Wordless Wednesday: Halloween 2011

Trelawney & Hermione's dad

I actually dressed up for Halloween this year for the first time in at least 10 years.  I went as Professor Trelawney and had a blast.  My husband humored me by wearing a name tag which read, "Dr. Wendell Wilkins." 

When I rounded the Goat Rodeo up in the yard to take pictures, I had my middle daughter (aka Luna) take a few pictures of the husband and me, since we're always the ones behind the camera.  She complained that her father stuck his tongue out in one photo, so then we both felt compelled to make faces at her.  I think this is our new favorite picture of the two of us.  I may need to work this into our New Year cards.  

Nothing says, "Happy New Year," quite like this:

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Wordless Wednesday

A very Harry Potter Halloween

First and foremost, my apologies for the crappy photos.  I forgot to charge my good camera before Halloween and so, the battery was dead. *head desk*  Bad Dobby!  Bad Dobby!  So all the photos were taken on my phone.  I'm sorry about the quality (or lack thereof).

A very Harry Halloween (complete with Mischief-Managed in the corner)

We had ourselves a very Harry Halloween.  It all started with my oldest.  She couldn't decide if she wanted to be Harry or Hermione, so she decided to coordinate with her baby sister and posed the question to her.  Go as Harry and Dobby or Hermione and Crookshanks?  The youngest picked Crookshanks.

Inspiration 

Oldest daughter

Not bad, eh?  She has a red and yellow tie (which she got at a rummage sale a year or two ago specifically to use for Hermione) over her brother's dress shirt (which really is too small for her, but luckily, you couldn't see it).  I got that sweater for $1 on clearance last year at Volde-Mart.  It, too, belongs to her brother, but it's 3 sizes too big for him, so it works great for the sister who's 4 years older.  I got the skirt for less than a dime at a consignment store.  She had the tights and socks and she wore existing dress shoes (not pictured here).

She wore robes that we got ages ago on clearance.  They're perfect because they're black, lined in red fabric, and there's a hood.  The only problem is that the huge skull closure makes them look more like Death Eater robes (and when she put the hood on, her baby sister asked, "Hey, Death Eater, where did Hermione go?").  No problem, though, because Hermione needed a S.P.E.W. badge, so I made a huge one and used double stick tape to tape it over the skull.  

She already has brown curly hair, but in order to amp up the bushiness, she slept with her hair in 6 braids.  It worked.  She had perfect bushy Hermione hair.  

Hermione's bushy brown hair

Total cost for the whole Hermione costume: under ten cents.  

Crookshanks wasn't quite as easy to throw together.

Hermione and Crookshanks 

Our Crookshanks

Note the tail.

For this ginger cat, I wanted an orange top with a hood and orange pants.  Problem is, it's damn-near impossible to find solid orange clothes, even this time of year.  So, I hit the thrift stores.  I found this orange sweater for $3 at Value Village.  I found the pants (size 6-9 months, which is why they're so short.  My daughter is 2 and 1/2 and isn't tiny) for a quarter.  My big girls had an orange boa, so I cut a strip of that for the fuzzy chest (to cover the zipper) and used a piece of it for Crookshanks' bent tail.  I used orange felt I had on hand to make the ears (and pinned them on so that we can easily remove them and still use the sweater).  She had orange socks.  We grabbed a few makeup kits last Halloween for a few cents when they went on huge clearance, so I used those for her face.

Total cost: $3.25.

Harry

When I found the Nimbus 2000 replica at Value Village, brand new and on sale for 99 cents, I had to get it.  Actually, I got 2.  When the guy at the register rang it up, he congratulated me and pointed out that they usually sell for $20 each.

That broom is what convinced my son he wanted to be Harry for Halloween.  He was torn between Harry and a Storm Trooper before that point.  Luckily, this is not his first time taking on the Chosen One's identity, so he already had much of what he needed.  He wore his white dress shirt with his red tie (I used the official Gryffindor tie as a model and painted gold stripes using fabric paint).  I cut an old grey sweater vest to make more of a V-neck, but it looked awful.  So, when I found a grey tank top at a consignment store for a few cents, I grabbed it for him.  He wore his existing grey pants and dress shoes (with red socks because he is a Gryffindor after all).  Once again, we headed to Value Village where I found the robes on sale for half off.  So they cost me 98 cents.

Years ago, we stocked up on these glasses for goody bags.  They have big freaky eyes attached.  We still have a few pairs left, so I pried the eyes out of them (much to my youngest's dismay.  She cried actual big tears and screamed at me, 'You ruined my Mad-Eye glasses.") and my son used them for Harry.  Yes, I realize they're purple.  Yes, I'm typically a stickler for details, but, by that point, I didn't much care.

