Auld Lang Syne

Happy New Yearsssssniiiiiifffff!! I have the avian flu. It aviated from Ohio by way of my in-laws. I’ve been able to fend off every germ and bug that my little Petri dishes have brought home from school since the summer just by using Airborne but these are serious mid-west germs that were packin’ heat…or something like that.

We had ten fun-filled days with family in town and we survived to tell about it! It helps everyone in the mix that when they come to visit, they rent a condo down at the beach. Vacation for them and our house stays somewhat normal during the routine hours of the late pm and early morn. If not, I think I’d be typing this with a pencil wedged in my teeth pecking away at keys while strapped to a bed in a mental hospital lined up next to the rest of the family. That could be fun too.

As usual, there was way too much. An abundance of food and chocolate and gifts. There was an abundance of wine, but that’s still sitting in the wine rack minus one bottle that HAD to be opened for Christmas dinner for my mom and I to share: Click here. Seriously. So funny I had to buy it and it was pretty good stuff. The inlaws aren’t drinkers so we had to sneak into the closet to get tipsy have cider instead.

Depending on my avian flu, there is a party planned for tonight. I’m such a wild child that I have to get my party on or it’s just not New Year’s Eve. Or maybe it’s because one of my best friends is in town from North Cackilacky and threatened my life if I didn’t spend the evening whooping it up with her and some mutual friends…I can’t remember. Tomorrow brings new, crisp calendars and blank sheets ready for new goals. Christmas will be put away with ideas to make it better and more organized for next year. Time to break out the dust rags and the linen scented air freshener and pack away the pine and cinnamon.

A new beginning for all.

I am attempting to blog again. Whether or not I will be successful remains to be seen. Let’s see…now where was I? Oh yes. So what has the “B” household been up to that I can write about and not make you nod off on your keyboard and short it out after the drooling begins? I was invited to a cookie exchange hosted by a neighbor whose kids attend the same school as Trey. Other school moms would be there too. I thought it would be all “Wisteria Lane-ish” and I was looking forward to a good cocktail and maybe a new friend outside of my regular circle. Well yes, there was a cocktail offered but only three of us partook. Half of the attendees were Mormon and I was feeling judged. Whatever. They ate chocolate so ha! That’s a no no in the LDS world. It turned out to be a bunch of ladies who only sort of knew each other talking about…the school. BOR-ING. Ok, I get it to a point but the whole night?? We were away from our kids so why not try to do something fun and girly and not talk about the flooded playground and the gay fourth grade teacher? Sheesh!

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I’ve been trying to motivate my six year old to take the training wheels off his bike. My poor neurotic son is just like me so he doesn’t want to make any mistakes and how can you make a mistake if you don’t try? Just for the record, I forced myself to try over and over until I accomplished the delicate balance needed when I was five and needed something to do while at the babysitters. Anywho, the training wheels weren’t even so he’d be riding down the street tilted to one side and I figured if we didn’t correct it soon enough, he would think that THAT was the correct balance needed and be doomed to a life of roller skates to get around until he learns to drive. I couldn’t convince him, his dad couldn’t convince him, no bribing or taunting by the older boys in the neighborhood got him to venture out. Bill’s family arrived for Christmas on Friday. I suggested that the men work on a sneaky plan while the girls subjected themselves to torture while shopping and try to get Trey to at least think about graduating to the world of two wheels. Bill’s mom says as we get close to our neighborhood after being out all day, “So, do you think Trey’s learned how to ride his bike yet?”
“No way. He probably got frustrated after he couldn’t get it the first time and stormed into the house.”
We pull up and that little turkey isn’t just riding his two-wheeler but turning corners, zigzagging up the street and stopping on a dime. I shouted out, “I TOLD you you could do it!!!” That booger. I knew he could, I just thought he’d take longer. The video does show him storming off after he lost his balance once. At this point, I was crashing into cars and scraping up elbows and knees. He’s such a perfectionist.

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As Trey used to say, today is Christmas ‘even’. We’re headed off to my dad’s tonight, a tradition I’ve held every single year since my parents split back in the late 80’s. There will be a huge spread for a smaller crowd. The fireplace will be lit, Christmas carols playing and the kids will be flying around the place in anticipation of opening gifts. My sister and her daughter live at the house so my kids actually have a cousin to see once in a while. When I was little, Christmas was a full house with a gaggle of girls in patent leather mary janes and fancy dresses sneaking candy before dinner and fighting about everything and nothing at all. I wish my kids had a big extended family like I did but I’ll take what I can get and if that means one extra kid dressed in comfy clothes and not as much fan fare, so be it. When we get home, my little ones will open their traditional one present and find brand new freshly washed pj’s and new slippers to accompany them to bed. Tomorrow will be filled with family and wonder and chaos and lots and lots of food. I love Christmas. I wish families took the time to be together as much without the holiday needed as an excuse.

Merry Christmas!

No Title this time

Ya know, it's really hard to rehearse for our big Christmas production when it's 82 degrees outside.

Just sayin'.

What's Up, Buttercup?

I’ve been such a lazy blogger as of late. I don’t have much to say here when I have someone to say things to. I’m much better at pontificating when Bill is out of the country. I’ve considered putting a hiatus on this project just because of the neglect. I’m online every day, reading about everyone else’s lives but I’ve been keeping mine offline. I’ve posted a few times on myspace but nothing really thought provoking.

