Little Q does in his Mother

Church is not a fun place to take Q. Having him at home isn't much fun most of the time, but church? Today, I finally did what I have been threatening to do for a little while. I brought him home, and put him in his bed. He kicked and screamed (for his Daddy) the entire way. We only live about a block from the chapel, so it wasn't far to walk but it was still the longest block of my life. Most of the way I was near tears, of frustration, and generally wondering whether I could actually succeed in raising this child. At least now, he knows that if he doesn't behave, he will be turned on his heels and marched right back out the door.
For some reason, he's quiet now. The battle of wills has ended and I guess he's worn out. I sure am. Speaking of quiet, he was at my mother's last Thursday. D called me from work and the first thing he said was, "Wow, you are in a really good mood." It was true. My mood was excellent. I had energy to spare. I didn't feel like I was running an entire household with 90% of my neurons tied behind my back. I was relaxed. I felt up to the tasks at hand. It was joyous, and quiet. I would never have guessed that one little boy could turn a home so much on its head, but that's my Q. When people telephone to our home, and Q in not here they almost always comment, "It's so quiet over there today." When I mention the absence of Q, there is a knowing, "OOOOOOH!" Like, "Of course - I should have known that."
My oldest, T, was much like Q when he was little: Very Very Busy, and prone to mischief. No book on child care contained anything of value to me. T did not respond like most children, and that was about all I could figure out. Finally, I did find a book that seemed to pinpoint my little boy - and I rejoiced. He grew, and grew - he's nearly as tall as I am. We are still looking for the things that he will love, and pour himself into, but he is a great kid and it is obvious that he has potential. He's loving and helpful. It gives me hope. T was a wild child, but he doesn't have much on Q when it comes to determination to see his will accomplished.
There are no boundaries in the world of Q. He is invincible. Somehow, I managed to come off the conqueror today, but I know it's just the battle. It is so important to train him now, because at some point - I will have to turn him loose on the world. He WILL have to be able to survive on his own, and that means self-control. I really only know one thing - three year olds grow, and so do eleven year olds. My time with them is limited. Thankfully, I still have many many years to work with Q, and with the rest of my children, too. We may be fairly unique, as a family. It will be interesting to see, someday, what these 5 very unique people offer to the world. I think that it will be something great.

Little A saves her known universe

Little A, we share an initial but not a name, is feeling much better. Her natural happiness is so buoyant, it lifts the whole house up just a smidgen closer to heaven. She's only a year old, and very independent in my reckoning, but only in the best way. She loves to be cuddled and held, but is happy exploring her universe as well. Yesterday, she did a lot of exploring. As I went from room to room, she peeked in cabinets and under beds, into washers of all kinds and closets wherever she could find one. Most unfortunately, her favorite place to look for treasures is the kitchen waste basket. Always something new and exciting in there. Often, there is food - which she finds thrilling. Speaking of food, she prizes cookies of any kind. She fell asleep on my lap with a cookie in each hand yesterday. I couldn't bear to put her down, she was so cute - face and hands covered with chocolate cookie crumbs.
What do I love about A? I think that it has to be her muppet smile. She opens her mouth so wide, she could probably get her fist into it - and yet no teeth are showing. The top lip is completely straight, and her bottom lip forms a perfect half circle. Her eyes sparkle and without a word she says, "Boy am I happy to see YOU!" It happens all day long, when she's feeling well, and it is a blessing to everyone. She is the smallest in our home, and every one of the rest of us would do anything to please her, and catch a glimpse of that smile. This could lead to her becoming spoiled, I'm sure. I am fairly determined that this should not be the case, however. I tell her no. For example, I don't let her use the cleaning supplies underneath the sink as toys - although she desperately wants to, and tries to every time I open the cabinet. I also don't allow her to forage in the waste basket, and she does not appreciate that. She'll thank me later. I insist on changing her diapers, too - even though she feels it cuts into her play time.
So what has she done to save her universe? She came to it, and stayed with us even though we are not nearly perfect enough to care for her. I am fairly sure, the way I know that Q had a stint as the Angel of Destruction, that A also had a special job to do. I think that job had something to do with lightening the heart of the Almighty. She has unbelievable skills, and I am humbled by that. Someone on high knew that we needed her, and was willing to let her go so that we could be lifted.

