The Bucket List

With less than 3 months left in Hawaii, we have begun to scramble and get our Bucket List done.  A Hawaiian Bucket List is a list of all the things you have not done (thinking you have enough time to do them during your tour) that you feel must be seen and done before you leave the island.

Today it was Dan's turn to choose a Bucket List item.  He chose hiking (of course) and we headed off to hike to Manoa Falls.  The whole way there my kids were reading my mind...

"I want to go home!"

"I don't want to hike"
"No hiking, no hiking!"
"My legs hurt"
"I'm tired!!"

But to Manoa falls we went as I tried to put on a brave face and smile at my sweet and excited husband. 

After we arrived (in the rain, mind you) we headed onto the trail.  And for the first 20 minutes I felt a little sheepish.  The cloudy weather kept the trail cool and it was incredibly gorgeous.  The trail was pretty flat and I stopped now and then to take pictures of all the pretty scenes.

And then things started getting steeper and muddier.  And about 3/4 of the way up I was curising Dan and his hike.  I was convinced someone was going to the hospital today with a broken something or other.

Then I had an epiphany.  Hiking to me was like Christmas shopping to Dan.  There are some fun elements.  So many things that sound festive and delightful - like sales, hot cocoa and Christmas music.  All the things I love about Christmas shopping that Dan could, in theory, appreciate.  But the most prevalent thing to him about it is the traffic, and the lines and the parking lot full of crazies. 

Hiking is in theory, a fun thing to do.  I can say I am glad that I went.  It was beautiful.  There is so much of me that wants to enjoy it.  The sights were incredible and I was able to see beauty that most people dream of.  But really, I was wet and muddy and got bug bites. 

But in the end, it was a fun family adventure.  Not everyday can be Christmas shopping day.  And who doesn't smile when muddly little Brady looks up at you and says, "This is the best adventure I've ever been on!"

Dogs v. children

Don't you just love it when some young new married person tells you they know exactly what you are going thru with your kid because...they have dogs?

You stand there in the middle of Walmart with your hair disheveled, clothes mussed up and a tick in your left eye...(because you have to admit your stupidity here: you came to Walmart with all three of your kids in tow) and dream about the the large blunt object you would like wield upon all the short loud people and then turn on the said idiotic new married person.

Yes. I can see how a little schnauzer could just bring you to your knees.

Dogs chew furniture, pee on the floor, maybe wake you up at night with their whining or scratching. They beg for food, needs baths on occasion and usually have bad smelling gas. Yes. These are all usually true and can be said for most children as well. I can see the similarity.

Talking back, sassing, lies, tattletales, hitting, spitting, stomping of the feet and turning blue in the face these are exactly why parenting is nothing like having a dog.

How many Labradors paint your dining table and chairs with Vagasil? How many chihuahuas squeeze an entire bottle of strawberry syrup on your newly laid living room carpet? How many chow chows yank off their poopy diaper and proceed to paint a lovely Picasso on your wall? When is the last time you saw a golden retriever ask a grocery clerk if they have "itchy itchy crabs"?

A whole world of adventure lies in wait for these young unsuspecting DINKS (double income no kids). I personally would like to pop a giant bowl of popcorn and have a nice glass of chardonnay (let's be honest here...a bottle) and sit back in an easy chair and watch when their first child is born and discovers the wonders of the bathroom medicine chest.

For now, I just smile and say..."Yes honey, dogs and kids are one and the same."

Life is a Tornado

Life as of late has been a wild, massive tornado. Everywhere I look there is twisting, turning, nauseating change and turmoil.

Some of the changes are good. Red has started first grade. Woot woot! Yeah for school!!! Stinky is in a new class at Preschool and is rocking it. His teachers actually seek us out to tell us how well behaved he has been. Never had THAT happen before.

The latest big shock wave is that we received our orders FINALLY. And we are moving to Hawaii. Go ahead...be jealous. Let the envy wash over you.

Done?

