Celebrating Our Angel

24 Apr 2014 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Dealing with Death, My Angel Baby, Uncategorized Tags: , ,

How do you celebrate an angel baby’s birthday? That’s a very good question. I’m pretty sure there isn’t a codebook on what to do. Some might not do anything. But for our family it wouldn’t feel right if we didn’t do something to remember Luca- even if it is something small.

I realized that I have never officially written about what we do to remember him on his angel day. It’s not huge. It’s not a big fan fare. But it’s a quiet day for us to talk about him and remember the day we got to see him.

It’s a day where we gather close as a family. I take the boys out of school and my husband takes the day off work. I don’t know why but it feels better going through the day together.

This year I cuddled on the couch with my two oldest boys and read them a junior novel. They kept begging me to read on so we sat there for nearly an hour enjoying the story.

We watched the DVD of songs and pictures we have of Luca and we all cried. It’s a bittersweet thing to sit back and truly remember that all of that actually happened.

After our youngest woke up from his nap we headed to the dollar store where I let each of the boys pick something out to “give” to Luca for his birthday. My 7-year-old gave him a recorder, my 5-year-old gave him a goop-filled dinosaur egg and my 21-month-old gave him a pack of miniature farm animals. I picked out a set of miniature monster trucks.

We took them to the cemetery and carefully placed them on the headstone. My thoughtful 7-year-old son also brought him a bunch of jewels and a sprig of flowers from the backyard of our new home.

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My sweet 5-year-old wrote him a special note that read: “Happy birthday Luca. You’re the best. Mom is having a baby. I just bought you an egg filled with jell and a dinosaur is inside. I have one of your onesies.”

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My youngest played with each farm animal before resting it near Luca’s picture on the headstone.

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We sat at the cemetery for nearly an hour while the wind blew around us, spinning all the nearby pinwheels. I think I’ve written before about how pinwheels remind me of Luca. When they spin I imagine him flying near, turning the spokes.

The boys each took turns racing to the life-size Jesus statue that sits a few hundred yards south of Luca’s grave. My oldest did it in 43 seconds. The second oldest took 53.

I don’t like going to the cemetery. But on Luca’s birthday it feels different. I like to sit there and soak it all in. I like when by boys play around there. It’s like they are playing with him.

In the evening we went out to dinner. Because who wants to cook on a day like that?

This year I was kind of nervous because my 5-year-old watched in wonder as the team of waiters sang to someone nearby who was having a birthday. Then he asked me what I thought the waitress would do if we told her it was Luca’s birthday. He had already mentioned to the dollar store checkout lady that we were buying things for, “our dead brother.”

I didn’t know how it would all play out. So I took the safe way out and told him it might make the waitress sad so we better not mention it. Maybe I should have let him tell her it was his birthday but sometimes it’s just too hard to see people’s reaction.

We planned on meeting friends and family at a park in our new town after dinner to have cupcakes and work on a service project. But the weather was crazy.

We haven’t moved into our new house yet so we didn’t know what we were going to do. Luckily my sister volunteered to let us all come to her house to celebrate.

We flipped through photo albums of Luca’s birthday while we ate cupcakes and drank strawberry lemonade.

DSCF7682Some of us worked on making new-sew hats to donate to Utah Share in Luca’s memory. We were able to
make 87. It was so easy and I love that my boys were able to help make them. My oldest keeps talking about wanting to make more.

Several people brought items to donate to Utah Share in Luca’s memory. I figure that since Luca doesn’t need birthday presents it’s a good time to give to others instead. We got some stamps, thank you cards, hand-sewn outfits, thinking-of-you cards, plastic bags, press n seal, stickers and more.

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I made some tiny gowns and wraps before we started packing up our house so I could donate them in Luca’s memory. Several people gave me cute fabric to use for the gowns. Now I can pair them with some of the cute hats we made.

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Normally we end Luca’s day by sending lanterns to him in heaven. This year was different. The wind and rain kept us from keeping with that tradition. I told the boys we would try one and we definitely tried. It nearly lit my husband’s shirt on fire as it drifted back and forth while he held it. We decided it was too wild and unsafe so we threw it on the wet sidewalk and let the rain (and my two oldest sons) douse it out.

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Like I said, we don’t do much for Luca’s birthday. It’s a quiet day for all of us to reflect on our guardian angel. It’s a sad day. But it’s a good day. People may think I’m crazy and wonder why I hold on to my little baby. I can’t explain why I do, but I know I’ll hold on to him forever.

Dozens of friends and family members joined in and gave service in Luca’s memory this past week. I love that each of them took the time to do something to honor him. It’s a small way to help keep him alive.

