Spring and the Infectious Diseases Ward

We’ve been sick a lot this winter thanks to a combination of preschool germs, four kids who still put things in their mouths, lots of indoor time due to nasty weather, and finally coming out of our preemie-with-immature-lungs cocoon and spending time in public places now that Jenny is over two. Among multiple other illnesses the entire family caught RSV (Josie developed croup to boot). We’ve had three rounds of the stomach flu in the last month. The poor Man, bless his heart, had to spend the night on call in the ICU in a nauseous haze. Just as half the family got over the stomach flu we traded with the other half and caught a nasty cold that involves four days of high fevers and general misery before mellowing out to a week of hacking, runny noses, and sneezing. The baby cried for a good four hours today, and the kids spent half of yesterday slumped on the couch watching Daniel Tiger as their brains leaked out their ears. Basically, you would not want us as party guests right now. In fact, you don’t want us out on your driveway, and it’s probably best if we don’t even glance your direction while passing by.

Outside, though, things are looking up. There’s a new spring “first” every way we turn:

That first short-lived crocus was quickly followed by six more. Two days ago I spotted the first daffodil blooming up on the wooded ridge between our house and the neighbors. That afternoon, driving Lucy home from an appointment, I glanced at the prairie to my right; overnight every scrub bush had produced a delicate haze of newborn green leaves. Just before dinner yesterday we loaded our sick kids in the car for a drive and passed new rain-dotted snowdrops. The yards around us are starting to green up. On a damp drizzly walk this afternoon we heard the first woodpecker of the year drumming away in the woods, and the first frogs calling in the marsh as deer ran away from us through the chest-high grass.


(I turned around after photographing flowers and spotted an audience)

Two days ago we enjoyed a random temperature spike into the 70s. Nobody felt great but the twins joined me for a bit as we cleared out dead leaves and old tomato vines from the kitchen garden. Eventually they ran off to climb their favorite backyard tree and told me they were Winnie the Pooh trying to reach some honey. In the afternoon I loaded sick babies in the stroller and we headed off on a gloriously sunny walk.

It’s not all grim inside. The twins are pulling out of their colds, Jenny is close behind, and hopefully Josie will follow soon. I found this set of magnetic wooden people for $2 at a consignment sale and it’s bought us some sick days breathing room. I was excited that it’s a racially diverse set. Annie loves them and keeps begging to play with “the Maggot People.” 

Hair day needs to happen, sick or well.. My skills need work but I liked this part line pattern.

Jenny has joined Josie in her ditch-the-pants obsession. We turned around from folding laundry this afternoon to proud little girl giggles and this sight:

Daybook for the First Week of Spring

Outside my window…


Sunshine is pouring down after a long stretch of cold gray days. [I wrote that two days ago. Now it’s gray and dreary, but at least it’s in the 50s]. We’ve had an odd winter with bitter cold and loads of snow in December followed by a snow-less January and February. Temperatures vacillated between frigid cold and balmy spring-like days. We even had a couple thunderstorms and a tornado watch in the mix. Flower buds popped out along the bare branches on our crap apples and daffodil shoots sprouted all over the yard. Now that it’s March we’ve had another four sticking snows and the kids finally got to use the sleds they received for Christmas. All the plants about to bloom have paused and hunkered back down looking a bit sheepish. If they had feelings I think they’d mirror the embarrassment one feels after standing up for a song in church, looking it up in the hymnal, then glancing around after finding the page to realize everyone else has remained seated. A purely hypothetical scenario not based on personal experience at all, of course. We moved into this house in June so I’m looking forward to seeing the yard in Spring for the first time.

I am thankful…


At the natural history museum. Only Josie seems to grasp the peril of their situation

…that the stomach flu continued on its way after afflicting only Jack. Poor Jack, but lucky us. [Update from two days later: apparently I jinxed myself. Reward: spending half last night up with a vomiting baby].

…for community. We’re glad to be closer to family  but have badly missed our old neighborhood, friends, church, and military community in North Carolina. We’re finally starting to build a few connections after many months of church hunting and it’s a nice feeling.

…for bigger kids. This is the last day of The Man’s latest stretch of ICU call. ICU is still exhaustingl and intense on the home front, but so much easier than it used to be. The Man came home late in the evening yesterday, glanced around the tidied-right-before-bed-with-the-kids house, and commented “You know, the house could never have looked this good in the middle of an ICU week a year ago.” It’s true. 4, 4, 2, and 1 is a very different state than 3, 3, 1, and an infant. When he’s gone for extended stretches it’s still (very) hard work but I don’t constantly feel like I’m scrambling to keep body and soul together. There’s just enough breathing space for little extras like a museum trip, park stop, or store run with all four in tow. I even made it to church solo with all four little kids this morning – a first! They can do things now like eat a picnic lunch in the car with (reasonable) tidiness, skip the occasional nap or snack, or delay a meal half an hour without imploding. Altogether, just a little more flexibility in our days.

