Its 7:30 and I feel like a zombie that's just been unraveled and placed in the sun. I just want to crawl back in my tomb and SLEEP! My grandma has been living with me one week and 1 day. She goes to bed at 6:30 or 7 p.m. and is ready to get up before the sun has a chance to yawn. I usually don't go to bed before midnight. NOT because I don't TRY! But since I can't do ANYTYHING productive until after I get my little angels to SLEEP, it's usually midnight before I crawl into my bed. I have a baby monitor in my bedroom so I can hear my Grandma call me. She has to pee four to six times a night. Since she can't walk at all by herself, I get up and help her. And then my kids usually wake up several times. EACH. And Charkley has to pee, too. AND then scratches at the door until I let him back in. So my sleep is in the negative amounts right now.
That being said, having my Grandma living with me is not NEARLY as strenuous as I THOUGHT it would be. It's been an amazing learning experience. For example, I can do things I never thought possible. Where I usually gag and throw up at the mildest of NASTY, I've dumped potty chairs, scrubbed false teeth, and pulled down and up panties. I attribute it to the LOVE thing because I don't think I could hold just any person's teeth in my hands. But, somehow, I just want to do ANYTHING to make my Grandma feel comfortable and welcome in my home because I love her.
There have been a few sacrifices. Starling has to watch the television on a barely audible volume because the tv detracts from my Grandma's sleeping comfort, the sleep loss thing, and of course underwear is a MUST. NO more running around in towels because ya never know who you'll bump into when exiting the bathroom.
But there have been some awesome blessings. Brooklyn announced, "Grandma Rosie is my BEST friend!" She absolutely LOVES to dance and sing and play with my Grandma. Brighton is equally enthralled by my Grandma's presence, especially her nifty wheel chair that he keeps climbing and getting ouchies. The best thing is, she isn't rushing off to do laundry or dishes or vaccuum like ME, so they have her undivided attention. When I don't stop to watch, I can get more done around the house with her here because the kids are glued to her. The kids are ALSO loving getting to know my aunts and uncle. I've always considered my mom's family pretty close, but we've grown apart over the years as our families have increased in number. BUT NOW as they are in and out of our home helping with Grandma, Brooklyn knows them all very well and LOVES them! We've shared plenty of laughs and lots of love. We've also learned to band together when the going gets tough. LIKE NEXT week.. when my grandma has random therapy four days a week. Some therapy is back to back... some in the morning and again late afternoon... We are juggling our kids to each other trying to free up one person to take Grandma to therapy and another person to take care of all the paper work to get her into the Windham house so she can get daily therapy. My kiddos are really excited to get to know their cousins who've they've spent more time with in the last week than... EVER.
Anyway- we're doing PU-RETTY good, which lots of people DID NOT think I would be. So far I've only had to pick my grandma off the floor like... hmmm... four or five times? Well, actually Starling picked her up all those times... She only weighs 120 but I only weigh 110 and all those nights in the gym STILL haven't equipped me to pick up fallen grannies. And my granmda would NOT have fallen ANY of those times if she wasn't such a stubborn GO GETTER woman! lol. She'll get going good and decide she'll try to do something herself like HOP on her bed. Now, ONCE it wasn't her fault. Brooklyn asked, "Can I help?" When I was putting my Grandma in to her bed. My grandma said, "Sure, Brooklyn. Hold on to my wheelchair." And Brooklyn did. With one hand. With the OTHER hand she planted a solid handprint on my Grandma's bum and shouted, "Go, Grandma! Go!" And pushed her on towards the bed. The combination of startling force mixed with a burst of the giggles left my grandma and me on the bedroom floor. Brooklyn ran to Starling who was working on the other end of the house. We heard her shouting, "Daddy! Daddy! Help! Grandma Rosie's fallen and she can't get up! Come QUICK!" It wasn't so much as a fall as a slow motion body-lean that eventually made contact with the floor. And once she decided to go pee by HERSELF, at which she actually DID succeed. (Go GRANDMA! GO!) Then, with all her spunk, tried to jump back into the bed and failed miserably. I came in to find her sprawled out on the floor. Luckily, "muscle man," (yes... that is what my Grandma calls Starling), was there to scoop her up and plop her back in the bed.
My grandma is a fun person... even wheelchair bound... she's spunky, cheerful, and full of good humor. I was afraid it would dwindle after the boring set in on her (as she is used to running after chickens and other varments and gardening and garage selling and volunteering)... but she's intense on doing her therapy and insists she'll be able to get her left side to kick into gear soon. And she's doing great! Plus Brooklyn does NOT shut up. EVER. My grandma said its like reliving having me as a two year old all over again. I suppose we are similar in a FEW ways... and Brighton never stops giggling... so between the two of them one is hard pressed to get "bored."
Yesterday my aunt took my gram to therapy and my mom took my kids so I had a day to myself. I didn't know what to DO with myself! I ran errands. I went to Sam's and Target. BY MYSELF. It was equivalent to a week on a remote island soaking up sun rays and drinking fruity drinks with umbrellas in them. It was a blessing indeed. But it was great when the whole family returned, too. I'm really getting used to the hussle and bussle of people in my house all of the time. At first it was overwhelming, but its growing on me. I look forward to seeing my cousin walk through my front door or my aunts or uncle. Its- I can't exactly put words to it- comfortable, comforting... GREAt?! I sort of feel like I have the kind of GIANT family I always wished my parents wouldv'e created when I was a kid. Instead of stopping with just two kids. AND- it totally reaffirms my need to have at LEAST five kids! And then adopt like a cuzillion because, lets face it, with family- the MORE really IS the MERRIER! (And YES, even the families filled with drama-drama and hullagan members). And I thought I might start doubting the Foster Care Plan after experiencing a third "child" per say, but I honestly believe I was supposed to experience this FIRST, "WE", Starling and I- the kids, my FAMILY, was supposed to experience this first... Its made us re-evaluate what's important, get back to the family essentials, re-learn the JOYS of being part of a family filled with sacrifice and free giving. I'm kind of THRILLED to start foster caring... more than I was before... I know I can do it. I know Starling can do it. And the kids... they can do it, too. So for now, we'll keep fostering our sweet, little 71 year old. I now know the hardest part of fostering will be letting go. Brooklyn has already told me she wants Grandma Rosie to live with us FOR-EVER! "I don't WANT her to go to HER house!" Its awesome. God is GREAT!! I feel like He's mentally and emotionally aged me about 38 years. AND maybe aged me a bit physically, too. I may have gray hairs popping up by the end of the month... but scientists are good, too. They invented hair dye. And their is an endless selction of browns to choose from.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Whirl baby Whirl
Dear Blog,
I know it must seem that I’ve fallen off planet Earth… and, truth be told, it kind of feels that way. Actually it feels more like I’ve been swept up into a tornado and my world is just whirling around me and I can’t seem to get my footing back before being swept up again in some NEW disaster. But hey! If the world didn't suck we'd all fall off.
Ha… I sound so melodramatic! (and we ALL know that I am NOT dramatic (unless of course we’ve MET)). Anyway- a TON of drama has gone down in the last month. I don’t know when I last wrote, but I certainly never anticipated all the new life changes. I suppose one never does. A new dent in the car? Burned dinner? A sick kid? Expected. Speeding ticket? Bout' due for one. But, no one prepares for certain things.
December was a JOYFUL month… preparatory for a GLORIOUS Christmas. I, of course, wanted to get in the Christmas spirit and volunteered for any and EVERYthing relating to service and/or Christmas celebration. After all, life was GOOD, FABULOUS, and I just have two babies… and ALL the time in the world! (In between diapers, Putting away the SAME toys fifteen times a day, and wiping the sAME spot on the counter three to six times a day).
So I readied myself and went to choir practice, joined the Nativity Committee, RSVP’d to several Christmas parties… and I got to work! Oh, sure, I resembled BOZO the clown trying to perform a juggling act, but I was holding my own and not the least bit stressed! I got my Christmas stuff out late, but I can't get it up after Halloween EVERY YEAR. Starling and I sang at a Laurel’s Christmas Party (his DARLING father volunteered us, of course), I made calls to collect Nativities, and then we went to a Christmas party. We had a joyful time at all the events. That was as of December 13. Hey. Maybe there is truth to the number 13 being unlucky.
ANYWAY- on our ride home from our Christmas party, I got a call. Granted it was 10:30 p.m. and I wondered why on earth my cousin was calling so late. I was informed my Grandma Rosie was on her way to the hospital via ambulance; she’d suffered a stroke.
WELL- you have to know my Grandma Rosie to truly appreciate the horror of the situation. I all but lived with my Grandma most of my childhood. She has been a widow for some 24 years and hasn’t missed having a man at ALL. JUST ask her. We all find great joy in teasing her about remarrying. “I don’t NEED a MAN!” No. The only males she likes having around is her roosters and the occasional dropped off cat. UNLESS the cat chases her chickens, in which case she pulls out her rifle, and shoots it dead between the eyes. AND unless her Rooster jumps on a hen in which case she lays his head over a tree stump and chops it off with an ax. She’s THAT kind of Grandma. One day she is in the yard chopping wood for her wood heater. The next she’s laying on the bathroom floor unable to get up.
I went to the hospital that night and saw with my own eyes that she was alive and still in good spirits. The left side of her body was paralyzed but her mind was still sharp as a tack. My aunt stayed the first night with her. I went to the hospital and stayed the second night accompanied by Brighton. (Future reference- babies really don’t LOVE hospitals. BUT what to do with your infant who will NOT drink out of a bottle??) I got up early, got picked up by my brother, and got my wisdom teeth removed. I would have waited on that if my whole head wasn’t throbbing from my bottom left wisdom tooth. An infection of sorts. AND, I hadn’t taken out my contacts at the hospital since I had to get up with my grandma every hour or so to help her turn or scoot, or move her pillow, put on blanket, take off blanket… AND my left eye was practically swollen shut. I looked like Quasimodo. I force fed Brighton my boob in the waiting room of the Oral Surgeon’s office. He didn’t realize it was his LAST supper for TWENTY four HOURS. (The wait time AFTER surgery). I went in, signed my life away, or at least my yearly income, and listened to Dr. Tims say, “You have beautiful teeth. They are-“ and then I woke up. “I’m done?” I THOUGHT I asked. It sounded more like, “ighgi dohuuunghf?” And then, even though my face was stuffed like a Thanksgiving Turkey, I continued trying to talk through the cotton. But, the doctor and nurses politely ignored me, stuck me in Bradley’s car, and then I woke up at home. I had been prescribed pain pills. I was told I had to wait 24 hours after each pill to breastfeed. In the name of Brighton, I chomped Tylenol instead. I was given a list of things “to do” for my teeth, one being go to bed and REST. But did I mention I had volunteered for EVERYTHING?
The next day was get ready for show time in the Nativity department. So, chipmunk HEAD and all, I went to my church and helped get set up. Starling called me that night and DRUG me away from church to go to Laurel for our family Christmas. I hated leaving so much work for so little people, but family first. We had a fabulous Christmas with the Johnson family. Everyone played Tennis the next day except me. My head wasn’t supposed to bounce around although it did plenty of bouncing because I had to keep up with kids… Kids don’t sit still. Ever. Especially MINE. But it was enjoyable. I just kept chomping down on Tylenol. The next day was Sunday. Show TIME! I went to church, dropped off my fam, then returned with last minute items, lamps and such, and I helped with finishing touches. Our church gym was transformed into a Nativity WONDERLAND. It was absolutely GORGEOUS! Over 450 nativities from all around the world was set up for the community to view. And one of the greatest things? The LIVE nativity! Thanks to some INCREDIBLY talented individuals, the stage looked like the REAL thing… Eric and Steph and Cohen did the first two hours of nativity, then my family replaced them. Brighton was the BIGGEST newborn EVER, but still made a great baby Jesus. A giggling, crawling, baby Jesus. So, I tried to wrap the head thing in such a way to cover the size of my swollen face, but it didn’t work. I saw pictures. I look like a basketball with eyes. Oh well. When I led the music earlier that morning, my friend Lance said, “I kept looking at you and finally turned to Jessie and said, ‘Wendi looks different… Maybe it’s the turtleneck.’” Ugh… if turtlenecks made my head look THAT bad, I’d burn every one of mine in two seconds.
So then MONDAY came and I went to my Grandma’s house to help prepare it for her return. My cousin Shannon and Aunt Brenda were there. We looked around in horror. Where to start. My Grandma saves EVERYTHING. Especially fabric. So, we started loading up my car. LUCKILY we have those storage units on Oak Grove Road. (VERY AFFORDABLE MIGHT I ADD if you are interested in renting one!- we only have a few left!) We carried out things, threw things away, moved things around up until Christmas Eve. Of the things we loaded out? TEN sewing machines. NOT the kind you see at Wal Mart. Ten TABLE sewing machines. We took a break for Christmas and started again the next day. We took a break for New Year’s.