Here’s what a few of them did:

– One of my friends made cards that said “Random Act of Kindness in Memory of Luca Clemens” and tied them to pens and dragonfly bookmarks. Then she handed them out to random people at the store. One lady was in tears when she told her who Luca was.

– My sister-in-law and her family (who live out of state) took flowers to a lady who was recently widowed. Then they sent lanterns to Luca in heaven. I was happy to find out someone was able to get lanterns up in the sky.

– I had a friend who worked on sewing 23 aprons for teacher appreciation week at her local elementary school. Then she drove carpool when it wasn’t her turn even though it was an inconvenience.

– Another friend brought up her neighbor’s garbage cans and babysat her sister’s babies.

– My sister took her two kids to my mom’s house and weeded her flowerbeds.

– One of my friends made salsa, guacamole and homemade cookies to take to her work – the NICU, labor and delivery and postpartum unit at a local hospital.

– Another friend bought a coworker breakfast Tuesday morning.

– I had one friend who spent the week focusing on complimenting others. “I think a lot of nice things but I never say them out loud,” she wrote. “Sometimes all it takes is a simple and pure compliment to uplift someone’s life. Even if it comes from a stranger.”

My Angel’s Story – Four Years Later

17 Apr 2014 2 Comments

by Natalie in Dealing with Death, My Angel Baby, Uncategorized Tags: , , ,

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Author’s note: Four years have passed by. FOUR YEARS!!! Part of me wants to run outside and scream, “NO!” The other part has quietly come to grips with the fact that four years ago my beautiful, beautiful baby boy died.

I hate that he died.

I hate that I can’t get over it. No matter how many months, days or years pass I will still miss him. I will still wish I could have brought him home from the hospital. I will still close my eyes and picture his still body, feel the brush of his soft chubby cheeks against mine and stroke his sweet tiny hands and fingers.

I remember wishing more than anything that his chest would start to rise and fall. And whispering softly to him that I was so sorry he didn’t make it. So sorry that somehow I couldn’t help get him here safely.

Losing a child has changed me forever. And so once again I dedicate this week’s blog post to my angel baby Luca. Because having him has made me who I am today.

He would have been four on Tuesday. Maybe he’d be learning his ABCs and coloring with crayons. I bet he’d love chasing bubbles and digging in the dirt. He’d probably run when I tried to give him kisses and giggle when I tickled his tummy.

I love him. I miss him. And I can’t wait to hold him again.

My Angel’s Story

I was tired, I was huge and I was ready to have my baby boy. But not ready for the way it would all turn out. I would have happily carried him weeks beyond my due date if it meant he had a chance of being born alive.

Honestly? I wasn’t quite ready for a third child. I always wanted my kids close in age, but my two boys, ages 3 and 1, were a lot to handle. I was okay with waiting a while. But both my husband and I had strong impressions that we needed to try for another baby.

Despite those impressions, I was still extremely nervous about how I could be a good mom to three boys under the age of 3. Each day I grew, not only in circumference, but also in my confidence in being able to raise three tiny spirits.

On April 21, 2010 I had my 37-week check-up. Luca’s movement had been slowing down significantly for a while now and I was worried. I discussed my concerns with my doctor and we listened to his heartbeat, which appeared to be strong. So, my doctor and I decided that maybe little Luca was running out of room in my overcrowded womb.

The beginning of my pregnancy was a piece of cake. I felt better than I had with my other pregnancies and had virtually no morning sickness. But the end was pretty bad. I kept having sharp pains in my side and my muscles were aching.

Fearing the worst

My mother-in-law kept my other two boys while I went to my appointment so I decided to lie down and take a nap until she brought them home. That’s when I started panicking because I couldn’t remember the last time I felt Luca move.

I know what some of you are thinking? Why didn’t you rush to the hospital??? Knowing what I know now, my advice to any pregnant woman who is the least bit concerned about her baby, would be, GET TO THE HOSPITAL, NOW. Speed if you have to. What are they going to do? Tell you your baby’s fine and send you home? Hopefully. Laugh in your face about your unnecessary worries? Never. In all reality, even if I had been in labor and delivery when Luca’s heart stopped beating, they still wouldn’t have been able to save him. There wasn’t anything I could have done. I realize that now. But there are other reasons why babies stop moving. In my opinion it’s just better to get it checked out as soon as possible.

I literally worried all night about my Luca’s movement. I think the strong feelings and confirmations I had received that I was supposed to have another baby kept me waiting for his little legs to kick or his fists to punch. Luca’s pregnancy was my only pregnancy I haven’t run into problems conceiving. I thought that was a sure sign that this truly was meant to be. It was meant to be, just not in the way I hoped or expected.

