Shuffling shoes in Oz

I wrote, not too long ago, about being mom to a large family and how humbling it can be trying to keep all the pins and schedules in place.
I didn't, at that time, write about the shoes.

Van Gogh, "Shoes" 1888.

Oh, my goodness, the shoes.
I mean, really, think about it.  We are a family of ten.  We each have two feet.  If we all have only ONE pair of shoes then that is twenty shoes, right there.  I know, I know, you're saying "Hold up, shoes are counted in pairs.  So twenty should be twenty pairs." (So, follow me, in my house that would be forty count - to be precise you know.) Well, um, nope.  Not in MY house.  In my house we count SHOES.  Single shoes, usually unmatched, in no proximity to each other.
Sounds kind of disorganized, I know.
That would be because it is, disorganized,....that's how we roll, er, or perhaps I should say "march?"

You all know we have more than one pair each, we are most fortunate that way.
Heck some of my kids are growing so fast that I swear they need a new pair about once a month, not kidding....

Shoes are gonna be the end of me. 
Or, more precisely, shoes are going to be the blessed downfall, eventually and until I can finally let it go, of my endless stubborn pride.
Shoes are, almost daily, my "mom fail moment."

Let me illustrate what I mean, another "so not the great and powerful Oz" moment:
A week or so ago, I was being getting ready to take kids to another Saturday basketball game...by which I mean, I was settling down at my computer to read some emails and surf some favorite blogs.  I had just poured my first fresh cup, ok maybe my second, of coffee and had waved my hands at the kids telling them we would go to basketball in an hour or so.  See, on top of the job....

The phone rang, a number I didn't recognize, but local so not a salesperson (which I would have ignored), so I picked up.  Turns out, it was the mom of one of my first grader's classmates.    Now, let me clarify, this mom is one of those moms that I am  not, nor can ever be.  She has two children (there might be a .4 in there somewhere, I'm not sure) and she is practically perfect in every way.  She is very pretty, she has great hair that is low maintenance, she has cute clothes, she is  young and fit though not an amazon type that you can write off just because they are freaks of nature.... Her car is clean and tidy (I've seen inside at pickup, even the cargo area is organized. I covet this.  Not that I'm snooping, those rear doors open right in front of you when you're in line, ok? But I digress), and what's more, she's always on time.  Plus, she's nice.  Really.  So, you know what that means: yup, I'm kind of intimidated.  Heck, she probably crafts too.  I'm pretty sure she's been the room mom before and will be again.  You see what I mean.  She IS "the Great and Powerful Oz!"  But that is supposed to be ME, right? Ha, never.

Anyhow, so she started talking to me about Anthony and her son and shoes.  My mind was racing ahead as she talked, trying to figure out what this meant and what my kid had done and how could I fix it?  I heard her say something about different sizes.
What? Different sizes? Same shoes?
OH! As my dear goddaughter would say, "I've got this!"
So I breathed a quick sigh of relief and interrupted her, "Oh! Well, hey, if X has my Tonio's shoe I can give you the other one.  Tonio just grew out of them over Christmas! I've ordered up a size, no problem!"
And I blathered on about how funny it was that his feet were so big so fast and he's a size 5 now and Marta wanted his shoes because they fit her and they were the unisex school shoes and she thought they were cute...until I realized that phone mom had fallen silent.  Oh.  Dear. Then I realized what she had been saying: shoe mixup at school somehow, the boys brought home each other's single shoe.
OH! "No, ok, right then.  You want me to FIND your son's shoe and bring it to basketball?!! Of course! Of course we will! Sorry, not enough coffee yet today, doh!"
I hung up quickly and even more quickly went to make an espresso to wake up my soggy brain cells.  Doh, indeed.  And of course, then began the great, loud, furious (because now I was totally embarrassed) hunt for the shoe.  Which gave over to much drama and loudness and gnashing of teeth, because said shoe was NOT to be found.
Finally, it was time to leave.  No shoe.  Oh, we had Tonio's shoe in a plastic Target bag, all right.  NO, I don't know what I was thinking I just somehow felt the need to bring it.  What can I say, I'm a dolt.
I knew what I had to do...hope like mad that we'd find his shoe in the afternoon and bring it school.....
Until my Chris, deciding to go with us to the game at the last minute, broke the news to me.
He asked me about the odd bag with the single shoe.
I told him my tale.
He said, "Uh oh.  Is it a brown shoe with a velcro strap?"
Oh dear, my heart sank, I knew before he said it, what he was going to say.  I sighed, "Yes."
"Well, I found one of those all soggy and wet when I was cleaning the backyard.  I threw it in the truck and took it to the dump.  Later I found another......" and we both looked at the bag.
Yuh.  We had thrown away this boy's shoe.
And I had to tell the mom.
You might guess, I dreaded going to that basketball game.

