Adventures in singlemotherhooding it.

My text to Mike one fateful evening:
MIIIIIIIIKE!!!!!Bird trauma.Call ASAP.  

Here's the story.  I came home from work the other day and the house was a little chilly so I decided I should light a fire, cuz I'm super handy like that.  Audrey was at work, Goose was feeding her goats, Grant was out riding his bike and Elsie was downstairs with me.

I noticed there was already a lot of newspaper in the stove, but I didn't think much of it--I figured someone was going to light a fire earlier and decided not to.  I opened the stove and started to add kindling to the paper and then decided I should probably wad the paper back up tighter so I reached in and out flew a bird!!!
Right at my face.

Let us pause here for a moment and discuss my feelings towards birds.  Birds are fine.  Birds are beautiful and majestic.  I have absolutely no problem with birds...as long as they are not in or any where near MY SPACE.  I don't like birds swooping down near me.  I don't like birds fluttering by me.  Is that so wrong??
And let me be VERY clear here...my house is most definitely MY SPACE.
 
So, the bird is flying around the room, Elsie and I are both screaming and the cats (Gertie and Ethel) are trying to figure out what is going on.  The bird crashes into the window over by the freezer and Gertie jumps up and grabs it.  So now we have Elsie and I screaming Gertie with the flapping bird and Ethel still trying to figure out what is going on.  By this point Elsie had run into the bathroom for cover and was just peeking out the door, I was by the back door trying to decide if I should just leave the house all together and let the bird take over.

Gertie takes the flapping bird into Elsie and Grant's room.  I had gained enough composure to tell Elsie to go shut the bedroom door so at least then the bird and the cat would be trapped in a room and I could call someone for help.

She is telling me she can't and I am trying to convince her she can...after some frantic discussion between the two of us she takes a step or two out of the bathroom when suddenly the bird escapes from Gertie, flies out of the bedroom and starts flying around the family room again.

I opened the back door, not totally sure if it was for my freedom or the bird's, (alright fine! It was for me--but I decided not to abandon Elsie) so I had the door opened all the way and I was cowering behind it trying to decide what to do next when the bird must have seen the escape route and flew out.

WHEW!

After Elsie confirmed that it did indeed fly out I slammed the door shut and we hugged each other ....it was at this point that she told me,
"Oh yeah, Grant said there was a bird in the stove."

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?

This tidbit of information would have been good to know about five minutes prior.  Needless to say, I did not start a fire that night.  And my throat was sore for a few days from all the screaming I did.  And Mike could hardly stop laughing when I told him of the encounter.

It was traumatic, but I think I'll recover.  The bird, however, may never be the same and will regret the day it flew down our chimney for the rest of it's little bird life I'm sure. 

So....Here's some news.

A mere four days after I sent a tiny piece of my heart to Mexico a sent another piece of my heart to Boise.
Granted, the departure wasn't nearly as traumatic, but I did send Mike on his way to Boise.

Why???
Oh, just because after five loooonnnngggg years of under employment for my dear old Mikey he now has a FULL TIME JOB.
And we are happy about that.  We are so happy about that.  We are ecstatic about that.  We are delighted.  We are down right tickled about that.  It is a good good good thing.

This, in turn, means that the old farmgirl fam will be moving again.  This time to Idaho's capital city.  I hear it's pretty nice up there.  For an Idaho born and bread gal I can't say that I've spent much time in Boise, but I'm excited to discover all it has to offer.

Here's the crazy story of how this all came to be:
When I was offered a full time job, Mike and I decided that he would dial back the job search and focus more on helping out around the house until I was licensed and we had Adam off.  And then one day out of the clear blue sky he got a phone call from a friend that works for a lumber company (we actually worked for this company 16 years ago when we lived in Montana) telling us there was a position opening up in the sales department in the Boise branch and asked if Mike would be interested.  Less than a week later an offer was on the table and we took it.  Pretty crazy how things work out.

Funny that as soon as we stopped chasing after it, the perfect job landed right in our laps.  There is something to be said for just making the most of what the Good Lord hands you.  Do the best you can with what you've got, quit worrying about what you don't have and it all seems to work itself out in the end.

Soooo, Mike is in Boise and I am here.
With the children.
Working full time.
And being a single parent.
Until summer.
It's kind of a lot.  The weeks are super busy, I hardly have time to breathe let alone miss Mike.
The good news is I can do anything...for a while.

The Morning I Sent a tiny Piece of My Heart to Mexico.

The day came and the day went.  

Honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as I had anticipated.

Yes, I will miss him--I already do.