I waited, and waited for him to move. Finally at about 2:30 a.m. I couldn’t take it any longer. I got up and sat in the bathtub for a long time. Travis came in and convinced me to go to the hospital. My mom came over to sit with my boys so we could run up to the hospital. When I got there, they hooked me up to a monitor and we found the baby’s heartbeat. Well, at least we thought we did — turns out the sound of my own heartbeat was reverberating back. We didn’t know that for sure until they hooked me up to a basic ultra sound machine and zoomed in on the heart. I knew immediately that my son had died. I looked at my husband and he knew it too. We had seen a number of live, beating hearts in ultrasounds. This one was still.

But the nurses said nothing. They tried to remain calm as they called my doctor and asked him to come in. He arrived at about 4 a.m. to confirm my baby’s death. We all cried — nurses included. He told me I could go home and come back later to deliver my baby or he could induce me right away.

The thought of leaving the hospital knowing that I was carrying my dead child made me cringe. I knew that having a stillborn was going to be the worst thing I had ever experienced. Delaying it wouldn’t change anything. They wheeled me into a corner room and posted a grieving sign on the door.

Shortly thereafter we started calling family members to let them know they were going to have to come in sometime that day to simultaneously tell Luca “hello” and “goodbye.”

Sharing the Heart-Breaking News

My poor mother. She was the first to hear of his death. And she had to take the news while watching over my other two little ones in my quiet, lonely home. I can’t imagine how alone she must have felt. She texted me awhile after I called to tell her he had died, asking what she should tell my other boys when they woke up. That literally broke my heart. What did I want her to tell them?

We didn’t want to tell him that their brother was “sleeping” or that he was “gone.” We decided to tell them the truth. That he had died. They were sad, but their grief was expressed differently than an adult. They didn’t cry much but they did throw more tantrums and asked to be held a lot more.

Telling people and hearing their reactions was one of the hardest things for me. I could handle the pain that I was going to have to bear, but having to inflict some of that pain on others made me so sad. It still makes me sad.

Our family members started gathering at the hospital and at our home waiting for the time when they would meet Luca. I knew we would only ever have a few short hours with him and so I prepared to face my nightmare with a smile on my face. This was the only time I was going to hold my baby. The only time I could take pictures of his beautiful face. I wasn’t going to let my grief overcome my ability to make the moments meaningful.

I don’t know if it’s all in my head, but I don’t think I had the full power of my epidural during his delivery. It was by far my most painful delivery. Not only emotionally, but physically. Maybe that’s because I didn’t have the anticipation of meeting my healthy baby to pull me through. With each painful push, I knew I was a step closer to meeting a baby I wouldn’t take home. I’ll never forget the shock in my doctor and nurses voices and faces as Luca was born. They all gasped in unison. He had suffered a cord accident that was visible the moment he was delivered. The cord was wrapped around his neck several times and it contained a true knot. Umbilical cord knots are extremely rare and knots resulting in a baby’s death are even more rare. Although I will never be grateful for what happened to my son, there is something I am extremely grateful for: The fact that we found out why he died.

He was born at 5:13 p.m. and weighed 5 pounds 13 ounces. He was beautiful with curly reddish brown hair and rosy red cheeks. We each took turns holding him and taking pictures. Utah Share came and casted molds of his hands and feet. Pat Wimpee came and took dozens of priceless photos of him and our family. I don’t know what I’d do without those photos. I think I would forget the details of his face. The wrinkles of his toes. The size of his tiny fingers. At times I stared at his little body, waiting for his chest to rise or his eyes to open. He literally was perfect.

We had Luca in our hospital room for five short hours. My legs were still numb from my epidural, so I was forced to watch everyone’s encounters with him from the comfort of my hospital bed. That was really hard for me. I wanted to hug and comfort everyone and yet I was stuck on the sidelines. I am sure that those who came to the hospital to meet him will forever be changed. There was such a special spirit in the room. It was a terribly sad, yet wonderfully peaceful experience.

The next several days were a blur. I left the hospital on a Friday morning. That afternoon I sat in the mortuary office preparing a funeral. We had a very small service on Monday, just four days after I delivered. Thank heavens for pain medications. Without those my traditional delivery pains coupled with the pain of my milk coming in, would have been unbearable. I buried my baby and part of my heart on April 26, 2010.

How am I dealing with his death?

I believe, as my religion teaches, that I will raise little Luca someday. Sometimes that thought brings great comfort, other times it is little solace for a grieving mother who longs to hold her angel infant now. Although he is in a better place, free from sorrow and sin, I wanted the challenge of raising him in this crazy world. Wanted to see him wrestle with his older brothers or hear him giggle as the four of them cooked up mischief. I hate that we don’t get to have him now.

