The Begining Part One: Today is the day

New mom frustration # 9: Picking the wrong day to switch from super absorbent pads to ultra light ones.

 It is a sunny Tuesday morning. I am nervously sitting in the OB's waiting room.  I feel bad, because the OB had told me that if the ultrasound he ordered the previous week showed the baby was head down then I no longer needed him and I should cancel my Tuesday appointment. The baby was indeed head down, and therefore the OB and  a C-section no longer needed.  My intuition told me to keep the appointment.

Getting to the appointment was a stressful ordeal in of itself.  We all overslept. Our older children were wild and trying to get them dressed, fed and ready for daycare was like herding wet cats. Finally, we all piled in our van and we were off. We decided I would be the first drop off since by that time I was already ten min late for my appointment. Naturally, almost every street between my house and the OB was closed--we had to make about three detours to get there. I hopped out of the van with a mumbled "goodbye" to the kids.

I don't wait very long for my appointment. I don't even have time to give a urine sample. Now I am in the exam room, talking with the medical student. I plead my case to her. I tell her about my previous labors, why I think I am in labor now. I know we can't plan our births for convienence I do have three kids who are currently in daycare until 5-6pm (hence today would be a great day for a baby). She agrees to examine me and finds not much progress.  Sighing, I resign myself to waiting at least a few more days for baby.

But wait.....

She says she will have the OB examine me too, and maybe he can "get something going".  Now I am lying on the exam table, naked from the waist down, wondering how it is that I could have thought that I was much further a long then I actually am. I am hopeful, but also feel a little like I am wasting his time. Lo and behold, the OB finds that my water is very close to breaking and I am well into the second phase of labor.

For those who don't know much about labor, or those who forgot what labor is, here is a quick run down. All you really need to know are two numbers, the effacement -- a percentage and  dilation --a number out of 10. When a women is 100 percent effaced and 10cm dilated its baby time.  The OB finds my dilation at 5 and my effacement at 70%.  He gives me a couple of options:

Option one is go home and wait it out.  It won't be very much longer (like maybe 24 hours max). He says he can't believe my water has not broken and I am not in the hospital.  He also says that once the water breaks, the rest will go pretty quickly. I am not overly thrilled with option one, especially since my family doctor (who would deliver the baby if no c-section was needed) is out of town, but expected back today. The OB then gives me option number two.

I could go to the maternity deparment today and when he has a moment he will come up and break my water. If my doctor makes it back in time for the delievery, then fine and if not, the OB will come back and deliver the baby.  It was an offer I could not refuse. The OB tells me to go after lunch and he will see me there. I excitedly tell my husband today is the day.

We are super excited when we get home. So excited in fact, we can't figure out what to do with ourselves. We have about an hour or so before we have to go to the hospital. Perfect time to finish packing the hospital bag, take out the dog, eat and pack food for the delivery room and call our folks to let them know.  Oh and while we are at it, make arrangements for our three children to be picked up and looked after when the daycare closes at 5:30. We manage to accomplish some of things, like making the phone calls and arranging for the child care. We set off to the hospital finalizing names on the way.

We get to the hospital and I feel like royalty as I am shown into the delivery room.  The room appears to have been freshly painted since the last time I was there. There is a nice colorful quilt on the wall, and not much else.  There is no TV, no radio, not even a tub in the room. Not the nicest looking of rooms to have a baby, but truthfully by this time I don't care--I just want my baby.  Besides, I brought my own radio.

I am settled into bed and my water is broken.  Next comes the IV and some medication to strengthen my contractions. Then comes the epidural and the radio. I am excited and relaxed at the same time.  My body not knowing how to handle the adrenaline surge begins to shake.  Tension creeps into my neck and settles there. I shift positions and take some Tylenol. Slowly I am able to calm down--at least temporarily.

My husband returns from eating and we settle in to wait for our baby.  There are many ways to spend this time.  Some baby books recommend bringing cards or board games or a DVD player to pass the time.  Personally  I don't know how people can focus on any of that.  My husband and I could barely hold a conversation, and mostly sat in comfortable quietness.  I of course was too wired to sleep, so we just try to enjoy what will probably our last moments of quiet before the chaos truly begins.

