Another setback

When things go from bad to worse, and you don’t think they can get any worse, and then they do.

Now my computer is having technical difficulties.  The Husband has volunteered to share the office, but we don’t share well. And there’s this little concern of him actually working from home and ACTUALLY needing the computer all day.  Because, you know, he works to pay the bills.  My little wage slave.  (Fie, take a bow.)  And when he’s not working, he’s either playing with the boys; while, I get something done like laundry or dinner.  Or we’re battling out demons together.  Because you know what they say, couples who battle together, stay together.  Hmm, that doesn’t sound right.

I best get back to the boys who are playing trains nicely together, but we all know that won’t last long.  Or I could take a shower and scrub off the sweat that accumulates in 106 weather.  Then the Thunderdome will rise in my living room as I try to enjoy my one luxury of body wash. 

I’ll be stealth like a ninja on all your blogs as I read from my phone again.

Kisses.

Surpirse, Surprise.

We were at church when Evan noticed something about his tooth.

Evan: My tooth is broken.

Me: (whispers) Mouse voice.

The Husband: (whispers) Let me see.

The Husband looked into Evan’s mouth.

The Husband: (Whispers) Did you know he broke his tooth?

Me: (Whispers) No.  But he would’ve cried when it happened, right?

The Husband shrugged.

We went out to breakfast for my Dad’s birthday.  My brothers and sister-in-law were there, and I sat on the farthest end from Evan, who procured a seat of honor next to my Dad.

Evan: Papi!  My tooth is broken!  It’s wably!

Me: What?!

My Mom: Let me see, Evan.

My Mom looked into Evan’s mouth as my Dad put on his glasses.

My Mom: It’s loose, all right.

Me: What?!

My Dad: Wait. I think he’s already missing a tooth.

Me: WHAT?!

I jumped out of my chair and ran around the table to inspect for myself.  Sure enough, my eldest baby, who won’t be five for another week, had a loose tooth.  WHAT??!!!!!

SIL:  Fae, your face!  It’ll be ok.

Sure, laugh.  You’ll be looking the same way when you have a baby ready to lose a tooth.

My mom: I guess I’ll have to make a tooth pillow soon with my wedding dress.

I sat down in my seat and called The Husband to demand why he failed to mention Evan’s tooth was loose.  Failing getting a hold of him, I texted my BFF.

Me: Evan’s tooth is loose!

BFF: Omg!  Omg!

Me: Right?

So when we returned home, I confronted The Husband.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me Evan had a loose tooth?

The Husband: He has a loose tooth?!

Me: Yeah.  That’s why it was broken.

The Husband: Evan!  Come here!  Let me see your tooth!  Isn’t he a little young?

Me: Yeah!  I think so.

This morning as I tried to wake up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, exiting the bathroom, Evan came running up to me.

Evan: Mommy!  I lost my tooth!

Me: What?!

Evan: See!

There is was a space where a tooth should be.

Me: So where’s the tooth?

Evan: I don’t know.  I was jumping on my bed dreaming, and then my tooth fell out.  It went this way and that way.

Me: Um, what about the tooth fairy?  Remember how your uncles were telling you about the tooth fairy?

Evan: Well, the binky fairy will find it because she’s made out of light and can find anything.

But what about me?  What about the picture I wanted of you holding up your tooth and smiling with a gap?  What about the tooth I was going to hide until you were an adult and surprise you?  What about the tooth pillow?  What about me who is losing my mind that you are old enough to lose a tooth??

Week recap 7/25

1. HALTS or Never make a decision when you are Hungry/Hurt, Angry, Lonely, Tired, Sick/Stressed. 
2. I’ve been all of those this week.
3. During great emotional turmoil, I just stare with a busy light on attached to my head.
4. I hate the state I’m in.
5. I can fix my phone after several days of not connecting to the internet.
6. We really need two of everything.  One day we’ll need three of everything.
7. Sean is getting over his shyness.
8. When giving children instructions, be very specific.  Clean your room and play nice don’t cut it.
9. My BFF and her sister are f-ing awesome.  They rock my world.
10. Call the maintenance people enough times, they’ll finally come and fix things.

Just keep swimming

Remember my post on swim lessons?  Well, the day after I published that post an amazing thing happened.  Sean ran off to his class without a backwards glance.  Amazing!

Then he hesitated by the water, backing up.  The female life guard on duty walked over and started to talk to Sean.  She convinced him to sit on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling, barely touching the water.  After some discussion, she threw off her shirt and slid into the pool.  She turned around and opened her arms to Sean, who jumped to her.  Are you kidding me?

 I wanted to stand and get a better view.  I wanted to jump and shout.  I wanted to do a dance of joy.  But I kept my cool and watched as the life guard went through the exercises and introducing Sean to the class, his teacher, and the ramp.

He spent the whole week excited about class.  Before the week was out, Sean’s teacher came up to me after class to tell me how wonderful Sean was doing and that he probably only need one more preschool session.

