One of the seven dwarves.

I am grumpy.

Very, very grumpy.

Sometimes I wish I could be one of those people who are positive all the time.

Oh wait....

No I don't. That actually sounds pretty annoying.

I just wish, right now, that I wasn't so grumpy. Especially to my kids. They're just kids, they don't know that screaming and playing around is annoying to me. I guess it really shouldn't be annoying but you know what? It is.

I  was very angry at the kids tonight for not cleaning up their rooms. I was angry because Steven someone clogged the toilet and didn't bother to unclog it before he left the house. I was angry because we only have two plungers in this house and three bathrooms. I'll let you guess which bathroom doesn't have a plunger.  I was angry because John bought a different brand of soy milk and Wesley cried and cried because he didn't like the taste.

Stupid things to get angry about. Except the toilet part. Who wouldn't get angry! Toilets are gross. Add cloggage and it's even more gross. Nothing makes me more angry than cleaning toilets.

Rational, I know.

While it is obvious that I need some sort of break, please don't tell me I need a break. Because you know what, it's probably not going to happen. Maybe it's because I don't try hard enough to make time for a break. But we all need breaks. It's just that sometimes we don't get exactly what we need when we need it.

So what's a girl to do, right?

Nothing. Except maybe write about it and feel a little better having gotten it off my mind. And then go crawl into bed with my heating pad and watch hours of frightening yet addicting episodes of Criminal Minds.

I'm not looking for a solution, an answer, a magic wave of the wand to make things better.

I'm just grumpy.

That's all.

Wesley and Elliott

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to watch my nephew Elliott for a couple of days while Lisa and Pat got some packing and cleaning done. Btw, they sold their house.

WHOO! *wild applause*

Guess where they'll be staying for at least the next month?

*crickets*

Yup, you guessed it. The three of them plus the two dogs will be holed up here with the five of us plus my brother. The body heat alone should warm up the house. Maybe I should turn the heat off. Save some money, you know.

Anyways, the three of them stayed with us all weekend. Friday and Saturday I was left home alone with four kids so Lisa and Pat could take care of some "house things".

Now, yes... three of the four are mine so one would think the extra kid wouldn't be so difficult right?

Have you even met Elliott?

Kidding, kidding. He's my nephew and I love his pillowy thighs. It was just quite a challenge taking care of two babies very close in age. My biceps got a workout everytime I had to carry both of them up and down the stairs and I had to alternate feeding each kid between bites. It was like poopy diaper tag team and one would crawl away while the other one foraged in the garbage can. I wouldn't say it was.. difficult. I just had to be more alert than usual especially because Elliott is a daredevil baby. I'd often find him hanging out on the first step of the stairs holding on to the baby gate while shaking it like prison bars.

ANYHOO, overall the weekend was fun. VERY LONG, but fun. I don't get to spend much time with Elliott, or my sister for that matter, so it was nice to have them here for a couple of days. Who knows what it'll be like when they're here for longer than 3 days. I hope the claws don't come out. Although, I'm pretty sure they will.  ROWR!

***

Very random pictures of the babies.

Hey baldy! *cackles*

This ear lobe is GIGANTIC. *snickers*

Playing in the kitchen. There's nothing cuter than babies in footed pajamas.

Honestly, this picture of Wesley is so not cute that it is actually kind of...cute.

Sweats are the new black

Speaking of doing nothing else.....

So yeah, the chasm between blog posts are becoming much wider as time flies by. It's already Thanksgiving and almost time for Christmas madness. How in the world did we get here?!

Anyways, things at Bang household have been pretty standard - lots of poop wiping, general childrearing and house cleaning going on around here.

It's now been about a year and a half since I quit my job to stay home with the kids and in that time frame, I've noticed myself evolving. I've never been the most ambitious person in the world but I've always been generally uniform in my daily tasks. Brisk. Efficient. Before I had kids, I used to shower and dress in normal clothes regardless of my plans for the day. Even if I had planned to stay home and clean the garage, I'd shower, straighten my hair and put on a little makeup. I always felt that being physically put together made me feel more awake, more energetic. Like a human being.

However.

I realize how that the longer you stay home, the more parental responsibilities you hold, the less sleep you attain, things change. And change they have.

A few observations:

1. Daily showers are now rare optional.

2. Long hair is required for ease of ponytails and haphazard buns. *See #1

3. Kids in pjs all day? What's the problem?

4. Me in pj's all day? What's the problem?

5. I have three pairs of sweats on rotation every week. Two of them have bleach stains and rips at the bottom hem.

6. I can officially cross my name off the list for "Hottest Mom in Bonney Lake. *See #5

7. I lie - actually my name wasn't even on the ballot.

As I type this, I'm sitting here in last night's pj's with my unwashed hair in a greasy ponytail. I can feel the beginnings of a volcano zit start to form on my upper lip and I just bit part of my ragged nail off my rough, dry man hands.

