Good Enough

I was doomed from the beginning. Do I even LOOK like I’m enjoying pretending to work? That’s what I thought. But nice try Mom and Dad. This Throw Back Thursday is brought to you by Jane.

I thought I knew it all when I carried you inside my belly.  I had such romantic notions of motherhood. I knew it would be perfect, that you would be perfect. We’d be this happy little family that the world would envy.

I think you decided to give me a reality check.

You were born 9′15lbs and came out screaming. I never heard the sweet cry of a newborn with you. I guess being the size of a 3 month old you had lungs to match.  I had to share a room in the hospital. I was so flustered trying to calm you down when you screamed.

It didn’t stop for the next 8 months of your life. No one wanted to hold you, or babysit.  You never smiled. It was my personal goal to get you to smile at least once a day.

Then you learned to walk, and you were happy. It was a strange thing to see, this little 8 month old, walking around with his arms in the air for balance. It was then I realized you just wanted independence.

I love how you’ve grown.  I try to remind you of the “good old days” when it was just you and me. For 2 1/2 years you had my undivided attention.

We went on outings almost every day. I was so worried about your mental stimulation. I thought we had to be learning together every moment.  It’s nice to be more relaxed about parenting now.  

We had Disneyland passes, but you were scared of almost every ride. You only allowed us to go on the Teacups, the Merry-go-round, and It’s a Small World. But even that last one freaked you out sometimes.

You were such a sensitive little boy. We had to be extremely careful with the movies you watched or you would have nightmares for months. You hated “Finding Nemo” because he was separated from his dad for so long. I couldn’t get you to watch it to see the happy ending till you were 4 years old.

You started school this year,  and we have had some surprises. Let’s just say you’ve gotten into some scraps. We’ve used them as “learning tools.” And I’m crossing my fingers that I don’t get any e-mails or calls from transportation anymore.  

Now you’re 6. I have a 6 year old.  I can’t believe it! But I’m so excited. You are of the age where you appreciate the finer moments in life. You can enjoy the sunsets with your Dad and I. You remark on the beauty of you surroundings. We can stay out late at baseball games. Camping is fun with you along. And I can have some really amazing conversations with you, and you get it. I love to watch you grow.

I’m so glad I had you first. You truly are the sweetest big brother. You have moments where I remember that you are just 6, but most of the time I have this little man around the house. You love to make your siblings laugh, and you love to play with them. You especially like it when they ask you for help. “Biggest Brother”  suits you very well indeed.  I can’t imagine it any different and I know that you will have a divine purpose in this life. You are a special spirit.

 My hopes for you this year are that you will continue to excel in school, and church, as you have been.  That you develope your talents, and make quality friends, snd that you will continue to learn how important you are in our home.  We love you SO much. 

I want you to be proud of me too. I will always try to be the mom you deserve.

Happy Birthday Buster, you are an original! 

Do I pack for our trip on Friday morning or sit in the sunshine and read while the baby sleeps?

What would you do?…

Bubba had PNEUMONIA, which is sad yet liberating. I’m telling you, a mom knows when her child is sick. The Doctor looked surprised when he told me his diagnosis. Probably because Bubba was running around the room acting like a normal 20 month old.

I’m grateful for doctor’s and modern day medicine. But I’d REALLY be grateful if all three kids would stay healthy for our upcoming vacation at the RANCH! So cross your fingers for me.

Other thoughts on my brain today are that Rosie O’Donnell/Elizabeth Hasselback feud.  I can honestly say that I see both sides, but it just reaffirms my belief that I don’t like to discuss politics with friend, co-workers, anyone really. I couldn’t last on a show like that because I would take everything so personally. I have my beliefs, you have yours. I believe people are entitled to their opinion. I enjoy hearing both sides of the story. What I don’t like is an individual being made to fell stupid of ignorant for their opinion.  And you are certainly not going to change how I believe by making me feel that way.

I have had close friends who’s views have been on opposite ends of the spectrum. I’m happy to say we still remain friends, there are just things we don’t talk about. 

