It Freakin' Means Something

So the worst thing that has happened to my blog is Google Reader going away.  I am putting my Syrian Dart Hex on you, Google!  I am feeling an urge to write and since for the first time in 2 years I am not drowning in school work, I am going to write something.

First of all, I gotta address the age of this blog...it is nearly 8 years old!  I started it when we moved to Stephenville in August 2006.  Darcy was 11 months old.

From the Way Back Machine, Fall 2006:

And for comparison:  Easter 2014:

Here's my very first post ever.  I wasn't even 30 yet.  We did not have a Reagan  Roux-Roux or a Bubba Gump, but here is some evidence that at least one was on their way...

See Reagan?  She's on the inside...July 2007.

All that to say, this blog has been around longer than some of my children.  Speaking for my blog, it feels neglected. I'm sure I have things to say.  I've talked about a lot of things here.  Homeschooling, quilting, blah, blah, blah.  Check the sidebar for a list.

On to today's topic...it freakin' means something.

So what I've been doing lately is school.  I'm 37 years old.  Gah!  But I just completed my Associate's degree.  I'm a college graduate.  I graduated from Tarrant County College.  I was one of hundreds of graduates about 2 weeks ago, and that may be a conservative estimate.

See me?


This is Brian's very best guess.  At first, I thought, "I'm not going to walk.  That's stupid."  Actually, further back than that, I wasn't even going to finish the associate's degree.  I was just going to transfer to Big School.  I didn't think earning the associate's was important or that it meant anything. But it freakin' means something!

Why?

Because my first semester, I took a music class, The History of Rock & Roll, that literally made me cry.  One semester, I took a Biology class that met every Saturday.  It was taught by a real MD who didn't realize this was Biology for Non-Science majors.  I took Biology, Part II, online during Christmas Break.  Whose idea was that?  That same Christmas, I took an English class where I had to write a 10 page annotated bibliography over Walt Whitman.  I hope I never see that guy again or read another word about "Leaves of Grass".  Which is pretty much impossible since Apple is now using his work to hustle theirs.  Ugh.

Brian was so insistent that I earn the degree, I took a PE class not required by Big School just so I could earn it.  I carried a full load every semester since August 2012.  And I did it while I was a wife to Brian, who travels 40-60% of the time.  I did it while I was a mother to Lily, Darcy, Reagan and Joshua.  One solid year of this, I had 2 kids at home.  Not in preschool or at Mother's Day Out.  At home.  While I did school online.  I did it while we were building a house.

Brian and I earned that degree.  It freakin' means something.

He picked up the slack he gave me.  I could have never finished it if he hadn't been there urging me on.

In January, I knew it was time to apply to graduate, but I had not planned to walk.  Even though I had worked hard for 2 years, I didn't think it meant anything to walk.  My advisor urged me to walk.  I thought it was stupid.  Except...not really.  I wanted to do it, but thought, "it's junior college, who cares about that?"  Turns out, I do.  I thought people would think going through all the Pomp & Circumstance for an associate's degree was...silly.  And maybe it is.  But it can't be that silly.  There were hundreds and hundreds of graduates and the venue was COMPLETELY FULL of people cheering.

I cried when I walked out to take my seat.  I was trying not to which is probably why I wasn't a huge, sobbing mess.  But it had finally settled on me.  What I  had done had meaning to me.  I have 3 years left to complete my program.  Big School starts in the fall.  But for a moment in time, I took the opportunity to celebrate the completion of 2 years' worth of blood, sweat and tears.  And it meant something.

An Equal Number of Blueberries

My response to an email I received from a woman who lost her brother last spring to a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  It was a little painful to go back there, but very helpful, too.  

________________________________________________________________________________

Rebecca,

Thank you for writing me.  The death of my brother has been very difficult, but it would have been so much more difficult had I not had the Lord's protection over me.  My mother passed away in September 2009, and just 6 weeks before my brother died,  my dad moved to Granbury after selling his house that he and my mother lived in for over 30 years.  You could have knocked me over with a feather the day he called and said he was planning to sell his house and move into an apartment in my town.  A strained relationship with an acquaintance was restored and that person was a source of encouragement and great comfort when many of my friends deserted me.  Our Sunday school class paid for a babysitter to come and watch my children for the weekend and provided meals as well so that I would have one less thing to worry about.  This kind of death will always have questions and mystery surrounding it.  Reading police and autopsy reports was like a punch to the gut for me, and yet, I couldn't stop reading it.  Just this weekend, I went to the cemetery and saw my brother's gravestone.  Because I never saw his body, I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with it.  

On Christmas morning, I got a poignant reminder of him as I was making blueberry muffins for my family.  He and I used to watch the movie Casino with Robert DeNiro, Sharon Stone and Joe Pesci.  In one scene, Robert DeNiro's character is having a meeting with someone and he is having coffee and a blueberry muffin.  So is the other man.  The muffins are cut open and Robert DeNiro's muffin has about 3 blueberries and the other muffin has about 25.  He gets upset and goes into the kitchen where he tells the man making the muffins that he wants, "an equal number of blueberries in each muffin."

"Do you know how long that's going to take?"

"I don't care how long it takes.  I want an equal number of blueberries in each muffin."  And he leaves.

It would have been funny to us that I was making muffins and they weren't going to have an equal number of blueberries.  He would have probably used another quote from that movie said by Joe Pesci, in response to my muffins, "I'll leave you wherever I find you."

I hope you have people you can talk to and can pray for you.  I went to a counselor for a while until I could process things.  I will be thinking of you as you heal from this tragedy.  Please feel free to write me again.  I'm so sorry for your loss.

