Daddy, Belle and Jack

(old post alert)

Pre-children, Jack was definitely a momma's dog.  He's sit with me on the couch, follow my every step and come to me no matter who else was calling him.  When the boys came into our lives, Jack transition to being both a momma and daddy's dogie. So when Isabelle came home Jack quickly realized that in order to get any attention, he was going to have to put all of his eggs in Daddy's basket.  It isn't that I don't care about or love Jack any less than I did before, it is just my time is being split in so many ways, his percentage of attention, became too short for his liking.  So Daddy's dogie he is and very protective of his and Dad's relationship.  So much so that if Dad is holding Isabelle, Jack insists on being on his lap too.  It is really funny and if Jack could talk, I think he'd be telling Isabelle exactly what he thinks about this situation.

Until next time,
angie

Jack and Belle...

Isabelle continues to be fascinated with Jack and on the days when the boys are at school,  Jack is her playmate. 

Somedays they fight like cats and dogs, and sometimes they get along like the best of friends.  This past week, they were inseperable and followed each other around constantly.

Of course I had to take pictures.  I'd much rather capture the moments of pure delight between them, rather than the other times.

 

Until next time,

Angie

A lot of mom and kiddo time...

This past weekend (long weekend actually) Dad was out of town work a work/personal trip.  That meant mom had 5 full, long, very long, very very long days of spending quality time with Gabriel, Michael and Isabelle.  Getting to be experience "single parenting"  was a treat and made me realize just how much I don't like being a single parent.  Seriously, I don't know how single parents do it.  I raise my praises up to them, because for me those 5 days were long (did I mention that?) and I couldn't wait for Dad to get home.

I may have mentioned it before but it seems every time Dad has to travel, all H-E-double hockey sticks breaks loose.  Last time Dad left town, we implemented a rule that the longest he can be gone is 5 days.  After 5 days mom looses it and has a major break-down.  Dad's decided they aren't pretty and would rather avoid that situation from ever happening again.  Let me say in my defense, I think I deserved a little freak out...

Last time dad was gone, the passenger side window of his new car cracked in half (I have no idea how), which meant I couldn't drive it because it was a security and safety issue, so I decided to drive the van.  The boy were at their summer program on the day I normally work a half day and of course cutting it short as I raced from work to pick them up from school, I got to the car to realize the battery on the van was dead.  Never mind the fact that it was 118 that day (yes during our hottest days of the year) and I had just biked to the van.  To top things off my cell phone battery was also dead, but thankfully allowed me to make one last call to the school to tell them I was going to be late.  The not-so-friendly secretary answering the phone, had no sympathy and told me that someone needed to pick them up immediately or they'd have to call appropriate officials (I won't even go further into that story).  Thankfully God gave me a hand and allowed one more phone call on my you have less than 5% battery left on your phone  and I called my cousin Andrea, who rescued me from the secretary calling the "appropriate officials."  Meanwhile, I was still stuck outside in the heat begging complete strangers to assist me with jumper cables.  Now this is where I take responsibility, I should have had them in my car, and that reminds me, I still need to go buy some for our cars.  I asked 12 different people passing by for help... 8 said they didn't have jumper cables (which assured me, I'm not alone in being unprepared for these situations), 2 people said they had to race to campus for class, 1 was late for a meeting and one said he'd go get some and come back (which he never did).  Thankfully the lucky 13th person was able to help me.  A kind man, actually on his way to a rehab meeting, said he didnt' have much time but he'd be happy to help.  As we talked, I realized he was about my dad's age and was as genuine and genuine as they come.  He did everything he could to help and when I offered to give him money he kindly refused and said, "Just try to help someone else when they need it."  I agreed, happy to!  I drove home and afraid to turn the van off for fear it wouldn't start again, I left the van run, out in the 118 degree heat for the next two hours, until I could figure out how I could get it fixed and still have means of transportation to get to work the next day.  Turns out, in desperate situations, taking a vehicle with a cracked  passenger side window, isn't all that bad.  It can be done and it was.  Thankfully Dad came home a day or two later and was able to help me tackle all that happened.   And while those situations don't seem all that bad, it was overwhelming for me. Hence, the new rule about mom not being able to handle more than 5 days alone.

