Things are looking up. Of that I am very thankful to God. I am also very thankful to my friends and family and to my husband.
We are trying to work things out. This is very good, as I Love Him very much. We have a long road ahead of us, but hopefully we will keep our eye on what is most important - What brought us together in the first place, our children and our Love for each other.
My wish is to have a very Happy Christmas with all our friends and family. Hubby's parents are coming down I think the week of Christmas and I am excited.
I am looking forward to having some time with my sister, brother-in-law and nephew too.
I have been going to a different church and have had this internal feeling of peace when I am there that I cannot quite explain. Maybe it is God's way of reassuring me at a time when I needed it most. Maybe it was his way of telling me that things are going to be okay.
I am just sitting here writing this and tearing up. I want so much for everything to be right with us here. I want our family healed. I want us all to love each other.
I love each and every one of them. I only hope I will be able to show it in all that I do so they can see it.
I want them to think... "Man! She really Loves me!" And I want them to be able to think that at least once a day. Or maybe once every other day would be more realistic.
Plain and simple, I want them to know, deep down that I love them.
That's what I want for Christmas.
Oh... and for us to be together, always.
=)
Friday, December 7, 2007
Thursday, November 15, 2007
A Warped World
I know I haven't wrote anything in awhile. It's been very hard to get on day to day here. On the 22nd of October my husband told me he wanted a divorce. (Three days before our 4th wedding anniversary.)
I was shocked. Blindsided. Heart broken.
I love my husband. And it hurts to hear all the horrible things that have been coming out of his mouth. (Usually he's been drinking.) All the blame that is being layed right at my feet. Or rather, on my shoulders. It seems that everything that ever went wrong with this marriage is my fault.
He filed for divorce on November 7th. He had our neighbor serve me. In front of my kids.
I cannot imagine what kind of monster this person has become that I married.
He seems to be a different person. He says one thing then turns around and either says the opposite, or adds more to what he said. (First it was 3 months that he's been feeling this way- that was 3 months ago. Now, in the past 3 weeks it has gone up to he's been thinking about this for a year and a half.)
I feel like I am totally lost. I lost my best friend, my lover, my confidant, my husband. He has been gone almost every night and drinking and I don't know who he is anymore.
I am scared of him. I am scared FOR him. I am scared for my family. My children are all important to me.
In the past month I have lost 30 pounds. I have trouble sleeping. I dread going to work, afraid for what will happen here. And I dread coming home because of who/what I will find when I get here.
I have cried more tears in the past 3 months than I have my entire life. I have cried pretty much daily.
We are in counseling now, which is a very good thing I think. I am praying it will help.
The Dr. Jeckell & Mr. Hyde thing is getting really scary.
My two daughters have been sleeping with me. (Mutual support I guess. My oldest is seeing, hearing and understanding everything going on, my youngest just wants to snuggle with Mommy at night. Who am I to say no? I am getting the benefits of feeling like someone is close.)
Please pray for us.
I was shocked. Blindsided. Heart broken.
I love my husband. And it hurts to hear all the horrible things that have been coming out of his mouth. (Usually he's been drinking.) All the blame that is being layed right at my feet. Or rather, on my shoulders. It seems that everything that ever went wrong with this marriage is my fault.
He filed for divorce on November 7th. He had our neighbor serve me. In front of my kids.
I cannot imagine what kind of monster this person has become that I married.
He seems to be a different person. He says one thing then turns around and either says the opposite, or adds more to what he said. (First it was 3 months that he's been feeling this way- that was 3 months ago. Now, in the past 3 weeks it has gone up to he's been thinking about this for a year and a half.)
I feel like I am totally lost. I lost my best friend, my lover, my confidant, my husband. He has been gone almost every night and drinking and I don't know who he is anymore.
I am scared of him. I am scared FOR him. I am scared for my family. My children are all important to me.
In the past month I have lost 30 pounds. I have trouble sleeping. I dread going to work, afraid for what will happen here. And I dread coming home because of who/what I will find when I get here.
I have cried more tears in the past 3 months than I have my entire life. I have cried pretty much daily.
We are in counseling now, which is a very good thing I think. I am praying it will help.
The Dr. Jeckell & Mr. Hyde thing is getting really scary.
My two daughters have been sleeping with me. (Mutual support I guess. My oldest is seeing, hearing and understanding everything going on, my youngest just wants to snuggle with Mommy at night. Who am I to say no? I am getting the benefits of feeling like someone is close.)
Please pray for us.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
sisu's Dream
sisu's Dream
She lays her head tiredly on her pillow It's been an exausting day.
Her mind is a turmoil of thoughts filtering through faster than she can almost process them.
Scattered thoughts, some lingering some fleeting. It's like someone opened a floodgate.
She sits up and grabs the hairbrush from the nightstand beside the bed.
Slowly she starts drawing it through her hair. She tries to relax, closing her eyes taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly and evenly as she drags the brush down through her silky mane.
A voice in the back of her mind whispers to her, "Here, let me do that for you." She feels the brush slipping gently from her fingers and a warm hand on the back of her neck where he lifts her long hair, shivering slightly as the cool air rushes to meet the warmth created there.
She feels the brush pulling at the underside of her hair, making her head tip back slightly.
"How relaxing this feels", she thinks to herself. Almost as if he is really there, stroking her hair.
Her eyes open lazily as she looks around. She is alone in the room, the dim light from the nightstand casting it's gentle glow around the room. Shadows falling here and there.
A sudden restlessness overcomes her, and she gets up to move about the room.
She picks up the lighter from the nightstand and sets the incense stick that is sitting in it's holder on the dresser ablaze. She looks into the flame a moment, lost in thought, watching it until it glows red and then softly blows the flame out. The whispy trails of smoke float up to surround her in the heady scent of jasmine. Such a sweet musky smell... she breathes in deeply and lets the air rush slowly out of her lungs.
Walking a bit further she lights some candles that are scattered around the room.
She is *going* to relax... she has to. As she lights the last candle, she pauses.
Feeling the warmth of two hands being placed on her shoulders. She tips her head forward slightly as they begin massaging her tired shoulders.
"God, that feels so good.", she thinks. The hands move up to the base of her neck, fingers moving deftly, kneading in a circular motion. They move down, in the same wonderful motion,
all the way down her spine, and up again.
She moans softly under her breath, and the hands disappear.
Picking up her head and looking around the room she sees nobody there.
It's empty, lifeless, except for the flickering of candlelight dancing around the room.
She walks to the nightstand and clicks off the lamp there.
She sits down on the edge of the bed, sliding her feet out of the high heeled shoes she is wearing.
