A Proud Moment

Tonight, Abby received her first award. (I'm so proud!) She has been going to a local church's AWANA program as a "Cubbie" (that's what they call the AWANA preschoolers) for the last nine months or so. They are given a book at the beginning of the year and the book has a section to read and a verse to memorize for each week. Abby has been learning her verses and reciting them for her Cubbies leader all year and tonight, she got an award for completing her first book! All Cubbies also receive a vest to wear to club and throughout the year they receive patches to put on the vest for completing book sections. Having been a Cubbies director and teacher, I can truly be proud of her (and her teachers) for all the work she put into finishing her book. That's not to say that I couldn't TRULY be proud of her if I hadn't been. Obviously, I still would be. Although, having been on both the parent and teacher sides, I may have a better idea of just how much effort it takes. Regardless, I'm proud of my little Cubbie! Of course, her fifteen seconds up on stage in the spotlight wasn't nearly enough for our Abby. She kept asking us when she got to go back up. She's destined to be a scene stealer.

Other than that, there's just more of the same going on. Painting, cleaning, packing, etc. Yay.

The Joy of Painting

I always agreed with Bob Ross when he talked about the joy of painting. His "happy little clouds" and trees that always had "friends" next to them so they weren't lonely. Which is actually kind of odd when you think about it. They weren't even real trees so how could they be lonely? Does painting something make it "real"? I'm way too exhausted to get into a debate with myself about something like that right now.

I used to really enjoy painting. Walls, pictures, cars, whatever. Now that I have children, I find the joys of painting somewhat altered. Finger-painting has never been so much fun, but trying to paint a house? Not so much. It only took me a couple of hours before I realized I should have put them in "play" clothes, but they had spent three days at my mom's when she brought them to the new house so I didn't have a real selection to choose from as I haven't even packed the kids' clothes yet, much less brought them over here. The last two days they've been in the same clothes and are getting covered in paint. As long as they're not getting it all over the house, I'm alright with that. I'm covered in paint, too. I'm not sure it'll ever come out of my hair. I'll have to spend hours in the shower, I expect. Although, that's not such a bad thing, come to think of it...

We seem to have acquired a sort of zoo along with the house. So far we've seen several robins, some common grackles, sparrows, a male mallard duck, a snake ( the harmless kind, that goodness ), and a pair of cottontails. The kids love the rabbits. They can watch them out of the basement windows and see them pretty close up. They've been here the past two nights, so I'm guessing they're going to be regulars. So much for having a vegetable garden. The weird thing is that all of the animals seem to be more interested in watching US than we are of watching them. The duck especially. He sat there and eye-balled me from across the stream as though he were sizing me up ( or checking me out ). Kind of creepy. I haven't seen any blackbirds though. I'm going to miss them.

Aside from the menagerie of animals, we also discovered something hideous in the upstairs bath. It was almost grounds for selling the house immediately. I sent Heath up to remove the trim and border from around the top of the walls. He came back down with the awful thing in his hands. That dreadful, demonic purple dinosaur whose name I refuse to utter was on the hidden part of the border! Had I known that before I might never have thought about buying this house. To think that that evil has been here is absolutely revolting. I must cleanse myself of this, as well.

That's about all I can mention for now. Between the paint fumes and the kids, my brain is toast. I need to get home and get some rest because, in the words of Scarlett O'Hara, "Tomorrow, is another day".

House-Buying Eve

In less than twenty-four hours we will be homeowners. I still can't believe it's really happening. It's strange how everything has worked out for us so quickly. I really thought it would take a lot longer to actually FIND a house. Must be due to all the HGTV we've been watching. Well, WERE watching. I can't take much of it lately. Too many ideas and projects. My mind is overloaded right now. I don't know that I really believed in "good stress" until this whole experience. We've had our share of "bad stress" too, though. House a mess? Bad stress. Down payment half what we expected? Good stress. It's all still stress. I wish God had blessed me with the ability to let it roll off of me. On the positive side, if that which does not kill us makes us stronger, I'm going to be pretty impressive after this.

I'm still packing. With the kids at my mom's it seems like it should be going faster, but instead, here I am writing when I should be packing. Shame on me. It gives me a way to vent though, even if I don't always write everything I'm thinking. Who really wants to know everything someone else is thinking anyway? I went through the house one last time with Nigel this afternoon. I feel quite a bit better now. Things are more in order now and I can breathe again. Even the closets are cleaner. There's still a lot to do, but I feel more capable.

I really don't know how I'm going to sleep tonight. I'm probably going to feel sick to my stomach all day. I swear, the last time I was nauseous this much it was morning sickness. No chance of that this time! Wow. The thought of being pregnant right now is more than a little scary. Although, I've been pregnant both times we moved before so it's almost like breaking tradition. I'm not opposed to the idea of more children, but now is not a good time! I'd like to think I'll get to experience pregnancy at least one more time. I've been through it twice and it still amazes me. I am a bit concerned that having another child will drain out what's left of my brain. Maybe I'll wait until I'm done using it.

At least if I'm not sleeping I can get more packing done, right? Right. Me, the Queen of Procrastination. Might as well be the Queen of something.

A Dozen Down

I finally started packing. So far only a dozen boxes and a couple of plastic bins, but at least it's something. The worst part is that it doesn't LOOK like I've done anything but make a bigger mess. The kids are doing their best to keep me from getting anything done, of course. Last night, Perrin got into the giant bag of birdseed and tried to feed it to the dog while I was upstairs packing. Today, they both kept trying to climb into and onto the boxes (it actually reminded me of that children's book "Inside, Outside, Upside-down") and asking me what I was doing (even though I've been saying "packing" like a broken record) and why. Perrin dumped an entire box of cereal on the floor in Abby's room and Abby dumped at least a gallon of water onto the bathroom floor. It was probably more than that because it soaked through an over-sized bath towel and the rug beneath it and several random pieces of clothing. They also chased each other around the kitchen with a toddler-sized broom and tried to beat each other. I'm sure this is due in part to some flaws in my parenting techniques, but I HAVE to pack at some point. I'm taking them to my mom's tomorrow and I'm thinking of just letting them stay until we close on Friday.