His oldest sister used the same makeup sticks Crookshanks used to draw a scar on his forehead.  For those who are new, we're Jewish and my son wears a kippah (yarmulka).  So he donned his Harry Potter kippah yesterday.  It's his favorite.  FTR, his father clipped it, not me.  If I had done it, there wouldn't be a kippah clip straight through poor Harry's face.

Total cost: about $1.




Next up, we Luna Lovegood.  This was the most expensive of the costumes.  If you've been hanging around for a while, you know my kids adore Luna.  My middle daughter was going to be Darth Vader, that is, until we found the blonde wig (again, at Value Village.  They really should pay me for the advertising).  It was new and $6, but I had a 25% off coupon.  The promise of a long blonde wig was just too good to ignore.  She swapped costume ideas that minute.

Long blonde curls 2009

The funny thing is that my daughter IS blonde, although she chopped her hair off a few years ago.  Before that, she actually had perfect Luna hair.  So there I was buying a wig that wasn't nearly as close to Luna's hair as the child's natural hair was.

So we had a wig, but it needed something more to make her unmistakably Luna.  My mind immediately went to Luna's famous lion hat.  We opted to go with the movie representation rather than the books just because it seemed like it would be more obvious (in the books, it was more of a stuffed lion on top of her regular school hat).  I scoured Pinterest for ideas and headed back to Value Village (seriously, I need to start charging for ad space).  There, I found the jacket from this Old Navy costume for $2.  It was 12-18 months, but I had her try on the hood in the store and it worked.  Poor kid actually tried on every single hood and hat that was even remotely lion-shaped.  That one worked the best.  I took it home and cut the hood off.

Not the best shot, but all I was able to get

When I got my son that $1 grey sweater last year, I also grabbed a black one in the same size for the same price.  So we opted to scrap the standard grey and go with black using this photo as inspiration.  Unfortunately, the only cork we have in the house is firmly pressed into a bottle of wine for the time being, so we couldn't replicate the cork necklace (although both my daughter and I pictured it as a necklace of bottle caps when we read the description in the 5th book).  The hat and wig covered her ears, so we skipped Luna's signature earrings.  We did, however, print Spectraspecs (just without lenses because I didn't have anything on hand that would work).  I also printed a Ravenclaw patch which she wore on her sweater (held on with double stick tape).  She borrowed her brother's dress shirt and blue tie (it killed me that it was blue and silver, like the movie, instead of blue and gold. I'm a Ravenclaw and I'm a stickler for the book representation.  FWIW, her patch was cannon and had an eagle, not a raven).  She wore rainbow knee highs over her black tights and she wore sparkly pink sneakers.  It just seemed like a very Luna thing to wear.  She also spent a lot of time staring into space.

It wasn't, by far, the best representation of Luna, but it worked.

Total cost: $6.50

While trick-or-treating, we heard quite a few people exclaim that we were the only Harry Potter characters they'd seen.  We thought that was odd.  With the last movie coming out this year, we were sure Harry would still be popular.  Two people caught that the youngest was Crookshanks.  One of those declared us their favorite costumes of the whole night.  I wanted to kiss those people.

See the pink tea cup in my right hand?

For the first time since I was in college, I dressed up too.  I was Trelawney (which is another post for another day).  I even managed to convince my husband to dress up, well, kinda.  I found inspiration here and printed him a name tag. 

Dr. Wendell Wilkins

Clear your calendar

We've been unpacking in fits and spurts.  Initially, we went at it at full force, barreling through boxes at break-necking speeds*.  Lately, though, we'll empty a box here or we'll open two or three in an attempt to find something specific.

The other night, I was on a  quest for the husband's military medical records (which were in his black "Police" bag in the sitting room of the old house.  Why the movers didn't actually put all the things from the sitting room in boxes labeled, "Sitting Room," is beyond me.  Instead, they did that with a few boxes and then shoved things from other rooms in other boxes so that we have to play detective to find damn-near anything).  I never did find those records, but I did find an unopened roll of wall paper, swords (my husband collects them), a library book FROM OKLAHOMA (thanks, kids), tons and tons and tons of hangers, four phone books (For a state 2000 miles away.  Thanks, movers), and my calendar.

I always have a Jewish calendar (the Jewish calendar isn't anchored to the secular one, so I need it to know when holidays fall on the secular one).  This year, however, my mother bought went a wee bit crazy and bought us all (secular) calendars for Chanukah.  So now I have one of those fancy "Busy mom" type calendars.  What it lacks in Hebrew, it makes up for in a nifty pen attached to the top of the calendar (which the movers appear to have lost).

