Addition. Or not.

There are days in my life that leave me breathless, with a sore back and unwashed hair, looking back at my house that is neither organized nor clean, wondering how it is I stumbled down this road. It's in those times, shuffling up the stairs with a basket of laundry that I am almost positive made it through the washer, peeling a child or two off of my legs while ignoring the "CARRRIIIEED!!! CARRRIIIEEEEEEEED!!!" cries and the attempts to go all dead weight on me so I won't put them down... those times have my uterus clamping down on itself, willing my insides to just shut down, stop working, dry up. Two is enough.

But there are other days, when all I hear are giggles, everyone eats their entire lunch, and when Eli poops, nothing but butterflies fill his diaper. Rainbows fill my eyes, and I imagine things like my family of 10 skipping through a field of wild flowers while singing about Doe's and Ray's and Fa La La's, all wearing matching jumpsuits I made from my size 8 clothing that no longer fits me. Paul is carrying a basket full of sandwiches I cut into little hearts, and apple juice that's not watered down because I just felt THAT NICE. And while a little corner of my brain wonders how it is I've sunken so far down into the domestic role, the rest is wondering how I am going to ask Paul to work until he's 95 so we can get all of our kids through college.

I flip back and forth at the drop of a hat (well, more realistically, at the drop of a cup full of milk that I have repeatedly asked to be set down on the table to avoid doing EXACTLY THAT). I think that some people might say that since I am having any doubts at all, that maybe we should just be done and be thankful for what we have. After all, everything is so convenient for a family of four. Throw a third into the mix, and everything gets all crowded and awkward. But there are others, I know, that say because I am still left wondering if the next one is going to have bright blue eyes like Alex and Eli, and have gone so far as to scout out some names.... I don't know. Maybe we aren't done. As of right now, more would be nice.

If I could just avoid being pregnant for nine months, the decision would be so easy. I don't want to puke. I don't want heartburn. I am making good headway on my weight loss and I don't want that to not only come to a screeching halt, but actually reverse. I really REALLY don't want to puke. I enjoy regularly scheduled bowel movements. I enjoy being able to cut my toenails without being winded after.

And I enjoy not puking.

But... 10 kids singing harmony while eating little tiny sandwiches. Hard to pass up.

Christmas Happenings.

Merry Christmas from the Rinas Family.

They tried to warn me.

It's hard to hear the warnings of other mothers when your little ones are... well... little. Everyone says it goes quickly, and that you should store each and every moment up in a bottle, because soon you will be missing it sorely. When you're entrenched in diapers and crying and late nights and Baby Stuff, it's hard to take that warning seriously. But you know what? It's true.

While on the phone with my mother the other night, the subject of Alex's birthday came up, which is in March. Mom asked if she was going to be three. My first instinct was to say, No, Of course not, She'll be 2 months old. But then... Three. She'll be THREE. I couldn't believe it.

Sometimes I look at her and I still see this:

But then she'll do something or say something, and it's like I get sucked back to Present Day, and she's standing there smiling at me, saying "Good Job Mama! It's Beautiful!" because I put a block on our tower just so.


So I look to the other side of the room, and for a second, my Sweet Little Eli is laying there looking at me with his sweet little baby face.


But then he'll break out his best monkey impression and couple it with a dance that is just bizarre, all the while laughing because he KNOWS he's funny.


I just can't believe it.

As much as it breaks my heart knowing that someday Paul and I will look at each other, and our quiet empty house, knowing that they've all flown the coop (although, to be honest, alot of the time this sounds pretty fantastic), I enjoy watching them grow up. They are evolving into little people. And so different from one another. I always thought Eli would be my quiet, shy one. But he's not. He's just quiet because he knows he can get away with more that way. I am sure he looks at his sister and just shakes his head sometimes, because she'll go into Trouble screaming loudly and flailing her arms. He just sneaks into Trouble, and stays there quietly doing mischief until he's found. And if I raise my voice with Alex, she'll stop and most times break into sobs that can only be soothed with lots of cuddling. Eli, on the other hand, will just smile and do whatever it is he is doing wrong as many times as he can before I can reach him.

Life is pushing us steadily forward, and I think from now on, I am going to try and keep a better record of it, because there is only so much you can keep in your head before it gets replaced with "How To Change A Diaper In A Bathroom With No Changing Table" or "How To Effectively Get Pee Out Of Your Couch Cushion". Here's to trying.