Reading to the Van: An Updatey Post

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Yesterday I read a book to my mini van.

Here’s the book:

It’s not as weird as it sounds.  I sat on a folding chair in my parents’ driveway and read a book right up next to my vehicle.  Haven’t you done that before?   Doesn’t it mean you get better gas mileage?  Like plants that grow better with music?  No?  Guess it was just weird then.

See yesterday I had some things to pick up at my parents, so I loaded up the kids to make a trip of it. The big kids and I exited the van, and I circled around to get Bea out of her carseat.  It didn’t take long to realize that somehow all the doors were locked.  And my keys were inside.  I’m still not sure how that even happened.  After trying to coach her to wiggle out of her straps herself (something I had literally been lecturing against five minutes prior on the way over), it became clear that we would need to wait for the spare key.

I called David, the possessor of the key.  He was currently meeting with clients about a half hour away, but was able to leave immediately to rescue us.

So while the kids played inside for thirty minutes, I sat in the driveway next to Bea-in-the-van.  To the many, many people who walked by, enjoying the lovely weather, I just looked like a crazy lady singing “Five Little Ducks” to the back window of a mini van.  That’s how I roll.

Life with kids is pretty much just a series of events like this.  Taking Bea to the ER because she got a canister stuck on her head.  Getting locked out of our house.  Handling all the creative sounds during Mass.   My life is less like a Mary Cassat painting

and more like the bundle of scrapes Anne Shirley gets into.  Like with green hair and pudding rats.

Baby Five will be here any day.  A couple weeks ago I had to take all four kids along to my OB appointment.  As I waddled through the door with my troop, a lady in the entry started audibly counting kids.  She didn’t make any followup comments one way or another.  Just counted.

Five.  Since we were at the OB office, and I was well past the “is-she-or-isn’t-she” stage of pregnancy, it was safe to count the littlest, unseen peanut.  She counted to five.

We probably walked by too quickly for her to see the remnants of the magic marker on Moe’s face where I attempted scrub off his “bandit” look.  (He made himself a Zoro-esque mask and matching brown goatee.  Where did he even learn the word “bandit?”)  She probably didn’t see Elle’s uneven bangs because she decided to cut her own hair.  (When is that ever a good idea!?!?!)  She probably just saw a parade of relatively happy kids excited to hear their newest sibling’s heartbeat.  Or maybe she did notice Bea’s three-part ensemble (shirt, pants, dress) all of different patterns and colors and chose not to remark on it.

This is life with no filters.  Sometimes I get a little envious of all the beautiful pictures that other moms have of their kids.  So much natural light!  Such good angles!  At least one person has squinty eyes in all my pictures.  And unless it’s Christmas or Easter, my standards for what my kids look like is embarrassingly low.  And that’s okay.

Since the move, I haven’t been on top of taking even mediocre pictures.  Any spare time is spent trying to tidy or get things settled before the baby.  I’m sad at all the funny little moments I haven’t written down and are now forgotten.  But– now that we’re a little more settled maybe I’ll have a moment or two to snap a picture and type something up.

I read the story of “reading to the van” to Cee and Elle, and they laughed so hard!  They love hearing their life in story form.  That’s motivation to keep writing.  (I did write up a piece on sacrifice for Everyday Ediths, but that’s more of a lent story than a funny kid story.)  Maybe that’s the lesson it’s taking me five kids to learn:  what other people think doesn’t matter all that much.  Our family is the way our family is, and our little stories are worth remembering.

 

As far as other updates, Cee’s health is holding steady.  Her latest labs look good, her latest xrays look bad.  Regardless, she’s still moving around really well and is in minimal pain.  Her rheumatologist is surprised at how well she’s moving given how awful her hips are.  I’ve hesitated to write that out, though, because I’m afraid things will change.  I don’t want to jinx it!  Last year she was using her wheelchair hardcore.  And now– I think maybe it’s in a storage shed?  Or the garage?  That’s about as much thought as we’ve given it.  She has figured out a way to walk and run, even with her missing cartilage.  We continue to do monthly infusions at the hospital and weekly shots at home and pray that that continues to be sufficient.

It’s been a whirlwind of a year.  From contemplating a move to Cincinnati, to actually selling our house and being nomads for a month, to moving to a handicap accessible place nearby and establishing a new routine, things are finally stable in a way that will probably only last a few days until The New Baby comes and restructures everything.  And we can’t even begin to guess what sort of pudding rat scrapes we’ll get into next.  The only guarantee is that it won’t be boring.

Thanks for following along!