one of those nights

Tonight is one of those nights. Actually most of today was one of those days.

Now that the house is finally quiet, which didn't happen till far too late I'm just here sitting.

"Please please sleep boys, mama doesn't have anymore in her right now."

I am drained.

I hate days like this.

I hate yelling.

I hate feeling like the absolute worst mama ever.

I hate feeling like I have nothing left in me.

The quiet should be peaceful but now that the house is still I'm left with my thoughts and my regrets.

"I'm sorry boys. I wish we could have a do over."

I should be able to just deal with the nasty moods and the disobedience and smile and keep my calm mom exterior but I can't always do that. I wish I could. I wish I was always the Donna Reed kinda mom I see in the parenting magazines.

But days like this happen.

I know tomorrow is another day, I know I have the power to make it the kind of day I want it to be, but right now none of that matters, right now I just feel like a failure.

A big ol mom failure.

And I forgot to feed the fish. Again.

the dark side of singulair

I am my kids mom.

I'm also the one who said "Sure, lets try it!" and put him on a medicine without questioning it, that turned out to lead him, to lead all of us, down a dark tunnel.

Over the past nine months I have thought that my kid was at times an awful kid. That flyboy and I were awful parents. There were times I hated being a mom.

And now I cry just thinking about it.

I've been known to blog about pregnant cows who have cankles {and I mean the farm animals}, elmo underpants being flushed down the loo, and my long lasting love affair with baking soda. But now I sit here, staring at my computer debating how much of this ugly story do I tell.

It's hard to ever admit that your child isn't perfect.

It's one thing to tell stories of the funny ways they disobey us, the time dash-2 stripped down naked in the hallway and stared down flyboy for a good solid 5 mins is a classic family tale, but to tell people, be they strangers or friends, that your five year old battled with rage and aggression is hard.

To tell the world that he told his prek teacher when he got angry one day that he wanted to kill himself, has to be the hardest thing yet I've written.

But I'm going to. I'm going to tell the whole ugly tale so that everyone knows, the more people know the more people will make the connection should it happen to them.

And I don't want it to happen to anyone else.

Dash-1 is my delightfuly inqusitive 5 yr old. He has bright blue eyes, a smile that reveals his missing front tooth, and blond hair that is almost always in a high and tight. He is brilliant, but then again I'm his mom, he is obsessed with space, he runs around the house at least 3 times a week in his astronaut suite ratteling off his knowledge of space and planets.

But he also has that pesky little thing called asthma. And reflux and allergies, both seasonal and food. Since birth he's been on something, and really, nothing's ever really caused any problems. The prevacid was a life saver and goodness knows the Allegra is oh so necessary.

He was diagnoised with Asthma in late 2008, it took quite a while to get it all under control. In case you've never really dealt with it, Asthma is a bitch. Really, its like the house guest who comes, stinks up your bathroom, eats all the good food, and then never wants to leave.

After a while we got it under control but he had this constant barking cough. It. Never. Went. Away. It sounded like a really bad croup cough. Once at walmart he got into a coughing attack and everyone in line moved away {as if they weren't already going to catch something in walmart}.

His pediatrician {new to us at the time, its the military when isn't your doctor new to you?} suggested Singulair. She said to keep an eye on any "hyper" behavior.

I was prepared to watch for him running around the room in circles, not for rage and paranoia.

Oh and in case you're wondering what the possible adverse side effects are take these in: agitation, aggressive behavior or hostility, anxiousness, depression, dream abnormalities, hallucinations, insomnia, irritability, restlessness, somnambulism, suicidal thinking and behavior (including suicide), and tremor

To say that I didn't know what I was getting into would be the understatement of the year.

It took the cough away. He was silent. He wasn't waking up at night in a fit of coughs. He didn't sound like a barking seal. People weren't giving us nasty looks for taking a sick kid out. He was quiet.

I thought it was perfect.

I'm not really even sure when the side effects started. I wish I could say "on this day such and such started". I certainly wouldn't have let it drag on for nine months if I could have pin point it now would I?

But I can't. We thought it was a stage, maybe this is the terrible five's! Maybe its the school, it never seemed like a great fit. Maybe this is just him. Maybe we've done this to him someway, we've been too hard or not hard enough.

