Safe, warm, and with power once again


It has been nearly a week since I left my house. Saturday the older kids and I took down the Christmas tree while the little three napped. Let me tell you, pine water does NOT clean like pine-sol. We tossed the tree over the back deck and the plan was to take it to the dump the next day. I ended up not going because I had someone coming to buy some furniture from Craig’s List. When Liam woke up from his nap, the moment he saw the tree was gone, he burst into tears, poor little sweetie was so sad his tree was gone. That night we got some snow, not a lot, but enough that I didn’t want to leave the house, as I need new tires.

By Monday it was a huge mess, we kept getting more and more snow. They canceled school on Tuesday, and the kids were so happy to have a four day weekend. Wednesday we got a huge storm and had over a foot of snow. For this area, that is a lot. I had the boys shovel the walk, in case it iced over, and it did. Thursday morning I heard my sleep number bed clicking, which told me we had lost power. And indeed we did. I knew we were running low on staples, and the only gas in my home is a gas fireplace that we did not have the gas key too, and that has never worked. We had enough cereal for that day, and we had stuff for sandwiches, but none of my meat was thawed, so I BBQed some potatoes in foil and we topped them with cheese, sour cream, and bacon chunks. The sun had set, so we were enjoying dinner by candle light, with plans of all the kids and I sleeping close in proximity, when the lights came on.

Now, we were excited, but not convinced they would STAY on, because they had been flickering on and off all day. One time Austin said “I hope we have lights by bedtime” and I said “I hope we have lights right. now.” raising my hands to my ceiling… and just then the lights turned on! But were off almost immediately. As soon as it was clear the lights were on to stay, we sprang into action. One kid heated up leftover meatloaf and green beans to go with our dinner. Another kid plugged in all portable electronics, cell phones and the space heater. I turned up the furnace and made sure the pilot was on. We did not have high hopes it would last. 200,000 people in this area were without power, and could be for up to a week, so I did not think we would be one of the lucky ones to get lights within 12 hours. The new housing development behind us was not as lucky. A full 24 hours later, their windows are still dark.


In the night we lost most of our tree branches on our shade tree in the front yard, all barely missing my car. My neighbor was also fortunate that her large tree, that lost its largest branches, also missed her cars. Our enormous tree in the back yard was leaning, and it was clear it would probably come down. There were concerns it would take the fence with it, but my neighbor and I watched as it tipped, and then broke off, landing a few inches from the fences. Until the ice melts and we can move the branches, I will be stuck in my driveway. The kids have had a full week without school. Power flickered off again this afternoon, and I let out a string of profanity, but thankfully it came on before I could add a 6th word to my diatribe.

I also got a nice long nap this afternoon which was MUCH needed as I have been sick since earlier this week with a cold that has now settled deeply into my lungs. Christopher and Matthew have also been sick. Between the three of us, I think I have lost half a bottle of Tylenol, and most of a box of Kleenex.



Happy 2012


I have had a busy 3 weeks. For any new readers, my husband works all over the world, but since March 1, 2011 he has been working in Afghanistan and Iraq. A month or so ago he got an email from his boss informing him that he had unused paid vacation and that they needed to be used up by the end of the year, or some of it would be lost. We knew to bring him home we would have to pay out of pocket for airfare, and that we had a limit on how long he could stay in order to get the maximum deductions as an ex-patriot on our taxes, and with paid days off in December-January, we were able to bring him home for 3 weeks over winter break. The kids were home from school his entire vacation, save for 1 day.

Because he missed Thanksgiving because he was traveling, I made him a complete turkey dinner with all the fixings. We also had a great Christmas and got our very first live tree, and went to a tree farm to get it. Then, for new years, my sisters and I all went to my moms house and had an incredible weekend together. The kids did an ornament exchange and my mom made a huge, wonderful, dinner for the 22 of us. Today, the fun was all over. The kids went back to school. Bobby boarded a plane back to Afghanistan (via Paris and Dubai). Thankfully I was so busy with driving to Seattle, and first of the month errands that reality has not yet set in. I am sure as we transition back into our old routine, that will change and we will all struggle in our own ways, until once again we get back into routine and it will get easy again. Until then, I will continue to hug my kids extra close, and remind them how special and loved they are.



A poem, for my God


I asked God for a daughter. And he gave me a son.
And I praised Him. And I loved my boy.

I asked God for a daughter. And he gave me a son.
He grew in my heart, and not in my womb.
And I praised Him. And I loved my boy.

I asked God for a baby. And he made me wait.
I loved on my sons. And I praised Him.
I accepted His plan, for just two sons, and he filled my womb.

