Saturday, December 31, 2011

Goals for 2012

Oh wow…  New Year’s eve already.  Let’s see, what were my goals last year again?

·        Lose some weight.  Donovan says he’s happy no matter what size I am (suuuuuuuuure) but I need to lose some because it’s making my constant pain worse.
·        Move to a better/cheaper place.  I HATE this apartment.  I’ve already got something in mind, but I need the taxes to be deposited before I can make an offer.
·        Get all the little kids (2 and 4 footed) house broken.  I think this one’s self explanatory.
·        Find a dependable babysitter.  I’ve been back in Vegas almost 6 years now, and have yet to find a sitter that is available when I need them.
·        Take a ceramics class.  But to do that I need a sitter.
·        Re-start my clothing and gift company.  I had to close it down because no one was buying.  This time I need a stock built up, and some really great pictures, along with an amazing web-site. 

Annnnnnnnnnnd…  big surprise, the only one that really happened was losing some weight right before the insanity of the fat season, whoops, I mean holiday season.
Last year was a bitch.  Yep, I said it.  I got put on meds, fought with D, and I’m still struggling to get the little kids potty trained.  M decided to become a nudist.  Boychik has regressed and complains of headaches.  D’s getting out of the military, but we’re worrying about how the family will get by until he’s in school…
The laundry monster is slowly being conquered, pictures are getting back on the wall, sewing stuff is getting organized, but it all seems just so, idk, insignificant in the grand scheme of things?
ANYWAY.  On to the list of goals that I’m most likely not going to meet this year.

·  Get to a healthy weight by the time D gets home.  I got this amazing dress for 90% off at Kohl’s yesterday and I WILL fit into it.
·  Start couponing the right way.  Right now I don’t because a) I’ve got no clue, and b) most of the coupons that I find are for stuff we’ll never use or the generics are cheaper.
·  Move out of Nevada.  For good.  The summers are horrible, the housing is badly made, and the teachers are convinced that if a kid misses school a parent needs to be threatened with CPS.
·  Complete the potty training for the little kids.  The dog can wait.
·  Build HodgePodge’s web site. And actually post it to a hosting site.
·  Start writing again and actually submit it to my peers.  Yup, I’m saying it right here.  I want to write again.
·  Take some extra classes so that I can graduate sooner.  Hopefully I will be able to get a job.
·  Get D re-acclimated to the family and vice-versa.  That should be FUN.

So, another list of goals to put away and not look at till next year.  This should be a truly interesting year.  See you on the flip side, dear readers.

Friday, December 30, 2011

No dogs or... III

No, instead of banning kids, there’s gotta be a better solution.  Banning babies from first class flights?  Really?  If mom and dad can afford first class, how can we, AS A PROUD CAPITALISTIC SOCIETY take that privilege away from them?  If it were me, I’d be talking to a lawyer or the ACLU about discrimination.  Movies and theaters?  Okay, I get that choice.  When I interned with a theater in college, there were plaques on the wall in the lobby stating that no one under the age of seven was permitted entry.  Some of the live performances weren’t something I would take a kid to, though.  They did have kid days, though.
Movie theaters are a tricky thing…  Boychik has NEVER been to a movie.  It’s too loud for him, too dark, too many people.  There are “autism friendly showings” once a month, but only one theater has them.  Miss Scarlett’s never been, either, but she’s only three.
The only restaurants I’ve been to since D went back to the military with just me and the kenders has been fast-food.  My MIL and her husband take us to a buffet when they visit, and the kids do pretty well – Miss Scarlett waited till we were packing up to spill her milk on the floor.
Renn events are hard.  If I don’t have a helper, I don’t go anymore.  Especially since I get “those” looks, and the childless few think that telling me how to “fix” Boychik is not only welcome but necessary.  But it’s all good.  D will be home soon, and I’ll have the other half of my parenting team.
Ah, introspection, so interesting on a chilly morning.  Next blog is my yearly goals.  That should be a laugh and a half.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