The older I get the more I enjoy my little comfort bubble. That scares me to admit. It makes me feel like I’m even older than my 30 years. But when I’m out with a group where I’m completely in the minority, especially when the subject of politics or religion comes up, I just don’t have the fire that I used to. I’m not as willing to throw myself under the train so to speak.

I know it’s because I’ve been sheltered for the last 8 years. I’ve become too comfortable making the same types of friends.  

It’s Memorial Day, my poor Husband is working, my kids are running wild. At least I have managed to feed them two meals thus far.  I knew the day started out poorly when I wanted to sleep till 11 am.

So maybe on Memorial Day I need to say something about people that have past and are dear to me.

To my little brother Derek, I hope some day I have the chance to get to know you. Maybe you were the one sibling in the family that wasn’t as stubborn as an ox. Maybe you would have brought a certain peace into our home of ruffians. I don’t know. But I hope someday I’ll find out.

To my Uncle Bill, you had a really cool collection of vinyl’s. I’m sure we would have jammed together.

Of course my grandparents and great-grandparents that I’ve had the privilege of knowing. Thanks for forging the way. It couldn’t have been easy. But in a way I envy those days. They sound simpler in so many ways. We have too many decisions to make in these times.

So that’s about it for today. There is no structure to be found in this post. But that’s okay. It is Monday afterall. Monday and I have never been friendly with one another.

Bored? Kids going stir crazy on a rainy Sunday afternoon? Send them out for a swim!

Do things have a tendency to disappear around your house?

And no, I’m not speaking of goods like this, I know exactly where these have gone…

I’m specifically inquiring about these items, the three that my husband or I have trouble locating from time to time.

Take the time, for instance, four years ago. Buster was a mere toddler then, and Husband and I lived with the in-laws. Yes, it was a joyous time in our lives.
One day Husband’s wallet went missing. What a surprise! He was not able to find it for many months. You can imagine the bantering that took place. He insisted his wallet had to be somewhere in the house. I insisted it was a lost cause, probably in a garbage dump somewhere, and that he needed to replace his Driver’s License and other items. I think he was just about to give up and see it my way when Lee, his mother, decided to redo her flower garden. She spent the entire day pulling up all these sword ferns that had been there for years.  What should appear after she finished her task? Husbands wallet. Covered in mud, it had definitely been buried by some chubby little hands. We both had a good laugh, but wondered when little Buster ever had the chance to bury that wallet? I only had one child at the time and we were constantly together. Especially in the front yard.

Then yesterday, Sunday afternoon… we had finished lunch, church, all the crazy tasks of the day and agreed we all wanted to relax together in front of a family film.

We could not find the remote. I know this happens in every family, but ours always turns up eventually. We tore the living room apart looking for it. Along with the children. We were very puzzled and I have a tendency to blame my sweet husband for it. He did have it last. He was up late on Saturday evening playing Xbox. He was the one who saw it last, alive…we never found it that day. However it is important to note that as we were going to bed that evening he pointed out that he had my keys and was placing them on our bedroom drawers.  In the back of my mind was this little nagging voice that said “He has my keys! He’s going to lose them!” But I was ready for bed and not about to get up and put them back in my purse.

So this morning my son was a tad late to school, but I was determined to make it there quickly, he would be in time for his gym class. Low and behold my keys were not on the drawers! I looked around quickly and  carefully before I called up poor hubby to begin bawling him out. “Where are my keys!”  I asked as soon as he answered his phone.

“On the drawers! You saw me put them there!”

 ”I knew I shouldn’t have let you handle them you have a losing keys curse on your hands!”

“Did you look everywhere?”

 ”Yes I’ve looked and am looking everywhere…No Keys There, No Keys There, and No Keys There! They are officially lost! Buster is late for school and there’s no milk in the house!” (I’m laughing now but this was Oh So Serious this morning.) 

 ”Well I’ll come bring you some keys.”

We parted amiably and Buster piped up. “Mom I know where the keys are. Bubba came and threw them at me this morning. There in my room in front of my laundry basket!”

Sure enough they were. I called the Husband and apologized. Wait, did I apologize or just tell him they were found? Probably the later.

So Buster made it to school in the middle of P.E. and I got some milk. After arriving home and sitting down to my e-mails little Missy came walking over with her Hello Kitty purse and pulled out THE REMOTE! All she said was “Here you go, sorry mom.” And walked away.

ARE THEY CONSPIRING AGAINST US?

I think so. And I apologize to my husband. I know I always blame you honey, I’m sorry. Never again. From now on I will corral the little ducklings together and interrogate them till someone talks! 

This is what I’ll be doing all day…

Last night I was up late, but not by choice.

My husband has his own cabinetry business. His employee quick before a huge deadline. He’s been working long and late hours.  Last night was no different.

I’ve described my chateau, it’s old, rickety, and has many windows. When my husband is gone for the evening I make sure and lock everything up and draw the blinds. But not last night. Last night I had a sitter until about 10pm…she happened to be my sister. I walked her to her car and returned to the house.

An hour and a half later my baby woke up with a dirty diaper. I changed him and put him back down.  Just then my dog began to bark furiously. She doesn’t bark very often.  I went to the top of the stairs to see if my husband was home. It was then that I noticed the front door was open! My husband was not home. His truck was not in the driveway. I reached down the stairs and slammed the front door shut and went back to the top. My dog was still barking. She kept barking from the top of the stairs, and the hair on her spine was stiff and straight.

I remembered my cell phone was downstairs…it had all my numbers in it. Who was I going to call? I only have two numbers memorized. My husband’s cell and of course 911. My husband was working 20 minutes away. I did have a phone line which we rarely use in my room. I was debating calling to police. We live in a sleepy town and surely they had the time to come do a little perimeter check for any “perps.” 

I went into my room leaving my door open and all the upstairs lights on. My dog did not move from her position atthe top of the stairs. And she was growling. So who was I going to call? Although I didn’t want to interrupt my husbands work, I was hesitant to call 911.

I called my husband. Of course he laughed and said it was probably just a deer. It was not a deer! I insisted. “Give me 20 more minutes here,” he asked. “I’m almost finished.”  

“okay…”  I tried to be brave but my mind was racing. 20 minutes at work, 20 minutes to drive home. 40 minutes! To many scenarios could take place in that amount of time. What would I do to the intruder if he got past my dog? I looked around for the large wooden bat we kept for such instances. We watch the movies! Everyone has baseball bats by their beds. This one happened to be an original Louisville Slugger. Very sturdy. But it wasn’t doing me much good now because I could not find it. I really wanted to shut my door and lock it, but the children were all sleeping snug in their beds, down on the other end of the hallway.  I had to keep an eye on them as well.   

Missy was having a nightmare. I could hear her crying in her room. I willed her to stop. “Shhhh…quiet now. Mommy can’t come get you.” I was trigger happy. Ready to call the police at the slightest noise.

Well I did hear some bumps and thumps. They were coming from downstairs. My heart was pounding through my chest! I know I’m a chicken at night but this was the worst it’s ever been.

Dog, still barking at the top of the stairs. Missy is fake crying now. I called my husband again.

“Get home now or I will call the police.”

“5 more minutes?”

“I’m serious, I’m really scared.”

“okay.”

He arrived home about 30 minutes later. I was in bed. Lights all blaring. Phone at my fingertips. I was very happy to see him.

He took the dog out and they checked the perimeter. He gave the all clear, and I was finally able to go to sleep. What a night. I’ll be glad when Husband gets his project done.

Jane is featuring an old photo every Thursday. I love it. I think it’s hilarious, and of course all those fun memories make me smile!

I’m so impressed with us here, Bachelor Bro, in the background, front row is Sunshine Girl, Me, and Kiki (who also poses as Literary Geek) we wanted to play Indians because we got a tee-pee from my Aunt. We hung blankets all around the room that would create the proper ambiance. And in my hand you’ll notice I’m holding a hand made hatchet! Out of tinfoil! Those are also handmade bows out of twigs and yarn. Love this! I only hope my kids will grow up to play like this!

