The Road Goes on Forever

Over 4th of July weekend, I embarked on a journey I will not soon forget . . . though I'd like to. As you may have read in previous posts, my mother so generously offered to take on our two eldest children for a few weeks in July. After what seemed like and eternity, July finally got here, so last Friday morning I woke with the sun (it starts rising at 4:30am here) and got ready to hit the road.
First things first, I knew it would be a long trip and was very prepared. I was driving solo since Chris wasn't able to take leave (LOVE the military when civilians are involved . . . but that's a whole other story). I had three kids crammed into the backseat of a little Mazda 3, one in a car seat monstrosity and one in a booster. Poor Luke was in the middle, squished beyond all recognition. I have two girls that are prone to car sickness and three . . . that's right THREE mountain passes to go through. A grand total of 14 hours and 29 minutes according to Google Maps.
And did I mention Chris? Yeah he was worried sick. How do I know this? Because he told me so . . . on a note . . . that was taped to the inside of the driver's side door . . . with military issue 100-mile-an-hour tape (that's olive drab duct tape to those who aren't privy). On this note was a reminder to lock the doors but take the keys out first, a reminder to shut the lights off, a reminder as to which side of the car the gas tank was on . . . I could go on but I think you get the point. And the last little bullet said "I love you so much, Princess! And I'm worried sick!" Literally. My husband is the only person I know that can worry himself into 24 hours of mandatory bed rest and an lethal cocktail of TheraFlu and NyQuil. He even printed maps and driving directions and stuffed them in the visors. These, of course, were just back ups though. He had pre-programmed my phone and locked it in navigation mode so that Sadie the Nav Lady would be there to guide me in his place. And speaking of phones, he also installed a GPS tracking ap so that he would be able to watch my every move. He knew I was pulling in to a rest stop before I was even able to get my blinker on.
So anyways, back to the trip. I assumed that leaving early meant the kids would sleep for the first few hours, getting us peacefully and puke free through the Cascade mountains. Wrong. They were so stoked about seeing their GG and Papa that they were wired to the max. Bonnie was grumpy and unhappy with their movie choice. She didn't even make it to Snoqualmie. Car sick stop #1.
(Side note: Portable DVD players are excellent for traveling, but when you're looking at a 15+ hour trip, not even a Harry Potter marathon is appealing.)
We cleaned up and hit the road again, only stopping for potty breaks and the occasional stretch of the legs at road side rest areas. Snacks and Lunchables were packed away in the cooler in the passengers seat so that we wouldn't even have to stop for food. That may be why they call me the Road Trip Nazi .... hmmm.
Bonnie napped (thank God), Luke and Annabelle watched movies and listened to their MP3 players that Chris had loaded with pre-approved music the night before. We made it all the way to the Idaho border (the second time . . . weird, I know, but look at a map and you'll see) before Bonnie woke up. Car sick stop #2. This one was slightly more dramatic because Luke wasn't able to move out of her line of fire. That, and where I pulled off to clean everything up was in the woods right next to a river so we were getting swarmed by mosquitoes the entire time. The rest of the trip was creeping towards a 10 on the stressometer. Bonnie's seat was beyond roadside repair, so I had to cover it with a beach towel and put the regular seat belt on her. She refused to stay in her seat, the other two were fighting over movies and the last bag of apples and elbows invading "bubbles". Not even my headphones could drown out the chaos. I know, Parent of the Year award right