Pool Party

I have a confession:  one of the things I most looked forward to when I had children was having baby pool parties in the backyard in the summer.  :)  Living in Monterey and Washington state, the weather hardly cooperated but now that we are back in sunny San Diego, this is just another reason to be happy.

Don't tell my husband I posted this picture of him shirtless and pasty.  I'm
testing a theory that he never reads my blog when he's home.  Besides,
it's a sweet picture.

Almost looks like synchronized swimmers....

Twinsies!

Brutus is Back

My dog is home.  

Just don't tell Peter that he really is MY dog (and always has been, despite his undying loyalties towards my husband who only agreed to getting him "against his better judgement) as he keeps insisting Brutus is HIS PUPPY.

Anyway, the only direct flight from Ohio that I could get for him was to LA so on Friday afternoon I left the kids with  Matt and drove up to meet my friend who lives there for dinner before hand.  Of course the trouble with that plan was the traffic.  Trying to get anywhere in Southern California anywhere around dinner time can be problematic.  It could have been *much* worse, but even still it took me a good hour longer than it should have and it's a very good thing I hadn't tried to take the kids along as they would have gone insane from the traffic.  

If you're wondering about the necessity of a direct flight... well, it's about travel time.  We flew him on Delta as Cargo, and I have to say I was very pleased with the treatment and care we were giving both back in August when he left and this past weekend when he returned.  But as Cargo you have to have him ready to leave (locked in his travel crate) no later than 2 hours before take off.  Once the animal reaches his destination it's about another hour to get him from his plane back to the cargo terminal because these are off site from the airport.  Additionally, any time they need to make a connection they require at least 2 hours between the flights to ensure adequate transport time.  So for Brutus to come from Columbus to Los Angeles was a 5 hour flight.  Adding the 2 hours before and the hour afterward, that meant he was already going to be crated for 8 very long hours.   If we'd had him sent to us directly, here in San Diego, that would have added at least 3 hours to his travel time in that crate.  

Ugh.

Poor puppy.

No thanks Doggo, Mama can deal with the traffic and at least you can make the last leg comfortably stretched out in the car as you see fit.

So if you're wondering, before he left Ohio, I received a text message from my mother in law with this picture attached.

She was letting me know he was all ready to go.

So after dinner with my friend I went to fetch him from the Cargo terminal.  He beat me there by a few minutes which was actually a good thing because I was SO nervous about seeing him again, and him being okay that it was wonderful not to have to wait for him.

I didn't snap any good pictures until we were out of there, mostly because I was just eager to let him out to stretch his legs but when I did I found he'd had a small poo in there and the whole thing (him included) smelled terrible.  I got most of the poo cleaned up an thrown away while they ran my credit card for payment, gave him a kick walk around the parking lot, loaded his stinky crate in the back and then we headed home.

By the time we got out of there it was pretty darn late since his flight hadn't even arrived in California until 9 pm.  I had been up fairly early that morning and apparently I am not QUITE the night owl that I used to be.  But it was okay.  Traffic was MUCH better on the way home and I sort of needed to use the bathroom the entire time which kept me awake and alert.  Ha.

Brutus just dozed in the passenger seat the whole way.

When we got home he went out in the back yard to do his business (right back in his old favorite spot from when we lived here almost 3 years ago) and then he jumped in bed with me for the night.  When he spotted Matt who was of course, out like a light that little curly tail of his started spasming like wild in its best Shiba approximation of a wagging tail.   I guess he was happy to find Matt home as well.

Now, a couple of days later, it's almost as if he never left.  The Ohio lifestyle seems to have agreed with him as he's a bit fatter than when I saw him last but otherwise he's still my same crazy dog.  He doesn't seem to be holding any grudge for his time away and my heart is honestly just about to burst every time I see his sweet little face.  He still prefers to spend most of his time outside, he barks and howls like wild when something bothers him, he nips at the cat, enjoys a good belly rub and he loves chasing the ball.  The kids are obsessed with him... almost as if he was a brand new puppy.  Peter started asking to take him for a walk at DAWN the first morning he was home and both kids like playing fetch with him (although A.J.needs some work on getting the ball to go far enough to make chasing it worthwhile.)

Welcome home Puppy!  Sure do love you,

It's good to have him home.

:)

Adjusting

Things here are moving along.  The kids are absolutely still obsessed with their father and I'm trying hard to not feel left out as going from the sole caregiver to an after thought so suddenly is a bit disarming.  I'm enjoying the "break" as it is, and the ability to do really luxurious things like run to the store without kids, sleep in a bit and even lay down for the occasional nap.  

Matt has to show his face at work every day at a bare minimum to muster and is also in the process (still) of completing all the necessary health checks and paperwork that he needs before he can officially transfer to his next command and go on his 30 days of leave.   Yesterday I had him take our boy with him (which was ironic since it turned out to be take your child to work day)  but it was exciting to get the few hours with just the girl and myself.  

The boys returned with Krispy Kreme.  

I shouldn't have been surprised.

In other news, I'm heading up to LA later today to pick up the dog from the airport.  Once he is back with us again, our family really will be ALL together once again.  

His homecoming makes me pretty nervous.  I'm not sure how he's going to react or how the kids will be either.  As hard as it has been to have him gone, I really do know he's been happy with the in-laws in Ohio.  They've kept him safe and happy and I suppose I'm just nervous that we won't be able to care for him as well once he's back home.  

I still have to remind myself that Matt is here again and even when he goes back to work for real, he'll still be available to help me with this stuff.

Anyway, a few more fun pictures and stories:

The exchanges on base overseas don't deal with change.  Instead they give this little paper "gift certificates" in 5, 10 or 25 cent denominations.  Anybody else remember pogs?  Matt saved his for the kids to play with.

Inspecting her "money"

Some of that hair around her head is mine.... but she still is getting quite the little mop on her already.