According to the calendar, our life ceased to exist after May 16th, moving day.  We've only been here a few weeks, but it's already a whole other world.  I stared at that calendar as though it was frozen in another time.  There are doctor appointments on there from doctors we will never see again.  The last Girl Scout meeting is there.  Oh how I miss those girls and their moms!  The very last birthday we ever celebrated in that house is there.  We moved into that house just 2 weeks before our girls were born.  So it was fitting that we left just after their birthday.  There was that last minute trip with friends to a local attraction that I always wanted to visit, but never did until that day (and had a blast).  I completely forgot that our family was reunited on Friday the 13th.  See the early family services labeled there that day?  Well, we came home from services and found my husband home after 8 months apart during this move.  After years of deployments and training and combat zones and civilian job training, it's over.  On that day, we celebrated shabbat with friends and we got our family back.

I looked at the calendar for a while.  It was late.  The kids were in bed.  The husband was at work.  The house was quiet.  I stared at May and remembered.  Then, with some reluctance, I flipped the page to June, completely blank and hung it up.   Moving right along.




*Either an exaggeration or wishful thinking.  Take your pick.

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One is the loneliest number

One day left in our house, that's all we had.  Tomorrow, we close and leave for Washington.  

This weekend, I got my husband back just in time to leave my friends.  

We've had to say our sad goodbyes to the places and people we love.  

Today, as we drove, I found myself taking a walk down memory lane.  I remembered specific events we celebrated at restaurants, parks and houses that we passed.  

I'm ready to turn this house over to a new young couple.  I'm ready to leave the state and head West.  I will never, however, be ready to leave the people here I love.  I've been absolutely amazed at how much our friends have helped and cared for us during the house selling and moving.  I HATE that I have to leave them.  

One of my daughters' best friends wrote them a letter about how much she would miss them.  This made me teary and I think sums it up nicely.

Mothers and other lesser creatures

I recently spent time with a friend who confided that her husband tells her repeatedly that she doesn't do anything all day because he works outside in the heat and she stays home with their two year old.  He threatens to kick her out of their house because, in his mind, it's really only his since he's the only one who makes any money.

There was a list of other hateful things she hears often which tear her down for being a mother.

It's only this Mother's Day, after hearing about those hateful things, that I truly appreciate my husband's views on motherhood.  Even in situations not nearly as extreme as that first friend, I've heard stories from other friends about snide remarks their husbands have made or expectations they have which clearly show they don't believe their wives are their equals.

I've never heard a negative remark from my husband about my lack of a paycheck (and I should point out that, before we had kids, my salary was the highest of the two).  He doesn't expect me to serve him food, much less serve him before myself.  Hell, he doesn't even expect me to cook dinner (he's the better cook).  He is not at all the type to refer to parenting the kids as "Babysitting."  Even though he works full-time outside the home, we split the cleaning duties.  He changed diapers (cloth diapers even) and gave baths without complaint (well, without excessive complaints about the diapers at least).  When he was still home, bedtime stories were his thing.

I've had the luxury of forgetting how some folks view mothers in a negative light.  My husband respects me and motherhood and for that, I'm particularly thankful, this Mother's Day more than ever before.

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"I got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream."

thirty-seven / threesixtyfive a photo by Noukka Signe on Flickr.

We had some potentially good news.   I'm trying to be calm and logical about it all, but apparently, my brain has shared this news with my subconscious which took that news, put logic through the shredder only to then spit on the scraps.

In all 6 months we've been apart, I don't think I've a single dream about my husband.  This is odd for me.  During his deployments, he visited my dreams, not on a very regular basis, but on several occasions.  Overall, those visits were welcomed, but, every once in a while, I'd wake from one of those dreams & it would take me a moment to realize our reunion only existed in my mind.  Go ahead and give me a bit of comfort and happiness and snatch it away quickly in the sunlight.  Stomp on my heart, why don't ya?

Apparently, my subconscious has taken this vague possibility and decided that the next step must be reunion.  

I didn't even dream about anything terribly obscene (:::waving meekly at my big brother and sisters who I know don't want to hear anything TMI about their baby sister:::).    I can't really remember much about the actual events of the dream.  I just remember him.  I remember purposely touching his skin and I remember his arms around me.  

And the next thing I remember was completely unrelated.  I was in an SUV driving off a cliff with a whole host of people, (none of them my husband).  When I woke up, I was shaken by the car off the cliff to the point that it took me a while to even remember I had even dreamt about my husband.  

Ever since then, though, I can't shake it.  I can't shake that longing for him (and, for once, my mind's not even in the gutter when I say that).  I can't reason with myself.  "Yes, yes, that's all well and good and will happen in time, but there's a chance it won't happen NOW."  In response, my heart shoves its fingers in ears and chants, "La la la la.  Can't hear you."  

I've actually found my conscious mind feeling more and more pessimistic about this prospect.  Maybe it's to try to counteract this hopefulness that has taken flight (prematurely) in my dreams.  I don't want to be disappointed.  I don't want to be the only one in our big bed at night.  I don't want to dream.  I don't want to be alone.   I don't want this chance to pass us by.  

