Rowdy Roehrig Zoo

The idea came to me as I was in our storage room and spied our tiger costume.  Noelle, Max, and Violette wore it, so naturally Zane would be wearing it this year too.  Why not have all the kids be zoo animals and Tom and I zoo keepers.  I feel like a zoo keeper on a daily basis, herding, feeding, and doing my best to train four rambunctious, stubborn animals.  Don’t forget the cleaning up of excrement! 

I ran the idea by the children and they couldn’t wait for Halloween to arrive.  Tom smirked and agreed it was a good idea.  I jumped into the Zoo theme, created our household name, The Rowdy Roehrig Zoo, and got very excited about it.  Noelle decided to be a zebra, Max an elephant (thanks for a costume from a friend), Violette a giraffe (yet again, another borrowed costume), and Zane wore the lovely tiger costume. 

We dressed up and frankly, I think we looked very cute! 

And a shot of the entire family:

The kids were troopers, exceeding all my expectations of length outside.  Max pulled our wagon, with either Violette or Noelle in it, almost the entire time.  They wanted to hit every house possible.  As their bags filled with candy their excitement grew even more.  Zane sat in the stroller and enjoyed being a bystander to all the people walking around. 

I loved having a family costume.  I did not realize Tom wasn’t as on board with it as I originally thought.  He put it on without complaint.  Sported the hat with the “Rowdy Roehrig Zoo” prominently displayed, and never said a word.  Later in the evening he pointed out that he felt a little deflated in the “man department” but wanted to make me happy.  Much love goes out to him for going along with my cheesy idea! 

One

The stage of infancy has slipped through our parenting fingers.  Tiny little critters, freshly birthed will no longer have their first tour of home, first night, first smile, etc., the list goes on of firsts we will no longer be privy to. 

This brings sadness to my soul.  Sadness that is deep rooted and will take time to heal.  The sadness brings out sobs, and makes my face streaked with salty tears for days.  I cry and morn the loss of a growing baby and the newly born infant.  I think of that first smile I will no longer witness, and the first coo softly whimpered in my arms. 

All these things are gone but surely not forgotten.  The tears need to be dried and the future brightly looked toward.  Zane has turned one.  Violette is two.  Max is three. Noelle is five.  These ages demand my utmost attention and love.  They need me to put the sadness away and nurture their growing minds. 

One.  Such a small number.  A number meaning first.  Zane has experienced his first year of life.  The first of many more.  Growth in the first year is always amazing.  A newborn of only natural reflexes, to feed and sleep has turned into a little boy determined to grab everything off of any surface within sight.  Many smiles are given to all who smile at him.  He loves big these days, especially his siblings.  He loves toy cars and pushes them around like a champion, creating a brotherly squabble over them, daily.  Zane communicates with minimal baby sign, by pointing, grunting, and he has a few words stock piled in his vocabulary. 

This next year a forming personality will be molded even farther.  His vocabulary will grossly be expanded and we will see him mature.  The baby in him will fade even farther as chunky, unsteady legs will transform into lean, strong runners.  His round perfect cheeks will elongated into a handsome little man.  He will develop deeper and strong bonds will his siblings.  I will strive to learn how to be a better mom to four children who are becoming more independent and nurturing their own strong personalities.  The tears will diminish over my last baby.  The future is my focus.

I told a stories before bed this evening.  A turtle who was helped by a tricycle riding two year old and a young girl who received a horse for her sixth birthday (there will be no birthday gifted horse, but a girl can imagine and fall asleep with trotting hooves in her ears) were on the menu, again.  After I nursed Zane to sleep.  This ritual is one he and I are no where ready to give up.  He’s one, but still a baby.  After I held him close, gently set my lips on his soft forehead and stroked his fine blond hair.  My lips pursed and I kissed him over and over.  His hand slowly lifted to my cheek.  He’s still a baby, my baby.  I’ll keep him this way for awhile longer.  I’m not really ready for it to be over, but will try to make my focus be our family of six and not dwell on wanting a family of eight. 

Fall Festivities

We’re experiencing an Indian Summer.  Warmth, leaves flooded with color, crisp cool nights, pumpkins, walks, it has been almost two full weeks of weather perfection.  All six of us are soaking it up and enjoying it.  Actually, that’s an understatement.  This fabulous weather and the fall season is our drug.  We are addicts, this weather and season is all we think about and want to experience. 

Over the last few years, pregnancy, little babies, naps and schedules, and exhaustion have ruled our lives.  Zane is almost a year, we are a complete family, and now going out is much less work and easier to do on a whim. 

My whim hit on Sunday.  Six years I have lived in the area.  Six years I have driven by this paved trail that seemed to be all around.  It crossed this road, and that road, and there it was again.  It looked appealing, while driving, then someone would cry and I would forget about it.  Violette isn’t napping anymore (this one is hard for me, my breaks have been seriously nonexistent) Zane has learned to go with the flow.  I spelled out my plan (we must spell quickly, Noelle usually catches most of it, short of talking to each other in a secret language, nighttime is the only time to plan without making them aware of it) Tom agreed and we loaded up to hit the trail.  We found an entrance onto this seemingly, glorious, paved path and unloaded the bulky double stroller. 

