Paradise Top Ten

... Testing, Testing... (tap, tap) is this thing on?



I feel like I need to get a broom to sweep the cobwebs from this place. Hawaii is most certainly a wonderful place to live. When I am not at church or homeschooling, we are outside, so it has been hard to eke out time to spend blogging. I feel like I've been a bit narcissistic about it in the past.



The top 10 things we LOVE about Hawaii...



10. Pineapple Ice Cream. Really, it's Dole Whip. And anything else they serve food-wise at the Dole Pineapple farms. We have been several times and have skipped the tourist stuff most of them. We show up just to eat!

9. The Jeep. We bought a jeep when we got here. It is bright yellow, like the sun, and we love to just drive in it. The wind blows in our hair and we get to really FEEL the warm sunny weather!



8. The things to do. Since we've been here, we've visited the zoo, some of the local museums, the SWAP Meet, (a great place to get hawaiian souveniers), hit several of the beaches, and malls.



7. Where we live. We live on base, near the commissary, in a wonderful new townhome with lots of space. We live on a street full of kids the same age as the babies in this family. We used to live in a different community, a bit further from the commissary, with quite the drive home from base for Daddy... However, there were lots of good things about that area. We had a view of the water, were less than a block from the pool, and had lots of friends to play with there too. I will never forget the first night that we arrived, we slept with the windows open, and when morning came, the birds were singing. It was such an amazing sound, those tropical birds (pigeons mostly!) issuing me a wake up call.



6. Security. Not just living on base, but living in Hawaii has really made me feel safe. There is almost no crime here. Our jeep doesn't even have doors or windows because no one really bothers much. There are your typical "stay out of here neighborhoods" and such, but even then, they just aren't as bad as most populous areas in the country.



5. Kid Activities. Little Monster has been involved in Kempo Karate here, which has been amazing for improving his focus and discipline. He LOVES going, even more now that he has achieved yellow belt. Both of the kiddos have been attending Leahi Swim School. That place is amazing. The water is warm, the kids both have turned into practical fish. The teachers there really treat you like family. And the kids have learned how to swim amazingly well! Butterball is swimming like a fish, and amazes people with how well she just hops into the water. And I honestly think it is thanks to this swim school!

4.The Beaches. There are beaches everywhere. And one right near our house here on base. The waves are small, and it is rarely busy on a weekday. The water is so clear that you can see further than you should. Little Monster even learned to snorkel recently so that he could see the sea life that hangs out under the water. He is fascinated by the fish, turtles, and everything else at the beach. But mostly, both kids love making sand castles.

3. The scenery. You drive out of the neighborhood and you can see green, fabulous mountains on two sides of you. Turn around and there is the ocean. Deep and wide in all it's majesty. There really is a rainforest here, and you can surely smell it in the air. We have seen a rainbow at least once a week for the past year. I can't get over how beautiful they are, and how often we see them. They aren't the faded, barely visible rainbows I remember as a kid. They are bold, bright, and often have a reflection creating a "double rainbow" effect. When we finally do leave this island, I will be very sad that it will not be as easy to chase that pot of gold as it is here. The kids love the rainbows too, and often fight over who the rainbow belongs to.

2. The Weather. Need I say more? There is a reason why people make fun of those of us who get used to Hawaii weather. Because any temperature below 78 is "brr, cold!" and anything above 82 is scorching HOT! It rains a lot since we are within the tropic of cancer, but most of the time you can find a sunny spot somewhere on this island.... and usually it's by a beach. The rain usually doesn't last long, though!

1. The People. We've made some fantastic friends here. And that is no different than any other place we've lived. But mostly, the people here, really do share the honest "aloha" spirit. I have felt more welcome here as a military family than I have anywhere else in the country. Maybe because it's obvious I'm not a local, so my expectations were different? I have been but a few places that didn't offer a military discount while we've been here. Most of the people on the island share a faith that amazes me. The people here on this island are worth writing home about.

tap, tap... testing?

Is this thing on?

Has it really been a year? I guess we've just been busy enjoying paradise and I haven't had much time to write.

Stay tuned.

Maybe. I think I hear the beach calling....

My heart is aching...

Thursday was a rough day. Nothing seemed to go the way I wanted it to. I put the kids to bed early and was relishing some time watching some TV I had taped while doing some work on the computer and enjoying a delicious sushi dinner. I spent a few minutes wallowing in the long hard day that I'd had. Children who didn't nap, taxes that took to long to complete and to top it off, cleaning up a bunch of poop. I realized how blessed I was that after such a rough day the kids had gone to bed early. I was heading there myself.

And then it happened. My day got worse. Very quickly. The news of the 7.9 quake in Japan (which was quickly elevated to 8.9) was bad enough. Watching the devastation and the fear and imminent deaths there broke my heart. But a large earthquake like that means a lot more to me now that it affects me personally. An earthquake that size most definitely means a Tsunami is likely. And considering that I can see the water from my living room window, I couldn't spend a lot of time sitting around and doing nothing.

That brings me to another reason why being a military family is different from being a normal civilian family. When you grow up in Nebraska, you hear the civil defense sirens and know that a tornado is threatening your county. That is, unless it happened to be 10:00 AM on Wednesday. When you're a military family and you move thousands of miles, the shortlist of natural disasters changes with each move. The ones you're used to really don't apply in each place. On the east coast you worry about hurricanes. The west coast has wildfires and earthquakes. And apparently, an island in the middle of the pacific has issues with volcanoes, sulfur dioxide air, and the aftermath of major earthquakes all along the ring of fire - Tsunamis. The thing is that when you grow up in an area you learn to stop being afraid of the natural disasters that are common in your area. You get used to the sirens, warnings and know that you're relatively safe even if the disaster threatens to strike. But when you move to new areas, you have to learn to cope with new, scary things that you aren't used to.

