Meanwhile...

So yes. We had a baby. And he's so so cute. We adore him, one and all. 

But we've been doing other things as well. For instance, we moved. While we are grateful to be in the city, closer to all the many many things, we miss Midway. And I don't recommend moving at 7 months pregnant. You would think I would remember that from when we moved when I was 7 months pregnant with Max. Nope. Moving is terrible. We are grateful to be settled.

In other news, my kids started back to school at real, public, brick and mortar schools this fall. 

There are many reasons why we made the switch, but mostly it was because the girls wanted to, and we decided they should have some say in their schooling. Max and Ashlynn were accepted to a fantastic charter school, and Abby goes half-day to the middle school that's in walking distance and comes home at lunch so she still has time for practicing, homework, and having a life. They are busy and happy. I am spending much time dropping off, picking up, and negotiating homework with the 12 year old, 11 year old, and the 5 year old. Yesterday, I had to bribe Max with an m&m for every row of cursive practice he completed. (Cursive in kindergarten. Yes. I don't know that I get it either.) But we got through it in record time, so that's something.

But whoever said that public school is easier than homeschool must have been crazy, because the busy, runaround life we normally lead has multiplied exponentially. My color-coded google calendar and I have become best friends, and I'm trying my hardest to keep all the balls in the air. So far, I'm averaging about one epic meltdown a week, so that's better than it could be. And that's one epic meltdown for me, not to be confused with the epic 3-year old tantrums, or the semi-regular implosions from the 5, 11, or 12 year olds, for that matter.

And I might be certifiably crazy, because this week, Max had his first cello lesson, and I've started teaching Ian little daily violin lessons.

 So that makes four kids playing five instruments, (Ashlynn is playing flute in the 6th grade band...) three different music teachers, and lots and lots and lots of practicing. But the little boys love it, and due to being surrounded by it constantly, assume it's perfectly normal to practice itty-bitty violins and cellos every day.

What else? We blessed Charlie a few weeks ago, and by happy scheduling coincidence, both my sister and brother and their families were in town for the blessing. It was very fun to have everyone together, even only briefly.

And it's starting to look more and more like little Charlie may also be dealing with metopic craniosynostosis. For all those that say cranio isn't genetic, I don't believe you for a second. I started noticing Charlie's forehead ridge a few weeks ago, and kept telling myself I was crazy and blowing things out of proportion, but then my husband noticed it and I knew we were in for a ride.

We're currently watching and waiting, because although he's showing all the signs of metopic cranio- ridge down the forehead, a developing triangular forehead shape (trigonocephaly), pinching at his temples and close-set eyes, the suture still shows open on a CT scan. (As a side note, you know you're a mom of a cranio kid when they put your baby in the CT scanner and you're tempted to take a picture, because you know, baby's first CT scan...) No one can explain it, so we're currently watching and waiting. Things are changing with his headshape rapidly though, and not for the better.  In my gut, I'm pretty convinced we're headed for surgery with this little one too.

The "fortunate" thing about catching this early is that we have the option of a less invasive, endoscopic surgery if his metopic suture is indeed fused. The surgery would be shorter, less risky, and be followed by few months of helmet therapy to help his head retain its corrected shape. So we'll see if that's an option.  In the meantime, I'm trying not to think about it every hour of every day.

So while I'm frustrated and angry and all those other things about facing the hell that is craniosynostosis AGAIN, especially since it wasn't all that easy the first and second go rounds, I'm grateful that at least we know what it is, and we know how to treat it. We know who the doctors are and how to navigate Primary Children's Hospital, and that there is life after surgery. Doesn't mean I don't wish we'd never heard of craniosynostosis in the first place.

The big move

Well, we did it.

We moved four kids, two adults, and an unimaginable amount of crap to a new house. Then, two days later, Abby and I went to violin Institute.

Yes, we may be a little bit crazy. (A little bit?!?)

We packed multiple trucks.

We took a few over-exposed pictures of Ian running in and out of the moving truck.

We unloaded the multiple trucks.

And we ate a lot of fast food and drank much Gatorade.

I've decided there is very little in life that is more exhausting or all consuming than moving. And no matter how much you think you've accomplished, it's never quite done. Right now, the garage at our old house still has some random things that we need to move over here, including our BBQ grill, a large container of plastic utensils, (don't ask because I don't know...) and several cabinets full of various garage crap.

But here's the good news. We're here. We love it. The boxes are mostly unpacked. And those that aren't are stored in my husband's office where I don't have to look at them. That right there tells you something about our house- my husband has his own office and we no longer have to share. This makes me very happy.

Pretend this picture is better than it is and imagine that you can see my kitchen in all its spacious glory.