Insert last weekends most recent 5-day trip.  As the days of Jarrett's upcoming trip approached, mentally I pumped myself up.  I can do this, I said.  Last time's trip was a fluke, all will be okay this time.  I convinced myself that I had to plan fun activities for us to do, or a)the kids would go stir crazy at home, which b) would result in mom going crazy and c) that makes for a very unhappy house for everyone left home together for 5 long days in a row. 

So I made a list of things we could do.  It went something like this:

• Sew Michael's Tae Kwon Do badges, let him play in his uniform
• Take kids to Party City to look at Halloween Costumes (so they can dream of what they want to be next year)
• Take Gabriel to baseball practice
• Visit the zoo
• Go Swimming
• Paint fall pictures
• Set up a tent and let the kids sleep in it
• Have a family movie night
• Take kids to Peter Piper Pizza and let them play
• Sew Michael his Halloween batman cape
• Go to the library and check out new books and movies

And while I didn't know if we'd even get through half of the "fun" items on my list of activities, it was my attempt at keeping the weekend fun for not only Gabriel, Michael and Isabelle, but also mom.  In looking back at the list now, I see that we were actually pretty successful in accomplishing most everything on the list.

Friday night after the boys got home from school, I helped them set up a tent in their room.  Having no idea how to set up the tent, I told myself, I can handle this, and together Gabriel, Michael and I figured it out.  All of the kids were thrilled and spent hours in the tent pretending it was their new home, working on their "homework" in there and figuring out ways to entice Isabelle to leave their tent as she was "constantly ruining" all their stuff.  On Friday night I let the boys sleep in the tent only to wake up at 3:12 a.m. to find the light on in their bedroom.  Turns out they were up playing and "didn't realize it was the middle of the night."  Ya right boys, you can't fool me.  Back to bed they were ordered.

On Saturday we took Gabriel to baseball practice, which means I had almost 2 hours to find ways to entertain Isabelle and Michael.  Thankfully snacks do a great job at keeping their attention, and after that there was a great pair of stairs near the practice field that they spent a lot of time playing on.  And after that became boring, they moved onto investigating the spiders and their webs near the building with the steps we played on. 
It wasn't until a dad of one of Gabriel's teammates came over and said, "Um, I'm not sure if you know this, but those spiders are black widows, you might not want to have your kids playing near them."  Good to know, I responded and we moved onto pulling flowers from a bush nearby.  Pulling flowers was great entertainment, although I felt partially guilty for them deflowering the entire bush.  However it was a great distraction and I internally asked for forgiveness from the flower gods and the park officials.

 

Saturday evening we watched a family movie which the boys loved and all turned in early.  I tried to watch an adult movie for some adult interaction but don't remember seeing anytime past 8:30 p.m.  Seriously 8:30 on a Saturday night. 

Awaking early on Sunday morning I told the kids we'd go to the zoo and since we were up and ready to roll by 6:30 a.m. we were at the zoo ready to walk right on in before we realized they didn't open for almost another hour.  Thankfully snacks again saved my day.  The kids loved the zoo and while it was still hot (triple digits) we plowed through all of of the exhibits and found new parts of the zoo we'd never been to.  One area as an example is the petting zoo.  The boys loved it and Isabelle too. I'm not sure how many times I had to tell the kids to get down from the fence and that they could not climb in the pen with the bulls.

 Isabelle loved the sheep and as she said baaaa she pulled as hard as she could on the wool still attached to them.  They "baaa---d" back telling her they didnt' like her too much.  And then it was time to pet the goats, or in Isabelle action "pounding the goats"

 The zoo attendants assured me the goats didnt' mind (they didn't seem to they just laid there like nothing was happening) but other parents made comments and gave me looks, so I tried my best to keep reminding her gentle petting was better than the two handed fist punches to their 4 stomachs. Upon leaving the zoo the boys saw a really cool play house they insisted I take a picture of.  They've been asking for weeks for us (Dad and Papa) to build them a Bat house and the one they saw at the zoo, seem to fit their image of what they want.  While they begged me to go to Lowe's to get the wood, I crushed their dreams and told them they'd have to wait.