We went with our second family, the Spiers, to their Dad’s camp. What a NICE get away! I’m sure everyone “needed” to get away…. But it was like finding water in a dang desert for ME. There was real FOOD (hot dogs and hamburgers are much more real than mayo on bread with a slice of meat- stuff face- get back to work). There was laughter. (When you see the video of the guys singing their own lyrics to random guitar strumming you'll understand). And how I hated to leave and return to the business of sorting chaos.
New problems arose. We discovered my Grandma had been scammed into some replacement Insurance plan and I had to find out what to do about it. Shannon, my cousin, who is pregnant, has a kid, and is only three years older than me, attempted to help my brain wrap around the situation. Together we went to the Social Worker and finally backed her into a corner into finding out that we needed to cancel her current insurance and get a new one. So, Miss I use a credit card that my husband pays off every month/ doesn't even know what bills we have- ME, set to work calling Medicare while Shannon set to work finding out what all we had to get. It took ALL day but we managed to find out HOW and WHAT to do. By then everything was closed. We did bring the results to my Grandma.
You must KNOW that on the stretcher my Grandma’s parting words to the Ambulance worker was, “You can take me to the hospital but do NOT put me in a nursing home!!”
No one wanted to ASK my grandma if she would be willing to go to a nursing home. We don’t even want to SEND her. BUT, truth be known, she needs therapy and is getting tons of it at the hospital. If she comes home… well… only three people out of 6 kids and 16 grandchildren don’t work during the day. My aunt Brenda. My cousin Shannon. ME. Sooo our confidence in giving her super great care and therapy WHILE beckoning to her every call WHILE taking care of our babies is shaky to say the least. We were told if she skips ANY therapy that it will be detrimental and her progress will be in vain. So, naturally we’ve been trying to find out HOW and WHERE we can get her the MOST therapy. We were assured that she’d get the most at the hospital and that they’d keep her until her insurance denied her. WELL… thinking all was well… we kept focusing on getting her insurance worked out. (It won’t kick in until February 1st). THEN came the call. Insurance won’t pay. She isn’t progressing enough for them to justify keeping her at the hospital. They are sending her home Monday. THIS MONDAY.
Her house isn’t ready. For one, a wheelchair can’t climb the steps, can’t get through the door, can’t get through the bathroom door. She lives in a BLOCK house, not to COMPLICATE things, but one can’t just MOVE blocks around like sheetrock and WOOD. She doesn’t have central heating and air, only a wood stove. We could TRY to make it work… EXCEPT can you IMAGINE trying to build a fire, keep the kids from TOUCHING the wood stove, while pulling my Grandma about? So…
My Grandma is moving in with me on Monday. I have until then to get MY house ready. BUT not really. I have to go get training from the hospital tomorrow AND my cousin and I still have to tour some Swing Beds. (That is a nice way of saying temporary Nursing Home… but it really is temporary…). She can’t go into the Swing Bed until Feb. 1st because her insurance doesn’t start until then. So for 3 to 4 weeks she’ll live with me, THEN, IF she’ll agree, she’ll go stay in the Windham House or Bedford Care, AND THEN we can keep working on her house. Hopefully she’ll eventually be able to live on her own again. That’s probably NOT going to happen, but we are praying for a miracle. She is VERY stubborn so it could happen. AND if she CAN’T live on her own, we’ll have time to close in our Breezeway and make her a decent living space at my house.
Talk about a CRAZY whirl of events. And of course, we are STILL planning to Foster Care. Starling joked that our first foster kid is a 73 year old. And I said this must be preparation. After fostering MISS INDEPENDENT (half paralyzed independence), fostering a youngster will be a BREEEEEZE!!
I know it must seem that I’ve fallen off planet Earth… and, truth be told, it kind of feels that way. Actually it feels more like I’ve been swept up into a tornado and my world is just whirling around me and I can’t seem to get my footing back before being swept up again in some NEW disaster. But hey! If the world didn't suck we'd all fall off.
Ha… I sound so melodramatic! (and we ALL know that I am NOT dramatic (unless of course we’ve MET)). Anyway- a TON of drama has gone down in the last month. I don’t know when I last wrote, but I certainly never anticipated all the new life changes. I suppose one never does. A new dent in the car? Burned dinner? A sick kid? Expected. Speeding ticket? Bout' due for one. But, no one prepares for certain things.
December was a JOYFUL month… preparatory for a GLORIOUS Christmas. I, of course, wanted to get in the Christmas spirit and volunteered for any and EVERYthing relating to service and/or Christmas celebration. After all, life was GOOD, FABULOUS, and I just have two babies… and ALL the time in the world! (In between diapers, Putting away the SAME toys fifteen times a day, and wiping the sAME spot on the counter three to six times a day).
So I readied myself and went to choir practice, joined the Nativity Committee, RSVP’d to several Christmas parties… and I got to work! Oh, sure, I resembled BOZO the clown trying to perform a juggling act, but I was holding my own and not the least bit stressed! I got my Christmas stuff out late, but I can't get it up after Halloween EVERY YEAR. Starling and I sang at a Laurel’s Christmas Party (his DARLING father volunteered us, of course), I made calls to collect Nativities, and then we went to a Christmas party. We had a joyful time at all the events. That was as of December 13. Hey. Maybe there is truth to the number 13 being unlucky.
ANYWAY- on our ride home from our Christmas party, I got a call. Granted it was 10:30 p.m. and I wondered why on earth my cousin was calling so late. I was informed my Grandma Rosie was on her way to the hospital via ambulance; she’d suffered a stroke.
WELL- you have to know my Grandma Rosie to truly appreciate the horror of the situation. I all but lived with my Grandma most of my childhood. She has been a widow for some 24 years and hasn’t missed having a man at ALL. JUST ask her. We all find great joy in teasing her about remarrying. “I don’t NEED a MAN!” No. The only males she likes having around is her roosters and the occasional dropped off cat. UNLESS the cat chases her chickens, in which case she pulls out her rifle, and shoots it dead between the eyes. AND unless her Rooster jumps on a hen in which case she lays his head over a tree stump and chops it off with an ax. She’s THAT kind of Grandma. One day she is in the yard chopping wood for her wood heater. The next she’s laying on the bathroom floor unable to get up.
I went to the hospital that night and saw with my own eyes that she was alive and still in good spirits. The left side of her body was paralyzed but her mind was still sharp as a tack. My aunt stayed the first night with her. I went to the hospital and stayed the second night accompanied by Brighton. (Future reference- babies really don’t LOVE hospitals. BUT what to do with your infant who will NOT drink out of a bottle??) I got up early, got picked up by my brother, and got my wisdom teeth removed. I would have waited on that if my whole head wasn’t throbbing from my bottom left wisdom tooth. An infection of sorts. AND, I hadn’t taken out my contacts at the hospital since I had to get up with my grandma every hour or so to help her turn or scoot, or move her pillow, put on blanket, take off blanket… AND my left eye was practically swollen shut. I looked like Quasimodo. I force fed Brighton my boob in the waiting room of the Oral Surgeon’s office. He didn’t realize it was his LAST supper for TWENTY four HOURS. (The wait time AFTER surgery). I went in, signed my life away, or at least my yearly income, and listened to Dr. Tims say, “You have beautiful teeth. They are-“ and then I woke up. “I’m done?” I THOUGHT I asked. It sounded more like, “ighgi dohuuunghf?” And then, even though my face was stuffed like a Thanksgiving Turkey, I continued trying to talk through the cotton. But, the doctor and nurses politely ignored me, stuck me in Bradley’s car, and then I woke up at home. I had been prescribed pain pills. I was told I had to wait 24 hours after each pill to breastfeed. In the name of Brighton, I chomped Tylenol instead. I was given a list of things “to do” for my teeth, one being go to bed and REST. But did I mention I had volunteered for EVERYTHING?
The next day was get ready for show time in the Nativity department. So, chipmunk HEAD and all, I went to my church and helped get set up. Starling called me that night and DRUG me away from church to go to Laurel for our family Christmas. I hated leaving so much work for so little people, but family first. We had a fabulous Christmas with the Johnson family. Everyone played Tennis the next day except me. My head wasn’t supposed to bounce around although it did plenty of bouncing because I had to keep up with kids… Kids don’t sit still. Ever. Especially MINE. But it was enjoyable. I just kept chomping down on Tylenol. The next day was Sunday. Show TIME! I went to church, dropped off my fam, then returned with last minute items, lamps and such, and I helped with finishing touches. Our church gym was transformed into a Nativity WONDERLAND. It was absolutely GORGEOUS! Over 450 nativities from all around the world was set up for the community to view. And one of the greatest things? The LIVE nativity! Thanks to some INCREDIBLY talented individuals, the stage looked like the REAL thing… Eric and Steph and Cohen did the first two hours of nativity, then my family replaced them. Brighton was the BIGGEST newborn EVER, but still made a great baby Jesus. A giggling, crawling, baby Jesus. So, I tried to wrap the head thing in such a way to cover the size of my swollen face, but it didn’t work. I saw pictures. I look like a basketball with eyes. Oh well. When I led the music earlier that morning, my friend Lance said, “I kept looking at you and finally turned to Jessie and said, ‘Wendi looks different… Maybe it’s the turtleneck.’” Ugh… if turtlenecks made my head look THAT bad, I’d burn every one of mine in two seconds.
So then MONDAY came and I went to my Grandma’s house to help prepare it for her return. My cousin Shannon and Aunt Brenda were there. We looked around in horror. Where to start. My Grandma saves EVERYTHING. Especially fabric. So, we started loading up my car. LUCKILY we have those storage units on Oak Grove Road. (VERY AFFORDABLE MIGHT I ADD if you are interested in renting one!- we only have a few left!) We carried out things, threw things away, moved things around up until Christmas Eve. Of the things we loaded out? TEN sewing machines. NOT the kind you see at Wal Mart. Ten TABLE sewing machines. We took a break for Christmas and started again the next day. We took a break for New Year’s.
We went with our second family, the Spiers, to their Dad’s camp. What a NICE get away! I’m sure everyone “needed” to get away…. But it was like finding water in a dang desert for ME. There was real FOOD (hot dogs and hamburgers are much more real than mayo on bread with a slice of meat- stuff face- get back to work). There was laughter. (When you see the video of the guys singing their own lyrics to random guitar strumming you'll understand). And how I hated to leave and return to the business of sorting chaos.
New problems arose. We discovered my Grandma had been scammed into some replacement Insurance plan and I had to find out what to do about it. Shannon, my cousin, who is pregnant, has a kid, and is only three years older than me, attempted to help my brain wrap around the situation. Together we went to the Social Worker and finally backed her into a corner into finding out that we needed to cancel her current insurance and get a new one. So, Miss I use a credit card that my husband pays off every month/ doesn't even know what bills we have- ME, set to work calling Medicare while Shannon set to work finding out what all we had to get. It took ALL day but we managed to find out HOW and WHAT to do. By then everything was closed. We did bring the results to my Grandma.
You must KNOW that on the stretcher my Grandma’s parting words to the Ambulance worker was, “You can take me to the hospital but do NOT put me in a nursing home!!”
No one wanted to ASK my grandma if she would be willing to go to a nursing home. We don’t even want to SEND her. BUT, truth be known, she needs therapy and is getting tons of it at the hospital. If she comes home… well… only three people out of 6 kids and 16 grandchildren don’t work during the day. My aunt Brenda. My cousin Shannon. ME. Sooo our confidence in giving her super great care and therapy WHILE beckoning to her every call WHILE taking care of our babies is shaky to say the least. We were told if she skips ANY therapy that it will be detrimental and her progress will be in vain. So, naturally we’ve been trying to find out HOW and WHERE we can get her the MOST therapy. We were assured that she’d get the most at the hospital and that they’d keep her until her insurance denied her. WELL… thinking all was well… we kept focusing on getting her insurance worked out. (It won’t kick in until February 1st). THEN came the call. Insurance won’t pay. She isn’t progressing enough for them to justify keeping her at the hospital. They are sending her home Monday. THIS MONDAY.
Her house isn’t ready. For one, a wheelchair can’t climb the steps, can’t get through the door, can’t get through the bathroom door. She lives in a BLOCK house, not to COMPLICATE things, but one can’t just MOVE blocks around like sheetrock and WOOD. She doesn’t have central heating and air, only a wood stove. We could TRY to make it work… EXCEPT can you IMAGINE trying to build a fire, keep the kids from TOUCHING the wood stove, while pulling my Grandma about? So…
My Grandma is moving in with me on Monday. I have until then to get MY house ready. BUT not really. I have to go get training from the hospital tomorrow AND my cousin and I still have to tour some Swing Beds. (That is a nice way of saying temporary Nursing Home… but it really is temporary…). She can’t go into the Swing Bed until Feb. 1st because her insurance doesn’t start until then. So for 3 to 4 weeks she’ll live with me, THEN, IF she’ll agree, she’ll go stay in the Windham House or Bedford Care, AND THEN we can keep working on her house. Hopefully she’ll eventually be able to live on her own again. That’s probably NOT going to happen, but we are praying for a miracle. She is VERY stubborn so it could happen. AND if she CAN’T live on her own, we’ll have time to close in our Breezeway and make her a decent living space at my house.
