Monday, December 24, 2007


Me: First we need to put the dishes away, wrap the baby's Christmas presents and find out what time Church is.

Not the Momma: 49 degrees.

Me: ?? I said (using American Sign Language as well as English), find out what time Church is. Not find out what the temperature is.

Not the Momma: Oh. I wondered why you wanted to know what the temperature was.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

We're Here. We're Alive.

What a trip. We got here, and although we're alive, we're not necessarily sane after listening to Little Monster whine and squeal for three and a half days straight. We are waiting on housing because some dork on some foreign country didn't include a piece of paper in the husband's paperwork. Nice, huh? I just hope we get into the house we wanted, without issue. It seems to me that the priorities that are supposed to be in place, aren't really there, but oh well. For now, we have a home, even if it is on wheels. We are in a nice place, and though it is chilly at night, it is not by any means cold. I will be back later to talk more about our trip across country, but for now I must rest. I just didn't want my readers to think that we'd gone too far west and driven into the Pacific.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Learning Explosion?

For some reason I had the impression that children learned things gradually through exploration and observation. Except that for some reason, Little Monster has suddenly learned all kinds of things, EVERYTHING. The amount of sudden "understanding" is amazing! The other day he performed his new trick of "Where's the ear, where's the nose." Today. Today the dogs ducked, because our socks were knocked so hard that they went flying across the room. Why?

Grami: "LittleMonster, why don't you let me change your pants?"
Little Monster, who is playing with his music table, looks up.
Grami: "Go get me a diaper and bring it here so that I can change your diaper."
Little Monster leaves his most beloved of music tables where he is rocking out to the tunes of "Jimmy Cracked Corn" and the "ABC's." Begins to walk towards the area where his toybox and diapers are kept.
Grami & I share a look that says "If he actually does that it's going to knock my socks off."
Little Monster goes over, and digs in diaper box. Pulls. Out. A. Diaper.
Another look is shared between Grami & I. We take off our shoes so that no one is injured *just in case* he actually follows the directions.
Grami: "Little Monster, bring me your diaper. I'll change your pants."

And then it happened. It's a good thing we removed shoes. Windows could have been broken from the force of the flying socks.. and that would have let all of the snow in.

Yes, he brought the diaper to my mother. Then let her change him without making a fuss.

I think I'm too easy on that kid. If he can do that, shouldn't he be able to fix his own food? What about let the dogs out? Can he pack the boxes and supervise the movers? If he can do that, he should be able to go to the store and get his own milk. Because it's snowing. and it's cold. And my Passat doesn't like to be taken out of the garage in all of that cold. And if that's the case, I might be able to get some work done around here.

For my fallen neighbors

I am having a hard time wrapping my head around what went on in Omaha yesterday. When the news blurb came on the radio, interrupting the Christmas music dance section with Little Monster, we thought it had happened somewhere else. It always happens somewhere else. But when they said "Westroads" a sick feeling erupted in my stomach. Fun Christmas dancing was over. We turned on the news and heard about the sad events that had taken place. This is the second deadliest shooting spree in Nebraska. The deadliest in such a short period of time. The worst shooting spree was spread over a few days. I know people say it whenever something like this happen, but people, things like this just don't happen here. I will not publish the name of the killer, because I don't want him to be famous. That's what he wanted. Some of his last words. My mother and I were talking about the number of victims today. The number is so close to the deadliest, that we think perhaps he was counting. He'd done his research and knew what it would take to get him a place in the history books as the shooter in Nebraska's deadliest shooting spree. He fell short (thank God), but enough people were injured that perhaps he thought he had done the job.

