No Fighting Words Here

Sunday we were about to sit down for a pleasant dinner with friends when the door bell rang. Thinking it was my friend, Christy, I yelled as loud as I could, "COME IN." And when there was no response, I followed it up with an even louder, "COOOMMMMEE INNN!" The door opened and it was not Christy looking back at me. In fact it was a face I had never seen before. I quickly ran to the door, balancing the 4 Cokes I had in my hand, and said, smiling, "Oh sorry, I thought you were my friend." She replied, "No, I'm Lori, your backyard neighbor. I just had to come meet who this loud family was." I laughed and introduced myself, "Oh I'm Gabrielle, nice to meet you." "You guys are so loud. You are the talk of the whole block." I was a little baffled by her sarcasm but relaxed when she asked, "How many kids do you have?" I prepared myself for some of the typical shocked responses as I told her "4." But she only asked their ages. "6 next week, 4 1/2, 1, and 3 months." She quickly concluded, "Well, it must be the 5 year old." I was once again baffled. This lady was not being sarcastic. She was fired up and here to let me know. I was quite confused as I didn't know if there was an isolated incident that got her fired up or if she thinks we are just obnoxiously loud all the time. "Well my kids go to bed around 7:30......." I said and kind of trailed off as I wasn't sure where this was all coming from and even less sure about where it was going. She started in again, "Well, Saturday I'm having an event," right away I was thinking she was switching tones and must have come to invite all the neighbors to her event- whatever that might be, "so if you could just make sure your kids are quiet, especially during the speaker." At that point I looked at her, I'm sure with my jaw on the ground and said, "Are you serious?" with an absolute shocked look on my face. She thinks I have a loud, unruly family and she was solely here to share her disgust and request reform. She affirmed that she was indeed serious and I simply ended the conversation by saying, "Nice to meet you," and closing the door. As you can imagine my blood was boiling as I was trying to digest this 3 minute conversation. I mean who comes to your door and so rudely approaches you? Right away, I concluded that she was off her rocker and lived in the wrong neighborhood if she didn't want to hear kids laughing and playing (and let's be honest, mixed in with periodic screaming!) That being said, I was still pretty offended that someone had such a jaded perception of my family because I knew we weren't anywhere close to as disruptive as she insinuated! As I replayed the incident in my head way too many times, I didn't even have any of those after-the-fact comebacks. Still just simply baffled. Tonight, as I was sitting in my bedroom after having put all the bebes to bed, I heard lots of laughing and chit-chatting coming from the back and was once again reminded of the encounter. I didn't bother looking to see which neighbor it was but I did enter my fantasy world and imagine myself walking up to the hot-and-bothered neighbor's door with a plate of cookies in hand, catching her in the middle of her party, and simply offering a short nicety, "I hope you're enjoying your evening," as I handed her the token of friendship and walked away. Oh if I could ever have the cajones to do something like that! And that is when I remembered "the event." The event that- no, I was not invited to- but was asked to remain quiet during. And then I knew what I could do. No need for a witty comeback during the conversation. The order is already put in- I think she will be left speechless when she receives these:

with a note that says,

"Hope your event goes off without a hitch!

xoxo Your backyard Fiske neighbors"

Teenage Love Affair

"I don't think Olivia likes me anymore. I think we're done."

"Really. Why do you say that?"

"Well on Friday she looked at me like that- {gives the sideways dirty look}. You know."

"And you don't know why?"

"No, I don't know why. And she said she can't wait til this scratch on my eye goes away. She said she likes me better without it."

Jaw drops open. "She really said that to you?"

"Yea," with a nod.

Your typical teenage drama. The problem? This is my 5 year old talking to me.

Oh Mexico

We just returned from a fabulous trip to Mexico. Kaia girl has her very own passport and now has a stamp on it. A big accomplishment for a 3 month old. We spent six days sitting by the pool, dunking waves as Porter calls it, playing ping pong, eating buffets, and drinking Coca Cola light. That's right- Mexican diet Coke. Search Mexican diet Coke on my blog and it'll come up more than once. But this time I have even more to add...fountain Coca Cola light. Let me tell you it doesn't get any better than that. Which is why by 10 am every morning I had probably already drank my first gallon for the day.

This was a last minute trip, as in Yosh called me 10 days prior and told me to somehow get a passport for Kaia in the next two days. After I told him that was impossible, I went ahead and did it. Anyways, with the quickness of the trip, I had no time to research the place. I'm not sure I even knew how to say the name of the city before it was time to leave. But Dallin and Porter did- Zihuatanejo. Not sure how to spell it and spell check didn't have any better suggestions. Now I'll tell you what, my husband is really growing in his husbandly role. Yosh told me he had something scheduled for me to do everyday and I didn't even take the time to ask him what that meant. Not that he would have told me. Well I found out soon enough. After walking into our hotel room, there was a note on the bed telling me to call the spa so that we could schedule my "Harmony" package, which included 5 consecutive days of treatment. Yoooosh you're too good to me. So on Monday I go in for my first massage. I think they called it an Indian ritual or something. As part of the treatment she started poking on different pressure points and I don't know if this is a pressure point or not, but she started poking right on my bladder. My bladder that was full of the gallon of fountain coca cola light. Even though I had just emptied it. That's how much I was drinking. Well this full bladder instantly brought me back to an untold part of my delivery story. I had just gotten an epidural from this cute old man, Eduardo....