I am truly, TRULY blessed to live in a very close-knit community. We all watch out for each other's children and talk almost daily. If we don't see someone for a while, we check to ensure that things are okay. And because of this, even when my best friend is thousands of miles away, I have people I can lean on. People who have in just a few short months have become family. And so, when the earthquake hit in Japan, the word was passed quickly throughout the neighborhood. We all know that earthquakes, though far away can directly impact our area. When the tsunami watch was issued, we all talked and knew that should it become a warning, we would go somewhere together. When civil defense said it was "highly likely" the watch was going to become a warning, we had decided to get ready. So that if it became a warning we would be able to leave ahead of everyone else and avoid traffic. So, fifteen minutes before the first siren, we were already packing up, planning to go somewhere together, in the middle of the night, with all of our children. And when the siren sounded we were already well on our way to seeking safety.

My heart is aching for those in Japan who are dealing with the tragedy. But my heart is also aching with gratitude for a Great God who helped to place my family in this home. Aching with love for my neighbors who have stepped in to watch my children when others had to be rushed to the emergency room. We may not live in a brand new house, but we have a roof, walls and plenty of room. We have a view of the water in a wonderful area of the world where the weather is almost always amazing. We have friends for the kids to play with (and get hurt with). We have block pot-lucks and birthday parties. We have a community that is hard to find. So it was with great relief that Friday morning, when the all-clear was sounded that we returned to our homes. But the relief was not because our houses and our things were in tact, it was because our neighborhood family was.

Apple TV. Seriously?!

Have you heard about this thing? I was very skeptical. Any time Daddy comes home with some new-fangled gadget, I want to know how much it costs and why we really need it. (I'm not sure exactly when I went from being excited about the new gadgets to exasperated. I am not sure I'm happy about this shift, either.)

Then, my sister sent me a YouTube video of my sweet baby nephew Bear. Oh, how I miss those CHUNKY, chunky thighs. His solid frame, and his sweet contagious smile. I watched the video on my phone. And then I thought I should watch it on a bigger screen. My iPad! I was watching it when Little Monster came around and wanted to know what I was watching. And why did that sound like Auntie on the iPad?!

I noticed this little odd thing on the bottom of the screen and clicked it. And it gave me an option for watching the video on Apple TV. After only a few minutes of input juggling, there was Bear! Bigger than life Bear! Being the goof that he is on the big TV. Monkey and Monster just sat and watched Bear over and over.

And now I find myself anxiously awaiting the newest Bear video to be uploaded. I haven't seen a new one in a long time. Despite the fact that I've posted a few videos of Monkey and Monster since then. But you know sisters. They are busy. Oh, and they are in the mid-west and trying to dig out from about a gazillion feet of snow. I guess I'll give her a break.

But what I was originally trying to say is that Apple TV -- it's totally sold on me. I love watching Bear on the Big Screen! And now that Daddy is busy, I'm sure the kids are going to love watching him read good night books there too!

And so it goes...

Or rather he...

Daddy has returned to the daily grind of sea duty, and with that the return to a lonely life of being a married single parent. We have been truly blessed and spoiled in the past few years having him home every night, in time for dinner too!

My lack of blogging here hasn't had anything to do with anything other than a lack of time to sit and do it while the children are quiet. I have continued to blog. In my brain. As I am vacuuming or preparing breakfast, folding laundry and going about my daily tasks blog posts arrive in my head. But I haven't been putting down the vacuum, waffles, or towels in order to blog at all.

Turns out, when you do that your house stays clean longer than thirty minutes. It might also have something to do with our wonderful neighborhood in which at 3:00 in the afternoon the children are set free while the adults chat and supervise the chaos. It isn't chaos. That isn't fair. There are many days where the children play in orderly groups in their games. They organize duck duck goose, hide and seek, some sort of medieval knight game that involves foam swords, shields and bicycles, and a myriad of other things. Some days, though, they look like a bunch of free electrons buzzing around the street and the cul-de-sac.

I can't believe how blessed we are to have such a wonderful place to live, with wonderful neighbors and the opportunity to enjoy it all -- even if Daddy isn't here to enjoy it with us.

We made it!

It may have been by the skin of our teeth, seconds before the planes were stopped for wind and snow. Or maybe it only seemed that way as we were leaving as the temperature dropped and the winds picked up. But after 12 hours on an airplane, no one getting to nap, and a 70 degree temperature shift, we all arrived in paradise on schedule.

Daddy was there to pick us up, and take us to our new home. I was a bit worried about the house, but quickly learned to have more faith in Daddy's ability to get something I'll like. We are all on one level, in a gated community, a block from the pool and shaded with Plumeria trees. I love that I can hear birds singing and kids playing outside, rather than the freeway which is close to many of the other housing communities available to us, and we are pretty central on the island.

It has been a few weeks, but we are getting settled. We are missing lots of old friends but excited for the possibilities that lay before us as we begin to make new friendships and discover the things that are going on out here in the middle of the ocean.

We arrived in the middle of the rainy season, so we've seen lots of monsoon type rain, with a few sun breaks, but I am having a hard time complaining when the East coast is buried under feet of snow and it's 80+ degrees here.

I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and wish you a Happy and Blessed New Year!

And it begins!