As if parenting isn't hard enough toxic side effects can be a real doozy.

Over time we were noticing some things, he was starting to cry. About everything. Asking him to do something and you would end up with a whiny litany of how he had to do everything. Never mind that all we asked of him was to show up at dinner, not back talk, and get the pee IN the toilet and not the toilet seat. And really, even the later we were flexible on.

If we forced an issue, as in "take in your own bookbag" or if he had to be corrected for something, what we could expect was a 30 minute breakdown. I'm not proud but we had been known to say to him "Dash-1 you cry more than your two younger brothers put together.".

Like I said, I'm not proud of that, but we were at our wits end.

And then there was the rage. And the aggression. And the headaches. And the pins and needles in his arms and legs. And his sleeplessness. And his blaming us for everything. And some odd ocd behavior. And self-loathing talk.

Oh and the whole I wanna kill myself in prek.

That was fun.

These certainly weren't the whole of him, he was still a bright eyed little boy underneath it all it was just starting to be more and more about breakdowns, crying, yelling, hitting, fighting and less of the old him. He was losing his spark. His spark was being replaced with rage and aggression. If you corrected him his eyes would become slits, his fist would ball up, his whole body would go tense.

We were starting to catch on to something. Hey it only took us nine months, he is our oldest, we'll have this parenting thing down for sure by the time dash-3 is 5.

My days were spent walking on eggshells. I was tired of the up and downs of our days. The good times were great but the downs were so down. There were days I didn't know how I could go on. If this is what parenting was I wasn't sure I was cut out for it. And how awful that I felt like that.

I remembered somewhere hearing something or reading something about the nasty side effects of Singulair can have on kids. Thanks to google I got my search on and was shocked. Reading about other parent's experiences on it was like reading something I had written about my own son.

In that moment I decided this wasn't going on one moment longer. I took him off the meds before I even heard back from the doctor.

When the doctor did call back she asked what side effects I was seeing, there was the obvious rage and aggression, who could miss all the crying, but there was also self-loathing talk when he was corrected, "I'm the worst, I hate myself".

Oh and the paranoia, that was fun, if he tripped over a rock, he would flip out because surely, surely, flyboy or I, or clueless dash-2, we put that rock there to get him, we did it.

Some others:
-He complained of headaches and pins and needles in his arms and legs.

-He couldn't fall asleep. Forget going to be well at 7:30, he would be up till 9 or 10 and then up for the day at 6:30 or 7. Ever see a 5 yr old with anger issues who doesn't get a lot of sleep?

-He seemed to need to have total control over things, he wasn't able to go with the flow or adjust midstream at all.

-He became even pickier about food, what he would eat before he started picking them apart eating them in a weird precise manner, he had collections of everything stashed under his bed, random things that he just had to have, everything had to be kept.

It's been two weeks. Two weeks to the day since Singulair was taken out of his pill box {yes he has a pill box} and the old dash-1 is back.

His spark is back. His eyes are clear again, rather then dark and angry. Now he helps me bring in the groceries rather then yell about how I make him do everything. Time out is a rarity rather then his place in the house. Best of all, I know that this is the real him.

I'm all for being honest on my blog. Life isn't always sunshine and roses, but I also think that somethings needn't be put out for all to see. I debated when I wrote this, but ultimately I wanted as many moms and at some point to be moms or just people who may know someone on Singulair to be aware of these potential side effects.

From talking to pharmacist, doctors, and reading the FDA sites, they say reactions like this are rare, but I wonder how rare it really is. It seems like there are a lot of parents out there with stories JUST LIKE this one. The more awareness out there the more people who will connect the dots.

If you think that your child is having problems with Singular this is a great site, http://www.parentsforsafety.org/ and it is very important to contact the FDA and file a MedWatch report so that they are aware of the side effects click here.

I wish I had been told more by the doctor. I wish this pill came with informed consent, I wish its dangers were spelled out very clearly. The school year would have been different, our home life would have been different, the past nine months would have most certainly been different. But it didn't come with any of that.

All the bottle said was chew before swallowing. At least they were concerned with his choking, never mind his depression.

