Joey's first field trip, and thoughts on being a SAHM

The weather kept us guessing right up until the last minute, but the rain held off just long enough for Joey to go on his first ever field trip: a bus ride to a farm. Joey would have been thrilled to go on a bus ride anywhere, and in fact when I first signed the permission slip and told him about it two weeks ago, he started looking out the window and asking when the bus was going to come.

So when the big day dawned gray and drizzly, I kept my lips zipped about it even though I couldn't hide my extra air of urgency about not being late.

Knowing that there would be limited space on the bus, I opted to drive separately. His teacher sent me this photo, along with several others. When I put her photos and mine together, I've got the makings for a nice little blog post.

He hasn't stopped talking about the big white bus with two doors.

We got to see ducks, geese, turkeys, cows, goats, sheep, potbelly pigs, peacocks, ostriches, an emu, horses, chickens, llamas and alpacas.

We took a hayride tour around the farm. Joey was fascinated by the tractor's huge wheels.

This is one of Joey's two teachers, Ms. Nikki. She is crazy about the kids, and so sweet to my Joe.

Once the hayride was over, our tour guide showed us the llamas and alpacas, helpfully pointing out which was which. She told us that these ones don't spit, and as if on cue, an alpaca spat on her. Joey laughed and laughed. Farm animals are fine to visit, but I wouldn't want to have one of these ornery things with matted, dirty fur and a penchant for spitting at people, around.

Once the tour was over, the kids played for a little while on the little playground until it was time to leave. Joey wasn't sure what to think about the way the girls fussed over him (look at his fake little smile!). One of their mothers told me that her little girl talks about Joey all the time. I can't blame them; he is kind of irresistible.

I would have just as soon taken Joey home with me after that, but I didn't want to deny him the bus ride back to school.

Looking through the pictures and thinking about what a fun morning we had, has me thinking as I do many times, about how glad I am to be a stay-at-home mom. Tim's career has afforded me the ability to be there for things like this and for a lot of other things, big and small. I can spend a morning seeing a farm through a three-year-old's eyes, or watching my oldest compete in the Battle of the Books. I can be there for the small, ordinary things like books at naptime, yet another game of Uno with a boy who's on an indefinite screen timeout, and running outside to see the baby turtle Joey found out on the driveway. It often feels like drudgery, with the messes, meals, and a never-ending to-do list. But I have all day for the messes, meals and to-do list instead of having to cram it all into a couple hours. To boot, I have a husband who's happy to do errands when he's home, and he'll take a kid or two with him. I can plan my days however I see fit, and in any given one I can allocate time for, in addition to the work, prayer, for rest, for school, for exercise, and for things that recharge my battery like chronicling our life in this little blog. This is a privilege.

I don't know what the future holds. With Tim retiring next summer and everything that comes with it -- getting established in a new place, buying our own house, and getting used to a new way of life (the civilian one😮) -- things are going to change. I may need to go back to work sooner than I might have planned. Maybe I'll even be ready to sooner than I thought. But to have been home all these years, especially through the little years of my kids' lives, is something I wouldn't trade for the world, even though it's exhausting and frustrating, and I'm positive I'm doing things wrong. Making a home -- turning a space into a haven that reflects our personalities and is cozy and at least somewhat clean -- brings me its own satisfaction. This life is the one I always wanted most, and I am embracing it for the time being.

I broke up with Stitch Fix:(

Tim got Joey to sleep right before heading back to work after lunch, so I've got a few minutes to spare to drink tea and write about something completely frivolous. Yay!

So, I've been getting every-other-month shipments from Stitch Fix for probably about a year, and have really enjoyed it. If you're not familiar, the way it goes is you pay a $20 "styling fee", a "stylist" chooses five things for you based on your profile and whatever you may have asked for and recommended. You get the box of five things, look at them, try them on and decide what you want to keep. Your $20 styling fee goes toward whatever you keep, and if you keep everything you get a 25% discount on the total. Whatever you don't keep goes back in a bag with postage already paid. You go online and review each thing you received, what you liked about it, what you didn't, your opinion on the experience, that kind of thing. The idea is the more they know about you, the better chance they have of making you happy. You can schedule "Fixes" to come automatically as often as you choose, cancel anytime, or just ask for one whenever you want. I was on an every-other-month schedule and it was always something I looked forward to. What I liked best about it was when they would pick something for me that I would not necessarily pick for myself, but I'd end up loving it. It was a great way to freshen up my wardrobe. It took me several years after becoming a mom to come to the realization that I didn't NEED to look like a frump all the time, and that putting effort into my appearance on a (somewhat) daily basis is a good thing. Stitch Fix helped me a lot with this.

Until recently.