I now hear hysterical laughter coming from the next room. I should probably go in and see what evil they have wrought this time, but I think I'll cling to these last few moments of denial first. If they're laughing, they're not hurt so that buys me a few minutes.

Don't think I don't love my kids. I absolutely love them more than life itself. They're beautiful and brilliant and terrific problem-solvers. They make me laugh when I don't feel like laughing. They climb into my lap and cuddle me when I'm crying. They're full of mischief, but they have the biggest hearts I've ever known. They make life a real learning experience.

Oh, no...

It's gotten quiet...

That's almost NEVER a good sign...

So, a dozen boxes down and too many more to go!

Wow...

We did another walk through the new house today. Um... Where do I begin? Every other time I've been inside of it, it's had furniture in it. I had no idea how distracting furniture is. It's not like the couch and beds were dancing the mambo or anything, but they might as well have been for the job they did hiding things. Dirty walls, scratched paint, rotting cabinet bottoms (okay so it's really only one and it was hidden by household items rather than furniture, but still), cobwebs EVERYWHERE, carpet stains (and holes), hideous faux denim blinds (how did I not see those?), broken blinds, etc. Oh, my goodness, was it dirty in there! The appliances were terrifying and I was afraid something hiding in the giant dust bunnies in the laundry closet might eat me alive. Or maybe it would actually BE the dust bunnies. *shudder*

Now, I know the guy is still working on cleaning out the house. At least, I HOPE so. I'm trying to be understanding. Well, part of me is. The rest of me feels like it is more than just a little unfair that I have to clean TWO houses when we move. I told Heath I'm tempted to call a cleaning service to clean the house before we move into it just to get a fresh start. I'm sure THAT won't come cheap. Is my sanity worth that? If the doc has to up my meds it might be worth what we'd save on prescription costs...

Nigel says the seller is supposed to clean the house before moving out. He told the seller's realtor that we are not happy with the shape the house is in right now. He and I are going to walk through it again on Thursday to make sure things are in order before we close on Friday. I really hope they are because I feel so overwhelmed with the state of things right now. I'm starting to really see it as MY house (well, OUR house) and it made me want to cry to see it look the way it did today. I want to believe him when he says it will be better. I'm sure he's right (being the WGR and all), but it's so hard to see it now.

What Was I Writing About?

I've never really been one to listen to much music on the computer. I usually only listen to it while I'm driving, but lately, there's more than likely a CD by "The Wiggles" (I'm going to miss Greg. He was hot. Or maybe it's just the fact that he kept my kids entertained for half an hour that I found attractive?) playing instead of Sarah McLachlan or Matchbox Twenty. Don't get me wrong, I expose my children to the classics (How can you NOT like The Beatles?), but I try to stay away from anything that has curse words in the lyrics. We sing along with Elvis, James Brown, Aerosmith, The Dixie Chicks, Collective Soul, etc. We even listen to a little Mozart and Beethoven here and there.

Anyway, I stumbled across an interesting website a few months back and had almost forgotten about it until today. It's called Pandora (http://www.pandora.com/) and it's one of the best ways I've found to listen to music, especially if, like me, you don't want to invest in a ton of CDs. They call it a music genome project. You can select an artist or song that you like and they will "build" you a radio station based on that style. It's a great way to discover artists you might not have otherwise heard of. For example, I'm listening to "James Blunt Radio" right now (I've got to get one of his CDs when we have a bit of extra change) and the mix so far has included Matchbox Twenty, Jack Johnson, and Coldplay. I hadn't heard of Jack Johnson (At least I don't think I have...), but I love the other two.

Aside from the fact that I sound like an advertisement, I think it's worth a mention. For the life of me I can't remember where I first heard of it, though.

So, here I am, listening to some rather laid back music and trying to de-stress. Nicci and Joel moved out today and I watched Katelynn and Leah for several hours. I shouldn't complain because the house was already a disaster area. For some reason, having four kids under five in the house puts me on edge, though. Plus, it was nasty outside again and bad weather tends to make me a little edgy, too. Nicci was not actually here. She's spending a couple of days in the hospital after having contractions last night. The twins aren't due until July so that's not a good thing. Joel said she's fine, now, but they want to keep her there to monitor her. I'm glad she's getting a much needed rest. I packed up my Nintendo DS and most of the games and sent it with Joel so she could have a break from the monotony of lying in the hospital bed. I remember how horribly boring that was. I really believe that being pregnant and in the hospital is worse than just being in the hospital (with some exceptions). Thank goodness she has people to come visit her. Three days seems like an eternity in a darkened room with no visitors. I should give her a call tomorrow and see if needs anything.

Abby will miss playing with Katelynn, but it's not like we're going to be here much longer anyway. (Is it moving day yet?) I'm sure we'll keep in touch. At least for awhile. Maybe longer if I can act like an adult and put a bit of effort into it. I've selective about the company I keep, but I rather like Nicci and Joel. Now if I could just get Sarah to move out here... Both my mother and Heath's seem to think I don't have enough friends. They keep trying to make more for me. I guess they think I'm lonely. I've tried to explain that that's not the case, but to no avail. I just don't have the time or patience it takes to let several people into my life in a more than casual manner. It's not like I'm J.D. Salinger or something. I DO know how to socialize. Like I said, I'm selective. If I'm comfortable with someone, I know that right off. If I'm not... Life's too short. Arm's length is plenty close enough, thank you.

Now that I've completely lost track of what I started writing about...

I'm in a journaling kind of mood tonight and I feel like I could just go on and on about whatever comes to mind. That's not something I'm really keen on doing in cyberspace, though. Must be time to go read a book.

The Two Fountains

One of the many responsibilities I have as a mom is bathing my children. It's so much easier now than when they were babies. I always hated those infant bathtubs. The kids did, too, if all the crying was indicative of their feelings. Who wants to take a bath in three inches of water? Especially when it goes from somewhat warm to freezing in about thirty seconds. I get that the umbilical area can get infected, but the whole process is almost cruel, really.

