Can This Marriage Be Saved?

I read a recent article in Redbook about the lengths some couples will go to in order to save their marriage. Several couples shared their various problems. One of the couples talked about how the husband's snoring nearly ruined their marriage. The husband snored relentlessly, to the point that the wife, soon after their wedding, moved into the guest room. One night, after tossing and turning, she woke up her husband and threatened to punch him in the stomach if he didn't stop. Folks, I feel her pain.
Hubby snores. I've never thought about punching him in the stomach while he sleeps, but if it stopped his snoring, I might consider it. If I don't fall asleep before he does, then I know I'm in for an interesting night, possibly sleepless night. There have been times I have been startled out of a deep slumber, convinced someone is breaking into the house, only to realize the loud noise is Hubby's snoring.
A few years ago Hubby went to the doctor to discuss allergies and snoring. The doctor prescribed a new allergy medication and advised Hubby to lose weight. The medication didn't work. He's better off with an over-the-counter decongestant. In the last year or so he's dropped 30 pounds (that was his estimate, not mine... I never considered him overweight). If he loses any more weight he's going to look like he has an eating disorder. Still, the snoring continues. He also turns into "mean Hubby" in the initial stages of sleep... so if I dare attempt to rouse him and ask him to roll to his side (less likely to snore that way) then I'm practically daring him to argue with me... arguments he claims he has no knowledge of in the morning.
I know snoring can be signs of serious issues for the snorer. I suppose when we have time he should have some type of sleep evaluation to make sure his snoring isn't the sign of something serious.... until then I'll continue running upstairs the minute we decide to go to bed so I can be the first one in the bathroom and the first one in bed and hope I fall asleep before Hubby starts sawing logs.

Black Friday

I try to do my Christmas shopping throughout the year. I look at clearance aisles all year long and hope to find great bargains. Why? Because I can't make myself rise long before the sun to stand in line and run like a madwoman through a store on Black Friday.
When I was younger, my mom, grandma and I would go shopping the day after Thanksgiving, but never right when the store opened. We never had specific items on our list, we just looked at whatever struck our fancy.
These days, due to my part-time retail job, I'm usually one of the harried cashiers trying to move the lines along as fast as I can. Surprisingly, most people who shop today are in a good mood... no matter how early they woke up. Oh, sure, you still have the crankopotamus or two, but in general, most shoppers are happy to be cashing in on good deals.
Now that I'm shopping for four children, though, I'm starting to reconsider my no shopping on Black Friday. Every penny saved helps. So... for those of you who shopped today... delight me with your deals and make me jealous. Was it worth it?

Beyond the Turkey

The holidays are interesting this year. Any holiday. This year my daughters really understood Halloween... or at least the concept of knocking on doors and receiving candy. Ever since they day after Halloween they've been asking if it's Thanksgiving.
Since they're gung-ho for Thanksgiving, I've been trying to explain to them that the day is about more than turkey. It's been a difficult thing for them to grasp. We've read books and watched movies (specifically the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving episode, which we have on DVD). I think "thankful" is still a little beyond their grasp.
Last week at preschool their class spent a day making a Thanksgiving feast. The next day was a party for students and parents to eat the food. I spent the morning helping in class and had a chance to find out what my daughters are thankful for. The teacher read a Thanksgiving themed book and then asked each student what they're thankful for. Each of my girls named one of our cats. Not mommy. Not daddy. Not even their toys. Cats. I suppose I should be heartbroken, but it made me laugh and still does. They're thankful they have pets who truly are companions to the girls. They even call the cats their "best friends." I like to think my daughters understand the cats are a part of the family, too. So while we're not quite there yet, in terms of the true purpose of Thanksgiving, we're slowly starting to get there. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