For December I asked for things I could use in the postpartum phase, hoping for maybe a tunic that could go over leggings and was nursing friendly .. or another cute open drapey cardigan I could wear over a nursing tank, which I correctly assumed would be my uniform after the baby came. Something along those lines. But that was not to be. Among other things, they sent me what I could only describe as a housecoat. It was made out of rayon or some other shiny fabric and it had a print, but it was shaped like a housecoat. And if I'm going to wear a housecoat it had better be comfy. I didn't think I was at the point of wearing housecoats yet, although on some days a housecoat would be an improvement honestly. There was no top that was long enough for leggings, and that was disappointing because those are the hardest for me to find. (I did see some in Target a few days ago, though!) There was a cardigan that was cute but it was made of a scratchy fabric, and cardigans are too easy to find anywhere. I ended up keeping one thing -- a flowy blouse I could wear with skinny jeans. I was a little bummed over only keeping one thing, but figured that my requests for postpartum and nursing friendly clothes had confused the young stylist.

I had higher hopes for the box that came a few days ago because I had told the stylist in my note a few ideas of things I hoped to get, and I had updated my Pinterest style board with a few examples. I reminded her in the note to check my Pinterest. Again, a long top that could go with leggings was tops on my list since I hadn't gotten it last time. Again, I mentioned I could always use another cardigan. I figured it was a long shot that it would fit, but I asked for a pair of jeggings. Oh, and I asked for a dress that was casual and nursing friendly, something nice to wear for Joey's baptism this month.

The long-anticipated package arrived and let's say it fell far short of expectations. First of all, it contained a big shiny purple purse. If I wanted a big shiny purple purse, which I don't, I would get it from TJ Maxx, not Stitch Fix. On to the next thing -- a tunic? Blouse? Annie was next to me as I pulled it out of the box with a frown. She said, "I like the style of it." She meant the print, that's what she liked. I tried it on. I didn't bother trying to put an outfit together with it because I already knew I hated it.

Yikes. It was nursing friendly, I gave it that. But look what it did to my middle -- the part of me where most of my remaining 15 pounds of baby weight sits. It just added another 10 pounds! Who would wear this thing? Who wants to maximize their midsection whether they're postpartum or not? It's like putting a spare tire around your spare tire! Even on my skinniest day I would not wear this. 

I won't show you a picture of the boring green cardigan in a rough fabric or the black faux wrap dress in a heavy shiny black fabric. Why black? I already have a black dress from Stitch Fix. Why not another color or a print this time? Oh well. Maybe they didn't have those things in their inventory. But what really ticked me off were the black skinny jeans. They were an exact duplicate of the ones that were in my first Fix a year ago! Same size, color, everything. Why'd you have to do me like that, Stitch Fix?

Obviously, I made clear my dissatisfaction in the review and promptly sent everything back. I hoped they would offer to credit the $20 since they had sent a repeat item. But they haven't offered and most likely won't because they don't need my business. 

By now you might be wondering why, if I have this Pinterest board and know what I like, I just don't buy the stuff myself? To that I'd say you're right, I do pretty much know what I want and what suits my body type better than the Stitch Fix stylist. Perhaps it's time I graduated. That's why, with a sad sigh, I cancelled my subscription. What I'll miss is the element of surprise, like "Oh look the ___ I asked for, only with a detail I didn't expect." Or "Here's something I didn't ask for and didn't know I wanted. Fun!" For that I was happy to pay significantly more for an item than I would pay at the places I usually shop. No more. Tim said he'll be my Stitch Fix. He has good taste and I like everything he's gotten for me in the last five years. I'm looking forward to my box of surprise clothes, hon.;)

So long, Stitch Fix! 

Day in the Life: Summer 2015

Date: Wednesday, July 8

Cast of characters:
Tim: 40

Rachael: 36

Delaney: 8 years old today!

Annie: 6

Timmy: 3, about to turn 4 in a couple weeks

Baby #4: 18 weeks gestation

Today it's just Annie, Timmy and myself at home. Tim's out of town for work and Delaney's visiting family in Massachusetts. It's very unusual for it to be just the three of us.

6:30 a.m. My alarm goes off. I get up, start my coffee brewing, make my bed, and brush my teeth. Then I plop down on the couch for coffee, morning devotion/prayers, Facebook, and whatever else I feel like perusing. It's so quiet and peaceful. 

7:50 a.m. We're off to a slow start this morning. I start to cook my eggs and Annie joins me in the kitchen. She and Timmy have been sleeping late this summer. 

A couple minutes later, Timmy makes his way out to the living room, collapses into the La-Z-Boy and sticks his thumb in his mouth. I tell him he's a lazy bum and playfully squeeze his leg.

8:30 a.m. We finish up breakfast and I clean up afterward. This would have been a pool morning, but unfortunately I ran out of time yesterday getting the kids' school registration done. I got Annie and Timmy's done, but today we still have to go do Delaney's. It's a time-consuming process because it takes 25 minutes just to drive there each way. If I had a little more motivation to get us moving earlier and faster, we'd still have plenty of time left in the morning for swimming. But I don't. Oh well.

I cue up a prenatal yoga video on YouTube and set up my mat. Since I discovered the wealth of yoga videos online, I've decided I'm breaking up with the Y. It's just too easy to do this every day in my own house, and too hard to get to the Y most days. I can handle the added distraction of Timmy rolling his cars around the mat or sliding books under the edges. Today he's happy to snap a few pictures of me too.

9:20 a.m. I've still got to water my plants. I can't believe how fast this morning is going. None of us is even dressed yet.

