On our last day of 2008...

We bundled everyone up in multiple layers, strapped the baby in her backpack and took a walk.

The local botanical gardens run their Garden Festival of Lights through the second week of January. Makes it nice for those of us who just can't seem to pull it together enough to get out there before Christmas. And also for those of us who tend to get real twitchy in crowds!

One of the local model train clubs always sets up an amazing display. Jacob remembers from year to year. He enjoys the lights--this year they had spiders five feet across--but it's the trains that capture his attention and his delight.

This one was easy

For some reason the most difficult birthdays to get through have been the 5's--25 and 35 in particular. Not sure about 15 and I really don't remember too much about 5. Turning 30 didn't phase me in the slightest--just sort of breezed right through it.

Not really going to go into all of the reasons 25 was so traumatic. It involved self-made drama and a sabotaged relationship. Being friends with Jose Cervo probably didn't help matters now that I look back.

I welcomed the end of my 35th year with moping and self pity. 35! The end of my early 30's and the start of checking that age box on surveys with 36-40 beside it. I looked and searched and simply couldn't find anything worth celebrating. This is what my introspective detective work found--a 35-year-old female who, although she has traveled the world over and actually has a college degree, possesses virtually no viable job skills with a resume that looks like it could double as the yellow pages. I remembered that I had all of these things that I still wanted to do with my life. Dreams of being a globe trotting documentarian. A journalist with a by-line. Someone with a paycheck.

And I forgot. I forgot that on that time line of our lives it's the long lines in between the dots that matter. That's where life happens. That's where the stuff that matters is. The dots indicating our accomplishments? Merely dots.

After a long day of wallowing in my self pity I decided to just go to bed. Go to sleep and deal with my sad, pitiful life in the morning. On my way upstairs I stopped in and checked on Jacob. Like I do every single night. Check to make sure his blankets are on. Check to see if Kitty is still within reach. Check to see him breathing. And as I stood there watching my baby boy sleep--he's so peaceful when he sleeps--it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, this was enough. There right in front of me was my life. Everything I am. Tucked under a fleece blanket and a handmade quilt. And it was enough.

Yesterday morning that little boy came downstairs, Kitty tucked securely under his arm and hair all in bed head splendor. A huge 3-year-old hug and a "Happy Birfday, Mommy". It was enough.

For the first time in my life, I am content to stay within the lines.

These days it seems like I barely have time to finish a sentence, let alone a project!

I wanted to post this before Christmas and it just didn't happen that way. So, here you go. My own birthday present to you all...a little insight into my childhood. Oh, did I not mention today was my birthday? I'll most likely have some deep thoughts later. Or not.

I learned this song around the time we first moved to Tanzania about 30 years ago.

Santa's using zebras now
to pull his Christmas sleigh
'cause a boy in Africa
wrote to him one day.
"Santa please stop by," he said,
"and bring some toys with you."
Santa's using zebras now
south of Timbuktu.

Donner, Blitzen, all the reindeer
put him on the spot -
they were used to ice and snow
but Africa was hot!
Then some zebras came along
and they pulled Santa through.
Santa's using zebras now
south of Timbuktu.

See the pyramids to by
and there's the Nile below.
Watch out for that tall giraffe;
mustn't fly too low.
Hello hippopotamus
the season's joy to you!
Hello Mr. Crocodile
merry Christmas too!

As they gallop over jungles
lions stop and stare,
wonderin' what those zebras could be
doing way up there.
While the reindeer wait for him
back home in their igloo,
Santa's using zebras now
south of Timbuktu.

Gramps would be so proud!

Jacob's been singing the Monkey and Gingerbread song...

Had a little monkey
Took him to the country
Fed him some gingerbread
Long came a choo choo
knocked him coo coo
Now my little monkey's dead!
Boo hoo!

I may have had something to do with teaching him that...but you need to understand that I come by the warpness naturally. You know, one of the many things I've been handed down.

My grandfather (Gramps) taught me Row, Row, Row Your Boat. Only...not...

Propel, propel, propel your craft
Swiftly down the liquid solution.
Ecstatically, ecstatically, ecstatically, ecstatically
Existence is but an illusion!

And, yet--I'm surprisingly normal. I am. Honestly.

Yes. My children are amazing. Just ask me.

Mommy! KokoohaspresentsunderherChristmastree!

I know. She...

There's one for me. One for Kyleigh. One for you and one for daddy. There's one for Maia and one for Sammy and one for Ethan and one for Donia and one for Billy!

Then I thought his head was actually going to explode when I was finally able to speak and informed him that there were presents under his Christmas tree as well!

My two children spent the night with Kokoo and Babu Saturday night. It gave the Husband and myself a chance to spend some time together, which included a delightful dinner of tapas and paella at a Spanish restaurant. It was sort of a hole in the wall place down by the university but the food was fantastic!

Before we left for dinner I called to check in on the grandparents and the children. That's when Jacob informed me about the unbelievable development regarding Kokoo's Christmas tree. He then went on to rat out his sister who had allegedly been messing with presents.

Jacob's one request last night when I brought them home was he wanted to see the presents under our tree. Then he counted them. And asked who each one was for. He then repeated all acquired information to Kitty. As he got to the last one...

But where's a present for Kitty?

Um....well...Kitty's just hasn't shown up yet.

Oh, that's awright. I'll just share mine with Kitty.

See why this child is amazing?

Now if we could only channel some of that giving spirit towards sharing toys with his sister...

10 years ago today...

I stood in this very courtyard, beside an amazing man and promised to Love, to Honor and to Cherish him for ever and ever.


We've had our share of challenges. Long periods of separation (due to work). Long, stressful work days. Miscommunication. Lack of communication. Infertility and miscarriages. Financial crisis. Now two highly active and challenging children. We've also had far more than our share of amazing and wonderful things happen to us and for us. Through it all--even during the times when we seemed to not really like each other very much--we have remained true to those vows. Through it all we have Loved and we have Honored. We have come to learn that To Cherish is the greatest of them all.