A Day's Worth of Questions--Part I

It's true; I get peppered with questions from the minute my kids get up in the morning, until they go to bed at night. Questions asked rapid-fire, like this:

But unlike this situation, three of my children can talk, and therefore, ask questions without taking a breath. Sometimes they sound like an old record (yes, I said record!) with a needle stuck, with their over and over same questions. And the whining of my name, which no list can give its proper due.

Someone had mentioned making a blog post out of her children's questions and I thought it was a fabulous idea, but I was intimidated greatly because I had heard it could be 3 to 4 thousand! And was just one kid! But since I'm planning on being gone half the day, I thought I'd give my little experiment a try. I will say, I have had to tell them to hush, because I couldn't write fast enough!

Beginning at 640am:

1. Can I use your bathroom?
2. What?
3. What doesn't look comfortable?
4. Where are you going when you're going out of town in April?
5. Are you going to Houston?
6. Are you going to see Auntie Jo?
7. Mommy, can I read this book?
8. What day is it?
9. Mom, can we watch Tangled today?
10. Did you know the whole school knows my middle name?
11. How do they know it, Mama?
12. How do they know it, Mama?
13. Is the bread all ready to be in my lunch?
14. Are you going to be able to make my lunch?
15. Could you cut this string to right there?
16. Can I be out?
17. Is it going to be cold?
18. Do you want me to wear something off the hanger?
19. Can I have 4 things in my lunch?
20. Can I have 4 things in my lunch?
21. Can I also have an apple in my lunch?
22. Next time I go to school, can I have some jelly beans?
23. What flavor are they?
24. Can I have a green apple?
25. Can I bring a green apple for lunch and a red apple for the teacher?
26. Can I bring a green apple for lunch?
27. Can I have a ham sandwich?
28. Would you like me to put the jelly up?
29. Can I wear my flip-flops?
30. Mama, did you hear that?
31. Mama, are we going to watch Tangled today?
32. Right, Mama?
33. Is "coffit" a word?
34. Is "coffee" a word?
35. Can you turn this up?
36. Mommy, can I unbuckle?
37. Mommy, how come at school we have to get out on Bubba's side?
38. Mama, can we have breakfast?
39. Can we have breakfast?
40. Can you cut my nails?
41. Are we watching Tangled tonight?
42. Can I have a banana?
43. What do I have to do to put energy back in the family?
44. What time?
45. Is this okay?
46. Can I wear it?
47. Can I wear my flip-flops with this?
48. What are you making?
49. Am I having dinner tonight?
50. Can I have a sip of your smoothie?
51. Mommy, can you help me get dressed, please?
52. Mommy, can you help me get dressed, please?
53. Mommy, can you help me get dressed, please?
54. When can you fix this?
55. Can I be out?
56. Why is Reagan's patch in your pocket?
57. What's on your mind?
58. Can I be out, Mommy?
59. Did you say yes or no?
60. Did I do all my hair?
61. What does "least" mean?
62. Mommy, Mommy, do you like it when he says, "I'm a kid, that's my job."?
63. Mommy, did I get all my hair?
64. Mommy, did I get all my hair?
65. Why?
66. Why does that one have a triangle on it on his nose?
67. Can I have breakfast?
68. Can I have breakfast?
69. What's that sound?
70. Mommy, why did it stop?
71. Mommy?
72. Mama, can I have breakfast?
73. Is there anything I can do to help you?
74. Why do them have capes?
75. Why do them have sunglasses?
76. Why do them have costumes?
77. Can I have breakfast?
78. Is there anything I can do to help you?
79. Can I have breakfast?
80. When can I have breakfast?
81. Now can I have breakfast?
82. Now can I have breakfast?
83. Is there anything I can do to help you?
84. What is taking so long?
85. Can I have breakfast?
86. Am I going to be able to have lunch?
87. Mommy, can I color?
88. Can I have a puzzle, please?
89. Can I play with this, please?
90. Mommy, were we being rude when you were on the phone?
91. Can we watch a movie that's not Tangled?
92. Can you turn on Sesame Street?
93. Can you turn on KERA?
94. Are you almost done?
95. Can you get the same kind of puzzle Reagan has?

This brings us to 10am. I was on the phone for a while so I wasn't able to field too many, and they were playing nicely at the table. I've figured that I'm going to have to split this post up. No one wants to read a post of 5000 questions all in one sitting!

What I Do

Especially now that my kids are in their sick "season", people will remark, "Four kids?! I could never do what you do!" Or whenever they see me asking, "Is everyone well?" with their head tilted to the side, in their concerned voice. Well-meaning, I know. I really do know that. And it seems we're, ahem, sick a lot. But there are 6 of us. Four of them are slobbering, mangy children who don't wash their hands well, put non-food items in their mouths and socialize with other slobbery, disease-riddled children. I get sick occasionally, probably from taking care of these germophiles every day and the other part of our sextet works in a cube farm with regurgitated air coming out of the vents all day. So, yes, we're sick a lot.

How sick have we been?

In the last 14 days, Joshua has been to the emergency room three times. He has had 2 chest x-rays, 3 courses of oral steroids and 2 courses of antibiotics. I have spoken with 3 different pulmonologists in the last 5 days. We have seen the pediatrician twice today. No one can figure out what is causing all these problems. He's had tests for RSV, pertussis. Negative. Chest x-rays look good. No fever. Oh, what a medical mystery my son is turning out to be. How much longer before all these steroids have an adverse affect on his growth? Ability to fight infection? How much longer of wheezing and coughing before he has permanent diminished lung capacity?

Reagan is going down the same path with her croup that has now invaded her lungs. Hopefully it can be turned around before she's in Joshua's boat, hanging out at the ER for fun on Thursday, Saturday and Wednesday nights.

Lily has strep.

