Archive for June, 2009

Scott headed out for Arkansas earlier this week, and one thing I’m sure of, I am SO thankful for that man.  I honestly do not know how single moms do it! 

Tuesday night I was dealing with Dwight and boy, does he know how to push my buttons sometimes!  We’ve had to keep the house in tip-top shape because we could have showings at any time, so when he let the dogs out and didn’t take his shoes off before tracking mud onto the kitchen floor, I was ticked.  Mostly because I’d just asked him twice if he’d made sure he didn’t let the dogs track mud in the house, and he even went back and checked and told me everything looked good. 

So needless to say, when I went back and found the floor soiled, not just with dog paw prints, but his big fat tennis shoe prints, I was pissed.   And of course, Dwight being Dwight, what does he do?  He starts smiling. 

“Dwight, it’s not funny!  Why are you laughing!  Stop laughing!  This is so irritating for me to have to go over this with YOU, the SIXTEEN YEAR OLD!  This floor needs to be cleaned now!  Why are you still smiling?”

And since he kept smiling, I gave up and sent him to bed.  He tried to stop and explain, but I was in no mood.  “Just go, Dwight.”  I ordered as I cleaned the mess up myself.  That boy, we are just so different, I don’t get him sometimes!

So the next morning, when I saw the sticky note on the table (a sight that always fills me with dread because you never know what the boy is going to write), I prepared myself for his explanation. 

But oh.  Let me tell you…the entire note was of no importance, because what I read in the first sentence was enough…

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry for laughing at you… 

At me?  AT me?  Oh no…he was laughing at me?

Nice.  Apparently I was the funny one. 

Not that the little mud on the floor event ruined my week, but I did find it amusing.  My teenage son thinks I’m funny, only not when I’m trying to be.  No, it has to be at the most inappropriate times that I am funny!

Tonight however, was a bit rough.  I thought we were doing good.  Kids were in bed, America was asleep too, and just as I was about to put her in her swing (because right now we have no crib to put her in and the swing keeps her buckled in safe and sound and asleep!), Joshua comes out of his room crying. 

“Moooom,”  He called as America started to stir.

“Whaaaaat???”  I whined.

“I threw up.”  He squeaked.

I sighed.  “Where?”  I asked.

“On the bed.” 

America was awake by this point, and I headed up to the room.  Sure enough, dinner was sitting in a neat little red pile where Joshua was supposed to be sleeping. 

“Joshua, why didn’t you go to the bathroom?” 

“Because I didn’t know I had to throw up.”  He cried.  “I woke up coughing and it just happened.” 

I sighed (and groaned, and moaned, and whined), again and took America to the boys’ room.  I told Dwight and Patrick to watch her since they were awake anyway, and then went back to pick up Madison and moved her to my bed so she didn’t roll into the…ummmm…half-way digested dinner.

I went back and removed the sheet, took it down stairs, rinsed off dinner down the drain, then threw the sheet in the wash.  Back up the stairs I went as I rummaged through the closet to find a new sheet.  I walked into the room to throw the clean sheet on and as I went to Joshua’s side of the bed to straighten out the sheet, I was surprised by another lovely pile of salmon patties and watermelon nestled in another pile on the floor.

“Joshua!  Why didn’t you tell me you threw up on the floor too?”  I whined as I headed for the closet hiding the steam cleaner.  

“Crap!”  I shouted (And I wonder where my two year old got that one from today)!  I never emptied out the steam cleaner from the last time I used it.  It was mostly the detergent and water, but it still looked gross and I wanted hot water for this mess.  So I went to the kids’ bathroom to pour it out and when I lifted up the toilet seat…eeeeewwwwe! 

“Dwiiiiiiiiiight!”  I shouted.

He came running and I gave him the speech he’s heard a thousand times.

It’s his job to clean the bathroom.  The toilet is disgusting and looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in months.  Clean it, NOW.  Hey, if I was going to be up cleaning puke anyway, he could do his chore! 

I got the steam cleaner put back together, with hot water and detergent and got to work.  I start spraying the solution onto the carpet as I ran over the salmon/melon mixture and waited for the machine to start sucking up the yuckness.  Only there was no sucking, just a soggier puddle of solution and puke.  Great.

The stupid thing was spraying the water great, but for some reason, it didn’t want to suck anything up.  I tried switching the setting from “hand tool” to “floor cleaner” several times, but it did nothing.  Finally, I, cussing up a storm at this point, grabbed the hand tool and started scrubbing away with it.  I could hear the baby crying on and off in the background, and Madison, with all my cussing and carrying on, came walking in.  I told her to stay out of the way, so Dwight, who finished cleaning out the toilet bowl, picks her up and follows me, “Mom, do you want me to put her on the couch?” 

“Oh sure, Dwight, like she’s going to stay downstairs by herself!” 

“Do you want me to put her on your bed?” 

“No, Dwight!  She’s not going to stay there by herself either.”

“Where do you want me to put her?”

Seriously?  She was perfectly fine where she was.  Why did he think he had to put her anywhere? 

“Dwight, just go to bed!”  I finally ordered.  Frustrated, I stopped the cleaner, took it back apart, and found a filter that was somewhat clogged up.  I cleaned it off, and sure enough, that did the trick.