No dogs or ... II

Are these same “No kids allowed” folks realizing that they aren’t hurting the kids, they are hurting parents?
Yup.  As a semi-single mom, if Miss Scarlett isn’t welcome and it’s before Bex is out of school, I’m not going.  So they will lose business.  Besides losing business, what about these poor new moms that really don’t have a way out of the house?  Becoming a mom is a traumatic thing.  No really.  As a mom, I’ve been trapped in my house, with the only people that I see regularly thinking my name is “Mommy, hey, mom”.  I get poked with a bony little finger when I don’t respond fast enough.  There are days that the only thing that saves my sanity is school all day for them and Bex coming home so that I can sneak out to the store or leave to tutor.  When I think about these moms that are trapped, or can’t leave without a litter of kids, I actually feel bad for them.
And besides all of that, where are these kids going to learn how to behave in public if they are banned from taking their place in public?  Yeah, no one thinks about that.  School?  No.  Not unless you want some kid that’s only able to interact with those his own age.  Church?  Okay, valid location, but what about those that don’t go to church?  What about those churches that separate the genders and ages?  And those that don’t “do” church are automatically left out.
This benefits ONE part of society.  One.  Its taking rights and privileges from another sub-culture.  When rules like this go into effect, we aren’t equal anymore.  Isn’t equality one of the defining parts of our constitution?  Then why are we still discrimination against people? 
So now the list of those that are having their rights taken or never acknowledged in the first place looks like it’s going to be welcoming parents, too.  Sigh.  I am tired, readers.  I am tired of situations and rules being bent or changed to benefit the few.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

No dogs or ... I

When did dogs become more welcome in public than children?  Yeah, I’m serious.  At one time it was normal to see “No dogs, [insert specific religion], or [specific nationality].  Now children aren’t welcome.  And with that, their parents, too.  Yup, discrimination is rearing its ugly head once more in our own beloved country, only instead of discriminating against the elderly, its discrimination toward those who choose to have children.
Yes.  I said that.  Unlike other “choices”, there are plenty of ways to insure that you don’t become a parent.  Many people make use of them.  The young, intelligent, ambitious people that are sometimes referred to as DINKs (double income no kids) like their lifestyle. 
I will admit that the DINK lifestyle seems glamorous while I sit in clothing of a size that disgusts me and I yell at a child for the third time to take off his wet clothing because he smells like a toilet.  The thought of being able to leave the house without tears and cries of “Mommy, you CAN’T go to work!” while a pre-teen rolls her eyes is attractive.  Not having to ask the people that will be travelling with me to put on their shoes and stop picking their nose would be a wonderful thing.  So are the dreams of the ability to have an emergency bank account or a vacation without having to know if there’s a mini-fridge for C’s necessary chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs.
BUT.  Yes, huge but; these people are truly missing out.  They’ve been exposed to children suffering from bad parenting choices that they are biased, so much so that they yearn for child-free areas.  I’ve been the target of the whole “oh, you need to do this” by the childless.  Now, if you’ve been reading, you know that I’ve got three kids.  Two are autistic; one’s what is referred to as neuro-typical.  But she’s three.  I’ve had the boy have a complete meltdown in the checkout line because of too many people, exhaustion, and the checker not giving him HIS bag quickly.  He actually threw himself on the floor, wailing.  But this was over a year ago, and the performance has not been repeated.
While I TRULY understand the hatred of screaming brats, as a mom, I know the causes.  Usually I smile, look at my own quiet children that are, most of the time, angels in public, and say “Uh oh, someone’s done shopping, guys” as the screaming child approaches us, passes, and goes away.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Change is awesome... But coins are better.