This weekend I will be dragging my children halfway around the world to our new home in paradise island. Where I have been told that the cockroaches are the size of rats and the geckos are smaller than the mice and are all over your house pooping on your window sills.

But as we are leaving tomorrow, likely in freezing rain and snow, I'll be grateful to be headed somewhere where the definition of "cold" is still at least thirty degrees above the freezing mark.

That is, of course if I can get through TSA without some sort of craziness. And if the plane takes off despite the freezing rain and snow. And if our connecting flight from Denver leaves.

I didn't think I'd be so sad to leave Nebraska in the middle of December for somewhere tropical. But Little Monster has a knack of finding good friends with wonderful mommies. And we've had a good time spending our short time with them.

My next post will be from somewhere greener and warmer friends!

It's about the little stuff...

I was truly blessed today to spend the afternoon with a friend.

Little Monster has been talking about spending some time with his friend who lives in Frank forever. Every since he started at this preschool, he has been asking to spend the afternoon with him. As in, asking every day. So, when I met his mom last week at a field trip, I was ecstatic when we planned a play date for the boys.

Today was the much anticipated day. We marked it on the calendar, a big old E right on today. This morning there was no argument about why he couldn't wear his pajamas all day. There was less argument about getting shoes on and getting in the car.

We met at a local fast food joint with a play land and followed up at "Frank's" house. The kids had a great time. There were sword fights, a few punches over lights being turned off or on. One big crash sound that ended up being nothing and a bathroom and Little Monster covered in poo. A tiny baby boy cooed and nursed while Butterball tried to be his mommy. I think that I enjoyed my afternoon (except for the poop incident) as much as Little Monster did. Frank's mom is a sweet, sweet woman who amazes me. And I am sad that I won't get to know her more.

I love when afternoons turn out as nice as this one did and can't wait for the next one.

The spanking girl

Before I tell you this story, I must preface it with the fact that Little Monster is every bit a four year old boy. He talks. And talks. And talks. The other night while with my mom the child talked for five and a half hours. Without a break. Without a pause for someone to answer the billions of questions he was asking. He just talked. It wouldn't be so bad if the child would use some punctuation when he spoke - -but often one sentence just rambles into another. Sometimes he forgets spaces for his wordsandtheyendupsoundingmuchlikethislooks.

I know. You all think, eh. Typical four year old. I'm not sure. I think he talks more than most four year olds, but maybe that's because I'm with him constantly.

By the end of the night, my mom and I just stared at each other, mouths agape in horror at the fact that he hadn't passed out from lack of oxygen. And then he went to bed and I watched Elf. It's not a masterpiece of the arts by any means, but after the day I'd had with Little Monster, it was downright hilarious in parts. Elf was Little Monster. Little Monster was Elf.

But now we need to get back to the original story. This evening it happened again. Non-stop talking. Running up and down the aisles at Michael's, while bouncing all over the place. I'd put him in "time-out" touching the cart, but it wasn't working. My patience was getting worn out. As we were in line checking out, he started to act up again. (Act up is probably a bit harsh. He was really just being a bit loud and asking questions I was too tired to answer and I didn't want to sound like a grouch around all of the other people in line). I didn't have much left for it. He had worn me out during the day with all "his friend who lives in Frank in the white house, and to get there you turn left and left then right and can we go over to his house after school his telephone number is 4" talk.

So, as we were standing there, and was tempted to issue an empty threat for a spanking, it came out of my mouth without thinking.

Little Monster. Did you know that there is a lady who spanks naughty kids in stores?

What? There was. That one lady. That one time. You don't remember?? Read This. Yeah, see. I didn't lie.

I thought it might squelch the very minor attitude and get him to be quiet for a minute. I was wrong. It just brought on more questions.

Mom, that girl that spanks naughty kids -- where is she?

I don't know. She could be anywhere! (Now I know she WAS in Ohio, but I don't know where she is right now.)

Mom is she here now?

I don't know honey.

MOOOooom. You're just joking. Right?!

Cue the guy who is standing in front of me with his young wife (who is giggling uncontrollably).

"No! I've heard about her!!"

At that moment you could see all of the color drain out of poor Little Monster's face as his jaw dropped down. We all stood around discussing whether it was possible if she was in the store the poor kid started to get scared. That some mythical woman might jump out between the checkout lanes and swap him in the butt for being naughty in the yarn section of Michael's. And the more we talked about it, the harder it was to contain my seriousness. The lady in front of us (young wife) was crying she was laughing so hard. She literally HID her face in her coat at one point because she didn't want to ruin the moment.

I may or may not have mentioned that if this mythical lady has to come out to spank you, she immediately calls Santa and puts you on the naughty list.

I'm not terribly proud of my momentary lapse in parental judgement. But I might just use it to my advantage. After all, I don't know where that lady is at any given time, and she could be anywhere, ready to spank my naughty children for me since I'm not willing to do it in public myself. But at least I'm not duct taping him to walls. Yet.

Instead of protesting a protest...

Perhaps it's because all of the pain is so new, so fresh. My Dad's funeral was only three months ago. Perhaps, it's just because I'm a human being who has a bit of empathy and I can't imagine what it would have been like to be so sad, to have lost so much, and be mourning the lost of a dear loved one, only to see picketers outside the funeral home or church. Whatever the reason, I am not alone when I say that the Westboro Baptist Church is way WAY out of line.

I'm not out to take away any one's right to a peaceful gathering, to take away their free speech. I don't follow my husband half way around the world every month so that he can protect those rights for nothing. I hold those rights near and dear to my heart. And so does he. We've talked about it, and he would not stop an anti-military protest. He refuses to say anything to anti-war or anti-military picketers on the street. Because they have the right to air their opinion in a peaceful manner.