Wiggling her toes and stretching her feet, she leans back on the bed.
Raising her arms above her head she stretches her whole body.
Her back arches off the soft mattress, her neck curved as she tips her head back.
She lifts up a leg to stretch it out, and feels the warm hands on her calf, holding it there, mid-air.
They gently move down her leg, towards her foot, stroking and massaging her.
She can feel the thumbs digging into the arch of her tired foot, and she groans, loving it.
The hands stroke upwards on her foot to her toes, rubbing each one carefully in turn.
And then run down to her heel, grasping it and massaging it until she feels herself relaxing again.
She feels the hands set her leg down carefully, only to move over to the other leg to give it the same attention.
By the time they are done, she can feel her feet and legs tingling with new life, feeling totally relaxed and invigorated all at once.
Lifting herself up on her elbows to look down at her feet, she sees nothing.
No one is there, she is alone. She stands up slowly, unbuttoning her blouse and removing it in one swift motion.
Setting it carefully over the rail at the end of her bed. She reaches behind her to unbutton
and unzip her short skirt and slides its down from her hips slowly bending to retrieve it from the floor. She folds it slowly and places it at the end of her bed as well.
Hooking her thumbs under her thigh high stocking, she sits on the edge of her bed and rolls it down slowly and neatly. Placing it on the bed next to her, and removing the other one in the same fashion.
She takes the pair of stockings and walks over to the highback chair that sits so quietly next to her dresser. As she moves, she catches something out of the corner of her eye.
It is her own reflection in the mirror. Tipping her head to the side, her long auburn hair falling forward over her shoulder, she reaches behind herself to undo her bra and slides it from her shoulders, down her arms. Tossing it onto the chair as well.
She reaches for the top of her panties, sliding them slowly down to the floor and stepping out of them in one fluid movement, they join the rest of the undergarments in the chair.
Slowly she walks back to her soft warm bed.
Pulling back the covers, and climbing in. Laying her head down on the pillow and pulling the blankets up to cover her naked body.
She takes one last look around the room. And then she closes her eyes, and drifts off into a peaceful sleep.
A smile crosses her soft lips as she dreams of the One that has touched her so completely.
~sisu~
September, 1999
She lays her head tiredly on her pillow It's been an exausting day.
Her mind is a turmoil of thoughts filtering through faster than she can almost process them.
Scattered thoughts, some lingering some fleeting. It's like someone opened a floodgate.
She sits up and grabs the hairbrush from the nightstand beside the bed.
Slowly she starts drawing it through her hair. She tries to relax, closing her eyes taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly and evenly as she drags the brush down through her silky mane.
A voice in the back of her mind whispers to her, "Here, let me do that for you." She feels the brush slipping gently from her fingers and a warm hand on the back of her neck where he lifts her long hair, shivering slightly as the cool air rushes to meet the warmth created there.
She feels the brush pulling at the underside of her hair, making her head tip back slightly.
"How relaxing this feels", she thinks to herself. Almost as if he is really there, stroking her hair.
Her eyes open lazily as she looks around. She is alone in the room, the dim light from the nightstand casting it's gentle glow around the room. Shadows falling here and there.
A sudden restlessness overcomes her, and she gets up to move about the room.
She picks up the lighter from the nightstand and sets the incense stick that is sitting in it's holder on the dresser ablaze. She looks into the flame a moment, lost in thought, watching it until it glows red and then softly blows the flame out. The whispy trails of smoke float up to surround her in the heady scent of jasmine. Such a sweet musky smell... she breathes in deeply and lets the air rush slowly out of her lungs.
Walking a bit further she lights some candles that are scattered around the room.
She is *going* to relax... she has to. As she lights the last candle, she pauses.
Feeling the warmth of two hands being placed on her shoulders. She tips her head forward slightly as they begin massaging her tired shoulders.
"God, that feels so good.", she thinks. The hands move up to the base of her neck, fingers moving deftly, kneading in a circular motion. They move down, in the same wonderful motion,
all the way down her spine, and up again.
She moans softly under her breath, and the hands disappear.
Picking up her head and looking around the room she sees nobody there.
It's empty, lifeless, except for the flickering of candlelight dancing around the room.
She walks to the nightstand and clicks off the lamp there.
She sits down on the edge of the bed, sliding her feet out of the high heeled shoes she is wearing.
Wiggling her toes and stretching her feet, she leans back on the bed.
Raising her arms above her head she stretches her whole body.
Her back arches off the soft mattress, her neck curved as she tips her head back.
She lifts up a leg to stretch it out, and feels the warm hands on her calf, holding it there, mid-air.
They gently move down her leg, towards her foot, stroking and massaging her.
She can feel the thumbs digging into the arch of her tired foot, and she groans, loving it.
The hands stroke upwards on her foot to her toes, rubbing each one carefully in turn.
And then run down to her heel, grasping it and massaging it until she feels herself relaxing again.
She feels the hands set her leg down carefully, only to move over to the other leg to give it the same attention.
By the time they are done, she can feel her feet and legs tingling with new life, feeling totally relaxed and invigorated all at once.
Lifting herself up on her elbows to look down at her feet, she sees nothing.
No one is there, she is alone. She stands up slowly, unbuttoning her blouse and removing it in one swift motion.
Setting it carefully over the rail at the end of her bed. She reaches behind her to unbutton
and unzip her short skirt and slides its down from her hips slowly bending to retrieve it from the floor. She folds it slowly and places it at the end of her bed as well.
Hooking her thumbs under her thigh high stocking, she sits on the edge of her bed and rolls it down slowly and neatly. Placing it on the bed next to her, and removing the other one in the same fashion.
She takes the pair of stockings and walks over to the highback chair that sits so quietly next to her dresser. As she moves, she catches something out of the corner of her eye.
It is her own reflection in the mirror. Tipping her head to the side, her long auburn hair falling forward over her shoulder, she reaches behind herself to undo her bra and slides it from her shoulders, down her arms. Tossing it onto the chair as well.
She reaches for the top of her panties, sliding them slowly down to the floor and stepping out of them in one fluid movement, they join the rest of the undergarments in the chair.
Slowly she walks back to her soft warm bed.
Pulling back the covers, and climbing in. Laying her head down on the pillow and pulling the blankets up to cover her naked body.
She takes one last look around the room. And then she closes her eyes, and drifts off into a peaceful sleep.
A smile crosses her soft lips as she dreams of the One that has touched her so completely.
~sisu~
September, 1999
Monday, October 22, 2007
poetry- sisu's closet
sisu's Closet
She opens the closet wide.