Darcy fell down the stairs at church last night and is still complaining of pain.

A friend of mine recently wrote a post how she is not the favorite parent of her youngest son. I KNOW that feeling. I'm the one who takes him to every doctor visit, every ER visit. I am the one who can successfully suction his nose and give the medication he hates, but needs. I hold him still to give ineffective breathing treatment after ineffective breathing treatment. I pin his arms down while doctors stick pointy things in his ears looking for infection. Of course he hates my guts. Multiple that by four.

I know what you're thinking: Those poor people. Insert concerned look here. Whisper, "Can you imagine having all those kids? And it seems like they're sick all.the.time!"

But however well-meaning those people are, it doesn't help. Comments on the health of our family are not helpful. You wouldn't believe this, but I am well aware that we've had a lot of sickness at our house. (Last winter, too.) I wonder what I could possibly be doing different to keep these little babies well. You, wondering aloud if we have mold in the house, does not help. Offering up your unsolicited analysis of the current medical condition is not helpful. I'd rather not hear your opinion on our team of medical professionals.

I am barely hanging on. I cannot take the criticism or the advice. I am drowning.

Brian is out of town today, called unexpectedly to a meeting in Houston.

We are looking at the possibility of a move.

I am supposed to start school next Wednesday.

My son is having a bronchoscopy on Monday that will mean an overnight hospital stay.

In the case of people not being able to do what I do, I'll say this: You do what you have to do. It does make it easier when you have support and encouragement and love with action behind it.

Smells I Don't Like and My Medical Staff

I've been mulling this over for a while now. There are just some smells I cannot tolerate. One of them is the smell of fermenting garbage.

Back home, years ago [name that reference!], I was the backdoor receiver for a major grocery store chain. I loved that job. It had great hours for a single girl in her 20's. I was responsible for overseeing and checking in vendor deliveries at the backdoor during delivery hours and then managing the in-company deliveries making sure we weren't double charged, etc., for those. So you could say (and my boss also believed) that I was somewhat responsible for most of the inventory in the store. One thing I did not like about that job was the self-contained trash compactor located right outside my "office". Lots of times, the gaskets holding all the funk inside would start to deteriorate and the nasty would just drip right out onto the concrete penetrating all the vicinity air. *Blech* I mean, really. Gag.

Same thing with garbage trucks. Too much foulness just churning and leaking out and leaving a horrible gut-wrenching, trail of nauseating grossness. One time, when we were living in Stephenville, the garbage truck had to stop in front of our house in order to smash the load. And they left a big putrid mess right by the driveway. I ran into the house gagging, ordering Brian to do something about the smell and threatening to call the mayor and complain. It's just nasty.

Another thing: old food smells. Like cafeterias, lunch boxes, dining rooms of nursing homes(!), and break rooms that see lots of use. I can't explain it. I just don't like it. And this from a person who worked in a nursing home kitchen as a college student. I did not really care for that job, to be honest. It was gross on many different levels.

Moving on.

Next week brings us to Ear Tube Insertion #2 for Joshua. He just had the first set installed back in March. Already one tube is blocked and the other is on its way out. I wonder if we will get to go back and have this done every 6 months. I wonder about the cost of it all. Should I try to get a job at the hospital? Is there some employee discount, direct deposit thing I could work out? Which got me to thinking about our medical staff. We have a lot of doctors on our payroll. With the economy being what it is, I'd like to lay a few off.

Brian and I have a GP in Stephenville that we still go to, even though it's 45 minutes away. My OB/Gyn, which I only use for Gyn is also in Stephenville.

But it's the kids who employ the greatest number of physicians. We have the general pediatrician that we see at least 3-4x per month. When we're really sick, that may be 3-4x per week. Reagan and Joshua have a pulmonologist that works for us in Fort Worth. We only see him in the office every 6 months, but we see him regularly in the hospital during the fall and winter seasons. Reagan has a kind, but very busy opthamologist who just deals with little people and their eyes. Joshua has an ENT who inspects his ears and does us the favor of inserting tubes every 6 months. And then there's Darcy who has an allergist. A guy I can't even remember his name, but who spent a tremendous amount of time explaining how allergens affect the body and informing me of the futility of allergy testing my child.

It really seems like a lot, all these doctor's appointments and medical professionals. Oh, and the bills. They seem like a lot, too. I feel confident that as they get older they will outgrow some of this. I know they will outgrow a lot of this as they get older and their systems mature. Lily did. In the short term, I am grateful that Brian's insurance is good and that we can get our kids taken care of by good doctors. I'm also glad that none of them look like Patrick Dempsey or I would never hear a word they said...

Draggin' It

Last week, I was rockin' it.

This week, I'm draggin' it.

All in all, I still feel like I'm doing pretty dang good. I'm just tired. Exhausted. Bone-weary. I've had several very late nights in a row and apparently, getting very little sleep takes its toll on the body. Yesterday, after a late night trip to the ER, I was "newborn mom" tired. Bedtime last night was 9pm. For me.

But I've had a busy week. After rocking the skating party, Meet the Teacher, Pei Wei and shopping last week, I didn't quite crash and burn, but by the time Friday and Saturday came along, I was fairly well interested in staying at home. I was so busy being totally awesome, that I didn't plan or execute my other duties very well and the results of that were very frustrating to me. I'm still playing catch up. With everyone starting school this week, and their extra activities, just organizing what time to load up and leave in the hopes of getting anywhere on time can be an interesting logistical challenge. At the very least I am keeping my skills sharp for when I return to the workforce as a highly-paid executive assistant. Now to only translate "successfully and consistently manages daily schedules of 4 entry-level executives" into language that employers will be impressed by!