I Cherish my husband. My family. This life that we have created for ourselves. And I look forward to writing another mushy post on our 20th anniversary! I was taught that marriages are meant to last forever. May I pass on the same legacy to my children.

Random observations...

There tends to be the assumption among my peers that since our spouses share the same occupation, we must therefore share the same world views and politics. Yeah, not so much. If you're new to this blog (Hi!) then you need to know that I'm Not From Around Here. While I do my best to blend in, there are times it is glaringly apparent that I'm "different".

The Husband's platoon Christmas party was a couple of nights ago and we made it a family affair. While I know most of his co-workers, I really didn't know any of the other wives. I've learned, just like with Navy wives, police wives have strong opinions. Shockingly enough. I've also learned that my opinions tend to go against the stream. Yes, I know--another shocker. And since I really don't want to offend I tend to listen a whole lot more than I talk.

I sat next to one of the wives I had just met and she started chatting with Jacob.

"What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?"

Silence. Jacob just looked at her.

"We really don't talk about Santa too much", I tried to explain without making it sound like I thought Santa was a bad thing. Just not a big thing.

She then goes on, without hearing a word I said, about her four-year-old making multiple trips to Santa's lap because he kept thinking of more things for his list. She made it out to be this cute little story. Outside I sort of smiled with her. Inside I was all, Really? That's what your son thinks Christmas is about? Already? That's not cute. That's sad.

Then she tells me about a recent play date she and her children had with another family. A family that didn't let their children play with toy guns. She was baffled by this attitude and expressed that they would not pursue that relationship. And then she looked to me expecting to see bafflement on my part as well. Once again--not so much. My children do not have toy guns either. Neither will they. They are already learning about gun safety--which currently consists of, Don't Touch, Leave it Alone. But toy guns? No. Guns aren't toys--no matter the form.

Every now and then I receive emails from a friend from a former place we lived. Our husbands were co-workers. While we did have a lot in common--we camped and rock climbed together--we didn't share the same politics. Given the emails she forwards to me I don't know if she just didn't get that about me, or if it's a passive aggressive attempt at a conservative conversion. I simply do not subscribe to her point of view. However, I believe that individuals of different political and religious leanings can and do remain friends. Just look at my own household! Our own little micro experiment at world peace.

Anyway...the other police wife I met at the Christmas party? We didn't exchange phone numbers. It would never work between us.

A true Christmas song...

A day late...

Well, not really once you consider the fact that it should be Bill of Rights Day Every. Single. Day.

Of course, I'm simple. The first one is the one that is near and dear to my heart. The US is also the only nation to inform its government that it has no right to tell me to hold my tongue.

Speak on, My Fellow Americans, speak on.

(Oh, CBLDF stands for Comic Book Legal Defense Fund...because there are those who, while enjoying their own freedom of speech attempt to limit other's. Now that's just not right, wouldn't you agree?)

A letter to the management...

Dear Whomever is in Charge,

I wish to lodge a complaint for the following reason. There appears to be a design flaw in Children which causes accelerated growth. I'm sure if you were to do your research you would find that most parents and grandparents are not Okay with this.

For example...my children should not have gone from this:


to this...

all within one short little year.

I'm surprised that Quality Assurance allowed such an oversight to pass unnoticed for so long. I trust that this will be corrected before I find myself writing regarding my own grandchildren.

Thank you in advance for your time and cooperation,

One Bewildered Mommy

PS...Jacob would like me to also ask that if you aren't too busy he would like snow this winter. He wants to build a snowman and serve it hot chocolate.

PPS...He would also like to ask you a question. Did you know that a caterpillar starts its life as an egg? And also dinosaurs? I explained that, yes, you probably did know all of this but he wanted to ask just in case.

milestones...

My niece just celebrated her 13th birthday. (I'll pause a moment to let that sink in.) I had the amazing privilege of holding my niece the day after she was born.

I was on a whirlwind two week trip to the US. It was my one and only flight on the aircraft I worked so hard to keep up in the air. We were trading in a 40-year-old plane for a newer 30-year-old model. Since one of my best friends was Crew Chief, I was able to charm my way onto the flight.

First stop on the trip was Jacksonville, FL where I took possession of my shiny new 1995 Harley Davidson XLH Deluxe. Black and oh, so shiny. Drove the bike to the boatyard in Charleston, SC so they could ship it back to Spain. Picked up a rental car and drove through the night to my sister's in Virginia. No member of my family even knew I was in the country. Fortunately my brother-in-law hadn't purchased his shotgun yet!

The births of my nephews and niece mark major milestones in my life. The eldest nephew was born when I was in bootcamp and the youngest just months before my wedding. The week after my niece's birth I had a my first date with the man who would turn out to be the love of my life. I'd call that a fairly major milestone.

My parent's were also in the country for a few weeks during that trip and we were all able to spend time together as a family--a slightly rare occurrence. The three of us went shopping--my mom, my sister and I--and I bought a dress for the Christmas party I was attending the day after I returned home. I also found a tie for my date since he had informed me he didn't own one. With one last stop at the hospital to tell my sister and brand new, red headed niece goodbye I left and drove on up north. Spent the afternoon with my grandparents--the last time I'd see Gramps--and continued on up to Maryland to catch the flight back to Spain.

The XO (Executive Officer) of the squadron flew the new plane home. When the wheels stopped rolling he strolled past me down the aisle.

"How'd you like the flight, Mac?" he asked as he clapped me on the back.

"Honestly, Sir? I've had better landings." I replied as I clutched my full airsick bag.

See, there's that issue with authority again. I never was able to grasp and adopt the concept of respect simply due to one's rank. Not exactly a shock I didn't make a career out of the Navy. I think it was more of shock that I made it four years without my mouth getting me into trouble.

So it wasn't really a romantic date--there were actually five of us. It was our squadron's Christmas party. A rare occasion to clean the grease out from under our fingernails, get all dressed up and "purdy". Four of us girls decided to invite one of our male friends from a different command. Though I suspect it was a ploy to get the two of us together since shortly after the party I found myself alone with him. We had been friends for a while. But that night we became something more--though neither of us was willing, at the time, to put a label on this new thing.

The first time we met he didn't remember me. But that was okay. I was overweight, self conscious and, well...forgettable. My relationship history was fraught with abuse--mostly emotional, one was physical. I wasn't broken, but I wasn't whole either. Following that initial meeting I remember wondering what life would be like if someone like that were to be interested in someone like me. It made me think and re-evaluate who I was, where I was. He went off on a ship for six months. In that time I found that I was actually good at my job--even with being a girl in a male dominated field. I decided I was tired of being fat. I also discovered that I kinda liked who I was--just me. And when he returned and we met again--he remembered.

Thus began our tumultuous love affair. A relationship which had even our friends claiming doom and gloom--even after we stood in front of my dad (the minister) and promised to love and cherish each other until the cold, clammy hand of death ripped us apart. Apparently two strong willed, opinionated, passionate and stubborn people shouldn't attempt a serious relationship.

Next week we celebrate our 10 year anniversary. Guess we sure showed them.

Silent night...

cha...cha...changes...

There's a lot of chatter lately regarding New Year's resolutions--a tradition I've never really been a supporter of. However, this year--or next year, whatever--I have decided to make a resolution. I resolve to put my rather expensive college education to work. I know--that's just crazy talk! I'm serious! And, yes, I also resolve to stay true to my career goal which is to never have to wear pantyhose again...I'm a simple soul.

Since I have been adamantly opposed to working outside of the home and putting my children in childcare, any job prospect would have to be on the really shiny side for me to consider accepting. Something in communications (you know, like what it says on my diploma), non-corporate, laid back, enjoyable, fun and if possible--outdoors. Wow. That's a pretty tall order. Sounds like I might have better luck if my New Year's resolution was to finally acquire those last few inches taking me to my dream height of 5'7". Or maybe not...

As of January 1st I am the new Director of Advertising and Sponsorship for Running Kids. Sweet. I cannot even begin to describe my level of giddiness. It wasn't like I was out dropping off resumes and actively job searching. Truth be told, I have a lot going on right now. But a chance meeting with an old acquaintance at a local fund raiser early in November led to a job offer I couldn't refuse.

I really don't believe that everything happens for a reason--most things do, but not all. I believe in the random. Makes me feel less like a toy for the puppet master. Regardless, there's a fair bit about this opportunity that smells like a Master Plan.

When we first moved here I was very aggressively searching for employment. In the beginning I was dropping off resumes and portfolios at places I had researched and wanted to work with and for. Towards the end I was approaching anyone in the "business" who was hiring. And I was totally and completely stressed about the process. I recall one day having to pull over to the side of the road because I was having a panic attack. We needed me to have a paycheck. Immediately. But the idea of battling traffic on a daily basis to go work 40 hours a week in a box was sucking the life out of me--and I hadn't even been hired yet! So, I switched directions. I made up my mind to keep the creative side freelance and simply accept a job--any job--with a paycheck. That's about the time when the manager from Blue Ridge Mountain Sports called and offered me a full time position. It was meant to be a temporary gig until other stuff panned out--it just lasted a little longer than anticipated...by almost four years.

I made a lot of contacts in those four years. One of them being my new employer. Others being representatives of the various organizations I will be approaching for sponsorship. I know the business. I'm familiar with the outdoor industry. I'm also passionate about what the organization stands for. I can't wait until my children are old enough to participate! I'm going to do my best to take them with me to as many of the events as I can--shouldn't be too difficult since travel expenses will be paid for me and my family!

Oh, the really, really nifty part? I'm working from Home. Yep. Right here with the munchkins. In my jammies. Sometimes. Video conference days I may put on a bra.

Things I've learned so far this week...

Pull-Ups explode in a nasty gelled mess in the washing machine.

The Husband's gauze bandage does not get along well with Velcro.

Children, like predators, can smell weakness and hone in on an injured hand like lions on helpless gazelles. He's really not having a good week!

Watching, helpless to do anything, as my daughter tumbles down the entire flight of stairs ends up being far more traumatic for me than for her. She's just sporting a few more bruises--a nice shiner under her right eye. I have an image forever imprinted on my brain.

Okay, so the last one wasn't so humorous. Sorry. It's been a long day.

All twinkly and bright...

It's coming up on Christmas time. I love this time of year--even with the flurries blowing around outside! Going out and picking a Christmas tree. The lights, the music. Pulling out all of the ornaments and the memories they bring back. My mom, my sister and I all have a number of the same ornaments...ones we either made or collected together. I remember putting up my tree those years in Spain and realizing that the same ornaments that were on my tree in the south of Spain were also on trees in the States and in East Africa. It was a comfort.

Last year my boys went out by themselves and brought home the most beautiful tree. This year we made it a family affair. The four of us bundled up this afternoon and made our way down to the same Christmas tree lot we've patroned for the past three years now. The same old man was out there to hold up the trees for inspection and then to load the chosen one up on top of the Cherokee. For as much as I've spoken against traditions--I like the ones our little family has started.

I enjoy wrapping the strings of lights around and around. I always manage to pack them up each year so they're not too tangled the next. This year I have three strings of LED lights--don't stare right at them or you'll see spots for a while! Maybe I will actually make it to one of the after Christmas sales this year and pick up a few more boxes. I feel like I defied the laws of physics--a delicate white pine should not be able to hold up all of those lights...all 600 of them!

The heavy miniature pots and teacups I found in Portugal and made into ornaments have stayed in the bin. They're too heavy for the tree this year. A few others that are far too fragile to be on display in a home with these two whirlwinds we call our children have also stayed in the bin. All of my share of the wooden ornaments my mom painted the Christmas I was born are hung up. Jacob and Kyleigh both have ornament collections started--none too fancy, just ones I've picked up that remind me of them.


Jacob helped me hang the red wooden beaded garland my mom and I picked up on one of our excursions. He was dragging the other strands around the living room like a snake.

