Things Never Quite Slow Down

Thanksgiving is again upon us.

I was walking my son to preschool for the afternoon and I started thinking of all the things I have been doing lately and it occurred to me that I hadn't written in some time. And then I had a complex about the whole thing because obviously no one has noticed. But, that's ok.

I am not exaggerating when I say that the entire month of October was devoted to Halloween costume construction. It was THAT crazy. My mother had given me a sewing machine on my 29th birthday because I had expressed interest in sewing. I then sewed a tiny little simple square curtain for my oldest daughter. It took about a month. I had grand ambitions, life got away from me, we had a third child, we moved and now-light bulb moment- I have space and time for sewing. So what do I do? Three years after the fact, I dust off the machine and in typical Jenn fashion, I minimize the time and effort it takes to sew a costume. I'm not a stupid human being. I can follow instructions and I like fabrics. Ergo- I can sew a costume. I figured three weeks was a good stretch of time. Someone should have slapped me with the reality stick right then and there, but my three weeks of sewing and figuring out the wonderful (and by "wonderful" I mean downright "insane and completely and unnecessarily complicated") world of costume sewing. The whole entire time I kept thinking, "How in God's name do the contestants on Project Runway sew entire grown up outfits in less than 24 hours from conception to finished product?!"

Anyways, with the help of my ever patient mother and many nights cursing my own stupidity and stubbornness, I sewed a Dorothy costume for my sweet One Year Old, made a slew of glitter stars for our Oldest who thankfully already had a pink dress suitable for Glinda, and my husband constructed a Tin Man to beat the band for The Little Man. We copped out on ourselves and did the Scarecrow with things we already had and a bale of hay and I bought a cat tail and ears to be the Cowardly Lion.

So that was seriously a month long project. That along with celebrating TEN YEARS of marriage (I KNOW! I cannot believe I have been married my whole adult life because I feel like I am just NOW considered a certifiable grown up!) and various other home projects including painting chalkboard paint on the kitchen doors and having showers done after four months of "tubbies", add school and church events and it's been a blink of an eye.

We now turn our eyes next week to hosting Thanksgiving in our very own home. (Let me just make an aside right here that I am literally typing this directly after searching and reading the Epicurious turkey tutorial and had to calm myself down on the weighty matter that is creating an iconic turkey dinner and upholding all manner of holiday traditions spanning three generations and three separate branches of family. No pressure. My husband has come to the conclusion (which I very much appreciate) that no matter what happens it will be a fabulous and funny story and it will be fun because we are such fun people (aren't you glad you know me?!). Sweetest. Man. Ever. But should things go awry and everything burn and or fall on the floor or become tainted by any manner of awful-nesses that can go wrong, I will place all blame on him for having such faith in me. Should things go right, however... Ha!
All kidding aside, we are so excited and are literally spending every day up until Thanksgiving in cleaning and prepping and listing and having jolly fun whilst doing it as is our custom.

And then it's onto Christmas. And now I must go in search of more coffee to fuel the rest of this wonderful year of complete bliss and fulfillment that has been 2012. We are so blessed.

A Day in the Life

Twenty four hours. 

This time tomorrow, my wonderful husband should be walking through the front door. It will be glorious. 

Today just seemed behind the curve before it even began. My son, once again, kept up with Midnight Madness and I lingered in bed probably a little too long, but it was still early when I made the executive decision to put myself first this morning. Yes, I put myself first, I was "selfish" if you will, when I decided to take time and wash up. Yes. That's what I did. I didn't take long, but everything went down hill from there. Maybe it was due to my terrible selfishness and neglect of the children and dog that I was being punished with the craziness that was today.  

I leapt out of bed and decided, "No! I will NOT stink today! I am going to wash up and get ready FIRST!" and so I did. The dog yelped and whined the entire time. My son barged in and had to be shouted at three times to leave before he left the bathroom. He did this twice. The Little One wailed in her crib while the crib squeaked in rhythm to her jumping up and down. I jumped in and out and dressed and put my make-up on in record speed and with a revolving door of interruptions. Adjusted the children's clothes, threw some cereal at them as I fed and ran the dog out and of course, like the pied piper that I am, the older two followed me. Once back inside, the baby was still screaming of course and needed to be changed. The older two already standing downstairs bickering over something inane. In efforts to change a poopy diaper as efficiently and quickly as possible, it ended up in heap on the floor at my feet with a squirmy poop smeared child in my arms. Managed to clean that up, grab some cereal and milk for the little one to eat in the stroller on the way to school. And off we ran. 

Dropped off the First Grader and ran (and when I say "ran" I really mean just kinda walk as fast as I can) home to pop the younger two in the car so I could make an appointment. Got in the car and everyone settled and something wasn't right. I didn't quite understand that the car hadn't started until I had it in reverse and nothing was happening. I turned the key again and it just made an "I'm trying" kind of noise and that was that. The battery was dead. This I was able to surmise because my son has the ridiculously terrible habit of touching everything and anything that he shouldn't be touching and had turned all the lights on in the car for the bazillionth time. My dad had to pop on over to give me a jump and I was forty minutes late to where I needed to go. Wonderful. 

Was able to make it back home in time to get everyone a proper lunch after their rushed breakfast and then off for Little Man to be dropped off at pre-k. What was that? Did I briefly hear the sweet sound of angels sining in the distance? No, it was just the beautiful serene sound of QUIET because the Little Angel goes right down after drop off for a nap without a peep until it's time to pick up! 

So, coffee was chugged while dishes were washed and in a moment of insanity (I blame the sudden caffeine rush), I figured homemade cheddar biscuits would be a great treat for the kids to go along with their chicken soup for dinner. They are surprisingly easy to make... Don't know if that's such a good thing being how it's mostly butter and cheese... But they taste great! Whipped through rooms straightening and pulling out pjs and clothes for tomorrow, had a few more sips of coffee, dragged the dog back out and had to wake up the baby to go for pick up and drag out a huge pile of library books. After pick up we were meeting with friends at the library. The highlight of this completely crazy day. So after a quick coffee stop at Dunkin Donuts, we were off. 

Library fun was had by all,  got home, heated up soup, homework was completed with minimal whining (I'm being generous by saying "minimal" because it wasn't) and puzzles were done and then food was eaten and by then, whining and nonsense had hit a peak and Mommy needed everyone instantly in bed. 

So, that occurred as fast as I could humanly manage it and here I sit. On second thought, it was a good thing I got myself washed up this morning because if I hadn't, I'd still be stinky and would definitely NOT want to get up and do all that right now... 

Tomorrow is a fairly empty day and my husband comes home. And there goes the angelic chorus once again...

Georgie Porgie

Pudding and pie

Kissed the girls and made them cry...

Except in this story there is no Georgie, it's my son. 

Apparently he's quite the little ladies' man. Telling this one and that one that he loves them and then kissing the student of the week on the cheek when all the others did was give her a hug. My, my, my... it certainly starts young.  I thought I had to be attentive with my daughters, and I am sure that will all come into play sooner or later, such is life. But for now? My husband needs to hurry on home and have a little sit down with his son! We're already teaching him how to be a gentleman: ladies first, open the door and allow the girls to enter, let the girls have your seat if they need one, etc. And he is doing quite well, unless someone takes away his Gentlemanly Duties such as opening a door, if we open it before he reaches it, he will throw a screaming fit! "I WANTED TO BE THE GEEENTLEMMAAAAAN!!!! I AM A GENTLEMAAAAN!!!!" And we have to calmly remind him that a gentleman certainly doesn't throw a fit in a doorway. But he seems to get the point though, right? 

Two weeks ago, we were all out on a walk and passed by a Catholic school that is near our home. There was a line of middle school aged girls in their uniforms all in line walking across our path just up ahead. My Little Ladies' Man pipes in, "Hey Daddy! Daddy, look at all those gauhws!" Completely enthralled and staring at them. He can't even pronounce the word "girls" correctly, yet he is somehow already entranced. Here we go...

So, he'll kiss them and tell them he loves them, but beware, Girlies, he'll turn around and steal your snack and throw wood chips in your hair on the playground. Let's just give it ten to fifteen years, shall we? 

Wondering About You!

I've had a few comments from people I know who seem to read and I hope enjoy my blog, but there are more people who read and I don't get comments or queries or criticisms or anything... If at all. Ever.

I guess you all don't have much to say in response to anything I post, so I guess I need to be more controversial and edgy? More exciting? Maybe it's a good thing and you are all just amused and encouraged? I dunno. I guess I write mostly to clear my head at the end of the day and to remind myself that life is fleeting and tomorrow is a new day and on my worst of worst days, I am not alone. And as a side effect, neither are YOU! None of this is easy... If you read here, then it's fairly obvious.

But, I am most curious about those who are in Germany, Russia, and Switzerland that seem to be viewing. They keep recurring so I am not quite sure if it is a fluke or not or if I know someone over there and since they haven't said anything, I have no idea who it is. And no, it is not my husband because he isn't in Europe at the moment.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Three days left. One of which is a no-school day (tomorrow is Yom Kippur- wishing all my Jewish friends who observe a peaceful day of prayer and fasting!). I'll survive. I promised them banana bread for breakfast and I am planning on making them help, so Lord knows that will take up half the morning right there.

Just really looking forward to having my husband home for the weekend, though. I always say it, that I know it's terrible to wish your time away, but I really, really, really just want it to be Friday... But until then, I am determined to enjoy (or in the least not completely despise) the moments. My kids CAN be pretty wonderful at times. And funny. And they would be a lot funnier if they didn't get so mad at me laughing at them all the time...

Until tomorrow.