I have experienced all of the traditional grief stages at least once. I have felt depressed, angry, honored, jealous, comforted, tired, rude, bitter, overwhelmed, out of control, anxious, stressed and unmotivated. There have been times I have sat on my couch, not wanting to do anything. Then other times that I feel an urgency to give back to others in honor of my son’s memory.

What do I do when the grief is too much to bear?

I take long soaks in the bathtub where I blast Pandora and cry until my eyes are strawberry red.

I watch movies like Tangled and sob when I see Rapunzel reunited with her parents. I wish I only had to wait 18 years to meet my “lost” baby.

I take my boys fishing. Fresh air and the beauty of nature clear my head and remind me of my place in the world.

I lay by my other boys while they are sleeping. I put my hand on their chest to feel their heart beating and their lungs filling with air. That reminds me of the beautiful boys I do get to raise on Earth. I can’t let myself take them for granted.

I start finding something I can do for others. I know it sounds cheesy, but sometimes serving others has been my saving grace. I understand the need to be still and internalize my grief and emotions, but sometimes it’s overwhelming. I have to find a productive way to patch over my grief until my emotions settle and I’m able to digest them.

Finally, I write through my heartache. Writing has always been a way for me to work through life’s problems. I imagine I’ll write through this problem my entire life.

I just have to keep reminding myself that life is hard, life is good and life is necessary.

Moving Day

10 Apr 2014 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Uncategorized

moving dayWho had the brilliant idea to try to pack up her whole house and get ready to move while her boys were out of school during spring break?

You guessed it: Me.

I’d like to say I had no other options, but then again, I probably did. I love my children, but it’s been crazy around here.

Moving is hard – especially with little “helpers.”

Packing up their bedroom was virtually impossible. Each time I tried to put something into a box they’d get it back out and run away with it.

It’s not like I wasn’t trying to pack their favorite toys. I’m talking about things they haven’t seen or touched in months. The type of toys that have cobweb and dust coatings. They haven’t wanted them for the longest time, but amazingly when I was trying to put them away they were suddenly irresistible.

At one point during the break they had rearranged the boxes in the living room and my 5-year-old was climbing on top of them, followed closely behind by his baby brother. It’s a miracle they didn’t knock half of our stuff on top of each other.

Then there’s the whole – mom-is-busy-so-we-can-do-anything-we-want notion. I’ve never understood that. But when I’d leave the room to work on something I’d come back to a mountain of mess – cushions knocked off the couch, books off the shelves, Pokemon cards strewn everywhere and I can’t tell you how many Rainbow Loom elastics I have found scattered throughout every room around here.

I have misplaced my roll of tape and scissors dozens of times. Then there’s the permanent markers I have been using to write on the boxes – my 18-month-old likes to sneak off with those.

It has been wild. But we have made it through.

Like I said, moving is hard.

I have had several friends move recently. I’d like to say kudos to you. I had no idea what I was getting into. It’s hard to squeeze every single item you own into dozens of rectangular and square shaped boxes.

At this point there seems to be no end. I keep thinking that one day I actually won’t need any more boxes – that will be a great day.

Then there’s the thought that I need to just get rid of some of this stuff. Do I really use all this crap? Unfortunately I have reached the point where I can’t sort, I have to just pack it all. I have run out of time.

Then there’s the emotional part of moving. That’s one of the hardest things. Want to feel the whole gamut of human emotions? Try packing up your house and moving while you are pregnant.

I laugh, I cry and I want to go back to bed at least five times each day.

We are leaving our very first home. The place where we have settled and grown roots for the past 8 years.

My children know nothing else. They have lived here since birth.

This is where we have sledded down the hill in our backyard and built snowmen. Where we have chased gingerbread men and set traps for leprechauns.

We’ve read hundreds of books here and made countless Lego creations.

This is where we have built forts and watched movies. We have found worms in the garden and grown yummy cantaloupes.

We have had outside ice cream parties and hundreds of play dates here with amazing friends. Friends that we don’t want to say, “goodbye” to.

We have blown out dozens of birthday candles and have sent lanterns to Luca here. This is the only place where he lived inside me.

We have baked cookies in this kitchen and spilled flour all over the floor. We have swaddled our tiny crying babies here and comforted them throughout the night.

We have painted and carpeted and put a little piece of ourselves into this place.

I guess you could say part of us will always consider this “home.”

It will be hard to close the door in a couple of days knowing that it will no longer belong to us. The place where we have found comfort, shelter and peace for so many years will be someone else’s.