Oh I LOVE changes.  They’re so exciting and fun!  And if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you in New Mexico… 
So, Yule is upon us.  Nothing says Yule like a naked toddler on a footstool rearranging the tree and playing with the volume control on the surround sound.  My meds are making me feel kind of off.  Maybe because I’m decreasing them as an experiment?  I’d rather have the lower dose, really. 
And speaking of experiments, I really would love to try something that is so anti-kosher it will get me threats from those I know that are Jewish…  Boneless pork chops stuffed with some sort of shellfish concoction, breaded in matzoh and covered in a soft mild cheese or drizzled with a cream based sauce.  So not kosher, but the thought of it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling.  Where the fat clusters and increases.
Today I was literally swarmed by every living thing in my house under the age of six.  That includes the dog when she left the blanket cave she made on my bed.  Uncle Squish came over and took B to a movie and left me alone with the little ones.  After the movie, Squish even helped her wrap her present for me, and the little kids’ gift, too, cause I’ll be thrice-damned if I’m going to pay for AND wrap my own stinking gift.  I watched my mom do that too many times and she always seemed bitter and annoyed about it.
C’s been yelling for days “I wanna wanna watch Kung Fu Panda on DVD!!!!!!”  Okay, fine, I give in today.  We get half way through, and not only has he left and gone off to watch SpongeBob in the other room, M has joined him.  So I ended up on the couch, watching the first Kung Fu Panda on DVD while crocheting.  I posted on another forum “Is it wine time yet?  ‘Cause it’s been whine time around here all freaking day.”  Too bad the only alcohol in the house is some Godiva liqueur that’s older than M.  C heard me telling Squish that if I didn’t get a break, I was going to go to jail.  His reaction?  “Mommy, I wanna go to jail WIF you, Mommy!!!”  Yes, two “Mommy”s in one sentence, cause that’s how he rolls.
We did prayers and candles for Hanukkah; first night’s good, no missing candles, no “I blow out the candles, Mommy?” followed immediately by slobber ridden blowing, no melting of the blinds or singeing of curtains.  Just have to make it a few more days.
With the time off from classes, I should really purge the computer and backups, maybe fix the margins on the blog entries, seriously think about a goal list for the New Year… 
Screw it, I’m crocheting place mats.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Stressed? No, my head always feels like this...

So, we’re that much closer to the big Winter holidays.  And the main things on my mind?  Keeping the little guys out of the tree, the dog in the house, and how to get D’s care package to him on time.  And cookies.  Can’t forget to make sugar cookies.  Or just pick up some of the dough in a tube and make the cookies that way, ha ha.
The only kid that still has to do shopping is Beckie.  Uncle Squishy is going to help out this that, I think.  One of the purely suckish things about being the only parent and main driver for the kids right now is that I always know what’s going to be under the tree or inside the wrapping paper.  I miss good surprises.  I’ve had my fill of yucky ones…
Positive point for me today, besides 2 weeks off from class?  All the utilities got paid.  Yup.  Everything’s had money thrown at it, including the car payment.  Thanks to the charity of others, my kids have stuff to go under the tree and we’ll have a family to eat with on Christmas.
My meds are all screwy, but I feel better than I have (except for sleeping too much once I do fall asleep) in a long time.  I see the doc later this month, so maybe a lower dose?  After the beginning of the year, it’s back to the gym.  Honest.  I’ve got a whole list of goals for the New Year…  Hopefully I will meet more of them than I did last year.
Come to find out, not only did D not have the money to come home, he was too slow in trying to get leave.  So it’s another Yule without him.  At least it’s the last one without him for a while.  Yeah, I’m missing him.  Can’t find the camera, but there’s one on my phone…  And M still thinks that she’s a nudist.
Oh?  You didn’t know?  Yeah; my three year old is convinced that clothing is only for outside the house.  Once we get home, the most she’ll leave on is a shirt, and that’s only if we’re all very lucky.  I’m not too freaked out about it, cause it makes it easier for her to make it to her potty, but it’s kinda weird having a nude toddler roaming the house in the middle of winter.
And the biggest change facing us once D’s home?  We’re moving.  Yup.  Getting out of the pit that is Southern Nevada, going to literal greener pastures.  D’s gonna go to school, I’m getting a job (I hope, please, Please, PLEASE, Whoever is listening, let me get a job…) and we’re FINALLY leaving the desert.  