Talk about a CRAZY whirl of events. And of course, we are STILL planning to Foster Care. Starling joked that our first foster kid is a 73 year old. And I said this must be preparation. After fostering MISS INDEPENDENT (half paralyzed independence), fostering a youngster will be a BREEEEEZE!!
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Brighton 7 months
Okay, since I am a HORRIBLE parent that keeps a BLOG instead of a BABY BOOK for my poor SECOND child, I better AT LEAST note that BRIGHTON can CRAWL!! He's been scooting for about a month and about two weeks ago he was laying on his stomach and suddenly he sat up... or maybe he'd been sitting up sooner and I just finally realized he was doing it... like with his rolling. I happened to notice one day last month that Brighton was NEVER where I left him. He'd always be on the other side of the room. He never moved while I was playing with him, so I left the room and spied. He was rolling around like a soccer ball! So I was BOUND and determined to catch his first CRAWL. Well. I didn't. BUT, for the baby books sake we'll say it was yesterday! We were at my Grandma Brown's house, for her birthday party, and everyone saw him shimmy those little fat legs together and crawl for a toy. I do think his crawling happened in the last week so it won't be THAT far off. (I'll make it sound good for his baby book! WHICH- I AM working on... kind of. I think I've done part of the first page on Heritage Makers. My kids only 7 months old... HENCE the BLOOOOG)!!
His four top teeth just came in, also, SO he has a total of six teeth. Which is just FABULOUS. He's a humongo baby with teeth. He's going to look like a dang three year old that's still getting breastfed and wearing a diaper. Not to mention poor MEEE. Whoever said your nipples lose all feeling when you breastfeed OBVIOUSLY never breastfed a baby with TEETH. Brighton chomped down on me and I didn't know how to get him OFF!! I know I said Brighton looks like a turtle. I'd like to edit that comment. Brighton IS a turtle. A snapping turtle! And once he snaps there is no getting him UNsnapped! My little family was all seated around our new tv watching something wonderful... Barney or Diego... when I did the motherly act of feeding my little boy. And then I was screaming, "OOOOWWWW!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!" And Brooklyn and Starling were just staring at me. Did they offer to help?? No. They just watched my agonizing face as I tried to decide rather to thump Brighton in the head or tug. I chose tug which was the WROOOONG decision. He bit harder, hanging on to his milk supply with jagged razor blades. Yelling didn't deter him. I finally decided to sacrifice my finger and stuffed it into his chubby cheek and sqeezed until he let go to cry. And NO I didn't feel bad for pinching his cheek. NOT one BIT. He's lucky I ever let him on again!
He's still as jolly as ever, the most smiling baby I've ever seen. Teething has been rough on him AS has this cold he has that WON'T go away. BUT, he's still a big ole' pile of happy. And I KNOW he can talk. He spouts out random words like "I love you" and "Ma Ma" and "Bwoo Bwoo." AND NOOOOO those little instances can't go into the baby book as his first words YET, but I've heard them and Starling has heard them. Last night we were leaving and he said "Bu Bye." (I know... overzealous parents and their overzealous ears... lol). But I can understand his babbling! Especially when he is telling Brooklyn off. When she snatches a toy from him, which is every three seconds, and she says, "Oh! Brighton that is MY horsey, but you can play with THI-IS..." (And its like a sock or something), Brighton will start going off, chomping those little jaws and Raw Raw Rawing at her. Its pretty hilarious. He's hilarious. My whole LIFE is just flippin hilarious. (a bit of sarcasm in that last one. I'm just remembering my battle two minutes ago in the laundry room when I tried to hang up my freshly washed- although it did say dry clean only- dress and I dropped it into the rabbit's water, food, and then litter pan. So "hilarious", in this instant, is also a synonym for chaotic, clumsy, and WHY WHY WHY).
I'd LOVE to keep going with lovely thoughts, but my "hilarious" little SCREAMING Brooklyn is crying, "MOOOOMMMMAYYY.... I neeeeed my CHOOOOOCOLATE MIIIIYIIILK." Why can't she be attached to a stupid BLANKET!?
His four top teeth just came in, also, SO he has a total of six teeth. Which is just FABULOUS. He's a humongo baby with teeth. He's going to look like a dang three year old that's still getting breastfed and wearing a diaper. Not to mention poor MEEE. Whoever said your nipples lose all feeling when you breastfeed OBVIOUSLY never breastfed a baby with TEETH. Brighton chomped down on me and I didn't know how to get him OFF!! I know I said Brighton looks like a turtle. I'd like to edit that comment. Brighton IS a turtle. A snapping turtle! And once he snaps there is no getting him UNsnapped! My little family was all seated around our new tv watching something wonderful... Barney or Diego... when I did the motherly act of feeding my little boy. And then I was screaming, "OOOOWWWW!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!" And Brooklyn and Starling were just staring at me. Did they offer to help?? No. They just watched my agonizing face as I tried to decide rather to thump Brighton in the head or tug. I chose tug which was the WROOOONG decision. He bit harder, hanging on to his milk supply with jagged razor blades. Yelling didn't deter him. I finally decided to sacrifice my finger and stuffed it into his chubby cheek and sqeezed until he let go to cry. And NO I didn't feel bad for pinching his cheek. NOT one BIT. He's lucky I ever let him on again!
He's still as jolly as ever, the most smiling baby I've ever seen. Teething has been rough on him AS has this cold he has that WON'T go away. BUT, he's still a big ole' pile of happy. And I KNOW he can talk. He spouts out random words like "I love you" and "Ma Ma" and "Bwoo Bwoo." AND NOOOOO those little instances can't go into the baby book as his first words YET, but I've heard them and Starling has heard them. Last night we were leaving and he said "Bu Bye." (I know... overzealous parents and their overzealous ears... lol). But I can understand his babbling! Especially when he is telling Brooklyn off. When she snatches a toy from him, which is every three seconds, and she says, "Oh! Brighton that is MY horsey, but you can play with THI-IS..." (And its like a sock or something), Brighton will start going off, chomping those little jaws and Raw Raw Rawing at her. Its pretty hilarious. He's hilarious. My whole LIFE is just flippin hilarious. (a bit of sarcasm in that last one. I'm just remembering my battle two minutes ago in the laundry room when I tried to hang up my freshly washed- although it did say dry clean only- dress and I dropped it into the rabbit's water, food, and then litter pan. So "hilarious", in this instant, is also a synonym for chaotic, clumsy, and WHY WHY WHY).
I'd LOVE to keep going with lovely thoughts, but my "hilarious" little SCREAMING Brooklyn is crying, "MOOOOMMMMAYYY.... I neeeeed my CHOOOOOCOLATE MIIIIYIIILK." Why can't she be attached to a stupid BLANKET!?
Monday, December 5, 2011
Lets get Complicated
OKAY. So Starling and I have been REALLY happy lately. I got my CAR BACK, we closed on the Oak Grove land, my moods are like a NORMAL woman (so only MILDLY spastic). We've been having more time to spend as a family. So, OF COURSE, I am COMPLETELY discontent. SOMETHING has to change! Usually when things get real good I go off and get a new PET to challenge my family's sanity... or I get pregnant... but I already have a Dog, a Cat, and a Rabbit. AND a two year old and a six month old. Unless I get a goat, I'm out of ideas.
So I think I spaced writing about my CAR. Not the FIRST, SECOND, or SIXTEENTH thing... but the LAST thing. Lets see... QUICK refresher...so I finally got my car BACK from North Carolina and the FIRST thing I did was get stuck in a RANDOM parking lot in Collins (because I got lost and couldn't find my way back to HATTIESBURG and PULLED into a parking lot and into a huge HOLE where a WATER fountain had been removed). No. I did NOT see the MOON sized CRATER before MY new car was STUCK unable to go FORWARD or BACKWARDS. That was okay.. I flagged down some dude on a BIcYCLE who flagged down some dude in a TRUCK, who happened to work nearby and got a HUGE chain and yanked me out of the hole with only MILD judgement on my inability to SEE the GINORMOUS hole in the small parking lot. It only ripped up everything under my car. I thought Starling would've murdered me, but he only held his breath, and the steam exited his ears silently. (OH HOW different we ARE)! Then I was told I couldn't get a tag in MS and we had to take it BACK to North Carolina for them to FIX the title. I got my car back AGAIN. ONE YEAR LATER. Immediately Starling drove it through a parking lot and one of those sewage lids POPPED up and gashed the bottom runner thing. (I can't even SPECULATE on the NAME of that part or HOW FURIOUS I was- hypocrite? maybe...), that was bad but I got my TITLE so I was THRILLED!! THEN I drove my car to the Zoo in New Orleans and tried to parallel PARK and did GREAT until I had to back out. I did JUST like I was supposed to do. LOOK in my side mirror. I watched it RIGHT up until it POPPED off because I was passing a pole. Luckily some dude was walking by and handed me my mirror so I had something to give to Starling when I got home. I thought he'd finally throw his hands up in the air and tell me he gives up! I need to drive a bus because I can't take care of a car, but he just put his eyes back in his sockets and reattached the mirror. THEN I got my TAG FINALLY!!! THEN, my Inspection sticker was expired so I went and got that. I DROVE out of the PARKING lot and onto HWY 98 thinking THIS thought. "I am FINALLY LEGAL with a TAG and an INSPECTION sticker in my PRETTY CAR!" As I THINK this thought, the car in front of my slows down rather rapidly. Not to FEAR, the NEW and IMPROVED driver that I am, was following a safe distance behind so I tapped that brake. No problem. EXCEPT I heard squealing tires and so I pressed my brakes HARDER. MY foot was FLAT on the floor board and I STILL heard squealing brakes and then BAM!! And even though I was completely braked, my car was lurching forward. BUT then the people in front of me drove off!
I sat in my car for a FULL 64 seconds confused as a child trying to pick up a cemented penny wondering how in the HECK I hit those people in front of me. THEN when someone started banging on my WINDOW, I realized HALF HORRIFIED, half relieved that I didn't hit someone. Someone hit ME. Of COURSE it was a GINORMOUS truck that had a BIG METAL POLE/ RAIL thing GUARDING it like some dang WAR tank. So my CAR was completely destroyed. THEN the NEXT day I drove my LOVELY pile of metal to SAM's and when I LEFT I noticed someone had SLAMMED a buggy into my driver's DOOR.
Yeah. I was ready to ACCIDENTALLY blow up my car and collect the insurance money. BUT- my luck I'd burn my hand, or catch on fire, get caught, and spend the next ten years being some psycho woman's girlfriend in some jail cell. I would rather ride around on a SCOOTER for the next ten years than THAT- SOOOOO I just chewed Starling out instead (since it had ANYTHING to do with him and all) and then dropped my new and destroyed car off at the Auto Collision Fix It people. I got to drive around a rental car for two weeks while they fixed it. I don't know what kind of car it was... but its the closest I've ever come to riding in a Hurst. An HMR or MMR or something like that. It was DEFINITELY made for speed. It went zero to sixty in like... three. Days.
So when I went to get MY car back and I saw it shining there in front of me... Not only did I have a new bumper and trunk, but they had washed and waxed and vacuumed my car, I was ecstatic! And even though when I barely touched the gas and it LURCHED me forward into traffic and I nearly peed my pants, I was SOOO happy to be driving in traffic in MY car. And I have taken REALLY good care of it since I got it back. I'm trying SO hard not to run things over and so far so good, except for the little bush I had to take out because I couldn't seem to get around it. And I really WAS sad about that... its one of the crate myrtles that Starling planted. He hasn't looked at it yet. I hope it lives, but that crunch it made when I ran it over didn't sound promising.
ANYWAY- I have NO idea why I got off on my car. I'm SUPPOSED to be writing about the BIG CHANGE!! SO... since everything is GOOD again- Starling and I found out WHY!
LOOOOONG story short- BEFORE Starling and I ever got married, or went on a DATE for that matter, (I think it was the 2nd time we'd ever MET) we decided we would have five children, the FIRST would be named Brooke, (to carry on the Wind and Star earthy garb) and we would foster care/ and or adopt some kids. THEN we DID date and we spent PLENTY of time talking about youngins. We weren't convinced that WE, as a COUPLE, would exist in five years, but we were CERTAIN that we wanted TONS of kids. Well, we got married, and I IMMEDIATELY wanted kids. Starling wanted me to finish school first. I was SO VERY INTO Social Work in college and THEN was told that if I worked for DHS I couldn't foster care. So? I did some severe praying and switched to Psychology. Some lady actually found Starling and me and asked if we'd adopt her twin grandson's. I was a WhOPPING twenty years old. Starling was 25. Too young? Barely married? We sent up ONE prayer, told the Grandma that YES! We'd do EVERYTHING in our power to get those boys! And we did. I called Texas every day in between classes and HOUNDED the Social Worker in charge of the twins. She was RUDE and UNHELPFUL and completely peeved that I even KNEW about them since they weren't UP for ADOPTION. AND then she told me I was entirely to young to be considered anyway.
