It's been too long.

It's been too long since I've talked to my dad ... been too long since I've heard his voice, had one of his bear hugs, debated with him, smiled at his boisterous laugh, and watched him play with his grand kids.

All of these things that I miss, consume my mind constantly. And when I say "constantly", what I mean is that I think about him almost every minute that I am awake. I can't do anything without my mind turning to my dad, and my heart feeling the weight of our loss.

It's been almost 4 weeks, and I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that he's gone. The man who lovingly wrapped his arms around me my whole life will never do that again. I know that he wouldn't want us to suffer, but the love from my dad, a love that I've known my entire life, can't be shown to me anymore.

My dad's best buddies want to have a BBQ in his honor this Friday. I absolutely do not mind putting it together, and sending out the info. We want to celebrate his life. And that's a great thing! But even acknowledging the reason that a BBQ is to happen, creates an ache so deep in me, that I know only time can hopefully lighten.

In the meantime, I subconsciously keep waiting for his phone call, or waiting to hear the sound of his motorcycle pulling up.

In the meantime, when my head connects with my heart and I realize that I'll never get that phone call, or see him walk in the door, I will ache. And I will ache with my whole heart, my whole body, my whole being. And that's ok for now, I think. Because in the meantime, I'll take the ache, and know its there because my dad loved me with us with his whole heart, his whole body, and his whole being.

God, please give us the strength to get through this time. Please help us to hold on to our faith during this time, so that we can begin to heal. Amen.

A little less smile

11 days ... its been 11 days since we lost my dad. Unreal.

At first, my heart was so heavy, it ached so bad that I didn't stop crying for the first 48 hours. I just couldn't believe it ... a man that had loved me my whole life, taken away in less than 5 seconds? A man that taught me life's most essential lessons, shaped me into who I am today, left our world? It couldn't be so.

For the first few days, I tortured myself by thinking of the accident, and how clueless and scared my dad must have been. Everyone assured me that the accident happened too fast for my dad to even be able to respond or think about what was happening. So then I started thinking, great, my dad left this world without even thinking of his family because he had no time to.

THEN, came the viewing and funeral. Those days were a blur. Saying goodbye is never easy, but saying it in the most permanent state, such as death ... God that was devastating. We shouldn't have had to say goodbye to him so early. My dad, so vivacious and full of life, simply gone.

Now the last handful of days, I've been trying to keep myself together, for my husband, for my children, and for my little sisters. My mind isn't wrapping around the fact that I'll never see my dad walk in my door again, or hug my kids again. My mind isn't wrapping around the fact that I'll never hear my dad's voice again, or listen to my husband tell him that the Packers suck and the Seahawks rock. My heart isn't accepting the fact that my dad just isn't here anymore. Even writing those words are weighing my heart down, my head down, my arms down, my hands down.

I've been really attempting to pull myself up, show my kids that their Grandpa taught me how to be a strong person. But when I smile, its half heartedly. When I laugh, it feels empty. I just don't feel whole. I feel like a completely different person than I was 12 days ago.

I know that this new life, a life without my dad, is going to take some getting used to. I realize that there will be different parts to this grieving process, and I understand that my family and I need time to start healing. Although we'll never recover from such a great loss, I have faith that we will become a stronger family because of this.

Before I sign off, a little note -- this loss could have been avoided. This teenage kid, who clearly had no business driving, shouldn't have been on the road. He rocked hundreds of lives, left hundreds of people suffering because of his carelessness. In the last 11 days, I've heard several people mention that motorcycles are dangerous. I've got news for you - motorcycles are not dangerous. Its the other drivers on the road. Yes, motorcycles are harder to see, but that is why as a driver, your job is to look and PAY ATTENTION. There was no reason my dad shouldn't have been spotted, he was driving the speed limit, with his high beams on, on a road where no trees, bushes, or anything else was obstructing the vision of other drivers. Please, PAY ATTENTION. Put down your cell phones or anything else you are looking for before you take the life of another person. You want to drive on a deserted road and put yourself at risk, have at it. But when you are responsible for the lives around you, PAY ATTENTION.

