*sigh* Church People

Candyland is frozen over and I've had lots and lots of time over the past few days (four days to be exact; I've not left the house in FOUR days. It's like heaven) to ponder and, um  dwell  on a certain interaction that occurred last Sunday that has left a very bad taste in my mouth.

I love my church. No, seriously. My church is wonderful, and to be more specific, my Sunday School class is just downright amazing. When I hear people talk about how churches are so hypocritical and judgmental and only want perfect people in their buildings, I know that these poor individuals have never been to my church. My Sunday school class has seen me through the end of my miserable marriage, my divorce, a surgery and hospital stay that was beyond terrifying, and countless other crap that comes up in the course of a normal life. They have stepped up to be godly examples to my kids; taking my boys hunting, fishing, to ball games, and to Boy Scout events since their dad (who does his best - not ex bashing here) lives so far away. I've had people from my church step up to fix my plumbing, take care of my yard, drive my kids when I couldn't. Nobody has ever presumed to judge me or make me feel bad about the job I'm doing as a mom. Nobody ever acts like they are better than you. Nobody pretends that because they are on this committee of that council that they are more holy than you are. They recognize that everyone has flaws and that just because they are good at one thing, they aren't good at everything. It takes the whole Body of Christ to really make things work for a church. We all tend to be checking for the plank in our own eyes and leave it to you to find the speck in yours.  Basically, my big, wonderful church is, mostly, full of people that wouldn't fit the most definitions of "church people."

But...(you knew that was coming, right?)

As if to make a liar out of me, I had an encounter last week with a person from my church that made me feel about four inches tall. Then it just started to piss me off. This is a person I've known for a very long time. I've never been particularly close with this person, but I do appreciate what he does for the church. He and his family are some of those people who are there "every time the church doors are open." They really do fill a number of needs that our church has. He works a lot with the youth. And having two children in the youth group, I REALLY appreciate those who give their time to care for the spiritual growth of these kids. HOWEVER...

(small segue for explanation)

If you know me at all or have read much of my blog, you know that I struggle mightily with chronic migraines. A few years ago, the flight surgeon also determined that I have some sort of auto-immune disease that we never did figure out. After several blood tests and other attempts, this flight surgeon got assigned elsewhere and the remaining docs didn't have the time or inclination to play "What the hell is wrong with Buffi" any longer. Suffice to say, I do take care of my kids and try my darndest to get them to all the extra-curricular activities they participate in so that they can grow up to be healthy, well-rounded people. Some days, though, I wake up with a particularly terrible headache that keeps me from driving because I can barely open my eyes. Or when I do open my eyes, everything looks a little, um, wavy or weird and I feel like I can't trust my senses to guide me. On school days, I do my best to power through and at least get the kids to school. The cost of that is that I generally end up back in bed for the rest of the day until I have to get the boys. Although now that SP can drive, I can have her pick them up sometimes or I have had friends who do that for me once or twice.

Add to that: For the past several years, SugarPlum  played on a club soccer team that required us to travel to Metropolis to our south in order to play. So many, many weekends, we missed church because of soccer games. Now that she is a junior in high school, her club team basically disbanded because juniors & seniors would rather spend weekends with their friends and/or working than travelling two hours each way to play soccer. Yes, I'm a soccer mom without a soccer team...but that's another post for another time. The upside of this is that we have been able to go to church much more often and the boys have finally been able to be way more involved in some of the activities at church. Yay! [now that I am thinking about it, these are the same parents who made it a point to tell me that they would never put sports before church...whatever]

Now, there are still some Sundays when I wake up, open my eyes, and the pain that comes shooting from every direction causes me to lie back down and say, "NOPE. Not happening today." So, I take some migraine medicine, drink as much water as my queasy belly will allow and go back to bed, hoping that the pain will pass. Am I proud that I'm missing church and causing my kids to miss? No. I'm very sad about this. Could I get SP to take them to church. Probably. But my brain isn't exactly functioning at capacity and the ridiculous amount of nagging it takes to get those boys ready to go anywhere, much less dressed in a manner acceptable (to me anyway) for church, is usually beyond my brain's paltry abilities at that point. So we all stay home.

Last week was one of those Sundays. However, by Sunday afternoon, I was feeling much better and was able to get Bear to church for Bible Drill followed by a party that the youth group was having. When I went up there to fetch him after the party was over, this man (the one I mentioned waaaaay back there, before you stopped reading, because golly this has turned into a long post!) pulls me aside and says, "I have a bone to pick with you!" I, knowing this man as a fun-loving guy with a good sense of humor, chuckled and said, "Okay, what did they do now?" 

THEN, this man - this self-righteous man - proceeds to SCOLD me, saying that Bear told him I had slept in this morning and that I have a responsibility to get my kids to church every Sunday. He didn't think it was okay for me to just sleep in when these boys wanted to be at church. I was speechless. I smiled, nodded and told him that from now on, I'd be sure to have Bear call him when his mom was too lazy to get the kids to church. Okay, maybe I left out the "when his mom was too lazy to get the kids to church" part, but I was just floored. 

I carry so much guilt over what I cannot do when I'm going through a bad streak of migraines. Not to mention the guilt I feel for my kids having to grow up with divorced parents. I was awfully proud that I'd been getting us to church as often as I had. I was also feeling pretty good that I'd gotten Bear to church that night. I truly felt like somebody punched me in the gut. Now I can hardly look at him or his wife (who has also chastised me in the past for Bug missing Sunday school, but not to that extent) without feeling angry. And I don't like that. 

I wish that people could understand that many of us are doing the best we can and that what we need most is encouragement when we are getting everyone to church. I wasn't feeling God's love at all last Sunday. What I was feeling wasn't coming from God at all. Why can't people see that these kinds of interactions are what KEEP people away from church? If I hadn't been a member of this church for nearly ten years, I don't know what effect it would have had on me. I don't know that I would want take my kids back to a place where it seemed the policy was to make parents feel bad. Thank goodness I have my Sunday School class and other good, loving friends in my church who encourage and support me and never once make me feel bad for missing when I can't help it. I feel sad for those people who haven't had time to meet the friends I have and whose early encounters are with stereotypical "church people." Our church is a great place filled with the most amazing people. If you are active in your church, please consider how your words sound to others. No one person is more "holy" than another. Nobody gets to pass judgment on anyone else but God. So stop casting those stones already.

I'll get over this. But I just pray that I'm the only one that caught this man's judgment and not a new person who is struggling with their faith and feelings. It would be sad for something like this to drive someone away entirely.

(and if you made it all the way through, thanks for listening to my rant!)

Arrr arrrrr

(If you begin to feel offended by this post at any point, please see the note at the end.)

Due to the big (ish) move and the big changes and the slight bullying issue, my boys have been attending a private Christian school here in Candyland. It's ironic because I have spent the past eight years singing the praises of the Candyland Independent School District. Because honestly, the public schools here are fan-freakin-tastic. My kids have all been blessed with wonderful teachers almost every year and have learned so much. In fact, SugarPlum has remained at the junior high she's been attending since the sixth grade and next year she will go to one of the three fantastic high schools that CISD has to offer. (Heaven help me) Really, you can't go wrong when it comes to high schools here, especially.