Now here's an idea, just came to me. There are recruiting firms that help people exiting from the military match their military skills and training to civilian jobs. They help them find a job, give resume advice. The LucasGroup is one search firm who is a leader in that niche, among others. What if there were something similar for stay-at-home moms who have been out of the work force and are returning? I have 4 children, 3 of whom attend a school program at least 2 days per week and have extracurricular activities as well. Surely, I can manage the schedule of one guy. A guy who probably doesn't need me to brush his teeth or comb his hair and can probably get himself to work before he needs to be managed. I create, implement and have responsibility for our "annual budget" including accounts payable, accounts receivable and full charge bookkeeping of our 6-person "department". My "current job" requires proficiency in many other skills. Skills that transfer well to the work environment, such as materials procurement and mediation. I have a friend who could nurse a baby, bathe a toddler and talk on the phone, all at the same time. How effective could I be on the phone if I didn't have to take every important phone call in my closet? Anyway, it's just an idea.

Last night, I did find that the thread to which my sanity has been attached, was quickly coming unraveled. Apparently, I don't like to be interrupted multiple times by multiple people when I'm talking to others. I don't like it when I'm tapped, patted and touched a dozen times in lieu of being interrupted. I don't like it when people spill their water into their plate. I don't like it when I answer a question, only to have it either asked again verbatim or rephrased because the answer wasn't liked. I do not like it when my food is grabbed off my plate and thrown to the winds.

But I do like it when my husband comes home from being out of town and cooks breakfast for us. I do like it when Pinto goes to live somewhere else and I love.love.love doing car pool.

We won't be quite as busy the next few days. Brian will be home until Sunday. I have a scrapbooking gathering on Saturday. A couple of kids will be visiting the pulmonologist on Friday. I have things well in hand. Supposedly. I want to go through some stuff that has recently been given to me, and get it off my counter. I'd love to actually clean my house this weekend (not that I actually want to clean) but I like it when it's clean and the c-r-a-p is held at bay another few days. I have some quilt "manufacturing" I'd like to do this weekend or at least have it ready to work on next week. It requires "attention to detail", an area in which I happen to excel...according to my resume.

She Who Must Be Obeyed

I am rockin' it.

I have to say I'm pretty proud of myself. It's hard to tell people with a straight face that I don't "do" kids. That I am not a kid person. They roll their eyes to the heavens and sigh with disbelief that a woman who birthed 4 children in 5 years could not be a kid person. But it's true. I am actually a person who loves volunteering with nursing home residents.

Even though I am not a kid person, I'm rockin' it.

Yesterday, I took all 4 kids to Chick-Fil-A. By myself. And not through the drive-thru like I normally might. (And only if I were already forced to go out for another reason.) I went to Chick-Fil-A. On purpose. In fact, I had an invitation to go there. Someone actually called me up in the middle of the day, and asked me to do something. And for once, I thought, "What the hell? I can do that." So I did. There were friends there to help. But I also know a little secret. I could have handled it alone. I totally rocked lunch at Chick-Fil-A yesterday.

I am da bomb diggity.

Brian is already gone for a few days. There are many things on the agenda coming up while he is gone. Someone is going to have to rock it if it's going to be done. I just so happen to be in the rockin' business.

Tonight was a skating party for our Awana signup. I really did try to find a babysitter. I wondered how I would monitor my skaters and my Little People Not Skating. I wondered if I would be able to get the stroller in through the door! Oh, I really tried to find a babysitter. I knew that would solve my problem. But guess who rocked it? Three little skaters all falling down, probably all concussed, but I actually had things well under control. Well, except an out of control skater who was making mincemeat out of my flip-flop clad feet. (There is definitely some skin missing from my big toe.) And now, all Little People are in bed.

Tomorrow is Meet The Teacher night. I was hoping for a babysitter, but only could get one for a few hours in the afternoon. Can't rock my kids at the nursing home. Think of the stir that would cause. People might view me as a real person instead of the Shower Room Nazi. Can't have that. But I'm rocking the Teacher Night. After that, I'm going to brave some shopping in Fort Worth. With my kids. May even Rock.Out.Pei Wei. I am not scared.

Friday is another Meet the Teacher date for preschool, and I'm ready. Then more shopping and scrapbooking later at my house where I am going to be awesome. Because of all places, I can rock it at home. Saturday, I'm going to meet Brian at the outlet mall and finish up our shopping.

You may refer to me as She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Mid-Way Through May

Last weekend with Auntie Jo was great, even though I was completely unprepared.

Recital portraits were taken, for the most part. (A couple of costume snafus...will still have to do one set of retakes, after the recital.) The experience wasn't so terrible that I'm giving up on dance, and I know my girls are pleased. Of course, they may not have known their dance futures were in jeopardy. Reagan isn't in the recital, and going to the dance studio and not allowing her to go in, well, she just dissolved into a bawling fit. Broke Brian's heart. Made Mama sad, too. Guess we won't be leaving her out of recitals again.

Darcy didn't make it to her soccer game, but Brian and the kids (less Lily) did make it in time to deliver snacks. Yea, Darcy's Dad! Those kids play for snacks, for sure. I was at home, trying to inhale lunch and get Lily ready for her portraits. Good grief that girl has a lot of hair! There were a lot less girls in the afternoon and Lily had fewer costumes. With impeccable timing, Auntie Jo didn't arrive until after Lily was done and we were on our way home. To Lily's great delight, she didn't have to take a nap as we went to pick up Auntie Jo at her fabulous B&B and then on to the grocery store to pick up some drinks and snacks.