Both children are struggling to see their father as anyone other than "Mr. Fun."  And while sure there are loads of opportunities for him to be that guy, he also has to be the strict Dad too sometimes.  Peter in particular is having a hard time taking scoldings from Matt.  It seems to make him angry and he'll go to one of his worst places emotionally, dropping his voice really low and grumbling as he fights back tears when he doesn't get his way.  Peter seems as if he doesn't want to cry in front of his Dad.  I've seen him take a few falls that normally would have had him moaning tearfully and demanding kisses to make things better but with Matt he just tries to keep a brave face on and act like nothing has happened.  It's weird actually.  I wonder where he got the idea that he shouldn't cry in front of him?  We've certainly never told him any such thing.

Anyway, A.J. reacts differently.  If Matt has to scold her she tends to put her chin down, digging it into her chest and mopes.  It's similar to her "shy" behavior.  If this reaction doesn't get her what she wants however, she goes into full on pout mode as shown below:

The weirdest part is while she has been known to throw all sorts of fits for me, she's never done such a thing until now.
(Both Matt and I have to try hard not to laugh at her when she does this....)

 In other news, on Wednesday, we took Matt down to the base early and then I had to bring the kids home and get them fed and dressed as A.J. had a doctor's appointment for her MRI next week.  Oh my goodness was that ever the event of the century.  Peter in particular wasn't doing well with having been woken earlier than usual and was reacting by being completely impossible.  A.J. just wanted to get in to trouble and for her first trick chose to climb into a chair in the reception area and then dive off of it head first, landing on her forehead and then flipping over and landing the second time on her back on the hard tile floor.

The result was a giant purple bump on her forehead and a nice red one on the back of her head.  She screamed for pretty much the next hour.

Combine her unhappiness with Peter's and by the time the doc came in he just said "What on Earth is going on in here?" with a big, amused grin.  I sighed and told him I was losing the battle this morning as Dad had just come home and any semblance of order in our lives was basically shot to hell and this was the ensuing chaos.

After the doctor was finished with the examination it was nearing lunch time so I called Matt to see how his day was progressing.  He said he was free until after lunch so I offered to come down and we could all have lunch together.  If nothing else, I thought that driving back down to the base would give the kids a chance to sleep.

No, he definitely wasn't tired at all.

 Like his hat?  It's one of Matt's.  He's pretty much been wearing it everywhere he goes since Monday night.

In other news, bedtime has been interesting.  Peter now no longer wants anything to do with me putting him to bed, reading him stories, etc and insists that Matt stays and lays with him until he falls asleep.

On Tuesday night this meant that about 15 minutes after lights out Peter came bouncing out of his room while  my poor jet lagged husband snored away softly in the kid's bed.

On Wednesday, however they both fell asleep soundly pretty quickly.

I checked on them often but left Matt in there until it was time for us to go to bed ourselves, figuring he was so tired it didn't matter where he was, he was going to fall asleep.  I couldn't help at laugh (and of course take a picture) of the two of them sleeping there.  (Matt has his arm around Peter's stuffed polar bear!)

Then about 10 o'clock when it was grown up bedtime I went in to carefully rouse my husband and give him the chance to take his contacts out, brush his teeth and change into his pajamas for the night. I almost died laughing with what I saw.  I didn't take a picture that time but Matt was still sleeping soundly there on the bed but Peter was asleep on his stomach on the floor!  He was half under the bed and just his little head was sticking out for me to see.

Not sure how that happened but we THINK Peter must have dropped his bunny or pacy, woken up looking for it then jumped down to fetch it but fell back to sleep before he got back up in bed.  

Either that or my husband pushed his son right out of his own bed.

:)

Ha.

Anyway, that's how things are coming along here.

The End

As you may have gathered by my previous post, (which was written on Sunday evening) Matt came home on Monday night.

It was a long day before hand of course, as he wasn't due to arrive at the airport here until after 9 o'clock in the evening.  But no matter how long it was for me, and how difficult it was waiting, I tried to remember that it was probably worse for him as they loaded the buses for the airport at something like 4 in the afternoon on Sunday Kuwait time for their flight which was due to leave after midnight.  If you're wondering, that meant he started travelling in Kuwait at roughly 6 am on Sunday morning our time here in southern California.  If you start the clock from that bus ride, this meant he was travelling for just about 39 hours before his final flight landed here at home.

Wow.

Anyway, we passed the day as best as we could, not unlike any other really, except that after their baths, I dressed the kids in cute "welcome home" outfits instead of their pajamas.  Matt's final leg was from Phoenix, so then when he sent me a text to let me know he had boarded his final flight and was just over an hour away, we loaded into the car and headed off to the airport to meet him.

A.J. got a new dress for the occasion.
17 months or years?  Geez, what is that look on her face?

Even with my careful planning, we still ended up at the airport about a half hour early.  I wandered around and around and around the baggage claim area until FINALLY he sent me a text that simply said "TOUCHDOWN" meaning his plane had landed and just as soon as they got to the gate he'd be coming to meet us.

A.J. just seemed tired.

But Peter was very, very excited!

Finally, he appeared to us... we saw him coming through the glass railings on the upper level but I couldn't snap a clear photo (like he was moving quickly or something) until he got onto the escalator.

I wonder if those other folks on the escalator truly understood what was about to happen for us, of if they're just grinning and gawking like that for the heck of it.

Okay, well, a bit later Matt told me that the blond lady in the front of the photo looking over her shoulder had come back and traded his seat in coach for hers in First Class so I suppose maybe she had SOME idea....

Anyway, as soon as Matt made it to the bottom of the stairs Peter ran to him and jumped in his arms.

A.J. ran too... after her brother, to her Daddy and then she kept going and tried to go up the escalator.  :)

After a few moments, a gentleman working in the Information Booth came and offered to get a photo of all of us together.  Of course, I only had my fancy camera with me and it seems as though maybe it was too fancy for him to get a good picture with.

Cropped down, this is the better of the shots he got.  He didn't give us any kind of warning which is why Matt's eyes aren't open.  And A.J. was being shy... and with some photo shop-love to reduce the blurriness, I suppose it's... okay.
Ah well....

