile.