Dear Husband

Dear Husband,

If you do not have a youngest daughter by the time you get home from work do not be surprised.  She would not, WOULD NOT, get out of bed until after 8 this morning.  Although, to her credit, she was technically the first of the children out of bed when she briefly got out to scream and writhe around on the floor because I turned on the little lamp.  Once her stance on morning lighting was thoroughly discussed she got back into bed, stuffing herself and all of her lovies as far under the covers as possible.  I was set to let her ride in the car wearing pajamas but, eventually, she did get out of bed and got herself dressed.  There was a slight issue with her cowgirl boots being 1/4 of an inch unzipped which led to them being taken away completely.  After she got over the loss of the boots, she made her way to the breakfast table where her attitude slightly changed upon seeing the delicious donut her older sister was eating.  She came thisclose to not getting a donut.  The ride to and from dropping off her sister at school was fairly uneventful.  However, upon returning home, she refused to get out of the car because I killed a spider with her rain boot and she wanted to do it with her bare hands.  At the moment, TV is not an option and so she is going around finding things that she thinks will bother me.  For example, she yells "I'm going to mess this up!" and she moves the pumpkins on the fireplace around.  Currently, she has put herself in her room so I will sit here while I can and sip my coffee and eat my own donut.

Love,
Your Wife Who Will Be Running Away Soon

High Aspirations

Tonight we are getting Alexandra ready for her first day of pre-kindergarten. I put together a little sign for her to hold like every other parent does (I have no original thought) and I wanted to include a line stating what she wanted to be when she grew up. Her response? A "grown-up" and a "dishwasher."

Needless to say I did not include that line.

Not For The Faint Of Heart

I have not posted much about the house we moved into but, suffice to say, it's been a stressful draining depressing interesting adventure.  The entire house is in need of updating and that's not even including the massive amount of outside work that needs to be completed.

Prior to moving in I stressed the importance of a few items being taken care of before I even considered staying one night.  We installed new carpet on the second floor and had the entire second floor painted.  That made a big difference and I've been dealing with the less than ideal bathrooms and such.

However, I think it's time the bathrooms start receiving their long overdue makeover.  It isn't because the girl's sink is completely broken and therefore can't be used.  Nor is it because in the master bathroom the tub isn't even hooked-up to water.  No, it's because the toilets can't handle little girl poops and, as I write this I gag, I found myself this evening cutting up poop in order for it to flush down the toilet.

I refuse to live my life cutting poop.  We will be getting new toilets this weekend.

Sick Babies

Both kiddos have been sick lately and as such have come to expect certain pleasantries like vaporub on their backs, extra love and attention, and a coveted spot in bed with mommy.  Also, as it just so happens, it seems like every time the girls are sick Marcus is on travel and therefore I'm left alone running between bathrooms trying to take temperatures and provide medicine without cross contamination.

I don't usually let the girls sleep with me but when they're sick it's just easier to take care of them as they wake constantly and cry for me.  Alex was in bed with me for a few days, down with a fever, followed closely by Jo who developed a high fever and runny nose.  Despite having only been sick for one night by the time Marcus was back home, Jo must have grown accustomed to her new status as co-sleeper in mommy's bed because at dinner the night Marcus came home she asked "Is daddy going to sleep in our bed?"

As it just so happens, later that night daddy slept in Jo's bed and she came into bed with me. 

A Killer Amongst Us

I do not frequently remember my dreams and rarely do I write about them.  They have to be truly weird for me to talk about them at all.  My dream last night wasn't necessarily "truly weird" but after I woke-up and thought about it I realized it was horrifying.

In my dream I was back home in Fredericksburg in the parking lot of a CVS.  Why such detail, I have no idea.  It was cold, dark, and snowing and I was attempting to get into someone's car.  However, there was a huge, grey lion that kept lunging at me (and ONLY me) and preventing me from doing so.  Every time I thought I was safe the grey lion would appear and come after me.  I was always able to escape but eventually I grew weary of the shenanigans.

Finally, someone suggested I call 9-1-1 and so I did.  The firemen came to my rescue and captured the grey lion, though they gave it some other name that I can't remember anymore, and I was able to get in the car and leave.  Obviously, it was at this point that I awoke.