But...(you knew that was coming, right?)

Bear needed a fresh start. A place where he felt safe and could count on some spiritual guidance as well as an almost zero tolerance for any kind of bullying. And Bug...well, my little Buggy is one smart kid. And he was getting bored and failing to see the point of doing the work at school last year. Oh, he was making good grades but he was also making his teacher (who was amazing) and his mommy insane. He really likes having attention. And since the State of Texas has mandated that there can be up to 22 students to a class in the lower grades, it makes it hard for a smart guy to get attention when the teacher is having to devote time to the kids who don't get it. It's not the teacher's fault. I've been in her shoes. 22 Kindergarteners. One me. Not good. So, in order to get attention, Bug was acting out and getting in trouble. More and more often. I feared for what second grade held for him.

I decided that, for these and a host of other reasons, my boys needed the guidance and supervision on a private, Christian school. They have really flourished there. They both love that they get to study the Bible and that they have chapel weekly. Bear comments often about how he has friends and how he doesn't feel so sad and picked on. Bug's teachers have recognized how smart he is and also how easily distracted and bored he can get. And since there are only ten (yes TEN) kids in each class, they are able to keep closer tabs on him and change their tactics with him to keep him challenged and engaged. I LOVE it.

Here's the thing. Since the classes are so small, they are able to do little plays and presentations that the parents are invited - nay, encouraged - to attend. These little things only last a few minutes, but they require a huge chunk out of my day to plan around them. They usually fall at just about the time I need to go pick up SugarPlum. Also? They are mind-numbingly boring.

Maybe it's because this is my third kid, but honestly, the ten minute vignette Willie the Walrus is something I feel like I can go the rest of my life without seeing. Just like the Johnny Appleseed "play" they did in the Fall. Problem? All the other mommies show up, video camera in hand, to see their little angels and Bug is left feeling like his mommy doesn't care. No, really, he said that. For reals. And so, I will trudge myself up there in the middle of a busy Wednesday afternoon, the day after MY school starts to watch Bug go "Arrr arrr" in his three second role as a sea lion (I KID YOU NOT). I will take care to be ON TIME this time because I was a few minutes late to the Johnny Appleseed play and they were already finished. So they performed it again. Just for me. Oh, yes they did. And all the other, good mommies looked at me with their "tsk tsk" faces the whole entire time. Which meant that I had to applaud like the entire Barrymore family had assembled to perform Macbeth for my sole benefit.

My only plea...is there any way that perhaps we could find a way to serve cocktails at these little theatrical events? Just a small cordial would really go a long way in helping motivate me to get there. A small glass of wine, a mini-martini....something? It doesn't have to be huge. Just enough to get me through the tedium. Just consider it, Candyland Christian School. I know I'm not the only mom who feels this way.

Also, the Family Night/Silent Auction? Would raise a LOT more money if you had an open bar. Just sayin.

***Please recognize how very tongue-in-cheek this post is. I LOVE seeing Bug and all the kids perform and wouldn't miss it for the world. I love and adore each and every teacher at CCS and wouldn't change one single thing about it.****

***Also, I am not advocating drinking at school events and would never, ever even consider drinking and driving my children anywhere. Or anyone. Or even just me. Oh, for crying out loud, you get what I am saying, right?!!***

Dear Maw Maw

Dear Maw Maw,

You've been gone six months now. Some days - most days - I miss you so much that there aren't words that can describe how sad I feel or how much it hurts. I think back and regret so much the number of times I told myself that I would call you "tomorrow" only then I would forget. I even forgot to call on your birthday last year. And I know that you didn't mind. You always told me that you were just glad to hear from me. Once, when I called a WEEK late for your birthday, you said that any time you heard from me & the kids was like your birthday. But remembering that only makes me feel more sad. Because I could have & should have given you more "birthdays" than I did.

I found you a Christmas present tonight while I was shopping. This neat set of angels. They were kind of rustic and funky. I even had them in my cart before I realized that we wouldn't be opening presents with you this year. And I nearly lost it right there in the store.

I still have your number programmed into my phone. I can't bear the thought of deleting it. It would be like you never existed or something. Only, I can look in the mirror most days and see your face. God blessed me with your face and your voice and your mannerisms. I surprise myself some days when I hear your voice talking to my children. I know that you are the only reason that Bug is still alive. You are the reason I am able to laugh at most of the crazy things those boys do and appreciate them for the smart, funny, stubborn little men they are. You remind me all the time that the qualities that make me crazy right now are the very ones that will serve them well in the future. And you were right about SugarPlum from the first time you laid eyes on her and told me that she is a wise old soul. She is that indeed! You tell me constantly to let the little things go. To laugh when they have rolled in the mud. To appreciate the art in the "circus" they have drawn on the wall. In Sharpie. I know from you that what matters the absolute most is that they know that they are loved more than anything in the whole wide world and that nothing they could ever do will negate that love. That I have unfailing faith in their ability to achieve whatever they want in life.

So much has happened in the past six months. My whole life has turned upside down and I have laid in bed so many times and sobbed because all I want is to talk to you about it. Am I doing the right thing? Am I screwing up my kids? Am I strong enough to get through this? Because, sometimes the doubt eats at my very soul. You were always so soothing and wise and funny and knew just what to say to ease my worries. You also knew when to just be quiet and hold me and listen & not try to solve my problems. Your arms around me made me know that the world couldn't hurt me. I wish I could just lay in your lap and cry until I feel better. You always let me sob until there were no more tears. And you always had plenty of Kleenexes to clean up the snot.

But in those moments when I feel like I might just be ripped in two from missing you, I hear your voice in my head telling me, "You can do this, Buffi. You MUST do this. You can do what I never could for so many reasons. Be the mom and the woman I always wanted to be. Who I taught you to be. Stand up for yourself. Be the example those babies need. You are smart and strong and capable. And I love you and I am right here." So I am going to do the right thing for you, Maw Maw. And for me. And for those SugarBabies that we love so much. I promise I will make you proud. You spent nearly 40 years convincing me that I am everything you knew I was. You did that for all of your grandbabies. I can't speak for all of us, But I know that Bek and Tell and I wouldn't be who we are without your love and confidence in us.

But tonight, can you find a way to come in my dreams and hold me and let me cry until I know it'll be okay? Because missing you hurts almost as much as anything in the world. I know that I will see you some day soon. You and Paw Paw will come and get me in that ice cream truck we all heard in March (because really, why on EARTH was there an ice cream truck at a cemetery in March, if it wasn't you two?) and we will all be home together soon. But that seems like a long way away. And I have a lot to do before then. Even if it is just the blink of an eye up there in Heaven.

I love you so much Maw Maw. I'm glad that you aren't sad or in pain any more. And I am so thankful that God helped me find comfort in your memory. Kiss Paw Paw for me. And know that we miss you two more than we ever knew it was possible to miss anyone.