So let’s see…the fires, as I’m sure most have read, were and still are a disaster. We were fortunate in that we didn’t have any structural damage. We didn’t have to evacuate. We just got a LOT of ash—everywhere. I’m still cleaning. My office aka our church, was used as an evacuation site. What does that mean for me? My job was crazy. I still had to do my normal work but I had to walk through hundreds of strangers sleeping, eating, nursing babies, playing, talking on cell phones just to get to my office. The kids had the whole week of school off because of the horrendous air quality. Just one more benefit of California schools: all doors from the classrooms lead directly outside instead of into a hallway like most of the country. I just counted this as our snow day. Fire day. Seems reasonable to me. Except that when you have a snow day you get to go outside and play. Fire days mean you are STUCK inside with whichever parent can stay home with you. By the end of the week we were ready to all take separate vacations. Never in history has our 2100 square foot home seemed so small. We’re getting on with life as though nothing has happened (although the pack n’ play and an air mattress that I lent haven’t been seen since I dropped them off at church) there are still hundreds of families that have a lot of rebuilding to do.

I’m ready for the holidays. I’ve started my annual Christmas letter. I’ve started shopping. I’ve started my baking list. It makes a world of difference to have Bill here. Last year, I begrudgingly decorated the house (he was in Okinawa for Christmas in 06). Now I’m making plans of what will go where. We rented a rug doctor and I cleaned my couches and my floors so when the time comes to pull those red and green boxes in from the garage, I won’t see other things that need attention: just shiny orbs and strings of lights waiting to shine their glory upon our home.

My kids are crazy. Or is it me who’s crazy? It’s a toss up. Both are in school, but I’m not to that point where I can have a pedicure and a latte while they’re there. I’m working during the times between dropping them off and picking them up. My wonder son is already in trouble. The teacher (and yes I’m bragging, but it’s legit) told me he’s one of the smartest in his class but he keeps disrupting by starting mock fights with two of the other ‘smarter’ kids. Ok, so we need to work on behavior. All of a sudden, six years old has turned into crazy-boy behavior. He used to be so angelic. Leah’s in preschool AND ballet. I love it. I love seeing her in her leotard and pink tights. I love watching her passé and pique. She has tap the second half but she likes ballet more. I’m living vicariously through her and it’s great. I have pipe dreams of her improving every year and moving on to Pointe when she’s older. We’ll see. She’ll probably be a soccer star instead. My three year old ‘princess’ can dribble the ball and keep it away from me in the back yard.

Today’s a holiday for the family. Bill and I are off to celebrate the Marine Corps birthday by dressing up and driving off to one of the casinos to eat, drink and be merry with a hundred other Marines and their dates. Dancing will follow and then maybe we’ll try our luck at the slots. We’ve made it to almost every ball since we started dating in 1994. The only times we’ve missed were when he’s been out of the country on deployment or the time when I was two weeks postpartum. Didn’t seem like it would be too fun to dress in a ball gown with a deflated basketball still inhabiting my belly.

So, I’m still here. I think I have three or four readers left, two of them being family. =) When I have something to say I’m sure I’ll share. Until then, Merry November.

It's a Little Warm

Pretty much every part of San Diego county is on fire, was on fire, or is being smoked in. We're packed and ready to go. My church is housing 500+ evacuees. The entire county has shut down each and every school and more than 350,000 homes have been evacuated.

That is all.

Conversations with Leah

We've just finished dinner. Leah has once again taken residence on my lap. I'm squeezing and hugging her, marveling at how quickly time is going by. I look at our family portrait on the dining room wall. Leah is 8 months old. "Leah. What happened to my baby? Where did you go? I don't want you to grow up! I want you to be like that baby again" I say, teasing her. "I can't believe you're going to preschool next week. What happened?"

Leah looks into my eyes. She cups my face with her petite hands and with all the three year old sympathy she can muster says, "Mommy. Mommy...I'll be a baby on Saturday, ok?"

Wild Thang

Know what’s really creepy? When it’s totally dark outside and you’re sitting in the quiet of your house, in a room by yourself, and you hear something. And it’s not the hubster or the kids. You hear something outside. And it’s too big to be your faithful bunny companions. And it’s not your cats because they aren’t allowed outside. And you keep hearing noise but it’s not distinguishable but you’re paranoid because your house was broken into when you first moved in. And then the sensor light goes on. But nothing runs away, so you look out the window. And you wait. And you hear it some more. And then it appears. A stupid opossum walking along the top of your fence, eating what’s left on the plum tree. Have you seen an opossum lately? Or ever? Those things are hideous. And mean.

Every night I hear them outside chewing. It’s gross. Imagine a two year old eating a banana while pointing a microphone directly toward his mouth. At least they’re not fighting and hissing at each other. ((shiver)) Seriously, what purpose do they serve?

Times, they are a changin'

The old addage of the Marine Corps is, "If the Corps wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one!" Oh, how very clever you Devil Dogs are. Your first priority is to the corps, and family is second...so they say. Sacrifice is everywhere. I'm starting to see a few changes. The wives are always recognized and honored at deployment briefings, reenlistments and retirements. Then the paternal leave started. Ten days to be at home with your wife and newborn. I was starting to get sad again at all of the things Bill will miss once again as he deploys next year, but thankful that he'll at least be home for the holidays this year and Trey's first day of kindergarten. Parents are invited to join their little ones for a shortened first day of school. I knew I'd be trying to push one kid into the room and keep the little one out of the excitement of 'big kid things'. But then I just got an email from my dear hubby. The CO (Commanding Officer) has given those with kids the first day of school off so the family can attend together. Sweet! War guilt? Who knows but at least this is a small makeup for the amount of time he's gone.