when the nurse checked me and said I was at a 4 or a 5, that the baby was still high and I had a ways to go. That was a few minutes before 11 am. She then went ahead and hooked me up to a catheter. Instantly I began to fill the catheter. And I kept filling it. Apparently this grabbed the nurse's attention and she watched. And then started on her commenting, "Oh my gosh, you're up to a thousand cc's. And still going. Why didn't you just tell me you needed to use the bathroom?" I'm just laughing and I tell her, "Well, I didn't even know I had to go to the bathroom." I guess I'm just as bewildered as she is, although I have been called an elephant pee-er before (courtesy of Yosh). But I think that is referring to force rather than the quantity. Either way, I couldn't will myself to stop if I wanted to. "1200 cc's. I've never seen this much urine at one time before. This is amazing." I'll have to keep that in mind to write down on those awkward questionnaires when they ask for unique talents. Right around 1200 cc's I guess I was finally dried out. 25 minutes later the nurse came to check on me and had a whole new mouthful of comments, "Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me you felt pressure? This baby is here. Do not push, do not move and you better call your husband and tell him to get here right now if he wants to see this baby be born." When the dam broke, the baby must have slid right on down maxing me out at to a 10 in no time flat!  Well, back to the massage room, I'm chuckling to myself thinking about the shock of her career the masseuse would be in for if she pushed that bladder point just right- 1200 cc's in not an amount of pee you can disregard and keep on working as if nothing happened!

Maturation and Immaturation....

It's all happening in this house. Even if immaturation isn't a real word. With that clarification, we'll start out on that note. When Yosh came home from his Denver trip a few weeks ago, he commented here and there about a couple of observations while staying at the Reese's. "Gay, you should see the Reese's house. Emily has done some pretty amazing things." I told him I have seen pictures on her blog and that she is style combined with talent  in a way that makes me green with envy. "Yea, I know there are pictures but seeing it is even more amazing."   Emily, do you want to come decorate our house?!! I think that's a style Yosh and I could easily settle on as we have differing tastes!  He also commented about some recipes that Emily makes. And let me clarify- he didn't even try these, he just heard the recipes. (Since when Yosh pays attention when the topic is recipes, I don't know. But it sure caught his attention.) He was all, "Maybe we should try those." My response- maybe a bit snippy..."Have you not noticed I don't cook anymore?" These days a "cooking" is Trader Joe's gnoccis with a bag of Caesar salad. 

I was thinking about these things over the next couple days when the realization hit me... I used to do these things also. I used to cook dinner 5 times a week and cooking had a very different definition- entree plus two sides. Seriously. Every meal consisted of that. And I probably baked about two times a week on top of that.

While my talent level is nothing even close to Emily's, I also did little projects around the house. Painting this, refinishing that, framing a picture or two, making books. I'm nothing close to the crafty type but I enjoyed having a project to do. 

So what in the world happened to me? The answer was crystal clear. A kid or two. It feels like a lifetime ago. I'm not sure I even know that girl anymore. I think she shows up about every 6 months to make a Sunday dinner and then shows up every time a child is born to half-decorate a nursery. Now, this is not at all depressing to me. In fact it is inspiring and motivating. I have a feeling she'll be coming back around when her youngest baby is about 3. But not with all the cooking- that's overrated.

I have immatured in that area of my life, but I think for the same reason- adding a kid or two to the family- that I have also matured in other areas. Thursday morning started out with the sun shining and the boys playing. At 7 am no less. And that was after they were already dressed and fed. An awesome start to the day. (I'm not being sarcastic either!)  A little before 8 we were leaving to take Dallin to the corner to go to school. But Porter didn't let Dallin ride his Razor to school which got Dallin all fired up. I often times mediate the boys' disagreements/conversations when necessary, but 95% of the time, I don't force any decision on them. And Porter's decision was he wasn't going to let Dallin borrow the Razor. We walked to the corner and Dallin continued to pout. And then just sat himself down in the middle of the side walk talking about, "I'm not going to school today." And sure enough I can see the little family he walks with approaching, leaving only about one minute to dismantle this bomb that in reality requires 30 minutes. And there is no miraculous ending to this story. The friends approach and are patiently waiting as Dallin goes back and forth about 5 times as to whether or not he's going to school. Finally he decides he is going but is slowly shuffling at a snail's pace which will inevitably make all of them late for school. The mounting pressure is killing me. I have the friend's mom and three experienced moms that we were making small talk with watching me. I don't know exactly what to do and when I do decide, I have absolutely no idea if I'm making the right decision. But I call Dallin to come back, who is now a block away, which ends in me half-dragging him back and we make our way back to the house. Don't worry- this isn't the area where I've matured. Still clueless in a lot of the mothering department. I tell him he can go to school whenever he is happy and ready to cooperate with others. And it probably did take about 30 minutes, but we made it there and it all turned out ok. But the big feat for me was the fact that that incident didn't set the mood for my day. So many times I let hiccups and bumps in the road affect me way too definitively, if that makes sense. And that is something I've been trying to work on. Especially with kids, there are going to be a lot of bad 10 minute spots through out my day. And sometimes even bad 30 minutes, or maybe even longer. But I can't let those times define the rest of the day. And way too many times I have let those bad 10 minutes trump the awesome 3 hours we just shared. As much as possible I need to find the strength to get over it and go on being happy and enjoying life with all the little critters ya know.