“Thank you, God!”  I prayed.  Because surely I couldn’t have handled trying to clean up that mess with the hand tool much longer!

I spent another 20 minutes fretting and cleaning the redness out of the carpet that will be cleared of any furniture by Thursday of next week.  This was just what I needed, you know, red puke to stain the carpets right before we move out!  I think I got most of it out, but it was a chore. 

It’s just funny, how ironic things can be.  Like earlier today when I was thinking about how I can not handle my kids getting really sick right now – not in the midst of a move, and how God must know that because they seem to be doing okay even though they’ve been exposed to some nasty stuff over the last couple of weeks.  And then later when I thought about the sick sense of humor God has at times. 

I think God was just using His sick sense of humor to make a point (or two) – I apparently can handle the kids getting sick right now, even with my husband away!   Yeah, I had to laugh.  I have a sick sense of humor too, and when God shows his funny side, well, I just can’t help but laugh AT Him. 

Wait a minute…Me?  Laughing at God and His ways of pointing out my mistakes and misconceptions?  It’s funny how different my perceptions can be from the truth!

So that’s what it’s like to laugh at the parent who is trying to make a point.  There is something funny when we realize our misconceptions couldn’t be further from the truth.  Like Dwight saw a “clean floor,” I saw a circumstance I thought I could NOT handle.  The truth is, I’ve made it through much harder situations than this!   I was a bit surprised that I was being proven wrong, and I’m sure Dwight, was a bit surprised to see the mud on the floor after he checked.  How else does a person respond to a surprise, but to laugh?

I may not always get his sense of humor, but I’m starting to realize, maybe Dwight and I aren’t so different after all.  But the difference between God and me, is that I’m pretty sure He doesn’t mind that I am laughing at His ways of getting my attention or pointing out the mess I’ve made in my own little head.  I guess as the parent, I need to learn to laugh along with my son, because I swear I could almost hear God laughing with (but of course, not at!) me as I realized in my own way, I was acting just like my teenage son!


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and low.  This move feels like too much on some days. 

Scott just got off the phone with me.  He’s in Fayetteville right now and found a note in the door of our new house from the water company.  They are refusing to turn on the water until numbers are screwed into the stone on our house.  I guess the previous owners re-bricked the house and never put the house number on the house, so my exhausted husband is running  BACK to The Home Depot he just came from to buy some numbers.  I’m guessing he’ll probably have to buy a drill and some screws too since his tools are here in OHIO. 

It all makes me so angry and I just feel that is going a little overboard considering how difficult they were about getting the water turned on in the first place.   We’ve moved places where all you have to do is make a phone call, but not here.  No, you have to drill numbers into your house before they will turn the water on!  What really pisses me off is that if Scott weren’t there this week, we would have shown up with all 6 of our kids, 2 dogs, and NO water.  I just think that is WRONG.


Yes, I’m ranting.  Scott & I just don’t need any more stress at this point.  Moving is tough and with the stress and strain of it all, we’ve found ourselves arguing more.  I know it’s normal, but it just makes it all that much more exhausting.

I’m excited about getting there, because this whole moving process has been dragging on for months.  I’m tired of showing our house (or should I say, cleaning up after 6 kids in a mad rush to show the house?), and tired of not feeling settled, and I just want to get the impending tearful goodbye done and overwith so I can have a good cry and move on. 

And I’m trying so hard not to freak out about the future.  Life as we know it is about to change forever with this move. 

Donavan will be graduating highschool during our time in Fayetteville for one.  I can’t believe I’m about to have a kid who will be a legal adult in 2 years.  He wants so badly to join the Army, and even though Scott and I think it is the wrong move for him, we’ve agreed to support him and found a military summer camp to send him to right after we get moved in.  It will be 2 weeks long, and a “realistic basic training” course. 

Donavan will either come back more fired up than ever about going into the military, or he’ll decide once and for all that he hates it.  Only time will tell!

I am still fighting off anxiety attacks about this whole small town thing.  Just the idea that everybody knows everybody and so much about everybody makes me a little nervous.  (And all that much more pissed off that the loser water guy wouldn’t turn on the water.  Dude, can I send you a bill for the drill and screws?) 

With this move is the knowledge of us moving further away from Tina and her husband and kids.  I am taking it harder than I thought.  I hope that we can work out some good visits, but I know how quickly summer flies by and with work and school, it’s going to be tough! 

And the fact that Scott and I just met the coolest couple with whom we’ve connected so quickly.  ARGH!  Why do I always make the best friends right before moving?  So unfair!

I am really, really, really hating this moving every 2 years thing…I feel like my life gets put on hold, and then I have to restart it all over again with new friends, new places, new everything, and by the time it all gets familiar, we leave.  I’ve had a few tearful nights where I’ve confessed my loneliness to my husband, because it really is a lonely life for someone like me who takes a while to really make good friends.  I can open up so much at first, but to really connect with someone, it just takes me a while…or when it’s one of those kindred spirit type things, it’s right before we leave. 

Okay, I’m done complaining now.  (Or as I tell Scott, “venting!”)  Emotions will probably continue to go up and down as we leave and arrive.  I’m trying to stay positive and there is certainly a lot to look forward to, I just had to, you know, vent.

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