When it turns out you're not done after all

I want you all to know what a pleasure it has been oversharing with you on this blog. It really makes me happy (and sometimes uncomfortable too) and I hope it sometimes makes you smile (and doesn't make you too uncomfortable). So,there was a draft that I'd been working on for a few days, planning on sharing in a few weeks. Last night I was tired but not quite tired enough to sleep, and thought it would be a good time to add to it.  I would get it just right and then share it after some other things had happened, according to my plan. But my fat fingers and the finicky Blogger photo uploader disagreed with that plan, and in a split second I published something that I was nowhere near ready to share. I deleted it in a panic, but I knew that it was too late for anyone who gets reads me via email subscription or reader. So it all went straight to the inboxes of my handful of dear loyal readers -- some of them close family whom we had not yet told but planned to very soon. The horror! I called Tim, I apologized, I lamented what an idiot I am at least a dozen times, and said I never wanted to blog again. He calmly said that this is not that big of a deal, it's really OK, I'm not an idiot, and I'm going to want to blog again. In fact he encouraged me to fix the post and publish it again, sooner rather than later. At that moment I thought I'd rather stick a fork in my eye, but I knew he was right. I knew I'd be back here today. "As reliable as night following day", haha. 

I posted this a couple months ago, and it proved to be very cathartic for me. I hit publish and then I was like, 'phew.' I felt relieved after addressing the thing that weighed most heavily on my mind, and free to think and write about other things. And free to get rid of most of my baby stuff. Every time I sold or donated something, I just smiled and wished the new owner well. I liked the thought of all my baby gear having new life.

But then I just continued to wait and hope. I didn't know how to stop. It was pretty frustrating to continue being disappointed every few weeks. But then that would fade and I would again remember how great my life is and how much I like sleep.

I could not quit the thermometer and chart either. It's an ingrained habit by now. The pattern of low temps followed by high temps, then a low temp, then a new cycle. Again and again and again, as reliable as night following day. I began to think that a diagnosis of infertility would be very helpful, and that maybe it was time to see a doctor. If I was told that I could not have babies anymore, I could stop hoping and praying for what was never going to happen.

Then, on a morning that I was supposed to have a decline in temperature and get my period, I got a really high temperature and no period. It was the 13th day of my luteal phase. I thought, 'Hmm. Well, I had a sore throat last night. It could be a low-grade fever. But the sore throat is gone and I feel fine now.' I tried not to read too much into it even though it was significantly higher than my normal luteal phase temperatures, and this was supposed to be the end of the cycle.

The next morning, April 1, my temp was the same, and I became hopeful. Then I tried not to be hopeful. But I couldn't help it, I was. I prayed. Then I tried not to think about it. Then I thought about it some more. I tried telling myself I could wait one more morning and then buy a test. But as I was on my way to yoga I decided I did not have that kind of patience.  At yoga I tried to still my mind and be calm and centered, and it worked. Mostly. After we left the Y I drove straight to Bi-Lo and bought a test. I made sure it was the kind that you could use 5 days before your period because I wasn't taking the chance that it wasn't sensitive enough to use with midday pee.

When I saw that it was positive, words can not describe the elation I felt. I thanked God more times than I could count and then kind of floated around the house in a haze. I made lunch for Timmy and me and put him down for his nap, but my mind was elsewhere. I looked at that test again and again. There's nothing like the feeling of looking at two lines on a pregnancy test. Nothing in the world. In that instant your life is changed.

I was so impatient to tell Tim, but he was away and wouldn't be back for two days. Two days! And I knew because he'd mentioned it before, if this happened he wanted to be told in a special way. He didn't just want me to be like, "So, I'm pregnant." I think even if he hadn't told me that, I would still want to tell him in a special way since this is something we've both been wanting for so long. So I began brainstorming fun ways to surprise him with the news when he got home.Over the next two days as I just went about life doing the things I always do, I would suddenly remember, 'I'm pregnant, and Tim doesn't know!' I was so impatient.

At last he got home and dilly-dallied before taking his bags back to our room, as I got more and more antsy. I followed him back there as he told me about this and that. Then he stopped when he saw this on his nightstand:

Then he walked over to me and wrapped me in a big, long hug. Then he asked me some questions and I told him all about the past few days. Then he thanked me for putting the test in a plastic bag.:) It was very considerate of me, wasn't it?  

And that's that.

I didn't get anything for Valentine's Day.

Tim looked over at me with a wry smile last night and said, "I didn't get you anything for Valentine's Day."

I looked back at him and said, "I know you didn't get me anything."

Looking taken aback he said, "What do you mean, you know?"  It must have been something in my tone that made him think I was discontented even though the two of us have not really celebrated Valentine's Day for years now.  (We do get the kids some little surprises because that's fun.)

I said to him, "You do nice things for me all the time.  I'd rather you do nice things for me every day than wait for one day a year and get me some crappy chocolates --"

"Hey, maybe that's what I should do," he joked.

So, that conversation got me thinking today, about all the things he does for me, big and little.  This is true love:

- Wiping the splatters out of the inside of the microwave;

- Taking the kids out of the house for half of a Saturday, allowing me to clean the house without interruption and have time to myself;

- Kicking his dipping habit for good, losing 25 pounds (about five years ago), and working out regularly in order to be healthier and be around for us longer, and to set a better example for the kids;

- Managing the finances and saving and investing to make sure we get a decent retirement no matter what Congress does, while still getting to enjoy nice things now;

- Rubbing my feet at night while we watch TV;

- Cooking me a delicious dinner every Saturday night after the kids go to bed;

- Washing my car;

- Making me laugh, which is what won me over in the first place

These are a few things that come to mind, and I'm sure I'm forgetting a lot.  I would pick any one of the items in this list over a bouquet of roses or dinner out and a movie.  I know I'm a lucky woman to be married to a man who is so good to me.

So, happy Valentine's Day, honey!  I didn't get you anything either.;)

When you're 'done'

I remember asking the question, during a prenatal exam with my midwife Sherry almost four years ago, "How do you know when you're done having kids?"  I was staring at the ceiling while I asked the question, so it wasn't immediately apparent whom the question was directed at.  "You're not asking me, are you?" asked Sherry's assistant Debbie, with a guffaw.  "You know you're done when it doesn't work anymore!"  I smiled, not surprised by this answer.

Sherry seemed deep in thought as she probed my swollen belly with her hands.  "Well.." she started, and then began describing the timing and circumstances surrounding the conceptions of each of her four children.  I was only half-listening, I have to confess, so I only caught bits and pieces of her thorough answer.  "Then we talked about having another, and oops, I was already pregnant... Then we were finished having kids and we made that decision final when our youngest was three.."

I know what motivated me to ask the question.  It's the same question I've heard echoed by many other women who have an easy time conceiving and bearing children, and are worried that they might not only not be able to stop -- they also might not want to.  At the time I was expecting my third kid in four years and I was overwhelmed for multiple reasons, but at the same time so full of joy and anticipation.  I knew that I had a pretty challenging time ahead of me with my husband being deployed until the baby was six months old, and I did wish that maybe our timing could have been better with this one.  I'd also fielded some well-meaning but somewhat rude comments from some people in regard to our apparent fecundity.  At the commissary recently, I'd run into a master gunnery sergeant that Tim and I had gone to Iraq with years ago before Tim and I were together.  He'd taken in the sight of me with my big belly and my shopping cart with a one-year-old and a three-year-old inside and said, "Does he ever leave you alone?"  "He's leaving me alone for a whole ten months while he's on a MEU!" I'd replied cheerfully. "But he'll be back," he'd said, his voice low and his eyes wide.

So as I lay on Sherry's exam table mulling all of this over, it seemed very likely that if we didn't come up with a better family planning method besides sending Tim away on deployments, I could easily end up with at least two or three more kids, as I was 31 at the time.  That scared me.  On the other hand I was sad at the thought of ever being done with having babies. I hoped that when the time came to be done that I would have a clear sign that it was time, and that I'd be happy and at peace with that. (And that hopefully I wouldn't have 10 babies like Debbie by then.  I was pretty sure I couldn't handle that.)

