Super Phone

For those that don't already know what a big freak I am, I have 2 cell phones. Personally. I have a pink phone whose provider is T-Mobile and I have a black Iphone which is provided by AT&T. And yes, I work for that "other" cell provider that starts with a V and no, I don't have their service. It's weird. They just don't give a discount that's worth it to switch.

My Iphone was a gift from Micah when we were first dating. I think we had been seeing each other exclusively for about a month and we were burning through our phone minutes so he decided to add me to his plan and get me what I assumed would be a cheapie phone. Instead he pulled out all the stops and got me an Iphone (I think he was in love by that point. At least I hope so.) and then spent about a year teaching me to use it.

I keep the pink phone as my "Main" number because AT&T isn't always reliable and service can be spotty. Also, I have a killer deal on unlimited minutes with it and am hesitant to give that up just yet.

My Iphone has been a life saver on numerous occasions and I thought I would share those moments with you.

Last Christmas my group had a Christmas party. Except the managers forgot the music AND the camera.

TADA! My phone did BOTH. So they were able to take pictures I could email them the same day with the iphone AND it played Christmas Carols ala Trans Siberian Orchestra. Iphone saved the party.

Lately it has taken to granting me small blocks of time in the car where Lizzie can listen to "her" music on headphones with it and I can get some peace. I think that is the biggest time saver of them all.

Yesterday though, the Iphone saved the day for several people. Yesterday I was sitting in the Social Security office waiting to change my last name. No comments on how long THAT'S taken me to do, please. The number they called when I walked in was 62. My number was 197. They estimated my wait time as 90 minutes. *Sigh*

So I'm sitting there, entertaining myself and watching this little girl with her grandmother. Her grandmother has been there forever and this little girl is about 2. I don't know if Grandma was unprepared for the wait or what but she brought nothing to entertain this child. And for the first, oh, 45 minutes, I was there, that was fine. I know they had been there a lot longer than that. Little girl played jungle gym on Grandma and there was another child there slightly younger than her who kept coming over and "chatting" with her. They ran up and down the aisles a couple of times. But towards the end of the 45 minutes she started acting up.

She was whining and beginning to get loud and kept saying "Bye bye" to her Grandma had to leave. Now, this doesn't bother me because, well, she's 2. She can't help it. She's stuck there and it's been too long and she wants to play and there is NOTHING for her to play with. SS would do well to have some color books on hand.....

Grandma is getting frustrated and her number is still 6 away from the last number called and people are starting to look at the child and roll their eyes and frankly, get a little rude.

I pulled out my handy dandy Iphone, pulled up You Tube and despite the 10 signs saying not to use your cell phone in the lobby, showed Bella Sesame Street clips. Bert and Ernie singing, Elmo sing, Big Bird talking about ice cream or something......

The child was quiet. Grandma was grateful. Rude people at Social Security lobby were appeased and Bella got to watch Snufalufogus dance around.

For my next Iphone trick I plan to solve World Hunger. Not sure how, but when the opportunity presents itself me and my Iphone will be RIGHT there!

That baby.......

As I round the corner into my 39th week of pregnancy I'm starting to field a lot of questions about "When are you going to have that baby?".

Mostly from Micah.

But co-workers are also kind enough to ask, as well as strangers and even Lulu. Lulu is exceedingly worked up about when the baby is coming.

You see, way back when, we explained a timeline that made sense to her. First there would be her birthday (Sept. 26th), then Halloween (Oct. 31st) and then the baby would come after that but before Thanksgiving.

Well, we've had a birthday, we've had Halloween and she's starting to see Turkey decorations all over the place. It's time for the baby. So where is he?

He's still inside me, that's where. And I think it's beginning to frustrate her just slightly because she has taken to asking "How many more days until the baby?" about every 1.8 seconds.

Kylie, on the other hand, has no issues about when the baby is coming. She's old hat at this frankly, becoming a big sister at the ripe old age of 9 for the first time, and so she knows that the baby will come when he comes. Besides, she has more important things to worry about, such as, where is her black eyeliner, will I buy her more books and does she get to skip school when the baby is born. Priorities for a 14 year old.

Yesterday, I started having Braxton Hicks contractions about 9:30ish in the morning. I knew they were fakey's, as I call them, so I stayed at work and was able to work through them for the most part but it's kinda nice to know my body is finally DOING something towards getting the baby here. Because lately? It's been kinda lazy on the contraction front.

I don't think Micah can clean anything else in the house, his nesting instinct is so pronounced and if I change my budget one more time it's going to result in a Wall-Street collapse, I'm sure. (I nest in dollars, he nests in household stuff. That's why we make a great team.)

So any day now William, any day now......

Rosie the Charlantula

I am working on Halloween pictures, I swear. But this story is too cute not to tell and I think even without pictures you'll appreciate it.

For Halloween I conned Kylie on coming out with Lulu and me while we walked the neighborhood. Kylie was Wednesday 13 (A band? A singer? I dunno for sure.) but I just called her Brett Michaels. Lead singer of an 80's band called Poison. She was not amused. Lulu was Wall-E which was perfect because it went over her jacket and snow hat perfectly and she was toasty the whole time.

As we are rounding part of the neighborhood Kylie advises us that "There is the spider house". Apparently Kylie remembered a few years ago going to the door and then asking her if she wanted to hold their pet spider. A tarantula. She declined. Probably not politely.

Let's take a moment to remember who we are with at this moment. My Goth child who is wearing eyeliner thicker than my pinky and total black with a cowboy hat and mesh shirt. Also in tow is my 5 year old dressed up like a Robot.

We get to the house and the lady who is at the door asks if Lulu wants to see her ring. And yes, it's a brown tarantula. And I died. Okay not really. Lulu is fascinated and stares at it through her goggles. The lady asks if she would like to hold it.

Now let's stop here for a moment. I'm pretty sure she expected the answer to be no. Because was 5 year old girl in her right mind would say yes to holding this hairy giant spider?

My kid, that's who. She asks me to take off her glove and holds out her hand for Rosie to step on to. The lady explains that Rosie has suckers on her feet and is furry but wont bite. Lulu has no reaction as Rosie steps onto her hand and just HANGS OUT. Kylie is dying behind me and I'm squatting in my witches costume wondering where MY child is and who I have under this costume of the robot.

Then Rosie makes what could have been a fatal move. She steps onto the sleeve of Lulu's coat and suddenly Lulu FREAKS OUT. She starts screaming and waving her hand and luckily I was already squatting so I grabbed her hand in and in a brief second told myself that I could take the giant hairy TARANTULA if I had to.

Blessedly the lady was also squatting and we had Lulu's hand still while Rosie was still attached and she was able to get the spider off the coat and child with no issues. We checked Rosie out before leaving and she was fine. Lulu also was fine and was later able to explain she didn't want the spider in her hair. I totally get that.

So to recap. Toasty warm Kindergartner holds Rosie the Charlantula (Lulu's pronunciation, not mine) while Goth big sister and Mom barely keep from peeing themselves at the sight of it.

Happy Halloween to us.

Random Updates

I'm 38 weeks, 1 day pregnant.

I'm tired.

I'm possibly a little cranky.

We had a snowstorm in Colorado Wednesday and Thursday.

Kylie helped shovel snow without griping about it. I consider my parenting work to be a moderate success.

Lulu has begun to focus on art more than TV for entertainment. While this is fantastic and I continue to encourage this behavior I am a little tired of writing the stories to her little art projects when every fiber in my being is begging for a nap.

Micah and I had a very serious conversation about buying Lulu an Iphone for Christmas because she loves to play with the YouTube feature on mine and that + headphones = at least 30 minutes of silence.

We decided against it.

My midwife informed me yesterday that my no later than date is November 19th since she is on call for Thanksgiving and does not want to induce me then. That means if I go to 41 weeks (which would be November 19th) they will induce me the day after. While I'm not looking forward to induction if I can help it, it's nice to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

I have a cold.

Here is a picture of Micah and Kylie shoveling the driveway.



I am hiding safely in the garage. It's good to be pregnant. I guess.

The kids are supposed to go over to Brian's house on Sunday for a sleepover. Kylie is protesting vehemently. I'm torn on the issue personally. On the one hand, he raised her. Regardless of legal whatever, that's her dad. And the reason she doesn't want to go is because he wont let her wear black clothing.

