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.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Kids and Bikes and Long, Long Rides
We like to take bike rides in our family. Well, that is, if we're on a fairly flat path and not a street -- I hate sharing the road with crazy drivers in a car, let alone on a bicycle toting my precious babies.
The past couple of years we've done some biking. And Daddy has tried to induce heart attacks, strokes and the eviction of my lungs through my mouth by taking me on rides up hills. By hills, I mean hills. Hills that would make Lance Armstrong think a bit about how he's going to ride up. A couple of years ago we went for a ride that should have been pretty flat behind our housing community in California. And that "flat" ride turned into a roller coaster ride that we had to power ourselves. It wasn't fun. There was tears and lots and lots of whining. And then Little Monster got tired of riding in the bike trailer and started crying too. Poor Daddy has to put up with a lot.
We found a flat path and rode it after that. But now, just the thought of a hill makes me wince. He mentioned that we should ride our bikes to the pool while visiting his parents, but he warned me of a hill once you leave. I whined and put off the ride and the pool thinking it was going to be something like the roads of California. And then I gave up and we went. And after we'd returned, I asked Daddy where in the world that hill he had talked about was. We decided there was a slight incline in the road for about a block. And it might have been a killer hill when he was ten on a single speed bike, after being in the pool all day. Before he met a real hill.
This past weekend we went up to Maine with the express thought of riding around some of the Rockefeller's Carriage paths on our bikes. We'd walked them a few years back when his frigate pulled into a town in a 'down-east' area with the dogs and had a great time. We have talked about going back several times.
We had seen these bike trailers everywhere that looked amazing. They basically make your bike into a tandem bike so the kids can ride and work, or just hold on and be part of the 'grownup' crowd on the bike ride. Of course, when we went to purchase them we couldn't find one in a store that we could take home to try before heading off on our trip. We ended up ordering one through our Sporting Goods Coop and it arrived the day before we left. As we were packing up the camper to go, we tested it out and set it up so that Little Monster could ride behind Daddy. The first try was really wobbly. We had a hard time convincing Little Monster to get on it after some adjustments. I think we may have even threatened a spanking. Eventually, after getting on the thing, Daddy and Little Monster rode around the block. And then they rode around the block again, per Little Monster's request. And again. And again. He loved it.
When we got there we couldn't park in the lot nearest our planned bike path because it was full, no big deal, we parked at a different spot and adjusted our bike route so that we weren't adding a zillion miles to the ride, considering we weren't sure how Little Monster was going to do on the bike ride. We got about a half mile into the bike ride and realized that "witch hole" meant that it was a witch to get our bikes up and over that hill. I felt like a big sissy whining and crying and trying to cough my lungs out through my mouth. I regretted all of those days I skipped my workout and swore I'd try to be better about remembering to pedal like a fiend on our recumbent bike at home. .
After a very painful 1 1/2 miles, we got to the parking lot where we had planned to start. I seriously considered wimping out and telling Daddy to go get the truck. I was so done. But then I looked back and Butterball was asleep in the chariot, starting to stir because we weren't moving anymore. Little Monster had started whining because we'd stopped long enough to use the bathroom, so I knew he wouldn't be happy if I said we were done and going home. So, I toughed it up and kept going.
I made the right decision. The first hill wiped me out, and I was tired, but once I got my second wind, it was fine. It also helped that the majority of the rest of the ride was gradual uphills and downhills. Little Monster loved passing me on the bike. I can't count the number of times I heard "Ha HA! I'm winning MOMMY! I'm PASSING YOU!" come from his mouth. About 2/3 of the way through the ride we stopped for a picnic. The kids ate better than they have in months. Little Monster was really excited to have a real picnic. Little Monster happily rode the entire 12 miles on the bike, only complaining that he was hungry before we had our lunch.
And then we got to the "witch" hill again. Only this time we were going down. There were caution signs warning about steep grades and sharp curves. The hills going down were no joke. I rode my brakes the entire time. I'm guessing I wasn't as big of a wuss as I imagined. On our way down, we met several people walking their bikes up the hill, just like I did.
The last night of the trip, I snuggled with Little Monster to get him to sleep and we talked about our favorite parts of the trip. He liked swimming in the ocean. And he liked riding his bike around the campground and having the campfire. But he said his favorite part was the bike ride.
Using the bike trailer gave him confidence that he could ride his bike. He hasn't wanted to ride his bicycle since we got it, because he, like me, was scarred by the crazy hills in California. Ever since we went on that bike ride, though, he's been excited about riding his bike and wants to ride all of the time.
The trailer was worth every penny to see the giant smile on Little Monster's face every time he passed me. It was a bonus that he now wants to ride his bicycle everywhere we go "REALLY FAST!"
The past couple of years we've done some biking. And Daddy has tried to induce heart attacks, strokes and the eviction of my lungs through my mouth by taking me on rides up hills. By hills, I mean hills. Hills that would make Lance Armstrong think a bit about how he's going to ride up. A couple of years ago we went for a ride that should have been pretty flat behind our housing community in California. And that "flat" ride turned into a roller coaster ride that we had to power ourselves. It wasn't fun. There was tears and lots and lots of whining. And then Little Monster got tired of riding in the bike trailer and started crying too. Poor Daddy has to put up with a lot.
We found a flat path and rode it after that. But now, just the thought of a hill makes me wince. He mentioned that we should ride our bikes to the pool while visiting his parents, but he warned me of a hill once you leave. I whined and put off the ride and the pool thinking it was going to be something like the roads of California. And then I gave up and we went. And after we'd returned, I asked Daddy where in the world that hill he had talked about was. We decided there was a slight incline in the road for about a block. And it might have been a killer hill when he was ten on a single speed bike, after being in the pool all day. Before he met a real hill.
This past weekend we went up to Maine with the express thought of riding around some of the Rockefeller's Carriage paths on our bikes. We'd walked them a few years back when his frigate pulled into a town in a 'down-east' area with the dogs and had a great time. We have talked about going back several times.
We had seen these bike trailers everywhere that looked amazing. They basically make your bike into a tandem bike so the kids can ride and work, or just hold on and be part of the 'grownup' crowd on the bike ride. Of course, when we went to purchase them we couldn't find one in a store that we could take home to try before heading off on our trip. We ended up ordering one through our Sporting Goods Coop and it arrived the day before we left. As we were packing up the camper to go, we tested it out and set it up so that Little Monster could ride behind Daddy. The first try was really wobbly. We had a hard time convincing Little Monster to get on it after some adjustments. I think we may have even threatened a spanking. Eventually, after getting on the thing, Daddy and Little Monster rode around the block. And then they rode around the block again, per Little Monster's request. And again. And again. He loved it.
When we got there we couldn't park in the lot nearest our planned bike path because it was full, no big deal, we parked at a different spot and adjusted our bike route so that we weren't adding a zillion miles to the ride, considering we weren't sure how Little Monster was going to do on the bike ride. We got about a half mile into the bike ride and realized that "witch hole" meant that it was a witch to get our bikes up and over that hill. I felt like a big sissy whining and crying and trying to cough my lungs out through my mouth. I regretted all of those days I skipped my workout and swore I'd try to be better about remembering to pedal like a fiend on our recumbent bike at home. .
After a very painful 1 1/2 miles, we got to the parking lot where we had planned to start. I seriously considered wimping out and telling Daddy to go get the truck. I was so done. But then I looked back and Butterball was asleep in the chariot, starting to stir because we weren't moving anymore. Little Monster had started whining because we'd stopped long enough to use the bathroom, so I knew he wouldn't be happy if I said we were done and going home. So, I toughed it up and kept going.
I made the right decision. The first hill wiped me out, and I was tired, but once I got my second wind, it was fine. It also helped that the majority of the rest of the ride was gradual uphills and downhills. Little Monster loved passing me on the bike. I can't count the number of times I heard "Ha HA! I'm winning MOMMY! I'm PASSING YOU!" come from his mouth. About 2/3 of the way through the ride we stopped for a picnic. The kids ate better than they have in months. Little Monster was really excited to have a real picnic. Little Monster happily rode the entire 12 miles on the bike, only complaining that he was hungry before we had our lunch.
And then we got to the "witch" hill again. Only this time we were going down. There were caution signs warning about steep grades and sharp curves. The hills going down were no joke. I rode my brakes the entire time. I'm guessing I wasn't as big of a wuss as I imagined. On our way down, we met several people walking their bikes up the hill, just like I did.
The last night of the trip, I snuggled with Little Monster to get him to sleep and we talked about our favorite parts of the trip. He liked swimming in the ocean. And he liked riding his bike around the campground and having the campfire. But he said his favorite part was the bike ride.
Using the bike trailer gave him confidence that he could ride his bike. He hasn't wanted to ride his bicycle since we got it, because he, like me, was scarred by the crazy hills in California. Ever since we went on that bike ride, though, he's been excited about riding his bike and wants to ride all of the time.
The trailer was worth every penny to see the giant smile on Little Monster's face every time he passed me. It was a bonus that he now wants to ride his bicycle everywhere we go "REALLY FAST!"
Thursday, July 08, 2010
A weekend to be grateful for
We just got back from a "camping" trip in Maine. Maine, oh how I love you in July. I am not sure I'd enjoy you much anytime between November and April, but summer in Maine is absolutely wonderful.
The weekend was absolutely wonderful, but we weren't certain we were going to have a weekend at first. We loaded up the camper (which is why camping is in quotes above -- it doesn't really count as camping) with just what we'd need for a weekend trip on Thursday and Friday Morning. Daddy got home early from work and we headed off.
The trip was slow going, traffic was awful through Massachusetts, which I expected, but Daddy didn't. Then we got to Maine. The traffic cleared up and the road was resurfaced, life was good.
And then they passed us. "They" is a black pickup pulling a very long, fairly old travel trailer camper. We own a fifth wheel, which means it's connected to a large hitch in the bed of our truck. They were towing a travel trailer -- just as long, just as heavy, but on a regular ball hitch on the back of their truck. Travel Trailers are not as safe and steady to drive as a fifth wheel. There is a reason that the big rig Semi's use a fifth wheel hitch to attach their loads.
Back to the story. They passed us. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but it seemed like hours as it was happening. As they passed us they hit the rumble bars. Luckily, Daddy heard that and looked over. As he looked, he noticed that their trailer hit the guard rail on the side of the road. And Daddy hit the brakes enough to allow us to back off.
Thank God for Daddy and his observant Nature.
The man in the truck over corrected as he panicked, sending the trailer swerving back into the lane, and headed into the next one over. The lane we were in. As I watched the back end of his trailer miss the front of our truck by mere inches my heart sunk into my stomach and my stomach jumped into my throat. Daddy backed off even more and hit his hazard lights to alert people behind us.
The man over corrected again, sending his trailer back onto the shoulder, where there was no guard rail this time. And then his trailer swerved back the other direction onto the other trailer. He was out of control. Daddy backed off even more.
We sat there in the cab of our truck watching as this truck and trailer prepared to flip and roll down the freeway. The trailer was swerving uncontrollably. We saw the under carriage of their trailer a few times. At one point in time the truck was sideways in the road. One second it was going one way and the next moment it was facing the other direction. Sparks flew up where the side of the trailer made impact with the asphalt on the freeway. The rear bumper of the trailer ripped off on one end and a sewage hose (just the empty hose) came flying out of the end of the bumper (a common storage place) and rolled down the road. We ran over it. It was at about that moment that I was worried for the driver and anyone inside the truck. We were going to be okay. Daddy was far enough back that we wouldn't hit them or be hurt.
After what seemed like hours, the truck managed to get the trailer back under control. He and the rest of his caravan pulled off to the side of the road. As I watched his wife (I assume that's who it was) get out of her car, I could feel the fear and pain and the beginnings of anger for her. Whatever was in the trailer was ruined. The truck's frame is probably bent. Thousands of dollars worth of damage because there was a small distraction. It could have been much worse. Much, much worse.