Tsunami

Is it possible for a brain to explode? Sometimes living with my children feels like being dragged under by a Tsunami of emotion. One of my biggest challenges is finding a way to teach my children to manage their emotions rather than being managed by their emotions, and as an extension trying to manipulate others with emotion. When my own frustration level is through the roof. . .and I do wonder sometimes if, from the outside, the house does actually appear to be shaking. . .it can be the ultimate challenge to maintain control over my own emotions. E, my 5 year old daughter, has been trying for about a year now to perfect the use of repetition in the pursuit of her desires. C, my 8 year old son, finds that wailing as though he were about to die - anytime there is a perceived injustice - to be his preferred form of self-expression. T, 11 year old son, has developed skills with anger and general lack of volume control. Q at three years old has mastered all of these, and adds to them the unconquerable spirit of "I am the undisputed ruler of this domain." A is only a year old, but her flair for the dramatic is impressive. Finding herself disappointed, she has been known to fall to the ground limbs flopping this way and that like limp noodles. It is rare that all of them find one single moment to unleash their particular emotional talents - but it has been known to happen. And so I ask, "Is it possible for a brain to explode?

Now, who do I deliver the kingdom to?

We slept like real live babies last night. I figure I must owe someone for the wonderful experience, seeing that I offered a good deal for it. An entire kingdom, but worth the price. I never had a colicky baby - this is as close as I've come to night after night of zero sleep. I really feel for all of those parents out there working THAT night shift. I'm not saying that my kingdom is an easy gig. Four of the five charges are quite strong-willed. Be that as it may, if you can prove that you are the one that made my wonderful night's rest possible, I suppose I owe it to you - the entire kingdom. Thank you, whoever you are. . .and if you do happen to be Obi Won Kenobi - could you please be the one from Star Wars Episode II?

Organizing - My Real Hobby

There are a few things I'd like to accomplish, after all we moved into the house less than three full months ago and I have some organizing left to do. I know that we're doing remarkably well for having to fight with five children to get any of said organizing done. All of my "things" ended up in the basement, which is unfinished for now, and unheated - think freezing. I've finally got enough shelving to organize all of my hobby paraphernalia. I just want to get everything else out of boxes and onto a shelf. I want to bring some of my professional books upstairs to the shelves in the family room. The kids are fed, the dishes are done, C has finished his homework and I just need to check it. Did I mention that it is FREEZING in the basement? It puts a damper on my desire to get to work. I know that I'll feel much better when it's done, and I'll start using my desk more. That can only be a good thing, because anything creative is so soothing to me. At the moment, I spend more time organizing than working on projects but it won't be much longer and we'll have that dragon licked! I hope.
My space has to facilitate a lot of living. I have learned many needle crafts and have been sewing for 27 years. When my grandma's vision started to fail, she gave me all of her yarn and needles. Many storage items in that category. About five years ago I added paper crafts to the fray. I scrapbook and make cards. My husband works for a scrapbooking company, and I am a Stampin' UP! demonstrator. Lots of paper crafting, and now business items to store! Of course I need most everything to be easily accessible and easy to see, next year's Christmas cards are the exception. There are many items to organize relating to my own personal history and my family's history. Numerous photos and report cards and special items are waiting to be sorted and put away until I can give them a permanent home. There are things that just need to be donated to charity, and I've got to work that into this process, too. Anything that I can't find a real place for is going to have to go.
When I first started working on this pipe dream of organizaiton, a friend commented that he thought I only had 5 hobbies - an obvious reference to my children. Right now, they are my days and my nights. There are moments when all five are busy with play, or a babysitter, and I can steal away. . . to organize. Someday, I've heard, I will have a lot more time on my hands - and by then I'm certain that I will also have a heated and finished space to work in. There is nothing so certain as the passage of time. While there are some things I'd like to get done, I'm not in too much of a hurry. When the time passes, it is gone forever and with it the childhood of my babies. I take a lot of photos and keep good journals. When I do have the promised extra time, I will be able to do justice to the sweetness that the five of them have brought to my life.