Next Matt went to have a word with some people from his command, verifying who he was, where he was coming from and that due to the late hour of his arrival that he wouldn't be in the next morning.

Then I held A.J., who needed a moment to get used to the "new" person suddenly there with us, giving some Peter and his Dad some time.

It wasn't long before she decided she was ready to get in there too. (These are easily my favorite photos from that night.)

When the baggage started to come in Peter went with his Dad and waited.  So sweet to see the pair of the there together.

A.J. just wanted to run.

When Matt had found his sea bags I couldn't help but be amused how they were almost as tall as Peter was.

Peter didn't seem to care.  He happily would have found a way to carry one like his Dad if we would have let him. 

So then, since it was late, we just went home.  Peter fought sleep for a long time and chatted happily to his Dad while I drove.  Then Matt would yawn and Peter would yawn.  Matt would be saying something to me and stop to clear his throat and then we'd hear a little echo from the back seat as Peter would clear his throat too.

Even still, by the time we reached our house, both the kids were out like lights and as it was already past 11, we all pretty much went to sleep right away.

The next morning, Matt was up before me (no surprise there, even considering the extreme jet lag) and I woke up to hear him helping Peter in the bathroom.  I will confess, I went back to sleep for a little while longer... just. because. I. could.

We spent the day doing a whole lot of nothing other than being together as a family really and trying to figure out what our new version of normal is going to be.  That's a long road ahead though, so in the mean time, we  just tried to breath in the sweet blessed relief in knowing that this deployment... this horrible trial in our lives... is OVER.

And to celebrate, of course, Matt brought a few small presents.

Peter, being very into sports, got a Qatar soccer jersey.

A.J. (and me also) got a silver spinner bangle bracelet.  Both bracelets say our names on one side in English and on the other our names are in Arabic.  

A.J.'s bracelet is obviously WAY too big, but it we'll keep it safe for her until she gets older.

SO HAPPY THAT HE'S FINALLY HOME FOR GOOD!

On the Eve

Tonight as I was putting Peter to bed, we read a story called "Close Your Eyes" about a little Tiger Cub at bedtime fighting sleep.  The mother Tiger patiently tells him all about the amazing dreams he can have once he closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

Once we finished the story I kissed him goodnight and told him to close his own eyes and see what dreams he would have when he went to sleep.

He closed his eyes for a moment at my request but then opened them up again, looked at me, and grinned through his pacifier.

"What are you going to dream about buddy?" I asked

"Daddy." was his simple reply.

*sigh*

Tomorrow night can't come soon enough.

Dinner on Saturday

For breakfast this morning I made the kids some toast and scrambled eggs.  They both devoured it right up, (so much so that A.J. actually choked a bit and made herself throw up in the process) even though I've tried making it for them multiple times before with no success.

So what changed?

Last week I made myself scrambled eggs for lunch one day and REFUSED to give either of them more than one bite to taste.

Somehow in their little minds this must teach them that whatever Mommy eats is the BEST THING EVER.

So tonight.

It was leftover night.

I tried very hard to dole out the random portions of last week's dinners appropriately, giving everybody what I thought they'd like the most.

Peter got the leftover hot dogs, half of the leftover vegetable pasta with butter and Parmesan and the leftover carrot slices.

A.J. got the leftover stuffed pepper (because she ate both her portion and her brothers the first time around this week with those,) the other half of the leftover vegetable pasta with butter and Parmesan and the leftover broccoli.

I took the last of the spaghetti and meatballs because there were barely any noodles but about 8 meatballs and I'm trying to cut back on carbs while getting more protein.

What did everyone ACTUALLY eat?

Peter ate half of his hot dog in which he needed ketchup AND ranch to dip.  (Gross)  Then he took half of my slice of butter bread, which he ate (except for the crust) for about 20 minutes and applied additional butter too at least 4 separate times.  Finally he decided his own noodles weren't good enough and he started begging for my spaghetti.  Most of the meatballs were already gone and my stomach hasn't been feeling well (from nerves about Matt coming home) all day so I finally just gave it to him.  He ate about half of that and complained the ENTIRE time about the last of the meatballs that were ruining his spaghetti experience.  When he finished he pitched a ridiculous fit about wanting more butter bread so I gave him another slice because it's towards the end of the day, I'm tired and I needed to save whatever fight I have left in me for baths and bedtime.  If you're wondering, he did actually eat about half of that second slice of bread, he just ate all the butter off the top first.

A.J. had helped herself to an entire green apple from the fruit drawer while I was pulling out all the leftovers.  She'd held it up to me proudly, flashing her big blue eyes at me and said "APP-PULLLL" with a tremendous grin.  Convinced, I'd gone ahead and washed it off, taken a starter bite and left her to nibble while I heated everything up.  When dinner finally came, she kept the apple and continued to eat it between bites of her stuffed pepper and 2 meatballs which she confiscated out of my bowl while I was fetching condiments for her brother.  She also ate most of her half of what was supposed to be my slice of butter bread... all in one bite before I could stop her and it's a wonder to me that she didn't choke.

Both children completely ignored their pasta and vegetables, which is a real shame if you ask me because they all looked pretty good.  Of course, nobody asked me.  Nobody ever asks me.

If you're keeping track, this left me to eat only about 4 meatballs and a few bites of spaghetti.  But's it's okay, looking at the mess the two of them made during all of this I lost any appetite I had to begin with.  Also, I'm sure I can make myself something else after they go to bed when at least there will be some peace around here and I might have a decent chance of actually getting to eat the majority of whatever it is.

But still.

My children are the best diet plan ever.

The Tail of my Undoing

The title's not a typo, promise.  I'll explain in a minute.

In the world of military wives, there are all types, but as with anything else, I think the extremes are the most easy to spot.  There are of course, those who seem to utterly define themselves by their husband's career. These women love nothing more than the to tell you about the hardships their family overcomes while their spouse is off on the "front" defending freedom or... something.  They seem to adore bragging about the number of moves they've completed, always find a way to let your know their husband's rank and will attempt to trade their own deployment "war stories" about their many trials at home with even the most decorated of soldiers if given the chance... as if there's any comparison.