My Achy Breaky Heart

I was at a leadership conference over the weekend. It was small and intimate and almost everyone knew one another. One of the guys up on stage was recalling a time back in the late eighties or early nineties when someone from the crowd interrupted and yelled out, “and you probably had hair, too!” since the guy on stage is what you’d call follically challenged.

“Actually, I had a mullet”

Uproarious laughter. Mullet. Why? Why did we all accept this as an ok form of hairstyle. Not just ok, but cool? Whose idea was it to even start this trend? The guy onstage followed with, “ok, let’s be honest. Who else out there had a mullet? Come on, fess up.” People giggled as a few guys boldly raised their hands in remembrance of the Billy Ray era. And then a few of us noticed him. The guy in the front row. With. The. Mullet.

Oh yes he did. And he looked like he was fresh from the salon with a tight little perm going on. Darn it, I forgot to look and see if he remembered to peg his jeans.

July Wrapup

It’s been hard for me to blog. Not that I don’t have anything to say, I’m just not sure how I want to say it, when, where, etc. No, I don’t have anything that I’m going to spill out here right now. Lots of little things, but if my opening sentences sounded like I’m about to get all juicy…sorry. It’s been six and a half weeks since our good friend Eric was killed. It feels like it just happened. We’re still picking up the pieces. I’ve never experienced a friend dying before. Usually, it’s old people I’m related to, who knew it was coming or were at least prepared in the way of wills and things of that nature. Here, we have no will. Probate. Insurance. Attorneys. Not fun. I’m watching my friend try and just be sad over the fact that she lost the love of her life but she can’t because she has paperwork to do.

On the opposite end of life, my kids are crazy big. What happened? An older friend of mine asked how ‘the babies’ were doing. I looked at her with a fake pouty face and said fine, but getting too big and I mentioned we were done with diapers. “NO! You can’t be done with diapers” she said.
“I know. Didn’t you just bring dinner over two weeks ago?” (she brought food right after I had Leah in 2004)
“Yes, it was at least two weeks ago.”
My baby is a big girl who is starting preschool AND ballet next month. I try and hold her and smell her baby goodness as much as I can before she gets the kid stank going on. My big kid is heading off to kindergarten in 25 days. So begins my life of being mom to KIDS, not babies.

Having Bill home for the summer is way cooler than having him gone. Last year was just crazy. Now that he’s home do we have bees in the attic? Soaring temperatures and no working AC? A flea infestation that hit my indoor cats? No. No bees in our bonnet. It’s been in the lower 80’s and breezy, no need for AC. My cat has managed to escape outside numerous times and not a jumping bloodthirsty critter on him. Now ants…well, we always get ants. Stupid ants.

Unfortunately, I only get to have him with me for the remainder of the year. Looks like (which means we won’t actually know until right before it happens) that he’ll be headed back to Iraq (UGH!!) sometime in early 08. This will be his third tour there and fourth deployment in five years. Hellllloooo…can you say ‘up my Paxil please’? The only good thing, which I could live with out and would rather have him here, is that it will make finances super easy and we are trying to get ready to buy a house. Something about your life being at stake 24/7 over there that makes them pay you a bit better.

Bill and I celebrated eleven years of marriage last Friday. “Mawwiage…is what bwings us togevvah today” (bonus points if you can name the movie). Anywho, we saw the Simpson’s movie and went out to Black Angus to get our grub on. Funny movie. Good food. All is great in the world and now I know Bart way more than I wanted to.

And on a fun note, you totally have to check out this website. It’s hilarious: Planet Hiltron

MeMe.

Woohoo! I've been tagged for a meme by Judy.

THE RULES:List 8 facts/habits about yourselfPost the rules at the beginning before those facts/habits are listedTag 8 people and post their names, go to their blogs and leave them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and ask them to read your blog.So here it is. 8 things about me that you probably know or don't know (deep, eh?)...
1. I LOVE to organize. The idea of pulling everything out of my hall closet so I can go through it piece by piece and lable it, container it or get rid of it makes me giddy.
2. I hate to clean. The dishes are my husband’s job because unless I have company coming over, they usually just sit in the dishwasher or the sink until he ends up doing them anyway.
3. I’ve lived in So. CA all but five months of my life and I don’t know how to surf. It’s on my list of things to learn before I die but I’m pretty sure I’d look really stupid out there while the 14 year old boys get all the good curls.
4. I hate cream cheese. It looks good and I try it every once in a while but I can’t stand the stuff. Even if you tell me I won’t be able to taste it in a recipe, or omit the fact that something has cream cheese in it, I can still taste it and I have to spit it out.5. I lost my baby weight so quickly after having Leah that I was in itty bitty clothes by her first birthday. Those clothes are too small for me now. I’d like to be able to wear them again.
6. I have “friend” issues. Two of my so-called best friends totally screwed me over. Now I’m in protect mode and only really open up fully to one. Who knew that this kind of drama went on past high school?
7. Someone gave me a Ford Expedition last year. Free. And I didn’t even know them until the day he gave me the car. Long story. You can read about it here http://ohthosekids.blogspot.com/2006/10/never-say-never.html
8. My kids are sixth generation southern Californians. I’m stoked they’re being raised right where I was, which is totally weird mostly because we’re a military family. So blessed.