Someone mentioned that anger is a part of the grieving process, so thanks for understanding that last paragraph. I'm Bill's daughter, trust when I say that there is more where that came from.

I will miss this man more than words could ever describe. 

Broken heart.

A week ago today, 10/3/2013, we lost a great man, my dad, Bill Spellman.

Last Thursday morning, my dad got on his motorcycle, like he does every Monday-Friday, and started his 4 mile trip to work. When my dad drank his cup of coffee, smoked his morning cigarette, and put on his shoes to leave, he did not know that all of those actions would be his last. 

12 hours before the accident, Dad was over at our home, celebrating Sophia's 3rd birthday. We made dinner, he played with his grand kids, he hugged them, he watched his only granddaughter open gifts, and he laughed. When we said bye to my dad, we said that we would see him over the weekend. That was our plan.

Less than a mile from his work, a teenage kid ran head on into my dad. The doctors and police say that he died instantly. I quote, "When he arrived at the hospital he had no heartbeat. Since he is so young and strong, we tried for 30 minutes to revive him". They let us see my dad laying on the table in the hospital room where they tried to bring my dad back to life. 

Because of one moment that someone, some teenage kid, was not paying attention while he was driving, our whole lives changed. That one moment, turned several lives upside down. That one moment took away a husband. A daddy. A greatly loved grandpa. A brother. An uncle. A friend. 

That pain .... the pain we all feel, the void that is now a part of all of us, can never be filled. Instead, we try to find comfort in our faith, and in memories. 

Some of my aunts and uncles requested for me to send out the speech I wrote for my dad's viewing this past Monday night. I wrote that speech, at 2 am, when the ache in my heart forced me to write out some words. 

"My dad was my rock. My go-to for advice. My hands for comfort. My voice of reason.

Who was Bill Spellman to you? What do you think when you hear the name ‘Bill Spellman’? I’ll bet you think – Fun. Proud. Dedicated. Strong. Consistent.

My dad was a go-getter. When he wanted something, he put his whole heart into the effort. My husband Nate, one of my dad’s best friends, and I were talking a couple nights ago about how my dad always had projects. “This grass could be greener”, “These shelves could be sturdier”, “These cars could be shinier”. But my dad didn’t make any old project sound like just any old project – he made that project sound like it was about to change his life, like his life’s mission was to complete this project. Dedicated. Any when that task was complete, oh Nate and I heard every detail! Proud. And he tackled life and all that came with it, with the same drive at every turn. Consistent. Passionate.

Tonight we celebrate a gift that God gave to each of us sitting in this room – my dad. My dad’s presence was larger than life. You knew when he was near, and you could feel the void if he wasn’t.

I’m going to miss eagerness for all of the things life had to offer. I’m going to miss his booming laugh. I’m going to miss his bear hugs. I’m going to miss the way he walked, and the way he thought his Obama jokes were hilarious. I already miss and yearn for his phone calls … to hear his voice once more.

But more than anything, I will miss the way my dad loved his family. He always wanted sons, but God challenged him with daughters. He raised us 3 with a lot of fight and hardness, knowing one day he would be called to the Lord, and my sisters and I would continue his legacy. We will kick ass and take names, Bill Spellman style. We will fight for what we believe in, and we will love hard, because we are Bill Spellman’s daughters. And I will gratefully teach and remind my children of what an amazing and loving grandpa they had.

My little William Thomas Spellman will take everything he has learned from his grandpa these last 10 years, and proudly wear that name, just like my dad did. As his first grandson, I know Will is going to keep his gramps’ memory alive – work hard, play hard. Jacob, my dad’s redheaded firecracker of a twin, will help us to remember my dad’s love of life, and the laughter and joy that resided in him. Sophia, grampy’s girl, will remind us of the kind heart and intense love my dad possessed. Andrew will remind us of the spunk and determination that was my dad.