But what else would I choose for him? Nothing.

I am not in mourning, nor did I sob all the way home.

  My heart is too happy for that.

 

First of all, let me say it was EARLY.

Or late.

How ever you would like to look at 1:00 in the morning,

which is the time we woke the kids up to get ready to leave.

Adam's flight left at 6:15 so he needed to be at the airport at 4:15.

 I pretty much dressed this zombie while he was sleeping.

I know, why did I bother with pajamas in the first place?

Don't know.

Moving on.

 Here we are walking to the airport shuttle.

 I'm sorry, did I mention it was early??

We ended up waiting for the place to open so that he could check his luggage.

FYI This was my first moment of tearing up...

watching him standing there so ready to go.

 

After he checked his luggage we walked him down to security.

That's where we could go no further.

 So we visited for a few minutes more and then decided to take

some pictures.

Pictures weren't too bad either.

I was still holding it together quite well.

Look at how happy that boy is!  Oh, I just love him!!

 A very kind gentleman offered to take one last family picture for us.

He told me he had a missionary leaving in four months.

I told him Don't Blink.

And then hugging shenanigans started.  And it was pretty much all

over for me and holding it together.

  Adam and Grant.  

Or Goober as Grant is loving referred

to by his older brother.

 Adam and Elsie.

She made us all Valentines and saved candy from school

for each of us.  She had one for Adam too.

We'll have to send it to him when he gets to Arkansas.

 

 Adam and Goose.

This was a tough one.These two have a pretty special bond.

 They are best buds.

 Adam and Audrey.

Audrey was our photog for the morning and did a fabo job.

See, there I am crying watching all my kids

tell him good bye.

Adam and Mike.

That was one big bear hug.

  

 Adam and Me.

It was really hard.  Still makes me cry just looking at it.

I was trying to take in enough of him to last me for two years.

I kept telling him these are happy tears.

Ahhh, my first born.

I like him.

 And he's off.

We stayed and stood on tip toes to watch him go all 

the way through security.

After he got his suit coat back on and shoes on and 

put his bag back over his shoulder

he turned and gave us one last big smile and wave.

 And then he turned and headed up the escalator.

And that was it.

 I know I'm more than a little biased here,

but I think he's going to be

GREAT.

YO.

Let me begin by saying, I should be studying.  I'm fully aware of this little fact so I'll keep things short, sweet and to the point.  Well..as much to the point as I ever do.

First:
The reason I need to be studying...I did not pass all of my test in December.  I passed one quarter of the test.
On Monday I passed two more portions and missed the last one by two stupid points. grrrr.
I am scheduled to test again on this coming Monday.
I would really really love to be done with this little thorn in my side.
I am slowly adjusting to working full time.  I don't mind the work and while I'm there it's really no biggie.
It's the coming home that gets a little crazy...it is at that point that I am quickly reminded that I have not been home all day. 
I don't really love working full time, but it is what it is.
So there you go.

Second:
This boy.

 

Oh, hello handsome man.  He leaves in just two short weeks.  It is so so crazy.  And I am so so excited for him.  I keep telling myself I still have time with him...and I do, but it's not much.  He, on the other hand, is chomping at the bit.  

Third:

I really do miss blogging.

Life is all around just pretty good.  Not what I expected it would be, but pretty good all the same.

I didn't expect to have my 18 year old son graduate early and be leaving on a mission so soon.

I didn't expect to be working full time outside the home....ever.

I didn't expect that Mike and I would be trading roles....ever.

I didn't expect a lot of things.

And that's okay...because I guess I should learn to expect the unexpected.

Come what may and love it, right?

Peace Out.

:o) 

Let me 'splain.

No, there is too much.  
Let me sum up.


Holy Schmoly.  Where to begin??

Adam's Mission Call: 
This crazy kid of mine went ahead a grew up even though I did not authorize it.  He decided he wanted to graduate from high school early to serve a mission.  After MUCH discussion from us (making sure he had thought about everything--just doing my job, really) we were all on board and last spring he started the process to graduate in January.  We dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's (which, btw there are kind of a lot of when you are preparing your mission papers).
On October 24th his mission call came in the mail.  It was such a fun experience watching his excitement, matched by my own, as we waited for all the family to get here to open it.
Drum Roll Please....He will be serving a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints in the Little Rock Arkansas Mission, Spanish speaking.  He will report the the Mexico Mission Training Center on February 12th.
He is so excited.  He is thrilled he gets to go to Mexico to the MTC.  I am thrilled for him,  I love that he will be a Spanish speaking missionary.