On the flip side, there are those who detest the military.  They would do anything to get their husbands into a "normal" job and have been counting down until he gets out since before he even finished swearing his oath.  A good friend of mine falls soundly into this category and she says something about how she'd much rather be a "soft" civilian wife than a "tough" Navy wife all the time.  They tend to ignore the benefits of this lifestyle (job security, travel, education and of course a cute hubby in uniform) and tend to focus negative aspects like the many moves, long hours and of course, deployments.

I think I fall somewhere in the middle, although as my mood swings I'm sure I lean one direction or the other at different times.  I am proud of my guy and all that he does, just as I am proud of what I do to support him while he's off doing his thing, but I do try not to brag.  I honestly believe this is just the plan God had for us and we must figure out how to walk this path, however easy or difficult it may be.  But I also will admit to enjoy part of this lifestyle sometimes.  I'm never going to argue when a company offers us a military discount and as much as moving often can be tough, we've been able to live and visit some amazing places because of it.

I try hard not to dwell on the hardships but instead look for the lessons involved and find amusement in the random crap that goes on.  On previous deployments, I've dealt with living over seas, the loss of a pet, flat tires, clogged drains and dead birds in the backyard.  All of which, I believe, I managed relatively well.  But this past year has been much different than every other deployment because of the kids and while, honestly, God HAS been merciful on us, there have been some moments.  I had another flat tire.  My dog ran away.  One of my cats peed all over the house we were living in and got banished to live outside in the rain of Washington for 6 months only to come with us to California and disappear, likely to the coyotes, less than 3 weeks later.  My daughter had pneumonia and multiple double ear infections and still felt it necessary to fling herself out of our shopping cart at Target. I potty trained my son and survived most of his terrible twos.  Matt was reassigned several times and his homecoming date has been revised at least a half dozen times in the last month alone.

I'm sure the list could go on, but it doesn't matter.  The point is, I got through it.  Sure, I reached my breaking point more times they'd I'd care to admit, but through those breakdowns I was always able to deal.  Maybe not in the best way possible, but at least I took action.

Today?

Today I just... froze.

It was dinner time.  We'd been playing out in the back yard.   The kids had stayed outside and I watched them through the open window while I'd prepared our meal and set the table.  Chase (our remaining cat) was up on the hill living up to his name and hunting in the long grass and weeds.  Despite his brother-cat's unfortunate disappearance, Chase always wants to be outside.  He meows and meows at the backdoor every morning.  But as I learned the hard way that southern California is just not safe for domestic house cats, I only let him out in our fenced back yard when the rest of us are out there too and I can keep an eye on him.

Normally he goes and sits in the shade under the orange trees or along the fence and just watches.  But last week or so he ran off into the side yard and when I went to check that he hadn't jumped the fence I came around the corner just in time to see him chase *something* under the fence.  He turned and ran off back up the hill along the fence, still pursuing his now out of reach prey and where he'd turned I noticed something moving in the dirt.  It was a small (maybe 2-3 inch) tail of of some sort of lizard, which I'm assuming the creature had to drop to escape the cat or else was hoping would provide enough of a distraction for the cat that it could make it's escape.  I'd looked at the little thing twitching there in front of me, shuddered, and went back to the children, trying to erase the image from my brain.

The image, as it were, was not going to be so easily forgotten.  Later that same day, while A.J. napped and Peter loafed on the couch watching  Nick Jr. I went out to trim back a bush.  Just as I was making one of my final cuts with my trusty hedge trimmers something fell, moving in front of me.  I screamed, jumped about 45 feet backwards, and suffered a minor heart attack I'm sure, before it occurred to me that I must have hit (or at least threatened) another lizard hiding in that bush and it too had dropped it's tail.  A short time later, having calmed myself down from the shock of seeing the 5-6 inch grey tail fall, twitching wildly right in front of me, I went out to investigate and saw the nasty thing finally rigid and still, laying in the grass where it had landed.  Leaning over from a good 3 feet a way at least, I confirmed for myself visually what it was and then started hoping a bird or something would carry the tail away so I didn't have to worry about one of the children finding it and bringing it to me for an explanation.

That was all, probably, two weeks ago and I had nearly forgot about my new fear of San Diego's lizards today when we went in for dinner.  Peter was climbing into his chair asking what was for dinner and I was strapping A.J. into her booster while kicking the backdoor closed with my foot when I heard the cat, up on the hill, suddenly start meowing.  Assuming he just objected to being locked out alone I finished securing A.J. and stuck my head back out the door calling "kittykittykitty!" to him.

Up on the hill the long grasses and weeds shook violently and then my little white fluff ball came tumbling out of the brush, down the side of the hill, running straight across the yard, up onto the porch and on into the house.  I shut the door behind him and went to bring the kids their plates of foods and when I returned I noticed the cat again.

He was sitting, right in the middle of the living room, looking up at me like the very model of feline pride and perfection.  And in front of him was....

I SCREAMED.

I'm sure my children thought Mommy had just gone and lost her mind.  And I know you're wondering if they were frightened by my scream but they were more confused.  Both of their heads turned to see what I was looking at.

There in front of the cat was another dead lizard tail.

Well, the tail was dead, the lizard, I'm assuming is still outside, up on our hill, perhaps hanging out with all the other stumpy little lizards that must be quite numerous back there by now.

The tale was the biggest I'd seen yet... a good 7-8 inches.

It made me want. to. die.

I have no idea why, really, but I got so many different kind of heeby-jeebies just seeing it there.

"What it is?" Peter asked and jumped down from his seat at the table to look closer.  The cat was sniffing his prize and pushing it around a bit with one of his front paws.

"DON'T TOUCH IT!  GET BACK!!!"  I screamed at my son.

