Speaking of frying your brain

I got up this morning and told myself I'd journal before the day took off, which I do on the computer. So I get on the computer and there is this error message, so I call my friend in India to see what I should do. After a couple of hours on the phone together, he told me what I already knew- to back up my files and we'd reinstall the operating system. So I did and then I tried to connect to the internet and couldn't for whatever reason, and so I called Comcast and set up an appointment to have someone come and fix it. And then after all the hours of backing up files, pictures, music... I realized that the problem getting online might be connected to my computer problem, so I called and cancelled. Well, while we were doing numerous lengthy tests, I learned that my friend, the one that spoke English beautifully, was going home in an hour and I'd have to wait to talk to him again until he goes back to work the next time. And the backing up took all of that hour and more. So I left him a message and then tried to log on with the laptop, which failed. So with final resolve to abandon ship, I put away the laptop and plugged everything back in to the tower and turned on the musicmatch jukebox, one major component of our computer usage, and guess what. No sound. *snort* My brain is starting to short out; please forgive my scatteredness...

So I turned all the volumes up and dug the tower out one more time and tried the plug in every hole until I got blasted with Planet Rock. Then I thought I'd try one last time to connect and HAHAHAHA I'm on. I'm ON RIGHT NOW!!!!

I'd like to first of all thank the academy for believing in. And more than that my friend at Dell whose name I will never know, for telling me during our first hour that I'd be qualified to be a tech by the end of all of this. Because, frankly, I am. But don't call me if you have computer trouble. I have a lot of kids and I like them more than teching. However, it might be worth considering after they're grown, I mean, computers, right? Everyone's got one!

P.S. Pictures coming soon.

Let the sun shine!

The days are going fast; I feel like I'm nesting again. Now that Deisha is settling into a routine and is willing to be awake without having to be held the whole time, I have a new lease on life!

This morning we all got up late. Even Deisha wasn't ready to get out of bed until after 8:30. It was so great. Last night I let them all watch movies until they conked out. It was probably close to ll:00 when the last one crashed, so that wasn't too bad. It paid off because they slept late. After we all got out of our jammies and had our teeth brushed, I turned on a new aerobics video that I bought at Wal-Mart. It was a lovely purchase at only twenty-five cents, and it's no wonder. They must've recorded it on the local channel and tried it out on the shelves. It's pretty dorky, but man is it a work-out! My legs threatened to give out on me all day. Anyway, I turned it on and before the first five minutes were up, all five kids had a can of vegetables in each hand and were doing the video with me. It was so funny!

The exciting activity of the day was ice cream at McDonald's playland. I made a goal for myself to only spend the cash that I have in purse, which was ten dollars. Rather than give in to the convenience of eating there, I overcame and served up sandwiches before we left. We spent about an hour in there with all the other stir crazy children in Lompoc. I always hate going in there when it's crowded because I have to explain every time that, "Some kids say those words, but we don't" or "Some kids' moms don't care if they scream, but I do. So don't." And, "I don't know why those boy are riding trays down the slide, but just you can't." I'm always torn between scolding someone else's kid for breaking the rules and just letting them get away with their raucous behavior. Usually I just try not to make a scene as long as no one's getting hurt.

Tonight we watched Karate Kid II and made broiled s'mores. They were good, but there's something about a good old-fashioned marshmellow roasted over a campfire. They just taste better. Leila insisted several times that we shut the tv off and come to her birthday party. Jasmine and I were the only ones to come at first, but Kennedy showed up late with a present and Tre came over for a piece of cake. (The movie just ended and she is in there jumping up and down saying, "Party time, Party time, my busday!")

Back on the nesting, I'm getting all kinds of things done. Today I took all the washable pieces off the stroller, bleached them, and loaded it in the truck. I have a load of books to take to Goodwill tomorrow, and the kids and I cleaned out the shed. I just feel like a million bucks when I get stuff done.

I have also been working on a little project that I can't wait to finish and share with you here. But until I get a little further on it, you'll just have to sit in suspense and wonder. Or call. I don't keep secrets very well.