here. We approached Idaho Falls as the sun began to set and made it to the last winding pass just as darkness fell. I hate night driving, especially when on a narrow, unfamiliar two lane road that has steep drop offs and large bodies of water just past the non-existent shoulder (all of which you can't see because it's pitch black in the middle of nowhere). All hope was not lost, though. Bonnie had fallen asleep and the other two were engrossed in whatever movie was left after 14 hours of viewing, so I made it onto familiar roads and eventually to Grandma's cabin. I didn't even bother unloading the car. We just went in and crashed. The rest could wait till morning.
Saturday and Sunday were very pleasant. Mom and Dad got to the cabin around 4:30 Saturday afternoon. They're not suicidal so they stopped and spent the night in Loveland, CO. We went out for pizza, helped put up a canopy for my grandma's friend and received fresh watermelon and ice cream for payment, went on lots of walks and just hung out. Pleasant.
Monday morning came and I had high hopes for a quieter and cleaner trip home. I had picked up some Dramamine at the grocery store to hopefully take care of the car sickness and there were no older siblings arguing and tormenting the Beezer with their movie picks. She could watch Open Season (which she calls Yogi Bear for some reason) as much as she wanted.
I got the car all loaded up, tried to sneak off a few times so Mom and Dad would be stuck with all three but they caught me every time, then we headed to the gas station together for the traditional "parting ways" tank filling. I gave the kids their last hugs (Luke will miss me WAY more than Annabelle will) and Dad gave me the obligatory $20 bill "just in case." It drives him nuts that I don't like to travel with cash. We waved out the back windows as we pulled off in opposite directions and suddenly it was very quiet in the car.
As we headed towards Alpine, it was 6am West Coast time and Bonnie's internal clock made it so that I didn't even have to bother with the meds. She slept until about 10, we stopped for a late breakfast at a rest stop in the barren Montana lowlands, then I felt it necessary to take advantage of the Dramamine. Beez didn't like it so much, hacking and coughing and spitting trying to get the taste out of her mouth. Lucky for me, it kicked in just as we were coming into the mountains and she slept all the way to Spokane. I was making record time at this point. Unfortunately, luck would run out as the sun slid lower on the horizon. Bonnie kept crying because the sun was in her eyes and I did everything in my power to block it, but it's kind of hard to drive with the wind shield completely covered. For those who aren't familiar with Eastern Washington, it's very much like the Texas Panhandle. No trees, hotter than blazes and lots of grass and farmland as far as the eye can see. I hauled as fast as the law would allow (ok, maybe a little faster) to try and get to the trees, hoping they'd block the sun a little so Bonnie would stop crying about her "eyes melting." I breathed a sigh of relief as trees began to dot the country side. The road began winding and we began climbing. The sun was going down and we were going up, so Bonnie and I could finally see again. Our relief was short lived, though. Car sick stop #3. Just as Sadie the Nav Lady informed me that we were only 2 hours from our destination.
Did you know regurgitated bananas smell like cheap beer? Well they do, so now you know.
After the clean up, I took it easy on the pass. I had made such good time up to this point that I'd still get in early even if I slowed down for the curves. As we came up to I-5 South bound, it was just dark enough for people to begin shooting off fireworks. Bonnie was in awe of all the pretty "sparkles," so the last hour of the drive was filled with laughter and wonderment.
I came home to a spotless house and a relieved and happy husband. All in all, a decent trip : )