BUT! The whole experience completely altered our universe and Starling and I were determined that we WOULD indeed foster care. So we went through the classes while I was pregnant with Brooklyn. BUT once I had Brooklyn I got cold feet PLUS our house was in NO WAY ready to hold ANY kid, let alone TWO. Then we got comfy. SO we prayed about it again, didn't feel like it was the right time, and so I started getting in shape so I could join the Reserves, and I found out I was prego with Brighton. We kind of stopped thinking about Foster Care. We'd been told it wasn't the right time so MANY times, that we just stopped praying about it. UNTIL we got all comfy this LAST time. I was reading something very dear to me that I read often, and it HIT me that I needed to pray about Foster Care again. I went through my normal list of justifications... #1 I have two children- how would they be affected with another child #2 We wouldn't have any idea what kind of kid we'd be bringing into our home #3 We are so HaPPy right now... WHY am I always on some MISSIOn to complicate the simple? #4 How am I going to say NO if God tells me YES?
So. I waited. I have gotten paranoid with two babies. I am WAY obsessed and over-protective. They SLEEP with me. They go where I go. I have never hired a babysitter. I've left Brooklyn with FOUR people, only ONE not being related to me. I shield my home from Satan's little scary people like the Media shields liberalism. I guard what my children watch on Netflix, what they listen to, who they play with, where they go... I have to admit, foster care has seemed LESS and LESS appealing... what with all the horror stories out there... But when I prayed... I felt a SURE enough peace about it as distinct as jumping into a cool pool on a hot MS summer day. All I said to Starling was to pray about it. I figured he has a harder head than me when it comes to praying about things he may not want to get the answer to... but he surprised me and didn't put it off. And he got the same answer I did. It is TIME.
SOOOO we just went to the class again. TWO days 9 to 5. Brighton went with us and was PERFECT the whole two days. (He's making up for it now with his 4 top teeth coming in but he needs a chance to fuss or I'm going to start thinking he's not really my kid or at least ALL STarling's kid with NONE of my GENES). NOW we are filling out the HUMONGO packet and getting our ducks in a row.
Foster Caring is ALREADY a blessing... NORMALLY its like giving an aligator a ROOT canal without losing an arm to get Starling to part with stuff... ESPECiaLLY furniture... but since we have to make room for an extra child, we've torn our house APART moving stuff OUT. I'm so impressed by Starling's willingness to part with his belongings! I don't know WHERE we are going to stash all the stuff that I was hiding in and under dressers and furniture BUT we'll manage. (That garage sale pile is filling up an entire storage unit AS we speak- and still growing). It feels SOO liberating to be FREE of STUFF. I am emotionally attached to PEOPLE onLY. Now. Having said that- we are going to have a dang WONDERLAND in our back yard for our kiddos because our friend's dad just gave us an AWESOME play house thing to go with our already cool swing set. (Which is SUCH a blessing because Starling WAS planning to BUILD one WHICH- add that to his 974970873 OTHER projects- would TAKE a LOOOONG time)! So I'm hoping that means all the building supplies he has out there can dissipate since he no longer needs them! woe... all this talk about cleaning almost got me hyped up enough to go PAINT! almost.
ANYWAY- we've talked to Brooklyn about foster caring and she is REALLY excited. (Because a two year old KNOWS what having another kid live with us is going to be like. She TOTALLY comprehends the term "fostering"). I asked her if she would like a little boy or girl to come live with us and she said, "OH YES!! A BIG ONE! ONE BIG AS ME!" which is the plan... between 2 and 6. Its bringing our family closer just in preparation. Well... and farther apart- at least in the SLEEPING department. We have to have BOTH kids sleeping in THEIR beds with a BEDTIME before we get our new kiddo. (Our rules not the state's). I can just imagine the TRAUMA my two screaming kids would cause a child already terrified of sleeping in a new place. And I'm PRETTY sure its illegal to just ADD a third kid to our bed. The state would probably think we were a couple of Michael Jackson's.
Anyway- its going to be awesome! If we only foster ONE kid- and can make a difference to that ONE kid... then my life will be THAT much more fulfilled and my kids will be THAT much more understanding of people. And our family will be enriched and blessed and hopefully other families will see that fostering CAN be a blessing and feel the need to hit their knees and see if they have it in their hearts to open their homes to a child who is in desperate need of love. There are TONS of kids in need all over MS. And when we asked how many foster families are in Hattiesburg, the social worker said she only knows of 10. And YES, it'll be a sacrifice. And YES we will be making our home vulnerable to the unknown. But, I want my kids to know about sacrifice and helping people more than I want them to know about coveting video games and cell phones. And if its too much? Then we'll stop. Its not permanent. Until we adopt.
But on a lighter note, at least Starling doesn't have to worry about me dragging home a GoAt!
So I think I spaced writing about my CAR. Not the FIRST, SECOND, or SIXTEENTH thing... but the LAST thing. Lets see... QUICK refresher...so I finally got my car BACK from North Carolina and the FIRST thing I did was get stuck in a RANDOM parking lot in Collins (because I got lost and couldn't find my way back to HATTIESBURG and PULLED into a parking lot and into a huge HOLE where a WATER fountain had been removed). No. I did NOT see the MOON sized CRATER before MY new car was STUCK unable to go FORWARD or BACKWARDS. That was okay.. I flagged down some dude on a BIcYCLE who flagged down some dude in a TRUCK, who happened to work nearby and got a HUGE chain and yanked me out of the hole with only MILD judgement on my inability to SEE the GINORMOUS hole in the small parking lot. It only ripped up everything under my car. I thought Starling would've murdered me, but he only held his breath, and the steam exited his ears silently. (OH HOW different we ARE)! Then I was told I couldn't get a tag in MS and we had to take it BACK to North Carolina for them to FIX the title. I got my car back AGAIN. ONE YEAR LATER. Immediately Starling drove it through a parking lot and one of those sewage lids POPPED up and gashed the bottom runner thing. (I can't even SPECULATE on the NAME of that part or HOW FURIOUS I was- hypocrite? maybe...), that was bad but I got my TITLE so I was THRILLED!! THEN I drove my car to the Zoo in New Orleans and tried to parallel PARK and did GREAT until I had to back out. I did JUST like I was supposed to do. LOOK in my side mirror. I watched it RIGHT up until it POPPED off because I was passing a pole. Luckily some dude was walking by and handed me my mirror so I had something to give to Starling when I got home. I thought he'd finally throw his hands up in the air and tell me he gives up! I need to drive a bus because I can't take care of a car, but he just put his eyes back in his sockets and reattached the mirror. THEN I got my TAG FINALLY!!! THEN, my Inspection sticker was expired so I went and got that. I DROVE out of the PARKING lot and onto HWY 98 thinking THIS thought. "I am FINALLY LEGAL with a TAG and an INSPECTION sticker in my PRETTY CAR!" As I THINK this thought, the car in front of my slows down rather rapidly. Not to FEAR, the NEW and IMPROVED driver that I am, was following a safe distance behind so I tapped that brake. No problem. EXCEPT I heard squealing tires and so I pressed my brakes HARDER. MY foot was FLAT on the floor board and I STILL heard squealing brakes and then BAM!! And even though I was completely braked, my car was lurching forward. BUT then the people in front of me drove off!
I sat in my car for a FULL 64 seconds confused as a child trying to pick up a cemented penny wondering how in the HECK I hit those people in front of me. THEN when someone started banging on my WINDOW, I realized HALF HORRIFIED, half relieved that I didn't hit someone. Someone hit ME. Of COURSE it was a GINORMOUS truck that had a BIG METAL POLE/ RAIL thing GUARDING it like some dang WAR tank. So my CAR was completely destroyed. THEN the NEXT day I drove my LOVELY pile of metal to SAM's and when I LEFT I noticed someone had SLAMMED a buggy into my driver's DOOR.
Yeah. I was ready to ACCIDENTALLY blow up my car and collect the insurance money. BUT- my luck I'd burn my hand, or catch on fire, get caught, and spend the next ten years being some psycho woman's girlfriend in some jail cell. I would rather ride around on a SCOOTER for the next ten years than THAT- SOOOOO I just chewed Starling out instead (since it had ANYTHING to do with him and all) and then dropped my new and destroyed car off at the Auto Collision Fix It people. I got to drive around a rental car for two weeks while they fixed it. I don't know what kind of car it was... but its the closest I've ever come to riding in a Hurst. An HMR or MMR or something like that. It was DEFINITELY made for speed. It went zero to sixty in like... three. Days.
So when I went to get MY car back and I saw it shining there in front of me... Not only did I have a new bumper and trunk, but they had washed and waxed and vacuumed my car, I was ecstatic! And even though when I barely touched the gas and it LURCHED me forward into traffic and I nearly peed my pants, I was SOOO happy to be driving in traffic in MY car. And I have taken REALLY good care of it since I got it back. I'm trying SO hard not to run things over and so far so good, except for the little bush I had to take out because I couldn't seem to get around it. And I really WAS sad about that... its one of the crate myrtles that Starling planted. He hasn't looked at it yet. I hope it lives, but that crunch it made when I ran it over didn't sound promising.
ANYWAY- I have NO idea why I got off on my car. I'm SUPPOSED to be writing about the BIG CHANGE!! SO... since everything is GOOD again- Starling and I found out WHY!
LOOOOONG story short- BEFORE Starling and I ever got married, or went on a DATE for that matter, (I think it was the 2nd time we'd ever MET) we decided we would have five children, the FIRST would be named Brooke, (to carry on the Wind and Star earthy garb) and we would foster care/ and or adopt some kids. THEN we DID date and we spent PLENTY of time talking about youngins. We weren't convinced that WE, as a COUPLE, would exist in five years, but we were CERTAIN that we wanted TONS of kids. Well, we got married, and I IMMEDIATELY wanted kids. Starling wanted me to finish school first. I was SO VERY INTO Social Work in college and THEN was told that if I worked for DHS I couldn't foster care. So? I did some severe praying and switched to Psychology. Some lady actually found Starling and me and asked if we'd adopt her twin grandson's. I was a WhOPPING twenty years old. Starling was 25. Too young? Barely married? We sent up ONE prayer, told the Grandma that YES! We'd do EVERYTHING in our power to get those boys! And we did. I called Texas every day in between classes and HOUNDED the Social Worker in charge of the twins. She was RUDE and UNHELPFUL and completely peeved that I even KNEW about them since they weren't UP for ADOPTION. AND then she told me I was entirely to young to be considered anyway.
BUT! The whole experience completely altered our universe and Starling and I were determined that we WOULD indeed foster care. So we went through the classes while I was pregnant with Brooklyn. BUT once I had Brooklyn I got cold feet PLUS our house was in NO WAY ready to hold ANY kid, let alone TWO. Then we got comfy. SO we prayed about it again, didn't feel like it was the right time, and so I started getting in shape so I could join the Reserves, and I found out I was prego with Brighton. We kind of stopped thinking about Foster Care. We'd been told it wasn't the right time so MANY times, that we just stopped praying about it. UNTIL we got all comfy this LAST time. I was reading something very dear to me that I read often, and it HIT me that I needed to pray about Foster Care again. I went through my normal list of justifications... #1 I have two children- how would they be affected with another child #2 We wouldn't have any idea what kind of kid we'd be bringing into our home #3 We are so HaPPy right now... WHY am I always on some MISSIOn to complicate the simple? #4 How am I going to say NO if God tells me YES?
So. I waited. I have gotten paranoid with two babies. I am WAY obsessed and over-protective. They SLEEP with me. They go where I go. I have never hired a babysitter. I've left Brooklyn with FOUR people, only ONE not being related to me. I shield my home from Satan's little scary people like the Media shields liberalism. I guard what my children watch on Netflix, what they listen to, who they play with, where they go... I have to admit, foster care has seemed LESS and LESS appealing... what with all the horror stories out there... But when I prayed... I felt a SURE enough peace about it as distinct as jumping into a cool pool on a hot MS summer day. All I said to Starling was to pray about it. I figured he has a harder head than me when it comes to praying about things he may not want to get the answer to... but he surprised me and didn't put it off. And he got the same answer I did. It is TIME.
SOOOO we just went to the class again. TWO days 9 to 5. Brighton went with us and was PERFECT the whole two days. (He's making up for it now with his 4 top teeth coming in but he needs a chance to fuss or I'm going to start thinking he's not really my kid or at least ALL STarling's kid with NONE of my GENES). NOW we are filling out the HUMONGO packet and getting our ducks in a row.
Foster Caring is ALREADY a blessing... NORMALLY its like giving an aligator a ROOT canal without losing an arm to get Starling to part with stuff... ESPECiaLLY furniture... but since we have to make room for an extra child, we've torn our house APART moving stuff OUT. I'm so impressed by Starling's willingness to part with his belongings! I don't know WHERE we are going to stash all the stuff that I was hiding in and under dressers and furniture BUT we'll manage. (That garage sale pile is filling up an entire storage unit AS we speak- and still growing). It feels SOO liberating to be FREE of STUFF. I am emotionally attached to PEOPLE onLY. Now. Having said that- we are going to have a dang WONDERLAND in our back yard for our kiddos because our friend's dad just gave us an AWESOME play house thing to go with our already cool swing set. (Which is SUCH a blessing because Starling WAS planning to BUILD one WHICH- add that to his 974970873 OTHER projects- would TAKE a LOOOONG time)! So I'm hoping that means all the building supplies he has out there can dissipate since he no longer needs them! woe... all this talk about cleaning almost got me hyped up enough to go PAINT! almost.
