it's my birthday

It was about 9:30 this morning when I realized it was my birthday.  It may have gone unnoticed altogether if not for the text from my husband.  "Happy Birthday Princess."  The Princess part is a bit of a running joke these days as I am anything but a princess.  I've never been called Princess or Baby in my fabulous 11 years with him or so I complained the other day.  Now I get it, dripping with sarcasm, every day. 

So it's my birthday.  I did the math twice just to be sure, but I am fairly confident that I am 31 today. 

31....
Hmmm....

As a child and teenager, I always imagined myself at different ages and while I never actually wrote it down, I still have a pretty vivid memory of where I was supposed to be.  It went something like this.

In my thirties I would be:

Settling back into the country after a decade abroad most likely studying Gorillas. 

I would be starting my thesis or some grand scientific journal recording my great works.

I would be raising all 11 of my little girls that I had rescued from an orphanage in Haiti (not sure where they were during the decade of living in the jungle though)

I would be thin (that's a given)

I would start looking for a suitable husband, if one could even be found (think incredibly high feminist standards) 


Instead...

This morning I woke up to a husband and four boys (technically five including baby in my belly) all in one queen size bed.  Claustrophobic anyone?

I have yet to start the Gorilla work (although raising boys is similar)

I have opted out of the 11 Haitian girls... obviously, although I do like the thought of adoption

I am not in some high level degree program nor have any of my works been recognized by any journals of any sorts.

Finally, I am not thin. 

All this being said though, I am really happy where I landed.  This may not be what I had planned, but clearly GOD had something else in mind. 

"Go ahead and dream big Erin, but I assure you, what I have in mind for you is far greater and far crazier that any adventure you could have planned for yourself."  Your Friend, GOD

I still find myself making all of these firm declarations for my life and expecting the pieces to fall right into my plans.  Even a few years ago I proclaimed that I would be done having children at thirty.  Oooops. 

I'm thinking it might be reasonable to know what we are going to have for dinner about a week in advance and scheduling some summer activities for the boys.  But concrete plans for the future?  Nope, I'm not going to do that anymore.  Here's to making no formal plans or expectations.  I will keep an open mind and an open calendar and take what GOD gives me and roll with it.  Who knows, if one day 11 orphans fall on my doorstep, I'll probably let them in, feed them something and start researching Pinterest to find a clever bunk bed plan that sleeps a few more. 

manatees

This last year has been the first year that we've actually spent a considerable amount of time up close and personal with Florida wildlife.  Prior to the cottage my wildlife encounters had been limited to the lizards that run into the house every time I open the door and whatever small creatures Elliott (the big orange boy cat) brings in.  The cottage has been out passport to the world of mangroves, estuaries, and new sea life. 

We've become dolphin tour guides.  All summer, fall and winter we have followed the dolphins around Pine Island Sound learning their daily patterns and hunting (fishing?) grounds.  I've counted the times that I have been out and near the Dolphin cruise boats that charge $30 per person.  I've saved thousands!  This helps me justify why we own a boat.

The boys are so accustomed to seeing dolphins that they don't even always look when I point out the dolphins anymore.  I joke that it would take flying unicorns at this time to grab their attention. 

We have had fewer run ins with manatees and so these are a bit more intriguing.  I've come to understand that when it is warm out they hang in the gulf but as the temps cool down they come in and spend some time lounging in the canals.  This can make canal navigation a bit difficult some days.  I sit in the front and keep an eye out. Manatees and boats have a long sad history. 

A while back, on a particularly cool weekend, Scott was scrubbing the boat after a long morning of exploring.  We picked out a boat with no carpeting for a reason.  Potato chip crumbs, peanut butter smears, sunscreen, and spilled drinks usually cover the  hard plastic floor.  Scott's tradition, after we take the last boat ride of the weekend, is to spend an hour with a cold beer, his hose and all his boat detailing supplies.  On this particular day, he was about half way though when his mom came into the house and called me outside to see a manatee.  I have several hundred pictures of manatee snouts from 25 feet away and really wasn't super excited about snapping anymore.  Manatees had previously been a bit of a photo op disappointment.  When you imagine seeing a manatee in the wild you envision seeing their entire body, not just a snout of a bit of their backs. 

So out I came and much to my surprise the manatee was lingering awfully close to the boat, obviously interested in the fresh hose water that was dripping off the boat.  I turned on the hose and held it near the surface of the water.  He lumbered over and immediately rolled belly up to get a drink.  WHAT???  I was amazed, he was so close I could hear him breath and could smell his not so fresh breath.  The boys were summoned to witness this amazing site.  He drank and drank and drank and only left when I decided to scrub the algae from his belly with the boat brush.  He needed it, but apparently wasn't big on personal hygiene.  Unprepared, I had Scott snap a picture with his cell phone.