Thursday, December 8, 2011

blog blog bloggity blog I

Oh my my my, it’s been FOREVER since I blogged.  Bad KenderMomma, no biscuit.  Or cookie.  And forget about those peanut m&m’s you like to eat.  Frozen.  In bed.  While telling the littlest furry kender “no, you cannot have these, they will make you sick, yes they will.”
So…  Lots has happened.  The littlest bipedal kender-beastie is NEARLY house-broken.  Now if she would just stay in bed.  My meds are working off and on, so, cool – some days I’m efficient Momma, other days its “Momma’s gone CRAZY.”  Turkey day was good.  We went to a friend’s house, cause the thought of making a turkey for 4 people, two of which are more interested in seeing if the food will stick to the table, windows, wall, or match their underwear was just too depressing for me.
Oh let’s see…  What else?  Oh yeah.  I got downgraded to a “historical consultant” at the nonprofit play that I WAS with.  The gist of it? 
“You’re not Christiian, so you need to GTFO.”
“Um, okay, that’s fine.”
“Oh, but can we still use your skills?  And because no one knows the inventory and checkout systems YOU created that have saved us money in lost costumes, can you TRAIN someone?”
“And by the way, you’re going to Hell.”
I swear by all that’s good, sweet and holy, I’m too nice.  Really.  But when D gets home from the wilds of Europe this coming year, and we leave freaking Cat Box Nevada, no more pro-bono shit.  Ever.  Never ever.  I don’t care if they’re blind orphans with scurvy and missing fingers.
I got to watch the shit storm of Regretsy versus PayPal.  That was AWESOME.  I was all set to close my PayPal account;  WTF pending transaction?  Oh.  Riiiiiiight.  Donation to the drive that PayPal’s trying to steal.  Fine.  Now that I’m lucid and have had a little more sleep, I realize that closing my PayPal would be CRIMINALLY STUPID; once I start selling costumes and clothing on eBay, Etsy, or my own site, how will people PAY ME???  Hello, nearly shot myself in the foot with that decision.  With a freaking filthy, rusty, barbed harpoon.  DAMMIT.
So PayPal is not “last resort, carrier pigeons won’t carry my check or money order, I’ve gotta have this now, Now, NOW.”  Which would be a very odd thing, cause I do custom work – I don’t carry stock, I DON’T HAVE THE SPACE.
Happy place, happy place, D has promised a house with speace for a workroom that I don’t have to share with the kids or animals.  Sigh.  OKAY.
School is good.  I’m starting in on my eith , ayth, EIGHTH (I’m in college and can’t spell eighth without some thought and spell check, how the f*uck does that work?!)  When I saw that it was an ethics class, I screamed.  And it wasn’t the fan-girl scream of joy that I do at the poor unfortunate designers or authors that actually talk to me.  Then the littlest kender looked at me and said “hee hee hee, Mommy, you sooooo funny.”  Great, toddlers get my sense of humor.  Awesome.
But some Yule gifts have been bought on Amaaon, the Science Fiction Book Club, or at actual real time retailers.  I KNOW.  I’ll have to get my huge butt outta bed, brush my hair, scrape the green fuzz off my teeth and put on a bra.  And then try and convince the three year old that yes, it’s 50 degrees outside, she will be wearing pants.  But not underwear, because 75% of the time, she’ll pee in them to spite me.  How do I know that it’s spite?  Um, hello, she’s THREE?
And speaking of three, she’s still up and it’s after 11 pm.  Thank you albuterol, you’ve made my toddler into an insomniac.  Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.  On that note, I should probably find my own bed under the unfolded clothes, littlest pet shop figures, and dog hair.  Stay warm, and a Welcome Yule to my sister and brother pagans, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Joyous Kwanzaa, and Festivus to the rest of us…

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

progress is amazing

Oh accounting, how I loathe thee.  So here it is the last week of my first accounting class, and once again I failed the exam.  See, I thought I was being smart, time wise, to take the final before I even looked at the final assignments for the week.

STUPID STUPID STUPID!!!!!!!  I got a higher than usual score on the final, but still a fail.  So now I know not to do THAT again.

Moving day is coming up.  The new place seemed a little confusing, layout-wise when I looked at it, and the laundry room is a bit different from mine…  It’s the same number of bedrooms, but a different building and orientation from mine,  completely opposite in every way.  The carpet still needs to be cleaned, and I’ve been packing like a crazy woman.  It seemed brighter, and looks like it may get afternoon shade – WIN!