We didn't stop because the other vehicle had. Many people think it is safe to travel in a pull-behind trailer as you're driving down the road. I've seen people getting in and out of the things as we've stopped. It isn't safe. I only hope that this family was being cautious and didn't put any living creatures in the trailer, because anything living was most likely injured if they survived being tossed around like that.
It puts things into perspective to watch and be so close to something so scary and dangerous. I know you think I might be exaggerating this incident for the sake of the story, and the blog. But I'm not. In fact, I'm under telling the story. Daddy has seen a lot doing what he does for a living. He's had some exciting moments when waves have been rolling over the bow of his ship. He's looked over to see that his ship has rolled more than it's supposed to without falling apart and sinking into the cold North Atlantic. He has climbed on teeny tiny ladders into a zodiac type boat to rescue people in rough seas from their boat, dead in the water. Even he says that moment goes into his top five list of exciting and scary moments.
We said many prayers of thanks throughout the rest of the weekend. We enjoyed even the small things and some annoyances without as much complaining, because we had been recently reminded how precious life is and how lucky we were to be able to enjoy our weekend. The other family's weekend had been ruined, even though it had almost been much worse than it was. We were able to enjoy our 12 mile bike ride around the park. We were able to enjoy our campfire with giant marshmallows roasting and ever mosquito bite that came along with it. We enjoyed wading in the ocean on the rocky shore and watching Little Monster ride his bike until dark at the campground. We enjoyed watching the last of the coals burn out as the kids slept. We enjoyed fresh lobster at a local lobster pound. Even thought it wasn't the Lobster Pound we wanted to visit, it seems a bit off to whine about the fact that even though their website said they were open EVERY DAY, EVEN HOLIDAYS only to show up at 2:01 on a day when they decided to close at 2:00. It's fine. Another company got our business. We enjoyed ice cream at a small local shop, even though I made a bigger mess with my ice cream than both kids combined. We enjoyed visiting a civil war fort, and watching their cannons go off. Even though it was steaming hot, and the sound of the cannon blast set baby girls to crying and little boys up my skirt, hanging onto my leg as though the end of the world was beginning.
We had a great weekend. I'm sure it would have been wonderful even without the incident, but I'm certainly grateful that we had things put into perspective and were able to enjoy the smaller things.
What did you do over the holiday weekend?
The weekend was absolutely wonderful, but we weren't certain we were going to have a weekend at first. We loaded up the camper (which is why camping is in quotes above -- it doesn't really count as camping) with just what we'd need for a weekend trip on Thursday and Friday Morning. Daddy got home early from work and we headed off.
The trip was slow going, traffic was awful through Massachusetts, which I expected, but Daddy didn't. Then we got to Maine. The traffic cleared up and the road was resurfaced, life was good.
And then they passed us. "They" is a black pickup pulling a very long, fairly old travel trailer camper. We own a fifth wheel, which means it's connected to a large hitch in the bed of our truck. They were towing a travel trailer -- just as long, just as heavy, but on a regular ball hitch on the back of their truck. Travel Trailers are not as safe and steady to drive as a fifth wheel. There is a reason that the big rig Semi's use a fifth wheel hitch to attach their loads.
Back to the story. They passed us. It all happened in a matter of seconds, but it seemed like hours as it was happening. As they passed us they hit the rumble bars. Luckily, Daddy heard that and looked over. As he looked, he noticed that their trailer hit the guard rail on the side of the road. And Daddy hit the brakes enough to allow us to back off.
Thank God for Daddy and his observant Nature.
The man in the truck over corrected as he panicked, sending the trailer swerving back into the lane, and headed into the next one over. The lane we were in. As I watched the back end of his trailer miss the front of our truck by mere inches my heart sunk into my stomach and my stomach jumped into my throat. Daddy backed off even more and hit his hazard lights to alert people behind us.
The man over corrected again, sending his trailer back onto the shoulder, where there was no guard rail this time. And then his trailer swerved back the other direction onto the other trailer. He was out of control. Daddy backed off even more.
We sat there in the cab of our truck watching as this truck and trailer prepared to flip and roll down the freeway. The trailer was swerving uncontrollably. We saw the under carriage of their trailer a few times. At one point in time the truck was sideways in the road. One second it was going one way and the next moment it was facing the other direction. Sparks flew up where the side of the trailer made impact with the asphalt on the freeway. The rear bumper of the trailer ripped off on one end and a sewage hose (just the empty hose) came flying out of the end of the bumper (a common storage place) and rolled down the road. We ran over it. It was at about that moment that I was worried for the driver and anyone inside the truck. We were going to be okay. Daddy was far enough back that we wouldn't hit them or be hurt.
After what seemed like hours, the truck managed to get the trailer back under control. He and the rest of his caravan pulled off to the side of the road. As I watched his wife (I assume that's who it was) get out of her car, I could feel the fear and pain and the beginnings of anger for her. Whatever was in the trailer was ruined. The truck's frame is probably bent. Thousands of dollars worth of damage because there was a small distraction. It could have been much worse. Much, much worse.
We didn't stop because the other vehicle had. Many people think it is safe to travel in a pull-behind trailer as you're driving down the road. I've seen people getting in and out of the things as we've stopped. It isn't safe. I only hope that this family was being cautious and didn't put any living creatures in the trailer, because anything living was most likely injured if they survived being tossed around like that.
It puts things into perspective to watch and be so close to something so scary and dangerous. I know you think I might be exaggerating this incident for the sake of the story, and the blog. But I'm not. In fact, I'm under telling the story. Daddy has seen a lot doing what he does for a living. He's had some exciting moments when waves have been rolling over the bow of his ship. He's looked over to see that his ship has rolled more than it's supposed to without falling apart and sinking into the cold North Atlantic. He has climbed on teeny tiny ladders into a zodiac type boat to rescue people in rough seas from their boat, dead in the water. Even he says that moment goes into his top five list of exciting and scary moments.
We said many prayers of thanks throughout the rest of the weekend. We enjoyed even the small things and some annoyances without as much complaining, because we had been recently reminded how precious life is and how lucky we were to be able to enjoy our weekend. The other family's weekend had been ruined, even though it had almost been much worse than it was. We were able to enjoy our 12 mile bike ride around the park. We were able to enjoy our campfire with giant marshmallows roasting and ever mosquito bite that came along with it. We enjoyed wading in the ocean on the rocky shore and watching Little Monster ride his bike until dark at the campground. We enjoyed watching the last of the coals burn out as the kids slept. We enjoyed fresh lobster at a local lobster pound. Even thought it wasn't the Lobster Pound we wanted to visit, it seems a bit off to whine about the fact that even though their website said they were open EVERY DAY, EVEN HOLIDAYS only to show up at 2:01 on a day when they decided to close at 2:00. It's fine. Another company got our business. We enjoyed ice cream at a small local shop, even though I made a bigger mess with my ice cream than both kids combined. We enjoyed visiting a civil war fort, and watching their cannons go off. Even though it was steaming hot, and the sound of the cannon blast set baby girls to crying and little boys up my skirt, hanging onto my leg as though the end of the world was beginning.
We had a great weekend. I'm sure it would have been wonderful even without the incident, but I'm certainly grateful that we had things put into perspective and were able to enjoy the smaller things.
What did you do over the holiday weekend?
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
The Land of the lost... things.
Lately, things around our house have gone missing. Little boys are often blamed, little girls a little bit too. Secretly, though, I fear for my head. Maybe I'm losing my mind?
The other day the ball for my trackball mouse disappeared. I looked all over the house and couldn't find it. So I CLEANED the house. Sparkling clean. Still didn't find the thing. I gave up, tried stealing the trackball from the husband's mouse. It worked as a temporary solution, but he figured it out and demanded it back. I gave it back, don't worry. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that we have different models with different sizes either. Have you ever tried to use a smaller trackball than the mouse takes? It doesn't work very well.
A few days ago, I was at a certain coffee place, trying to get my daily fix of several shots of espresso and couldn't find my debit card. It was found on the floor under the box we set our shoes in by the door. Someone (a one year old girl) had removed it from my wallet and in the clean-up haste, it must have been pushed under.
The iPod that plays lullabies every night and nap time for Butterball disappeared. (It reappeared in a random box of kids books).
Quite often, the remote control goes missing. Quite often it is found in odd places. Like in Butterball's dresser drawers, Little Monster's dresser drawers, the kitchen drawer that houses our baggies, and occasionally the one that holds the oven mitts. Once we found it in the trash can.
Often I'll find her sippy cups and snack traps in odd places. I've purchased many thinking they'd been left in stores or at the park, only to find them among my jeans, under the bathroom sink or in the kitchen drawers.
This morning was the final blow. The kids were playing quietly - -which in hindsight should have been a big clue that something was going on. I found them, and they were being good. However, I noticed that Butterball's little doll stroller was missing the fabric seat. It was now just a dangerous frame of metal rods daring to poke someones eye out.
After searching and searching last week for the trackball, to no avail, I couldn't take it. Little Monster had been the one to remove the seat, and since Butterball has yet to master the art of the English language (outside of Mama, Dada, Up and All-Done), he was responsible for its disappearance.
We tore the house apart. Looked under and in couches, emptied trash cans, dirty laundry bins, dresser drawers, backpacks, diaper pails, file cabinet drawers, coat pockets, closets, and multiple kitchen drawers. We looked in places the children could not have possibly put the thing. And then we looked in all of the places again. And then I dug through the diaper pail. And the outdoor trash can. You know, in case my ONE YEAR OLD managed to escape the house, grow three feet, deposit the fabric, and then come back into the house and return to normal size all without my knowledge. I dug through the diaper pail people. The diaper pail that is full of stinky, nasty, diapers. We did not find the fabric. We did, however, find the trackball for my mouse. In the hat box I keep to put the kids sunhats in near the front door. Where I had looked. At least thirty times last week.
We gave up on the search for the stupid fabric. Which was fine. Little Monster had only been told he'd not be getting his favorite McQueen and The King trailers and cars returned to him until we found it. And at one point the loss of all food until it was found may or may not have been threatened. We left. And got soaking wet since it decided to downpour during the fifteen minutes we were out of the house today.
And when we returned, I was putting my sunglasses on our bookshelf by the door, and happened to look down. Into a 5 inch gun shell that we have. Inside the shell was the fabric for the stroller.
I am pretty sure that we are losing our minds. But it isn't our fault. It isn't our age. It is definitely the fault of two people. One I affectionately call Monster. The other, often goes by Monkey. They think it is great fun to move things to funny places and then watch us go crazy trying to find them. They test us by doing the exact thing we tell them not to right in front of us -- while watching our reaction. They steal things they know they aren't supposed to have. When they are caught they run the other way as fast as their little legs can scramble, shrieking with maniacal laughter.
There is a reason why as children, we think our parents are uptight, unreasonable, unfair and quite often completely insane. It's because they were. And it was our fault. We did it to them. It also explains how they magically regain their sanity after we leave their house.
Parents, I'm sorry. Children, you're going to be too someday.
The other day the ball for my trackball mouse disappeared. I looked all over the house and couldn't find it. So I CLEANED the house. Sparkling clean. Still didn't find the thing. I gave up, tried stealing the trackball from the husband's mouse. It worked as a temporary solution, but he figured it out and demanded it back. I gave it back, don't worry. It didn't have anything to do with the fact that we have different models with different sizes either. Have you ever tried to use a smaller trackball than the mouse takes? It doesn't work very well.
A few days ago, I was at a certain coffee place, trying to get my daily fix of several shots of espresso and couldn't find my debit card. It was found on the floor under the box we set our shoes in by the door. Someone (a one year old girl) had removed it from my wallet and in the clean-up haste, it must have been pushed under.
The iPod that plays lullabies every night and nap time for Butterball disappeared. (It reappeared in a random box of kids books).
Quite often, the remote control goes missing. Quite often it is found in odd places. Like in Butterball's dresser drawers, Little Monster's dresser drawers, the kitchen drawer that houses our baggies, and occasionally the one that holds the oven mitts. Once we found it in the trash can.
Often I'll find her sippy cups and snack traps in odd places. I've purchased many thinking they'd been left in stores or at the park, only to find them among my jeans, under the bathroom sink or in the kitchen drawers.
This morning was the final blow. The kids were playing quietly - -which in hindsight should have been a big clue that something was going on. I found them, and they were being good. However, I noticed that Butterball's little doll stroller was missing the fabric seat. It was now just a dangerous frame of metal rods daring to poke someones eye out.
After searching and searching last week for the trackball, to no avail, I couldn't take it. Little Monster had been the one to remove the seat, and since Butterball has yet to master the art of the English language (outside of Mama, Dada, Up and All-Done), he was responsible for its disappearance.
We tore the house apart. Looked under and in couches, emptied trash cans, dirty laundry bins, dresser drawers, backpacks, diaper pails, file cabinet drawers, coat pockets, closets, and multiple kitchen drawers. We looked in places the children could not have possibly put the thing. And then we looked in all of the places again. And then I dug through the diaper pail. And the outdoor trash can. You know, in case my ONE YEAR OLD managed to escape the house, grow three feet, deposit the fabric, and then come back into the house and return to normal size all without my knowledge. I dug through the diaper pail people. The diaper pail that is full of stinky, nasty, diapers. We did not find the fabric. We did, however, find the trackball for my mouse. In the hat box I keep to put the kids sunhats in near the front door. Where I had looked. At least thirty times last week.
We gave up on the search for the stupid fabric. Which was fine. Little Monster had only been told he'd not be getting his favorite McQueen and The King trailers and cars returned to him until we found it. And at one point the loss of all food until it was found may or may not have been threatened. We left. And got soaking wet since it decided to downpour during the fifteen minutes we were out of the house today.
And when we returned, I was putting my sunglasses on our bookshelf by the door, and happened to look down. Into a 5 inch gun shell that we have. Inside the shell was the fabric for the stroller.
I am pretty sure that we are losing our minds. But it isn't our fault. It isn't our age. It is definitely the fault of two people. One I affectionately call Monster. The other, often goes by Monkey. They think it is great fun to move things to funny places and then watch us go crazy trying to find them. They test us by doing the exact thing we tell them not to right in front of us -- while watching our reaction. They steal things they know they aren't supposed to have. When they are caught they run the other way as fast as their little legs can scramble, shrieking with maniacal laughter.
There is a reason why as children, we think our parents are uptight, unreasonable, unfair and quite often completely insane. It's because they were. And it was our fault. We did it to them. It also explains how they magically regain their sanity after we leave their house.
Parents, I'm sorry. Children, you're going to be too someday.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
A lesson in Sharing...
Over the weekend my grandmother passed away. This is a photo from the last time we were able to visit. (Never mind the evil look -- he was a bit freaked out by all of the tubes.)
It isn't the greatest picture, but it has four generations of my family. I was talking about everything with my husband, and Little Monster wanted to know what we were talking about. After I explained everything to him he thought for a minute, looked out of the corner of his eyes like kids do when they are in the depths of serious contemplation...
"Mommy. It's okay. You can share my grandma."
It's nice of him to think that way. And I don't mind sharing his grandmothers with him. Not even one little bit.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Welcome Home!
It is a relief to finally be in our new home. We are now nestled into our cozy house on the East Coast. It is very temporary, as we should be returning to the west coast soon. It is amazing to live somewhere we've lived before. Things have changes a bit, but it's nice to know where the good grocery stores are, be familiar with the local chains, and at least have an idea about where I am when we move to a new home.
We spent ten days in the truck traveling across the country. Have you ever spent ten days in a truck with an 8 month old and a three year old? It makes for quite an adventure!
We stopped in Las Vegas to walk the strip, do some people watching and eat at one of the buffets. After that, the real trip began. Up early, and driving late, it still took us ten days. Between stops for restrooms (gotta love being just past potty training!), nursing breaks, and plain old sanity breaks made the days go by quickly.
Some highlights of the trip:
- Las Vegas, and Treasure Island show: "There will be no pillaging of this booty tonight boys!" A show not meant for kids.
- 10 rest areas between Monterey CA and the eastern AZ border. 2 were open.
- I-10 in El Paso, TX is so close to Mexico, that one of our iPhones decided to go ahead and join the Mexican Cellular network. It only costs about $20/mb to send and receive data.
- Three solid days of rain. Rain at night. Rain during the day. Rain. Rain. and more. RAIN!
- Trying to hit up every Cracker Barrel possible for those oh-so-good biscuits and southern comfort food.
- Flooding! Flooding! Flooding! As we were getting ready to leave Texas, the roads started to get a bit waterlogged. We found that they had closed the interstate minutes after we passed because it was covered in water.
- We experienced the most complicated interchange on I-10 in Houston, TX.
- Driving through the swamps of Louisiana was an experience. Have you ever driven down there? That is definitely a new experience. We were grateful to have passed through BEFORE the Superbowl AND Mardi Gras.
- Stopped in Northern VA in the snow and let Little Monster throw snowballs. His first time being old enough to play in it!
After all of those, we hit DC and Baltimore. Two days after they were hit with three feet of snow. Pulling the fifth wheel. Imagine if you will, the worst washboard road you can think of. Then multiply that by 1000. We had a hitch haul, carrying the generator and an air compressor on the back. Note, the word "had." As we pulled into Connecticut for the coldest night of our lives in the camper, we were very grateful that we had made it without incident. The hitch haul had cracked and broken, but had managed to hang on until we stopped for the night.
We could tell we were on the receiving end of many heartfelt prayers, because we didn't have any car trouble, and despite all of the adventure, we all managed to keep our sanity, and most of the time our sense of humor.
The snow in RI held off long enough for us to park our fifth wheel at its new home a few blocks away from our house, and the ABF trailer to arrive. But, the second we opened the trailer to unload, the snow came down. We got nearly a foot of snow while we were unloading, though we were lucky enough to have several neighbors come out to help.
As of right now, we are mostly moved in, and enjoying being on the east coast. The person who enjoys it the most? Probably our daughter who got her first taste of Dunkin donuts and a jelly filled munchkin:
Friday, August 21, 2009
I'd like to tell you a story...
But I think it's cuter coming from Little Monster...
Wast Night Dwami and Dwampa tum in airpwane. Dey tum in bwoo airpwane. And when Dwampa dwives eveebuddy say "aaaah, we all die! We twash!" And wast night we go wif twaiwer to mountains. In da mountains we went on dadenture for tweasure. Tweasure wike sticks and tine tones. And we see dween birds. And I hold one. Den we go twimming in da pull. I pwash and pwash and dwampa a shark! AAAH! Dwampa det me!! And me get apple boose and i need doop in mine pullup. I no want doop in mine pullup, but apple boose hurt in mine tummy. Me go on potty twain. Den we brock off Dwami and Dwampa in da airpork. Dey fwy home to eh-eh-ehbwasta. And I doop in da potty. and I get one deterdem (M&M). But me want big chalk-it. Big chocate me big wike YOOOOOOU!!! Dat a me talkin' bout.
Did you catch any of that? He speaks pretty fast. Here's the translation:
We've been busy the past week. We picked up Grami and Grampa from the airport and headed East to Yosemite. Mommy and Daddy tried to teach me that when Grampa was driving I was supposed to say "AAH! We're all gonna Die! We're gonna Crash!" But instead I just ratted them out and told Grampa I was supposed to say that when he drove.
We spent our first day in Yosemite without Not the Momma, but it was fun anyway. We went on a "treasure adventure!" Mommy made up a "treasure map" so that I would know to look for some things. At the end of the map, when we got home, he'd find real treasure -- Daddy!! On our adventure we saw an avalanche,
A waterfall:
BIG ROCKS!!! They were THIS big!
We climbed on even more rocks!
Look how much fun I'm having on my adventure! Don't you love my "jungle hat?" Grampa loves the new one we bought him. They FLOAT!
Butterball wasn't sure about the heat. She's never felt anything this hot in her whole life. Mommy almost went insane because she cried about the heat so much. This is what she thought about the cold nights and hot afternoons:
One day during the trip, Grami, Grampa and Daddy went on their own Adventure! Mommy said it was too long and too scary for me and Butterball so we had to stay back at the trailer. I think they all had a good time though.
I can't believe Daddy climbed up this despite the Danger! He's a superhero!
Here's Grampa right before they climbed up the scary, scary cables at the top of Half Dome:
Here's Daddy on the cables. Grami stayed behind for this stuff because it was extra scary! Daddy has a jungle hat just like mine. I think he wants to be cool like me.
Grami had fun though, and they saw lots of pretty scenery:
I was really good and didn't use my pull ups the whole time. I was a big boy and used the potty. Everyone was proud of me. Butterball cried a lot, but Grampa was the cure for all of her tears. She loves him very much and stopped crying every time he held her. See, here's Grampa holding her. Isn't she cute? I like that outfit on her. Grampa is wearing his new floaty hat too. I'm glad he likes it. It took me forever to pick it out. Mommy got tired of standing in the store while I dug through the racks.
When we got back from our adventure in the mountains we found my friend George at Fisherman's Wharf. He let me hold his bird. I was scared, but I didn't let on too much.
We went swimming twice while they were here. Once at the campground, and once at home. I had a ton of fun both times. Grampa swims like a shark, but I'm a shark hunter, so that's okay. I was scared at first, but he helped me get past it and he helped me jump into the pool a bazillion times. I even got to spend some time with just Grampa in the pool here at home. That was the best!
After we went swimming, we had to take Grami and Grampa back to the airport so they could go home to Nebraska. It was sad, but Grampa shared his snickers, so it was a little better. It was a lot of fun having Grami and Grampa here. I hope they'll visit us again so that we can have even more fun adventures together!
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Butterball's Birth Story.
Why yes. We're still here. And I guess it's time I tell you how Butterball came to be. No, I'm not going to tell you how she was conceived. I'm pretty sure you already know that.
My pregnancy with Butterball was pretty uncomfortable. Way uncomfortable, in fact. I'd even go as far as to say I was miserable. I was happy to be miserable, though. The 20 weeks of terrible morning sickness was followed by about 3 weeks of glorious honeymoon 2nd trimester. But the third trimester stuff started a lot earlier than with my first pregnancy. I couldn't move, roll over in bed or walk without pain. Eating was hard to do, sleeping nearly impossible, and I spent about half my life in the bathroom trying to go, but only dripping. I spent months at night praying that the baby would come out as SOON as she was healthy enough. I also spent weeks telling Little Monster to tell his baby sister to come out. Every time I asked him his answer was "Mommy, Butterball say No!"
I'd been having regular braxton hicks contractions at night for several days, a couple of weeks perhaps. Once it was even enough to call the people who were going to watch Little Monster to forewarn them that they may be getting a middle of the night call. For nights I would get excited, go to bed to get some sleep, and wake up pregnant without contractions.
Thursday I woke up feeling pretty crummy. Everything made me want to either scream, or cry. A couple of times the crying won out. I called Not the Momma at work, hoping he was on his way home several times, but couldn't get a hold of him. I thought I was getting the flu, and hoped that he could come home and take care of Little Monster while I napped and tried to get over whatever was going on. While Not the Momma was swimming for the Navy to ensure that he is fit, I was begging Little Monster to tell his sister to come out. His answer, which has never changed became "Mommy, Butterball say in a little bit." I still didn't think much of it at that point. I figured he was repeating what we'd been telling him for months -- that "in a little bit" he'd be a big brother.
As the day wore on, I felt worse and worse. Not the Momma had a softball game, and wanted to go. I didn't think it was a great idea, because I was worried that this "malaise" was really early labor, but at the same time, I didn't want to keep him home for nothing. So, he went to his softball game I put Little Monster to bed. As I was putting him to bed, I asked him to tell his sister to come out. This time his answer was "Mommy, Butterball say yes." I still didn't think much of it. I wasn't having contractions that were regular or painful.
Fast forward one hour. Contractions seemed pretty real, and they were five to seven minutes apart. Not the Momma came home, and I told him that this could be the real thing. He ran around the house grabbing things as I showered. We told our friends that they could very well be getting a two year old in the middle of the night. Then we went to bed. I very well expected to wake up in the middle of the night needing to time contractions and head to the hospital, but that didn't happen. I woke up twice with contractions, but they weren't regular. I was sure it was going to be another false alarm night. However, I got up in the morning, and the contractions picked up again. By 9:00 we had the kid in the car and were headed in to the hospital.
We got to the hospital around 9:30, we were admitted by 10:00, and at 10:30, they ordered an ultrasound to check the size of the baby. Because I was so uncomfortable, and because Little Monster was so big, they were a bit worried that this baby was going to be very large as well. Shortly after, the ultrasound tech arrived. Let me tell you, dealing with the pain from contractions while laying flat on your back -- not an ideal situation. She estimated that the baby was 10 lb 13 oz. Knowing that the numbers could be off by 20% in either direction, I was NOT prepared to have a natural birth. It was 11:30. The C-Section was scheduled for 12:30, and then the whirlwind began. People came in to do blood work, IV's were connected. Release forms needed to be re-signed since my doctor was out of town. By 12:30, I was being wheeled into the OR.
Anesthesia didn't go like expected. The spinal they wanted to do wouldn't take, I could feel all kinds of craziness in my left leg. It had a lot to do with the way the baby was laying and messing up my spine. So, an epidural it was, which was fine. at 1:28, she was born. 9 lb 7 oz, and two weeks early. Unfortunately, she'd taken a big suck of fluid before they pulled her out, and she couldn't cry enough to get the fluid out. She cried and her color was good, but when she quit, she'd turn blue. So, they put her in the nursery under an Oxygen hood for a few hours. It was awful being separated from her for so long.
It was a bit scary knowing that my baby wasn't breathing room air normally, and I was terrified about the whole C-section experience. Recovery has been easier than I expected, but definitely harder than after a natural birth. Women who opt for a C-Section to avoid labor are nuts. But then, that's just my opinion. There are plenty of reasons to have them, but they are SO much harder to recover from, and WAY more painful.
A few things I learned: Morphine does nothing for me except make me sleepy. I still felt every stitch of pain. After surgery, get up the first time they offer it -- it gets easier after that. There's no need to be a martyr or a superhero -- take the pain drugs.
The doctor seemed to be a little bit concerned that we opted for the C-Section unnecessarily since she was smaller than Little Monster was. I don't have one ounce of regret about the decision we made. The chance that she was going to be the full 20% smaller was too low for me to be comfortable doing anything else.
A month and 6 days later, we're healthy, happy, and I'm feeling a million times better than I expected I would. And this, this isn't some Anne Geddes baby, this is my baby girl, happy healthy and now 11 lbs 2 oz, and 3 inches longer than she was at birth.
We're blessed to have this new member of our family. I feel even more blessed that this morning, without prompting, Little Monster said: "Mommy, that Butterball? I love her."
My pregnancy with Butterball was pretty uncomfortable. Way uncomfortable, in fact. I'd even go as far as to say I was miserable. I was happy to be miserable, though. The 20 weeks of terrible morning sickness was followed by about 3 weeks of glorious honeymoon 2nd trimester. But the third trimester stuff started a lot earlier than with my first pregnancy. I couldn't move, roll over in bed or walk without pain. Eating was hard to do, sleeping nearly impossible, and I spent about half my life in the bathroom trying to go, but only dripping. I spent months at night praying that the baby would come out as SOON as she was healthy enough. I also spent weeks telling Little Monster to tell his baby sister to come out. Every time I asked him his answer was "Mommy, Butterball say No!"
I'd been having regular braxton hicks contractions at night for several days, a couple of weeks perhaps. Once it was even enough to call the people who were going to watch Little Monster to forewarn them that they may be getting a middle of the night call. For nights I would get excited, go to bed to get some sleep, and wake up pregnant without contractions.
Thursday I woke up feeling pretty crummy. Everything made me want to either scream, or cry. A couple of times the crying won out. I called Not the Momma at work, hoping he was on his way home several times, but couldn't get a hold of him. I thought I was getting the flu, and hoped that he could come home and take care of Little Monster while I napped and tried to get over whatever was going on. While Not the Momma was swimming for the Navy to ensure that he is fit, I was begging Little Monster to tell his sister to come out. His answer, which has never changed became "Mommy, Butterball say in a little bit." I still didn't think much of it at that point. I figured he was repeating what we'd been telling him for months -- that "in a little bit" he'd be a big brother.
As the day wore on, I felt worse and worse. Not the Momma had a softball game, and wanted to go. I didn't think it was a great idea, because I was worried that this "malaise" was really early labor, but at the same time, I didn't want to keep him home for nothing. So, he went to his softball game I put Little Monster to bed. As I was putting him to bed, I asked him to tell his sister to come out. This time his answer was "Mommy, Butterball say yes." I still didn't think much of it. I wasn't having contractions that were regular or painful.
Fast forward one hour. Contractions seemed pretty real, and they were five to seven minutes apart. Not the Momma came home, and I told him that this could be the real thing. He ran around the house grabbing things as I showered. We told our friends that they could very well be getting a two year old in the middle of the night. Then we went to bed. I very well expected to wake up in the middle of the night needing to time contractions and head to the hospital, but that didn't happen. I woke up twice with contractions, but they weren't regular. I was sure it was going to be another false alarm night. However, I got up in the morning, and the contractions picked up again. By 9:00 we had the kid in the car and were headed in to the hospital.
We got to the hospital around 9:30, we were admitted by 10:00, and at 10:30, they ordered an ultrasound to check the size of the baby. Because I was so uncomfortable, and because Little Monster was so big, they were a bit worried that this baby was going to be very large as well. Shortly after, the ultrasound tech arrived. Let me tell you, dealing with the pain from contractions while laying flat on your back -- not an ideal situation. She estimated that the baby was 10 lb 13 oz. Knowing that the numbers could be off by 20% in either direction, I was NOT prepared to have a natural birth. It was 11:30. The C-Section was scheduled for 12:30, and then the whirlwind began. People came in to do blood work, IV's were connected. Release forms needed to be re-signed since my doctor was out of town. By 12:30, I was being wheeled into the OR.
Anesthesia didn't go like expected. The spinal they wanted to do wouldn't take, I could feel all kinds of craziness in my left leg. It had a lot to do with the way the baby was laying and messing up my spine. So, an epidural it was, which was fine. at 1:28, she was born. 9 lb 7 oz, and two weeks early. Unfortunately, she'd taken a big suck of fluid before they pulled her out, and she couldn't cry enough to get the fluid out. She cried and her color was good, but when she quit, she'd turn blue. So, they put her in the nursery under an Oxygen hood for a few hours. It was awful being separated from her for so long.
It was a bit scary knowing that my baby wasn't breathing room air normally, and I was terrified about the whole C-section experience. Recovery has been easier than I expected, but definitely harder than after a natural birth. Women who opt for a C-Section to avoid labor are nuts. But then, that's just my opinion. There are plenty of reasons to have them, but they are SO much harder to recover from, and WAY more painful.
A few things I learned: Morphine does nothing for me except make me sleepy. I still felt every stitch of pain. After surgery, get up the first time they offer it -- it gets easier after that. There's no need to be a martyr or a superhero -- take the pain drugs.
The doctor seemed to be a little bit concerned that we opted for the C-Section unnecessarily since she was smaller than Little Monster was. I don't have one ounce of regret about the decision we made. The chance that she was going to be the full 20% smaller was too low for me to be comfortable doing anything else.
A month and 6 days later, we're healthy, happy, and I'm feeling a million times better than I expected I would. And this, this isn't some Anne Geddes baby, this is my baby girl, happy healthy and now 11 lbs 2 oz, and 3 inches longer than she was at birth.
We're blessed to have this new member of our family. I feel even more blessed that this morning, without prompting, Little Monster said: "Mommy, that Butterball? I love her."
Monday, June 29, 2009
June. What a month.
There has been lots of craziness for our family this month.
Shortcake will forever be known as Butterball. Or Little Ladybug. Either one. Little Monster still insists upon calling her butterball. Unless, of course, I actually call her butterball -- then he corrects me with her name.
Our home in Virginia has found new tenants, although it did take several thousand dollars in carpet and paint to get us to that point, I'm happy that it will have a family to take care of it for us until we can come back and fix it up.
Kleenex, our female dog, is no longer ours. It was a very sad and depressing few days for me. She wasn't handling the new addition to our family well at all and began shredding things. She shredded quite a few things, and had a few other behavior incidents before Not the Momma decided she probably would do better with a different family. I was sad, but happy she was possibly going to a family with older kids and a more stable, permanent home. Luckily, we are in California, land of the no-kill shelters, right? So, we dropped her off at the SPCA. The man at the front took her back for a behavior test, which she passed with flying colors. He assured us that she was cute and that she would be adopted quickly. There was even a family that was oohing at her as we were dropping her off. Two hours later, we got a call that she wasn't doing so well. The stress of being in the kennel was making her go nuts. She was growling, snapping, snarling and her hair was going up at the sight of everyone. They wanted to put her to sleep, or we had to pick her up. It was a very difficult decision, but we decided, after talking to their behavior specialist, that it was better for everyone if we signed the euthanasia paperwork. We told Little Monster initially that we gave Kleenex to another family, thinking she'd be adopted... But when we stopped by the SPCA later, he somehow knew (without getting out of the car and seeing anything) that we were at a "dog farm" and Kleenex was there. And was Daddy picking up Kleenex? He has done pretty well without Kleenex, and our other dog still seems content. I wish that stupid dog had been smart enough to look cute at everyone and be friendly so that she could have found a new home, but things don't always work out the way you want. I am not so happy with how everything turned out, being as Kleenex was really one of my children, but it was the best decision for our family. Being a grown up sucks sometimes.
We have had lots of visitors and guests here to help out since the birth. My mom and sister came out, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Then, Not the Momma's parents came out to help. It was nice to not have to worry about cleaning or doing dishes, or dinner. My PWOC sisters brought us meals for five nights -- and did they ever bring us meals! We could have eaten for weeks with the amount of food we received. It is amazing to realize how many friends you actually have. Sometimes (this time especially) it's humbling. I think I need to be a better friend for the rest of our tour here.
We've even gotten our family photos taken. A photographer in our neighborhood was good enough to take them for us, and I think they turned out wonderfully.
The day Butterball was born, we were supposed to have found out where we'll be stationed next (after our short tour in Rhode Island). After having everything postponed three times, we finally found out that our new duty station will be in San Diego. I'm not CRAZY about the fact that San Diego is in California. But that's about the only problem I have. I'm excited to be somewhere warm. Not the Momma's job won't be the greatest, and it wasn't our first pick, but it isn't the worst job he could have. And once again, we'll be somewhere warm. Warmer than Washington, more temperate than Norfolk, and though we'll still have June Gloom to worry about, when I am missing winter, I'll just drag the kids to visit family.
Tomorrow Butterball has her 1 month appointment for a weight check. Hopefully that turns out well, and I can kiss June goodbye. We can hope that July and August and the months after will bring a bit less stress (of the unexpected variety, at least) with them. In the next few weeks I have some funny stories to share about how Little Monster is reacting to the new addition, and I'll post the entire birth story. Wait, have I done that already? Who knows. You can read it again.