A few things I learned:
1) I have a new appreciation for the Seattle area. The temp still hasn't gone over 80, the air is moist but not humid and I've never had scrape layers of bugs off the front of my car.
2) No amount of movies and snacks and books and music can keep three kids happy if they're squished in a tiny back seat for 15+ hours.
3) Driving off into the sunset isn't as romantic or exciting as it sounds. Staring straight at the sun starts to suck pretty bad after the first hour (or less).

The C Word (or Why I Have Rule #1)

So not long after I started my little blog, I began realizing that I should set some rules for my self. Of course, this realization only came after saying a few things I wished I hadn't, but hindsight is 20/20. While my rules are few, number one is certainly the most important: Don't write about a problem until after you've solved it. Some of you may disagree, explaining that sharing your current predicament with the world would give others the opportunity to provide an unbiased perspective on the situation. While this is true, I can't agree that it's helpful. Just because something works for someone else doesn't mean that it would work for me. And while I could say that I wouldn't let others opinions influence my choices, I'd be fibbing. Once you read something, especially when it relates to you on some level, it's stuck in the back of your head and will be recalled whether you intend to or not.
That being said, now on to why I've been on hiatus. It wasn't a problem, per say. More like a situation. One that I was having a little trouble dealing with.
Right after I had Bonnie, I went in for my post-baby removal (she was removed, not spit out) and had the normal girly tests done, only the results didn't come back so normal. So they did biopsies and discovered that I was in the early stages of cervical cancer. Since this is a military facility, they are very vague and not helpful when it comes to offering up explanations of findings and such. So naturally, I went home and googled the heck out of it. At the stage I was at, it was very easy to get rid of with something called a L.E.E.P. procedure (I'll spare y'all the details). Chris and I had already remedied the hyper-fertility problem, so since we didn't plan on having more little imps running around, there should be no reason to not do it, right? WRONG. Before I could even get a call back from my doctor after leaving several messages, I got a letter from the OB/GYN department saying they decided on a course of action . . . or lack there of . . . and that they'd see me in a year to see if I'd progressed. I finally reached my PCM (primary care manager for those of you who are lucky enough to not have government-run insurance) and she said that TriCare (government-run health insurance) won't allow any procedures until you've reached Stage 1 and are sent to oncology. The girly doctor department is so backed up with post-deployment pregnancies that being seen once a year is about as good as they can do. So can I get a referral to go off post? Nope. Can I get a second opinion? Nope. Can I pay for an off post doctor to do a second opinion myself? Well sure! If you have the money (which I didn't) and if you're prepared to get the door slammed in your face when you come back to Madigan. Apparently, Madigan (or maybe this is all military medical facilities) doesn't take too kindly to us not liking their diagnosis and going elsewhere on our own dime. They absolutely WILL NOT consider any and all anything from an outside physician. Period. So I waited my one year. I went back in, had another biopsy and guess what . . . I got worse. Not bad enough to warrant treatment of course, but bad enough to need to be seen in six months rather than twelve. Yay. So helpful. So I waited again, got yet another biopsy (considering the location I'm sure you all can assume how NOT FUN these appointments were), then got the same news again. Getting worse, but not bad enough for treatment and not fast enough to need to be seen anytime soon. At this point I'm begging them to please just take all the girly parts out. They're all messed up anyways and I don't need them anymore. Of course they would absolutely not even consider this. Because after all, I'm only 29 . . . with three kids . . . and a messed up cervix . . . and I may change my mind and want to have even MORE kids. So dumb.
(Side note: Why in the world is the military not encouraging sterilization? They won't allow anyone under 26 to be "fixed" no matter how many kids they have. They won't allow anyone under 30 to be "fixed" if they only have one kid and are content with that. They won't allow single parents to be "fixed" and they will pay for you to get a boob job to attract a mate, they'll pay for you to get in vitro fertilization if your mate can't do the job, and they'll pay for you to get gastric bypass and psychotherapy when said mate bails on you for gaining too much baby weight . . . . but they won't pay for preventive medicine . . . so stupid. Ok, off my soap box)
So anyways, somewhere in the middle of all this, my PCM had prescribed something to fix my other girly problems (told you they were all messed up) and come to find out, one of the side effects of that particular medicine is that it can accelerate the growth rate of cancerous cells. Genius. I'm sure you're all jumping off your chairs to go sign up for Obama-care.
Long story short, the last time I went in for yet another biopsy, the doctor's tone made me realize that it finally had gotten bad enough. When the lab results came back, she called me to confirm the assumption and to let me know that oncology would be handling my appointments from now on. And that I'd finally be getting that procedure I'd been asking for. I think she was a little put-off by my not upset-ness. After all, I'm supposed to want to NOT have cancer . . . and to continue with the uncomfortable biopsies every three to six months for ever and ever. No thank you.
Get worse to get better, that's what I'd been telling myself for some time now. But I wasn't better. I was actually much, much worse. I woke up the next morning with horrible stomach and chest pains, aching in all my joints and my hands were shaking like I hadn't eaten in a week. Poor Chris didn't know what to do with me. I didn't feel sick, so I didn't want to go to the ER (since with government care you can't get a same-day with your PCM). I just felt like the whole world was collapsing down on top of me. Apparently, there's something called Sudden Onset Hyperactive Stress Disorder. It's what happens when a person copes well under constant high levels of stress but experiences a "trigger event" (my cancer call) that causes a break. Like a normal person's panic/anxiety attack times 1,000. Come to find out, constantly needing to control the chaos is actually a bad thing. My new life motto needs to be "Let it be."
I got over my ordeal in a couple days, constantly repeating in my head that I had to get worse to get better. But I still had to tell my mom, among other things. Then the "Welcome!" letter came from the oncology department. That was so weird. Like they have to be friendly but serious. I deal much better with sarcasm and inappropriate jokes. So anywho, that's where I've been and what I've been doing. Making the day to day more important than what's going on inside. Going on field trips with the kids, putting together Annabelle's bridging ceremony for Girl Scouts, going to my favorite little beach, Solo Point, with the whole family, taking lots of pictures. I know what I have is not near as bad as most I'll see when I go up to oncology in a couple weeks, but it's still a big deal to me. My procedure is July 14th. The kids will be in Texas with Mom and Dad suffering from heat exhaustion, Chris used me as an excuse to get off work so he'll be bringing me fresh fruit and keeping Bonnie busy. I plan on milking it for as long as I can : )

Get worse to get better . . . . and get better, I will.

My best friend and biggest supporter : )