I tried to make myself move closer and come up with a rational plan on how to pick it up but I couldn't.  My stomach was churning, my skin was crawling and my mind had gone about 90% numb.  Suddenly I turned into an expert long jumper and I leaped over the tail, scaring the cat away from him prize, and landing, myself by the front door.  I peeked out and saw that my neighbors car was there and quickly dialed her number but it went to voice mail.  I left, what I am sure is, an insane person's message about being a total girl and needing to borrow her husband for a quick bit of help.

When I hung up, a voice mail from my mother in law rang in (odd timing as I guess she'd called right as I'd called) So I dialed her back.  She needed some info on getting the dog home next week but mostly she just laughed at me quietly as I explained the situation.

Peter kept hopping down from the table to look.  At one point he reached out and started to pick it up (which I suppose would have solved my problem) but I screamed again, begging him to leave it alone and he startled, jumped back himself and went back to not eating his dinner at the table.

My mother in law told me to be calm and handle it.  Get a shovel or some gloves.  Or if Peter wanted to, just let him throw it out.  I explained that I would figure it out but first I needed to take a picture or nobody would believe me and since my camera broke I'd need to use my phone for that.  She laughed at me some more, wished me luck, and hung up.  I noticed that I'd climbed up onto one of the end tables where I was now crouching on my knees, looking down on the tail.

Terrible blurry photo because my hands were shaking and I couldn't make myself move closer.
The toy stroller wheel is intentionally cropped IN to give you a better idea of the size.
Yuck.

The tail.  Ick.  The pointy end was towards me and the "stump" end was facing Peter.  I wondered for a moment why those tails never bleed when they break off and then decided I didn't want to know.  All I did know for sure is that dead things skeeze me out and this was just a dead PART of something.  Just like earthworms, snakes and spiders.  Thankfully, in San Diego, earthworms seem to be few and far between.  We haven't had any snakes (and I pray that we never do) and spiders, I can handle, it just takes a bit of a gut check moment and some sturdy shoes on my feet and I suck it up and can deal with them.

I looked at my phone again, wishing my neighbor would call or text back.

I thought seriously for a moment about covering it with an overturned trash can or bucket or something and just leaving it there til Matt gets home in a few more days.  Then I realized how completely INSANE I was being and I left the kids to their dinners while I ran across the street to find help.  I was fully prepared to knock on multiple doors if necessary.  Luckily, the first one got an answer and I fully humiliated myself explaining the silly yet completely dire situation I was dealing with.  My lovely neighbor laughed at me a bit but agreed to help and followed me back to my house.  This particular neighbor seems to stand about 6 and a half feet tall and I'm sure when he looked in and saw my little 7 or 8 inch problem he rolled his eyes.

"That's it?" He asked.  I assured him that it was, and that, no matter how silly it seemed, I just really needed his help getting rid of it. He asked me for a paper towel, and I got him one.  He picked it up and left.

"Are you sure that's it?" He asked.

*sigh*

My blood pressure dropped about 75 points just knowing it was out of my house.

I sat down to eat my dinner and Peter started in at me about wanting a brownie, life was back to normal.  Just. Like. That.

But the complete and utter ridiculousness of situation was not lost on me.  After EVERYTHING that I have done this year.  All the things we've gotten through and handled I was completely unable to deal with... this.

Completely frozen, paralyzed even, by a dead lizard tail brought to me by my cat.

THANK GOD my neighbor answered the door and was willing to help me or else I might still be cowering on top of that end table and my kids might still be pushing their dinners around their plates wondering what on Earth that thing was in the middle of the floor that seemed to have broken their mommy.

Perhaps I should bake my neighbor a cake or something.

Oh, and I'm not talking to the cat.

Some Things

This afternoon for lunch Peter was eating, among other things, half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Except when he referred to it, he called it his "peanut butter and jelly beans sandwich."  I love when he gets his words confused like that.

Like ever since popcorn became a semi regular healthy snack around here to him, all corn is "popcorn," even the warm kernels I serve on his plate sometimes at dinner.  When I serve it on the cob it's just "popcorn on the cob."

:)

I'm sure there are other examples like this, I just can't seem to come up with any of them now.

*****

It seems that A.J.'s favorite word right now is "help!"  Except when she says it it comes out as "Hep!"

It started a couple of days ago when she'd crawled back in the corner behind the train table and couldn't figure out how to get back out.  "Hep!  Hep! Hep!" She randomly started calling until I caught on what she wanted.

Then I laughed and smiled about how cute it had been that she asked for help when she needed it.

This must have pleased her greatly because now she keeps getting herself into precarious situations and calling me for "hep!"

Like right, now, she's busying herself about climbing up on the kitchen table again even though it was only about 5 minutes ago that I last rescued her.

Actually, come to think of it, I'm not sure whether she likes using her new word to get rescued or if she's just not nearly as good at climbing down from things as she is at climbing up onto them.

*****
Last night at bedtime Peter decided he was a dog.  I told him that was great because dogs sleep all day so he needed to go to sleep.  He responded by laying his head on the pillow, closing his eyes and pretending to snore.  Except you know how most of the time a snore sound goes sort of like "snort-shhhhhh?"  Well, since he was being a dog, he made a *snort* sound followed by a little  "woof."

"Snort-Woof!  Snort-Woof! Snoooooort-Woof."

He's a weirdo.

*****

Apparently, Matt is coming home early again.  It's kind of a long, funny story most of which I can't share here.  But the long and the short of it is that a couple of the higher ups that he works for were sort of annoyed that after they'd signed all the paperwork to get him home, there wasn't space for him in the transition program he is required to complete, and he was going to have to wait around for another week and do nothing.  So his bosses made a few phone calls, and apparently threw some rank around and now we're back down to 8 days.

In telling me the whole story Matt used some language that was so, um, colorful it even offended me.  And everybody who knows me knows I have quite the potty mouth and am not easily offended. Let me just say, that now, having heard the whole story... I'm not sure his words were harsh enough.

Holy cow.