Time went by.  Timmy was born.  My husband came back as the master gunny had warned.  We learned a method of NFP together and practiced it, as opposed to saying we were using NFP when we were really just winging it.  We successfully avoided having a baby during his deployment to Afghanistan in 2013.  (This was a huge relief as I had been petrified of the idea of having another baby by myself.)  Then we continued to avoid pregnancy for several months after he got back, and just enjoyed a kind of carefree time.  I needed lots of time to recover after those few years of having our three and then dealing with the back-to-back deployments.  And lots of time I got.

After awhile we began to be lax about the NFP.  Without talking about it we knew we were both drawn toward having another baby.  I had never believed that Timmy would be the last even though I had declared that he was immediately following his birth.  Now it seemed like another baby would be a good thing.  When we got orders to Parris Island I felt sure that we'd be having baby number four here.

Well, after 12 months of trying .. nothing.  I think that makes me (us) officially infertile.  Secondary infertility is what it's called.  My chances will only continue to dwindle from here on out as I get older.  I'm starting to accept that another baby is not to be.  I am in a MUCH better place emotionally about this now than I was even a few weeks ago, and that's why I found myself wanting to write about it here.  When I was still feeling anxious and sad I just wanted to keep it all to myself and it was hard even talking to Tim about it.

I realize now what miracles the three kids we have really are.  I definitely didn't appreciate that in the past.  I took my fertility for granted, and saw it even as a burden.  But I am so very grateful that we had them one after another while we could.  And now when I look back at the timing of Timmy, I realize that that it was perfect.  I used to think that we had made a mistake conceiving him when we did, but now I wouldn't go back and change a thing.  I realize that God's plans are better than mine and they always were.  And the fact this inability to conceive comes AFTER three easy pregnancies and three kids .. I know I shouldn't even complain.  There are so many others who have it far worse with multiple miscarriages or never being able to get pregnant.

The hardest time of the past year was when the window came and went for having a summer 2015 baby.  The other three were born in summer or close to it, and I thought it would be the perfect time, especially since they wouldn't be in school.  Then fall passed and with it that opportunity, and that was a tough time because at that point we'd been waiting and hoping for eight to ten months.  We were able to make some fun plans for summer that we would not be able to do if we were having a baby, and that helped me to feel better about that.

When Debbie said, "You know you're done when it doesn't work anymore," I just assumed that meant menopause.  (In her case, I'm pretty sure it did.  Her kids ranged in age from in her 20s and just-married all the way down to four and just weaned.  She'd have kept right on going if she could have.  I thought she might be a little crazy.;))  Now I know that for mysterious reasons nobody can understand, not everyone who wants a baby, or has had one in the past, can have one.  I guess I always knew that but never knew it applied to me.

I read a blog post that I loved right in the middle of this year-long quest.  It is written by a Catholic mom of a lot of kids, but I think no matter what your faith is, or where you stand regarding contraception, it is such an enlightening and refreshing perspective (and there are great pictures too!).  Everybody worries that they'll have too many children, and they never stop to consider they might not have any.  Or they might only be able to have one or two.  I thought it especially interesting how low birthrates were in 1930 to 1939, a time before birth control was widely in use.  She concluded by saying that if you find yourself having an unplanned pregnancy, it could be the best thing that ever happened to you (I couldn't agree more!); and if you find yourself unable to have children, or more children, it could be the biggest cross of your life.  She also reminded us that a lot of this is not in our control anyway, so we should all just stop worrying about it so much.  Reading this again months after the first time, I think this last part is the most important thing to take away.  We always think it's up to us to be in control of our lives and when things don't go according to plan we become anxious and worried.  I know that's been the case for me, someone who has been on both sides of wanting a baby and not wanting one.

Having my pregnancy and baby years behind me at 35 is not what I envisioned, but I know that it's not a bad thing.  Those years were amazing and life-transforming, and I will always cherish the memories and pictures.  But if I'm being honest with myself, those were some tough times too.  Even though I had easy labors and births, I took a long time physically and emotionally to feel like myself again afterward.  I have also never handled lack of sleep very well, and the kids I have are keeping me on my toes enough as it is.  Add a few more years of age to all of this, and I'm sure it only becomes more taxing.  This isn't the time to be using up all my reserves and going back to survival mode.

I think it's time to grow and change in other ways.  I want to push myself to do the things I'd never try if I thought I was having a baby anytime soon.  I could run another half-marathon or even another full marathon.  I want to teach a CCD class next year, and that is so outside my comfort zone which is all the more reason I should.  That's something that I would excuse myself from even thinking about if there was a baby on the way.  Some people do it all with babies but I was never one of those people.  Once Timmy's in school five mornings a week next year, I can volunteer more at school.  I can continue taking care of the family that I have and look for ways to do it even better.  It isn't like they don't need me enough!  And we have so many good times ahead as the kids get older.  One day in just a few years, we'll go to an amusement park and every one of us will be tall enough to ride all the rollercoasters.  I've already gotten used to having no kids in diapers.  It's only been six months but it feels like forever.

I've gotten rid of most of my baby stuff that I know I could find a dime a dozen on Craigslist -- bouncers, high chairs, play mats, and nearly all the clothes.  I could get rid of the pack 'n play too, and the one remaining crib mattress.  The things that I can't let go of, and that Tim thinks I shouldn't get rid of either are the Ergo (that thing cost $100 and they're not cheap on the used market either), the really nice glider and ottoman, and the infant carseat with bases that doesn't expire until I think 2018 (the Chicco one I got brand new after our accident in 2012).  I am conflicted about keeping all these things.  It goes against my anti-clutter philosophy.  I know someone else could be using these things right now while we continue to hoard them.  That seems selfish.  Also, the fact that we keep these things means we haven't quite let go of the dream, right?  Now we could save the glider and ottoman to give to one of our kids.  The Ergo too, if they want it, but I doubt they will unless they like baby gear that's out of style.  Maybe one of my girls will wear it proudly -- her vintage Ergo.  The car seat will have long ago lost its usefulness.  We really should sell that soon.  We only used it for Timmy a few months before he switched to a convertible.  It would be a great deal for somebody, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if we ever needed a new one.  (Please God, don't let that happen when I'm 42!  There I go again, worrying about things I can't control..)

That's enough rambling.  As I said before, I feel better about all this than I have in a long time.  Writing about it has helped me even more.  Four years ago when I asked the question, "How do you know when you're done?"  I thought I still had all the time in the world, and my biggest worry was ending up like Debbie or my grandma or that picture of poor Mrs. Cottontail in Kendra's post.  It's so funny how things work out sometimes.

Spring break MA trip

Way back in November Tim's dad asked us to surprise his mom on her 65th birthday with a visit for the week of spring break.  He actually offered to fly us there, making it an offer we couldn't refuse.  But Tim turned him down and told me we'd drive.  I was like, 'No way, are you crazy?'  After a brief attempt to persuade me that the 14-hour drive is not so bad, he was soon shopping for plane tickets.  It seemed like the day was forever away, but now it's already over and done.  We left last Saturday early in the morning and got back the night before Easter.

It was our first time flying as a family of five, and it went really well.  We did a direct flight from Raleigh to Boston and back, so we wouldn't have the hassle of changing planes.  Tim was pre-checked for security both times, so he and the kids just zipped through and only I had to do the x-ray machine and all that.  As many time-consuming steps there are to the whole process -- the 2.5-hour drive to the Raleigh airport, the shuttle from the parking lot to the airport, the walking, the waiting, the flight itself, then getting bags, getting our rental car, and driving the hour to his sister's house -- it's almost as long of a day as driving.  In fact it was about a 10-hour day, because we woke up at 3 a.m. to get ready and leave for the airport, our flight landed in Boston at 11, and we didn't end up at Karen's until about 1:30 or 2.  But it all felt like it went by so much faster than sitting on our butts hour after hour in a car.  And then to not have to deal with all that traffic from northern VA to New York and beyond, made it all worth it to me.