I asked God for a daughter. And he gave me a son.
And I cried. But I praised him. And I loved my boy.

I asked God for a baby. And he made me wait.
I loved on my sons. And I praised Him.
I accepted His plan, for just three sons, and he filled my womb.

I asked God to give me whatever he wanted, I just wanted him/her healthy.
And he gave me a daughter. And I praised Him.
He made her three times as girly. Three times as sassy. Three times as sweet.
And I praised him. I loved my girl. He completed my family.

He filled my womb, which came as a shock. But I praised him.
And I said “PLEASE GOD, MAKE HIM A SON!”
And he did. For God does not give you more than you can handle.

:)



What might have been


A conversation with a friend today took me down memory lane. I am seriously astounded at the glimpse I saw of our alternate life. If he had not been injured, Bobby would probably have made his E-7 with 14 years in. He would be on his 5th or 6th trip overseas. We probably would not have had our 4th and 5th children, since the reproduction help I needed with Sophia would not have been affordable out of pocket (our old insurance covered it). We may not have even had a 3rd! We were struggling in our relationship and it was the fear that I could lose him that melted the ice in my heart, and if we had pulled through and still had Matthew, he would have missed Matthew’s birth by just a few weeks. We probably would have been still struggling with debt, who knows where we would be living. And you know, it just goes to show, HOW much we are given when we face hardships and struggles. Seven to eight years ago was the darkest time in my life. I was struggling with my marriage, with my role as a step-mom, with myself. When Bobby was injured, it was a wakeup call how precious life is, how much I loved my husband, my life, my children. I realized there was no shame in being a mother as a career and how much I truly needed to be in my kids’ life, and how important it was for them to have two parents who love them, and grow up in a happy home.

I hate that my husband deals with chronic pain. I would take that burden from him in a heartbeat if I could, and it would STILL be worth every single struggle. I once saw an interview with a young Native American teenager who said he would chose the muddy road over easy street, because only the man who struggled and built his muscles on the muddy road emerges a warrior.



That’s my mommy. I like her.


Earlier this week I had a busy busy day. My new bed was delivered (which I LOVE) and the carpet my daughter ruined 6 months ago was replaced with vinyl. Sophie was SO up the rear end of the repairman it was hilarious. Any time the door opened she would chine “IT’S CHRIS!” and he would mirror back to her “yes, it is Chris!” and she would run check in on him every 2-3 minutes. I was in the other room with Liam and I hear Sophie talking to Chris. She’s got that know-it-all tone going on and I just know her hand is on her hip. She says “That is my mommy. I like her. She’s nice. She’s my girl.” At this point both Chris and I are cracking up. She is such a sweet little pixie. I like her. She’s my girl.



In the last 3 weeks


I have been so very busy. On May 7th, the day before Mother’s Day, I declared I was going to proclaim today as my mother’s day. My oldest son presented me with a card he bought and he and all his siblings filled out. He traced Sophie and Liam’s hand on it. He also had gone to three different different store looking for a specific candy I like without luck, and settled on three of my favorite candy bars. Our sweet neighbor gave him a pretty gift box. Matthew planted me a plant in a flower pot he decorated, and made me a card. My husband told me if I didn’t go buy myself a Keurig, he would buy one for me, spend a lot more, and have to mail it to me.

I was also feeling sentimental, so I sent Austin’s birth mom a text message thanking her for allowing me to be his mommy. She called me right back and we talked for about 30 minutes. It was nice to hear that she had no regrets, I have always worried she consented to the adoption out of desperation, and not because she truly wanted the best for him.

On Sunday, Austin turned 15. This is why I did Mother’s Day early. I knew he would make a fuss about it, and I didn’t want anything to distract him from his birthday. The little stinker still did, he made me breakfast in bed, and made eggs and bacon for the little ones. For his birthday dinner, he wanted me to make him BBQ Ribs on the grill. I also made corn bread and green beans. It was delicious. He played with his friends most of the day, he literally came home when the street lights came on. It was glorious. Our gift was delivered on Monday, a trampoline! The “t” was partially obscured on the package, so now the kids call it “the rampoline”.