It's Fall And We All Know What That Means

All I can think about are books. It's fall and that's just where my mind goes. Books and warm baked yummy things and coffee and chocolate. 

I want to sit and bake and read and then eat what I've baked while reading and sipping a mocha. And these kids keep cramping my style! What? You can't dress yourself, make your own breakfast and walk by yourself to school? No? Fine... I guess my reading/baking/sipping plans will just have to hold off for, oh, I don't know, another four years until the newest child is waltzing into the school doors... And of course that is all contingent on if she is to be our last child. But for now, I've got four years until I have enough free moments to string together to actually put my baking/reading/sipping plan into motion. 

So until then, my nights are filled with stacks of books that seem to grow because I can't ever get through them fast enough because time seems to get more and more limited the older I get. Huh. Who's got time to even procrastinate anymore? If I don't do something, it's either because I don't have time or I flat out forgot, not that I've put it off. And if I've forgotten, it's because I'm busy taking care of my children and thinking about all the books I want to read later when they are in bed. 

Like I mentioned before, I'm reading I Still Dream About You and am just about done. I began The Quiet American  a little bit ago and that's on deck and I'm half way through The Stand which I put aside earlier this year and I am itching to finish it. King has such compelling stories and memorable characters it's a wonder I was able to set it aside for so long, but seeing as how it's fall and I can't get through a fall without reading something of his, this one it is! Also, I won a copy of one of my favorite author's new book, Jennifer Weiner's The Next Best Thing and it's been sitting on the coffee table just staring me in the face everyday (not that I sit at the coffee table all day long and stare). So, those are just a few of the ones that I've got floating about next to me at this point. 

What about you? I love to keep the stacks of books high and the lists far too long, so if anyone is reading and would like to pop a comment on any and all things books, I would love to hear! 

Put on a pot of coffee and grab a paperback and join me! 

One Ravioli, Two Ravioli

I made it through the weekend. If I made it through the weekend, then I can make it through this week.

Today didn't go as planned, but I was able to be productive, nonetheless... But that doesn't mean everything is done, but we are prepared to begin our week.

I don't know why children do this, but the meals are going to be a problem.

I made a ravioli lasagna. What kid doesn't like lasagna?! And I used ravioli instead of plain lasagna noodles. What's not to like? They won't eat it.

I froze meatballs and yet another pasta dish, but I can't pull that out until the ravioli bake thing is gone. I have chicken and rice soup, they don't like it. They like chicken, they like rice, they like broth and they've eaten SOUP before, but when I make things for a plan and plan that they will eat it and we will be fine, then of course, they won't eat it.

I've frozen little egg cups for quick breakfasts and half the time, they "don't like it"! It's egg and cheese and a biscuit! I don't get it. Even when I give them what they want, they don't want it. It's enough to drive anyone completely out of their minds.

Tonight, I pulled out the frozen chicken and rice soup and got it started. The whining started as I put it over the heat. It escalated as I served it up and it hit the breaking point when a bowl ended up on the floor and chicken and rice dripped from the sides of the chair.

And then it was bedtime.

Don't they know that half the world would LOVE to come eat at our house?! I tell them that some people get a little ball of rice to eat everyday and THAT'S IT and I get blank stares! I tell them that some children don't have a Mommy and they live on a street by themselves with no clothes or blankets. Again, they get this look on their faces like they wish they didn't have a Mommy at the moment because they are sick of listening to me. I'm not trying to scare them, but I am trying to put their "sad" lives into perspective. And they don't get it.

When can I send them to dig some wells in Africa? Well, maybe not, but I'm thinking we need to go hand blankets out at a homeless shelter or something super soon because this attitude of theirs has got to go and I don't think it's too soon to show them how to appreciate every little thing they have.

Until then, it's one ravioli at a time.

You're Not Hard Core Until...

I was up before dawn this morning. I was trying very hard to make sure that I was prepared for what I understood to be my son's soccer picture day. Practice starts at 9 and I had the impression that to be prepared for pictures, you needed to be there a half hour early. I had had about a string of fifteen or so emails concerning all things soccer for the older two who are enrolled that my husband has been forwarding to me because he is the athletics point person in our home and I am most obviously not.

As we know all things fall upon me when he is out of town, so I was barking orders left and right and gelling hair and making sure that gear was on properly and teeth were brushed and I had snacks for the little one and told the oldest one to bring books, just in case.

We hustled out of the house by 8:15 and hightailed it to the field across town so as to be right on time. I was somewhat impressed with my self.

I pulled in.

It was deserted.

It's was cool and misty out, but I was under the impression it was to burn off and it wasn't pouring and I had not received any communication concerning anything being cancelled.

So, stuck in a deserted parking lot of a deserted soccer field in a car with two bickering kids and a screaming teething child, I am scrolling through all kinds of emails and trying to reach my husband, when I find it- My son's picture day is NEXT SATURDAY. My daughter's picture day was to be today, but that wasn't until 11:30.

Still wondering if there is even practice today, we sit and Mommy endures as much of it all as she can when at about 8:48, people start rolling in.

At least, we were on time for practice and he had a successful go of it this time. Except for his chucking the ball directly at his friend's head- point blank. That ball bounced HARD off of that poor little man's noggin with a thud and he just smiled and when my son apologized, he said, "That's ok! It didn't really hurt!"These kids are hard core.

PS- Yeah, we're not doing the whole picture thing this season. Completely stressed me out and if we survive this go, we will do it in the spring, thank you very much.

And to all a goodnight.

Pull Out the Footie PJs

All summer long, I had to hide the fuzzy footie pajamas from the kids because in ninety degree weather they would insist on wearing them for whatever reason and then spend half the night complaining how hot they were and would inexplicable refuse to change into light summer pjs or simply wear undies and a tank top or something. Bonkers. 

It's getting colder. Today on a car ride, my son and I started a new fall game: "Yellow! I see yellow leaves," I would shout. Super excited to have seen the colors morphing beyond the green we've been seeing all this long hot summer. 

Of course, he didn't quite get the game because he would keep yelling in between the red and orange spottings, "Green! I see a lot of green leaves, Mommy!" 

We still have a way to go, but they are changing and they will probably all be aflame soon! But that means we've been pulling out the socks and the sandals have made their migration to the back of the closet and the footie pajamas have been revealed once again. 

So, what was my daughter wearing last evening? A flimsy summer nightgown. And tonight at dinner she had the nerve to complain about how cold she has been in the night. How she needs more blankets. 

Hm. I'm fairly certain that it's the wardrobe choices that are the problem. Now to find a hiding spot for the summer pjs... 

Another Countdown: Nine Days

I've got nine days ahead of me this trip. 

Ran out to an Open House at my daughter's school and then ran home so my husband could run out for his flight. And off he went. Kids are in bed reading or being quiet at least or maybe even sleeping, but in any case, all is quiet. 

This is when I gather all my strength. It's like being in one of those insane strongman competitions. You've got to gather every last ounce of patience and serenity and concentrate it down into one complete stretch of time. It's not a marathon-type of longevity where you just pace yourself quietly and jog along, it's a condensed intensity that lasts for relatively short bursts of time until my husband returns and things can even back out again, until the next insane burst. 

So, we've got school, story times, soccer, and church. I've got ideas for fun easy things we can do together. I've also the things to do perpetually to keep us clothed and fed and attempts at keeping the house looking unlike a tornado damaged sight. And in order to keep Mommy at peace, I have my closely guarded Mommy Time activities. 

This is why I am such a rigid stickler for bedtimes during trips because I can't be peaceful and happy if I can't get a few moments of peace to myself. Let's be honest, being a mother is rewarding, sure, but I don't get elated after wiping a poopy bum, I don't just love popping up every thirty seconds from a single meal to get everybody else another portion, another napkin, more water, or to mop up and wipe up the third or fourth or fifth spill of the meal. It's really not my favorite thing to do to answer the same question over and over and over again. I love my kids and I do these things and more because I want them to have a good life and these are just the practical things that need doing right now, but when lights are out and it's time to be going to sleep, Mommy is re-charging. During trips, I make sure I get whatever I can get done during the day out of the way so that my evenings are my own. I've stacks of books (currently reading "I Still Dream About You" by Fannie Flagg and it's taking quite an amusing and interesting turn and so far, I'd say that I recommend it!) and this go around I've got the audiobook of "A Game of Thrones" so that I can be "reading" while keeping busy. I've got yarn and knitting projects going- it's a great de-stresser and there is nothing like the feeling of putting your hands to something, literally, and having a physical material outcome of something to wear or gift or use. "Look what I just made!" is the best feeling ever! So even when I feel like a complete failure, if I am sitting and knitting, it's like at least I've got SOMETHING. It makes sense to me and makes me feel better. Some Knitting Nana from PEI is mailing me a cute hat pattern, too! I contacted her from Ravelry (fantastic yarn crafting sight) and she offered to photocopy it and mail it. I was about to suggest an electronic means, but it was then that I realized she was probably an older woman and I didn't want to push my luck! How nice is she?! And then there is always online shopping (mostly browsing and planning) and movies. 

So, just thinking about all those lovely things makes it easier to keep the kids happy and busy during Kid Time all day. And it keeps my mind off the fact that I am here and my husband gets to go to wonderful and fabulous places and I don't (I will not be bitter, I will not be jealous, I will not be bitter, I will NOT be jealous...) 

So, that's where I am at right now. I am retreating into my happy place. So just remind me of all this when you catch me in one of my Mommy Tantrums when the kids are acting less than desirable and I'm about to throw myself into the river, ok? Thank you!

Sleepless Nights and War Wounds

Some days are longer than others. You know, they just feel so much longer than a day should and by 4pm, you are itching to throw food on the table and wipe their little faces and put them in their beds because you honestly don't think you can take any more.

Yesterday and today have been days like that and we are starting in on another long stretch of a trip and I feel un-rested and ill-prepared to man this ship alone. My son alone is the major cause of my concern these days. God bless this child. He needs an extra bit lately. And so does his Mommy...

He had a scuffle with his older sister the other day and he survived with only a few gashes on his cheek. We are working on our Kind Hands, still... Sometimes I chock it up to tiredness. I mean, who doesn't have a bad day when they are tired?

Two nights ago, I was awoken in the middle of the night. To moaning. Ghostly moaning. Our house is a hundred years old and perhaps I read too much Stephen King, but it took me a few minutes to realize it was my son. What he was moaning about, I couldn't tell you. I went in to settle him down and I believe he was still asleep. Or faking. Who can tell? He did it some more after that and I was thoroughly freaked out by it so I sent my husband in. Then he began the wandering around. I would attempt to settle myself down and calm my rapidly beating heart and I would sense a presence. My eyes would pop open and there he would be, standing right over me or walking around the foot of the bed to my husband. He did this intermittently from about midnight until about 4am and we are up for the day at 6:30am or so and when asked about his antics in the night over breakfast, he says he didn't know what we were talking about. Or so the four year old says. Again, who can tell?

Thinking that he is probably beyond exhausted and will settle down without any troubles, we put them to bed last night and he was being himself, but then settled down. And then the storm began. Branches were falling about and doors were slamming shut in the wind and things propped up on the window sills were being blown over. Now, I fully expected the kids to have trouble sleeping. It was LOUD. I mean, these are the kids where if you step on the somewhat squeaky step on the stairs will wake up and ask for water, food, another story, anything. These are the kids where if you flush a toilet in the night, they will come around hearing you and say they have to potty, as well. They were SILENT, not a sound. So, today I was thinking they would be completely well-rested and un-eventful.

Not so. After the oldest went to school, he was climbing the walls. My husband gave him a bag of trash to bring out to the shed. A few moments passed and there was that weird wailing in the distance. The bag of trash was by itself sitting on the back porch. My husband and I ran out to see what was going on and off my son took from around the corner and ran away from us! He came back around from the other side of the house and as he approached, he was evidently wailing and had a gash on his nose and a purple welt forming under his eye. After about twenty minutes of him running away and crying, we were able to piece together the story: he dropped the trash to chase a squirrel and when he came back, he tripped up the steps, face planting on one on his way back up. Come ON! So, now, he has the scratch marks from his sister on his cheek, a slash mark on the bridge of his nose and a purple bruised line under his eye. Perfect. THEN! When picking him up from pre-school, I see him digging with his friend and one of them has a trowel and I watch as the child raises it above his head and brings it down with some force and my son is digging directly in front of him and just as I think, "Oh, this might not end well," he does it again and gouges right down onto my son's knuckle. Lovely. Again, he runs away. I try to run and comfort and he throws wood chips at me. These are the moments where I am grateful when my husband is home because he stalked right over and scooped him up and off we went home in a trail of wailing.

So, needless to say, I am tired and am I am sure he is also. What the problem is, I couldn't tell you. Growing pains of a metaphorical kind? Adjusting to new perameters with school and the house? Too much stimulation? Not enough stimulation? Maybe it's just a string of "Those Days" that just occurred together with "Those Nights" and things will be better for a few days in a row at least? I don't know. All I know is I am thankful for the grace to handle these children each and every day and the grace that he obviously needs to just survive... being himself, I guess. I am shaking my head just sitting here thinking about it all.

Tomorrow is a new day...

On Television

I am not going to pretend that I am one of those people who say they don't like or watch t.v. because I do. I never really just sat down to watch whatever whenever for hours on end when I could be doing other things, however. I mean, I had my favorite shows and I enjoyed having the Food Network on or when I was up late waiting for my husband to come home from a flight or if I was up nursing the baby there was always something crazy on on Bravo to keep me entertained at least. But when we moved into our home this past summer, there was no room in our budget for cable. And that was that.

Since we moved here in June, we have not had television. And I can't say that I miss it terribly. As long as one has internet, there really isn't any point to having cable especially with our lifestyle. My husband and I like to watch pretty much the same shows and I would have to wait and miss them anyways to ensure that we could watch them together if he had trips. The other shows that I think I might prefer to watch, I watch them when they are online, that is, if I even remember and now that the fall season is starting, because we haven't seen commercials or trailers for the upcoming shows, I have no clue what I am missing. Reading the newspaper I recognized ONE movie title that is playing. Nemo in 3D. That's it. We rarely get out to the movies anymore anyways... I have to say, it's a little odd. But do I mind? I've got to say that I am really enjoying it. If you think about it, television is just a habit really. A fail-safe. When there is nothing left to do, you turn it on and just sit. Now, it's not really an option. We have shows on the computer and we have hundreds of movies, but it has to be intentional: I am going to sit and watch XYZ and that's all there is and when it's over, you are done or you have to make another conscious decision to watch ZYX. No more getting carried away with whatever is on and looking up two hours later wondering what the heck I've been watching. So, again, I guess that's a good thing. Right?

With kids, it's a different story. There are times when I would LOVE to just pop on Disney Junior and walk away. Somedays, I would pull my own teeth and donate a kidney if it meant I could just throw on Nick Junior and be left alone indefinitely until someone got hungry or it was bedtime. Television isn't all bad and these days, when life is super crazed and stressful, kids can even benefit from a half hour of disengaged mindless entertainment and God knows Mommy could use a break to make dinner in peace.

We've gotten out of the habit of just popping it on whenever, though and I suppose that's a good habit to break. There is a dining room closet bursting at the seems with all manners of child activities, games, puzzles, and art supplies. There are stacks of books everywhere and their rooms are filled with more toys than could be employed by a small country.

Last week, my husband hooked up the antenna. We now get PBS, ABC, NBC and a Spanish channel. Could Mommy be any happier? Just the few moments of Peep and the Big World so Mommy doesn't have to smell for the third day in a row won't hurt anybody! It's amazing the little things we come to appreciate.

These Moments

Time is forever passing. The clock never ceases to tick away the minutes, the seconds of our lives. We are continually moving and striving and are about the busyness of day to day existence. Even in making these posts I am astonished at how much time passes between each entry at times. Has it really been almost a week? Has it only been JUST a week? See. It even plays tricks on us. How can it feel like just moments ago that I was typing away here last Wednesday and yet, I feel like worlds away from that moment?

Now, I don't mean to get deeply and darkly philosophical concerning life and time, but since it's been weighing on me heavily lately and the manner in which it passes and how we spend it, and we are all facing it whether we choose to address it or not, it's a key component of our human condition, I feel it is worth mentioning. Life is moving... Fast.

It's a thin gauze. We are merely a breath away from eternity or the unknown. I don't know if everyone feels this at this point or if it's just because children grow and change so quickly that life and mortality become so material before our very eyes. Moments ago I was a child and life had yet to happen. I was invincible and waiting for it all to begin. Then all of a sudden it seems I was living it and then it's like a cold wind: leaving you behind and you are grasping at it as it's whipping through your very fingers. I am now looking into the eyes of my own children who it feels like just moments ago were being born. The eldest is now six and a half, the other four and the little one is already a year old. How can that be? It's hard to bend my mind around it. I'm not quite sure why.

All this to say all that we already know: life is fleeting and we make it what it is. Hug your loves a little tighter and start living the life of your dreams. These days more than ever I remind myself to breathe it all in and to savor the little moments. These are what life is made of.

Until the next...

A Blink and a Blank Stare

I have no words for today.

I am not exaggerating or lying when I say that I have been sitting here with my feet throbbing and my brain buzzing and the sound of blood thumping in my ears with my head cocked to one side... and nothing. I mean, I have ideas, of course, always, on things I could start going on and on about, but quite literally this is taking all that is left within me to just type this out.

My sneakers have been laced tightly on my feet since 6:45am and I had a forty minute sit-down this afternoon between things, and in all seriousness I have been on my feet and on the go since. Lunch is ready for tomorrow. Coffee pot is set. Kids are in bed and haven't gotten up-- I guess this is what it takes to tire them out and consequently tire me out, too. I am about to tuck myself in bed with a book and call it a day.

And that, my friends, is that.

Soccer Mom

So, now I'm a soccer mom. I don't feel like one. I don't know what they need. I don't know how to put those weird socks on or how to fasten their shin guards so they don't fall off. I couldn't even figure out how to sign them up. My husband had to do it. He was here for their first practices and we made a family thing out of it. I chatted with other moms from town that I knew.

Now, my husband is gone. Practice is tomorrow night. I hope I don't make a fool out of myself and my child by showing up with all kinds of things going wrong and without a clue. I can ask the other mothers, I suppose. They always seem to have things straight and to know exactly what's what.

At my son's first practice over the weekend, one of the other Soccer Moms that I don't know came over to chat me up and frankly she scared me. I couldn't tell you what she was talking about. It had to do with soccer and the game and it was all manner of seriousness and in the end, she dragged her son out of the practice in a huff over the other players (all pre-school/ Kindergarten-aged) being too small or not experienced enough or something to the effect of them not being tough enough to handle her son playing soccer with them. Whoa. Ok. Originally she offered us one of her child's old jerseys and my husband was all concerned that now, we weren't going to get it because who knows if she is coming back. Now, I'm just a novice here and the only Soccer Moms that I have to compare to my reality are fictional and end up in fist fights with other moms and the refs and coaches and that's all fake, right? This is JUST a game for KIDS, right? I mean, I'd love for my kids to become little soccer gods and end up with scholarships, but that's in a perfect world. For now, I'm just hoping they burn off some energy, have a good time and learn to be good sports while learning skills of team-manship. Win, lose or draw, I could care less about anything else. Maybe it's because I didn't do sports growing up. Maybe it's because at heart, I am a peace-loving semi-hippy-ish person who truly believes it's how you play the game and knowing you are having fun and doing your best. Sure, who doesn't love to win, but this isn't the Olympics.

This is the first time in my life to have all kids of crazy plates spinning balanced on sticks that I'm holding. I mean, you think it's busy and it's summer and keeping kids busy is crazy, but putting them in scheduled activities and keeping them busy is just as crazy and hard. Huh. Getting everyone to school and it starts before that even, getting up at the crack of dawn to get everyone READY and then to take them and then rush-rush-rush-rush to get whatever you can done and the little one taken care of and then dinner and then activity and then ready for other things and ready for tomorrow and bed again... Whew. All in all, this past week has been a whirlwind of beginnings and we are gaining our bearings and soccer is the new thing for us and frankly, if it tires them out and they enjoy doing it and make friends, then I will feel like being a Soccer Mom is worth it's weight in gold.

Keeping the crazy coming until next time...

What Little Boys Are Made Of...

At the market this morning, he toppled over two large watermelons from their pile and they cracked open on the floor when they landed. While "helping" load food onto the conveyer belt to check out, he dropped a cottage cheese container and it popped open with a splat as it hit the floor at the feet of an employee who so graciously picked it up and offered to get a replacement. Then while loading the car he knocked into the bag with the eggs in it, and it dropped from it's perch on top of the other bags, thankfully none were broken. At a later appointment in an office building on official grown up business with Mommy and Daddy, he shot phlegm all over the conference table right in front of us as he was being held on my lap in hopes of keeping him contained. Can't keep him bottled up, no sir. At another store, we were in close proximity to another family and he sneezed all over my arm and the back of a poor little girl who looked up at her mother, "Mommy. He sneezed all over my back." She said it super quietly and it sounded like she was in shock. I felt terrible and apologized profusely. She offered her daughter some Purel. At the start of the day, he looked like any other energetic little boy, ready to face the day. At the end of the day, his eyes were tired and red. The front of his shirt that was white to start with is an unsightly gray with weird and unholy greenish tinges all down the front. Glittery bits of sand cling to every last inch of his sweaty little body.

We've walked all over town today and I hope he gets his rest... because tomorrow it all begins again.

A Few Things I've Discovered

I've come to discover a few things that I am going to share:

1) Yes, I am aware that my child is screeching at the top of his lungs in public and no, I do not think it is ok and yes, it is as equally annoying/unsettling/baffling/mindnumbinglyaggravating for me as it is for you to hear. 

2) Mommies listen to noises such as that all the time and while we absolutely HATE it, we have and USE an IGNORE button that suddenly develops once having children. If I am in a restaurant (not a posh one by any means, we are talking a chain restaurant at lunch time which is when Moms with their children are tolerated), and my baby starts her screechy "singing" which we laugh at at home, I am going to continue to eat. Just so you know. 

3) Old people like to look at smiling kids and coo and gush, but when the child starts to scream, they start to get.... well, nasty and mean. Go figure. 

4) This world is not family friendly or child friendly at all. And all those places that are 

"child friendly" are just out to shake down Mommy's wallet and take you for every last dime. Not the park, though. That's free. And the library. That's free, too. Just look behind all the furniture before returning books...

5) If an old person thinks your baby is cute enough, they will hand them money. But only to the baby. Once your other kids are older, they ignore them, so then Mommy has to deal with the aftermath of why strangers hand money to the baby and NOT to them. 

6) Children will pick more library books than The Hulk could carry and will then whine and complain the entire walk home because Mean Mommy who has to carry everything else AND push a stroller has made them check out and carry their own books after warning them they should ONLY take what they can CARRY. Which leads to the next point-

7) No matter how much you prepare and warn, something will go amiss and they will get angry and unfathomably, it's YOUR FAULT. I'm still not sure why, but I know there are therapist couches filled across this country and it's all because it's Mommy's Fault. Nuts.

8) You must behave and watch yourself around your children because they talk to the neighbors. 

9) Having children is directly correlated to the lowering of all social skills and acceptable and appropriate outside behavior. Use of the words "potty" and "tubby" and conversations concerning bodily functions are openly spoken about when B.C. (Before Children), you would have sooner died than discuss it over dinner. That and misnaming things and forgetting words altogether along with even the names of your children if there are multiples. And because of your awareness of your newly socially awkward status, you babble. Enough said. 

10) Lastly, the words, "STOP THAT!" Lose all meaning. 

I'm sure I have more discoveries that await me on my journey... 

Good night and good luck. 

Mommy's Shoes Were Made for Walking

First days are rough. They are new. They are crazy. 

This is a lot of firsts for us. We are "walkers" now. And a back and forth from my First Graders school has me covered in sweat and my calves aching. Not because it's far. It's ten minutes. To walk. I am coming off of a summer spent at home, doing home things and sitting on my butt apparently.

 *sigh*

So, that's ten minutes, there and back and there and back again. Forty minutes. Then when my son starts next week, it's a ten minute walk in the opposite direction and then back, then after picking up my First Grader, it's fifteen minutes to high tail it from her school to HIS to pick him up at 3:15. So, I have to do a twenty minute walk in fifteen. So, right now, I am dusting off my sneakers and searching for stretchy pants. Hopefully all this walking will be evident in my lumpy Mommy Body. My "baby" is a year old now and apparently that means she's a "toddler" and it's no longer acceptable to blame chubbiness on them. Well, it IS their fault, but regardless, it's now my responsibility to get it off... I mean, Thanksgiving is coming and I love me some stuffing...

Who knows, maybe I will end up being one of those Jogger Mommies yet... Ok, let's not get delusional now. Who am I kidding? 

Last Days of Summer

Technically summer lasts until mid-September, I think, but once school starts up, it's officially FALL in my book. So, in a week, we are settling in for the cooler weather, the changing leaves and the smell of new books and pencil shavings.

We exhausted our summer lists and I think we did most of the items we planned on there. And now we are already talking about Halloween and Thanksgiving and I just hope that things sort of settle slightly because as is the way with me, I am behind on my reading and I've got four library books at one time and I am wondering when I am going to get to sit and read them... Perhaps during the hours of 1am and 5am. Which is when I've planned my sleeping time. Oh well.

My husband has trips and I'm ever so grateful to have my mom and mom-in-law here to help with the Little One's first birthday party and for My Big Girl's first day at a new school in the First Grade and for my Little Man's last year of Pre-school! Big things going on and, oh boy, so busy! This time last year, I was uber pregnant and ridiculously cranky and hot and waiting to give birth. I cannot believe it's already a year later. I feel like I had her and jumped out of the hospital bed and hit the ground running and haven't stopped since. The cliche of "time flying" really could not be more accurate about this year. It's been like the scenery whipping past the Road Runner as he is being chased by Wylie Coyote. Except, I'm not being chased by a coyote, just time.

I was excited about summer and all the changes that came to pass, but I can't say I'm sorry to see it go. I am very much looking forward to fall and all it has to offer...

That being said, I've got a week of party things, school readying, teacher gift preparing, meal creating and then-some ahead of me. In true Jennifer-fashion, I should be doing a thousand and three other things, but I have chosen the one thing that really does NOT need to get done to do.

Coffee is ready to go and tomorrow is yet another day where we hit the ground at a run... Let the Fall Games begin.

Me: At the Spa

If you've been reading, then you know it's been a long summer. So, my lovely husband insisted I take some time out for pampering. (He is hands down the best man ever and I feel sorry for everyone else because my husband is the best.) He made an appointment for me to have a facial and a manicure and a pedicure. That's all afternoon at the spa/salon. Love. Love. Love.

Here's the thing though, and maybe it's just me, but sometimes I kind of don't even want to go to the salon because I know it's going to be a loooooong time until I can get back (and they always make a point to tell me how long it's been) and it's glaringly apparent why I am there in the first place, so why do they have to keep pointing out all the flaws? Our flaws are why we need such places in the first place, right? It's a vicious cycle. They get us there because we get worn out and need pampering and  upkeep so that we can look like somewhat normal humans again (I'm specifically referring to frazzled Mommies, here) and so we can relax, but while we are there, they just keep harping on all the flaws and pushing all their products that we apparently desperately need. But if i had all these awesome products and the fifteen hours a day it takes to look flawless, then why would I need to go and pay THEM? It's crazy.

This is in no way an indictment against salons and I will absolutely continue to go especially if my husband insists, I'm just saying...

The Facial Technician girl (yes, I am calling her "girl" because I am not kidding when I say she looked about seventeen) informed me that everyone, even those with "good skin" still "need" a facial about once a month. Huh. Ok. I've had three in my life. And I think I'm one of the "good skin" people...
She also informed me that my face is dehydrated. Oops. And then comes the question that I totally dread: What products do you use?

That question stops my heart and makes my blood run cold. A panic sets in like none other because if I answer it wrong, then I get a massive lecture on what I should be using and then the Product Placement Portion of the Beauty Visit begins in full force. I find myself wracking my brain for the most expensive and serious looking products that I've ever picked up and subsequently put down in Sephora before I jaunt over to CVS and buy a Neutrogena equivalent for about $4. I don't DARE tell her that most nights I pass out cold with my make-up still on and then wake up the next morning and hit the ground running while just passing a damp cloth over the smudged spots on my face in order to salvage it the best I can just in case I don't get a chance to completely wash and re-do everything before I have to run out the door. I don't think she would quite understand that I don't have the time to do a pore treatment on my nose (which she said was terribly congested- the pores, not the nasal passages, I had to ask...) three, yes, THREE times a day. I ended up mentioning the one fancy brand name moisturizer that I do splurge on and that I use sparingly to make it LAST and she seemed pretty pleased about that. Whew.