As I am lying in the bed, I think about my older kids faces when they hear about their new sibling.  I think about how fast this all seems to be happening. I am trying to savor every moment, yet I want time to speed up because I want to hold my baby.  I wonder if its a boy or a girl, and try to prepare myself for hearing the magical words "Its a.....".  I am looking forward to staying in the hospital and relaxing with my newborn in my room.  I can't wait and yet I am somewhat saddened by the fact that I will not be here in this position again.

Instead of taking the time to truly reflect on this, I decide that it is absolutely necessary to text everyone I have ever met and tell them I am in the delivery room.  I check facebook, I message my friends, I text my mom.  I am sure I looked rather silly to the delivery room nurse--here I am about to have a baby and all I care about is where my phone is and what my friends are doing. Finally its time to put the phone away and have a baby.

After one last call to my family doctor (who is an hour and half away still but is rushing to the hospital) The OB returns for the big moment.  It only took a few minutes and hurt a lot--even with the epidural. My husband wanted to be the one tell me the sex of our baby, so we told everyone in the room to let my husband tell me.  The conversation went something like this:

Husband: "Oh my gosh!!  Are you ready? Its a girl!!!!"
Me: "What?! a Girl?! you are kidding me.  Are you serious?"
Husband "I am pretty sure that all of us standing around your bed are in agreement that this a girl"
Me: "As if its a girl holy crap!!"

Then they placed my precious princess in my arms and I was in love. Although I was secretly hoping for a boy, I am struck by how right it feels to have another daughter.  I cannot imagine another son, but a daughter feels like the most natural thing in the world.

As I hold my newborn daughter,  I hear the OB quietly issue orders to the delivery nurse. He starts pressing on my stomach again.  Uh oh.

I know what this means. I have been through this once before.  I ask my nurse if I am hemorrhaging. Her response is calm: "Well, you are bleeding more than we would like, but we are giving you medication to help stop it"  I hear the OB order the medication--which happens to be the same medication featured in a documentary that I watched the night before--a medication linked to uterine rupture and maternal death when used to induce labor. 

Now I am truly terrified, although the logical nurse side of me is telling me everything is fine and I need to trust the people taking care of me. That nurse side of me is fighting for control. I wish I had listened to her. The adrenaline surge and my heightened state of arousal (think fight or flight times 10) wins out and I express my concerns about the drug they have just ordered (and already given me).  The staff in the room are extremely kind.  I can almost hear the eye rolling (heck, I would do it myself if a patient said they "saw something on TV...) The OB explains  that the medication is very effective in stopping a hemorrhage. The nurse reminds me that my labor is over, therefore they are not using the medication to induce my labor.  She once again calmly but firmly reassures me.  I tell my hyper anxious self that everything will be fine.  The tension starts to creep into my neck. It feels like someone is grabbing me by the scruff of my neck and squeezing.  I tell my shaking body to stop it. It doesn't listen.

While this is going on, I am still holding my princess. My husband is so excited he is hopping from one foot to another, telling me how he knew it was girl, how happy he is to have another daughter. He tells me how gorgeous she is and what a massive head she has.  This last part is not news to me as it feels like someone has lit a fire in my lower half. I think about how surreal this whole scene is.  Here I am snuggling and basking in the glow of my newborn daughter and yet I could potentially bleed to death right here in this room.  I wonder my bleed is so routine that the staff are not phased or if they are hiding their distress for my benefit.  I wonder how many times they see a post partum hemorrhage.

I banish the thought almost as soon as it enters my mind. I know from past experience how devastating unwanted and disturbing thoughts can be.  My logical nurse side again rears her head and tells me to stop it, calm down.  This time she wins, and I return to snuggling my baby.  To distract myself, I think about getting the news to my mom, who must be wondering what is going on, since I last texted a couple of hours ago saying it wouldn't be long.  I wonder if she is worried. I need to tell her everything is fine, no need to worry.