Everything looks so pretty in the morning light. I got this pretty pot on the right at Lowe's a couple weeks ago. I hope I can keep it alive because I love it!

9:45 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. or thereabouts. I don't have any pictures except one from this entire chunk of the day. We go to Delaney's school and get her registered -- a much quicker process than yesterday because I know where to find her school and I only have one set of papers to fill out this time. Then we come back home and have lunch. I make Annie and Timmy eat in silence because they've been bickering nonstop, all the way home in the car and then all the way in the door. Then I start naptime early, in hopes of an afternoon trip to the pool. 

At some point I call the Y to cancel my membership, and I'm told that I will have to go in person to fill out a membership termination form. Of course.. They're banking on the people who are too lazy to go there in the first place being too lazy to go there to cancel. Smart of them.

2:30 p.m. We're in luck today -- no lightning within 5 (miles) warnings this afternoon. Thunderstorms are common just about every day here in the month of July. But today it's hot and sunny, no threatening storms. 

Timmy always has a wedge when he gets out of the pool. He says wedgies are "the worst thing ever."

4:00 p.m. We get home from the pool. I am SO hungry. I haven't had anything to eat since my lunch of leftover fajita chicken and peppers with chips and pico de gallo. That filled me up so much I forgot about eating for awhile, and that's unusual for me. I'm weak with hunger by the time I come in the door. I turn on the oven right away and start pounding and breading chicken breasts to make chicken parmesan. 

Timmy asks me if he can knock on the door of the "boy who has a lot of toys" and see if he can play. He means the boy who just moved in two doors down. I remind him that the boy's name is Peter and with a sigh I say, "Go ahead." After I see him run out the back door and across the yard separating our houses, I think that it might not have been a bad idea to walk him there since they don't really know us and are not expecting Timmy on their doorstep. But then I figure they'll just send him home if it's not a good time, and I go back to getting dinner ready.

My phone rings a minute or two later, and glancing at the number I don't recognize, I say, "I bet I know who this is." Along with cookies, I also gave them a card with our contact info a couple days ago. Never know when you're gonna need it! It is indeed Peter's mom, just making sure it's OK that Timmy is at her door, and it's OK for him to play. I tell her that he did have my permission and I'm being kind of bashful and apologetic, like, "I hope it's OK,.. it it's not send him home, .. just while I'm getting dinner ready.." Just babbling. She says she's happy to have Timmy play, and says she'll "walk him back home in a little while." I almost tell her it's not necessary to walk him home, but just as quickly I change my mind. After we hang up I shake my head and chuckle to myself. She must think I'm the worst mother in the world. I totally trust these people after having met them once. The kids are happy and polite and the parents are very nice to talk to. And the grandmother speaks with a British accent, which shouldn't win them any points at all, but for me it does. She even offered me tea while we were there on Monday.

4:45 p.m. The chicken is out of the oven, so I dash over to get Timmy. I chitchat with them for just a little bit, but I am almost delirious with hunger by now so I keep it short. I thank them very much for having Timmy over. I like them a lot and hopefully they don't disapprove of me too much. So far I think they're good neighbors. Now I'll wait with bated breath to see who moves into the house right next to ours.

5:30 p.m. At last the pasta is ready too, and I am serving up dinner to the three of us. 

5:50 p.m. We sing "Happy Birthday" to Delaney in Massachusetts. Then we eat our own treats in lieu of birthday cake. Timmy and I have ice cream and Annie has strawberry shortcake.

6:20 p.m. Annie and Timmy play for a little while on the jungle gym out back and I clean up the kitchen and take out the recycling.

6:45 or thereabouts: The kids come in sweaty and dirty, wanting to relax and watch Disney Jr. I have them take a bath first and put on their pajamas. Then the two of them assume their positions on the couch, Timmy sucking his thumb and Annie snuggling up with her face against one of the white feather pillows that she has adopted as her new "lovey." Unfortunate since the tags on the pillow covers say "spot clean only." We'll just have to see about that.

8 p.m. Bedtime for two children. I settle down with a cup of pregnancy tea (a blend of red raspberry leaf, nettle and alfalfa) and a really, really good book, Leaving Time by Jodi Picoult. Jodi Picoult books have been hit-or-miss the past few years for me, but I would say this one is one of her best.

I talk to Tim for a bit, tell him about how I made a less than stellar impression on the new neighbors, and listen to his day. I take my book back to bed after that and read until I can hardly keep my eyes open, and probably turn off my light at around 10.

I realize as I finish this post three days later that I really need to take better notes or at least more pictures, especially if it's going to take me this long to write up a DITL. There's a lot of this day missing! Next time.

Delaney's First Communion - Kim's pictures

My friend Kim who lives down the street took pictures for us the morning of Delaney's First Communion. Here are my favorites:

Delaney's face!

Annie's ALMOST smiling here!

And, because I'm doing anything to avoid making my commissary list, here are a couple of pictures from seven years ago at Delaney's baptism:

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.

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.

Thanksgiving

We had a quiet Thanksgiving here at home.  I went for a nice long run in lieu of a turkey trot.  The kids played all day down the street in "other" Delaney and Timmy's backyard.  Tim cooked us up a big old yummy feast.  