Also, one of the reasons I am leery of spa treatments where I am touched a lot is because I am prone to nervous bouts of laughter that have a tendency to become uncontrollable. I start thinking about the absurdity of the whole situation: a random, very serious person is touching my bare skin while I lay in various reposes and states of clothed-ness and it strikes me as amusing and then I giggle and then I am aware of how inappropriate my giggling is and it makes me laugh and then we all know when we try to NOT laugh it makes us laugh more... Anyways, you see. I was able to survive the neck and shoulder massage with only a few, what I am sure came across as odd and creepy, smirks and chuckles.

All in all, it was lovely and relaxing and complete with tinkly New Age music and aromatherapy stuff piping about in the air. Loved it.

Then, came my nails. The hard part was over (making it through a spa treatment without being totally weird!)! But then the nail girl stood by me the ENTIRE TIME I was looking at the nail colors. So, I start babbling. I started talking about "the fall colors" and "finding a polish that goes with skin tone" and while these crazy things are tumbling out of my mouth, I am completely aware that my hair has NOT been brushed, I merely have mascara on and it's smudged now, I'm in the only pair of jeans that fit and not even well and I have to remember not to raise my right arm on this shirt because their is a hole in the armpit and I KEEP FORGETTING to NOT WEAR IT or simply THROW IT OUT. I don't have cable, I couldn't tell you a thing that is going on in the world today, and my major concern is that we get the bathroom in our home completed before next year. And I am babbling on and on about a nail polish color like I know something. Eventually I just stopped and picked one. But seriously. I have a major socializing issue. Namely, that I have lost my mind completely.

So, other than my complete social awkwardness, I had the awesomest afternoon at the spa. Maybe I should keep up with this whole "I'm a wreck" M.O. I've got going so that I get more of the, "you REALLY should go and take care of yourself" treatment," don't you think?

Weaning and TMI

I never thought it would be so hard. It was easy this time to last this long, but THIS is hard.

With my first, breastfeeding was literally a hellish ordeal. I will spare you the gory details, but needless to say, it was not pretty and by three months, I ditched it completely and embraced the bottle.

With my son, it was easier. We lasted about seven or eight months and had supplemented mostly at night so I could get rest. At one point, my husband and I were going away on an anniversary trip and I made sure he was weaned before we left and that was that. No muss. No fuss. No emotional attachments to the process or weird physical discomfort of any kind.

This time... I have no idea. She will be a year old September 3rd and I am down to two feedings a day. I know that I can nurse her for as long as I want, but with the fall coming and the other two in school, I really needed a plan to cut out the day feedings and that went relatively easy... sort of. Oh she is ok. It's ME that is having a hard time. I really haven't a clue why. My body feels like it's revolting against me. I'm emotional- The Rainbow Connection song that Kermit sings? It came on today as we were in the kitchen after lunch and I just started crying. I can blame hormones, right? For the morning and evening nursings, she is only half interested and stops after just a few minutes and is just... done. Logically, I know this is a good thing. This is just another one of those steps in life towards her being an autonomous, independent adult one day. But I feel rejected. She doesn't really need me anymore. She eats food and gets her milk and I'm probably doing it more for me than for her at this point. It's just another one of those processes of detaching one step at a time. It's hard.

Also, I feel kind of bad about not feeling like this with the first two. I never had any of these thoughts or emotions with either of them. When I was done, it was done and I was fine. But with her, it's just different. This is hard.

By October, this will all be over and she'll practically be a toddler. My son with be in Pre-K and my oldest girl will be in First Grade and then everyone is in college and married and I'm an old lady... Ok. I'm over-reacting, obviously. But it really feels like that right now. When did time speed up? I don't like it. Not one bit.

I AM looking forward to my over-emotional-ness (not really a word, I know) to subside. It's absurd. If I start to get choked up again in the cereal aisle of the supermarket over a Celine Dion song, please, someone whack me with a box of Wheaties, would ya? I promise, I will thank you.

On Teeth

I've read somewhere that if you constantly dream of losing your teeth then it possibly means that you have a deep rooted fear of aging, growing old, and losing your youthfulness.

What about when our children lose their teeth? How's that supposed to make us feel? I know I'm not old, but it doesn't make me feel incredibly young.

Kids get super excited about this for some reason. I've been hearing for the past year and a half now about teeth: Why aren't her teeth loose yet? Why are other kids losing their teeth and she isn't? When do they get loose? Why aren't they loose yet? Maybe if I give her incredibly crunchy foods it will help in the process...

My oldest daughter has been complaining about her lower front tooth hurting. Sometimes it's hard to gauge with her what's going on and if things are as she says they are. Yesterday morning she started screaming in excitement about her tooth being loose. I hate to say it, but with this child, I must always remain a skeptic until I see with my own eyes and can evaluate. I stuck my finger in her mouth and it wiggled. It was/is, in fact, loose. My initial reaction: (and yes, I completely veiled it as excitement for my child) Complete Horror. I was surprised with myself. Slightly upset that I am so emotional over a tooth. It's like those dreams that I never had really had are being realized in my reality and it's not ME loosing teeth, it's my child. I have a child. Old enough. To have teeth fall out of her mouth. And not by accident.

That's insane.

I'm happy for her. We've had the discussion about the Tooth Fairy: I told her it's all just for pretend (I know! I know! I just don't want to be known as a liar later!!!), it's Mommy and Daddy pretending and it's ok for her to pretend there's a Tooth Fairy because other kids might really believe and that's ok. And I told her that even though I know it's me, even I still like to pretend there is a Tooth Fairy, too. Mommy is just crazy like that.

And now begins the debate on the going rate for teeth. I said $5- there are only so many baby teeth and this IS the first one. My husband was shocked and said it should be a quarter. I talked him up to $1. I guess he's right. We have three kids, each with what? Twenty teeth that will eventually fall out? That's $300 Tooth Fairy Dollars that come out of our pockets... Ok. So maybe $1 it is!

And now I am certain to cry when the baby's teeth start making their appearance.

It really DOES go by fast...

And Today We Rest

It's been a week already? You've GOT to be kidding me!

It's been a pretty good week. I've had a ton of things to do, which is always better than having absolutely nothing to do. My husband has been in and out and is IN this weekend and it's the first weekend since June that he has been here for a family weekend in it's entirety. He was supposed to be out AGAIN but it got cancelled! Hooray for US! It feels normal and awesome and I am still coming down from the intensity of this stressful summer of moving and settling and construction and a month long trek of being without him here. I am sure it might sound weird, but having him home is an adjustment for us all. But we LOVE it. Of course.

Gearing up for having company and for Baby Girl's FIRST BIRTHDAY! Already!? And SCHOOL!

Loads of projects in the works and the change of seasons feels fantastic. Even if the weather isn't quite as cool as I like just yet, the anticipation of it is just enough for now to invigorate and keep me motivated... and I'm sure you can tell that I'm practically thrumming and vibrating from two very large cups of coffee this morning and I am thinking of making more for a chilled ice beverage later... yes, I just might do that.

Have found time to knit and cook and read and play with the kids and it's been lovely. These things truly feed the soul. I have to say, it feels so good to write a happy post, full of peace (even though things aren't always peaceful) and to not feel like I am bellyaching about my woes of parenthood. Oh boy, do I have some, but today, they are easy to ignore. Sometimes just having the extra adult presence within our home, the Daddy's Home vibe, just somehow changes everything.

I hope everyone has these beautiful calm eyes of a day in the hurricane that can sometimes be our lives. It's a breathe of life. Really.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

Yesterday was not a good day. I really didn't have anything nice to say at all by the end of the day so I chose to say nothing at all. I was most certainly not on top of my game as a parent. I was just as bad as the kids. When they yelled, I yelled back and just tried to be louder. It's easier to fall into their little games than one might think. Needless to say, I am quite ashamed of myself and not that it is an excuse, but I was very tired and I'd had enough. It's hard to be a mom and face your breaking points. You aren't supposed to have them, but we do. It's what makes us human. I was at mine. Today, I got to get out without the kids for a few hours and it was lovely. Coming back to them and the bad reports...again, is not so lovely. Sometimes, it makes it very un-worth it to even leave them. But they need the space as much as I do, I'm sure.

I know I'm not perfect and I know I don't always do the right things or handle things in the best possible way, but I know I'm not completely horrible, so what is it that I'm doing wrong? I can't help but think it's just their personalities coupled with our lifestyle and I've just got to keep it up. My mom says that kids are just kids and sometimes you just have to get them through these rough patches. I think this summer was definitely a rough patch. For all of us. But it's almost over.

Tomorrow, my husband comes home and has work peppered throughout the week but at least he is coming and going. Which is always better than just GONE. School starting will help and I am looking into programs for the kids. I don't like the whole idea of carting children about for the sake of busyness, but they are so very active. I am thinking I need to set my own ideas aside and get them enrolled in SOMETHING. ANYTHING. Well, not anything... jai alai anyone? Underwater basket weaving? How about the accordion? They need to master something obscure enough to set them apart for their college applications... I'm just kidding.

Well, only half kidding...

This Is What a Tired Blog Post Looks Like

I am tempted to just go to bed. My husband always asks why I don't just go to bed when the kids are in bed... because then I don't get to enjoy the quiet because I'd be too busy wasting it up with my sleeping. Hello!