And in other news...

Remember that December??
You know, the one where I nearly lost my mind??
Oh yeah...that's right NOW.

So I'm a liker of change.  Really I am.  I like to change the furniture arrangement.  I like to change up my wardrobe.  I like to change the menu.  I like to change my hair.  Change is good.

I am feeling like I have had a wee bit too much change in my life recently and it is killing me.
Slow and painful.  Killing me.

Here's the story, Morning Glory:
Besides being deep in the midst of getting a missionary ready, with in the last 6 weeks I  have...
-Been released from being Young Women's President
-Been called to teach the 16/17 year old Sunday School class
-Been completely reassigned visiting teaching wise (new companion, new people to visit)
-Quit 2 part time jobs (that I quite enjoyed)
-Started a new job
-Working full time away from home
-Started being a "working mom" 
-Been studying my guts out for the Insurance Licensing Exam
        (my brain is mush. kids are brain cell killers)

Long story short, I am feeling like I am coming up short in pretty much every area of change.  What ever semblance of sanity and order I had going for me have gone out the window. 
I am no longer the mother with the warm cookies when the kids get home.  Or the clean house mother.  Or the dinner ready mother.  Or the doer of the laundry mother.  Or patient mother.  Or the around during the day mother.

Don't get me wrong, the fam has stepped up like the champs that they are and I do appreciate it.
But, I think I am mourning the lose of a life that I don't get to live any more.

I really liked doing all the homey mom stuff.  I was good at it.
I liked being the YW Pres.  I was good at it.
I liked my Lunch Lady job.  I was good at it.
Don't mind me, I'm just having a small pity party cuz it is late and I am tired.
My mantra of late is:  It will get better.  This will get easier.

I know these changes are blessings.  This job working for an insurance agency fell right in my lap.  I wasn't looking, it just came.
And maybe, just maybe if the Heavens shine down upon me Monday morning when I go to take this 4 hour exam and by some crazy twist of fate I pass it I will be feeling much better about life in general.

Really, it will be like a Festivas Miracle.  WAIT!  Back up the Bus!!
I just realized my test is on the 23rd and that really is Festivas...let's all start praying for a Festivas Miracle together!!  At 8AM send all the Festivas energy you can possible muster to me in my time of need. 

Thanks.
 Peace Out

Fire it up...

You know those days when you feel like telling the kids to grab 5 personal items, (doesn't matter if it's clothing, toys, books, whatever they choose) and choose them wisely--because you're burning the rest?

I'm not just having one of the days, I'm in a serious 'fire it up and burn it down' mode.  This morning I am ready to heave 90% of our belongings.  For real.

But I will try not to do anything too drastic like burn the house down with my sleeping hubby (he is working the night shift these days...err umm...nights I mean) in it.  Instead I have decided to take my frustrations out on the big old mess in my yard I like to call the 'Once upon a time they were pretty flower beds, then they became an overgrown and weed infested jungle and now are dead and frozen flower beds' project.

I'm hoping it will curb my enthusiasm / freakishness / aggression.
If not I may need to resort to warm brownies later.

Wish me luck.

p.s.

I currently have a 

7 year old I am 

considering selling to

 the Gypies if he doesn't 

get his chores done asap.

Grrrr.

The mediocre mother.

School time is back in full swing. With the school day lasting a whooping eight hours these little chickadees are purty durn tired by the end of it. 

I try to keep to a routine--I am by nature a very routinesk person.  Back in the days of very small children I was very very good at keeping a routine.  That, of course, as I said was back in the day. Today is today, today is not back in the day.  But, we do try our best.  Me and mine, we do much better when we know what the plan is...even when we are tired.

All five punks are in school full time this year.  Might I just say that is a lot of information, stories, homework and junk to deal with when they get home from school at 4:30 in the afternoon.  So, the "plan" or "routine" goes like this: they walk in the door and I am in the kitchen with a snack ready (they are starving), we have a snack and catch up on the day (slightly time consuming process), we then discuss who has what homework and go over papers for me to look at, they are then responsible to take care of any clean laundry and their back packs and we are off and running like a herd of turtles.

Now, bear in mind that two of the four nights a week we are not just chillin' at home...Monday is FHE and Tuesday is mutual.  Which means we have to put everything into high gear in order to get it all accomplished.  The older kids are quite self sufficient when it comes to homework, the younger ones not so much. The youngest one really not so much.  We are in the stage of sitting and reading together (which I LOVE to do btw--but it  takes time).  In the midst of being engrossed in a first grade reader I am constantly being told 'one more thing I forgot to tell you about school' and 'just one quick question'.  Throw in a nightly dinner, showers, and  bed time extravaganza and you have yourself the makings of a three ring circus.