A Place for the (Stuffed) Animals

A few months ago, I blogged about all the stuffed animals in my daughters' beds. I accidentally found a solution to keep their beds a little less cluttered.
Now that all four of my daughters are 100% potty trained, it seemed like it was time to take the changing table out of their room. For the last year or so, the changing table has been more of a storage area anyway. Oh, and a nice little climbing toy for them to look out the window.
About a week ago I did my seasonal cleaning out of their closet. During that time Hubby cleaned off the changing table and took it out of their room. In it's place is a Rubbermaid-type "dresser" with four drawers. Each girl has her own drawer. Roo and Tortilla put their cases for their glasses in the drawers. At night we pick out their clothes for the next day and put those in the drawers as well. In the morning they put their pajamas in the drawers.
The first night the dresser was in their room they wanted to fill their drawers to the brim with anything and everything they could find. Tortilla took every stuffed animal and baby doll on her bed and crammed them in her drawer. The other girls followed suit. They refuse to remove the animals at bed time and would now rather keep them in their drawers. It's not the perfect solution to a clean room, but at least they each have more room in their beds now!

Money Matters

I try not to talk too much about money in front of my daughters. They're only four, so I don't think they need to know if and when mommy and daddy are concerned about financial issues. Still, it's time for them to understand what money is.
When my daughters were younger, I could take them to the toy aisle of any store and they were content to simply look. Now, they're likely to ask for something. They don't seem too disappointed when I say "no," but they seem a little confused as to why we can't buy it. Here's a recent conversation we had:

Me: (driving to school and then work) "Oh no I forgot my lunch. I'll have to turn around to get it.
SueSue: "There's a McDonald's by your work. You can get food there."
Me: "McDonald's costs money and I don't have any money in my purse right now."
Roo: "Go to Target. You can get free samples there."
Clever little things, huh?
Recently I decided it was time to give my daughters their first lesson in money and saving. We went to the bank, each of them armed with four crisp $1 bills and a savings account deposit ticket. I explained to them that each of them has a savings account and that's how they save money for something special. When they receive money for birthdays, Christmas, etc. they can take their money to the bank and the people at the bank will keep it safe until the girls decide what they would like to buy. They each had fun turning over their money and their deposit slip. When it was all done, the teller gave them each a lollipop. Tortilla looked a little dismayed. I asked her what was wrong. "I didn't want to use my money to buy a lollipop," she said. Well, I guess we still have some learning to do.

Why the Double Standard?

When this issue first came to light over the summer, I debated whether I really wanted to open the topic up for debate on my blog. But a new article in a parenting magazine has me ready to start a discussion.
I'm talking about women, specifically moms, who drink. In July, a New York woman died in a crash that also killed four children and three other adults. Apparently the woman was legally drunk and impaired by marijuana. There is no excuse for what she did, no justification. But after this case made the news, suddenly various media outlets pounced on the trend of moms who drink. Moms. Not parents. Moms.
I sat down yesterday to read my latest issue of Parents magazine and found myself staring at an article titled "Playdates with Cocktails." The article highlights women who get together and consume alcoholic beverages while their children play. First of all, who are these moms and where do they live? During the playdates I've attended we barely have time to use the bathroom, let alone toss back a few cold ones. I'm not saying that there aren't moms out there who don't crack open a bottle of wine while they're all hanging out, but I have a hard time believing this happens on a daily basis in every suburb of America.
The thing that bothered me most about this article is that there are pages devoted specifically to women who drink. At the end of the article there is a small blurb about the message dads who binge drink send to their children. The message I'm receiving? It's OK for dads to crack open a beer, or two or more but the second mom does it we need to be outraged. Think about football Sunday. The stereotype is a "family man" blowing off steam with his buddies by sharing a few beers (or in the case of my neighbor, opening up the kegerator to the men in the neighborhood). But if moms take a night to share Cosmos with friends, they should be chastised.
I'm well aware that alcohol abuse is a serious problem. I don't condone drinking and driving. I don't think it's a good idea for parents, well, really anyone for that matter, to drink themselves to oblivion. But I also don't think there's anything wrong with enjoying a glass of wine at the end of a long day or having a cold beer with your dinner, whether you're male or female.
Everything we do as parents influences the decisions our children will make later in life. Whether you binge eat, smoke, swear, speed... and, yes, drink. It is all absorbed by our children.
Clearly I am one of the moms who partakes in a glass of wine on occaision. I drink in moderation and I don't hide it from my daughters. One of them asked me once if she could have a sip of my juice (they drink a lot of white grape juice, I was drinking a Chardonnay). I explained to her that I was drinking wine and wine is for adults. Case closed... for now. Perhaps by not making alcohol taboo, I'll have opened up a better line of communication when I need to start having "those" talks with my girls. So, let the discussion begin....