Cooking with Leila

She's not a terrible cook for a two-year-old; she seems to get the concept on the whole.

I've been trying to coax myself into making broccoli cheese soup for dinner for about a week now. Micah has actually asked for it every night of the week which coaxed the self-coaxing. It's not hard to make and I had everything I needed for it, I just didn't want to because I hate scraping the counters after I make the noodles. I know. It's not a difficult task, it doesn't even take very long, but there's something about dough stuck on the counter top that I don't like. I think it is that when you go to the work to make the noodles, you don't want to have an entire counter top to deal with afterwards. It's not like they're that hard to make either; flour, salt, eggs, water, mix em up, cut em and toss em into boiling water... but it seemed like a daunting task and I pushed it off until tonight.

So tonight while the Dell guy was here working on our computer, I sat on the couch whining about how much I didn't want to get up and begging for ideas out for dinner. Would you believe Burger King was the only suggestion? When all the kids went outside, I insisted that Leila stay in the house so that I could keep an eye on her and the Dell guy at the same time. And, what better motivation to keep her in than to let her help me make the noodles? This was an exciting alternative to playing with the big kids, so she hopped to it. Before I had my ingredients assembled, she had her step stool up to the counter and was breaking pretzels into a bowl. Each ingredient that I added to my bowl, she added to hers. When I stirred, she stirred and flipped flour-covered pretzels all over the kitchen. When it was time to cut the noodles, she grabbed the pizza cutter and went to town, only on my dough. I didn't mind because the kids don't care if the noodles are uniform, but when I turned around to scoop some into the, pot, it seemed like there were less than I started with. She had a fist full of noodles that she was kneading into her pretzels. I used to get bent out of shape about these types of activities, but now I just laugh, pick out the pretzels, and toss them in the pot.

It's times like this that I think about my mom and my baby sister. By the time Sarah was in grade school by herself, my mom was working as a teacher's aid in her school and they spent lots of hours there together. I was always a little jealous that when Sarah got out of school she got to hang out in the classroom with my mom and the other teachers. I always imagined them having loads of fun cleaning chalkboards and cutting out shapes for holiday decor.

It appeared to me that something had changed about my mom by that time and now I know what it was. Somewhere along the way you settle in to motherhood, probably about the time you realize it will end someday, and you try to savor what you have left. The tail-enders just get the most benefit of that because they're still sweet and innocent and don't question you as the final authority in their little worlds; in fact, they still like it.

Black Out

Can it possibly be the end of July already? I knew it would fly after we had the baby, but good grief! It's just slipping away from me. Last week our computer refused to boot no matter how many different ways we tried to coerce it, so forgive my absence. I can't be certain that I would've posted any sooner if it hadn't taken the last train to Parks ville, but it was a good reason for the time being and so here we are.

SO much going on around here... We had a snake, VBS, basketball camp, a close call at the library, tents in the living room, spying on the neighborhood teenagers, and Deisha is sleeping through the night. Our anniversary with the BOP passed, Tre's turning six, it's fifty-seven degrees outside, and I finally started the quilt I've been mentally piecing for almost a year. Life goes fast when you're not paying attention.

Doctor Randy Carlson has this motto or mantra that I hear him philosophizing on over and over again: Live deliberately. It's something I think about every day. Not doing that means that I miss deadlines, have late library books, forget about phone calls I need to make, and dust stacks up an inch high on the ceiling fans.

I wonder if I calculated the activities for each day whether I would be better off or bored with the monotony. Sometimes I tell myself the satisfaction of getting everything done would counteract the monotony, but like most things I have spent hours over thinking it and no time following through on it so I don't know the outcome yet.

