Clumsy Lovin'

Last week one of our favorite bands came through for their annual concert on the quad.  Our family looks forward to it every year.  The Clumsy Lovers put on a fantastic family friendly concert for us every summer. I’ve dragged newborns and toddlers and gangly tweens with me.  I lug a wagon full of blankets and snacks and water bottles.  And we get  comfy and enjoy one of our favorite evenings of the year.  

 

This year the weather was a bit funky and drove the concert indoors.  Folks didn’t let the weather stop them, and I didn’t let the fact that I was still feeling a bit funky (damn cooties) stop me either.  The people that go to enjoy the Clumsy Lovers are just about one of the happiest groups of people you will ever see.  The people trickle up to dance. It’s always the kids first.  I have ants in my pants to get up there. In this area of the world, a quite conservative one I might add, it is always so good to feel like I’m in a crowd that doesn’t give a hoot about all that stupid social BS.  Happy people enjoying music and dancing with their kids makes my heart swell.  

And dancing with my kids, that is the highlight of the evening for me.  Rian starts off slowly, tentatively.  Finn asks me to teach him to dance.  Rian swirls and twirls as I whip her around by her finger.  I can’t help but smile and sing with the band. 

One of the moments that I most want to glue to my brain is dancing with my girl for the encore.  One of the songs I’ve sung to all three kiddos has been “You Are My Sunshine” and when the Lovers mixed that in with their encore, how could my heart not swell and sing with them?  My almost too big girl wrapped her arms around my middle and she buried her head into me and we danced, pressed into one another.  Her, loving her momma, and me, trying to burn the memory of such a sweet young love into my brain.  It won’t be too much longer before that is so very uncool.   But for that dance,  I was her rock, and she... mine.  

I'm Still Alive

They have arrived *the parents* and I am still around to tell the tale.  I survived my parents’ arrival, the last week of school, a preschool graduation,  the packing up and sending off of a husband overseas, a spewing toddler (is Jack still considered a toddler or is he a preschooler even if he doesn’t go to preschool?),   two crazy late nights of too much of a good thing, and well, life.  And it is all good.

The children have been over the moon excited with the arrival of their grandparents.  Isn’t it amazing how they can have such a bond and such a love for someone they really only get to see once or twice a year?  I’m most definitely second fiddle around here at the moment.  

We are all learning to mesh here again.  If you think about it, my folks and I haven’t stayed under the same roof for this amount of time since I was in highschool.  Crazy!

My Kids Aren't Funny

My kids just aren’t funny lately.  Nothing cute happening.  No new skills acquired.  It’s just the run of the mill normal kind of days here.  Wake up, the day passes, time for bed.  

;)  Or, life is just busy.  Yes, we are busy.  And of course my kids are funny.  I’m just too busy and flaky to get it down on “paper”.  

It’s the end of the year here, programs and field trips and special happenings rule the day.  

In other news, my parents will be here this weekend.  Now that is going to be one interesting, 6 week long social experience.  Wish me luck.  

Planes, Trains, & Submarines

Finn has this book that he loves.  It has all manner of things that go. Big trucks, fast cars, sporty fun vehicles, big boats, hot air balloons, even submarines.  It is the submarine as of late that has held his attention so completely.  How can it work under the water? How do the people breathe? How does it not sink? There are many, many questions.  

Tonight, after they had read the book together, Alan thought it would help to show Finn some more submarines.  Help expand that little mind so to speak.  Where might he turn to research this subject? Why, Netflix of course.  Netflix Streaming, the research tool of the future. I’m still trying to understand why he didn’t just hit up good ol’ Google.  And on Netflix, a plethora of submarine related documentaries was found. But, wait for it, which one did Alan choose?  By golly, that man chose a documentary about the greatest submarine disasters.  What do you think Finn pulled away from this lesson? Poor thing, he just thinks they kill people.

May 6th

May 6th was supposed to be Jack’s birthday.  It was predestined.  His brother shares a matching date in June and his big sis in July.  That little buggar missed it by 8 minutes.  And he has let me know every day since then that he is own little person and will do things according to his choosing.   

I could give you a birth story rundown.  That was what I had planned for this entry.  Instead, I’ll just give you the nitty gritty.  Doc didn’t believe me when I complained of pressure.  Water broke an hour later in a Wendy’s bathroom.  “They” (meaning ambivalent, impersonal, western med gurus) thought my natural birth choice was wacko and tried to convince me that a caesarean was the way to go.   Alan caught Jack. Doc missed birth.  Yeahhhhh.... 