OK. So for most people the news sound WONDERFUL. Which on many levels it is. Lovely beaches, perfect weather, a "two year vacation on the Navy's dime." Right? And those are great things, don't get me wrong. But the actual logistics of it all? Horrendous.

Moving 3 kids and 2 dogs is going to be the death of me. The schools are terrible. There is a 6 month long process to get the dogs over there. Ubu our black lab is currently too fat to fly...seriously. So we are going on a diet.

The housing wait is 6+ months long. We could live in a hotel forever.

My bitching fest could go on forever, so I will pause. Not stop....pause. So be prepared for more whining and complaining in future posts.

I have been so distracted by the orders that I have been unable to maintain my blog but hope to catch up here now that I have a little more stability in my life.

The hardest and saddest part to me is leaving my family. (Dan's family???? SIONARA!!!!) The thought of taking my kids away from their grandparents is very slowly fracturing the very heart of me. I am so jealous of their relationship with Grandma and Poppa. Living a mile away and running over for "sneak attack" hugs and kisses, just to say goodnight. My kids have no idea the change that is ahead. And my very core aches at the thought. We are a close family and there is an incredibly tight bond there. So I know the next two years will be hard, but the relationship will remain close. But in the meantime, the change for us is going to be drastic. And I dread it.

But everyday I wake up, take a deep breath, put my head down and move forward into a new, unknown adventure for our future. It should be an interesting ride. Aloha.

A day in the life

My middle son has a behavioral disorder. It still remains undiagnosed. We have several guesses on the table ranging from ODD (Oppositional Defiance Disorder) to a sensory disorder, to adjustment disorder.

At this point I don't really care what it is called I just want him to be normal.

He's a wonderful boy. He's handsome, athletic, smart as a whip and very sweet. The problem is, you never when he is going to snap. Just when I think I have a handle on things, they go south again.

Nobody said parenting was easy. Yeah...but nobody told me it would be this hard.

Don't get me wrong, I love him. I love him so much it actually physically hurts. Some days this stuff rolls off me like water on a duck's back. Other days I just look at him and my heart clenches. Things are better than they were, but now I see we have so so so far to go.

I really debated sharing too much about this...airing laundry and all. But the truth is, this blog is about me...who I am...what my life is like. And not expressing this part of it isn't really expressing who I am.

My little man loves me. I know this. He tells me how pretty I am every single day. Over and over and over. It's like he contains these wild emotions and he so desperately has to share them. Good ones and bad. So when he is feeling loving, he feels it BIG. So much that it oozes out his pores. He wants to hug me constantly and share everything he has within himself. He will kiss me and compliment me like it is our last chance. It's like he aches inside to make sure that I know he loves me.

Ten minutes later he could be the exact opposite. The contrast is staggering. He is prone to violent outbursts. Just when I think I know what is causing them, the pattern changes. Or there is no pattern. It used to be concentrated on me. That was bad enough. He would infuriate me to the point where I would completely lose it. Screaming, shoving him into his room and shaking with anger and understanding how easy it would be to go too far. Then he would cry and run to me and we would hold each other weeping and confused. Other times, I would feel so broken I would lay on the floor and just let him hit me. How do you defend yourself against that - emotionally or physically?

In those moments, I wonder if he really does hate me. But I know he doesn't. I can sense his frustration all around him. I know it is something he fighting against. I know in those desperate moments when he hugs me so tight and says over and over and over, "I love you mommy", that those are his truest feelings.

Nowadays, his rages are less severe. But there is underlying anger still there and he lashes out at other children. Which to me is worse. The extreme violence has been tempered and now he just hits unprovoked. But it is short lived, generally.


I've come a long way. That giant gift wrapped box of guilt that they handed me the day he was born is just a little bit lighter. I've learned to get thicker skin when I am judged by strangers...or even people that I know. I've learned not to (always) crumple inside when I hear criticism of my parenting. I've learned that it really isn't my fault. And that was a tough one to let go. That one still creeps up on me if I am not careful. It slips through the cracks and I have to beat it back out again. I've learned that NOBODY could do a better job with him than Dan and me because God hand selected us to be his parents. And for some reason, he thought we were the ideal ones to guide him through this challenge in life.