I am ready for them to come home every afternoon.  Here's a little confession, (and for anyone that knows me well knows how strange this is)  I have been turning on a little Pandora in the afternoons...been jamming out to a little Abba lately.  Weird.  I never used to turn on music.  I have always enjoyed the quiet when it came, but it gets a little too quiet around here.  Nowadays I make a snack with a little background music.  What I am saying is that I am geared up and happy to see them every day.

However, my excitement seems short lived.  By 8:00ish I am just about done in and I want to retreat to the mediocre mother world.  The world where some one else puts the youngsters to bed and some one else finishes the kitchen and someone else makes sure everyone gets showered and has their homework done and someone else gets everything ready for the morning and someone else stays up until all the punks are nestled snug in their beds.

I am amazed daily at how quickly I run out of steam.  It's quite pitiful really.  Raising kids is exhausting, and don't let anybody tell you differently.  It's fantastic and the older they get the more enjoyable it is to watch them turn into fabulous young adults, but it's a boat load of work.

Here's the deal-e-o...I don't live in the mediocre mother world.  I may not be great at a lot of things, but I am a good mum.  Although I do think those things pretty much every evening I don't actually do those things every evening.  I keep going and get the job done.  I think that makes me an A-okay mom.  And  I'm pretty happy about that. Plus I make a killer chocolate chip cookie....pretty sure that's worth a ton of points in the 'good mom' rule book.

And then there were none....

School started just over a week ago for the kiddos.  

So far everyone is happy and enjoying the new school year...including me.

 I LoVe this pic of my punks.

They are really a good looking bunch.

 Adam is a Senior.

Craziness.

 Audz is a Sophmore.

Craziness.

 Goose is in 8th Grade.

Craziness.

 Elsie-Girl is in 5th Grade.

Craziness.

Grant Delish is in 1st Grade.

Craziness.

And then there were none....

All my kiddos are in school all day.

And I'm not exactly as excited about it as I thought I would be.

Except on Friday's, when they are all out of school...

then it seems really great that they are all gone Monday-Thursday.

:o)

Can I get a Howdy?!?

Howdy!!!

Wow!  Do I even remember how to blog??  Umm...Yes.  Yes, I do. 

I would like to start the list of excuses with the fact that our lovely computer came down with a terrible virus.  My new (in addition to my old) job's IT guy came to check it out and told me how special we are because he only sees viruses like that one once or twice a year.  Awesome.  (Yes, btw I have a new job. Long story short I'm doing some medical billing stuff.)
Sooo...we had to factory restore our trusty old computer, which took forever.  Did I say forever?  Because I meant FOREVER.
That's excuse #1.

Excuse #2...no camera.  My punks love to make movies and take crazy pictures and all that great stuff that entertains them for hours on end. The downfall??...they are really hard on stuff.  I call them little consumers for a reason.  Granted, the camera was quite old, but it still worked.  Sort of.  The bright side??....Lucy got a little video camera for her bday.  Unfortunately this was after the little punks consumed my camera.  Let's face it, blogging is more fun with pics.

Excuse #3- #110....it's summer for crying out loud.  Where, oh where did my summer time go?  Oh where, oh where did it go???  With it's days so long and it's nights so cool, oh where, oh where did it go??  Seriously.  Don't know.  I was busy.  But, for reals, it went by in a blink.  A blink!

And here we are just 4 short days until the kiddies go back to school.  FOUR DAYS.  Four days and all my little chick-a-dees are off on the grand, blissful adventure called school.

Tonight was 'Back to School' for Elsie and Grant.  I kinda like the way they do back to school here in Good Ole P-town.  The kids bring all their school supplies, meet their teacher, check out the classroom and get settled in.  On the way uptown the kids were talking about their new teachers.  Elsie decided they should play a game called "Guess what your teacher looks like".  She went first.

She thought her teacher would have blonde hair, be medium height and be middle-aged.
Grant thought his teacher would have dirty blonde hair (dirty, dirty blonde hair), be medium height and be almost full-aged.
Which begged the question from me...what exactly is full-aged? He told me his teacher last year (who btw was fresh out of college and looked to be about 14 years of age) was juussst about middle-aged.  I then asked what I was, if this young little filly of a teacher is almost full-aged I must be like...ancient, right?  He and Elsie explained to me that I wasn't all the way full-aged yet, but that I was close.  And the crazy thing is Elsie just chimed right in like this is a term used in everyday life????
Hmmph...kids.  They are so weird.