But I did.  And I saw her in the stands, so I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath and went right up to her.
I blurted out before it hurt too much, "I'm so sorry! Please please give me  your address so I can send you another pair of shoes, I can get the same shoe at zappos, you will get them Monday."
She looked at me, and looked at the bag and said, "No, it's ok, see there's the shoe." 
I choked out, but fast, "No, this is still the wrong shoe, wesentyourstothedump.  We sent yours to the dump.  I'm SO sorry.  Tonio left them outside, they got rained on, snowed on, Chris was cleaning and saw it a mess and took it to the dump. I'm sorry! Please let me replace them."
And, because she is practically perfect in every way, she smiled over her bewildered gaze and said, "It's no big deal, don't be ridiculous."
Which of course just made me feel worse.  I am ridiculous, our house is ridiculous...because we leave our  many mismatched single shoes out in the yard to get snowed on and ruined even when they are not ours.  Because I didn't even know any of this until she called me. Because I cart single used shoes to basketball games in Target bags even though no one wants his old shoe.
She refused to give me her address. 
I'm pretty sure she thought that was a safety move.
Sigh.

So, any of you who might think that I think that I've got it together.....I so know better.  I am the mom who is NEVER behind the curtain.  I won't even begin to describe the random plops of unmatched shoe or shoes that we trip on here there and yonder in our house, or my nagging to pick them up or how often or how quickly they wander out of their closet or cubby .... But just let me say "Do the math."  Mom fail - think of the shoes, people.  And have pity. 

Still dreaming of those magic ruby slippers....

How'z that again?

If this isn't the closest analogy to how a big, erm, MY family works on it's best day, I don't know what is.... Perhaps this is more apropos of a large family, but still, this made me laugh and tonight I saw this and realized, "Oh  yeah, and that's what happens in our house, on our BEST days."  No kidding.
Take a look at this:



Yeah, think about it....{And while you're at it, think about ALL the ways it can go wrong too...that too SO describes my family life! Ha!}
Yup. I know!
I thought so too.
{h/t to Buddybug}

Make way for ducklings: Reality Check

I might have mentioned once or twice that I have a large family -  a fair number of kidletts.  People will ask me, "How do you do it all?"  They see my brood and the hustle and bustle and are often incredulous, and maybe a little freaked out (And probably thinking, "Whew, not me!).  Sometimes I smile and say, "The big kids help, it's not so much."  And that's true.  More often I might say, "I don't! I have help. It's one of the secrets to a big family: built in helpers."  Even more often, I say, "Well, I fail.  Every day."  And that's probably the most accurate of all.

Reality Check:  Sometimes, you have tough weeks.  Not even extra-ordinary weeks with some disaster that defines the days.  But rather, you have ordinary days, a week filled with laundry and school and  homework and juggling schedules.  But for some reason, that week is tough.  Sometimes, thankfully not so often, but sometimes....despite the standard mundane moments, it seems like every single person needs just a bit, or quite a lot, MORE, somehow.

On those days, that usual sense of paddling as fast as you can, maybe dropping a few balls here and there....kind of shifts.  
And then, you realize that you feel, for the moment, (to borrow an old phrase) like you are being pecked to death by baby ducks.

So, for those of you who wonder how any of us "do it all,"  I'd like to honestly say that some days you (ok, me)  just feel a little overrun, and maybe you (ok, me) fantasize for a moment or two about flights to faraway tropical islands - one way. So, that's part of the package.  Not all that rare I suspect.  But yeah, it's been one of those weeks.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho, it's off to Disney we go..

Ok, so yeah, we lost our minds (Ok, Coffeedoc did) and decided we should "do Disney." After falling out of my chair with sticker shock upon researching the cost (even w/ current specials) for Disney World...I realized we could go see my family, the beach,and college if we went to DisneyLand versus the Florida world - for about a third of the cost. Plus, and here is a "Big Family Tip," since we are SO big now, we finally could get a group rate: buy 10 tickets as a group, get one free and group rate is about a 40% discount. Score! Decision: made.

Let me preface this post by saying I am a bit conflicted on the whole Disney thing. It's a love/hate thing for sure for me. Part of me totally loves the whole deal, I like the scary but not terrifying rides, the whole vibe, the make-believe kiddie fun. But part of me resents it in the sense of the sticker shock and, well, the after effects. You moms know what I'm talking about: its the "donkey effect." Yup. You know, I took Little Man, Marta, Sbird, and Miss M on Pinocchio's Wild Ride (or something like that) and it's all about Pinocchio's visit to Pleasure Island - where he and the other spoiled boys run amok and turn into donkeys. It occurred to me that this ride should really be placed at the very entrance to the park and be a mandatory ride for all families with children under fourteen. Because, the kids, they all start to bray by the end of the day.