My baby is back under the Panda warmer--I think that is what it is called and my husband is snapping pictures.  My bleeding has apparently stopped and I can see the OB stitching me up.  I am tempted to ask how bad it is, how many stitches I need....so many questions.  I decide not to ask because I will just worry about the answers anyway.

Time to take the baby to the nursery for her weight and other assessments. My husband goes with her.  My stitches completed , the OB congratulates me and leaves the room.  My nurse helps me clean up and helps me get into a sitting position.  Its like nothing ever happened. 20 minutes ago I was bleeding uncontrollably and now I am sitting in pretty much the same position I was sitting in when I got here this afternoon. I am feeling a mix of emotions. I am relieved that its over and everything is fine, but I am sad that I no longer have this part to look forward to.  Its a bit like how I used to feel (and often still do) in January.  The magic is over, Christmas is over, nothing but the long winter ahead.  That is how I feel now, the magic is over. Now my life is going to get crazy.

I worry now that this is the start of post partum depression.  After the birth of my third child, I did not have any negative feelings.  I could not wait to get her home and start my life with her.  I just knew life with her would be wonderful.  This time around all I feel is worry that we will not be able to handle the added stress. I worry about never sleeping again, I worry about my older children and their reactions to their new baby sister.  Most of all, I worry about heading down the road of post partum depression.  I went through hell with my second child and I never want to go back there again.  I fear that I have taken my first step towards negative feelings, explosive temper tantrums, rage, and disturbing thoughts.  I tell myself all the unhelpful things others told me the last time I went through this, things like Don't think about it, Be positive, Everything will be okay.

To distract myself from this line of thinking, I ask the nurse to hand me my phone and I call and text everyone in my contact list to announce my joyous news.  My husband returns and soon it is time to go to my room and wait for my baby to be brought to me.


What was your birth story like? Do you remember it as traumatic or triumphant. Did your experience differ from the first time to subsequent times?  Did you have an overwhelming urge to tell everyone every detail of it?, If so, feel free to share your story here.

Welcome!!

New mom frustration #3: Realizing too late that your adorable baby has slept for the last five hours--and you have not.

A big welcome to any new readers and a hardy welcome back to people who have read this blog before. We have had some big excitement here. One week ago, we welcomed our fourth child (another daughter).  I must say--unbiased as I am--she is beautiful. For those of you scoring at home this makes one boy (my oldest, will be 7 soon) and three girls (second oldest is 4 and former youngest 22 months).  Its all teddy bears and tea parties from here on out.

Having four children is like bringing home a new puppy times 1000.  There is excitement, a lot of pee and poop, some crying, temper tantrums, and fighting over who gets to  hold the new arrival. Plus tons of warnings and shouts of  "Be gentle!!" --and the kids are excited too.

I started this blog with the birth of my third child to help ward off post partum depression. As anyone who knows me knows that it is a subject close to my heart. I had very few post partum symptoms last time, and I was hoping for the same experience this time.

So far, its not quite working out the way I thought it would.  I am on an emotional roller coaster. I have energy bursts, crying jags, extreme annoyance--all of which are normal in the first week post partum.  However, because I did not have  this last time, I am annoyed that I feel it this time.  I have been trying to figure out why I feel so tense this time and last time I felt so relaxed.

Of course there are obvious reasons why this time is more tense than last time. I have a toddler and new born now. I am much more tired. My older children have decided that now would be a good time to test the rules and see how crazy they can make mommy and daddy. Plus all three older children are in daycare/daycamp all day, five days a week so when they get home they are wild, running in different directions and generally not listening.  I love that I have 8 hours a day to just focus on me and the baby, but I  pay a price when they get home.  The three to four hours from the time they get home to bed time are brutal--see my facebook status update if you have any doubt.

I feel like everything is moving in fast forward. Its like I have been on speed since the birth. Not sure what to do with myself. I am often to wired to sleep, but can't focus my energy enough to accomplish something simple like unloading the dishwasher.

We have decided this is the last baby.  So I feel like I should savor every moment, because it is the last time I will experience it. I must admit that I am already sad that I won't get to feel the thrill of delivery again. Don't get me wrong,  I won't miss labor or pregnancy, but I sure do love the moment when they put the baby on my chest. I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the attention that a new baby and a big family brings.