Well, tonight is the much anticipated 'Cousin Sleepover End of Summer Grand Adventure'.  It includes shenanigans such as Wild Race Car Driving, Sunset Watching, Tramp Sleeping (for the boys) and Hammock Sleeping (for the girls).  Please bless that they will eventually pass out....hopefully before the crack of dawn.

Party on Wayne.  Party on Garth.
Party on Peeps.

Summer Laundryfest.

I finally had the first
"I-will-get-all-the-laundry-done-
today-or-you-
will-find-my-cold-dead-body-underneath-it"
day of the summer.
Yes, I do realize we are a week+ into summer.  What??  I've been busy.
So here it is.  All the masses of laundry.

Does that look like a lot?  Cuz it sure felt like a lot to me.
And this is just the punks laundry and I hadn't even folded the levis yet.
Holy Crap.
In their defense it had been quite sometime since I had really hit the laundry hard.
But still, Holy Crap.
My corpse would of been stinking it up a wee bit before anyone
found me under that mountain of fabric.

Since then we have had a Come to Jesus talk about laundry
(p.s. this is not the first Come to Jesus laundry talk we have had, 
probably they just really enjoy these little chats)
 and summer.
Something to the effect of who has two thumbs and
will not be spending her summer vacation
being buried alive under mounds of laundry?  THIS MOM.
Something to the effect of you people do not need to put clothes
 in the hamper that you have just looked at or even thought
about putting on your cute little bodies.

Hello?...Isn't one of the fundamental joys of summer
wearing the same clothes for three days straight?
No?...Maybe that was sipping lemonade in the hot summer sun
and star gazing on cool summer nights.
Eh well, I really think wearing the same clothes for three days
straight should be one of the fundamental joys of summer.

Live it up, Peeps.  Let loose and wear the same clothes day in and day out.
That's what my Punks will be doing.

:o) Peace Out.
Happy Summer.

Sharing.

Have you ever found something out that you feel the need to shout from the roof tops?  Have you ever sat in the doctors office and actually said "Why don't people know about this!?!?"  Here's my story:

Once upon a time, 18 years ago...oh, I'm sorry did I say 18 years ago?  I meant EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO the hubby and I anxiously awaited the birth of our first born child.  I remember our excitement when we purchased our first package of diapers months before we really needed them in our efforts to stock pile them.  Babies go through a lot of diapers, we'd been told.
And so began my journey of supporting the diaper industry.  And since that day so many moons ago it has.never.stopped.  Yes, really.  I have either been buying diapers or pullups--or both--for over 18 years.  By my calculations I have spent, well...a lot of money!  I've been told that bed wetting can be genetic. 

Here's a fun little story problem for you:  One of the two of my children's parents was a bed wetter for a long time.  And it wasn't their mother...you do the math.

We have had more than one of our children struggle with bed wetting, I have been told over and over again that 'they will grow out of it' and they have.  Except the last two.  Audrey was in 5th grade before she stopped so I haven't been in a total panic about Elsie and Grant.

Mikey threw a few things into the gene pool that I'd just assume he'd left in the dressing room.  Ginormous tonsils top the list.  We have had Mike's, Audrey's and Lucy's removed.  All three of them had big BIG snoring issues (one of them still has some issues--he will remain nameless) and they would get strep throat multiple times a year.  So, these giant tonsils were obstructing the air while they slept and they were also a little petri dish for every sickness that came down the pike.  Elsie also inherited the giant tonsils.  She hasn't picked up strep, but she does battle a sore throat on a regular basis and she snores like an old man--just ask her sisters that share a room.

I finally decided it was time to look into getting her tonsils removed.  We went in for her check up and we were referred to an ENT.  I took her in today.  This morning I had a little mini epiphany.  Audrey quit wetting the bed shortly after she had her tonsils out.  I decided to share this little tidbit with the doctor...I told her this was just Doctor Mom speaking, but could that be related??  She said Absolutely Yes!!  What?!?  Apparently bed wetting can be a result of sleep apnea.  Who knew??  Not me.  Who should know?  Pediatricians.  And parents of bed wetting kids.

Now, do I think that every bed wetter has sleep apnea? No.  But I certainly had no idea the two were even related.  The doctor told me that kids of normal weight and who are other wise healthy shouldn't be snoring or wetting the bed at this age.  She said that they have had kids in their late teens who have been to the urologist multiple times and on some pretty heavy medication come through the door to find out  it was sleep apnea all along.