Searching over her wardrobe carefully.
She is not looking for
the -perfect- outfit to wear.
She is looking over her cloaks,
all lined up in a row.
There for easy access,
in case one is needed.
Each one has its purpose,
and in a way,
they are all the same.
To hide.
While others hide behind their masks,
she prefers the security
of these fine tailored cloaks.
Each one a perfect fit.
Some more comfortable to wear,
only because of the amount of time
she spends in them.
She takes one out,
holding it up to inspect it for tears,
flaws that may be in the fabric.
A way through her defenses.
The light blue silk is cool to the touch.
Almost indifferent.....
Holding itself away everyone,
aloof.
She carefully places it back on the rack,
knowing she does not need that right now.
She pushes a few aside,
the dark brown wool,
hard to touch,
prickly.
It hurts to wear this one,
she thinks to herself.
Pain.....rough to the touch.
Scratching at her skin.
She frowns and moves it aside.
Her hand lingers on
the next one she touches.
A rich, royal velvet.
Soft and inviting.
Alluring....
drawing others closer.
Passion is what she feels
when she wears this one.
The warmth and glow of a lovers embrace.
Freedom to express
the erotic woman underneath.
And worn far too little.
She sighs to herself,
and moves on.
The next is so dark she almost misses it.
A sooty, black floor length linen.
Meant to obscure the wearer,
to keep them in the shadows.
Loneliness...
drawing herself away from others when
she slips into this one.
A shadow...
there...
but not quite there at all.
Sighing softly she moves on
. Her hands touch a almost tranparent,
white, filmy cloak.
Vunerable....
it's not often she wears this one either.
And never in public.
Would be too easily torn, ruined.
Too easy to get to the real her underneath.
She shivers and continues on.
Grinning to herself,
she pulls the next one out.
You can almost see
the immediate laughter bubble
up inside her as she
gazes at the worn muticolored
fabric of the heavy cloak she holds.
She folds it over her arm,
running her hand along all the different
colors there.
Laughter....
it pours out of her freely.
This one is often worn,
people like it.
And she likes to see
the response it gets from others.
Joy...
in the happiness
and laughter
of others.
She replaces it carefully among the others
and moves on....
looking...
searching.
She takes one last one out and tries it on.
Wrapping herself up
in the warm familiar
feel of fur.
She smiles,
this is the one she likes best,
but sadly,
is the one she has never worn.
There has been times
when she thought she might get to.
But it was always returned to the closet.
In almost pristine condition.
Love...
surrounding her,
all consuming.
She rubs her cheek lovingly
against the silky fur.
How she longs for the security of this cloak.
Wanting it with every fiber of her being.
A single tear slips down her cheek
as she takes it off again
smoothing the folds as she
chokes back the hurt and pain.
Hoping to someday slip into
it's secure feeling and never
have to take it off again.
~sisu~
1999
She opens the closet wide.
Searching over her wardrobe carefully.
She is not looking for
the -perfect- outfit to wear.
She is looking over her cloaks,
all lined up in a row.
There for easy access,
in case one is needed.
Each one has its purpose,
and in a way,
they are all the same.
To hide.
While others hide behind their masks,
she prefers the security
of these fine tailored cloaks.
Each one a perfect fit.
Some more comfortable to wear,
only because of the amount of time
she spends in them.
She takes one out,
holding it up to inspect it for tears,
flaws that may be in the fabric.
A way through her defenses.
The light blue silk is cool to the touch.
Almost indifferent.....
Holding itself away everyone,
aloof.
She carefully places it back on the rack,
knowing she does not need that right now.
She pushes a few aside,
the dark brown wool,
hard to touch,
prickly.
It hurts to wear this one,
she thinks to herself.
Pain.....rough to the touch.
Scratching at her skin.
She frowns and moves it aside.
Her hand lingers on
the next one she touches.
A rich, royal velvet.
Soft and inviting.
Alluring....
drawing others closer.
Passion is what she feels
when she wears this one.
The warmth and glow of a lovers embrace.
Freedom to express
the erotic woman underneath.
And worn far too little.
She sighs to herself,
and moves on.
The next is so dark she almost misses it.
A sooty, black floor length linen.
Meant to obscure the wearer,
to keep them in the shadows.
Loneliness...
drawing herself away from others when
she slips into this one.
A shadow...
there...
but not quite there at all.
Sighing softly she moves on
. Her hands touch a almost tranparent,
white, filmy cloak.
Vunerable....
it's not often she wears this one either.
And never in public.
Would be too easily torn, ruined.
Too easy to get to the real her underneath.
She shivers and continues on.
Grinning to herself,
she pulls the next one out.
You can almost see
the immediate laughter bubble
up inside her as she
gazes at the worn muticolored
fabric of the heavy cloak she holds.
She folds it over her arm,
running her hand along all the different
colors there.
Laughter....
it pours out of her freely.
This one is often worn,
people like it.
And she likes to see
the response it gets from others.
Joy...
in the happiness
and laughter
of others.
She replaces it carefully among the others
and moves on....
looking...
searching.
She takes one last one out and tries it on.
Wrapping herself up
in the warm familiar
feel of fur.
She smiles,
this is the one she likes best,
but sadly,
is the one she has never worn.
There has been times
when she thought she might get to.
But it was always returned to the closet.
In almost pristine condition.
Love...
surrounding her,
all consuming.
She rubs her cheek lovingly
against the silky fur.
How she longs for the security of this cloak.
Wanting it with every fiber of her being.
A single tear slips down her cheek
as she takes it off again
smoothing the folds as she
chokes back the hurt and pain.
Hoping to someday slip into
it's secure feeling and never
have to take it off again.
~sisu~
1999
Weeping
Sorry I haven't wrote in awhile. Seems life has reached up to smack me directly in the face. My whole world is threatening to come crashing down around me. And it all hinges on whether my Husband loves me anymore. Or whether he loves someone else more.
I am not sure when/if I will write anything more. This all hurts so terribly much. My heart feels as though someone has drove a white hot poker into it. And it sits and burns. Waiting to see if it will burst into flames or if it will just prolong the agony.
I am not sure when/if I will write anything more. This all hurts so terribly much. My heart feels as though someone has drove a white hot poker into it. And it sits and burns. Waiting to see if it will burst into flames or if it will just prolong the agony.
Monday, October 1, 2007
A contest! Hurry!
Yes, it's a contest at Splat Designs! Hurry and enter, there isn't much time! You could be the big, BIG winner of a brand spanking new template for your blog! I know mine could use some pizzaz! Go ahead, click below! (And hurry!)