Love,

Buffi

My Maw Maw

I know that I one of the lucky few, but up until about two years ago, all of my grandparents were still alive. I grew up 30 miles from both sets of grandparents and I have wonderful memories of all of them. In their own ways, they were each remarkable people who overcame so much to even grow up, much less have successful lives. They are each such a blessing to me.

Over the last two years, both of my grandfathers died. And last night, I found out that my Maw Maw died. Her husband (my Paw Paw, naturally) had a stroke about a year ago and died in October. I think that she finally just couldn't take living without him any more.

My Maw Maw (sorry, that sounds so childish, but that's who she is and I can't just call her "my grandmother) is probably who I was closest to. She grew up the youngest of four girls, born in the midst of the Great Depression in the middle of the dust bowl. They lived in a half-dugout house in West Texas. Her daddy died when she was 10. I know that it was a terrible, terrible death and that it influenced the rest of her life. How could it not? Eventually, they moved to Oklahoma and she met my very handsome (her words) Paw Paw. They got married when she was 16 and she became a mom at 18.

When I was little I thought that my Maw Maw was the most perfect person on the whole planet (and she likely was!). Her house always smelled like heaven to me. And anything that came from her house smelled like it - my brother & I would even say, "This smells like Maw Maw!" Clothes, toys, blankets...whatever, if it came from Maw Maw's house, I didn't want it washed until the smell had completely worn off. I can't even describe the mixture of Downy, potpourri, perfume, good food and grease from Paw Paw's machine shop. But all together, it was just perfect.

Maw Maw always made me feel like I was the smartest, most talented, prettiest girl in the world. If I was sad, being in her lap made things so much better. Or even the sound of her voice. I knew that I could tell her anything and my secret would be safe.

And as I grew up, she never wavered in her support. She told me more than once that I was the best mother that she had ever known. Which was HUGE because, evidently, she had never told MY mom that. Up until I had kids, Maw Maw was the best mom she ever seen. And you know that when you are in the middle of raising kids, hearing you are a good mom means the world. Especially when you hear it from the most perfect person on the planet.

Maw Maw also managed to make my kids feel so special and loved and appreciated. When she was going through chemo a couple of years ago, Bear made her paper hat to wear. And not only did she wear it, she made sure that my mom took a picture so that Bear could see her wearing it. And she would make a point to ask the kids to sing "Amazing Grace" or, really, any other song for her & followed it with lavish praise that would make the singer feel so proud and talented. Every picture they drew was beautiful and every poem or story they wrote was Pulitzer-worthy. Plus they were the smartest, most beautiful children on the planet. Just like their Mommy & Daddy (her words).

Maw Maw really loved nothing more than to sit and listen to her grandkids and great-grandkids play and laugh. My boys, of course, kept her in stitches. When my babies were born, she just wanted to hear them cry or laugh or make noise or just breathe.

I always thought that the phrase "a hole in my heart" was kind of trite and goofy. But really, I understand now. My Maw Maw made me who I am today. My confidence and self-esteem (and my deep, abiding appreciation for cute shoes) are in large part due her influence - her unfailing support and truly unconditional love - in my life. I'm having a very had time imagining this world without my Maw Maw. But, I know without a doubt that she is in heaven with my Paw Paw and she is happy and finally at peace.

I love you so much Maw Maw. Thank you for all you have been for me. Give Paw Paw a big hug and a kiss for me. I'll see you in heaven. Save a place for me.

My New Years Resolutions for 2009

Okay, I know that I am running behind with these. But I've barely had time to check my email except for when I was in bed with the nastiest cold I've had in a long time. Bleh. Anyway, these are the things that I have been thinking about for the past few weeks. Things that are important to me to resolve to work on in 2009.

1. Focus on being the wife my husband needs me to be. I have choices in this life and I am choosing to make my marriage stronger and happier. I love this man more than anything & he deserves the best.
2. Take more time to listen to what my kids are saying to me rather than insist on immediate compliance. Sometimes I am so focused on what I want them to do or not do, I don't wait to hear the explanation of WHY they are/aren't doing something.
3. Make my husband and children feel treasured and adored. Because they are. Each one of them.
4. Laugh more and yell less.
5. Practice more patience as SugarPlum enters these preteen years. This is a very scary, crucial time. I have GOT to remember to take a deep breath and think before I judge or act. She needs to be able to trust me as much as I need to trust her. Heaven help me.
6. Continue to eat healthier and go to bed at a reasonable time (ie sometime before midnight!)
7. Remember that I started this blog to write about my life and to make a record of all the cool, funny things my family says and does. I have lost what should have been so many wonderful memories the past few months because I have been at a loss about what to write. I want to get my "mojo" back.

I appreciate those of you who have been here to support me in the past few months. It's been a roller coaster and you have been invaluable to my life! Happy New Year, y'all!

All's well in Candyland

I know, I know. TWO WEEKS. Two weeks since my last post. Crazy, right?

I'm fine. Everyone is fine. Things were a little tense around here, but nothing too extraordinary. I have just been trying to re-prioritize since things have gotten a little out of whack. We went to visit my parents for a few days. Then we all went to the lake for a couple of days and even rented a boat! A good time was had by all.

Now I am focusing on spending time with SD and the SugarBabies since school starts next week. I am reeeaaaalllllly happy that school is starting next week. But it is also a little bittersweet. I am looking at all the time I wasted when I could have been taking the kids to the water park or the library or the park....or just spending time enjoying them more. I hate that. Fortunately, they had each other to play with (and fight with).

All three kids are SO excited about school starting. SugarPlum starts jr. high and is just beside herself. Last night she went to the Candyland Junior High 6th grade skating party. She had a blast and got to see her buddies and meet a few new kids, too. She is growing up so very, very fast. I'm torn between being proud and being sad, once again at how time flies. She gets her schedule and locker, etc Thursday evening. She is really looking forward to it. She's been speculating on what classes she will get and who will be in them. I remember not being able to even imagine what jr high would be like. She seems much less apprehensive than I was. But she has always had such amazing self confidence and maturity, so I'm not surprised.

Bug starts Kindergarten and is about to burst with excitement. Candyland Elementary only has one Kindergarten class, so we already know his teacher (who is NOT the old biddy who was Bear's kindergarten teacher, thank goodness!) and he loves, loves, loves her. And she seems to already be pretty fond of him. This is such a relief, considering what a hard time we had with Bear's teacher. Mrs. Kindergarten sent them all a postcard a couple of weeks ago and he was over the moon! I'm really looking forward to this year with her.

Bear starts 2nd grade. He seems happy to be starting, but I think a lot of that is that he is just so bored at home! I'm a little concerned for him because he just doesn't seem to be able to focus lately. And he seems too quick to freak out over things. His teacher last year loved him and really tried to find ways to help him learn. She recognized that he is highly intelligent and she worked with me to figure out his learning style. I am hoping that his teacher this year will be as accommodating. He is such a sweet child but can be really, very frustrating. Right now, I am having him work on handwriting because his somehow got worse by the end of last school year. I may have a new ulcer by the end of the week.