On the one hand, I get that this is who she is and it's a phase and the more you fight something like that the more she wants it and rebels against parental rules. So I want her to be who she is today, even if it isn't who I would wish for. He disagrees. So on the other hand, do I force her to go somewhere where she isn't allowed to be who she is (within reason) or do I allow her to tell the man that raised her for 14 years to forget all about her and that she gets to be in charge because he didn't formally adopt her?

We are packed for the hospital and only because Micah made me. If this stuff was left up to me I would show up at the hospital with a pillow case full of movies and a pair of pants wondering what else I was supposed to bring.

Lulu is going to be Wall-E for Halloween. This is possibly the best costume ever as Wall-E is essentially a foam box with goggles. That she can wear over her coat. Hurray!

Kylie seems to have decided against going trick or treating. Be this a lesson to you Brian. When you told her she couldn't go it was the thing she wanted to do most in the world. When I told her she could go her interest in it waned and now she wants to hand out candy. Just sayin'.

Overall, still pregnant and probably not going anywhere anytime soon.
But feeling very smug about my parenting right now. I'm sure God will show me humility soon but if he could just let me have a few more minutes of being superior that would be great.

Why do they care?

I'm often surprised at how much people give a crap about my reproduction. I shouldn't be, I am, after all, a product of the internet generation and I use the internet to fuel all of my research ever, and yet, random co-workers and people on the street asking me questions and then telling me the "right" and "wrong" thing to do still amazes me.

1. When I found out I was pregnant and I finally started to tell people I had no less than 5 co-workers ask me how that happened.

My 14 year old knows how that happened. I assume that adults my own age or older know how it happens too. If you need me to really tell you we have some larger issues at play.

2. When did it happen?

Really? People REALLY want to know this? My EX-HUSBAND asked me if it happened while we were in Mexico (Micah and I, not he and I). I told him no. But why would you ask?

3. Do you know what you're having?

Okay this doesn't bother me so much. I'm having a boy. It's the follow up questions that come with it. If I'm lazy and say no people ask if I'm going to find out. If I tell them it's a boy, they ask if it's my first. Second? Third? First Boy? And then, THEN, I get the comments about "I bet you're glad it's a boy finally." That is possibly the most insulting thing I've ever heard. I had my heart set on a girl if you must know. But whether it was a boy, a girl or a monkey it's the last baby that is exiting my body. The suggestion that I'm relieved and don't have to keep trying for a boy tells me that strangers really will say the oddest things.

Also, before we knew what we were having people would try and lobby for me to either a)find out or b)not find out. EVERYONE has advice on this subject. When I would tell people we planned to find out I got some really adamant people telling me what a bad idea that was for any myriad of reasons. My favorite was "It'll make you push harder to find out."

I've had 2 kids. The last thing I've EVER had on my mind while pushing them out was the gender. My last child my only thought while pushing was my then husband's vasectomy.

4. What are your plans for delivery?

My midwife asking me this? Totally fine and appropriate. My husband and Mother In Law asking? Also fine. Close family members I'm also okay with.

Co-workers? Strangers? People in line at Wal-Mart? Stop it. Seriously.

Also, when I tell you my plans please, for the love of all that is holy, do not try and argue with me about my decision, whatever it is.

I'm choosing to go medication free. I have a reason for this. I also have 2 other children so it is possible that I've thought about this maybe once or twice. For what it's worth I've had both a medicated and an unmedicated birth. My unmedicated memories make me want to vomit with anxiety because I remember how bad it all hurt. I remember calling my Dr a liar because it hurt so bad. My medicated birth was, by far, so much better for me. And YET, I am still choosing to do this unmedicated. Really, I've thought about it. Telling me that birth hurts does not help.

Also, conversely, when women tell others to bring the epidural on in month 8, I don't blame them either. That stuff hurts. For REAL. So don't try and talk women OUT of medication if they choose too, I don't care how uninformed you may think they are. I'm going to say it again, labor hurts. It's not easy, it's not "fun" and while it's well worth it in the end, judging someones ability to tolerate pain is just plain mean.

5. Are you going to circumcise/vaccinate/eat your placenta? Etc........

WOW, really? REALLY?
Again, friends and family I'm cool with. If you're close to me. And close to me means I'd call you at 3 am for bail money.

If not, don't ask. These questions have no right or wrong answer except to the individual making the decision. They are bound to start controversy and I have no desire to hear about your cousin who either a) had to be circumcised at 5 because it wasn't done when he was an infant or b)your cousin who was scarred for life and became a serial killer because he was circumcised (or vaccinated for that matter) as an infant.

For the record, no, I wont be eating my placenta. I don't care how much protein it has in it.

Can you tell I'm grumpy? Sorry. But I am. I'm still pregnant and so done with it that I can't stand it.

My housekeeping skills can be summed up in one conversation

Me: What's that sound?
Micah: A vacuum cleaner.

How the got their names

For some reason I find the process that people use to name their children fascinating. I love 99.9% of names people pick for their children because of course they always seem to fit that child but I also love the time and thought that parents put into the process of picking the "right" name.

A name is something that you give your child that they will carry with them forever. It helps shape and mold them and make them who they are and who they will become. (You know, along with upbringing and morales etc.)

So here is how each of my children got their names. I just thought I would share with you.

Kylie LeAnndra

Kylie is a name that my stepmother really liked and wanted for my half brothers daughter (my niece). At the last minute they changed their minds and so 4 years later I used it for my daughter. It also helps that its a)an Irish name and b) her birth fathers middle name is Kyle.

Kylie is Irish, meaning Handsome (okay it was for a boy in Ireland) or Boomerang in Australian Aboriginal.

LeAnndra is me changing up my middle name. Originally Kylie's middle name was going to be Nicole but at the last minute my mom suggested I use LeAnndra instead since her fathers middle name was getting some billing, perhaps mine should to. LeAnndra means "like a lioness" and I find it appropriate.

Elizabeth Ann.

Elizabeth is for Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. The A&E movie is my favorite movie of all time and had I seen it 7 months earlier Kylie may very well have been named Jane.

Ann is also using my middle name and giving it to my child. I just had to be sneakier about it. At the hospital, after Brian had filled out the birth certificate information he looked at me and said, "Hey, you, Kylie and Lizzie all have Ann in your middle name." I faked being surprised and really was shocked he hadn't noticed sooner.

William Raul.

William was all Micah's idea. He really, really, really wanted to name the baby that. I was heading more towards Jeremiah. Or Paul. Or Benjamin. Or anything that wasn't William because Micah wanted to call him Bill and when I think of the name Bill I think of old, bald, fat guys. (Apologies to all Bills right now) He finally won me over with a promise to call him Will, not Bill. But every so often he messes with me and make me think that William is still a bad idea.

Raul is Micah's grandfathers middle name. He insisted and while I was all about putting Lee as the middle name (More homage to ME!) I agreed, seeing as Micah loved his grandfather so much.

I toy with the idea of adding Julian as a second middle name to this baby as homage to my mother but I generally am not a fan of 2 middle names so that probably wont happen.

So how did you name your babies?

The ballad of Jenny and Fran

Jenny and Fran can't seem to get along. Already today they have had it out and involved a third party with the "it's not fairs!" and the "She touched my stuff!"

Fran has accused Jenny of wearing her clothes (she isn't). Jenny says she doesn't have to share the closet (she does). The two have been bickering since at least this morning and I suspect by the time I get there after work Fran will be claiming she doesn't have to share the bathroom since it's on her side of the room if Jenny won't share the closet because it's on Jenny's side and Jenny will have punched Fran in the teeth. Except Fran doesn't have teeth and I'm not sure Jenny has the strength to follow through on a good punch. Although Fran may be dead because she does like to nap a lot of I think Jenny has enough strength to hold a pillow over Fran's face.

The "funny" part of all of this is that these are not two sisters bickering and sharing a room. No. These are 80+ year old women in a nursing home who became roommates over the weekend. Neither one is particularly happy with it, apparently and they don't seem to like each other.

Micah got a call from the social worker earlier today detailing the argument for him. He tried to talk to his grandma, Jenny, who is unhappy regardless. *sigh*

I'm off this evening to try smooth things over, at least with Jenny.

Pray for me. I think I may need it.