Now that Abby and Perrin are older, they enjoy bath time a good deal more than they used to. Abby continues to act like she could live in the bathtub. She can actually float if I forget to turn the water off soon enough. Perrin usually wants to get out about ten minutes in. This kind of confuses me, as he is the "neat freak" child. If he gets something on his hands he gets all concerned and holds them out to me with this look on his face like he's afraid they'll fall off if I don't get them clean right away. I had to CONVINCE him to put his hands into the potting soil when we planted my peony bushes. He about lost it the first time I stuck his hand in it. I thought boys were supposed to LIKE dirt.

I took some pictures of them when they had their bath today. In spite of the fact that I may be scarring them for life by letting them bathe together, it saves water. (Being "green" is in now, right?) Now, if I could just get them to keep the water IN the tub... Maintenance has already replaced the seal along the floor once and I've had to re-stick it several times since then. I have tried to spare the floor by bathing the kids in their wading pool outside during the summer ( not naked, mind you ), but I don't know that it's really made much difference. I haven't noticed anything growing out of the floor yet. That must be a good sign. In a couple of weeks it won't be my problem anymore anyway. At least I've got a few interesting pictures of my kids hosing down the bathroom. Maybe I'll put them to use watering the lawn if it gets dry this summer. You don't think that constitutes child abuse do you?

In Hindsight...

I'm really beginning to wonder if I made a mistake buying this dog. Okay, so I'm pretty sure I did. I knew the guy we bought him from wasn't being honest with us as soon as I saw the dog, but my heart won out over my head yet again. He claimed the dog was ten months old. Apparently, the guy has never set eyes on a ten month old papillon. I HAVE. I knew the dog was well over eighteen months, at LEAST. I should have said no right then and there, but looking at the "home" the poor little guy had there, I felt like I couldn't just leave him. I'm a sucker. I should have asked more questions, but I'm sure that would have only given me more lies for answers. The dog is NOT up to date on his vaccinations, he's NOT housebroken, can't walk on a leash without getting himself (and me) all tangled up about a dozen times, doesn't know ANY commands, and chews on EVERYTHING. I've never been the kind of person that believes pets are disposable. That, and the fact that the kids love him, is probably the only reason he's still here now and I'm ready to snatch myself bald in frustration.

I thought I could handle another papillon, but now I'm starting to wonder if I thought it would fill the hole Paddington left. Honestly, that could never happen, anymore than you can replace ANY loved one. I resent the new dog because he's NOT Paddington and that's not fair. Add all of his issues to that fact and the poor thing was doomed from the beginning. I didn't think it through as far as I thought I had. That was stupid.

Being much more aware now of things like this, I am trying to have patience and be understanding. It's not the dog's fault that everyone in the past screwed him over and didn't spend time teaching him the basics any RESPONSIBLE pet owner should teach a dog. That falls to me now. I just didn't expect to have to start from scratch with a two year old dog. I am more than capable of training him and I WILL get it done. Maybe once he behaves like a dog his age should, I won't feel so detached emotionally. If not... Well... If he's trained it shouldn't be hard to find a new home for him with someone who doesn't have the emotional issues that I have with him. The kids would be sad for awhile, but they would get over it. I hope it doesn't come to that, though.

I hope my stress level will go back down once we move into the house. This waiting is driving me crazy. It's like there's nothing happening and no one's doing anything but waiting for that magical closing date. No one told me how irritating this part would be. I just want it to be over. Heath heard from our lender today and apparently we're alright for closing now. What?! What does THAT mean? I didn't realize we weren't alright for closing in the first place. Was that ever in question? I feel so out of the loop right now because I really don't understand what's going on and I don't even know what questions to ask or who to ask if I did. I let Heath do most of the technical stuff because I didn't think I needed anymore to think about, but maybe that was a mistake. It's not like I'm not smart enough to get it. I just thought I could get by without knowing, for some reason. Now I feel lost and frustrated. There's only so much one can learn from watching HGTV (Which I'm absolutely burnt out on, in case anyone cares.).

I'm just feeling snappish and I probably need to go for a walk by myself or something. Probably ought to do it before it snows again.

Green Eggs and Mom

I suppose this is a bit late in coming, but anyone who knows me knows I'm always late for EVERYTHING. Many of the people closest to me have already devised and implemented a system to get me places on time. They tell me I need to be someplace half an hour or so before I actually have to be there. The only way this works is if they sometimes tell me the actual time rather than "my" time. This way, I never know for sure if they're telling me the truth. It rarely works, but I give them an "A" for effort.

So back to the green eggs bit. Like your average parent, I thought it would be fun to color Easter eggs with my kids. We bought the basic coloring kit, which has only been slightly updated from when I was a child (since when is "denim" a color, anyway?). I chose to use the vinegar method rather than water because it makes the eggs come out brighter (it helps that we always have a gallon of vinegar on hand for those times when the kids get mouthy), but you have to get used to the smell. I actually am surprised at how quickly the kids got into it, considering their dislike of vinegar (Really, they've only ever tasted a drop at a time. It's not like I make them drink it.). Before long, we'd gone through the dozen+ eggs I had hard boiled and the entire place smelled like a jar of pickles. Yes, we ended up with a few green eggs. Although, several of the eggs were an indiscernable color from being over-dipped in different colors. The greenest things, by far, were Perrin's hands. Green from fingertips to elbows. Considering there was only about half a cup of liquid in each glass, that's pretty impressive. The kid is a natural at making messes.

Take the week after Christmas, for example. Heath's parents sent the kids some reindeer shaped suckers. Perrin somehow managed to get it all over his face to the point his right eye was stuck shut. Yes, I took pictures before cleaning him up ( and, believe me, it was REALLY hard to hold the camera steady enough and see through all the tears of laughter to take them ), but I had to have proof.