So....that's what's going on. I'm going back to my babies. I should be posting more regularly once everyone is settled into the school routine. Until I find a job anyway. We'll see. Thank you to all of you who have checked in on me, emailed, called, Twittered. I am so happy to have you. People who don't blog just don't get how I can have these friends from all over the world who I love like I do you all. That's too bad for them. You all are wonderful.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

As much as I hate to, I am thinking of going back to work. I'm not even sure what I would want to do. I haven't had a job in nearly 12 years (other than working in the baby room at the Mothers Day Out on Thursdays...occasionally). I have a degree in Early Childhood and I'm certified to teach thru sixth grade. I really don't want to go back to teaching. There are many things I would like to do, but I have no idea how to achieve any of them. At least not any time soon.

No secret that I'd like to be a lactation consultant and/or a doula. But I'd have to take lots of and classes and put in lots of volunteer hours to do this. And I just don't have that in my now. Something else I'd like to do is be a Family Life Educator. Honestly, I could probably get some sort of job that is kind of like that right now.

I'm not wanting to get rich. I just need to find a way to not be dependent on anyone else. Just to prove to myself that I can. I mean, I know I can...but I have been having a lot of self doubt. I've been trying to find some writing jobs. I really like writing and would love to do it more. But, it's difficult in the summer when the kids are home and all over the place. I can't concentrate enough to write anything of quality. (I know...obviously!) I want to spend time with my munchkins. They are actually pretty cool kids...when they're not making me homicidal. I try to write at night, after everyone is in bed, but then, evidently, I'm cheating my husband of time. BALANCE. It's elusive.

*sigh* Maybe after school starts in a few weeks. Yeah, because things always get EASIER after school starts. *hmph*

I don't know. I'm feeling sad and lost and introspective. I'm not caught in the "whirling vortex of despair," but I can see it from here. There is a lot going on that I really don't want to talk about right now to the whole internet. Sorry to subject you to this. I suppose I'm just hoping that someone will have some good advice for me. Time for me to put on my big girl panties and act like a grown up, I guess.

Thanks for listening....if you didn't fall asleep first.

Perspective

You know, no matter how many lost wallets, extracted gall bladders, screaming kids, marital issues and other crap I have endured, never in all my days have I had to deal with what Lisa has had to deal with today. Never have I had to contemplate telling my children and everyone else that I love that I, most likely, am dying. AND? That while I am getting sicker and sicker I don't know how we will afford to put food on the table or a roof over our heads. It is a nightmare that I can't even let myself imagine. And yet, Lisa is living it. Right. now.

And to make things even more unbearable, someone is trying to take advantage of her situation to make himself look good. How is it that parasites like this are allowed to continue existing on this planet? Incomprehensible. And disgusting. That's what that is.

I apologize for every single time I have complained about my life. Because my life is amazing and comfortable and healthy and carefree and wonderful. I wouldn't trade this life or these people for anything in the world. So to those who might not be sure, know this: I love you. I appreciate you. I will not take any of you or any day God has given me for granted.

If there is any way you can help Lisa and her family through this, please try. Even if all you can afford is prayers, I'm sure that they would be welcome. Isn't that what we are all here for? To support each other?

How to make an ass of yourself for three days solid (A Step-By-Step Guide)

1. Go to get your haircut.
2. and one for your daughter.
3. When it's time to pay, realize that you must have left your wallet in the car.
4. Go look in car.
5. Realize that you must - for some unknown reason (probably those rotten boys) - have taken your wallet out at home and left it.
6. Go back in hair place, offer to leave daughter as collateral and run home (with daughter since the hair ladies are terribly trusting) and tear house apart (as well as car).
7. FREAK THE HELL OUT because you can't find your wallet.
8. Call CVS to see if you could have possibly left your wallet there when you went to get (yes, ashamedly) Hairstyle magazines.
9. FREAK OUT EVEN MORE because the lady says your wallet isn't there.
10. Dig out the credit card that you were going to stop using from the desk drawer so that you can go back and pay for the haircuts (which, incidentally, was possibly the worst haircut you have ever received and make note to self to never, ever get hair cut at "Kidz Kutz" ever again).
11. Consider very real possibility that some kid at the hair place took the wallet from your purse during the 29 seconds you turned your back to talk to lady cutting daughter's hair (which, incidentally was the most fantastic haircut ever - maybe THAT lady could cut your hair)
12. Pick boys up from kind friend's house and see if there is any chance that you took your purse in for the 5 minutes you were there dropping boys off and left your wallet.
13. Of course not.
14. Drag everyone home and bribe them all with $5 for who ever finds the wallet.
15. No dice.
16. Admit to husband that though yes, that very day, he escorted you to get a new military ID because you had lost yours just days before, you have now lost your wallet (containing new ID) and it was most likely stolen by some little hoodlum at Kidz Kutz.
17. Consider the very real possibility that the UNIVERSE IS FUCKING WITH YOU.
18. Wait for husband to come home and look for your wallet because he is always great at finding lost things.
19. Still. no. wallet.
20. Call all credit card companies to report stolen cards.
21. Call bank to report stolen ATM cards (yes there were 2)
22. Contact credit bureaus to flag your & husbands SSNs because they are on (brand freakin' new) military ID.
23. Realize that there was a $25 Old Navy gift card, $5 Starbucks card about $85 in cash in stolen wallet. Fucking hoodlum.
24. Realize that only good news is that drivers license was NOT in wallet because you'd had it out all week to get on base w/ the temp pass while husband was TDY (out of town).
25. Apologize to husband 900 times for losing wallet even though he is being very gracious and kind - which couldn't be easy for him - about the whole situation.
26. Sulk, bitch and moan all day Saturday about the little hoodlum who took your wallet even though you know that it won't do any good.
27. Go to Sunday School even though you're still feeling sore & crappy from surgery and grouchy about lost wallet.
28. Yell at children who ask for offering money because ALL OF MY MONEY WAS IN MY WALLET you foolish children!
29. Come home from Sunday School to discover a message on your voicemail from the manager at CVS.
30. Call and discover that your wallet was at CVS all this time, locked in the safe, but that the stupid girl that you AND husband talked to wouldn't even go to the trouble of asking her boss if a wallet was found.
31. Resist urge to curse stupid, stupid girl once you realize that if you had half a brain then you would have put the wallet in your purse and not left it on the counter by the register.
32. What the hell is wrong with you anyway?
33. Throw a big "I found my wallet" Party all day long. (Okay, that's an exaggeration. Perhaps what is closer to the truth is call your best friend and sing the "I found my wallet" happy song and make a total fool of yourself.)
34. Still believe that the universe was fucking with you because, COME ON.

Soon to be gall(bladder)-less

Okay, so I saw the surgeon today. I sat for over an hour in the waiting room and yes, I was a leeetle pissy about that. I may have posted a slightly nasty Twitter about that way. Yet minutes later, I was back in the exam room with the surgeon, all was forgiven.

I am officially declaring my love for Dr. Gallbladder.