Other than trying to rival that show "19 Kids and Counting" I am trying to find a way to process my feelings. I have decided to document  my post partum journey.  My plan is to post every Tuesday about my experience, from the moment of birth and as the journey progresses.  I will still post about the joys/frustrations of parenting and life with four kids on other days of the week (So if you are not all that interested in babies/newborn/post partum, you may want to avoid Tuesdays).  I would like to do a series so that I can look back and remember the magic and joy that is having a new born.

I invite you to join me Tuesdays as I move through this post partum period. For my friends with older kids, maybe it will help you relive the magic, and for my friends who are still in the baby stage or about to go through it, I hope it will help you realize you are not alone. Be warned though, it won't always be pretty, sometimes will be gross and graphic. If you are squeamish, you may not want to read. For the not so squeamish, I will see you next Tuesday as the series begins.

PS: I welcome comments and feedback. I think I have the settings straight now so that you can comment here, or you can comment on the link as I post it. I look forward to having some interesting discussions.

P.PS: As a preview to the series, this is who I am writing about:

See you next week!

Hooray for spring!!..

The informality of family life is a blessed condition that allows us all to become our best while looking our worst.       ------    Marge Kennedy

Hooray!! Spring has finally sprung.  Not here where I live,  but I understand somewhere in the world it is spring and I am happy for everyone who is breaking out the bikes and the barbeques. Happy belated Easter to everyone as well.  Easter has sparked some interesting discussion in our household.  Let me explain:

The Thursday before Easter weekend,  my son asked why people are sad on God Friday and happy on Easter Sunday.  It seems my son has been talking to the neighbour child and has learned a thing or two about Easter.  I should point out that although I grew up going to Catholic school, my children have never been to church.  We have had discussions about God and Heaven (thanks to the neighbour child we also know all about death). However, we have never discussed Jesus or the concept of religion in general.  I am inadvertently raising little atheists.

 How to explain Easter to someone with no frame of reference?  Keep in mind that my son has at this point been talking to his friends and the neighbour child.  It doesn't help that we live in a predominantly Catholic neighbourhood. Plus I made a vow to always answer my children's questions honestly and to the best of my ability.

So I begin what I think is an age appropriate and brilliant explanation. I  explain that earth was once a very bad place to live, people were mean to each other and there was lots of fighting and war.  So God sent his son Jesus to earth to help the people.  I explained that we celebrate his arrival on Christmas and on Easter Jesus died (the neighbor child told him Jesus was killed) on Good Friday. On Sunday people were happy because Jesus went to heaven. That is why we are sad on Good Friday and happy on Sunday.

I know, right? I am a genius. Short and sweet.  No complicated discussions.  This parenting thing is no problem.

My son ponders this explanation, then come the questions:

 "But how did Jesus die?  If Jesus was helping the people why did they kill him?"

Me: "Uh well....Some people did not want help, and some people did not like Jesus.  No I don't know why they didn't like him, they just didn't. So they killed him."

"So he came back to life on Sunday? Did he walk around?"

Me (with laughter from my husband): "Umm no. No one saw Jesus after that, he just went back to heaven to be with God. The people were happy for him cause he got to go to Heaven, but they were sad because he wouldn't be on earth anymore."

"Maybe he was happy because he could play hockey. Dad, do they play hockey in Heaven?"

Hubby (barley looking up from blackberry): "I don't know. Probably"

My son: "What is the hockey team in Heaven called?"

Hubby:  "This is so going on facebook.  Now son let's go play hockey downstairs"



Yeah, Yeah I know. Less time in the rink and more time in Church.

What interesting discussion have you had with little ones?  Leave a comment and tell me about it!

I have a theory....

Before I got married I had six theories about raising children; now I have six children and no theories.           --------John Wilmot

Okay, so I don't have six children--yet  (just kidding, mom, calm down, breathe). I am about to have four children and I am all out of theories.

Not that I didn't have them, I did.  Lots of them.