The coffee didn't cut it today. It was kind of sad. It was a long night last night complete with a crying baby, a roller out of bedd-er, and the inevitable early riser. Trifecta of sleep interruptions. Slowly make my way down to the coffee and there is a mere trickle left of creamer. Since my stomach can't seem to handle black coffee anymore, that was completely disappointing. I used milk instead but there wasn't much of that left either and I chugged it down the best I could, but the fog continued until after lunch when I was able to bust out the Starbucks gift card! Oh I went for the big one. Venti. I could feel my body getting jittery after a while, but the fog continued. It's still here. I'm sitting in it right now. I thought about going to the store to get more creamer so that tomorrow morning would go better, but I didn't have the strength. How pitiful is that? How hard can it be to run to the market to pick up an item and then run back home? Today I would have rather been a bomb squad defuser person than to deal with taking three children to the market. It's THAT crazy. So tomorrow morning, it's black coffee and the trek to the market.

Is this really my life? Making big detailed plans to make it to the market for creamer? How lame (and by lame, I really mean awesome) am I?!

Moral of the Story: Isn't it obvious? Get sleep! And always buy extra creamer. You're welcome.

The Lists That Never End

It's been quite the summer and school is just around the corner. I'd be lying if I said that I would miss having the kids at home. I think it will be good for them to be with friends and learning new things and have the structure that school hours provide. Both of the schools are in walking distance and I am actually looking forward to the cool, fall walks. I'm sure winter will be a tad different, but some chilly, snow filled walks will probably be lovely.

I feel like I am falling behind on all of my projects and all the things I want to do and all the things that I need to be doing to keep our home and our lives running smoothly... well, things rarely go smoothly, but at least they go. How does anyone else do this? I wonder what other people do to keep things up. I have the lists and try to get things going during the day so that I don't have to spend all night on dishes and laundry and emails and sweeping and all the other little tasks that come up for life. Even when I get a chance to sit at night, I am still working on something, whether it's on the computer or yarning or folding. It never ends. Is that just the way it is? Pecking away at things the best you can until the time comes when somehow everything shakes out? To be honest, there are times when days go by and I'm shocked because I realize I haven't had the time to wash my hair or shave my legs... Isn't that gross? Is this just the phase of having small ones at home? I tell myself that. That it won't always be like this. That I should enjoy at least having the excuse to be such a mess... (??!!). I really don't want to be a stinky dirty mess... I don't intend to be, really. Sometimes it just happens. It definitely is easier when my husband is home... and of course that is much more incentive to be clean and groomed than when he isn't here, obviously. Anyway. I guess it's always a trade off for something at this point in life...

And I just realized that I haven't fed and taken the dog out yet, poor, patient little furry buddy! See....

Must be off...

Three Too Many

When I was nine months pregnant with my third child, my mom took me to have a pedicure. It felt fantastic. I do remember that... But the conversation with the nail technician left me slightly annoyed. She asked me if this was my first child. I said that it was, in fact, my third child on the way. She looked shocked and made a point to tell me that it was too many children and that they all weren't going to get the proper amount of love and attention. Thanks.

It's amazing how much more poignant the negative can be and how much more quickly it comes to mind than perhaps positive things the fifty or more other people say, the people who possibly know me more personally and know my family and mention that I make a good mom or that I should keep having kids because the world needs prettier people (Yes, a very funny, lovely lady told me that! She's definitely one of my favorites!)... Along with those nice comments, though, that surly and opinionated nail woman's comment won't ever be forgotten. And today I definitely remembered it.

It was one of those days where each child was being particularly annoying and high maintenance. Well, the little one can't just wander off on her own just yet, but the other two SHOULD BY NOW be ABLE to SIT and PLAY ALONE! But no... I would set something up and dash off to clean up behind the previous wake of craziness and then another crash, scream and whines and yells would ensue and on top of Mess #1, there would be Mess  #2 and #3 and #4 occurring simultaneously. The Boy wanted help with his trains and then refused to clean up without help, The Little One just wants to crawl, but I can't leave her alone to do that and The Oldest... I don't know what is her deal, but if someone else has it, she wants it or one just like it. If she gets something, she makes a show of it until someone else wants it just as bad and then taunts. And she hovers. She hovers for information. I mentioned that I didn't want to do baths. I said, I was looking forward to just putting them into pjs and sending them off to bed and what does she do? She coerces her little brother to dump sand all over his head. Then, in the process of me using his shirt to brush him off, a round safety pin button he had pinned to his shirt came undone underneath the fabric and stuck him in the leg. Lovely.

I shouldn't feel guilty for having children. And when people say, "Oh! If you can't hack it then perhaps you shouldn't have had children." Well, that's kind of stupid because who knows BEFOREHAND if they can't deal. Who doesn't have pictures of the Von Trapp children dancing and singing in their heads and picture themselves as a sort of Maria who just prances in and has just the right things to say and soothes all the children in just the right ways at just the right time? I don't know quite if I had that in mind, but I certainly didn't envision myself as the mother hissing through gritted teeth at three little beings who seem to me to be completely out of their minds.

If you've never seen Bill Cosby: Himself then you really should take the time. Especially now, as a parent, his bit on how his wife used to be a lovely woman... and then what the children have turned her into... Watch it. You just might pee a little. And I believe he has five children. So, there is hope for me yet.

I Will Gladly Pay You Tuesday For a Hamburger Today

As is always the way, I spent a whole day cooking last week in order to have food ready for the weekend and this week and I've had to send some over to my parents' house. Did I make too much? No. The kids didn't like it. Of course.

I purposely made beef in the crockpot the way Meme makes it (because they've eaten that!) and I went to the trouble to make a huge casserole dish of scalloped potatoes (because who doesn't love creamy potatoes and cheese?) and we all like carrots (with the exception of Little Man who eats ketchup and tomato sauce) and I even made sweet glazed carrots on PURPOSE! And I've been picking at it for three days and had to share it yesterday with the family while the kids ate what? Bertucci's leftovers. Come on!

So I've got a huge casserole of homemade macaroni and cheese and turkey dogs left and if they don't eat that, then I'm going to find a homeless and hungry person to cook for instead of these kids who only seem to want restaurant food. Come on!

It's not that they are particularly picky. I would say in the grand scheme of things, my kids are pretty good about eating, for the most part... I think they do it on purpose. It's one plot amongst the many that they have to slowly and surely exhaust me and drive me completely bats... I'm kidding. But it is annoying.

Hanging on until Friday. Sometimes it feels like all I do is wait for my husband to return... That and cook food no one wants to eat.

Stay cool, My Friends.

On Laundry... And Other Things

I've figured out why children's laundry is so endless. Maybe others have come to this conclusion faster than I did, but I've had my epiphany concerning it recently. A laundry basket filled with adult sized clothing has a couple of shirts and pants and maybe a few other things and that's about it. Whip it about and in no time, pretty little orderly stacks of clothing. With baskets of child things however, it's because they are sooooo small there is infinitely more items in the basket. And did I mention they are small? So the sock matching for three separate little pairs of feet alone is enough to drive anyone mad as a hatter (which is why I love the barefooted-ness that summer provides, although loathe the heat). So, that's what I figured out. Also, even when my husband is gone on trips, I still seem to find articles of his clothing hidden throughout the laundry. So, even in his absence, I find myself still responsible for an extra clothing pile. I don't know how this is even possible, but it is. 

So, we are heading into another week on Trip Mode. My husband is washing up and getting ready to go and my son is, as I type this, in the bathroom sitting on the bathmat next to the tub chattering away to his Daddy. He is supposed to be quiet in bed with a book until he falls asleep, but I haven't the heart to insist he go to bed at the moment. I'm sure he misses his Daddy when he is gone. His only other male companion in the house is the dog... and the dog isn't overly fond of him as he is a bit rough and chases after him banging on drums and waves his snacks in front of his little pug nose and then jets off in the opposite direction never intending to share in the first place. Another reason I am looking forward to school because the distractions it provides with friends and fun and projects and what not definitely help make the time between the home-stays go faster. 

It will be here before I know it. I am just so glad to have made it through July in one piece. So, here we go again, for now anyway...

A Little Help From My Friends

If you are a Mommy or about to be one, then you know. You know how ridiculously hard things can be. Breast or bottle? Co-sleep or Ferberize? Disposable or cloth? Stroller or sling? And when they are screaming and crying in the night and you've tried everything and nothing seems to help, then what? It's not like a flow chart of If-Then always works on children. Because we know, in the trenches, sometimes nothing seems to work, or the oddest things seem to work or we find ourselves still dealing with pacifier attachment with a five-year-old because maybe it's all we knew to do and now we don't know what else to do... No judgment! I don't have all the answers, obviously. No one does. We all just do what we can, do what we know, figure things out as we go as Mommies. Your issues, are not my issues and so on and so forth. Your strengths just might be my weakness and that's ok. Aren't we in this together?

So why then are we all so belligerent and hostile with one another? Shouldn't we be more accepting of advice and ideas and more accepting of others' ways of doing things?

Let's all just back down and support one another. We should all listen to advice and not take it as a personal affront to our own parenting. I'll admit it: someone asks, "Oh! I see your little girl is doing XYZ, have you tried ABC?" and then the wheels start a'churning and the insecurity that I try so hard to quell begins to rage, "How do that know that I haven't already tried that? I must look like a massive idiot! Do they think I can't handle my child? This could be just a one time thing and already they have me pegged as One of Those Mothers! How dare they impose upon me and assume I'm ZYX!" And on and on it goes. When maybe they were just trying to help.