Because in the afternoons, I was teaching Sean to swim with the same techniques I taught Evan.

As for Evan, at the end of his two week session, he decided to celebrate by jumping off the high dive.  I was watching the kids of Evan’s class jumping off the low dive; while, a few brave souls jumped off the high dive.  I squinted as I saw a little boy in blue swim trunks climb the ladder.  I realized it was Evan.  He only hesitated once when he got to the end of the rails.  He took a few breaths and then he walked to the edge and off he went.  My heart did stop.  He was fine.  My heart started again.

I can’t wait until we can all play Marco Polo.

Who we are

If you caught the very few photos I’ve published, you would know I’m blonde.  I like being blonde.  I’ve been blonde all my life, except for a night of wild blue hair, the second color I would choose for myself.  After a brief of stint of wanting red curly hair or straight black hair, which ended because my dad threatened to shave me bald if I tried and my mom convinced me that I would lose my beautiful varied highlights, I have enjoyed being blonde.  But once I accepted it, it dawned on me I would lose it and become a brunette like my mom and brothers.  I refused to give in without a fight.

So I started putting lemon juice.  When I didn’t have time to squeeze a lemon, I sprayed Sun-In on my hair.  That is my secret weapon that I don’t tell anyone.  Though my mom calls it cheating.  But she dyes her hair golden brown.

So the other day as I was spraying my hair, Sean came into watch me.

Sean: Mommy!  Spray my hair!

Me: Why?

Sean: I want to be like you!

Um, really?  But you have beautiful brown hair to match your brown eyes.  Why would you want to change that?  Oooooh.  Right.

Me: Not today, Sean.

Sean: Ok!  I want juice!

Maybe I’m too psychological for me own good.  And my son needs to learn his manners.

Me?

Is it me?  Am I the only one who can’t prioritize?  Am I the only one who is sacrificing bits of my self for others?

I’m always trying to be the good mother, the good housekeeper, the good daughter, the good daughter-in-law, the good granddaughter, the good wife.  I cut off bits of self here and there to fit in their ideal boxes.  Other than motherhood, I feel like a failure as I compartmentalize, hide, and cauterize.  I play a shell game with my self.  I play poker, close to the vest.  I play the masquerade.

Now that I have to make some hard decisions, I find that I Again put myself last as I consider the boys first and for most.  While the boys are an important consideration, they are becoming my Only consideration, which is wrong.  I have to think what is good for Me, what will serve Me best, what will make Me happy.  But I know that they are so very important that they overshadow me, like an eclipse.  And all those people I tried to be “ideal” for are tearing me apart with their oh-so-sage advice.  Because no one trusts me.

How can they trust me when they hardly know me?  When  some of them still see a pig-tailed little girl, standing alone in the playground being taunted?  When some of them see a girl pretending to be a woman, still tied to the homestead?  When some of them see a poppet, pulled by others? 

The funny thing is I’ve walked darker roads than many of them.  I’ve faced dangers that none of them had to face.  I’m the steel under the satin.  I’m the girl with the old eyes and the roots to the earth.  I’m the genius, the tyrant, the sugar-addict, the mamacita, the strange girl, and God’s gracious gift.  (I know.  I’m not gracious, but when you name a kid sight unseen, some names don’t always fit.)

So I made a decision.  This is the only thing I do for me.  The ONLY THING.  And it’s going to keep me sane.  So if these posts get dark or they start to suck, I’m fighting my daemons.  And I’m totally cool with you saying, “Hey, Fae, this post really sucks.  Go and edit.”

Darkness

 

I’m sure everyone was waiting for an awesome 10 things about my dad for Father’s Day because he is a truly awesome dad.But something pretty terrible and horrible kicked me in the gut and dragged me down into a dark abyss.  I wish I could talk about it because you are such great friends.  It’s just something I’m not ready to share.  Trust me, the boys are fine.  So no worries there.I just needed to tell you because, lucky me, I’ve dealt with this before and it took away what I hold dearest, my writing skills.  So if I become dark, you know why.  So if I fall off the radar for a little while, you know why.Now I’m off to fight the good fight for light and clarity.

A Perfect, Summer, Kid-friendly Dessert

I have a debt of gratitude I owe Anissa Degrasse.  She submitted a recipe to Taste of Home magazine that the boys and I love.  It’s a great recipe to make with the kids.  I let the boys pour and mix.  And it’s a wonderful treat to eat.   It’s my cheating ice cream.

Now I’ve made a few changes to the recipe, but I’ll publish Anissa’s original.  I have yet to use vanilla pudding because I buy mainly chocolate or pistachio (which I use only for a special cake).  Since I was using chocolate pudding any ways, I dropped the chocolate chips.  I know.  Me the chocoholic. 

Now I have an idea.  I think this would be a great recipe with other flavors, so if you try it with another flavor or a different type of pudding (because I’m thinking of a certain blogger who has pudding day and who is organic and vegetarian), please come back and share.  We could make our own book!

