If you can't stand the heat...well, I don't care, I'm gonna make ya.

 As apparent by the photographs, we went blueberry picking.  It was quite humid, not sure that it even hit the 90's, but my boys, Matt included were hot.  And quickly cranky.  Matt claims that they are "a different breed" and that I could not possibly understand.  Which, may be valid, as I ran (literally) about a sixth of a mile back to the van to get the memory cards for the camera and arrived back without having broken a sweat, only to find three red-faced children, and a husband with beads dripping down his face.  This did not stop George from eating every blueberry he found.  Nor did it stop Brock from running a muck.  It did make Curtis a bit non-specific in his berry picking choices, having no discrepancy between green and blue berries. But we really can't be sure that this wasn't more due to the possibility that he is color blind, or to his overall flippant personality.  He's somewhat of a Honey badger (and honey badger's don't give a sh*#.)

 I am just glad we got a cute family photo.  Ate some really fresh, amazing berries.  And enjoyed a family outing, despite my restrictive Summer work schedule.

My Children's Father.

Matt proved to me, yet again, how much he loves me, and his family this morning.  I did not get to bed until a quarter to midnight last evening, after a 14 hour work day, battling a horrific GI bug.  To help me feel better, he delayed going in to work for an hour and a half!  Anyone who knows Matt, knows he is extremely punctual, and rarely lets things interfere with his daily schedule and responsibilities.

When Matt and I first started dating, I think I made fun of him on a fairly regular basis because of the fact that he had received the "Perfect Attendance" award, multiple times throughout his scholarly career.  This was a foreign concept to me, coming from someone who had been called to the principle's office on more than one occasion because of missing too much school.  In my defense, they should have taken my tonsils out by age 5, perhaps then I wouldn't have contracted strep on a monthly basis.  Also, the swimming career didn't help...but who are we kidding, I would have found a way out of school no matter what.  Back to Matt.  I quickly learned that the very things I made fun of him for, were actually the manifestation of some of the traits I most love about him.  Matt is absolutely unmatched in his sense of loyalty, respect and commitment.  I push him to be spontaneous, to "live a little", give in to some of his whims...and he tries.  Is even successful to some degree, but ultimately, he is a slave to his responsibilities.  And I would never hope for this to change.

Because of these traits, his family comes first. Always.  He never, ever complains about having to stay home and take care of his three boys, while I work god-awful hours, on top of working a full time job himself, plus photography on the side.  Recently, a long time friend of his remarked to me, that he was surprised Matt would be OK with so many children, and deal with it so well, as he is somewhat of a "low energy guy".  Which is probably true.  Given the opportunity, I am fairly certain Matt would nap twice a day, everyday.  But nothing will get in the way of him taking care of his children.  These boys have no idea how much their father loves them.  Ok, maybe some idea, especially when he gives them ten million kisches, despite them trying to get away from his scratchy face.

Matt keeps us all sane.  His "low energy" keeps the stress level that I continually try to escalate, at a manageable level.  He shows the boys Kansas City, and all there is to see and enjoy about life.  He goes to work everyday.  He comes home everyday.  He never complains.  Never questions my choices.  Supports our family to the best of his ability.  He has been stretched so thin by the many demands of our family, my career, his career, my goals, his goals, but has never torn.  I could have never imagined a more perfect father to my children.  If Matt and I were in some sort of awful accident, and only one parent could survive, I would pick him. Every time.  I am never more at peace, than when I know my boys are safe with their father.  I've never known anyone more trustworthy, caring, nor responsible.  Most of all, his heart is full of nothing but love.

 Though, I feel I have only touched on the surface of how I truly feel about my Matt.  I will leave you with (in the words of Brock) "I love you so, so, so, so, so, so, so much." Happy 5th Father's Day.

A Potential Man of Steel.

