All the Wrong Turns, the Stumbles and Falls, Brought Me Here.

Marriage.  In a nation where more than 50% of couples divorce in the first 5 years, any married person can tell you it's hard! When children enter the picture, especially multiples, that 50% divorce rate significantly increases.  Somehow, through struggle, determination, and (often) stubbornness, John and I have managed to hold it together.  For more than 14 years, he's been my Mister. The boy whom offered his hand. The man I adored.

People who knew me as a teenager, really knew me, were probably shocked I married at such a young age.  I was flighty, easily bored, and, with the exception of a few friends and my very first love, wasn't able to make strong emotional connections to people.  I had too much to worry about to really involve myself in caring for other teenagers.  I imagined myself traveling around the world, not sticking to any geographical area for long, going where ever the wind took me.  I was on a mission to run.  Run far.  Run fast.  Run from home.

Then I met John. Everything changed.  He was the most amazing person I ever met.  I was crazy about him. At age 19, I promised forever to someone I really didn't know.  For a few years, life was wonderful.  We had so much fun.  Our friends were always around.  It was like living in a frat house.  Parties.  Booze.  Cigarettes.  Sex.  Lots of sex. Very few worries. An extension of the teen years. 

But we had to grow up.  Life demanded it.  Suddenly, we were living in a city away from our childhood homes.  We had no friends there. (Although we made a few keepers along the way!)  I was involved in a rigorous law school program and hated my life.  John was struggling with his occupation...it was feast or famine.  We began to live as individuals; two people sharing a house.  Roommates, and then later, roommates with children.  If I thought marriage was hard before children, good god a'mighty, it was nothing compared to marriage post children.  

Two people lacking team skills make lousy parents.  When Mason was an infant, it was quickly apparent that John and I had very different ideas of how to raise her.  How did I not know that?  We had been married for 8.5 years before she was born! My solution?  I cut John out.  I made all the decisions for Mason. When the twins came, I expected John to be my partner, even though I had taken that role away from him two years before.  Our relationship deteriorated.

Most people, even some of our closest friends and nearly all of our relatives, don't know that we separated when the twins were 6 months old.  For 7 months, John lived with a friend.  He visited the kids every day and sometimes stayed over to help me with the twins. When he returned home, it wasn't because we had reconciled.  It was because his friend moved a stripper into the house and our children couldn't be around that craziness.  Oh, and the fact that it's nearly impossible to live in separate homes with only one income.  So, John came home and we lived separately in the same house.  

We went to counseling.  I don't know if it helped.  We communicated with each other while in the appointment, but it didn't seem to make much difference at home.  I got bitter.  I began to wonder how my life got this way.  Regret emerged.  Why did I give up freedom?  Why did I marry?  Go to law school?  Have children?  Why?  And I blamed John for my unhappiness.  

Then something slowly started changing in me.  Recently, I realized only I can control my happiness.  I know its cliché, but it's true.  If I'm unhappy, it's my fault.  Why am I not content with what I have?  Financial guru, Dave Ramsey says to get content in your life and you will find happiness. I'm working on finding happiness.
You know, this life is not so hard to love.  At this moment, as my children are asleep and I can hear their sweet breathing, or when Jonah laughs aloud while dreaming, or when they are awake and playing and laughter fills our home, I know those wrong turns, stumbles, and falls were worth it.  I'm starting to believe I'm the luckiest.

Mamma's Gonna Keep Baby Healthy and Clean

Last night, the Gano 5 loaded up in our minivan and headed to the Coshocton County Fair.  The fair is always a good time, but can be quite challenging if, like me, you are mildly germ phobic.  John would say my fear is intense, but, since I've yet to shave my head or wear latex gloves in public, I'm sticking with mild.  I try not to force my crazy issues on the children, but at a germapalooza like the fair, it gets the best of me.

I learned a lot about myself last night.  I learned that I am a mother who will wait in line with her children to ensure that they do not shove their ways to the front.  I learned that, if your child pushes mine out of the way to cut the line, I will say, "I'm sorry, but my children were in front of you."  I learned, if you are a mother who tells your child, "That's okay, you're bigger than them.  Go ahead,"  I will tell you it's not okay.  If you then say that I should never speak to your little girl that way, I will think you're bat-shit crazy because, "I'm sorry, but my children were in front of you," is not offensive or out of line; your school-aged child should know better.  AND, if you then light up a cigarette while in line for a children's ride, I will judge you. That's me, ya'll:  Judgie McJudgeston.

I learned I'm a little overprotective.  Not this overprotective, but more than I thought I was. Despite the germs, line cutters and smokers in kiddie land, and the constant hand-washing, we had loads of fun. Here are some pics.

Everyone rode the carousel...even Jonah!  This was huge for him.  He's been afraid of it, opting for the bench rather than a horse.  I wish I could have shot a better pic of him. 

A sincere smile...hard to capture from her. 

John rode the crazy bus. The kids loved it and the carny was kind enough to give them an extra long ride.

The boys were convinced this was 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar.' 

The kids really enjoyed the fun house.  Jake was lost inside for a bit, but big sister fished him out. 

The boys liked sitting back to back.  While they were on the ride, I noticed the guns pointed at the other kids.  I really don't like that. Batman doesn't kill people.  I told John how much it displeased me.  I bet you heard his eyes roll. 

I rode the helicopter ride with Jacob.  This happened.  I can't believe I captured his silly personality.  He's a fun kid. 

We spent $80 at the fair, which isn't a lot compared to what some families have to spend.  My point is, this was the biggest thrill they had.  Who doesn't like standing under the hand dryer? 

Wanna know what else I learned?  The fair is a lot of fun when you're a kid...but it's way more fun to play there with your own kids. 

Ch-Ch-Changes

Oh guys, I have so much to tell you, if only I had the time.  Changes are happening.  To me.  I don't why.  Perhaps it's time that's changing me, but I can't explain it because I can't trace time. (Show of hands...who loves David Bowie?  This chick!)

I turned 34. Thirty-four!!!  When Mason was small, I made a commitment to be thin by 30.  It never happened.  I was on a good roll.  I joined Curves and made better food choices.  I started to really like the way I look.  I even managed to get out of the big girl sizes.  Then I got pregnant again. With twins.  After nearly 16 weeks of bedrest, I was a big-ol'-round-ball of flubber.

The boys were born and my body was the least of my worries.  I gained more weight while breast feeding, because that's my luck, and even more after I stopped.  I didn't care.  For 3 years, I gained and gained and gained to the largest non-pregnant weight I've ever been.  I'd look in the mirror and hate the reflection. Who was this wide-faced, dark haired, sad person looking back at me? I drowned my sorrows in Little Debbies and soda. AND then I'd feel guilty and eat more.

But, recently, I'm changing.  Can it be that I'm finally returning to the person I used to be?  I stopped eating meat.  Ya'll, I really think this is the best decision I've ever made.  Within one week, my knees stopped hurting. I gained a little more energy and I lost a little weight without even trying.  The best part is, I don't feel guilty if I have a handful of chips or a small dessert every now and then.  I need to find time to exercise...but I'm still so tired every day.  If I could just find a way to get 8 hours of sleep every night, or even a few nights a week, I think it would dramatically change the things I'm capable of doing.

I know everyone has a busy schedule, but I've got to share mine with you.

Sunday: Church in the AM. We sing in the choir; Community Choir practice in the PM

Monday:  Take Mason to school. Return home to feed the boys, play with them a little and get them ready for preschool.  Pick Mason up in the afternoon.  Practice piano at home with Mason, drop the boys off at a sitter, then drive to her lesson with Mr. Palmer in the evening.  When we get home, it's time for snacks, baths and bed.

Tuesday: Repeat the morning and afternoon, but add tumbling for the boys at the YMCA.  Then, get them to preschool and pick Mason up from school.  The boys go to the sitter after preschool while I take Mason to gymnastics and swimming lessons at the YMCA.  When we finally get home, it's time for snacks, baths and bed.