Here's another thing. Screaming fries my brain. I had a baby less than three months ago and last week at VBS a friendly acquaintance at church asked how much she weighed when she was born. I looked at her like she had just asked me to translate the Qumran. I laughed when I realized I couldn't remember and told her that the baby had been screaming most of the morning and it had left me fried. And it does. Remember (man holding egg) "This is your brain." (cracks egg and drops into frying pan, immediately sizzles) "This is your brain on drugs." Well, that's my brain on colic. She only cries sporadically, but when she cries, she screams and it immediately begins the frying process. And not only that but Leila has fully immersed herself in the screaming phase of toddlerhood. She's not really a toddler anymore, I guess she'd be considered a pre-schooler. But the kid has minimal volume control, which also acts as a hot frying pan on my nerves. At the end of the day, I sit in front of the TV with Dale hoping for an intelligent conversation with another grown up, but unfortunately for me I am unable to initiate one. And unfortunately for both of us, his job leaves him in the same state of mind most nights, so we compete to beat each others' brain age and laugh at ridiculous commercials and call it a day. Good conversation will come back to us someday, but not at 9:30 at night, not for now anyway.

We're reading around here, working hard to sharpen each other before school starts again. I love reading; I read a book and feel compelled to tell everyone in my network about it hoping they'll immediately go out and get a copy of it, no matter what it is. Kennedy made the painfully clear to me when after finishing a book I'd read she remarked, "I didn't like it as much as you did, but it was good." It was juvenile fiction, fantasy no less. I'm kind of a dork that way. What can I say... I love the written word on all levels.

Summertime Blues

Let's be real here. I was almost speechless back in Missouri when I told my OB that I was having severe mood swings and was curious about what they could give me to help level me out and he said, "I can give you Prozac, but you'll have to wait until next month. I immediately flashed to a vision of myself sitting in a corner with druel running down my chin in front of the TV with a melting bucket of ice cream in my lap and the kids running circles around me in their underwear shooting at each other with their homemade bows and arrows made from coat hangers, rubber bands, and pencils. When I snapped back to reality I asked sheepishly, "Isn't their a vitamin or an herb you could recommend?" I mean I was bad, but yikes. I have no experience with Prozac, but I've talked to people that do and it's never come highly recommended. So when he suggested B Complex, I went straight to Wal-Mart and stocked up. Then I went home and looked it up in the internet and learned that it also is a metabolism stabilizer and curbs PMS symptoms as well. I started taking it as soon as I got home that day.

After a week or so there was a notable difference in the depth of the mood swings and that's when I quit taking it. snort.

So this time, after the third or fourth time I had to scrape myself off the ceiling over spilled milk, I restocked my supply and have never gone back. Until this week. For some reason, I just didn't take any vitamins at all for three days. Do you know what happened? I found myself sitting with my head in my hands at the end of each day wishing away my life. It was a dramatic turn because I had been so-- well, so much more normal than I normally am after a baby.

Could it be true that B vitamins are that necessary? And maybe it's that I have some sort of deficiency. I know I have an aunt that has to take it in shots; maybe it's genetic. I don't know, but ladies, and gentlemen, stock up and watch the sun come out again. It's good. And it's real. And it's real good. I like it.

PS Trebo lost his first baby teeth within two days of each other. And guess what else? He somehow managed to eat BOTH OF THEM!!! This kid is one in a millski.
It's monkey language. He can speak in full sentences using that scary noise. HAhahaha.

Just in case you were wondering

This guy was on the wall outside the front door. Moustache Joe would be so jealous. Something about this side of the country- all the bugs are super sized.

This was Deisha on our couch a few weeks ago. She was really little. I thought if I included the whole couch you could better gauge how itty-bitty she was. She's not that little now though. Breast milk is like all-natural miracle grow. I put her in the sling today and my shoulder fell asleep after about fifteen minutes.
And this is what Deisha looks like in that sweet little dress with her itty-bitty booties. I love this dress; Dale bought it and brought it to the hospital while we were still locked up. When I first saw it I thought it'd be months before she could wear it. Little did I know...

She's sliding right into place in our household, but I have to be honest and tell you that the dynamics have changed dramatically. With Leila's fierce determination to maintain control of the throne, I am nervous to take the whole crew anywhere. Whoever said, "After you have three, adding more is no big deal," apparently never had six. I can't imagine adding again now that life with six is in full swing. It can be pretty overwhelming. Thank God for the foresight to give me Kennedy first. I don't know what I'd do without her. She's the equalizer, poor thing. She helps me in ways she will never fully understand, and for that I'm grateful. Which is why I give her money randomly and treat her to Starbucks when all the other kids have gone to bed.