I think I have been able to overcome the depression that I was sinking into. There are days where I have to fight tooth and nail against it. But most days, I grab onto my faith in the Lord with both hands and march forward into the mire.

I believe Stinky is special. I believe there is a purpose for him that is beyond the norm. I believe he will be an extraordinary man and a great joy in my life. He already does bring me joy. Lots of it. It's just that many times, the joy just doesn't outweigh the worry.

I hesitate here, before I publish this, thinking - how could a mom write these things about her son? But it is truth. It's my life. It's who I am. And also, I have spent hours, days even poring over other mom blogs of people experiencing the same things and it has been a source of comfort to me.

I love my son. And not a day has gone by, even at it's worst, that I haven't felt that way until it hurts.

Budding Life

The last 6 months have been a journey for me. I look back to last summer or so and see the way my life was and look at it now and in many ways I barely recognize where I was. For me, the fall brought about some pretty dark days. Some of you know the trials I have had to face with my middle born. For those of you who don't, I was in the midst of a very steep downward spiral with him. I would say that he was living up to his nickname, Stinky, but that barely scratches the surface.

My little man has so many wonderful, charming qualities. His startling blue eyes and round chubby cheeks make me melt. His soft, sweet voice begging my attention just one more time before I turn his light out at night. "You look pretty, mommy..." - at least 10 times a day. The qualities I've always known that are there...I could see those sparks of the tenderhearted man that I know he will become even when our troubles were at their worst. That is the coolest thing about motherhood - looking at your kids and always have the ability to see to the heart of them - the person they WILL become, the person you are hoping to mold them to be. And then on your knees in desperation, praying you don't mess it up.

Little Stinky put me through the wringer. No doubt about it. I'll probably continue to share more as I distance myself from the experience. But for now, I am happy to say that the clouds have begun to clear.

I've taken a long breather from Arbonne. As much as I loved it, my focus HAD to be on my son. And that took every ounce of my being and then a little bit more. As I am gaining emotional strength, I am considering my future there and not sure what I feel.

I look back to last summer and see someone desperately lonely. And today I can say, that really isn't true. I have had a burst of new friendships that have done wonders for me. I feel happier, more fulfilled. It is amazing what companionship can do for a drowning soul. I feel content with my life in a way that I have not felt in quite a while. Sometimes friendships just touch you in such a profound way you feel as though it is bigger than you somehow. Does that make sense?

I have been going to a Bible study every other Thursday night with them, which has been good for me. As much as I TRULY, WHOLEHEARTEDLY believe in my faith, I had become stagnant. Somehow, these new friendships have brought about a new "interest", or passion in my feelings and relationship with Christ.

We do playdates once or twice a week, we help each other with childcare. All the things friends do for each other - but I had somehow been missing in my life for a while. It has made me realize how the smallest things we do, can affect eachother so profoundly. And if we dig deep and look to Someone much greater, the help can found.

Blessings

I had a weekend full of fun, snarly children, fattening food and wonderful news. It was Brady's 2nd birthday party which is always accompanied by lots of eating and fighting and hitting. It just isn't a toddler party without all that. At least for the members of our tribe.


It was the year of Thomas and Cars. Two year olds barely branch out in their interests, only allowing a few themes in at a time. I am hoping this is the last Thomas birthday I will have to entertain or, should I daringly hope, ever attend. It is the most mind numbing and costly hobby a child of only 2 could possibly show interest in. If you have a toddler boy who has yet to discover the island of Sodor, NEVER turn on PBS at 2pm. You'll thank me for that tidbit.