For three days Austin and I built the rampoline together. Christopher helped keep the little three busy. I may or may not have taught Austin some new words as we stretched springs, and pulled safety nets tight. On the first day, I took a break for dinner, and just when I was about to put the last 5 of 8 safety net poles up, I asked Austin “do you smell something chemically??” He looked downstairs, and I looked in my bathroom, and I do believe my head exploded. That is a full bottle of deep purple nail polish, and some bare minerals face powder. I scrubbed on that thing for probably 6 hours (I was up until 3am) and I managed to lighten it to a lilac color, but it didn’t come out. I will need to replace the carpet in my bathroom. Right now it is half vinyl, half carpet, and I am hoping our landlord will let us rip out all the flooring in the bathroom and replace it with coordinating vinyl.
Liam is growing so fast, too fast. His new name is Mr. Grabbyhands. He has learned how to play with the toys on his bouncer to activate music. He has also learned how to make mama yelp in pain by grabbing onto a huge handful of hair and yanking really hard. He also can roll from his belly to his back, and most recently his back to his belly.



Bad mama!


Today has been the first real “bad mommy day” since the colossal mind melt earlier this month. Okay, so it is 12:30 am, and technically now May, so all that was last month, but we will go with my husband’s rule…. “time does not change until after I go to sleep”. So in my mind, it is still the last day of April.

So earlier today (or call it yesterday if you want to keep it real) my little three decided that if they all behaved equally naughty, mom would allow it with retribution, because of safety in numbers, right? *insert melting brain here*

It felt like a country western song. Mom wanted to sleep, the phone was ringing, the baby was whining for breast milk, the 6 year old was wanting to tattle, and the 2 year old wanted a “poopy prize”. I thought everything was settled back into place, and I was going to try to get a few more minutes of sleep, when the baby boy decided he was fat, full, and flippin’ jubilant! There goes my lazy Saturday.

I should have known it was going to be one of those days, everyone was crying and fighting. It took me a full hour to get a sip of my then cold coffee. By lunchtime I was DONE. I put the sleeping baby, and the 2 year old down for naps. The 6 year old was soon sent to nap too after he demonstrated his own fatigue. However, no one napped! All three were exhausted, but no one napped. By around 3pm, I was in tears.


Of course, as soon as I had sufficiently filled my bladder with iced coffee, and was about ready to start dinner, not only did the baby, but also the 2 year old fell asleep. Thankfully the 14 year old walked in from playing to get a drink, and I asked him to hold the (now crying) baby so I could make Fra Diavolo Sauce With Farfalle Pasta, and broccoli. I changed it up a bit, I used fresh tomatoes and added some white wine. I also used only shrimp (doubled), cooked it longer, and served over farfalle (bow tie pasta) instead of linguini. I thought it might be too spicy, so I made some Cabernet Marinara with Herbs for the little ones, but offered them both. I think they favored the spicy shrimp sauce. I had to giggle a bit because they started fighting over who could have the last of the broccoli, they all decided they had not had enough, and Austin rushed in to make sure everyone got two more pieces.

We made a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies, and at them hot, with cold glasses of milk. We were all sleepy, and I decided after everyone was in bed, that I would slip into a hot bath and then go to bed early myself….. but first let me just fix this spam problem real quick. Real quick. Famous last words.

At 10:19 PM, my darling husband gets on Skype. I tell him “Don’t laugh, but I have such a headache. And it is all from reading confusing stuff.” He reassures me he is not laughing. “Owie, hurty head. .htaccess is so confusing.” He tells me he doesn’t know what .htaccess is (I didn’t either until today. I explain what it is, what it does, and what I am using it for. I will not quote what I said because it consists of several F bombs, and other colorful expletives… and I would like to remain classy.

I tell him “Half my face is limp. I must have stroked out somewhere between .htaccess ssh and ftp”. My darling husband says “I want to see”, and starts a video conference. *sigh* At 10:44, about the time I told him my brain was made of pudding, and drool was dripping out of my half-limp stroked out face, the butt tells me “I have worse problems btw. I can not find my hair brush.”

While his hair WAS quite poofy, by this time I was ready to hang myself by my shoe laces. I had no less than 15 tutorials open, terminal, my ftp, a glass of wine and my sanity was long gone. Four minutes later, he proclaims all is right in the world, he has found his hair brush. Well lah dee freakin’ dah! He then asked me if that was my soul he saw leaking out of my eyes. Well yes it is.

At 11:36, he tells me he has to go to work. And I tell him I have to bash my skull in with a baseball bat. A little after 12:10am, I figure out the problem. The file I was looking for could EASILY be created by opening a simple word processor, uploading it to my ftp (server), renaming it, and then editing it with the script I wanted, and voila, spammer would be 404ed. I have no idea if my 2-3 hours worked, but I guess I will find out soon enough when my spam folders keep filling up. AHHHH, what a nightmare!

