10 Bears in the bed & the big one said: "I'm crowded..."

Oh, wait! There were only four. It just felt like 10. This is where I slept last night. Sandwiched in between Bayan who uses me as his personal heater, Maryam who believes that I am running an all-night buffet and Anisa who decided to join us by stretching out along the foot of the bed after Ruhi took over hers. The girls decided to have a sleepover in Anisa's bed and they were so happy and cozy and cute that I didn't voice my sensible objections...school night...Ruhi is, ahem, an active sleeper. That girls got mooves. Needless to say the sleeping part of the sleepover didn't exactly last, at least not for Anisa who joined the scene in the wee hours of the morning. I went from being squished between two bodies (but at least I was able to stretch out length wise) to having to scrunch my legs up and sleep in a diagonally, horizontal, crouching position (which was actually less comfortable than it sounds)...but it gets better because at exactly 3:45 Bangles jumped onto the bed and methodically walked over my head. His subtle hint that I need to let him outside. Now! I will confess that I am not super chipper first thing in the morning, and I won't be winning any mother of the year awards after snapping at Anisa in frustration as I tried to disentangle myself from a web of legs and blankets while trying not to wake Maryam up.

As Bangles took his sweet time debating at the door as to weather or not he would venture out into the night I began to feel really bad for telling Anisa to move out of the way in the frustrated tone that I did. When I came back to the room she was sitting on the floor beside the bed, no doubt feeling very bad. I, in my exhausted stupor, apologized and had the sense to help her back into the foot of the bed, arranging the pillow and blankets so that she would be warm and comfortable before making my way back to my cramped and sandwiched position between Bayan and Maryam. No doubt some will think I am crazy. Why not just send her back to her own bed you ask, or tell her to climb up into Ruhi's bed. Well, the thing is she is still my baby, no matter how big she gets or how many children have come after her she will always be my baby and sometimes she needs to feel that and sometimes I need to remember that. I am her mother and as such it is my role and my privilege to see to it that she is comforted and included even at 3:45, or perhaps especially at 3:45.

I've decided it comes down to perspective. I could be really grouchy and cross about not getting a good night sleep between the kids and the feeds and the cat or I could be really grateful that I got to spend the night having my own sleep-over of sorts with my three youngest babes. It won't be long before they won't want to be squashed up beside me, it won't be long before I won't be feeding them through the night and it won't be long before they won't even consider snuggling into bed with me, so I choose to be happy and grateful that I get to snuggle them while I do, that I get to see their dreamy little faces as I, myself, drift off to sleep and that I get to hear the sweet, soft, sound of their slumber even if someone wets the bed and even if it means that I am physically uncomfortable and wind up crawling out if bed like Quasimodo. In my heart I am happy.

5 things I should have done...but didn't

1). Start the day with prayers.

2). Explain to Bayan that, when unloading the dishwasher, it is crucial to remove the larger, glass, items before attempting to grab the dishes beneath them. (See photo above.)

3). Encourage the children to check their shoes for dog poo before getting into the car. Never been an issue before but somewhere in our wanders at the market Bayan stepped in the motherload and no one realized until we we were all comfortably seated and halfway home when the unmistakable pong gave it away.

4). Firmly proclaim that all monkeys (and any other untamed, wild, animal for that matter) are to remain outdoors during nap time.

5). Specifically state that the toilet brush must never be used as a fairy wand. EVER.

By the Seashore

We had been invited out today and while I am sure the children would have loved to go I am currently craving quiet and solitude. I had promised to take them to the beach yesterday, but that didn't quite go to plan. We spent the morning engaged in other pursuits and by the time we were ready to head out it was late afternoon, sunny, warm and perfect for short strolls in the sand and playing in the tide pools. Both of which the children did a lot of. I sat on the sidelines collecting rocks for a number board while the children showered me with treasures from the sea. The kids played beautifully together in the shallows and the girls helped Bayan navigate the rocks. I find that they play amazingly well together when we are outdoors in the sand and the surf and the sun and sometime it is that little bit of simplicity that grounds you and bonds you and brings you together reminding you that sometimes it is the simplest things that are the most important.

We're all just Wemmicks

Perhaps one of my all time favorite children's story books is one by Max Lucado entitled You Are Special. I believe that I have mentioned it before. I am mentioning it again as I find the tale so relevant to my life just now and indeed it is full of universal truths.