Well, fan-diddley-tastic! 
I'm super happy to have the info and thought you should too. 

*This public announcement 

brought to you by farmgirl.  

**I am not sponsored nor 

do I have any affiliation 

with nasty tonsils. 

Thank you. 

Tomorrow is the 1st day of the rest of Summer.

Holy Schnikies!  It's June 6.  Hello?!  Good thing tomorrow is the first day of the rest of Summer!!
And, yes, there is a good chance I'll be saying that all summer long.

I'm just going to keep that attitude up as long as possible:

House is a disaster?
No worries.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Didn't get the weeding done?
No worries.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Laundry piling up?
No problem.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Didn't push myself out the door to run this morning?
No problem.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.
Didn't get the kiddies to bed until all hours of the night?
Not to worry.  Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of summer.

Are you picking up what I'm putting down here?  Are you smelling what I'm stepping in?
Fiddley Dee.  Tomorrow is another day and as long as I'm filling up my days
staying busy (even if it's not "on the to do list") it's all good. 
Eventually I will have a day or two here and there and I will get all my junk done. 
Or sorta done, done until the chickadees walk in the door...wait, the chickadees are here 24/7. 
Okay, so maybe I won't get it done--but it's all good.

Last summer was not my best work.  It pretty much chewed me up and spit me out on the curb next to the school bus.  That will not be the case for Summer 2013.

And guess what??  I want to blog this summer.  For reals.  I know I'm an old fashioned gal that way, but really...status updates on FB and all those rad (umm...did I just say 'rad'? Yes, I am so so so on the cutting edge of things) new fancy shmancy things just aren't enough for me.  I quite enjoy rambling.

Summer 2013...let's get ready to rock and roll.
...tomorrow.

The M-day.

I have a love/hate (well, not hate--but dislike strongly) relationship with Mother's Day.  Does that make me a bad Mom?  An ungrateful woman?  I don't know...I don't think so.  Am I a little hesitant to admit that?  Yes I am.  It doesn't sound good.  A mother that doesn't like Mother's Day?  I am, really and truly, grateful.  I love being a Mom.  I don't know if all mom's feel the way I do, or just the really strange ones.  Maybe you get it or you don't, but if you do...you really do.  It's a weird day. I remember how shocked I was those first few years of my own Mother's Days, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it was a shock. Mother's Day seemed so hard for everyone around me.  My dear old hubby and children wanted to make it great, but it felt stressful for one and all.  Every thing about the day felt forced.  It was a relief to have the day over and just get back to normal.  No one wanted my job.  And, frankly, I didn't really enjoy watching them try. I've been at this gig for a few more years since then and I've learned to take the day in stride a little better. It helps that I have a mini me that can cook and clean like a champ. It's still weird.  But, I do enjoy it more than I used to.  I was chatting with me mum about this strange phenomenon the other day and she shared with me a story.  A story that I would like to share with you.  It's well worth the read. I relate to the invisible woman.  That might be my problem with the M-day, it feels fake to make such a big to do out of something so ordinary.  I'm building cathedrals for crying out loud!  Let me do the work I do and just be nice to me every day.  And maybe once a year you can offer to rub my feet. Here it is...enjoy. Perspective on Motherhood: The Invisible Woman

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. By Nicole Johnson It started to happen gradually … One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?" would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing. Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going … she's going … she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees." I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Hi and Bye.

I had this great idea to catch up on thee ole blog.  (Okay, let's be honest...not 'catch up'...I'm not a 'catch up' kinda gal. I'm more of a 'start where you are and go from there' kinda gal.)
I've been working double+ my normal hours for over 2 months now, on Monday I switched back to my regular shift.  Working the longer shift is great and not so great at the same time.

Great: double+ the pay.
Not so Great: double+ the time away from home.

Luckily I really like my job and I have a pretty fabo husband who has played Mr. Mom like a champ.  He has been the breakfast maker, errand runner, doctor/dentist appt taker, laundry swapper and all around great guy while I have been away from home.  I'm super, super grateful to have this job.  And I'm super, super grateful to have the job of stay at home mom before this. 

Wanna know a little secret?  I think working full time has the potential to create selfishness...at least it does for me.  I haven't been available to just be around to help out with things.  I've felt out of the loop.  I can't drop what I'm doing and take kids or fix food or take a phone call or whatever.  It's just more about me than I really like to live my life.  But, on the other hand...it's not like I'm working for me.  Me, Me, Me.  I wouldn't even have taken this job if we didn't really need the  income. Which, btw,  I am hoping really and truly will be extra income in the next little while if we can get a little something up and off the ground, a little something that would provide for our lives in general so that we could use my income to put towards Adam's mission.  Gah!  Adam's mission!!  Wow.  Can't go there right now....