Even the stupidest things can set off The Insecurity Rocker. Today I was ordering a party kit for my baby girl and it comes with invitations with a picture of her in the center and I sent off what I thought was a cute picture. Immediately a reply comes back- critical of the quality of picture and a comment about it being from a phone. There it goes. I was set off.

"I'm NOT a photographer! God forbid I don't have the perfect eye for the perfect pictures for my children!" and on and on and on. The woman was just trying to do her job and get the best picture possible for ME on something I PAID for that I ordered. She wasn't calling me a bad mother because I take crappy phone pictures of my kids. But that's what it felt like.

As a mom we feel the pressure. We've seen the jokes. We are chef, doctor, nurse, driver, maid, seamstress, personal entertainer, hair dresser, personal stylist, protector, director, and the list goes on and on ad infinitum. Yet, somehow, no matter what, in just our Trying to Be the Best Mom We Can Be, something always falls short, someone says something and there it goes... the raging insecurity. Maybe it's just me, but it's definitely something I struggle with and I have always had a sore spot for this one. I'm not a great photographer. I'm busy living and enjoying the moments and then when they are gone, I think, "Oh! That would have been a great picture!" but even that thought is fleeting because I'm already on to the next thing and I console myself that at least we will all have the great memories...

All that to say, we all do our best for our kids and as moms, we should rally behind and support each others' efforts and we shouldn't go off our Insanity Rockers if someone has advice or makes an unrelated comment about something... I know I try. And I will try. What do you say?

Mommies of the World Unite. Oh, Ladies... We are all in this together.

Crazy Days of Summer

Wow. What happened to the past few days? July is over after a terrific whirlwind of insanity. Tomorrow is already Wednesday and the first day of August. That means preparations for my sweet baby doll's first birthday, school supplies and clothes for the First Grader and the Pre-K-er. and scheduling for all things parental and holiday planning as well. I am so ready. I know there is quite a fan following for the summer season, but I seriously loathe summer. Oh there are aspects of it that I love: the free time with kids, the cold treats, lolling about outside when the heat isn't too unbearable, but it's the heat and the looooong days that I really just can't come to appreciate. Well, the long days became an issue when I had children who wouldn't go to bed because the sun was still up at their bedtime- having to explain to children who don't possess the logic capabilities that we go by the CLOCK and not the SUN just doesn't work out very well. The heat has never been a friend of mine and I've said it a million times and I will forever say it: In winter, you can always keep putting MORE on and make cocoa or coffee and eventually you WILL warm up, in the summer, there is only so much you can take off and the ice cream eventually melts leaving you STILL HOT. Today's weather was beautiful and it had me getting so excited about all the things to come and all the plans I have and all the things that I want to do and have to get done before the end of the month!

I am just so excited. I LOVE the end of summer. I LOVE school shopping! And now I have TWO school age kids for which to school shop! I've got lists already going... I've got it BAD! *dances a jig* Oh yes, when that first leaf turns on the tree out front, I will be the Crazy Lady of the neighborhood screaming and dancing about in the street from sheer and utter delight at the wonderfulness that is to come!

But for now, I am delighted that the weather has cooled down to much kinder temperatures and that we have gotten to enjoy some fun outdoor activities and we get to fit in a few more along with all the fall preparations that shall now be under way!

It's going to be one fantastic month!

Little Dirty Birdie Feet

No one is perfect. I'm (obviously) the first one to admit my faults. We all have them. It's what makes us human, our mistakes, our weird idiosyncratic behaviors. This is what is so easy to love about kids, too: their willingness to admit their mistakes, their readiness to say, "I dunno..." and their penchant to "say the darnedest things". We were at lunch today at the dining room table and I kept getting a whiff of something. We were having turkey and roast beef sandwiches and as I was eating one myself, I knew it wasn't because the lunch meat that was rotten. I found myself looking down at the floor thinking their was some old piece of steamed broccoli that had rotted under the table. Oh yes, we've lived here two months and I have yet to steam a head of broccoli, let alone attempt to serve it to my children as such and not hidden under a blanket of dressing or cheese. Come on! I'm flawed, yes, but I'm no amateur with these kids! That definitely could not be it. It passed. I ate on. It came again. "What IS that smell?!" My husband responds (God bless him), "What smell?" "Something STINKS! How can you not smell it?!" My dear sweet daughter pipes in, "That's me!" "What is you?" "I've been farting and my feet smell really bad." She then points out that her brother's feet stink, too! And their shoes do, too! Well, that explains it. I go on to say that I am going to throw out the shoes because I cannot believe they smell so bad and my insightful husband points out, "Dont't throw them out before you buy new ones or you aren't going to be able to leave the house with two barefoot children..." Good point! I'm relieved that fall is coming soon and now, suddenly folding a bazillion clean socks doesn't seem so bad in comparison to dealing with stinky shoes. At least she was honest... That's all for now...

Summer Lovin' and Cookin'

My husband came home yesterday and, as is always the case, time has sped up. I guess it's because when we are together we have so much fun. (I can hear the collective, "Awwww" and sense the collective eye rolling as well).

One of the things we have always enjoyed doing in the evenings has been cooking. Even before the kids I remember this was our budget date night of choice and it has definitely come in handy after having kids, when money is allotted to more important things than movies and other expensive date ventures. So, per his request, my husband wanted to have what he calls "street tacos" which are just tacos cooked at home from scratch. This time we took the "scratch" part one step further and did the corn tortillas ourselves.  Now, if you've never attempted homemade corn tortillas, do not be intimidated or dismayed! It is NOT hard and you will NEVER EVER want to eat the pasty, gummy, and sometimes crumbly store bought version again. I promise you.

We don't have a tortilla press, we just used the rolling pin and tossed them into our cast iron skillet and flipped them once and they turned out simply fantastic. That roasted corn smell with toasty edges and just enough pliability to load it up with shredded beef and cilantro and cheese and homemade pico de gallo with a splash of fresh lime perfect to fold up. When you bite into it, that's when you know. That perfect corn taste with just enough bite, but not gummy or chewy, JUST RIGHT, super easy, and absolutely DELICIOUS.

We are compelled to make more to finish off the leftover fillings tonight... that's right, we ate the entire first batch last night. That good.

You're welcome.

We've Come to the End

Here we are.

Tomorrow my husband arrives home once again and we can continue on with our normal lives. Well, our relative version of normal anyway, but that is just fine with me!

This month loomed ahead of my like an evil albatross to conquer. I don't know about conquering it, but I definitely survived. The kids and the dog did, too and I'd like to think that we are none the worse for the wear.

Items Accomplished:

Ice Cream at Smolak Farm
Story Times
Craft Times
Fourth of July Fun
Sprinkler Park Fun
Various Mall Fun
The Children's Museum
Shows on the Common
Concerts on the Common
The Lake
Various Play Dates
Vacation Bible School
Imajine That
Various Park Ventures
Various Restaurant Ventures
Church

I'm shocked at this list actually and I managed to keep everyone clothed and bathed and the house not a complere disaster. Sort of.

Well, I'm officially tired. Good night and I probably won't post tomorrow as I will have someone to talk to tomorrow night other than Sebastian... or I will be asleep in peace knowing if something goes wrong or if Oliver decides to raise the screen yet again and hang out the window shouting at the neighbors, my husband can deal with it.

Thank you all for listening... I appreciate it.

Penultimate

We've survived the penultimate day.

I love that word and rarely get to use it. So there. I did.

It began easily enough, as most days can, until things go absolutely haywire. Today, I am proud to say, nothing got too deep under my skin. It's because... you guessed it, it's the penultimate day.

My mom's day off and again she offered to join us and we ended up at Imajine That. The kids were having a great time until, of course, The Hunger hits. Always about an hour or so after we arrive ANYWHERE and they could have had a nine course meal directly beforehand and absolutely inevitably one hour after we arrive everyone is completely starving to death.

Re-directed as much as I could, but we were going to have to leave. I know they have food there, but I didn't want to eat kid food. And right before we do so, the kids see the dress up stuff and off they go. Fine. Until I bed over to pick up the diaper bag and the male child runs over to me and whacks me directly in the eye with a tiger puppet. "Sorry. He's a really, really strong tiger and he wanted to growl, Mommy." As though it was my eye that got in the way. Excuse me. I didn't need the vision in my left eye anyways.

That was that and off we go to whines about leaving and, already, them complaining they want to go back. Hm. I'm confused as to why we are leaving then. Oh. Yes, that's right. You haven't ever, ever been fed food before in your entire life and had to remind me of your level of starvation every minute and a half. In order to stave off whines, but not completely give in, we pick a restaurant that is both interesting, but not Chuck E. Cheese. Somehow still things just aren't good enough and there is still pouting and whining from my oldest the source of which is completely non-existent. I think she just likes to make a point to show people just how much her little life seems to be missing. Which is nothing. Oh wait. I spoke too soon. The ONLY thing missing from her life at those points is... again, you guessed it, her GOOD ATTITUDE.

Finally, the tables turn. Things perk up. Food arrives. All is well. After a few bathroom visits- everyone else seems to always need to go the second Mommy gets back from attending to just one individually, why we can't all just go together and get it out of the way, I'll never know- my son gets The Look. I immediately tell him to sit back and calm down. He continues eating and then it happens. He vomits his lunch directly onto the plate he's just eaten it from, luckily enough. No muss. No fuss.

Seriously, Folks. You can't make this stuff up...

So, The Vanishing Act occurs. Well, the bill was paid by lovely mother while I dragged my son and the baby to the car. Who upon entering his seat starts whining immediately about how hungry he is and that he wants to go back to the play place. I calmly tell him that he has just thrown up in the bazillionth restaurant and he can wait for dinner. As for doing more things for the kids, that boat has sailed.