I have been thinking lately about how different I am now that I have children.  More specifically I have been thinking about all of the things I always said I would never do...and how I do almost everything I said I wouldn't

Here are some examples:

What I said:  "When I have kids, I am going to get down to their level, look them in the eye, and treat them like the little humans they are."  What I actually do:  Barely look up from what I am doing to grunt a response. I love my kids, but they are always talking, asking questions or whining. No human could possibly be expected to listen attentively to that much volume of information.  Besides, I need to get stuff done or else we don't eat, we don't have clean clothes...

What I said: "When I have kids, I will never yell at them. I will calmly explain what they are doing wrong.  I will then come up with a natural consequence for their actions."  What I actually do:  Yell at them to "Quit doing that!!" then threaten to take away their blankie or beloved pink bear. The truth is, natural consequences are hard.  I don't want to spend my life enforcing consequences I can't possibly police.  Besides as soon as I leave Daddy in charge, natural consequences  (and discipline in general) go right out the window.

What I said: "When I have kids, I will never, ever use the phrase 'Because I said So.'  My kids deserve respect and an explanation."  What I actually do:  You can probably guess by now.  You experienced moms are probably laughing right now--yeah, yeah, I know. It was a good theory.

What I said "When I have kids, They will not disturb others in restaurants.  We will be a nice, normal family when in public."  What I actually do:  I admit it.  Sometimes I am that parent that lets my kids run wild because I don't have the energy to stop them. I throw myself on the mercy of the other patrons and hope they understand that sometimes mommy needs a meal that I didn't make and I don't have to clean up after. So we eat, leave a big mess and a giant tip.  Sorry to all the servers out there.

What I said:  "When I have kids, I will spend time with them, doing crafts, going to the park, we will not be a TV family.  What I actually do:  Well, I live in a climate where it was minus 43 for most of January and February.  Currently there is still six feet of snow outside.  I am also pregnant for the fourth time.  I don't think I need to tell you what I actually do, I will only say that cuddle time in front of the TV counts as spending time with kids.  Also, if you time it right you can buy yourself a good 30 min of free time with the right program. 

So there you have it.  All of the wonderful theories I had that were great theories--until I actually had kids.  Now I have kids and no clue what I am doing.  On the bright side, my kids haven't noticed.
 Shhhh...don't tell them...

Spend time in prison? No thanks, I have children.

Everyone should have kids. They are the greatest joy in the world. But they are also terrorists. You'll realize this as soon as they are born and they start using sleep deprivation to break you.           -------Ray Romano

We are three days into March break and I am not sure I will survive. We are stuck in the house. There is literally ten feet of snow outside and we can't go anywhere because we can't find the car.  I can't send my monkeys outside because I loose them in the snow.

Spending all day with my kids (and a rerun of Criminal Minds I watched today) has got me thinking,  Who needs homeland security?  Let my crack team of little angels interrogate suspected terrorists.  The terrorists would not last a day around my bunch. 

Here (in no particular order) is why my little monsters would be better than the most seasoned CIA or CSIS agents:

1.   Non stop questions. After a day of fielding such questions as "Is bugs bunny mean or  nice in this cartoon?", "How come Fred Flinstone's car does not have an engine but he is not pushing it with his feet?" "Why is Shaggy scared all the time?"  "Is Foghorn Leghorn going to get in trouble in this episode or is the dog going to get into trouble?" "When its a commercial in a cartoon do they slow down the camera?"      Even the most diabolical terrorist will be begging to talk about secret evil plots.

2. Sleep deprivation. Let the terrorist share a room with my youngest monster.  After a night dealing with her four am wake up--scream--eventually calm down--play and be happy until its back to bed time then scream again--eventually fall asleep only to wake up 2 hours later routine, A life in prison will seem like a holiday (At least he could sleep at night).