And this is Deisha smiling. I still call her Leila about half the time. I caught myself halfway this time, but she still smiled and that's the point here. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure no baby has ever smiled this much this early. I can be sure, however, that I've never heard a baby scream as much or as brutally as this baby either. She's ear piercing- it's a painful experience for everyone in the room. But we so adore her and when she does this, it's like a magic potion that erases every memory of that scream.

This Kid

I have this one kid that broke the mold. I don't want to embarrass him by saying his name or anything, but I'm telling you, I don't think there is any way to classify him. He's like all the energy of an atomic bomb coiled up inside this tiny body, brimming with creativity and intellect and more energy intermingled with testosterone. He's a wild child.

The kid can't focus for more than about thirty seconds. I mean, he can when we make him; I had to get him through kindergarten for mercy sakes, but with full efficiency, he cannot focus. If you call me, you'll hear me tell him to wait till I get off the phone to talk to me. To stop interrupting me. To go play. To back up. To stop interrupting. To go play. You'll have to wait. *exasperated sigh* Go to your room until I am off the phone. I mean, it depends on how long we've been talking, but if it's more than about two minutes, you'll hear at least the first two. Yesterday he told me that he didn't like this one teacher at church because when he answered the question with "water" all the kids laugh. He said, "Because water is good for you, Mom." But I couldn't honestly say I wouldn't have laughed. I know because when we do devotions at the end of each day and we are all answering a question like, "If you could ask God anything what would it be?" Tre might say, "That we all get to sleep tonight," not having heard the question or any of the six other answers given, he assumes we're taking prayer requests. If not that he answers, "Jesus!" the all inclusive Sunday school answer. He just has a hard time keeping his head in the game.

As a parent, I am obliged to give courtesy chuckles and smiles when my kids test out their humor on the stage, which means for an audience and we always have one around here. I don't give a hearty laugh unless it is sincerely funny because I believe in life conditioning. I remember the satisfaction of getting the real deal from my parents and I want to pass that on to my budding comedic clan. A couple of months ago I made a critical error in judgment in not concealing a laugh during an episode of Spongebob. Since then, I have been summoned to the television countless times to watch some random Bikini Bottom moment that might trigger my interest and produce a laugh. Unfortunately I was delirious that day and not fully able to reason. In the state of stability wherein I currently reside, Spongebob just isn't that funny. This kid, however, is.

While I was working nights to put Dale through school, he spent lots of weekends making memories with the kids. One night they were sitting on the porch playing "I get that one" with the cars that passed by on Main Street and Dale told this kid that the next one was the Monkey Truck coming to pick him up. Poor dude, still moderately terrified of Oobie, that hand puppet that used to be on Nick Jr, was convinced that he was a monkey and that the monkey truck would be coming to pick him up and cart him off with the rest of the monkeys. He has turned terror into triumph and now prides himself on being a monkey. Most recently he created this bizarre monkey sound that he makes randomly throughout the day. For whatever reason I crack up every time he does it. With that in mind, I began this blog today. Unfortunately I don't have a single battery to juice up my camera and play the monkey noise for the rest of the world. I did, however, find this which is equally as entertaining to me. I've watched it six times since I loaded it and I am still laughing about it. And if for no one else, Sarah, this one's for you.

La-la-la-la life goes on

It could be that she's the last and I'm certain of it, or maybe it's just that I have nothing else to do around here but be the mommy, but I am starting to love my life again. Seriously, I feel like a woman possessed when pregnancy hormones take me over. I know it's bad when I'm in the thick of it because of the trail of tears that follows my every move, but it's when I start feeling like myself again that I realize how miserable I truly am as a pregnant woman.