I'm still waiting for my casting call, Tyra Banks. ANTM, baby!


***

Btw, my ps camera broke so pictures will be sparse until I can replace it. Boo.

Slowing down.

I'm always hearing how moms (and dads) struggle with finding the life/work/extracurricular activity balance. These days it seems like kids are overscheduled to the max, starting at the ripe old age of 2 yrs old.

Preschool. Soccer. Dance. Music. Church. Playdates.

Parents are racking up the miles on their minivans and SUVs shuttling kids back and forth. and back. and forth.

For some odd reason, I find people actually ask me how I manage to handle everything - three kids, a husband with insanely long and irregular hours, a large house to clean, buckets of laundry to wash. And you know how I manage to do it?

It's because I don't do anything else.

Now, I have nothing against having my kids involved in extracurricular activities. In fact, if our financial and childcare situations were a bit more flexible, ideally I'd love to have Oliver playing soccer, or Evelyn in swim lessons. Or Wesley in theater classes because dude is dramatic these days! Because I don't. But not only because we really can't, but because I really don't want to.

I think it's great that my friends have their children involved in things outside of school. I believe it allows children to let loose, find what interests them and also gives them hobbies.

However.

My children are young. Ages 5, 3 and 1. The oldest attends pre-k three times a week from 8:30-3. While she's in school, I'm able to spend more quiet, quality time with the boys. When the youngest is sleeping, I get some much needed and rare one on one time with the middle child. When she's not in school, we usually spend all day at home together. I let them play, color, do whatever they want. I want them to enjoy this time of youth and innocence. I want, for a fleeting moment, for life to slow down, capture my babies in the moment. Because I know soon these moments will be few. They'll grow older, become more busy, have less time for family, more time for friends.

I'm in no hurry to get them out there in the world before I'm they're ready.

My first

I remember like it was yesterday. Awake at 1:30 in the morning, drawing a bath and wondering what the hell I was doing. Calling the nurse and asking how to tell if they were real or false. Watching the dogs tilt heir heads in curiosity as I bobbed up and down in a tub full of warm water. The nurse said if it was false, they'd go away once I got in the tub.

They became worse..

Then I remember poking him awake, whispering that I thought it was maybe "time to go. NOW". I remember him bolting out of bed, jumping in the shower trying to desperately shock his body awake, even though at this point it was now closer to 2 am. He threw on a hat, grabbed my hospital bag and we jumped in the car. I grabbed at the door handle, writhing in pain for the longest 20 minute car ride of my life. At this point they were coming every 1 to 3 minutes.

The next thing I remember is being wheeled into a room, baring my ass so I could get into the gown and snuggling into the bed with the pillow I had brought from home. Every few minutes I felt a searing pain shoot across my stomach, followed by a brief moment of relief. But that moment was always over just a little too soon, and then I had to brace myself for yet another jolt of pain. Hot, searing pain.

Then the nurse came in, asked if I'd like an epidural and I said "Yes. Hell, yes". When the anethesiologist came in, I rolled on my side like an obedient dog waiting for some bacon strips and waited for the extremely long needle to do its magic. 30 minutes later I felt all the pain subside, as well as any other feeling in my body from the waist down. I can't recall ever being so happy as I felt the pain lift away from my body. It was at that moment I decided that I'd have a t-shirt made, maybe even coffee cups, that said "I love the epidural. I love it so much I would marry it". It was that good. Drugs are good! And then, time seemed to suspend in air, like fruit in a jello cup. It was now 6 in the morning and I felt I deserved a nap. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was having him tuck me in and then pass out himself in the chair next to me, exhausted from me gripping his hand like a wad of putty.

I woke up around 8. The nurse informed me that I was ready to go. Hmm, I could have probably refuted her statement but I figured it was probably safer to listen to the medical professional than my tired, irrational bloated mess of a body. The next hour flew by. I remember pushing, resting, pushing, resting. I also remember thinking that the time would have been more enjoyable if the tv had been turned on to the food network. But anyways, after some more pushing, she was here. Finally here. They placed her tiny, bloody body on my chest and I remember thinking "

"Whose baby is this? She's black!"

and also,

"Yay, I'm not pregnant anymore! I can eat sushi!"

Heh. What can I say, I am random.

But upon closer look, I realized "Oh. She's dark because she looks like John. She looks like her daddy."

I watched as they weighed her on the scale, wiped her eyes with ointment and wrapped her up like a delicious, tiny little asian burrito.  The nurse handed her to John, who wiped his eyes and stared at her in amazement. Then he placed her in my arms and all I could do was laugh. She was so dark, so hairy and so tiny. She was the baby I'd incubated for 9 months. The baby who left me a present of angry stretch marks and bad skin. And yet, all I could do was stare at this beautiful thing.

Evelyn Hae-bin Bang, we'd decided her name would be.

And now, five years later, here we are.
She is the best daughter in the entire world.