If your kids aren't on Singulair this post can still apply to you, its taught me a very valuable lesson. I am the one responsible for what my child takes. I read those little papers they give you but it takes being more vigilant then that. More questions need to be asked of the doctors and pharmacist, more reading needs to be done. Take an active role!

If anyone has any questions about Singulair and it's side effects please feel free to email me at tryingourbest {at} yahoo.com

Remembering

On this day that is meant for remembering, I'm going to remember to be thankful. To be thankful that my husband made it thru war safe and sound. To remember that when he came home, he walked off his plane and into my arms.

I am going to remember and be thankful, that while my kids miss daddy while he's away, he's always come home.

I am going to remember that for so many other families their sacrifice has been far greater then I can imagine.

For those who never returned home in the way they should have, who left widows and never met babies, for mom's who's hearts break over the loss of their grown up little ones, for dad's who shoulder the grief of losing a child who was following in their footsteps..... for all the Soldiers, Airman, Marines, and Sailors who have lost their lives in the pursuit of freedom, for that I remember and I am thankful.

Today and everyday.

Each child...

I had a lot of concerns when we started having kids. After all, we didn't really know what we were doing, in fact, I'm not sure if we've figured it out yet, five years later. But one thing I never worried about was my ability to love them each as much as the other. I was, however, surprised things about them that I would love.

Dash-1 is my first. He holds a special place you know. He's my wickedly smart little boy, he sees the world like his father, in a big way that's his for the taking.

While he is serious, he's my dreamer.He doesn't just want to be an astronaut, he firmly believes that he will be one. And I'm inclined to believe him. {If that whole allergy thing works out}

He doesn't just look at the stars, he dreams about going there, about finding a new one. He doesn't just wonder what to do, he wonders how he can do it.

Now just in case dash-1 is reading this 10 years from now I want him to get a clear picture of what he's putting us thru, he's a bit mouthy, he feels the need to constantly butt heads and doesn't always understand who in charge, but all in all he's a good kid.

Some kids have imaginary friends, dash-1's imaginary friends are his space shuttle crew. And Buzz Aldren. He's a funny little kid.

My dash-2. {Sigh} He holds a special place, he's the middle kid, I'm the middle kid, we have that bond. And he makes me laugh. Really laugh. The kind of laugh that may start in your stomach but goes straight to your heart. But just the same as he wants to make you laugh he enjoys the silence of being by himself.

As adorable as he is, he is stubborn. Very stubborn. He sticks his heels in, furrows his brows and NOTHING is moving him.

Shame that he too has not figured out that he's not actually in charge around here either.

Tonight he didn't want to go to bed so he stripped his clothes off and stood naked in the hallway. Moments like that I don't know whether to laugh or be mad. {Flyboy was much less amused. He wasn't confused on how to react.}

And my baby, who being my baby has to have a special place. My sweet dash-3. My simply sweet baby boy who has big blue eyes, fuzzy blonde hair, and just one dimple. {My favorite line is, "Mama could only afford one dimple so that's all you got!"}

Now granted he does not nap. At. All. he is perfect to me. His personality is fit for a third child, go with the flow, he just gets dragged from here to there with the other two and smiles all the same.

And even his small size be damned because he fits just perfectly in my arms. It's like it's where he's meant to be.

Three kids.

Three uniquely wonderful kids and one me to love them all.

And enough love to go around. Funny how that works out.

If you have kids, did you worry you wouldn't be able to love them the same? Or if you don't have kids {or just one} do you have that fear?

{Even when the point of my post is to ask you all a question I'm incapable of a short post. I'm working on my wordiness, I was hoping that twitter would help me with that some. If you doubt I can type 140 characters or less, check here}

And thanks to everyone for their very much appreciated kind thoughts on my last post.

knowing he's there

Here's the thing about spending so much time apart from your husband... you end up sleeping by yourself a lot.

{Or at least you SHOULD be!}

As long as we've been married its just the same ole here one day {or a week or two or three} and then gone the next {for a week or two or three or more}. So we never really have long periods of time where we are together.

A side effect of this, at least for me, is I'm really used to sleeping by myself.