I'm just rambling here, it's all good.  

The job is a blessing and the extra hours are a blessing and I'd be crazy to think that working this much wouldn't impact my family and my life in one form or another.

Okay, I'm done with that side track, anyhoo.....
So, as of Monday I went back to my regular shift.  That means I am here in the mornings to get the punks off and get my house in order before I head to work.  Honestly, I think Mike has enjoyed it even more than me. He will come inside and tell me he just really likes having me around.  I have oragansized and cleaned my little heart out this week.

However....it was short lived.
I'm switching shifts again tomorrow.  The plan now is to take it a week at a time and see.  The lady I am switching shifts with had some surgery and came back a little too fast so she is backing off again.
Which is great and not so great.  But probably more great for me than not so great so I will take it and say Thank You.
For now, Hi Ho Hi Ho it's off to work I go! (in the morning anyway)

Spring Break laundry epiphany.

Facts you need to know...
1- It's late so this will be short and to the point.
2- Currently there are 10 people living in my house. (long story, tell you later)
3- Two of those people are my cute little nephews that were only planning to stay one, maybe two nights.
4- The punks are on spring break this week and I am not, therefore I am gone the majority of the day.

So, here's the deal...Porter and William only brought clothes for a couple of days.  Do they just live through the field and could I go sneak into their house and  pick up some more clothes?  Yes.  Have I done that?  No.  Do these kiddos play super hard and dirty all the live long day?  Yes.  Do their clothes show it?  Yes.  Is it necessary to put on clean clothes every morning?  Yes...especially when the creek bed, corn pit and mud puddle are your play ground.

Every night I have been throwing in a load of laundry basically containing the days play and work clothes...and voila my laundry is way easier.  I am seriously considering hiding all of my children's clothes (minus two outfits) over the summer.

It's survival 101.
And we all know Spring Break is just a precursor to summer....a little bit of a reminder of what is very shortly coming.
Kids home ALL DAY EVERY DAY.

Good thing I love the little punks.
Thanks Life, for throwing me a curve ball and teaching me a little something at the same time.
Your good at that.

Some Day.

Here's the deal-E-o, I really do have a lot to chat about.
Here's the problem...I have no time.
Well, I do have time.  Everyone has time for crying out loud!
The past couple of weeks my time has been sucked up by me not feeling so great.
Gotta love a good head cold, right?
And my time has been sucked up by me working a longer shift.
Gotta love a bigger paycheck, right?
Today I am feeling much better, so much better that I spent the entire afternoon
being domestic.
Gotta love cleaning, laundry,errands, laundry, sweeping, laundry, mopping, laundry, brownie baking, laundry...
did I mention laundry?  That's my super duper favorite.
And now, dear friends, I have burned up my afternoon so much so that I am T-minus 4 minutes to the punks getting off the Big Yellow Ticket to Solitude.
But I do have a lot to talk about.
Maybe since I was such a good little hard worker today I'll have more time tomorrow.
Ha!  HaHa!!  I'm so funny.  Did you catch that??  I think I might have more time tomorrow.
Silly, silly farmgirl.

Peace Out, Peeps.
:o)

life is blessed.

Last Week....
Me:  cry out in frustration
My Peeps:  rally. send up please blesses.
Windows of Heaven:  OPEN
Blessings:  pour down
Me:  fill with gratitude.  know that I am loved and life is blessed

Things work.  Thank you.  More later.  Work to get to.

The vent.

Is it a grand idea to blog when I'm feeling some what down in the dumps?
Probably not.
Am I going to do it any way?
Probably yup.

I'm feeling worn out.  Tired.  Sometimes (most times actually) I deal with poverty well.
And other times...not so much.
So there.  I'm human.
I just want to feel "normal" sometimes.  What ever "normal" is.
I don't want to tell my kids no or later to everything they ask about.  And they aren't asking for much...face wash, a couple dollars here or there for this or that, toothpaste -for sensitive teeth.
I want to walk in the grocery store and just, you know...buy food.
Its been so long since I just put food in the cart I can't even remember what it feels like.
Everything I put in the cart is added up in my head and I know exactly what I can spend and I do not go over.  I can't go over.  There is no 'blowing the budget'.  It's not a bad thing, it's actually a good thing to know how to stick to a budget, I'm just tired.
I'd like to pick up something frivolous like cold cereal, bananas, yogurt or pudding for the kids.
You know, spend more than $20/week.  Cuz that's what I spend.
Well that's what I'm spending lately.
Mike's only been working one day/week and frankly it's not enough.
Just doesn't cut the mustard.
It's barely enough to keep gas in the car to get to and from work let alone pay bills or buy fancy things like meat or peanut butter.
Grrr, just frustrated here.
And btw, I think I need to stay out of public as much as possible.  Really, it makes me feel so much worse.  People are just being normal people doing normal people things and talking about normal people stuff.  But sometimes I just want to scream...Really?  REALLY??  Does any member of your household have a full time job?  Because my dearest and I TOGETHER do not have a full time job.  PAH-LEASE.
I feel like I am in a sinking ship and I am tired of bailing out the water.