Upon returning home and realizing we spent 3 hours in the hot sun, I was exhausted but not the boys.  Michael continued to play in his "bat cave" aka tent, while Gabriel went outside to play with the neighbor boys.  As I cleaned up the kitchen I heard Isabelle walk toward Michael's room and immediately I heard the slam of the door.  Isabelle then screamed and I responded just like one of Pavlov's trained dogs.  "What's going on?", I said seeing both Michael and Isabelle outside his bedroom with the door shut.  "Mom, I locked our bedroom door so Isabelle can't get in and wreck our stuff."  Grabbing the handle and praying he only pretended to lock the door, I said, "Michael I don't think we have a key for your door" and sure enough the key we so openly keep on the door frame above his door, did not work.  Yep that's the key for the old door lock that was replaced years ago.  Realizing I now had a problem on my hands, I checked the other bedroom keys to see if any would work, no suck luck.  Michael, I said, "you're going to have to sleep out here because I don't have a key."  "Mom," he retorted, "we can just break the door down and get in"  I reminded him we wouldn't be adding any more costs to the already long laundry list of things we have to fix and are waiting for the money tree to bloom and provide means to fix.  I realized I'd solve that problem later and let Michael stew for a bit about how long he just might be out of his bedroom. 

Meanwhile Gabriel had been outside for a long time so I went to the garage to see the boys playing ball, baseball that is in the garage.  "Gabirel, please play outside."  "But mom its too hot out there, we can play in here."  Never minding the fact that Dad's car (the one with the new passenger side window) was in the garage leaving them less than a stall to play baseball in.  I said, "please play outside" and returned to Isabelle now crying about something else Michael or Jack had done to her.  As I calmed Isabelle down I heard a huge WACK from in the garage and went outside to see all the boys pretending as if nothing had happened.  "What happened Gabriel?"  "Nothing mom, we just hit the ball that's all."  Just a few minutes later, garage baseball was over and Gabriel was coming in the house.  I followed behind him going back inside the house , tapping the garage door opener to close the door as I went inside.  Hearing the door start to close, I then heard it immediately stop and refuse to go anywhere.  Yes, the garage door has been broken too.  I knew then what the WACK had hit.  Awesome! (sarcastically) was all I could say and inside I sent them so I could go back out and investigate.  Insert Mom feeling like I felt earlier this summer on one of dad's earlier work trips.  After giving it a minute or two look, I gave up, knowing the three of them were all inside together, and that trouble was brewing, I pulled the release cord on the door, manually pulled it down and locked it.  Inside I went to hear a screaming Michael- "Mom-Isabelle's standing on the table!"   Racing to the kitchen, I pulled her down, walked her to the couch, grabbed a book, sat down and collapsed into the chair.  I sent Dad a text, "we may need to revisit the 5 day absence rule... maybe 2 days is all I can take."

We survived our weekend together and I think the kids had fun.  In the end I was able to get the boys door open after using some tools I found in the garage and I didn't even have to break the door down.  The broken garage door I saved for Dad.  He needs to know how much we need him right?

While I love my children, I love being a mom and I love the adventures we get to experience together, I openly admit, being a parent is hard.  Its exhausting and they push me to limits I didn't even know I could reach.  

Until next time,
Angie

Wordless Wednesday... Uh Oh....

Did you need that box of Kleenex mommy?

Uh oh...

 

Until next time,

Angie

 

PS:  In case it wasn't obvious by how Isabelle looks, these pictures were taken a few (and by a few I mean several) months ago.

How does that even happen?

This morning as we plowed through our normal morning race routine, I got Isabelle a bowl of cereal, poured her milk in it, gave it to her and as I left the room I asked Jarrett to put the milk away for me.

Walking into our bedroom to continue getting ready, I heard him say, "How did this happen?"  Because I only respond to real emergencies in the morning, I didn't pay much attention until I heard his voice getting louder with a series follow up questions.  Knowing that it was a situation I needed to provide support in, I went to the kitchen to see what "emergency" had really happened.