*****

I'm signed up to run my first 5K on Mother's Day.  I've been wanting to do this for awhile and I decided that after the year I've had, the only thing I wanted to do to celebrate Mother's Day was do something for me.  My friend is actually coming to run it with me and I'm sure Matt and the kids will be there to cheer me on, so it isn't totally selfish or anything.

I bring this up now only because, to deal with my frustrations with the uncertain homecoming dates and everything I went shopping yesterday.  Except all I bought was another pair of running shoes and more working out clothes.

Now, I LOVE me some cute work out clothes and I always have.  But with all the retail choices that lay before me to have only purchased sporting goods?

OMG what has happened to me?

*****

Yesterday at lunch Peter excitedly asked me if I wanted to see his "new trick?"

I agreed so he held up half of his sandwich and took a giant bite out of it.  Then he chewed it up some but before he swallowed he paused and said "TA DA!" proudly, holding out his hands as if he was doing a big finish.

How this is a "trick" I will never know, except that by his showing me his trick over and over again he actually managed to eat his entire lunch for once.

Just Another Breaking Point

Time and again he tells you maybe.

He'll do what he can and just maybe he'll get home sooner.

Every time, you try not to get your hopes up but it's impossible.

Again and again you are disappointed.

And then one day it seems a tiny bit of redemption comes a long.  It isn't much.  Barely worth thinking about, really, but when he says it's all but done you believe him.

The paperwork is still in the works, but it will all get taken care of, he tells you.  Probably.

You mark your calendar and start the new count down.

14 days, you tell yourself on that Monday.

You can do this.  It's nothing.  Just 2 short weeks!

Everything is still hard, but it's only 14 more days.  Then it's only 13 and then 12. 11.  Then 10.  Even you can get through 10 more days of hard.

You tell your children it's not long now.  They may or may not understand but it makes you fell better to deliver the news.

And then, suddenly, he tells you never mind.

It's going to be a week later.  Probably.  Again, nothing is 100% for sure yet, because nothing ever is.  And it's still a whole 7 days earlier than the original plan, but it's also 7 days later than the day you'd set your hopeful sights on earlier in the week.  The logistics of it just aren't working out.

And just like that your 10 day count down shatters and shoots back up to 17.  You feel like you have to count down again, just to be back where you started 5 days earlier

Your heart breaks.  Again.  It's not his fault.  It's nobody's fault.  But you're angry.  Frustrated.  Defeated.

And yes, it's still only 17 days.

You've done so many more than that already, so who cares right?

You do.  You ran out of optimism months ago.

17 days just seems impossible now.

You wonder just how many pieces this year has broken you into anyway.

A Simple Plea

Dear Daughter,

A.J. sweetie, I know that we joke and laugh a lot about how much of a little trouble maker you are.  I know we groan at the mention of your sleeping habits and screaming over the first year or so of your life, but I promise you... PROMISE you, that we do this because we love you.  You are, in all actuality, an answer to so many of our prayers.  We wanted you, and we love you, even though you can be tough to keep up with most of the time.  I know that it has been a long tough year for us.  But we're doing okay, right?  I mean, I know mommy is tired a lot and she loses her patience faster than she should, and maybe she yells too much, but we're all still here and we're all okay, right?  You've been sick some, as is to be expected, but even through everything, we've managed to stay out of the hospital.  And this is almost over, I promise.  Daddy WILL be home soon.  Things will be getting more right in your world before you even know it.

Therefore, I would just like to take a quick moment to tell you that despite how you might have felt, it was NOT necessary to throw your leg over the side and take a flying leap right out of the shopping cart at Target this morning.  I'm sorry there weren't any double carts available where I could have sat you (and your brother,) both securely strapped in.  It was just a quick trip for diapers and cat food so I'm sorry you had to sit in the basket part while Peter sat in the seat.  I'm sorry that you were hungry and wanted to go home perhaps, and that Mommy was taking too long, but please child... watching you move so suddenly and then fall in what seemed like s-l-o-w  m-o-t-i-o-n, straight down, onto the cold, hard tile floor, landing flat on your back and bonking your head much harder than I would ever like, nearly gave me a freaking heart attack.

I'm sorry I couldn't move fast enough to catch you, even though I did somehow manage to move quick enough to scoop you up off the floor and wrap you tightly in my arms before the shock of it had even reached you and before you'd even managed to finish sucking in the air necessary to facilitate the GIGANTIC, horrified scream you were about to let out.  (And kept letting out for about the next 30 minutes.)

Honey, please.  I hope you learned not to do such things again.  I'm sorry that you had to learn this lesson the hard way, just as I am sorry that I couldn't catch you.  But we're down to mere DAYS here.  If you're going to try anything else death defying, whether it's just for the heck of it, or to get my attention or whatever, can you PLEASE just wait until your father comes home.  PLEASE?

Let's not ruin our streak now.  I really don't like the emergency room and I'm sure you won't like it either.

Love,
Mommy

PS... I'm very glad you are fine.  A-OK actually.  So okay that you even said "Tanks Mama!" to me when I gave you your lunch, and then you ate two entire plates full.  But as glad as I am that you're alright, I'd be doing much better still without having not been through that this morning.

Just so you know...

Just because something is almost over, doesn't mean the days are going to be any easier.

366

After my previous post (about Easter) Matt emailed me to say that he'd been sharing the photos with one of his coworkers and somewhere along the way she had declared that A.J. has grown so much and he needs to go ahead and get his butt home to her (us) already.

Um, gee.  No kidding.

Today, it's been a year since that horrible morning when I left him at the airport in Seattle.  We'd driven to the top of the parking garage and picked a spot.  He'd gotten out, gone to kiss A.J. goodbye and then walked around to the other side of the car and did the same with Peter. I'd waited behind the van for my turn, not wanting to intrude on their little moments and unable to stand the sight of it anyway.  Then he come around to the back of the van, pulled out his bag and gave me a goodbye hug too.  I don't remember if he said anything.  He pulled away first, because he always does.  I would never let go of my own free will during one of the goodbye hugs.  Then he walked away from me and disappeared into the little room where you catch the elevators.