I Could Never Be a Preschool Teacher

This morning I was lucky enough to have time to volunteer at my daughters' preschool. I'm glad I have these chances, because I know there are parents out there who would like to do the same thing, but can't take the time off from work. In the three hours I spent at preschool I came to the conclusion that I could never be a preschool teacher.
In some ways, being a preschool teacher is like being a mom to toddler multiples, but on a much grander scale. At home, when one of my daughters needs to go potty, the other three need to go. This morning, when one preschooler needed to go potty the other 15 needed to go. When one wanted a drink, the other 15 wanted a drink... and so on and so on.
I had the chance to observe the teacher during her lessons. She has the right personality for the job. No matter how many times she was interrupted by a child, she simply stopped what she was doing and answered their questions or commented on their stories. She never raised her voice or lost her cool. She has a five-year-old son, so it's not as though she gets away from "toddlerhood" when the school day is over. Clearly this woman is a saint.
I spent three hours in the classroom. I'm exhausted. Thank goodness my daughters have a teacher who is able to do this day in and day out with a smile on her face!

Cold Weather Clothes Blues

I've got the blues... I've got the cold weather clothes blues... Winter makes me crazy on so many levels. I'm not a huge fan of cold weather to begin with. I grew up in the midwest and feel I've already lived through my share of blizzards. The place I live now doesn't have the same snow storms that I grew up with, but we have at least two doozies a season. If it were up to me I would live somewhere tropical... but then I would probably complain about hurricanes, so I guess I can't win.
My biggest challenge as a parent during the winter is clothing. It's cold in the morning, mild in the afternoon... how the heck should I know how to dress my kids? Layers just aren't always practical. I do enough laundry as it is. Do we wear our light jackets or our heavy duty snow coats? Yes, I check the weather forecast each night, but sometimes the weather changes on a dime here.
But my biggest issue comes with all the stuff we need just to get out the door in the cold weather. I learned the hard way last winter that toddlers are not capable of keeping track of their gloves. After a few days of school, we were missing at least three gloves.... not three pairs, mind you, just three gloves. So, genius that I am, I trekked to Target to buy mitten clips. You would have thought I was speaking French when I asked the employee there to help me find them (because putting them with the kids' gloves would have been too easy). After about 15 minutes we found them... near the hair accessories.
I still haven't figured out how to keep track of our hats. Fortunately, we haven't lost them... yet. Still, many times when I pick my girls up from school I'll find their hats shoved into their backpack or a coat pocket. I'm pretty sure one day soon their cute little purple striped hats will be missing. It comes with the territory of having children, but it's still frustrating.
As for boots... forget it. Quite frankly, I can't afford boots that they're going to wear just a few times. So far we've managed to get by with tennis shoes. I'm looking at the possibility of buying child sized hiking boots for the girls.. and if Kohl's ever sends me another 30% off coupon then I'll buy them.
So, to make a long story short, spring and summer can arrive as soon as they would like. I'm all for seasons that require as little clothing as possible!