ANYWAY- we've talked to Brooklyn about foster caring and she is REALLY excited. (Because a two year old KNOWS what having another kid live with us is going to be like. She TOTALLY comprehends the term "fostering"). I asked her if she would like a little boy or girl to come live with us and she said, "OH YES!! A BIG ONE! ONE BIG AS ME!" which is the plan... between 2 and 6. Its bringing our family closer just in preparation. Well... and farther apart- at least in the SLEEPING department. We have to have BOTH kids sleeping in THEIR beds with a BEDTIME before we get our new kiddo. (Our rules not the state's). I can just imagine the TRAUMA my two screaming kids would cause a child already terrified of sleeping in a new place. And I'm PRETTY sure its illegal to just ADD a third kid to our bed. The state would probably think we were a couple of Michael Jackson's.
Anyway- its going to be awesome! If we only foster ONE kid- and can make a difference to that ONE kid... then my life will be THAT much more fulfilled and my kids will be THAT much more understanding of people. And our family will be enriched and blessed and hopefully other families will see that fostering CAN be a blessing and feel the need to hit their knees and see if they have it in their hearts to open their homes to a child who is in desperate need of love. There are TONS of kids in need all over MS. And when we asked how many foster families are in Hattiesburg, the social worker said she only knows of 10. And YES, it'll be a sacrifice. And YES we will be making our home vulnerable to the unknown. But, I want my kids to know about sacrifice and helping people more than I want them to know about coveting video games and cell phones. And if its too much? Then we'll stop. Its not permanent. Until we adopt.
But on a lighter note, at least Starling doesn't have to worry about me dragging home a GoAt!
Friday, November 25, 2011
Reincarnated??
I love my kid. Well, KIDS... BUT I have to offer the BIG DISCLAIMER up front. I love Brooklyn. And that is why Starling got an early Christmas gift yesterday.
The day started off normal enough. I got woken up to Brighton's fingernails trying to pull off my eyelids. I was in the middle of a KILLER dream that I was SOOO going to write into a movie as soon as I finished dreaming it, so I hurriedly stuck Brighton on my boob and squished my eyes shut to fall back asleep. And the dream KEPT being awesome... right up until the time I opened my eyes and forgot EVERYTHING. UGH. I'll NEVER be a famous writer! UNLESS I can get someone to put me under hypnosis and I can give a play by play of my crazy dreams on tape. BUT they probably only make sense when I'm unconscious, anyway. Maybe NOT remembering is my brain's coping mechanism to nicely keep me from being HIGHLY disappointed with my unconscious creativity.
Anyway- I was laying awake... half-way.. when Brooklyn, who wasn't supposed to be at my house, climbed into my bed and tackled me. She'd stayed the night with her Mia and Pi Paw. Starling and I got to take a REAL DATE NIGHT! We ate Chinese and I wore HIGH hills, we went shopping CHILDLESS, we had alone time, we spent almost the whole time taking pictures of each other being irrevocably re-DONK-ulous, trying to one up each other with our new cell phones. We went GUN shopping... yeh. Really. We FINALLY get ALONE time and Starling takes me GUN shopping. He's lucky he didn't let me handle a LOADED gun.
I got up, and after finding my contacts, was able to SEE my cute little family. I didn't even SHOWER, just got dressed and rode into town with my mom and kiddos. We did the little family lunch at The Bottling Company. Since my Dad and Uncles and cousins have put so much work into it, I'll give it a little PLUG- YUMMAY FOOD!! I had the BOCO burger which I HIGHLY recommend! (I loaded it down with mayo and I recommend that, too). AND the brownie and ice cream dessert is finger lickin SMACK-TASTIC!
Okay- now that I'm HUNGRY- I'll MOVE ON. So after Brooklyn gave me an overview of EACH guitar (and I think there are at least 6 or 7), the color, the size, the location, the location in relation to the OTHER guitars... AND a NOT so brief description of everything ELSE she saw, we left stuffed like a Thanksgiving Turkey. We headed on over to the BCH and Company. (The Old Roses/ New Hudson's place). My mom said they had some killer cute jacket thingies. WELL RIGHT next door to that is Pet Palace. I let Brooklyn look at the animals every time we are on that side of town. She loves to pet the "Bunnie Pigs" (guinnie pigs), the rabbits, look-and-run from the snakes, watch the birds... And so it was no big deal to let her run take a look before we went shopping.
Brooklyn skipped along passed all the fish to where all the real animals are located. (Real= HOLDABLE and FLUFFY). She poked her head up to the rabbit cage.
NOW, if you haven't read my previous blog about the demise of our little bunny Cleo... basically- we got her, loved her, random cat attacked her when I let her play outside for a minute, and she later died from internal bleeding. It was AWFUL terrible and I said NO more BUNNIES because "I" (not BROOKLYN) sobbed for like 24 hours after watching that bunny's last twitchings before she died.
We've been back to Pet Palace MANY times since Cleo passed on and Brooklyn always holds the bunnies and says, "Yeah... Cleo went to live with Hebenly FA-THER and He made her feel better." And she NEVER wants one of the bunnies. (WHICH is GOOD because they are usually those Velveteen rabbits that like to kick and I'm PRETTY sure they cross breed those things with DONKEYS).
I looked into the rabbit thing, too, and saw the most ADORABLE little bunny EVER, and said, "AWE! That little bunny is SOOO CUTE!!" And Brooklyn's eyes landed on it at the SAME time. "OH!! MOMMY!! CLEO is BACK!! OH CLEO!! MOMMY give me CLEO!!" I scooped up the little bunny that IS the same breed (Loppy)as Cleo, but not really the same coloring, and let Brooklyn hold it. "Umm... this isn't Cleo, honey..." I started, but Brooklyn wasn't listening. "Oh CLEO! I'm so glad we got you back! You went to see Hebenly FA-THER! And He made you ALL BETTER!" And she was hugging it up to her FACE and she was KISSING it... "Mommy! I'm so happy! And Cleo can come home with me and live in our laundry room again!" And then she looked up at me with ALL the joy a little TWO year old can have after finding her long, lost friend, "Mommy! Did Jesus make Cleo All BETTER!?" It wasn't really a question. BUT WHAT was I supposed to SAY!??
"Err... Uh..." I paused. I racked my brain with explanations. I could explain how LOTS of bunnies LOOK like Cleo but actually AREN'T Cleo... its called a BREED of bunny. I could tell her how Cleo DIED and DEAD things can't come back to LIFE. I could point out that THIS rabbit isn't GRAY like CLEO and really looks NOTHING like her deceased rabbit...
I opened my mouth to explain....."Yep. He SURE DID! I'll get a box."
I asked the worker dude if Cleo was a girl or a boy. A girl, he told me. Phew. Good. I wasn't sure how I would explain how Cleo went to live with Jesus and came back a BOY. SOOO when I got home I got to face STARLING. I told him... "I got you an early Christmas PRESENT!! Here. Open it." And I handed him the box. He opened it. His eyes closed and he sort of gulped air like a fish that's been chunked on the boat floor with no water. He looked at me like he MIGHT ask WHY the heck I got ANOTHER rabbit when I JUST told him I could NEVER live through another animal death. I silently told him through telepathic ways that I would NEVER let this one outside. It would live happily ever after in our laundry room. But that wasn't good enough. I could tell he was going to argue with me so I just laid it all out for him. "Brooklyn thinks its HER rabbit!" And it was all good in the hood.
See. Starling loves Brooklyn, too. And she has us wrapped. And I don't think we could EVER tell her NO if she was truly sincere about wanting something. (I don't mean the 2 year old tantrum- I want a sucker- want. We actually ENJOY telling her NO when she's being a terd. I'm talking about the doe eyes. The grin that stretches from one dimple to the other. The little bounce of excitement that makes her little curls twirl around her giddy face. The little hands clasped together as she begs so angelically... strategic, "PUH-LEEEEEZE!!"). Therefore I have banned myself from taking her ANYWHERE where she may encounter attachments. I may be nabbing monkeys from zoo's or something. Kidnapping cute little boys she's befriended at Chic Filet. Seriously. I'd do crazy things for my child. For example, Kaylee Humphreys and her little brothers stayed with us for a few days. Brooklyn LOOOVED them staying here. When Brooklyn woke up and they were gone she said, "BUT MOMMY! I want my KAYLEE BA-ACK!!" And I had to physically restrain myself from driving her to Kaylee's house. AND you know what Starling and my conversation for the NEXT three DAYS was???
"SOoOo what do you think about Foster Caring a teenager and some play mates for Brooklyn??" Like- we are DILUSIONALLY obsessed with making our child happy. We have a bunny living in our LAUNDRY room for BROOKLYN's SAKE!! And do not EVEN get me started on BRIGHTON. If Brooklyn has us wrapped, I don't want to begin to THINK of Brighton's charisma... Starling is going to have our back yard dug into a giant FORT with trap doors and paint ball targets everywhere. And probably a tennis court in the front yard. And I'm going to be yanking my hair out saying, "BUT- BUT..." And Brighton is going to be grinning and his little eyes are going to be disappearing behind his humongously fat cheeks, and my heart is going to melt... "OKAY, Brighton... If it makes you happy...." AHHH!! That is EXACTLY why kids stop being cute when they turn sassy. So parents have no problem telling them NO. So I just need to keep it together for a LITTLE bit longer...
In the MEAN time... Santa better stay away from my kids. I don't want him asking them ANYTHING! We're liable to end up with an INDOOR PONY!!
The day started off normal enough. I got woken up to Brighton's fingernails trying to pull off my eyelids. I was in the middle of a KILLER dream that I was SOOO going to write into a movie as soon as I finished dreaming it, so I hurriedly stuck Brighton on my boob and squished my eyes shut to fall back asleep. And the dream KEPT being awesome... right up until the time I opened my eyes and forgot EVERYTHING. UGH. I'll NEVER be a famous writer! UNLESS I can get someone to put me under hypnosis and I can give a play by play of my crazy dreams on tape. BUT they probably only make sense when I'm unconscious, anyway. Maybe NOT remembering is my brain's coping mechanism to nicely keep me from being HIGHLY disappointed with my unconscious creativity.
Anyway- I was laying awake... half-way.. when Brooklyn, who wasn't supposed to be at my house, climbed into my bed and tackled me. She'd stayed the night with her Mia and Pi Paw. Starling and I got to take a REAL DATE NIGHT! We ate Chinese and I wore HIGH hills, we went shopping CHILDLESS, we had alone time, we spent almost the whole time taking pictures of each other being irrevocably re-DONK-ulous, trying to one up each other with our new cell phones. We went GUN shopping... yeh. Really. We FINALLY get ALONE time and Starling takes me GUN shopping. He's lucky he didn't let me handle a LOADED gun.
I got up, and after finding my contacts, was able to SEE my cute little family. I didn't even SHOWER, just got dressed and rode into town with my mom and kiddos. We did the little family lunch at The Bottling Company. Since my Dad and Uncles and cousins have put so much work into it, I'll give it a little PLUG- YUMMAY FOOD!! I had the BOCO burger which I HIGHLY recommend! (I loaded it down with mayo and I recommend that, too). AND the brownie and ice cream dessert is finger lickin SMACK-TASTIC!
Okay- now that I'm HUNGRY- I'll MOVE ON. So after Brooklyn gave me an overview of EACH guitar (and I think there are at least 6 or 7), the color, the size, the location, the location in relation to the OTHER guitars... AND a NOT so brief description of everything ELSE she saw, we left stuffed like a Thanksgiving Turkey. We headed on over to the BCH and Company. (The Old Roses/ New Hudson's place). My mom said they had some killer cute jacket thingies. WELL RIGHT next door to that is Pet Palace. I let Brooklyn look at the animals every time we are on that side of town. She loves to pet the "Bunnie Pigs" (guinnie pigs), the rabbits, look-and-run from the snakes, watch the birds... And so it was no big deal to let her run take a look before we went shopping.
Brooklyn skipped along passed all the fish to where all the real animals are located. (Real= HOLDABLE and FLUFFY). She poked her head up to the rabbit cage.
NOW, if you haven't read my previous blog about the demise of our little bunny Cleo... basically- we got her, loved her, random cat attacked her when I let her play outside for a minute, and she later died from internal bleeding. It was AWFUL terrible and I said NO more BUNNIES because "I" (not BROOKLYN) sobbed for like 24 hours after watching that bunny's last twitchings before she died.
We've been back to Pet Palace MANY times since Cleo passed on and Brooklyn always holds the bunnies and says, "Yeah... Cleo went to live with Hebenly FA-THER and He made her feel better." And she NEVER wants one of the bunnies. (WHICH is GOOD because they are usually those Velveteen rabbits that like to kick and I'm PRETTY sure they cross breed those things with DONKEYS).