That's when I saw it.  Isabelle's half empty gallon of milk (whole milk) sitting on the counter with Cheerios inside it.  Yes inside the gallon of milk.  I asked, "How did that happen?"  and Jarrett responded, "that's what I said."  After hearing Gabriel immediately demand that it wasn't him, we turned to Michael who knew the pressure was on him.  He shouted, "I didn't do it! (pause, insert whisper) today!"    Dad looked at me, I looked at him and in unison we replied, "When DID you do it Michael?" 

He then went onto explain that it wasn't his fault, that he was just pouring milk into his cereal yesterday and some how the Cheerios ended up inside the milk gallon.  Knowing he was feeding us a line of bologna, we continued the interrogation, "Michael, explain to me HOW the cereal got inside the milk?"  "Mom, I don't know, it just jumped in there.  "Really Michael, since when does cereal JUMP into things?  "He continued his defense, "Mom, I was pouring my milk and when I put the lid of the gallon into the bowl to pour it, my cereal just went into the milk.  I didn't do it though.  The milk did it." 

Realizing we were not going to make any headway on agreeing whose fault it really was,  Dad took the gallon of milk, dumped it down the drain and I returned back to the bedroom.  While they never cease to amaze me, never in my whole life did I think I'd have to start looking inside our gallons of milk to see if any foreign substance, object or other food has "jumped" inside.

until next time,
angie

The great debater...

I firmly believe my son will some day be a champion debater.  Seriously he can come up with a counterargument to every statement I make.  Take for instance, tonight's topic of discussion.

Arriving home way later than bedtime from Gabriel's baseball game, I told the boys in the car, please hurry and get ready for bed.  It is past your bedtime and I want to get you in bed quickly.  Michael's response, "No.  No-mom it isn't past our bedtime."  'Yes.  Yes it is Michael, I'm looking at the clock right now and it is past your bedtime."  "Actually Mom, it isn't"  and off he went into the house.

I got Isabelle from her car seat, walked into the house and found Michael playing with his Legos.  "Michael I asked you to get ready for bed quickly, now go get ready for bed." I stated as I carried Isabelle, her diaper bag, the baseball bag of stuff and our dinner sack souvenir into the kitchen.  Hoping Michael had listened to my repeated request, I returned to the bedroom area where I did see Michael had made his way from his room to our bedroom and was purposely taking the tiniest steps he could as he was trying to get undressed to put his PJ's on.  He knows exactly what to do to push my buttons.  "Michael, hurry up please"  Meanwhile Gabriel had all his baseball gear off, was brushing his teeth and getting ready to jump in the shower.  In the same time Michael had walked from his bedroom to ours  (we don't have a very big house).  He still hadn't started taking his clothes off. 

After several repeated attempts to get him moving faster than a snail, I became frustrated, he became frustrated and we started a debate feistier than President Obama's first debate with Mitt Romney.  I said, "Michael, you are moving so slow, I think snails can move faster."  "No.  No Mom, I am moving faster than snails do."  Please then, show me how fast you can move?" I begged.  "Mom snails can move fast if they want to. I just don't want to move fast now" he said showing his perceived power.  "Michael, never mind about the snails, get to bed!" I stated, now pulling out the political hand jesters of pointing to his bedroom while I stated my firm response. 

He finally did what he needed to, at least I hope he did.  I decided to hit pause on our great debate and went to find Isabelle who was now also naked running around the house.  Seriously I thought, how is it that Isabelle can get herself unclothed and running around the house in less time that it takes my 6 year old to take his shirt off.  Ahhhh, I digress.  Upon hearing Gabriel's shower go off, I knew it was a matter of 30 seconds before he'd be in his room, in his PJ's and climbing up to his bed.  I walked with Isabelle into the boy's room and was greeted with "Mom- you said I was moving slow but I was moving faster than trees grow."  "Why yes Michael you were probably moving faster than trees grow but I think we both know you could have moved faster than you were trying, don't we."  "No.  No mom, I was moving as fast as I wanted to.  And I didn't want to go any faster." 

Realizing there was no wining this debate and my desire to get them into bed was much stronger than continuing to argue  discuss the movement of objects, I waived the white flag, and said, "Let's just say our prayers."