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
The Social Butterfly
My three year old loves to shop. (okay, she's a girl, it's what we do.)
But seriously, she loves to go shopping. And it isn't because she is going with the possibility of getting something from the store in mind. It's because she loves people. She loves to make them smile. She loves to make them laugh.
For awhile, every time we went to the store and saw someone older with grey hair, she'd yell out, "Hi Papa! Hi Grandma!" I'd be turning red and trying to hush her up (She has a voice that carries. She's quite naturally loud.) and get the heck out of Dodge.
She would say, "Hi!" to everyone we passed. And if they did not say hello back to her she'd say, (loudly) "I said hi!" Of course most people would laugh and say hello to her.
Maybe she thought that she was a Royal Princess, the shopping cart was her open horse-drawn carriage, (I always compared myself more to a pack-mule when carrying around all the baby paraphernalia myself...) and all the people were her Royal Subjects. There to pay homage to her Highness. I'm not sure.
What I am sure about is that I LOVE shopping carts. They are the best thing ever invented. Especially the ones with the seat belts. (Of course if you have a skinny little escape artist, this creates a whole new problem of keeping a close eye on the little darling.)
But whoever invented the shopping carts with the damned TV screen in them ought to be shot.
First off, they are battery powered, and therefore do not last that long. The battery runs down and you have to listen to them beep and talk to you telling you to take them back so they can charge up, and please don't take them outside. You cannot take them outside, because you can't pile in all your groceries into them after they've been bagged up. (actually it's probably because they are electrical equipment and if they got rained on, they'd no longer work.)
Now, I have never personally rented one of these carts. (yes, rented.) But I work at a store where they have them. They are big behemoths that take up half the aisle and look like they are about as easy to push as a lumber wagon. Usually they are filled with kids that are crying because they no longer want to be in there watching a Tele-Tubbie rerun for the second or third time.
I don't know, maybe for a quick trip around the store to get a couple of things. But no, I never make it through the grocery store in a "quick trip." And besides that, I can see my youngest thinking, "To heck with that open carriage... my Royal Subjects can come greet me at the window of my new Royal Vehicle... right after Barney stops telling me how much he loves me."
Nooooooooo, thank you. Not a chance.
But seriously, she loves to go shopping. And it isn't because she is going with the possibility of getting something from the store in mind. It's because she loves people. She loves to make them smile. She loves to make them laugh.
For awhile, every time we went to the store and saw someone older with grey hair, she'd yell out, "Hi Papa! Hi Grandma!" I'd be turning red and trying to hush her up (She has a voice that carries. She's quite naturally loud.) and get the heck out of Dodge.
She would say, "Hi!" to everyone we passed. And if they did not say hello back to her she'd say, (loudly) "I said hi!" Of course most people would laugh and say hello to her.
Maybe she thought that she was a Royal Princess, the shopping cart was her open horse-drawn carriage, (I always compared myself more to a pack-mule when carrying around all the baby paraphernalia myself...) and all the people were her Royal Subjects. There to pay homage to her Highness. I'm not sure.
What I am sure about is that I LOVE shopping carts. They are the best thing ever invented. Especially the ones with the seat belts. (Of course if you have a skinny little escape artist, this creates a whole new problem of keeping a close eye on the little darling.)
But whoever invented the shopping carts with the damned TV screen in them ought to be shot.
First off, they are battery powered, and therefore do not last that long. The battery runs down and you have to listen to them beep and talk to you telling you to take them back so they can charge up, and please don't take them outside. You cannot take them outside, because you can't pile in all your groceries into them after they've been bagged up. (actually it's probably because they are electrical equipment and if they got rained on, they'd no longer work.)
Now, I have never personally rented one of these carts. (yes, rented.) But I work at a store where they have them. They are big behemoths that take up half the aisle and look like they are about as easy to push as a lumber wagon. Usually they are filled with kids that are crying because they no longer want to be in there watching a Tele-Tubbie rerun for the second or third time.
I don't know, maybe for a quick trip around the store to get a couple of things. But no, I never make it through the grocery store in a "quick trip." And besides that, I can see my youngest thinking, "To heck with that open carriage... my Royal Subjects can come greet me at the window of my new Royal Vehicle... right after Barney stops telling me how much he loves me."
Nooooooooo, thank you. Not a chance.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Ode to a Pile of Laundry
Oh basket full of laundry there,
My kids are wondering what to wear.
They will go to school in the buff,
If I don't find time to fold all this stuff.
Socks and shirts, and undies too,
So much laundry in this life to do.
I carry basket loads up stairs and down,
If I didn't we'd all go clothes-less around town.
Pants and shorts, fluffy towels to enjoy,
I feel like a old laundry-slave toy.
I fold and I hang, I hang and I fold,
I'm getting laundry-folding elbow, I'm told.
I am wishing hard that someone will invent,
Some self-folding laundry, with good intent.
It would make my life easier still,
If it would find it's own way to the drawers to fill.
The little one has spilled all over herself again,
I am wearily waving the white undies, you win!
It doesn't matter how much I do this folding chore,
I know that tomorrow there will always be more!
And more.
And more.
And...help!
sisu
September,2007
My kids are wondering what to wear.
They will go to school in the buff,
If I don't find time to fold all this stuff.
Socks and shirts, and undies too,
So much laundry in this life to do.
I carry basket loads up stairs and down,
If I didn't we'd all go clothes-less around town.
Pants and shorts, fluffy towels to enjoy,
I feel like a old laundry-slave toy.
I fold and I hang, I hang and I fold,
I'm getting laundry-folding elbow, I'm told.
I am wishing hard that someone will invent,
Some self-folding laundry, with good intent.
It would make my life easier still,
If it would find it's own way to the drawers to fill.
The little one has spilled all over herself again,
I am wearily waving the white undies, you win!
It doesn't matter how much I do this folding chore,
I know that tomorrow there will always be more!
And more.
And more.
And...help!
sisu
September,2007
So who is "The better half"?
I was always raised to believe that the Wife was considered "the better half" of a marriage. I guess mainly because you always hear people asking married men, "Where's the better half?". So I assumed that since he was out roaming around without her, she must be doing something important such as watching kids, cleaning something around the house, grocery shopping, etc.
But I am not so sure about that.
Take my Hubby and I for example, he is Mr. Clean while I am more (ahem) relaxed about how clean the house is. It's not like we have pack rats making a monthly odyssey to our house to collect or anything, there isn't garbage all over the floor (well, maybe in the kids' rooms.) it's just a very lived in house. It sort of has to be, we have 5 kids.