Shortcake will forever be known as Butterball. Or Little Ladybug. Either one. Little Monster still insists upon calling her butterball. Unless, of course, I actually call her butterball -- then he corrects me with her name.
Our home in Virginia has found new tenants, although it did take several thousand dollars in carpet and paint to get us to that point, I'm happy that it will have a family to take care of it for us until we can come back and fix it up.
Kleenex, our female dog, is no longer ours. It was a very sad and depressing few days for me. She wasn't handling the new addition to our family well at all and began shredding things. She shredded quite a few things, and had a few other behavior incidents before Not the Momma decided she probably would do better with a different family. I was sad, but happy she was possibly going to a family with older kids and a more stable, permanent home. Luckily, we are in California, land of the no-kill shelters, right? So, we dropped her off at the SPCA. The man at the front took her back for a behavior test, which she passed with flying colors. He assured us that she was cute and that she would be adopted quickly. There was even a family that was oohing at her as we were dropping her off. Two hours later, we got a call that she wasn't doing so well. The stress of being in the kennel was making her go nuts. She was growling, snapping, snarling and her hair was going up at the sight of everyone. They wanted to put her to sleep, or we had to pick her up. It was a very difficult decision, but we decided, after talking to their behavior specialist, that it was better for everyone if we signed the euthanasia paperwork. We told Little Monster initially that we gave Kleenex to another family, thinking she'd be adopted... But when we stopped by the SPCA later, he somehow knew (without getting out of the car and seeing anything) that we were at a "dog farm" and Kleenex was there. And was Daddy picking up Kleenex? He has done pretty well without Kleenex, and our other dog still seems content. I wish that stupid dog had been smart enough to look cute at everyone and be friendly so that she could have found a new home, but things don't always work out the way you want. I am not so happy with how everything turned out, being as Kleenex was really one of my children, but it was the best decision for our family. Being a grown up sucks sometimes.
We have had lots of visitors and guests here to help out since the birth. My mom and sister came out, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Then, Not the Momma's parents came out to help. It was nice to not have to worry about cleaning or doing dishes, or dinner. My PWOC sisters brought us meals for five nights -- and did they ever bring us meals! We could have eaten for weeks with the amount of food we received. It is amazing to realize how many friends you actually have. Sometimes (this time especially) it's humbling. I think I need to be a better friend for the rest of our tour here.
We've even gotten our family photos taken. A photographer in our neighborhood was good enough to take them for us, and I think they turned out wonderfully.
The day Butterball was born, we were supposed to have found out where we'll be stationed next (after our short tour in Rhode Island). After having everything postponed three times, we finally found out that our new duty station will be in San Diego. I'm not CRAZY about the fact that San Diego is in California. But that's about the only problem I have. I'm excited to be somewhere warm. Not the Momma's job won't be the greatest, and it wasn't our first pick, but it isn't the worst job he could have. And once again, we'll be somewhere warm. Warmer than Washington, more temperate than Norfolk, and though we'll still have June Gloom to worry about, when I am missing winter, I'll just drag the kids to visit family.
Tomorrow Butterball has her 1 month appointment for a weight check. Hopefully that turns out well, and I can kiss June goodbye. We can hope that July and August and the months after will bring a bit less stress (of the unexpected variety, at least) with them. In the next few weeks I have some funny stories to share about how Little Monster is reacting to the new addition, and I'll post the entire birth story. Wait, have I done that already? Who knows. You can read it again.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Announcing....
The newest member of our family: Shortcake.There was some worry about how big she was going to be, and after an ultrasound guessed she'd be around 10 lb 13 oz, we were wheeled into the OR within an hour or so. At 1:30 PM yesterday, she was here. She weighed in at 9 lb 7 oz. 3 oz smaller than her brother, but no less cute!
We are in love. I am happy, and have been up and walking around and showered and walking around and feel human again, if a bit tender. And sleepy. Mommy is going to nap while she can.
Happy Birthday (yesterday) Shortcake! More details to come later!
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Hormones -- they are a changin'
I don't know what the difference is from one day to the next, but lately my life has been a roller coaster ride. I go from happy to mad to OHMYLORDJUSTSTOPTOUCHINGMELEAVEMEALONE to weeping because I need hugs from my guys and they're both down-right scared of me. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the pregnancy and the extra 'girl' hormones raging through my body.
The other day I was not having a good day. I felt icky. Icky enough to spend most of the morning in bed while I let Little Monster watch way too much television and paid way to little attention to him. And then, all afternoon he drove me nuts with his clinging. He sat next to me, wrestled me and snuggled me all day. Either in my bed, while I was trying to get work done on the computer, while I was trying to cook dinner. He needed to be touching me ALL DAY LONG. And it got old. Unfortunately for my husband, it usually gets REALLY old right about the time he gets home. Perhaps it has something to do with having to split my affection between two people suddenly. Maybe it's because I feel internal pressure to be the 'perfect' person who has dinner on the table by a certain time. Who knows. I just feel bad that lately I've been blowing up right around dinner time. I'd like to blame it on the clinging of Little Monster and his ability to run around the house like a hyper little monkey, but I really think it's my problem.
Why? Because yesterday was no different. I did feel a little better so we didn't lounge in bed all morning. (By the way, Little Monster's idea of 'lounging in bed' is really climbing in and out, jumping on me, and running around the room for the majority of the morning.) But yesterday, I didn't stress and get upset when I suggested lunch and Little Monster said "No!" I didn't worry about it as much when he wanted to be sitting in my lap while I worked at the computer. When he wanted to sit in the laundry basket playing with empty plastic bottles it was no big deal. I didn't get upset when he got into the pantry and pulled out the pudding, brought it to me and said "Mommy? Cook Pudding?" Instead, I suggested that we make it after we ate lunch. We ate lunch, and I helped him make some pudding. It was fun. He had a blast -- both making and eating it. And while we were waiting for timer to go off to signify that the pudding was done, I got to hear him yell "PUDDING TIME! YAY!" every time something in our house beeped.
I don't know what makes the days so different. Is it because the sun was trying to come out yesterday and it wasn't raining? Is it because despite the horrible day the other day I did manage to get half the house cleaned, and I've at least gotten some of the clutter taken care of? Perhaps it's the looming weekend and plans for fun and relaxation along with the knowledge that if the house is clean for the weekend, I won't spend the entire time stressing about the dog hairs in the carpet and the dishes in the sink?
Whatever the reason, I hope I can have more days like yesterday. And soon. Because these days when I have a little more patience, when the silly Little Monster I love is silly instead of naughty (I don't think there's much of a difference day-to-day here), days when I will be able to greet Not the Momma with a smile when I see him at the end of the day -- they are much nicer than the other days.
The other day I was not having a good day. I felt icky. Icky enough to spend most of the morning in bed while I let Little Monster watch way too much television and paid way to little attention to him. And then, all afternoon he drove me nuts with his clinging. He sat next to me, wrestled me and snuggled me all day. Either in my bed, while I was trying to get work done on the computer, while I was trying to cook dinner. He needed to be touching me ALL DAY LONG. And it got old. Unfortunately for my husband, it usually gets REALLY old right about the time he gets home. Perhaps it has something to do with having to split my affection between two people suddenly. Maybe it's because I feel internal pressure to be the 'perfect' person who has dinner on the table by a certain time. Who knows. I just feel bad that lately I've been blowing up right around dinner time. I'd like to blame it on the clinging of Little Monster and his ability to run around the house like a hyper little monkey, but I really think it's my problem.
Why? Because yesterday was no different. I did feel a little better so we didn't lounge in bed all morning. (By the way, Little Monster's idea of 'lounging in bed' is really climbing in and out, jumping on me, and running around the room for the majority of the morning.) But yesterday, I didn't stress and get upset when I suggested lunch and Little Monster said "No!" I didn't worry about it as much when he wanted to be sitting in my lap while I worked at the computer. When he wanted to sit in the laundry basket playing with empty plastic bottles it was no big deal. I didn't get upset when he got into the pantry and pulled out the pudding, brought it to me and said "Mommy? Cook Pudding?" Instead, I suggested that we make it after we ate lunch. We ate lunch, and I helped him make some pudding. It was fun. He had a blast -- both making and eating it. And while we were waiting for timer to go off to signify that the pudding was done, I got to hear him yell "PUDDING TIME! YAY!" every time something in our house beeped.
I don't know what makes the days so different. Is it because the sun was trying to come out yesterday and it wasn't raining? Is it because despite the horrible day the other day I did manage to get half the house cleaned, and I've at least gotten some of the clutter taken care of? Perhaps it's the looming weekend and plans for fun and relaxation along with the knowledge that if the house is clean for the weekend, I won't spend the entire time stressing about the dog hairs in the carpet and the dishes in the sink?
Whatever the reason, I hope I can have more days like yesterday. And soon. Because these days when I have a little more patience, when the silly Little Monster I love is silly instead of naughty (I don't think there's much of a difference day-to-day here), days when I will be able to greet Not the Momma with a smile when I see him at the end of the day -- they are much nicer than the other days.
Friday, February 20, 2009
A couple of reasons...
Why I love my husband.
He understands the therapeutic power of both ice cream and Starbucks.
He has been known to willingly, without being prompted help me to wash dishes after dinner. Occasionally he's done it himself.
He has been known to make dinner. Without being prompted, nagged or asked. Sometimes several nights in a row. (Two nights this week, three if you count the night he took us out to dinner.)
He often gives spontaneous "on the fly" back-rubs. He only complains occasionally when I slow down to make it last longer.
The look he gets when he sees a tiny appendage come shooting out of my stomach right before he places his hand over it to see if he can convince the baby to do it again.
He's the best Daddy Ever. Period.
He sees the fun in turning on 80's on 8 in the car every once in while. And talking about that guy who used to be named Prince, but is now some crazy symbol thingy while listening to "When Doves Cry."
He's not afraid of a spontaneous weekend trip to visit a friend hundreds of miles away so that I can play with her newborn bub. (Spontaneous being a month away.)
Sometimes he comes up with lavish schemes about what we'll do when he retires including (but not limited to) buying a boat and sailing to Australia, taking a six month trip to tour Europe, travelling through every state towing our fifth wheel, and starting up an indoor RV storage and repair facility.
That last thing, he really wants to do it. And it's really scary that my Dad has had the same dream forever.
Had enough? Are you barfing yet? Well, too bad. This post isn't for you. It's for Not the Momma. He's truly a blessing in my life. Especially the past few months, when I went from morning all day and all night sick, to having a cold, to having another cold, to having a sinus infection. He's spent days studying his butt off at work, only to come home and pick up the house, make dinner and take Little Monster (who is seriously living up to his name -- in a good way) off my hands so that I can get a break.
Oh, yeah, and when I tell Little Monster to suggest to Daddy that we go to Starbucks, he's kind and pretends like he doesn't know it was me that told Little Monster to suggest it to him.
P.S. Little Monster did not send any warnings about "boo-bots" coming yesterday morning. The threat may have passed. However, he did wear his "Soup-man" pajamas to bed the night before last. Perhaps he fought them off in his sleep with the fancy "pate" (cape) and "boo-buck" (belt buckle) that came with the jammies. Or maybe he fought them off at some random point yesterday when I wasn't looking since he refused to take the "soup-man" shirt or "pate" off.
P.P.S. Is it wrong to let your kid sleep in a pair of pajamas, wear the shirt around all day, and then let him sleep in the same pajamas again?
Monday, January 05, 2009
These are the days.
Little Monster. What can I say about him today? He has so much energy, I wish I could tap it and bottle it for those days when I just can't get out of bed. Today I'd have been able to bottle enough energy that I'd be able to skip the Lattes for the rest of my life.