I think, that if the group doing the picketing in this case were any group of people without ties to a Christian organization, I would feel much differently. I might not be as upset. I might not feel like it was as vitriolic, as disgusting. But then, maybe not. I think it is a violation of humanity to stage a picket line, a protest at someone's funeral. Turning an entirely somber affair designed to allow family and friends to say goodbye to a loved one into a political statement is entirely wrong. I don't know how. I can't give you a biblical example of why it is wrong to do this to people at a funeral, but I'm pretty sure it is. It goes against so many things that Jesus taught. It breaks my heart that the organization doing this comes in His name. It makes me want to scream and cry and try to stop it all at once.

Would God really use a teacher's car accident to make a statement against the way the public school is run? This church claims that the reason this teacher died was because the public schools teach rebellion. I think it's a little bit ironic, because wasn't that was Jesus was? A rebel? Didn't he fight the church leaders left and right? One of the things He came here to teach us was that sometimes a little rebellion isn't a bad thing. Jesus defied all sorts of social standards, liturgical laws, and rebelled against the sinful and unholy way the Pharisees were running the temples.

Why does it bother me so much that people are protesting at funerals? Maybe it's partly because of what my husband does for a living and this church is known for protesting at military funerals. Mostly it's because it's a church. It's a group of people associating themselves with MY faith and MY God. Maybe I'm wrong. I could be wrong simply because I am holding them to a higher standard than I would any other group or organization. Very often, I'm too judgemental of other people, especially Christians. I expect Christians to live a life with a higher moral standard, to be nicer to people, and to be law abiding citizens. But that's wrong, perhaps even hypocritical. I break the law, I'm not always nice to people, and I'm a Christian. I dare you to catch me on a bad day. Heck, let me catch you texting and driving, and you'll see the Christian fall off of me faster than a Maserati on the Autobahn. So, when I see a Christian failing my high expectations, I need to remember to pray and remember that I too, fall short. I too, sin. Most of the time it works.

But not tonight. I'm tired. Tired of hearing about these funeral protests. I'm tired of hearing about people showing up with signs that say that God hates Fags, and that all of our problems in this country are because God is somehow judging our nation for supporting a 'homosexual agenda' or fighting an unjust war or whatever else we do that could anger Our Father.

I'm tired of hearing about how much "God hates fags." That isn't true. Not in the least. God hates sin. God hates the behavior that often happens on earth as a result of humans having free will. God, however does not HATE any one. Be they a fag, a christian fundamentalist extremist, a tax collector, a murderer, even pedophiles. God doesn't hate human beings. God loves us. All of us. It is for that reason that He sent Jesus to die for our indiscretions. He sent his only Son to DIE so that we could have life. What is it that we don't get about that? It doesn't matter what we do, or what we don't do. The only thing that matters is what we believe. We don't earn an entrance into Heaven.

If God hates homosexuals because they engage in a sinful behavior (because again, God hates behavior and sin, NOT the being itself), then he must hate me too. Because I engage in sinful behavior every day. Just the other day my four year old had to remind me that the "f" word wasn't a very nice word. I told some girl to drive, rather than text with her "f"ing phone in a rather loud and mean voice. I sinned. I KNOWINGLY and consciously engaged in a sinful behavior. I think about doing BAD things all the time. I want to HURT people who stand outside of funerals with signs claiming that "God Hates (anyone)." God is love. And something that embodies love cannot hate anything but the thing that would destroy that love.

People don't die because of God's judgement. People die because their bodies wear out. People die because we were given free will from the beginning of time, and that free will sometimes leads us into bad decisions. People die because people die. It's bigger than a stupid church or a military policy on sexual orientation, or whether our schools are teaching the wrong things. The reasons for death are so deep and that I can't even wrap my entire mind around it or explain it in an angry blog post, but ultimately, it doesn't matter. Death is just the beginning for Christians. Without death we wouldn't have life.

This church believes that protesting at a funeral is a Christian act. It isn't friends. It just plain isn't. As Christians we are to love our neighbors as ourselves. And believe it or not, the word "neighbor" doesn't limit us to loving those people living in residences directly adjacent to our own. Neighbor here means a fellow human being. A fellow sinner. Whether homosexual, soldier, civilian, criminal, or regular old Joe Schmoe just trying to live his life. If we love our neighbors, we certainly aren't going to choose one of worst moments for a family to stage a political protest.

On some crazy level, I do understand where this church is coming from. I know what they are trying to accomplish, but the way they are going about it is all wrong. If you're mad at the government, protest at the federal building. Or the state building. You think the way the curriculum in the public schools is wrong? Join the PTA. Make changes. Home school your kids, or send them to a private school. Picket outside the Department of Education. VOTE to change the government and it's policies. It's your right. However, standing outside of a teachers' funeral claiming that she died because our schools teach rebellion doesn't change anything. It sends the wrong message. It tells people that Christians are hateful, spiteful, hypocritical human beings.


My message to a church that would send such a message to the world:

A Christian's first mission is to bring people to God. By sending such a hateful message in the name of God, surely you are turning people away from Him. And a back turned from God is a face turned towards sin.

What does the Bible say about Christians who lead people into sin?

Matthew 18:6 (NIV) But if anyone causes one of these little ones who
believe in Me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung
around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea.

Mark 9:42 (NKJV) But whoever causes one of these little ones who
believe in Me to stumble, it would be better for him if a millstone were hung
around his neck, and he were thrown into the sea.