I will miss my dad terribly, no words could ever describe how much, but my dad, my pops, will live on in each one of us. Hold your head high, love hard, and cheer on Notre Dame, because my dad is still with us, watching us, and loving us."

These pictures were taken the night before my dad entered his eternal life... this is how we'll always remember him.

Cuddling with the birthday girl, aka Grampy's Girl

His model face

Saying "cheers" to his girl

Thank you to all of our friends and family who are loving us and supporting us during this tragedy. We could not have made it this last week without you. I know each of you shares in our pain, and I am proud of my dad for making an impact in so many lives.

Forever in our hearts Daddy. 

Our new babysitter

I found this unpublished post, that I wrote in February 2012 (well over a year ago!). I guess I forgot to hit the Publish button! I couldn't just delete it though because the pictures in it are too adorable!

2/25/2012
A couple of weeks ago we bought this sandbox from a family in our neighborhood that was moving. They were selling it for a fraction of the cost of a new one, so I jumped on the purchase. I remembered how much my sisters and I loved our green turtle sandbox when we were wee little ones, and I figured our kids would love it too. - I was right!

The pictures below are from the first day we had it. They sat in it and played for 2 hours, I physically had to drag them out for nap time. For about a week, we had incredibly great weather, mid 70's, sun shining high, clear skies. These kids practically lived in the sandbox! I would leave the back door and windows open, and do housework {or catch up on my DVR shows, same diff}, and I would look out back, and there Jake and Soph were, playing away. Sometimes they would come in and check on me, but otherwise they sat quietly (yes, I said quietly), in the sandbox and played. If they started getting restless, Nate or I would say "Sandbox." and out they'd go. It was lovely.

As I type this, Nate is out back grilling, and the kids are in the sandbox. It's kind of chilly though, so they probably won't be in there for long.

I sighed.

Hakuna Matata.

A phrase that I did not use this last week. Do you know why? My kids. 

Sophia Sophia Sophia. I must say, she's a doll, for real, but what's scary about Sophia is how fearless and quiet she can be. I can honestly say that in all my years of motherhood, I have never truly felt defeated, and on Tuesday, I felt the unmistakable BOOM of defeat. 

Let me just tell my Tuesday story, just for fun-

Tuesday.... oh Tuesday.... I was watching one of my favorite fun sized people, Mr. Wyatt. Wyatt was supposed to be with another friend of ours, but she had to take her son to urgent care because he had a possible broken leg. Anyways, Wyatt, Jake and Soph were playing out back for a while. I was watching them through the window. They had taken off the lid to the worm bin and were ripping worms apart, they dug up a little grass, they played in the clubhouse. They were doing what they normally do. Wyatt walks inside at one point, turns to look at me, and his little right eye is practically swollen shut. I start panicking - 'Did he eat nuts?' 'Did he get stung by a bee?' 'Did a child of mine punch him in the face?'. I call his mom, Jackie, and I say as calmly as I can muster "I don't want to freak you out, but YOUR SON'S EYE IS SWOLLEN SHUT!". In between laughter, Jackie says "Its ok, he's allergic to your cat, just give him benadryl.". 

I don't have benadryl, I have zyrtec. That's fine, it has antihistamines, it'll do the trick. I pop the bottle open, easily fill the medicine syringe since the bottle is almost full. I give Wyatt the medicine, and as he's walking away, I'm following him and checking his breathing (it had sounded funny for a second), and when I turn around, about 2 minutes later, I see Andrew has the bottle of zyrtec tipped back, getting the very last drop that the bottle has. 

$h!%.

I run over and grab the bottle, try to make him vomit, for once he won't, when it hit me - how did he even get the bottle? I start yelling for Soph (she's got the sticky fingers in the family), and when she gets to me, I show her the bottle and ask if she drank it. "Yes mommy its yummy." Perfect. 