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell." -Edna St. Vincent Millay

Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness

I've had a great couple of weeks. I've been very upbeat and positive.  I've played wack-a-mole with the Drama Llama and won.  I've enjoyed the company of great friends.  I've had an endless stream of potential buyers in the house.  True, sleep and I aren't BFF's lately, but I've still been in great spirits.  I realize how blessed I am and I've been pretty happy.

Out of absolutely nowhere tonight, I found myself having another one of those nights.  It's not even a whole night, just a sudden heavy heart in the past few minutes.

Miss the beard, but he's still hot.

I miss my husband.  It's not just the usual, "Wish you were here," type missing.  It's the, "I need you beside me RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW," type which should really be accentuated by ridiculous amounts of fierce punctuation.

Sometimes, I can pinpoint something specific that causes this longing;  a song, a phone conversation, seeing a sweet couple, an old photograph.  Tonight is not one of those times.  I have no idea where this came from.  It gave no warning.    Suddenly, out of nowhere, I had the overwhelming urge to be in my husband's arms.

I'm trying to stay positive.  I can't acknowledge this longing without realizing how blessed I am to have him in my life.  I know we won't be apart forever.  He's NOT in a combat zone this time.  Sylvr lynings, I haz dem in spades.

Still, I miss him and that's both wonderful and awful all at once.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.-Edna St. Vincent Millay

UPDATE (most likely a totally useless one, but I'm sharing it anyway) :

My husband and I met over an X-filed themed Rolling Stone cover in 1997 (we were both big X-philes, although I'm probably the only one of us who would willingly use that phrase and do so without rolling eyes).  While I still have the magazine (packed away now), we could never remember when exactly that was.  Turns out, the date on that issue is February 20, 1997.  So exactly 14 years ago.

Valentine's Day Revisited & Redefined

valentines day
Originally uploaded by rebecca anne

I hated Valentine's Day. As a teenager, I boycotted it. I donned all black and bitched about stupid made-up Halmark holidays.

To this day, my husband and I don't celebrate it. When it comes to companies encouraging people to spend insane amounts of money to honor a painful pagan fertility festival, I still feel as snarky as I did when I was 16.

Once I had kids, though, I found myself longing for the Valentine's Days of my youth, the ones full of glitter-covered hand-made cards and pink cupcakes with red sprinkles.

This year, our homeschool group had a Valentine's Day party with a card exchange. The kids had a blast. I had a blast. It was so much fun and helped put me in another frame of mind.

While we don't celebrate it, I still found myself missing my husband today even more than usual. That longing made me feel the first itch of pitty for myself.  But how can you feel sorry for yourself when the little people in your life insist on addressing Valentine's Day cards to everyone they've ever met?  Watching a little friend tote your youngest around so sweetly through nearly the entire party tugs the corners of your mouth in an upward direction.   When your son demands to give his Hebrew teacher his very favorite brand new Toy Story Valentine pencil, you simply can't feel down.

I think I've found a way to reframe the day so that I can truly enjoy it.  Instead of the sappy jewel-incrusted anti-single-fest Valentine's Day has been forced into, I found myself enjoying time with friends and watching my children doing the same (only their interactions contained far more screeching and hanging upside down than mine).  It made me thankful for it all--my friends, my kids, my situation in life, my husband (even if he's not here), my marriage (which can survive these absences time and time again) and yes, pink cupcakes with edible heart decorations.

Thank You Friends! [EXPLORED]

Originally uploaded by FrozenBlizzard

It's my party and I'll completely ignore it if I want to.

or just bitch and moan. Whatever works.  The bitching moaning and crying never seems to, so I'm opting for just ignoring it this year (right after I finish dedicating a whole blog entry to it).

The husband was supposed to be only a few hours away for training starting just days before my birthday.  He would be there for a full month, so that also would have freed him up to come to our youngest's second birthday party as well.

Well, apparently, there's a change in plans. And so I sigh and moan and hope maybe there's more to this than meets the eye (no, my husband is not a transformer), but go on the assumption that there's not and my birthday is just going to suck.

I'm the type who always gets bent out of shape about birthdays.  This year, though, I don't have any plans and the more I think about it, the more I think I just don't want any.    Despite that photo of Mr. Grumpypants the pissed off feline up there, I'm really not depressed.  I just think it might be best to skip any celebrations.

So, I think I'm just going to pretend it doesn't exist.  I won't mark it on the calendar.  I took it off my Facebook profile.  I'll avoid my usual birthday count downs.  While I didn't plan on telling the kids, the oldest saw me type my birthdate to sign up for something the other day and she remembers it.  She keeps telling ME how many days until my birthday.  Gee, thanks a lot, kid.