She had already read my records and looked at my ultrasound (okay, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but realize that I am accustomed to the military health care system and...well, let's just say that, while there are some really great doctors, there are some truly, ridiculously clueless and horrible "physicians" who walk into the room and say "Hey how's it going?" Yes, I'm serious.) and came in prepared to to talk with me about my options. Which, pretty much "suck it up and deal with it" or "get that sucker outa there!"

She reviewed the function (and MALfuction) of the gallbladder and then went over the surgery veeerrry thoroughly. She actually answered the only question I had (after my over-researching it with Dr Google) and she left me feeling very confident and secure about this.

She asked when I was wanting to have it out. I told her the sooner the better. So? It looks like it should be Thursday. Yes, THIS Thursday. My own little Independence Day! Woo hoo!! (assuming the hospital and insurance all agree) (which is a HUGE assumption)

So, listen up you crappy malfunctioning little organ in there: Your days are numbered! Two to be exact. Say your good-byes because it's the end of the line for you, you pain causing jerk!!

(You realize I have totally jinxed myself and now this won't be out until sometime in November, right?)

No funny today

I just received some sobering and devastating news. And it's making me count my blessings at a time when I have really been feeling less than blessed. God has a way of smacking you upside the head, sometimes, doesn't he?

Not long before we moved to England, a good friend of ours who was already stationed there, lost her husband in a one-person car accident. He had just returned from months of fighting in Kosovo and they had two small children, one was two and the other about four months old. It was life shattering to say the least.

But my friend moved back close to her home where there was an Air Force Base, and began to rebuild her life. A couple of years later, she met and married a lovely, sweet man who was a doctor. He was the perfect husband for her and a wonderful daddy to her children. He was a blessing to their lives.

In order to move up in his chosen field, my friend and her new husband moved their family to a place where he could receive training and become even more accomplished in his field. They had another baby, giving them, all together, four kids. They were very happy.

Then this precious man learned he had cancer.

Through a mutual friend, we were kept in the loop about how this sweet man and his family were doing and lately, it wasn't looking good. And today, I got an email from my friend the her husband passed away yesterday. I can't fathom the pain that she feels. She is only 34 years old and has buried two husbands. Her kids have lost two daddies. How do you explain that to yourself, much less an 11 and 9 year old?

My heart aches almost more than I can take for my friend. And I feel petty and ridiculous about the complaints I have had with my life considering we are all healthy and vibrant.

Please keep my friend Kim and her family in your prayers. And go hug and kiss your kids and husband or wife. Be sure you say I love you. Because you never, ever know when it will be the last time.

Yeah, a list post. Because it's too hot for paragraphs.

1. The past two weeks have been truly insane around here for lots of reasons.
2. Last weekend was Bug & Bear's birthday party and it went well. NINETEEN children were in my backyard, armed with water guns, water balloons, and other weapons of mass (lawn) destruction. A good time was had by all.
3. And then we all passed out.
4. Last week was Bear & SP's last week of school. I attended the awards ceremonies for both children. Which is always a bucket of fun.
5. Though both kids DID get certificates for All 'A' Honor Roll. (patting self on back even though I had very little to do with it).
6. Bug is on a bit of a tear. And by "a bit of a tear" I mean the child has been a little shit -testing every limit that we have EVER established and falling to the ground screaming when I enforce said limits. Yesterday was the real corker though because he threw a big stinking fit during children's church and our children's minister had to come get me out of the church service. Oh, I was furious. But I did hold it together enough to not yell at him. I didn't even cuss!
7. I'm a little freaked out because Bug is no longer a "preschooler" AND SugarPlum is no longer an elementary school student. I have a child in junior high. That's just wrong.
8. I got notification of my 20 year HS reunion. THAT is seriously fucked up. I am definitely not old enough to have been out of high school for 20 years.
9. I am officially addicted to Twitter. And it is pissing me off because it has been seriously jacked up lately. That flying whale is officially my least favorite thing to see now.
10. I saw this "Cuss-o-Meter on somebody's site (can't tell you who any more). It looks at the first page of a blog and gives you the percentage of cussing yours has compared to other pages on the web. So, mine? 0% Zero. Percent. That is fucking unacceptable.
11. I finally watched last week's episode of "Top Chef" and was dismayed that my secret crush, Spike, had to pack his knives and go.
12. I am consoled only by the fact that "So You Think You Can Dance" is back. I love me some Nigel Lithgow! (And Tice DiOrio is really nice to look at, too)
13. Have twice answered the phone this weekend and impressively restrained myself from saying, "Are you fucking kidding me?" Really, you wouldn't believe how much self-control that took.
14. Finally, my favorite kid-quote of the month: "For breakfast I want a fried egg. No, wait, Mommy. I want a Mond Egg. And tomorrow, I want a Tuesd Egg." Silly boys.

That ought to bump me up on the cuss-o-meter!

The tubes come in & the tubes come out....

Tomorrow morning (okay....later this morning), my SugarBear goes to the Surgi-Center to have very minor surgery to have the tubes removed from his ears**. I know that it is no big deal. I know that he will most likely be fine and running around driving me crazy by noon. But there is still that little part of me that is panicking. THAT is the part that is keeping me awake. Even though I have to be up in less than six hours. To take him in to have this done. So I can sit in a lobby and wait and worry for the...oh, 20 minutes that it is probably going to take. Being a mommy is tough sometimes.

I will update as soon as I can. I suppose I should try to get some sleep now. TRY being the operative word here. Prayers are gladly accepted if you are so inclined....

**Yes, they should have fallen out by themselves by now. Two years after the trauma of putting them in....along with taking out his tonsils and adenoids. Maybe that is what has me freaked out. The tonsil & adenoids part was tough to recover from! But he'll be fine. Right?


******UPDATE***********

10:30

We are home from the surgi-center. The pre-op took longer than the actual procedure. I'm pretty sure that the worst part for Bear was the atropine shot. He woke up all calm and mellow. He was drinking a Sprite when I got back there. Followed by two ice pops and some Lorna Doone cookies. He's thinking that this whole surgery thing worked out pretty well!

One tube was just lying in the ear canal. He has a patch on the other ear drum because the tube was still totally in there. So no water in the ear & no blowing his nose for a few weeks. I'm thinking maybe the height of allergy season AND one week before the water park opens wasn't the best timing on this. Oh well.

Now he is laying on the couch for a MythBusters marathon. He's a little pissy because he can't go out & ride his bike. I'm so mean. Must dash. Jamie & Adam are busting MacGyver myths. COOL!

No more shouting, I promise

I am actually feeling much better. Nobody is more surprised about this than I. Maybe I just needed to have a big old pity party and vent a little.. Maybe it is all of your wonderful, supportive comments, phone calls and emails. Maybe it's the vodka. Just kidding. It's definitely the vodka. Hee hee. It's probably that things are coming to a close with the terrible, awful situation that we have encountered. I wish that I could be more forthcoming about it, but I can't for many reasons.


Anyway, yesterday I started to feel the fog lifting and I am beginning to climb back out of the pit. Even with SD gone for a couple of days. It's weird. But I'm not complaining. The kids seem to sense that I am doing better too, because they don't seem to be acting as...cautious?...around me. Of course that might just be my perception. Hard to tell.