Okee dokee. So the eight people I tag are...

Andrea
Shelley
Erika
Rachel
TKW
Michelle
Kristine
Heather

Oh a camping we will go...

Not that I’ve been incredibly great at keeping my blog updated as of late, but this time I’ll have a real excuse. Tomorrow the four of us and way too much luggage will be piled into the Expedition for a two hour drive up the mountain for a week of fun in the hot, hot sun. We’ll be at family camp with a bunch of other people in ‘deluxe’ accommodations, and by deluxe I of course mean the four of us will be sharing a room and spreading out between two bunk beds, no air conditioning and we’ll be sharing a bathroom with another family. BUT! there're things to offset the no-so-lovely sleeping arrangements. Mini-golf, kayaking, the ‘blob’ (where you sit on one end of a huge inflatable pillow while someone jumps from a platform to send you flying into the air and then crashing into the lake), family bingo night, crafts and lots and lots of time for the kids to be with other kids while Bill and I are doing our own thing. It’s a time to get away, reflect, pray, read, worship and learn. Normally, the trip would cost us around $1300. Because we’re special, and I know we are because that’s what my mommy told me, we only paid $100. $100!! I’d spend that just on food and utilities for the week here. I think we may actually be saving money by leaving. Ok, so we’re only paying one Benji because we’re military but still…

I know there will be meltdowns. It’s gonna be hot. My kids are picky and I’m not bringing food, they have to eat what’s there. Things will take some getting used to but I know that it’s gonna be great. We’ve been trying to make this trip for the last four years but there’s always been some reason we couldn’t make it. I can’t wait to get away.

Too Fun

When things are going swimmingly in my family, I know something’s up. I know that it will be short-lived. Not to be ‘doom and gloom’ or pessimistic, it’s just how things pattern themselves in my life. We said goodbye to our friend on Sunday as he was preparing to deploy to Iraq. Our small group had been getting together weekly for about two years: dinner, catch up on life and then into Bible study. We love being together. All of us, minus the guy heading out to Iraq and his wife, got together that Wednesday for our regular weekly meeting. We talked about some pretty philosophical stuff. We talked about free will versus predestination. We went over prayer requests and struggles along with victories. We didn’t foresee how much our lives would be changed in less than a week.

Monday morning I get a phone call. Not from the home of the deploying husband but from the house of one of the gals who’s with us all the time. It was her best friend. “Eric was in a really bad car accident—and he was killed.”

…

What? No. This is Eric. Big, tough guy, Eric. Everyone’s best friend, would do anything to help anyone out, just saw him, Eric. This has been one of the worst weeks in my family’s life. This was my husband’s best friend. Our boys went to preschool together. His wife is a great friend of mine and when Bill was deployed, Eric is the one that would wrap his big arms around me and encourage me. He sang on the praise band with Bill. We had plans for the summer. His wife would look at us military wives and shake her head and say, “I don’t know how you guys do it—I go crazy when Eric’s gone for a week and here you are with your husband’s gone for six months or more.” They were married for thirteen years. Three beautiful kids.

The service was today. Standing room only. He touched so many hearts that people from every stage of his life were present. My husband sang in his honor.

We miss you so much, Eric.

Oh, Wait, Here I Am!

It’s been much too long since my last post. I’ve been floating around and visiting everyone else, but my door has been closed to blog-visitors. Life, while good, always seems to be crazy. Perhaps I can try to sum everything up in a few paragraphs.

Excuse #1 for not blogging: my friend from high school who has since moved around the country came out for a visit and was here for three weeks. I needed lots of time to fill in the months we don’t have together, there was a wedding thrown in there (not hers, but her sisters), and a new baby I had to snuggle with. Shopping and dinners out and quite a bit of girl time took precedence over writing.

Excuse #2 for not blogging: my mom. I just saw a sign that said, “If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother”. Well, this time it’s true. My mom was diagnosed with cancer in March. By May she had gone through numerous doctor’s visits and three surgeries and I was with her for almost every visit. I got to take care of her like she’s cared for me throughout my life. She’s stubborn. And she’s a mom. So guess who was trying to make ME a snack less than an hour after leaving the hospital post same day surgery? “Mom, would you please sit down? You JUST GOT HOME!”
“Oh, I’m fine.” And then later she wonders why she’s so tired. Um, helloooo! Your body is trying to reform itself while you’re running around the house.
If you’re interested, she’s doing great and it looks like she’s free and clear, praise God!

Excuse #3 for not blogging: Celebration bonanza. My birthday, mother’s day, Leah’s birthday, father’s day, Trey’s graduation from preschool (seriously, do we really need to do this?) Chuck-E-Cheese birthday parties every other week. Oh, did I mention, my kid doesn’t eat pizza? Yes, we are the weird ones at the party who have the kid who gets the salad bar at a pizza place. I counted all of the celebratory things that happened or are yet to happen just in the month of June for our family and there are NINE. Nine events to either plan or attend. Feast or famine. I’m sure August will be a slow month and I’ll be complaining that we’re not doing anything. I’m prepping to punk my boss' office this week in preparation for his 30th birthday. His wife and I are on secret missions to make sure each of our plans works out: mine in the office, and the party she’s planning for him at home. The wife and the secretary, a perfect pair. Dun-dun-dunnnnn!