I feel absolutely sick just thinking about it again now.

Three hundred and sixty six days later, it still hurts like hell.

(Stupid leap year!)

And even though he was "just" home at Christmas, (it's already been 99 days since he left the second time) and its hard now not to look back and realize all that's happened since.  Because, to a grown up, sure, a year is a long time, but other than losing the baby weight and then some, right along with the better part of my sanity, not much has changed for me.

But our children.... they've changed a lot.

THEN:

Both of these pictures were taken the day before he left.

and NOW:

Forgive me for the princess nightgown I couldn't resist.
And Tangled came out the week A.J. was born so it's hard
for me not to see Rapunzel as HER Princess.  :)

(Both of these were taken this morning and though they aren't very good,
they mostly get my point across.)

When Matt left us a year ago, A.J. was 4 months and 10 days old.  She was still tiny and only 13 pounds.  She was bald.  She almost never slept, unless it was in her swing.  She took medicine for reflux every day.  She had no teeth and was still nursing.  She wore footie pajamas roughly 90% of the time.  She still needed to be tightly swaddled to sleep.  She didn't move around the house by herself at all, except if we did tummy time and she rolled herself over, which happened only rarely at best.  She still used her infant/carrier car seat.  She didn't speak at all except to scream.  She barely even laughed.

In the past year, she's gone from a tiny infant, to a budding little person.  A trouble making little person, but knowing who her parents are, I suppose that isn't too surprising.

Today she is 16 months and 10 days old.  She weighs around 24 pounds.  She's finally growing a full head of hair, and it's getting long enough to put clips and bows in her loose little curls.  They can even be pulled into little pigtails.  None of this matters of course because she pulls everything out of her hair 15 seconds after I put it in but that doesn't stop me from continually trying.  She (finally) sleeps through the night most of the time... lost pacifiers not withstanding.  Her swing has been boxed up since September and she actually loves her crib now.  (Trust me when I say that a year ago I wasn't sure if she would EVER make it through a whole night in there.)  She hasn't taken medicine for acid reflux in a long time, although she still does have troubles with her tummy sometimes.  She still only has 8 teeth but I feel confident her molars will be making an appearance any time now... I think I even saw one just starting to poke through in the back there today.  She's been weened onto formula and then milk and then lactose free milk.  She learned to eat first baby foods then regular solids and now she eats everything that is put in front of her.  She loves to eat so much these days that after meal times I have to be sure to clear the table immediately or else I will find her climbing back up onto the table top to forage for leftovers on her brother's plate.  She still sleeps in footie pajamas most night, but she no longer wears them all day, every day.  She prefers regular clothes and shoes, shoes, SHOES!  She does still like to be wrapped tightly in a blanket, but not so much to sleep as just to play.  One of her favorite little games is to be my baby actually, and let me wrap her in a blanket, and rock her just like she was still my tiny newborn except now when we do this it's just for pretend and it makes her giggle more than anything else.  She almost never stays in one place anymore.  Her wobbly little "zombie walk" in the last few months has developed into a full on little run and she tends to tear around the house, the yard or the playground just as fast as her little legs can carry her.  She graduated into her full sized car seat back in August, although she's still rear facing because of the increasingly strict car seat regulations.  I'm sure she absolutely can not wait until she turns 2 next fall and can be turned around so she will finally be able to see the movies on the DVD player when we go on long car trips.  These days, she's learning to talk.  She has several clear words (Mama, Dada, kitty, brother, up, down, more, cup, poop) and will make a good honest attempt at repeating almost any other word I ask for.  These days she laughs all the time....

At the end of this month, she will be the same age her brother was on the day that she was born.

On the other hand, I suppose the changes with Peter haven't been quite as numerous or obvious.  When Matt left us a year ago, he was 21 months old.  He already seemed to have made the odd little transition from a baby into a small child, but even still.

Physically, he's so much taller now and bigger now, but so much skinnier too.  I'd bought him size 2T pants when we first moved to Washington and these days he wears 4T... which are still a little long, but the next size down tends to almost be too short already.  His feet seem to be gigantic and I suppose we'll be graduating out of toddler sized sneakers at our next visit to the shoe store.  His blond hair has gotten a bit darker and is thicker.  So thick now that I do my best to keep it as short as possible lest his weird little curly cowlick in the front go wild and take over his whole head.  (That reminds me I need to get him in for another haircut ASAP.)  His face is just, different now too.  I don't really notice it unless I look back at older photos but it's thinner and more mature looking now.  His chubby baby cheeks are gone.  His second set of molars grew in last month, pushing the space between his front two teeth together some and now when he laughs or smiles it seems to me like there are about 600 teeth in there and I have to think hard to remember the gummy little grin on the chubby little man that I used to know.  Speaking of chubby, if you met him today you would never even guess how he used to be.  That's all gone now.  GONE.  As I look over at him now, the ONLY remnants of baby fat sit at his wrists where there is now, only the faintest little line of fat sitting where his arms meet his hands.  I used to joke that he had "Lego hands" because the chubby little roll there looked so much like a socket where I could have popped his little hands right out if I'd wanted to.  It's funny to me now that this is about the only spot on him where I can even find some fat.  Of course the fact that he's skinny now doesn't actually surprise me.  He hardly ever wants to eat anything except chocolate milk and fruit snacks, and he runs hard most days on very little sleep.

Of course, we (I) can't forget that he used to take NAPS.  Long ones.  Every. Single. Day.

These days if he takes a nap (if Mommy makes him take one) he'll be bouncing off the walls until at least 9 o'clock at night.  If he doesn't take a nap though, he turns into a nightmare child somewhere right around dinner....

Of course, the biggest change in him is his vocabulary.  I tended to think he was a good talker a year ago, when he had something like 30 words and he wasn't even two yet.  I certainly never imagined how well he'd be talking by now.  I mean, seriously, I'd challenge to you find a word he doesn't yet know actually.