After a long day of cleaning last week (was it really last week? It seems like a million years ago)- during which I cleaned the kitchen cabinets, swept AND mopped the floor in the kitchen and breakfast room, cleaned the baseboards and walls, AND? AND? vacuumed the family room - I jokingly said to SD that maybe I'm bi-polar and was having a 'manic' day. He looked at me and told me that our therapist thinks that I am. Boy, that threw me for a loop! But then I stopped to think about it and thought, "Hey, maybe so."


Now, considering the dark period I just went through, I think I will discuss this with Dr. C at our next session. Which will be...I don't know when. I didn't go this week because I just couldn't make myself get out of the house except to get the kids where they needed to be. And next week I had to cancel because Bear is having surgery to have the tubes taken out of his ears. (That child can NEVER do things the easy way. More on that in another post.)

I really think that full-blown bi-polar disorder might be a little extreme, but in researching it (gotta love Google) I think that Cyclothymia might be a possibility. I don't know. I will have to talk to my doctor about it.


Trouble is, my doctor is an idiot. You'd think that the Air Force would make the flight surgeons the best-of-the-best to take care of their flyers. Only not so much. It's more like, "Oh, you're pretty mediocre at everything? How about aerospace medicine?" Half the time I go in there, I get a deer in the headlights look. I pretty much tell them what I think is wrong, what medicine I want to take care of it and VOILA! a prescription is handed to me! I honestly believe that if I were to make half a case for it, I could get the flight doc to prescribe me heroin. As long as I accepted the scrip for 800 mg of Motrin along with it. We call it "Vitamin M." They don't call 'em the "Candy Man" for nothin'!

Whew! Lose focus much? (Isn't that on the bi-polar checklist?)


SO. There you have it. Feeling much better. Though this might be an indication of a serious mental illness. (Thus validating the opinions of countless friends, family members and acquaintances.) Or not. We may never know. But I'm smiling right now, so that's something, right?

Balance? Perhaps I should just work on focus

Balance. Ah, yes. Seems to be coming a little at a time. See? I'm posting!! Okay, well, right now I'm just typing. We'll see if this makes it to an actual post. However, it stands a much better chance than the many many posts as of late which have existed solely in my head. (Lots of space there, you know.)

I was able to play on the computer a bit, take the wrecked van to the shop for an estimate (don't ask...it's painful), go to physical therapy, do a load of laundry - including folding and putting away! - pick up the living room, cook supper, take Bug to soccer practice and even make a valiant attempt at putting the badges on Bear's Tiger Cub uniform. WHEW!

Sadly, I was decidedly unsuccessful at that last task as said badges were not, as I (erroneously) assumed, iron-on. And, as my sewing talents are sadly lacking, Bear went to his Scout meeting with a (gasp!) naked uniform. Oh, the humanity. BUT WAIT! SugarDaddy to the rescue! He is taking the uniform and patches to a tailor near base who will them sew the patches on securely so that Bear can attend future den meetings with his head held high.

geez...can you say tangent?!

I was however remarkably successful in the dinner department, preparing a very quick chicken stir fry that inspired two of the three SugarBabies to ask for seconds and then? THIRDS. So yummy it was. (Pay no attention to Bug. He is protesting most food right now and it is vexing me because my children have always been good eaters. Other parents ask to have my kids over for dinner just to watch them eat. Asparagus? More please! Salmon? Yes! Mushrooms? Peppers? Brussels Sprouts? Mmmmmmmm! (Okay maybe I'm pushing it with the Brussels sprouts, but, they are remarkably good eaters.) I know that this is why Bug is not eating. Because that child must make a liar out of me every chance he gets.)

School still seems to be going okay. Bug has only made one more trip to the office in the past month. For hitting. Brute. He's really not even the slightest bit contrite about it. He feels very justified in his actions most of the time. *sigh* He is going to be a Baptist preacher some day, I just know it. They all start out as little turds and then mellow. Well, mellow may not be the word but....oh, you know what I mean.

Bear has started coming out of his shell some as well. Heh. His teacher still loves him. But he is exploring his boundaries a little more lately, resulting in a conduct cut or two. Nothing office-worthy, though. Today, Mrs. Firstgrade told me that some of his classmates have complained that Bear has been hugging and kissing them. I have witnessed this and talked to him about it. But today we had to have a more direct, in-depth conversation to establish that this isn't acceptable at school. He was crestfallen. Bless his heart, he just gets so overcome with happiness and love for his friends, he wants to kiss them. I told him so save up all those kisses for me.

If you're really nice, I'll save some for you, too. Of course you'll have to come to Candyland to get them, but it will totally be worth it. Bear kisses are some of the sweetest in the world! Not that I'm partial.

Paging Dr. Phil....

For obligatory apology, see here and/or here.

What to do, what to do....I am having a really hard time trying to find a balance between family time and "me time." Because "me time " is the only time that I have to post or check email or read everyone else's blogs. In the not too distant past I tried to merge "me time" and family time with less than stellar results. I found myself saying "Wait a minute. I'll get you some milk/supper/attention after I finish this post. Which then turns into "..when I finish reading this person's post."

I had to ask myself, when did reading about other people's lives and children become more important than living my own life and spending time with my children. While SD was gone, blogging was my refuge. I got so much wonderful support from my blog friends and I felt a little less alone. But, I was using my time with the kids to do so. I am needing to find balance and it's not easy.

I am really tired of whining here. I used to have a sense of humor. My kids do really freaking funny things every day. And I should just get on and share the little tidbits. I guess I'm afraid that if I turn on the computer, I will be here for six hours and that's no good. A little self control would be helpful here. Does Amazon sell that? No, I didn't think so.


So, the funeral and the trip down there wasn't as bad as I was afraid it was going to be. In fact it was, I am somewhat ashamed to say...fun. It seems like such a cliche` to say that we all only get together for weddings and funerals, but it's true. And this time I got to meet cousins I had never really seen before. Or at least not in at least 15 years. And given that they were small children then, it was cool to get to know them. One cousin who is getting married in the Spring declared that I must come to the wedding because I am one of the "cool cousins." And for my down in the dumps, frumpy feeling 37 year old self to be declared cool by a 25 year old was very satisfying indeed. Of course it's not too much of a challenge to seem cool when the other cousins are self-righteous teetotalers who really have no clue how to have fun. (did I say that out loud?) We are considering havin a secret family reunion. You are only invited if you can kick back and have a beer with us. Or at least not judge us if we do enjoy and adult beverage or two.

My poor grandmother was so confused. She, at times, had no idea who any of us were. She thought that the "cool cousin" was me because she had long blonde hair like I used to. However this cousin also has these huge b00bs, so that should have been a dead give away. My grandmother did come up to me and tell me how pretty I was several times, though. Really. She would come up and stroke my cheek and say, "You're so pretty!" She had no clue who I was or what I was doing there. And it was hard not to laugh when I was showing her pictures of the kids and she kept saying things like, "Now what's that one's name? How old is he?" I hope people are nice to me when I am old. I totally won't deserve it.