Normally his energy drains me and has me pulling my hair out, wishing for nap time and the end of the day. Today wasn't much different. That's the thing about being a parent. Sometimes it is terrible, awful and disgusting. The good thing is that usually the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable moments outweigh those moments you want to forget. Today was one day where the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable definitely won out over everything else.
You want examples? Sure.
Little Monster refused to take a nap today. No big deal. It happens all the time. He finally got quiet. A few minutes later, I decided to check on him. What I found, was a child, laying in his T-Shirt in bed. I chuckled as I saw his little butt cheeks in the air. Then I panicked -- because if he wasn't wearing a diaper, he'd probably peed in his bed. And he did. But where was the dirty diaper? The only thing I could find was the clean one he'd tried to put on after dragging it out of the bin. That -- not one of the perks of parenting today. It was not fun to wake the poor kid up and drag him out of bed in order to get everything cleaned up. (While cleaning up we noticed he had taken off his wet diaper and thrown it into the hallway near the diaper champ. Smart kid.)
After he woke up, though, he decided to pretend to be a dinosaur. The afternoon was spent running around chasing us. We'd pretend to scared and scream which caused him to erupt into contagious giggles. Then he'd announce "I scared Daddy!" or "I scared Mommy!" Repeat times 425. A friend came over, and he was very disappointed when the only response he got to his dinosaur routine was "Ooh, you're scary."
We went out to dinner, but he refused to wear shoes. Only Elmo slippers would do.
On the way home from dinner, he erupted into song... "Head... Knees... Toes... Shoulders..." He loves that song. But then it morphed into "Knees... Toes... Knees... Toes... Head... WASH! SUN! SPIDER!" Daddy and I helped him sing the songs the rest of the way home. I've never had so much fun singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" in my life. After the song would end he would yell "AY-YEN!" (That means again.)
Before bed tonight, he resumed 'dinosaur' mode. He walked up to me while I was working on a project, said "RAAAAHR!" and then proceeded to bite my butt. Let me tell you that was quite a surprise. I was very glad that I was wearing a sweater -- that caught most of the bite. When I turned around and asked him if he had just bitten me, he said "Yes. I dinosaur! RAHR! Dinosaur BITE!" I told him it wasn't nice to bite, and that the next time he'd be in trouble. Then I heard Not the Momma nearly collapse in laughter from the hallway. Not ten seconds later there was a girlish YELP! coming from the hallway, followed by "I dinosaur! RAHR! BITE!" Not the Momma didn't think it was so funny when the back of his leg was being attacked by a two-year-old blue eyed dinosaur. There was a time-out this time. (Meanwhile Mommy and Daddy had to excuse themselves for their own time-out so that they could giggle.)
Fast forward to bedtime when we were saying prayers. We said our prayers in English, but Little Monster, who had found a stuffed monkey (Thanks Grampa!), recited his in some unknown primate language.
Those are only the moments I can remember -- from today. There are days when I want to strangle him (with hugs and kisses only) before duct taping him to the wall to keep him from TOUCHING! EVERYTHING! HE! CAN! FIND! There are days where I think I must have lost my mind to actually have desired to have another walking, pooping, eating, crying time-bomb of destruction. But then, there are days like today. When even the time-bomb destruction can make me laugh so hard I worry I'll end up incontinent. These are the days when the gross and terrible parts of parenthood have no dominion over the hilarious, and down-right memorable moments.
Normally his energy drains me and has me pulling my hair out, wishing for nap time and the end of the day. Today wasn't much different. That's the thing about being a parent. Sometimes it is terrible, awful and disgusting. The good thing is that usually the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable moments outweigh those moments you want to forget. Today was one day where the cute, hilarious, and down-right memorable definitely won out over everything else.
You want examples? Sure.
Little Monster refused to take a nap today. No big deal. It happens all the time. He finally got quiet. A few minutes later, I decided to check on him. What I found, was a child, laying in his T-Shirt in bed. I chuckled as I saw his little butt cheeks in the air. Then I panicked -- because if he wasn't wearing a diaper, he'd probably peed in his bed. And he did. But where was the dirty diaper? The only thing I could find was the clean one he'd tried to put on after dragging it out of the bin. That -- not one of the perks of parenting today. It was not fun to wake the poor kid up and drag him out of bed in order to get everything cleaned up. (While cleaning up we noticed he had taken off his wet diaper and thrown it into the hallway near the diaper champ. Smart kid.)
After he woke up, though, he decided to pretend to be a dinosaur. The afternoon was spent running around chasing us. We'd pretend to scared and scream which caused him to erupt into contagious giggles. Then he'd announce "I scared Daddy!" or "I scared Mommy!" Repeat times 425. A friend came over, and he was very disappointed when the only response he got to his dinosaur routine was "Ooh, you're scary."
We went out to dinner, but he refused to wear shoes. Only Elmo slippers would do.
On the way home from dinner, he erupted into song... "Head... Knees... Toes... Shoulders..." He loves that song. But then it morphed into "Knees... Toes... Knees... Toes... Head... WASH! SUN! SPIDER!" Daddy and I helped him sing the songs the rest of the way home. I've never had so much fun singing "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider" in my life. After the song would end he would yell "AY-YEN!" (That means again.)
Before bed tonight, he resumed 'dinosaur' mode. He walked up to me while I was working on a project, said "RAAAAHR!" and then proceeded to bite my butt. Let me tell you that was quite a surprise. I was very glad that I was wearing a sweater -- that caught most of the bite. When I turned around and asked him if he had just bitten me, he said "Yes. I dinosaur! RAHR! Dinosaur BITE!" I told him it wasn't nice to bite, and that the next time he'd be in trouble. Then I heard Not the Momma nearly collapse in laughter from the hallway. Not ten seconds later there was a girlish YELP! coming from the hallway, followed by "I dinosaur! RAHR! BITE!" Not the Momma didn't think it was so funny when the back of his leg was being attacked by a two-year-old blue eyed dinosaur. There was a time-out this time. (Meanwhile Mommy and Daddy had to excuse themselves for their own time-out so that they could giggle.)
Fast forward to bedtime when we were saying prayers. We said our prayers in English, but Little Monster, who had found a stuffed monkey (Thanks Grampa!), recited his in some unknown primate language.
Those are only the moments I can remember -- from today. There are days when I want to strangle him (with hugs and kisses only) before duct taping him to the wall to keep him from TOUCHING! EVERYTHING! HE! CAN! FIND! There are days where I think I must have lost my mind to actually have desired to have another walking, pooping, eating, crying time-bomb of destruction. But then, there are days like today. When even the time-bomb destruction can make me laugh so hard I worry I'll end up incontinent. These are the days when the gross and terrible parts of parenthood have no dominion over the hilarious, and down-right memorable moments.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Old Traditions
Sorry about the interruption, there. We're still dealing with the aftermath. But this is about Old Christmas Traditions.
If you can remember being little, and thinking about Santa Claus coming on Christmas Eve, munching down on some cookies and bringing presents, you remember how terribly exciting it was. It wasn't bad enough there were usually gifts under the tree anyway. You'd been watching them for weeks (and if you were smart like me, you'd probably tried to sneak peaks at them), waiting for Christmas Day to come so that you could open them. At one point there were four children five and under in my house growing up. I can't imagine being the parent to four kids, so excited they couldn't sleep on Christmas eve. In order to alleviate some of the craziness (at least I assume this is why), my mom allowed us to open ONE gift on Christmas Eve. She picked them, of course. We always got a pair of pajamas. To this day, I fondly remember going to bed on Christmas Eve in a brand new snuggly pair of PJs each year. I am continuing that tradition in our home. This year, things got a little crazy. My mom sent Little Monster a pair of Pajamas:
Thank you Grami!
Excited about the new Jammies
New Superman Jammies
Little Monster loves his new pajamas. So much, in fact, that we have to trick him into wearing actual clothing.
As for other traditions, we had a light (ha!) meal of bread and soup for dinner Christmas Eve. The soup is delicious, and I'll post the recipe soon, but alas, it has been more than 10 minutes so I must annoy my child until he relents and sits on the potty again.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
A New Christmas Tradition
Christmas traditions are hard to establish when you're constantly moving. This year, we're home, but next year who knows where we'll be. We could be in Nebraska, hanging out with the Grandparents, travelling across the country to some other state. I try to cling to traditions that we can do whether we're on the road, visiting family or at home.
A new tradition we started this year was a Gingerbread Tree. People do gingerbread houses, but we couldn't find a decent kit. In hind-sight, that was okay. Little Monster is waaay too little to decorate a house, but a tree is right up his alley. I found a kit that contained a bunch of gingerbread star cookies and frosting mix, got everything out that we needed and made sure to get Little Monster all ready for some possibly messy kitchen fun.
I'm not sure he's excited. What do you think? We laid out our star cookies so that we would be ready to stack them. I laid the first cookie down, gluing it to the foil-covered plate and turned my back to grab another. What would any two year old boy do?
He grabbed it off the plate and ate it. It ended up being a good thing. He "helped" by munching down on a probably-stale pre-baked gingerbread cookie while I attempted to assemble the tree with the frosting. It leans a little. But then, it was supposed to be assembled by a two-year-old. Once the tree was mostly together, we decided to add a little 'green' and some decorations to our tree.
Of course he took some time to taste test the little balls that went all over the tree. And he decided that the Star didn't go on top, it went at the bottom with the presents. Fine with me, it was his tree.
The finished (crooked but cute) Product:
The kid when he was done:
You can tell by the green on his face that he had fun tasting everything. And if you look in the bottom left corner, you'll notice I was a very nice mommy and left a few of the candy balls for him to eat when we were done.
I was very glad that we hadn't attempted a house. I don't think that would have went nearly as well. The whole experience was wonderful. I also had to get over the fact that the tree wasn't going to look beautiful like the ones on the box, because Little Monster was going to be putting it together. It isn't about the end product, it's about the fun getting there. It did take me a few minutes to get to that point as we were scrambling for water, mixing the icing, and getting things ready. In the future, I'll be more prepared for disasters and laughter and be more willing to let things get a little crazy. I'll also make sure I have EVERYTHING out and ready to go before I let Little Monster in the kitchen so that he's not dumping water on the floor while I search for the mixer beaters.
Thanks Little Monster for a great time. I loved laughing because you were sneaking cookies, taste testing the candy, and making general messes. I hope that you'll enjoy doing stuff like this with me every year. Merry Christmas and thanks again. I am excited to continue this tradition year after year -- at Grandma's house, in our fifth wheel as we travel from duty station to duty station, or in our home. I love you.
A new tradition we started this year was a Gingerbread Tree. People do gingerbread houses, but we couldn't find a decent kit. In hind-sight, that was okay. Little Monster is waaay too little to decorate a house, but a tree is right up his alley. I found a kit that contained a bunch of gingerbread star cookies and frosting mix, got everything out that we needed and made sure to get Little Monster all ready for some possibly messy kitchen fun.
I'm not sure he's excited. What do you think? We laid out our star cookies so that we would be ready to stack them. I laid the first cookie down, gluing it to the foil-covered plate and turned my back to grab another. What would any two year old boy do?
He grabbed it off the plate and ate it. It ended up being a good thing. He "helped" by munching down on a probably-stale pre-baked gingerbread cookie while I attempted to assemble the tree with the frosting. It leans a little. But then, it was supposed to be assembled by a two-year-old. Once the tree was mostly together, we decided to add a little 'green' and some decorations to our tree.
Of course he took some time to taste test the little balls that went all over the tree. And he decided that the Star didn't go on top, it went at the bottom with the presents. Fine with me, it was his tree.
The finished (crooked but cute) Product:
The kid when he was done:
You can tell by the green on his face that he had fun tasting everything. And if you look in the bottom left corner, you'll notice I was a very nice mommy and left a few of the candy balls for him to eat when we were done.
