Not so adventures of the St. Clair clan...

Exhausted.  Mentally and emotionally drained.  And that's where I'm at, at the end of this week.  I'm almost embarrassed to admit it.  I've been defeated by a six-year-old and a three-year-old.  Plus a couple of babies.   This is Ross' first week back to school full-time after a wonderfully long summer and spring of being mostly at home.  We are grateful he has a job, but we are sad to see him go.  This is the first time since March that I have been running solo with all four kids all day everyday.  I was feeling pretty low by the end of this week, and then I had to give myself a reality check.  We have a friend who has been doing this for a whole year.  No nights off.  No weekends off.  Her husband has been deployed since last fall.  I have it pretty good.   But, lest you think better of me than you should, sit tight, and I'll give you a little glimpse into our week.   We don't do transitions well. Monday started with Ross rolling out of the driveway in our

Food is my love language.  Somebody pointed that out to me once, and I realized immediately that they were correct.  I enjoy feeding my family well, and I love treating people to good food.  I get giddy talking to people about food, reading about food, growing food, and looking at pictures of other people's food or gardens.  I have a cookbook problem.  I'm a dutch oven hoarder and a knife snob.  And I have an obsession with butter.   When I want to show extra appreciation to my spouse, I cook red meat for dinner.   When I'm not super pleased with my spouse, we eat vegetarian with a side of squash.  Then we talk.       I take special interest in remembering people's preferences...unless they are my kids.  I love them by making them try all the vegetables and weird things on their plates.  It's for their future health (and wives).  Because I love them.   Food can change a person's mood.  I know this from experience.  Ask my sister.  I hate the word "hangry,&q

I ran and hid from my kids today.  We weren't playing hide-and-go-seek.  I was eating a chocolate peanut butter bar, and it was barely after breakfast.  I saw them coming, so I ran and closed myself in the babies room.  At that point I was no longer enjoying the treat, I was just trying to get it down as fast as I could so as not to be found out.   The boys didn't catch me, but I did give myself a stomach ache.  That's when it hit me: I think I'm scared of my children.  I'm an adult.  I've paid my penance.  I made those chocolate-peanut butter bars.  Why do I feel compelled to sneak them?    It's the same reason I let the kids have one more minute in the toy aisle, even after I already told them time was up five minutes ago.  And it's why I avoid coffee shops when they are with me. It's why I read them that one book that I have read sixty-seven times already. They.  Scare.  Me.  I am avoiding conflict, confrontation, temper tantrums, and

Twinning over here.  Twinning and winning.  Only because they are both asleep at the moment.  I looked at their precious sleeping faces and thought to myself, "sleeping babies are like rainbows - rare and fleeting."  We're sleep training again.  Round one didn't take.  These girls are way more stubborn than their brothers were.  We are in for it.  But I'm already stockpiling ammunition for when they are older (figuratively speaking, so don't get your panties in a bunch.  Their dad has the real stuff, but that's for the future boyfriends.  Consider yourselves warned boys.)  Personally, I am working on my album of embarrassing pictures.  I realize now why my mom actually permed my hair.  These girls were gifted some twin outfits - pink, ruffly things with bucket hats to match.  They are so great.  So on they went.  So. Much. Pink.  And I took many pictures.  I also took the girls in their pink ensemble to the grocery store.  I wore the girls in my twin