As usual, after a new wildlife sighting, I started a full blown research project.  I love to gather as much information as possible and bring that back to the boys, the family and anyone else who will listen to me.  This often wins me the tour guide title when we have out of town visitors.  Sadly, I learned after this weekend that feeding manatees fresh water is actually a bad thing if not illegal.  Encouraging wild animals to depend on humans for anything is always frowned upon.  This is not specific to manatees, why haven't I learned this yet?

five

 

Once an insignificant number I never really considered now finds its way into my thoughts every few minutes it seems.

 

Five.

Five?

Five

Wow, Five

 

If your talking age, you’re young.  If your talking pounds, it’s a relatively small amount.  If your talking about cats, that would probably be considered excessive.  If your talking dollars in your checking account, you’re in trouble. 

But were not talking age or pounds or even cats.

I’m talking about children.  If you know me personally or have studied the sidebar and done the math, you know we have four.  Four is was a nice number.  However, we are now embracing the idea of five.  Not only are we considering it, we’re well on our way.

Through an interesting series of events, roadblocks and head shaking coincidences, I find myself 20 weeks pregnant today. 

Last Monday we all huddled in the tiny ultrasound room at the hospital giddy and anxious for answers.  The goop was applied, the ultra sound was pressed up to my belly and in about 1.2 milliseconds the technician gasped.  Not the sound you want to hear during a procedure like this (or any procedure for that matter).  It was followed up with, a sigh, and then, “It’s another boy.”

I envisioned the boys a bit more involved than they were.  Gavin was mid process of purchasing a new app for my I-phone and didn’t bat an eye.  Tommy was somewhere out of my view.  Petey had wandered into the changing area oblivious to the notion that his position as the baby of the family was in serious jeopardy.  Finn was the only one engaged and eager for the news.  The very patient technician asked Finn what he was going to name his new baby brother.  Finn promptly supplied his answer, “Princess.”

Five children

Not just five children…

Five boys!

What on earth am I going to do with five little boys who soon won’t even be little and will eat me out of house and home and stink up their bedrooms and wear holes in their jeans.  I suppose I am going to continue doing what I already do now, loving them and laughing and enjoying this wild ride. 

Five.

Five?  Seriously?

Five.

fish

Pine Island Sound will never be the same.  

When we started coming to the cottage nine months ago our fishing equipment was limited, our knowledge of fishing was limited and consequently, our success was even more limited.  Fishing in saltwater is a far cry from the cool Northern lake fishing we were accustomed to.  

While we were certainly not expert fishermen up north, we could not have even been classified as beginners down here.  I have killed more live shrimp than the Gulf oil spill and have snagged too many lures and bobbers to count in the mangroves and even lost more than one fishing pole to the bottom of the sea.  All the while I was gathering fish recipes for the dozens of fish we intended to catch each weekend.  For many months we fed the fish or continued to catch the same 10 inedible fish over and over again, some of them even missing their lips now.  I only wish I were joking, it’s sad really. 

We certainly don’t have the proper collection of equipment yet and continue to have a severe knowledge deficit but are moving in the right direction.  Months of fishing information gleaned from the internet proved to be useful for other novices as evidenced by their comments of praise but never actually worked for me.  Maybe too advanced for someone of my caliber.  I’m not sure, but it never produced the promised results.  

A cube neighbor of mine stopped in recently to check in on our fishing escapades.  A few moments after our conversation Rachel returned to my cube with a list of instructions titled How to Catch Spotted Sea Trout or something of the like.  In true trainer fashion (we are both EPIC trainers) she had created a step by step tutorial on how to catch sea trout.  Rachel handed it to me and then proceeded to explain, in great detail what to buy, how to set up the pole, when to go out (this involved her I-phone tide app), where to go, how to get there (this took some convincing and a few Google maps), what type of bait to buy, how to keep the bait alive (we struggle with this), what to do when we arrive, how to bait the hook, how to set (or not set) the hook, how to take the fish off, what to do if we catch something scary (think shark or stingray), what to do with the fish we want to eat, how to clean the fish, and several options on cooking the fish.  Men don’t give fishing advice like this and certainly not on the internet.  Every term was explained and it was assumed that I knew nothing.  This is where all other advice had gone wrong, they assumed I had some basic fishing knowledge… WRONG!!!  I carefully saved my little piece of paper with more confidence and clarity than I had ever had regarding salt water fishing.  It was foolproof.  With these secrets it would be statistically impossible not to catch the elusive (maybe not for some, but elusive to us) spotted sea trout.