All of this would be almost unbearable if we didn’t have each other. Luckily I get to take my four favorite parts of this house with me – my family members. Because without them this house is just a house – not a home.

We move into our new place in a few weeks (thank heavens my in laws are graciously welcoming into their own home in the interim) and I can’t wait for our family to start making that place home.

Hopefully most of you will come and visit. Part of what has made this place so great has been the people we have shared it with. I can’t wait to share our new place with you too.

Moving is hard, but it will be good. I’m certain this new place is meant for us. Let’s hope we get to stay there forever and that we never have to move again.

Oh Baby, Oh Baby!

03 Apr 2014 3 Comments

by Natalie in Pregnant After a Loss Tags: , ,

 

Baby 5Here we go again. I’m 12 – almost 13 – weeks pregnant and once again I am terrified. Not because I don’t want to have a baby. But because I DO.

I want to hold it and kiss it and cradle it. Not just once but millions of times over dozens of years.

This is the second time I have carried a baby since we lost our third son. He was born sleeping at 37 weeks gestation. We had set up the crib. We had filled his dresser. We had bought diapers and wipes and binkies.

When we called family and friends to tell them the news, they thought he was alive and well. It was devastating.

It’s been four years, but I’ll never get over losing him. (You can read more about him here.)

And that’s why I’m scared out of my mind to be risking it all again. Because I have learned that sometimes tragic things do happen to ME.

I’ve made it three months. Only six to go – half a year.

I can do this.

But I’m going to have to take it one day at a time. One hour, maybe even sometimes one minute at a time.

Like I said, this is the second time I have carried a baby since we lost Luca. The first time ended perfectly. In July 2012 we were blessed with our beautiful little rainbow baby. He has defrosted much of my frozen heart and reminded me that there is still hope in the world. (You can read about that here.)

Hopefully that hope will carry me through the next several months. Hopefully it will keep me going when I am worried sick.

Because I know I will have times when I will go out of my mind with fear. For I will be the first to know if something goes wrong. Like that fateful day four years ago when I noticed our baby stopped moving.

I don’t want to go through that again.

So I’m going to be selfish the next six months. I am going to take deep breaths and eat a lot of ice cream. I’m going to soak in the bathtub and listen to my favorite Pandora station.

I’m going to take time to relax and enjoy every moment.

I am going to focus on me. I’ve got to.

I have three favors to ask all of you this time around.

First, PLEASE don’t congratulate me. I don’t want you to jinx anything.  And it may sound harsh, but I don’t want to hear it. Not until my baby is born alive and well. Then you can scream congratulations from the mountaintops – we can shout happy news together.

What can you say instead of congrats? If you really want to know, ask me how I’m doing. That’s my second request.

Help me stay sane during the next 27 weeks. Call me, text me, email me, whatever. I know I’m going to turn into a hermit. I’ll need lots of encouragement and motivation. I’m sure there will be many days I’ll just want to stay in bed or lounge on the couch, but that’s not good for me.

I can do this. I can!

Finally, don’t ask me what I am having. I will proudly declare: “A human!”

As the mother of four beautiful boys, chances are that I am carrying a fifth.

I’ve decided I’m not going to tell anyone what it is. ANYONE. If you happen to see me decorating or buying new baby clothes you might be able to guess, but I’m not going to come right out and say it.

I don’t want to hear what I’ve already heard over and over and over: “No girls?”, “I hope you get a girl this time,” etc.

I don’t care what it is. Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to wrap up a little one in pink, but if I have learned anything through losing Luca, I have learned not to take anything for granted. Especially when it comes to my children.

Whatever it is, boy or girl, I will love it because it will be mine.

Let’s just hope we both make it until October 12.

Shred It

27 Mar 2014 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Parenting Battles, What's a mom to do? Tags: , ,

Shred it

This is the load of scraps my boys and I shredded. It was stressful and crazy but the boys had the time of their lives.

What day is nearly as exciting as Christmas around here? Shredding day.

Yep. You guessed it. Whenever I get out our small, black, at-home shredder, my kids go crazy like it’s Christmas morning.

To them it’s thrilling and exciting.

To me it’s stressful and terrifying.

Each time I “shred” stuff my boys are like moths to the flame. They can’t get away. They love to watch it. They love to help.

My 18-month-old is the worst. I have to use one hand to swat and scoot him away while using the other hand to regulate the shredder. I’m worried about his cute little chubby fingers and he can’t resist checking out the metal grinding gears.

It scares me to death.

My oldest two are pretty good at helping shred stuff. It’s their favorite chore. But my heart still skips a beat whenever I think their tiny fingers are getting a little too close. I go crazy when they try to shred small receipts.