Homeward Bound . . . kind of

After being married to the military for the last eight years, I'd have to say that some of the biggest stress factors are the unknowns. Knowing you'll have to move, but not knowing where to or if there will be housing available and what the cost of living is (realistically). Knowing he's deploying but not knowing where to or for how long. We've had one very big unknown weighing us down for nearly a year now. Knowing Chris would be leaving the military, but not knowing when he'd be done with the disability process or how hard it would be to find a job and where that job would be. We knew what we wanted out of his future place of employment and where we'd soon be calling "home," but were we really going to get to be that picky?
Excellent news came last week in the form of an interview. Chris had applied for a job with Saint David's in Austin, TX and had been contacted by two different facilities there who were apparently fighting over him : ) He got all kinds of nervous when he found out he'd be flying down for an interview. Regardless of how much I tried to calm him down by insisting that they wouldn't be spending all that money flying him down, putting him up in a nice hotel and getting him a rental car if they weren't seriously considering him for the job, he was still a wreck when he boarded the plane last Thursday. So much so that he nearly made himself sick and spent all of Thursday afternoon and evening passed out in his hotel room.
Friday morning came around and my day started off horribly. My phone died in the middle of the night so I missed Chris' phone call before he left for his interview and I slept right through Bonnie's 8am doctor's appointment. It was a beautiful day, so of course both kids wanted absolutely nothing to do with school and what I was trying to teach them. Just when I thought all hope was lost and I was about to give up on the day all together, the phone rang.
"You're moving to Austin!"
After all that stress and worry, Chris' interview went swimmingly. Everyone loved him. In fact, they liked him so much that they drew up the papers right there on the spot so that he could take them home to me (I love people who value the wife's opinion). We couldn't be happier! Finally some things can be moved from the unknown to the known column. And how appropriate that we'll be heading to the Seattle of the Southwest. A city with a passion for the arts and culture but with the down home feeling you can only find in the Lone Star State. While we still have no ETS (end time in service) date, just the fact that we're knowin' where we're goin' is enough for me : )
Plus, I'll be able to say y'all without someone looking at me funny and saying, "where are YOU from?"

Back in the Ghetto Days . . .

We've been trying very hard recently to cut back on our eating out. Besides the insane amount of money we save by eating at home, I desperately need to lose weight and there's nothing healthy about ordering pizza or picking up Chinese.
So anyways, last night as I was doing my best to get Bonnie to wind down for the night, a commercial for Pizza Hut came on and both Chris and I started salivating. We don't order from Pizza Hut, but just the thought of a piping hot pepperoni with pineapple and extra cheese being delivered to my door without any effort on my part was enough to make me want to start digging for my debit card. Then they started talking about their current special: Any pizza, any size, any toppings . . . just $10 bucks.
I looked over at Chris and said, "Sweet! I'd get a Big New Yorker."
"They haven't made those in forever," Chris said. Then he started laughing a little and said, "Remember when we first got married and we were so poor and we ordered one of those with extra sauce, knowing full well that by the time it got to the house that all the toppings would have slid off and they'd have to give us a coupon for a free pizza? That was awesome."
Yes, I do remember the time we beat the system and for six months or so . . . until the Big New Yorker was discontinued anyways . . . we used our free coupon to order yet another extra large with extra sauce and never spent another dollar at Pizza Hut.

Karma did come back around in the form of a Pizza Hut delivery driver illegally crossing five lanes of traffic and crashing into us, ruining my Maxima and our Super Bowl Sunday. . . . Lesson learned : )

Thank the Lord for Sisters : )

My poor kids. No one really gets them. It has seemed for a very long time that they didn't have many allies in their little worlds. Luke and Annabelle started off with kids for parents. Chris and I had barely known each other a year when Luke came along. We were trying to balance college, work, marriage and munchkins. My kids got so used to the answer, "We can't because we don't have the money" to anything they asked for, that they eventually started answering themselves (funny how they never quit asking though). We moved around a lot, dealt with deployments and other things the military does to separate families, changed schools, quit school to home school, etc. They were both bullied by classmates and made miserable by teachers who didn't like the fact that they were smarter than the curriculum.

Long story short, there are few people in this world that my kids can count on, but one of their biggest supporters is my little sister. Though she may have been a pain in my rear end during our teen years and regardless of whether or not she's mentally unstable (she knows I'm kidding), she has always stood up for my kids and been there for them through all the tough stuff.

One would think that family support would be unwavering, but unfortunately my kids are often treated like outsiders. They have been ridiculed by relatives when we were thousands of miles away and unable to defend them. Thankfully, my sister is not one to guard her words and never hesitates to stand up for my kids, no matter who it is that's running their mouths. The only thing my kids have ever been guilty of is living outside the circle. Well that, and they're super smart and really good looking and well behaved, too : ) They've dealt with more disappointment than any nine or ten year old should ever have to. We can't do this, have to cancel that, so and so's not coming to visit after all, Daddy's deployment is going to be a little longer than we thought. I know kids need to learn that life's not fair, but seriously. . . I think they get it.

The most recent blow came just last week. My mom had mentioned to them during her visit this past winter that she wanted to try to see them this summer. Knowing full well that plans change and things don't always work out, we didn't mention anything to the kids until we knew it was official. Lucky for me, I was able to announce to them not long after that we were going to meet G.G. in Wyoming to drop them off and they'd be going back to Texas with her to spend a couple weeks. They were over the moon! It is the only thing they've talked about for the last few months (it also gave me an awesome threat to use when they act like punks). Something like this means the world to my kids. Unlike most kids their age, they don't get to see their grandparents but once or twice a year, their aunts, uncles and cousins even less. Getting to go back to Texas for two whole weeks is a BIG deal. They even passed up summer camps and sports so they could go. To be honest, I think Annabelle's bag has been packed since March. But as it happens more often than not, plans change. I didn't say anything to them right away, and I called my mom first to let her know what had happened and to see if she had any other ideas for shipping them home other than UPS (we called . . . they won't). She tossed a few out and said she'd talk to my dad, but the future looked bleak. I decided to prepare the kids for the worst. I really hate giving them bad news. I know and they know that it's not my fault, but since I'm the one that always has to tell them, I'm the one that has to deal with the tears, and the whys, and the that's not fairs.

