Making Adjustments

It is still cold, but warm enough that we now take big deep breaths when we go outside, not the shallow  gulps we take in winter, as though we could keep the cold out of our lungs if we didn’t inhale.  Spring finally feels inevitable.  We hear birds outside again, and see flocks soaring overhead often.

David has over a dozen oak trees now poking up out of soil.  I think some of them need some work as they don’t have enough soil in them.  We may pick up some deeper paper cups for the ones that made it this far.

Ingrid has been really clingy ever since our trip.  For awhile she only went to sleep when I held her hand, and then I had to manage to sneak away without her noticing.  I discovered a few babies ago that if I remove my hand a little bit when the baby exhales, it is less noticeable to them.  Ingrid has been liking this little flannel “monster” that her Aunt Kristin made her for her first birthday.  Ingrid doesn’t like when I sneak away.  So I’ve been giving her the monster to cling to instead of my hand, and she’s been happy with that swap.  After 3 days of sneaking, I finally got her to the point again of being laid down awake and not crying.  She feels secure again.  Life is good.

It’s funny that with my first child, I would have never stood over the crib and held her hand.  I wouldn’t have let her sleep in my arms.  She was so scheduled, and our lives were so predictable and stiff.  We both found comfort in that.

However, something happens when naps are non-negotiable because she won’t get one tomorrow during homeschool group for the older kids, or the day before during choir practice.  She can’t cry at night because it’s not just her and me that looses sleep, it’s 4 other kids who desperately need it.  If she cries, others will join her.  So extreme lengths are taken to keep the evening quiet.

So Solveig was swaddled until she was 2 because that’s what got her to sleep.  There was no weaning off the swaddle.  She decided herself not to be swaddled sometime after she turned 2.  Solveig sleeps with about 5 baby dolls, and Ingrid sleeps with her monster when their older siblings were never allowed to sleep with toys.

I started potty training my first child when she was 15 months, because I was told that’s what you do.  Solveig turned 3 last December, and we’re just starting to work on it now.  Not only that, but I don’t have unlimited amount of time to sit there and talk her into going potty.  I literally moved the potty chair in front of the little t.v. in the den, and let her sit and watch t.v. on in until she goes.  I haven’t figured out how to get her to go in the potty chair yet.  We’ve tried a few months ago, and she just repeatedly peed on the floor and didn’t care.  Yesterday it took her 3 hours, but she ended up going once.  That will do for now.  Today we’re running around again, but tomorrow when we work on it again, at least she’ll have a frame of reference.

It’s what you do with the 4th child.

It’s not out of desperation.  It’s not for survival.  It’s just normal, everyday adjustments in a family with 5 kids.  This is us rockin’ it.  Getting it done.  That’s the beautiful part of “large” families.  I get humbled, and receive clarity.  Letting go of what does not matter, and embracing what does.

My favorite part of Solveig sitting on that potty chair so long yesterday, was that I sat by her when I could, but she was there for so long that at one point I had to leave her there and put Ingrid down for a little nap.  I was gone for about 5-10 minutes.  When I got back, Silje and David were each holding one of her hands, since she was shaking she had to go so bad after 2 hours of drinking water but she was nervous without her diaper.  They were comforting her and taking turns telling her how proud of her they were that she was brave enough to sit on the potty.

That is the beautiful part of large families.  You just jump in and encourage when you see someone needs it.  I don’t just have two hands to serve anymore.  I have 12 hands.  It’s a beautiful thing.  They don’t see the need all the time, but they see it more often than they used to.  My sweet Silje has begun her volunteering job at the nursing home, delivering newspapers and reading to one of the residents.  We planned on her being there about an hour and a half once a week.  She’s loving it so much, she’s begging me to give her another hour every week.  She said there’s just so much to be done, it hurts to leave.  She talks my head off about it.  Her choir ends next week for the season, so perhaps we can make that happen.  We’ll just keep adjusting.  Life is moving from a set of rules to a set of discussions.  I used to snub that as permissive parenting.  Now I see it’s how the kids learn the process of choosing what is important, and what is not.  Well, never say never.