His language skills are, in fact, a bit of a mixed blessing as he now frequently tells me he misses his Daddy.  And while he has the words to express this, his two and a half year old little brain just can't seem to comprehend "soon" when I tell him it's not much longer now.

And it isn't.

I've been hesitant to mention anything, but it seems like we're going to get Matt back about... are you ready for this?  TWO WEEKS EARLY.  Thank you US Military for taking 2 weeks off of our 56 week deployment.  (This as a reward for Matt's requests to come home early which basically have been ongoing for the last 6 months at least.)  I think I may faint from the awesomeness of it all.  Or... something.

But two weeks is two weeks, and coincidentally, that's about how much longer we have now.

Probably.

I'm not going to believe anything until he's standing in front of me at the airport.

Anyway, it's been a year.

A whole freaking year.

A whole freaking year that we'll never get back.  A whole precious year of our children's life that he's missed except for what he's been able to get from Skype, Facebook and this blog's posts.

A whole year of our lives together, which, frankly, already seem like they're too short.

But it's almost over now.

And I can't wait.

Easter Celebrations

Easter Sunday dawned early for us here as I wanted to make the 9 o'clock mass (and be there early enough to get seats) but I knew the kids would need plenty of time to wake up and enjoy their Easter surprises before having breakfast, getting dressed and heading off to church.  

I set my alarm for 6.  On his earlier mornings lately that is around when Peter will get up needing to go potty, and I wanted to make sure he didn't get up and start tearing into everything without me and his sister.

I woke him up first, took him to the bathroom and then together we went to wake his sister.  Then I left them in her room and ran down the hall ahead of them to grab my camera and capture their reactions as they saw their surprises.

Peter seemed excited and interested while A.J. just seemed to be sleepy.

The Bunny left a note explaining that he'd hidden eggs for each of them around the living room to find so the kids ignored their baskets for the time being, grabbed their buckets and got to work finding those eggs. 

It you look close, Peter "found" some of my egg shaped candles that I'd put out for decoration.  :)

It cracked me up that neither kid noticed the cat and the treasure he was guarding right away.

A.J. was definitely not fully awake yet.

Once it seemed like all the eggs had been located, they both settled down on the floor to open their eggs and explore the contents of their baskets, plus the few extra surprises that had arrived in a box from the grandparents yesterday afternoon.

  

Both kids received some bunny ears.

As well as these cool glowing egg wand things.

There was also a funny hat from Gramma and Grandpa for them both.

Peter with his Peter Rabbit chocolate bunny.

No idea why she's making that face but it cracks me up!

The box from the grandparents also included this velcro catch game.  They have
one of these sets at their house and he loved playing with it while we were there last
fall so this was a huge hit!

 A.J.'s basket had a Super Why book and Whyatt action figure since she goes nuts for that show.  I'm not expert, but I'd say she was thrilled!

Eventually Peter made it into the kitchen.

First he noticed the new water play table waiting for them
out on the back porch.  This was the kids Easter present
from Matt and I.

Then he noticed more candy on the table and started begging me for an egg.

I offered him one of our dyed hard boiled eggs.  This is when I
figured out that he didn't want a regular egg... he wanted a
candy Robin's Egg.  He is SO his father's son!

Next was breakfast, and then everybody got dressed for church.  Without anybody else around to help us get our family photo, and without the time to mess with my tripod, I improvised and set the camera up on the tv stand with the timer and managed to get this one:

Not the best shot , but it'll do.  Also, the angle and all the running I've been doing is
making my calves look huge.  :/

So then we went to church.  We arrived a full hour early, to give us plenty of time to get parking, use the restroom and get good seats.  I took a large a pile of snacks, cups of juice, books, matchbox cars and the portable DVD player armed with the kids favorite Diego DVD, which I played with the sound turned all the way off.  It was supposed to be entertainment while we waited for the service to begin, but nobody around us seemed to mind so I just left it going.

Peter, mostly, ate his snacks and sat/laid on the floor playing with his cars.  A.J. just ate, snuggled on my lap and drove me crazy.

The highlight of the mass was when the Priest was doing the Gospel reading and he kept saying Simon Peter this and Simon Peter that... because, as you might know, the disciple, Simon Peter, played kind of a big role in the discovery of the resurrection story.  Every time the Priest said Simon Peter my son perked up more and more.  By the end of it, Peter had climbed up onto the pew and was standing up and jumping a little saying "Hey!  Dat's Me!  Me me me!" like he thought the Priest was calling for him and not just talking about somebody else with the same name.

I couldn't help but burst out laughing at that.

So anyway, after church we came home and the kids ran wild for a few minutes while I tried to decompress.

I love A.J.'s Easter dress.  I bought it last year at the after holiday sales and it
was one of the options for her Uncle's wedding.  I'm so glad I guessed the sizing right and it fit perfectly
all whole year later!

Then Daddy called on Skype so we all talked to him for a bit.

And of course, the children ate candy.

It was still early... like 10:30, so I changed the kids into their new swim suits and we headed outside to play with their new water table.

I'd say it was a hit!

She was splashing in the puddles again.

Apparently, my daughter couldn't have enough watery fun from the side
because she just kept climbing in.  I *tried* to stop her....

Of course, once she was in there, Peter wanted to get in to.  This seemed like a really bad (dangerous) idea to me so I distracted him out of it but turning the sprinkler on for a few minutes.

It was a warm day.  Maybe, 80 degrees, but it gets cool at night so the water was cold and after a good hour and half out there they were both cold and done.

My Snug-a-bugs.

We dried off and had lunch, then A.J. went down for a nap while Peter and I watched movies all afternoon. I made a big dinner tonight and then after some more play time (and what seems like a lot more candy) it was time for the kids to head to bed.

Except Peter is still bouncing around in there, I can hear him and it's been almost an hour.  He's popped back out a few times but now seems to have figured that if he stays in his room he's a lot less likely to see my angry face.  I'm going to assume he's just hopped up from all the sugar.

Anyway, it was a happy, blessed Easter for us.... I hope yours happy and blessed too.