As we headed out for our first complete (all of us in the boat) family trip last weekend, I clung to the crumpled piece of memo paper that included all of the precious directions. 

Meandering through the mangroves in itself is daunting, but avoiding the oyster beds (something we have failed to do in the past) was the real accomplishment.  We carefully followed Rachel’s map and I felt a sense of relief anytime we passed a land mark she had made mention of. 

The boys demolished the picnic lunch I had prepared about 7 minutes into the boat ride.  I had envisioned fishing for a bit and then breaking to have a bite a bit later in our adventure.  I was not surprised or disappointed though as they tore through 8 PBJ sandwiches.  Rachel made no mention of how many PBJ’s to pack.  A slight failure on her part, although in her defense she does not have any children.  Nonetheless, this will need to go on her record as an oversight.  She has very few so I keep careful track.

It’s always helpful to have someone to hang on to you when the boat is moving quickly.  Petey is pretty used to his handler by now and usually lets this sort of thing go on without a fight.

For the record, Rachel should be a fishing guide if things don’t work out with IT.  Her advice was spot on.  We not only caught a spotted trout, we caught so many I lost track.

Gavin and Tommy are a bit more timid around flopping fish, but the little boys have no fear.  They insist on touching each and every one that we hauled up.  During my Monday morning post weekend fishing debriefing with Rachel, she explained that this is why several of the fish we threw back didn’t survive.  They need the water, she explained.  Oh… noted. 

We didn’t fish for an incredibly long period of time but in the couple hours we were out, we managed to have quite a bit of action.  I was in charge of tying the bait bucket to the side of the boat.  My expert knot skills failed relitively early on which resulted in having to chase it down a drifting bait bucket and re-tether it.  Other notable events included Gavin snagging his line in the mangroves which involved me tangling with the mangroves, one little boy almost falling overboard while riding the side of the boat as though it were a horse, one fish falling between the seat cushion in a slimy chase, the entire boat being labeled with Christmas gift tags (you know the to and from ones) and we running into 2 different people we knew.  It’s a gigantic ocean, who sees people they know???

I was the self proclaimed fishing champion although this was confirmed by a boatful of little boys that were so impressed with my expert skills.  It may have something to do with the odds being stacked.  You see, since I have taught the boys how to bait my hook and have Scott to remove every fish I snag, I have a baited line in the water far more than anyone else on the boat.  I even offer to hold Scott’s baited pole in the water for him while he removes and re-baits mine.   Scott announced early on the trip that the first to catch of the day earns $2 and the largest fish of the day earns $1.  This produced instant tears and attitude as I reeled in the first fish.  The boys are incredibly competitive and offering a bounty was really not necessary I reminded Scott on the way in.  He explained it was tradition growing up with his uncles fishing the lakes up North.  I reminded him that these very same uncles also made him eat a worm and made him swim in on more than one occasion when he tired of fishing. 

Petey was impressed or disgusted by the rather ugly front teeth on the sea trout and the fish seemed to reflect the same thought.

Although not a trout, this guy was an instant favorite, because he matched the boat of course.

This was my pride and joy.  He was 18 inches long although I swear if I had someone older than 7 holding the tape measure (yes, the actual tape measure from the garage) I could have stretched him out to 20.  I’m trying to be conservative to make up for the rest of the boat and their fish stories.  They went out earlier in the week without me and stories of several hits from a shark and Scott catching a tarpon were exchanged and exaggerated as the week went on. 

The fact that we actually caught them was probably more of a testament to Rachel’s expert teaching ability than to our actual fishing skills.  Pine island Sound was once a serene, well stocked fish refuge…

That is, until that day that Rachel stepped into my cube with the instructions on how to become hooked on an incredible hobby that will no doubt change our weekends forever.

    

haircuts

Because all Fed Ex men moonlight as barbers…

Because there is no haircut category on our monthly budget…

Because getting hair in your nose tickles…

Because all your brothers are watching and laughing too…

Because the oldest goes first…

Because it’s time for a haircut when you’ve had a bad hair week, as opposed to a bad hair day…

 

Because all Fed Ex men wear their wives blue cat pajamas…

Because sometimes the razor makes a loud scary buzzing noise…

Because all Fed Ex men moonlight as barbers.

Christmas photos and other things that sound like good ideas

There are two versions of every situation I get our family into.  There’s the Norman Rockwell version I drum up in my head and then there’s the raw real and far less appealing version that plays out in real life.  There’s a reason there isn’t an artist following my family around to paint these scenes.   