We've never really been big cuddlers in bed, even when we had our widdy biddy double bed we would say our good nights and I love yous and then off to our respective sides.W hen we do cuddle there is always a point where one of us looks at the other and says something to the effect of "ok are we done" or "allright my arm is falling asleep".

{Very romantic here at house of flyboy and don't think I'm picking on my husband, he's probably more a night cuddler then I am. And really we aren't a cold loveless marriage. I swear.}

But of course, in an widdy biddy double bed we would still know that the other one was there.

A few months ago we finally did what we had been talking about and got us a big ole king bed.

It's delightful. I don't even know he's there. We have a sleep number so he has his side and his number and I have my side and my number, the difference being great enough that you can almost roll down the hill to my soft side.

But I've noticed something lately. I miss him.

I'm not saying I miss his elbow cracking me in the head like we did in the double bed days, but I find myself missing knowing that he's there. After all, so much of the time he's not.

So I've started something. Something I'm not even sure he knows that I do.

When I wake up in the middle of the night to feed the little one, I find myself climbing back into our warm comfy bed, snuggling down into the flannel sheets into my side of bed that quite literally is so soft it cocoons my body, and I slide one foot over and just put it up against him.

Now I don't do this to warm my feet {I'm usually wearing socks} I just do it to feel him. To know he's there. Occasionally I feel his feet slide over to my side, I wonder if he's doing it for the same reason.

I like sleeping by myself. I don't need the extra room to spread out or anything, but damn if I'm not just used to it.

But in the quiet of the night... I like reaching out and knowing he's there.



Don't forget! Valentine swap sign up {click here} and lollipop giveaway {click here}.

Dash-3 has a name

There is resolution in the flyboy household. **insert chorus of angels singing here**

A name for our newest dash has been decided on.

Shoot we've even filled out the birth certificate form, well all except the info of his actual birth. Apparently they like you to be very accurate on that not just guesstimate. Probably better that way.

Thomas Joseph, much as I liked the name and loved the meaning behind it was vetoed out once and for all. Turns out there was a Jospeh at some point in flyboy's working career who is now in jail for some not so nice kid related stuff. He said he just couldn't get past that with the name. When I explained that to my mom expecting her to side with me and poo poo him that his reason outweighs a dead brother (she had a baby brother who passed away named Joseph if you didn't catch that post) so he wins.

Damn. I hate when she sides with him, it just inflates his ego.

And if you'll remember his other choice was Seamus, I just couldn't get on board with that. It didn't fit with our other boys names and well, I don't want him getting beat up routinely.

So it's settled, Thomas Parker.

Not only is Parker a great name, it happens to be my maiden name and this way, it goes on with one of my boys. My mother gave my brother her maiden name as his middle name and I really wanted to do the same with a boy should we have them.

I didn't know we'd end up with three. Or that it would take the third boy to get my way.

The name means a lot to me in another way and especially as I get more hormonal it's making me very sentimental. My little one will have the same exact name as my grandfather (he didn't have a middle name) who passed away a few years before I was born.

From what I know of him he was an amazing man. He served his country proudly during WW2, was a smarty pants who earned his college degree while working on the railroad, was a family man who worshiped the ground my grandmother walked on and vice versa. And was wicked sarcastic. Clearly its genetic.

I never knew my grandfather. But I feel like I did. My grandmother was a very special lady in my life. My sister and I were born in rather close succession shortly after my grandfather died. Her soulmate was no longer there and I think she clung to the new life as a way to move thru the grief.

Not to mention, like me, she had three boys and now she finally had some girls around. And as my mother tells me, grandkids are WAY more fun then your own kids.

My grandmother was so in love with my grandfather that she kept his memory alive for as long as she was alive. She passed away while I was in college. She wasn't there to share in my graduation, my wedding, the birth of my children. Right now I want nothing more then to call her up and tell her that we picked a name and what it was, she would be thrilled.

But alas, that's one long distance call I can't make.

As much as I'm naming him for my maiden name and for my grandfather, part of me is naming him for my grandmother. Like I said, I know she would be thrilled.

And probably laughing hysterically that I too am enduring the fate of having three boys.

Remember

Today is not just about a day off from work, bbq's, or great sales at the mall.

It's a day to STOP and to take PAUSE.