My kingdom for a decent night's rest

It must be time to add something to the blog, because boy am I cranky! A has been sick this week. Diagnosed Sunday with an ear infection. Hives Sunday night - could only be the Amoxicillin. Started Omnicef on Monday - she still seems very uncomfortable, maybe there's still some Amoxicillin in her system? Totally out of sorts on Tuesday night, and oh look, a few little bumps on the back of her neck - has to be the Omnicef. Her ear infection was only budding, and not nearly the problem that curing her of it has been. I really haven't slept much for 3 days, and having spent those nights with a screaming baby I'm walking the razor's edge when it comes to patience. Honestly, I don't have any patience left at all, but for the sake of the rest of the family I'm managing not to fly off the handle about every little thing.
I've got a headache, and for some reason the older boys seem extra silly today. Coincidence? It's probably not even the truth - just the perception of a brain which hasn't been able to process properly for half the week. The funny thing is that A didn't even nap today. She acted tired a couple of times, but didn't ever sink into the deep sleep she usually does after receiving her dosage of warm milk. Everyone is a little out of kilter though, and I know it's not completely my imagination. Sassy and slow to obey about sums it up. There is a patience factor there, but honestly, E doesn't generally respond to my every request with a screaming fit and T is, well he's T. Come to think of it, he's not brooding about not being able to play video games, which is a step toward better than yesterday. At the moment, E and C are in the other room pretending up some big scheme - full of emotion but not fighting. That is something to truly be thankful for, and I am. Q and A are sitting here in the room with me. They aren't crawling all over me, or even trying to crawl all over me. I haven't seen much beyond the normal destruction, which is also very good. I think we are all winding down, finally.
I called the doctor's office, to fill them in on all of the commotion with A. I told them what I was going to do, and they were fine with it. There is no way I'm giving her another round of Omnicef tonight. Out of plain self-preservation, mostly but I'm looking at it as an experiment. If she actually sleeps well, then we know it was the antibiotic and we can start again. Turner should be home from Scouts soon, so here's what I'm really hoping for. He'll finish his homework without a big fuss - he's told me that it isn't much so I'm feeling like that's a real possibility. We'll all get ready for bed, brush our teeth and everybody will fall asleep quickly. As for me, I'll just pretend that this day never really happened and try not to worry about what I could be in for during the wee hours of the morning. As another stressed out princess under attack once said, "Help us Obi Won Kenobi. You're our only hope."

She's just like me!

Having lived with myself for 37 years, these are the things that I've noticed. I'm a patient person, to a point. Usually that point is the one that crosses my very strong will. I'm a happy person. I have experienced depression, every one on earth gets "down" every once in a while. There are really only a few times in my life that I think I was clinically depressed, although I've never been treated for it. I have this idea that I can do just about anything I set my mind to. Sometimes, that is in direct conflict with reality and frustration can build up quickly behind that dynamic. Most of the time, though I'm able to ignore the frustration until I can change reality - or at least gain the skills necessary to conquer the thing I'm working at. That comes back to my very strong will, and leads me directly to my baby, A. This little angel has been a precious gift to her Daddy and I. She came just in time to lighten a load which seemed to be getting heavier every second. Well, the angel just turned one and she discovered some really important things about herself. She is capable. She has learned to walk. She can communicate, though she naturally has a very limited vocabulary. And guess what? She has a will, and this idea that she should be able to do just about anything she can think of. Remind me of anyone? Right now it is almost endearing to watch her insist on doing things herself, mostly because her actual capacity is so limited. "How dare you try to hold that very large glass for me?!?" She protests and huffs. Seriously, she does - and I find it extremely hard not to laugh sometimes. Other times, when my dinner fork gets tossed across the room full of food, I wish I could find it hard to laugh. Often, she refuses the things she wants the most simply because I am holding them in MY hands. (Then again, why shouldn't I be holding my lunch in my hands?) I have to admit that I was quite surprised to see this manifest itself so early in her. She has always been such a sweet patient little girl. Then again, I guess that we've just reached the point where her patience has been crossed by her very strong will. I am going to give everything that I have to keep my own personal very strong will in check, so that I can more fully enjoy this baby of mine who very surely will not be a baby much longer.