The kids behaved well.  They were excited to be flying. The girls carried their own boosters and backpacks full of toys from place to place.  Timmy trotted along with his little puppy lunch box full of cars and trucks.  He loved the shuttle rides and cheerfully said goodbye to the drivers whenever we'd get off.  The plane had TV screens on the back of every seat, and we were given full-size (snack size, but not the miniscule airline size I'm used to) bags of chips and pretzels during the flight.  Right about the time we were thinking, 'we did it!' and were about to drive from Logan airport to Karen's house, we had our only hiccup.  Tim went to install Timmy's carseat and the girls' boosters in the backseat of the Toyota Camry we'd rented, and they wouldn't fit no matter what he did.  Tim quickly regretted his last-minute decision to change our rental from minivan to sedan, thinking we'd save some money.  He figured they'd fit because when I'd had to rent a car after the accident a couple years ago, I'd been able to fit three carseats across in an equivalent sedan.  Now we understand that three carseats across is doable, but one carseat and two boosters with armrests is not. So we waited in the parking lot for about 20 minutes while he went back inside to rent another car.  We were very hungry for lunch by that point, and the kids were restless.  That was the hardest part of the day.  Tim came back outside with the keys to a brand new Chevy Traverse, and that would cost $200 more for the week.  Ouch.  But soon we were on the Mass Pike bound for Karen's house.

Once there, we ate some lunch we'd picked up from Dunkin Donuts, and then waited for their parents to arrive.  Tim Sr and Carolyn were to stop by before Mass to look at Karen's broken icemaker.  This family loves to do surprises, and they especially like to surprise Carolyn.  Tim and Delaney paid a surprise visit a couple years ago, and long before he had me and the kids I know Tim came home unannounced many times throughout his Marine Corps career.  "Is it even possible to surprise her anymore?"  I asked at one point in the weeks previous to this trip.  For him, there's never any doubt.

Tim's other sisters Sam and Kathy came over with their girls and we took this picture of all the cousins while we waited for their grandparents to arrive.

Left to right: Alexa (10), Delaney (6), Annie (4), Timmy (2), Juliana (11), Natalie (5), Sofia (9)

Finally, the big moment!  You might need to click over from email to see the video.

That evening we joined Grandma and Grandpa for Mass and then it was back to their house for a birthday party with extended family.  After dinner and dessert, Juliana played her guitar and sang Taylor Swift songs with her sister Alexa.  Sofia played her flute.  Juliana also found "Carolina" by Parmalee on her iPad for Delaney to sing along to.  I thought I took video of that but I can't find it so I guess I didn't after all.  Too bad because it was cute.  Performances of one kind or another are common at every family gathering.  These kids love music, singing and dancing, and the adults love to watch.  Only no jumping or stomping because the curio cabinet might fall.  Ever since the oldest of these energetic girls reached toddlerhood, that has been the fear.  

After that very long day we left the girls for a sleepover with their cousins, and took Timmy back to Karen's with us where we all soon collapsed.  The next day was a lazy Sunday for me (thanks to Tim waking up with Timmy), and later, more birthday festivities just for immediate family.  After that everyone went outside.  Saturday through Monday were warm and sunny, and everyone was so happy after an exceptionally rough winter up there.

We took full advantage of our last warm and sunny day in the forecast by taking the kids fishing in the morning with Tim Sr.  Juliana and Alexa played hooky from school to join us.  This was the first time our kids had been fishing and I think they had a lot of fun even though the fish weren't being too cooperative.  When Annie and Timmy lost interest, Juliana and I took them to the playground right down the road.  Delaney and Alexa caught a fish each after we left, I think.  For a rooky fisherman, I think Delaney had a lot of patience because they all lasted about an hour after we left for the playground.

Before going back to raid their kitchen for leftovers, we stopped at the bank to say hi to Grandma.  She is 65 years old and NOT retiring.  Her reasons: she likes her job as head teller, and she does not want to spend her days at home with her husband who is retired.  He would drive her crazy more than he does already.  He was able to arrange in advance for her to have a couple days off while we were visiting.  Note the time and temperature behind her.  The next day would be quite a different story.

The following morning we woke up to snow on the ground.  Snow!  It was coooold again.  And by the way, we came to town with no outerwear whatsoever.  We wanted to pack light so we'd already decided to get by without jackets, but I had intended to at least grab the kids' sweatshirts before we left for the airport.  It wasn't until we'd made the 2 1/2 hour drive there that I realized I'd forgotten them.  The girls were able to borrow from their cousins until we got them something new, but we just kept Timmy indoors until we came up with something for him.  Sweatshirts are scarce at stores this time of year.  

For the rest of the week, we did mostly indoor things.  We went shopping a couple times.  We planned our Disney trip for June -- eeeek!  This was decided only two weeks ago when Tim mentioned to his dad that we wouldn't have a home for a few weeks after we move.  He said it sounded like a good time to do Disney.  Disney has been brought up many times in the last few years, but up until recently we've been able to say we've got a baby or a toddler, and it wouldn't be any fun with a kid that little.  Now we have no babies or toddlers, Tim's not deployed, Timmy will be not yet three (so still free), we will have nowhere else to be, and our kids are their only grandkids that they haven't been to Disney with.  We've run out of excuses.  I love how everyone -- friends and family -- upon hearing about our Disney plans says, "You'll have fun!"  In the next breath comes their favorite Disney horror stories.  And you'd better believe, everyone has at least one.  (Think rude people gnawing on turkey legs and ramming their strollers into the legs of the elderly.)  Big crowds scare me so it isn't hard to imagine.  But my Disney planner knows this, and we are doing perhaps a lighter itinerary than some other people would prefer.  Day 1, for example will be Epcot in the morning and a character lunch, followed by the afternoon spent at our resort at the pool.  And there is relief in knowing I always have the option to take a bus back to the resort if it gets to be too much.  For me and the kids, it will be our first time there.  Yes, we are going to Disney.  It is happening.  Carolyn and Karen have bought their plane tickets and we will go immediately after the St. Augustine vacation with my family.  We have booked a resort and even have dinner and lunch reservations made for most of the days.  I will have to follow up with the planner about Day 2.  Everything must be planned ahead or we will be lost.  It's going to be a crazy June.  I hope after all that there is a house ready for us to move into on Parris Island.  We'll be needing a breather!

What else..?  We took the girls to Claire's to get their ears pierced.  They were both very brave.  We went to the Ecotarium one day, where Tim's parents' neighbor works as a wildlife expert or something.  After we walked around by ourselves, she met with us and gave us a private tour and showed us more animals.  That was fun.  We ate a lot of yummy food that Tim Sr cooked for us.  Tim and I went out to eat and shopping by ourselves, got reacquainted with the Mass Pike and the crazy toll plazas with most cars whizzing to the left and the right like they're supposed to, and a couple of them stopping dead in the road in front of us (bad).  I unsuccessfully tried to maintain my avoidance of sweets for the final days of Lent (a feat for even the most iron-willed individuals, in Tim's childhood home).  Tim was disappointed in me when I broke down and ate that freshly-baked peanut butter cookie, but what was I to do?  It had been sitting under my nose for the last 20 minutes!  On Friday night, the kids all had another sleepover at their grandparents', and Tim and I went to a party and both got to imbibe, with Karen as our designated driver.

Here are some more pictures in no particular order.

Natalie and Annie looking more like sisters than cousins

I've never cared much for reptiles, but that bearded dragon was as cute and charming as could be, and if I knew how to keep anything alive besides my kids, I would love to have him for a pet.