My Christmas shopping is complete--thanks to Amazon and the internet! The space under the tree will remain vacant until the little ones go to bed Christmas Eve. Well, not exactly vacant--that tree skirt is Sebastian T. Cat's nap spot of the month. He'd be there now except he had his face buried in his food dish at the time I snapped the picture. And, no, the angel won't sit up straight. Blame it on the eggnog!

Random bits and no pictures!

The Husband is sleeping off his pain medication...softly snoring on the couch. He had put in The Fellowship Of The Rings with the best of intentions, but now it's just me watching it.

Apparently he is now legend at the V.A hospital. The team of anesthesiologists who prepped him for surgery this morning informed him that policy changes were put into effect immediately due to the circumstances surrounding his last visit to their fine, fine surgical ward. I know we made light of it at the time, but honestly? It was a screw up of epic proportions. And I'm glad to know that they have taken steps to insure the same thing doesn't happen to someone else.

My parents arrived safe and sound--jet lagged--but on time. Oh, did I not mention they were coming back to the States for Christmas? We actually managed to keep it a secret from the grand children as well. Not an easy task, pulling something over on those five! Kyleigh, Jacob and I drove out and spent Tuesday night with them. I had supper waiting when they arrived. Then, yesterday morning--after coffee and pancakes--I left my children with Kokoo and Babu and drove home. Jacob's reaction to being left? Yeah, I love you, Mommy...bye.

The Husband and I then managed to check various items off of our "To Do" list...moulding up in the living room, move Kyleigh's crib from our room to Jacob's room, scrub the grout in the bathrooms...go on a date with your beloved...went to a movie--I know, that's just crazy! Then up at 5am to be at the V.A. by 6.

I discovered that my GPS is missing a feature. The button that says, "Bruce--GPS dude--it's 5am. Tone down the chipperness, just keep reminding me of my turns and tell me to actually get the change for the toll out of my pocket before I get to the toll plaza!" But I suppose that would be too much to put on a button.

We were once again reminded today how precious life is. There are those at the V.A. who are in far, far worse circumstances than we are. Old men in wheelchairs, a man laying on a gurney wheeled outside to smoke, veterans, missing limbs, lives shattered.

Tonight, I'm grateful. For my children upstairs--now sharing a room. For my husband--broken, yet on the mend. My parents--exhausted and jet lagged, yet still they kept my children for two days. For my bed--to which I am now going, and for the first time in over a year, a bed without a crib at its foot. *Sigh* I know. It was time. But I'll miss hearing her softly breathing, stirring.

Toys? What toys?

We want the box!

Our new television came in today.

The children were less than thrilled...

So...maybe this year we'll save our money and just troll the trash piles after Christmas and pick them up something in cardboard!

On a different note...I happen to be one of those "Audio/Visual" techno geeks. And a girl! Technological schematics do not scare me. Programing a brand new high definition television and blue ray player (it came free with the tv--kind of a sweet deal, don'tcha think?) was a piece of cake. Done. However, placing the batteries in the remote correctly--not so much. Fortunately for all of those involved I had enough faith in my own abilities to realize that the technical difficulty we were experiencing had to be something simple. We all need a humbling moment now and then.

Oh, all right...all I did was push a few buttons and wrangled children away from cables and cords. The Dear Sweet Husband created order out of chaos in the back and plugged everything in. Told you he was my hero.

Book geek meme...

Since the Husband tagged me and has since been nagging me about this I suppose I should play...

Here are some rules:

–Share seven random or weird Book Facts about yourself.
–Then tag seven other people--yeah, well...I don't know seven people. So play along if you want. Though I'd be interested to see Marit's and Melanie's answers on this...
–Notify the seven (or not) others that they have been tagged.

1. I don't exactly remember when I finally was able to look at a page and actually read--as opposed to the memorization and reciting back that I had been getting away with--but I know it was well after I was in grade school somewhere around Primary 3 or 4 (I was in a British school). Oddly enough, I wasn't diagnosed as dyslexic until college.

2. The first time I realized I could actually decipher the words was when my dad was reading me an Asterix comic book (excuse me--Graphic Novel) and he kept skipping over panels. I called him on it. I then proceeded to read through the rest on my own.

3. Once I had devoured our collection of Asterix and Obelix graphic novels I moved on to my sister's bookshelves--Nancy Drew, Madeline L'Engle. Then my mom's library--Victoria Holt, Phylis Whitney. And then my dad's--Clive Cussler, Louie L'Amour, Tom Clancy. By the time I graduated high school I had read through RVA's entire fiction section at least once.

4. I have a stash of romance books. The historical kind. Manly men in kilts. Pirates and Strumpets. Can't tell you the last time I read one though. Kinda seems wrong to be reading about heaving bosoms while I have children clamoring for my attention.

5. In choosing books I really, really try to stay away from series. Just too much of a commitment for a book. Then there's the waiting--waiting--for the next book to come out. If it does--Robert Jordan.

6. On our bookshelves there are books that I have simply due to the fact that I drew or painted the illustrations. A coloring book. Training manuals. Reading primers. Even a story written by my mom and nephew.

7. Years ago I picked up a Judith Tarr novel in a used book store in Nairobi. Only to come to the end and realize it was merely the first in a series (grrrr....series). After several attempts to locate the follow-up novels, I gave up--these were before the days of Amazon, Google and the bookstore Super Store. Fast forward a few years...I was over at a friend's apartment and looking over his expansive book collection. And there--there was the complete trilogy. And a follow-up trilogy. That friend? Oh, yeah. I married him.

So you think you've had a bad day?

I've been up since before 5am...well, almost. BOTH of us managed to sleep through alarms and snoozes because, well, it's just not natural to be getting up at that time. However, we did manage to make it to the hospital on time. Checked the man in. Enjoyed a spectacular sunrise over the river on the drive home. Went about my day. Passed out on the couch while the children ran wild and waited for the phone call from the Husband letting me know the sedation had worn off and he was ready for a ride home.