 105 days left to go with 4.O!  Every pregnancy goes faster, and faster.  That first one drags.  I am certain I was pregnant with Brock longer than the other three combined.  Though I feel all the same symptoms, and I sleep nearly sitting up every night, it just doesn't seem as bad.  I guess having been pregnant for 32 of the last 54 months means the discomforts of pregnancy have become somewhat commonplace for me.  I am honestly not sure what "normal" feels like for me anymore.  And, being that once I am finally done breastfeeding this one, I will finally be out of residency and working like a normal person, and almost 6 years older than when I embarked on this whole process of family creating, I don't think my "normal" will be the same "normal" it once was.

There are a few differences I've noticed with this pregnancy. True, I get bored and annoyed answering the questions; when are you due? what are you having? do you think it's a boy or a girl? or any of the other numerous comments, questions, speculations and predictions with every pregnancy, it has started quite early in this one.  I mean, I think I was legitimately pissed the first time anyone asked me one of these back around 18 weeks along!  When people ask, "how are you", I want to give them a genuine answer - which no one wants to hear - and that is, "Not good".  I feel happy, excited, and I just want to be home with my family.  I want to take a long, long break from work as well as maternity leave.  I want to be pregnant, but not aware of it every minute of everyday.  So, quite rubbing it in my face.  All of these thoughts and emotions usually hold off until 30 weeks.  I also miss having a drink and relaxing on the deck, or going to happy hour with friends.  Don't remember this really bothering me in the past.  Maybe my desire to drink is related to the above annoyances.  Or that this schedule, plus 3 pre-existing children, while pregnant, has not been pretty.  Matt has already planted the seed that maybe this kid should be it...not sure he would survive another 5 weeks like the ones we've just made it through. We'll see about that, I am NOT ready to commit to no more kids, but I'm not saying a 5.O is a guarantee either.

Honestly, though, all the rough patches just fade, when I feel those fun, amazing little baby movements.  Matt even likes it now, because he can "feel body parts".  I periodically smile, as I picture delivering another, perfect, wonderful addition to our family.  Already, I cannot imagine life without 4.O, and this baby is not even here, nor does he have a name (if it's a girl, she does.)  I thought 25 weeks would be a good time to compare previous pregnancies (the red tank top is Brock, and I was actually 27 weeks along in that one.)  I see almost no difference between George and 4.O. And in checking the stats from that day, I was up 7lbs.  I am up 8lbs this go (would have been closer to 15, but thanks to my horrendous work schedule I lost 5-6lbs over the past 3 weeks. Yay!)

On a lighter note, if 4.O is a boy, and 5.O is a boy, then the baby I am currently carrying is basically Superman, thus making the name Steele even more appropriate, and therefore going to be really hot...as that actor is the second youngest of 5 boys.

 
Cheers to only 15 weeks, hopefully 14,  to go! 

1,612

Tonight, as I went to bed, I flipped on our baby monitor for the 1612th time. I remember the anxiety this thing gave me as I attentively jumped at every sound with my first born. Now, I wonder why I even turn it on. George has not required assistance in the middle of the night for a year, or more, with perhaps one exception. Perhaps. Our children made it very easy for us to avoid having little ones take over our bed at night. We never had to make the tough call of coldly letting our baby "cry it out" versus the opposite attachment parent style of avoiding any "distress". Unless one of them is in a bizarre mood or significantly ill, rocking them to sleep is not an option. They refuse. They each have a lovie, and it's enough for them...after the bedtime routine that is. Curtis will let me lay beside him and snuggle while he dozes off, and that's as close as we get to sleeping together. Honestly, with my current job and our lifestyle, sleeping in separate beds all night is likely the only thing that would work. If the kids want a sane and happy mom. Subconsciously, we must train them for this routine from day one.