It was a very scary day for all of us in southeast Nebraska and western Iowa. I was grateful for the move I am in the midst of. Thankful that work has been so busy that I haven't had time to edit the 30 blog posts I have saved on my computer. Thankful that I had something to do besides sit around think about what had happened. This area of the country is very close-knit. Omaha is less than an hour from here. I go there often because they have the nearest military base. It is basically home. I was at that mall a few weeks ago. We entered and exited through Von Maur. As I end this, I don't want to focus on the person who committed the crime. I want to focus on my neighbors. Because as the days go by people will talk and we will find out how we are connected to our neighbors that were witnesses and our neighbors who became victims:

Gary Scharf, a 48 year old man is from Lincoln. The same town I'm from.
John McDonald was shopping with his wife. His life was cut short. 48 years old.
Angie Schuster was only 36 years old.
Maggie Webb was 24 years old. She had barely begun to live!
Janet Jorgensen was 66 years old an was an employee at Von Maur.
Dianne Trent, 53, was also an employee.
Gary Joy, another employee was 56.
Beverly Flynn was 47. She worked part-time wrapping gifts, probably so she could get some"extra" gifts for her three children.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Amazing, Truly Amazing.

Tonight Little Monster was running around, like he always does: getting into everything, throwing newspapers around, chasing the dogs, etc. He bent down at one point, touching his toes, which led me to make up a little impromptu song: Touch your toes, la la la, touch your nose. His response: He. put. his. finger. ON. HIS. NOSE. Maybe this makes me a bad mom, but I had NO idea he would actually listen to the words of the song and then follow the directions... correctly. I was floored. After we cheered his ability to follow those directions (and partially to get his finger OUT of his nose) I added to the song "Touch your ear." He did that as well. He had done that a few days ago, but I thought for sure it had been a fluke. He refused to show us his ear again until tonight. In one moment, I realized how stupid I've been for underestimating how much Little Monster actually understands.

This motherhood thing, it's amazing. How can one job make you feel like the biggest idiot that ever walked the face of the planet, entertain you with such simple things and at the same time make you feel like the most important, most loved person ever. Ever. I love it. It's amazing. Truly Amazing.

Temper Tantrums?

When I took the baby to the doctor, a nurse said "He might begin throwing temper tantrums now." I laughed, because I honestly thought I had experienced Little Monster's temper tantrums. Oh, how wrong was I. I now believe that until that moment, he didn't know he could throw temper tantrums. He heard her say that, took it to heart and began practicing the art of throwing temper tantrums immediately. After watching him the past few days, I'm sure he is still perfecting the art of throwing himself to the floor and screaming a sound so shrill that only dogs can hear. Its no wonder the poor creatures have been running around looking like they are going to throw up. They think they are being summoned by some new sort of satanic dog whistle.

That very afternoon, he got on the floor, grabbed both of my ankles, one with each arm and proceeded to scream and cry when I took something away from him (even though I said please and thank-you), thus beginning the "temper tantrum" stage. He hadn't quite perfected the art of getting to the floor. Initially it was more of a squat, kneel, then lie down. The "landing" has gotten a bit more dramatic in the past few days and now is becoming more of one fluid motion, rather than several awkward steps.

My biggest concern: If he doesn't have the "landing" perfected, is he still working on that scream too? If that scream gets any shriller, any louder, I'm worried that some nuclear missile in some silo somewhere out here in the Midwest is accidentally going to go off. Car alarms all over the city will ring out. If he can make that scream better, I'm doing what the dude at Faslane told me to do if the Nuke siren went off "Go to one of the buildings listed on this card and take cover... but what I really mean is pitch it and run."

All to help out a lover of Chocolate

I mispelled ferrero rocher as ferrot rochet in this post. I didn't even care. So, person who was looking for the nutrition information, here is a better link to that:

You're welcome.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Moving Mayhem.

Tonight at 6:30PM I had the following telephone conversation:

Me: Hello?
caller: Hi I'm *name* from Moving Company B. I'm calling about the packing you have scheduled for tomorrow.
Me: No. I don't have packing scheduled for tomorrow, I have packing scheduled for Thursday. Who are you with again?
caller: Company B. We're calling on behalf of Company C.
Me: I do NOT have any idea who you are or who Company C is.
caller: I'm going to make a call and check into that.