Luke 17:2 (NIV) It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea
with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these
little ones to sin.

Not once, not twice, but THREE times it's mentioned. Three is an important number, and if you're a Christian, you know that. It's not an accident.

I could go on forever talking about how God loves everyone, regardless of their sins (He really does), how He wants us all to repent and believe so that we can go to Heaven (He really does), how He sent his Son to die so that we didn't have to pay the price for our sins (He really did) because He loves us so much, or how we can't get into heaven by doing (or not doing) anything (we really can't) and how it all hinges on what we believe.

I could, but it's late. And I'm sure I'm rambling by now. So instead, I will pray for this church. Because that is what I do when I'm angry with someone. I will pray that they will see how horrible, how AWFUL they are being by using a painful time in people's lives to make a political statement, turning what should be a sad but beautiful last moment in someones earthly journey into a media circus. I will pray that that the family will be protected from seeing the whole ordeal as they grieve. And lastly, I will pray that these events will cause people to question what the true God would say, and what He really says about moments like this so that they will come to know how much He loves us all -- no matter who we are or what we do.

Time to spray for bugs...

Basements anywhere seem to be plagued with bugs. Spiders, earwigs, just gross bugs. But lately, being at Mom's house (no offense!) has been like a trip to the insectatorium. Or whatever. The bug section at the Zoo. Whatever you want to call it.

It all started a few weeks ago when Daddy was here. Mom and I were getting ready to go somewhere when we saw something scurry across the garage floor. It was large enough we thought it was a mouse. Mom jumped into her car and we yelled for Grant. Who informed us that it was a spider. A very large spider. So large, that when he stepped on it, guts spilled out at made him slip so much that he almost ended up doing the splits and going to the hospital.

Fast forward a few days. A spider was on the lamp. A big spider. I went to get it and it fell to the floor. After I caught it I went to kill it. And I squeezed. And squeezed. And squeezed. And after I actually gave force, it popped. I tried not to barf. It makes me shiver just thinking about it.

Fast forward a few more days. We had been outside grilling and I ate a burnt hot dog. This is a bit relevant, I swear. The kids were nuts that night, and I was out of my mind by the time they went to bed. I went to bed and woke up and as I was in the bathroom, I looked at my teeth. You know how you look in the mirror and run your tongue along your teeth in the morning. Between my teeth I saw a LOT of black stuff. Since we've had so many spiders, the thought of that email from forever ago claiming that we eat 8 spiders a year in our sleep (totally false, by the way) came across my mind. Instantly I felt nauseous. I was certain that I had eaten a giant disgusting spider in my sleep and the stuff between my peg laterals was chunks of spider leg. Then I remembered that we had eaten burnt hot dogs -- and maybe I had forgotten to brush my teeth before bed. I'm going to believe that's what it was. I really am.

And then there was last night. Last night when I was sitting innocently in bed and felt a tickle. In a sort of odd place. In the spot between my girls on the front. I said it. I figured it was a hair or something and went to scratch it. Only I felt something in there. Something like a stick. No worries. I had been crawling around outside all day. It was possible that it had been there for a while but I hadn't noticed it. Right? So I grabbed the stick and and pulled it out of my shirt.

Do you want to see the stick?

Are you sure?

Here it is!!

Do you SEE that?! That is NOT a stick or a hair or anything! THAT WAS CRAWLING ON ME! THERE!

We sprayed the house for bugs. And I feel a little guilty for killing that bug. It suffered a little bit. But then I still get a bit creeped out every time a hair touches me now. I can only wonder how interesting it will be when I get to the Island and have geckos and all kinds of crazy bugs and exotic 'pests' running around!

...problem solved...

For the past six months my mother has had little Internet. Downloads were minimal. Uploads pretty near impossible. We've been blaming the "bad cable" in the attic.

A few weeks ago my dearest husband and some very good family friends moved the cable feed from the attic to the basement. And in moving the feed, removed about 3 splits and splices. The Internet got better immediately. As did the cable signal in the house. BUT it wasn't perfect.

After troubleshooting the router, and the cable modem, and seeing that the digital signal is still shoddy on occasion, I called Time Warner out to take a look. The guy who came out was actually VERY knowledgeable about what he was doing! It was amazing! He came, replaced some ends, I told him the whole long drama of Internet dis-connectivity and skipping cables, re-wiring and troubleshooting, restarting and rebooting, flashing lights and frustration. So he ran a speed test. It worked. No surprise. The speed tests often work and say that nothing is wrong. So then I said, let me show you. The speed test takes about 1 minute. The Internet craps out after about 3 to 4. Forget the speed test. I don't sit around running speed tests. Try to download the iTunes update! Try to download virus definitions! Try to download anything over 10MB!

So we did. And it failed. And it failed again. After troubleshooting, we came to the conclusion that we were fighting two problems. An indoor cable splice being used outdoors, AND a faulty router. Which is why the problem was so inconsistent and bothersome. No one wanted to take the blame.

Today we both did. New cable has been purchased. New cable will be run into the house using outdoor splicers. A new router has been purchased and set up. And now, my friends, my wonderful friends. We have a home full of computers with the latest virus definitions. And software updates. And skype works again!

I almost forgot what it was like to have real Internet!! ;)

Redneck vs. The Red Box.

Friday night. 8:00. Kids are in bed, too late to call a sitter. Not that we wanted to anyway. I was dressed in sweats and wanting to get snuggled up on the couch with a bowl of something chocolate and a good movie. But there wasn't anything we'd not seen or cared to see from On Demand. Blockbuster seemed far away and expensive.