Brian and I got a break after dinner when Auntie Jo bathed all the girls and put them to bed. *sigh* How can someone without kids be so amazing with them? On Sunday, she took them to McDonalds while Brian and I went to the grocery store. As I put the groceries away, I actually allowed her to sweep the kitchen. For some reason, it'd didn't feel as bad as I thought it would. Girls took a late nap because we were planning on a late dinner in Fort Worth. Then she left on Monday after a leisurely lunch at a new place here in town. I didn't cook a single thing all weekend.

This past weekend was the first weekend that we didn't have something planned. Soccer season is over; the outage is over. It was really nice to not have anything planned on Saturday. Well, I had something planned on Saturday. Although, to hear the details of that adventure, you're gonna have to check the other blog....

Wasting Time....

Tomorrow starts an incredibly busy weekend for me. My dear friend who I recently went to visit is coming to visit us and I really should be fumigating, scouring, chiseling, hanging up pictures, etc., etc. Visiting her home is a visit to an oasis where it is quiet, peaceful and clean. She always has a drink at the ready and there is no schedule or demands.

Here, it is quite different. I know she's not coming for peace and order. She has that in droves at her beautiful home with the perfectly landscaped yard and the sparkling pool. Here, we thrive, or at least work with our version of carefully controlled chaos. Saturday will find us with recital dance portraits with 2 girls, with hair and makeup to do, and 5 costume changes between the 2 of them. Oh, and Darcy has a soccer game right smack in the middle. It is the last game of the season and we are on snack patrol. Nothing at all calming or relaxing about this day.

Tomorrow is Moms and Muffins or some such thing at Lily's school and then begins my first training session for my Ombudsman program. You know, the volunteer role I am undertaking to insure the local nursing homed elderly aren't exploited. I am really looking forward to it. It's going to be 15 hours of training and then about 15 hours of interning and then I will be in an official capacity.

Tomorrow night, I am teaching my scrapbooking group and I am thrilled to report that the layout is prepared, the card samples are prepared and the kits are prepared. I am actually prepared ahead of time. And I do mean the traditionally accepted definition of the word prepared. This is unusual, but predictably, it is liberating. I may try to be prepared again some time in the future for some other thing.

I hate that my distance/training widget has a big fat zero on it! I really did start my training back in January, and I loved getting my mojo on. I was feeling empowered. Healthy. On a track to be fabulous. Then I got sick. And sick again. Then the kids got sick. And were in the hospital. Then we were sick again. So of course, I stopped going to the gym. Of course, I did. And I haven't been back. But now, I've got my new blog started, my participant page is up and ready, and I am six months out. Training has to begin now so that I don't die.

I have a mini-mileage widget on this blog but on my Adventure blog, I'll actually be chronicling my journey. I'm getting excited...

But I really should be getting prepared for the weekend. I have no idea about making up little girls. The Little People have been running the house today so it's probably time for me to take back the reins. I need a trip to the grocery store and a trip to the gym so that silly tracker can stop with the big fat zero. As crazy as it's going to be, I'm ready for the weekend to start.

My Dog, Pinto

I really do not like dogs. They are slobbery, messy, and smelly. The things they chew up are unrecognizable afterward. There is no love lost between me and them. I do not like dogs.

Except we have one. She's a Catahoula, a breed of dog that Brian has wanted to own for a long time. Not only is she a high-energy dog, but she's a puppy as well. A six-month old puppy who weighs over 40 pounds. A six-month old puppy who currently weighs over 40 pounds and will end weighing between 70-90 pounds. It seems like madness to have a dog this big. And to have a dog this big in the house.

She is named Pinto (Bean) after a fun song I learned in high school:

My dog Pinto likes to roam,
One day Pinto left his home.
He came back, quite unclean,
Where o where has Pinto been?
Pinto Bean, Pinto Bean
Where o where has Pinto been?

The girls actually named her Pinto because, I believe, they love that silly song where we try to think of all the beans we can.

Honestly, I don't really mind her being in the house when she's not terrorizing the girls, eating whatever she stealthily snatches from rooms or peeing on the floor. I wish she wouldn't dig up the yard and then make dog tracks all over the recently cleaned, very beige living room carpet with her muddied paws. I wish she wouldn't eat systematically destroy shoes (at least 5 pair so far). The girls are upset about the complete desecration of many of their books. Including Darcy's Bible. Nothing left but confetti. I am grossed out by her licking the table edges and booster seats. And it's not that she terrorizes the girls on purpose, but a girl that is 40 pounds of skin and bones is no match for a 40 pound dog, made up of pure muscle.

It's really not Pinto's fault. It started out okay when she first got here. She was docile, never peed on the floor and never tore up a single thing. It was only after a 10-day trip to Houston where she spent most of her time caged up that things started going awry. As soon as we all got back home, she has made a point to let us know she was not happy. Brian hasn't had much time to exercise her, which she needs about an hour a day, because of the outage. Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I cannot walk her and attend to the 3 kids that are here during the day. As my previous post reported, I am stretched thin as it is.

All of this seems like shades of Mocha, our last dog. Mocha was a Boston terrier. What in the world were we thinking? I don't like dogs, and therefore, I don't know anything about the breeds and who's hyper and who's not. I don't know what's a good dog for kids and what kind of dog might eat them. Mocha jumped on everyone who walked in through the door and if that wasn't enough, she peed on their feet, too. She would climb on my table and scratch it up with her nails. The daughter we bought the dog for, was terrified of her. I could not stand that dog. I wanted a cat. I still want a cat. Our lives seem to be too busy for a dog who needs an hour of exercise every day. I'd rather have a cat who will entertain herself, poop in a box and leave me alone. Is that too much to ask?

Once Brian gets done with the outage and isn't working 12 hours a day, he'll have more time to devote to Pinto and that will make everyone a whole lot happier, especially Mama. Because when Mama ain't happy....