I call Carol and ask her, or yell rather, if she can come over (I clearly need help watching these kids). I call Poison Control, who, after a 10 minute discussion, send me to the emergency room, and is calling ahead so we can be seen immediately. I was so frantic on the drive there. Praying that neither Soph nor Andrew ends up in a toxic state, all the time cursing myself for leaving that bottle unattended for 2 whole minutes. 

Long story not as long, they monitored the kids for a couple hours, their vitals were fine, and they released us. Soph slept for like 16 hours that night (I did wake her up to eat dinner, and she played hide'n'seek with her daddy and Jake for a little while). The next day, her and Andrew were fine, as if the day before was just a daymare. 

On Wednesday, we are at the neighbor's house, and I'm telling Chrissy about my ridiculous day the day before. She's laughing (because who doesn't think my life is hilarious?), tells me she's glad she's not me, then takes me into her backyard to show me some new things her husband just put in. She has a pool, with a gate around it, and she opens this child proof gate, because what she is showing me is near the pool. Less than a minute after we walk back there, I hear Jake say "Soph don't do it.", and I hear the tiniest little PLOP. I turn around, and Sophia had jumped onto the pool cover. She didn't fall in, no, she was seeing how far her little 2 year old legs could jump. Chrissy, who is just recovering from a double mastectomy, nearly jumps in after her. You know what I did? I sighed. I sighed, and then I reached in, grabbed her by her tutu, and pulled her out. All the while, she's just staring at me, deciding if I'm going to get mad, and Jake's in the background "Sophia I TOLD you not to do that".

Later Chrissy said to me "I always thought you were being dramatic when you tell me about your kids' disaster stories, but I see you are not!"

No Chrissy, I'm not. I wish I were. Every time I turn around, someone is hurt, someone is sick, someone is causing a ruckus. When I went to bed on Tuesday night, my spirits were down. I was upset with myself, I was feeling a little sorry, very overwhelmed. 

But when I woke up on Wednesday, I felt thankful. I felt blessed. Grateful. Little smiles that morning encouraged me. 

There aren't any 'breaks' in my near future. Between the 4 small angels that God gave me, there won't be any down time. But that's ok. I just give a little sigh, and move on. 

Sophia,

When you are reading this post as an adult, I would like for you to please pick up your phone (or whatever device you use to contact me), call me, and tell me that you love me. Because you, my dear, are my little firecracker, and you keep my anxiety right at the edge, but you are my little goober, and to hear your sweet little voice makes all this chaos worth it <3 font="">

Baby #5...

Is sooo NOT on the way.

Remember this blog where I just kept complaining about being all tired and pregnant? You know what's even crazier than being pregnant with your fourth baby? Actually having the baby and integrating the little bundle of love into your already chaotic family.

This little guy here

is so freakin adorable and my new cuddle bug. He's a nursing baby, so he needs my boobs to eat every couple of hours. He needs his diaper changed more often than I log on to Facebook. He isn't a fan of being awake and not being in someones arms. So needless to say, my sweet, 10 week old baby boy soaks up the majority of my time. *Side-note: He is sitting on my lap doing ab exercises as I write.

But how can that be, you ask? How can that little precious 14 pound baby soak up the majority of my time when I have these other 3 munchkins to take care of?

Yeah, that's where the madness lies.

From the moment I wake up in the morning, I am literally running around getting things for kids. Food, juice cups, diaper changes, fixing electronics, getting Jake to Bowser on the Mario game, wiping butts, "mom mom watch me play this", kissing boo-boos, "mom mom mom watch me jump off of this mountain I made out of the cushions from our $2000 couch", listening to 20 minute long stories that little imaginations have made up. Sometimes I swear I'm losing my mind trying to keep up with everyone's needs!