Why is that a problem? We have a pack-out scheduled with Company A. I called Company A to let them know about the mystery telephone call from a company I'd never heard of calling for a company I'd never heard of. I have been dealing with Company A since we first filed paperwork. Company A is the company the military told me would contact me. They didn't know why Company B would call me, but they did know that they were a legit moving firm that often worked with the military. What is going on? I don't know. The military liaison at Company A is supposed to call me back "first thing in the morning." I am not sure if this is a scam, or what, but calling someone at 6:30 really sucks, because everyone else has gone home. There was no way I could call anyone to confirm anything if I wanted to. Even though the person I talked to at Company A did tell me that Company B does a lot of military moves, I'd never heard of them, they are not who the military told me would be handling the move, nor was the company they had mentioned. Two companies, neither of which I know anything about, neither of which I have heard of. Needless to say, I'm a bit on edge about the possibility that someone is going to come pack our stuff and relocate it... somewhere other than where its real destination should be. Not to mention the fact that they're coming in TWO days to pack and no one seems to know what anyone else is doing.

Want to know the next wonderful thing I found out? Even though I had a conversation with the gal at Company A two weeks ago about how it would only take one day to pack everything, and they were going to do that Thursday, we are scheduled to have a pack-out on Wednesday and Thursday. I am not ready for a pack out. I could be ready by Wednesday, but that's pushing it. Not to mention that I had to ask for someone to come help watch the baby so that I can properly supervise the pack/inventory that needs to go on. I don't have anyone to watch the baby Wednesday. It's about 30 degrees outside, so I can't even let him play in or around where we'll be packing in the garage. What a MESS! At least I don't have to re-pack most of this stuff myself.

Yes, when you are in the military, they pay for the movers to actually do the packing for you. After all, you move A LOT. --My husband and I have moved six times. We moved in together(we moved ourselves this time). Six months later stationed in RI. Six months later stationed in VA. Six months later, we bought a house (Another one we did ourselves). 2 1/2 years later, we packed everything we owned into a POD and the back of the truck and shipped me home to Nebraska. -- The packing is nice, but it isn't like you can just keep on living, and have them pack. You have to get everything ready. They won't actually unplug anything, they won't take hazardous chemicals, etc. for obvious reasons, etc. Silly things that you think would be fine, but sometimes can be a hassle. Then, you have to consider how long it will actually take to get your stuff back. In our case this time, we don't know exactly where we're going to live. We'll probably end up in housing, but maybe not. So, we have to have enough stuff to get us through the week between pack out and leaving here, the travel from here to California, and the weeks we'll spend running around Salinas arguing about why I don't want to live 30 miles away from where Not the Momma works, arguing about why it wouldn't be responsible to buy a foreclosure and renovate it waiting to get into housing. Then there's the wait for the people to get off their duffs and bring us our stuff. There's a ton of politics and rules involved in that whole mess too.

To top it off, while I was carrying a box -- our big Dell box -- I fell onto a cement anchor with two one-foot pieces of rebar sticking out of them in the garage. This is only one of the souvenirs from that. I am pretty much bruised or scratched from the hemline of an immodest mini-skirt down to my knees on both legs, and down to the sock line on my right leg. That pic is from my right back thigh... About 4 or 5 inches below my derriere. The "plus" looking sign in the midst of it? I'm assuming that's what it looks like when bone stops rebar. That is how far the rebar actually jammed into my leg. It's probably a good 3 or 4 inch diameter bruise. It hurts badly enough that I can't put pressure on it when I sit down. I must look pretty funny because when I sit I try to lean a bit to the right but any time I try to cross my legs I mash a bruise on my thigh or my shin. That usually leads to some fun noises and commentary. Hopefully the baby doesn't start copying those words.