From Preemie to Mommy of Preemies

Today hundreds of bloggers are writing posts about premature births. Every year 20 million babies are born too soon. Medical advances are giving these babies a fighting chance, but for many of them, prematurity is still a life or death situation. Last week, to promote today's event, I shared some of my story involving the premature births of my four daughters. Today, I'm taking a slightly different angle.
I was born premature. I was approximately four weeks early. I've been told I spent time in an isolette so my lungs could develop properly. I've never had any developmental complications from being premature, so it never really hit me how serious being born early can be.... until I became a mommy of preemies.
When I learned I was pregnant with quadruplets I was immediately informed that I would give birth early. How early? There was no way to tell. The longer my babies could stay in the womb, the better. With a fairly uncomplicated pregnancy (save for 23 weeks of bed rest), a c-section was scheduled for 32 weeks. Then at 28 weeks and 2 days, at around 4 a.m., my water broke. I was in disbelief. It was way too early!
Twenty-eight weeks was a magic number. It was how far along I had to be to deliver my babies at my local hospital, rather than be immediately transferred to a hospital 2 1/2 hours away that had pediatric specialists.
My tour of the NICU did not prepare me for what would happen. It's not easy seeing someone else's baby connected to monitors with oxygen tubes up her nose. It's even harder when this fragile child is your own. It took 24 hours before I could hold one of my daughters. I was able to hold Tortilla on a pillow for about two minutes while her bedding was changed... then it was right back to the safety of her isolette. It would be weeks before we could hold any of our daughters for more than a few minutes.
The other day I dug out some NICU pictures for my daughters to see. I could see in their eyes how troubled they were to look at pictures of tiny babies with tubes coming out of their noses, etc. Then I had to explain to them that they were the babies in the pictures. We spent some time talking about how tiny they were and all the special care they needed. It's a lot for a 4-year-old to grasp.
We have since moved from the area where we lived when my daughters were born. It is my hope that one day we can visit so my daughters can see that area... and so we can show the NICU staff how well these girls have thrived, partly due to the care they received when they were first born.
To learn more about prematurity and what you can do to help, visit the March of Dimes.

Homework for Preschoolers

People look at me like I'm nuts when I mention that my daughters have homework assignments in preschool. The comment I hear the most is "Wow. They're really starting them early these days." Some weeks I think the homework is a pain, but all in all, I see the benefits.
My theory is that the homework is really for the parents. The assignment is sent home on Thursday (the last school day of the week) and due on Monday. Most assignments take 15 minutes or less (yes, per child, so there are definitely times I spend an hour helping all four girls with their homework. Still, I'll be wishing for these days when they tackle trig and calculus in high school). The homework reinforces what they've learned in school and really gives me insight into who is progressing and who needs a little nudging.
For instance, at our last parent-teacher conference the teacher and I discussed Tortilla's counting skills. She was struggling with certain numbers. Yet when I sat down to help her with her homework yesterday she correctly counted each farm animal on her worksheet. It was exciting to see how much better she's doing.
Having parents sit down with their children once a week to see what they're doing in school isn't a bad thing. Homework, even at the preschool level, really forces you to have an active role in your child's education. For now, my daughters enjoy doing homework and actually argue over who is going to do their homework first. (Right now I work with them one on one. It's less chaotic that way). By sending home assignments that need parental supervision, my daughters see that Hubby and I value their education and want them to succeed. (Again, when they're in high school and this non-math whiz has to muddle through trig with them, remind me that I once said homework is a good thing!)

What is Up With Clothes for Kids?

Some days I feel buried in laundry, hence the title of this blog. The clothes my daughters generate in two days is the equivalent of what one child wears in a week. In order to keep the hamper from overflowing I do my daughters' laundry three or four times a week. I have come to the conclusion that the people designing childrens' clothing do not have children.
I expect to have to hand wash holiday dresses. They are frilly. They are delicate. They are everything a holiday dress should be. I do not, however, think many other clothes for children should require you to do anything other than throw them in the washer and dryer.
My daughters have a beautiful sweater that I rarely allow them to wear. Why? It needs to hand washed and line dried. Way too much work for a child's garment. I rarely wear any of my clothing that needs hand washed or dry cleaned, so I certainly don't have time to do it for them.
My daughters have a really cute pair of Disney Princess denim capris that require extra attention, too. Due to a design on the outside, the capris need to be turned inside out to wash and dry. This I am willing to do... thank goodness I actually read the label before I washed them. I've started turning all jeans and shirts with designs inside out before even putting them in the hamper.
The next time you are at a department store, take a stroll through the toddler section and look at the jeans. So many of them are made with thin denim. I send my daughters to preschool in jeans on a daily basis. I need jeans that can handle some wear and tear, especially in the knees, since that's the first area to end up with holes. Plus, so few pants for toddlers come with elastic or adjustable waists. Isn't the toddler age the time when most kids are being potty-trained? They need pants that are easy to pull down and pull back up (yes, I stole that train of thought from Laura C!)
My point? There is a time and a place for beautiful, delicate clothing. I will handle those garments with extreme care and do my best not to ruin them in the wash. But kids need to be kids... and for the majority of them that means having clothes that can take a beating without getting beat up in the laundry.