And then...well, you can read all about his day here. It's his tale to tell. Here's a spoiler: It didn't go so good.

Oh, and he gives the back story on yesterday's court case as well.

That's about all the conversation that's in me. I'm going to bed.

Oh look! An opinion...

Today I'm thankful for the fact that Miss Sunshine's court case came and went without so much as a hiccup. It had been continued from the 6th and I don't think a lot of people got that memo so there was very little media attention. Husband was professional and spectacular. She was convicted of all but one charge.

Interesting tidbit--the advocate group that originally backed her has since dropped her case and walked away...quickly. Hmmm. Maybe if they had done their research to begin with they wouldn't have accepted her version of events in the first place. But maybe that's just me. They were just so quick to cry "Racism!" that they didn't even look into her public record. But, neither did anyone in the press for that matter.

Of course, she has filed for an appeal. Because, after all--she is merely an innocent victim here.

In other news...

The love of my life is having hand surgery tomorrow. I have to have him at the Veteran's Hospital at 6am. Sweet Shivering Shiva it's gonna be cold! Fortunately (!) we have a friend coming to spend the night in order to be here in the morning with the little ones. I'm ever so grateful I don't have to drag them out of bed, bundle them up and cart them into the VA hospital as well. What a nightmare that would be. We could manage, of course. But I'm so glad we won't have to. Did I mention I was grateful?! The shiny side of this is that he'll be on medical leave for a couple of weeks and then off of the road for a few more. We actually get normal people time together. That's just crazy! Wanna place bets on how long it takes us to run outta stuff to talk about?!

More things handed down...

Jacob has discovered the amazing world of Legos. Not the big chunky ones--those are now being loved and adored by his sister. The real ones--the little ones that cause mind numbing pain when stepped on.

Hmmm...must be genetic....

Though, I didn't get my first set of Legos until the Christmas just before by 6th birthday. Even then, I had to fight off my dad (Hi, Daddy! Excellent shirt!) to actually be able to play with them.

Forget the Barbie cakes--I asked for a Lego cake. My mom (Hi, Mama!), the amazing woman that she is, managed to make Lego blocks from homemade marshmallows.

One of the boxes I pulled down out of the attic for Jacob a few days ago contained the remnants of the very same set I received that year. No small feat considering how many times I've moved in the past 30 years!

Jacob went to bed a little late tonight. We were building a bulldozer.


Edited for correction....I was just informed by a very reliable source that though it was, indeed, my mom that baked and decorated my Lego birthday cake, it was my dad that labored over the marshmallows.

Tagged by the Husband...

5 Things I Was Doing 10 Years Ago

- Getting used to using the word "Engaged"
-Feeling so unprepared to be married in a month's time
-Facing possible deportation from Spain
-Enjoying everyday life in the south of Spain again

5 Things on My To-Do List Today

Aside from my everyday list of keeping the kiddos alive...
- Laundry...blah!
-Clearing a space in the new Spear Room for JoAnna to sleep tomorrow night.
-attempting to find childcare for Thursday afternoon...what are the odds?

5 Snacks I Like

- Chevda
-Salt and vinegar potato chips
-Jalapeño flavored kettle chips
-brownies...mmmm, brownies...
can't think of another one

5 Things I Would Do If I Was A Millionaire

So, ditto on my husband's answers to this one...

- Be debt-free
- Make sure the kids had money for college
- Give some back to the people who have helped us when needed
- Build the house the way we wanted
- Finally travel again

5 Places I Have Lived (for various lengths of time)

- A variety of states in the US...(North Dakota, North Carolina, Minnesota, Tennessee, Virgina)
- Spain
- Kenya
- Tanzania
- Nigeria

5 Jobs I Have Had

- Waitress
-Secretary
-Airplane mechanic
-Radio talk show producer
-The Mommy (by far and above the toughest of all!)

The taboo subjects...

Normal people have the typical "taboo" subjects--religion, politics...you know, the usual suspects. However, unless you are new around these parts (Hi!) then you will know that we really don't "do" normal. Off center, off color and leaning towards the sarcastic and macabre--but definitely not normal.

The Husband and I actually manage to discuss politics and religion--both falling into the "We Don't Agree" file--with respect, honesty and courtesy. Usually. Sometimes. We have been known to bring an end to a discussion with a closing argument of, "Yeah, well. You're Wrong!" (That's the sort of debate skillz a college degree in Communications will get ya!) We managed to make it through the past year of presidential campaign on opposite sides--each for our own passionate reasons--with very little argument or debate. Religion? At the bottom of it all we believe the same things. We just put different labels on it.

Yes, see...we live in peace and harmony. Until this morning. When we discussed the weather.

The weather forecasters are forecasting snow flurries for tonight. I. Hate. Being. Cold. My base layer Capilene has joined my daily pile of clothes. They'll come off sometime around mid-March. Just saying the word Snow sends my tropical blooded self to the internet searching for great, can't-pass-me-up deals to the Seychelles. (Then our bank balance calls and suggests that maybe I just pull on another fleece.) And this Colorado native freak that I vowed to love and adore until the cold, clammy hand of Death ripped us apart? He did a little dance. Not just a little happy dance. A full on In-Your-Face dance.

The temps start leaning towards freezing and yes, it is all his fault. Somehow. Don't bring logic into this! Because then you'd be Wrong.

Oh, fine...I'm thankful that I have a roof over my head and we can afford to turn the heat up. That we weren't stupid and went for more mortgage than we could afford and would now be facing foreclosure. Though, are we going to be rewarded for that in this whole bail-out scheme of the government? No. Whatever.

I'm oh, so thankful for other's senses of humor...

Community bath...

I am thankful that someone is benefiting from our broken up drive way!

I am also thankful that I cleaned the windows not too long ago and I was able to take these pictures without having to walk outside in the rain and ick.

And the hot water flowed...

We are once again enjoying the glorious thing that is Hot Water--bountiful enough to take a complete shower with. For the past couple of months we've been surviving on 2 minute showers and even then it was a rush to beat the looming threat of a cold shower. Both elements and both thermostats were replaced, and voila--hot water aplenty.