2006

That may be a bit too much to cover here. I'll probably only have a couple minutes anyway and who can say anything decent about an entire year in a couple of minutes. That leads me to the Christmas letters we've been getting. It's wonderful to see that all the friends I only keep in touch with around December are doing well. Personally, I wish some of the letters would cover more of their struggles along with the triumphs. It's impossible that life coasts along without incident, for anyone. Our year sure was gut-wrenching. It has been a time of quick growth for my husband and I. We are 37, and in many ways as average and thirty-something as they come. We haven't grown in stature. I'm still 5'4" and he's still 6'0". We have, however, been wrestling with the facts of our lives, and have changed a lot since this time last year. January 2006 found us caring for a five day old precious daughter, worrying for her health and trying to keep germs away. The winter and early spring passed in a blur of getting by, and just surviving. In May, D started to come to grips with issues that have been with him his entire life. Anyone who has been through a process like that knows that it gets worse before it gets better. At it did. On June first, I had the gall bladder attack, and so my physical stress was added to D's emotional stress. That was rough. At the end of July, we also decided to sell our first home and move after 9 years. The stress was nearly too much for D - and I was the one at home with 5 children trying to keep things clean and "show-able". The first contract on our home failed at the closing table, it was a Thursday. We found out after we had signed all of our papers that the buyer's loan had been declined in underwriting. It was now mid-September. We had already moved out of the house, and as luck would have it, my parents were also moving that weekend. We had made plans for the harboring of our large family from Thursday until Monday. Thankfully, even though my parents were in the midst of unpacking boxes themselves, they had enough extra space for the 7 of us to descend upon them for a very indefinite amount of time. We did our best to go on with life and give the children a sense of normalcy. The three oldest started at a new school less than a week after we landed at my parents' home. Thankfully, they made new friends and loved their teachers. Within a month of that first failed closing date, we were completely finished and ready to start the process of moving into our new home. It seemed like forever but it was literally a miracle in the real estate world. We finally had a place to call our own again. We moved in just in time for Halloween and spent all of the holidays here. It is starting to feel like home. In the end, even though this blog version of our year contains more than our Christmas letter did, it still keeps to itself the most painful and private agonies of the year. I suppose that is why the letters we receive tend to touch on the highest of the low points and spare the truly painful. This year, however, I feel like getting back in touch right away to find out the "real scoop". I'm fairly sure that there are some story lines in the lives of my friends that I don't want to miss. At the very least, there are some events in my life that I really do want them to know about. This year's letter mostly related the challenges of raising children, which is honest enough, I guess. I'm hoping that 2007 will have some really relaxed and happy stories to add to our tales of "young family maelstrom".