Okay, deep breath here.
Deep breath in and out.
In and out.
In and out.

Its just gotten really hard this last little while.  As long as Mike works about three days a week we can stay on top of things.  But we need those three days.  And we are not getting them.

I am working longer shifts right now and we will get our taxes all figured out and hopefully get a lovely little return.

But none of that is now.  I only get paid once a month so it'll be a good six weeks before we see the effects of a longer shift and our taxes are slower than I anticipated. Although, I can't complain there...one of the nicest people in the whole wide world takes care of our taxes and I understand that we are not top priority.  I'm just feeling anxious. And I'm not a good waiter.

I am not a good waiter AT ALL.  Truth be told I hate and I do mean HATE living my life in 'The Waiting Place'.  The waiting place is killing me right now.  It is a slow and painful death.

Okay, enough weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.
Oh, and we do have a plan.  Or the beginnings of a plan.
Things will all work out in the end, it's just not the end yet.
Thank Goodness for that.

One more thing, I know I need to get a grip.
I will.  I just needed a moment to vent.
Don't really want to complain to Mikey.  He is already painfully aware of the situation.
So thanks for letting me release.
I need to feel the love.

Peace out.

A thousand drops of water.

We all know I'm not so techno savvy, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that I haven't changed much on my phone since I got it.  

The setting it came with to notify me of a text or a post on my face book wall is a drop of water.  

My birthday was filled with the sound of water drops.  

The drops of water started at 5:30 in the AM and didn't stop until, well...after I feel asleep that night.  

I felt loved.  It was a good day.

And because I have very little shame I will share with you the photos my kiddos took to remember the day....

 

Aren't I a beauty?

Yes, I still had to go to work on the big day...

that's okay, we had cupcakes for lunch.

 

  

Awaiting the big b-day gift reveal.

Mikey and the kids gave me an electric blanket.

Umm, hello?!? 

Best thing ever.

EVER.

When I say EVER I mean really EVER,

like...where have you been all my life?

And btw doesn't Mike look so excited for me to open it?

He loves me.

 

  

This pic is to document that I have matches on my cake.

Classy.

Nothing says party like burning the house down with 38 matches.

(and just in case any of the pack of chicks are reading 

and/or wondering...

yes, that is indeed the shirt from our wicked trip a 

mere 5+ years ago. what? I like it)

 

And finally we have my super awesome cake.

One of my YW made it for me.

Chocolate Goodness.

I said I like chocolate and she delivered.

The punks made and decorated sugar cookies while I was at work,

but we didn't get a picture of the 

"Happy B-day Mom!"

cookie line up.

It was pretty great.

A good day all around.

38...here I come.

Guess Who....??

Up until about three weeks ago when she read one

of her highschool besties

blog about this bestie's daughter

talking about her mother

turning 38

this year

actually thought she was turning 

37 

this year?

As in, she's been 36 for the

last eleven months

and will be celebrating

her 37th birthday in just two days.

Not, that she has been 37 for the last 

eleven months and is turning the

ripe old age of 

38

in a mere two days. 

Guess who??

Come on, just guess!!

Umm...did you guess this girl:

Cuz, you'd be right!

And that's what my face looked like 

when I realized I've been thinking I

was 36 all this time.

Peeps, I've aged a year in just three weeks.

 

Hello!?!
It's a crying shame to need to age so quickly.
Maybe if I thought about my age a little more 

often these sorts of things

wouldn't be such a shock to me.

But, you know how it is...

once you reach a certain point in life 

you just don't really think about how old you

are on a regular basis.

(p.s. that 'point in life' being when people quit
asking or guessing cuz they assume it's
just not something they should
bring up--cuz YOUR OLD)

 

Eh, well.

I spose I can rock 38 

just as well as I could rock 

37 the second time around.