Of course I love love love being a stay home mommy, my kids will only be this small once. We love going to play groups, walking to the park, going to fun places during the week. I really do love being able to do all of the things I listed above.

My friends and other moms used to say I was super mom. Now they see me with 4, and they say "girl you craaaaazy". Can't say that I blame them. My kids are free spirits. They make the most of life, speak their minds (loudly), run a muck, and enjoy every moment of life. I'm fairly certain people cringe when they find out the Maier crew is going to be at the same place as them. Again, can't blame 'em!

Adding little Andrew into our family feels natural. It is, though, very exhausting to have a new baby in the house. I'm home all day, so the second Nate walks in the door, my body literally shivers with relief that I will have a set of extra arms. Poor Nate though, he's worked all day, and I'm sure his body shakes at the thought of walking in the door. A couple nights ago Nate looked at me and said "We can't have any more babies. I am completely exhausted." It was funny to hear him say that, because even on the most difficult days, he's never said that. And the night he said it, our kids were being good!

At night as I lay in bed, I say my prayers. This is pretty much what it sounds like nowadays:
"Dear God, thank you for my beautiful and healthy children, and amazing husband. And thank you for helping to keep my mental state intact. Amen."

Let the complaining commence!

My best friend Jocelyn brought to my attention last week that she missed my blogs, and therefore feels like she's missing out on some of my life. I told her that I'm too grumpy to blog. She told me that it'd be OK to change the content of the blog to My Daily Grievances, and once I'm no longer pregnant, can reinstate Chaotic Bliss. I'm down with that. So let the complaning commence:

Today I am 36 weeks pregnant. I sigh as I type that.

I'm guessing that because this is my 4th pregnancy (third in the last 4 years), I'm just over it. I love the outcome (obviously), but the actual journey to bringing my beautiful child into the world is just exhausting. Call me crazy, but I don't really enjoy my excruciating back pains, shortness of breath, braxton hicks, pelvic pains, or swollen ankles.

I'm at the point where I watch people do every day things, and I get jealous. Like 'look how Nate just bent down and tied his shoes without it taking his breath away, and/or manuvering in a way so that he can reach around his beach ball belly'. 'Look how Will just picked up that napkin that fell without making all kinds of weird noises'. 'Look how Jake quickly bent down to grab that toy'. 'Look at little Sophia, she just climbed the stairs with a smile on her face'.  These are serious thoughts people! I miss getting off the couch without losing my breath. I miss doing the dishes (keep reading, don't get crazy) without my belly ending up soaking wet because I'm pushing it into the counter so that I can even reach the dishes in the sink. I miss not having my full lung capacity. I miss cuddling with my kids. I miss eating a meal without heartburn. Ha, I miss drinking WATER without getting heartburn (thank you Costco for your giant sized tub of Tums).

I feel a tad guilty voicing my complaints. It is what it is though. I'm a mom of 3, life is exhausting enough, and it gets even more so when my body can't keep up with my life. I love that little Andrew is growing and his body continues to get what it needs before his big debut. And it is amazing to feel his movements, and his kicks and jabs (that currently hurt like hell since he's about 6 pounds and 18.5 inches long). I think pregnancy in all is a beautiful thing. But sometimes, a girl's gotta complain :)

I really don't think that I'll miss being pregnant (what gave that away?), with that being said, my doctor informed me last week that I can get induced on May 29 (3 weeks from tomorrow) if I happen to still be pregnant (please dear God, let the baby come before then).

Here's how Soph has had to adapt in order to cuddle with her mommy:

Since I've been sitting here writing this, my back is throbbing from sitting upright for so long, and I'm breathing like a fat man who's walked 10 miles in the desert heat.

xoxo,
Sher

Poppity Pop Pop Pop! Popcorn.

When your family has a movie night, and popcorn needs to be made, how do you make it?

When I was growing up, we walked to the pantry, pulled out a bag of popcorn, stuck it in the microwave, hit the Popcorn button, and watched the bag grow. I could probably teach Jake how to do it.