It amazes me how opposites attract. Not saying that my Hubby and I are total opposites, we used to talk for hours on end about anything and everything. But the cleaning thing- well, we are at almost different ends of the spectrum.
Like I said in an earlier post, I am a pile person. I have a pile of stuff here, one there. This drives my Husband nuts. There is never a need for a pile as far as he is concerned- ever. "No piles, life is good." is one of his mottoes. Mine is "I'll put this here in this pile for a minute and between running after a 3 year old, doing dishes, laundry, running kids to/from school, and making dinner I might get to it sometime in this life."
Sometimes he tries to make me feel guilty about my piles. He took pictures of my desk, (which was a mess, I admit, but it always has been- even before we got married.) and sent it to friends or showed it to them when they were over here.
I've been trying to be better about my piles, really, I have. But sometimes it is just impossible for me to avoid making one. Like the time between when the kids get home from school and my Husband gets home from work. My oldest two trot out their papers that need to be signed, read, looked over, corrected, and/or thrown away, and it takes me forever to go through it all. And what happens if I don't get through it all? You guessed it, a brand spanking new pile is formed. One that I vow to get to as soon as dinner is done.
I would say 99% of my piles consist of paper. I probably have 100's of dead trees in my house due to all the papers that are in piles. I cleaned off my desk not too long ago and went through every piece of paper on it and what did I find? Things from when my daughter was in 5th and 6th grade. That's 2-3 years worth of piles. Buried and forgotten.
So when I ask who is "the better half", maybe the answer isn't so obvious in my house. My Husband has loads of patience when it comes to putting up with my piles. (almost 4 years' worth of patience, he finally blew up at me over them last month.) I would venture to say that any given moment either one of us could claim the title of "the better half." And we each have those little things that bother us to distraction, making it difficult to claim the title full time.
If I were to be fair, I would say (hope) that we share that title half and half. I always want to be his better half, but I always feel he is mine. Because I Love Him.
But I am not so sure about that.
Take my Hubby and I for example, he is Mr. Clean while I am more (ahem) relaxed about how clean the house is. It's not like we have pack rats making a monthly odyssey to our house to collect or anything, there isn't garbage all over the floor (well, maybe in the kids' rooms.) it's just a very lived in house. It sort of has to be, we have 5 kids.
It amazes me how opposites attract. Not saying that my Hubby and I are total opposites, we used to talk for hours on end about anything and everything. But the cleaning thing- well, we are at almost different ends of the spectrum.
Like I said in an earlier post, I am a pile person. I have a pile of stuff here, one there. This drives my Husband nuts. There is never a need for a pile as far as he is concerned- ever. "No piles, life is good." is one of his mottoes. Mine is "I'll put this here in this pile for a minute and between running after a 3 year old, doing dishes, laundry, running kids to/from school, and making dinner I might get to it sometime in this life."
Sometimes he tries to make me feel guilty about my piles. He took pictures of my desk, (which was a mess, I admit, but it always has been- even before we got married.) and sent it to friends or showed it to them when they were over here.
I've been trying to be better about my piles, really, I have. But sometimes it is just impossible for me to avoid making one. Like the time between when the kids get home from school and my Husband gets home from work. My oldest two trot out their papers that need to be signed, read, looked over, corrected, and/or thrown away, and it takes me forever to go through it all. And what happens if I don't get through it all? You guessed it, a brand spanking new pile is formed. One that I vow to get to as soon as dinner is done.
I would say 99% of my piles consist of paper. I probably have 100's of dead trees in my house due to all the papers that are in piles. I cleaned off my desk not too long ago and went through every piece of paper on it and what did I find? Things from when my daughter was in 5th and 6th grade. That's 2-3 years worth of piles. Buried and forgotten.
So when I ask who is "the better half", maybe the answer isn't so obvious in my house. My Husband has loads of patience when it comes to putting up with my piles. (almost 4 years' worth of patience, he finally blew up at me over them last month.) I would venture to say that any given moment either one of us could claim the title of "the better half." And we each have those little things that bother us to distraction, making it difficult to claim the title full time.
If I were to be fair, I would say (hope) that we share that title half and half. I always want to be his better half, but I always feel he is mine. Because I Love Him.
Monday, September 10, 2007
*groan* *crack* *wince*
Okay, obviously people can tell by the heading that something happened this weekend. In two words- The Beach.
Yes, we went to the beach with two of our neighbors. Nine kids and six adults plus one wave runner a pair of skis and a couple of tubes. Oh LORD, am I sore!
When Jeff asked who was going to go first on the tubes my oldest piped up, "I will!" and before I knew it, the same words were coming out of my mouth!
Next thing I knew we were each climbing on a tube and telling Jeff we were ready... and ZOOM!... off we go. I think my face has more lines in it from laughing so hard. Even when I got dumped off. (3 times) It was FUN. I was laughing so hard I got a mouthful of water when I went under the one time.
My daughter kept signaling, "slower, slower" and I kept signaling, "faster, faster."
It was a riot.
I used muscles I didn't know I had. And every one of them are screaming at me. I am bruised in several places, sun burned and bug bitten. But it was FUN! And I realized... I am old.
There were 108 steps to get down to the beach from the cottage (after a 1/4 mile walk) and the same 108 steps to get back up. It might as well been Mt Everest. I took it really slow, one step at a time. But we had a black fly problem out there and they were out for blood. So you couldn't stop for long on the steps, otherwise they would swarm you and bite.
My Husband beat me to the top, and as I was coming near the top of the steps I croaked, "Water." He kind of looked at me and laughed, thinking I was comparing myself to some guy crawling through the desert. And I said, "No, seriously, my water. You have the cooler with you and it's in there!"
It was also my Hubby's first time on a tube. Jeff, our neighbor, was not as nice to him. He was doing 40 plus hauling my Hubby. I saw daylight at one point between him and the tube. But, I will give him credit, he did NOT fall off. Though I suspect Jeff was doing his darnedest to make him take a spill. Jim's arms are a little sore from holding on so tight. He was determined not to fall off. And he is sunburned too. I have to say though, my Hubby is in better shape than I am, and therefore holding up better under test of exercise we got Saturday.
My son fell off the wave runner while spotting for some of the other kids who were on the tube. It was really quite comical, one minute Jeff is yelling, "You ready?!" and then he punches it, and Chase goes right over the back of the Jet Ski. He definitely was not expecting that!
All in all it was a great day. Great fun, great food and good company. It was a long day, but on the up side, the kids slept really well! So did we for that matter. But Jim had to get up early because he was one of 4 guys preparing the pancake breakfast at church Sunday morning. (And what a breakfast! it was awesome!)