The drive itself was fairly uneventful. It was strange to be in the car with just my parents and my brother. It was almost like I was twelve again. But without the choking on cigarette smoke or the "he's touching me" game. Oh, and I had to drive part of the way. The trip down was almost pleasant until we got stuck in Houston traffic and I had to pee so bad I seriously would have gone in my pants but I would have never been able to live THAT down. Daddy finally pulled into a McDonald's so that I could potty. Two minutes later, we were at my cousins'. Natch.

The drive home would have been okay except that I had a horrendous migraine and my mother would not shut the fuck up. She had something to say about every billboard, every restaurant and every other driver on the road. She's lucky that the migraine had rendered me almost paralyzed or I might have reached up there and ripped her vocal cords out. It was a satisfying fantasy, anyway.

I arrived back home to a clean house and happy children. And damn SD for being able to maintain things while I was gone. I never can commiserate with other wives about the whole house-falling-apart-after-I-was-gone-for-only-three-days thing. He does a damn good job at that and I am so grateful.

The marriage? It seems...better....I think. You know, nobody tells you how hard it is being married. Or staying married anyway. But, damn it's a lot of work. It should really be in the pamphlet. I think it is a miracle that my grandparents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary just before he died. Because he was an old curmudgeon. I would have divorced his ass long ago. Love is indeed a many splendored thing.

SugarPlum, Interrupted

Monday afternoon....

:::cell phone rings:::

"Mrs. LastName? This is the nurse at Candyland Elementary School. SugarPlum hurt her shoulder in PE this afternoon and you may want to go ahead and come get her."

"Ummm, okay. I'm over here at Candyland Early Childhood Education Center about to pick up my son (Bear). I will be over there in a few minutes."

"Well, do you want to come in and pick her up or would you rather her meet you out front?"

"If she could just meet me out front, that would be better, so that I won't have to unload the boys."


Yeah. I'm thinking that lordy that child can be a drama queen. And I really need to go to the grocery store on on the way home and now I will have a whiny 10 year old with me.

Bad Mommy.

I pull up to CES and the nurse is wheeling my child out in a wheelchair. Oh. shit. She and some other kids got tripped up in PE playing Capture the Flag and a little boy's head hit her squarely in the chest. Or shoulder. At that time it was unclear, but my girl was in such pain that she couldn't walk.

After dropping my boys off with a friend, I took SP to the ER, where we waited for approximately three weeks. Or two hours. Hard to say. When we finally got called, they x-rayed her chest and put us in a room. A friend of ours who works there came in and said that he saw the films and, "Dang! You did a good job, girl!" Somehow neither of us found this encouraging.

When the doctor came in, he showed us the film and we saw that SP's collarbone was not just broken, but broken in two places. Overachiever. She was put in a brace, given a prescription for Tylenol 3 and sent home. And THEN the fun began. Honestly, she handled all of it better than I would have when I was ten. Hell, probably better than I would now!

Of course, this is the week that fourth graders in TEXAS!! take the TAKS test. Being the freakishly smart child that she is, her teachers were a little dismayed, but understanding, that she would be absent for a couple of days.

Dismayed is an understatement when describing SP's reaction when she realized that there will be no soccer for the next three or four months. Her coach was less than thrilled to learn that he was losing his goalie. I'm just glad to have my baby.

Honestly, the child is even more of a badass than her brother. She has been getting by on nothing but Motrin for the past two days. She went back to school today, determined to make up the TAKS. AND? When offered the opportunity to go home after the test was finished? She chose to stay at school. See? Overachiever. *sigh*

The turmoil in our house because of this borders on hilarity. While Bug napped Wednesday, SP watched one of the Harry Potter movies in my room. Bug woke up much sooner than expected and got to catch the last half of the movie. The child who thought Cars was scary (WTF?) and he LOVED Harry Potter. Wednesday night at church, the boys told everyone who would sit still long enough about SP's accident. Only they don't completely get it, so it was like some twisted game of "Telephone" with people asking me all night how SP broke her chest bone,. Or her leg. Or her arm. Or whatever. And whenn would she be getting out of the hospital. Yeah.

The boys are feeling helpless and want to do something to help and comfort their big sister. Sadly, any attempts hugs and/or kisses were met with "WATCH OUT!" for fear of inflicting even more pain. So, now they come over to her and ever so gingerly kiss her on the leg or hand. It is just heartbreakingly sweet. And Bear was thrilled last night when SP, after having gone to the bathroom all by herself, needed help pulling her pants back up. That sweet boy was beaming at having been able to help his big sister. Heavens, I do love these children.

However.

The patient has decided that Mommy's bed is MUCH more comfy than her own and has taken up residence there. On my side. She must heal soon or I may never sleep again. *yawn*

Because, you know, it's all about ME.

Bittersweet weekend

SD's last weekend, being what it was, was pretty great. From my perspective, anyway. We got to spend some really great family time together, I got to sleep in (which is always a plus!!) and...then he left. Which sucked. Big time.

Before that, though, we had a blast celebrating SugarPlum's birthday. Friday night, my parents came to town, as usual. So, while they watched the boys, we took SP out to dinner. She decided that she wanted to go to the nice seafood restaurant down the street and she had lobster tail and grilled shrimp. Yes, you read that right, lobster tail and grilled shrimp. It was her birthday and we told her that she could have anything that she wanted. When Pop Pop was here a few weeks ago, we took him to that restaurant and that was what he ordered. He shared a bit with SP and girlfriend was hooked! I was skeptical as to whether she could actually eat all of that food, but that child ate every. single. bite. All of the lobster. All of the shrimp. All of the grilled vegetables. All of the rice. PLUS a huge salad and probably half a loaf of bread. I was gobsmacked. The waitress was duly impressed as well!

After supper, we went home and she opened presents. Her Daddy got her a very nice doll from Norway. Gray Gray and Gram got her some books and some new goalie gloves. Bug gave her some CDs and Bear gave her some more books. Mommy got her some clothes to wear to her birthday party and SD & I got her a new clock radio. She LOVES the clock!

Her party was fantastic! She invited seven friends to go rock climbing at an old grain elevator that has been converted to a rock climbing facility. Some of the girls were a little nervous, but everyone seemed to really enjoy themselves. My SugarPlum, as it turns out, should have her nickname changed to Spider Girl!! She climbed in the boulder room, she climbed the 50 foot walls a few times and then, a the end of the party, she impressed everyone by scaling the 120 foot wall! Everyone in the place cheered when she reached the top. She was a little sore Sunday morning. To say the least.

So.......I was going to show you pictures, but blogger is being a PITA (big surprise). So, you'll just have to go see them over at Flickr.


PS We miss you so much already SD. The bed is very cold. Come home soon!

Like a cheap sweater

I know that you are probably so sick of my whining that you can barely stand it. Hardly anybody is even commenting anymore. I have a feeling that most everyone is adhering to that childhood rule "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." And quite honestly, I appreciate that. Harsh words might just send me over the edge at this point. And I am just barely hanging on by my fingernails right now.