So, after taking the soggy remains of the sucker away and cleaning him up, I let him go on his merry way. My mistake was that I didn't realize the bag of "puppy chow" was perilously close to the edge of the counter in the kitchen. Now, for those of you who have children, you KNOW they can smell sugar from at least a mile away. I must have missed the sound of him sliding the bag off the counter and taking it up the stairs because the next thing I knew he was coming around the corner covered in a white powdery substance. After my mind flew through all of the possibilities, my eyes closed in denial when I realized what it inevitably was. For a few seconds I kept them closed to avoid having to face what I was certain was going to be a mini disaster area upstairs. Of course, Perrin had that poo-eating grin on his face and he looked ridiculous so I had to laugh. I'm still trying to block out the images of the bed covered in Chex and powdered sugar, though.

A couple of days later he got into the bowl I had mixed chocolate batter in. Again, how could I not take pictures? One of these days they're likely going to have children and they're going to wonder why they make so many messes. I will have evidence. Oh, yes. I will have evidence.

In Which I Become Furniture

I have a vague memory of a body that was once my own. So distant it almost seems like a dream. What happened? Why is it that, with all the furniture in our house, everyone wants to lay on me? Is my body really THAT inviting? The kids, the dog, and even Heath seem to see me as some kind of ultra-plush mattress or fuzzy throw. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my family dearly, but a little personal space now and then ( especially when I feel like the business end of a toilet plunger ) would go a long way. Heath, to his credit, has attempted to get me out of the house alone by giving me a spa certificate. After over two years, I decided to use it. Why, do you ask, did I wait so long? Allow me to explain.

1. I have to get someone to watch the kids in the first place since the spa is supposed to be relaxing and peaceful. Something my children most decidedly are not.

2. I have to make an appointment to go, which implies that I have some general idea of what my life holds in store for the next week. Chances are, someone will have the flu that day.

3. I have to go to some upscale place where I feel quite out of place amongst all of the designer labels and coordinating clutch purses thus making relaxation a real challenge.

4. I feel obligated to carry on a conversation with a total stranger who has been assigned to me like I'm just another file in the "In" box. This person is quite likely to discover beauty rituals even my husband doesn't know about and the only thing I know about them is the name printed on the badge they wear.

5. I tend to over-tip. I have no idea why I do this.

So much for peaceful and relaxing. I don't think I'm cut out for regular spa sessions. And massages? I don't really want some stranger seeing me naked enough to know all the details of my tattoo.

You know, maybe when I had children they gave me a second tattoo ( with highly top secret invisible ink ) that says something like "Please lounge on me". They could have easily done it in conjunction with my epidural and I wouldn't have noticed. Whatever the cause, my body seems to be the choice place to be around here. Someday soon I'm going to wake up with a tag that says "Not To Be Removed" growing out of my backside like a tail.

I've Fooled Them!

The doctors, that is. At my follow-up appointment today, the doc made me take the depression test again and it says I'm normal now. Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face when he told me that. He doesn't seem to have much of a sense of humor anyway. Granted, depression isn't exactly funny in and of itself, but if I can laugh about it then you think he should be able to at least force a smile. He hasn't really seemed like a good fit for me as a regular physician from the beginning. ( Guess that's what I get for letting proximity be the deciding factor in my choice of doctors. ) He's kind of bossy and he's a little TOO gentle when he has to touch me for things like listening to my chest or taking my pulse. A gentle, yet firm touch is fine, but when it feels more like a caress it's creepy. At least from my doctor. I mentioned today that we are moving to Ankeny before my next follow-up and he said I could transfer my file up to the clinic there. I think that's a great idea!

So what does "normal" mean anyway? I suppose the criteria doctors use is different than the criteria I use. ( Obviously. ) They seem to figure that as long as I don't have thoughts of hurting myself or anyone else and I sleep through the night that I'm normal. Okay, I fudged a bit about sleeping through the night. I still wake up a lot, but at least I fall back to sleep easier than before I was on the meds. As for thoughts about hurting myself or others... I may imagine Tow Truck Guy's trucks getting washed away in a flood of rampaging wildebeests, but does that really count? It's kind of unlikely that I'll ever be able to actually obtain a flood of wildebeests, much less a rampaging one.

You see? I'm not really normal. I quite glad I'm not. In some weird way, I believe that the years battling depression have greatly improved my wit and sarcasm. I can't promise I won't go all "Arsenic and Old Lace" in the end, but at least I'll have an interesting time getting there. I really think that if everything in my life were perfect that I would be a terribly dull person. I would be just like all of those other "normal" people out there who put on their happy masks and act as if they have it all together even though they are quietly dying on the inside from sheer boredom of their own personalities. I've been told so many negative things about the way I live my life and some of them may very well be true. I'm not very organized and I'm terrible at keeping house, but at least my kids are happy. I'd much rather teach them to enjoy painting or dance with them in the rain than fold laundry or dust. So what if I hate wearing shoes? I don't think you should have to wear shoes everywhere anyway if you have reasonably tidy feet. And my compulsion to rinse everything three times? It certainly doesn't hurt anything.

The verdict, for now, is that I stay on my meds and go back in six months. I'm going to miss all of the free samples the doc gave me, though. He finally wrote the prescription and the forty-five dollar price tag was NOT a pleasant surprise. It seems to me the antidepressants should be free, or at least cheaply priced. I probably WOULD have thoughts of hurting myself or someone else if it weren't for our insurance coverage on part of the bill! What a price to pay just to be "normal"!

The WGR

Thanks to The World's Greatest Realtor, we will be closing on our new home on the 25th of this month. ( Glorious fanfare accompanied by shouts of joy! ) Oh. My. GOODNESS! I am SO glad to be getting out of this place! I have already made apologies to our decent neighbors for whomever may move into our unit once we vacate. Hopefully, it won't be someone worse than most recent new neighbor who curses at her small children loud enough that everyone in a ten mile radius can hear her telling her children she hopes someone takes them. Someone probably SHOULD, but DHS is too busy slapping the wrists of twelve year olds who sexually abuse their step-siblings and sending them home to do it again.

Wow. Kind of got angry there for a moment. I probably shouldn't talk anymore about my vile neighbors. If I get started on Tow Truck Guy I might never stop.