There was one gift that did not land in the typical birthday boy category and I have to say that it was my most treasured gift of all. It was a small, unassuming box that didn't seem to hold anything of great value - maybe an outfit? But as it was opened, a piece of paper sat in the box with 4 very exciting words written upon it.

"A New Baby Cousin"

My brother Kevin and his wife, Tiffany are expecting another baby.

The news of a baby is fantastic and miraculous under normal conditions. But this baby is truly, truly a miracle. My nephew Hudson - their oldest - was very long awaited and finally arrived after much prayer and a round of in-vitro.

My newest (hopefully niece - but I'll take either one) is a complete gift from the Lord. I just know that the faithfulness of our friends and family (and my Gram who was in earnest prayer DAILY) was looked upon with mercy from God and He has blessed us with this tiny life. A life that was predicted never to have been. I am tickeled...hopefully pink.

I have been craving a newborn, so this is a good fix for me. This will be a first though, someone in my family is pregnant and I'm not pregnant with them!

It does make me - only momentarily - think wistfully about a swelling belly. And then my 3 hooligans give me a swift kick, and I am reminded why I was on my knees thanking God for Dan's vasectomy just last week.

Top of the Mornin' To Ya

Ahhh.... it's been a long time. My husband has thoroughly chastised me that I need to blog more. I guess he thinks it is good for me to express my "creative" side. I suppose he is right. What person shouldn't express themselves about I'm Not Fat Anymore Tattoos, Discussion On The Size of My Boobs, or the many wonders of my favorite word.

Yesterday was St. Patty's Day. A fun and much loved holiday of my husband that I have adopted and made my own. For me, growing up some odd mix of German, Scottish and mutt, St Patty's was nothing more than a day to pretend to love green and pinch people. I remember on St. Patrick's day that landed on a Sunday when I was very little. I was in my underwear, wandering around looking for my mother to put my dress on when my brothers spotted me. "NO GREEN!" they shouted and chased me down the hallway and shrieking. I still remember how much those pinches hurt (I'll make sure to tell my therapist) and you will never catch me on St Patrick's without the signature color.

We had a wonderful time yesterday. It just so happened that Dan had the day off so it really felt like a holiday. We ate corned beef and cabbage of course and I dabbled in a few new recipes. One was called Boxty, which is basically an Irish potato pancake served with Irish honey. The other one was a chocolate mashed potato cake for dessert. Sounds disgusting, right? It was delicious and will become a guaranteed tradition from now on.

I love looking up traditional cuisine from our heritage. Neither side of our families really sent down many recipes from our ancestors. I would love to know how to make a killer sauerbraten adn spaetzle from my roots in Germany or make yummy tamales from Dan's grandmother. Ok, maybe not from that mean old lady, but maybe her mother. :) But I dabble and I try to learn.

We don't normally celebrate at our house with my family, but due to certain circumstances, that's what we did this year. And I truly enjoyed preparing the meal myself and making the day special for my family.

Now back to Weight Watchers I go to moan and wail as I step upon that scale this week.


Éireann go Brách

Googly Eyes

Over the last few months I have had my hands full. I've been pretty stressed out and found myself getting a little depressed. What is the cure for that?

A new puppy. LOL!

Meet Linus. Our newest member. He is a 3 month old Boston Terrier. Because if you are going to have a little dog...it better be so ugly it is cute. And he is. He has crazy googly eyes that stick out on the sides of his head. If we didn't have a fish named Steve he would be Steve Buschemi the second.

Some people are deliriously happy about it!

Some are not....

But all in all, there are laughs and giggles and pee pee puddles all around the house. What a great Christmas present!

I love my bed

Ah....my bed....finally. I never thought I would miss that uncomfortable cheap old matress we bought when we were newly married and poor. But it felt like bliss these last few nights.

We had a wonderful trip. We stopped in San Jose for a few days to visit with my brother, Robby, his wife Stacy and my nephews Alex and Zech. It was a great time. Our kids miss each other so much since they moved away. It was loud and chaotic but a blast.