Excuse #4 for not blogging: Life. Bill’s actually home. I do my best blogging when my head is about to explode from being a single parent and I have no other outlet. However, things are looking really good right now, which frankly, we really needed after a year like 2006. I’m sharing the parenting responsibility (what a novel idea), I get a break more than once a week and I get to have adult conversation every. single. day. Yes, it’s confettied with “please stop talking when mommy and daddy are trying to have a conversation!!” but at least we’re in the same room. We’re getting together with friends, we’re having dinner with other adults, we’re preparing to stick one kid in kindergarten and one in preschool. ACK! How did that happen?

So amidst all of these things we’ve had little sprinkles of this and that. I’m trying to get reconnected with my step-sister who has a daughter Leah’s age. I’m 85% of the way done with potty training Leah. We’re preparing to go on a week long retreat in the San Bernardino Mountains next month. Life is good. Busy, but good.

**Update on the "shooting"**

In total, eight schools were on lockdown on Friday, four of them nowhere close to the area that the supposed shooting was. A schizophrenic man was apparently between the middle and elementary schools, on the fields when some kids thought they heard some loud popping sounds which turned into a police and media frenzy and affected hundreds of families. The man was brought in for questioning. No weapon. No shooting. No injury. Just a lot of commotion.

What a strange, scary world I have to raise my kids in. The biggest threat when I attended elementary school was kidnapping or being hit by a car when crossing the somewhat busy road to get to the school itself. Now we have to talk to our five year olds about abduction and drugs, creepy adults with lures such as puppies or candy who want things that aren’t even conceivable to a little mind. The news talked about helicopter parents: those who are in constant hover mode over their kids, always wanting to know where they are and what they’re doing. Well, no wonder.

My child is still at school, and I’m here penning a blog. Why? Because his school, along with three others in the same area, two of which I attended as a child, are on lockdown. LOCKDOWN. I was irritated to be stuck in the traffic leading up to the area, knowing I was already running a few minutes behind and not having a clue as to what was going on. Police and news helicopters swarmed overhead. The 7-11 on the corner is filled with flashing blue lights and the principal of my kid’s private school met me in the parking lot and told me to go home and call in an hour.

There’re reports that there was a shooting between the elementary and middle school…where I went…not that long ago. So far, no one is reporting an injury. I’m going to log off and continue watching the news coverage.

Meet me at the bike rack at 3:00

So I’m reading this book titled The Highly Sensitive Child because, well, I have at least one of those kinds of kids. I’m learning so much more about myself where I thought I’d be learning about my kid. I say this because of my momma drama that happened this morning. Generally, I will take something out of context and make it into a huge production (internally of course, no need to bring attention to myself) where all of a sudden so-and-so hates me/is judging me/is plotting an awful massacre upon me. Yeah, I’m a little anxiety ridden. I’ve been getting better. Just learning that not everyone thinks like I do has been a huge weight lifted off my shoulders because I can envision that they are probably not dissecting our conversation into tiny morsels and re-masticating them like I do.

This morning was my last MOPS meeting. Period. I’d planned it that way anyway due to scheduling conflicts coming up with kindergarten and I just want to have some mommy and Leah time while Trey’s in school. If I’d been on the fence, however, as silly as it is to say, I probably wouldn’t be back. Today was my day to stay late. As a leadership member of this group, I take one of the two meetings a month and stay anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour late to clean up and put all of our stuff in it’s proper place. Washing out coffee pots, putting doodads and knickknacks, paper cups and individual creamers in their rightful containers. Our coordinator called me last night and asked for my help. Would I be able to come in and figure out if the DVD she wanted to play would work better in our actual DVD player, or the one on the computer. Sure. No problem. I told her I could come in and check that before everyone showed up at 9:15. The job is at absolute most, a two minute job. I show up at 9:00. She looks at me and says, “I thought you were coming in early to help me.” I tell her I got there as early as I could. She then asks me where a remote mic is. Why would I have this info? I don’t know. I walk into our meeting room after dropping off my kids in their rooms and I go to check the DVD. She coldly looks at me and snaps, “I’ve already taken care of it”. Um, ok. I ask her if she wants me to take a look at it. “No, it’s done” she says to me with a wave of her hand and a look of disgust on her face. Whoa. I was there when I needed to be. My ask from her was to check the DVD, not look for a mic, not set up the audio or the lights or anything else. She ruined my whole day. I tried to not let it get to me, I tried to enjoy my time, but it was tainted with her dirty look and her annoyance with me that came from her assumption of my help, which she didn’t even imply, let alone ask.

Not only am I irritate with her, I’m irritated that I let it get to me. I’m irritated that I can’t brush things off and I’m irritated that my last day of this group will be a memory I could life without.

To make it all better, I’m going to see my friend Amanda tonight while Bill stays home with the kids. Normally, going to see a friend wouldn’t be such a big deal, but she’s been living out of state since 2003 due to Uncle Sam and it’s time we had some girl time. And maybe a margarita.

Rambling

So far I've vacuumed and steam cleaned the office carpet (Thursday)
I cleaned out and reorganized and labled (yes, I actually labled) my pantry (yesterday & today)
I've caulked the walls in the office and painted half of it. (today)

I really need to eat lunch. When I'm in the zone I rarely stop to eat and then it hits me like a truck that I have to eat NOW. Almost like pregnancy hunger. Not pretty.