Wednesday:  Just like Monday, except, in the evening, I have chapel choir practice.  The kids go to my mom's while I'm there.  If I'm lucky (and I hope I am) my mom will bathe them.  Then we go home and there is just enough time for snacks and it's bedtime.

Thursday:  All the same morning/afternoon school and preschool routines.  In October, I begin teaching Kindermusik in the evening! I'm super excited about this.  My kids will come too during the weeks that John is able to help me.  Let me tell you how much I love Kindermusik. Soooooo much!!!   (Also, the second Thursday of every month is the Tuscarawas County Mothers of Multiples meeting.  I'm the new president. Find us on Facebook!) And when I get home, well you know..snack, baths, bed.

Friday:  I only have to take Mason to/from school.  The boys do not have preschool.  We have no plans for Fridays.  I think we will stay home, play, and have "pizza/movie night."

Saturday:  Sleep in? Oh I hope so!


See...busy! It makes time fly, but we enjoy all these things that keep us on the go.

Oh and I've been dying to tell you, over the weekend, I got a new hairdo.  And my eyebrows waxed.  What is it about a waxing that makes a girl feel so pretty? When I find the time to fix my hair, and maybe swipe on some mascara, I'll take a pic.  Oh, and I got my nose pierced.  Ch-ch-changes.

Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful. Beautiful Boy.

Twins.  It's been three years since they were born and I still can't believe I have twins.  Jacob and Jonah.  Jake and JoJo. I find it hard to think of one boy without thinking of the other.  In their three years on Earth, they've been separated only twice.  They play together.  They fight over everything.  They laugh together.  They drive me crazy....but they're beautiful.

From the moment they were conceived, they've been difficult.  Pregnancy was awful.  I experienced bed rest which is surprisingly not restful.  I was sick and swollen and in pain.  They were born relatively healthy but that  didn't last. Due to the MRSA they contracted in the hospital, my serious (although at the time I denied it) postpartum depression, and just the reality that two babies are a million times more difficult than one baby, I never really bonded with them. And although Mason taught me how quickly years fly, and that I need to treasure every moment I'm blessed with, I often find it hard to enjoy them.  Frankly, most days I am so overwhelmed I could cry. And sometimes I do.  And nights are usually more difficult than days.

But, I look back on that first year...and the second...and even the third and I know, "every day, in every way, it's getting better and better." Gone are the days when crying consumed forty five minutes of every hour.  I can shower every single day.  I get precious one-on-one minutes with each of them to really learn who he is and to repair what we lost when they were screaming newborns and I was too depressed to handle them. They're starting to have meaningful conversations.  I'm learning, a little at a time, the magic of being a mother of multiples.

 They've taught me so much....much more than I've taught them.  It's ok to eat off the floor.  It's ok to lick the dog.  It's ok to jump backwards off the couch.  It's ok to throw a super-sized fit in the middle of a crowded store.  It's ok to continue to shop through said fit. It's ok to be late (I'm still working on this, John.) Please know that when I use 'ok' what I mean is: although it makes me angry, nervous, or nauseated, no one has died.

While the guys look alike, they are so very different. And why shouldn't they be?  They are two completely different people.  Jacob is ALL BOY...rough, tough, and a little crazy.  He roots for the bad guy.  He is the most difficult child I've ever met, but he's also the most loving and I struggle to understand him.  Jonah, oh JoJo, is so very sweet.  He's sensitive and I worry that the world will be hard on him. BUT, he can be such a trickster and he gets so much joy from hiding things from his brother and sister.  Jonah was always second to hit every milestone (except potty training! Rock on, Jo!) He stayed back while Jacob ran into life at full speed.  He seems so timid, but there is something incredibly special about him.  I think JoJo is the puppetmaster...the one in control of everyone else. Jonah always gets his way.  ALWAYS. It's quite impressive.
I don't know who they will be when they're grown but I'm starting to enjoy getting to know them.  I no longer wish for time to pass quickly and I look forward to watching them grow and discover themselves. In the meantime, I'm going to do whatever I can to enjoy the now, for right now they are my beautiful, beautiful boys.

