My own reality show

During the first week of Quinn's young life, I actually had some time to sit on the couch and channel surf. I stumbled upon TLC and a show about babies. Despite having given birth through a long arduous process, I was still compelled to watch other women go through the same thing. Then again, I was sleep deprived, and my brain wasn't functioning properly. (It still isn't, but then again, I'm still sleep deprived.)

The particular show I was watching was documenting the first few days of a family adjusting to life with multiples - twins, triplets and quadruplets. Most of these families also had other older children. It was basically watching a documentary on a stressed family as the craziness and chaos took over their once orderly lives. I was about to comment on the insanity of such a life when I realized I was basically watching a show about MY LIFE.
Why was I wasting precious minutes of sleep time to watch a reel of my own reality? Clearly, my ability to prioritize was not at its prime.

Pet peeve of a sleep deprived state

Whose brilliant design idea was it to put snaps on baby clothes? Snaps on one piece sleepers? In a sleep deprived state, when one's coordination is not at its prime, and there's a wriggling baby, snaps on a baby outfit is a ridiculous idea. Clearly, the designer was not a real parent.
In fact, the ability to match up the snaps while containing the flailing limbs of a hungry and crying tot could be considered a mental task for assessing the concentration abilities of the Navy SEALS.

Meal times with Ceilidh

Ever since she started kindergarten, Ceilidh has left us scratching our heads. As a baby she wasn't a fussy eater, but as a toddler and pre-schooler, she was extremely picky. We were always cajoling her to eat, and bribing her with dessert to finish supper. The only meal that doesn't create a fuss is chicken nuggets and fries.
When the news came that she would be attending full-day kindergarten, I worried about what to pack in her lunch and wondered if she would eat any of it. I couldn't send chicken nuggets and fries to school every day.
Surprise, surprise - her lunch box would return home completely empty. On a daily basis. The child who wouldn't consider eating a sandwich was happily devouring one for lunch at school. Maybe is was the effect of conformity - when in Rome, do as the Romans do. If everyone else is eating sandwiches, then so would Ceilidh. Apparently, conformity only influences to a degree. I tried sending vegetables for lunch in the hopes that seeing other kids consume them would also encourage Ceilidh. Not so. Or, no one else eats vegetables at school.
As other students began to vary their midday meals, Ceilidh would also ask for various different food items as well. For instance, she wanted left over spaghetti in a thermos. The same spaghetti she refused to eat unless Daddy fed her the previous evening.
That was another source of conflict at the dinner table with Ceilidh. She wanted to be spoonfed by Daddy, or Mommy, or especially by Halmuhnee. Despite being reminded that she was old enough to attend school, and her younger sibling Aisling was feeding herself. We would ask Ceilidh who fed her at school? She said no one. Then why couldn't she do the same at dinner time?
While we still struggle with these same issues, there's a new one that's developed this year. The use of utensils, or the lack of use at dinner time. While we've tried to alter her behaviour by modelling (using utensils ourselves), shaming (Aisling is using a spoon), bribery (no dessert unless...), we are constantly nagging Ceilidh to use a spoon or fork, and not her hands.
So, what a shock it was to have Ceilidh come home from school and state in an accusatory tone that we had forgotten to pack spoon and fork in her lunch for her hot dogs and rice. She added that she had to obtain a plastic spoon from the teacher. I don't understand it. She'll use utensils at school, but not at home.

Maternity Leave and a Type A Personality

Quinn is a month old. I am completely and utterly sleep deprived. While I realize that I've "just" had a baby, I feel like I've done nothing during this first month. That's the problem with being a Type A personality. It's hard to sit back and enjoy the ride. It's difficult to accept that making dinner and not calling for take-out every night is something to crow about when you have a newborn, and three other kids.
Since this is our last baby, and my last maternity leave, I decided that I would try to accomplish a few tasks during the year. I planned to master the art of Korean cuisine, or at least learn a few more recipes. I also intended to re-introduce myself to the piano and also work on some creative writing on a daily basis.
To that end, I have eaten lots of Korean food, thanks to my mother. In terms of cooking it, I've reheated several yummy dishes. I tinkled the ivories on one occasion, and I've sadly neglected even this blog as I haven't found even 20 minutes during the day when no one is either calling for me or clinging to me.
But looking back on the month, I realized I did in fact accomplish a few things. For instance, the children and I have settled into a daily after school routine that involves a snack and a little bit of television before turning off the tv for piano practising and homework. I started exercising. I went through three years' worth of magazines and clipped out the recipes or articles I wanted and tossed the rest. I sorted through old clothes, toys, and books and donated several bags and boxes to charity. I finally organized the pile of papers on the kitchen counter. I created a binder for the kids - notices from school and their extra-curricular activities.
And I've spent the last four weeks enjoying the grunts, yawns, squeaks, and the occasional smile of a beautiful baby boy.

Who's the Boss?

After meeting Quinn and declaring him to be very cute, Aisling wondered aloud if we could now have a baby sister. Daddy was quick to nip that idea in the bud, and used the age old trick of re-directing to her mind off requesting another sibling.
"Now that Quinn is here, you're a big sister. Soon, you'll be bossing him around just like Ceilidh bosses you," he offered.
Aisling, being Aisling, came back with this response.
"I'm not the boss, you are!" she stated with conviction.
"Why do you say that?" Daddy asked.
"You're the boss because you can put us in time-outs," she explained, referring to our disciplinary methods.

However, after a mere 4 weeks at home, Aisling has now declared there are two bosses in the family. Mommy is the boss during the day, and only until Daddy walks through the front door.

Beer and breast milk

I once read somewhere that beer is good for getting the breast milk flowing. Quinn is feeding every 2 hours during the day. I've been enjoying a sudsy drink every night. So that my tiny son can receive his nourishment.
My husband thinks I'm becoming a raging alcoholic. That I'm using the breast milk line as an excuse.
Perhaps. But I'm the mom to 4 kids, all of whom make me question my decision to procreate in the first place. So I think I'm entitled to that daily drink.
He'd understand too, if he was home all year.

Dilemma

The daily dilemma:
The house is quiet. Aisling is napping upstairs in the top bunk. The first nap in weeks!  Ceilidh is napping on the couch. She came home early because she was complaining about a tummy ache. Quinn is also finally asleep. On my chest in the baby carrier. It's two o'clock in the afternoon. I have one hour before I have to get ready to pick up Devlin from school.
Do I try to remove the baby from the carrier and lay him down, and risk him waking up again? And if I do lay him down somewhere successfully, do I risk waking him up from a much needed nap early to get him bundled into a car seat for the trek to the school? Or do I simply keep the baby in the carrier, on my chest for the hour, and try to grab a quick nap myself? And when it's three o'clock, do I cross my fingers and hope the rain holds off so we can walk to the school with the baby still strapped to the chest under a large coat? Or do I try the transfer into the car seat?
Yep - a glimpse into the inner workings of the brain of a sleep deprived individual....