I was looking at my posts from this time last year and realize that I have almost completely lost my funny. I even blogged some about my depression last fall, but at least I had some perspective. Or from my writing, I seemed to, anyway. It's like a whole lifetime ago, reading that. I suppose a lot has happened and my whole life and reality changed in the space of a few weeks there. But golly. I just am not holding up well under the pressure. Last year, I spoke of how I felt like I was being dragged under and needed help coming back up. I really thought that I had overcome most of that. I thought that with my thyroid being treated, that I was doing so much better. But over the past couple of months, my crazy has returned with a vengeance.

I went to the doctor a few weeks ago and asked to have my antidepressant dosage upped because I was feeling like I was going under again. For a week or two I was feeling so much better. I was cleaning the house, enjoying my kids, being a Mommy. But as Thanksgiving approached, I found myself sinking faster than I ever had. I get home from picking the kids up from school some days and go get in my bed. SugarPlum, bless her heart, entertains the boys for me and come to tell me when it's time for me to make dinner. This isn't every day, but FAR more often than it should be. No nine year old should have to take that much responsibility for her family.

I have days where I get stuff done. I will get the whole entire kitchen clean. Or I'll sort through two rooms worth of clutter. But it's never enough to get caught up. Which is why I was so relieved that the whole family wasn't coming here for Thanksgiving. I had decided that it was better to make the drive to Gram & Gray's than to try to get this place up to snuff. But by Wednesday morning (when I had told my parents I would be leaving) I had nothing packed, the house was still a disaster & needed to be at least tidied up as we were having a kid come and stay here to dog-sit. I needed to clean out my van and fold the laundry. And I was paralyzed. I hid in the guest room and cried for a good half hour. I had no idea why I was crying other than I felt like I was losing my mind & didn't know how to rein it in. I seriously contemplated staying here and having turkey sandwiches for Thanksgiving. Eventually, I could hear the kids screaming at each other on the other side of the house and went in there to keep them from killing each other. They saw my red eyes and puffy face and got very somber. I started crying again and told them that i couldn't get this done on my own and that I needed their help if they wanted to go.

We finally hit the road at about 2:00, which was when my parents expected us to be arriving not leaving. My mom started to give me shit about it, but I just got off the phone with her quickly. I didn't need her help. I was still such a mess that when I got behind a truck that I couldn't pass (crappy two-lane roads), I was on the verge of tears over it. It was one of the longest three-hour drives of my life.

Unraveling. That is what I feel like I am doing. Like somebody has hold of the yarn that makes up the sweater that is my sanity and is pulling every so often so that when I turn around to look, there is less and less of it.


That is what I wrote the week after Thanksgiving. And things just kept looking more and more bleak. I finally went back to the doctor this past Friday and told him everything that had been going on. I was desperate. He doubled my antidepressant dosage (from what the other dr. had increased it to in November), and had me get another thyroid check as well as testing for some auto-immune and auto-inflammatory diseases. He asked me if I had been getting much exercise and I told him no. When he asked why, I responded, "Because I don't want to." I didn't feel the need to make excuses. HELLO? Did you hear the part about the depression? Yes, I know that exercising will prompt a change in my brain chemistry resulting in me feeling better. I am a well educated woman. Who is suffering from depression. And when my Crazy and my Lazy get together? There will be minimal physical activity, I can assure you.

Sitting there, talking to the Dr, I ticked off all of my symptoms: weight gain (seven lbs in about two weeks - this is what prompted the exercise question), irritable, withdrawing from activities (I quit working at the church on Thursdays and stopped helping at GA's), not getting much of anything done in my house and in the past few weeks have only managed to shower once or maybe twice a week (I know, EWWWW!). I felt like one of those freaking commercials for depression. Ridiculous.

So, he wants me to try this increased dosage and come back in about three weeks. But already I can tell a HUGE difference. Which is good, because I didn't want to be this way when SD gets home (IN TWO DAYS!! YAAAAAY!!!!). And I really feel like I need to be on my game because my SD's dad (aka PopPop) - always a joy to have about - comes for a visit next Sunday. But, mostly, I couldn't do this to my kids any more. They need a Mommy who is present. Who wants to spend time with them. Who doesn't hide in the guest room and cry.

Time to get out the knitting needles and put the sleeves back on that sanity sweater. Okay, is it just me or is it time to give that metaphor a well deserved break? Or burial.

Hopefully my funny will be back soon. I enjoyed having a sense of humor. I suspect that SD packed it in his suitcase and took it to Turkey with him. Please bring it back honey, okay?

(Heh, did you know that if your finger slips just a little bit, you can end up typing hiney instead of honey?)

Where was I going with this??

I do believe that the next six weeks are going to be reeeeeaaaaaalllllly long. Every other phrase from my boys' mouths seems to be "I want my Daddy!" Especially if they are displeased with whatever Mommy has said or done or denied them at that particular moment.

My response to "I want my Daddy" has become "Yeah, I want your Daddy, too." Which might sound callous, but it is the absolute truth. For different reasons, depending on when I say it. Many times that phrase includes the silent "Because maybe then I could escape your whining for a for a few minutes."

However most of the time, I am just thinking that I miss him. I am really, really not good at this single-mom thing. I know, I keep saying that. And, yes, I do feel a little guilty about him being over there. He didn't go remote because I MADE him go or anything. But he did go because we knew that it was the one sure way that we could get back to the one place where we knew that the kids and I would be happiest. We love this place and I would gladly stay here forever. But here is the catch. It isn't nearly as wonderful without him. He is such a wonderful daddy and our marriage is back in such a good place. It is just a little miserable around here alone. (She said, in the understatement of the decade.)

But in six weeks or so, we get him back for a little bit. He comes home for his mid-tour leave and we are all looking so forward to it. Only....I am almost dreading his departure in January almost as much as I am anticipating his arrival in December. I try to block it out, but it's impossible. The kids, especially the boys, don't really get what is up.

And why should they? Bug doesn't even really get where Daddy actually is or when he is coming home. Whenever we web-cam, he makes SD show him outside so that he can see that it is night there. When we drive by random buildings in town, he asks, "Is that Turkey? Is that where Daddy is?" Last week, we were sharing a little bag of Cheetos (an unheard of treat around here!) and Bug was telling me that when Daddy gets home, we can give him some too. Then he said, "When is Daddy coming home?" Similarly, Bear was wanting to walk to Sonic. I told him that Sonic was very far away. He asked, "Like Turkey?"

So really, to Bear and Bug, SD could be on the moon, or Mars or next door. He just isn't here.

And that is all that matters. So in January, I know I am going to be answering endless questions about why Daddy can't come home now and why we can't just drive to the airport to get him. Ugh. And after Christmas, there is the "long half" of this remote. How long until August?

So, SD? I miss you. We all miss you. And we love you and appreciate you and can't wait to see you. Oh, and TALK to you. This last trip with limited phone and internet contact has been yucky. Get back to Turkey where I can talk to you. Gotta love irony.