But there is an alternative! The Red Box! Daddy and I had been using Red Boxes all over Rhode Island. We even used one at the base in Florida! No problems. Super easy. $1 per movie. I mean, how hard can it be -- You push the GIANT button that says RENT if you want to RENT a movie. And RETURN if you are bringing one back. Then you use the menu to pick out the movie you want. There is a picture menu next to the screen to show you what is available. You type in the title, swipe your card, and the box ejects a perfect red box containing the movie of your choice.

I got to the WALMARTS to get my red box, a little crabby and tired from a long day of fighting with small children who either can't or won't listen to a word I say. I have to admit that I may have appeared christian on the outside, but the thoughts going through my mind as I walked up to that Redneck vs. Red Box battle were anything but. These were the type of rednecks that were proud of it. "Big Papa" had a beer gut about four feet wide and he was donning the dirty holey jeans and a T-shirt that had a list of reasons why he was in fact a red neck. "Big Mama" was wearing a sweat suit too. Only hers was the same size I was wearing. And three of me could have fit into her. Their kids were wreaking havoc on the entry way, opening the doors and letting them shut. Open door. Shut. Open door. Shut. Run around and scream. "Big Mama" was trying to 'figgure it out and wudja knock off all this rukkis!!!" After about ten minutes, the man in front of me, but immediately after the red-necks looked at me and we shared the same thought. "Oh My LORD!" The kids were screaming (rednecks, not mine or the other guy whose child was patiently sitting in the cart) about wanting to watch some movie that the box probably didn't have. Through the whole ordeal I managed to stand there, quiet, without even mumbling things under my breath. I think fifteen minutes had gone by. Maybe not, but it felt like it.

At about this point, I was frustrated. Furiously frustrated. I was thinking VERY mean and VERY un-Christian things. But then I looked down, and realized I was dressed very much like a redneck in my sweat outfit. And if my kids had been there, the situation could have gone either way. They could have been angels or I could have been ripping my hair out too (although it is rare for my kids to be out and about after 8:30). The poor redneck mama was furiously getting frazzled. And the guy in front of me said "It's no fun when they don't have what you want, huh?" And the crazy redneck family left. Three minutes later, both I and the man in front of me had selected our choices, paid and received our movies.

I guess it was just a case of Red box vs. The Redneck. The red box won. And I hope that the next time I won't be so nasty and judgemental. Even if it was only in my head. And even if red box is set up to be easy enough for my three year old to do it.

August. September. October.

Sometimes it's hard to write things because it all seems so trivial. So silly. But maybe that is a good thing. If we focus on the trivial and the silly, then the serious and sad don't seem so big.

The past few months have been a blur. And for good reason. We have flown to Nebraska and back to Rhode Island. We have packed up our house and vehicle and shipped them off to a tiny Island somewhere in the pacific. We drove from Rhode Island to Florida for a week, and then drove back to Nebraska. During the week my husband was here in Nebraska, we sold a truck and our RV -- the one home that hasn't changed in the past three years. We saw Daddy off to the Island where he checked in and has been busy working on getting us into a house. We have wavered back and forth on whether we will be able to keep our beloved pet. All while dealing with the loss of one of the greatest people I've ever known.

We have done quite a bit since visiting Nebraska. Although Little Monster is sad that we weren't able to visit the "Pumpkin Patch of Blood." Some imaginary place he made up that he thought existed near Indian Caves State Park here. Between the Monster and the Monkey, I've been busy. Monkey is climbing onto table tops, running around and bashing her head into everything she can find. I know the whole "duct taping your children" got a bad rep, especially here in Nebraska. And I WOULD NEVER DO THAT!! But I can totally understand why someone might consider it. Anyone who couldn't, either doesn't have children, or their children are miracle angels that don't spend their days dismantling cabinets, moving furniture, and figuring out the child-proof locks that cause most adults grief.

I am looking forward to Monster's birthday party, and spending some time with family before we head off to the middle of the ocean. And then, I'm sure, things around here will get interesting.

Originally written 8/7/2010.

Last night it didn't seem possible.

This morning it all seems surreal. Sitting in my living room, which I had begun to stage for a move, but is now staged for a trip.

I've written about him a few times. I wish I had told you all more about the man that came to be my Daddy. He was my daddy. Since my biological one disappeared from our lives, my mom always told me that anyone could be a Father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy.

He was special. He wasn't my father at birth, but he treated me as if he had been. There have been many times in my life where I've felt left out, like the "step" daughter who didn't belong, but NEVER, N.E.V.E.R. was he the cause of that feeling. I was never introduced as his step-daughter. Only as his daughter.

I know my kids won't mourn his loss, but I will mourn for them. I will mourn that they will not get to know this man, who though not grandfather by blood, was grandfather anyway. I

He wasn't one for many words, but the man showed his love for you by what he did for you. And with his great hugs. I will miss those hugs.

I can't imagine the earth without him here. I can't begin to imagine what my mother is going through. The worst part, for me, these past few hours, has been being so far away from the rest of my family. And knowing that I'm moving so far away in a short period of time.

It's suddenly clear to me now

I remember lots of jokes as a kid about toddlers, VCRs and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

I'm here to tell you now that those were not jokes. Jeff Foxworthy was not kidding when he spoke about the number of raisin boxes you can fit into a VCR. He knew. From experience.

We still own one of those archaic pieces of equipment and apparently Butterball has decided that it is her personal treasure box.