You know you're 36 weeks pregnant when....

1. Your 5 year old knows the routine in the morning involves putting Mommy's socks on for her
2. Your 14 year old's routine involves Mommy's shoes
3. Your coat struggled to zip up over your belly
4. Strangers start saying "Getting close now?"
5. Your appointments become weekly
6. and involve you taking off your pants
7. People start asking what you're doing to help labor along...and wink at your husband
8. You realize that doesn't sound like a bad idea if you could figure out how to get your belly out of the way
9. Your socks leave marks on your legs
10. Getting your leg over the bathtub is exhausting
11. You want to get a pedicure but aren't sure if you need one since you haven't seen your toes in 2 months
12. You also haven't shaved your legs in that length of time
13. The dogs no longer fear your hunger, they know you can't eat more than an M&M at a time
14. You're co-workers beg you not to take on too much work as they don't want to have to do you're stuff when you're out
15. You rework the budget 15 times in one day because that's your idea of nesting
16. When people ask if you need anything you ask if they can go to the bathroom for you as you're tired of spending all your time in there
17. You wake up tired every morning and realize you lost count of the number of times you visited the bathroom
18. Getting out of the car requires assistance..and occasionally a fork lift
19. Slip on shoes never looked so good
20. You have a countdown calendar going on and you tell EVERYONE about it

Parent Teacher Conferences

Last week I had the parent-teacher conference for Lulu with her teacher Mrs. Brunning. Who I love.

For some unknown reason Kylie's parent teacher conferences were in Sept, less than a month after school had started. I missed out on going because I didn't know about it. But even if I had I can already tell you how they would have gone.

Teacher #1: Kylie is brilliant but lazy. She speeds through her work and then just reads.
Teacher #2: Kylie is so smart and talented but she seems a little lazy. We really have to struggle to get her homework turned in, even though she aces every test.
Teacher #3: Kylie is gifted but lazy....

You see where that goes. So yeah, I'll just check her report card, thank you very much. Talking to 7 teachers about how gifted by lazy my kid is does nothing for me.

So back to Lulu.

Lulu was truly shy for the first time in almost a year and didn't speak the entire time. She just stared at her teacher and smiled.

According to the teacher Lulu is doing well at school, she's got all of her capital letters down and most of her lowercase. She's desperately trying to read and spends a lot of time sounding out small words. Her memory is good and she's moving quickly through math and reading concepts.

She also is apparently the guide dog of the Kindergarten. According to the teacher Lulu is very outgoing and talkative and is very good at multitasking. That is to say, she can color a picture and talk at the same time. Apparently not all of the children and create a picture and describe it so she will pair Lulu with that child so they can see her process as she creates and helps the other children come out of their shells.

None of that is a surprise, I don't think Lulu stops talking from the moment she gets home until she falls asleep.

She also told me that Lulu is very helpful, wants to help others and is very empathetic to the needs and feelings of others. She doesn't want anyone to have their feelings hurt and goes out her way to make sure everyone is "okay".

And doesn't stop talking. Which sometimes gets her in trouble. But overall a joy to have in class.

I honestly don't know how I got so lucky sometimes.

Brilliant but lazy and talkative and helpful. What more can a mother ask for?

Maybe a bad example

As I approach the end of my pregnancy I have begun to take to my bed earlier and more frequently. Micah was kind enough a few weeks ago to give me his vibrating heating pad for my back and it has done me a world of good.

Like a caring and loving daughter, Lulu has noticed that I seem to hurt a little more and when she comes in my room and sees me using the heating bad she'll get a very concerned look on her face and ask if my back hurts. I generally tell her yes, a little bit and she gives me a hug.

So you can imagine my laughter last night when I came into my room to find Lulu on the bed looking like this:


She said her back hurt too. And then couldn't stop talking because she's so little the vibrating made her sound funny when she opened her mouth.

I've created a monster.

*and yes, I really do sleep with all those pillows plus 2 more you can't see. I'm a freak.

Donuts with Grandpa

By now it should come as no surprise to my readers that I grew up in a household of women. I've been known to say once or twice that women raising children together is the way it should be. Because in the past I've had more help with my kids from other women than with the father figure in the house. And my own experience was being raised by 2 women.

I'm kinda getting to the point where it might be okay to do the Mom and Dad thing in the house. So far it's looking promising anyways, what with the help with dinner and kitchen cleanup and laundry and reading stories that the Dad in our house does...but I digress.

Today at our elementary school it's Donuts with Dad morning. Donuts with Dad is actually a community event I started about 4 years ago when I became President of the PTO. (Why, yes, I am tooting my own horn, why do you ask?) When I took over the PTO was solely about raising funds for pet projects that the former board liked and was not necessarily about the school or the kids. I got lucky, the entire board quit and I started with a clean slate. And no help. But I was passionate about PTO not just being about money and so that fall we held our first DWD or Donuts with Dad.

Because of the makeup of our community we opened it up to ANY male figure in a child's life so Dads, Step Dads, Uncles, Brothers, Grandpa's, even friends and neighbors could come and support the child.They get a donut and juice or milk and the child gets to show off their school, classroom and teachers as well as friends. We do a similar event for Moms in the Spring but the Dad event is by far better attended (free donuts, hello) and we get somewhere around 200-300 people to the event. Considering we have about 450 students, including pre-school, that's pretty good.

Not once, in those 4 years, did either of my children have a male figure attend the event with them. For those of you who are keeping track, I did actually have a child in the school 4 years ago but her father couldn't be bothered to come. Even though his wife organized and planned it. He is on vacation for it this year.

Micah was unable to attend this year but Lulu didn't actually invite him anyways. When she and I talked about it she wanted to invite her Grandpa. Luckily for us Grandpa accepted and Lulu was very excited.

This morning all she could talk about was showing Grandpa off. Like he's a display piece in her collection of people who adore her. Oh wait. He probably is.

To be fair she offered to save me part of her donut. I decline. I've seen what happens when she saves anything for me and it's not pretty.

As far as I can tell Grandpa came and Lulu was pleased. Here is the photo my friends on the PTO took for me showing my littlest girl and her Grandpa. I hope she got to show him off. I hope he liked it.

Thank you Grandpa!

PS - Elisa:

Actually that's not your little girl keeping you up, it's my inability to convey the story properly.
That's Micah's step-dad Rex who is, by all accounts, the only dad that matters as far as Micah or I are concerned.

I've been MIA

Sorry I've been MIA for the last couple of days. I have so many ideas floating around in my head of what to write but nothing really seems to come into focus for me lately.

The kids are doing well. I'm still pregnant and doing well. Micah is doing well.

We have some challenges also going on and that has made it difficult I think for me to focus.

Micah's grandmother is still in the nursing home and we are trying to figure out the right course of action for her. She wants to go home. The nursing home says they'll call adult services if we send her home. She only has enough in savings to cover a 24 hour caretaker for 3 months and then we'd need to move her. So there is stress.

Did I mention I'm still pregnant? Yeah. I am. I have about 5 weeks until my due date and it just seems like every time I see my midwife something ELSE is going on. This last week they were worried I was showing signs of pre-eclampsia. I'm not. But that was a semi-stressful weekend.

I have a new roof but now I need to pay the roofers and that is becoming difficult since my insurance sent me a check that is difficult to cash.

The principal at the elementary school is annoying the PTO, of which I am a board member. (And am irritated right along with them)

So I just don't have a lot of funny things to post or say and I really dislike complaining a lot on the blog.

So bear with me while I try and break through this writers block and find funnier times ahead.

Fathers

Today is my fathers birthday. If my recollection of his year of birth is correct then today he will be 67 today. I will not, however, be calling him to wish him a happy birthday. A card did not go out to him today and no, I didn't forget. I remembered his birthday a week ago and have chosen to send him nothing.

I am a disrespectful, hateful, unforgiving daughter. Ask him. He'll tell you the same thing.

I so don't care. Well, obviously I care somewhat or else I wouldn't be posting a blog telling you about it and how I don't care.

I am infinitely jealous of my cousins who grew up with fathers. Fathers that did things with them and took them places and never made a promise they couldn't keep. Father's who deserve Fathers Day cards and birthday presents and brag about their grandchildren and come to visit. Father's who lend an ear or helping hand and who know you better than you know yourself. Pictures of them growing up in Daddy's lap, getting help with the science fair projects etc. I don't long for that anymore but I used to. Secretly.