Lately I've struggled a lot with being grateful, even though I have countless reasons to be.  I can't keep the house clean enough, the kids drive me crazy, and we're getting into a busy time of year, and I feel bogged down with all there is to do.  But if I stop to look around, I am so incredibly blessed.  I've got these three beautiful kids who really are good despite their quirks (which I guess is what those who love me say about me), the most wonderful husband and father in Tim, and a nice big house in a great neighborhood.  We are at the beginning of a three-year duty station during which we can expect Tim to be home the majority of weekends and holidays, and not deployed at all.  We have our health and we have everything we need and most of what we want.  (Tim still pines for a Mustang.)

I miss updating my blog more often, but it's hard to even know where to start lately.  It just doesn't flow anymore the way it used to.  But it's been so much fun to have these past few years, I'd hate to let it fizzle out.  I've got Tim's parents' visit coming up, the girls' first (and maybe last) ballet recital, Christmas, and maybe all of that will be enough to jump-start me.  

Marine Corps Birthday Ball 2014

Because this night always comes and goes so quickly, and it costs a fortune, the pictures we take before we leave are VERY important to me.  I knew that two hours alone would be spent in the car because we were going to Hilton Head.  Usually we get cocktail hour too, and I have a glass of wine and we mingle with the people we know there.  Another chunk would be spent at a table during the ceremony and dinner.  And that's it.  We go home right after that because we're paying a sitter $10 an hour.  

So before we left we had Delaney take a series of pictures of us out front with the nice soft light of the setting sun.  It's not often we get dressed up like this, Tim in his mess dress blues and me in my Badgley Mischka from Rent the Runway.  I had also had my hair and makeup professionally done.  After that we got in the car to leave and I looked in the viewfinder and saw that I had failed to suck in my belly adequately and these pictures would not do.  This dress accentuates every curve, even (especially) the ones you wish you didn't have.  It was already a little after 5, cocktail hour started at 6, and Tim had already taken off his stiff jacket for comfort while driving.  But he saw the look on my face and knew it was no use.  He went to get Kaycee to take a couple more pictures. This time I did my best to keep my shoulders up and back AND my belly in, while still looking relaxed and happy.  Good enough.  But now it was about 10 after 5 and we were just now getting on the road.

When we left the GPS said we were 50 minutes away, and I thought, perfect.  We'll be there right after cocktail hour starts.  Just like last year, Tim managed to hit just about every red light from here to Hilton Head.  Then traffic came to a standstill because of a wreck that had happened earlier, and what was supposed to be the last 5 minutes of the trip took about 25 minutes instead.  I kept saying, "All I want is to have one glass of wine before the ceremony starts; is that too much to ask?"  Finally we turned down a road that led to a few different resorts.  But everything was pitch black, no streetlights anywhere, and very confusing.  The GPS was of no help to us anymore.  At last we found the gate to the Westin, only to be told by the man standing there that we would need to turn around and go find another parking lot and wait for a shuttle because they were full.  More driving around in the pitch dark, more confusion and lots of annoyance.  I said, "That's it, we are not going to any more balls in Hilton Head!"

In the end, after not finding the parking lot we were told to go to, we drove back to the Westin and the man told Tim he could park in the underground parking lot.  (Why didn't he just tell us that in the first place?) He dropped me off at the door and parked the car by himself.  I got my glass of chardonnay with 15 minutes to spare.

We had a nice time and really enjoyed talking to the couple we sat with at dinner,  Before we knew it we were looking at our phones and going, "What, it's almost 9?"  Gotta go!  If we leave now we can make it by 10.

It's a lot of fuss to go to for just a short few hours, but at least we took some decent pictures!

Day in the Life: Fall 2014

Today is Monday, October 20.  Delaney is 7, Annie is 5 and Timmy is 3.

6:30 a.m. My alarm goes off.  I get up, go through my routine of making the bed and brushing my teeth, turn on the light in the girls' room --- "Time to get up and get ready for school!" -- then head out to the kitchen to make coffee.  It's so dark outside, and there's just a little chill in the air that makes the bed feel extra cozy, and makes it extra hard to get going in the morning.

6:55 a.m. Timmy never has trouble getting going in the morning.  He lines up his little Star Wars guys that his cousin Alexa sent him a few days ago because that's the kind of thing he does as soon as he rolls out of bed.

7:00 a.m. I drink my coffee, check email on my phone and sleepily survey what everyone else is up to as the clock ticks closer to time to leave for school.  Annie goes about her own little morning routine at which she is very efficient, not needing any prodding from me: Dressed and shoes on: check (she'd already draped her clothing choices over her footboard the night before). Teeth brushed: check.  Lunch removed from fridge and inspected, and frozen Gogurt added to the bag: check.  She notices that there are only three things in there instead of the usual four, and I say, "OK, I'll put a no-bake chocolate oatmeal bar in there."  Oops.  She approves.  Two types of cereal measured into a cup and poured in her bowl along with milk: check.  The only thing that remains to be done is her hair, and that's not a task that I'm ready to turn over to her just yet.  She has learned to put her hair into a ponytail and she practices all the time, but she can't get it to look pretty yet.  It kind of looks like something tried to eat her head.  So we have an agreement that I'll fix her hair before school and Mass.  I go back to check on Delaney a couple times and she is moving at a snail's pace.