But thats not how we roll anymore. We buy kernels Costco style, and Nathan stands at the stove and heats up oil or something, throws the kernels in, and then on the side, makes his own garlic butter stuff. I don't know how to do it, obviously. Nate says that I need to learn, but I like that he is the only one who knows how to do it, because then when the kids (mostly Jake) ask for popcorn, daddy has to do it because mommy doesn't know how to :)

I actually really like to watch Nate make the popcorn and watch the kids check out the process. I remember when Will was 2 and Nate would make popcorn with him. Kind of makes my heart warm and tingly.

On a side note, once the popcorn is made, Nate pours out 2 big bowls. One is for him, the other one is for the other 4 of us to share. Just sayin.

Last night Nate made popcorn while we were watching Water for Elephants, and I was super nauseous, so I didn't end up eating my (small) bowl. This morning I came downstairs a few minutes after Nate and the little kids, and I soon found that little popcorn scavengers found the bowl that I didn't eat.

Caught!

Breakfast of champs :)

Cotton candy skies

When people find out that we live in Vegas, we get so many comments and questions, like "I wouldn't want to raise a family in Vegas." "Are you on the strip often?" "How is it living there with all the gambling?".

I'm not going to lie when I say I ABSOLUTELY HATE the billboards our city puts up. Nearly naked girls up everywhere, alcohol and sex references on almost every billboard you drive by. I can ignore that stuff, but you know who can't? My 8 year old. Will has started asking questions about the meanings on these billboards, and I cringe every time. The fact that we have slot machines in our gas stations and grocery stores doesn't really bother me. Its the damn billboards.

BUT, if we can avoid taking any freeway ever, Vegas isn't too bad of a city. We stay on our side of town, so our kids never really go into casinos (some have movie theatres, so sometimes we have to walk through the casino to get to the theatre, which is super rare). We live in an incredibly gorgeous part of town. People complain about the school system, but I can't complain because we have had nothing but positive things to say about Will's schools. The fall and spring weather here is amazing, and there is SO much fun to be had in the summer time!

One of the best things about Las Vegas are the sunsets. Now, its not like this every night, but most nights the sunset is pink and orange, and completely stunning. I was sitting on the couch last week with the kids, and I looked out back, and all I saw was pink. The garage was tinted pink, the patio furniture was tinted pink, the air was pink! The kids and I ran to the front door to check out the sunset, and what we saw was breathtaking! Not gonna lie, I thought that the ozone layer was stripped open and everything was going to be sucked into space. An apocalypse of some kind. But nope. It was just nature at its best.

These pictures just don't do the sky any justice. Even Will and Jake were like "oooooo". When I logged into Facebook later that evening, I saw about 15 different pictures of the sky from different views around the valley. It was pretty neat :)

Daddy's Apple Pie Taster

These are the things I have learned about the people from Seattle: 1) everyone has a garden, no matter what state they end up residing in, 2) they love to make and eat pies, 3) they are extremely environmentally conscience (good job guys!).

We recycle in this house, and we are actually extremely good about it. Las Vegas has made recycling very easy - they give you 2 BIG bins. One is all black, that's where trash goes. The other has a blue lid, and you dump ALL recycables in it. You don't even need to sort through paper/glass/plastic anymore. Easy peasy. {For those of you from LV who are reading this and do not recycle, shame shame shame.}

However, you know my husband is from Seattle because he loves to garden (that sounds kind of girly...hmm... he loves 'yardwork'), and he is the best pie maker EVER! Well, apple pies, but still. The pie literally makes melts in your mouth, it is sooo delish!

He made some apple pies a couple weeks ago, but this time was different - he had a helper :) And his little helper stood there the ENTIRE time daddy worked. It was so dang adorable, I could hardly stand it!

Will isn't a fan of any pie except for pumpkin pie, so the next morning, I got this note on the fridge: