Where should I start? School is back in session. (Thank you Lord!). All three kids are in school at some point during the week. How am I? Well, I am exhausted. One thing that you fail to truly consider when you are planning to have a baby is that those babies grow up. Do you ever really think of that part in a real, logic way? You think about all the awesome parts of them growing up. Not the real life, every day, elbow grease parts of their raising. Not. At. All.
For instance, you fail to consider the meaning of your children's friendships. Maybe you consider what it means for them...you know to be liked, loved, treasured, by other little people. You don't actually consider that one day, long before the teenage years, they will want their friends to hang out at your house. Or that when one of your kids has a friend over, the other kids have to each have a friend over so that it will be "fair." So before you even realize it, your house is crawling with kids--in my case, crawling with about 6 kids--at all times. You fail to think of how you are going to need a car big enough to haul all of these kids around. (Which is why I lost my dignity at 28 and bought a mini-van). And the groceries. Oh man, the groceries. I already have 2 boys and one very hearty eating little girl who eat non-stop all day. Add 2,3, or 4 more kids in the mix and you are practically feeding the Lakers starting 5 plus the back up bench warmers. What about the laundry? Pajamas, school clothes, play clothes, uniforms. And towels. More towels. A washing machine FULL of towels. Every. Single. Day. Three loads of laundry every day or I am under a pile higher than Everest. And it isn't just the laundry of the people who live in your house. Yep, those friends again. They leave their clothes at your house so you end up washing their clothes too. And they make a mess. Pull out ALL of the toys. Legos ...the itty bitty tiny ones...they are in every corner of the house. Homework. The list just goes on and on.

His candor and his attitude totally floored me. He wanted to make a 100 on each assignment because he viewed that as the only acceptable score. We had a long talk about our desire for him to simply learn the material. I don't give a hill a beans about what you score in 3rd grade as long as you pass. We told him all about how cheating is wrong, that honesty is one of the most important virtues. He cried. He apologized. He seemed to really get it. All was well in the world and life was restored to normal....until the next Thursday during his spelling test. Ian apparently knew he missed one of his spelling words so he pulled out his worksheet to check to make sure he spelled the bonus word correctly. So that way, he would still make a 100. The teacher didn't catch him but another student told on him. When asked by the teacher, he admitted it. So this time, I pulled out the big guns. I made him talk to my Dad. Ian and Daddy are best friends and I knew if anyone could get through to him, it was him. Dad really went after it. He gave Ian the same speech he gave to us about lying. "If you will LIE, you will CHEAT, if cheat you will STEAL, if you steal, you will KILL somebody." Some words about being "very disappointed in him" and some genuine discussion about whether or not he deserved to go hunting because of his choices and the child was begging for forgiveness. For good measure, he had to write an apology letter to his teacher, he was on restriction from TV, Nintendo, & friends coming over for 2 weeks, AND he had to sit out of his 1st football game. Tough love but important.

The next Thursday, I was on pins & needles in the car line--so afraid that Ian's desire to get a 100 had overtaken his good sense and deafened his moral compass. But I was not to worry. He came to the car, grinning from ear to ear. I said, "Well?" He opened his folder and said, "I missed 5 words---fair and square!" ALRIGHT!
And I will be honest to say that although the cheating issue really did throw me for a loop, it wasn't as nearly as trying as dealing with Will. Lord bless him, but the child is so difficult. He is in 4K this year and as far as school goes, he is very smart. He can write his name---after all, according to him, it is "just a W and three sticks." At first, he was totally digging school. As always, he is Mr. Popularity with tons of friends. I signed him up for a gymnastics class at school once a week because I thought he would love it. At first, he did. But then Labor Day happened and it was all down hill from there. Every morning became a battle. He hated school. He hated the clothes I picked out. He hated gymnastics. He even hated me a few times. I practically had to drag him in to school and he would cry when I left. As if school fights weren't bad enough, he then began fighting me over church, Sunday school, football & gymnastics. EVERYTHING.
So after almost 2 weeks of non-stop back and forth, I finally had enough. When the fighting started, I sent him to his room and told him not to come out except to go to the bathroom. Will went marching off to his room. "FINE! I love my room. I hate school!" I think he thought he had somehow won. I served him breakfast in his room. After hour one, he popped out to potty. As soon as he was done, I sent him back. He said, "Can I take some toys to my room?" It was boring sitting in a room that has no other entertainment except two bookshelves of books. He sat on his bed for 3 hours, refusing to apologize. Eventually, he took a nap. Lunch came and while he ate, he tried to start conversation. I told him that until he apologized and agreed to go back to school without argument, he was going to sit in his room. Silence. At 2pm, he finally decided to apologize. Stubborn little buzzard he is! And it wasn't an overnight transformation. In fact, it wasn't until this very week that he began to go to school without protest. And I still don't have a clue why he suddenly didn't like it. Maybe it is middle child syndrome. Maybe he is too cool for school. Whatever the reason, I am glad this little phase has passed us by. At least for now---I have a strong suspicion that most of my life raising Will might be a constant push and pull, back and forth. Hooray! Not.
Mags. My sweet, loving, Miss Piggy. She is going to preschool 2 days a week. And she is so much like me. She loves books. She loves to color. She will sit for hours on end and entertain herself by reading to her dolls. She is smart too. But man does this gal LOVE to eat. She eats all day long. The Dr. was convinced that she eats because she is bored---particularly while her "boys" are at school. She suggested I offer her healthy options and because she wasn't really hungry, she wouldn't eat them. Yeah right. She eats grapes, yogurt, cheese, applesauce, goldfish, eggs, whatever you put in front of her, she will eat it. Non-stop. And while I am glad she eats healthy options, I am always terrified that she will be unhealthy. But instead of packing on the pounds, she is growing taller and leaner. Hopefully, she got that amazing Newton metabolism that totally skipped Chrissy and me.
Mags is totally blossoming in personality. She talks 90 miles a minute all day long. Also like her Mom. She loves her brothers, always referring to them as "my boys." She is super bossy, too. She will tell them what to do and insist that "Mommy said so." She varies between the extremes of a total priss-pot that adores anything that sparkles and a tomboy that will punch you in the face. She is mean to Will, constantly taking advantage of his total adoration of her. No matter how awful and mean she can be to him, he won't retaliate. It's the only time that I seem exercise extreme self-control. And it is fascinating.
Mags is our resident tattle-tale and for the safety of all of our well-beings, especially where Will is concerned, we never discourage her from ratting out her brothers. After all, one can never be too sure that Will isn't trying to launch himself off the roof or something equally as dangerous. She isn't doing anything extra-curricular at this point, but I imagine I will sign her up for dance soon. I just can't believe she is old enough to even participate in stuff like that. While I was busy driving kids around and managing the absolute madness of our schedules, she has just grown up. She isn't a baby any more.
That is it. My baby days are over. Both in the sense that I physically can't have any more kids thanks to a messed up reproductive system and to the reality of the lessons learned from raising these. Now that we have been raising kids for quite some time, we understand all of the things we never considered before we had them. And believe me, even though there is a pang of sadness that we won't get to snuggle any more tiny, wrinkly little babes, there is a HUGE relief to know that each stage that we now survive with Mags will be the last time we ever have to endure it. After all, having three kids means it is like we really have half a dozen. And that is plenty. A few weeks ago, Will asked, "What would happen if you had 5 babies in your tummy?" I answered that I couldn't have any more babies. Ian said, "For real?" And I shook my head in confirmation and said, "That's it. No more." Ian laughed and said, "Thank God! We already practically live in a zoo. No need to add to the madness!"
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