All the kids enjoyed the change of scenery, and getting to see family and flying and whatnot, but Timmy -- my smiley guy, my social butterfly -- was in his glory this week.  His heart was full to bursting with all the love he felt for everybody and everything he encountered along the way.  I tried to take note of whenever he said something that made me chuckle.  Here are my favorite Timmy quotes:

To Juliana: I love your pink shirt.

To anyone listening: I loooove Grandpa, and I love trucks.

To Tim and me: Grandpa loves me very much.

Timmy: Who was that? (indicating the cashier at the airport long-term parking lot)

Tim:  That was Glenn.

Timmy: I love Glenn.

We kept it together very well on the way TO Massachusetts, but on the day we traveled back here we were a ragtag group.  The kids were lagging as we went from place to place through the airport.  Maybe because it was the middle of the day they didn't have the energy they'd had starting out the week before.  Also because enthusiasm was a little lacking with this being the return trip.  Tim kept hurrying along as if he didn't know we weren't right behind him, as focused as he was on catching the shuttle from the rental car agency to the terminal.  He didn't hear me when I called for him to slow down because I had a kid who'd insisted on pulling along a heavy suitcase, which then toppled over when she tried to pull it over a curb, which required me to go back and pick it up, but kids were still going..  I kept calling out, "We need to move along because your father is not waiting for us!"  I might have also mentioned to anyone who cared to hear that I was going to kill him.  Thank God there didn't happen to be any cars driving down the road at that time.    

It was a very long day.  Timmy slept through the flight to Raleigh, which took us to 6:15.  We had to walk about a half a mile to baggage claim, and wait about 10 minutes for our bags.  After that we took another shuttle to the park and ride, where our chariot awaited.  We got on the road at about 7.  We were hungry for dinner so we stopped at a Subway about an hour from home.  The girls picked at their quarters of a footlong, and mostly ate chips.  Timmy wolfed down the other half of the footlong himself.  I devoured mine hungrily, all the while wondering how I could have so many toppings on it, and still all of it tasted the same, like cardboard.  Tim wondered how we could have such a crappy little dinner and it still cost $30.  Then we were back on the road.  The girls fell fast asleep but Timmy was wired and chatting with us nonstop.  After awhile his happy chatter turned somewhat less happy.  Then a little bored.  A little discontented.  Sad.  Very sad.  Mad.  Very mad.  By the time we reached the final five miles of the trip he was screeching out a note of pure anguish that I can't even remember hearing from him ever before.  I just sighed and said, "Poor guy."  I reached back to hold his hand and he gripped my fingers tightly, his eyes so big and sad.  It took him all of yesterday and half of today to recover from that.  Even still, I know we had a way easier day than we would have had driving the whole way.  

While the rest of us slept soundly at 5:45 a.m., Tim rose and went to Walmart for all the makings of our Easter feast.  If it had been up to me, who knows what we would have eaten that day?  PBJ?  Pancakes?  But my husband, bless him, went to Walmart at 6 in the morning so we could have a delicious dinner of ham, mashed potatoes, veggies and rolls.  He prepared it all himself, and we ate it on the "fancy" placemats and used the "fancy" napkins (according to the kids).  This made the day considerably nicer, especially since I'd been ready for it to be a little sad since it was the day after we had said goodbye to family.  And for that I forgive him for leaving us behind at the airport.  

And that was the end of a great spring break.  I am so glad we took this trip and got to have this time together.  We miss them all a lot, and even though Disney looms, I am still looking forward to June.

Mini SC trip

I am enjoying this regular old Monday in a way that I didn't know was possible.  There's been nothing special about this day at all -- just the contentment of being at home, doing the things we normally do at the times we normally do them.. and it doesn't hurt at all that it's 75 degrees out!  

Last week Delaney went to school on Monday, and the rest of the week was called off for snow.  The base was closed too.  The good news was that Delaney didn't end up having to miss a day and a half of school so we could take our mini-trip to Parris Island, SC.  The bad news was that we went right from being cooped up for days in our house to being cooped up for 6 hours in the car, and then stuck in a hotel room together.  Yesterday afternoon I went for a 4-mile run and it was the best.  Ah, the sweet taste of freedom!

Our plan for Parris Island/Beaufort was to arrive Thursday evening, get dinner, and go to bed in our hotel room.  Not suite, room.  Then Friday we had a tour of base housing scheduled.  There are two locations for base housing for anyone going to Parris Island or the Air Station in Beaufort.  We had heard that living on base at Parris Island was the best, but we really wanted to see for ourselves the neighborhoods and the interiors of a couple of these houses in both locations.  Then Friday afternoon we had tours of houses out in town in Beaufort.  Saturday we would just drive around the different neighborhoods, check out the Catholic church, the Y, whatever else might be of interest.  We had a tour of one house scheduled, I believe, in a new development in a highly recommended area (both in terms of schools and neighborhoods) called Lady's Island.  

As we were driving down Thursday, I got a FB message from someone I'd been talking to who lives on Parris Island, inviting me to dinner with her and some other members of the Officers Spouses Club.  I had mentioned to her that we'd be visiting that weekend.  Bear in mind that I have never gone to dinner with the Cherry Point Officers Spouses Club, and we've been here 3 1/2 years.  And this would be for Thursday night, after a day of being on the road ... "You should go," Tim told me.  I knew he was right.  These ladies would be a wealth of information about the area, it would be a kid-free dinner, and I'd have a head start on making new friends since that is something I always have difficulty with.  I replied to Erika that we'd be traveling that day and I'd try to make it, depending on how things went.  I was still hemming and hawing about whether or not to go after we arrived at around a little after 4.  Tim said, "You should go.  The alternative is.." he gestured around our little hotel room, indicating the three little people bouncing off each other and the walls.  So I said, "Alright, I'll go."  This was so far outside my comfort zone to go out to dinner with people I've never met, but I was so glad I did.  They were so kind and welcoming, I had a nice seafood dinner and a glass of wine, and got to pick their brains for two hours.  I took many mental notes of things to tell Tim.  There is no way I would have gone to this dinner had this been 3 1/2 years ago when we were moving here.  I've changed a lot since then, and believe much more in the importance of making connections.  

That first night in the hotel room was ROUGH.  Timmy and I had one queen bed, Tim and the girls had the other.  The air was hot and dry, and I couldn't sleep because it felt like my nasal passages and throat were lined in cotton.  It wasn't until after 10 that anyone was ready to sleep because the kids couldn't settle down.  Being in such close proximity to each other and us whipped them up into a frenzy.  I remembered why we don't do things like this.

In the morning I took a zinc tablet first thing.  That is my go-to remedy when I feel that telltale scratch in my throat or tickle in my nose.  It hasn't failed me yet.  Later we had our long-anticipated tour of base housing.  The first one we went to is the one that the ladies at dinner had warned me to stay away from, and to not get sucked in, no matter what.  It was what we expected.  It's another housing area about 25 minutes from Parris Island (which negates the main advantage of living in base housing, a short commute.)  The neighborhood was pretty ugly save for one nice circle of houses right on the water, which we were brought to.  The house we were shown was nice looking and spacious, and had everything we could need and want in a base house.  But the location sucked as we'd been told.

After that we went to Parris Island for our next tour.  I thought Erika had been exaggerating when she told me how nice the neighborhood is, but wow, it is really nice.  The below picture is the view from one end of the neighborhood.

The next picture is the view from the other end of the neighborhood, about a quarter-mile away (taken on different days, of course).  It blows my mind that there is one road that divides the officer family housing from 4th Recruit Training Battalion, the female battalion.  I was there myself, it will be 16 years ago this summer (I am oooooold!). When I was there as a recruit, I believed myself to be as isolated from any kind of normal civilized life as possible.  But I was a stone's throw away from houses where families lived!  I couldn't get over that, and I kept taking pictures as we drove around.  Tim was there 20 years ago this summer, and we were both trying to remember where we were when.  We thought the barracks at the rifle range looked different than we remembered.  As we passed the base pool I said, "Look, kids, the pool!"  As soon as I said that I then caught sight of a building directly across from it that said "Depot Laundry."  I said, "I was a laundry recruit and I remember throwing the bundles of linens off the truck and being jealous of the kids splashing and playing in the pool!"  But other than that I barely remembered anything.  It all looked the same to me!  And I have no memory of seeing a civilian anywhere until Family Day.