Handle With Care

When I found out I was pregnant with quadruplets, my life became defined by numbers.... weeks to be exact. I knew I would be delivering my babies early... but how early was the question.
Twenty-eight weeks and two days. Those two days are important. It's two days longer that my daughters had time to grow before coming into the world. Rarely will you meet a parent of preemies who doesn't talk about the birth in terms of weeks and days. Some of them can tell you the hours involved, too.
To see pictures of preemies is deceiving. Pictures did not capture the terror of having four babies weighing between 1 1/2 pounds and 2 pounds 4 ounces. In pictures my daughters looked delicate, but not that small. To give people an idea of the challenges we faced, Hubby sent this picture to friends and family:
That is a picture of Cakes' foot and Hubby's wedding band. He has average sized hands. (The blue tint is because all the girls were under Bilirubin lights for jaundice.) After seeing that picture people finally understood our fears.
With preemies, everything becomes a milestone... the first time you can hold your baby (it was about two weeks before we got to do more than transfer them from their isolette to the scale), the first time she poops, the first time she opens her eyes. I have pages upon pages documenting each of these "firsts," and plenty of pictures to go with them.
I consider us very blessed in our lack of "preemie problems." Sue Sue was born with an open heart ductus, but it closed without surgery. Each of the girls had Retinopathy of Prematurity, but, again, no need for surgery. Sue Sue had feeding issues and was eventually transferred to a children's hospital 2 1/2 hours away from us (an excrutiating and exhausting week, I might add). She finally came home with a feeding tube, which lasted for about a week. On Christmas Day she pulled the tube out, so, out of frustration, I gave her a bottle. which she drained. No more feeding issues!
Even now, at age 4, the issue of prematurity still comes up. For instance, next year my daughters miss the kindergarten cut-off by three days. So many parents have rolled their eyes and told me to appeal and start them in kindergarten. Yet, if they had been born "on time" (December) this wouldn't be an issue. At this point, I'm leaning toward another year of preschool. I would rather have four smart cookies who enjoy school than four girls struggling through school because I pushed them to start early, even if it's just a matter of days.
November is Prematurity Awareness Month. On Nov. 17, bloggers will unite to raise awareness about the crisis of premature births. I know why my daughters were born early, but I am forever thankful for the advances made by the March of Dimes and other organizations which have helped my daughters grow and thrive. If you want to share your own story or get involved in the effort to raise awarness, you can visit Bloggers Unite.

Learning to Pick My Battles

While I have a fairly strict schedule with my daughters, I learned early on that I need to be flexible. Being a sane parent means knowing which battles are worth fighting. I could run myself ragged if I tried to maintain control over everything my daughters do.
This morning is a good example of a battle not worth fighting. When it was time to go to preschool, everyone came into the mud room/laundry room. I started helping each of them put their coats on. Sue Sue didn't want any help and ended up with her coat on backwards. I tried to fix her coat and she resisted. After I had everyone in a coat I told Sue Sue to look at me and listen carefully. Once I had her attention I explained to her that if she wanted to fix her coat it needed to be done now.... if she walked out the door with her coat on backwards it would stay on backwards. I also told her that I would not help her fix it once we arrived at school. In other words, even if the other kids questioned why her coat was on backwards, it was going to stay that way. She said she wanted it on backwards, so off we went. (Keep in mind I had to hide my giggles throughout this entire process). We arrived at school and I discreetly informed the teacher that Sue Sue would need help removing her coat in the classroom. (Of course I zipped it... backwards or not I needed it to stay on). My theory in all of this: at least she agreed to wear a coat today... yesterday she didn't want the coat at all.
Part of me worried about what would happen when the other kids saw Sue Sue with her coat on the wrong way. Most of them didn't seem to notice, at least not while I was there. If they giggled later on, well, I'm confident Sue Sue would giggle right along with them. She knows it was silly and she wants to test boundaries. I figure if I can let her test those boundaries now, then maybe I'll be a little better prepared to figure out which battles are worth fighting when they're teenagers.