With Four Kids

Since this latest addition to the family, I've been asked what it's like to have 4 kids instead of 3. For some reason, making the jump between 3 to 4, is a leap from what's considered "acceptable" to "excessive". If that's not what people think, it certainly feels like it. Lots of people report that they couldn't do what I do, although I don't think it's that hard to ignore laundry, not clean up the kitchen or fail to cook more than one meal a week. How hard is it to stay in your pajamas all day and make excuses to your husband?

I am becoming envious of people who have one or two kids because I know how much easier their life is. I also laugh when I hear someone with 2 kids complaining about taking them "all" to the store. What all? Of course, there are those with more than 4 who are laughing at me.

Every addition to this family has come with its own set of problems. Lily was the first. 'Nuff said. Darcy came along, 15 months later, during a hurricane evacuation. She was born at an unfamiliar hospital with an unknown doctor. We had a 15-month old, just learning how to walk and talk, and a newborn. Two children in diapers. And we weren't at our home. In fact, we weren't at our home for 6 months because of damage from that hurricane. Our life was stressful and uneasy. We only had one car.

Darcy and Reagan are 26 months apart. We had a 3 year old, a 2 year old and a newborn. Going from 2 children to 3 children is a massive undertaking. Brian and I felt outmanned, outgunned and overwhelmed. We didn't go anywhere for 2 months. Reagan was 6 months old before Brian ever took the 3 of them somewhere alone. When he finally did take them somewhere, it was on a 6-hour road trip to Beaumont. Two kids still in diapers.

And now 4 kids. Reagan and Joshua are 21 months apart. We have a 5-year old, a 4-year old, a nearly 2-year old and a newborn. I thought everything about this baby was going to be easy. Not the pregnancy, but life after delivery. I thought I would recover quickly from surgery, bounce back to a person who has everything under control in the house. That hasn't been the case. I run from one task to the next, just trying to keep the screaming to a dull roar. There are some days I feel sure Joshua believes he is being raised in the violent ward.

I have never in my life felt as I do now that someone always wants something from me. Someone is always calling my name, getting into a loud altercation with their sister, needing to be fed, changed, wiped, gotten up, gotten down, dressed, hair fixed, bathed or taken somewhere. Even the dog makes demands on my time: let her in, let her out, feed her, keep her from ruining yet another pair of the girls' shoes or tearing up another book. Life with 4 kids (and the dog) is much harder than I ever thought it would be.

I am frustrated that it seems to be so difficult and I look in the mirror and see someone who is frazzled and tired and worn-looking. It's not a surprise; that's exactly the way I feel. Frazzled, tired and worn.

When I was 20, I left the good life at Sam Houston State and moved back home with my parents to live. I had 4 jobs (at the same time) making no money, working about 90 hours a week. The worst days of it were Saturday through Monday. Tuesdays were my only day off for the whole week. At about 10pm on Sunday, when I was about to start my 3rd job of the day, having already worked 13 hours at the other 2 and gearing up for another 8 hours, I would think about just making it until Tuesday when I could get some sleep.

I keep trying to look ahead to when I might have some relief and there doesn't seem to be a Tuesday in sight. I have to keep reminding myself that I am now the mother of 4 children under the age of 5, and frazzled, tired and worn is now my life. I don't remember feeling this way when I only had 3 kids, not including pregnancy. So I guess the answer to the question, what's it like to have 4 kids so close together, is this:

It's freakin' hard.

Must....Update.....Blog

Although I don't know why. Does anyone even read this thing anyway?

I see the last time I updated was describing Brian's eye dilemma. Since then, we've had issues with the house, a new baby, and my mom passed away.

Joshua Peter was born Monday, July 20, 2009 at 11:11am. No unusual complications for mom or baby. It's hard to believe and amazing that we are only 2 weeks away from the 3-month point. He weighs over 15#, and is a sweet, calm baby. A sweet, calm baby who is grunting and wiggling right now. A glance at the clock lets me know it's about time for him to eat. I'm grateful for my in-laws who picked up some clothes for him yesterday becasue he literally didn't have anything to wear. I never believed he would be wearing 6-9 months clothes at 2 months old. At least I don't have to worry he's not getting enough to eat. His fat rolls have fat rolls and when he smiles, he looks like Chinaman Charlie.

He still doesn't sleep through the night consistently, but under normal circumstances, I can live with it. This past weekend, Brian has been out of town helping out at another nuclear plant leaving me to manage everything alone, which generally ain't too bad.

Except this weekend we had planned a birthday party for Darcy that had already been rescheduled once, and Monday, my busy day, was busier than usual with an extra soccer game and a doctor's appointment in Fort Worth complicating matters. Luckily, the soccer game and the eye appointment was canceled making life a little less complicated.

I Am Jack's Detached Cornea

Brian finally went back to work this week after being home the whole of last week with a detached epithelium, the first layer of the cornea. This is the 2nd time this has happened. I hope we don't have a 3rd time.

The first time this happened, we treated it as pink eye for 2-3 days, with no improvement. Finally after days of suffering, we saw the opthamalogist who took a Q-tip and scraped the old, loose cornea away, patched it up and away we went. Except Brian couldn't stand to have the patch over his eye. After 3 very long days and nights, the patch was removed and everything seemed to be mended.

Fast forward a few weeks, and 3am on a Saturday finds him bouncing off the walls of the bedroom with more excruciating pain in his eye. After getting through the night, there were hard decisions to be made. The doctor couldn't be reached, so we decided to go to the ER in Fort Worth. But take the kids? My last trip to L&D for contractions proved taking them anywhere like that was a very bad idea. Could we call someone? Who knew how long we would be there? So we called Brian's mother to come all the way from Beaumont so I could take him to the emergency room.