I'm really not even feeling particularly upset.  I'm just exhausted and I really can't see how we could anything to celebrate, so I'll try a new approach. I don't want to get myself worked up with hopes for anything, so I'll just try this and see how it works.

One Of Those Nights

It's one of those nights.  I hate these nights.  I miss my husband.

We've done this distance thing before.  We're used to it.  Honestly, now that the kids are older, it's not that bad anymore.  We have our routines.  I have help from the bigger kids.  I have fantastic friends who help out when they can.  I can handle this stuff on my own.

I don't need my husband to function.  I can handle the day-to-day stuff by myself without him around. The fact is, I LIKE my husband.  I actually want him around.  I know this, combined with the fact that he's not an asshat is a shock to many folks.  It seems to be the standard belief (and often practice) that husbands must be awful and wives should want to spend as little time as possible with them.

When he returned from his last deployment, he had a month off--a whole glorious month home with us.  We loved every minute.  A friend of mine, though, countered with, "You only feel that way because he just came home.  By the end of the month, you'll be dying to ship him back."

Um...no.  By the end of the month, we were sorry to see him go back to work.

I've known people who anxiously count down the days until a snippy spouse gets a vacation only to then immediately start counting down the days until their over-bearing spouse goes back to work.  We've never been one of those couples.

I like having my husband around.  He's smart.  He's funny.  He's hot as hell. He has good taste in movies.  He's a genuinely nice human being.  He's a great father.  He really is a partner--we're in this together.  We really do work together in most things (okay, so I wind up as the only one who cleans the bath tub 97.5% of the time no matter how many times I ask him to do it).

Yeah, obviously I love the guy.  We've been together 14 years (OMG.  I just realized that this year marks 14 years.  Yeah, I gasped at that realization) and this year will mark our 12th wedding anniversary (Why yes, that was another gasp you just heard escape from my mouth.  I knew last year marked 11 years so I have no clue how 12 managed to surprise me, but it did).  But the simple fact is, I like him.  After all these years, I still like him--really truly like him.

I don't know why tonight turned into one of "Those" nights.  I'm not even sure how it did.  I just know I suddenly and achingly miss my husband.

I'm trying not to let myself get too down.  "Always look on the bright side of life," and all that jazz (and yes, if you heard the Monty Python version, you're doing it right).  I really do know how lucky I am to be married to someone I still respect, still love and still like.  Still, when I remember how fantastic he is, I get a wee bit frantic and I get the urge to yell at the sky, "Then why the hell can't I be with him?"

*sigh*


This house will sell.  This house will sell.  This house will sell quickly so that we can move and our family will be together again.  


Could we just have that happen sooner rather than later, though...please. 

Today is February 1st. 5 months apart

The (far too many) steps to prepping a house for sale

Our house is back on the market.  After a period with no potential buyers, we took the house off the market in December.  We knew we wanted a new agent (ours was perfectly lovely and a very nice person, but she simply wasn't aggressive enough), her contract was up, plus house traffic apparently slows way down in December.  

It went back up with a new agent (someone my husband worked with when they were both in the military) earlier this week.  

For those who haven't sold a house or who haven't sold a house while children were living there, or who haven't sold a house with children who are homeschooled (and therefore, the parents get absolutely no kid-free time to prepare), or those who haven't sold a house with homeschooled children always underfoot and a spouse 2000 miles away; let me tell ya, it's rough. 

Among the list of things to do to prepare to sell a house:

1. Repack existing boxes (stashed in the biggest kids' room).
2. Open children's closets and see an endless array of clothing and accessories strewn about the floor.  
3. Scream.
4. Remove endless amounts of clothing from children who insisted on leaving it lying all over the freaking floor.
5. Remove all socks from those same children for the same reason (yes, my kids are currently sock-less in Winter.  They deal).
6. Remove all but four pairs of shoes from said children.
7. When said children leave one of those four pairs of shoes lying in the middle of their floor AGAIN, remove yet another pair of shoes. 
8. Look under the big girls' bed.  
9. Repeat step 3. 
10. Move the repacked boxes (which now also contain much of what was stashed under that bed) to storage (which, if you're lucky, a dear sweet friend will let you use her garage for and you will be forever indebted).
11. Call new agent and set a date to meet to sign paperwork and take pictures of the property.
12. When one of the children gets sick, cancel said appointment.
13. Repeat step 11.
14. Step 12 may also need to be repeated depending on the number of children and the season.
15. Pack more boxes.  
16. When you think you're done, look around again and revisit step 15.
17. Repeat step 15 more times than you think humanly possible.
18. Just as that dear sweet wonderful friend is about to show up to help you move more boxes, find even MORE  things to throw in boxes.  These things will most likely be stored WAY up high.  You only truly understand the frustration of this step if you are roughly the size of the Keebler Elf.
19. Repeat step 15.   
20. Profusely thank said friend.  It's only proper if you offer to bow down in homage.  
21. Open cabinets and sort through the things the kids have hidden there and forgotten all about.
22. Clean up anything fragile that the kids stashed precariously in the cabinet so that it fell and broke when you tried to rearrange said cabinet.
23. Replace the caulking on the bathtub.
24. Curse.
25. In an attempt to clear out the coat closet, sort through the mess of coats the kids have tossed on the floor (despite the many empty hangers hanging within their reach).
26. Find a can of interior paint knocked on its side when those children threw those coats.
27. When you struggle to put the can upright, discover a 1 foot wide and about 1/2 an inch mostly hardened pool of WHITE interior paint on your dark hardwood floor.
28. Repeat steps 3 and 24.
29. Text/call the spouse with threats to sell the children on Ebay.
30. Scrape up the paint as best you can.   Beware, this is very messy.  Some will be left behind.
31. Cry. 
32. Vacuum.
33. Spend an entire week clearing out the laundry room that no one has sorted through in nine years.
34. Shout with glee when you find the alcohol you sealed up in a box and stashed back there for Pesach (Passover).
35. You just found tequila amid the hell that is house prep.  Do I REALLY need to tell you what to do next?
36. Now that you have more space in the laundry room, use it to stash the kitchen appliances before pictures are taken (You can wait until you sober up from Step 35 or you can do it while buzzed.  It's entirely up to you).
37. Hide vacuum in the laundry room.
38. Clean kitchen counters.  
39. Clean stove.  
40. Drag vacuum back out and repeat step 32 in the kitchen where all the crumbs have now collected from the counter and stove top cleanings.
41. Move any furniture around to desired placement.
42. At least one piece of furniture will break upon step 41.  When that happens, repeat any combination of steps 3, 24 and/or 31.  
43. a. Mop kitchen floor or  b. have child mop kitchen floor.  If b., repeat 43 yourself after.
44. Clear off the weeks of paperwork that have gathered on the dining room table (and by, "Clear off," I mean stash them on a chair where no one can see).  
45. Have child put table cloth on.
46. In an attempt to adjust said table cloth and find the child simply threw it on over a mountain of crumbs.  
47. Repeat step 24.
48. Remove said table cloth.
49. Hand child a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.
50. Repeat step 45.
51. Find the baby destroying something you had already prepared.
52. See steps 3, 24, 31 and perhaps 32 if necessary.
53. Veg out on Facebook for a while.
54. COFFEE!  
55. Repeat any combination of these steps.
56. Toss everything left in a box and hide it under the desk.  
57. Take a deep breath.  You're done 15 minutes before said agent is set to arrive. 

While completing this list, you should also stop often to text the spouse to ask, "WTF do you want me to do with this ('This' should typically refer to CD's, games, video game-themed magazines from the late 90s, boxes and/or electrical cords--none of which have been used in years)?"  You should also include numerous occasions of preparing food.

And yes, this list is based on actual events.  Any resemblance to people or situations is purely purposeful.

Thank You

thank you

Originally uploaded by hellojenuine.

I've had odd experiences lately. Other people have asked me for help and I've been grateful to be able to do that.

It started during a week when I was feeling particularly low. I was acutely aware of how much I missed my husband. The kids were bickering. I was frustrated.

Out of the blue, a friend called and asked me to babysit. Now, I usually greatly dislike babysitting. Yes, I love my own children and I like spending time with them, but when you add another kid (or two or three) to the mix, it throws me off. Being a parent can be rough and I have enough of it with my own kids thankyouverymuch. As I like to say, "If I didn't get to enjoy the conception, I don't want to deal with the discipline."

In this case, though, it was only one child and one smallish child who fits right in with the flow at our house. So it wasn't a problem. It wasn't any big sacrifice for me at all, but for the parents, it was a huge help.

I was thanked profusely, but I really wanted to thank THEM. They helped pull me out of my sadness. They reminded me that I had the potential to help. There's a true power in that. When you know someone can truly use your help, you have a purpose. You're no longer a tiny insignificant speck in that great wide world.

"When somebody needs you, well there's no drug like that."

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell." Edna St. Vincent Millay

My son is currently screaming and crying in his bedroom.  Why?  On the surface, it's because his flashlight doesn't work.  What it's really about, though, is that daddy is gone again.

This past weekend, when the husband was here, the kids had a great time and instantly bonded with him again.  I turned to him at one point and said, "This is going to be awful when you leave."

Sure enough, Monday night, I wound up with the two weest of our wee ones screaming in my lap and the bigger pair doing their best emo teen impressions.

I've done this oh so many times.  I know how this works.  I know my kids and I know it's going to suck.