I have so much more to do on my master to-do list.

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Heard on the radio on Friday:

"It's Friday the 13th. THE perfect day for a boob job."

Huh? I don't get it.

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My kids spent about 2 hours outside today playing. My son is still his English, white little self, just like his momma would be. My daughter is a luscious rosy brown, just like her 1/8th Cherokee daddy is. Where's the justice?? Guess I should break out the self tanner and get started, possibly adding it to Trey's morning routine. ;)

Kid Quotes

During a very regular conversation with Trey:

"Trey, please go find something to do and quit whining! You have, like, a hundred toys you don't even play with. Go pull one of those out."

"I DON'T HAVE A HUNDRED! I ONLY HAVE 57!"

My bad.

Y is for Yuck

Things were weird this week. Bill, who is never sick with anything more than a cold, was sick. I mean the baaaad kind of sick. "I feel like someone punched me in the gut" he tells me and then it hit him. Not the 24 hour mystery stomach virus but the three to five day torture round. Instantaneously, I was back to being a single parent a lot quicker than I'd expected. He spent two days in bed, the hours he wasn't at work, that is. He survived. I survived and most importantly, the kids survived.

Friday night my darling children were their somewhat normal monstrous selves when it came time to have dinner. "No popcorn", I threatened. Popcorn and movie night is a big deal come Fridays. They didn't care. They spun out of control across the family room, doing sommersaults and dancing to music no one heard but them.

2:45am Saturday. I heard THE cry. The one that makes you jolt awake, knowing that your kid just rejected everything they ate within the last six hours. Great. I let Bill sleep and took care of Leah and her sheets by myself. I cleaned her up, calmed her down and put her back to bed at 3:00.

3:15am. Wave number 2. Crap. Again, I let Bill sleep. There are times during his sleep cycle when he's absolutely useless and I pray he's never caught by the enemy. He'd give away all of our secrets, including my grandma's famous chocolate chip pie recipe. It was just easier to do this on my own.

I stayed up with her until 4-something, going in and out of sleep with her on my chest. She woke up again at six, this time just ready to be up. I passed the baton to my husband and slept until 10am, something I haven't done in at least five years.

My baby was miserable. Her longest awake period on Saturday was an hour and a half and that was from the time she woke up until nearly 8am. She'd wake up in spurts, sometimes just long enough to shift on the couch, others, for a sip of water. She'd wake up to be sick again, cry and need more comforting. Later in the day, she woke up and asked for french fries. Later again, she popped up and said she wanted to color. She didn't really want any of these things, seeing as how she'd fall back asleep within seconds of her request.

No Easter dress and hat for Leah on Sunday. She stayed in pj's with daddy while Trey and I ventured off to our usual Sunday spot.

She’s on the mend, fortunately. She still wants french fries. She still wants to color. She’s chasing the bunnies out of our yard. I’m hoping she keeps her meal in her belly so I can go to work in the morning. I’m hoping Trey and I fend off whatever voodoo germs that are floating around our home. I can deal with a sick hubby. I’ll complain about it, but I can live with it. I can live with sick kids. It’s a good excuse to watch cartoons all day. But me? Who picks up the slack when mom is down and dad can’t take sick days? Good thing I bought the big pack of Airborne at Costco.

The Daffodils Made Me Do It

I don’t think it’s actually spring, so much, that makes me want to break out all of the attachments on the vacuum or gives me the desire to take every screen off the window and wash them thoroughly so much as it is the advertisement of everyone else who is organizing, labeling, cleaning and picking berries to make home-made pies. I’m an organizing freak. I hate to clean. I’ll let my cleaning go until I gather the urge to just bust out the soap and the sponge but show me a closet or drawer in disarray and I’ll become giddy with the thought of making it look perfect. All of the magazines addressed to me that have entered the home these past couple of months have brought my attention to spring cleaning. Other blogs have mentioned it, friends are doing it, so why not jump on the bandwagon?

I’ve had a friend kinda sorta living with me while Bill was gone. For some reason, I just don’t do my normal thing when company is around. Even though she technically wasn’t company, I was still way more Mary than Martha. Things got done, but not in my micro-managing way. She’s on her way out. This means my office moves OUT of my room and back into the spare bedroom. WOOHOO! Purging, refilling, tossing, recycling, donating. Love. It.

We’ve never lived anywhere as long as we’ve lived in this house since we’ve been married. Two years was tops for us. I’m used to being forced to go through everything we own every two to twenty four months (yes, we actually lived somewhere for two whole months) and evaluating what actually needs to stay in the family. We’re coming up on our fourth anniversary here. Time to touch everything and make a decision. My baby is almost three. Baby stuff: OUT. My oldest just moved from toddler stuff to full fledged kid stuff. Boy toddler stuff: OUT. I organized my upstairs linen closet this morning. I rearranged my laundry room cabinets which house not just laundry room items but paper plates and plastic cups, utensils, extra crepe paper left over from parties, extra food that won’t fit in the pantry (because I’m a Costco whore like that), baby wipes and cleaning supplies. I’m on my way to pulling everything out and getting the floors washed. Next on my list is my downstairs closet which is a dark tunnel that ends up underneath the stairs. Fortunately, I was anal enough to set up a shelving system in there when we moved in, so really, the only thing I have to organize is the first two feet. There are walls to magic erase and painting to do and carpets that need to be steam cleaned. My calla lilies are ripe for the cutting and Yankee is calling me to come get spring scented jar candles.