There, we were told that the cornea was not detached, there was just an abrasion on the eye. Another patch, pain meds and instructions to follow up with the doctor on Monday. For all this, I see they are billing our insurance $1100.

Thankfully, Brian's mother stayed through the weekend. She took care of the girls while I took care of Brian. And took care of the yard, did the laundry, bathed the girls, and swept and mopped the kitchen, prepared meals, went to the grocery store.

Monday, we waited 2 hours to be "worked in" to see the doctor at which time we were told that he can be reached at home after hours. At his house. With the number listed in the phone book. I guess we'll know for next time, and hope that next time never comes. He also confirmed what Brian already knew...not only was the corena detached again, but it looked like it had never reattached in the first place. Blast. Then, Dr. Terrell, doctor who can be reached at home on the weekends and after hours, took a needle and proceeded to do vile things to Brian's eye.

The few days following that were horrible for everyone. Brian couldn't see a thing, he was in terrible pain that narcotics barely took the edge off and not getting any sleep at night which meant I wasn't getting much sleep either. I don't know what I would have done if I'd been on my own with the girls, too. I think I would have been melting down every quarter of an hour.

I get so frustrated with my inability to do it all and be everything to everyone. I find in these situations that I become even more selfish than usual. But maybe I can blame it on being very pregnant. It's all I can do to haul myself around.

Brian is finally doing better and back to taking care of me so all is right in the world again.

Neglecting My Blog

I admit it. I've neglected my blog. Facebook is more compelling and requires less work. Since my last update:

• I signed up to become a Close To My Heart scrapbooking consultant because Brian and I were convinced we would be moving back to the Beaumont area. I thought that would be an excellent area to introduce people who didn't know how much fun scrapbooking could be. The new job didn't happen, but I was already in. Teaching scrapbooking and card classes wasn't as difficult as I thought it was going to be. Some people seem to actually enjoy it which makes me feel good!
• I actually completed the binding on Darcy's quilt so she could use it. Not nearly as hard as I thought it was going to be. Just took a couple of days of stitching.
• We found out we are having a boy. I don't know that I'll be entirely convinced until I actually see it for myself. Although 2 doctors and an ultrasound tech have reassured me that I am indeed carrying The Welch Heir. Finding out this information was very exciting as I was at the maternal-fetal specialist making I sure I wasn't having serious problems and I got this news first. Then the doctor told me all was well on the inside. Double blessings.
• We have moved to Granbury which seems to suit us better. Of course, leaving the old house was a stick in the eye of gigantic proportions. Who would have thought that a two-year relationship would end like it did? As a person who does not prefer confrontation and must be pushed, pushed, pushed to that end, I cannot believe the accusations that were leveled at us. We were accused of abandoning the property because we were not all out by the time we had indicated in writing, which was 2 weeks before the end of the lease. Even though we still had stuff there. Even though Brian had called and informed her that we would need more days, and she agreed. Our deposit was hacked to pieces for "expenses" incurred during our first year of residence. A plumbing expense we would have gladly paid at the time. Et cetera. It was not going to be worth all the hassle, and we certainly didn't want to preserve a relationship with them. In fact, I hope I never see that affected, marytred, woe-is-me woman again. Ever.
• And now we are in a new rental house in Granbury. In which the owners have filed bankruptcy. We like the house and think it would be a good fit for us for a while, but I am hoping that the bankruptcy court does not cancel our rental agreement, as they are within their power to do.

Well, that's enough for right now. Life is moving on and I am less than 6 weeks away from my scheduled delivery date. I am not ready for the baby, and don't have the energy to get ready. Brian's plate is fairly full as it is, picking up my slack. But what a guy. He never complains, but assures me that things will be better soon.

Adventures of Toad

Once, some girls went out to play. They came in to tell me about a toad...said they needed a basket to catch him. So I gave them one.

"By the time we got the shovel", Lily reported, "that toad got away! He was just too fast!" Lily is sad because she wanted frog legs for lunch...

She said they might be good. She said, "Maybe Daddy has had them and he thinks they're good." Darcy chimes in, "Uncle Greg ate a shark!"

After Reagan's nap, I took her outside and we were were a sight walking around the perimeter all holding hands, when we ran into the toad again.

"There he is!" Lily shouted.

"Catch him with your hand," I told her.

"I can't. I'm too afraid," she said. Then she ran back to the porch to get the basket. I guess they thought he was going to just jump in the basket and head off willingly to certain death.

"Darcy," I said, "Catch that toad with your hand."

"Okay, Mama. Oooh, I touched him. Lily, I touched him."

Finally that poor, fat toad found a little hole to crawl into and die from a heart attack instead of at the hands of two relatively ambitious toad-hunters with a basket from the dollar store.

Then the girls and I went to the swing set to swing where Lily proceeded to do the exact opposite of what I told her. She had to sit on the porch where there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Reagan loved swinging and was laughing and laughing. Finally Mama was tired so Darcy, Reagan and I joined Lily, already banished inside for her outburst.

The End.

Downright Mean

What can I do about a girl who is just plain ol' mean? Who is mean-spririted just to be mean? Is this a birth order problem? Is this a personality disorder? Is this a result of my less than stellar parenting? That's my biggest fear; that I am directly responsible for this hateful side of my child that barely tolerates me, at best.

I can already report that spanking her into submission is futile. Period. I need a better way to deal with this than the current method. It is the constant back-and-forth between the girls that I cannot stand. One kid is mean, the other whines and tattles, I get angry and do what I do, and the cycle begins again. Enter into this equation the homeschooling that is about to take place, and I picture myself gnawing on the end of a gun. Is this what I have to look forward to for the next 20 years? Because to be honest, I just don't have it in me. And to lay it further out on the table, I don't want it in me. I don't want to scratch and claw my way through survival.