Tonight, in an operation that resembled one of those third world, fake, "no instrument" surgeries I pulled the following items out of the VCR:

2 nerf darts
1 Lego
1 outlet cover
2 extra long Lincoln logs
6 MORE nerf darts
1 something indistinguishable that may or may not have a part still in there

At least nothing was sticky and gooey. She won't be allowed to walk around with PB&Js or boxes of raisins for a while. At least not until this fascination with cramming strange things into odd hiding places passes.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

MilSpouse Fill in #7

Another MilSpouse Fill-in thanks to Wife of a Sailor. :) This week's questions:


What is something you wished you’d learned to do earlier in life?
Be organized. This is no fault of my parents. My mom is desperately clean and organized, but somehow my house is in a constant state of chaos. We aren't hoarders, but toys are always scattered around the house, and there is generally a heap of papers on the desk. Every time I lose something, I can hear my mom's voice from when I was ten "If you'd put it where it goes, you'd be able to find it." Maybe it's nature that I'm organizationally challenged, rather than nurture? Who knows. I would love to have a house where everything is in its place. Maybe if we didn't move so often, things would be a bit better. Maybe they'll get better in our new Island Paradise? We'll see!

What is your biggest pet peeve with the military?
I am having a hard time answering this question. My answer changes based on where we are. Right now, my biggest pet peeve is all of the paperwork and craziness that go along with moving. And that even though THEY tell us to move, we have to provide several people within the military the proof that they've asked us to move, and get everything started ourselves. It seems like they should be able to just look up all that stuff in some central computer. Ask me about my pet peeve in six months, and it will be work-ups, and something dealing with the ship, I'm sure.

What tourist attraction near you have you never seen?
Right now we're in New England. We've been here twice, and somehow we've skipped visiting Block Island, Martha's Vineyard, haven't spent much time in Boston or on Cape Cod, and we didn't get to visit Six Flags. Oh well. Life is life, right? I'm sure we'll be back here again at some point!

What are you avoiding doing right now?
See Question 1. There are toys scattered all over. I've got a move-out inspection tomorrow. I really, REALLY need to get stuff cleaned and organized for tomorrow morning. But, I don't feel up to it. Maybe because it's 1000% humidity outside and our wimpy window a/c's can't cut it without bringing the temperature down to sub-zero. And none of that is good for my cold. blah. Anyone want to come clean up my trash heap of a house!?

Wine, beer or liquor?
This totally depends on the day. I can usually do a little Zin or Shiraz with dark chocolate. I don't care about wine pairings, I just eat them together and try to not to die from the loveliness. Or, Kahlua, which is really doesn't fit in either of those categories. But really, one of those two. I'll do a Corona on occasion, or sometimes a pale ale. But we really don't drink all that often. In fact, only the other day did I find out what the heck getting "iced" was, and why I should be carrying a container in my diaper bag.

The day from -- well, one of two places.

I'm still trying to decide who was messing with me today.

It started at 3:00AM when I began coughing. And coughing. And coughing. And truth be told, I hadn't slept well before then either. But I finally fell asleep around 6:30AM. And then I got up coughing again at 7:00, decided sleep wasn't going to happen and got into the shower.

After I got out of the shower, I noticed a little more morning junk in my eye than normal, and it seemed red. So I called the Dr to get an appointment. This cough and sick stuff has been taking over my house for several days. The Butterball has had green stuff oozing out of her eyes since Thursday (Note, I had called the Dr. Sunday night, and was assured it wasn't pink eye) and has been coughing a bit -- especially at night. It is 7:34 AM


I called the doctor, and got an appointment for Butterball close to lunchtime, and one for myself later in the afternoon. The problem with my appointment was that they could not address BOTH the possible pink eye AND the possible bronchitis. I had to pick an ailment to create the appointment for. Seriously. I had to choose breathing or seeing. I figured since Butterball was being seen, I'd know if it was actually pink eye by the time I got to my appointment and chose to fix my cough and breathing problem. 7:45AM


Little Monster woke up and wanted something for breakfast. And by something, I mean something in some language I don't understand. Something Kai eats, he says. Who is Kai? I have no idea. Probably his imaginary friend. The kid has a knack for stories. 8:07AM

While the kids were quiet I took a second to look at my phone and see what I had in front of me for the day. There were approximately 3,934 emails and notifications having to do with things with our house in Virginia that we are trying to sell. The power had been turned off, rather than transferred. However, since the power had previously been in Daddy's name, I couldn't turn it back on without an extended credit check, blah blah blah. There were several more emails and items dealing with our house that needed to be taken care of right away as well. I texted Daddy with the number, hoping he'd have a few seconds to wait on hold for hours to deal with the power company. 8:27AM

By this point in the morning, I was already frustrated. I walked into the kitchen to find Little Monster attempting to dismantle the camcorder. While covered in syrup from his pancakes. I lost it my friends. Lost is so bad that I smacked my hand into something and popped a blood vessel in my finger. And then I really lost it. The fact that I thought we all were going to get pink eye because I'd let stuff ooze out of Butterball's eyes for days thinking it was just part of her cold, the pain in my finger, the lack of caring on the part of the bureaucracy that deals with my health care, all of the jerks who have screwed their spouses over meaning I couldn't start power in my husband's name. It all hit me at once. 8:43 AM

My mom started her day with a nice little phone call from a grown-up kid sobbing like a baby. It was only 7:43 AM for her. It was great.

Can you sense the sarcasm?