I looked into the rabbit thing, too, and saw the most ADORABLE little bunny EVER, and said, "AWE! That little bunny is SOOO CUTE!!" And Brooklyn's eyes landed on it at the SAME time. "OH!! MOMMY!! CLEO is BACK!! OH CLEO!! MOMMY give me CLEO!!" I scooped up the little bunny that IS the same breed (Loppy)as Cleo, but not really the same coloring, and let Brooklyn hold it. "Umm... this isn't Cleo, honey..." I started, but Brooklyn wasn't listening. "Oh CLEO! I'm so glad we got you back! You went to see Hebenly FA-THER! And He made you ALL BETTER!" And she was hugging it up to her FACE and she was KISSING it... "Mommy! I'm so happy! And Cleo can come home with me and live in our laundry room again!" And then she looked up at me with ALL the joy a little TWO year old can have after finding her long, lost friend, "Mommy! Did Jesus make Cleo All BETTER!?" It wasn't really a question. BUT WHAT was I supposed to SAY!??
"Err... Uh..." I paused. I racked my brain with explanations. I could explain how LOTS of bunnies LOOK like Cleo but actually AREN'T Cleo... its called a BREED of bunny. I could tell her how Cleo DIED and DEAD things can't come back to LIFE. I could point out that THIS rabbit isn't GRAY like CLEO and really looks NOTHING like her deceased rabbit...
I opened my mouth to explain....."Yep. He SURE DID! I'll get a box."
I asked the worker dude if Cleo was a girl or a boy. A girl, he told me. Phew. Good. I wasn't sure how I would explain how Cleo went to live with Jesus and came back a BOY. SOOO when I got home I got to face STARLING. I told him... "I got you an early Christmas PRESENT!! Here. Open it." And I handed him the box. He opened it. His eyes closed and he sort of gulped air like a fish that's been chunked on the boat floor with no water. He looked at me like he MIGHT ask WHY the heck I got ANOTHER rabbit when I JUST told him I could NEVER live through another animal death. I silently told him through telepathic ways that I would NEVER let this one outside. It would live happily ever after in our laundry room. But that wasn't good enough. I could tell he was going to argue with me so I just laid it all out for him. "Brooklyn thinks its HER rabbit!" And it was all good in the hood.
See. Starling loves Brooklyn, too. And she has us wrapped. And I don't think we could EVER tell her NO if she was truly sincere about wanting something. (I don't mean the 2 year old tantrum- I want a sucker- want. We actually ENJOY telling her NO when she's being a terd. I'm talking about the doe eyes. The grin that stretches from one dimple to the other. The little bounce of excitement that makes her little curls twirl around her giddy face. The little hands clasped together as she begs so angelically... strategic, "PUH-LEEEEEZE!!"). Therefore I have banned myself from taking her ANYWHERE where she may encounter attachments. I may be nabbing monkeys from zoo's or something. Kidnapping cute little boys she's befriended at Chic Filet. Seriously. I'd do crazy things for my child. For example, Kaylee Humphreys and her little brothers stayed with us for a few days. Brooklyn LOOOVED them staying here. When Brooklyn woke up and they were gone she said, "BUT MOMMY! I want my KAYLEE BA-ACK!!" And I had to physically restrain myself from driving her to Kaylee's house. AND you know what Starling and my conversation for the NEXT three DAYS was???
"SOoOo what do you think about Foster Caring a teenager and some play mates for Brooklyn??" Like- we are DILUSIONALLY obsessed with making our child happy. We have a bunny living in our LAUNDRY room for BROOKLYN's SAKE!! And do not EVEN get me started on BRIGHTON. If Brooklyn has us wrapped, I don't want to begin to THINK of Brighton's charisma... Starling is going to have our back yard dug into a giant FORT with trap doors and paint ball targets everywhere. And probably a tennis court in the front yard. And I'm going to be yanking my hair out saying, "BUT- BUT..." And Brighton is going to be grinning and his little eyes are going to be disappearing behind his humongously fat cheeks, and my heart is going to melt... "OKAY, Brighton... If it makes you happy...." AHHH!! That is EXACTLY why kids stop being cute when they turn sassy. So parents have no problem telling them NO. So I just need to keep it together for a LITTLE bit longer...
In the MEAN time... Santa better stay away from my kids. I don't want him asking them ANYTHING! We're liable to end up with an INDOOR PONY!!
Monday, November 21, 2011
Round SEVEN- Chic Filet Camp-Out
Chic Filet- Baton Rouge
I received a text from my friend Autumn before the roosters had time to yawn OR open their eyes LET ALONE CROW. “Where ya’ll AT??” Well.. I WAS sleeping, which I flipped over, covered my head with a pillow, and KEPT on doing. Then STARLING started receiving texts from Eric, “They’re on number 85… you better hurry!!” UGH… he’s such a liar. Eric, Steph, and Les had stayed the night TUESDAY so that they could get to the Chic Filet Opening first thing Wednesday morning for the 1st 100 competition. WE (Starling and I) had no intention of leaving Hattiesburg until after lunch on WEDNESDAY. (WHICH would have been JUST FINE). But then Autumn told me they were on number 50. I actually believed HER. I rounded up the troops.
We called our friend Justin who thought we were leaving that AFTERNOON (as we had PLANNED). He didn’t answer so I left him a creative voicemail. Then Starling called and left a fun voicemail. Then we were having so much fun with this that we just kept taking turns calling except Justin finally answered and spoiled our fun. We loaded up the car with the essentials… bedding… jackets, drivers license… picked up Justin and headed out. Brooklyn couldn’t WAIT to get to Chic Filet. We only stopped twice. ONCE on the side of the road so Brooklyn could pee in the grass and later for gas. We got to Chic Filet around 11:30. Remember how Autumn told me at SUNRISE that they were on number 50? WELL- I received my number. Number 49. GEEZ. LIES… Brooklyn was bouncing around like a ping pong ball ecstatic to be at Chic Filet and to meet up with her cousin, Alayna. They looked like the ending of a movie. Two characters that have searched the duration of the movie for each other finally meet up… the JOY, the bouncing, the hugging, the giggling… Alayna lives less than two minutes away from our house. Apparently that isn’t close enough for Brooklyn.
The temp was PERFECTLY HOT. Luckily I’d dressed the kiddos in shorts. I was in JEANS and was so hot I considered just cutting them into shorts.
We all met THE COW.
We set up our tent and unloaded our car. HMMM… in the PACKING process we’d managed to leave one of our duffle bags. THE ONE with half of our sleeping geer and the jackets. AT NOON- that didn’t seem too consequential. At SEVEN, when tents were flapping around like wind chimes and the temp dropped to TEN degrees, it suddenly seemed INCREDIBLY CONSEQUENTIAL. I searched through the diaper bag and found two pair of pink sweat pants. Brooklyn’s. SOOO Brighton and Brooklyn geared up in pink pants. ALL of our jackets were in the bag, that LATER, we found RIGHT where we left it… at the BACK door. SO we wrapped the kiddos in blankets.
Before the cold hit in, we played several competitive games, did some intense dancing, and ate a LOT of Chic Filet. FREE.
Brookyn FELL sleep on Starling's HEAD. Ha ha
Brighton even got to join in the fun. They asked for the youngest person to sit in the free space for human bingo. Brooklyn did it first but DID NOT want to do the second game. So she rode on her daddy's head and Brighton JOYFULLY took her spot as the center of attention.
I won a water bottle for winning human bingo.
Stephanie won a hat and a water bottle. Aaron won a t-shirt for threading three pastas on a spaghetti only using his mouth. Stacey won a mystery gift which turned out to be AMAZING. A CHIC FILET CD of how they came to be. WITH a bag of Popcorn. She was perturbed about THAT BUT STARLING was happy because she gave it to him. Starling lost a Chic Filet chair in the scavenger hunt race BECAUSE he tried to UNTIE his knotted up SHOES instead of TAKING off his shoe and SHOWING his shoelace. There were only 3 people left in the race at that point and he would’ve won it if he would’ve just LISTENED to his WIFE yelling, “YOUR SHOE! YOUR SHOE!! HOLD UP YOUR SHOE!” But it was okay. He won a chair at the last Chic Filet Opening. Stacey and I won the DANCE OFF competition. A PLUSH COW. (To add to my collection of 126 OTHER plush cows that we use as dog toys). Stacey and I were SHOCKED that Aaron didn't win a cow because I'm pretty sure I've never seen ANY man (or living creature) bust a move like HIM. We also won red balls and other stuff. I don’t know what all Starling won. Between Stacey and Brandi and me, we were chasing after five kids. Alayna got picked up by her Aunt Melanie and Kohen was a perfect angel attached to Stephi the whole time. It was awesome fun.
Sleeping was the only mild hump… we had one SKINNY sleep mat and one FAT SHORT one. And two BODY sleeping bags made for hiker people. (Even though it’s been forever since Starling hiked the Appalachian Trail, he STILL thinks he has to buy hiker stuff). Needless to SAY, the body sleeping bags are meant to suction to ONE body. SO Starling's body a lot bigger than when he was a STICK BUG hiking the trail... BUT I STILL made him fit Brooklyn in there with him. Starling tried to protest until he looked at me. I was trying to fit Brighton in my even TINIER sleeping bag WHILE laying on a mat that was MEANT for BROOKLYN. I spent the entire night wrangling Brighton back INTO the bag with me. Every SINGLE time I'd nod off, he'd scoot out the top to SPREAD and I'd touch his arms and FLIP! They were ICE CUBES. (Not that he minded). AND I was FREEZING because Brighton + me= TOO FAT to zip up the sleeping bag. Maybe next time we'll double check before leaving half our night gear. And then of course the WIND. I finally stuffed Brighton deep enough that he couldn't move and defrosted him enough from sticking his little chubby arms on my STOMACH that MY teeth had stopped chattering. I IMMEDIATELY had to stick MY arms out of the bag to hold the tent UP. The wind was blowing SO furociously that even though we were a foot or more away from the wall of the tent, the tent was TOUCHING my FACE.
Stacey and Brandy were sleeping on a twin air mattress with Jayden AND eventually Taelyn. Hudson was the ONLY confortable sleeper who slept soundlessly in his pack-n-play until morning. We were all in one tent. Its a pretty big tent. I decided at that moment that my family could definitely live in that tent if we had to. (Assuming we had our other duffle bag of sleeping gear).
I woke up probably at three a.m. and thought that we should be hearing the lovely cow bell that rings at 5:45 to get us up and lined up. But it never sounded. I kept trying to sleep but it was pointless. When 6a.m. FINALLY decided to SHOW up at Chic Filet, we were ALL already awake just cuddled up in our blankets trying not to DIE from exposure. It wasn't sooo bad in the tent. OUTSIDE the tent was brutal. The wind was making the tents dance and me SHIVER. Starling bundled Brooklyn up in his sleeping bag and I bundled Brighton up in MY sleeping bag and we CARRIED them like that.
(THAT wasn't HARD). Brighton only weighs 20+ pounds NAKED. Lets stuff him into a pile of fluff and make him about three feet more ROUND. And lets NOt change his diaper yet because its so cold. THAT alone probably added 6 pounds to him. His PEE is HEAVY. Somehow I didn't drop him before we made it inside.
Pots and pans banged and everyone cheered. It was better than graduation. Like I'd know since I graduated early from High School and Oak Grove wouldn't let me WALK because of it... and then I just had my College Diploma mailed to me. SO, for me, ANYTHING is more exciting that graduating. I dumped Brooklyn OUT of her sleeping bag once we were inside so that she could eat. I piled the sleeping bag in the corner of my booth and stuck Brighton, still tightly wrapped and sleeping, on top of that. The Chic Filet workers, numbering three workers to ONE guest, brought me my food, drinks, condiments, and asked if they could "refresh my beverage" in consecutive five minute intervals. Finally, after eating the DELICIOUS chicken wrap and AMAZING whole grain oatmeal topped with dried fruit and nuts and brown sugar, and downing my orange juice, we were ready to depart. BUT not without ONE last picture. SOME people had already left, but the part of our group remaining huddled up. I made EVERYONE come to ME because I didn't want to disturb my sleeping Brighton. And as I EXPLAINED this, I patted the sleeping bag were Brighton should have been.
AND that is when I had a "Mr. Smead" (off Peter Pan) moment. If you recall Mr. Smead lathering up Captain Hook's face for a shave, which was actually the buttocks of a white bird, and then, turning back and finding NO HEAD. (The bird had flown away). He exclaims, "OH! I've never shaved him this close before..." And he proceeds to look for Captain Hook's head.
Well I patted the sleeping bag and there was a sleeping bag. But when I looked down I couldn't find a Brighton. I started digging around and having a panic attack because Brighton was NOWHERE in the pile of fluff and puff! I didn't realize I'd made a fuss until I looked over and saw half the Chic Filet staff staring at me with their mouths gaped open that I couldn't find my INFANT that can't WALK. nor CRAWL. One dude pulled the table out and THERE was Brighton. Still asleep. Still wrapped in HIS sleeping bag. Under Starling's seat. I guess he moved and just SLID on down. Craziness. I'll add that to my list of Proud Parental Moments. (That list is getting rather LENGTHY).