At one point this weekend, I turned to my husband and asked, "When do I get to go away so you can see what this is like?"

I don't actually want to be away from the kids (although a night out would be heavenly).  I know that's awful.  My husband left Active Duty because changes in his career field meant he would be away from the family far too much.  I just want some equality in this parenting situation.

When we speak on the phone, I'll relay something the kids have done (because they miss daddy) and my husband will ask, "Why the hell did he/she do that?"  Sometimes he'll tell me, "But that doesn't make any sense."  It, however, makes perfect sense when you're a kid and you miss your daddy.  It also makes sense to a parent who has been through this so very many times.

I am not at all surprised by the fact that I needed to take a break from writing this post to hold a little boy as he cried.  I was heartbroken, but not surprised when the youngest headed to my bedroom yesterday morning and declared, "I go get daddy."  As we left the airport in the dark early Monday morning, I had to listen closely to hear the oldest sniffling in the back seat, but I heard it.

I don't want my kids to ache for a parent they love who can't be here.  I don't want to be away from them myself.  I just wish the husband could understand.  I wish he would know what this was like (for me and the kids).  I wish that I didn't have to be the only one rocking screaming children and wiping away tears.

"I need you. I don't know why, but every now and then in my life, for no reason at all, I need you."-Sarah "Labyrinth"

Yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.  The husband's brief visit ended (his visit explains why I vanished from the Blogosphere last week).  We had to drop him off at the airport at O'Dark Thirty in the morning.

The day was then just one miserable experience after another.

Among those miserable experiences was the vehicle deciding that running was optional and it wasn't an option the van actually wanted.  Of course, the kids had Hebrew school which is nowhere near our house and therefore requires a working vehicle.

Luckily, a friend lives in my area AND is a Hebrew school teacher.  So she (G-d bless her) was able to bring the kids there and back (this bears repeating, caps, & excessive punctuation G-D BLESS HER!!!).

Later, that same friend complained that her day wasn't productive.  This was a shock to me because she really saved us.  Plus, in my awful day, she was the one bright spot.  I think contributing to the education of the children (by actually getting my kids' butts there and teaching other people's kids) AND restoring faith in humanity are both very productive.

With the husband still out of state and the vehicle still refusing to work, I thought today would be another miserable day like yesterday.   Then, I got a last minute call to babysit.  There was a death and a funeral and a 2-year-old whose mother needed to attend to the first two.  The death and funeral are beyond me, but the two-year-old needing watching, that one I've got covered.

So she came over and joined the goat rodeo for the day.  Everyone had a blast.  We built with blocks.  We read books.  We played dress up (at one point, I was wearing an Xmas tree skirt as a shawl,  a shower cap and sunglasses shaped like a bat), we read more books, we had snacks.  Her mom was very thankful.  It really wasn't a big deal for me, but it helped her out quite a bit.

Amazingly, I found all this left me with no time to wallow in another terrible day.  Being needed, being able to help and knowing that our help was very much appreciated helped completely turn my mood around.

Pictures, random facts and bloggy goodness, oh my!

I'm cheating with the photo. I don't have any recent photographs of me, but there's a picture my oldest drew of me for her "Pin the cofie in maman's hand" game.

And now, for 15 random facts about me:

1.  In real life, I'm not missing a finger on my left hand (contrary to what the picture might suggest).
2. I'm the youngest of 6, by a long shot.  My siblings range from 10 years older than me to 25 years older.
3. I always wanted 4 kids.
4. I met my husband at my first job: working at a video store in New Jersey.
5. We've been together for 13 years and married for 11.
6. My first name is in memory of my paternal grandmother.
7. All of our daughters' names honor her in some way.
8. My Hebrew name is in memory of my aunt who we lost to ovarian cancer.
9. I should have been a detective.  I can find damn-near anything online.
10. I curse more than I should,
11. but never around my mother.  If I do accidentally slip up and utter something mild (because I would never say any of the big ones in her presence), I immediately apologize.
12. I sleep with a stuffed lion named Mustard Seed that my youngest brother (who is 10 years older) gave me when I was a kid.
13. I'm listening to Liz Phair's newest album right now (yeah, I'm hurting for something--ANYTHING to add).
14.  Two friends have recently told me that I come across as "the confident one."  This was news to me.
15.  I went to Catholic school.  Yeah, I'm Jewish.  It's a long story.

Next Up On Our Itinerary

Next up on our itinerary while the husband is away:  Vomiting.  Not just any vomiting, mind you, vomiting FROM THE TOP BUNK.

Oh happy freaking day!  Our kids are very rarely sick, but why, oh why, are they about 83.2% more likely to get ill/injured while their father is thousands of miles away?

Why?  Why?

That's it.  I've had it.  I'm creating a wishlist.