After getting Isabelle and Gabriel to bed, I pulled Michael out of his room and had a further discussion about his debating skills.  I said, "Michael, you and I are alike in so many ways.  And just one of the ways we are alike is that we both like to be right and we both like to state our point until the other person knows we are right too.  But here's the thing, we are on the same team and that means we shouldn't debate each other.  So let's agree to disagree on somethings and do our best to leave our debating skills out of our relationship.  Of course I tried to explain it more at his level but I think he got my point.  He said, "Mom, if I don't debate you, can I debate my girlfriend Mackenzie at school? Sure I said Michael you can debate with her all day long.  But there is one thing honey if you do that.... she probably won't be your girlfriend for too much longer.  See girls like to be right and that's one thing that's not up for debating.

Until next time,
Angie

Some moments...

in the middle of all craziness, between the fighting, the struggles of getting homework done correctly and all within a timely manner, the yelling from one room to the next because the "exercise socks" are missing...between the races from tae kwon do and baseball, between the dinner thrown together while a screaming toddler begs for attention, I'm surprised.

It's the moments like this...

when a loving older brother, picks up baby sister, places her gently on the couch with her blankie and companion Pooh, gives her a book, picks up his own and simply says, "Let's read, together."

These are the moments that melt my heart.  These are the moment I'll forever cherish and miss when they are all grown and the house is quiet.

These are some amazing moments.

Until next time,
angie

Pee Pee in the potty....

Isabelle is now 19 months old and we are entering uncharted waters as we begin to think about.... the dreaded potty training.  If I had my druthers we'd be forever finished with diapers.  Not only are they costly drains but Jarrett and I both agree, the smells and odors are horrible (especially with the #2s).

So for the last couple of months I've been brainstorming how this whole potty training business is going to go.  I was nervous about getting rid of the whole pacifier and that went as easy as a cool fall breeze.  And then I was nervous about how getting rid of the bottle was going to go, and that was even easier than I expected.  So that leads me to going to the potty on a big girl potty.

My aunt gave Isabelle this beautiful wooden potty chair that has a book shelf and its own toilet paper dispenser.  Seriously it is so nice, we are afraid to use it for its actual purpose.  Instead it is Isabelle's chair for her favorite stuffed animals.  Realizing that we couldn't come to terms with using something so nice as a potty chair we went and got a cheap chair that we hope will serve its function (and we won't worry about ruining it). 

 

Although I'm ready to get rid of diapers, I'm definitely not in a rush.  I think I'm going to just take things as they go and follow Isabelle's lead (of course while offering an encouraging push along the way).  I started a few weeks ago talking to her about the potty and taking her along with me while I go.  Although its been years since I've had privacy when I go to the bathroom (okay that's probably TMI) but it just seems that when ever I have to go pee, the boys have an URGENT, must be answered now question that requires speaking to me while I go.  And I won't even bring up the fun that is taking all three children to the bathroom with me when I'm out in public or at a park, and since we are all there, we might as well all go.  I'm sure other moms can relate right?

So back to my point.... I've been talking to Isabelle about going potty, allowing her to play with her potty, to take it apart, to assemble it, to step into it, what ever she wants to do to get acquainted, I'm okay.  It hasn't been "used" yet so might as well enjoy the unit in its most clean element.  Usually when we have "potty time" I'll take her, sit her on her potty, I'll sit on mine and I'll say, "Okay Isabelle let's go potty."  Usually its all for not, but at least she's starting to get the point of what its used for (not a place to put her toothbrush, which I think for a few days she thought it was a good holder). 

This past Friday night after dinner, I followed our normal routine and undressed her, sat her on her potty, I went pee, said my usual, "Let's go potty" cheer and then drew her bath water.  As I went over to her, still sitting on her chair, I told her she could stand up and as she did I saw it!

