Thursday, July 30, 2015

Why Mommy Doesn't Blog

Let me begin by stating this is not my story.  This is the story of my wife who does not blog and, if anything, is meant to show you that I'm not the only one who survives some of these parenting fiasco's.  I just blog about them to make myself feel better. ... she prefers Pinot Grigio.

Last Friday my beautiful wife of 9 years, mother of my 4 children, decided it was necessary that Costco be conquered that day.  She loaded the troops and headed off with a brilliant plan of attack.  She would feed them, stuff them with ice cream and then rush the aisles quickly before the food coma wore off.  This is why I don't make plans.

She got in line with the baby for the hot dogs outside of Costco.  She sat the three big girls at a table and told them to stay right there where she could see them while she ordered.  She repeated to Rosaline - STAY.

Not thirty seconds go by when she feels a clammy hand wrap around her thigh.  She looks down to see Rosaline beaming up at her.  "I told you to stay with your sisters," she says.  "I just wanted to tell you I love you," came the reply.  Gina points and she trudges back.

Perhaps another minute passes before she catches a mop of curly blond hair out of the corner of her eye. "I love you Mama!' Rosaline screams as she high tails it back to the table.

A beat of a butterflies wing later she's back again, only this time she's not even sure why.  So Gina lost her patience, as all great mothers do. No ice cream for you.  Mount Vesuvius erupts.  Now she's trying to order hot dogs, twins at the table perplexed, Rosaline full tantrum mode on the ground, the world watching.

Somehow they survive the dogs and, as promised, the twins get ice cream to follow and Rosaline does not.  By this point she's reduced to a stuttering whimper but the baby is now hungry as well.  She rounds them up, back to the car to eat their ice cream and feed this baby.

Twins are in the way back enjoying their dessert, baby is latched in the front with Mama and Rosaline is in the middle seats, plotting her revenge.  She notices Arianna is buckled but the car is not moving; she's found her chance.  Rosaline jumps up and leaps into the back to force Arianna to unbuckle her seat belt.  In the melee that proceeds, the buckle is indeed disengaged, it coils back, hits Arianna's ice cream and Jackson Pollacks the car in frozen confection.

Now Arianna is screaming, this of course causes Gina to turn and baby to become detached mid stream.  So now breast milk is spouting like a ruptured sprinkler head all over the car, Arianna is hysterical, Gina screaming behind her grabbing at childless air, Rosaline cowering, and Genevieve peacefully enjoying her ice cream pretending she's adopted.

Somehow they still made it through Costco and got everything from the list.  Even a magnum of Kirkland Pinot Grigio.

Monday, July 27, 2015

Wedding of the Year

"Four girls!" they exclaim; as if I wasn't aware.  And 99% of the time they follow this up with "that means four weddings!!!"  So far no one has calculated in a funeral, but there's still time.  Yes.  Yes, it has dawned on me that there's a good chance each of these girls will be married at some point, and yes I realize the traditional rules say that Gina and I are due to pay host these events.  I'm serious that my hope is they will all meet and fall in love in the same 3 month window and we can talk them into a doing it all in one shot.  Of course that's unlikely.  The other hope is my father-in-law still owns his wedding facility - La Mariposa - and we can convince the girls to hold festivities in Arizona. 

Fortunately, it seems at least one of my expenses has been covered.  I came home the other day to find  out a ceremony was in progress and Rosaline was marrying her long time bff Rafe from down the street (finally!  these kids have been together like 2 1/2 years already; it's about time).  It was a wedding destined to happen so who really cares if it happened 14 years before it's legal in this state.  Mazel Tov you two; my blessings upon you.  Now Rafe cut your hair and get a god damn job.

Something to point out as well: Rosaline and Rafe are the real life Taylor and and Ed from this music video. ... it's eerie because they look so much like then but even eerier that they act so much like them.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Big Enough to be Big Sisters

The family experience is much like a river flowing; no similar activity is exactly the same because the water drifting by is never the same is at once was.  The big sister job is much different this time around because the ages of the girls are so much different.  The twins were barely two when Rosaline came along.  They wore "big sister" shirts proudly and posed for the cameras with the newborn sis in their laps; but they were still as much babies themselves.  With Lorelei it's vastly different.  The twins are coming up on six and Zozz is nearing four  - they really are big girls and are embodying a much more active role as big sisters.  This morning, while breakfast was being made and coffee still brewing, I changed a diaper and passed the baby off t he Genevieve's open and eager arms.  And there they sat, comfy on the sofa for the next thirty minutes or so.  Any time she cries or coo's, three sets of feet come running to check; to plug a binky in her mouth or report on a spit up that needs cleaning.  So far no one is willing to change the blowout diapers. . .. but there's hope yet.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Sweet Baby Lorelei

I have a new goal; to blog consistently once more.  Perhaps I'll need to find time in the evening to do so, now that my day light hours are so booked - but I'm on it.  And for good reason.  The Kopp Girls are now a quartet.  On June 19th, only 2 weeks before she was due, our little Lorelei made her appearance.  There's not much to say about her yet - she eats and sleeps and poops. ... and poops - but I'm sure she'll come with plenty of new stories to share with you all as the weeks progress.
I've already noticed the dynamic change of 3 to 4. ... it's like moving from the realm of non-fiction into science fiction.  To put that better, there's the book you read about a real experience and you can compute exactly how everything in the plot came about.  Then there's the book about an interplanetary battle between humanoid rabbits and a subspecies of foot fungus that's gained self awareness.  The words all make sense in your brain but the concept still leaves you going "how could this ever be a real thing?!"  Every time we make a simple journey to the store or someone's house, I feel like I lose track of the headcount because the numbers so high and there are so many moving parts.  It's like counting fish; everyone stop moving and looking so damn much alike. And they do!  They all look exactly the same some times.  And Lorelei, though her hair seems a little darker thus far, is nearly a carbon copy of the rest, right down to her bright blue eyes.  I feel we're not so much procreating as we are simply cloning at this point.

And the questions are a little different when you're dragging around 4.  People used to ask "are you going to try for that boy?"  And they always had this smarmy way of saying it like they weren't serious.  Now people feel like they're egging us on. ... as if we'd already passed some point of sanity so the next stop is Duggar station.  People don't even mention the "boy" card any more, simply when is number five coming?  And there's that little part of you that wonders "why not?"  As the weeks go on I'll be reminded exactly why not. 

Gina sent me an article recently that talked about how hard it is once you've "decided" this is your last baby.  I think many people with one, two or three never officially close that door, it's just kind of how things round out.  But for those that decide, this is the last one, you then start to realize all of these "last firsts" that you'll go through.  Last first smile, last first steps, last first word.  And it really makes you teary to dwell on it.  Of course it'll also be the last first tantrum.  The last first "some how I got shit in my mouth and I'm not even near the baby".  The last first puke on my new suit jacket.  The last first who put my watch in the toilet.  The last first we  haven't slept all night and I have a presentation in zzzzzzzzz.  So yes, it will be emotional, and amongst those emotions will be a little hint of joy and maybe a slightly heavier pour of longing.  We'll see.  And you will too.  Assuming I'm able to keep up  my half of this new bargin.

Here we go!