This trail/path is awesome.  The colors were vivid and spectacular.  The trees on both sides, bent to form a secret tunnel for us.  The others on the trail were few and zoomed quickly by on bikes, leaving us again to our own little paradise.  The kids carried Treasure bags, picking up leaves, caterpillars, berries, and whatever else they wanted to savor. 

I thought the children wouldn’t last very long.  Just the opposite occurred and they seemed completely enthralled with our adventure and didn’t want to head back.  We walked on and on, sometimes busting out in a full on run, racing each other, then little legs would tire and be hoisted onto Daddy’s or my shoulders.  Tom and I held hands, and watched our brood, admiring them and the surroundings.  It was just right.  A few hours of complete family bliss in a gorgeous place.

Continuing on with fall festivities on Monday, our playgroup met at a local pumpkin farm.  Max dominated the children’s maze, busting through the hay exit like he owned the place.  Violette was smitten with a decorative “teeny weeny tiny” pumpkin, and Zane couldn’t get enough of the pigs.  Another notch on our fall belt, success!

Minimal Words Needed

I’ve started writing a post every day this week.  I would write, reread and promptly delete it.  Words were failing me.  I couldn’t get my point across.  I couldn’t convey properly my feelings.  On Friday, I realized I didn’t have to write a long post.  I just had put down a moment I had with Max.

Max sat with me, snuggled in, enjoying down time while the house was quite.  Randomly he looked to the painting directly above us and said, “Great Grandma made that.  I miss her.”  This really happened, no joke, no embellishments.  He does not know that she passed away a year ago, Friday.  I cried and he gently put his large hands on my cheeks and affectionately petted me while resting his forehead on mine.  “Please don’t cry Mommy.”  Children are amazing.

We all dearly miss you, Grandma!

My Boys

They are less than three years apart and I can see the budding relationship forming and strengthening daily.  Zane watches for Max, and Max takes great pleasure in pleasing Zane.  Max seeks out things to stop his crying and gets a gigantic smile on his face when Zane finally stops and takes interest in Max’s find. 

The boys love things with wheels.  I spotted Zane’s peaked attention in vehicles at a young age.  He would fixate his eyes on Max’s cars as he zoomed past during tummy time.  Admiration for his older brother began then too and seems to be a special bond.

I can see them going off on adventures, terrorizing the girls, building/taking apart everything, and playing multitudes of sports together. Max will guide Zane on their adventures, shooting dragons, rescuing damsels in distress, or playing a riveting game of baseball, competing in distance of balls thrown and hit.  Burping and farting competitions with Daddy will probably be held too.  I, as a girl will act grossed out, but secretly giggle and enjoy the loving competiveness taking place.

Max wonders when Zane will walk (it’s around the corner, but not too close) so they can play tag together.  He whines about it, really wanting this to take place.  Wanting to not be surrounded by Barbie playing, baby toting girls.  He wants to wrestle, and run and pee on bushes with his little buddy. 

Boys will be boys.  That is the infamous saying that parents of boys say.  It reigns true as I am experiencing my boys.  The “vroom” of a car is in grained in their heads and comes out without teaching the moment a truck/car is picked up their chubby hands. A distinct shooting sound is another noise little boys bring forth when they pick up anything that resembles a gun.  They take aim with ease and the noise comes forth.  A noise, formed in their little brains, seemingly, in utero.  They are rough.  Sure, at times gentle can be found in their bodies, but for the most part is all rough and tumble boy.  Zane head dives into Max’s stomach, open mouthed, wanting to give a kiss but it turns into a mini wrestling session.  Max loves it and belts out a deep three year old chuckle while Zane’s high pitched baby giggle is mixed in as well. 

It’s only just beginning, and it’s amazing to watch.

 

Worn Off Novelty

Well the excitement and novelty of this new adventure, called Kindergarten has worn off. Not only has is wore off, it’s loooong gone. What started out as mornings filled with smiles and happiness has turned into screaming, iron grips on Mommy, and excuses that are genuinely creative.

My first concern was Noelle’s well being. Was someone making fun of her? Was someone hurting her? Is she without friends, the loner in the corner? With carefully asked questions, so as to not lead her answers, she assured us no one was upsetting her and she had made many new friends. She just didn’t want to go and would rather be at home.

Awww, how sweet it sounds. That is, until I am standing outside the school, wet hair, no makeup, and glasses (having had to drive her, unplanned, after she refused to get on the bus) while Noelle grips onto my pants, pulling them down as I try to drag myself away from her. Oh yeah, it was that bad. Her usual docile self was way gone. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, begging to go home, chasing after me, kicking and screaming the aids. She was that kid. It was brutal.

Before this dramatic scene, at home, she has come up with a seemingly infinite list of excuses not to go each morning. Let me list them for your amusement and future blackmail:

*With her eye squeezed shut she comes to me and says, “I have pink eye and can’t open my eye, it’s stuck shut”.

*”My legs won’t work, I’m too tired” and she gracefully falls to the ground and won’t get up. This happened while getting out of the car.

*”I don’t need school, I know everything the teacher tell us already.”

*”I love you so much and I just want to be with you every moment I can”

*”If I go to school I could miss Zane taking his first steps. You don’t work so you can see all the special moments. Why can’t I?”

*”I’m just so sick, my mind doesn’t work anymore”

*”I won’t eat any food all day if you send me.”

*”I will do all the chores you ask me to if I can please stay home”

It’s endless, but after a nice chat with her teacher we both have concluded that she must go and it will get easier. Of course this is crushing to a mother. Walking away while my little girl is in the throes of a meltdown, screaming and begging for “one more hug and kiss” for the tenth time. Meanwhile, Max, Violette, and Zane watch, upset at the display of emotions coming from their sister, whom they look up to and adore.

This morning was better, a little. She did get on the bus (I will not be taking her to school for awhile because I prefer to keep my pants free from dragging children!), with only a medium amount of tears. I hope that has the weeks go by and the review of basic concepts have ended and new learning begun, that Noelle sees the joy in learning and school.

Noelle continues on with horseback riding lessons. I’m hoping the good posture and responsibility encourages confidence in my shy little girl. Her little body looks so regal up on a horse, practicing posting and riding with her back straight, she makes me proud. During her lesson Max, Violette, Zane and I get to walk through the barns and love on all the other horses and that is a huge bonus for us.

Time will ease the separation anxiety and I will remember this time in her school career as another period of growth. She needs to spread her shy little wings and go out on her own. In the meantime I will continue to take her temperature each morning to prove that she does not have a fever, again!

Remembering 9/11

You can’t help but remember ten years ago this Sunday.  September 11.  Like most people, I can clearly recall the moment finding out and being glued to the TV for days afterward.  One moment sticks in my head, and is burned into the core of my being about that morning.  A classmate, who I had talked with everyday, in my college class, had a dad who worked there.  I didn’t know this but upon entering my 11am class, she looked at me smiled and said, “He called in sick today”.  I didn’t need to ask who, I didn’t need any further explanation.  I knew, we all knew that he was lucky.  The relief on her face, the smile that was able to be had, it is a bright spot in that horrible tragedy for me. 

Each year I anticipate a time where my children will ask about 9/11.  They will want to know what I was doing, how I felt, and all the details that I can recall.  I will tell them that I found out when my clock radio alarm went off, explain how horrific of an event it was and how the people around me were unified.  I will tell them that in such a momentous event, there was unity, love, and compassion that sprang forth.  The American Flag was flown from seemingly every spot available.  I will tell them that despite knowing no one involved, it changed me. 

My children are too young yet to understand.  I explained this morning in a simple 3 & 5 year old way while the news was on and they were curious.  Noelle asked, “How could someone do that?  How could they want to hurt people?”.  This question is very typical of her age, I can see her grasping at understanding empathy.  Max responded with a more typical 3 year old boy response of , “they need to go to jail”.  Later in the day he asked me, “When the buildings fell what happened to all the workers in there?”  I guess as they grow it will be simpler to explain to them.  For now, I do my best to give age appropriate answers while trying to instill that something we all want as parents, in them.  I want them to be compassionate, to love, and not judge others.  I want them to be kind and strong.  I want them to have clear and strong morals.  Values they are proud of.  I want it all for them. 

Ten years ago I didn’t have children.  I didn’t even really want children, maybe one.  Now I have four.  Four beautiful little souls that occupy my time and my everything.  I didn’t know what my future held, but I do remember thinking of my children and wanting them to understand the significance of that day.  I clearly remember wanting to bottle up the patriotism surrounding me and open it when they (actually he.  I wanted one little boy and that was it.  Things have changed) were old enough.  I wanted them to understand that we, as a nation, felt the pain even though most didn’t know anyone who specifically lost their lives.  Politics and most BS was pushed aside in the government, we were whole.  Strangers bonded, families made extra calls to each other, it was a unity completely indescribable.  They might not understand this, as I fully can’t convey it.  I will try.

Sunday I will again explain, in their age terms, what 9/11 means.  I will give a shortened version of my story.  They may be young still, but each year I will try and get them to comprehend this solemn day.  Now I will watch their interaction and enjoy their sweet innocence.  We will spend the day as a family, laughing, hugging, and loving each other as we always do.  The TV will be tuned in to the many magnificent documentaries and when they are in bed we will be glued to the stories and talk about it as man and wife.  Relive it moment we found out to each other again, and whole heartedly be dumbfounded at the Hero’s that came from the rumble of our beloved county.  I will pray for those lost and remember.

GOD BLESS AMERICA!