Permit me to share the opening paragraphs:

"The Wemmicks were small wooden people. All of the wooden people were carved by a woodworker named Eli. His workshop sat on a hill overlooking their village. Each Wemmick was different. Some had big noses, others had large eyes. Some were tall and others were short. Some wore hats, others wore coats. But all were made by the same carver and all lived in the same village. And all day, every day, the Wemmicks did the same thing: They gave each other stickers. Each Wemmick had a box of golden star stickers and a box of grey dot stickers. Up and down the streets all over the city, people spent their days sticking stars or dots on one another. The pretty ones, those with smooth wood and fine paint, always got stars. But if the wood was rough or the paint chipped, the Wemmicks gave dots..."

I feel like most of my life I have kept my mouth shut, not wanting to injure or offend other people. I am not (or perhaps I was not) a controversial person. I am generally a peacemaker. But there are limits. Recently I feel that I have reached some of mine. I suppose people are always sticking you with their stars or dots, really your whole life through, but I can't help but feel that since getting married it has been taken to a whole. new. level. First it is when are you going to have children? Then, why did you wait? Why didn't you wait? Why did you have them so close together? Why didn't you space them farther apart? When we were expecting Bayan we got few raised eyebrows. We had two daughters, obviously we were trying for a boy. (Humph.) But this time the gloves have come off. People I hardly know have been sharing their two cents in no uncertain terms, passing judgements and condemnation, other groups of people are incredulous and gently shake their heads when they see my three children and bulging tummy and the smallest group (whom I rarely meet) offer praise or their own personal experiences stemming from larger families.

There is almost always some criticism, you cannot do right. A few nights ago I was asked, by one of the many individuals who strongly discouraged us in having more children after Bayan was born, why we waited so long before having another. I mean honestly, should we inform them? Ask their permission? I was almost speechless. But, in reflecting calmly, I believe that I really don't need to respond to such comments. It is not up to us. We do not create life. God does that. How many people have tried for years to have children never to succeed, or have only succeeded after trying for many years? In the same manner I know of numerous people who were not trying at all and yet were blessed with children just the same. Every child is a gift from God and I am so very grateful for this little one, no matter the how long the wait has been or how many pregnancy related inconveniences I have faced along the way.

Abdu'l-Baha says that 'if you wish to give admonition or advice, let it be offered in such a way that it will not burden the bearer.' Well heeellloo people. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, yet these opinions should not be forced upon others. People should be able to look at their own lives, their own circumstances and their own capacities and make their own decisions without being bombarded with judgements, however well meant they may be. I have recently had to put up with individuals offering unwarranted and unwelcome advice. A lot. I have been called 'An idiot' for having another child. I have been repeatedly called 'crazy'. I have been told, point blank, to stop having kids and, interestingly, some of the strongest criticisms have been from individuals who don't even have children themselves.

That being said, I agree that there are people out there who have many children and who should not be having more. But I base this not on the fact that they five kids already, or that they have slightly challenging pregnancies, but rather on the fact that the children they do have are sorely neglected, that they are beaten, threatened, abused, told that they do not deserve food and are locked in a closet for hours on end, they are sent to school reeking of urine, there is a sadness, a hurt and often an anger in their eyes that words cannot describe, they are deprived of basic human necessities, not the least of which is love and I think that if these parents cannot care for the children that they already have, what business do they have attempting to "raise" more? I also think that if you believe you have the capacity to love and nurture and train children to the best of your abilities and there is something in your heart that inclines you towards more then maybe you should heed that, embrace it and follow your instincts and dreams regardless of what anyone thinks.

Now, I'm not saying that I am a fabulous parent or that we'll have any more kids. I'm probably messing my kids up in ways I cannot even imagine. I may yet raise Gothic teens, or shoplifters or wind up with a child in rehab, or worse. Who is to say? What I do know, is that I love my children and despite their idiosyncrasies and the fact that they are not always perfect (Anisa still sneaks lollies out of the pantry and Bayan actually clamped his hands over his ears at Feast the other night when everyone started singing a prayer together, complaining that it was giving him a headache. Shameful, I know. But he did apologize for it afterward, of his own accord. So perhaps there's still hope. ) I truly believe that they will turn out OK. It's the rest of the world that I'm worried about. A world that has lost sight of the true importance and value of children. The Universal House of Justice has said that "...children are the most precious treasure that a community can possess..." I believe that.