Musical Chairs

As soon as Hubby and I found out I was pregnant with quadruplets, we knew we would need a larger vehicle. At the time, Hubby drove a Chevy Blazer and I drove a Honda CRV... neither of them is large enough to handle four car seats. We upgraded to a Chevy Suburban, which has been wonderful.
The middle row has a seat which slides forward to access the third row. Hubby took that seat out so we weren't trying to hop over that seat to put infant carriers in the last row. From the moment all the girls came home from the hospital they had "assigned" seats. It wasn't really a plan, but it just worked out that Cakes always sat in the third row on the driver's side. That's the hardest seat to access and she was the smallest and lightest. It made sense that we would lift her infant carrier there so we weren't killing our backs. The next lightest was Tortilla, so she occupied the seat next to Cakes. Roo and Sue Sue always sat in the middle row.
They never questioned this routine... until they could get in the car themselves. We all walk out to the Suburban and suddenly everyone is elbowing each other out of the way to be the first one in the car and the first one to pick her seat. There is no rhyme or reason as to who sits where. Some days everyone wants the back row, other days they all want the middle row. Today Tortilla was angry that Roo and Cakes claimed the third row seats on the way to school. It didn't appease her when I told everyone that Sue Sue and Tortilla will be sitting in the back row on the way home.
I'm trying to come up with a better system, so they know ahead of time who will be sitting where. Although I guess it doesn't really matter what system I come up with... they seem to have a system all their own.

Tinkering With the Schedule

For the last few months, I have had a finely tuned schedule. It took planning and practice, but I finally figured out exactly what time we need to wake up during the week to get my daughters to preschool. I determined which days laundry needs to be done, including the dreaded "family laundry day," which typically starts at 7 a.m. and rarely ends before 5 p.m. Now, Hubby has gone and messed it all up.
You see, ever since January we've been in a financial strain. Like many families out there, the economy has taken a toll on Hubby's employer, and, thus, on us. Since the beginning of the year, we've weathered 10 furloughs and a mandatory pay cut. Then, just a few months ago, Hubby's company informed him that his department was being "hubbed." The simplest explanation is that Hubby's company has offices around the country. His department is now being consolidated to one centralized location. Lucky for us the location happens to be Hubby's home-base... but Hubby has to reapply for his job. He has been looking for a new job all year and, finally, FINALLY, the search paid off. Hubby found a new job and starts in less than two weeks... and in less than two weeks my carefully synchronized schedule goes kaput.
My days at my part-time job will change, including working until closing on Saturdays (by 8 p.m. I'm ready to crash, so we'll see how this works out). My laundry days will change. My grocery day will change. But I see a big pro... Hubby will now have to take a bigger role in this new schedule, including bath nights, school drop off and pick up, etc. (Yes, he definitely pulls his weight around here already, but I like to tease him about how much more he'll have to do!) I guess I'll be nice and still save "family laundry day" for one of my days.
Yes, I know how fortunate Hubby is to have a job... and how lucky he was to be able to jump ship in this uncertain economy. In all seriousness, I consider this the light at the end of the tunnel. The hits we've taken through Hubby's current job have hurt. We've endured and perhaps we're stronger for it. But now we're ready to start climbing back and have some breathing room... even if it means messing with my schedule.

The Winner Is...