3. No rest for the wicked. Have the terrorist spend the day with my three year old.  As soon as his feet hit the floor in the morning, my little one will ask for a drink of milk.  Once he gets that and returns to his seat, my little one will want toast.  The day will unfold with him having to get up a million times, for a variety of reasons. These include turning on the bathroom light, retrieving pink bear from some location little arms can't reach, getting the crayons from the high shelf, retrieving a lost ball, marble or necklace. 
Just when it seems the raging sea of demands has slowed to a wave, the terrorist will hear "I m hungry." 
When the blessed relief of bedtime finally rolls around he will have the pleasure of convincing my monkey to go to bed then convince her to sleep (I hope he has better luck than I do; She has been in bed for over an hour and is still kicking the wall).  This combined with the aforementioned sleep deprivation, will drive the most seasoned terrorist insane.

4. Constant noise.  I heard that soldiers sometimes play loud annoying music to flush out terrorists.  
Please. That's child's play. 
If you want to crack a terrorist, let him watch my six year old's hockey game.  Not a real hockey game, a pretend game played in my rec room.  The periods last about 2 min (at which time the buzzer sounds, a sound made by my child but it is just as loud as at the arena) There is a goal about every 10 seconds (Which gives rise to shouts of  Yay!! yahoo!! at the top of his lungs-- just like at the arena). After the goal comes the face off, which requires a whistle and a puck drop.  On top of all of that, there is the sound of the puck hitting the floor, the wall, and the laundry baskets set up as nets.
Then the game starts again, requiring the singing of "O Canada". This happens all day everyday, until I flip my lid and threaten to throw out all of the hockey sticks, pucks and nets in our house.  Let's see if the terrorist can handle that.

5. Water torture.  Let Mr. terrorist give my kids a bath. First, wrestling them into the tub is usually just that--a wrestling match fraught with tears, punching, kicking, and the kids haven't even made it into the water.  Once they are in the water, convincing my six year old to wash his hair takes upwards of 30 min, usually resulting in me giving up and just dumping the water over his head, resulting in a blood curdling scream. The other two, hearing the scream decide they should be screaming too. 
Now there are three wet and screaming children in an enclosed space---Not good. 
Once everyone is calm, my older two decide its time to swim.  Now they are sliding in the tub splashing water everywhere, including all over the floor the towels, everything. Hopefully he manages to get the baby out in the nick of time. There would be Mr. terrorist, wet and frustrated.
When the bath comes to a merciful end, and he reaches to help my three year old out of the tub, "Splash!!" steps right into a puddle.  Nothing is more maddening than wet feet!

I could go on, but I think I have proved my point.  Should the government wish to reach me I would be more than happy to loan out my little operatives.  CSIS could save a fortune.

 Come to think of it, as I look out my window at the ten feet of snow and I contemplate another day with my munchkins, I am thinking that a stint in Guantanamo Bay doesn't sound so bad.  At least there is no snow there, right?

                                                                                                                                             

Baby on board....here we go again....

Of children as of procreation--the pleasure momentary, the posture ridiculous, the expense damnable.    ---Evelyn Waugh      

Well we have done it again.  Baby number four is on the way and due this August.  I could make any number of jokes here, like how there is nothing to do up here or there is something in the water.  I could make these jokes, but I won't.  The truth is, we wanted four kids and God willing, we are having four kids.

Exciting? yes.  Crazy? yes.  Have our hands full? yep.

I will admit that it is not the wisest choice we could make, but  I am not known for my wise decisions.  We have had some interesting reactions to our news. Here are some of the highlights:

Reaction #1:  "Oh no!" (from the grandfather to be) followed by "My, you certainly will be busy" (from the grandmother to be)

Reaction #2: "You certainly are a glutton for punishment"  This from Nana, which is slightly better than her reaction to baby #3: "Wow you really don't want to work do you?"

Reaction #3:  "Be prepared for negative reactions because the general consensus is that you have your hands full"--This one is my personal favorite.  The general consensus? There is a general consensus on my life?  I know I share every detail of it, and I admit that I have struggles. However,  I really don't think anyone spends any amount of time discussing what I do, other than to spread the usual family/friends news. 

My husband has also been getting some interesting reactions.  Well meaning friends are now messaging him telling him how easy it is to get a vasectomy, and giving him contact info for how to go about getting one. 

I completely understand that our family and friends love and support us.  And believe, me, we love them.