 

The one time each year where I insist on capturing a shot of all four boys together is at Christmas.  Actually, it’s mid November in an effort to send out early Christmas cards.  Despite taking photos early, I’ve yet to actually get them sent out early, ever.  Every time I add one more boy to the shot, it gets harder and harder to ensure that they are all acting in an acceptable fashion at the time I click the camera. 

I had a vision the other day of a serene photo shoot in the sprawling Banyan trees at the Edison house.  I’d probably take about 15 shots and have about 10 great ones to choose from later.  People would walk by and marvel at my photography skills and the sheer cleverness of my boys and I.  A modeling agent may even stroll up and drop off a business card or two.  We’d be out of there in less than 10 minutes, all holding hands and laughing on our way back to the truck.  Ummmmmmm…..WRONG

 

 

Other scenarios that have played out so well in my head but not so well in real life are as follows:

Puppies….. twice

I failed to imagine the poop, the pee, the trips to the vet, teething and the endless responsibility.

The Picadilly circus…

I failed to read the fine print that admitted to uncomfortable, unsafe seating, possible carbon monoxide poisoning, 120 degree tent and actual circus staff of only 5.

 

 

 

Navigating the boat by moonlight after watching midnight fireworks on New Year’s…

I forgot to include the fog, the cold, the disappearing moon, the ghost ship that almost killed us and the feeling of sailing through the Bermuda triangle.

Scheduling all four boys physicals for the same day…

I forgot to include 4 co pays, 4 very short attention spans, long wait times and the miniscule size of the treatment rooms.

 

 

 

Road trips to Wisconsin (28 hours each way)

Funny I didn’t daydream about the gas bill, accidently drinking urine from the makeshift Gatorade urinal, and the belly ache you get from staying up all night drinking caffeine

Bringing any one of mine with me to work

Funny I didn’t daydream about them playing loud video games on my cubicle computer, using the bathroom and not flushing or washing their hands only to have a coworker go in after them, them stapling their finger.

 

 

 

Black Friday shopping with the boys…

I do love a challenge but didn’t picture finding our items in 60 seconds only to wait in line for 60 minutes and then waiting another 60 minutes just to get out of the parking lot.

Purchasing a new washing machine after ours broke and telling the clerk it was ok that it was backordered.  We can survive for 26 days without a washer…

I do love a challenge, but didn’t picture hauling loads of dirty laundry with me wherever I go begging to use people’s washers and then hauling 6 laundry baskets of wet clothes home so that my dryer could run 16 hours straight.  I didn’t picture that any of our boys actually had poop accidents anymore and I didn’t picture throwing these clothes out because it’s bad enough to ask to borrow your washer, but to have to ask to borrow your washer to wash my poop pants is another story all together. 

 

 

 

I’m not sure why I am such an optimist yet.  I keep dreaming up ideas in my little peanut brain and imagining this perfect family that I have and all of the perfect things will do.  As usual, things have a way of going awry.  In these situations, I try to find the silver lining and salvage whatever leftovers have any value many times losing some dignity, modesty, money and sometimes a boy child or two in the process.

 

After editing and re editing, this was the only keeper and it doesn’t even include Petey.  Pretty typical these days.  Most of you didn’t actually ever receive one of these this year.  I may consider posting an online Christmas letter in the near future but the paper version just never made it to print this Christmas.  Once again, not quite how I imagined it would work out but how I should have expected it to.

words

 

 

It’s been awhile and so I think a bit of catching up may be in order.  I may not have been blogging but I sure have been busy with… well… life.  

 

Annoyed.  I have a lack of internet service at home right now.  In need of a new part or possibly a new internet provider.  I’m holding my ground and they’re holding theirs.  Blogging is difficult when you can only do it at work (frowned upon) or in an area with free wifi accompanied by four not so patient little boys.  Hence the scarcity of the posts recently.

Satisfied.  I won a bit of a battle with Best Buy a few weeks back which involved them replacing (and upgrading) my camera after the auto focus decided to retire a bit early.

Cold.  In a backyard baseball game gone awry, a window was broken out of my van.  It rained sideways on the way to work tonight.  It’s one thing to have rain on your windshield, but quite another to have rain hitting the side of your face while you are attempting to drive.  Tonight I will be sporting bad hair and a wet T-shirt.  Wet T-shirts are a good look for some… me, not so much.

Adjusting.  In the line of work I am in now we are always cycling.  We prepare, train, go live and support over and over again.  We just hit another Go Live which involves me working at the hospital 12 hour night shifts for the month of December.  I don’t mind working nights assuming I actually get to sleep during the day.  This is a rarity.  I am adjusting to getting 4-5 hours of sleep every 24 hours and impress myself with my energy level most days.