I always wanted my children to have that dad. The dad my cousins had. The story book Daddy's who showered their daughters with affection and attention, I wanted that. Wished for it. Pretended I had one from time to time. My children didn't really get that either but what they did get, I think is probably better than a completely absent father.

To be fair, Will is going to get the best dad in the bunch if behavior continues as I suspect it might.

Neither Micah nor I had great biological role models for Fathers. We have some pretty awesome role models now in Step-Fathers, Uncles and friends and I feel like we have gotten incredibly lucky in some respects with that.

So instead of sending my dad a card or calling him or anything of that sort, I just want to say happy birthday to all the good Dads out there.

All the dads coaching games or sitting on the sidelines or taking to practice or rooting theirs kids on. All the dads kissing boo boos, driving to the emergency room at 80 miles an hour and checking on their kids at night. To the dads making dinner, buying dinner or eating dinner a child made that might be slightly "creative. To the dads knowing their children and loving them for who they are instead of trying to fit them into a mold that they have created in their minds as "best".

Happy Birthday guys. Even if it isn't your birthday today. It will be in the next 364 days so here's your birthday wishes too. Happy birthday. Sincerely.

Divorce, 1 year later

So today is my Divorce anniversary. I realize that sounds odd, that someone would remember such a thing and call it an anniversary but it really wasn't that big of a deal to me then and kinda isn't now.

The day I got divorced I took the day off of work. Brian and I met at the courthouse, waited for our judge to not show up and so we were shipped to another judge who asked us questions about our parenting plan (that is in a total shambles today by the way) and if I was pregnant. I swore I wasn't (and I wasn't) and we were divorced. We giggled before and after. Decided it would be in bad taste to have a party.

After that I went back to Micah's apartment and we went out brunch, went to the shooting range and I got my back tattoo. It's a Forget Me Not and has a lot of meaning to me on so many levels.

I remember my mother being devastated about her divorce. She lost weight. She pushed through but she had a really rough first year after my father left.

I didn't have that. I blossomed. I developed hobbies. I tried new food. I traveled. I got pregnant. Opps. I found a family that loved me for me and didn't judge that I was or wasn't something else. And they weren't my biological family. My first year of being divorced coincided with my best summer of all time and my new life that I embraced warmly.

I've been asked by other women how I dealt with the devastation of divorce. Normally they are staring into the pit of despair at possibly the end of their marriage and are terrified. People like to talk to me and I'm pretty open about everything in my life so it's natural that they look at me. But I feel guilty because I have to be honest with them and tell them that for me it wasn't a pit of despair and it wasn't devastating. I cried, to be sure. But I cried for my hopes and dreams, for all my plans, for my failure to my children and to my family. I didn't cry because I missed him or because he was gone. I cried because the picture in my MIND was gone. The plans I had made were gone. But in reality, looking back on it, they were never going to come to fruition like I had hoped anyways.

I occasionally tell one or two stories about my ex so that people can get a feel for why the breakup wasn't hard. Besides telling them we were living completely separate lives as roommates LONG before we separated. These stories are as follows:

A winter or two after we had moved to Colorado I decided I needed a winter coat. I had a 5 year old hoodie made out of sweatshirt material that my mother had given me but it was falling apart and wasn't very warm. I went out in search of a coat in December. I found one at Burlington Coat Factory that I adored. It was sort of a pea coat and was black. It went down to my knees and was made of wool. It was Colorado perfect. I called my then husband to ask him if I could buy the coat. He asked me how much it was. I told him it was $80. He told me no. He said if I could find a coat for $20 I could have it. Yes, he was serious. This, despite the fact that we had over $5000 liquid cash in our checking account and slightly over $10,ooo in our savings account plus various other savings vehicles. Of course a plus size woman in the beginning of winter in Colorado can't find a $20 winter coat so I didn't get one. I just wore my hoodie for the entire winter. I even shoveled snow in that hoodie. He had a wool coat plus a military coat for winter that was good up to -30F I believe.

My other story is about after he moved out. One week he told me he couldn't pick up Lulu from daycare after work, despite the fact that it was on his way home. Every day it was a different reason, he had to work late, he had plans after work etc. So I picked her up. I also made dinner for myself and the kids every night, gave baths, helped with homework, did laundry, tidied the house (I wont lie, I didn't CLEAN it every night) and did the various other tasks moms do. On the weekend I took the kids to do some sort of family "thing". After that week, Monday night, Brian asked if I had "noticed". I asked him "Noticed what?" He wanted to know if I had noticed how much harder that week had been without him there to help. He had avoided picking up Lulu to show me what my life would be like without him.

I laughed. I told him nothing about my life had changed in that week, except I had to pick up Lulu from daycare. But essentially, my life had gone on as normal. He didn't cook. He didn't tidy. He didn't do laundry, or bedtimes or homework. He didn't go family stuff on the weekend and he didn't cuddle with me at night in bed. My life had been pretty normal.

He didn't react well to that at all. He expected me to be exhausted and devastated and begging him to come home. He hadn't really thought about what my life was like when he had something better to do every night of the week and weekends than be with me and the kids.

So there. There are my 2 stories to illustrate why my divorce isn't the devastating thing that it was for my mother and many, many other couples and women out there. My husband was a husband in name only, not deed. His leaving effected me economically more than emotionally but then, by the time he left, I had already prepared for that as well.

Sure, there have been ups and downs in the last year. Sure, it's been hard. But honestly? Micah has taken my children to more appointments and taken more sick time to care for them than Brian did in 10 years of marriage. Overall, I got a much better deal after the divorce.

Happy 14th Birthday Kylito!

Happy Birthday my biggest girl!

You are my first baby and so I know sometimes things are hard as we grow up together, you as a human, me as a mother. But I think you're surviving and beginning to thrive which is all I ask for.

You are my independent individual. While you care what other people think you rarely let that influence a decision that you make. You have always been my child with orange pants and a neon pink shirt and mismatched socks. And you loved it. Right now you have purple hair which I love more than the green before it (pictures to be posted later) and are learning to tame your makeup usage to a dull roar instead of an intense scream. I appreciate this. You wear all black even though none of your friends do and listen to music by bands whose names are weird, even to most weird people.

You're sense of humor is certainly developed and you have moved far past the fart jokes of old and are onto dry sarcasm. I know you get this from me and often we have some really fun times in the car where the sarcasm is free to roam. I adore this about you and can't help but imagine that this is certainly helping you get through these fun teenage years.

You still are one of the smartest kids in your class as evidenced by your yearly testing that we received last month. Advanced in Writing and proficient but within 10 points of advance in Reading and Math. You seem to skate through school with little effort which is a little worrisome for me but then, I was similar and so can relate.

For the first time ever you have more friends than our living room can hold and I was so pleased to come home and find 13 teenagers hanging out last Saturday for your birthday party. There were days not too long ago where we had to troll the neighborhood on the day of your party searching for kids to come and see the magician or I had to invite my friends kids to make the party seem less empty when only 1 or 2 friends would show up. This year I don't think we had enough sitting space and while 13 kids hanging out, eating pizza, watching bad horror movies and throwing M&M's around my living doesn't sound like heaven I'm sure for you it was your best birthday ever. I'm so glad to see your peers growing into you (finally) and you are blossoming socially.

People often view teenagers as selfish and I wont lie, you certainly have your moments where that rings true but that's because people don't see the you that I see. They don't see the daughter that holds my hand in the car when no one is looking. They don't see the child who asks if I can help her keep her anxiety in check. No one knows the teenager who went shopping with her mom for baby clothes before anyone even knew there was another baby on the way. Or the girl who wants to be there for the birth of her youngest sibling. Or who walked her mother down the aisle and signed the marriage certificate. The girl that puts her mothers shoes on can not be all selfish.

We are starting to talk about college and career choices in earnest now. You don't seem to know every much about college other than that you want to attend the University of Arizona in Tucson but you are pretty sure that you want to be into some kind of art. You've talked about being a tattoo artist but are smart enough to discuss the crummy economy and how that might not be profitable in the long run. You've talked about maybe business so you could run your own and I think that is truly where you will end up. Doing something creative on your own. You aren't my worker bee child or my rule follower, you are dancing to the beat of your own drummer. I'm sure your career choice will follow along that path as well.