By the end of the day, only a fraction of this deliciousness will remain, and most of it will have been eaten by me.

7:20 a.m. Annie is completely done and ready to leave as Delaney finally makes her appearance in the kitchen.  I catch her scooping up little crumbs of Tim's birthday cake from the pan that I've left soaking overnight.  "Do we need to have a sugar intervention, Annie?"  A couple days ago, for Tim's birthday, I made my first attempt at cake from scratch, even the buttercream frosting.  The cake was overcooked and crumbly but everyone liked the frosting but me.  It was so, so sweet.  Way too sweet.  The kids loved it best of all, so it's no surprise that Annie was salvaging what she could from the sides of that pan.  We don't eat many sweets in this house.  The no-bake chocolate oatmeal bars are as sweet as it usually gets, and that is pretty sweet but it has some healthy stuff in it too.  They know the difference.

Guilty!

7:28 a.m. Delaney sits down to her breakfast of Quaker instant oatmeal, and she has exactly six minutes to eat it.  I fix her hair as she sits there.  With time being of the essence, I do one small ponytail with the hair in the front of her head that has always had a mind of its own.  Get that hair out of the way and she's good to go.  I brush the rest of it until it shines.  She has such smooth, shiny hair.  I'm a little bit jealous. 

7:35 a.m. We start making our way out the door, and I make sure they both have lunches and water bottles.  Five minutes later we're backing out the driveway and I've got my travel mug full of coffee at the ready.  It's 59 degrees outside as the sun is just coming up.  Delaney took my advice and is wearing a sweatshirt but Annie opted not to.  The sunrise is so beautiful and I wish I could snap pictures but I can't because I'm driving.  By 8:05 I've dropped them both off.  All the teachers who are waiting outside are wearing sweatshirts and jackets, and after Annie gets out of the car I remark that I wish I could put a sign on her that reads, "My mother suggested I wear a sweatshirt."

They're in their assigned seats: Annie is in the middle row on the way TO school and in the third row on the way FROM school.  She's the first out in the morning and the first in in the afternoon.

8:30 a.m. We're home.  Timmy wants to pretend he's a "baby doggy" as I unbuckle him from his car seat.  He sucks on his hand and I say, "Do baby doggies suck on their paws?"  He's silly.

It's a typical Monday, which for us usually means housework for me and yoga at the Y and not much else.  We leave for yoga at a little after 10, so that gives me an hour-and-a-half to eat breakfast and do whatever else I need or want to get done until then.  I turn on Disney Jr for Timmy and make my usual two eggs to be eaten with a banana for my breakfast.  As the eggs are cooking I unload the dishwasher and load it with the kids' breakfast dishes.  Yeah, I haven't been making the girls do that since school started.:/  Then I start a load of laundry.  

Once I've eaten and cleaned up I take a picture.  I am really happy with the way it's looking now.  We finally got curtains -- why does selecting curtains have to be one of the most difficult decisions I ever make?  That took me weeks to accomplish, and even after they were up I second-guessed my choice (and that's the worst).  But then we got this 'new to us' table from Craigslist to replace the one we'd grown out of, and Tim repainted the old red toy bench so we have the perfect place for our shoes and bags and whatnot.  It's all come together and it looks homey.  And so functional.  This area of the house was a bare wasteland and a thorn in my side for what felt like forever but couldn't have been since we've only lived here for three months total.:)  But now I look at it and makes me smile.

This week's agenda

9:10 a.m. I have about an hour until I have to leave for the Y.  Today is one of those days I'm going to dig deep for the motivation to get us out of here. There is so much to be done around here and we're both so content at home.  Timmy can run outside and play whenever he wants and I have laundry to put away, rooms that need to be vacuumed and dusted, and bathrooms always hurting for attention.  The windows are open and the sun is shining, and on days like this I'm happy to clean.  But I know that the yoga is good for me and I'm always glad when I go.  So I'll have to see what I can get done in an hour.

I start with the girls' room and Timmy keeps me company, rolling his cars around on the Lowe's box that Delaney used this past weekend has her "dollar store" table.  I'm always amused by the way he talks to himself as he does this, having the cars talk to each other and every so often breaking into song -- "Boom, crack.." (I just Googled and it's really "Boom, clap", I see.)

A Land of Nod catalog has been left on the floor open to a page full of tents.  A hint, perhaps?  I know Norah, their friend next door, has a tent of some kind.  I don't know about a tent for this room, but I grab the catalog because I could use some inspiration for decorating here.  We haven't gotten around to it yet but hope to in the next couple months.  I can't wait until we have curtains on these windows.  I wanted to use the curtains we got when Annie had her own room in NC for about five minutes, but we were short a couple panels and Land of Nod had stopped selling them.  Tim found a set of Land of Nod panels on eBay that claimed to be pink gingham, but in the picture they looked more purple than pink --which could just be the lighting of the picture --  but we can't take that chance.  We'll have to find something new.  Should I keep the pink gingham ones in case we could use them in the future, or sell them?  I'm thinking sell.  I've been selling a lot of things lately and it's addicting.