Dan and I were able to convince Rob and Stacy to brave the trek over to San Francisco with all the kidlets. So we drove over to Oakland, hopped on the BART over to SF and then rode the trolley down to Fisherman's Warf. There we dined on clam chowder bread bowls which were disappointingly bland. Oh well, a reason to return in the future.

After San Jose we journeyed up to Portland and crashed with my Aunt just long enough to recuperate after the 12 hour drive. We were only a few hours from Portland when we realized our rental had a built in DVD player. SCORE. Then we rapidly made a trip to Target to stock up on movies for the kids. If I hear Barbie's Princess and the Pauper one more time I will puke by the way.

After a quick rest in Portland we made it up to Vancouver where I visited with my good pal Shana and her family. I just wish we had more time with them. The visits are just never long enough. There I stocked up on Oreo cookies (the Canadian ones are SO much better) and Purdy's chocolate. I introduced Dan to the best fish and chips in the world and attempted to get him to try poutine. But he wouldn't even taste it. I think the only thing appealing to him about it was that it just SOUNDED dirty.

On our way back down, we stopped again in Portland and wisked my Aunt over to Seaside, OR for the day. This is a cheesy little beach town that I grew up visiting every summer as a child. When I was a child, we stayed in a motel with the best, enormous swimming pool I had ever seen. Boy was I in shock when we walked by a couple years ago and realized that the pool was quite rinky dink and the motel was pretty run down. Ah, through they eyes of a child....

This trip, we did the classic Seaside things. We bought salt water taffy, played skeeball in the arcade rode the bumper cars - which was HILARIOUS with the kids. Man, kids do make things so much more fun. Then Gingers Mom made the classic mistake of forgetting that she is in fact old now and decided it was a fantastic idea to ride the Tilt A Whirl right before lunch. It was horrible. It spun so hard I thought my teeth were going to fly out of my mouth....or something else. It tried to giggle so that Stinky, who was sitting right next to me wouldn't get frightened, but really I was trying not to shower him with vomit. I have never felt so old and pathetic.

We walked over to Norma's after that. This is one of my favorte places in the world. Famous for the best clam chowder ever and a FABULOUS shrimp cocktail. I was DETERMINED to still have my lunch. So a quick visit to the bathroom and I was raring to go. I know that sounds awful and disgusting, but I will do anything for that DAMN clam chowder. Trust me....

Reluctantly, we piled back into the minivan and headed towards home. The kids really were great. I could not have asked for more from them. Of course there was bickering and some "He's touching me!". But all in all they were troopers. Vincent admittedly turned into the classic middle child and did EVERYTING in his power on the home stretch to annoy each and everyone of us. Of course, especially his sister. Why can one find such pure GLEE in irritating one's sister? And why is saying the word "booger" over and over and over again so much fun? And why does listening to one's little brother say booger over and over and over again require you to shriek like you are on fire?

Having said that, it was a wonderful family trip and I hope that my kids will look back on these adventures with the great fondness that I do about my roadtrips as a child. (Aside from my brother Kevin, poking me getting in my face claiming "Free space!")

There Goes a Mouse on a Motorcycle

It has been a chilly May here in San Diego. So chilly in fact that I nice pot of bean soup and fresh baked cornbread sounded divine! So I whipped up a pot for my family and we had a nice meal with my parents. We came home, tucked our little ones into bed and snuggled in to watch the season finale of 24.

As it was over, we turned the light off and Dan threw his arm over me and we nestled in for the night. Little did we know the terror that lied ahead.

The rumbling began.

The churning.

Then came one loud explosion.

Then the smell....

The terrifying, horrific smell.

You'd think it was just a man thing, but it was coming from both sides of the bed.

It is amazing after 6 years of marriage how unembarrassed you become by such grossness.

We were like some disgusting toilet themed musical band playing in perfect rhythm.

But then my husband with great exuberance brought forth an AMAZING grand finale....

It was impressive in size and smell.