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#1 Stephanie B

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Whistler's Mom

Every parent can come up with a few milestones that they wonder why they celebrated. I remember when the Early Intervention people came to our house and taught my daughters how to climb on the couch. My daughters were delighted. The EI specialists were delighted to see how quickly the girls picked up on this activity. I was not that happy. I knew what was coming. From that point on, my daughters were no longer content to be on the floor. Every waking minute needed to be spent on the couch. Unfortunately, they didn't understand the laws of gravity and often came tumbling onto the floor. Many days Hubby and I would simply take the cushions off the couch, or position them so our little monkeys couldn't climb aboard.
The latest milestone that's driving me crazy? Whistling. For the longest time, whenever my daughters would call one of our cats they would shout his name and then make a high-pitched "hoo hoo" sound. What in the world? It took me awhile to realize they thought they were whistling. Thinking it would be less annoying to hear actual whistling I set out to teach them how to whistle. Big mistake.
In the beginning they would pucker up and say "hoo hoo." Then I showed them how to pucker and blow, yet they insisted on just doing the "hoo hoo" noise. And then... Sue Sue figured out how to whistle. Now that's all she does. She whistles at the breakfast table. She whistles in the car on the way to school. She whistles on the way upstairs to get ready for bed. She whistles in bed as soon as she wakes up. Cakes is picking up on whistling, too. She blows out... no noise. She sucks in... a whistle. So from her I hear "woosh... whistle." Tortilla and Roo don't want to be left out so they still do the "hoo hoo" thing. I've decided that the next thing I teach them will be the "who can be quiet the longest?" game!
(Today is your last chance to enter the Skin MD Natural giveaway. I'll be announcing the winner tonight.)

Daylight Savings Time... Or Why I Can't Sleep In

I understand the concept of Daylight Savings Time (DST). Still, I have to wonder if those who implemented DST had young children. The beginning and end of DST play major havoc with my schedule.
Saturday night Hubby and I kept our girls up a little later than usual... mainly because I was trying to clean up Tortilla after her latest barfing incident. I figured this would buy us some extra sleep, or at least make up for the extra hour. Yet at the crack of dawn Roo was up using the bathroom and asking if she could get up. Even the dark curtains in their room can't fool Roo into thinking she should still be sleeping. (Keep in mind this is the same girl who went to the bathroom at 9 p.m. and asked me if it was "wake up time.") Yesterday? Same story. This morning. Yep... up at least a half hour before she needed to wake up for school. I made her come in to my room and lay down so she wouldn't wake up her sisters. This, of course, simply made her sisters wander the hallway looking for her. Then, instead of getting ready for school, everyone wanted to climb in my bed to "rest." I can't win.
At this point it's not even a matter of sleeping in. I simply don't want to be up at 6 a.m. if we don't need to be. Growing up I loved "falling back" and having that extra hour of sleep on Sunday. Clearly someone needs to explain this to my daughters.
The good news? It is pitch black in their room by bedtime. They are out like a light. I guess I need to learn to find the positive in a sleepless situation.
(By the way, time is running out to enter the Skin MD Natural giveaway).

Party 'Til You Puke

Growing up I seemed to have the misfortune of being sick on holidays. In third grade I missed trick or treating because I was sick... and a few days later even ended up hospitalized due to dehydration. I remember being ill on Thanksgiving one year and sick with a fever one Easter. My senior year of high school I became ill on Christmas and wound up hospitalized that New Year's Eve with a kidney stone. Even last Christmas I was fighting some version of Sue Sue's croup and could barely talk. So it should come as no surprised to me that my daughters are destined to repeat my misery.
Minutes before we left the house to go to my in-laws on Halloween, Tortilla vomited everywhere, including on part of her costume. I cleaned her up and debated skipping the festivities. The poor thing was devastated. She insisted she was OK and could go trick or treating. So I caved and we left. She was fine in the car, but threw up when we reached our destination... still insisting she could handle trick or treating. She rested for a bit and was ready to go. All four girls ran from house to house, filling their buckets to the brim with candy. Then on the way home... well, by now you can imagine what Tortilla did.
It doesn't stop there. That night... it was my turn. In the morning... Cakes. At dinner... Sue Sue. Let's just say Hubby was going out of his mind trying to take care of everyone.
Today seems to be a better day. So far... knock on wood... everyone has kept down her breakfast. Due to snow days last week, the preschool Halloween party was postponed until today. I decided to keep everyone home... just in case. Let's hope the holidays for the rest of the year are little less eventful!
(Don't forget: you still have time to enter the Skin MD Natural giveaway!)