I love the juxtaposition of these photos.  It was totally unintended.  On Friday there were no recruits outside for me to gawk at.  But on Saturday when we came back just to drive around, they were all over the place.

It was a very long morning that involved talking with three different individuals in housing, as we wanted to have the best chance possible of getting a four-bedroom house on Parris Island.  There are far fewer houses available on Parris Island than that other place, and they really want to fill up the houses in the other place.  After that we had lunch and then coffee/smoothies in lieu of afternoon nap.  I took this picture and posted it to Instagram and Facebook to let everyone we knew what fun, fun, fun we were having with our adorable kids.

Then we decided to cancel our afternoon house tours out in town.  This was partly due to the fact that I'd been warned away from this development, and Tim had also driven by it and been less than impressed.  It was also due to the fact that the kids were exhausted, cranky, quarrelsome, and driving us and each other out of our minds.  We knew it would be a challenge to see what we wanted to see with them in tow, but wow.  It was even harder than I had been prepared for.  In one house on base, I closed them in a corner bedroom so they could run around while we tried to talk in the kitchen.  Then the thuds and the screaming ensued.  Tim talked to the base housing lady while I kept running off to deal with the kids.  We didn't imagine that would get any better as the day progressed.  We were satisfied with it having been a productive morning, however, and we'd pretty much made up our minds by then that we definitely wanted to live on base.

We went to an outlet mall near Hilton Head to get Timmy new shoes, and then Tim made the mistake of sending me into the Coach store.  We had ended up returning a Coach bag he'd gotten me for Christmas because I didn't think it was me.  He just wanted me to look around and get an idea of what I wanted.  I found a bag that suited me, and it was 75% off the clearance price.  I had them put it on hold while I went to find Tim to talk about it.  He had taken Timmy out of there to walk.  He thought it was an impulse buy and was inclined to disagree.  After a lot of back-and-forth (and maybe a little bit of pouting on my part) he wound up going in and getting it for me.  It is lovely, and even with the deep discount, costs at least five times as much as any purse I've ever owned.  I am spoiled.  Tim is a 'browse, go away, analyze, come back and browse some more' kind of guy.  He will think twice before he sends me into that store again! 

After that we had a nightmarish dinner at a Japanese place, during which I almost marched out with Timmy, growling stomach be damned.  It was one of those horrible times when you do nothing but threaten your kids with gritted teeth every few seconds, and then feel like a monster for it.  It turns out that all this togetherness -- in the car, in the hotel room, in the booth at the restaurant -- is like poison to our family.  The two of us felt like the worst parents ever, like we were at our lowest point.  The only thing worse would be to just be swatting at our kids while everyone looked on.  I was in tears as we drove away and Tim was asking me, "What would make you feel better right now?  Do you want a drink?  I'll get you a drink."  He went into a convenience store and came out with a little brown paper bag.  Inside was a can of Bud Lite.  I had to laugh.  My brand new designer bag was now sitting on my lap with my beer zipped inside as we drove up to the gate of the air station.  I said that it probably wanted to scream, jump out of my lap and run back to the Coach store.  This bag is very roomy, and will hold up to a 6-pack, should that ever be necessary.

We decided we'd leave in the morning after driving around Parris Island one more time, and looking around Beaufort.  We cancelled the tour of even the nice house in the nice neighborhood, deciding it would be a waste of time and energy.  Besides, Tim was reeling from all the money that had been spent in the last couple days.  Another meal out would break us.  The good news is, we all got a good night's sleep the second night in the hotel, and I successfully warded off a cold with the zinc.

I am glad that we went and I am glad to be back here.  We have a few months of normalcy before things get crazy again.

Birthday Ball

We had our Marine Corps Birthday Ball Friday night.  I know I could just post a few nice pictures and be done with it.  But in the interest of keeping it real I'll tell you all about it -- the good, bad, ugly and ridiculous.  And the boring.

The afternoon before the Ball, I had appointments for hair and makeup at the salon.  Last year, it worked out so well, and I was eager to see how I'd look when I was all done.  I told the hairstylist that I wanted an updo, but a relaxed-looking one.  It was heaven sitting there while she wound pieces of hair around the curling iron and pinned them into place.  I didn't want to be done.  This is what she came up with and I was very impressed and happy.

Next was makeup.  I waited for about 15 minutes, and then finally someone appeared who was different from the person who had done my makeup last year.   I had not specifically asked for Sarai, and had just assumed that whoever I got would either be Sarai or another qualified expert.  I got Jessica.  She asked me what kind of look I was going for, and I described the event and showed her the dress I would be wearing.  I remarked that when Sarai had asked me the same thing last year, I had been stumped then too.  I said, "I just told her, 'You're the magic makeup person.. Um, make me look good?'"  Actually I had mentioned highlighting and contouring to Sarai last year, as I did now.  I hastened to add I know nothing about makeup, and it's only thanks to Pinterest that I've even heard of highlighting and contouring.  (If I knew anything about makeup I wouldn't be sitting in this chair, would I?)  Last year, Sarai did an awesome job of bringing out the best in my features, but I think she would have done that even if I had never brought up highlighting and contouring.  So I made a huge assumption about my salon employing more than one person who knew about makeup.  I honestly think they had forgotten I'd booked makeup, and just grabbed Jessica, who maybe does waxing, before she was ready to leave for the day.  

Jessica went to work and we chatted about all our kids, and a little about Marines and how she used to bartend at Birthday Balls.  And when she was done, I was a little alarmed at my appearance.  There was something not right.  I tried to make it look like good shock, and I said, "I'm not used to seeing myself like this!"  My face was a matte shade of grayish-beige, and I still had bags under my eyes.  My eyebrows were VERY dark and shadowy looking.  The lipstick was many shades too bright.  I looked old.  I tried to tell myself that the harshness of my whole look would probably photograph well.  Maybe it's the kind of makeup that just doesn't look good up close.  But I had no time to even think about it.  I had to be going.  The babysitter was already arriving, and we had to go early to attend Tim's boss's pre-party in his hotel suite in Atlantic Beach.  I snapped a picture, but it really doesn't do justice to how bad I looked.  I think I actually look pretty good in this picture, probably due to the flattering lighting of the salon.  In reality, my face was too pale, and my mouth was too bright.  I felt like a geisha.  She didn't do my eyes any favors either.  But I tipped her 20% and was on my way.

This is not me.

I got home, and the babysitter, Katelyn, was upstairs with the kids, and Tim was putting the finishing touches on their homemade pizza dinner, complete with caprese salad and cups of chocolate milk.  He was stressed out because he hadn't even taken a shower.  I said, "You don't have to be out here anymore.  Katelyn's here.  Pass the baton, hon!"

Then it was time to get dressed.  For my dress this year, I tried something new.  I had heard of Rent the Runway before, but had been leery of giving it a try.  I didn't understand how, if it had taken me HOURS of shopping to find the dresses I currently owned (and then alterations!), that it could ever be as easy as clicking on what I want and having it arrive at my house only two days before my event.  And then try it on and have it fit!  But I got really tired of alternating between the same two black dresses I'd been wearing for years, and I didn't feel like shopping.  So I decided to give RTR a whirl.  First, I searched for dresses I liked, out of hundreds of them, all big designer names.  Then I got to read reviews and see photos of women similar in size to myself, so I would get an idea how it fits and what size to order.  Then I selected a back-up size for free.  I was very happy, especially a few days before when they threw in some nice accessories because the original dresses I'd chosen had been returned to them in good enough shape to be rented again.  The earrings, bracelet and clutch added an extra touch of elegance.  The clutch definitely was nicer than the one I'd been planning to use.  All of this, including UPS shipping to and from, cost me $100.  Not bad at all.