I’m still waiting for the disbursement to hit my account.  I use it to live during the semester since I don’t have a “real” job.  You know, one of those defining activities with pay, benefits, time around adults and a dress code, a reason to keep your nails nice and use your inside voice, ya know, nothing THAT important.  Instead, I keep house (and I’m doing better, real – medication is my saving grace, along with staring over in a different apartment) and raise kids that are convinced that I have no idea what I’m talking about.
Buuuuuuuuuuuut…  There’s a chance for a job, right here on the apartment property.  Which would be really really great, but it’s looking like I’m going to have to re-create my resume.  But working at the office would mean that I could have Cae’s driver drop him at the office, Marion would be able to go to day care for some socialization, and I’d be able to FINALLY stop living cheque to cheque, allotment to allotment.  Yeah, that’s the UK spelling.  I like it better – it seems more elegant, and doesn’t look like I’m saying “check one check two” to test the radios while on site for a show.

So, I’ll keep ya posted.  I’m thinking that a job on the outside is really needed at this point in my recovery.  I seem to do better when there’s a task that gets me out of the house every day.  I don’t procrastinate on the chores, supper’s on time, and I’m not as laissez faire (see what I did there?  Yup, I’ve got a huge useless vocabulary, ha ha) about my homework.

Monday, August 29, 2011

school days, school days I

Ahhhhh, the first day of school.  Reminds me of that Office supply store’s commercial a few years ago, with dad dancing through the store and the kids trudging in his wake.

So, last night I baked.  For the first time in MONTHS.  And the cookies actually turned out pretty damn good.  B left for the bus stop too early even AFTER BEING TOLD “your bus is later this year, you don’t have to leave till 0730”.  Yeah, when I got up with Caelen, she was gone – that was at 0715.  The dog woke up M, so I had a cranky 3 year old.  Cae made it to the potty, but ended up piddling on the floor.

Skyping with D was pretty good.  The connection sucked, but he was there and saw the little kids and was reluctant to hang up once it worked. 

Then the fun started!  And by fun I mean “F$%K why can’t I go back to bed?!”  C was totally stubborn this morning.  About EVERYTHING.  While looking for his other shoe, I ended up kneeling in dog poop (yeah, no one under the age of 5 is completely potty trained.  It blows hard) – good thing we’ve got baby wipes.  And the dog actually looked remorseful when I said to her “bad dog.  Baaaaaad dog.”

His shoe ended up being in the front room.  So both kids are dressed, watching Nick Jr., and we’re waiting for the bus to get here.  C’s already demanded a cookie, and M’s already sporting a band-aid on her face – she’s been picking, and band-aids make her stop.  I’m actually dressed; M and I MAY walk to the park.  Well, I’ll walk.  She’s going to sit in her stroller.  Cause my pants feel tight, I blame the stress-eating I’ve been doing since D went back to Germany.

And since there are sounds of distress and sheer pissery from the front room, I’m off like a prom dress, kiddies. 

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Seven is such a small number taken on it's own

Seven years.  It’s a life time for a kid, a year for a dog, and a blink for an adult mourning the loss of a parent.  Yeah.  Seven years ago today we lost my mom to breast cancer that went from curable to a death sentence in less than 6 months.
Growing up, my mom seemed this force of nature, a larger than life being that as I got older, made more and more intolerable mistakes.  The only good thing that I can honestly say the cancer did was to humanize her to my, at the time, young adult mind.  But all of us were still convinced she would beat it, that she would pull through and out in her yard again with dirt under her nails and ugly pants on.
It never happened.  Once mom broke her hip it was pretty much a downhill slalom of doctor’s visits, treatments, funeral plan notes, and hospital stays.  Her last summer not only did my Gran push her into a stroke, but it also saw my mom desperate for reassurances; “I should’ve never been a mom, I was too selfish, I was a good mom, right?”
Gods help me, after the hell she’d been through with her illness, her seeming apathy to what my brothers and I went through because of her bad choices in men, that she chose the yard and her plants over us, and that she usually chose what Gran advised over what we wanted, I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
Being a mom has taught me, has shown me so many of the “whys” behind mom’s choices.  She was right, she was horribly selfish at times.  But she had her moments, too.  Part of me wonders if she had me come home in late 2001 because she somehow knew she was going to get worse, or to help me go to school. 
In spite of all the hurts, now that I’m an adult with children of my own that she will never meet, I miss her terribly.  Once I became an adult, we had a very fragile type of friendship developing that deep down, I’d craved for a very long time.  Once she was gone, the family seemed to dissolve.  For a while I stayed in California, but Vegas called to me again.  My step-father moved to his mother’s house, and my baby brother had already been back East for a while.
Mom was the rock, the defining force that kept us all together.  I haven’t seen my brother J in six years.  I saw my baby brother in 2009.  I miss them both, but I’ve got facebook and e-mail.  There are constant things that the kids do that I wish I could call her up and tell her about.
Mom.  I miss you so so much.  I was just getting comfortable being friends with you again.  You’ve missed out on grandchildren, and the family’s not the same without you.  I wish I could have another day, a week, a month with you, so that you could see your grandchildren, meet your namesake and marvel in all of them like I do.  I wish you’d taken as good care of yourself as you reminded me to.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Like a turtle among swans...

