Blog Material

The only problem with keeping a blog, or attempting to keep a blog, is that not much actually happens in my life. And as it turns out, blogging about nothing is not only challenging in and of itself, but its also not really that interesting to read.
See, I'm essentially a shut in. Its just too damn hard to leave the house with the lot that I have. Sure, they can be cute. For about 5 minutes. Then they are less cute. Since I can't control when those 5 minutes are and I can't control the proximity of one child's 5 minutes of cuteness to another child's, then I run a pretty high risk of having at least 3 children in the not so cute state.

I no longer care what other people think. I am so far past that. I find it surprising when people try to offer empathy:
" They always have fits in public, don't they?"

I don't care if people think I'm the worst person or parent on the planet based on my child's state. What I do care about is my own annoyance factor. Its ANNOYING to hear a child shrieking and screaming at the top of their lungs.

When Holden was little he would scream. He would tell me " I am so ANGRY!"
I would tell him he had to be angry more quietly.

With Oliver it was all about getting him to use words. So I'd get right in front of him, force him to make eye contact with me, and give him the words he needed:
I am MAD! I am so MAD!

Eventually he learned to yell the right words and not just scream. It was a big step.

Oliver would still revert to simply shrieking. He would throw himself down in front of me. I'd step over him. He'd get up and run ahead of me and throw himself down again, looking slightly confused. ( Mommy sure is dense. She didn't even see me on the ground).

Oliver still resorts to a shriek when things don't go his way. Sometimes I can thwart a predictable one by shrieking before he does. He always screams when he gets in the car.
" BUCKLE IN! I NEED BUCKLE IN!"
Apparently he needs to shatter my eardrums as well. So now, as we approach the car, I scream:
" BUCKLE IN!"
He laughs when I beat him to it.
But I'm not always in the mood for this game.

I think I used up all my patience on Oliver.

I have no problem ignoring the screaming complaints of Griffin and Laurel. You think you can scream and get what you want? You think my threshold is low enough that I will cave? Ha! Oliver came before you! You are so screwed.

Sometimes all four are whining and complaining and beating on one another and sobbing. I just look at them and think:
OK, this is too annoying for me to deal with. Eventually they'll tire themselves out.

However, bringing the lot of them to the grocery store or anywhere for that matter, isn't easy. I'm slowed down because there are four. I'm slowed down because someone is having a meltdown. I'm slowed down because every two minutes people stop me and say:

" Thats quite a crew you have there."
" Supermom".
" You have a lot of kids!"
" Are they all twins?" Um... what? Yes, they were just born in different years which is why some are taller.

People mean well and I know its a way of reaching out and offering some sort of vague emotional support and I appreciate that. But when one child is screaming and hitting a sibling, and someone else is having some sort of sit in protest and another one has disappeared and the final one has decided he needs to pee right here in the store...well, I don't really have time to talk about how I have 4 children. So I just smile and say Yes in the hopes that whatever they are asking will be sated with this response.

Then I forget to buy the milk or whatever it was that lured me out of the house to begin with. By the time we return home I am so thankful to have the walls that confine them. I am thankful for the gated backyard. I am thankful for my ability to live as a shut in. But I don't have much blog material.