So let's focus on the positive, shall we? We are actually getting a house that is pretty close to perfect for us. Once I get my 12 foot privacy fence with electrified barbed wire 'round the top installed, it should be perfect. Of course, there's also the moat to consider... Well. One thing at a time. My grandfather made my mom and her siblings dig the basement under their house so surely I can make my children dig a moat. Mud pies, anyone?

My dad did the inspection on the house today and didn't find anything major to fix. Another positive thing. The bedrooms are all a good size ( especially ours ) and Perrin's room even has a John Deere ceiling fan. He'll be right at home with all of his tractors in there! Abby's room will need painted and probably ours. The house also has second floor laundry so no more lugging around big, awkward baskets of clothes. The first floor has no carpet at all so my dear Dyson won't get nearly as much use as it should. The floors are nice though so I really can't complain. It has a fireplace, a finished basement, good sized garage, two decks off the back and a nice little stream along the property line. Across the stream in a bike path, an aquatic center, and... A LIBRARY! I never imagined I'd be fortunate enough to have a library within walking distance TWICE in my life! (Nigel, WGR, really does his job exceptionally well. ) Now, if only I could find more time to read...

Maybe, this summer I'll find time to curl up on one of our decks and re-read "War and Peace" while the kids and our new papillon, Izzie, play in the yard. Yeah, right. Only if we get a fence put up. I remember someone suggesting an invisible fence to me. Who was that?

I guess I should mention that we bought a papillon yesterday. I don't think Heath really wanted to, but he spoils me and I adore him for it :) He was there with me the night I lost Paddington. He held me while I held the sweetest and dearest dog I have ever known as he took his last breath. He took care of me and drove me from Atlanta to his parents' house in Virginia so I could have a place to bury Paddington.

Okay, now that I'm crying all over the keyboard I realize I've gotten sidetracked once again. ( Deep breath... ) Long story short, I've been waiting for very nearly five years to have another furry ball of love and energy come into the house and now he's here. He was posted on Craigslist the day our offer on the house was accepted. It was fate. I don't believe much of what the guy we bought him from told us about him, but it doesn't really matter. He's ours and he will have a wonderful life, provided I can get the kids to cease their asking him to lick them all the time. I don't know for sure if we'll keep calling him Izzie since it sounds a bit feminine. The previous owner called him Gizzy. How original, right? I shortened it to Izzie for the time being so as not to confuse him with a total name change. It'll probably stick. It'd be far too much work to convince him AND the kids to start calling him something else. I'll try to post a pic of him when I get one put onto the computer. He's a handsome little guy. Cleans up quite nicely.

Well, after a fun-filled evening of dog walking, child rearing, and belly dancing, I think I'm about ready for bed. I need to start thinking about packing pretty soon and that's going to require planning. Planning means brainpower and that means rest. ( Please, please, please, let there be no feet or elbows digging into my back tonight.. )

Not-So-Happy Hunting

So we've been house hunting for just over a week now...
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Where do I begin? I honestly thought I knew exactly what I wanted in ( and outside of ) a house before all of this started. I suppose part of me thought it would be similar to purchasing a car. You know; you decide what you want, go look at a few, pay for your choice, and it becomes yours. The only thing I don't think really registered, was that there is no "perfect" house out there. There will always be something we need/want to change. Things like paint are a simple, and rather inexpensive fix, but ugly bathroom tile or a backyard with no fence? Part of me feels horrible for going through someone else's home and commenting on the less desirable aspects of it. The people who live there might actually like it, after all. ( Oh, my... ) I feel especially poor about it all when their realtor calls and wants to know what we didn't like about the house. I know it's probably standard procedure ( constructive criticism and whatnot ), but for goodness' sake! You don't truly want me to be honest, do you? I mean, you want me to give you a vauge idea, but not an itemized list, correct? Years of living with myself have shown me that you don't really want to get me started on what I don't like. How long do you have? I'm sure these homeowners are all really great people and who am I to judge their homes? I'm positive I'm taking this FAR too seriously. At least I recognize that.

I've lost track of how many houses we've driven by and even the ones we've walked through. I feel like we're right on the cusp as far as cost goes. We're right where we could get a really decent house or we could get stuck with less than stellar possibilities. I'm not a soccer mom and I don't want to be. I don't like feeling like I have to keep up with the rest of the people my age like everything is some kind of juvenile contest about whose is better. I just want a little room to spread out so I can breathe. I don't want my neighbors peeking into my windows to see what I'm fixing for dinner or watching me hang my unmentionables to dry. I wish we could have enough yard for me to have squirrels, chipmunks, chickens, and such ( the chickens would not be wild chickens, naturally ) but being in a good school district is important, as well. As much as I dislike people in general, I want to be reasonably close to civilization. I want all of the bedrooms to be on the same floor, but I need a space away from that where the kids and I can play while Heath sleeps.

Nigel has been good about all this. Very patient. Well... Except for that bit about shoving me into the closet under the stairs. ( Do ALL real estate agents accost their clients? ) I try to keep from pestering him with questions, yet I can just imagine his eyes rolling when he receives another email from me. Thank heaven he has a similar sense of humor or we might not have got on at all. I don't think I could have handled this whole process were it not for humor. I'm glad our family has it. Heath, Abby, and Perrin all make me laugh even when I don't much feel like laughing. For instance, Perrin keeps bring different articles of clothing to me as I write this and asking me if they're "way cool" before he puts them on. He's now wearing Abby's snow boots and flower-shaped sunglasses with his red footie pajamas. He's "way cool" alright :)

I know that eventually this whole house thing will come together, but I hope it's soon. I will feel much safer walking barefoot in my own yard than the bare scrap of grass we have here with all its charm. We're ready to move out of "The Ghetto of Johnston" and on to a better place. I want to believe we deserve a better place. At least, better than this.

Happy Hunting?