And once again--a household repair that should have been soooooooo much easier and simpler than it was. There's a shut off valve that had been open for so long that after today's workout of close/open/close/open it is now exhausted beyond the point of fulfilling its duty of keeping all of the water contained. Husband is, as I'm typing, on his way back to Lowe's to pick up a new valve. No more work tonight though. Venturing under the house in the dark is far more than should be asked of any man. But he is on bucket emptying duty for the rest of the night. It's not like Insomnia Man was going to be able to sleep anyway.

I am thankful for the repaired--yet still dieing--hot water heater. I am also ever so thankful that the leaking, rusting appliance, along with the ancient pipes and their valves, is in the basement and can do very little water damage to its surroundings. Except create a moat around the cat box. Hmmm...a new way to Torment The Cat. We'll call that a Bonus--heh, I can be grateful for that too.

To be thankful...

A new group popped up on Facebook recently--Thanksgiving Challenge 2008. The idea is to daily update your status with something that you are thankful for--in honor of the US Thanksgiving Day at the end of the month. Of course, why should I limit myself to Facebook?

I've been reading a good number of blogs recently where someone is struggling. Life is just a little more than they feel they can handle right now. Financially, emotionally. Does it matter? What matters is, I have friends who could use some positivity. Some happy thoughts. Just today I was reminded that everything one works for one's whole life can be gone in a heartbeat. A lifetime reduced to rubble--whether metaphorically or not--someone tonight is struggling to pick up the pieces.

For at least this month--with an effort to continue the practice--I'm going to do my best to post at least one thing I'm thankful for each and every day.

I am thankful for the time I spent playing with my family this evening after supper. All four of us in the living room, three remote control cars and Kyleigh sitting in the middle like some adorable little Godzilla in a striped onesie snatching them up if they got too close. She was quick too.

The things we're handed down...

I'm fascinated by the fact that the two granddaughters in this family have both been blessed with the most wondrous red hair. A feature that is uniquely theirs and theirs alone. A recessive Scotch/Irish gene carried and passed on by both my sister and I to our daughters?
My niece is a beautiful girl on the cusp of womanhood. Full of feisty attitude--more than enough to drive my sister (one of the most patient and long suffering people I know) to search for that icepick to gouge out one of her own eyes in order to numb the pain--an attribute that reminds me of...well, me. A feistyness that I lost somewhere along the way. Later regained--but I can't help but wonder what pain and heartache would have been avoided if I had managed to hold on to that attitude all along. And I see that same strong spirit budding in this precious little girl just learning to walk and explore her world.

What else might we have unconsciously given to our children?

Jacob puts his sentences together like I do. Tell Kyleigh "No" and she gives that look her daddy gives when I ask one of my "you're right, I wasn't thinking" questions.

Witnessing the presidential election fallout over the last week, I hope we pass on tolerance. Acceptance of that fact that all people are created equal. Dislike someone because of their views or politics. Not because of the color of their skin or their gender.

Will they know that there are some things worth fighting for? Not a lot of things--but a few? Even fewer worth dieing for? Will they know that they are the source of their own happiness? Their own joy? Will they know to take care of what they have, what's been given to them? And to be gracious and grateful? Will they know the difference between those two words?

Will they know that they can fly? That they can soar?

All these were handed down to me. The greatest task I face in this life is insuring that my own children can say the same.

I am...

A veteran of the United States Military.

I am married to a veteran.

I am the daughter of a veteran.

I am the granddaughter of a veteran.

On Memorial Day we gather together to honor and remember those who went before us. Today, however, is Veteran's Day. Today we honor the living. The ones who returned--whole, scarred or wounded. The ones we served with and fought beside.

For better or for worse, thank you.

Blame it on Casper

Mommy, how do I get to be a ghost?

Sweetie, you have to be Dead. But that, of course, would be violating House Hold Rule #1: Don't Be Dead.

(House Hold Rule #5 is: Don't Pee On The Cat. You'd think we actually wouldn't have to write that one down, wouldn't you?)

So, when I died I'll be a ghost?

Actually, Fruit of My Womb, I think the only people who get to be ghosts are those that feel really deeply they left something undone when they died and they somehow stick around.

So, where will I be when I died?

Ohhhhh....think, think, think! Faster....FASTER....the longer I hesitate the more questions he's thinking up...THINK! Do I go into the whole Heaven and Hell thing? How can I mention Heaven without talking about Hell? And the child is 3 years old! For the love of God, is he really ready for a discussion on Judgment and Eternal Damnation?! They never discussed this in Hermeneutics. That would have been far too practical of a lesson for a Bible college.

I'd like to say that I handled the situation with style and poetic grace. I'd like to say that. Instead, I choked.

After living a very long and happy life, when you die you'll just stay died--peaceful and happy.

Apparently it was a good enough answer and he moved on.

We'll start him on Dante next year.

The trouble with home improvement is...

there isn't ever really a point where you can say, "Yep. That's it. Done."

I may have mentioned in the past that we live in an 80-year-old house. Yes, we made the conscious decision to purchase an older home. New builds in this area had an appalling lack of character and trees. We knew, sorta, what we were getting ourselves into. The house had been renovated before we made our purchase. The contractor made it look real pretty. But a few months in we realized that he'd also made sure he didn't use up a lot of his employer's money. The best thing he did was paint over all of the horrendous color choices of the previous owner and refinished the hardwood floors (and they are beautiful). Other than that he just covered up a lot--sort of like slapping bandaids on everything. The downstairs bathroom would be a prime example.

So the latest project really wasn't huge--certainly not by our standards--but it still took time.*

There are two bedrooms downstairs. The smaller room on the back of the house was our office and the larger front (streetside) room was the guest room. Or Spear Room, as Jacob labeled it. We kept a spear in there--ergo...Spear Room. (I grew up around the Maasai. Of course I have a spear, or two.) Since my parents (Hi, Parents!) moved out and took their furniture with them the room has sort of been a catch all type place. It actually worked well as a holding room for the bathroom reconstruction. But the plan all along was to move our office into the larger room. And so, tonight I'm sitting in our new office, sprawled out on the chase lounge and enjoying my new surroundings.