But a week later, when I thought all hope had been lost . . . dot da da DAAAAHHHH! Sister to the rescue! I don't know how, but my sister (who is a single mom, has a new job, and can barely make ends meet) managed to come up with some money, find a travel companion/co-driver and come up with the cash to make the trip so that my kids would get their dream summer. My rubber-made kids bounced back and are all psyched up again, counting down the days till July. So thank the Lord for the forgiving nature and resiliency of children, and for sisters who are just plain awesome : )

Getting Back to Good

Describe the last 10 days in one word: hmmmm . . . . that word would have to be "SonOfA - - - (pause, face turning red, hands up as if wringing an invisible neck)"

Every once in a while you have a day, or a week, or a month even, that just completely bowls you over and wipes you out. April was long. Long in a sense that it wasn't too terrible, just felt like it was never going to end. Chris made the brilliant observation that April was like Tennessee. When you look at it on paper it's not too bad, but when you're right, smack in the middle of it, all you can think is "When does it ever end?!" That was our April. It rained every single day. There was the whole government shutdown/possible pay freeze fiasco. Stuff kept coming up and we kept dealing with it until finally 30 of the longest days of my life had passed and May was upon us.

Hooray for May! Sunshine, money in the bank again, a very white calendar (usually it's all lit up with a million different colors for every one's different activities), Mother's Day, and the best part . . . Mission: Makeover was underway. I had a plan. A good plan. Chris had fixed our budget and we were well on our way to having real money in our savings account by the end of the summer. I set a fitness goal of being ready for the Warrior Dash on July 15th by joining the local roller derby squad, the Bombshell Betties, and coaching the kids through the whole Couch 2 5k program. I was going to weed out EVERYTHING and get my house in order. The whole house . . . kids and all. School was going well, I was staying on task and organized.

I can't tell you the exact date and time that it happened, but one day not too long ago somebody hit a line drive foul ball right over the first base line wall when I wasn't looking. The darn thing knocked me smack in the face and life hasn't been the same ever since.

The kids and I ventured up to Seattle the Thursday before Mother's Day to see Star Wars: Where Science Meets Imagination at the Pacific Science Center. The kids had a blast and the exhibit was, as Luke described it, "wicked cool and the best day EVER!" My own personal "World's Greatest Mom" party that was going on in my head was crashed by a not-so-fun-filled phone call from Chris. Work had sucked big time, as it has been increasingly so, and he wasn't feeling well. He was going to be late getting home which on Thursday's translates into a really cranky Scouts leader. All he wanted to do was come home, peel off his boots and call it a day. I managed to make his evening a little brighter by offering to take Luke to scouts myself and let the other leader know Chris was in poor health and doing them all a favor by staying home. Of course, once at the meeting, Luke's George Washington syndrome kicked in and he told the other leader that Chris had a lousy day and wasn't in the mood to deal with other people's obnoxious kids. . . but that's beside the point. Chris felt like he had been hit by a Mac truck and it only got worse. Friday he fought the pain and fatigue all day at work then came home and crashed . . . hard. Saturday arrived and he wasn't even able to get out of bed. Normally, this would have been ideal since our Saturday's usually consist of laundry, ordering pizza and movie night. But nooooo, not anymore! I had to go and get all organized and family-centered. I packed the day full of free events I found online, some girls time, some guys time, etc. . . etc . . . blah blah blah. Unfortunately, what wasn't on my big bad dry erase board of family fun was an alternative plan in case one adult was MIA. I couldn't be in three places at once, so I tried to let the kids down gently. I went into the conversation knowing that there was no way at all that they'd still love me as much as Thursday once I told them there'd be no free comic book day, no free Lego set after the Rick Riordan book release party at Border's, no free nail polish from Claire's, no story time and snack at Cabella's. I was right. They moped and pouted for a good hour and a half before I couldn't take it anymore and forced them to play outside with their friends. That was Saturday.

olds, eleven year olds and seventeen year olds. Dads, when you're kids are getting ready for bed the night before, you need to pull them aside and remind them that tomorrow is Mother's Day. Remind them that "Happy Mother's Day! I love you Mom!" needs to be the first things out of their mouths as they run and give their mom a hug in the morning. Then remind them that if they're not on their absolute best behavior all day, you will strike down upon them with a vengeance that they have never witnessed before in their young lives. It may sound harsh, but the last thing we want on our special day is fighting, arguing, talking back and whining because they have to spend time with Mom rather than playing at their friend's house. So there you have it, the sure-fire way to have an excellent Mother's Day.