In the months since I've written, our "neighborhood" has driven us to the point where we ( or at least I ) have decided it's either kill or move out. Since the former is not truly a viable option, we applied for a loan to buy a home. Weren't we surprised when they pre-approved us! So Heath and I have begun house hunting. We began our search online and in the last week have driven by no fewer than 45 houses. As I suspected, many of the online photos do not do the houses justice. Or, should I say, they manage to mask their flaws quite well as far as the neighborhood goes. Call me crazy, but I don't want to be able to touch my neighbor's house and mine at the same time. I'm not all that fond of people as it is.

So, today I am going out to take a peek at the inside of some of the houses with Nigel, our real estate agent. And, of course, it's snowing. Why? Why can't the weather agree with the calendar that it is, in fact, SPRING? With the winter we've had, I could swear Iowa has moved north a couple of states or provinces. Perhaps, we're slowly sliding back down the globe like pudding on a window.

In some way, I feel like I've lost the battle with Tow-truck Guy by moving out, but there's still a chance ( if hell is anywhere near Iowa it could still freeze ) that management will get rid of him before we find a house. As long as he leaves first, I'll consider it a victory. However, then there's the issue of our new neighbors. Apparently, the only space close enough for them to actually use is the very first one. If it's not available, they park in front of the dumpster area and block in the cars parked in the first two spaces on either side. They also park in the handicapped space if nothing else is close enough for them, and unless being mentally handicapped now entitles you to use the handicapped parking... The third space up isn't close enough for you? Excuse me, but what makes you better than the rest of us that the rules don't apply to you? I just don't understand that kind of selfishness. That's not to say I'm not selfish in my own way, but I do manage to have a decent amount of respect for other people, even if I don't much like them.

Hopefully, we will be bidding adieu to this place very soon. I'll miss our good neighbors, but as for the rest... Kiss this.

Lists and Such

So, I get to thinking ( in one of the rare moments when my remaining brain cells rally together and allow such things ) that I still have this blog that I keep forgetting to write in. I figure I should just add it to the long list of things that have fallen by the wayside as life has gotten busier over the summer. Then I start to wonder if it's really possible to even HAVE a list of things you can't remember. If you put them on a list you wouldn't forget them in the first place, would you? It'd become more of a list of things you've been meaning to do and haven't gotten to than a list of forgotten things. I could probably use a list like that, though. It should have a magnetic strip on the back so I can hang it on the 'fridge right next to my grocery shopping list. It'd probably end up looking more like a list of chores, though, and then I'd just feel guilty looking at them and knowing I should have them done, but still not wanting to do them. One of my favorite 'fridge magnets imparts this wisdom; " Housework won't kill you, but why take the chance?". Exactly! One of my rules to live by!

The kids seem to share my views on housework with the exception of Perrin having this bizzare obsession with vacuuming the floor. The vacuume cleaner used to terrify him, but now he tries to take it from me whenever I use it in an attempt to do the job himself. Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't welcome the help, but the dear boy can't even budge the thing without my help. This makes his "help" more of a non-help, but his intentions are good. Thankfully, Abby got a toy vacuume cleaner for Christmas that seems to be just the right size. Perrin literally RUNS all over the place with it. Inside, outside, it doesn't matter. He really enjoys himself. I'd like to think he's learning a valuable skill, but if I didn't take pictures to prove this to him later, he'd probably end up denying he ever did such a thing when he gets older.

Speaking of cleaning, or lack thereof, my house is in desperate need of some attetion before i lose sight of the front door and my only means of escape. Guess I'd better go find a shovel...

The Fourth Hyder

So DH was reading this the other day ( all on his own, too! ) and told me it seemed like it was only about THREE members of our family, not all four. I guess I haven't praised him enough for being a good dad/husband. ( Sweetheart, I DID put up a picture of you looking all hot in your FedEx uniform unloading my new washing machine. ) He really does do a great job considering his bizarre schedule. Working nights takes its toll on a body. We only get about a hour when he comes home from work in the morning and an hour when he gets up to go to work each weekday. He and the kids have their adorable bye-bye ritual they go through every evening when he leaves. He yells that he's going bye-bye and they come running from wherever they are to give him bye-bye snuggles. He lifts them up and gives them hugs and kisses and they tell him bye. He tells them he loves them and Abby even says it back. I'm sure Perrin will, too, when he masters language well enough.



We try to make the most of our weekends. Especially if it's nice outside. If it's not, I have to admit we spend a lot of time in front of the television and Abby plays in her room upstairs, usually with her television on. I hate hearing us tell her to go upstairs and watch TV all day. Okay, it's not really ALL day, but it makes me feel guilty anyway. It's so hard to find a balance to everything. I know we need to spend time as a family, but sometimes DH and I need to spend time as a couple, too. Then there are the grandparents to factor in. Heath's parents live too far away to visit very often so fitting them in isn't a challenge really. My dad comes over to visit usually at least once a week in the evening or on the weekend and I like having him around. I guess I'm still a daddy's girl at heart. I guess the only real issue we have is visiting my mom's house. I don't mind going over there a few times a month, but it drives Heath crazy. We usually go over there on Sundays after church and stay for the afternoon. Heath gets bored and says we stay there all day. I suppose that's partially true, but my mom and her family don't get to see the kids as often as they'd like. We do use them as babysitters once in awhile, but in spite of what Heath believes, they actually like to spend time with US, too. At least he tolerates being over there better than he used to. ( YAY, Heath! )


He's a pretty great guy overall. He does the dishes ( with the help of the dishwasher ), takes out the trash, fixes stuff, and even changes the occaisional ( and I do mean OCCAISIONAL ) diaper. He manages to ride out my mood swings quite well, too. Plus, I'm certainly not strong enough to toss the kids up to the ceiling fan on the vaulted ceiling and they really seem to enjoy it. He even makes me laugh once in awhile.


So now I've written about the fourth family member at least once. I promise I'll try to do better about including you in the future, dear. I love you. Even if you DO think a toboggan is a hat ;)

To Our "Sanitation Worker"...