Disappointed.  I have to deal with a litter box again.  Elliott became proficient at digging and burying outside over the last few years and therefore I was able to forego the littler box.  Recently, I wandered out into the living room in the  middle of the night only to watch a raccoon come in through the cat door.  Unfortunately, he was not scared of me and was really quite comfortable hanging out in the same room as me.  If I would have sat down on the sofa he probably would have climbed up on my lap and curled up or ripped my face off with his creepy little hands.  The cat door is now closed for business and the little box is open. 

Counting.  I am counting my blessings this Christmas season that I have a husband and a father.  We recently lost a close family member unexpectedly.  My heart goes out to his wife.  I try to imagine functioning without my own husband.  I also think of his three daughters and wonder what life would be like without the father that I take for granted.  Rest in peace uncle Mickey. 

Excited.  We are having Christmas company this year.  My mom and sister will be coming to visit.  It will be our first overnight guests at the cottage.  We will be celebrating our first Christmas at the cottage.  I am so excited to take these northerners out on the boat and show them all the things they are missing out on.  I’m excited to see what they think of the boys.  I talk to my mom every day, but I think sometimes it’s hard to imagine how much the boys have grown and matured. 

Crafty.  I’ve been wrapping presents by the glow of the Christmas tree each night that I’m not working.  We play Christmas music while I cut apart brown paper bags to make wrapping paper.  I am using up the very last bits of wrapping paper that I own and using lots of homemade paper I’ve collected or repurposed.  I love brown paper packages tied up with strings.  So much so that last night Scott and I sat at the table in silence sewing the seams of paper together with fuzzy yarn.  The packages looked so festive and inviting.  In all reality, the sewing was necessary because while I do often acquire new tape, it gets used very quickly in our house.  I believe the last roll was used to attach the vacuum extension tube to the top of a Nerf gun for a makeshift site.

Creative.  I’ve gotten really good at coming up with one pot meals.  You know the ones that are cooked all in one pot?  Not because I like that kind of recipe or because I only have one pot, but because I only have one burner.  Something dropped on our ecook top the other day and shattered it.  I am left with one usable burner.  I think logical people would go out and buy a new stove, but us… nope.  It keeps things interesting.  I’ve priced the cook top and it’s not pretty.  I’ve priced new stoves and don’t really feel like allocating the time and money right now, so one pot meals it is.  Last night was Mahi Mahi over couscous with pineapple and red peppers.  It was awesome.

Balanced.  I love not being in school.  My family is the closest it’s ever been.  I have a great work/family balance these days.  I work a bit during the week and then it’s off to the cottage on the weekends.  Scott is getting busier with the heavy Christmas shipping season, but his hours are still much better than last year.  I have a real handle on the kids and homework and violin and swim.  I feel in control and not spread to thin.  It’s a refreshing change from the last year.

Nesty.  I am revisiting plans to create the perfect family closet.  This is the idea that all of the clothes in the house live in one place.  They’re either on someone, in the washer or in the closet.  Clothes come out of the dryer and have only one place to go.  The family closet is full of Christmas presents at the moment so these plans must wait for after the holidays, but that doesn’t stop me from scouring Pinterest for inspiration.

Smug.  I’ve found a new source of information and inspiration.  Podcasts.  I love that I can access millions of them via my cell phone.  It is not uncommon to see me walking around the house cleaning or doing paper work with my cell phone in my bra broadcasting a podcast on raising large families or backyard chickens or urban homesteading or organization.  Scott walked in the other day on a podcast regarding how to choose a sister wife.  Oops, that probably looked a bit odd.  I’m not actually considering it but find different family structures fascinating. 

Anxious.  We are in the process of attempting to move.  I do not deal well with moving.  We aren’t planning another cross country move, but a move to a city that is a bit closer to everything in our daily circle.  We are burning lots of fuel and time these days commuting.  No one likes being in the van (maybe because it lacks air, power locks, interior lights, and most recently a window) for extended periods of time including me.  We have outgrown our house and our neighborhood.  Look out, we could be moving near you!

Extreme.  We recently seriously downgraded our satellite TV.  Were down to the local channels, the religious ones  and the home shopping channels.  I miss my garbage shows so much, but don’t miss the time that was required to keep up with all of them.  We have had more family time than ever, some nights not even turning the TV on.  This has lead to some discussion of having no TV in our next house.  We will also be making our own cheese, raising tea cup pot bellied pigs and focusing on self sustainability.  Just kidding… or maybe not. 

Paged.  I am feeling paged, because, well, I am getting paged to the ER to help them with their new computer system.  Probably the reason I should not blog at work.  

Erin Out!