Deisha is a little fussy, but it could be because there are two little tooth buds peeking through her bottom gum already. The reflux doesn't help either, but we're surviving. We're more than surviving, we're adjusting to life again. Dale and I are back to walking everyday, which makes a huge impact on my perspective. I am also starting to crave knowledge again. That may sound really bizarre, but when I'm pregnant, I become so self-consumed that I can't work on any of the disciplines that I really value. Case in point, before I got pregnant with Leila I was learning Greek, reading a couple of classic novels a month, and had almost memorized the whole book of Philippians. I felt rich. Then once I got pregnant, all bets were off. I took to Pepsi, Reese's Peanut Butter cups, and General Hospital to pass my time at work.

At any rate being on the tail end of the whole post-partum production, craving a good book and something to roll around in my head from memory gives me hope that the real me is still alive and well, regardless of the hormonally forced hibernation therein. Look out world, I'm back!

I don't know if he had puppies

or what, but Scooder lost fifteen pounds. I can't remember if I blogged about this, but we thought we were going to lose Scooder shortly after we moved here. He had some sort of a decline, started packing on weight, became extremely lethargic, and I was convinced he wasn't going to the bathroom. At one point he stopped eating and drinking and laid down on the couch for what I thought was the end. I sat with him, counting respirations and checking for a pulse. (What can I say, I'm a CNA at heart. HAhahahaha)

We took him to the vet the next day where they x-rayed him, pumped him full of fluids, and sent him home with a ridiculous bill. He stayed fat for a while and acted like he was decrepit every time he crept up into his pet bed, which is essentially an over sized pillow. I worried until we took him on a walk off the leash the first time and he ran around like a puppy. He skipped hither and fro with his tail up marking every inch of the mile.

Since he wasn't eating any more than usual and still hanging on to the weight, I was sure he had cancer. Being the sensitive mother that I am, I tried to forewarn Kennedy, who would have taken the hardest hit if he did die. When I explained my reasoning, she weighed him and put him on a diet, which is how we know that in the weeks following he managed to lose fifteen pounds.

The other night I noticed that his stomach was no longer bloated, but rather hanging loosely. I told her I thought he looked better so she stuck him on the scale. It's just amazing to me how different he looks. He's a little dog, you know? I mean, fifteen pounds on me isn't incredibly remarkable, but it makes a difference. So on a little dog... it's just bizarre-o. Such is life.

Back in the Swing

I didn't know how long I'd be out of commission, I still don't. People keep saying, "I thought you'd be an old pro by now." Which makes sense because six times I've brought a new baby home. Once I brought a baby home to three other toddlers, and then moved out of state that same month. But for some reason, I'm all out of sorts and feel like it's all new, uncharted territory.


A lot of things have are different this time. Being across the country from all of our relatives is probably the biggest thing; I can't tell you how weird it was not to have my sister in the waiting room of the hospital, and knowing she wouldn't be here for weeks following. Another thing is that Dale has two full days in a row off from work every week, and when he gets home from work he's not running to another job or studying for any tests. Also I'm not working, that's awesome. And probably the biggest thing is that I don't have a life outside these walls, which works both sides. My stress levels are remarkably low with school being completed for the year and knowing that for the rest of the summer, I can pretty much stay home all the time if I want to. There's nothing driving me to get out the door or hurry up and get to bed. That, my friend, is freedom.

I mean, I'm sure the kids would enjoy being in clubs and sports and having things to do, but I didn't when I was a kid. We had church stuff, and usually played softball or something, but most of my summer consisted of watching TV, swimming in the horse tank in our backyard, and living outside. I loved it. I relished the freedom. For the rest of my life, I'll never have that kind of free time. What's wrong with that? My kids deserve a few summers of leisure before they start working and throwing themselves headlong into sports and various activities of their choosing. Their so little now, I think it's awesome that they still fuss when we have to go to the grocery store because they want to be out in the neighborhood and at the park and hunting lizards. They are the life of the party and they don't even know it! They don't see the neighbor kids fussing when we have to go to the store, either, but I know. I remember those days.

Our lives are moving nice and slowly right now, and I'm rather enjoying it.