Getting this dress on and adjusted properly took some doing.  There was no support or coverage in the bust area, so a bra was a necessity.  But the opening in the back precluded any bras with straps.  After trying on this dress for the first time only two nights before, I had almost panicked as I rummaged through my entire collection of bras that I hadn't seen in years and didn't even know I still owned.  What I ended up using was a Victoria's Secret push-up bra that had removable straps, probably an impulse buy in my 20s.  (Thank you, Rachael in her 20s.  I will never again throw away a bra you bought that still fits!)  Once the straps were gone, it was shaped in every other way like a normal bra, which was important because of the plunging neckline of this dress.  Even still, I had to use double-sided tape to make it stay put in front and not let the bra peek out.  It was annoying, and I would end up looking down at it at least 500 times throughout the evening, like I had a nervous tic, and surreptitiously trying to adjust it.  Tim, beside me at the linear head table would tell me, "Stop it. You're fine."  And I'd reply with gritted teeth under my breath, "How do you know, you're over there?"

Here I am, dressed and ready to go, except for my nude pumps which I should have buckled before I put the dress on and got the tape in place.  Now Tim would have to do it, lest the tape pop out of place and I have to start all over.  Once I was all put together, I thought I looked pretty smashing.  As I snapped this picture, Tim came in the door and said, "What the heck are you doing?  We've got to get out of here."

I said, "But what about setting up the tripod out front and getting some good photos?"  "Not gonna happen," he said flatly.  Then he yelled upstairs for Delaney, and she snapped the following picture of us.  She was dressed in her cargo vest from her paleontologist Halloween costume that she'd been showing off to Katelyn.  

We got in the car, and as soon as Tim started it he said, "You didn't fill up the tank?"  I said, "Um, no."  "You're got to be kidding me!  You're the one who wanted to take the car."  This is true.  I wanted the butt warmer since it would get chilly at night.  But I hadn't thought my opinion made a difference, and we'd be taking the truck.  Anyway, it only takes a few minutes to stop and fill up the tank.  So I thought.  I snapped the following picture a few minutes after we stopped at a gas station, waited three minutes for a pump to open up, and then said pump would not dispense.  All of this was my fault.  Tim had the truck gassed up and ready to go, but here we were in Havelock still trying to get gas.

Haha, you're stuck with me!

"You still have to buckle my shoe," I told him.  "And my phone's battery is getting really low."  In reply Tim tapped the sunglasses compartment that also contains a phone charger.  "I can't lean forward," I reminded him.  He shook his head and sighed heavily.  I said, "Bringing me to the Ball and bringing a 4-year-old -- no difference."  "Seriously!"

We got to the Doubletree in Atlantic Beach, with plenty of time to drink for free socialize in the CO's crowded suite with all the other officers and their dates.  Tim drove and I drank because he's the best.  I was a little nervous at the crowd of people, many of whom I had not met since we are still rather new to this unit.  But the CO, his wife, and everyone else were so friendly and welcoming that I was soon put at ease.  The glass of Pinot Grigio on my empty stomach didn't hurt either. 

I was halfway through a second glass when I remembered to ask Tim, "Has cocktail hour started?"  I wanted to get our professional portrait done downstairs.  We hurried off, and I forgot to leave the wine I had in my hand.  As we crossed the lobby into the ballroom area, Tim blocked the employees' view of me and my unauthorized drink.  Even though no one probably noticed, I was embarrassed.  Then because I'm a spaz (and a bit of a tipsy one at that), I splashed a little bit on my designer gown right before we got in line for pictures.  Now I had a big wet spot on my boob.  I couldn't believe it.  We rushed off to as secluded a place as we could find, around a corner next to the kitchen door, and Tim worked on it furiously with a napkin.  I took this picture of the damage.  

I know, I'm a mess.  It got even worse.  Once the ceremony was over, I, along with everyone else, stampeded for the bathrooms.  When I went to wash my hands, the faucet sprayed in every direction, and my dress got splattered all over.  Between that, and the wine incident, and the bad makeup and the bodice issue with the tape, I just didn't feel like myself.  I kind of want a do-over.  No, not really.  I can chuckle at it now, but it was kind of a nightmare.

See it?

Below, this strangely cropped photo is the only good head-to-toe shot I have of Tim in his mess dress that cost a fortune and he only gets to wear once a year.  I was actually taking test shots of the space because a few minutes later, I took a picture of all the officers.  

We got home around 10, and Katelyn had been there since 4.  Tim flipped through the bills in his wallet and tried to add up how much we owed.  I said, "She's been here 6 hours.. what's 12 x 6?"  Then Tim said, "Ah, $100.  That's what I budgeted."  My overly made-up eyebrows shot up at that but I said nothing.  I was exhausted.  I just hope that she doesn't expect to be paid $18 an hour when she watches the kids for the Christmas party.

Katelyn told us that she had had fun with the kids, and that Timmy had swallowed bites of mozzarella almost whole, and then kept asking for "more cheese, pwease."  That kids lives for Friday nights and mozzarella.  They had watched A Bug's Life, and Delaney had said, "We DO get to watch a movie tonight!"  Friday nights are usually movie nights for the kids, but we hadn't told Katelyn this, and I guess Delaney had assumed she wouldn't be watching a movie. 

And that was our night.  Minus some of the drama and woe.  Edited for brevity.:)

Timmy at 23 months

He's just one month from being a two-year-old.  Hard to believe.  I was just thinking that this is the first time I've had a kid about to turn two without either just having had another baby or about to have another.  I have to say I am really enjoying this!  I'm getting into the best shape of my life, no exaggeration.  I feel strong and healthy.  I'm finally starting to think I (dare I say it?) have it together as a mom of three, at least most of the time.  I like not having to hide out in the house most of the time, especially now that it's summer.  We go to the pool, we go to the beach, and Timmy doesn't just cling to me constantly.  He follows his sisters instead and he's starting to take cues from them in his behavior.  The other day I was actually able to help out a friend who recently became a mom of three and was having kind of a hard time controlling them all at the pool.  I couldn't help but think about how far I've come -- how far we've come.  To be the one lending a hand rather than the one who needs it is something totally new to me, and very refreshing.  To feel like my moments of struggle don't dominate my days anymore is a welcome thing.  It didn't just suddenly happen -- it's been gradually becoming this way over many months -- but I only recently realized it.

I can't say for sure whether we're done having children.  We are trying to be good Catholics and maintain some openness toward it.  Well, Tim is always open to the idea.  He's ready when I am since he understands that I am the one who has to suffer.  So the question of whether another baby is in our future will have to wait.  We're moving next summer to who knows where, so we'll be wanting to avoid having a baby then, that's for sure.  But if we're going to have another I can't put it off forever as I'm not getting any younger.  Today I turn 34.  For now, I am happy to keep my focus on Timmy as the baby because he is at this adorable stage of asserting his independence but at the same time needing me so much still.  I am filled with wonder and joy as I watch him grow and change into a little boy, and so glad to have my lap and arms still open for when he comes running to me.

I told the girls to wake Timmy up yesterday morning, and a few minutes later I came in and found him and Delaney like this.  

My Wife, My Hero

I have hijacked Rachael’s blog to tell a story that is not new, but most definitely does not get old.  While I tell her all of the time what I will say here, I wanted to commit these words to eternity so that when we are old and grey, we can look back on these times and remind ourselves what we have gone through.

Couples say it all the time that they have married their best friend.  I know that I did.  Rachael is an amazing woman who I am blessed to call my wife and the mother of our children.  As I type these words, I am 124 days into an Afghanistan deployment (but who is counting?) and God willing I will be home in just a couple short months.  Fortunately for me and the current job I hold, I remain relatively safe from harm but still get to witness the tireless efforts of the Marines, Sailors, Soldiers, and all the service members from the United States and across the world make a difference here.  But for most all of us here, we have left someone at home whom we love and miss dearly and it is their sacrifice that makes mine pale in comparison.  For me, that is Rachael.