Here is what I wish for. Should you be at a loss for what to get me, pick from any one (or combination) of these:

1. More towels (since SEVEN full-sized ones were used to clean up and most of the others are packed)
2. A maid (so someone other than me could have cleaned up using those aforementioned towels)
3. An additional washer/dryer set (to clean the tons of towels, sheets, shoes, and curtains [YES, she hit the freaking curtains ACROSS THE ROOM] contaminated during top bunk vomit hockey)
4. Twelve extra sets of hands to switch that laundry from washer to dryer and then to fold all the laundry (plus the existing 4 loads already in the washer/dryer before top bunk vomit hockey 3000).
5. A full body massage.  

That last one doesn't make any sense you say?  I say, "SCREW YOU!"  I have none of those things and so I'M the one doing all the clean up, so I freaking deserve it!

1 AM EDIT:

Now my son is vomiting too. It's Top Bunk Vomit Hockey 3000 part DEUX. Oh happy day!

 He made it to the bathroom, but, in the dark, didn't see the lid was down and threw up all over it.  Then he wiped his mouth on my towel--the only one left after all the others were used to clean up after his sister.  Need I remind you that the laundry basket, washer AND dryer are all currently in use.

Mind if I add a pedicure and a bottle of rum to that wishlist?

This Place Feels So Unfamiliar, Yet I Know It Well.

"I think I used to belong here, but the only way I can tell is that I miss you still and I cannot find you here..."

And so it begins.

The husband has reached his destination.  I'm here.  I'm doing the sole parenting thing.  I'm surrounded by people.  I'm lonely.

I ate dinner in the sukkah last night at shul and sat alone.  There were more people there than I've ever seen at sukkot, yet I wrangled the kids by myself.  Idiot me didn't think about the hell that is a buffet dinner with 4 children, especially one who needs a high chair, but someone else always gets the lone high chair first.  The youngest was in "fine" form and people laughed as I tried to carry two plates of food while herding her with my foot.  :::sigh:::

After countless people gave me amused looks and outright laughed at me (I haven't consulted my rabbi, but I'm fairly certain beating people isn't shomer shabbat, which is good, because I very well might have otherwise), a very sweet woman (also mother of 4, but hers are all grown) jumped up and carried my plates to our table.  I could have kissed her if I wasn't busy trying to keep the youngest restrained (remember, someone else beat me to the high chair).

The kids opted to move inside after the flies started winning the battle for dinner.  So I rounded up all our things (which was cumbersome and frustrating) and the youngest (who was also cumbersome and frustrating) and made my way inside--to the lone table in the back.  The kids inhaled the rest of their food and ran to play with their friends.  I sat there alone (with the youngest, but since her dinner conversation leaves much to be desired, I'll consider myself "alone").

I had hoped to sit and chat with a friend, but her baby exploded, so she had to rush off.  I took the youngest to the play room where a friend and a new acquaintance were, but they soon filed out to head back to the festivities in the sukkah (to which I tried to return, but the youngest made that difficult & I didn't want to distract the others).  So we headed back to the playroom where I cleaned up all the while feeling very sorry for myself.

At shul after services this morning, I thought I heard my husband's voice and it took me a second to realize that wasn't possible.  That was a let down (and not in the good milk-spraying way).

Gah!  Just gah!  It's only just begun.  GAH, I say (this time in all caps, although I'll forgo the use of excessive punctuation to show my displeasure).  

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Knock Knock. Who's there? Reality

Courtesy of Awkward Family Photos

Reality is tap dancing on my doorstep and it's not pretty.

The husband leaves in four days.  :-o

We've known this was coming, but as the date gets closer, it's just starting to hit me.

On top of him moving before us, is the insane bill he's going to accrue for the hotel where he'll be staying.  Even though he researched and found the cheapest option, it will still cost nearly twice our mortgage.  That terrifies me.

Now I really hope we sell this place quickly.  At the same time, I'd like to spend some more time here with my friends before we go.  The kids have a good friend's Halloween birthday party they're dying to attend.  During Break the Fast, they rambled on and on about what they're going to do at that party and who will be here.  The husband tried to remind them that we might not be here at the end of next month.  I reminded him, that based on average time on the market in our area, we have months ahead of us.  That thought seems overwhelming and helpless.

During Yom Kippur services, I realized that was his last Shabbat here.  Going into the high holidays, I knew they would be our last here, but the fact that it would be his last Shabbat snuck up on me.  I was near tears at one point, just looking around the sanctuary.  I want to memorize every last bit of it.  That, however, is another post for another day.

Until then, we'll continue working on the house, trying to shove in as many appointments as possible before he leaves and fighting back reality and its horrible tap routine as it shuffle ball changes right smack into the middle of our lives.  There WILL be jazz hands.  You can bet there will be jazz hands and they won't be pretty.