I was very glad that we hadn't attempted a house. I don't think that would have went nearly as well. The whole experience was wonderful. I also had to get over the fact that the tree wasn't going to look beautiful like the ones on the box, because Little Monster was going to be putting it together. It isn't about the end product, it's about the fun getting there. It did take me a few minutes to get to that point as we were scrambling for water, mixing the icing, and getting things ready. In the future, I'll be more prepared for disasters and laughter and be more willing to let things get a little crazy. I'll also make sure I have EVERYTHING out and ready to go before I let Little Monster in the kitchen so that he's not dumping water on the floor while I search for the mixer beaters.
Thanks Little Monster for a great time. I loved laughing because you were sneaking cookies, taste testing the candy, and making general messes. I hope that you'll enjoy doing stuff like this with me every year. Merry Christmas and thanks again. I am excited to continue this tradition year after year -- at Grandma's house, in our fifth wheel as we travel from duty station to duty station, or in our home. I love you.
Monday, December 08, 2008
What? Who is this?
I am still alive. Even after going a week without posting. I know it's bad when I have to actually LOG IN to my blogger account. It's even worse when Not the Momma who normally whines about the amount of time I spend blogging begins to whine about his lack of online reading material.
What can I say? It has been busy around here. We had friends for Thanksgiving, spent the rest of the weekend decorating for Christmas and being lazy. And I threw up a lot.
Then there were about two days of me throwing up while trying to get the house ready for more guests (I failed at that one), getting as much work done as possible. Wednesday we got up bright and early, hit the gas station, Starbucks and headed out to the airport to pick up my parents. There was a little more Zof.ran and a little less throwing up.
We had a great time hitting tourist destinations, local restaurants, and just playing at home. Little Monster was totally enamored with Maw-ma, and and Paw-pa. He spent the entire weekend holding their fingers, showing off for them, and tricking them into loving him even more than they already did. I think their hearts were ready to burst by the time they left. He was incredibly good the entire weekend, of course, making me look like a liar when I talk about how naughty he is. Although, there was the ONE incident at the donut shop with the screaming and the throwing himself to the floor. But then, he's two and if we only have one of those in five days, then all is well.
Mommy, Daddy and the dogs were spoiled as well. The dogs got to go on a real, honest-to-goodness W-A-L-K. Perhaps we'll have to do that a bit more often. Would it be wrong to leash the child at the same time? It would be easier to handle them all. Mommy and Daddy got to sleep in a couple of mornings (sleeping in means past 6:30) because either Gramma and Grampa were up with the Monster to play with him, or they had tired him out so much the day before that he slept later in the morning. That made us ALL happy. Mommy and Daddy also got to go out on a DATE! It was a short one, but it was fun. And spontaneous. Not to mention, my parents felt obliged to wash the dishes every time I turned around. Because my dishwasher broke. On Thanksgiving. Now we have to train Little Monster to wash dishes, and I'm thinking it might be more work than washing them myself. I'm all about taking the lazy way out.
Little Monster was not very happy to see them leave Sunday afternoon. I'm not sure how much of that is because that they showered him with attention and love, or how much of it is that he was spoiled because Mommy and Daddy let a few rules go lax while they were here. I'm guessing it was 10% lax rules, and 90% missing them.
We have exactly one month to get the family into shape before the next set of Grandparents arrive to spoil us rotten. The month of boot camp is totally worth all of the giggles, belly laughs, and silliness and fun that went on the last week. It was far too long between visits this time. I can only hope that things work out so that there will be lots of 'De-spoil the family' boot camps in the future.
What can I say? It has been busy around here. We had friends for Thanksgiving, spent the rest of the weekend decorating for Christmas and being lazy. And I threw up a lot.
Then there were about two days of me throwing up while trying to get the house ready for more guests (I failed at that one), getting as much work done as possible. Wednesday we got up bright and early, hit the gas station, Starbucks and headed out to the airport to pick up my parents. There was a little more Zof.ran and a little less throwing up.
We had a great time hitting tourist destinations, local restaurants, and just playing at home. Little Monster was totally enamored with Maw-ma, and and Paw-pa. He spent the entire weekend holding their fingers, showing off for them, and tricking them into loving him even more than they already did. I think their hearts were ready to burst by the time they left. He was incredibly good the entire weekend, of course, making me look like a liar when I talk about how naughty he is. Although, there was the ONE incident at the donut shop with the screaming and the throwing himself to the floor. But then, he's two and if we only have one of those in five days, then all is well.
Mommy, Daddy and the dogs were spoiled as well. The dogs got to go on a real, honest-to-goodness W-A-L-K. Perhaps we'll have to do that a bit more often. Would it be wrong to leash the child at the same time? It would be easier to handle them all. Mommy and Daddy got to sleep in a couple of mornings (sleeping in means past 6:30) because either Gramma and Grampa were up with the Monster to play with him, or they had tired him out so much the day before that he slept later in the morning. That made us ALL happy. Mommy and Daddy also got to go out on a DATE! It was a short one, but it was fun. And spontaneous. Not to mention, my parents felt obliged to wash the dishes every time I turned around. Because my dishwasher broke. On Thanksgiving. Now we have to train Little Monster to wash dishes, and I'm thinking it might be more work than washing them myself. I'm all about taking the lazy way out.
Little Monster was not very happy to see them leave Sunday afternoon. I'm not sure how much of that is because that they showered him with attention and love, or how much of it is that he was spoiled because Mommy and Daddy let a few rules go lax while they were here. I'm guessing it was 10% lax rules, and 90% missing them.
We have exactly one month to get the family into shape before the next set of Grandparents arrive to spoil us rotten. The month of boot camp is totally worth all of the giggles, belly laughs, and silliness and fun that went on the last week. It was far too long between visits this time. I can only hope that things work out so that there will be lots of 'De-spoil the family' boot camps in the future.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thankfulness.
Let's face it. I'm a complainer. I don't usually behave as though I am grateful for everything in my life, but really, I am.
I am thankful for the debilitating nausea that has accompanied this pregnancy. It reminds me that I am carrying a child -- a healthy child. It reminds me that there are so many women in this world who are unable to carry a child. Each time I pick up my prescription I am reminded of how lucky I am to have healthcare that will cover the expensive medication that allows me to be able to eat and drink -- and how lucky I am that I live in a time and a place where that medication is available to me. I believe that without it, I'd have died of dehydration weeks ago.
I am thankful for how naughty my son is. Naughty is relative, and generally his naughtiness is brought on by curiosity and energy. Both things that you only find in smart, healthy children. I have been especially thankful that I have been able to witness him growing up and learning. He has brought more laughter into my life than any other one thing. I mean, who else will start off the morning by drinking out of the dog water, sharing it with his stuffed dog, and then demand that his doggie is poopie and needs a diaper?
I am thankful for my husband. Even when he's whining about the vacuuming that I've asked him to do in preparation for today. Because it means he's home and safe. And although there is a sly, sarcastic comment among the chores, it reminds me that I too hate vacuuming and am lucky to have found a spouse who will help out. He has been a true blessing lately. He has picked up the slack for me these past couple of months. In more ways than one. It doesn't mean he isn't getting up before 5AM to get to school so he can study. It doesn't mean he isn't coming home at dinner time exhausted from having formulas crammed into his head all day. He does. But when he gets home, he often takes care of Little Monster, picks up a lot of the mess we've made during the day, fixes dinner, cleans up and puts Little Monster to bed. And after all that, he still wants to spend time snuggling with me. How lucky can a girl get?
I am thankful for everything the Lord has given me -- good and bad. Because I learn more from the bad than I do from the good, and the bad reminds me that no matter how bad I think I have it, there is always someone who isn't nearly as lucky as I am. I am thankful for family that loves each other. We are far apart, yet distance cannot stop the relationships that our parents are forming with Little Monster. Rarely does a day go by when he doesn't ask for at least one grandparent. Our family enjoys rare relationships without the tension that many families struggle with.
How wonderful my life must be when the only things I have to complain about are things that don't really matter -- the holes in the backyard, the dogs that bark, the house that's not exactly clean, the bread I wrecked. It means I am rich enough to have dogs, food, a house, and the family that makes it home.
I am thankful for the debilitating nausea that has accompanied this pregnancy. It reminds me that I am carrying a child -- a healthy child. It reminds me that there are so many women in this world who are unable to carry a child. Each time I pick up my prescription I am reminded of how lucky I am to have healthcare that will cover the expensive medication that allows me to be able to eat and drink -- and how lucky I am that I live in a time and a place where that medication is available to me. I believe that without it, I'd have died of dehydration weeks ago.
I am thankful for how naughty my son is. Naughty is relative, and generally his naughtiness is brought on by curiosity and energy. Both things that you only find in smart, healthy children. I have been especially thankful that I have been able to witness him growing up and learning. He has brought more laughter into my life than any other one thing. I mean, who else will start off the morning by drinking out of the dog water, sharing it with his stuffed dog, and then demand that his doggie is poopie and needs a diaper?
I am thankful for my husband. Even when he's whining about the vacuuming that I've asked him to do in preparation for today. Because it means he's home and safe. And although there is a sly, sarcastic comment among the chores, it reminds me that I too hate vacuuming and am lucky to have found a spouse who will help out. He has been a true blessing lately. He has picked up the slack for me these past couple of months. In more ways than one. It doesn't mean he isn't getting up before 5AM to get to school so he can study. It doesn't mean he isn't coming home at dinner time exhausted from having formulas crammed into his head all day. He does. But when he gets home, he often takes care of Little Monster, picks up a lot of the mess we've made during the day, fixes dinner, cleans up and puts Little Monster to bed. And after all that, he still wants to spend time snuggling with me. How lucky can a girl get?
I am thankful for everything the Lord has given me -- good and bad. Because I learn more from the bad than I do from the good, and the bad reminds me that no matter how bad I think I have it, there is always someone who isn't nearly as lucky as I am. I am thankful for family that loves each other. We are far apart, yet distance cannot stop the relationships that our parents are forming with Little Monster. Rarely does a day go by when he doesn't ask for at least one grandparent. Our family enjoys rare relationships without the tension that many families struggle with.
How wonderful my life must be when the only things I have to complain about are things that don't really matter -- the holes in the backyard, the dogs that bark, the house that's not exactly clean, the bread I wrecked. It means I am rich enough to have dogs, food, a house, and the family that makes it home.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Wonderous Weekend...
This past weekend I was at a convention for my bible study group (Protestant Women of the Chapel --or PWOC). It is a group set up for women who are in or married to the military. It was an amazing, eye and heart opening experience. If you're a Christian, you've certainly been somewhere that when you walked in you could sense the presence of the Holy Spirit -- He was there this weekend. He was there BIG.
Our speaker was Lisa Harper. She was incredibly down to earth, open about her flaws, and incredibly personable. She told two stories that REALLY really touched my heart.
The first was her take on the story of Jesus, the Pharisees and the adulteress woman. Do you know the story? It's from John Chapter 8 1-12:
I can't tell the story as well as Lisa did, but it sincerely touched my heart, knowing that Our Lord is so merciful, and knows exactly what we are going through. He knows exactly when and how to extend that mercy to the people who follow Him, even when they've made a mistake and done the wrong thing.
The other story she told touched me even more deeply and even more personally than that. She was illustrating an example of how much God loves us and how He knows how we need to feel that. Her story was about her step-father, whom she loved and adored. Her real father wasn't reliable -- really, he wasn't much of a father. (hmm. Sound familiar?) She was out with her step-father at the mall and they met a group of women that he worked with years ago and hadn't seen in a while. She stood there as they talked, stiff, wondering how the situation was going to play out and what he was going to say about her. When one of the women took notice of the little girl standing next to him she said "Well, I'll be! She looks JUST LIKE YOU!"