Are you busting out the rubber gloves?

Rx

I try my best to keep my kids as healthy as possible. They’ve been duped into taking a multi-vitamin every day. I did the unthinkable and lied to them; told them it was candy and after they acquired a taste for it, I revealed the ugly ‘V’ word to them and they had no choice but to forgive me. We wash our hands like surgeons. Trey, in Pavlovian fashion will come into the house, remove his shoes and walk over to the sink to scrub up. Kids are germy. Preschools are germier. Daycare is the germiest. That stomach thing that swooped through the country these last few months? Miraculously we avoided it. We had one degree of separation and still managed to keep our gastrointestinal systems in check.

Then Trey started coughing. Trey coughs. A lot. He always has. He’s been on Albuterol on and off since about six months old. I’m an old pro at knowing when he’s really sick or if he’s just being his old, hacking self. A friend of ours had this weird virus come into the family which led her boys to hack and cough and run a fever for a week. The doctor said there was nothing to do but wait it out. That funny bug came into our home as well, or so I thought. Trey ran a fever. He’d wake up and his sheets were soaked with sweat. He’d cough all through the night. I figured we were almost done with whatever this mystery bug was. After all, getting a doctor’s appointment at the Naval Hospital is only slightly easier than picking those six winning lotto numbers.

“Mommy, my armpit hurts when I cough and when I yawn.” Ok. New game plan. After jumping through hoops with the appointment people and nurse consults at the hospital I was finally given an appointment. I thought I had experienced something for the Guinness book of records when a doctor we’ve actually seen once before came in. Wow. One person, two times. She even recognized me. We were sent to radiation and then brought back for a blood draw. My little man is so awesome. He sat still while they took pictures of his insides. He bravely smiled at me, holding back the tears as they stuck that needle into his tiny arm to fill the reservoir. He earned two stickers that day, and a lollypop from me.

Upper right lobe pneumonia.

My kid has pneumonia. What? I have no idea how this developed. He’s such a little trooper. He’s been sick for so much of his life, I think a major illness would be the only thing to knock him down. Either that, or a hang nail. Then, he’d be on the couch writhing in agony needing a bandaid.

Cost Comparison

In my quest to find a place to call our own, I must use humor to deal with the craziness of my home town.

What you can get for $300,000 where I grew up:


















What you can buy for $300,000 where my husband grew up:
















Where's the justice? I do NOT want to live where he grew up. Shouldn't there be a grandfather clause when it comes to buying a place in your hometown? I think so. Anywhere else in the country, our income would be seen as upper middle class. Here? We qualify as 'low income' when looking at numbers for the first time home buyers program here. Ahhh, San Diego. The best place in the world you can never afford. =D

Carma

After dropping Leah off at the babysitter's yesterday, I came to a four way stop with another car. I was there first. I took my turn. She tailgated me down to the light. I made the right on red and was a good five seconds ahead of her. She proceeded to race up and swerve around all the other cars and then cut me off, as we came up to a red light. Her license plate frame? "Practice random acts of kindness". I laughed out loud and shook my head. I hope she saw me in her rearview. The light turned green and she then tossed a piece of trash out her window. What?? It was one of those awkward races (for her) where no matter how fast she went, she always ended up stopped at a light just in time for me to come right up behind her again and make eye contact in her rearview. I wonder if random acts of kindness include cutting many cars off within a one mile radius and littering our streets with her crap. Karma.

Back on Track...Maybe

My teeth hurt. And I woke up before I was ready. On a positive note, my son eagerly ran downstairs to switch the coffee pot from ‘worthless’ to ‘hot and ready’ so it was waiting for me, full and sensuous by the time I went to the kitchen.

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I have a house to clean. And laundry to do. And coupons to clip from Sunday’s paper. It’s my domestic day. My domestic days always start will great intentions. Something always throws a wrench in my cogs when I have plans. I have a bible study to complete and dessert to make for tonight. Fortunately I have push pops for the kids…and maybe the adults depending on how the dessert turns out.

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Today is Bill’s first full week back to work. We’re back on schedule, or at least in theory. I’m not quite sure what we’re doing. Six months without him here had us on a survival schedule. Now I’m trying to design a live-and-thrive plan for the week. And yes, I am just that nerdy and controlling that I made up a weekly plan on excel. I love control. I rarely get it, so whatever I can wrap my hands around, I hang onto for dear life. And excel has those perfect little boxes.

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Having Bill home, having his family here, just being whole again was great. We did family breakfasts, the kids climbed all over daddy while I watched, we watched Mary Poppins and ate popcorn accompanied by hot chocolate, Bill and I went on a ten hour date to include lunch AND dinner, we all went to Disneyland. It was as picture perfect as you can get. Now we have to move from our familymoon to reality…and reality is calling in the form of a little Lysol and a vacuum cleaner.

When You Wish Upon a Star...