You're recognition of world events is remarkable to me and you have a firm grasp of history not only of our own country but of the world. You also seem to lean more to the left than the right politically and I wont lie, that makes me smile. When you compared the plight of our POW's to the plight of those in Gitmo to your possibly someday step mother I was pretty impressed, not only that you could see the similarities but that you were brave enough to point it out to an adult. Standing up for yourself and your moral's and values is always a good thing. Always. Your sense of justice amazes me and I'm continually impressed by it.

Happy Birthday my little Kylito. I hope this next year is even better than the last. And no, you may not get your belly button pierced.

Love,
Mom

Happy 5th Birthday Lizzie Lou!

*Yes, I'm late with the birthday post. I was busy Saturday, sorry.*


Happy Birthday Lizzie Lou Who!


I asked you Saturday if you were sure you were 5. Because it seems like just yesterday you were still inside me. You of course assured me you were 5 and but also that time has gone by fast. The problem sometimes is that you are so small and petite that it's easy to forget you are actually 5 and in Kindergarten and not still toddling around in diapers.


You are my mellow (so far) child. You just seem to allow life to trickle over you like a water and tend to very rarely get upset about anything. You go to bed with no problems and can generally be made to at least try anything on your plate with no fuss.


You are eager to please and make friends where ever you go. I was concerned when you started Kindergarten that you would feel left out as you hadn't attended Pre-school there but you seemed to blossom. When I asked you how many classmates you wanted to invite to your birthday party you eagerly told me 15 and then named them all off. You are so quick to welcome strangers into your life with instant love that sometimes I worry. You are also easy to bruise when kids tell you that they aren't your friend anymore and you cry when that happens. I alternate between wanting you to develop a thicker skin and not because I worry that your eagerness to love might somehow diminish if I did that.


You are my helper child. If I am doing any activity you are quick to step up and offer to help. You recently "helped" me mop the kitchen floor which actually led to a much dirty floor than when we started out but again, I'm not in a hurry to tell you to stop. You have been setting the table since you were at least 2.5 years old and occasionally help me make my bed in the morning. You still struggle with picking up all your toys by yourself but if an adult offers to help YOU then you're eager to get that done as well.


You're best gift for your birthday this year was your bicycle. You embraced the change and couldn't wait to hop on it Friday morning at 6:15am.


You are my brave child. You cant wait to try new things and rarely do you get scared or say no to something. At your birthday party you had no fear of the hissing cockroach and petting it. Jumping on your new bike, walking into a new classroom or meeting new people, nothing seems to frighten you.


You are also certainly a dog person although you love all animals. Our two dogs Tasha and Molly adore you and while that occasionally frustrates you as they are about your size when they are on all 4's you also love them and are so incredibly gentle. You and Tasha seem to have a connection that I can't quite explain. You love all dogs though and have embraced your Dad's dogs, strange dogs next door and the little baby puppies the neighbors have. You love our cat and adore stroking and petting him but dogs seem to hold your attention longer and you are more excited when you see them than the cat or any other pet.


You started Kindergarten this year and are so in love with your class, your school and your teacher. Mrs. Brunning is your favorite adult I believe and you participate in your classroom whenever possible. You have embraced buying lunch at school and overall have thrived and blossomed. You are always excited for Monday mornings but then, you seem excited for every new day, every morning.


You are very much into your art right now and enjoy painting, drawing and anything artistic. I love watching you as you explore color and shape and work so hard on creating SOMETHING. Right now your art is very abstract with the exception of shapes but you love telling me the story of your abstract item when you create it.


As I get closer to bringing your baby brother into this world you are increasingly excited about him as well. Today when I dropped you off at the babysitters you gave me a kiss and then told me you needed to give a kiss to the baby. And then kissed my belly. You do not seem to have any apprehension about him coming into our world and have already offered to share your bed with him as well as your bathtime and have offered to change diapers and hold him. You talk to him in my belly and constantly choose one of your many animals or dolls to play the roll of baby brother so you can put him in the bassinet in my room and rock him. You are aware that you wont be able to feed him anytime soon but seem to accept that in stride as one of the few things Mommy will have to do and instead offer to share your cups and books with him as well.


Happy Birthday my sweet princess. Thank you for reminding me what the magic of children is really all about over and over again and thank you for being my sweetie.


Love,
Mommy

Conversation with Kylie

*This scene occurs during her birthday party when she came in to check on something in my room

Me: I really like that one boy
Her: Which one?
Me: Bailey I think? The one who shook my hand. Brought you a present. That was wrapped...
Her: Yeah that's Bailey.
Me: Tell me you have a crush on him. Please.
Her: *rolling eyes* No mom, I'm pretty sure he's gay.
Me: *as Kylie walks out of the room* He's not GAY! He's POLITE!

Not that kind of season.....

Conversation this week between myself and a co-worker:

Co-Worker: I love this season
Me: The fall leaves changing, the air growing crisp?
CW: No. Tax season!
Me: OH ME TOO! I love tax season. I love the forms, the numbers, finding hidden money, researching the tax code.
CW: *blank stare*
Me: The anxious wait for the W2, the anticipation of submitting the final form, filling out additional forms and then doing a second copy just to see which is better, itemizing or standard deduction. God, I love tax season!
CW: I meant the refund. I like the refund.
Me: Oh, those are nice too.
CW: *shaking head* You're not healthy Lacy. That's not healthy at all.
Me: It is in my family!

The Colony

Last night Micah and I sat down to watch a DVR'd show or two titled "The Colony".

It's a Discovery Channel show and according to the Wikipedia page: "Ten volunteers enter an experimental post-catastrophe world to see if they can survive and rebuild after a global disaster. Cordoned off in a downtown Los Angeles warehouse with no electricity from the grid, no running water, and no communication with the outside world, they must secure shelter, filter water, and defend their new home from thieves. "

We watched three episodes and I suspect we'll watch at least 1 or 2 tonight more. There are only 10 episodes I think so it's a short series.

Of course it's 10 people with a camera crew following them around but Micah and I had a lot of discussion watching this show and our thoughts on a post-apocalyptic world and how we would survive and here is what we came up with.

I sure hope Rex is coming with us. Rex is Micah's stepfather and has been for 18+ years. That man can do anything with his hands and if The Colony is any indication we sure hope he's around. Otherwise, Micah and I are going to die.

Of course my Uncle John would be an excellent choice too since he is very much like Rex and can pretty much do anything. But John lives in Minnesota so we are going with our Colorado family on this one.

Also, Micah's mother can plant and grown just about anything. And Rex grew vegetables this summer in their back yard. His tomatoes looked lovely last time I saw them. So basically, we need Micah's mom and dad to survive and want to be with us. Because HR and IT aren't really serviceable skills if we get trapped and most of the world dies out.

Then I remembered that Micah worked on tanks and stuff in the Army.He has mechanical experience. He also knows guns and how to shoot stuff incredibly accurately. So he brings some stuff to the table. So really it's just me that's fluff.

To my defense, I do know how to kiss boo boos and give very good kisshugs every night. I also apparently gestate well all things considered. But yeah, for the immediate needs of our Colony, I'm fluff.

That's sad. I need a really cool skill like building a generator to re-energize car batteries or building a gasonator or something like that. My priorities would be something more like food and shelter and less worry about getting power. Watching the things those people were making last night just floored me and made me realize how utterly useless I am in the grand scheme of reality TV.

The House

My house. Is a very, very, very fine house.

Not my dream home or anything. But it's a fine, serviceable house.

The problem with my house is that it was built in 1974 and was apparently poorly maintained.

Which made my first husband fall in love with it. He likes a project and this house SCREAMED that. It actually screamed many other things to me but to him it screamed "I AM A PROJECT. FIX ME!"

So he bought it. Without me there. Because he could see the charm in it. He could look around and envision the wood paneling gone, the ugly bathroom redone and the kitchen painted and shined.

When he gets made at me I generally assume it's because 1 of 2 things. He is bitter about the house or his girlfriend is giving him shit about his ex-wife.