 So, I’m taking an accounting class this month.  And unlike the other classes, I already feel really na├»ve and stupid.  Up is down and left is right with these terms.  At least there are practice tests that I can set a goal to take and then forget about, ha ha.  I’m pretty sure that if I were in an actual lecture class where I could take notes, I’d be doing better, but then there’s the whole rigmarole of finding a sitter for the kids and paying them for multiple nights a week.

I want to actually NOT choke on an exam in one of my classes.  I really would.  I did so well when I was chasing my associate’s.  Dean’s list when I didn’t have to take a math class, exams were pretty easy, blah-blah, yada-yada umpty-frats…  But this time, the exams, short as they are, are kicking my butt. 
The commissary is supposed to be having a case lot sale again, but when I called them last week, I was told “oh, in August or September.”  Really?  You’ve got no idea when YOUR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT is going to run a sale that will have people under tents in the parking lot?

Once again legal stuff is on hold.  Seems there were mistakes in my paperwork, so it’s going to be at least a week.  I just want it done and over with.  I’m still not sleeping; I’m thinking that it’s a mix of D being gone, classes and this legal crap along with bills.

I really want to be able to go to Great Western War this October.  I feel like it would do me and the kids some real good, but again, trying to do events with the kids is really hard unless I’ve got a helper or three…  At least if I do GWW, I can bring the dog.  But again, it’s a matter of having someone to help out that’s killing me.  And the feeling of “Aw crap, it’s Alex and the kids” that I suspect happens when I show up to site.

I don’t know.  I’m just really feeling outta place right now.  And I hate it a lot.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Oh depression, how I hate you so so much!

Well, like I said before, he left last week.  And my depression, insidious bitch that it is, has kept me up at night, sleeping too much, and either not eating or stress eating among other behaviors.  Yesterday I was supposed to run errands, including mail off the stuff that he left here.  Nope.  Instead, I was up till 0530, was up at 0715, 0830, up from 1000 till close to noon (but that’s okay, cause I got to talk to D, which is what I needed – we just talked, which is nice), and then took nearly a 3 hour nap before the boy came home.  In his “uh oh” clothes.  I’m not saying how I know that my depression has kicked me in the ass; knowing it is enough for me, honestly.

The house is trashed.  Really.  It really really is.  There’s no clean towels, we’re short on dishes, and I can’t remember the last time the washer was run.  Add to that the cookies on the front room floor…  Sigh.  I am so not Martha Stewart.  And I wasn’t too great about housekeeping while he was here – it was super annoying to be doing while he was sleeping or on the computer.  If he was working, it would be a different story, but he was home; he could’ve helped.  I would’ve welcomed his help.  But it’s going to take time to readjust to one another again.  I know this, even if I’m not real happy with it.

Today I’m concentrating on cleaning once my school work is done.  In fact, if you see me on facebook or yahoo, please ask me if my homework and chores are done, cause I’ve gotta keep on task.  Just thinking about the stuff that will and won’t accompany the family when D gets orders is helping me.  S sending me “you are beautiful” nearly every day is awesome.  She’s an amazing “accidental” friend to both me and D, and I wish that she lived closer to us.