The girls have a lot of knicknacks that are crammed onto the dresser and bookcase, and there are many more still stored in the top drawer of the dresser.  A lot of them have sentimental value but we will never be able to display it all, and I don't know if we need to have all this stuff.  What do I do with the cupcakes they painted at Annie's birthday party?  What does one do with these things?  They have a nice shelf propped against the bookcase that, once mounted on the wall, can house their Precious Moments birthday train and a few other things that need to be kept out of reach.

So .. that motivated weekly chore planner that I was using in my last 'Day in the Life?' That fizzled out quickly once school started.  I now tackle housework the same way I suspect most people do: I notice something that needs to be cleaned and I clean it. Or else I try not to look at it too closely until I can get to cleaning it.  Some things like mopping the floors might wait an entire month.  But the kids' bathroom gets a disproportionate amount of time spent -- at least four times a week it needs some emergency cleaning session just to get it by.  And it always smells like pee, no matter what.  This weekend I gave it a thorough cleaning, floor, base of toilet and everything.  10 minutes later I walked by and caught a whiff of pee.  I know I could just plug in an air freshener and call it a day, but doesn't that just mask the problem?  Yes it does, and that's the whole point.  I do not remember having this problem with their bathroom in the last house.  And having someone paid to clean it twice a month could not alone have kept the pee smell at bay.  Hmm.

I don't remember what he was crying about here.  He was probably just giving me a hard time about something.

I run through Timmy's room with the vacuum and duster, and then it's time to get ready to go.  Here I am dressed for yoga -- pretty much the way I dress anyway if I have nowhere special to be.

Then I go out to the front porch to take pictures because I can't get over how pretty this view is.  And I want to show you the wreath that I made myself, of which I'm very proud.  The OSC also has a craft club, and all you do is RSVP and bring money for supplies, and the organizer tells you what to do.  I was like, 'Sign me up!'  As I'm out there taking pictures something catches my eye down on the floor next to the door.  We've been boo-ed!  Somebody left us a bag of treats.  What a nice little surprise. 

10:00 a.m. We need to leave in the next five minutes and Timmy's still not dressed and I need to fill my water bottle, make sure I have all my stuff..  I'm feeling so discombobulated all of a sudden and it's taking every ounce of will I have to propel us out the door and down the stairs to the car.  Timmy has to make sure he has no fewer than 10 cars clutched in his hands and he moves so slowly when it's time to go anywhere.  I can't find his sneakers which he prefers to wear, so I tell him he has to wear his Crocs.  I can't shake the feeling that I really would rather stay home.  But I like yoga and the Y is only 15 minutes away, I can do this!

10:23 a.m. We're there with a few minutes to spare.  I park in my usual spot, open Timmy's door, unbuckle him, and wait for him to make his way out -- in his own sweet time, thank you very much.  I grab my yoga mat out of the back and turn to see him finally emerging from the car looking like a cute little movie star.  So of course I snap a photo.

Then I'm like, "OK, let's go", and I steer him out of the way and shut his door.  And then before I can make a move to stop him he tries to catch the door (so he can close it himself, of course).  And to my horror the door closes on his tiny fingertips.  I open the door quickly, scared to death of what I'm going to see, but his fingers look absolutely fine.  He cries anyway and tells me they hurt.  I'm sure they do hurt, but they're going to be OK.  I hold and comfort him and carry him in the door.  By the time we get inside he's done crying but he's being uncharacteristically clingy.  I take him into the child watch room and he doesn't want to let go of my neck.  At this point it is maybe a minute until yoga starts and I'm worried that I might have to leave him crying here.  But the lady who works there chats him up and gives him high-fives and I slip out of there feeling immensely relieved.  And still shaking a little from how scared I was when the door shut on his fingers.

Something is wrong when I walk into the room where yoga is held.  The lights are on and some older guy is standing in the instructor's spot with an exercise ball.  People are arranged in a semi-circle, all with exercise balls.  I'm thinking, 'What in tarnation is happening here?'  I ask if the schedule has changed and am told that the yoga teacher is out and there will be a core stability class instead.  Then a friend of mine from OSC turns and gives me a bright smile and a wave.  She's here!  While we were making wreaths last week I told her how much I like this yoga class because she was talking about how she has a Y membership and is having a hard time making herself go.  I talked it up to her, telling her how it's all ages and abilities, I enjoy it so much, blah blah.  And here she is and there's no yoga.  Oh well.