Pudding Grahamwiches*

1 ½ cups cold fat-free milk

1 package (1 oz) sugar-free instant vanilla pudding mix

1 carton (8 oz) frozen reduced-fat whipped topping, thawed

1 cup of miniature marshmallows **

24 whole graham crackers, halved***

5 Tsp miniature semisweet chocolate chips

In a large bowl, whisk milk and pudding mix for 2 mins.  Let stand for 2 minutes or until soft-set.  Place chocolate chips in a shallow bowl.  Fold whipped topping and marshmallows into the pudding.  (I folded in whip topping first, then marshmallows.)  Spread over half of the graham crackers.  Top with the remaining crackers.  Press edges of each sandwich into the chocolate chips.  Wrap individually in plastic wrap; place in an airtight container and freeze.  (I strongly recommend wrapping them in foil.  I haven’t yet placed them in an airtight container.)  Remove from freezer about five minutes before serving.  (Who can wait five minutes?)

Yields: 2 dozen ***

*Anissa, sweetheart, we need to come up with a better name.  Anyone have suggestions?

**Last time I made these I decided to wing it and put in half a bag miniature marshmallows before I thought something wasn’t right.  But they turned out good.

*** I have yet to make just two dozen.  So keep a few extra graham crackers on hand.

My commencement address: Ask someone else

I’ll admit it, I racked my brain for days, trying to come up with something. But I’m not wise. I wish I was. I could pass on better advice, and I would make better decision than I have. All I have are a few words that keep me company as I make my way in the world, and perhaps they would do you some good too.

There are mean people out there, and you just have to ignore them. Sometimes the meanest and darkest people won’t show their faces until you’ve learned to trust them. But that’s the chance you have to take to be close to people.

Trust your instincts. Most of the time, they’re spot on. We just don’t trust ourselves enough.

All knowledge is worth having. That’s why we have books.

Every one is afraid. It’s facing that fear that makes us brave. Unless you hear horror music playing in the background; then I would run. But not upstairs.

Don’t judge. Everyone is different and will accept different situations. Everyone has traveled different paths to be where they are. You and I won’t understand each other or any one else fully.

Everything is a phase. Some days will rock. Some days will roll. Some days will just plain suck.

Remember to be true to yourself because you have to live with yourself forever.

If you think this post is corny, there are dozens of smarter, funnier, wiser people who’ve written better. Check them out at your local library.

(To Jane, who dared us.  Check hers out and others.

Finding balance the A personality way

After almost five years, I still chafe over certain aspects of motherhood.  At times, I become embarrass that I’m a stay-at-home mom with a college degree, but with three little ones five and under, I think it’s understandable (though I’ impressed with all you working moms).  Besides it was more embarrassing to say, “Hi, I’m Fae; I graduated cum laude and work at Home Depot as a cashier.”  Sometimes I get annoyed with The Husband sleeping in, but I usually have a lot of fun with the boys in the morning.  Usually.  Besides I rock on a few hours asleep (though I’m learning some interesting things about sleep deprivation).   Then there’s the house cleaning.  Now that I have children, I feel the need to have a cleaner house because they do eat off the floor . . . with their mouths.  But the boys mess t up more and faster than any adults.

But I chafe over schedules the most.  I HATE schedules.  It’s the right-brain, B-personality of me that loves moving at the seat of my pants, doing things as needed, when I want.  Schedules chafe me like uniforms, cubicles, and plaid.

Without schedules, hardly anything gets done, and I become a screaming, raving, stressed-out lunatic.  Tooth brushing is a hit or miss (for the boys).  Toys are strewed across the floor of our tiny house.  We run late. I run out of time to go on errands.  I develop a tic.  Ok, I don’t, but I might.

The funny thing is I have to relearn this lesson over and over.  As babies, I set each boy on a schedule.  Not the rigid feed-every-four-hours my mom had, but a lucid schedule set by the baby.  If the baby choose to eat the second meal in two hours, I knew it would be an every-two-hour-feeding day, allowing the baby to stretch it out.  I made sure there were two naps.  The timing of the morning nap wasn’t (and still isn’t) negotiable.  Everything else is.  While I had a schedule, it often varied from day to day.

But as the babies turned to toddlers turned to children, the only schedule I kept as the law of God was the holy sleep schedule.  And to a lesser extent and with the help of snacks, the eating schedule.

Then it dawned on me that if I wanted a somewhat clean house, I needed to set a chore schedule.  It all became easier to manage.  (Well, before Aidan.  I’m still trying to get my feet under me with a baby.)  So it took me several months and several episodes of Supernanny to finally admit that from 7 to 7:30 should be breakfast and 7:30 to 8 should be clean up and some play.  Things became easier, and stuff got done.  I admitted the A part of my personality relished this.

Some days it works.  Some days it doesn’t.  Especially days where they decided to take out every towel and blanket out of the linen closet as I feed Aidan right before we are supposed to leave.

Then I develop a tic.