When I found out that we would not be receiving orders to move for the summer of 2013, but rather I would be deploying again after only being home for 10 months, Rachael took it like a champ.  When I told her the news, I asked her what I could do to make this deployment easier than the last.  She said, “Just don’t get me pregnant!”.  For those that know us, and those that read her blog, know that we were blessed with our son Timmy during my last deployment.  While we both were so grateful for God’s gift, I knew for her being pregnant during a North Carolina summer, by herself, had to have been one of the hardest things that she has done…and she had been a Marine herself, so that is saying a lot.  But she was amazing.  With some help from family and friends, she brought that little boy into our world and kept his sisters in line for 10 long months while I was away.   So not for a lack of trying, this deployment would just be her and three amazing little kids. I am no fool to think that makes it any easier.

I think that the two of us really just put off the reality that I would be leaving again as we didn’t do much to prepare ourselves for it.  Maybe it was because we had just done it all less than a year before, or maybe neither one of us wanted to admit that no matter what, it would not be easy.  But I have the easy part.  I simply go to work and deal with Marines who admittedly may act like children sometimes, are no match for a 5, 3, and an 18 month old.    But Rachael, day after day, does more than I could ever possibly imagine and I will never be able to repay her for that. 

From the moment that she wakes up she has so many different roles to fill.  Mother. Father. Cook. Maid. Doctor. Referee. Handyman. Disciplinarian. And that is all probably within the first hour.  She is always on, with no relief in sight.  Answering the incessant calls of children who have all that they need, but never what they want.  I am not coming in the door anytime soon, and she knows this, but yet she powers through each day, raising those three little people on her own.  She continues to give them enough love, affection, and discipline for two parents.  We are not alone in this journey, and we know that. We are not special, and we know that too. 

I can sit here and do my job knowing that she has it under control.  And while there can be some bad days, there are definitely more good ones.   And every once in a while she has the right to feel frustrated, but like a baseball player that gets knocked down with a high and tight pitch, she picks herself up, dusts herself off, and gets right back in the box to take whatever they can throw at her again.

I could not do this alone.  Let me say that again, I could not do this alone, but she does.  She has done more for our family in a few short years than I could ever ask for her to do in a lifetime.  I tell her all the time that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it all up to her. 

She is my hero. 

Day in the Life: Fall 2012

It is already time for the fall edition of Day in the Life hosted by Navigating the Mothership.  I love doing these, but for some reason I had a harder time motivating myself to do this one than the others.  One day I know I'll be so happy I took these snapshots of life in every season while the kids are little.  In fact I already enjoy reading the ones I've done before.

Today is Tuesday, October 23, 2012.

6 a.m.  My alarm goes off.  Already?  But my bed is so nice and warm.  It takes a lot of willpower to get up and start the day.  

6:10 a.m. The girls are still sound asleep when I go in their room.  I turn on the light and say, "Time to wake up, girls.  Make your beds, pick up your toys, use the potty, brush your teeth."  It's the same thing every morning.  I help them both make their beds, and then I go to Timmy's room because I hear him too.  I nurse him, change his diaper, and bring him out for breakfast.

Timmy has been protesting being put in the high chair lately.  He stops crying when I bring him a bowl of oatmeal.  He happily eats it with his fingers.

6:53 a.m. Time to leave for the bus stop.  Today's theme is "Put a Cap on Drugs" day as part of a drug awareness week at school, and kids are encouraged to wear a cap or hat.  We don't have a lot of hats for little girls that aren't made for winter, and it's supposed to be high 70s today.  Delaney dug up this visor she made herself last year in preschool, so that's what she's wearing.  She's taking breakfast to go, and the little piggy is accompanying her on the walk along with Annie and myself.

This is how it looks when we walk out the door.

7:09 a.m.  We're back from the bus stop, and brrrr!  It is cold out there.  Annie complains to Tim that her hands are cold and he shows her how to warm them up in his armpits.

7:19 a.m. Bye, bye, Daddy.  See you later.  Much later.  Tim has already told me he's going to be late today.  Timmy says, "Mum, mum" which means "vroom, vroom."  For months I've stood at the window with him and said "vroom, vroom" when Tim starts the truck.  I'm so tickled to hear him saying it himself.

7:20 to 8:10 a.m.  This part of the morning is always a blur to me.  I'm sluggish, I'm grumpy, I'm unorganized.  I drink coffee and flit around from one part of the house to another, trying to decide what to do next.  Drink some coffee, check my email, keep Timmy out of trouble, pick an outfit for picture day for Annie.. wait, what was I doing?  I hate morning.  I turn on Little Einsteins for Annie and put Timmy back in the high chair with some Kix so I can try to make myself presentable.  Right before I go to my bathroom, I check the weather.  Looks like a nice day.  I'll have to go for a run this morning.

8:10 a.m. Annie tells me that Timmy is stinky.  "Are you sure?"  I ask her.  He usually waits until after his nap to do his business.  I hope he only tooted, but I take a little peek and sniff in his pants anyway.  Cough, gag.  Looks like Annie is right.  It is too early to be wiping poo, especially with such a squirmy and uncooperative baby.

8:20 a.m. I have some difficulty deciding what Annie should wear today.  It's still chilly so maybe her legs shouldn't be bare, but I don't know if I can find leggings that will look right under this dress.  But Annie seems to think this outfit is OK, and she looks cute in it.  She tells me to take a picture of her, and then keeps running off.  I say, "Annie, Annie, come back!" and she laughs hysterically, wondering where I'll be lurking with the camera next.  I feel like paparazzi.

8:40 a.m. Time to take Annie to preschool.  I tell her if she smiles for the picture, I'll give her ice cream with sprinkles.  I say, "I'll know if you do or not because they send proofs home the same day."  She says she will, but I'm not so sure.

9:20 a.m. I take Timmy on a 3.5 mile run.  He goes to sleep quickly because even though he doesn't take a morning nap anymore (most of the time), he still gets tired.  If we're in the car long enough or he's moving in the stroller long enough, he's out like a light.  When we get back, I just push him into the backyard and leave the back door open while I pick up around the house and then enjoy a piece of the coffee cake Tim made yesterday.

Sweet Timsy

11:10 a.m.  Timmy's up and he's not in a good mood.  I just don't know what to do with him lately, he's always so cranky and nothing makes him happy.  I noticed a couple days ago that a molar just poked through.  Maybe he's got more molars coming.  I give him some infants' ibuprofen to see if that will help.  Then I get Annie's lunch ready to try to get us on the fast track to naps after she gets home.  

11:40 a.m.  We leave to get Annie.  At the door Ms. Amanda hands me a clipboard to sign and a proof sheet.  After glancing at it I remark that Annie must have really wanted her ice cream with sprinkles.  I think they're the best pictures taken of her since she was a baby!  I can't wait to see how Delaney's turn out.  Hers were last week but the proofs haven't come home yet.

12:15 p.m.  I dread mealtimes with Annie.  We make every effort to keep a variety of healthful and tasty foods in this house.  We also have a little bit of junk food that we try to eat sparingly (i.e. a handful of salty chips during lunch).  She ONLY wants the junk.  And today she wants none of what I put on her plate except raisins.  The juicy apple wedges, peanut butter and graham crackers are all discarded.  Trying to feed her seems like an exercise in futility.  I could just throw a handful of raisins or a slice of bread at her every now and then and stop worrying about it.  But I've read that if you keep exposing kids to food they'll eventually break down and eat some of it.  

After eating a few raisins and some V8 juice, I then serve her ice cream with sprinkles as promised, reminding her that if we hadn't made the deal with the pictures she'd be getting no treat at all.  She has a terrible diet.  If it weren't for raisins being at the top of her ever-shrinking list, she'd be constipated all the time.  I don't know what I'm going to do when she decides that raisins are no good anymore.