  I started screaming, which of course scared her because I was screaming for Jarrett to come from the other room.  I then then turned to her, smiled a HUGE smile, clapped my hands and cheered, "Isabelle you went pee pee in the potty!"  (Seriously we celebrate huge victories in our house).  Upon seeing me cheer, clap and celebrate she smiled from ear to ear, started clapping and jumping up and down.  I yelled again for dad to bring the M&M's which of course, signaled Gabriel and Michael that they too should respond immediately.  Moments later, all 5 of us were in our bathroom celebrating Isabelle's latest accomplishment.  We gave her two M&M's which she thought was AWESOME, followed by more clapping, smiling and bouncing up and down.  This was then followed by Michael's complaint that he wished he got M&M's for every time he went pee too. 

It was a wonderful moment.  I've never been more excited to see pee in my whole life.  I was so happy to see that Isabelle understood what her potty was for and that she was able to do it.  Even if it doesn't happen again for another 6, 9, even 12 months (let's hope not that long), I'm just happy for the moment it did happen. 

Who knows how this whole potty training thing will go.  I'm doing my best to follow the approach of letting things happen as they do.  And I figure we've got a lot of time.  I remember my mom telling me she was afraid I was going to wear diapers to Kindergarten.  I guess I didn't have any interest in using a potty.  And if I'm using that timeline as a guide, I've got loads of time.

Until next time,
Angie

PS:  Oh and to add to my excitement, the next morning Isabelle went pee again in the toilet.  Talk about hitting the jackpot.  What an exciting weekend!  (We lead a pretty exciting life right?)

Take me out to the ballgame...

wait, on second hand, if it is 113 outside, take me home.  To the air conditioning, to a cold icy glass of water and tell me when its October.  I'll come out then.

Last night started fall baseball season for our family as Gabriel has his first game as a member of the Chandler National Little League "St. Louis Cardinals."  He was so excited for his game that he got up at 5:00 a.m. so the day could past faster and the time for his game would arrive. 

I knew it was going to be a hot one when it was 96 degrees at 6:15 a.m.  And boy was I wrong.  It wasn't only hot yesterday, it was plain out BLAZING hot, some may say miserable (insert grumpy, tired of sweating all summer mom).  But since it was his first game and truthfully speaking as a mom, dad and siblings of a baseball little leaguer, there are no excuses to get out of going to the first game.  Do not pass go, do not make excuses, no get out of "game" cards, baseball or bust.

So we loaded up the crew, shoved our faces full of our "dinner" as we raced to the ball park.  In our family's true fashion, we were of course running late, so dinner consisted of torn in half sandwiches and a couple Doritos chips to share amongst us five.  I knew the kids weren't impressed as Michael asked me more than 15 times when we were going to eat our real supper. But alas no time and we piled out of the van and raced to the field.  Dad and Gabriel warmed up while I tried my best to occupy the littler ones.  Thankfully the park has a play area with slides, and jungle gym features.  What a great idea right?  Except that the equipment has been sitting outside all day and even with the nicely created shade fixtures, they still are the temperature of my oven when I bake cookies.  Trying to explain to a one year old why she can't go on the slide even though it is 5 yards from her, and wide open to play on, is simply impossible.  Insert Isabelle melt down.  After allowing her one attempt to go down the slide only to find the back of her legs bright red from the heat and her repeating hot hot hot over and over, I think she finally understood what I was trying to say.  I love the desert in the summer.

So after our exciting "adventure" on the slides, I finally convinced Michael and Isabelle to come play in the grass closer to where Gabriel's game had now started.  "Michael, will you play Ring Around the Rosie's with Isabelle?"  He obliged and for a whole 3 minutes they were completely entertained.  That is until Michael started screaming, "MOM THERE ARE FIRE ANTS ALL OVER ME AND ISABELLE!!!  HELP!"  For those fortunate not to have experienced fire ants, they are the equivalent of a bee sting and mosquito bite and usually there is no change of getting just one bit.  If you have one, expect to have about 5 or 6 more.  They are tiny, horrible insects that live all over in the grass here.  You may have remembered a few years ago when I blogged about how when Michael was in preschool, we learned he is allergic to them.  As you can imagine I responded immediately.  And yes he unfortunately got several bites.  As I inspected all of them Isabelle decided the slides were calling her and off she went high-tailing it across the park.  Keep in mind it is now 5:45 p.m. and still 113 outside.