( Aren't you pleased I used the P.C. term for your job? ) Let me start by saying that I truly appreciate the work you do. If it weren't for you, I might have to put our trash in my car and drive it to the dump myself and I'm far too busy for that. Besides, just the thought of piling bags full of dirty diapers, rotting food, and other miscellaneous debris into my car gives me the willies. ( What if they leaked?! ) You are a good man to take my trash away.

I want to apologize for our neighbors. Like you, I don't understand why it is so difficult for them to put the trash INSIDE the provided dumpster. I believe this annoys me a bit more than it does you since the afore mentioned device is practically in my front yard. ( If I may be so bold as to claim the eight square feet of grass and dog poo in front of our home as a yard. ) I really feel for you when you have to get out of your truck and move the garbage surrounding the dumpster just so you can reach it with your truck to empty it. Then, after emptying it, you have to get out of your truck a SECOND time to collect the trash you just had to move and load up the dumpster to empty it yet again. This must really get old after awhile. It might not be so bad if what my neighbors so ungraciously piled around the dumpster were only empty cardboard boxes that would take up too much space inside the dumpster. ( Alas, if only they were smart enough to figure out how to collapse the boxes so they were flat! ) But no! They pile bags upon bags of the vilest filth imaginable out there. Sometimes, they actually manage to get the bag tied shut, but not usually. While the sparrows and crows seem to enjoy the veritable buffet of leftover takeout and stale tidbits of dinners, you and I do not. However, I envy the fact that you get to drive away from here and not think about it for another 48 hours. I, on the other hand, have to live here with the mess left behind. I realize it is largely the fault of my neighbors, but I can't help but feel that you are also a bit responsible. Perhaps, it is more the fault of those higher above you or the management of our complex. They won't allow you to come daily. Thus, the trash piles up. Especially on the weekends. ( And forget about using the dumpster if someone is moving in or out that weekend! ) I think the weekend situation could be helped a bit, though. Here's my idea...

You currently make you rounds here on Friday morning in the pre-dawn hours between 4am and 5:45am. You will not return until Monday afternoon. Whose idea was this? I'm guessing it was not yours since you know how quickly our dumpster fills and you hate getting out of your truck to actually touch the trash. Maybe you could suggest a change to whomever is in charge of these things. Perhaps you could come in the late afternoon on Friday and early on Monday? As much as I appreciate being awakened to the gentle sound of your truck emptying our garbage before the sun rises on Fridays, I think a change would do us both some good. If you require my assistance to convince whomever is in charge, I would happily provide it. There may be a positive solution to this if we all work together. As for my ingrate neighbors... Well, I believe karma will come back around eventually. Perhaps their lawns will one day be filled with the various forbidden furniture they tossed into the dumpster.

Again, I thank you for the work you do. You provide an invaluable service to all of us. It's too bad not everyone around here acknowlegdges that. Hang in there, mate! At least the snow is gone!

Oh, Where Does The Time Go?

Okay. So it's been over three months since I've written anything for all of those millions of fans out there. HAHAHA! Seriously, though... It's not like I've only been scarce in cyberspace. I feel like I've practically disappeared off the face of the earth. Like I've been shot into space like that poor Russian dog and am staring out the window all confused and helpless and wondering when dinner will be served. I can't seem to email anyone with consistency, I rarely use the telephone, and I never leave the house without seriously weighing the risks of the kids getting the stomach flu yet again. I'm turning into a regular JD Salinger. Sometimes, I start to think that if only Wal*Mart delivered groceries that I'd never leave the house. Yes. I have become a sad, sad shell of a person lately. I'm going to blame it on the weather and the negative impact the cold has on my emotions. The weather around here finally seems to be warming up though, so *maybe* I'll come out of hibernation soon. I'm not getting my hopes up just yet. Two weeks ago we had a blizzard and yesterday it was 75 degrees. Tomorrow, it might snow again. It's not in the forecast, but I won't feel safe until around the middle of June.

And what have the kids been up to? Trying to find room to make a mess with all of their giant toys in the way. You know the ones I'm talking about. The play kitchen, the stuffed rocking horse, the various large objects designed to entertain infants that are all different shapes/colors but do pretty much the same thing... Put a ball in the hole... Watch the ball roll out. This wouldn't be so bad except they're all HUGE and they all make different annoying noises. And where do they all come from? The Grandparents. Is this our punishment for not keeping our own rooms clean as children? We've invested in several storage containers and one giant toy box yet somehow, the toys are still overflowing into every room of the house. I've even given a couple of large boxes of them away. I have trouble getting rid of things that were gifts, but where do you draw the line? I think it's great that people care enough about my children that they want to do something special for them, but if I keep all of this stuff we're going to be buried in toys by the time Abby goes to kindergarten! We'll have to buy a house with a whole separate floor for toys. Maybe, all of these generous gift givers should get together and just buy our kids a toy store. Seriously. Then the kids could play with whatever they wanted to and leave stuff everywhere and I'd never have to see it because it would be in its own building. Putting it in our backyard would be nice, too, so we could save on gas. Unless these same generous people also want to plant a money tree in our yard. Do they sell those at Wal*Mart or do you have to go to Home Depot?

Along with all of the messes they've made, they've learned a lot of new things. Perrin has learned to walk, point, clap, babble, etc. Abby has learned things like "fortissimo" and "crescendo" as well as the "Pull my finger" trick. We celebrated Christmas and both of the kids' birthdays. How is it possible that my baby is one year old already and my first baby is three? She's over halfway to starting school! I'm considering homeschool, but we'll see. We've had a lot of stuff going on. Job issues, friend issues ( largely caused by the job issues ), birthdays, death, a road trip in the middle of an ice storm, a broken furnace, and more puke than you can shake a stick at. We've had our share of good things happen, too, though. Like, the birthdays. There's just something about a first birthday, isn't there?

I think what I'm most excited about right now is our trip to visit Heath's parents in May. Not only will we get to visit with them, but I'm planning on finally getting to meet my best friend, Sarah! It'll be a good drive for both of us, but it's going to be worth it. We've helped each other through SOOOO much already and it'll be nice to actually get to meet face to face. I'm counting down the days!