So now that it is 2am, I can finally climb into bed, and in 4 hours I can start this all over again. Sleep deprived and crabby. As soon as I finish knitting this last row real quick.



Lazy meat, quit yer loafin’


Nothing says “I have too many leftovers, no imagination, and a chunk of ground beef” like meatloaf. What other meal allows you to simultaneously clean out your fridge, hide produce, and feel good about giving your kids a hot meal with just some easy prep and patience. I found that after just a few times, I no longer needed a cook book, or as just meat. I do have a couple shortcuts to share though:

  1. Use a good food processor. I like the Euro-Pro Ninja Master Prep Blender and Food Processor, it makes me feel like a real ninja with all the rogue veggies I can puree and hide into what the kids think is a pure hunk of meat.
      The problem with the Ninja though, is it attracts my 6 year old like a moth to a flame, or as I say a cat to an electric can opener. With an audience, you have to be even more of a ninja to toss in the green beans from last night, a couple raw carrots, an onion, a tomato, or whatever you have on hand that is raw or requires a good blending. You may have to threaten your kids with certain death, amputation of fingers, or starvation if they are picky and you don’t want them to see how you make your ‘secret sauce’.
  2. Once you have your paste resembling a bowl of baby crap, scrape it into the Kitchenaid mixing bowl. You can also toss in more leftovers, some examples include: rice from when you had Chinese takeout, whatever that was in the Tupperware container that vaguely smells like potatoes, actual mashed potatoes, etc. Get creative here, this is where your leftovers get eaten up and not composted.
  3. Toss in a couple eggs, and now raid your condiments. You can add ketchup, or BBQ sauce, mustard if you like, worshesher-whatever sauce, etc. Throw in some random spices that smell good, some milk, and a dry ingredient like crackers, bread crumbs, or oatmeal. Mix all these in your stand mixer, and let it sit for a couple minutes to turn into a gross looking, gelatinous mess.
      I read somewhere that the key factors to the perfect fluffy meatloaf are to let the dry ingredients sit and get soggy. Also, to not molest the meat… err, in other words, you don’t over-mix the ground beef, so pre-mixing the other ingredients well is really important.
  4. This is where my love affair with my Kitchenaid mixer was born. Use the dough hook that comes with it, add your meat and then mix. No longer do I have to relish in the joy of cold, raw, ground meat between my fingers, the booger-eating cousin to the much cooler sand between my toes, illegitimate son of the promiscuous between my legs and the ever brilliant between my ears.
      But I digress. Once your meat and mush have gently been mixed together, plop the whole thing into a baking dish on 350 and cook for an hour. You now have time to watch a show on the DVR, play a Facebook game, or kick the kids outside and hide in the bathroom with a book.
  5. When you hour of bliss is over, slather more condiments over the top, bake another 5 minutes, then serve. You can serve with a vegetable, or a starch or both. If I include enough veggies, I will let my kids believe they are getting off veggie-free and just serve with potato wedges or something. My boys are pretty good about eating their meatloaf, but my daughter isn’t as wonderful. Then again, for the child who hates vegetables, she would pick a salad and plain white rice for dinner over meatloaf any day of the week.

Tonight the princess thought she would be slick. After all the kids had eaten, including the baby who happily nursed while I dislocated my shoulder to eat cold meatloaf, the ones who ate got fresh chocolate chip cookies. The princess decided she could skip her meal and go right to the cookie. When that didn’t work, and screaming didn’t make me give in, she resorted to climbing onto the counter, grabbing the Tupperware and running as fast as her stubby little legs would take her. She ended up going to bed without finishing her meatloaf, or a cookie, but she did end up going to bed with tons of tears. I think tonight mommy is going to drink a nice glass of wine for dessert, because mommy drinks when you cry.

*This is not a sponsored post, but Kitchenaid or Euro-Pro is welcome to send me a free gift for this post if they would like. I really want the mixing blade with the rubber spatula built in for my mixer or extra bowls for my ninja. *wink wink*



Reflection


Tonight I broke down on the telephone with my husband. Liam squeaked though the baby monitor and I placed him on hold so I could put the monitor up to my ear and listen. I teased him for calling me a paranoid mom when he was driving us home from the hospital and at a red light I unbuckled and climbed over the seat to make sure my tiny little boy was not swallowed up by his giant car seat and that he was doing okay since he suddenly stopped crying. I remember him jokingly telling me I was acting like he was my first and not my fifth, and I remember explaining that I knew it wasn’t rational, but this perfect little soul *scared* me.