Of course nothing in this house is ever as simple as that. There was a crater size hole in the plaster behind the radiator that needed fixing. We'll call that stage Fun With Plaster. And, of course, by "Fun" I mean "I'd Rather Stab Myself In the Eyeball With a Hotdog Skewer". Numerous coats of plaster later the wall is fixed and non-crumbling, painted a delightful shade of gray with a even more delightful zero VOC, non-toxic paint. The Husband and I--along with our gazillion books and two computers each--actually have room to move about and find stuff. Ahhhh.

Please don't ask me about the fate of the former office. For right now it is still home to the dust bunny colonies that managed to gain a foothold underneath the desks and bookshelves. It has been designated as a guest room. But we never have guests....

*Time for any project is of course figured by the usual formula--take the square footage of the space to be improved divided by the number of people doing the improvement and multiply that by the number of children needing constant and undivided attention, subtract the number of hours one is actually awake and then multiply that by the number of times Jacob asks for Mommy. Yeah, I'm pretty sure Home Depot wasn't using that formula when they figured that replacing a tub would only take 14 hours.

It's a new day, a new dawn...

A little Nina Simone seemed apropos for the day...

Let's carve pumpkins tonight! Yea!

After all, it is an activity that falls under Messy and Uses Sharp Instruments.
How could it not be fun?!

Fascinating, isn't it? How one little ol' photograph can give an authentic representation of this chaotic, always on the move household! You just missed the cat...he scampered on by hoping to be ignored by the short ones.

Roaring at the Jack-O-Lantern...
important to establish dominance with these creatures!

Just one picture, please, where both children are looking
at the same camera--they don't even have to smile.
Just show me a face turned in my direction!

Ah, see...much better! Thank you.

(Yes, I realize I had my daughter out in the chilly evening without socks.
She would like you to know that socks do not go on feet
and would thank you very much to stop putting them there.
Same applies to shoes.)

At last. A pair of willing and co-operative subjects...um...models.

All about the girl

Going over the growth charts (something I still don't understand) at Kyleigh's 1-year-old doctor's visit last week Rational Doctor mentioned that while Kyleigh was gaining on her peers in height, she was losing ground in weight. Since Tall and Skinny does not run in this family--unless she was blessed with some sort of freaky dormant Amazon gene--she must therefore be Underweight. Just up her amount of solid foods and lower her amount of formula, the good doctor said, and don't fret about it.

Hi. Have we met? Of course I'm going to fret about it!

I admit that it's just been easier to give her a bottle than to sit down and work with her on eating. Ever since she discovered that she can pick up food and put it in her mouth she has refused to eat from a spoon. It's been a challenge finding finger foods that she can and will eat. I'm pretty sure that she cannot live on peas, pears, cheerios and toast alone. Though she has discovered the Food of the Gods which is Macaroni and Cheese. That one is acceptable as well.

So there we were at super tonight--warm and hearty beef stew prepared by my wonderful Husband--and Kyleigh was screaming. Shaking her high chair tray and chucking food down at the cat. And I did nothing but sat there and denied her her bottle. I eventually bribed her with a biscuit and fruit spread. When I finally did give her milk she drank like she hadn't had nourishment for days, weeks even.

I have accepted the fact that the child is determined to hold onto her bottle for a little while longer. She's been doing really well with a sippy cup for some time now--as long as it contains either water or juice. Milk Must Come With A Nipple. That is law. And so shall it be. For someone who really doesn't talk much, Kyleigh is quite capable of communicating and getting her point across. On her birthday I made the mistake of presenting her morning milk in a sippy cup. Given the distance it traveled after she hurled it across the room I'd say she gets her communication skills from me.

Random bits...

For a while now every time Jacob gets into trouble and has privileges taken away he pulls himself together, looks at me with those blue eyes--all weepy and repentant--and proclaims, "Maybe tomorrow I'll try harder to...insert issue here (not poop in my underwear, stay in bed for my nap, not hit the cat with my blanket, not push Kyleigh over when she's in my way...the list is quite extensive). Brilliant. 3-years-old and he already has a grasp on the international concept of Tomorrow. Kesho. Manana.

Just now I attempted to reason with him and explain the concept of How About We Just Make It Through Today.

No, Mommy! I won't!

It went well. About as well as when I inform him that he doesn't get to tell me what to do.

And in today's Ironic Advice file...a comment I received on my previous post regarding my chaotic life--again. The advice was to simplify. To get back to basics.

These are the basics, my friend. I am a Stay-at-Home-Mommy with no outside obligations--granted I stay at home with two highly active, highly intelligent little ones and my husband works long hours and has a crippling disease for which he is on chemotherapy for the rest of his life and there are days when I'm parenting alone from dawn until dusk and I can't recall the last time I was able to take a lengthy enough shower to shave my legs and my children eat toast and eggs for supper because I missed out on the cooking gene--my life isn't complicated, just chaotic. This is as simple as gets. I cannot prune anything else without sacrificing family members--and as tempting as that idea is at times, it's just not going to happen. The three people that I share my life with are my life blood, my oxygen. They aren't going anywhere.

The animals on the other hand--they can go. Seriously. Free to a good home, or where ever. I'm not picky.

Just breathe...

Once again I find the thoughts in my head crowded out by chaos and noise--and by that I mean just everyday life around here. There are one or two insightful and life changing posts peculating in my head. One day soon I'll get around to actually pulling them together into cohesive thought and writing. For now I'm just concentrating on breathing--in and out.

In the meantime, I'd thought I'd share mine and Jacob's craft project yesterday--pumpkin painting! Any craft that involves Paint and Mess is his favorite. Took them two days to dry the paint was so thick!

Happy Birthday, Kyleigh!

A year is far too short of time for the type of changes that have taken place at our house.