After waking up and releasing the anxiety and stress that comes from constantly eluding a lion in one's dreams I realized something.  The lion was grey.  Lasagna is grey.  The lion was constantly trying to kill me.  Lasagna is constantly trying to kill me.  The lion was Lasagna.  That sneaky b*tch snuck into my dreams and manifested herself as a lion which she most certainly thinks she is.  I'm assuming since she can now apparently get into my mind I should start sleeping with one eye open. 

The look of a killer.

Midwest Vs. East Coast

Last night Marcus and I got into a debate about whether it would be appropriate for a 15-year-old to hang-out and spend time with an 8-year-old.  I am of the opinion that, and no matter the sex of the person, a 15-year-old has no business playing with an 8-year-old unless I am paying them to do so (i.e. babysitting...I realize that sounded funny).  Marcus did not agree.  He claimed that as long as the child is of good character their age is of little importance.

We went 'round and 'round, both of us stuck on our main issue.  I was adamant that any 15-year-old who does not have friends of their own age might have developmental or psychological issues that could affect a younger child.  He did not follow.  Finally, exasperated, I asked him exactly what he was doing at 15-years-old to which he replied "I don't know.  Catching frogs, building forts..." Aha!  And there we had it.  While Huckleberry Finn was growing up, innocent in the Midwest, I was on the East coast behaving like your more typical 15-year-old:  Daydreaming about boys, reading "Seventeen" magazine, and possibly  definitely already having had my first sip of alcohol.

I'm not sure if we really concluded the debate except that we both agreed we lived two very different lives prior to meeting each other.  I just hope he doesn't expect our girls to be building forts at 15.

Alex Says...

I've been meaning to write down some of the things Alexandra says.  She's been cracking us up lately with her smart responses and ideas on how the way things work.  Alex is a very serious little girl and oftentimes will tell us information with such conviction that we wonder if what she's saying is true.  She recently told us that there was a certain type of horse that only came out at night and as she told us with such a straight face we thought for a brief second she just might be right.

The other day I heard her trying to play a game with her little sister called "Jesus and God."  My ears perked up when I heard this and started paying attention.  While we do go to church we don't often discuss God or Jesus so I was curious to hear her rendition.  Essentially, she wanted Josephine to be God and to lead her, "Jesus," on the donkey.  Josephine wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of playing God and she kept telling her sister so.  However, Alex being her usual level of bossy, finally led an exasperated Josephine to say "I don't want to be God.  God is turning into Elsa."  That was the end of "God and Jesus" as interpreted by Alexandra.

One day recently we passed an old cemetery and Alex asked what it was.  I explained to her that when people die they sometimes like to be buried underground in a cemetery.  For whatever reason I then felt it necessary to tell her my and Marcus's wish when we die.  I said to Alex "When mommy and daddy die we want you to turn us into diamonds" to which she replied "But mommy, I don't know how to do that!"  I laughed and said "Well, no, I know that.  We want you to pay someone to do it" to which she then replied "But I don't have any money!"  I was blown away by her logic and only slightly disturbed by her lack of concern at the thought of mommy and daddy one day dying.

On the way home one evening, all four of us in the car, I was talking to Marcus about watching the movie Ghostbusters and how scary it was.  I mentioned that if Alex had woken up and seen some it she might have been scared.  This immediately peaked her interest and we soon had twenty questions hurtling our way about a movie she had no concept of.  When I told her that I didn't think she was old enough to watch the movie because it had scary ghosts in it she said, in all seriousness, "I'm not afraid of any ghosts" which naturally started a fit of laughter in the front of the car despite the fact she was not aware of how ironically funny her statement was.

Unlike most women, I do not believe that becoming a mother has made me a better person.  I scream, I curse, I experience intense feelings of rage, and I fall into depressions.  I feel guilty every waking moment that I'm not being the person I should be for my children.  I don't do arts and crafts with them, I don't bake or cook with them, I hardly teach them anything at all.

Lately, a good day has been waking up, feeding them at least twice a day, and enforcing naptime with an iron fist.  Neither of my girls knows what its like not to have a mommy who yells and screams at them; who constantly threatens with swats on the bottom, time-outs, or the removal of a beloved item.

I've come to realize the oldest is scared of me.  She had a potty accident at the store one evening and told her dad not to tell mommy.  My anger and inability to control it has clearly affected her and I don't know how to change it.  When every move as a mother is imparted as a lesson for the children it occurs to me that I'm failing miserably as my children have learned nothing but fear and how to scream at each other rather than talking calmly when conflict arises.