We drove home and climbed into our bed around noon. I didn't wake up until almost 5, and only to get showered and ready to go to Jessie's Essential Oil's Class, that I SWORE I would NOT get involved in. I tried to tell myself, "You can NOT like this product because you can NOT afford this product." WELL, one class later, and I had Starling over to Jessie's trying to get HIM sold so I can spend a couple hundred Stocking up on Essential Oils. AND, for the record, they are quite medicinally sound. Brighton started running a fever (I wonder WHY) and Jessie gave me some diluted peppermint for him. I rubbed it on his feet and head. Fever evaperated AND he smelled WONDERFUL. Brooklyn started coughing last night and was all congested... rubbed that pepperment on her feet and under her nose... cleared her up. And I got stuffy and stuck that under my nose and am breathing air like a freshener.
I received a text from my friend Autumn before the roosters had time to yawn OR open their eyes LET ALONE CROW. “Where ya’ll AT??” Well.. I WAS sleeping, which I flipped over, covered my head with a pillow, and KEPT on doing. Then STARLING started receiving texts from Eric, “They’re on number 85… you better hurry!!” UGH… he’s such a liar. Eric, Steph, and Les had stayed the night TUESDAY so that they could get to the Chic Filet Opening first thing Wednesday morning for the 1st 100 competition. WE (Starling and I) had no intention of leaving Hattiesburg until after lunch on WEDNESDAY. (WHICH would have been JUST FINE). But then Autumn told me they were on number 50. I actually believed HER. I rounded up the troops.
We called our friend Justin who thought we were leaving that AFTERNOON (as we had PLANNED). He didn’t answer so I left him a creative voicemail. Then Starling called and left a fun voicemail. Then we were having so much fun with this that we just kept taking turns calling except Justin finally answered and spoiled our fun. We loaded up the car with the essentials… bedding… jackets, drivers license… picked up Justin and headed out. Brooklyn couldn’t WAIT to get to Chic Filet. We only stopped twice. ONCE on the side of the road so Brooklyn could pee in the grass and later for gas. We got to Chic Filet around 11:30. Remember how Autumn told me at SUNRISE that they were on number 50? WELL- I received my number. Number 49. GEEZ. LIES… Brooklyn was bouncing around like a ping pong ball ecstatic to be at Chic Filet and to meet up with her cousin, Alayna. They looked like the ending of a movie. Two characters that have searched the duration of the movie for each other finally meet up… the JOY, the bouncing, the hugging, the giggling… Alayna lives less than two minutes away from our house. Apparently that isn’t close enough for Brooklyn.
The temp was PERFECTLY HOT. Luckily I’d dressed the kiddos in shorts. I was in JEANS and was so hot I considered just cutting them into shorts.
We all met THE COW.
We set up our tent and unloaded our car. HMMM… in the PACKING process we’d managed to leave one of our duffle bags. THE ONE with half of our sleeping geer and the jackets. AT NOON- that didn’t seem too consequential. At SEVEN, when tents were flapping around like wind chimes and the temp dropped to TEN degrees, it suddenly seemed INCREDIBLY CONSEQUENTIAL. I searched through the diaper bag and found two pair of pink sweat pants. Brooklyn’s. SOOO Brighton and Brooklyn geared up in pink pants. ALL of our jackets were in the bag, that LATER, we found RIGHT where we left it… at the BACK door. SO we wrapped the kiddos in blankets.
Before the cold hit in, we played several competitive games, did some intense dancing, and ate a LOT of Chic Filet. FREE.
Brookyn FELL sleep on Starling's HEAD. Ha ha
I won a water bottle for winning human bingo.
Stephanie won a hat and a water bottle. Aaron won a t-shirt for threading three pastas on a spaghetti only using his mouth. Stacey won a mystery gift which turned out to be AMAZING. A CHIC FILET CD of how they came to be. WITH a bag of Popcorn. She was perturbed about THAT BUT STARLING was happy because she gave it to him. Starling lost a Chic Filet chair in the scavenger hunt race BECAUSE he tried to UNTIE his knotted up SHOES instead of TAKING off his shoe and SHOWING his shoelace. There were only 3 people left in the race at that point and he would’ve won it if he would’ve just LISTENED to his WIFE yelling, “YOUR SHOE! YOUR SHOE!! HOLD UP YOUR SHOE!” But it was okay. He won a chair at the last Chic Filet Opening. Stacey and I won the DANCE OFF competition. A PLUSH COW. (To add to my collection of 126 OTHER plush cows that we use as dog toys). Stacey and I were SHOCKED that Aaron didn't win a cow because I'm pretty sure I've never seen ANY man (or living creature) bust a move like HIM. We also won red balls and other stuff. I don’t know what all Starling won. Between Stacey and Brandi and me, we were chasing after five kids. Alayna got picked up by her Aunt Melanie and Kohen was a perfect angel attached to Stephi the whole time. It was awesome fun.
Sleeping was the only mild hump… we had one SKINNY sleep mat and one FAT SHORT one. And two BODY sleeping bags made for hiker people. (Even though it’s been forever since Starling hiked the Appalachian Trail, he STILL thinks he has to buy hiker stuff). Needless to SAY, the body sleeping bags are meant to suction to ONE body. SO Starling's body a lot bigger than when he was a STICK BUG hiking the trail... BUT I STILL made him fit Brooklyn in there with him. Starling tried to protest until he looked at me. I was trying to fit Brighton in my even TINIER sleeping bag WHILE laying on a mat that was MEANT for BROOKLYN. I spent the entire night wrangling Brighton back INTO the bag with me. Every SINGLE time I'd nod off, he'd scoot out the top to SPREAD and I'd touch his arms and FLIP! They were ICE CUBES. (Not that he minded). AND I was FREEZING because Brighton + me= TOO FAT to zip up the sleeping bag. Maybe next time we'll double check before leaving half our night gear. And then of course the WIND. I finally stuffed Brighton deep enough that he couldn't move and defrosted him enough from sticking his little chubby arms on my STOMACH that MY teeth had stopped chattering. I IMMEDIATELY had to stick MY arms out of the bag to hold the tent UP. The wind was blowing SO furociously that even though we were a foot or more away from the wall of the tent, the tent was TOUCHING my FACE.
Stacey and Brandy were sleeping on a twin air mattress with Jayden AND eventually Taelyn. Hudson was the ONLY confortable sleeper who slept soundlessly in his pack-n-play until morning. We were all in one tent. Its a pretty big tent. I decided at that moment that my family could definitely live in that tent if we had to. (Assuming we had our other duffle bag of sleeping gear).
I woke up probably at three a.m. and thought that we should be hearing the lovely cow bell that rings at 5:45 to get us up and lined up. But it never sounded. I kept trying to sleep but it was pointless. When 6a.m. FINALLY decided to SHOW up at Chic Filet, we were ALL already awake just cuddled up in our blankets trying not to DIE from exposure. It wasn't sooo bad in the tent. OUTSIDE the tent was brutal. The wind was making the tents dance and me SHIVER. Starling bundled Brooklyn up in his sleeping bag and I bundled Brighton up in MY sleeping bag and we CARRIED them like that.
(THAT wasn't HARD). Brighton only weighs 20+ pounds NAKED. Lets stuff him into a pile of fluff and make him about three feet more ROUND. And lets NOt change his diaper yet because its so cold. THAT alone probably added 6 pounds to him. His PEE is HEAVY. Somehow I didn't drop him before we made it inside.
Pots and pans banged and everyone cheered. It was better than graduation. Like I'd know since I graduated early from High School and Oak Grove wouldn't let me WALK because of it... and then I just had my College Diploma mailed to me. SO, for me, ANYTHING is more exciting that graduating. I dumped Brooklyn OUT of her sleeping bag once we were inside so that she could eat. I piled the sleeping bag in the corner of my booth and stuck Brighton, still tightly wrapped and sleeping, on top of that. The Chic Filet workers, numbering three workers to ONE guest, brought me my food, drinks, condiments, and asked if they could "refresh my beverage" in consecutive five minute intervals. Finally, after eating the DELICIOUS chicken wrap and AMAZING whole grain oatmeal topped with dried fruit and nuts and brown sugar, and downing my orange juice, we were ready to depart. BUT not without ONE last picture. SOME people had already left, but the part of our group remaining huddled up. I made EVERYONE come to ME because I didn't want to disturb my sleeping Brighton. And as I EXPLAINED this, I patted the sleeping bag were Brighton should have been.
AND that is when I had a "Mr. Smead" (off Peter Pan) moment. If you recall Mr. Smead lathering up Captain Hook's face for a shave, which was actually the buttocks of a white bird, and then, turning back and finding NO HEAD. (The bird had flown away). He exclaims, "OH! I've never shaved him this close before..." And he proceeds to look for Captain Hook's head.
Well I patted the sleeping bag and there was a sleeping bag. But when I looked down I couldn't find a Brighton. I started digging around and having a panic attack because Brighton was NOWHERE in the pile of fluff and puff! I didn't realize I'd made a fuss until I looked over and saw half the Chic Filet staff staring at me with their mouths gaped open that I couldn't find my INFANT that can't WALK. nor CRAWL. One dude pulled the table out and THERE was Brighton. Still asleep. Still wrapped in HIS sleeping bag. Under Starling's seat. I guess he moved and just SLID on down. Craziness. I'll add that to my list of Proud Parental Moments. (That list is getting rather LENGTHY).
We drove home and climbed into our bed around noon. I didn't wake up until almost 5, and only to get showered and ready to go to Jessie's Essential Oil's Class, that I SWORE I would NOT get involved in. I tried to tell myself, "You can NOT like this product because you can NOT afford this product." WELL, one class later, and I had Starling over to Jessie's trying to get HIM sold so I can spend a couple hundred Stocking up on Essential Oils. AND, for the record, they are quite medicinally sound. Brighton started running a fever (I wonder WHY) and Jessie gave me some diluted peppermint for him. I rubbed it on his feet and head. Fever evaperated AND he smelled WONDERFUL. Brooklyn started coughing last night and was all congested... rubbed that pepperment on her feet and under her nose... cleared her up. And I got stuffy and stuck that under my nose and am breathing air like a freshener.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Dear Blog,
I have to write since it’s been like half an eternity since I last blogged. I have GREAT news. Our master bath has a painted closet (SOOOO the twenty piles of STUFF that were stacked- and later, on account of our DEAREST Brooklyn, strewn- all over our house are FOR the MOST part, BACK in the closet). SECOND- John the 2nd has joined us in the bathroom and sits bold and proud as all ceramic thrones do. He likes sitting in the upright position in the master bath instead of upside down and disgracefully exposed in Brighton’s room. (Although- I liked him in Brighton’s room awaiting his new position better than when he sat on our front porch greeting all of our visitors). Like I said. GREAT things happening in the Johnson home.
The master bath is ALSO painted, but not trimmed out… (okay- I AM the trimmer sooo I can’t complain about that part… BUT Starling is the ceiling artist that is going to blend the skip trial (that CAN’t be how that is spelled…) from where we moved walls for the remodel SO I can’t do MY part until he finishes HIS part and I blend the PAINT on the ceiling. So I can totally blame the hold up on HIM. As for the HALLWAY- Starling has RE-MUDDED like a CUZILLION random spots that I never knew were problematic. (I do NOW because the once unnoticeable imperfections painted the same color green as the REST of the hall, are NOW HUGE WHITE glaring UNFINISHED, and quite frankly distasteful to the EYE, BEACONS). So I’m REALLY happy that Starling hasn’t been able to wrap up work early this week and PAINT them. Oh! Why don’t “I” just do it MYSELF? GLADLY. I’ll just duct tape Brooklyn to the LIVING room WALL while I attempt rolling the HALLWAY. AND, assuming Brighton doesn’t need to eat for 6 hours, THAT plan will work perfectly. EXCEPT for one thing... MY INABILITY to ROLL paint. Starling has BANNED me from doing it. (Believe it or not he's a perfectionist when it comes to his walls- hence the dang constant WHITE spots appearing all over our house that I have to KEEP covering up. And then HE has to RE-cover-up because my painting sucks more than a vaccuum).
OMY. SPEAKING of BRIGHTON and EATING. (That was a couple of sentences back before I went off into left field, IF you've gotten confused and lost in my rambling). His appetite has INCREASED. I know I shouldn’t be surprised… he’s over 20 pounds now… but I’m the COW. The GREAT PRODUCER of CREAM and BUTTER. And NOW… AFTER Brighton is done nursing, and I mean done like he can’t suck another drop out of either fritter, he wants MORE. So- okay- this is new to me… tonight he was OBVIOUSLY getting frustrated that his dinner was done before HE was. I was TOO because usually he eats and there’s plenty left for him to snack on later. BUT anyway- he was STILL hungry. (Honestly I feel like I offer him a dang all you can eat buffet and he leaves saying- that’s it? I’m still not full). Insanity is what it is. I opened up a jar of babyfood. Sweet peas. (More on the mush and goop than sweet or peas but WHATEVER). He ate half of the jar and didn’t want more of that. BUT he wanted more of SOMETHING. So I fed him an ENTIRE jar of applesauce. I suppose he would've continued eating THAT until he burst, so I just told him he was done. THEN he got a nice little bath, we had family time (Mommy mandated) in the "night-night", and then he FLOPPED about like a snow penguin until he’d maneuvered his way BACK to my boob and he nursed to sleep. And SLEEP?? The boy is like a dang bear going into hibernation. He SLEEPS forEVER. OR until I wake him up… which I usually end up doing. And when he DOES wake up, he forgets to YELL for me and so I don’t know HOW long he just chills waiting for me to realize he’s come out of his cave.