Outcasts and Girls with Ambition.

I am extremely proud of my daughter, Mason.  I get so much joy witnessing her growth. From birth, she has amazed me with how quickly she learns.  As an  infant, she loved to play with foam letters.  Before her 1st birthday, she could put them in order from A-Z.  By 3 years old, she could identify and name every U.S state on a map.

More importantly, Mason is not a girly-girl.  She cares not for frilly dresses or hair accessories.  She is more interested in learning absolutely everything.  From birth, she has wanted books, not Barbies; Sesame Street, not Spongebob; Weather Channel, not Wa Wa Wubbzy.  She is so different than I expected: a thinker! I knew it would be a challenge for me to provide her with constant cognitive stimulation, but I promised her I'd do my best.

And I've kept that promise.  Within Mason's first year, we started reading readiness.  She learned letters.  During the second year, we focused on letter sounds and memorizing small words.  By 3 years old, she could read board books independently.  Now, at 5, she knows hundreds of words. She can, and does, read my blog with very little help. She just 'gets it' and she's blessed with an affinity for numbers too. For fun, she makes up mathematical word problems, ie. "Mom has 8 slices of pizza. Dad eats 5.  How many slices of pizza does Mom have left?" She can count to 1000.  She could go higher; she chooses to stop there.

Mason has dreams for her future.  I have dreams too.  I know she can do great things.  Amazing things.  Make-the-world-better things.  I encourage her to dream big.  She once said she wanted to be a firefighter.  I told her that firefighters are brave and wonderful and the world needs them.  But I encouraged her to think bigger. "What if there were buildings that couldn't catch fire and they were cheap enough for common people to afford them?  What if there was medicine or an operation that could completely remove severe burn scars?  Think science and engineering, Mason!"

And then she dresses like this, tackles her brothers in the living room, and I think, "to Hell with science and engineering.  This girl was born to roller derby!"

Take One Last Look Before it Passes By. Before it Passes You By.

Summer...over....where did it go?  School started yesterday.  My daughter, a brand new Kindergartener, entered her school full of excitement for the new year.  Summer, and all the incredible things we did, are but a memory to her. The End of the Summer. We're moving on.

It's so easy for kids to just move on, isn't it?  Carefree.  Ready for the next grand adventure.  But I can't do that.  I need time to marinate in the wonderful memories we made.  I need to reflect on everything we did, be proud of myself for surviving a summer with 3 kids, and even pat myself on the back for providing so much fun all summer long.

Last May, Masie came from pre-school and said, "Summer stinks.  We never do nuthin'."  I was blown away because she used a double negative and that drives me crazy! because we do lots of things.  She takes piano lessons, and swimming, and gymnastics.  We go to fairs, the zoo, several parks, the library!  Certainly, these are something.  I tried to remind her of all the things we do, without boring her with my own sob stories about how, as a child, I didn't have the opportunities she has. (Although that was in the back of my mind the whole time.)  She rolled her eyes at me. Rolled her eyes. *Gasp*

I love Pinterest.  I had noticed many pins of lovely summer 'to-do' charts that awesome Super Moms make for their kids prior to summer starting.  These charts typically outline what Super Mom and Super Children wish to do over the summer.  They're great!  And I was inspired.  But I'm a Survival Mom. I can't plan the entire summer.  Our lives just don't work like that.  So, rather than plan the summer, I decided to take a plain piece of poster board, add the title, "Our Great Gano Summer" and fill in it with things we did as summer progressed.

There is it, folks.  Our summer, neatly (as neat as we get) displayed on a sheet of posterboard. It seems so miniscule compared to the mammoth dreams I had for this summer.  Like Judy Moody, I wanted my kids to have their own, "Not So Bummer Summer."  It's almost sad to see three entire months reduced to 22"x28".  However, when I read over the individual events, I see that we spent hours and hours and hours together, having fun, enjoying summer, living.