Did I learn a lesson from all this? Nope, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. (I'd put on sunblock and bring extra heavy duty bug spray...) I want to try knee boarding in fact. I used to do it when I was younger and I want to try it again.
I am a glutton for punishment.
Yes, we went to the beach with two of our neighbors. Nine kids and six adults plus one wave runner a pair of skis and a couple of tubes. Oh LORD, am I sore!
When Jeff asked who was going to go first on the tubes my oldest piped up, "I will!" and before I knew it, the same words were coming out of my mouth!
Next thing I knew we were each climbing on a tube and telling Jeff we were ready... and ZOOM!... off we go. I think my face has more lines in it from laughing so hard. Even when I got dumped off. (3 times) It was FUN. I was laughing so hard I got a mouthful of water when I went under the one time.
My daughter kept signaling, "slower, slower" and I kept signaling, "faster, faster."
It was a riot.
I used muscles I didn't know I had. And every one of them are screaming at me. I am bruised in several places, sun burned and bug bitten. But it was FUN! And I realized... I am old.
There were 108 steps to get down to the beach from the cottage (after a 1/4 mile walk) and the same 108 steps to get back up. It might as well been Mt Everest. I took it really slow, one step at a time. But we had a black fly problem out there and they were out for blood. So you couldn't stop for long on the steps, otherwise they would swarm you and bite.
My Husband beat me to the top, and as I was coming near the top of the steps I croaked, "Water." He kind of looked at me and laughed, thinking I was comparing myself to some guy crawling through the desert. And I said, "No, seriously, my water. You have the cooler with you and it's in there!"
It was also my Hubby's first time on a tube. Jeff, our neighbor, was not as nice to him. He was doing 40 plus hauling my Hubby. I saw daylight at one point between him and the tube. But, I will give him credit, he did NOT fall off. Though I suspect Jeff was doing his darnedest to make him take a spill. Jim's arms are a little sore from holding on so tight. He was determined not to fall off. And he is sunburned too. I have to say though, my Hubby is in better shape than I am, and therefore holding up better under test of exercise we got Saturday.
My son fell off the wave runner while spotting for some of the other kids who were on the tube. It was really quite comical, one minute Jeff is yelling, "You ready?!" and then he punches it, and Chase goes right over the back of the Jet Ski. He definitely was not expecting that!
All in all it was a great day. Great fun, great food and good company. It was a long day, but on the up side, the kids slept really well! So did we for that matter. But Jim had to get up early because he was one of 4 guys preparing the pancake breakfast at church Sunday morning. (And what a breakfast! it was awesome!)
Did I learn a lesson from all this? Nope, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. (I'd put on sunblock and bring extra heavy duty bug spray...) I want to try knee boarding in fact. I used to do it when I was younger and I want to try it again.
I am a glutton for punishment.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Oh NO! I'm like my Mother!
Yes, it is true. With each day that passes I find I am more like my Mother. And not really in all the good ways either. I am a terrible housekeeper. We don't have a filthy house, but it is (usually) not picked up. I am a pile person. I have a pile of stuff here, a pile of stuff there... and I am married to Mr. Clean. He likes the house neat and orderly. Did I mention we have 5 kids?
But I digress. The whole housecleaning/kids thing will be for another time.
Ways I am like my Mother.
The things I say. (Such as.)
"Because I said so." Oh Lord, this one used to bother me when I was in my teens. Not so much when I was little. It bothers my 3 year old to no end. I hear "But why Mommy?" 100 times if I happen to utter the phrase "Because I said so."
And it can almost become comical, like we are doing a bad rendition of Abbot and Costello.
"Kaecee don't throw your food on the floor."
"But why Mommy?"
"Because I said so."
"But why (or why not) Mommy?"
"Because I told you not to."
"But why Mommy?"
"Because it makes a sticky mess and then I have to clean it up."
"But why Mommy?"
"Because we don't have a dog to clean under the table."
(Here is where she changes it to throw me off track.)
(whining) "I want a dog!"
"We can't have a dog honey, not right now." (Thinking to myself, I already change smelly diapers, yeah, like I really want to be cleaning up dog poo too.)
"But why not Mommy?"
~~~sigh~~~
Another that goes along with the first is, "Because I said no." Re-read the above and just insert this phrase wherever the "Because I said so." is.
I do not remember my Mother ever yelling at us. I mean really yelling. Red in the face, can feel the blood pressure rising fast kind of yelling. She assures me that my kids were just like me when I was young. Just like me?! What?, whoa!, hold up! There is No way I was ever this... this... errr... energetic when I was young. Okay, so I did have the nick-name 'the white tornado' but that was just because... because... ARGHHHHH!!! Maybe it's true!
Okay wait, let me think about this. So when we grow up, we have children who act like we did when we were young, but we grow up to be like our parents were when we were young?
I don't know who to feel more sorry for- us parents, or our kids!
I just realized I digressed yet again. Another way I am like my Mother is how I feel about family. It is important. Meal time is important. Dinner in particular. I love cooking. (I didn't in my first marriage, because my Ex complained about anything and everything I made.)
I love fixing a meal that is well rounded like my Mom used to do. Veggies, meat, potato and salad.
A good, nutritional meal. Will everyone at the table like everything that is on the table? Nope, not a chance.
I tried to be like my Mom in this way too. "Take at least a spoonful of everything, and eat what you take."
Okay, with a blended family, that one is a little hard to do. And it took me a couple years of being a hard-ass about it to finally let go. It was the way I was raised. And those habits that I have taught my kids, are not the same as other parents have taught their kids. Namely my Husband's Ex. Her kids were taught that any old thing that they could pull out of the freezer and nuke was "dinner." And that cereal counted as dinner as well. We had a discussion on this. That's not the way that it works at our house. Sitting down to dinner with the kids is important to Jim and I. I hope someday it will matter to the kids too.
I have to say, all in all, I hope that I am like my Mom in my parenting technique. At least in some ways- the important ways. I admire her, and what she did for my sister and I when we were growing up. I don't feel there was anything lacking in my younger years., except maybe my Dad being around more. (They divorced when I was 8.) But my Mom was rock solid, a steady, dependable constant in my life. And I think kids need that.
Okay, I am going to end this one now before I get all sappy.
But I digress. The whole housecleaning/kids thing will be for another time.
Ways I am like my Mother.
The things I say. (Such as.)
"Because I said so." Oh Lord, this one used to bother me when I was in my teens. Not so much when I was little. It bothers my 3 year old to no end. I hear "But why Mommy?" 100 times if I happen to utter the phrase "Because I said so."
And it can almost become comical, like we are doing a bad rendition of Abbot and Costello.