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

My three year old - Q - is nestled all snug in his bed. All of my children are dreaming of sugar plums, I'm sure - or iPods. I'm preparing a book for my father - the last Christmas gift left on the list. When in the next room 'there arose such a clatter' - I sunk in my chair - I knew what was the matter. A tiny young son with a croupy cough, Christmas must be near. Last year, I was very pregnant with our fifth child - A - a daughter born December 27, 2005. I had hoped to have her here for Christmas, but it was not to be. That turned out to be one of the single most providential events of my life, and hers. Last year, everyone in my family (including my children & husband, sisters & spouses or boyfriends, parents, nieces & nephews, everyone, everyone, everyone) got the flu either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. It's not the first time we've been sick for Christmas, although last year's event was the most far reaching. D and I have had children sharing Christmas with us for eleven years. We've seen croup, flu, stomach viruses, you name it. I much prefer the sniffles variety to the stomach variety. I don't think we need to explore that line of thinking any further. This year, "A" kicked off the Christmas illness season a little early. She was feverish and coughing on Wednesday. I should've seen the Christmas Eve coughing coming from at least five days away.
So, now let's try to put this in a positive light. Printing this book is going to take all night. (I've been at it for an hour and 5 1/2 of 24 pages are finished.) Rather than tossing and turning in anticipation of morning when I can finally see what "Santa Baby" brought me, then nodding off only to be awakened by the croupy cough, I can just stay awake. No stumbling into the next room half asleep, NO! I'll be wide awake, (Yeah right. I'm not 17 or even 25 anymore.)
On a truly great note, the quality of these photos is fantastic. This printer can do a borderless print, which makes it just look all the more professional. We have a book binding system which will actually make it truly professional. This is an heirloom I'm staying up to create. These kinds of endeavors are truthfully only possible at night. Why am I willing to see this through? Because first of all, I love my Dad. That is a blog entry all its own for another day. Secondly, my Dad loves this little three year old. My favorite of Q's questions for Grandpa? "Am I big and strong yet? Can I turn on the table saw?"
Q can be a holy terror sometimes. I have considered the possibility that my son may have had a prestigious calling in the courts on high prior to coming to earth in order to claim his corporeal form. Does the phrase 'Angel of Destruction' mean anything to you? Q is good, oh so good, at laying waste. He is so stealthy and throrough. Sometimes I just can't believe the havoc he can wreak in an instant. He is curly headed and solidly built - made for rough and tumble - totally adorable on the kid spectrum. This book I'm putting together is mainly the documentation of his dastardly deeds along side the grins and giggles. No one will appreciate this book more than my Dad. I can hardly wait to see Dad's face when he sees these photos together like this. It is a real gift, and that's why I'm willing to stay awake tonight.
Which brings me back to the croupy cough. I gave Q some tylenol "plus flu" and that seems to have taken care of it. An early morning Christmas gift for Mom. It's only 2 a.m. and I'm nearly almost half done with the printing. A just woke up to keep me company. Gotta go. Merry Christmas.

Internet Christmas

Well, it's early but not too early. My big boys are up and arguing over 'who gets in the shower first' aka "there is no way I'm sharing any of the hot water with YOU." By the time I get them to school, the younger ones will be awake and ready for immediate attention. Q, aged 3 1/2 years, likes to announce his bathroom needs, followed by "Mommy, will you come with me?" Thankfully for both of us, I know that what he is really saying is, "You need to be there so that I don't miss the toilet." I'm generally very pleased to be in attendance. It's much easier than taking care of the aftermath, which usually includes a load of laundry. I asked him one day, "Sweetie, why did you pee on the floor?" To which he very confidently replied, "Because I didn't pee in the potty." Children need tending to, and that is the bottom line.

I can't believe it, the boys are safely deposited at school, and the "little kids" as T & C like to call them, are still sleeping. This is frankly unheard of. My guess is that I have than five or ten more minutes at the maximum. That's usually about the amount of time I get to myself at some point during the day. Explain to me how fathers don't understand the complete lack of privacy endured day in and day out by mothers of young children. Thankfully, children do grow up - maybe it's school that teaches them about wanting privacy. At any rate, that seems to be the age that my children would rather die than accidently walk into the bathroom and find me there. The "little kids" love it when I disappear. I swear it's like a treasure hunt. "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? . . . I found you Mommy!" Yes, you did. Imagine that. There is no privacy, at least not without consequences. Q simply cannot be left alone without the understanding that a mega mess will ensue. And I don't mean a "pick up your toys" kind of mess. I mean the "if mom can't see what I'm doing then whatever I'm doing must be okay" kind of mess.