'Abd'u'l-Baha says (and I'm paraphrasing here) that 'every child is potentially the light of the world and at the same time it's darkness wherefore must the question of education be accounted as of primary importance.' I believe that too. And I believe that I have the capacity to be a good parent and to guide these children to the right path. I may, one day, eat my words but I'd at least like the chance to try to raise my kids and have this baby without being covered in dots before I even begin. I know that when this bugs me I must spend more time with my Creator, remembering that He made me and my family and that He does not make mistakes, remembering that everyone will be given their share of stars and dots and that these stickers will only stick if you let them. Thanks for listening.

I'm descending from my soap box... now.

Be Grateful

When your four-year -old uses a permanent blue sharpie to secretly decorate her sister's sheets and then attempts to sign someone else's name in an effort to cover up her dastardly deed. Be grateful for the memory that you will one day be able to look back upon and laugh about. (Albeit not today.)

When your two- year- old paints the entire underside of your craft table with gooey, vanilla yogurt. Be grateful that he is both industrious and creative. Be grateful that the table is glass and that the unusual medium washes swiftly away.

When you hurriedly try to wrap a plate of cookies with plastic wrap and the box springs apart, unravelling 10 meters of cling film which quickly attaches itself to your person leaving you tangled and tethered in a wild plastic mess. Be grateful for cling film and the convenience it affords, even while you are still muttering under your breath.

When your little one removes his nappy to poo on the floor (not on the toilet - on the floor.) Be grateful that he does not suffer from raging constipation and that you are amply supplied with disinfectants.

When the house is so crazy and crowded that you can never find what you need when you need it. Be grateful for a house and for the people who share it. Every day is a gift, even when you can't find the wrapping paper.

For the children who insist upon stopping every few moments (especially when you are in a frightful hurry) to examine a flower or notice a cat. Be grateful that they share with you all the wonders that you would miss in your frenzied race to be on time. Just for once.

For health. Even though your memory is fading and you now require a specialized team of physical therapists to help hoist you of the floor, when only a year earlier you would have leaped to your feet in no time at all. Be grateful that you and your family are well.

For friends who tell you that you are not doing enough, even though it would take a time alternator or some further fangled clone technology to make it possible to do much more. Remember that you are raising children. Remember that there is no greater deed, no more worthwhile service than this. Remember that these friends mean well and that it doesn't matter what other people see, but rather what God sees that is truly important. He knows what you do and loves you because of and inspite of it. Remember to be grateful. Always.

Remind me that I LOVE this

That I love hearing my name (Mommyyyyyyyy) in that high-pitched piercing screech infused with such urgency that you would swear something perfectly horrendous had just transpired only to discover that the horrible emergency (the one that you have left the washing, for the fifth time in five minutes, and raced in from the farthest corners of the garden) involves a purple texta (marker) and the fact that someone forgot to put on the lid.

That I love the opportunity and the challenge of helping to train young souls and helping them distinguish right from wrong (Anisa has had no less than 9 'time out's' today. Sigh! I'm about to read some parenting tips, for surely everything that I am doing is wrong!)

That I love the sweet embrace of a baby, even when they are howling constantly (for no apparent reason) and will not be soothed or comforted, for what may appear to be a very, very, very long time.

That I love the sound of sibling interaction (even when it results in one screaming at the other - hence a couple of time outs.)

That I love having my children communicate with me (all at one, over each other, each attempting to be the loudest, the quickest, the most demanding).

That I love being called away from trying to prepare a super-fast dinner no less than 25 times in 30 minutes (but who is counting) to go outside and look at bugs or watch someone on the monkey bars again and again and again. ( I know that one day, not too many years from now, I will miss it all desperately and that these moments are more precious than anything, for once gone they are gone for good. Never to return. Ever. I know this, and yet knowing this I still found it exceedingly difficult to muster the patience, to say nothing of the required enthusiasm, that the children so desperately craved.)

Here is a picture of the bug. A stink bug (of course). It goes with the day, but only a little bit, because I really Do LOVE this... even though today my parenting skills really stunk.

P.S. Hi Vicki. Thanks for the encouraging words. It's nice to read something positive, especially on days like today.