Unless your day starts like mine did, of course. Bonnie didn't sleep well, so I brought her in our room hoping that would help. It didn't. Turns out she had caught the stomach bug and woke up wrenching in pain then threw up . . . all over me. We planned on having friends over for a cookout that afternoon, so we had to cancel that. She most certainly was not going to church, so Chris offered to stay home with her while Luke, Annabelle and I went. Luke is great. He has such a big heart and loves to do anything to make me happy. He popped out of bed and got ready for church with no complaints. Annabelle on the other hand, while equally great, is not a morning person. I'm pretty sure she completely forgot about Mother's Day, and once she found out Chris was staying home from church she decided she was going to stay home, too, even though I hadn't given her the option. Already stressed and not wanting to fight with her I said fine . . . whatever . . . which in turn made Luke decide he wanted to stay home, too. Chris eventually told them they didn't have a choice, Luke bounced back and was fine, but Annabelle pouted the whole way there. The rest of the day went off without a hitch, Bonnie was feeling better by lunch time and we spent the afternoon outside in the yard soaking up some sunshine. Not a bad day, just not a special day. No homemade cards, no big Mother's Day morning hugs, but also no yelling and no near death experiences. I call it a draw : )

The week after was just a big mess. Chris was on-call and his work situation is getting ridiculous. Every day is a crummy and gets longer and longer and longer. If he makes it home before 6 o'clock, it's a good day. The long hours standing with lead aprons on combined with the extra stress is not helping his back any, either. He comes home completely spent. We tried to start a new workout program, but he was just too tired and in too much pain to keep it up. But that's ok, because I discovered a new way to get in shape . . . ROLLER DERBY! I was beyond excited about starting practice and they even had a junior team for Annabelle, too! So we went. And we got our butts kicked hard core. Annabelle isn't the most experienced skater, but I have to give her credit because she stayed out there the whole time, falling all over the place while the other girls did circles around her. She had to use rental skates and didn't have any safety gear, but she hung in there like a champ. I too was unprepared. I had to use rental skates and take gear from the "loaner bag". I had no idea just how out of shape I really was until I had to skate in circles full out for two hours straight. Rental skates are horribly uncomfortable and my feet hurt for days. Practice was Wednesday and took three hours out of our evening. There was another practice Thursday, but it conflicted with Boy Scouts (meaning Chris wasn't home to watch Bonnie for me). This was ok though because Thursday I decided to work out my soreness my starting the kids on their Couch 2 5k training. I loaded up Bonnie in the backpack and we set off on a three mile jaunt. I felt great! That is until Thursday night rolled around.

I don't know why, but military moves can never go smoothly. Everything always seems rushed and last minute. All the scheduling is out of your hands. The movers come when transportation says. You clear your house when housing says. It always costs more money than you expected, and for some strange reason the military is ok with families being homeless for a short time. A friend of ours has been trying to join her husband in Germany for a few months now. The higher ups messed up his original orders and sent him over by himself, leaving his wife and two kids behind. Anyways, long story short, she finally got her permission to join him and everything for the move set up, leaving her with less than a week to find a home for her giant dog, get her truck shipped, deal with movers, prep her house for inspection and clear, then get to Seattle and board a plane with two toddlers, two giant car seats, a double stroller, three carry-ons and two giant suitcases that they would have to live out of until their household goods reach Germany. She's been our friend since she and Chris served together at Fort Bragg, so of course we offered to help. Poor girl was totally overwhelmed and didn't want to burden us, so she tried to do it on her own. The movers came and packed everything up on Wednesday, so she had all day Thursday to get her house ready for inspection. This is a monumental task when toddlers and a 100lb great dane are involved, especially when all their toys and and tv have been put on a freighter to Europe. By Thursday evening she hadn't accomplished much and was completely exhausted. I convinced her to bring the kids over and let them eat hot dogs and crash at our place while I went back home with her to help finish up. Chris was a trooper and camped out on the living room floor with the munchkins, while she and I spent all night painting, cleaning carpets and scrubbing bathrooms. When I left at 6:30 Friday morning, she still had a load of trash to take to the dump, one more bathroom to clean, inspection at 9am, and a truck that had to be scrubbed inside and out then dropped off at the ship yard in Tacoma. I relieved Chris of his childcare duties so he could head off to work and just as I sat down on the couch and closed my eyes, the dogs started going nuts and woke up the little ones. I'm really not sure how any of us made it through Friday, but we did. Chris was able to get off work early and help our friend finish hauling stuff off and got the truck taken care of. The kids and dogs did remarkably well considering, and the day ended late with pizzas ordered, a Disney movie entertaining the kids, and all three adults fighting our eyelids on the couch. At about 10pm, I realized I had no food left in the refrigerator, so I put Bonnie in our bed with Annabelle and Chris and I went on a nice quiet shopping trip. We came home and unloaded groceries then cleaned out our car so the other car seats and all the luggage could be loaded. We got to bed around midnight and woke up at 6 so Chris could take our friend to the airport and so I could get ready for derby practice at 8. I was banking on Chris making it home in time to pass Bonnie off as I headed out the door. I was so exhausted I fell asleep sitting on the couch, full cup of coffee in hand. How I didn't spill it, I will never know. Apparently the kids were tired too, because when I woke up at 9, they were still out cold. I was already an hour late and Chris wasn't home due to a flat tire, so I gave up on yet another derby practice. The rest of the day was spent trying to nap whenever we could while not completely ignoring our kids. Sunday came and we slept in, missing church. The few groceries we had picked up Friday night were gone, so I called the lady who was supposed to pick up the great dane to schedule a time before we left for the store. That plan backfired. She couldn't pick the dog up until Monday . . . maybe. Never the less, we still had to go to the store. The dogs had been good up to this point, so we assumed they'd be fine for a few hours while we shopped. Apparently not. First Bonnie's toy bin was raided and all her dolls mutilated. Next came Bonnie's princess shoes and boots that were in her dress up basket. This alone would have been frustrating, but would not have sent Chris flying off the handle quite like finding his brand new Puma's had been mutilated. This then escalated into kids crying, doors slamming, me blaming myself because I should have known . . . (why I thought I should have known is still beyond me) . . . and fighting the urge to be a total B-word by reminding him that if his shoes had been in the closet where they belonged, they wouldn't have been chewed up. I was a champ though and kept my mouth shut, things calmed down and Chris spent a good chunk of the afternoon shopping for new shoes online.