We went to the library almost every Friday!  We celebrated the twins' 3rd birthday with a Fresh Beat Band themed party, complete with inflatable guitars, vented sunglasses, and a stage! We rode Thomas the Train!  We went to the drive-in movies 4 times!  We hosted a cookout for the 4th of July and sat on our front porch that evening, marvelling over the beautiful firework display some stranger let off nearby. We enjoyed 3 visits from my niece, Drea! We went to T-ball games and Vacation Bible School. We picnicked at Tuscora Park every Monday in July.  We saw hot air balloons light up in the night. We visited every park nearby and discovered some new ones too.  WE WENT TO KENNYWOOD!!! And, as you can see, lots of other things too! We did more things than we could even fit on the chart. This was so far from being a bummer summer.  It was amazing.

But now it's over.  It passed us by.  Time to move on...and dream of the adventure that waits for us next summer.

Stop This Train.....I Can't Take the Speed It's Moving In.

John and I married in 1999.  We were so young (19! What were we thinking?) and crazy in love. AND determined to NEVER have children.  I mean, who thought there was a real need for little Johns and Aprils anyway?  We didn't...until I turned 21.  Things changed for me.  Suddenly, I had a hole: a giant vat of emptiness and sorrow, that just couldn't be filled with anything.

I was so terribly sad, perhaps a little depressed and insanely jealous of anyone and everyone who ever had a child.  I had a serious case of iwantababyitis and, despite my best efforts to keep busy and take my mind off having a baby, nothing filled the void.  It was Christmas 2000, I had just graduated from college (early!) and all I wanted was a baby.

Getting pregnant is the most natural thing, right?  I was so sure it would be easy.  Surely, this loving, devoted young couple would quickly conceive, have the perfect brown-eyed son and all would be right in the universe.  That was the plan. Plans are easily made, but I've never been real great with following through.  (This is the part where I don't bore/horrify you with 7 years of infertility.)

During those 7 years, John's family popped out kids like rabbits. At a rate of 2 (ok, so it's not rabbit-pace, but you have to admit that's impressive) new babies per year, I was so jealous...and his well intentioned, yet not-so-helpful, family tried to appease me with, "But, April, it's their time.  Your time will come."  Please, ya'll, never EVER say that to a woman trying to conceive.  It denotes punishment or an unworthiness that we already feel.  It was 7 long years of Hell.  I told the world, "there are mothers and there are others.  I am an other."  I made peace with never having a child....and then this happened.

What you're looking at is the most beautiful, perfect baby ever born.  I got my Christmas wish 7 years after I asked.  Born on December 21, 2007, my grandma's 79th birthday, Mason Grace filled my void. Not the brown-eyed boy I dreamed of, but instead, a blue-eyed girl, and absolutely everything I never knew I wanted.

I spent 7 long years begging for her.  Those years seemed to drag. One miserable Christmas followed by the next. On and on.  Until she was born.  Then time sped up. Weeks felt like days; months like weeks. Seasons blurred by. And it was Christmas again. Suddenly, my baby was a year old. Walking.  And then time passed at warp speed.

That brown-eyed boy arrived, along with his twin brother, when Mason was 2 and a half. She grew while I was too preoccupied to notice.  When I caught up with her, she was 3 years old.  Time accelerated, but my ability to see her age diminished. I mean, I know she's older.  I threw her an awesome 5th b-day party.  It's just, when I think of her, this is how I see her.

3 years old and completely in love with Elmo.

But that's not her.  Not now.  She's a big kid.  In 10 days, she begins Kindergarten, where attendance matters and assessments begin.  It's the real deal, ya'll.  She takes piano lessons, and gymnastics, and is learning to swim. She rarely asks for hugs or affection.  With every passing day, she becomes more independent.

But she's still mine. Somewhere between little and grown.  The Survival Mom's only daughter. I have so much to teach her.  She needs to know that her best is the best, that there is never a reason to compare herself with another person.  I want her to truly feel that she is beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful in her skin, no matter the size or shape. So please, time train, slow down, before she's too grown and I've missed my chance to teach her.