Cae’s nearly done with extended school year for the summer.  I don’t know how I feel about that, honestly.  The big kids go back to school at the end of August – Beckie is starting seventh grade.  And my sweet Cae is going into kindergarten.  It’s shocking how fast he’s gotten to this age.  All three will be starting swim lessons next month, too.  D wants me to demand to treat Cae’s like a “mommy and me” class, but he’s really too old for me to do that.  He’s 5, they may not let me.  Marion’s barely within the age range for “mommy and me” swimming class at 3.  I guess I’m just going to have to ask, but I’m not going to be that pushy mom.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Hello and Goodbye I

Well, it's been a month, and after a couple of days of flight delays, D's on his way back to Germany.  On the way to the airport, the optometrist’s office called to say his glasses were ready.  Great.  Okay, so something else to mail on Monday.  I check the mail when I get home and guess what's in there?  Yeah, his new driver's license.  DAMMIT    >.<  So Monday's already looking busy.

Classes are going okay, but I keep choking on the finals.  I've gotta figure that out, cause this is getting ridiculous.  So with D back in Germany in a matter of hours, the family's only real concern is getting S back to the bus station tomorrow, and whether or not D's going to be able to re-enlist.

He was supposed to go to a job fair this last week and completely forgot about it.  At least he was thinking ahead on what he's going to do if he can't re-enlist.  He's being smart about this, and I'm really proud of him.  He's pretty upset about being so far away for the amount of time he's got left in Germany, but I keep telling him “we've made it this long, we can make it this much longer standing on our heads!” 

He misses his kids...  The family misses him.  Honestly, what so many people don't realize is that we've got a generation of kids right now that losing at least one parent for at least a year at a time if not completely.  Regardless of how you feel about our country's foreign policy, you've gotta admit that this isn't healthy for marriages or kids.  But military families trudge along, dealing with separations, deployments, and homecomings.  I'm not going to say that the military deserves more compensation than they do – the economy's in the toilet, and military families are lucky to get what they do; what I AM saying is that those that say that military families get “too much” need to try the life of a military family, particularly the life of a family with at least one parent that's deployed and not yet at the rank of a higher non-commissioned officer. 

Why?  These families still qualify for government assistance, even with the “wealth” of allowances and benefits, while having to say goodbye to a spouse or parent more often than most would believe is fair.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Cae's White Baby

Ah mystery cuts, how I despise you… 

Somehow I have cut one of my fingers on the joint.  It’s little, but wouldn’t you know, the little ones always hurt the most.  Especially when you’re marathon cleaning because the man you haven’t seen in over a year will be coming home on leave sooner that I think but not soon enough.

So, my room isn’t clean.  I’m sweaty as hell, the bathroom’s at a halfway point, but the sink finally is draining again.  Class site is buggy again, oh joy.  So the plan once Cae’s on the bus is to take my meds, eat something, get dressed and clean till the class site’s up.

Cae got on the bus this morning and freaked out because he was expecting his driver from last year, Miss R.  Imagine his surprise when it was Mrs M?  I’ve got a strong suspicion that Mrs M was one of my drivers when I was in elementary school, but I digress…  He has a meltdown after showing Mrs M he can do his own seatbelt, thank you very much, and she is freaking brilliant!  She asked me to go get his favorite toy – White Baby.

Yes.  My sweet sensitive little guy loves his baby dolls.  Cars are cool, blocks are interesting, but when he’s having a meltdown or feeling like he needs a cuddle but doesn’t want to be around people, nothing beats a baby doll.  His favorite is a beat up generic dolly with a white body suit and socks that he calls “White Baby”.  Yes, he’s five.  Yes, I think it’s healthy.  No, I’m not taking it from him, because when he gets the freak outs, White Baby fixes it.  He’s a good “daddy” to White Baby, and there are times that White Baby is a power ranger, or cries, or is sleeping.  Much like brown fuzzy, his favorite blanket, White Baby doesn’t get washed often.  It’s body suit is more grey than white right now.  It’s got smears of chocolate on it’s head, too.

But White Baby is well loved, and makes him happy, and that’s all that matters to me…  There are no gender specific toys.  Really.  If your little boy is playing with dollies, or wearing your shoes, don’t flip out.  It’s no big deal.