This kid is great.  He is insane.  He is colorful.  He wakes me up early every freaking morning.  He makes me mad.  He makes me happy. 

He loves to rub my face while we are snuggling together.  He likes for me to hold him like a baby.  He  likes for me to sing the same songs every night.  And when he cries, “Mom I neeeeed you,” it makes my heart melt.  

 

Jack wasn’t in our original plan.  We had two children planned.  We had our girl and our boy.  But somewhere in there the desire to add one more member to our family was so overwhelming to me that I couldn’t shake it.  He was conceived on the first go. (I know. TMI) And despite the rough pregnancy, he was certainly meant to be.  

Eureka

There are programs out there for folks to create an affordable vacation.  They sign up to trade houses with other people from around the country and around the world.  You get to plop yourself into functional and affordable  lodging and see a new part of the world.  

I think we should do this with children, too (barring appropriate criminal background screening.)  Under this new fangled “vacation” program we could experience new situations. New places! New faces! New people! New crazy!

By god I think I’ve stumbled onto something amazing here.  Your children making you crazy? Shop around for some other crazy.  You think your children are the spawn of Satan?  Maybe it is time for you to dip your toes in someone else’s finger paints!  

It could be amazingly effective.  Suddenly your child’s penchant for chowing down on Play-Do doesn’t seem so bad.  The insane bedtime routine that is the bane of your existence is a breeze compared with the kids that need actual guitar strumming and bread buttered so perfectly and warm milk heated precisely.  Or maybe you decide you miss that kid that is screaming under his door that he NEEEEEEDS you.  Three ice cubes in the nighttime water cup no longer seems quite so picky.  And 3 bedtime stories is actually a breeze.   

Walk a mile in another’s shoes and maybe you realize yours aren’t so bad.  They might not be too fancy, but damn they are comfortable and they’ve taken you so far already.  

The Beginning of the End...

Long legs and two wheeled bicycles and more technological knowledge than their mother has is just part of kids growing up. Pants become too short. Eyes are rolled.  Sharp tongues develop.  Unfortunately for me, my daughter’s latest milestone is just a painful dagger to my heart. This morning, with a look of wild glee in her eyes, she presented her upturned palm, in it a bloody molar, her very last baby tooth.  I  gagged. She giggled.  Delightful way to wake up in the morning, I must say.  

My Oh My How Things Change

Many many moons ago (and no, I’m not letting on how many to be exact) I had very different tastes, in food, in music, in clothing.  If you told me then what I would gravitate towards now, I would have laughed in your face.  

Here we have the boots I was married in.

 

Here we have the shoes I purchased on my honeymoon.

 

Here are the oldest shoes in my closet that I still wear on a regular basis. 

(going on 7 years old)

 

And these are just a fun favorite.

 

Here is one of my more recent purchases.

 

Can you see the difference?

I think a bit of my crazy shines through there. Just because I knit, doesn’t mean I’m a curmudgeon.  

I can’t think of anything in particular that influenced these changes.  I can only guess a good part of it is age.  Am I the only person out there that thinks about how fantastic it would be to flit back to a late teen/early 20something with the mind and life skills of a late 30/early 40 something?  What will I think when I am 87?  I bet I’d be a kick ass 18 year old with the mind of an 87 year old.  Nobody would fuck with me.  

Awww... I am growing up!  Just like my kiddos. ;)

I do love a comfy shoe, but damn those heels are hot. 

I've Got Good News & Bad News

The old adage, “This is the toughest job you’ll ever love” is sometimes true.  Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I do not.  I am the constant cheerleader. The constant nagger. That gets tiring at times.  And before you roll your eyes at yet more whiney drivel from Jena, remember, there is plenty to be happy about. But how often do you go around proclaiming all the wonderful things? More often than not, you pick up the phone to vent to your best friend or mother or husband.  And this is what this venue does for me. It is my vent. My release before I explode. Every freaking person out there feels like this.  I LOVE that. Otherwise, it really does mean that I’m cuckoo.  

Therefore, do you want the bad news or the good news first? I think I’ll go for the good news first. 

The sun is shining again after a wonderful afternoon spring thunderstorm.

My middle kid is going to be going to kindergarten next year.  

He is going to the school that I most desired for him.

He will be going to his big sister’s school.  It tickles me pink.

My youngest was dancing by himself to Black Eye Peas “I’ve Got a Feeling.” 

He was totally into it and so damn cute all on his own.

My middle kid’s pink eye is cured.

The fact that pink eye is highly contagious saved my ass.

My oldest’s earache is better.

I have great friends.