You see, I got negotiated for the house in the divorce. When my mother passed away I used the life insurance to pay down the house and when we got divorced that was the most heated debate we got into. Honestly, the way Colorado law is written it could have gone either way for me. They could have deemed the house community property since I while I paid it down with my mother's money it was in our names OR they could have said my money was used to pay it down and he was entitled to nothing. Neither one of us wanted to pay a lawyer to figure it out. So we negotiated. He pays less in child support than Colorado law would normally require, I asked for no spousal support, and I gave up an entitlement I might have to his military pension, should be choose to retire from the military.

I did the numbers for him since he couldn't and showed him what a deal he was getting by me giving up the pension in exchange for the deprecated house. He agreed. But I think he's still really bitter about it. Not about the money but about the house itself. It was his project. He had plans. Ideas. He had spent hours fantasizing about what he wanted to do to it.

So I kept the house. And the lower mortgage payment. It was the only way I could keep my kids in their home. I don't make much and could not have managed even a 2 bedroom apartment on my salary alone so I really needed to keep the house. Even though I'm not a project girl. I look at the walls and just see...walls. I don't see paint colors or texture or tile flooring. I don't see anything really. Except occasionally I see beige because that's a good neutral for when I'm ready to sell that house.

This week the house finally expressed it's displeasure at my lack of love.

Last week I had an adjuster out to look at my roof. Turns out my entire roof needs to be replaced. House and my gazebo. We had a pretty fierce hail storm this summer and my apparently old roof is giving it up.

Yesterday the weather officially turned to fall. Overnight. We had some snow (that didn't stick) and lots of rain. The weather outside never got above 50 degrees F. And our heater wouldn't work. When I got home it was 66 degrees in the house which I realize doesn't sound awful but it's chilly to us. Especially when you have a husband with the flu and a child with pneumonia.

I spent more time than I should have trying to find someone to come look at our furnace last night and by the third call I lucked out. We had a very nice man come look at our furnace at about 7:30pm last night and it turns out my nearly new but cheap furnace had a board short out. But he couldn't get one for us last night. So we had to sleep with lots of blankets and in sweaters last night.

This morning the house was 63 degrees. It felt colder. I sure hope that new board comes in soon. Like before I get home soon.

I know I should love my house more but it's hard when you're teenager is sleeping under 5 blankets and your fluish husband's fever isn't even keeping him warm.....

Febrile Seizure

UPDATE: Lulu went to school today. She has taken to carrying around her "mometer" and knows how to take her own temperature when asked. She has run a slight fever a couple of evenings but Motrin seems to be knocking it out. She's been on the antibotics since Friday and so the Peditrician told us she was good to know and not contagious. Honestly, if I didn't tell people she had it they wouldn't know about it honestly. She's been in good spirits despite missing the camping trip over the weekend her Dad had planned for her birthday.

I'd heard of those before but had never experienced one and thought they were things other people's children. People who didn't watch their children's fever's close enough. Or who were prone to such things. Not MY children. My children don't have seizures.

Until Thursday night.

Thursday day Lulu's babysitter texted and told me she was running a slight fever. 99.6 I think. Not too high but the school was on red alert being that 10% of the student population had been out sick that week with fevers. Plus 8 teachers and staff. So they wouldn't take her. Luckily babysitter's kid was sick too so they would just hang out all day. Yay me, I didn't have to leave work.

About lunch time I called to check and her fever had gone down with Tylenol and come back and had gotten up to 101.2. More Tylenol. She was fine. I continued working.

I picked her up after work and she felt warm. Babysitters child looked ill. Lulu just looked tired. So I took her home where she ate no dinner but we ran some errands. She didn't feel THAT warm to me.

We got home and took her temperature and it was 102. I called my mother in law who suggested cold cloths and Tylenol.

We gave her the rag. Not the medicine. Because I'm a horrible mother I'm going to admit that I'm not a huge fan of fever reducers. I generally believe that the body NEEDS to run a fever for a reason, like it's killing an infection and a low grade fever, such as what she had, didn't need it really. I did Internet research on this that night so it's not like I didn't care. I thought she'd be okay.

Micah and I went to bed and just as I was dozing off he checked on her one last time. It was about 10:30pm. All of the sudden I heard, "Lacy come in here now."

I jumped up (which is tough at 8 months pregnant) and went into her room where I experienced my child's seizure up close and personal.

Her eyes were open but not looking at anything, her little hands were clenched and she was shaking all over. The scariest part was her gasping for air. I spoke to her, sat her up, tried to get her to drink water and she was barely responsive. I grabbed her and we ran to the car. Micah did almost 80 getting us to the nearest emergency room that I could think of and Brian and his girlfriend Sommer met us there.

I don't know what her temp was when we arrived. But they gave her Tylenol. They brought us back to a room and 30 minutes later tested her temperature again. 102.8. They gave her Motrin. From there Brian and I spent the next 3 hours talking to Dr's and nurses. Lu had a chest X-ray and they took a urine sample. They told Brian the chest xray looked "okay" when they took it.

At about 1:45am I sent Brian home. Micah was sleeping in the car and it just seemed like a waste since they had told him she looked okay.

At 2:30am I told a nurse we were going to leave. Lulu seemed MUCH better, she was up and talking and playing. Within 1o minutes both Dr's and our nurse were in the room telling me I couldn't leave yet. Turns out, she had Pneumonia. Has. Chest X-ray was not all clear.

In the end we ended up leaving at about 3am, after getting there at 11pm. She has pneumonia. So we have antibiotics. We have to watch her fever carefully but that's about it. She actually seems spunky right now which is good.

But that seizure was scary. Possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen.

Fearless

I often find myself assuming that my youngest daughter is still just a tiny baby and don't recognize that she is growing up and is spreading her wings.

For at least 3 years now I have volunteered for the PTO to sit at our table during Skate City nights and check in the kids who come through the door. It's not tough. But I've always had to take Lulu. My ex felt like if I was choosing to spend an evening away from home then I should be taking the child too so he could relax. So for years she's always just come and hung out playing in the arcade area or running around and annoying the other kids.

This year is different though. This year she's 4, almost 5. She's in Kindergarten. This school is her school. This year, she wanted to skate.

Now at first I ignored her. I told her to play in the arcade. I can't get out on the floor at 8 months pregnant and carry her or help her around the rink. My wise friend Cammie though, who brought her 4 year old, secretly snuck away from the PTO table when I was distracted and put skates on both children. I turned around and suddenly my baby is ready to get out on the floor and skate.

I warned her I couldn't help her. If she went out there she was all alone. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "That's okay".

I told her she would probably fall down. On her butt and knees. She shrugged again and said, "I can just get back up, right?". I told her yes she should do that. With that, she was gone.

These pictures were taken with an iphone. I didn't bring my camera because honestly, she was supposed to be having supper with her Dad last night. I didn't even expect her to be there.

Ready to skate.


With friends Evan and Tori.

Holding on to the wall like I told her too.

Skating in the middle. Decidedly NOT what I was expecting her to do at all.

A little bit about Micah

Update: Per the questions asked - Micah, as I said, has three tattoos. One is of Taz (from Looney Toons fame) in Army camo with a gun. It's on his right shoulder. On his left shoulder is a scary looking lizard and on his left chest are some Japanese symbols that are supposed to mean Kamikaze. (I think fierce wind?) Anyways, yes, he did get them while in the Army. Can you tell?

I'm sure he has family in Spain but doesn't actually know any of them.

He says he will share his guacamole making expertise, as it were, but that he's a little nervous about how many avocado's he'll need for a family our size.


Yesterday I received a comment from Elisa asking about Micah and I realized that while several of my family members read this site they haven't necessarily met my husband. In fact, the only family members to have met him DON'T read this site, I believe.

I also know Micah's family reads this site. This is stuff you probably already know about him.

Micah is the oldest child in his family and is 34. He has 1 "full" brother, 1 step brother, and 3 step sisters. Except he doesn't categorize like that and just refers to them all as brothers or sisters. His brother Andy lives in GA with his wife Sara but the rest all live in Colorado with their families.

Micah's birthday is October 20th. He's a Libra, just like my 2 daughters. I'm surrounded, if you believe in that sort of thing.

Micah has a BA in IT (I think that's the name of the degree). Before that he served in the US Army and worked on tanks. Manly tanks. In Bosnia and Germany. (I think)

Micah monitors oil well data for a well known company that deals with that sort of thing. He's worked there for 6 years and enjoys the job.