  My hope is that when the time comes for real support, like when all four kids are screaming, we have no toilet paper cause we can't get out to get any and we haven't slept, we are totally overwhelmed and want to run away, We don't get the wonderful advice like:

"Well, you wanted four kids"   "I told you" and "What did you think would happen?"  Then and only then will I admit that my hands are truly full.

I will also be hitting anyone and everyone up for babysitting duty. 

How are we going to cope with four?  I have no idea.  I do know that I cannot imagine anything worse than going from one child to two. Two to three was okay.  Now I feel like I already have three, what is one more?

Feel free to remind me of this when over the coming weeks and months I write about my three darlings/monsters and the joy/agony of raising young kids while pregnant, tired and irritable. 

And yes, I will remember that I wanted four.

  

 

Makin' a List....

Our crazy Christmas season continues. This year is even busier than last because this year I am adding work to the mix.  I am trying really hard to remember why I love this time of year...

As I have mentioned in a previous post I am almost done my Christmas shopping.  How are you doing with yours?

For this week's post I figured I would help out my friends and family who might want to buy my kids a Christmas present.  If you are thinking about getting my kids a Christmas present, think twice.

We have enough stuff.

I know my friends and family and  I know how they react when I ask not them not do something, so I know my kids are going to get presents regardless of what I say (or write..)

 So for my friends and family, please keep this list in mind when getting presents:

1. Nothing that has one piece.  Toys with small parts are so much more fun than toys that don't come apart or only have one piece. I personally love stepping on the small parts and kids enjoy the colourful phrases that leave my mouth when I do.  It's also really great when the kids cry cause the toy won't work or won't go back together. And who doesn't love a rousing game of  "fish the part out of the baby's mouth before she chokes"?

2. Nothing that the kids can do by themselves.  That's boring. I have all the time in the world to sit with them and show them a million times how to work the toy/or puzzle.  Especially fun when I am trying to make dinner or clean something.

3. Nothing age appropriate.  It's good to teach the kids how to deal with frustration by struggling with something that is beyond their capabilities. Also teaches them how to deal with failure and persistence pays off, right? I also have lots of time to sit and show them how to work it (see above)

3. Nothing with a volume control.  With three kids who are apparently hard of hearing and love to play with the TV remote (esp. the volume), I don`t think that we have enough noise in our house.  Noisy toys are awesome. Plus I have stock in Tylenol.

4. Nothing without wheels.  Wheels make wonderful squeaking noises on the floor (See above point).  As well wheels scratch the wood floor. Gives the floors character.  Also toys with wheels are a lot of fun when stepped on.  And why not give the baby motion?

5. Nothing that has batteries included, or worse does not require batteries.  The baby loves to put batteries in her mouth and the older kids love to remove batteries from items.  I also have stock in Duracel.

6. Nothing washable.  We love doing laundry.  We also love when a favorite outfit is ruined because a well meaning grandma thought it would be a good idea to paint pine cones with paint and sparkles. We love sweeping up sparkles.

7. Nothing non toxic.  I am trying to raise mutants with a good healthy dose of strange chemicals that leach off the cheap toys that come from china.  Perhaps one day I will have glow in the dark kids.  Besides, if the kids don't want to get sick, then they shouldn't lick or eat the toy in the first place.

8. Nothing strong and built to last.  The sooner it breaks the sooner I can get it out of my house (to make room for the other gifts that I have to store until my kids are ready for them.)

9.  Nothing too safe. A little danger keeps the kids on their toes.  How many kids have owned bb guns and did not shoot out their eyes?  How many little girls owned play ovens and didn't burn their hands?  If the kids hurt themselves playing with a toy, then they learn to be more careful.  Sort of like when your child bumps his head when going under the table before he learns to duck when going under the table.

10.  Finally, nothing unrealistic. I am talking mainly about dolls here.  Something that is the same size as my daughter or looks like her is a wise choice.  It is fun to have a mini heart attack because there is a doll with blond hair lying face down at the bottom of the stairs.  Also good to scare the kids with creepy looking faces and limbs my kids can pull apart.  Most of our dolls end up headless and naked.  (Don't ask).

There you have it.  A Christmas list just for my friends and family.  Happy shopping!!