Pictured: All of my living siblings, taken about 15 years ago. Far left Bachelor Bro speak no evil, Sunshine girl see no evil, Kiki (Literary Geek) hear no evil, Weirdo Bro smell no evil, and lil’ Meg decided to go hear no evil as well. I happened to be taking the photo. As you can see, we have an odd sense of humor!

• I’d be a backup dancer~ I still try to shake my groove thing when no one is watching. Sometimes I get caught. Like the time I was attempting the Robot, in the kitchen. Husband walked in while I was doing that pose, you know the one where your elbow is cocked in the air and your forearm swings like its a loose hinge?  If you didn’t get all that, if ever we two should meet, I’ll demonstrate.  Well he walked in and caught me. I jumped, squeaked, and cover my face like he would just disappear if I didn’t see him.  He’s never let me live that day down.
• I’d be a photographer for National Geographic.  And I would write. I used to think I’d marry the writer, not that Husband can’t write but I’m a tad controlling.  I’d of course take his input and “use what I could.” He would just be there with me in the throws of the jungle, lest I was hit on by the pygmies, or something.
•  Maybe I would have a few more triathlons under my belt, maybe not. One in each state.
• Become an anthropologist, and study different tribes in Africa through living with them for years until they accepted me as one of their own. I’d write books about it. I’d be a specialist. Everyone would want me on their talk shows.
• perhaps I’d live on a sailboat, and moor at different places around the world.
•  maybe I’d try out for Reality Television
• maybe I’d be so popular on that show that I’d become some T.V. Host for an obscure cable channel.
• I’d join the Peace Corps

I used to think that if I was old, I couldn’t enjoy traveling.  I think maybe seeing my Grandma pull over at one too many rest stops put the fear in me.  But I felt such a panic to get out and do and see everything before gravity got a hold of me.

I’m realizing now that there are still time for those dreams in my future.  Who DOESN’T want to see a 50 year old back-up dancer at a Gwen Steffani concert?  And I’m really looking forward to traveling with the Husband. He’s never been past the North American continent. He’ll be a great traveling companion, and perhaps the pygmies will still try and hit on me in 20 years.

I am grateful for being out of the rat race. I worked for a great corporation in my twenties but I remember feeling a bit like a mouse on a wheel. (Hence the “rat race” Eve. Duh! and, does anyone say duh anymore?) But seriously, I wasn’t cut out for it. I knew I was just making money to spend it, then make it again. I had no drive to move up the chain. I didn’t want more stress or responsibility.

Although my worries now have the capacity to be the worst they could ever be, like the loss or sickness of a child or spouse, my joys have that same potential.  I wouldn’t understand how happy I could be, if I didn’t have my kidlets. I know I sound sentimental. And maybe one would think that my excitement over my toddler’s first exclamation of “mommy, I poopoos” is only because my day to day life has no other real thrill in it. That could possibly be true.

I like to think of it as I helped create this life and I’m taking this journey with them. I’m  learning to communicate for the first time, through them. I’m seeing the world through these fresh eyes. All three pairs of them. Suddenly that other stuff is comparatively not as exciting.

My 5 year old has never seen “The Ranch” before. We’re going there in 2 weeks. To him that is as thrilling as me travelling to the Great Wall of China. 

One might expect a conversation during with 3, five and under mindless drivel. But I get to hear comments like “If a human is friends with a rhinoceros, it might not turn out so well.” FRESH CONCEPTS! I’m tellin’ ya!

Spaghetti dinner, I’ve had it many times in my life. My children devour it like it’s sugar coated.  And really they’ve only had it a mere 260, 156 and 78 times in their life as oposed to my 1560. It’s also one of the few meals all three agree on and there is a certain satisfaction in nourishing another human life. 

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, out of all the things I’ve done, and all that I could be doing, my wisest choice was to marry a sweet man and raise some kids. I know in the end my joy will be full.