But I digress.

Anyhow, so we went to Disney, myself, Coffeedad, and eight kidletts (one of them being a buddy of Booboo) on Day one and nine (nephew joined us) on Day two. Whew. And let me remind you that one of them doesn't speak any english and also doesn't have that built in cultural soak in Disney. And let me remind you that one of them is two. Double whew. Makes you tired just reading that, doesn't it? Go ahead, read it again, imagine it......yeah, has that effect on me too and they are my kids!

And yes, count those kids. Thats missing a few too.
And yes, I look like a dork but it got hot so I put on a skirt and I have bad feet.
Sue me. I don't care.

But I digress.

So. We went to Disney. Overall, really, it went better than expected...for a while anyhow. A visit to Disney goes through the same rough stages: giddy anticipation, arrival and shock at the crowds the lines but the giddy anticipation carries you through, giddy fun while seeing the cool pretty park and the wandering characters, giddy anticipation of the first rides.... The whole "giddy fun" factor holds over for awhile, until it's past lunchtime and then the slow crash begins.

Maybe you go on a ride that was a bad choice. Looked like fun but caused the newest teen to freak out. Was it the height? Was it the swinging? We'll never know, not for a long time anyhow. But you console, and move on. Get some food into you, move into the next phase of "who rides what and when?" Strategizing. The giddy anticipation stage is over and it's all strategy from here. It's logistics times 8. You strategize potties, lines, rides, fast passes, snacks, and shows.

Finally, the teen boys return, the family comes together again. One last ride before you try to find a spot for the fireworks. Lunch was so late you only need more snacks and as you park and sit on the ground, all the kids are starting to crash whine. You jolly along, wondering if it's worth it to wait. Finally the fireworks start, and they are amazing. Lots of oohing and aahing. All the teens agree that it was great, the smalls are too sleepy to say much and the two year old is asleep in his stroller. You walk back to the hotel, with the masses exiting the park, amidst the wails and whining of all the other small overstimulated children. Ah, the sounds of Disney at night.

And that is the plot line of the first day. Our first day. But really, I think the stages are roughly on target: giddy anticipation of the park, shock at the lines and crowds, giddy anticipation of the rides, giddy glee over the rides and fun, a few frowns and tears at a bad ride, hunger crashes and rallies, complicated logistical strategizing, and then the final surge of wow and the tired exit. Typical I'd say.

It really was fun, for the most part.
Watching Gabey see Mickey Mouse with his eyes huge and a little gasp: priceless.
Watching Little Man race to the rides and come off grinning: priceless.
Sitting next to him and Marta and Sbird with them all shrieking and burying their head against me, then grinning: hysterical.
Watching my Prima Diva go on her first real rollercoasters and come off with her face flushed, giddy and jabbering: priceless.

So, yeah, we had fun.
But OH so many more things to talk about.
But that will need to be another post. I've gotta take the kids out to the beach!

Adjustment: two months.

Relativity, by MC Escher

So. We are at two months now of being a family. And really, I think this drawing sums it up best.

That's right. Look closely. A little topsy turvy maybe? Yeah. That's our household. Seems like just when one of us thinks we have our feet under us and know where we stand, well then it seems to go a little wonky again. Someone else skews the mood or drops something down the stairs or starts climbing the walls. You know the feeling...just a little still, um, shifty.

So, really, everyone is still kind of finding their places, so to speak. Especially in the new relations to each other, its a shifting thing for awhile; an up-down, push-pull kind of thing. I am working on keeping balance with all the family, the kids in particular. I'm finding my sea legs, so to speak, but man, its a workout!

I know this all reads so vague. But, its because I guess there is still so much guessing going on. We still don't have much language floating around the house, not one that everyone can understand. So we do a lot of guessing, which of course leads surely to a fair lot of misconceptions flying about.

But even so, sometimes we make steps forward, on solid ground. We have negotiated bathroom times (still ongoing...girls, showers, 'nuff said), and are laying down the food rules (e.g. first real food, then sometimes ice cream). We have sorted through mundane teeny but oh so important practical issues of who sits where in the car and how mom can figure out whose clothes are whose in the laundry (Three girls who are much the same size = mom is confused, girls are mad. Can you say: "initials in all clothes?" I can!), and who does which chores and when. Whew. Boring stuff? Mundane stuff? Maybe, yeah. But not SO much when the smooth functioning of the house is at stake. And no, saying that, the house is not functioning smoothly, not yet.

But every now and then, that topsy turvy picture, above, morphs for a few minutes, into a regular old home, with our regular old life in a slightly newer version. Two months. We are at two months and counting.....and hoping and living.....together.