To remember those who have died, far away from those who loved them in foreign lands and here on our soil. To remember people who left this life early, who left behind mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, wives and husbands who loved them.

This is a day to remember that our freedoms come at a very high cost.

Today is a day to remember, with gratitude in our hearts, those who have paid that very, very high cost.

So enjoy your day. Spend it with friends and family, laugh, smile, and enjoy being free, but remember those who have laid down their lives for that freedom.

The honesty of it all

Blogs are what we make of them. It's a chance for people to get a glimpse at what you allow them to see. I think it's natural in a way, despite airing our lives out on a webpage, that people self censor. Who wants to put all the ugliness of their lives out there. Who wants to admit self doubt, self pity, hell the occasional bout of self loathing? Not many.

Including myself. I know I tend to write fluff pieces a lot. I whine and complain about this and that, but all in all, nothing of great importance or anything that could be labeled as anything but fluff with a sense of humor.

So when I write that I am tired and fed up and the person I'm fed up and tired with is primarily me it's not an easy task. I've been going over and over this in my head for most of the day. And when it comes down to it, I'm human and this is my space. And today has been one of those days.

I know I have so much to be thankful for. I know that I am blessed, truly blessed to have two amazing children in my life and one on the way. But dammit if I'm not just feeling like a dud lately. As if this motherhood thing just isn't fitting me the way it should and that I'm just scarring my children in the process.

And now we are bringing a third into the picture?!

What's wrong with me? Why doesn't motherhood just glide along seamlessly enough?

I look at other blogs and other moms and they seem so much more together then myself. Something tells me they aren't feeling at wits end because they can't get their kids to eat dinner, the dinner that they made to their exact specifications. Or fighting with their 2 year old to get them to stay in bed at night.

I hate that I feel like a horrible mom because I am jealous, yes I admitted it, I am jealous that my husband gets to go away and I can't shower without an audience. I know I'm blessed to have such wonderful kids but I just need a break. And it seems that I just can't get one. Or I don't know how to take one. Or that I feel like I don't deserve one.

I hate that when I share this with my husband he makes me feel just awful for thinking these things. I don't think he realizes how hard it can be sometimes. Or at least how hard it feels.

Maybe I should be stronger. Perhaps in all harsh truth that is it.

I wouldn't even describe it as overwhelmed or wits end. I don't know what it is. I just feel like I'm a big meanie. That everything is getting to me and I'm not reacting as I should be.

I had to corral the kids at the car service place for close to two hours, they were probably ok but I just wanted them to sit still, and I still have issues with my damn car's inspection so that still needs to be dealt with which means dragging them back; dinner was a nightmare, I had to yell to get them into the bath, then out of the bath, then wrangle them into jammies, and bedtime made dinnertime look like fun. Oh and the mouse. It is indeed dead. But its stuck in the wall. Behind the dishwasher so my kitchen has a funk to it.

And now I have a headache from not just from my headcold but I'll be honest I've been crying. And my dinner burnt while I was sobbing.

And again, we're having a third?! What's wrong with me. Screwing up the first two wasn't enough I had to go for the hat trick?

Brutal honesty is just that. Brutal.

There isn't any way to paint it up to look pretty. I wish there was maybe it would make me feel better.

I want to be a great mom and I think sometimes I'm a pretty good darn one but sometimes I just feel like this. That I'm failing miserably.

Happy day of mothers

Today is the one day a year that mom's can be lazy.  Sit back, relax, let someone else pick up the slack.  Or something like that.  

You know the saying "being a mom is a 24/7 job"... well who ever coined that one was a. obviously a mom, b. obviously very very right, and c. left out a few hours.  Around these parts motherhood seems like a 28 hour a day job.  And I mean that with full love and affection towards my children.

Being a mom isn't an easy job.  It's not always filled with the respect and thanks that we deserve.  There are times that it's easy to feel unappreciated and more like the kiddies work horse then the mom.

And by the by, it can be really gross.  I mean REALLY gross.  Vomit, explosive poop, spit up, snot flying across the room and hitting you in the face, pre chewed food are pretty much par for course.  

But I wouldn't trade any of it for anything in the world. 