I think as parents we all have irrational fears about our children. With my first baby I remember him sleeping past his normal 3am feeding time and waking up at 4am with engorged breasts and sobbing that my baby must have passed in his sleep. Rationally I knew he would eventually sleep through the night, irrationally I just knew SIDS must have claimed him. My husband was in boot camp and when he called the Sunday after that instant I burst into tears when I told him our boy was sleeping through the night. He also probably got an emotional letter in the mail as well.

Then my oldest son came into our life and I was always scared his birth mom was going to come steal him away. I knew her better than that, and I trusted her, but I was always so scared that I would pick him up from school and they would explain to me that he had already been picked up by the non-custodial parent.

Then my third baby came along, and I found something else to be irrational about. I wish I could remember, but he made it out of infancy unscathed. Our fourth baby, our first and only girl was born, and she scared me so bad that I would not allow my husband to get a vasectomy until she made it safely to her second birthday, ergo the reason we got our fifth and final child.

Today I was researching pediatric pulmonologists, allergists, and pediatric neurologists. EEGs, seizures, and breath holding spells (BHS). Logically, I know this was likely an isolated incident. Irrationally I have myself convinced I need to have him looked over by a room full od specialists. I think of unnecessary poking and prodding, tests, and procedures and I just cannot make myself put my little boy through this for something that happened one time.

When I heard my husband’s voice tonight, I realized I was still wearing my brave mask. I was falling apart and not allowing anyone to see it. I have not taken time to allow myself to process the fear; to deal with the feelings, and to let myself admit how scared I was. I can still close my eyes and see the events of Friday night so clearly in my mind. The moment where I realized something was wrong. I wonder if I was as calm when I called the emergency dispatcher as I remember myself sounding. When I remember back to that night, I am on the outside, looking in. I cannot remember a single moment where I was ever that scared before.

I remember moments when my husband was in Iraq, and I heard about a casualty from his unit on the news. The fear I felt when he explained to me a building he was next to exploded and shrapnel was hitting his vehicle and it sounded like hail. I remember when helicopters I thought he was on went down, and then I did not hear from him for 20 days. I still cry at movies where they talk about the war, military casualties, or when bagpipes play “Taps”. But if I have to put this in perspective, the fear I felt that night is 100x worse. I didn’t let myself feel it though. Now that he is over the hurdle, and all he has is a lingering cough as he continues to work the crud out of my lungs, I find myself going back to that moment, and I find myself wanting to fall apart.

So tonight when Bobby called and asked how the kids were and then asked how I was, I started crying. I am a mess. And I feel SO guilty for feeling this way while so many people have dealt with so much worse. My heart goes out to all the parents who have had to face the loss of a child, or a spouse. For those who have children with chronic illnesses or disabilities. For anyone who has had to hear that they, or a loved one has a terminal illness. So tonight, when I allow myself to cry, and to allow myself to process the events of this last week, I will be thinking of everyone else who has also had to put on a brave face while they were falling apart inside.



Liam is 3 months old!


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It is hard to believe my little man is already 3 months old (as of yesterday). He’s turning into a baby right in front of my eyes as some of his infant traits melt away. For instance, he rarely has evenings where he cries for no apparent reason from 9pm-10pm anymore. He also smiles, coos, and laughs now. He still has some more work to do on his head control, but he does well with holding it up, he’s just wobbly still. He also sleeps through the night very well, most nights for 7-9 hours at a time. If only I could get myself to lay down when he does, life would be near perfect.

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He’s a pretty happy baby, at Matthew’s kindergarten teacher-conference yesterday, every time she would go into teacher mode when she read along with Matthew, he would start laughing. Something about her speech pattern just cracked him up. He’s pretty awesome about allowing anyone to hold him too. I remember Matthew & Sophie having a pretty healthy dose of stranger anxiety at this age, but not Christopher or Liam!

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Zonked out on my coffee table.

Oh dear Sophie, this girl is Drah-mah! She only naps about half of the time we lay her down, and then sometimes she will fight and by dinner time she is so exhausted we find her like this. Yes, that is my coffee table. We are still working on potty training, and it is so hit or miss. She still won’t poop on the potty, and today she peed on the potty. No “atta girl’s” here… I mean she peed ON the potty, as in panties up, onto the toilet lid. Don’t laugh. Okay, go ahead and laugh; I did. But don’t laugh in front of her.

My oldest and my youngest.

Aren’t my boys cute?? Austin loves his baby brother. In case you are wondering, that is a road rash on Austin’s face. He ate the pavement with his face while riding his bike two months ago. Poor boy has his father’s bravado, combined with my grace. This totally explains why he has a major accident every other year starting in Kindergarten.