So now the dog is gone, my fridge is fully stocked, my house is clean and we are on our way back to good. Our friend made it safely to Germany and Chris will be ordering his shoes soon. After three tanks of gas in one week, eating out because we were all too tired to cook, and an unexpected shoe purchase, my budget is tapped out so I'm putting derby on the back burner. I'll let Annabelle continue since her gear is cheap and she's ok with rental skates, but my starter gear is $200 plus $15 a month for fees and six hours of practice a week. Right now it's all just too much, so I'll stick to yoga and the 5k plan for now and hope for better luck in June : )

When Life Hands You Lemons....

A little over a week ago, a friend of mine posted a blog that has been driving me absolutely batty ever since. This is not a random acquaintance, it's a friend I've had for a over 20 years (wow that makes me sound super old), one of those friends that knows your flaws and you know theirs, but you accept each other for who you are because the friendship is more important. We met in elementary school, navigated the weirdness of junior high together, suffered through the heart aches of high school, then parted ways when she went off to college and I started popping out babies. We never lost touch though, and when we do happen to see each other, we always manage to pick up right where we left off, like we hadn't been apart for more than a day.
I guess it's because I know her so well that what she said is bothering me so much. Long story short, she's mad at God for not giving her everything she wants in life. I really didn't know how to address this. I could say "Oh honey, everything is going to turn out how you want in the end. . . you deserve everything you want in life, etc." like all her other friends are doing. Or, I could call her, but then I wouldn't know if I had her full attention and on top of that, she's very good at talking. Much better than I am. I can write like a champ but when it comes to carrying on a conversation, I'm the village idiot. So I didn't call. Texts can be too easily ignored and wiped from memory. Same with emails. I could post on her wall or comment on said blog, but I thought that might be a little more direct than I wanted. Here friend, I'm going to tell you what I think about this and the whole world is going to know that I'm putting you in your place. . . . . ummmm . . . no. Now I know what you're thinking. You assume I'm doing the same thing by responding with my own blog, but that's not what I'm doing. I'm not naming names, so the only one who will know who I'm referring to is that person themselves. Also, by posting my own blog, those who may be going through the same thing can hear my soap box rant and take what they want from it. I'm doing the world a favor : )
So here goes. The thing that gets me the most is that my friend and I were raised in the same church, so I know we learned all the same things. We learned that God has a plan for us, and though that plan may not be the same as our own plan, it's what's best for us. Also, if you intentionally go against God's plan, he's not going to spare the rod for long. No one knows this better than I do. Apparently, the only way I learn anything is with a swift kick in the butt. Lie - get caught. Drink - get alcohol poisoning. Pre-marital sex - get pregnant. The list goes on and on. Yes, my life has been anything but easy, but that's all because I've had to deal with the consequences of my actions/choices and I've owned up to that. But this isn't about me and I'm getting off track. I think the best way to address the issue at hand is with a point by point analysis:
1) No one is invincible. Some people are confident, patient or have some other characteristic that helps them better deal with difficult situations, but still, no one is invincible.
2) Yes, you have a controlling personality, and I'm glad you said that because, after all, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem in the first place : )
3) Bargaining with God is never ok . . . ever. That's like putting you and Him on the same level.
4) This is the part I wish I could just cut and paste directly from the blog, but I'll be nice and just retort. You can't pray every night for God to give you everything you want in life. Well, you can, but that's the fastest and surest way to disappointment. I used to teach a pre-school Sunday school class and one of the first things they learned was how to pray. If you are in need of a refresher course, the Bible is full of helpful hints.  Lesson #1 - be thankful for everything you've been given because you don't deserve any of it. Lesson #2 - don't tell God what you think you need. He knows what you need. And he'll give it to you when and how He sees fit. You can ask for strength, patience, guidance, wisdom, and that His will be done in your life, but that's about it. Lesson #3 - close with more thanks. Thanks for the air we breath, the sun that shines and for sending your only Son to die so that we might be able to spend eternity in Heaven.
5) NO ONE IS WORTHY OF ANYTHING! "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Romans 3:23    I don't want to seem like I'm preaching, because like I said earlier, I've messed up more times than I care to mention. But I think this is the part that gets me riled up more than any other part of the blog. You don't know what else you can do to prove to God that you're worthy of the things you want and believe you deserve. (Here comes my soap box moment) You've got your knickers in a twist because God hasn't dropped "Mr. Perfect" in your lap . . . literally. Sweetheart, I'm sure God's man for you has crossed your path more than a few times, but you were so wrapped up in who you thought was right for you (even though God did everything He possibly could to remove that man . . . I use that term loosely . . . from your life. Short of killing him of course), that you completely ignored what was right in front of you. There does come a point where God decides He's tired of messing with it, and lets Mr. Right move on to another potential Mrs. Right. On the topic of kids, God did you a huge favor. I'm very thankful you didn't end up pregnant with Mr. Wrong's baby. It would only mean a life permanently attached to his. A life of pain and heartache, of stress and continuous disappointment. Having a baby doesn't "fix" anything. Having a baby outside of marriage just because you think it will make YOUR life better is just selfish. I love my kids and I wouldn't trade them for all the money and freedom in the world, but for someone who is always saying they're broke when they make way more money than I do, for someone who's always complaining about being tired and not having enough time for themselves and for someone who expects the whole world to revolve around them, having a baby fixes nothing. In fact, it would only make you a thousand times more miserable. Especially having to do it on your own. God hasn't blessed you with a child yet because He knows your not ready. He knows you need to grow up. And trying to get preggers "on your own" . . . without a father and without THE Father . . . not gonna happen. No one DESERVES a child. A child is a blessing and a gift.
6) Death happens. Too blunt? Maybe, but it's the truth. My grandmother is very old, too. And as much as I want her to be around forever so that my kids will get to have as much fun with her as I did, I know that the circle of life takes it's course with everyone. I'm just thankful she's been around as long as she has, and you should be thankful for that, too. Instead of telling God to make her better so she can live forever, thank Him for the time you've had with her and ask Him to put His hand on her and take away her pain. If that means she miraculously gets better and lives another ten years, awesome! If that means she passes in her sleep tomorrow, well that's ok too. Because what's not ok is you making her feel guilty about dieing and adding to her suffering. Don't blame God for her death, thank him for the close to 30 years you've had with her. And be happy, because she'll be having a party and dancing her tush off in Heaven!
7) Cancer happens. Does God intentionally give people cancer? No, I don't think so. But I do know that He doesn't give us things we can't handle. Moms get cancer. Brothers get cancer. Best friends get cancer. Even I have cancer (not the full blown kind, but it's on its way). I'm not down-playing the seriousness of the disease, but I am saying that God didn't create cancer as a way to piss you off. He didn't wake up one morning and say "Hmmm, how can I ruin her life today? I know! I'll give someone she loves CANCER!" Nope, doesn't work that way. People deal with cancer all the time, and those who survive it and those who continue to thrive even though they may be terminal, are the ones who acknowledge that they have cancer, but they decide not to sit around and pout about it. They and their families face it head on. They embrace the life they've been given and they make the most of every moment. They focus their energy on finding and funding a cure, instead of focusing on feeling sorry for themselves. I hope and pray for healing for your loved one, but don't be mad at God. Use it as an opportunity to better your life and the lives of others.

I feel like I've lectured long enough, but I do have one more thing to say. You say you try and try to get what you want, only to be disappointed. Well quit trying. Quit thinking about all the things you don't have and be thankful for what you do have. The Bible says that we are all servants. Servants to the sick, the needy, the homeless and helpless. True happiness is found in service to others. True disappointment is found in service to oneself. You're right, life isn't fair. But we're all better because of it.