We all stand around waiting, it's 10:35, and the instructor is making no move to start the class, just conversing with different people.  I get bored and start chitchatting with my friend about this and that.  Then I'm distracted by a hissing sound from behind her, and I glance out of the corner of my eye, and there is some lady trying to shush me.  Yes, and she's waving her arms.  Is she serious?  The nerve of her!  I look and see that the instructor is no closer to starting the class than he was 20 seconds ago, and then I smile at the shushing lady so she knows that I noticed her, and keep talking to my friend.  Because passive aggressiveness is a skill of mine.  I see her out of the corner of my eye looking madder and madder, and you know, I'm starting to feel mad too.  If this were yoga class and the lights were down, I wouldn't have to see her grumpy face.  Between this and the car door incident and Timmy's moodiness, this day is starting to go off the rails.  Now I know I should have stayed home in my nice little bubble.

When the class starts --and I shut my yapper, haha -- it is a core stability class intended for seniors.  It is very boring.  It's stuff like hold your foot out in front of you six inches off the floor, raise your left arm .. It's like an hour-long field sobriety test and it's not a suitable substitute for yoga.  I will send an email later on to the Y, asking them nicely to give notice via email or Facebook when the yoga teacher isn't going to be there so I don't waste my time and my gas.

11:30 a.m. Timmy and I are on our way home again, that nonsense behind us.  Time for lunch and a nap.  As soon as we get in the door Timmy gets to pick either a fruit snack or a Gogurt from the fridge.  He picks a fruit snack.  The rest of his lunch is PB&J and Greek yogurt.  I heat up a couple slices of leftover pizza for myself.  When he's done with lunch I let him pick a piece of candy from the treat bag we got that morning.  Then I read him a story and put him down for a nap.

12:30 to 2:30 p.m.  Now that it's Timmy's nap I clean up the kitchen, put the laundry in the dryer and water my little potted mums.  Then I try to take a short nap myself but it isn't happening.  I make a cup of jasmine green tea and read the new blog posts in my Feedly.  I check the 10-day forecast.  You couldn't ask for better around these parts.

2:30 p.m. I usually have to wake Timmy up at this point but he hears the recycling truck and runs out to the porch to watch it.  After he's seen it doing its thing we go through our little post-nap ritual of he uses the potty and then gets two Mentos -- one for him and one for me -- which we then get to put in our mouths once we're buckled up in the car.  The Mentos help us a lot both with getting him up from his nap in a timely fashion and with making sure he pees before our hour-long roundtrip to school.  He likes being in charge of the Mentos, especially when I ask for mine before I'm in the car and buckled up, and he tells me no, and I say, "But I really want it NOW!"  He doesn't mind having a taste of his own medicine.   And they help with stinky nap breath.:)

2:50 p.m. We leave for school.  We pick up Annie first and Delaney second, as always.  Then we stop at the library before we head home.  I am extra generous today and let them each pick out at least three books.  Delaney gets four because she speeds through her books and always needs something else to read.  We'll go back next Monday.  Before we leave everyone needs to use the potty.  There is a munchkin size potty in the children's section which Annie and Timmy like, but for some reason Delaney is freaked out by it and would rather wait until we get home.  Then we check out and everyone takes his/her bag of books and we head home.

Don't you hate it when you try to grab a paper towel and you just get tiny bits?

4:30 to 5:00 p.m. We're home.  Delaney sprints to the bathroom and Annie and Timmy help me bring in the trash can and recycling bins.  Then they have a snack and the girls do their reading and fill out their logs.  This is another thing that Annie does with no reminding.  I love the way she does things on her own.  When the books and reading log first started coming home, the log was supposed to be filled out by a parent, but Annie always wanted to do it by herself, not even letting me initial it.  She initials it herself.  When I mentioned it to her teacher during open house, she said she saw it and thought it was great.  As for Delaney, I looked at her log and saw it blank and said, "Why haven't you been logging your reading?"  She sighed, "I just don't have the time."  I laughed out loud at that and said, "How soon you forget what it was like for you last year, when you did homework from the minute you got off the bus until dinnertime, and then sometimes AFTER dinner..  You have so much more freedom this year."  And so do I!  

5:00 p.m. They go outside to play.  What a fantastic day to not have anywhere else to be.  It is beautiful here.  Now that it's fall this is my honeymoon with Parris Island.  We have chilly mornings and warm days with not much humidity.  I leave the windows open all day and breathe fresh air.  I hear the noise of kids playing and the shouts of drill instructors and recruits.  It's all music to my ears.  When it was still summer, I shut myself inside this house and tried not to break the seal.  Because the heavy, humid air.  The bugs.  The smell of wet towels, which is what the marshes smell like when it's hot.  Now they smell like the ocean.  When I was a recruit here myself 16 long years ago from June to September, I described it as the armpit of the world.  I would still describe it that way, for about a quarter of the year.  It looked nice and green outside my window but I just couldn't be out there.  It was uninhabitable as far as I was concerned.  I'd send the kids out to play for a little bit but I couldn't blame them when they came running back in after less than 30 minutes.

It's hard to imagine that was just a few weeks ago.  Today I am overcome with gratitude for such a nice place to live and watch our kids play.  I step outside to check on Timmy from time to time.  What a lucky boy he is to have so much space to roam safely.  I tell him he has to stay where I can see him from the yard and he has to look out for cars on that shared driveway.  It also helps that the speed limit in this neighborhood is 20 and is enforced, which makes a huge difference.  I look out to see him on the playground with some other kids or sitting at the picnic table with another little boy, rolling his cars around.  