During this holiday season, I have cleaned up a mess or two like that. I've done most of my shopping online, without paying for shipping on a single order, I might add. It's been fantastic, except that like anything it still takes time. Time spent at home with all of our conveniences, without traveling to any brick and mortar locations. No coats, car seats, or carts - each a potential time waster of huge proportions. I just have to be able to point and click without any prying eyes which can be kind of tricky given the "treasure hunt" mentality of the "little kids". Life is as it is. You work with what you've got. Let me tell you, am I glad that I have got the internet and a few favorite stores with good online selection and free shipping. It has given me a little freedom to breathe and enjoy my family. I certainly didn't expect to have that this season. The lack of rushing, all by itself, has made it a very joyous Christmastime. Thank you Al Gore, for inventing the internet.

Toffee

A few years ago, my friend gave us a plate of Christmas goodies. Okay, now you're thinking - So? What's new? Well, it changed our lives, that's what. She introduced us to homemade toffee. Until then, Heath bars were as close as I had ever been to toffee, and that was in the third grade. I never actually ate any, we were just supposed to sell it for a school fund raiser. Since I couldn't figure out how to SAY it, I found it a hard sell. No one really wanted to purchase "Health bars" from the neighbor kid. But I digress.

Real homemade toffee, ever had any? I promise if you have good toffee, and then you find out how easy it is to make, it is an instant family favorite. Such a pleasure to give to neighbors, because you know they'll love it. I swear it only takes like ten minutes. Okay, it used to take ten minutes. This year, I haven't been able to get a single batch to turn out right. My family is complaining about my butter choice - probably because they heard me mutter in confusion - "I wonder if it's the butter?" Really. What could be so different between two different store brand butters? Honestly, even the imperfect batches taste good - it's just a consistency issue. Too cruchy. Too chewy. Not sticking together at all. It all tastes good. I'm not giving up though. Too much is riding on a good batch. My reputation and a tasty family Christmas tradition is on the line. My eleven year old son holds me nigh unto the angels for the simple fact that I can whip up his favorite treat at any time. When asked what he wanted for his birthday - he said MY OWN BATCH OF TOFFEE. His birthday was two weeks ago.

So you're beginning to see my predicament. There can be no going back. There can be no giving in. The riddle must be solved. I must find the magic key. Maybe I need to stir it less. I suppose it could be the butter. And so we go forward, unflinching in the face of complete failure. There must be toffee for Christmas, or it will be. . .like Christmas before we knew that it only takes like ten minutes to make good homemade toffee. Or something similar.

Marinated Mushrooms

I had a gall bladder attack on June 1st. The worst part of it was the fact that I didn't know what was going on. Chest pain, so intense that I had difficulty breathing. It didn't let up for a good half hour. I started thinking, "I could die." I need to call someone. D wasn't home, so I called to my children. They came running into the room - and started to do exactly what any child would do when confronted with their parent in horrible pain and in need of help. They started to worry that I was going to die. They called D. They called Grandma. No one answered their phone. We were one step from the call to 911. They called Grandma again, and she answered. By the time she got to our house, I was feeling much better. Like I said, I didn't know what to expect. Prior to the attack, I thought that I had been having allergic reactions to MSG - really horrible stomach aches, which I had learned to mitigate with Naproxen. I also cut out prepared food, like anything that came in a box ready to heat from Costco. I'm sure that helped, because I was also avoiding the excess fats that often appear in prepared food. The fact was, however, that the stomach aches didn't disappear. The attack diagnosed my problem with certainty.