In one short year this tiny little bundle--all 6 and a half pounds of her--went from this...



to this...



And our family bonding time went from this...



to this...Kyleigh taste testing her new toys this morning.



Oh, and for the highly observant--that's Garnier Nutrisse "Sangria"

Random political thought of the day...

I may have mentioned in the past that while I don't agree with her politics, I do like the woman. But this right here is a perfect example of what makes this country a great nation--we mock ourselves.



We may be moving--rather rapidly--towards becoming a 1st world socialist country, but we'll survive that. However, when the humor is gone and we are penalized for poking fun of our leaders--then, my friends, we're in deep doodoo.

Sometimes...

...life really is that good.
Children are occupied elsewhere--no one pulling his tail or messing with his feet. The dryer has been going all morning creating a warm, cozy kitchen. And a sun spot. What more could an old dog want?

Because you asked so nicely...

Stuck inside today tending to two of the lesser known dwarfs--Snotty and Coughy. The adoring, loving Husband actually called in sick for me last night and I was able to get some much needed rest. So I thought I'd give a little gift today...

Not quite the "thigh high wellies" but close enough!

Yes, the glamorous life of the Navy Airman (E-3) circa 1995. Stuck in Corrosion Control washing and greasing the massive, four prop P3 airplanes from dawn until dusk--any kind of weather. I remember being out there one night in the freezing rain. At least in the burning days of August we would just soak each other to cool off--but there wasn't a thing we could do to get warm!

Oh, and a link my dad sent to me this morning...I still may get my flying car yet!

As for me today...I am armed with boxes of tissues, cups of tea, sippy cups of juice and enough Veggie Tale dvds to choke a water buffalo--bring on the dreary, rainy Saturday filled with sicklings!

Maelstrom in a fishbowl...

...an slight upgrade from "tempest in a teacup".

Life is funny, ain't it? Get dealt one blow...pick yourself up just in time to catch the next one on the chin.

Husband's new meds are battling for supremacy in his body--both have the side effect of insomnia. Add that to his chronic insomnia and instead of canceling each other out he's morphed into a sleep deprived zombie stomping around the house at wee hours. Fortunately we have one or two books lying around for him to pass the time with. He can't even have a glass of wine to take the edge off.

So, fine--Husband is on these stupid meds he's going to take for the rest of his life. He's also attempting to stay on top of his school courses--and work. The baby has a cold. Jacob has good days and bad days with actually making it to the toilet before he pees all over the floor. And then...the other night his phone rings (Husband's, not Jacob's--what kind of parents do you think we are?)--and has not stopped since--Dude, just to let you know...you're going to be all over the 6 o'clock news. Oh, and in the paper.

A "customer" from an incident a few weeks back filed a complaint. Excessive force. Apparently the department wasn't investigating quickly enough and she sought aid from the local advocate organization for her particular skin color. Who in turn held a press conference in her honor. And there she was--looking all victim like...small and helpless, tears streaming down her face...and accused my HUSBAND of excessive force and racial slurs. Then, then, the newspaper went and printed it along with his NAME. So not kosher. The reporter also made sure to point out that the officer was white. No. Sorry. Apparently Mr. Big City Newspaper Reporter skipped class the day they discussed checking one's facts.

Of course I am not going to stand idly by while one of mine is being attacked. Not only have I never heard a single racial slur of any kind from this man in the 14 years I've known him--he's not white. I emailed the reporter to let him know that the officer in question was actually of Native American heritage. Not white. Want to talk about a persecuted minority? Let's review, shall we?

A people group living in peace and harmony--enjoying their buffalo and trees and mountains, occasionally fighting amongst themselves and with the neighbors. Along comes Mr. Columbus--Look at this new land that I have discovered. I shall claim it for Spain. And England. Oh, all right, France can come play too--but you guys have to stay to the north, eh? All of you indigenous "Native" people--you're so stupid that you'll accept yellow fever blankets and whiskey as payment for the food that we're too stupid to know how to grow and land that you naively say belongs to no one. Bwah ha ha! Fine. Here, you may keep these little, tiny parcels of land that are useless to us anyway. But you must learn to speak like us and dress like us and you'll have no rights as a people group and you'll like it!

And that concludes the history lesson for the day. Not too shabby for having been taught American history in a British school, huh?

Where was I? Oh, yeah...the reporter replied to my email. He explained that he took the characterization of the arresting officer from the victim. She's being charged with a DUI...among other things...and he just took her word that she was harassed and assaulted by a white officer? Unbelievable. And he has yet to correct his story. Un-freakin'-believable.

The morning following the incident in question, the Husband shared the arrest report with me. Lots of facts. All by the book. He did everything he could to not fight this woman who was bound and determined to not go to jail. Later he wrote his own account of the evening. And I was able to see it through his eyes. His feelings. He is being raked over the coals for a split second decision and that one decision enabled him to come home to his family--unharmed and untouched.

The sunny side is that no one--no one--who matters...his family, his co-workers, his department...is questioning his actions or his integrity. His department is standing behind and beside him 100 percent.

The story has actually been moved off the front page--apparently there's a presidential election happening soon and the media feels the need to report on that. The newscasters didn't even bring it up last night. I'm sure someone will make sure it's brought back to everyone's attention when her court date comes around.

Until then, I've got my thigh-high wellies on and we're just weathering the storm.

At the Pumpkin Patch...

An afternoon well spent.
Beautiful warm--non-fall--weather.
A pumpkin patch bursting with pumpkins!

Jacob and Daddy cutting the perfect pumpkin free.

Walking back to the tractor, carrying our haul.
All the pumpkins you could carry--$20.
Not a bad deal--there were no rules about having your 3-year-old
carry the little ones.

Every now and then the Photo Gods smile on me.
A perfect shot in one take!
Just don't look too close--her eye is still swollen and bruised.

Riding back in the tractor on Daddy's lap--a fierce hold on her prize green pumpkin!

Then, off to enjoy dinner with friends. Yes, indeed. A day well spent.