NOW BROOKLYN. SLEEP? Ya-NOT so much. If I go to bed at midnight, SHE goes to bed at midnight. If I wake up at 5 in the morning, SHE wakes up at FIVE in the morning. It’s like she has little sensors that go off if I wake up. I’m seriously SHOCKED I don’t find her at the bathroom door when I go pee in the middle of the night. ALTHOUGH I DID this morning.
She’s very needy right now. I figure it’s to be expected with all the projects we’ve been doing. (WHICH is why I haven’t been blogging). AS I type and take yet another THIRTY minute BREAK prolonging this dang BLOG from being COMPLETE, she is asking, and I mean 10 times in a row, “Can you come and play house with me please, Mom?” And I’m off to do that AGAIN. How can I resist her SWEET side?
Okay… Starling is now reading to Brooklyn in Spanish. So I made my get away. That sounds so harsh- like I'm trying to get away from my child. Like I don't LOVE and CHERISH all 24 hours and seven minutes I am BLESSED to spend with her EVERY day of my ENTIRE LIFE. TRUST ME. I'm not trying to get away from her. I do NOT value my BLOGGING over Brooklyn wacking "MY" babydoll's head with HER baby doll's hand and sending HER baby to time out. Over. And OVER again. I really don't. But- for historical purposes and family memory preservation, the BLOG must go ON.
I LOVE when Brooklyn tries to talk Spanish with her high pitched little lisp. She’s the cutest thing… except when she’s NOT being cute and being a little turkey. BUT she’s MOSTLY cute.
We’ve been unpleasantly SHOCKED at her this week with her saying things like, “PLEASE leave me ALO-O-NG.” (Not alone. Along). “PUH-LEEEZE go AWAY.” But in the next instant she’s all butterflies and kisses. I’m kind of seeing what life must be like through STARLING’s eyes living with ME. WHICH is utterly depressing.
FOR THE RECORD- I haven’t had a single BREAKDOWN ever since I started popping pills like balloons after a fiesta. Three magnesium, three fish oils, an iron, and a prenatal. EVERY DAY. (Its probably working because I spend so much time CALCULATING and counting when and WHAT pill to take- I have no TIME to go berzerk). I still have an occasional mood swing which occurs in direct relation to the whininess of my CHILD (not children- Brighton hasn’t gotten to the whiney stage yet) and/or the hour my husband returns home from work and WHAT pass time he THEN chooses. Like- if he CHOOSES to clean the kitchen… NO mood swing. If he starts looking at guns on the internet… MOOD SWING. But those are completely justified and have nothing to do with my raging hormones, THOUGH STARLING likes to BLAME my hormones for EVERY harsh word I ever throw at him. Dried sunflower seeds stuck to the bottom of plastic cups can NOT illicit RAGE. Nor can dirty socks, random shorts/shirts, dirty dishes, etc draped or dropped over my furniture in a room I just finished cleaning. ONLY my HORMONES are capable of making me angry. Period.
That being said, I better take my meds with me on our adventure tomorrow. Starling insists that the pills I’m taking cannot POSSIBLY do what I THINK they are doing. OKAY- well that is a WHOPPING FABULOUS sugar-pill affect and I’m just going to KEEP on BELIEVING as LOOOONG as I can. BECAUSE I tried to believe in a lot of OTHER pills that did NOTHING. UNLESS you count the cuzillion SIDE effects, in which case- they did a LOT to WORSEN me. We’re off to the CHIC FILET opening in Baton Rouge tomorrow. Another family camping trip. Another 104 value meals IF we are the first 100, which we PLAN to be…. Assuming I didn’t blab to SOOO many people that they fill up the parking lot before WE get there. And I should be able to actually wear make-up. Getting ready is now a two day process and I mean that quite literally. TODAY I showered and WASHED my hair. Usually that’s as far as I get. BUT- I went all out and DRIED my hair with a BLOW DRYER… instead of the fan drying it while its scrunched under my head on a pillow get yanked and tangled by Brooklyn’s fingers. I even had great dreams of actually applying MAKE-UP… but THAT didn’t happen. So. TOMORROW I’ll put on make-up and my hair will only have to be brushed. THAT I can manage in ONE DAY. Hopefully.
I need to go to the gym but its 10:30 and I could carry luggage in the bags under my eyes. Sooo I think I’ll have to go TOMORROW or just SKIP until we get home Thursday. My poor brain thinks it’s been transplanted into some nutsy productive person’s body lately and its having a very difficult time functioning at such a high pace. No naps. No breaks. Its ready to shut down. Its bogging down like this stupid computer! (which is an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT story for a DIFFERENT day).
I have to write since it’s been like half an eternity since I last blogged. I have GREAT news. Our master bath has a painted closet (SOOOO the twenty piles of STUFF that were stacked- and later, on account of our DEAREST Brooklyn, strewn- all over our house are FOR the MOST part, BACK in the closet). SECOND- John the 2nd has joined us in the bathroom and sits bold and proud as all ceramic thrones do. He likes sitting in the upright position in the master bath instead of upside down and disgracefully exposed in Brighton’s room. (Although- I liked him in Brighton’s room awaiting his new position better than when he sat on our front porch greeting all of our visitors). Like I said. GREAT things happening in the Johnson home.
The master bath is ALSO painted, but not trimmed out… (okay- I AM the trimmer sooo I can’t complain about that part… BUT Starling is the ceiling artist that is going to blend the skip trial (that CAN’t be how that is spelled…) from where we moved walls for the remodel SO I can’t do MY part until he finishes HIS part and I blend the PAINT on the ceiling. So I can totally blame the hold up on HIM. As for the HALLWAY- Starling has RE-MUDDED like a CUZILLION random spots that I never knew were problematic. (I do NOW because the once unnoticeable imperfections painted the same color green as the REST of the hall, are NOW HUGE WHITE glaring UNFINISHED, and quite frankly distasteful to the EYE, BEACONS). So I’m REALLY happy that Starling hasn’t been able to wrap up work early this week and PAINT them. Oh! Why don’t “I” just do it MYSELF? GLADLY. I’ll just duct tape Brooklyn to the LIVING room WALL while I attempt rolling the HALLWAY. AND, assuming Brighton doesn’t need to eat for 6 hours, THAT plan will work perfectly. EXCEPT for one thing... MY INABILITY to ROLL paint. Starling has BANNED me from doing it. (Believe it or not he's a perfectionist when it comes to his walls- hence the dang constant WHITE spots appearing all over our house that I have to KEEP covering up. And then HE has to RE-cover-up because my painting sucks more than a vaccuum).
OMY. SPEAKING of BRIGHTON and EATING. (That was a couple of sentences back before I went off into left field, IF you've gotten confused and lost in my rambling). His appetite has INCREASED. I know I shouldn’t be surprised… he’s over 20 pounds now… but I’m the COW. The GREAT PRODUCER of CREAM and BUTTER. And NOW… AFTER Brighton is done nursing, and I mean done like he can’t suck another drop out of either fritter, he wants MORE. So- okay- this is new to me… tonight he was OBVIOUSLY getting frustrated that his dinner was done before HE was. I was TOO because usually he eats and there’s plenty left for him to snack on later. BUT anyway- he was STILL hungry. (Honestly I feel like I offer him a dang all you can eat buffet and he leaves saying- that’s it? I’m still not full). Insanity is what it is. I opened up a jar of babyfood. Sweet peas. (More on the mush and goop than sweet or peas but WHATEVER). He ate half of the jar and didn’t want more of that. BUT he wanted more of SOMETHING. So I fed him an ENTIRE jar of applesauce. I suppose he would've continued eating THAT until he burst, so I just told him he was done. THEN he got a nice little bath, we had family time (Mommy mandated) in the "night-night", and then he FLOPPED about like a snow penguin until he’d maneuvered his way BACK to my boob and he nursed to sleep. And SLEEP?? The boy is like a dang bear going into hibernation. He SLEEPS forEVER. OR until I wake him up… which I usually end up doing. And when he DOES wake up, he forgets to YELL for me and so I don’t know HOW long he just chills waiting for me to realize he’s come out of his cave.
NOW BROOKLYN. SLEEP? Ya-NOT so much. If I go to bed at midnight, SHE goes to bed at midnight. If I wake up at 5 in the morning, SHE wakes up at FIVE in the morning. It’s like she has little sensors that go off if I wake up. I’m seriously SHOCKED I don’t find her at the bathroom door when I go pee in the middle of the night. ALTHOUGH I DID this morning.
She’s very needy right now. I figure it’s to be expected with all the projects we’ve been doing. (WHICH is why I haven’t been blogging). AS I type and take yet another THIRTY minute BREAK prolonging this dang BLOG from being COMPLETE, she is asking, and I mean 10 times in a row, “Can you come and play house with me please, Mom?” And I’m off to do that AGAIN. How can I resist her SWEET side?
Okay… Starling is now reading to Brooklyn in Spanish. So I made my get away. That sounds so harsh- like I'm trying to get away from my child. Like I don't LOVE and CHERISH all 24 hours and seven minutes I am BLESSED to spend with her EVERY day of my ENTIRE LIFE. TRUST ME. I'm not trying to get away from her. I do NOT value my BLOGGING over Brooklyn wacking "MY" babydoll's head with HER baby doll's hand and sending HER baby to time out. Over. And OVER again. I really don't. But- for historical purposes and family memory preservation, the BLOG must go ON.
I LOVE when Brooklyn tries to talk Spanish with her high pitched little lisp. She’s the cutest thing… except when she’s NOT being cute and being a little turkey. BUT she’s MOSTLY cute.
We’ve been unpleasantly SHOCKED at her this week with her saying things like, “PLEASE leave me ALO-O-NG.” (Not alone. Along). “PUH-LEEEZE go AWAY.” But in the next instant she’s all butterflies and kisses. I’m kind of seeing what life must be like through STARLING’s eyes living with ME. WHICH is utterly depressing.
FOR THE RECORD- I haven’t had a single BREAKDOWN ever since I started popping pills like balloons after a fiesta. Three magnesium, three fish oils, an iron, and a prenatal. EVERY DAY. (Its probably working because I spend so much time CALCULATING and counting when and WHAT pill to take- I have no TIME to go berzerk). I still have an occasional mood swing which occurs in direct relation to the whininess of my CHILD (not children- Brighton hasn’t gotten to the whiney stage yet) and/or the hour my husband returns home from work and WHAT pass time he THEN chooses. Like- if he CHOOSES to clean the kitchen… NO mood swing. If he starts looking at guns on the internet… MOOD SWING. But those are completely justified and have nothing to do with my raging hormones, THOUGH STARLING likes to BLAME my hormones for EVERY harsh word I ever throw at him. Dried sunflower seeds stuck to the bottom of plastic cups can NOT illicit RAGE. Nor can dirty socks, random shorts/shirts, dirty dishes, etc draped or dropped over my furniture in a room I just finished cleaning. ONLY my HORMONES are capable of making me angry. Period.
That being said, I better take my meds with me on our adventure tomorrow. Starling insists that the pills I’m taking cannot POSSIBLY do what I THINK they are doing. OKAY- well that is a WHOPPING FABULOUS sugar-pill affect and I’m just going to KEEP on BELIEVING as LOOOONG as I can. BECAUSE I tried to believe in a lot of OTHER pills that did NOTHING. UNLESS you count the cuzillion SIDE effects, in which case- they did a LOT to WORSEN me. We’re off to the CHIC FILET opening in Baton Rouge tomorrow. Another family camping trip. Another 104 value meals IF we are the first 100, which we PLAN to be…. Assuming I didn’t blab to SOOO many people that they fill up the parking lot before WE get there. And I should be able to actually wear make-up. Getting ready is now a two day process and I mean that quite literally. TODAY I showered and WASHED my hair. Usually that’s as far as I get. BUT- I went all out and DRIED my hair with a BLOW DRYER… instead of the fan drying it while its scrunched under my head on a pillow get yanked and tangled by Brooklyn’s fingers. I even had great dreams of actually applying MAKE-UP… but THAT didn’t happen. So. TOMORROW I’ll put on make-up and my hair will only have to be brushed. THAT I can manage in ONE DAY. Hopefully.
I need to go to the gym but its 10:30 and I could carry luggage in the bags under my eyes. Sooo I think I’ll have to go TOMORROW or just SKIP until we get home Thursday. My poor brain thinks it’s been transplanted into some nutsy productive person’s body lately and its having a very difficult time functioning at such a high pace. No naps. No breaks. Its ready to shut down. Its bogging down like this stupid computer! (which is an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT story for a DIFFERENT day).
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