As if the moving, and the bruises and all of that aren't stress enough? I just had to register both of our vehicles, I have a to-do list about two weeks long, and three days to get it done... AND Not the Momma is coming home. He'll be home sometime Saturday (only 4 1/2 more days! DID YOU HEAR ME 4 1/2 DAYS!). Hopefully. If everyone actually does their job which, well, let's just say I'd bet they'll hear me scream 7000 miles away if someone screws this up and he doesn't get home Saturday. I'm really excited about that, but there's a bit of anxiety involved with that too. We haven't actually lived together for over 18 months. The last time we lived together it was in our own home and I was pregnant.. only sort of showing at about 19 weeks. Things have changed a bit, and that reunion, while it will be wonderful, is also a bit scary too... But that's a post for another day. Oh, did I tell you that I'll be kissing Not the Momma in 4 1/2 days? I'm not excited. Not at all. I just will be hugging and seeing and talking to Not the Momma in person in 4 1/2 days. And he'll be home for a little over two years... in 4 1/2 days.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Indeed, it has come to this.

This, being that I have found so many fun and interesting blogs to read, that my favorite links are overwhelming. I wish I had the time, money and drive to buy my own domain. Then, I could have my own link page. That would be nice. I guess I could link to my old angelfire page or something! But then, I would have to learn HTML all over again. Wait a second. I'm getting confused, so I'm sure you are. But then again, it could be the wine. Let me start over.

It has come to this: I have so many sites I love to visit (I'm sorry I haven't updated my blogroll in my sidebar lately... It's a lot of work) that I have decided to use... a reader. Google has made it easy, though, and though it doesn't always work the way I would like it, it works often enough for me to think it's freakin' awesome! How many nights have I spent clicking down my list of sites, only to find that the author hasn't posted for the day. It's kinda like TiVo for blogs. I don't have to waste time clicking through if there hasn't been a post, or watch commercials. I know, I'm behind the times here. Hopefully (and this is sort of a test) I've gotten the whole thing figured out enough that I can have my blog fed right into BlogHer, so I don't have to go in and post there too.

I used to be opposed to readers, because, as a blogger, I like to know who is reading my site. I do collect stats for my site, so I can kind of guess who is reading, etc. Especially important considering what Not the Momma does for a living. That, and it sort of skews your stats. My poor friends (you won't wonder anymore) are probably wondering where I've been the past two days, because I haven't "acutally" visited your sites. (Don't worry, I'm still reading!) The best thing is that because I'm not clicking through so many sites only to be disappointed that other people have lives outside of the internet and the warm glow of their computer monitor that they haven't updated their site yet. (Nope, not now either. Still haven't. ) I love that all this free time means I have time to comment when my friends post, because I don't have to wonder if this blog or that blog has a new post. It means I can share that much more love. But I'm the kind of freak that is just going to end up adding a bazillion more blogs to my reader, putting me into the same situation I just got out of.

It's a serious addiction, these blogs. I have no idea what I am going to do in two weeks, when we head for the wild and untamed west. I won't have internet access --I actually had to stop typing just then to mourn the loss of all of that instant gratification -- at least not consistent, reliable internet for a while. I am still trying to convince Not the Momma that we can't go back to dial-up. That's crazy, right? I mean dial-up? Do people still use dial up? I'm totally blaming the need for high-speed internet on the design work I do from home. I can't very well email those photoshop files with dial-up. yuck! This addiction, though, it's serious. Really serious. I get all antsy when I don't know what Chuck and Leta and Heather and Jon are up to. I mean, how can I get through the day, when I don't know what funny things have been piled on that dog's head? But it's much much worse than that. I have given up...(I'm ashamed to say it) Grey's Anatomy. Well, not given up, but just kind of.. forgotten to watch it. It has a teeny bit to do with the loss of Isaiah Washington, and a LOT to do with the introduction of Brooke Smith as Dr. Hahn. Not that I don't like Brooke Smith, more that I don't like Dr. Hahn yet. I wonder if it is something subconsious, having to do with the fact that she was Catherine Martin, the girl trapped in the pit of Buffalo Bill's house.

At any rate, two major changes for me in the past few months and many, many many more to follow.