I am thinking


about Spring plans outside and inside. Our home has basic landscaping but nothing more. We’d like to plant flower beds, a vegetable garden, some fruit trees, and a few berry bushes but will have to see what time allows. We’re also debating school plans for next year. Continue as we have with private school a couple mornings a week and low-key homeschooling on other days? Public special needs preschool? Full time homeschooling with more room for therapy? Another option?

Learning all the time…


with baking experiments. I love to cook and bake but can easily fall into a rut thanks to the basic necessity of feeding all these people all these meals on all the days. I really haven’t done much with yeast breads in the past. So, in place of the usual familiar dessert baking I’ve been experimenting this Lent with various yeast-based doughs: pizza dough, Smitten Kitchen’s Cheddar rolls (delicious, but I think better with tomato soup than for breakfast), and a couple batches of whole wheat/whole grain bread. Do you have a favorite recipe (or cookbook) for whole wheat bread, the perfect pizza dough, or something else? I’m all ears. We’ve had reasonable success but risen doughs are definitely a learned skill.

Celebrating the liturgical year…


with a low-key Lent. I can’t say we’ve done anything specifically Lenten as a family though we continue as usual with daily Bible reading, prayers, and hymns with the kids. As adults it’s been a quiet but beneficial Lent so far. Not dramatic, but steady. While it’s not specifically Lenten, I’ve also been enjoying richer and more consistent scripture study since Christmas. We’re pretty consistent about reading the Bible as a couple but I’ve struggled with sticking to my own devotions. I’m a fast reader and often find myself skimming through the Bible when I sit down to read it. On the other hand, when I use a formal study the intellectual perfectionist side of me rears its head and I find myself writing exhaustive answers to each question and lost for hours on a section that’s designed to take ten minutes. That’s not bad except that I then get impatient and frustrated and abandon the whole thing. At the end of December I jumped (late) on an Advent-focused scripture writing challenge. I started a new one in January and found I really benefited from the forced slow pace and intense focus of hand-writing a passage instead of just reading it. At the beginning of February I decided to start copying an entire book by hand. I settled on Romans because it’s middle-of-the-road in length, theologically rich, and one I haven’t studied in a while. Because I know myself and my tendency to do things just to check them off the list I didn’t even break it into sections to tackle and check off. Every morning I just read the next passage (usually 3-6 verses), hand copy it, re-read it, then rapidly skim the book back up to that point to place it in context and make sure I’m tracking. I’m happy to say, after years of on-again-of-again personal study that I’ve missed only a couple of days since January first. I’m half way through Romans and am pausing to outline the first eight chapters and review. 6 weeks sounds like a long time for eight chapters but I’m flying compared to my childhood pastor who preached through Romans for two straight years. There really is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

From the kitchen…


as mentioned above, yeast breads. Also, a fair number of meatless meals like potato pancakes, leek and potato soup, salads, black beans, and pasta. I also made crepes for the first time using the Joy of Cooking recipe. I substituted 1/3 whole wheat flour for all purpose. My Mom used to make crepes and I love them so I don’t know why it took me so long to get on the bandwagon. They make a nice Lenten special family breakfast. I skipped the sugar in the batter, spooned warm applesauce down the middle, rolled them up, and sprinkled cinnamon on top. A hit with everyone. Were it not Lent that’d be cinnamon sugar, the way my Mom used to make them for us on cold winter mornings. After Easter there’ll be blintzes and crepes with Nutella and strawberries in our treats lineup.

I am creating…


a scarf. Very. Very. Very. Sloooowly. At this rate it will be ready just in time for the stifling heat of August. Knitting is not a “just like riding a bike” skill for me. I’ve learned and then forgotten how to knit many times: as a small child, an older child, in college, and again while The Man was deployed. At some point after the twins became mobile one crawled to the knitting basket and tangled my work-in-progress. I never finished it. Two more babies followed and all skills were again forgotten. I’m just now getting to the point where there’s a smidgen of breathing room for handcrafts. Courtesy of YouTube I’m now back to knitting Continental Style. I’m making this pattern without the contrasting center stripe or letters.

I am working on…


bits of spring cleaning, as time allows.

I am going


to lots and lots of therapy appointments. Physical therapy for me, feeding therapy for Jenny (the end is in sight after almost three years!), Speech, OT, and Behavioral Therapy for Annie. In addition there are specialist visits for various children and routine pediatrician and dental checkups needed. I don’t really like being a family that has someplace to be every day of the week but right now it’s necessary. Whenever possible I treat appointments as special 0ne-on-one time with a child. We chat in the car, play music of the kid’s choice, and read books or play one-on-one together in the waiting room. Often the long drives are also a good time for me to catch up on my podcasts queue or listen to an audiobook if the child isn’t in a chatty mood.

I am hoping


to prepare well in advance for a weekend trip to New York. Practically, though, who am I kidding ;).

I am praying…


for our three older kids and their first families. Adoption is complicated and messy. A blessing, yes, but also a tremendous loss.

I am pondering

Jack’s face of concentration. Ha!


special needs parenting. I’m reading as much as I can get my hands on. There’s a wealth of (often contradictory) information out there. It’s hard to take that flood of information in, filter it, and decide what’s best for a child who doesn’t yet have much say. Unfortunately many Christian parenting books take a one-size-fits-all approach to parenting that may work with typically developing children but is poorly suited to kids with neurological differences.  It’s humbling as a parent who thought I knew everything before having kids (and frequently judged others’ parenting) to realize that much of our kids’ behavior and growth cannot, and sometimes should not, be controlled by us. It’s a constant fight to focus on what a child really needs and not the way others around us are judging the child or our parenting.

I am reading


Travels with Charley by John Steinbeck as an audiobook read by Gary Sinise. It’s wonderful, and Sinise has the perfect voice for it. Even if you’re not a Steinbeck fan I highly recommend this account of his casual journey through 40 states. He combines dry wit and poetic description with detached observation and a warm interest in the people he meets. I love a good armchair travel book but frequently cringe at travel writer’s scornful summary of the people they encounter. I can’t imagine how the people Bill Bryson or Paul Theroux describe must feel at the authors’ sardonic assessments of their lives. Steinbeck manages to describe foibles without mockery and approaches others on his travels with warm interest. I’m also reading Madeleine L’Engle’s first memoir A Circle of Quiet which is enjoyable and thought provoking. She’s incredibly well-read so each page brings up some other book I should also read. Dangerous fodder.

I am listening to


Podcasts, whenever I can. When I was growing up my parents frequently had the radio on. Classical music, talk radio, or the news in the car, often Old Time Radio or Car Talk on Saturday mornings. I almost never turn the radio on but I think Podcasts are my equivalent. It’s nice to have a grownup talking to me about something interesting as I do the dishes or fold laundry. We’re also listening to classical music quite a bit as the kids usually request “singing” in the car and one can tolerate only so much of Elizabeth Mitchell or the OkeeDokee Brothers. Right now it’s Haydn’s masses in the car and Beethoven in the CD player at home.

I am hearing


The washing machine gently swishing, laundry tumbling ’round the drying, and an anemic burbling from our increasingly useless coffee maker. The baby spent half the night vomiting through multiple rooms so I’m in wash-and-sterilize-everything mode.

I am struggling


with my hair. Which sounds a bit silly and vain but I’ve never been a hair or makeup person. All my life I’ve just washed every couple days, combed or brushed, and tossed it back in a bun, braid, or ponytail without blow drying, styling, or products. The very hard water in our new home is wreaking havoc on my hair though and it constantly looks unkempt. Dry strands, frizz, and unevenness abound. The hard water doesn’t really bother us in any other way so I’m wondering if there are better product choices vs. investing vast sums in a water softener.

Clicking around


Well, not much really. I’m doing my best to cut back on social media in particular and screen time in general. Which, bonus, allows time for things like writing and reading!

Around the house…

SuperDad comforts four fussing children at once.

we’re making plans for painting a few rooms. We haven’t made any changes to the house and have only hung one picture since we moved in Hopefully we can get a few small projects done before warmer temperatures pull our living outside. We’re adding in some more consistent chores for the big kids now that they’re four. We’ve always had them help, but are adding in a few more regular jobs at regular times for them like vacuuming the dining room after meals and a set whole house cleanup every evening. They’re still at the age where it’s more work to supervise them than to do it ourselves, but it’ll be worth it in the long run.

One of my favorite things…


The quiet hour or two before the kids get up. I’ve been consistently getting up at 5:00 or 5:30 since New Years with only a couple of later days from illness or missed alarms. I consider the earliest hours my personal time. For this introvert it’s a key window to read, eat a quiet breakfast, do my Bible study, exercise, or knit. Sometimes I squeeze in a chore or two, but I don’t feel obligated to use that time for household purposes. I find when I start the day with something mentally fulfilling I’m a much better spouse and parent throughout the day.

A few plans for this week…

About typical for our “selfies for six” attempts. Seven if your count Annie’s beloved bear.

Therapies and specialist appointments. Dinner with the pastor’s family tonight. Sending off picture and email updates to the kids’ birth families.

A little peek at my day…


A sick baby overnight means a freshly-bathed baby with fabulous hair in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hikes and Hair

 This is the view from the playground by our house. We love standing on the hill and looking out over the rolling prairie and farms. It’s like a picture book scene: a little town in the distance, trains chugging by in the valley, livestock dotting the distant grass by miniature barns and houses. The ridge always catches a breeze, and hiking trails lead off through the long grass and wildflowers. We stop by as often as we can to savor the changing seasons. Last week I took the big three while The Man stayed with the napping baby. After playground time and a short hike we switched off duties so The Man could take Jack to the barber.


Though we have much to learn yet adoption has already forced us to grow, change, and challenge our own assumptions. For example, before adopting African American kids we had no idea how important hair is in black culture. Hair must always be moisturized and well-groomed. Girls typically wear their hair in protective styles like cornrows or twists. Putting girls’ hair down in a twist out or an Afro is for special occasions only. Many white adoptive families (us included before we learned better!) keep their black daughters’ hair loose and dry. However, that choice leaves kids outsiders in the black community; unkempt hair outside the home is on par with wearing filthy clothes, not brushing your teeth, or never bathing. Likewise, many white families  just buzz their black sons’ hair at home – after all it’s cheaper and easier than heading out. However, black barbershops are a community cornerstone for black men and boys. Many black males get their hair lined up by their barber every week. Black barbershops are a place to socialize, develop inter-generational ties, share news, and learn skills for thriving as a minority in our society. Many adult transracial adoptees regret a childhood of standing out everywhere as the only representative of their race in white communities. They remember being the token black student in their grade, the only non-white kid at the park, and so on. Later, as independent adults who’ve lost the visible connection to their parents and token “white card” black adoptees often find themselves on the fringe of the white community, but unfamiliar with and uncomfortable in the black community as well. As adoptive parents, we believe adult adoptees are one of the best resources for learning pitfalls and plusses in adoptive parenting.


Although we have several African-American neighbors, on average our new town is much less racially diverse than our old town. Since moving we’ve been hunting for church, school, commercial, and social opportunities with positive racial mirrors for our kids. Thanks to a recommendation from friends we finally found a great black barbershop. I grew up oblivious to racial issues and assuming that racism was rare or non-existent in our Midwestern town. Most neighbors would have said they didn’t see or care about color. But there, as anywhere, overt and systemic racism was all around us. My kindergarten teacher sent the only black students to the principle constantly because she didn’t want them in her class. Police stopped black boys just for waiting in their cars in predominantly white areas. A large group of young black men would have been viewed with suspicion by people in the community. What a healthy adjustment now, after lots of hunting, to find a barbershop full to bursting with black teenage boys sent by their parents for fresh cuts before church on Sunday, dads with young sons, businessmen, seniors out to socialize on a weekend morning. Where, for a change, our son blends in with the majority and my husband is the sole white guy in the room. Jack came back bursting with pride in his sharp looking bald fade (and delighted with the three lollipops he scored for a haircut). We’re happy to have another great resource for our son as he matures. That’s not to say he’s so mature right now. This is what happens when I ask him to smile for a photo with his sister:

Town

Will you come on a walk through town with us? Let me introduce your friendly tour guides:

“Mom. I don’t speak English yet. Also, the fat pink thing keeps grabbing my hair beads. Make it go away.”

Oh. Never mind. Beg your pardon. Let’s check with the backup tour guides. Guys?

“These are the Methodist church steps. We like the church steps. We will go up and down the church steps for the next hour. Your readers will be very interested in the church steps Mom. See?”

“No, kids. They probably won’t.”

“Well the Grandmas will. And the Aunts. See, we’re cute! Who wants to walk through town when they can see us climb up and down these stairs fifty times!”

“I do. But you’re right, at least the church is pretty.” (Top and bottom cut off because Annie proceeded to step in a fire ant nest and I ditched the camera to wipe hundreds of swarming ants off her legs with my bare hands.)

Today’s weather was perfect for a meandering walk through town this morning. We detoured off the main street for a wander through the farmer’s market. The sweet lady who bakes cakes and has watched the twins grow up from babyhood gave us free scones. We spotted motorcycles, puppies, cars, fountains, and a pig statue in a store window. We threw tantrums (well, some of us) and climbed walls. A good day in any toddler’s book.


Out Solo

I often take all four kids out by myself for walks around the neighborhood, tricycle rides, playing in the yard, or car-based errands like the bank drive-through. Going to actual destinations by car is a different story. I managed baby twins out and about easily, and even outings with three kids aged one and under were doable. Going anywhere with all four kids aged three and under is much more difficult. Without a second adult to help with the prep/potty/diapers, into car, out of car, activity, into car, out of car, resettle at home routine it can take so much time that everyone is starving, cranky, and in need of a diaper change with missing socks before I’m half done.

However, things are shifting. Josie is 10 months old and has reached the point where she doesn’t spontaneously combust from a late nap or feeding. Jenny can walk with reasonable stability and copes with the occasional missed morning nap. The twins are dramatically more capable and mature at 3.5 than they were at three. In the last month I’ve taken all four out alone for hikes, errands, park time, the town festival, and the nature center among other things. I’m enjoying the ability to slightly relax the tight daily routine that keeps our family ship under sail. Yesterday I took them out for a quick one mile hike before dinner. We enjoyed a beautiful afternoon and lovely walking. Lest taking two three year olds, a one year old, and a baby hiking alone sound too Mary Poppinsish I’ll add that one child had to stop at the public restroom where the twins touched everything (then licked their hands). Also, I had to bribe them past the playground at the end of the hike with cookies to get home in time for dinner, which they then refused because they’d just filled up on cookies. Also, Jenny woke up with vomit caked into her cornrows this morning. You win some, you lose some.

Easter Week

Apologies for any typos, formatting issues, or photo repeats. My computer is out for repairs, so I’m posting via the awkward app

We had a rocky Holy Week this year. Jenny kicked off Palm Sunday with a round of vomiting and remained ill all day. The Man started a week of ICU call on Monday. The stomach bug crescendoed on Tuesday when five out of six family members woke up and puked within an hour of each other. I stayed healthy long enough to nurse everyone else through the worst of it, then went down myself on Wednesday.

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The last stomach flu symptoms finally petered out on Easter Sunday. Perhaps because of the stark contrast to the previous seven days Easter week felt really lovely. This was our first year intentionally celebrating the octave of Easter (the eight day celebration of the church calendar) instead of just Easter Sunday. It was delightful and refreshing and I never want to go back to the single-day celebration. I love holidays and special traditions. However, holidays aren’t always fun as the mom of many very young children. In general, we’ve found that this current stage of life allows for one “extra” thing on any given day without stretching time or energy too thin. Our ordinary days demand a tremendous amount of work. Add in even the basics of dyeing eggs, a special family breakfast, dressing everyone for church, egg hunt, Easter treats, and a special dinner and you have a recipe for an exhausted Mom who never got to relax and celebrate between special activities and the usual rounds of diapers, feedings, changes, naps, and nurturing. While an extended holiday sounds like more work, in reality it takes so much pressure off without the “the holiday’s over and I never got a chance to enjoy it” letdown. There was plenty of time to savor the meaning of Easter, carry on our usual traditions, and fit in some extra fun. It also allowed us to enjoy secular Easter activities like an egg hunt without feeling like we were crowding out precious Easter time focused on Christ’s work.

On Holy Saturday the twins and I dyed eggs together (their first time) while the babies finished naps. To keep curious hands from messing with the dye as the eggs soaked we read Brian Wildsmith’s Easter book and Rechenka’s Eggs by Patricia Polaco. The book took on new meaning for them as they created beautiful eggs themselves for the first time.

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That evening I read the twins the Passion story from The Big Picture Story Bible at bedtime, with a promise that the story had a happy ending and that we’d read about it in the morning.

The Man spent Easter working in the ICU. With lingering stomach virus issues in some kids we stayed home from church. The kids woke to chocolate rabbits and a waffle breakfast. We cuddled on the couch for home church, resurrection hymns, and the Easter story, then headed out later in the morning for a spring walk/tricycle ride.

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The low-key holiday still felt special to the kids with a few treats scattered through the day.

The next day the Man finally wrapped up his ICU call week. As is our tradition, the kids ran in overjoyed to wake him up for his first morning home.We had a morning showing but made lemons out of lemonade by turning our eviction into our first farm outing and post-Lent ice cream of the new year. As you can see, eating your strawberry ice cream is serious business:

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We scattered bits of Easter celebrations throughout the rest of the week, sometimes turning ordinary activities into Easter festivities just by changing what we called them. After eight intense weeks of home buying, home prep, contractors, late nights, showings, illness, and ICU it felt like such a blessed week of family time: fun dinners, a carrot cake, coloring Easter Egg coloring pages, Easter books, hymns, spring walks, and the kids’ first Easter egg hunt filled out the octave. Knowing we’d just slogged through a rough patch as a family, my Mom thoughtfully mailed off Easter goodies in a box so we wouldn’t have to prep: treats, eggs for a hunt, and a book.

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Somewhere midweek we had a house showing crop up right as I was fixing dinner so we abandoned ship, got McDonalds drive through, and met Daddy for a picnic at the park. Neither of us is that excited about McDonalds, but it was fun to watch the twins’ shock and glee at this unprecedented break from routine. Spotting Daddy as we pulled into the park? Dinner at a picnic table? Happy meals? A new toy with dinner? Playing on the slides after dinner instead of getting ready for bed? It blew their minds:

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This is the first place I’ve lived where Easter actually resembles the pictures in my childhood calendars and catalogues. They always promised sunny holidays with boys in seersucker shorts collecting eggs on daffodil dotted lawns. Easter in Chicago generally dawned cold and rainy, sometimes snowy. I think we only managed one or two outdoor egg hunts in my entire childhood. The South whispers promises of a new heaven and a new earth in spring. We soaked in all the outdoor time we could, grateful for grace in the stressful times and refreshment in the lull.

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I hope you and yours had a blessed holiday celebrating Christ’s work. If you missed it, the church Easter season technically extends for another month and a half after the Easter octave. You still have time to party, and the Easter treats are on sale now ;).

Spring Park Morning

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We’ve just pushed through four suffocatingly intense weeks. In mid-February I flew to Illinois with Josie for a whirlwind househunting trip while the Man stayed home with the older three. After my return we spent increasingly long days preparing our house for market with contractors, DIY repairs, decluttering, and endless games of “furniture tetris” while simultaneously preparing to close on our new home in Illinois, doing regular work, surviving ICU call, and caring for our home and kids as usual. This Tuesday we closed on our new home. This Thursday the realtors came to take listing photos of our home; it should hit the market tonight. We could not have done it without a great deal of help from family, friends, and babysitters! While maintaining a house for showings with four small children underfoot is no joke we’re breathing a big sigh of relief at crossing the first hurdle and achieving maintenance level.

Last night for the first time in many days we didn’t do any home buying or selling tasks, just relaxed, took a breath, and got a good night’s sleep. This morning after speech and feeding therapy and a quick hair fix we took all the kids to the park for the first time in weeks.

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(Good luck taking a photo of four non-synchronized kids swinging together…every other shot amputated part of at least one child).

With four kids in a 34 month span someone’s always hitting a new milestone.

  • Josie (8 months) rode in a park swing for the first time and loooved it. She gave us lots of happy baby chortles every time she swooped back for more pushes and belly tickles. IMG_0620.JPGIMG_0617.JPGIMG_0630.JPG
  • Jenny (21 months, basically 18 months adjusted for prematurity) hiked on her own instead of riding in the carrier for the first time. She also pushed the stroller for the first time (juuuuust reaching while walking on her tiptoes), threw rocks in the stream with the big kids for the first time, and enjoyed (instead of tolerating/whimpering to escape) the swings and slide for the first time.IMG_0602.JPGphoto 1 (8)IMG_0633.JPG
  • Annie (3) rode in a “big kid” swing for the first time. She also played with another little girl at the park in an age-appropriate way, a big achievement for a kid with anxiety issues and speech and social delays. We were so happy to see her cheerfully engaging with a peer other than her siblings!IMG_0635.JPGIMG_0625.JPGIMG_0637.JPG
  • Jack (3) also rode in a “big kid” swing, and carefully helped Jenny hike the trail by holding her hand.IMG_0627.JPG

In the afternoon the Man stayed home with the babies while I took the twins on a run to preschooler Disneyland (aka the hardware store). Is there anything better than a row of 20 tractors when you’re three?

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This spring holds many more challenges – showing our house, minor surgery for one child, moving cross country, settling into a new area, etc. – but we were so grateful for a beautiful day of refreshing family time!