For hobbies Micah enjoys rearranging all the cabling in my house. And your house. And everyone's house. First time he came over to my house he remarked about the cables. Then offered to rewire my entire entertainment system. What a sweet talker.

Micah makes killer enchilada's. And chicken parmesan. I'm a big fan of his guacamole which he made for me last night.

He is very close to his paternal grandmother and visits her 5-6 times a week while she's in the rehab facility. He called and visited at least once a week prior to that.

Micah has 3 tattoos, one on each arm and one of his chest. He has no plans to get anymore.

His ethnicity is Hispanic (like from Spain), Scottish and probably some Irish in there. There are probably some dribs and drabs in there from some heritage we don't know but that's the bulk of it.

His full name is Micah Jeremiah. When we first were discussing baby names Jeremiah was our number one pick. We changed it to William later. Raul is his paternal grandfather's name and so that is the middle name for our baby.

Micah does not watch sports or enjoy hunting or fishing. I know the majority of my family just shook their heads but think of me and you'll know why this is perfectly acceptable.

During Easter we traveled to my Aunt Linda's house 6 hours away from where we live. He traveled with me (who was pregnant at the time but didn't know it), a cranky teenager and a preschooler in a small car and still wanted to married me. Oh and kicked butt during Phase 10.

Our first date with my kids he let them pick the restaurant to meet at. Lulu wouldn't talk to him for almost 20 minutes. Then she wouldn't shut up. She calls him both Micah and Dad interchangeably.

She called his Mom Grandma the first time she met her, even though I had "prepped" her to call her Leslie. She's never looked back.

I can't really think of anything else. If you have specific questions I haven't answered please be sure to ask in the comments and I can edit this post.

Faces of Unemployment - the PTO version

For some reason the current unemployment crisis fascinates me. I don't like hiring or recruiting people (I'm not a good salesperson) so that isn't it. I think I like to watch a train wreck occasionally and as a whole the unemployment situation in America is like a giant train wreck.

Deeper down of course I actually happen to know quite a number of unemployed or underemployed folks and my heart aches for them. I want to wave a wand and fix it. As someone who deals with layoffs all day long it's draining to listen to story after story of people who have worked hard and just want a job. Any job.

Which is why I get so emotional about the ARRA. I cried when I read about how that would affect COBRA for severanced people. And I wasn't even pregnant. Yet. When we talk about National Health care or Health care reform I have a number of ideas. And I'm passionate about it. Because I see first hand every day what happens to people who are under-insured or lack insurance entirely. I talk to people who need an affordable option. I don't pretend to have all the answers. I just know that stuff needs to change.

But this blog isn't actually political. It's just about the unemployment that I see on a daily basis.

Not too long ago at an official PTO function (okay, a BBQ in my back yard) the PTO ladies and I started talking about work stuff. Not PTO work but our own jobs. It struck me that each and every one of us is staring deep into the face of unemployment in one way or another.

D is a Cosmetologist by trade. She owns her own business and was doing pretty well, keeping busy almost 7 days a week at her shop. Until last fall. Now she's struggling. She lives with her mother and young daughter. Her mother was laid off 8 months ago and hasn't been able to find anything else. She doesn't receive child support for her daughter and her business has dropped to almost a quarter of what it was. They are desperately trying to refinance their home but the bank has been dragging it's feet and every month her income stretches shorter and shorter. If the bank doesn't refinance and she doesn't get another job she is in danger of losing their home in just a matter of months.

H is a IT person for lab machinery at a large hospital here in Colorado. The health care crisis is scary because she's afraid if national health care comes to pass that reimbursement rates will be like those with Medicare. Medicare doesn't reimburse nearly the cost of the tests that some patients need to have run. If that happens then income will fall drastically. No new equipment will be bought due to lack of funds and therefore there wont be a need for as many techs. Her husband is also a mechanic and he has seen his hours cut as less people come to the shop for regular maintenance in a bid to save a few dollars. Less customers = less people needed = layoffs. While he hasn't been there yet, they are afraid for what the next few months will mean.

B was working part time at Wal-mart after her husband lost of job and couldn't find another one. Her hours were constantly changing and it seemed that she worked just enough hours not to be able to get insurance for the children but enough to be exhausted at the end of the week. Her husband looked for a job for almost a year before finally finding one (as a police officer) in a city 2 hours from here. Now she has to try and sell their home in a zip code that has the highest foreclosure rate in Colorado. Not much is moving around here lately.

C works for the local school district. She has seen wage freezes and hiring freezes that double her workload without any additional compensation. She is afraid that soon the district will eliminate her position entirely due to lack of funds. Her husband works with conference set up, cables, lighting etc. There has been a steady drop of local need for that line of work so he has seen his need to travel increase dramatically to stay employed, something that keeps him from his wife and children for weeks at a time.

E is the Executive Assistance for a large technology firm. Technology just isn't' moving like it used to and her fear is that they will start laying off people like support staff and her department. She's already had to assist with layoffs this year of her friends and co-workers and is already looking at tweaking her resume.

Me. I actually don't think my job is in danger right now. But I work for a large telecommunications company. And they have already started outsourcing part of a close departments job for the 2010 year. Those people are terrified right now. And they probably should be. What job will they do if we've outsourced it? I also handle severance and layoffs every single day and I know that there is nothing to suggest you are secure where you are at.

The faces of unemployment. In my backyard. Telling the story of America. Kinda of scary.

September 11

Today is a day that a good portion of our nation mourns. We tend to remember the events of 8 years ago and talk about where we were when the Towers Fell, when the plane hit or when that flight crashed in the field. I cry. Every 9/11 I cry. I remember all of that vividly as if it were yesterday.

But I think we do the men, women, children, husbands, fathers, wives, mothers, sisters, brothers, heros, victims, innocents and sinners a real disservice to only remember the hate. The only remember the horror. Don't get me wrong. I'm still saying silent prayers for all those might have beens, should have dones and never weres.

Instead though, to honor them, I'm going to talk about something good. Something positive. I'm not going to lie, this is tough. It would be easier to talk about sadness and grief.

But here it goes.

Wednesday night when I pulled into the driveway Lulu saw the neighbor boy outside. She shrieked, "ABRAHAM" and possibly was jumping out of her carseat before I had put the car in park. He saw her and shouted, "LIZZIE". Apparently, unbeknownst to either of them, they are neighbors and are also in the same class at school.

She and he, along with his 4 siblings(?) (1 brother, 3 sisters) played together. We got Popsicles for everyone (that they didn't eat), they swung on our porch swing, looked at the Chihuahua puppies in their garage and jumped on the trampoline in their backyard. They laughed and played and wore at least my little girl plain out.

Here was/is the cool thing. Abraham and his dad are the only ones who speak English in their house. And it's their second language. But Lulu had no problem playing for almost 2 hours with everyone, even those that didn't speak English (and didn't understand her gibberish that she thinks is Spanish). She offered everyone a Popsicle, even though she didn't know them, and at the end of the night talked incessantly about all of her friends. Not just Abraham, but his brother and sisters and what a good time they all had and how much fun they all had.

She told me that his little sister thinks her (Lulu's) name is Nina. "Isn't that funny Mommy?" she asked. I asked what the sister's name was. She told me Girl. The irony didn't miss me.

I love that she has these friends. That she (and they) don't care that they don't speak the same language. Because even though their words aren't the same, children all speak the same language.

It's the language of Popsicles on a September night, the thrill of the porch swing, the laughter from the trampoline and the warm, wet kisses of the smallest puppies you've ever seen.

Who needs common words when the spirit and language is all the same?

Nana's visit

Recently we had Nana come to visit. Honestly, it was great. It went spectacularly. It went so well it made me offer to give her my blog address which in turn makes me wanna take back the stuff I said about us not liking each other. But that would be lying because at the time I wrote that I really believed that about us. And honestly, sometimes that dynamic may always be there.


But Lulu got to spend 2 nights at Nana's hotel room. She got to eat breakfast and play and have Nana's attention (and help with homework). Kylie got to spend time also talking about her friends, school and all of her teenaged angst. In person. Nana took the girls to a Rockie's baseball game, to a couple of IMAX movies and took Kylie and a friend to Buffalo Bill's grave. They shopped, they played and they had a good time.