What else can be done?

Praying For the Patriarchal "gods" To Fall

A blogger whose discussions on grace-based parenting and the patriarchy movement really cause me to think and at the same time, soothe my heart, has written something new including links to articles by Michael and Debi Pearl. Be sure to read the articles. Here's the post: Praying For the Patriarchal "gods" To Fall

I don't know how I feel about some of this. I'm still taking it all in. I will always be fine with people making decisions based on the Lord's voice in their lives. I don't think one person can ever question another person on this topic. We can never know what the Lord tells each of us to do. Even Brian can't know what the Lord tells me to do. However, I will always resist being told by others what is right or required. Time and time again, the Lord has shown me to seek Him, not rely on answers supplied by others.

Vision Forum was referenced in the articles and in the post itself and I do have an opinion on that group. Quoting from an email I sent to a friend: I find that much of the literature from Vision Forum perpetuates the fallacy that a woman's only value is in bearing children and waiting on her husband. I don't see VF offering freedom in Christ to mothers. I see them selling more of the lie that we have no business doing anything that doesn't revolve around being Holly Homemaker.

Not that those things aren't important. Of course taking care of your family is an important role for women. I would even say it's the most important role for women. But it's not the only thing, and I don't think we should limit ourselves to only one way to accomplish it. Women are useful and gifted for much more. Gifted by God.

I, for one, am not going to tell my daughters otherwise.

Organizer Update

I actually sold one of my homeschooling organizers. I am very excited because my customer seems to be pleased with it as well.

Using the organizer helps me to see what might be more helpful and I've had some ideas. On the weekly pages, I have little monthly calendars that show the previous and next month at a glance. Using my own organizer let me know that it would be helpful to have the current month on there as well, just as a quick reference. All future organizers will have this feature.

The biggest inovation will be the future right/left handed books. I have found that the current way the book is laid out is problematic for a right-handed person who will more than likely do most of their writing in the Lesson Plan blocks. After writing just a bit, your hand backs up to the rings, and I for one, find that very annoying. Yes, you can remove the paper because of the awesome binder status, but I don't want to do that unnecessarily. Better to have an organizer that functions on all levels.

I am thrilled with how this has turned out and am actually considering putting some together for next summer and hitting a conference or two...

Rope's End

I guess I'm tying a knot and hanging on. I am frustrated, aggravated and annoyed at a level that can't possibly increase. I feel lazy, unmotivated and uninspired to do most of the necessary things that need doing. There are other areas that I am motivated in, but I can't seem to transfer that motivation from one area to another. It's like I've become a man and my brain has suddenly, without notice, compartmentalized. This is not good.

I am so grateful for the hands-on approach Brian takes to fathering. There are very few things that he absolutely does not do. One, breastfeeding. We tried it once. Okay, not really. But he truly does not cut little fingernails. Everything else is fair game. Which is why it's so hard for me to be selfless when Brian is overloaded. He's the selfless one. Not me.

What can I do to alleviate this feeling of isolation and aloneness? I am not going to hide behind a mask of "fine" when everything is not fine! If I try to talk to someone, will they really listen or is it too much when everyone has their own problems? And...can I be as honest in person?

I am struggling with the girls (Could they fight and scream a little more over more asinine things?) and the things that have my attention distracted from them (because the computer does not scream or injure Brian's computer and does not demand food) and overcoming my hamster feeling (laundry again?). Do I just need to accept this is the phase of my life? I don't want to accept it. I want to move past this and be a better __________. But I don't know how. And I'm not real happy with this phase of life, to be honest.

I'm thinking I need a real, live therapist. Someone I can actually verbalize with. A friend would be better because there might be this exchange of ideas that would be mutually beneficial, but I'll take what I can get.

I also want to know how to get the squirrels out of the attic. Seriously, I hear the squirrels rolling their nuts around up there...that can't be good.

Part 3-Our Quiver, Or What The Lord Has Done

We were finally allowed back to our house after Hurricane Rita, but it wasn't liveable and wouldn't be for months and months. I was a stay-at-home mom with a toddler and a newborn feeling both out of place and in the way, living in a garage apartment belonging to kind friends. I was withdrawn, sad and depressed.

Before moving into the apartment, we had spent 2 weeks with our friend in Houston and another 3 weeks living with my in-laws, soaking up their hospitality. Thankfully, Darcy was an easy baby. Unlike Lily, when Darcy ate in the middle of the night (after the first few days), she did so easily and went back to sleep quickly. We were so hyperfocused on our housing crisis, that we didn't have much time or energy for infants requiring much attention.

After life settled a bit and I was able to contact my doctor, I had an IUD inserted. I needed birth control that would work without any interference from me. I had found out the hard way what happens if you miss a few pills. I asked my doctor for a recommendation and the Mirena IUD is what she suggested. Brian and I read the phamphlet and decided that this would be good. I was in no way prepared for the pain of having it inserted. It was excruciating and I wondered if the thing was ever going to get in. But once it was in, it was wonderful. I loved it. I never gave a thought as to how it worked, and frankly, I didn't care. I just didn't want any more kids. Ever, really. I just hadn't convinced Brian of it yet.

We were finally able to move back into our house and we were so thrilled. We had had new wood flooring put in, and our kitchen completely remodeled. There was brand new living room furniture and new bedroom furniture. The end result was really, really nice. Brian had done much of the work himself late at night and on weekend, and there was much blood, sweat and tears in it.

Six weeks of finally being home after 6 months of being gone, Brian gets a call. They want him to go to school to become a nuclear inspector and move...up to the Metroplex.