For me shredding papers is an athletic sport. I’m constantly going back and forth chasing the baby while grabbing more papers to hand to the oldest two, then checking for paper jams and dumping the bin. It’s exhausting.

The worst part (for them) is when the machine overheats and we have to take a break. I’m grateful for the break. It’s a chance to gather up more papers and regroup for the next round.

We have had some good times shredding. We usually end up with tiny paper flecks scattered all throughout the house.

But we’ll never forget the first time we used our shredder. We were shredding hundreds of papers last fall that I had sorted out from my old junior high and high school days. We were on a roll when all of a sudden the machine made a horrible grinding, screeching sound.

Something was jammed.

Apparently there was a penny left in the bottom corner of an envelope and we didn’t notice it until it had been partially “eaten” by the shredder. I’d like to blame it on the fact that I was trying to keep an eye on my little ones’ fingers and that’s how it got through, but who knows.

Our brand-new day-after-Thanksgiving-deal shredder was toast. It took half a dozen screwdrivers and a couple of hours to get that stupid metal coin dislodged. It was cross-cut into the metal.

The boys were so sad that our new “toy” was ruined.

But we got it fixed and have had several shredding parties since.

It may be crazy, I may get nervous and we may end up with a floor filled with paper confetti but I guess at least my boys are excited to help with something. I better take it while I can get it. One paper shredded at a time.

 

Junk Closet

20 Mar 2014 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Failed Housewife Tags: , ,

DSCF6106Am I the only crazy mom who has a junk closet? A closet so full of games, puzzles, crayons, stickers and other junk that if you want to put anything away you have to shove it in and hurry and slam the door before it all tumbles back out at you?

Please tell me I am not alone in this.

The closet in my hallway is my junk closet. It is crammed full of fun activities that I can’t even get to. Fun stuff that I can’t even find.

Until now.

I couldn’t take it any longer.

I took several games to play at a family overnighter. When I got back and opened my game closet I didn’t even want to put them back. There was no room.

I was depressed at my own filthiness.

Am I the only mother who gets behind on her organization? Am I the only one who gets tired and occasionally just shoves stuff away instead of putting it in the right spot?

I let our games sit in the corner of my living room until I got up the courage to sort my way through the crap in the closet. And when I finally did it took all day.

I started by getting everything out.

Here’s what my living room floor looked like at that point:

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Then I sorted through the different types of things. I put games in one pile, puzzles in another etc.

Then I got to the random, miscellaneous items that I didn’t know what to do with. I am embarrassed to say that I had 12 bottles of bubbles stowed carefully away in my closet. Twelve!

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I’m sure I had that many because if I glanced quickly at the closet I couldn’t see any bubble bottles. That’s because they were hiding behind other useless things. It would take us 5 years to go through all of those bubbles.

And don’t even get me started on the crayon boxes. I think we had enough 24-piece crayon boxes in there to send one with my boys to elementary school each and every fall. And my boys don’t even like to color.

There were games in there that we have never played. I put those in a different pile – a donation pile.

I know there was stuff in there that I haven’t seen or used in years.

You should have seen my 18-month-old. He was in heaven during the big sort. Mom was the one making the giant mess this time. He got to look at and play with everything and he didn’t even get in trouble.

After sorting everything I started to put it back, but I did it differently this time. Instead of stacking my games I stood them on their side. That way if we want to play on we don’t have to get out six or seven at a time.

Why didn’t I set it up like that 8 years ago when we moved here? Maybe now we can play Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders again.

I took an ice cream bucket and filled it with crayons. Then I went through every single one of our markers and tested them. About half of them went in the garbage. The other half went in another ice cream bucket.

I did the same for the pens and colored pencils. Now each and every one of our writing utensils actually works.

I sorted all of our small games that didn’t have boxes into their own Ziploc bags. Then I put them in a basket with our card games. Now they aren’t shoved away in the corners catching dust.

The end result turned out great. I feel like I did it. And if I can do it, anyone can.

It probably won’t last. The junk will creep back in and my laziness will overcome the organization, but for now it feels good. And it looks good.

And we can finally have fun with our games again.

Starving

13 Mar 2014 6 Comments

by Natalie in Uncategorized

I love my boys, but if they keep bringing home 95 percent of their homemade lunches, I’m going to have to knowingly let them starve.

I don’t know what else to do.

I thought I was being a nice mom. I was letting them skip the “nasty” school lunches by taking a made-with-love sandwich instead. They get to choose which days they won’t be able to gag down the school’s food and I pack them something amazing. (We have a system on how we choose what days they get to take a home lunch you can read about that here.)

But I don’t think I’m going to do it anymore. Well, let’s be honest, I don’t really know what I’m going to do.