And Thursday I was able to do that. The following pics are all from that day. Proof that it was an awesome day. 

(And let's be honest, when it's sunny and 80 degrees and you're swimming in April, it makes the whole concept of moving on and choosing to be happy a whole lot easier!)

Even Dallin B put a smile on his face the rest of the day!

"How is life with 4?" you may ask. Well, I have the perfect incident to illustrate life with four, and ironically it only involves three. The other day I went to pick Porter up from preschool and make good on my promise of taking him to this little play area on the grounds. So, with Deeter on one hip and the baby carrier swinging from my elbow, I made my way to his classroom. I was a few minutes early, which allowed Deetz to wander the room. The baby carrier was on the table and as the moms filed in to pick up their kids, a lot of ooooohing and aaahing took place as baby girl does not make frequent appearances in the classroom. In the midst of this, Porter escapes and makes him way to the playground (which is essentially the next room over, although outside) only to be escorted back by the preschool director. I picked up the baby carrier and quickly went outside to retrieve him. Out there I started looking for Deeter, maybe assuming he had followed his brother. In the chaos of so many people filling the room at once, I got a little panicked thinking I let Deeter out of my sight. The director asked if everything was ok, and I told her I might be missing one more. Although I appear to be very laid-back, believe it or not I always know where my kids are and am keeping an eye on them or am very comfortable that they are in a place I trust. Well Deeter wasn't at the play area and the parking lot is too close for comfort and momentary frantic set it as I knew Deeter had absolutely no sense of boundaries in this setting! Maybe it was only a minute that passed- but a long, sickening minute- until I found him....in my arms. Seriously? I was carrying him the whole time? The answer is yes. I have definitely entered the fog stage of having a newborn and trying to keep up with the others! This is by far the best case scenario for me being "careless"! So that is how it is taking care of three kids...you can only imagine how things are going taking care of four!

I'm never pregnant alone. And can you believe when I was pregnant with Deeter I was pregnant with two of my close friends? Here are all 3 of our babies born within 6 weeks of each other. Deeter is the youngest....and the hugest. But I guess you wouldn't want it any other way. He can be their protector.

I was looking at these pictures from Dallin's 5th birthday party last May taken by the ever so generous Allie Steele. Literally the last day that we were a family of 5...I won't go into details of the next night! But I will say that Anneli came to the party saying she had a dream I was pregnant. And she was wrong. I think maybe I will blame fate on her. And then that would mean owing her a big thank you.

Because now we have this beautiful girl. I wish there were stronger words to express how I feel, or that I had the vocabulary to better articulate, but I'll leave it at I love her. The chaos of a newborn is all lost in the innocence and love and infatuation and sweetness of a little baby. The ability to have this little body curl up on your chest and hold on to your finger for dear life invites a feeling of peace that can't come in any other way. Whether it's at 2:00 in the afternoon or 2:00 in the morning, it is equally welcomed. And I'm not just saying that. Maybe with child #4 I've learned to relax and take the moments when they come.

I remember saying this about Porter- that I never understood why people said I looked mad growing up. Once I saw the scowl on Porter's face, I understood. Looking at Kaia's little facial expression, I'm once again reminded! I'll have to teach them at a young age that people are going to think they are mad all the time if they don't consciously watch their expressions!

Time to shop. That's what I was feeling like yesterday. I'm not pregnant and I don't look pregnant anymore. So the itch set in to have something new and feel somewhat fresh after 9 months of being pregnant and a few after-birth weeks of just looking pregnant. I set off in search for a couple new shirts- loose-fitting shirts. After selecting some to try on, I made my way to the fitting room. Looking in the mirror, I was instantly brought back to a conversation I had with a mom who gave birth a week after me. She said she went shopping because she didn't automatically shrink back to size as she did with her other two. (And by the way, count your lucky stars...who shrinks back to their previous size after a couple weeks anyway?) During this shopping trip, she was shocked...."When did Gap start using fat mirrors?" she asked! I was dying, I thought that was hilarious but thought of it as nothing more than something comical until my own shopping trip. "Seriously?" I thought as I looked at every outfit I tried on. No doubt the fat mirrors have taken over every store! Losing 20 pounds is a daunting task, but apparently masking 20 pounds is going to be equally daunting. Needless to say, I bought a couple necklaces. For myself that is, but that wasn't quite all...baby girl made out like a bandit. I guess this shopping trip made up for holding out for months while I was pregnant! I saw cute little outfits that I chose to no longer resist. Here is Kaia girl at 6 weeks and just precious as ever.

This pic cracks me up. It appears that the eye-rolling has already begun!