"Kaecee don't throw your food on the floor."
"But why Mommy?"
"Because I said so."
"But why (or why not) Mommy?"
"Because I told you not to."
"But why Mommy?"
"Because it makes a sticky mess and then I have to clean it up."
"But why Mommy?"
"Because we don't have a dog to clean under the table."
(Here is where she changes it to throw me off track.)
(whining) "I want a dog!"
"We can't have a dog honey, not right now." (Thinking to myself, I already change smelly diapers, yeah, like I really want to be cleaning up dog poo too.)
"But why not Mommy?"
~~~sigh~~~
Another that goes along with the first is, "Because I said no." Re-read the above and just insert this phrase wherever the "Because I said so." is.
I do not remember my Mother ever yelling at us. I mean really yelling. Red in the face, can feel the blood pressure rising fast kind of yelling. She assures me that my kids were just like me when I was young. Just like me?! What?, whoa!, hold up! There is No way I was ever this... this... errr... energetic when I was young. Okay, so I did have the nick-name 'the white tornado' but that was just because... because... ARGHHHHH!!! Maybe it's true!
Okay wait, let me think about this. So when we grow up, we have children who act like we did when we were young, but we grow up to be like our parents were when we were young?
I don't know who to feel more sorry for- us parents, or our kids!
I just realized I digressed yet again. Another way I am like my Mother is how I feel about family. It is important. Meal time is important. Dinner in particular. I love cooking. (I didn't in my first marriage, because my Ex complained about anything and everything I made.)
I love fixing a meal that is well rounded like my Mom used to do. Veggies, meat, potato and salad.
A good, nutritional meal. Will everyone at the table like everything that is on the table? Nope, not a chance.
I tried to be like my Mom in this way too. "Take at least a spoonful of everything, and eat what you take."
Okay, with a blended family, that one is a little hard to do. And it took me a couple years of being a hard-ass about it to finally let go. It was the way I was raised. And those habits that I have taught my kids, are not the same as other parents have taught their kids. Namely my Husband's Ex. Her kids were taught that any old thing that they could pull out of the freezer and nuke was "dinner." And that cereal counted as dinner as well. We had a discussion on this. That's not the way that it works at our house. Sitting down to dinner with the kids is important to Jim and I. I hope someday it will matter to the kids too.
I have to say, all in all, I hope that I am like my Mom in my parenting technique. At least in some ways- the important ways. I admire her, and what she did for my sister and I when we were growing up. I don't feel there was anything lacking in my younger years., except maybe my Dad being around more. (They divorced when I was 8.) But my Mom was rock solid, a steady, dependable constant in my life. And I think kids need that.
Okay, I am going to end this one now before I get all sappy.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
As kids get older...
So do we. *sigh*
It was so much easier to handle a 3 year old (and a 1 year old at the same time!) at the age of 28 than it is at the age of 38. My daughter is like this big giant ball of pure energy that never stops. I think I'm going to rename her Sunshine. She is adorable, don't get me wrong. But she KNOWS she's adorable. And how does she know that you may ask? Because her Father tells her so, often. Okay, he doesn't say "adorable", he says "cute", even when she's being naughty.
The other day I caught her in the bathroom (which is not necessarily a bad thing, since we are potty training.) and I noticed that she wasn't back far enough on the toilet, so I told her she needed to scoot back and she said "No, I am going to piddle." And she proceeded to do so.
She probably could have put my 11 year old son to shame with the stream that came out the FRONT of the toilet... all over the seat, all over her panties and shorts, all over the step-stool she uses...her feet...the floor... *sigh*
I tell her that that wasn't very good, that I had told her she needed to scoot back and reminded her that she hadn't listened and that I was upset with her. And you know her response? "No you aren't Mommy, it's okay because I am CUTE." To which I promptly rejoined, pointing at the mess, "THAT is not 'cute', it's gross." She looked down with big saucer eyes and said, "It is?" and then, "It's okay Mommy, be happy."
If anyone out there has seem "Elmo's World" on Sesame Street, our house is a little like that, only not as fun. It's "Kaecee's World". And everything and everyone in it is there for her pleasure alone. She is like a Princess. Or a High Priestess of some Amazon Jungle Community that everyone caters to and bows down to.
She announces everything like it is a royal command. "I need luuu-unch.", "I need to go pooot-tty.", "I can't find my paaas-ssy." And the darned thing is everyone runs to do her bidding. Because we know, that to have Her Highness miffed at us is not a good thing. She can turn the tears on and off at the drop of a hat.
She already knows how to get her brother into trouble without him even coming near her.
(Okay, another story here; Kaecee is on one side of the living room, Chase is on the other, and Tasha, the 13 year old is next to Chase on the couch. They are all watching TV. I am in the front of the house, in the kitchen trying to get dinner fixed and I hear this ear-piercing scream followed by Kaecee yelling, "No Chase, STOP IT!" Me? I am a yeller, I yell alot, they have learned to ignore it- my Husband has not - I yell, "Hey! knock it off back there! Chase! quit making Kaecee scream!" This is answered by more than one person, all three, actually, and the only one I can understand is the 3 year old still yelling at Chase to "stop it". So I go back there. I tell everyone to be quiet. Then I ask my 13 year old what is going on. She informs me that my son was just sitting there watching TV when Kaecee decided to scream. For absolutely no reason what-so-ever, other than an attempt to see if she can get her brother in trouble. She's three.) *groan*
We are all in trouble if she starts asking for sacrifices.
Yesterday she informed me that she hates me. Hates me! Twice! And why? Because I made her get up into "her" chair for lunch. (Her chair is a booster chair buckled onto a regular kitchen chair.) Apparently her royal seat does meet the requirements for her royal bum.
No, really, I know what it is. She has four older siblings. The closest being 10 years old and she is trying to be like them. She wants to do what they do and does not understand that she is too little to do all of it. And it frustrates her. She acts more grown up than the age she is.
Like I said, little Miss Sunshine has way more energy than old tired Mom can deal with sometimes.
It was so much easier to handle a 3 year old (and a 1 year old at the same time!) at the age of 28 than it is at the age of 38. My daughter is like this big giant ball of pure energy that never stops. I think I'm going to rename her Sunshine. She is adorable, don't get me wrong. But she KNOWS she's adorable. And how does she know that you may ask? Because her Father tells her so, often. Okay, he doesn't say "adorable", he says "cute", even when she's being naughty.
The other day I caught her in the bathroom (which is not necessarily a bad thing, since we are potty training.) and I noticed that she wasn't back far enough on the toilet, so I told her she needed to scoot back and she said "No, I am going to piddle." And she proceeded to do so.