This cycle repeated itself, with actually no activity of actually watching the game until 6:00 p.m.   By that point we had gone through the 4 bottles of water I had brought, Isabelle' looked like a complete tomato, and Michael (the consumer of most of the water) decided at the point furthest from the restrooms, he was going to pee his pants.  Now we all hightailed it to the lovely park potties.  Upon our return from the port-a-john, I was determined to see one minute of Gabriel's game. As we approached the fence, I saw Gabriel on first.  A line drive came right at him and he raced after it.

We cheered and then Isabelle saw Daddy in the dugout.  Her new favorite person in the whole world, she started shouting "DADDY DADDY DADDY!!!!" until every man within field 10 turned around to see if it was their daughter desperately pleading for them.  Nope, just my daughter I smiled.  Finally Dad turned around, looked at Isabelle, again looking like a very ripe tomato and said, "Mom, you better take her to the car, she is way over heated."  Although I wanted to respond, "NO, you think?"  I wiped the sweat from running down my nose into my mouth, picked her up, and called for Michael to follow."  "Where are we going mom?  Why are we going to the car?"  Can I watch a movie?"  "Did you bring me more drinks?  I'm really hot and thirsty."  Sadly, I didn't respond to any of the questions.  Mom's fun limit had been met. 

While the time in the car was just as fun, Michael complained and argued the fact that we didn't have a "real supper", Isabelle whined, screamed and shouted for Daddy over and over and over.  Looking at the clock, I knew the game would only be lasting a few more minutes so out we piled again, I had to see, or attempt to see Gabriel at bat at least one time.   Back to the field, back to the fire ants and back to Isabelle shouting for her Daddy.  Jarrett saw that we had returned and could see I was desperate for his help.  He asked another dad to "assistant coach" for him while he came outside the fence to quiet the huge "fan" cheering his name. 

Dad held Isabelle and I got a chance to watch the game.  Number 6 (don't know child's name) was up to bat, swung the bat and the ump said, "Strike 3".  3 outs.  Game over.  Although I didn't get to see Gabriel at bat, to him it was the best hour and a half of his life.  Their team won and he was thrilled beyond belief.  He didn't even realize it was hotter than the sun outside.  He was in his glory.

As we loaded up the van, piled all the equipment in the car and buckled Isabelle into her seat, Gabriel announced, I can't wait for Saturday.  My next game is going to be great!  At least the expected temperate on Saturday is only suppose to be 100.  I just can't wait!

When it it going to be October? 

Until next time,
Angie

Sleep...

Disclaimer:  While I usually try to share heartwarming stories of fun times in our home, funny things the kids do or exciting adventures we take; today's story is more of me just complaining. There I said, it.  Consider this your warning and if you're not interested in hearing another person's complaints, feel free to skip over this post.  I don't blame you one bit!

While I know my "issue"  is really minor compared to the many other challenges families are currently facing, today I just need to vent.  I'm too exhausted to try to write about anything else...

 

I love sleep. I always have.

 Man I've always cherished sleep. I remember in college, when I felt I could never get enough rest, I’d dream about crawling into my bed and relaxing into the deepest, refreshing slumber. And I’d take naps. I’d be at the library studying and when I’d get so tired, my eyes would not stay open, as I read chapter after chapter in some boring text book, I’d place my book down in front of me, put my backpack in my lap, cross my arms and lay down instantly falling sleep. For eleven minutes. Yes, 11 minutes. Why 11 you ask? I have no idea. For some reason my internal body clock would give me 11 minutes of joyous rest and then I’d wake up as if I’d slept for 11 hours. Seriously, no matter how hard I’d try to sleep longer, my eyes would pop open and back to reading they’d go.

I’ve always been able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, once my feet became elevated and my head relaxed back, off I’d go. Jarrett never likes watching a movie with me because most time we’d don’t even get through the opening credits without me drifting off. And when the boys came to be with us, I slept like a baby. When I’d finally get to bed, I think from pure exhaustion, I’d be out like a light only to have to pull myself from the bed the following morning as the alarm bellowed from beside me.