The day did seem to get better. I, sick as I was, had to run an errand and decided to stop and buy a little gift for Daddy. And I did. Because I love him, and after a morning of temper tantrums, lost tempers and things spiralling out of my control, I needed something nice. Even if it was just doing something nice for someone else.

I ran my errand, and headed to base to get my fake Starbucks coffee, and get Butterball to the doctor. As I approached the gate, I went to grab my military ID out of my wallet.

And then when it wasn't in the slot where it goes, I passed the gate and went straight home. And I searched my diaper bag. And my house. And my car. I tore apart my wallet. I tore apart the diaper bag again. I tore apart my wallet. I searched in all kinds of odd places a baby girl could have possibly hidden the spoils of an earlier diaper bag and/or wallet dismantling.

I didn't find the ID, so I called the doctor. They cancelled my appointment. Butterball's eyes were pretty clear all morning anyway. No big deal. We came inside for lunch. We were out of milk. And bread. And pretty much EVERYTHING you need to make children some sort of lunch.

Off to Burger King we went like a herd of sick and hungry, whining turtles. Butterball's eyes had surged back into full oozing weeping disgustingness. Of course. As I leaned over the seat in the drive-thru so many prayers of the morning were answered. I could see approximately 1/50th of the ID card I'd spent all morning tearing everything apart looking for. It had fallen between the center console and the passenger seat. At least I'd be able to make it to my Doctor's appointment that promised to cure half of what ailed me. It was the turning point of the day. Surely things had to start getting better right? I know that about ninety percent of the problems from today stemmed from the days and days of coughing and nights and nights of no sleep.

I showed up to the doctor's appointment not expecting a whole lot. It was one time today, when my expectations were wrong. I don't know if the doctor could sense my desperation or if she could see the lack of sleep and sick crawling all over me. As Butterball sat in my lap, oozing from her eyes, she asked who the appointment was for. I explained that it was for me and told her about the loss of ID leading to the cancellation of her appointment for earlier in the day. (I had already rescheduled the appointment for the next day.)

Butterball was on my lap, and as the doctor looked in my ears, and listened to my lungs, she also did a quick 'once-over' of Butterball. Which turned up an ear infection. And this angel of a doctor, figured out a way to take care of not only MY pink eye (nothing), MY chest congestion, but she also took care of my baby. They dug and dug through their computers, trying to find an appointment time to slip Butterball into so that the doctor could prescribe the medicine that would fix Butterball's ear infection. And they cancelled the appointment we had scheduled for tomorrow. Because they were angels. And probably mothers who could read the look on my face.

I almost cried for the second time today. Only this time the tears would have been tears of gratitude.

And so, tonight when Butterball stood in the tub and let feces fall from her behind, I was able to laugh. Because, how else should my day end but with a tub full of poop?

The beginning...

We've begun the moving mayhem around here. Notice has been given, things are getting lined up for a very large, complicated move. Shipments going with different companies at different times to different places. It should be fun. Seriously.

Meanwhile, we are all trying not to die from whatever microbial organism that has decided to take up residence in my lungs. I'm not super happy about being kept up at night by an ugly green mucus monster. I've got two much cuter monsters who enjoy keeping me up nights without a third one moving into my body and making me sound like someone who has been smoking for 80 years.

Speaking of smoking -- it isn't fair. I smoked for a small period of time a long time ago, in a land far, far away. And I enjoyed smoking. Yes I did. It kept me skinny, because I was never hungry. Ah, nicotine. And while I didn't enjoy the residual smell, there was something in the initial scent of the cigarette first being lit that still gets me. If, somehow, I could have all of that without the stink that gets all over everything, and you know, the total destruction of your lungs, I'd probably think about smoking again. At least if I smoked, I'd have a reason to sound like I do.

In the meantime, I'm busy trying to de-clutter and organize our household. I'm trying to enjoy the last few weeks I have in New England, and the last few weeks I have with friends here (No thanks to the Mucinex Monster in my chest).

I hate this part of moving -- the organizing, the packing, the leaving, the un-doing of everything. I keep going with a smile on my face because I know in a few weeks a new adventure will start. In a short while I will be in the middle of my favorite part of moving -- the unpacking, organizing and setting up of our new household. I am trying to picture our new house, how our life will be when we get there. And that's what keeps me from curling up into a ball and hiding from all of the things that need to be done.

MilSpouse Fill-In!

I'm totally lazy today. You can check out the whole deal here at Wife of a Sailor

1.What is your spouse’s best feature?
His pale blue eyes. Eyes so blue that the sky itself can barely compare. Of course, those pale blue eyes are flawed in that they flake pigment. And I guess that can lead to glaucoma. Nice, huh?


2.Mild, Medium or Hot sauce?
None, thank you. I would like some mild pico-de-gallo though. Or some guacamole from Chipolte.

3.What is the worst uniform you had to wear for a job?
The worst "uniform" I've ever been forced to wear wasn't even really a uniform. It was just a sexist requirement that all women were required to wear a skirt. I bought the longest skirts I could find, and all in the material sweat pants are made out of. It was a ridiculous excuse for a uniform that was more so that he could look at the ladies legs.

4.You have invisible powers… where is the first place you would go?
Hmm... I really don't know. I think it changes based on the day. At this point in time, I'd probably visit the summer camp my son used to go to and see what goes on when parents aren't around and see how well the kids are actually being supervised.

5.What’s left on your “to do” list for this summer?
Sort through every.single.thing.we.own. To find out what is coming with us across the Pacific to Vacation Wonderland, and what is getting shipped to my parents house. And a ton of stuff to do for my bible study group that will begin again in September. And move. *sigh*. Move.