She probably could have put my 11 year old son to shame with the stream that came out the FRONT of the toilet... all over the seat, all over her panties and shorts, all over the step-stool she uses...her feet...the floor... *sigh*
I tell her that that wasn't very good, that I had told her she needed to scoot back and reminded her that she hadn't listened and that I was upset with her. And you know her response? "No you aren't Mommy, it's okay because I am CUTE." To which I promptly rejoined, pointing at the mess, "THAT is not 'cute', it's gross." She looked down with big saucer eyes and said, "It is?" and then, "It's okay Mommy, be happy."
If anyone out there has seem "Elmo's World" on Sesame Street, our house is a little like that, only not as fun. It's "Kaecee's World". And everything and everyone in it is there for her pleasure alone. She is like a Princess. Or a High Priestess of some Amazon Jungle Community that everyone caters to and bows down to.
She announces everything like it is a royal command. "I need luuu-unch.", "I need to go pooot-tty.", "I can't find my paaas-ssy." And the darned thing is everyone runs to do her bidding. Because we know, that to have Her Highness miffed at us is not a good thing. She can turn the tears on and off at the drop of a hat.
She already knows how to get her brother into trouble without him even coming near her.
(Okay, another story here; Kaecee is on one side of the living room, Chase is on the other, and Tasha, the 13 year old is next to Chase on the couch. They are all watching TV. I am in the front of the house, in the kitchen trying to get dinner fixed and I hear this ear-piercing scream followed by Kaecee yelling, "No Chase, STOP IT!" Me? I am a yeller, I yell alot, they have learned to ignore it- my Husband has not - I yell, "Hey! knock it off back there! Chase! quit making Kaecee scream!" This is answered by more than one person, all three, actually, and the only one I can understand is the 3 year old still yelling at Chase to "stop it". So I go back there. I tell everyone to be quiet. Then I ask my 13 year old what is going on. She informs me that my son was just sitting there watching TV when Kaecee decided to scream. For absolutely no reason what-so-ever, other than an attempt to see if she can get her brother in trouble. She's three.) *groan*
We are all in trouble if she starts asking for sacrifices.
Yesterday she informed me that she hates me. Hates me! Twice! And why? Because I made her get up into "her" chair for lunch. (Her chair is a booster chair buckled onto a regular kitchen chair.) Apparently her royal seat does meet the requirements for her royal bum.
No, really, I know what it is. She has four older siblings. The closest being 10 years old and she is trying to be like them. She wants to do what they do and does not understand that she is too little to do all of it. And it frustrates her. She acts more grown up than the age she is.
Like I said, little Miss Sunshine has way more energy than old tired Mom can deal with sometimes.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
My First Blog - Intro
I am a crazy Mom of 5. (Three wonderful children of my own and two wonderful step-children.)
Ages: 13, 13, 11, 10 and 3.
Married to a wonderful Man for almost 4 years now and he is still the love of my life.
We live in Michigan, where you never know what the weather will be like one moment to the next.
I work part-time out of the home and full-time in it. (Running after the 3 year old.)
I live with the daily stresses of life which include dealing with 1 child that is ADHD (and slightly autistic), 1 child that is a whiz in all she does and 1 child who just whizzes all the time. No, seriously, we are going through the potty training thing (For the LAST time! Yay!) and by George I think she's got it! The jury is still out on the final say on that subject right now though.
Nothing will make you smile like a 3 year old screaming through the house on the way to the bathroom yelling "I gotta go potttttyyyyyy!!" And nothing makes a Mom move faster than a 3 year old running through the house yelling the same.
Not to mention the ba-zillion times after you put them in bed that they " have to go."
In to bed, out of bed, in to bed, out of bed. I feel like putting in a revolving door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom and making it a toll door, just so I can say I work from home and make an income.
And it's not like you can ignore the request. Because about the time you do, that will be when you end up with a wet spot on the floor... or worse.
We even tried the 1/2 streak method of potty training. (And believe it or not, this one has worked the best so far!) If anyone is unfamiliar with this method, it is where the child has on a shirt... and nothing else. We tried panties, pull-ups and nothing worked. She would still pee in them. So one day I decided she would go bottom-less, and lo and behold, it worked. She knew she couldn't pee on the floor and has made it to the potty every time since. She still has accidents when wearing a pull-up, but we, (my Hubby and I) are winning the battle so far. Knock on wood.
Does it sound like my life is centered around my family? Yep, it sure is. I enjoy my blended family. Not that it doesn't have it's challenges, because those happen daily. We are full of challenges, from dinner to room cleaning and beyond.
This is one of the reasons why I call myself crazy.
Hopefully you will see why in other blogs.
Ages: 13, 13, 11, 10 and 3.
Married to a wonderful Man for almost 4 years now and he is still the love of my life.
We live in Michigan, where you never know what the weather will be like one moment to the next.
I work part-time out of the home and full-time in it. (Running after the 3 year old.)
I live with the daily stresses of life which include dealing with 1 child that is ADHD (and slightly autistic), 1 child that is a whiz in all she does and 1 child who just whizzes all the time. No, seriously, we are going through the potty training thing (For the LAST time! Yay!) and by George I think she's got it! The jury is still out on the final say on that subject right now though.
Nothing will make you smile like a 3 year old screaming through the house on the way to the bathroom yelling "I gotta go potttttyyyyyy!!" And nothing makes a Mom move faster than a 3 year old running through the house yelling the same.
Not to mention the ba-zillion times after you put them in bed that they " have to go."
In to bed, out of bed, in to bed, out of bed. I feel like putting in a revolving door connecting the bathroom to the bedroom and making it a toll door, just so I can say I work from home and make an income.
And it's not like you can ignore the request. Because about the time you do, that will be when you end up with a wet spot on the floor... or worse.
We even tried the 1/2 streak method of potty training. (And believe it or not, this one has worked the best so far!) If anyone is unfamiliar with this method, it is where the child has on a shirt... and nothing else. We tried panties, pull-ups and nothing worked. She would still pee in them. So one day I decided she would go bottom-less, and lo and behold, it worked. She knew she couldn't pee on the floor and has made it to the potty every time since. She still has accidents when wearing a pull-up, but we, (my Hubby and I) are winning the battle so far. Knock on wood.
Does it sound like my life is centered around my family? Yep, it sure is. I enjoy my blended family. Not that it doesn't have it's challenges, because those happen daily. We are full of challenges, from dinner to room cleaning and beyond.
This is one of the reasons why I call myself crazy.
Hopefully you will see why in other blogs.
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