Dietary issues of some kind, in my opinion, plague just about everyone I know. Circumstances create problems for even the well meaning caretakers of a human body. The problem is that there is just too much to know. You can be doing just fine by anyone's standard, but each body is just a little bit different. The list of things that can irritate a gall bladder is interesting to say the least. Fat is the biggest culprit, but iceberg lettuce is there, too. Everyone says, "I thought salad was supposed to be good for you." Vegetables ARE good for most people. Things that are difficult to digest, like lettuce and broccolli, just aren't nice to ME. In the ER the doctor told me that the hormones involved in childbirth had a lot to do with the onset of gall bladder disease. Hormones, huh? How do you factor hormones into your diet? Now that's a dietary issue if I ever heard one. For a while I couldn't eat much at all. A little broth with crackers. Cantalope was way over the line that first month. It was very easy to limit my choices - digestive distress is something we all like to avoid. I just did what felt good, which wasn't very much. It was very effective in the weight loss arena, although I wouldn't reccomend the scare your pants off diet to anyone.

Just yesterday, I discovered that one of my favorite indulgences of all time is actually no indulgence at all. I was walking down the aisle in Costco and saw something new. Marinated mushrooms! My gall bladder started talking to me. There's one more thing YOU'LL never be able to eat again! Having learned to talk back, I said to my diseased part, "It's not going to hurt to look at the nutrition information." Long pause. . .What?!?. . .No fat of any kind! Not one single gram in the entire jar! These are akin to pickles. Only water, vinegar and spices - and the mushrooms of course. I remember having felt so guilty about my love for the things - 'surely something so delicious and savory HAD to have a lot of fat. They must be marinated in something horribly fattening. But they are so GOOD!' Here's where I admit that I also thought cucumbers with vinegar were also fattening. It only goes to prove one thing. Fifteen year old girls are not good judges of what is good for them. (Note to self, remember to teach children about what IS actually good for them while instructing them in what is NOT good for them.) More than twenty years after my first love affair with marinated mushrooms I'm glad to say, "I'm back babies! I could just eat you up! And I will."

Favorite Vacation Spot

There is no vacation from motherhood, really. Eleven years ago tomorrow my eldest son was born, a beautiful 8 pounds and 6 1/2 ounces of you'll never be alone again. There are babysitters of course, and I am a firm believer in taking breaks. Motherhood, however, doesn't leave you alone. I believe that the heart of someone who has embraced motherhood is forever changed. Your babies are always your babies. As evidence, I cite the fact that my grandmother still speaks to her children in the same tones she used when they were her daily work. The voice of loving concern. She still thinks about her children and their needs even though most of her grandchildren are now parents themselves. Some of that must be habit. As the days of "I'd like to . . ." become rare, mothers become conditioned to thought centered around care giving. Most of my day is comprised of tasks generally understood to be homemaking which I squeeze between "Don't hit your brother" and "Have you cleaned your room?" There are seven permanent residents of this household, all of whom depend on me in some way to get them through the day. It doesn't leave much time for "I'd like to . . . " but I keep trying. We've been under a phenomenal amount of stress during the last six months. Due to the fact that my husband D is a hard-working type, our leave-the-house vacations are infrequent at best. Truthfully, the fact is that a trip with five young children isn't much of a vacation - at least mentally. For now, I'm really happy to light a few candles and sit in a nice hot bath - preferably one lavished with luxurious bath products. Away from the smell of whatever I cooked for dinner. Away from the sound of a washer or dryer - which is probably running. Away from telephone and television. Away from the needs of anything or anyone that has legitimate claim on me. A place to be quiet and hear my own thoughts. Heaven must have blessed my garden tub - it is as close to Maui as I'll be seeing for a while, but it might as well be a lovely suite at a five star hotel. Dip my foot in that water and in no time at all I have started to recognize bits of my former self shining through. I'd like to spend some time alone with D. I'd like to work on the kids' scrapbooks. I'd like to spend some time on the book I started a couple of weeks ago. I need to mend some socks. Hey - some habits are hard to break.