More Bodily FUN-ctions...


It's funny how fate takes the things you couldn't stand in your earlier days and repeatedly pummels you with them as you get older. You know. Like if you hated riding the bus as a kid you end up driving one as an adult? Or if you hated getting up in the morning you'll have children ( or a spouse ) who are morning people? Oh, yes. You know what I'm talking about. Especially if you're a parent. Remember how we used to dread those forced, awkward conversations with rarely seen older relatives? The ones who had no idea what to talk to you about so they inevitably asked about school? The conversation would grow increasingly strained as the uncomfortable silences stretched longer and longer between each question and answer until one of you finally got the courage to make a dash for it or you were rescued by someone else entering the conversation. Have you noticed how now we ARE those relatives that the younger ones avoid at family gatherings? I've actually heard myself ask, "So, how is school?" to my younger relations. You can almost see the wheels in their minds turning to form an escape plan. At the same moment, you're horrified by what you just heard come out of your own mouth and quickly excuse yourself to go hide in the bathroom and breathe into a paper sack.
One of my LEAST favorite things is vomit. Really?! You, too?! Imagine that! Seriously. When I was younger, I was hospitalized twice with the flu. I couldn't stand the smell or sound or any of it. Just being in close proximity to anyone else doing it would make me puke. I don't know if it was my "party girl" days or just becoming a mom, but something stregthened my stomach and thank goodness it did! I'm not sure what could be worse than a baby/toddler with the stomach flu. They're too young to give you much warning before it happens and a lot of them don't have any trouble falling asleep in it again if it happens in the middle of the night. This is where my co-sleeping habit comes into play. See, on the one hand, I'm risking being covered in puke as well. On the other hand, at least I'm right there to take care of the problem before it gets any worse. ( Can you guess what's been going on at our house lately? ) I can't say I LIKE getting up in the middle of the night to do laundry, wash the kids, find us all new clothes, make the bed, and try and get them back to sleep, but I'd probably feel a whole lot worse if I found out they'd been sleeping in their own vomit. Yuck.
It *seems* like the worst of it has passed ( knock on wood ) and we're all getting better. Perrin and I seemed to get off pretty easy, thankfully. Heath even seemed to get better overnight. Abby is the only one who's really having issues. She'll be fine for over 24 hours and then puke again. I don't get it. I've been keeping her on a pretty strict diet the last day or two and it looks like it's working except for all of the whining I hear about how she wants fruit snacks or yogurt. I WISH I could let her have them, but I know they're not going to stay in her tummy. I just wish I could make her understand that I'm only trying to do what's best for her. I'm not just doing it to be mean. I hope she really is better for both of our sakes. I'm out of carpet cleaner and my sanity isn't far behind.

Trick or Treat?

I don't know where to begin. Autumn is usually my favorite time of year, but for some reason, it seems to have had less than its usual appeal this year. I blame the weather. One day it's 90 degrees and sunny and the next day it's 40 degrees and raining. What happened to all of those gorgeous sweater-or-light-jacket days we're supposed to have in between Summer and Winter? The mums I took such care to maintain all Summer finally bloomed their fall blooms and they looked beautiful. Then it froze. Yes, I could have covered them, but we were out of town that weekend. It's going to be a nasty Winter this year. FAN-TASTIC.

On the bright side, we did have decent weather for our annual visit to the pumpkin farm. Abby really loves pumpkins. I can't explain it. She gets so excited when she sees them. She plays with her plastic jack-o-lantern bucket all year long. Yes, that's my toddler running through the wading pool in the middle of June with a pumpkin bucket. Although, she's quite attatched to the Grinch movie, too. It was at least May before I finally put it away. It may have something to do with the fact that she thinks she's IN the movie. I pointed out that Cindy Lou Who looks just like her ( I think it's the hair. ) and now she thinks it actually IS her. I could have tried to tell her the truth, but I chose to leave that discussion for another time. Maybe when she has a better grasp of reality instead of two-yearality. Right now, the world DOES revolve around her. At least, as far as she's concerned. So if she wants to believe Cindy Lou is really Abby, I'm okay with that for now.

Wasn't I talking about the pumpkin farm? I really think I'm losing it somedays. The pumpkin farm is one of my favorite places to visit. The one we go to has a big barn and horses that pull wagons out to the pumpkin patch. They also grow flowers and their fields are just gorgeous. The trees always have plenty of bright colored leaves left on them. It's a perfect setting for pictures. We have taken a picture of Abby next to the same sign each year so far and it's amazing to see how much she's grown! This year, we got to add Perrin. I think I need to learn to not try so hard for a "good" picture of both of them. It's darn near impossible to get both of them to sit still, look at me, and smile at the same time. We all had fun, though. Abby got to run Heath through the corn maze until he was ready to pass out. Perrin thought the ducks were pretty funny. The ducks weren't even doing anything. They were just sitting there, but Perrin thought it was funny enough to laugh at. Which, if you know Perrin, means something. It takes a lot to get him to laugh most of the time. Most of the time, even when you DO get him to laugh, he buries his face in my shoulder or hides behind his hands like he's embarassed to laugh. It's irresistible. He has a good heart and he's very sensitive. I hope that stays with him forever. Abby is strong and independent. She's sweet, but she's tough, too. Perrin is different. I worry that he'll be hurt emotionally very easily. He has the makings of a fantastic friend and I just hope he finds people who realize that and don't take him for granted. Maybe I'm worrying for nothing. Maybe Abby will toughen him up some. He's my son, so I have no doubt he's got a source of strength deep inside of him that he'll find when he needs it.

How do I keep getting off topic? I should just give up and call it a night. I've been feeling "off" all day today. As if I'm waiting for something bad to happen. Like something is just not right. Watch out world! I may have just predicted the end for us all! LOL. Yeah, right. The mind that can't remember where it was directing the body to go or why ends up having a premonition that ultimately predicts the end of the world. I guess if I'm right we'll never know, will we? Alright, alright... Now it's just getting ridiculous. Let's hope my next entry is better than this one!