We both went cross eyed.

The he jumped out of bed, turned around and showed me....there was a hole blown out in the back of his underwear.

That bean soup is nuclear.

I think it should be outlawed.

At least in our bedroom.

And now for my favorite "farting" terms. Please feel free to share yours.

Bathtub Jacuzzi

Oops! I let fluffy of the leash.

Chinese barking spiders

Fermented revenge

Gassius Assius

Blowing Ye Butt Trumpet

The Great Brown Cloud

Feeling Green

Today my kids had a St. Patrick's party at school. They ate green jello, played with green shaving cream, painted with green paint. They ate blue cupcakes. Huh? I just thought that one was weird.

I love St. Patrick's day. It is one great tradition that Dan brought to our family. My family, not being Irish, never celebrated except to dress up in green and pinch each other if we didn't. Dan's family does the whole meal and celebrates....as much as that family "celebrates". We get together and eat (which is a tradition that MY family welcomes with open arms and can jump right into). I am lucky enough to LOVE the traditional St. Patrick's day meal of corned beef and cabbage. I offer to make it year round, but Dan is stuck on eating it just for St. Patty's. I am bummed that I never get to put on a party or anything as we must trek to my Mother-in-law's house for the meal.

This means alot of long pauses. Uncomfortable silences. Talk about football. A concerted effort to NOT discuss anything, watch anything, DO anything that could possibly be of interest to me. It is a great passtime of MIL to see to it that I am not comfortable... So off we go tomorrow. But at least there is a great meal waiting for me...screw my Weight Watchers points. I'm gonna EAT! Partly because YUM! And partly because I don't want her to know I am on a diet. One more thing to criticize, ya know?

What are you all doing for St. Patrick's day??

May you always have walls for the winds,

a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,

laughter to cheer you, those you love near you,

and all your heart might desire.

I have known many, liked not a few, loved only one, I drink to you.

May you live to be a hundred years, with one extra year to repent.

May the sound of happy music, And the lilt of Irish laughter, fill your heart with gladness, that stays forever after

May the saddest day of your future be no worse Than the happiest day of your past.

Here's a toast to your enemies' enemies!

As you slide down the banister of life,May the splinters never point in the wrong direction!

Circle the Wagons

I've been contemplating lately about the relationship between siblings. It is fascinating watching my kids go from screaming, hitting, fighting one another to snuggling up on the couch and so politely sharing popcorn in a matter of minutes. I will see Savannah shove Vincent out of her room saying, "You can't play in here" to shoving a big kid on the playground saying "Leave my brother alone!". What is it about the brother/sister relationship that makes it so volatile?
My brothers and I are pretty close. We love each other and actually want to spend time with one another. Of course when we were kids we all fought. I guess you do fight most heatedly with the ones you love the most. But here we are, adults and still have a very strong bond with one another. How do you generate that?
We may not always agree, we may be very different people, but when push comes to shove I KNOW my brothers are there. We have a family motto when one of us is hurting. "Circle the wagons" It means that the rest of the family will gather around and protect the one that is hurt. When my nephew, Alex was in the hospital with life threatening jaundice, we all marched down to the hospital with blankets and pillows and surrounded Robby and Stacy and slept there until we knew the baby was fine. Circle the wagons.
It seems like so many people I know don't get along with or appreciate their siblings. What causes that? I want to raise my kids to always love each other and respect each other and to actually be friends.
I want Savannah to be 30 years old and still telling people "Don't mess with my brother."
So I'll pose some questions. Do you get along with your siblings? Do you spend time with them? If not, why? Sometimes it may be too deep of a reason to share and I can understand that. My sister in law Tiffany had a terrible brother growing up and it is good that she doesn't have a relationship with him. So we just count her as one of ours.
Anyway, this tempermental relationship of siblings is fascinating to me and I'd like to know how it all worked out for all of you. Good or bad, what do you think contributed to the relationship you have with your brothers or sisters?