I got to spend a little time with Nana and got to essentially tell her things about my divorce that I hadn't really shared before. Things about what my former in-laws had said. Reasons for the divorce. Nana is truly one of the only people in my life that knows my ex as long as I have. She remembers him coming to our house when I was about 13. She's known him and all of the good and bad that he and I went through in our marriage.


She referred to him as my Starter Husband. She referred to Micah as my Trophy Husband. I couldn't be prouder.

I asked Nana when she would come to visit again. She said maybe for Easter. She wants to meet the new baby. But he's coming at a crummy time. You know, where there is snow on the ground. She already lives in Alaska. If she wanted snow she'd stay there. That's valid.

I wish I had pictures of Nana and kids but I just didn't pull that together. So much for The Book.

How I struggle.....

I really want you all to believe that I am a good person. That's I'm perfect and infallible and everything that my husband says I am. But I would be a liar. Sometimes I'm just not frankly and I REALLY struggle with doing the right thing. Sometimes.

The right thing in this case normally involving my ex-husband.

You see when we first separated and then divorced we actually got along REALLY well. Our divorce was one of the smoothest in history I believe because of our friendship and willingness to go the extra step for the other person. That has somehow morphed or changed and he now really really doesn't like me. I'm not entirely certain why but it seems to have happened, or I noticed it, while he was deployed. I believe it had to do with the ways I was handling the Teenager.

He may be right, that I handled that whole situation wrong and continue to do it wrong. I am doing what I feel in my heart is right for her. But I think he is really, really angry about what I do and don't allow.

I kinda look at it like a person who has never had children before and makes a comment "When I have kids they will never.......". That almost guarantees that not only what you just said will never happen happen to you but it will be 10 times worse when it happens. It's easy for someone to say "I would never allow my daughter to leave the house with her makeup looking like that." But until you've been dealing with a screaming hysterical child destroying your house and rocking back and forth yelling things that require you to send your younger child out of the house so she isn't exposed to it you don't really understand how little caked on mascara will mean in your overall sense of "what do I want to deal with right now".

Mascara will come and go. 3 hour screaming fits over face washing will last a lifetime, at least in your memory. At least that's how I see it.

Anyways, so we don't get along right now. My ex and I. He wont speak to me except in very short bursts about the children. He wont discuss a custody arrangement and wont come to their respective birthday parties at my house or anything I've arranged. Even though the children have asked him too. Even though I feel like Micah and I have made a good effort to extend the Olive Branch for the children's sake.

Brian, my ex, has been deployed in some form or another since January. He volunteered to go. He hasn't had any type of overnight custody of them since then. So he has no real idea of what's gone on this year. I do. I photograph everything.

The last year we were together I started putting together The Book. It's a book of what the children have done over the year so that our families from out of the state have a scrapbook of our comings and goings. Except I do it electronically and it's hardbound. So everything thing we do I do with an eye towards The Book. I did it in 2007 and then in 2008 when we separated. Below is a link to our 2008 book in case you haven't seen it.

Click here to view this photo book larger

Micah has urged me to download the pictures to a flash drive or burn them to a CD for Brian. As a sign of goodwill. So he will know what his kids did this year. Probably because I didn't send very many pictures to him while he was deployed. That sounds really nice and selfless right? Like something someone who was a good person would do, even though he says horrible things to me and has called me Worthless and used profanity at me. (Yes, I sound like a martyr. I know.)

So I'm sitting at my computer, trying to will myself to do this. Trying to give up my selfish urge to tell him to kiss my ass. I know he will make a book for his family this year and I wont be a part of it. And that's okay. His family, I'm sure, doesn't want to see pictures of my wedding or our apparently pre-honeymoon trip to Cancun. They want to see him and his new life and kids without my interference. I'm okay with that. But for some reason the only child in me does NOT want to share.

I want to sit in the corner and cross my arms and pout "But he doesn't DESERVE the pictures. He was mean to me. He's not my friend anymore. He wont play with me so I'm not sharing. "(I know, I sound REALLY mature for a 30 year old, right?) So I know I'm not a good person for dragging my feet. I know I'm naughty for not sharing.

I just don't know how to let go I guess and be the bigger person in this instance. *sigh* But I'm trying.

30 weeks down....

So Thursday marked the beginning of my 30th week of this pregnancy. Here is a belly picture for you.

I don't like having belly pictures taken of me. I'm already a big girl and while I know people can TELL that I'm pregnant I still feel very self conscious. Especially now that I seem to keep bumping my belly into things like doors, walls and people.

I still feel generally very good. I occurred to me though that we have a little over 2 months left to get ready for this baby. And uh, yeah, I got nothing. Well, that's not true. I have a silly amount of clothing for this baby. Few sleepers but a lot of very cute outfits. But I don't have a car seat, diapers or even a wipe in this house.

I'd like to tell you that I'm always this relaxed and cool when it comes to getting ready for a baby but, well, I'm not. I'm just busy. Hazard of being the third child I guess. I have a teenager I have to worry about, I have an almost 5 year old who is starting to feel a little left out and a new husband to navigate marriage with. I have an full time job outside the home and what should be a full time job INSIDE my home (But certainly isn't getting the attention it deserves). I have PTO, friends and family to play with and that severely limits the amount of time I spend preparing for this baby. Poor little guy.

I have been informed that I will be having a baby shower. I certainly hope those people have the good sense to know what I need because honestly, at this point? This baby may have to come home with a t-shirt tied around his waist in a loaner car seat from the hospital but in a very cute Gymboree outfit.

The Box Tops Mole

For those who don't know, I'm the Box Tops Coordinator for our local elementary school. What that means is that I send out flyer's and put the boxes in the classrooms and collect and count the box tops after a certain time frame. I run contests, about 3 a year and the class with the most box tops wins a treat party. Usually ice cream sandwiches.



Box tops look like this:

And can be found on products from General Mills and can be found on anything from cereal to Kleenex. They are worth 10 cents a piece and believe me, that adds up when you have 400 kids competing for an ice cream party.

In my old life I used to collect these for the school in a plastic baggie (okay I still do that) in a drawer in my kitchen. Whenever Brian was looking for something he would look in the drawer and complain about them taking up so much space and be loud. He hated them. I'm not sure why.

The other day I caught Micah cutting box tops off of our Ziploc baggie boxes. I asked him what he was doing and he told me he was looking for box tops so I wouldn't forget them. He had about 4 in a pile on the counter.

He then proceeded to tell me that he had gone all around his office that day and looked at every one's Kleenex boxes for the box top label at the bottom and he had one for me. His office is huge.

I gotta say, I'm pretty impressed with a man that will check his co-workers snot rags for box top labels. If that doesn't say family, well, I don't know what does.

*as a note, I sent in a bag 2 weeks ago with 30 box tops in it. Next Monday I'll have a bag of another 30 at least (Depending on if Micah searches the rehabilitation center his Grandmother is in for the short term today) . We don't really buy anything special but you would be amazed at where you can find some of these things.

**another side note. I'm predicting a Kindergarten win for the box tops contest this fall. Just sayin'. With a Stepdad like Micah on the case, how could she lose?

SOOOO BIGGGG

One of our favorite blog posts (Our being Micah and I) from someone else is Elisa's post about Sophia being SOOO BIGGGG. I think every parent on the planet has seen/done that with their kids at one time or another but I tend to forget that this is Micah's first ride on the roller coaster.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, my Cousin Eric's sweet wife Elisa has a blog and last month she posted a video of their newest daughter at about 6-7 months old giggling and doing the SOOOO BIGGG arms in the air movements while Elisa says SOOOO BIGGG.
It's incredibly cute and if I wasn't already pregnant, well, I might have gotten that way on purpose just based on that video.

So Micah and I watched it and it was cute and we loved it.

Last night I was sitting in the dining room chair. Micah was picking up the kitchen and I was reading a recipe guide for my favorite appliance of all time, my pink kitchen aid mixer. That I haven't used yet.

Micah walks up behind me and lovingly hugs me while rubbing his hands on the side of my belly. My pregnant belly.

And says,

SOOOOO BIGGGG in the high pitched voice.

I cracked up. And kissed him.

Never had a man as excited about a baby as this. Or as eager to give belly rubs.

*I promise to post a 30 week belly picture soon. I just can't access them from my computer right now.