Matt and I discussed only a few parenting methods prior to the birth of our first child. How we would do bedtime, or no sleeping in the bed was not one of those things. Like most things in life, he and I are naturally in tune, on the same page, in sync. We did say, no "tit for tat". Meaning, none of that, I changed the diaper last so it's your turn this time. Basically, it should be understood that you are expected to do 50% of the work, equal shares. And we decided, that even if you disagree with the ruling, you uphold the other parent's decision 100%. We speculated that we should not threaten to give or take away things we are not really willing to give or take away. In other words, we vowed to keep our word to our children. We never discussed time out, or spanking, or any punishment methods. We never discussed candy or soda or toys, or any particular reward system. We just trusted one another to make the appropriate call.

The kids are still so very young. The true testament to our parenting will come years upon years down the road. When they are adults. If they can manage themselves independently, perhaps even support a family of their own, I will know we have done well. But for now, I judge our parenting off the little things, and I think we're on track. If my strong-willed, energetic, oldest can be trusted in restaurants and stores, that's an accomplishment. Three boys flawlessly sleeping through the night is a win. Kids that enjoy fruit and veggies, get rewarded with cookies and ice cream, everyone's happy, and healthy. Never having to exit a public arena due to a toddler meltdown is HUGE (though I more attribute it to my ability to identify good and bad times to be in public, thus avoiding the potential situation all-together). Seamlessly transitioning from breast to bottle and bottle to cup, another crisis averted.

I think our lack of set, hard and fast rules helped us to where we are today. Instead of just reacting to a situation with a simple rule, we adjust to every nuance. We allow the boys freedom, while still teaching them limits. We encourage independence, innovation, flexibility. It's true, kids, toddlers especially, do need some routines, some knowns, some rituals to rely on, and those things are present, too. Mostly, this consistency is present in having two parents that are absolutely obsessed and in love with each child, independently, as well as with each other. We recognize the different personalities in each child, and adjust the "rules", ever so slightly for that kid's needs. We enjoy our children. Our home is an ever evolving one. It will never be perfect, but it will always be happy. Warm. Insane. Chaotic. And exactly how we made it.

So, when I turn on the monitor tomorrow night, for the 1613th time, I will do so with pride. And with the confidence that all my boys are soundly, comfortably, and happily sleeping, alone. Without a fear in the world. Because their parents have made them feel nothing but safe and loved.

These Boys.

I love my kids. I love them, I love them, I love them.  It's absolutely asinine how much I love and obsess about them.  I sometimes feel a bit bad for smothering them and constantly giving them "ten million kisches" (thought they seem to enjoy it.)  Lately, I could almost bring myself to tears just by thinking about them while at work.  They smile every day.  They laugh every day.  They want cookies, and candy, and ice cream, every day.  They wander the house and in the course of 8 hours can play with every single toy we own.  All they want to do it play.  Play outside. Play on the couch. Hop on pop. Play on the iPad. Play upstairs. Play in the basement. Play, play, play, play, play, play, play!  When I get stressed about work.  When I think I am exhausted.  When I think I am miserable.  They remind me to have no worries.  They help me to enjoy a little piece of life. Every day.  So, with them, I play.  I over indulge in the sweets with them.  I get to enjoy a walk, the park, a book, the hose.

Lately, they are all I think about.  When I fret about the house (see previous post), or a job, or money, or work, I remember, it doesn't matter anymore.  I will sell all my worldly belongings, and move into a cheap, small, rented home, if that's what I would have to do to remain happy and with my kids.  Luckily, as of now, I don't need to, but I could.  What seems so counter-intuitive to many is that my kids are what help keep me stress free.  I am in no way implying that these guys don't create stress for me, in a completely different way, but I am saying in the BIG scheme of things.  When all is said and done.  As long as I have my 3 boys, 4 if you count Matt, and 5 if you count 4.O, and they are all happy/healthy, then I am content.  Better than content. Over the moon.  Smiling. Happy.  I've said it at least thrice before, nothing is more soothing to the soul than a newborn.  A wonderful, fresh, untainted, miracle of a being, newborn.

Just writing about them makes me want to go sneak into their room, and climb into bed to cuddle with little Curty.  And I just might.  They are so beautiful.  Oh, how my heart over flows.