As it gets closer to 5:30 I get hungry so I heat up last night's spaghetti and meatballs and steam some broccoli.  I'll wait awhile to call them in since they're having so much fun.

6:00 p.m. I call them in for dinner.  When Delaney and Annie see me waiting there taking pictures they start making goofy faces.

They eat their spaghetti and meatballs, pick a piece of candy from the treat bag, and then I let them go outside for just a little while longer until it's time to come in for bath and shower.  Delaney is sad because as I'm making them come in, her friend Norah is just coming outside.  But it's starting to get dark and Norah won't be out for much longer either.  This does not make Delaney feel better, as she wishes to spend every waking moment with her friend.

6:30 to 7:30 p.m. I give Annie and Timmy a bath, Delaney takes a shower, and they all get in their pajamas and brush their teeth.  While we wait for Delaney to finish up and join us, Annie looks at one of her new library books with Timmy.  

I read them a Bible story.  Tonight it's Moses and the Israelites crossing the Red Sea.  Then we say our prayers and I kiss them goodnight and turn out the light.  Then I bring Timmy over to his room and do the same.  But since we've just been to the library, Delaney really wants to read and so I look the other way when she goes into the bathroom, shuts the door and doesn't come out.  She'll read on the toilet for about 20 minutes until I make her go to bed.  Timmy took the Bible with him when he left the girls' room, and now he brings it out in the hallway where there's a little bit of light, to look at one particular picture.  The picture is of Joseph's brothers dragging him to toward a hole in the ground.  He's dressed only in a loincloth, the beautiful robe his father gave him is lying on the ground, and I think it's all pretty self-explanatory.  But not to Timmy.  "What is that guy doing?"  "What is that guy doing?"  "Why does he have that look on his face?  What's he saying?"  This isn't the first time he's looked at that picture and asked the same exact questions.  I'm sure that he is listening intently to all my answers; he just likes to hear them again and again, especially if I say them in different ways.  

Annie alone lies in bed with the blankets up to her chin, ready to go to sleep.  I give her hugs and kisses.  You wouldn't know it tonight, but she can be my most challenging and complicated child.  But there is so much sweetness and goodness in her too, and today she's been standing out as a great student and a wonderful child to me.  When she's good she's very, very good..  

8:00 to 10:00 p.m. Once they're all settled, I make the girls their lunches and clean up the kitchen.  Delaney has forgotten to bring home her lunch bag and her water bottle.  I'll have to dig up another lunch bag and she'll have to bring Timmy's water bottle.  That girl.. She forgets things all the time.  Annie never forgets her stuff -- thank goodness one of them is capable of taking home everything she brings to school!  Delaney is capable too, but she'll need some tough love.  Tim shared an article on Facebook today about the "no-rescue" approach to kids who forget things.  You forgot it?  Oh well, you do without.  Otherwise you never learn, we all know that.  There is a quote in there that I take to heart: "A kid who always forgets has a parent who always remembers."  I agree with that, but the thing is, when Delaney forgets her lunch or her water bottle in the morning, I have to take it to her.  She can't starve, and a school lunch has to be purchased the week before.  I know this because I called and asked one morning if it was OK to just buy lunch so I wouldn't have to make the 25 minute drive to school.  They have no extras, I was told.  As far as a forgotten water bottle goes I say, "Delaney, can't you just drink out of the water fountain for one day?"  That's what I did as a kid -- we didn't tote around water bottles.  She says, "I could, but the water fountain is broken."  (I know I need to clarify with the teacher that there is no single source of water in that building for a kid who has no water bottle.  That seems fishy.)  There was one time she did without a water bottle all day and she was so thirsty when I picked her up that afternoon that I felt bad.  I know how I feel when I go one hour without water.  Like my mouth is cotton.  She went all day.  I was a forgetful kid too, who never learned to remember things until my own safety net was gone.  So I try not be too hard on her.  But it is frustrating and stressful to have her forget things all the time.

See, I told you.

How interesting the aspects of their personalities that have emerged now that they're both in school.  I've heard great things about them from their teachers so far, but they have very different ways, that is for sure.

I take a shower and spend some time relaxing on the couch before bed.  I look at the photos from this day and begin this post.  I talk to Tim for a little while before I go to sleep.  He's in Virginia this week.  He tells me about how he had dinner with his good friend and his family who live in Stafford, and how he has a new job he hates.  He gets up in the wee hours every morning to commute to the Pentagon, works long days, only sees the kids for a few hours on the weekends, and it's really rough.  He's only a month-and-a-half into it and it's stressing him out and wearing him down.  I really feel for all of them.  Their kids are Delaney and Annie's ages and they must miss their daddy so much.  I am struck by how good we have it here.  Tim does a lot of traveling, but when he's here, he's here.  Tim says a deployment would be easier than their situation and I would have to agree.  I know Tim is doing everything he can to steer clear of the Pentagon for the rest of his days in the Marine Corps, and it's also good to know that he has 20 years in and he can retire if push comes to shove.

We say goodnight and I turn out the light and go right to sleep.  And that's another Day in the Life!