Our house is huge. I mean, the kids can unload the dishes while I'm cooking dinner without us running into each other. This is a whole new experience for all of us. There is a playroom in our house, folks. That right, a room devoted exclusively to toys. Which also means that we no longer have a basketball hoop as the centerpiece in our living room. It's pretty fabulous. Other wonderful things? A bedroom for the boys so they no longer have to share with us, a laundry room that's actually a room and not a closet, fantastic views, a two car garage, and a huge yard. There is so much space that we frequently lose Ian. this is not helped by the fact that he learned to open doors the day we moved. (Sigh.)

And after we moved, it was Institute week. (Note to self: if you can ever possibly avoid moving the week before you have to take two of your children for a week of extreme violining, please do. You'll thank me later.)

Abby loves violin institute.

Ian did not. Yes, I did take a picture of him tantruming on the floor of Juan Diego HS. Further proof that he's a fourth child. Had this tantrum occurred when Abby was a baby, I would have been horrified. With Ian, I bust out the camera...

Because Abby's teacher is the director of the institute, most of her teachers were handpicked. Koen Rens from Belgium was our favorite.

She fiddled.

She worked on perfect position with her masterclass teacher.

She played in orchestra.

And then we were tired. And so glad to come home to the "new house" as Max calls it. (He still asks to go home occasionally. Insisting that we are home doesn't help much.)

So far this week I've unpacked a few boxes, taught a few lessons, mowed the lawn, weeded precisely one flower bed, and enjoyed the breathing room. 

See my pretty new violin studio?

But I've decided. Institute? It's great. We'll go again next year. As for moving? I could be perfectly happy with never seeing another packing box, thank you very much.

Things I am learning about moving

So it's T-minus 3 days and counting to the big move. Who knew the moving process could be so educational? So, with the intention of spreading my incredible learning experiences across the interwebs, I bring you my list of things I have learned while orchestrating this move.

1~ It doesn't matter how small your house is, you will still be astounded by the sheer amount of stuff you have. For nearly four years, we have had 5-6 people jammed into 1600 square feet. You wouldn't think that we could possibly fit six people in our tiny treehouse, let alone 10,000 pounds of crap. Which brings me to my next point:

2~ You will never actually be finished packing said crap. We've known an approximate moving date for a few weeks, so I've been packing the so-called non-essentials for weeks. Gradually, our garage has filled with boxes of all shapes and sizes, and it still doesn't look like we've made a dent.  There is still stuff covering virtually every surface of my house.

3~ You can be guaranteed that if you pack something you haven't used in 6 months, assuming that because you haven't needed it in so long that you should just get it out of the way, that you'll need it the very next day.   This of course results in frantic digging through stacks of boxes in the garage and unpacking at least 3 before finding the random object you couldn't live without.

4~ There is no way to move with young children present. Period. All four of my children could be happily occupied, but the minute I pull out a box and my trusty tape gun, I get a meltdown on a fronts. Ian will flop himself on my lap and beg to nurse, Max will gleefully start pulling everything out of the box that I was working on, and the girls' will start fighting at a volume that even earplugs won't help. I've only threatened to tape them in their own boxes and leave them there until we move once or twice.

5~Convenience food is your friend. So are paper plates, plastic cups and all manner of disposable everything. Trust me, you'll feel like a loser mom filling a shopping cart with corn dogs, frozen pizza and macaroni and cheese, but when it's 5:00 and you've been organizing and labeling boxes all day, a frozn pizza on paper plates mat be just what the Dr. ordered. The bonus is that your kids think you're cool when you feed them chicken nuggets and french fries.  Your husband will, however, complain about the lack of homecooked meals. It's inevitable. You have my permission to smack him.

6~ Don't pack the Advil. The children's or the adult's variety. You're going to have headaches galore from the baby crying, the children whining that their very favorite toy (that they haven't played with in months, mind you) is packed, and from the excessive amount of sorting and organizing you're going to have to do.  And I can pretty much promise you that one (or all) of your children will also be afflicted with some sort of mysterious ailment. Or your baby will be teething. Or all of the above.

7~Moving week is not the time to start a new teaching gig, get a huge toothache requiring an emergency trip to the dentist, or to prepare for a week at violin institute. Just trust me on this one.

8~The liquor store has the best boxes. There's the perfect size, they come with dividers already in them, and they're free for the asking. And there's something wickedly funny about pulling up to the liquor store in your red minivan with your four kids to beg for boxes (multiple times) and then using boxes emblazoned with "Bacardi rum" and "Five wives vodka: 80 proof" to pack your kids' schoolbooks and the violin studio. For extra bonus points, use the coffee filters you were storing for some unknown science project to cushoin quart jars on top of each other.

8~Call the Relief Society. Trust me on this one too. Today, 3 women came to my house. Many many boxes, two tape guns, and an hour and half later, my kitchen was packed, the cupboards were wiped clean, and all the boxes were stored in my garage. I think people who help move someone they aren't genetically related to should be assured a place in heaven.

It'll be worth it. I'm sure. We can't wait. If you don't hear from me for a week or so, come dig me out of the box pile, ok?