Friends that I love.

I love my Kindle. 

My husband spoils me.

I have great music playing.

My freaking American brand vehicle has a fucking warranty. Thank god.

My grass is green.

My trees are budding.

Most of the laundry is clean.

The Not So Good (the bad)

My oldest has freaking pink eye.

I forgot to register the middle child for kindergarten.

My post surgery husband ain’t feelin’ so hot.

The TV was making me mental and we don’t even have cable or satelite!

My kids are sick.

They are dropping like flies around here.

I have a monster zit on my chin.

My nose is runny.

My nose is stuffy.

My freaking American brand vehicle needs a significant amount of work.

There is much poop to scoop now that it is spring.

There is much yard work to do now that it is spring.

There is much laundry to fold and put away.

Ok, I think I can live with that.

Heebie Jeebies

As you may or may not know, Alan had surgery Friday.  I had my typical response of going a bit nutty. I was absolutely fine, well... my version of fine, until we made it to the hospital.  I was getting a bit desperate for coffee and a bite to eat so planted myself in the long line at the Starbucks. (Yeah, wow, in hospital.  So awesome.)   Alan went to check in and he even said he wouldn’t go anywhere else without telling me.  Well, after that long ass line I walked around the corner to find him.  I knew he was in a bright orange shirt and that shirt was no where that I could see. The pathetic facade of tough-got-it-under-control chic vanished in 1.8 seconds. The tears started welling, the lump in the throat was immediate, the racing heartbeat was instantaneous. The only thing I could think to do was to plop myself down on the middle of the bench, in the middle of everyone, and try not to look too ridiculous.  I had just gotten myself back under control when Alan walked up.  I immediately started sniffling again and we both just laughed.  Typical Jena.  

Unless I am giving birth, hospitals completely geek me out.  COMPLETELY. In fact, I rarely, if ever, will even visit someone in the hospital.  I might make it as far as the waiting room. Man, I’m with ya in spirit, but I ain’t going in. No flipping way.  The handful of times I have, it is a serious exercise in behaving  for me.  The degree of my ridiculousness is really stupid. When I was first dating, and then later married to Alan, he worked as a corpsman in the Navy.  He worked in a hospital.  It was nearly impossible for me to even go in to visit him.  It was like pulling teeth. I made him meet me downstairs for the longest time before I’d go upstairs on my own.  I visited my grandfather in the hospital recently, and to reward myself for not losing my mind I bought a new nail polish at the gift shop on the way out. Just this weekend Alan and I stopped by to visit a friend in the hospital and my first question to Alan upon walking out the door was, “Did I act like an idiot?” My social ineptitude runs deep. I try so hard to be a grown up. :) 

When my own husband was waiting for surgery, I was driving away.  When he was having surgery, I was shopping.  I was in survival mode. And before anyone gives me grief about going to a mall while my husband was under the knife, just know that he highly encouraged me to go*.  I went with his blessing.  And I really did only buy one pair of shoes.    

 * A word from Alan.  This encouragement was indeed strong as it is difficult to concentrate on one's surgery when your support system is crumbling around you.  After working in hospitals for all these years, I can't even say she has an irrational fear, there's some sick people in these places, but she does go a little over the top with her reactions.  Regardless of these reactions, I knew before we were married and still chose to spend my life with this woman and I can guarantee you the shopping was good for both of us.

Waiting....

One of the routine questions asked of a person going into surgery is, “Do you have proper emotional support afterwards?”  Alan and I both smirk and look at one another.  I’m emotional that’s for sure, not so sure supportive is the right choice of words.  In fact, a few better options would be crazy, unstable, unhinged, emotional train wreck, irrationally weepy, and on and on.  I have been married to this man for nearly 16 years and the few surgeries he has, this is the general trend.  Seem ok, then devolve into incomprehensible puddle of goo.  Alan is as cool as a cucumber. His blood pressure and pulse reflect that even.  I’m not so sure it would be a good idea for them to check mine. They might feel compelled to admit me immediately.  Alan suggests I get out, go shopping even.  And while I don’t want to be here, I don’t really want to go anywhere either.  I don’t want to be around any people.  I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to be.  

I have so many ideas of what I want to say to someone floating through my head, but if I talk, I might get weepy again.  Alan thinks it’s so funny.  I’m glad I’m useful for something right now.  He’s sitting bare-assed in a chair watching a documentary about body modification while we wait.  I am sipping more caffeine than is probably good for me and pretending to look oh-so busy on my laptop.  I look important and deep in thought.  

I’d give my right arm for some tequila or a mood stabilizing pill... any color will do.  JUST GIVE ME ONE!  Really though, I’ll be fine and tomorrow we will be chuckling about this some more. In the meantime, I think I will do some online shopping. Yeah, that’s it. Retail therapy from the comfort of the surgical waiting room.  

 

He will be done soon.  He will be all fine.  He will feel better.  And no doubt, so will I.  

Sarge Is MIA

After an outstanding career as Finn’s trusty companion, good ol’ Sarge has vanished.  A valiant effort was put forth.  We searched high.  We searched low.  Under couches and in between cushions.  Under beds and between mattresses.  Many boxes out in the garage were gutted.  Toy bins were upturned and shoes were shaken.  Not a day has gone by that other possible scenarios for the disappearance have been discussed.  I hope he is not in a bad place.  Maybe we will see him again. 

Seriously folks, Finn has been on an obsessive hunt for a week now. Not a day has gone by that Sarge isn’t mentioned.  It is beginning to make my blood pressure rise just a bit.  I really assumed that the whole thing would be forgotten by now.  At this point, I’d just go out and buy another except for the fact that they are stupid expensive for a dinky toy.  I have tried so many different things to get his little head to move on to another obsession.  I just CAN’T take it anymore.  In the meantime, I'll tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree. 

 

So long Sarge, until we meet again.  Apparently, we will never cease to look for you.  

It's My Pity Party, and I'll Cry if I Want To.

Every now and then you just need to dig in and really enjoy your own little pity party.  Wallow in your “poor me” attitude and then, put your big girl undies on and get moving again.  I’m feeling like a poor mother, poor wife, poor friend. Maybe it’s hormonal.  Maybe it is the weather.  I know it won’t last for long, so I might as well let it ride.  That stupid fish from Nemo is whispering in my ear.  I will just keep swimming, swimming, swimming and get done what needs to be done.  Sometimes I will do it with a smile on my face and a cheerful word.  Sometimes I will do it through clenched teeth.  Sometimes I will do it only after a glass of wine at the end of the day.  And like I’ve said before, I know there is GOOD in my day.  

Your turn to tell me, how do you like to celebrate your own pity party?

My key ingredients for a proper pity party for myself include wine, cheesy TV, and lots and lots of York Peppermint Patties. 

Family

Can't live with 'em. Can't live without 'em.

Well, for the most part, I like my family.  And I’m referring to the people I grew up with.  I have a mom and a dad, and a younger brother and sister.  And I think they are all pretty cool.  I consider myself lucky to like them all most of the time.  Who can really say that?  

When we get together to hang out we are crass (bordering on pretty rude at times), jovial, silly, crazy, all of the above.  I looked forward to my trip to Texas to hang out with my folks and my siblings above all else.  They are awesome.  They did not disappoint.  It is only sucky that people actually do need sleep.  Kids do need routine.  And time does pass.  Otherwise, I could just go on and on.  

Really, food, family, and fun.  What else is there?

    

World Traveler

For the very first time during my tenure as a wife and mother I had the opportunity to travel completely by myself.  My dad was retiring, and I wanted to be there for him and my mother.  I wanted to hang out with my siblings.  And we did, and it was grand! 

The toughest part is always the leaving.  As Alan and my kiddos drove me closer and closer to the airport my nerves just blossomed.  By the time we got there I was wishing for a couple stiff drinks or some serious meds. In fact, I was about two blinks away from just calling it all off.  How would I cope without my children? How would they cope without ME?  Alan basically gave me a kiss and told me to buck up and have fun.  I couldn’t really argue.  

After the initial walk of shame across the parking lot, sniffling all the way, I made it into the airport.  Reality shifted in that moment and I was on my own. I made my way to the counter and got checked in and then made my way to security.  I sailed through. It was quite an experience not having to prep three kids and keep them all together. Another positive aspect to traveling alone. :)

I am a terrible passenger on airplanes. I am normally freaked out to the max and not pleasant to be around when on a plane.  The utterly fabulous thing that happened this time... I was totally relaxed! I sat back and just enjoyed the hell out of myself. I even sat by a window seat on the second leg. Oh the pretty lights!  After a few delays I made it into Houston in the wee hours and settled in for a long night.  Fortunately, I had some terrific company that came to visit me. We had a good time and I only realized I was sleepy about 5:30 that morning.  Once on the plane to Corpus I was sound asleep before we even took off.  I didn’t wake up until the plane touched down with a thud. I’m pretty sure I snored and maybe even drooled a bit, too.  Sorry to the cute guy sitting next to me. )

Stay tuned for more family fun...

Guess what!!!

I'm all alone, a tiny bit excited, and a lot panicked. I just thought I felt naked last time. I'm sitting in an airport all by myself. My family dumped me at the far end of the parking lot and sent me packing. LOL They love me, and will most certainly miss me. I just might miss them even more. But I'm pretty sure my mom has enough tequila waiting for me to help dull my heartache just a bit. My toes are ready for sun and fun. I think I can do this. :)

I Am Taking a Vow of Silence

If I were to take a vow of silence would my children even notice? I swear, they don t seem to hear me anyway. I could just save my energy for other exciting tasks, like talking to the laundry. I have, you know, talked to the laundry. Usually it is along the lines of, WTF, didn t I just wash you? Back to my point though, silence. How long will it take my children to cotton on to the fact that I m keeping mum? Sometimes it only takes a stern look and a finger pointing. The finger point works well enough for certain things. A general uh huh works for the affirmation they are looking for when they say, Ok Mom? Ok Mom? Ok Mom? The gentle clucking of, Mmm, hmmm works in a multitude of situations. There is also that sound that means nope but I haven t a clue how I might spell it. You get the point though. No more nagging about the chores. I ll just point and grunt, point and grunt, point and grunt. I guess that really isn t a vow of silence. I just will not use words. When they ask what s on the menu for breakfast I ll just cock my head toward the pantry. At dinner, I ll nod towards the casserole surprise in the oven. That damn shoe sitting in the middle of the floor, I ll just stare at it. This is indeed an experiment I am keen on studying.
On a completely different subject but still related to silence, isn t it amazing how it can mean so many different things and yet all of us moms know exactly what it all means. Silence in a houseful of children can mean: 1. They are all asleep. 2. They are pretending to sleep and getting ready to wreak havoc. 3. It is daytime and they are all playing happily. 4. It is daytime and they are all getting into some seriously mischievous shit. (Case in point: Jack shoe polished himself. I m still trying to figure out how the heck he got that can open when I have trouble with it.) 5. They are preparing an ambush... kids on stealth mode... beware!

I Am So Many Things

I am a mother.  I am a wife.  I am a friend.  A woman, a baker, a lover, a knitter.  I sew buttons.  I wipe noses.  I make meatloaf.  I laugh. I cry.  I struggle.  I drive  kids all over town.  Some days I glide effortlessly through my day.  Others, I hit roadblocks every other minute.  

I am a girl that loves  to dance to loud music with her children hopping around.  I also love to dance to loud music  surrounded by friends for a fun night out.  I am wannabe gardener, hoping that I can grow beautiful tomatoes and strawberries. Mostly I just like to dig in the dirt.  Often I talk to myself. And I almost always sing when I’m in the car by myself.  I do not like jumping on trampolines anymore, but man oh man do I love to swing with my kids.  I am a dreamer.  I have a grand fantasy of someday having a hammock, a really big one, that I can lounge around in all day long in the summer.  I want to make spicy jalapeno margaritas again and sip on one till the cows come home while the kids run around in the yard. 

So many experiences, both good and bad, have shaped me.  And while I am so many things, I often wonder, what do I show to the world? What do others see when they see me?  Who I want to be and who I am sometime tangle, almost like a split personality.  Maybe that makes me crazy, maybe not.  I am a complex, multi-faceted individual.  I am much more than what I seem.  But at the same time, what you see, is what you get.

 

Confusion

I wrote the last post while I was away but did not put it up until I got back home.  I am indeed back in cold and dreary Idaho.  

The trip was great and and I really enjoyed hanging out with just Alan.  I liked being able to eat my entire meal and not share it and I REALLY enjoyed my 3.5 hour nap.  

I'm ready to plan my next trip and I would like for it to involve sun, warm weather, a hammock, and an unlimited supply of margaritas.  

Naked!!!

I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.  I am missing three extra people.  As Finn described it, I am on a grown up vacation.  I have my laptop and my cute little red purse and an Alan.  In my purse I have a tube of lip gloss, earphones, debit card, and ID.  In my laptop bag I have a laptop, charger, phone charger, (phone is next to my left boob of course), jewelry, and some medicine.  What I do not have is a backpack stuffed to the brim with extra changes of clothing, diapers, wipes, baby Tylenol, Benadryl, band-aids, toys, snacks, water bottles, tissues, and books.  I do not have a stroller, no kid back pack, no kid on a leash. I do not have any kids with me! I feel naked! 

I have no doubt I will survive.  I will let you know how I fare.