It’s good to be with family. I have my husband home. His parents and sister are out visiting for the week. I pulled Trey out of school, Leah out of babysitting and I’m taking two days off so we can have some fun. We hosted Christmas, Part Deux today, complete with turkey dinner and all the trimmings, presents and fancy dresses. Tomorrow? DISNEYLAND!!! We haven’t taken the kids yet. In fact, we haven’t visited the Happiest Place on Earth for over six years. What’s our problem? I hope it’s as magical for my kids as it always was for me when I was little. Pictures....when I finally decide to upload them assuming we come home instead of clinging to the pixie dust and the smell of churros and popcorn while happy music plays in the fake streets.

At Last

The day Bill returned home, we were supposed to have rain. Instead, the sky was bright and clear, the palm fronds were shiny from the sun and white caps were forming on the ocean. It was cold, but beautiful. He came in an hour after he was supposed to arrive, which considering he works for the government, is not bad at all. All of the wives, girlfriends, parents, kids and brand new babies waited outside, shivering as the busses drove in with our men. Six months, completed. We were so happy to see each other we were shaking, partially from the 50 degree weather, partially from the anticipation six months builds. I had to show him which car was ours since the Ford was an addition to our family long after he deployed. It was fully decked out with glass marker drawings on the windows welcoming him home.

The kids thought that Bill would be back on Sunday when in actuality, he returned Friday. I decided to have a little fun with them and didn’t tell them he would be home that evening. I had a couple of different people relay babysitting and I had Bill wait outside while I walked in the front door. The kids both ran over to me yelling, “MOMMY!”, clearly from being abandoned by me earlier that morning. Trey came over and gave me a hug, noticed a big, camouflaged man out of his peripheral vision and screamed “DADDY!”. His big blue eyes opened as far as they would go. Leah looked over at all the fuss, pointed at Bill, looked at me and matter-of-factly stated, “Daddy”. Yes, that’s the man you’ve been missing all this time.

It’s been great having him home. The kids have been crawling all over him, yakking his ear off instead of mine and I’ve only washed the dishes once in the last week. There are many other reasons I’m happy he’s home, of course, but sharing the brunt of parenthood is HUGE, especially with two preschoolers. We invited our closest friends over for a welcome home party Saturday night. He finally feels like he has some good buddies, and that’s huge. Now, if everyone would stop moving out of state, we could be on to something.

I’ve been happily banished to my room. My ungrateful kids made dinner an unpleasant experience. I cooked for nearly an hour. After some smart mouth comments, fits of crying, being climbed on and having my hair pulled out as my daughter used it as her swinging rope for her impression of Tarzan, I gave Bill ‘the look’. He told me to run and lock the door behind me. I love that man. He saves my sanity. And he buys me chocolate.

Here We Go

Bill's just about ready to turn in his room key for his barracks room. He'll be boarding his flight within hours. I should be getting ready for my leadership meeting for MOPS. I should have had my to do list done. Instead I'm blogging and I have a lot left to do. I was an A student when I left things till the last minute and a C student when I worked on things way ahead of time. Explain that one to me? I wrote two ten page papers over a weekend while in college, the same weekend as our Marine Corps ball and managed to get an A on both.

That being said, here is my very abridged version of my to-do list:

Clean the kitchen
Make welcome home sign
Clean out the Saturn
Clean out the Ford
Decorate windows on the ford
Put up welcome home sign
Laundry (completely possible this will NEVER be checked off)
Clean my room and bathroom
Vacuum the floors
Sweep and mop the floors
Clean the kids’ rooms
Clean the kids’ bathroom
Pick up entryway, living room and dining room
Pay bills…yuck
Clean family room
Get my nails done?
Run to the store for fruit, veggies and champagne

Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines!

Didn't see that one coming

My life is consuming me one bite at a time. As if the whirlwind of single parenthood isn’t enough, there were the holiday festivities of to embrace all around. Baking and shopping for teacher appropriate gifts sans apples and gifts for the babysitter and co-workers and those out of town and all the other confetti laden, shiny things that go along with Christmas. It was all wonderful but a little fraying to my nerves. My buffer is in Japan so being exposed to the elements gives me a little chafing.

Now I have a new list of things to accomplish this week. Cleaning and paying bills and buying paint to decorate the car. Finding out what’s for dinner tonight with my small group of friends and finishing (or at least starting) my Bible study for Wednesday. Shopping for work so I can paint yet, another sign, for the youth room. Did I mention cleaning? And school starts up again this week. Friday I had plans to get my nails done and a bit of last minute shopping done. My sitter was going to have BOTH of my kids for the whole day so I could do these indulgent tasks without yelling at a blue eyed boy to stop harassing the woman with her feet in the whirlpool. Saturday: the plan was to decorate the house, put the sign up on the garage door welcoming Bill back home and to get the cars in decent order so he wouldn’t feel obligated to do that himself. Sunday I would drop my kids off at church, letting my mom deal with them for the afternoon while I drove up to pick up my husband as he was due home on Sunday.

Last night my phone rang somewhere between me falling asleep and Leah waking up. One-ish? I didn’t answer it in time, and then I forgot all about it until I read my email this morning and encountered the title of one as, New Flight Date. Uh oh. That’s never good.

Except this time, it is. My husband will not be home Sunday. He’ll be home Friday.

=D

Last year was by far one of the most challenging years. I’m thinking this is a pretty good start to the new year. I have a few things I need to get done. Maybe for your viewing pleasure, you know, if you need some good reading material to fall asleep to, I’ll post my list and my progress. That will also be a good way to get my butt into gear instead of leaving it all until Thursday.

Guess I need to ask for Friday off.