I’m not a morning person. It’s a serious struggle for me to get up and get everyone ready to go to school. We hardly have time to eat breakfast. So on those mornings when we have planned for my boys to take a home lunch it’s particularly rough.

I am scrambling to snatch up a Go-gurt, drink, sandwich and – if they’re lucky – a small treat. If they are really lucky they get a hand-scribbled “I love you” note on top.  I chuck it all into their lunch boxes and we barely make it to school before the late bell.

So imagine my surprise when last week I hustled like crazy to pack something for them to eat and it came home – nearly untouched. Again.

Here is a picture of my kindergarter’s lunch. AFTER he “ate” it:

Sandwich

Here is a picture of the second grader’s. He did one or two bites better:

Sandwich 2

Seriously? I think my 5-year-old took one bite of his sandwich. One bite!

And this isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s becoming more and more common at our house. Don’t they realize there are starving children all over the world who would LOVE to eat my sandwiches?

What am I supposed to do? I am sick of wasting my time and energy on these uneaten lunches.

Do I make them eat whatever the school is serving knowing very well that they won’t? At least the homemade sandwiches have a chance of getting eaten.

But I hate paying $1.75 a person for a meal that I know will get wasted.

Do I keep packing the homemade meals when they aren’t eating them?

Maybe I’ll start saving them and they can eat them for dinner. If they don’t get eaten for dinner, maybe they’ll be ready for them by breakfast.

I’m going to stop giving them snacks after school on the days they don’t finish their food. Maybe I can starve them into eating.

Oh, and who knows why they don’t just ditch the sandwiches in the cafeteria garbage. They would still be hungry after school, and I would have my suspicions on why, but at least I would be somewhat oblivious.

Sugar Baby

06 Mar 2014 Leave a comment

by Natalie in Uncategorized

Sugar babyI think I am going to start affectionately calling my youngest son my little “sugar baby.” Because that’s all the baby wants – sugar.

He loves it. He obsesses over it. And he scavenges our entire home for it – usually 10 minutes before mealtime.

How did I end up with a baby addicted to sweets? I blame his father.

It’s always been pretty easy to get my youngest to eat. He’s been roly poly from the get go. In his short life he has probably eaten more than both of his older brother combined.

But now that he’s getting a mind of his own, it’s getting harder to convince him to eat real food not “nacks” (snacks).

From the moment he wakes up he’s wandering the house mumbling “nack” and “chaw chaw” (chocolate.) And when you’re thinking of those kind of sweet treats, who’s going to want cereal or toast?

Around Valentine’s Day I had a bowl of gummy and conversation hearts sitting on my kitchen table. I thought they were safely out of reach.  Then to my surprise, each day, sometimes several times a day, I would hear the kitchen chairs rattle as my 18-month-old wriggled his way upward. He’d end up on the top of the table next to the bowl grinning as he had some more “nacks.”

Crazy kid.

Fruit snacks, Reese’s, Kit Kats, M&Ms, Skittles, suckers – you name it he loves it.

When he was about 9 months old I caught him in the living room trying to bust into my Snickers bar. I’m not kidding.

But he also has a sweet tooth for fruit. We’ve started hiding any cantaloupe, pears, apples, etc. during dinner time until he has eat at least a little bit of the main dish. If he spies it before we are ready to give it to him, we have to hear him whine, “apple” over and over.

He’s a kid who knows what he wants but it’s becoming unhealthy.

He’s started searching through the house while I’m getting meals ready looking for some sort of treat. It’s like I can’t get the real food done fast enough. But then again even if it was ready on time, he probably wouldn’t want the real food over the junk.

I don’t understand it. I don’t love candy. So I just don’t get it.

I’m glad he acts hungry – heaven knows my two oldest boys HATED eating at this age. They were both happily starving. But I’ve got to figure out how to get him to crave the good, healthy stuff.

Maybe I’m going to have to whip out my Deceptively Delicious cookbook and find some recipes I can hide nutritious food in. Maybe I’m going to have to purge our house of all chocolate and snacks. Maybe this is just a phase.

But I’m guessing he’s going to stay like his father. Who also loves “nacks” and “chaw chaw.” I don’t know what to do with my little sugar baby.

Letter to My Angel

27 Feb 2014 2 Comments

by Natalie in Uncategorized

DSCF6885Dear Luca,

I missed you a lot this past week. We went on a family vacation and at times it felt like something was missing. That something was you.

I thought of you while we drove 10 hours to California. I wondered if you would have gotten carsick like your younger brother. Would both of you have barfed on the way to St. George? What movie would you have asked to watch to help pass the time?