12:45 p.m. I put some of last night's chili on the stove to heat up, and then take the kids to the girls' room for story time.  

1 p.m. Both kids are napping, and I finally have some free time.  I take a shower and eat a big bowl of chili.  After that I check email and Facebook, read a blog or two, and then collapse exhausted on my bed.  I feel bad for people who don't have this option in the middle of the day.  There is not enough caffeine in the world to take the place of a good old power nap.

2:35 p.m. Time to get up.  Part 2 of this day is about to start.  Part 2 is a few hours shorter than part 1, but a lot more intense.  I decide to try to fortify myself with a cup of pumpkin spice tea, and I'm also hoping it will soothe my belly.  The chili isn't sitting too well.

3 p.m. I only have time for a couple sips when Annie gets up, followed closely by Timmy.  I get them both ready to go to the bus stop in 10 minutes.

Timmy is wearing a wool diaper cover I got from my sister Anna's Etsy shop.  You should check it out, her stuff is adorable.  It's what got me into cloth diapering in the first place!

3:14 p.m.  We're a little bit late getting to the bus stop.

3:20 p.m.  Back at home I get the kids a snack and then Delaney starts on her homework.  She tells me even before I open her binder that she has extra homework today, and it will be all about nocturnal and diurnal animals.  She has to color the different animals, cut them out, and glue them either on the nocturnal or diurnal side of the paper.  I have to Google some of them, rattlesnakes for instance.  From what I gather rattlesnakes are both, and I tell her to glue them in the middle of the paper.  I also learn that none of the kids' glue sticks or bottles of school glue are operational.  Luckily Tim has a regular bottle of Elmer's in his glue collection in the garage.

The other part of Delaney's homework is more along the lines of what we usually see.  She writes the letter V in uppercase and lowercase five times each, and then draws a picture of two things that start with the same sound as "pumpkin."  She draws her friend PJ from down the street, and a pig.

Delaney also informs me that I really should send the money for the popcorn like it says on the flyer that went home a couple days ago.  It's for all the kids to have on "Fun Friday."  I tell her I will.  It's a good thing she tells me these things because when I read the flyer I had no idea what the popcorn was for, and I wasn't going to buy it because we already have popcorn.  I make a mental note to send the 50 cents before Thursday.

4:28 p.m.  I send the girls outside to play, and they actually go.  They haven't been giving me any trouble about that the past couple days.  You wouldn't believe it, but despite the beautiful weather we have this time of year, I have to practically twist their arms to get them to go out and play.  I start cutting up potatoes.  Timmy climbs up to one of his favorite perches, the kitchen table.  I know I shouldn't let him play up there, but when he's up there he stays out of worse trouble.  More importantly, he stays out of my hair.  Late afternoon is prime crabbypants time for him, and I am not looking forward to cooking while a sobbing child clings to my leg.

4:45 p.m.  Timmy tests his walking skills as he has been doing more and more frequently over the past couple months.  Learning to walk has been a very gradual process for him.  He's getting closer every day to mastering it.  He walks back and forth across the kitchen and falls with a dramatic "Oh!" or "Ahh!"  I pretend to be startled every time he falls, saying, "Timmy, you fell down!  You fell down again!"  For a little while he's amused at my mock concern.

5 p.m. Happy times are over.  Timmy wants to whine and get into trouble, climbing up on the oven handle while I have the oven and a couple of the burners going.  He has no choice but to be parked back in the high chair.  He protests the indignity of this with a lot of loud crying.  I know that putting him on my back in the Ergo is another option for when I'm short arms and he wants attention; but I can't stand the way he yanks on my hair.  He sits there the whole rest of the time dinner is cooking.  Thank goodness he only cries the first few minutes, and then he stares into space while sucking his thumb.

5:30 p.m.  Dinner is served.  Tonight it's parmesan crusted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes and steamed broccoli.  Tonight I'm also in the mood for a tall glass of chocolate milk.  Delaney's also having chocolate milk and Annie's having strawberry.

Delaney eats all of her chicken and broccoli, and I excuse her from having to eat any of the potatoes.  I didn't season them well enough, and I didn't save any of the cooking water for them either, so they've gotten cold quickly.  Annie doesn't want to eat anything.  She asks to be excused, and I tell her that she can go but she's getting no treat after dinner.  I also warn her that if she comes back later saying she's hungry, I will leave that plate of food on the table for her.  It's the same old song and dance every night.  I know she'll be back to negotiate eventually.  Why do we negotiate?  I don't know why.  It's mentally taxing and in the end she still eats very little of nutritional value.

5:42 p.m.  What a nice surprise!  Tim's not going to be as late as he told me he would be.  It's better that I'm prepared for him to be late and then pleasantly surprised when he comes home at a reasonable time.  It really stinks when he says he's going to be home on time or a little early, and then gets tied up in something and can't leave.  

5:55 p.m.  Daddy's home!  He lets the girls get in the front seat with him before he backs in the driveway.  Annie sits on his lap and helps steer.  I can see her huge smile in the side view mirror.

"Mum, mum."

6:06 p.m.  It's negotiation time.  Between bites of his own dinner Tim tries coaxing and cajoling Annie to eat almost a negligible portion of hers.  "5 bites."  "No, 1."  "6 bites."  "No, 1!"  "4 bites!"  "1!"  I have no patience for this nonsense, but if he wants to play these games he can have at it.

Tim says they can both have ice cream afterward.  I guess Annie must have eaten enough as far as he is concerned.  They lick their bowls clean when they're done.

6:20 p.m.  Bathtime.  Timmy doesn't last long in the tub before he starts fussing and trying to climb out.  He isn't really dirty anyway, so I get him out and wrap him in a towel.  Then, as we always do, I ask him where his arms are while he tries to pull them out.

Timmy's saying, "Chee.."  Oh, I could just eat him up!

You've probably noticed the lack of self portraits up to this point.  Unfortunately I'm suffering my worst breakout in 10 years and I have no desire to show what I really look like here.  It is bad.  I used to think acne was a teenage problem, but my acne started when I was 21, and it's looking like I will go straight from pimples to wrinkles.  As long as I was pregnant or breastfeeding full time, I enjoyed a relatively clear complexion, but now that I'm neither of those things, the acne is back with a vengeance.  Nothing I try works.  I'll have to see a dermatologist soon because I have no interest in the natural cure at this time.  Here I show you the "not as bad" side of my face.

6:30 p.m.  The kids are tired and fighting.  We must get this bedtime process moving!

6:45 p.m.  I try something new and have Delaney take turns reading pages of Hop on Pop with me.  Hop on Pop is the only good book I have for learning to sound out words.  I marvel at how her confidence grows when she sees a word again and knows what it is, or sees how it becomes a new word when you change just one letter.  I need more books like this because she'll have this one memorized in no time at all.

Delaney snapped this picture.  I guess Tim and Annie got tired of listening to us reading Hop on Pop.

7:15 to 7:35 p.m.  The kids are in bed but there are still a few things to do.  I sweep the kitchen floor (for at least the third time), make Delaney's lunch for tomorrow, set her outfit on the counter, and then choose my beverage for the evening, one of Tim's fancy pumpkin beers.  Just as I park my butt on the couch to enjoy it, Tim says, "You're forgetting something.  Our bed still needs to be made."  "You make it yourself!" I tell him.  I follow him back to the room to snap a picture.  He makes a rude gesture and says, "Put that in your 'day in the life'!"  I tell him that this is a PG-rated blog and I will do no such thing.  Furthermore, I tell him I'm going to expose him on my blog for what he really is, MEAN!  But I can't help but smile.

He cracks himself up.

7:37 to 10 p.m.  At last it's time to do nothing.  Some internet, some TV, my well-earned pumpkin beer, and the rest of the night quickly passes by.  

 The end.