And while I cherish each and every minute of sleep, the reality is I can no longer sleep. Oh what I’d give to sleep a full night. How I’d love to make it past 2:30 a.m. without staring at the ceiling fan or the seeping light from between the wooden blinds in our room.  I've used all my “honey, wake up, I can’t sleep” cards for the next five years, so I’ve taken up a new habit of lying there awake thinking while everyone else rests peacefully. Yes even the dog Jack is peacefully sleeping while I count sheep, focus on relaxed breathing before finally giving up and either getting up to do go one of the chores on my list or turning on the TV to watch yesterday’s 4^th hour of Today with Kathy Lee and Hoda or World News Today (the 3:00 a.m. news). It’s terrible. It’s a vicious cycle I’m not sure how to break it.

This has been going on since Isabelle decided to start sleeping through the night. I guess my body decided I might as well still wake up even though I don’t need to. Seriously, I’m not sure if in 12 months plus of not sleeping a full 6 or 7 or God Bless 8 hours straight, I forgot how to sleep through the night, but something has to change and soon. Even just a few weeks ago, it wasn’t so bad. I’d had gotten use to every other night of not sleeping through the night and staring at the wall running down the laundry list of things I had to get done the following day. I could stand that because I knew for every one night of me not sleeping, the following night would be restful with me sleeping through, I think again from pure exhaustion. But now we’ve reached a stage of full on sleep emergency. My sleeplessness is an every night affair and its affects are not only leaving me wearily but absentminded, short-tempered, caffeine craving and unable to accomplish half of my to-do lists (thus causing another sleepless night as I stress about not getting done what I need to). Simply put, I’m not the person I want to be.

 And while I think many times of what I need to do, most of the time I think about, actually stress about the smallest, most ridiculously tiny things. At night though, maybe others who experience insomnia can relate, those issues seem to be the most serious, most pressing and urgent manners anyone could have. Take in point my most recent issue, yesterday the boys decided to take a pair of sunglasses to school. Actually Gabriel took them to school and decided to wear them at recess because he “wanted to be cool” and to “look like a high schooler”  The rule is at school all those “things” need to stay at home. The fact that he took sun glasses to school when a) he purposely knew he wasn’t supposed to and then b) tried to hide them from me so he wouldn’t get in trouble, really bothered me. Seriously at 2:43 a.m. I ran through every scenario of why he decided to do it, the fact that he’s actively doing things to hide stuff from us (me actually) and it left me feeling uneasy with distrust. And while every scenario lead back to the conclusion that his actions must be my fault as a mother, my restlessness increased. Why do I take personally their bad choices as a reflection of me and my faults in mothering? (That’s a post for another day). Now at face value, it really is only a pair of sunglasses that he took to school and it isn’t a big deal. But not in my mind, especially at 2:43 a.m. 

You probably feel I’ve gone crazy. some days I feel I am and if I can’t ever get a good night’s sleep, I’m not going to rule it out.

 I’m not sure what to do. Jarrett says I should go to the doctor to ask for some sleeping pills. Although there is a time and place for medicine, I tell myself I’d first like to look into other things causing the problems. I’ve Googled lots of things. In fact I learned that insomnia is very common among mothers.  I read a few articles about how the stress of supporting a family, a spouse, children can cause sleeping problems.  And that doesn't even highlight the added stresses of throwing a job in there.  Reading several medical articles, actually made me feel not as crazy nor alone while I look at the ceiling wall each and every night.   I’ve started exercising as often as I can and especially on the days when I’m only up for 2 hours or less and night. On those days when I stare at the clock from 1:23 to 4:30, getting up at 5:30 a.m. to go running gets brushed aside as I tap the snooze button on the alarm.

And while my sleeplessness is not a really big problem, actually very very minor compared to many challenges other families are facing as I type this, I’d still like to change it. I’m starting on a mission to turn this sleepless ship around and setting a course for soothing, calming, relaxing waters of restfulness.  In fact, in just typing that last sentence  I think I’ve found the answer to my problem, I need to go on a cruise. I’m sure to get some sleep there. Maybe I'll awake-dream of cruising tonight as I stare into the darkness.

Until next time,

Angie