So we end up at the mall. On the carousel. Meme had had enough after that and I don't blame her. She should have bailed after the vomit episode. Then after dinner, we end up at an hour long story time at the library. Joke's on Mommy, I guess. It was at story time where my kids got "cute" and "chatty" sitting right up front and telling the librarian and all the kids and their parents our entire family history and how Daddy is on a trip and loves to play soccer with them and how if they asked their Mommy to join the pirates on the ship, Mommy wouldn't mind and would send us off for a few days... Hm. Where do they come up with this stuff?

Tomorrow is my last day of this arduous parenting journey... oh wait, no it isn't, I just get a few days of help from their Daddy. I'll gladly take it!

Rolling Down the Hill

Midday Wednesday is my Mecca. I'm almost there. We have six full family days until his next trip! It's much shorter than this training time, but I think since he was gone twenty some odd days, he should be home at least ten, right? Oh well...

Even though I know he wouldn't say a word about the state of uncleanliness should the house be untidy, I have already begun the clean-up. The attempt to make myself as Donna Reed-esqe looking as possible. "Looking" being the key word, because I've obviously made it quite clear from the daily accounts of our fiasco ridden existence that I am no Donna Reed. A girl can pretend, though...

The past few weeks didn't turn out as I expected, but I've learned a lot about myself as a parent and I've had to work through and re-think some things and I think it's been productive overall. I hope.

Two more days to hang on until my brief reprieve where we are together for our "weekend" or I should call it "month end" because that's what it is. Rolling down the hill is so much easier than struggling up it!

Not For the Faint of Heart... Or Stomach

I'm the one who had coffee for dinner so why are my children still awake and I'm combatting the weariness? Go figure.

As is usual these days, today didn't go as planned. What can you do?

I remember being a child and I remember my logic, albeit faulty, concerning many things and I recall the reasoning behind a few of my more interesting decisions, but I don't know what runs through my children's heads. I have a feeling the oldest one put him up to it, but at one point as I was finishing up feeding the baby in her high chair, my son comes running into the room laughing hysterically. As I turn around to see what the fuss is about, I see that he is standing now in my dining room with his pants and underwear at his knees. I proceed to instruct (and when I say "instruct" I really mean "yell in shock") to pull his pants on immediately. He then turns around and shows me the source of his laughter. Let's just say a piece of poor Mister Potato Head has been thrown out and I've had to instruct (and when I say "instruct" I mean "yell in horror") on the ONLY places where Mister Potato Head pieces should be placed in are the holes on the Potato Head. Oh. My. Good. Gracious. Who comes up with this stuff???

If someone had told me all this seven years ago before I was bit by The Baby Bug, I wouldn't have believed it. Or I would have thought, "MY child would NEVER do that!" Regardless, it's by far THE nuttiest thing every to be a parent.

And I'm STILL putting him back to bed!

Three more bedtimes to go...

Short and Boring

Well, it's hit. That bone crunching tiredness.

We've had a long week. A long month.

I should be doing dishes, laundry, sweeping the floor, dusting, mopping, organizing, making grocery lists, planning a birthday party, a house-warming, anything but sitting here... I could be writing some funny anecdote about my day and my now Normal Hair- My daughter said I look like a Fairy Princess Queen. I'll take it. -but, I'm not. Because I'm tired and don't feel like it.

Had a somewhat restful day. Am calling it a night. Tomorrow will be bright and shiny and new and it's one day closer to a return to our normalcy.

Re-Calculating In My Favor

Six Days!

Not that my math is all that great in the first place and also, I do have a few theories concerning time as well (i.e.: my countdown to Christmas is usually one day less than most folks because I don't count the last day before Christmas because it's MERE HOURS, not a DAY...), but my husband has his check-ride scheduled and so now he knows that he will able to come home WEDNESDAY! Yes, my friends, he is coming home soon!

I am so excited to be making normal family plans once again and not just "Filling in Summertime" plans. Plus, as all Mommies can attest, children tend to be on slightly better behavior when it's Daddy Time. I'm glad I made (and was able to keep!) a hair appointment for tomorrow so my husband doesn't have to come home to a woman with a nest on her head that all manner of animals could possibly make home within. Yay! That and whenever I pull down my hair from it's obligatory Mom-Do (or Don't, as is the case), I find much to my shock and dismay each and every time as though it's the first time I'm noticing them, the Dreaded Gray. I am much too, too young to have this occurring. Every time I see one, I find myself making a mad dash and scramble for the tweezers and start in on the quest to divide and conquer to ensure they aren't getting too comfortable upon my youthful scalp. However, every time I yank one out, I turn ever so slightly and see another all too familiar glint. And then I go for that one and then another and when I miss and pull out the wrong strands, I think, "Mayday! Mayday! Soldier down! Good Soldier down! Noooo!" And then I wonder if a gray strand will grow in it's place... I know I could Google it, but frankly, that's not information I feel I can handle right now. A girl (yes, GIRL) can only handle so much at a time, you know. In any case, my husband can come home to pretty shiny hair that is the proper color and not in a tangled knot on the top of my frizzy head. And I get a wee nap at the hair salon!

In less than a week, we will be Normaling once again...  until the next trip, but we don't have to think about that right now, do we?

Quick Post

Nine Days Left.

Last night we were out at a church event and fun was had by all. The line to the ice cream truck, however, was not necessarily my favorite portion of the evening, but the kids enjoyed it thoroughly and we were home at about 10 and everyone promptly passed out. Success. I'm expecting tonight and tomorrow to be the same! I've already warned them that the ice cream truck will not be repeated and I am fully prepared to weather any nasty attitude.

Today the moments have been nice. We made meatballs together. Everyone had a job. I would chop up garlic and onion and put it in the measuring cup so my son could dump it in the big bowl. My oldest daughter was the egg cracker and putter awayer. Cooking really is a wonderful family diversion. Even on the hardest days, I think that it's a wonderful distraction. This morning started out with the same old aggravations of my son doing everything he felt like doing and disregarding what he was told. That's fine. I kept doing what I know to do and stayed in "My Happy Place". I know sometimes it's easier said than done and I am the last person who will tout about how well they are doing because I know that I have fallen quite short daily, hourly, and some days even by the minute. No one is perfect and I am grateful for each and every day to try again... even if I don't always get it right, I love my family and that's all they really need, right?

So, the meatballs are in the crockpot  because it's too hot to turn on the stove (again, hooray electricity!), attempting to keep the kids busy without the use of the television, and have them get involved with the cooking and cleaning and picking up. They seem to do better when given tasks to complete. My son was so excited to take out the trash so, great! Have at it!

Hanging in there for the home stretch.

I *heart* Electricity

There is nothing more terrifying than at 9 a.m. having National Grid show up at your home (boasting four currently blasting air conditioners no less) threatening to turn off your electricity. When it's going to be over 90 degrees. Some mix up concerning our billing information.

I was almost in tears and I think between the barking dog, the two babbling older ones and the raspberry blowing baby, he had pity upon me and called the company using his direct code to get me in contact with an actual person so that we wouldn't be left high and dry... very hot and dry at that. What I don't get is why they approach you from the start as if you are trying to rip THEM off. As if I was stealing the electrical current. Um, no. I plug things in and they work. The bill comes, we pay it. Well, my husband does, but still. I'm not "pulling a fast one" on the electric company. When he saw how utterly shocked and confused and frantic I became, he seemed to soften a bit. Got things shaken out and we didn't skip a beat with our electrical current. Whew.

Other than that small snafu, the day was lovely and had a nice play date for my little one and Mommy got to chat... It's like a small vacation, really. Sometimes I feel a little guilty about how different things are with the third child. The first two had so much more one on one time and play dates with friends and with the youngest, she gets shuttled about so much with all the stuff we have to do for the older two and I think this was the first time in a while that she has had play time with a little friend. I know she is only a baby and doesn't realize that she is getting the shaft, but as a Mommy it makes my heart happy to be able to give that same attention in that way... And, selfishly, I get to have a Mommy chat and it just makes the day so much easier to handle afterwards. It's a breath of fresh air.

And since it's Monday, I can say, "My husband comes home next week!" The end of next week, but STILL!

Tonight I promised myself that I would get some rest, so this time I actually WILL read and then go to bed at a ridiculously early hour because I can and I probably should.

Ice Cream Appreciation

How many ice creams can children eat in a day and still burn off the sugar rush in enough time to sleep at a decent hour?

The answer is two and space them about four hours apart. And then make them run in circles afterwards, but not so much that they vomit or anything.

I hope I'm not about to jinx this whole thing and now I've got that John Mayer song running through my head, "Don't believe me, when I say, 'I've got this down.'" We are over the halfway hump and it feels easier. It's comforting to know I have a week filled with plans for activities with friends and outings and story-times and shows in the park, free bowling coupons, church events, you name it and it's on the calendar. So, this is all just the downhill roll, I hope, believe and pray until my husband returns.

Maybe that's why I'm starting to think this isn't so hard because I can feel the end coming. That or maybe I'm just becoming completely delusional from sleep deprivation and am having a mild heat stroke. Either way, I'm starting to get excited and plan for all the fun stuff we get to fit in between his regular and MUCH SHORTER trips. See, it's all perspective! A week long trip to Europe, bah! No problem!

My husband mentioned that this trip seems so much more difficult than ever before. Well, this is the first uber long stretch with three children, we've just moved and the kids are on summer vacation. It's a trifecta of craziness. But things are going... We keep trucking along and having fun as we can and tomorrow is a new day! And all my sweet Mommy friends are in the same Summer Time boat. Gotta keep those kids learning, happy and MOVING!

On to the next.