This is not to say that my love for my children isn't strong.  I know that somehow, despite my failures, they do know I love them and we share tender moments sporadically through the day.  I meet their needs as best I can.  I just don't know if my best is good enough. 

Anatomy 101

The following few phrases have literally left my lips:


"Ladies, please stop spreading each other's butt cheeks."


"That's enough with kissing each other's butts."


"Jo, if your vagina were green we would have serious problems." (I'm fairly certain this comes from her confusing the color red and green)


"Don't put your hand in your butt at the dinner table, sweetie."


"Wait, where did you say you were going to put that?  No, do not put that in your butt.  We do not put things in our butts."


Obviously, anatomy is a large part of our day.

The Light At The End Of The Tunnel

To update anyone who cares (all one of you) the family is packing-up and shipping-out to Williamsburg, VA.  First of all, our current home has been on the market since December in anticipation of a summer move and we were surprised when we got an offer last week.  We were not expecting the house to sell so quickly given the amount of competition and lack of buyers but, barring any catastrophes, the new owners sign the papers on 30 March.  Secondly, and shortly after a contract was signed to sell our home, Marcus was offered and accepted a new position.  So, while we have managed for one of us to be continuously employed we will be homeless.

Once we knew Marcus had the job we quickly worked into our schedule (as in Marcus rearranged his schedule and the girls and I just did what we do every day but in a different place) a visit to Williamsburg.  Marcus and I spent two days looking at homes without one of them looking like a remote possibility.  Of course, we have two different ideas of what we are looking for.  Marcus wants an investment property and I also want an investment property but one that the family can move into right away and be comfortable.  I have been investment property hunting with Marcus before and while all of the houses had a floor (yes, we once looked at a potential purchase that did not have a FLOOR), none of them would be adequate for the girls and I to live in for quite some time; I am still getting the stench of one out of my nostrils.

Both of us are feeling kind of dejected about the housing prospects in Williamsburg but we know if we bide our time that something will come up.  So, as a result of everything happening at a break-neck speed and having almost no time to buy a home even if one were good enough to move into, the girls and I will be moving-in with my mom at the beginning of April and Marcus will be a geo-bachelor spending his time between Jacksonville, Norfolk, and Fredericksburg.  This is not an ideal situation and having Marcus gone so much is going to be miserable but at least we will have my mom and will be close to Marcus's parents (not to mention all of our friends that I have missed terribly).

So, in honor of our quickly approaching move I have compiled a list of both the positives and negatives of having lived in Jacksonville, or, living the "Salt-Life" as 99.9% of the vehicles around here will have you believe.

1.  This will probably sound strange but I am going to miss the sight of helicopters and MV-22 Osprey flying around.  No matter how many times the girls and I see them we stop and watch as they fly overhead.  What I will not miss are the "sounds of freedom" such as mortar blasts beginning at 7 in the morning and running through to midnight. 

2.  I am going to miss the flat running terrain that is the beach.  The lone hill in the area is about as challenging as walking up the stairs and I am pretty sure my children could run up and down it for days.  I will not miss the daily 30 mph winds that seemingly have no direction and are constantly blowing me back as I try to push a double jogging stroller which is pretty much like wearing one of those flying squirrel suits and running through a wind tunnel.

3.  I am not going to miss living in the jacked-up truck mecca of the United States.  Which leads me to a personal pet peeve which is, if you do drive a jacked-up truck at least know how to park the damn thing in order to not take up more space than you already do.  Anyway, half of the trucks around here have fake diesel exhaust pipes on the back and some sort of slightly offensive slogan plastered on the window.  I suppose one positive aspect of having giant exhaust pipes shooting straight into the air is that the rest of us lowly little car drivers are being saved the carbon monoxide being blown directly in our faces as we sit at a traffic light.

4.  Speaking of driving, I will not miss the sound of motorcycles riding by.  I can hear them when they get to the end of the neighborhood and turn onto the main road revving as hard and as fast as they possibly can.  I still cannot believe I have not heard one crash which I suppose is a positive.

5.  I will miss the house we live in.  Our house has been the only thing I honestly love about living in Jacksonville.  It is the perfect size and layout for our family and the girls have done quite a bit of growing-up in it.  I imagine it will be the first house Alex remembers living in, though Jo will probably not remember it as she grows older.  Nothing has proven to us just how much we love this house than the last few days, looking at less than ideal homes.