Now. If you're like me... You've been in situations that are similar to this. You wonder what your step-father is going to say.. "Oh no, she's not mine.... She's my step-daughter." You start sweating and your heart races, and thoughts go through your mind, and you wonder. How much does he really love me.
Her step-father's answer was to turn to her pull her chin up so he could examine her face. He paused, and said "Yes. Yes, she does." That acceptance, the little tiny phrase that probably didn't mean much to that man, meant the entire world to that little girl.
It means more than anything else in the world, when you don't have a 'real' father. When your step-father is tested in such a way, when he could easily explain away that you are not his, but only a step-child, brought to him through marriage. One he cares about sure, but not HIS. The love that is given when you, as a step-child, are acknowledged as just a 'daughter' is truly the greatest gift a "step" father could ever extend to a "step" child. And yes, my step-father always introduces me as his daughter. And it means more to me than he'll ever be able to understand.
That kind of love, that kind of mercy, again is the kind of love our Heavenly Father has for us. We are His. We are not his step-children, we belong to him. No matter when you think you don't have a Father, or that you don't fit in -- you do. Even if you don't have a merciful step-parent who is able to make you feel so a part of his life, you are a part of His life.
Our speaker was Lisa Harper. She was incredibly down to earth, open about her flaws, and incredibly personable. She told two stories that REALLY really touched my heart.
The first was her take on the story of Jesus, the Pharisees and the adulteress woman. Do you know the story? It's from John Chapter 8 1-12:
You've all heard that line from Jesus. But that wasn't necessarily what she was preaching. There is a HUGE act of mercy in this story, and it isn't even that after he said that everyone left without one stone being thrown. Lisa said this: Imagine this woman, who thought she loved a man (who should have been thrown in with her, wasn't), was caught IN THE ACT, which meant she was not wearing much, and if anything, she only had a blanket to cover herself. All the eyes of the crowd were on her. She was feeling betrayed because the man she thought she loved had not been charged (and was perhaps involved) in this situation. People were staring at her, she wasn't covered, and she was guilty of a sin. Instead of rebuking her, Jesus knelt down to write on the ground with His finger. Everyone in the crowd (remember -- he was teaching so there were LOTS of people there to see this) looked at him after the Pharisees threw her before Him to see what he was going to do. And he held their attention by doing nothing but drawing on the ground as though He didn't hear. THAT, my friends, just as Lisa said, was an act of mercy. It gave her one second, during the most humiliating moment of her life, when everyone was watching, of privacy. A moment, where she could re-adjust her blanket to ensure that she was covered. A moment when no one was looking at her anymore.
1But Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. 2 Now early in the morning He came again into the temple, and all of the people came to Him; and He sat down and taught them. 3Then the scribes and Pharisees brought to Him a woman caught in adultery. and when they had set her in the midst, 4they said to Him, "Teacher, this woman was caught in adultery, in the very act. 5 Now Moses, in the law, commanded us that such should be stoned. But what do You say? 6 This they said, testing Him, that they might have something of which to accuse Him. But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though he did not hear. 7So when they continued asking Him, He raised Himself up and said to them, "He who is without sin among you, let them throw a stone at her first." 8And again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.
I can't tell the story as well as Lisa did, but it sincerely touched my heart, knowing that Our Lord is so merciful, and knows exactly what we are going through. He knows exactly when and how to extend that mercy to the people who follow Him, even when they've made a mistake and done the wrong thing.
The other story she told touched me even more deeply and even more personally than that. She was illustrating an example of how much God loves us and how He knows how we need to feel that. Her story was about her step-father, whom she loved and adored. Her real father wasn't reliable -- really, he wasn't much of a father. (hmm. Sound familiar?) She was out with her step-father at the mall and they met a group of women that he worked with years ago and hadn't seen in a while. She stood there as they talked, stiff, wondering how the situation was going to play out and what he was going to say about her. When one of the women took notice of the little girl standing next to him she said "Well, I'll be! She looks JUST LIKE YOU!"
Now. If you're like me... You've been in situations that are similar to this. You wonder what your step-father is going to say.. "Oh no, she's not mine.... She's my step-daughter." You start sweating and your heart races, and thoughts go through your mind, and you wonder. How much does he really love me.
Her step-father's answer was to turn to her pull her chin up so he could examine her face. He paused, and said "Yes. Yes, she does." That acceptance, the little tiny phrase that probably didn't mean much to that man, meant the entire world to that little girl.
It means more than anything else in the world, when you don't have a 'real' father. When your step-father is tested in such a way, when he could easily explain away that you are not his, but only a step-child, brought to him through marriage. One he cares about sure, but not HIS. The love that is given when you, as a step-child, are acknowledged as just a 'daughter' is truly the greatest gift a "step" father could ever extend to a "step" child. And yes, my step-father always introduces me as his daughter. And it means more to me than he'll ever be able to understand.
That kind of love, that kind of mercy, again is the kind of love our Heavenly Father has for us. We are His. We are not his step-children, we belong to him. No matter when you think you don't have a Father, or that you don't fit in -- you do. Even if you don't have a merciful step-parent who is able to make you feel so a part of his life, you are a part of His life.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Um. This one's for you anonymous... How I weaned my kid.
Believe it or not, the number one search for this blog has to do with weaning. Apparently, back in August of 2007, I spent a lot of time pouring my heart out to the internets about the dillema. This post is my number one hit. I am by no means an expert, but I did get through it. And so will you. After all, I don't know any college kids that see their Mommy and rip up their shirt to get a little milk.
Anonymous -- A friendly hint.. I would happily update you with more information, but it's a lot easier if you leave a way for me to get in touch with you so that I can help. Because that's what I'm all about. Helping people.
***********************************************
Wow. I spent the past few minutes going through old blog posts. I no longer feel guilty about the empty baby book. It's all right here. First steps, notations of first words, dancing, the whole bit. Even some mushy goodness.
And right along with all of that there were several times that I talked about nursing Little Monster. From when I didn't know if I nursing was going to work, the battlw between my laziness and independent sleep, controversy over where and when I should nurse, my personal dilemma about when I should wean, weaning itself, it's setbacks, the final, actual weaning and of course, the aftermath.
Weaning was slow and gradual for us. I started by not feeding him for the least necessary feeding -- the one he was least emotionally attached to. After a couple of days, he was used to not getting nursed at that time, so I moved on to another time. I believe I got rid of the nursing sessions in this order: middle of the night, mid-morning, mid-afternoon, first thing in the morning, mid-evening, lunchtime, and bedtime. As you introduce solids and foods, you're helping the weaning process. There were a couple of rough days when I was sore from being engorged. There were a couple of times when he whined and wanted to nurse, and I gave in. All in all it took about a month or two to wean him completely.
Oh, I also forgot. I broke the rules. I gave my baby whole milk. Because he refused to drink formula. He was fully weaned at about 11 months. I nursed him at bedtime for a lot longer than I took between phasing out the sessions. I gradually worked him off of that too. I'd nurse for 5 minutes, then 3 minutes, then 2 minutes, then no more. After I nursed him, I rocked him close and held him for a few minutes before putting him to bed.
So, if you're looking for help as to how to wean, hopefully this has helped you. If it hasn't, you can certainly google "how to wean" and get some assvice from experts.
And I'm sorry to those of you who thought you were going to get a break from talking about my breasts and their secretions. This should be the last one... For a while. A few months at least.
Anonymous -- A friendly hint.. I would happily update you with more information, but it's a lot easier if you leave a way for me to get in touch with you so that I can help. Because that's what I'm all about. Helping people.
***********************************************
Wow. I spent the past few minutes going through old blog posts. I no longer feel guilty about the empty baby book. It's all right here. First steps, notations of first words, dancing, the whole bit. Even some mushy goodness.
And right along with all of that there were several times that I talked about nursing Little Monster. From when I didn't know if I nursing was going to work, the battlw between my laziness and independent sleep, controversy over where and when I should nurse, my personal dilemma about when I should wean, weaning itself, it's setbacks, the final, actual weaning and of course, the aftermath.
Weaning was slow and gradual for us. I started by not feeding him for the least necessary feeding -- the one he was least emotionally attached to. After a couple of days, he was used to not getting nursed at that time, so I moved on to another time. I believe I got rid of the nursing sessions in this order: middle of the night, mid-morning, mid-afternoon, first thing in the morning, mid-evening, lunchtime, and bedtime. As you introduce solids and foods, you're helping the weaning process. There were a couple of rough days when I was sore from being engorged. There were a couple of times when he whined and wanted to nurse, and I gave in. All in all it took about a month or two to wean him completely.
Oh, I also forgot. I broke the rules. I gave my baby whole milk. Because he refused to drink formula. He was fully weaned at about 11 months. I nursed him at bedtime for a lot longer than I took between phasing out the sessions. I gradually worked him off of that too. I'd nurse for 5 minutes, then 3 minutes, then 2 minutes, then no more. After I nursed him, I rocked him close and held him for a few minutes before putting him to bed.
So, if you're looking for help as to how to wean, hopefully this has helped you. If it hasn't, you can certainly google "how to wean" and get some assvice from experts.
And I'm sorry to those of you who thought you were going to get a break from talking about my breasts and their secretions. This should be the last one... For a while. A few months at least.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Friday Fun! ( a little early)
It's kinda easy this week. We started our "friday fun" on Thursday. It will continue until Saturday at 1:00. When I kick everyone out of the house.
Today was Little Monster's birthday. So we had cake,
opened presents
and Little Monster spent the evening playing with his new toys. Let's just say he had fun making them race around the room. It was a little out of control to see him lining them up as though they were getting ready to race side to side, and then they began to 'race' front to back in a line. He also got "mack" from the movie Cars. We spent a good part of the night loading and unloading Lightning McQueen into and out of the trailer for him. Yeah. Fun.
We also carved pumpkins. After it was over, Not the Momma confessed that he had not been looking forward to it. It was seeming to be more of a chore than a fun family activity. He also confessed that it had been a lot more fun than he thought it would be. And then, I had to tell him that he was a jerk. No. I'm kidding. I felt the same way. I hadn't really wanted to carve pumpkins. We had tossed out the ideas of just painting faces on this year, since Little Monster would be able to do it himself. We did end up carving pumpkins. A pirate for Not the Momma, a goofy face for me, and a cute chubby cheek face for Little Monster. Then, I had fun playing with the camera:
With Flash
First attempt without flash
No flash - sturdier surface.
Yeah. It turned out to be a good night. Little Monster went to bed way late. I managed to eat food and keep it in me. Not the Momma watched a spooky movie. It was a night memories are made of.
What do your pumpkins look like??
Today was Little Monster's birthday. So we had cake,
opened presents
and Little Monster spent the evening playing with his new toys. Let's just say he had fun making them race around the room. It was a little out of control to see him lining them up as though they were getting ready to race side to side, and then they began to 'race' front to back in a line. He also got "mack" from the movie Cars. We spent a good part of the night loading and unloading Lightning McQueen into and out of the trailer for him. Yeah. Fun.
We also carved pumpkins. After it was over, Not the Momma confessed that he had not been looking forward to it. It was seeming to be more of a chore than a fun family activity. He also confessed that it had been a lot more fun than he thought it would be. And then, I had to tell him that he was a jerk. No. I'm kidding. I felt the same way. I hadn't really wanted to carve pumpkins. We had tossed out the ideas of just painting faces on this year, since Little Monster would be able to do it himself. We did end up carving pumpkins. A pirate for Not the Momma, a goofy face for me, and a cute chubby cheek face for Little Monster. Then, I had fun playing with the camera:
With Flash
First attempt without flash
No flash - sturdier surface.
Yeah. It turned out to be a good night. Little Monster went to bed way late. I managed to eat food and keep it in me. Not the Momma watched a spooky movie. It was a night memories are made of.
What do your pumpkins look like??
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