When we made it to Disneyland, I thought of you while waiting in line at the Pirates of the Caribbean rideWould you have been scared of the dark while we plunged into the depths of the pirate world? Or would you have begged to go back three times like your older brothers?

I wondered if you would have been scared of Mickey like your baby brother. And would you have helped us spy for Captain Hook? Maybe you could have pulled the sword out of the stone — because surely you are my prince.

Then I missed you as we left the park. We posed for a family photo in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. I couldn’t help but think that not all of us would be in that picture.

I guess even at the “Happiest Place on Earth” I still felt heavy-hearted that we all couldn’t enjoy the magic.

We played a lot with our family members who live in the sunny state. Would you have tried to ride the seesaw like a crazy man with your 4-year-old cousin? You probably would have loved going down their slide or riding on their stationary horse.

I thought of you most when we went to the beach. I watched your oldest brother draw your name in the sand with a long, sturdy stick. It made me smile.

The grand waves crashing into the sandy shore reminded me that I am just a small part of this world. I am part of a bigger plan — a plan that at times seems confusing and unfair, but a plan that will all work itself out in the end.

And that’s when we’ll truly go on a family vacation. All of us.

Love,

Mom

Battle at the Book Fair

20 Feb 2014 1 Comment

by Natalie in Uncategorized

BookWant to feel like a horrible parent? Take your son to the book fair.

You’ll walk away feeling like the worst mom on Earth. I’ve walked, no really crawled, away from two book fairs now with no hope for raising a descent member of society.

I love books. I love to read. Luckily, somehow I passed that love onto my boys – especially my 5-year-old. He reads more than any kid I have met. And he reads really well – he’s in kindergarten and he reads at a third grade level.

So I decided to take him and his brother to the book fair last fall. I thought I’d reward them for their hard work at school by buying them a new book.

Never again.

My youngest son is a true spoiled brat when it comes to the book fair. He cried giant crocodile tears, he stomped his foot and he screamed. All because I wouldn’t buy him Chupacabra. A sixth-grade book about a mysterious creature in South America.

Now I know he reads really well. But not that well. Not to mention the fact that it probably would have scared the crap out of him.

Why was he set on that book? Because it was the featured book on all of the Scholastic posters. He saw it hanging up in the halls for a week before we ever entered the stage where they set up the book fair. He knew what he wanted and he thought he was going to get it.

Not that time. He threw a giant fit in front of all the other book fair patrons and in front of my friends who were volunteering. I was embarrassed and angry.

But I held firm. He wasn’t going to get that book. So he wandered around sobbing for 10 minutes looking for something else he could settle on. He finally found a double-feature Ninjago book and we bought it and got out of there before he could change his mind.

I was nearly in tears.

I enlisted grandma’s help the second time we went to the book fair. She loves taking kids to the book fair. Well, she probably loved taking kids to the book fair. She may never spend money on another book for the Clemens boys again.

She told the boys they could each pick out a kit/toy (something I never let them buy) and a book. I thought this would be a breeze. Until my 5-year-old started pouting again.

He wanted to get the same book as his 7-year-old brother. The second book in the Spirit Animal series.

He hasn’t even read the first book in that series. And I know he’s a great reader, but I don’t know if he even could. It seems pretty long.

I wasn’t about to walk away from the book fair with two of the same book. Especially when I thought that even if we bought only one of them it might only get read once or twice.

Once again I put my foot down and once again he freaked out.

He wiggled and wailed and flopped around right in front of the shelf filled with the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series.

It was great.

Then he spotted some book called, “Dark Lord.” Wow. Now that might be a really good book, but I didn’t feel like letting my kindergartner read it. Especially because it too is a sixth grade book.

I took him out into the hall to talk with him one-on-one. Tears were streaming down his face and he was breathing short and quick. But I told him if I heard him say he wanted “Dark Lord” or “Spirit Animals” one more time I’d spank his butt and we’d go home empty handed. I had had enough.

That’s when he did it. He walked right back into the stage and said he wanted “Spirit Animals.” I just about came unglued.

If it hadn’t been for grandma he might not have made it. I took a deep breath and left. She said she’d stay with him until he chose something else. Oh the love of a grandparent. They don’t get as embarrassed or angry as a parent. I hope to be just like my mom someday.

They came home about 10 minutes after I did with a Magic Treehouse book and a pointer toy.

He loved the book and can’t stop pointing with that stupid stick finger. And when his older brother is done reading Spirit Animals he can borrow it from him.

And I hope he likes it. Because after that fit he threw about not getting it he’s never going to get to pick out another book at the book fair again. If I go, I’ll go by myself and I’ll choose what we check out.

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