Ok maybe potty training.  That would be great if you could send the kiddos somewhere and they came back potty trained and accident free.  

Motherhood is a journey.  An adventure that is filled with ups and downs, twist and turns.  The highest of highs and the lowest of lows. 

There are no earned vacation days and no bonus pay.  But how many jobs do you get to be responsible for raising and shaping a human being?  

When I die I know there wont be any monuments erected in honor of me.  I haven't tended to the wounded on the battlefields like Molly Pitcher (she not only has a couple of monuments she has her own Jersey rest stop), I haven't shaped our country or discovered some new medical procedure.  But I will, hope among hopes, leave a great legacy to the world with my children.  

My mother poured her heart and soul into raising her kids.  She yelled, she embarrassed us (by far her best parenting tactic, I cant wait till my kids are embarrassed by me), but more then anything she taught us well.

She taught us to find humor in life, to treat others with kindness, she taught us to not just get something done but to do it right the first time.  Perfection was not necessary but doing something to the best of your abilities was.  While we were growing up she didn't prescribe to the be friends with your kids way of thinking, her job was to be our mother.  And what a job that was. 

Now that I am a mom I see a lot of her in how I raise my kids.  Her mothering legacy will be passed on thru me to my kids and hopefully they will pass it on to their kids.  That's how motherhood works.  We pass the best and sometimes the not so best, on to our kids.  We try our hardest to figure it out as we go along, to remember to enjoy the little moments, the hugs and kisses, the thank yous and I love yous, all important to remember in the not so glorious moment.  

Happy mother's day!

ps. I will pick the winner of the drawing tonight. It always takes me a bit of time to sort thru and get everything together... I'm slow what can I say. 

Oh the Places You'll Go

When I graduated from college my aunts gave me, along with some other things, a copy of Dr. Seuss's Oh the Places You'll Go. I must admit, I never looked at it. I put it on my shelf with other books but it sat unopened for a few years.

Years later I wasn't even the one who would open it, flyboy found it and wanted to know why we hadn't put it with the other kids books. He is a Dr. Seuss fan, me, eh I can take it or leave it. He started reading that book as often as dash-1 would let him. He'll kill me for typing this but there is a point, sometimes I would see him put the book away and I would swear to you his eyes had tears in them.

The night before last dash-2 picked out his book that he wanted read and sure enough it was the old fave, "Oh the Places You'll Go". Last night something was different I really heard the words that I was reading. Actually I didn't just hear them I felt them and understood them in a different way.

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.

And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go

That little passage is in the first few pages of the book. And that's what snapped me to attention.

Something is missing these days. Personal responsibility or whatever you want to call it. The willingness and ability to stand up and say, I am going to go about making life better for myself, I am responsible for me. This book is preaching that.

Not every path leads to a rosy outcome. Not every choice we make leads to lollipops and candy canes. You stumble, you fall, but ultimately you learn from it.

I know that I am lucky. I've had a very nice life. I am not naive in knowing this, but I really do believe that no one out there is so stuck in a ditch that they can't find their way out. Will the way out be easy? Will there be big bumps in the road? Yes but ultimately the choice is ours. Be it joining the military, learning some trade, taking classes at a community college and working towards a degree. There are options out there. I'm not saying everyone out there has to be a doctor or hold some fancy degree. But to be able to provide for themselves, to be able to stand on their own.

You can get so confused
that you'll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That's not for you!

Somehow you'll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You'll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.

I hate how there is an attitude of "something is owed to me" in this country. And this isn't a political thing, to me its a cultural problem and its fast becoming an epidemic. People are content to wait, wait for someone to step in and fix the problem for them instead of grabbing themselves by the bootstraps and doing it themselves. But that's not how it should work. Do people need a helping hand at times, yes of course, but they shouldn't be raised to depend on it.

Every child should be read this book from the time they are the dashes age. They should be read this book every night, until the idea that they deserve more then just waiting becomes some kind of second nature thinking. That they are good enough, smart enough, to tackle not only the paths that are clear but the ones that are scary. That when they get lost they will find themselves.

Every parent should read this book to their kids, with tears in their eyes, because they believe in their child and their child's potential. Because they know that life will not always be easy or clear cut, but that they are lessons that must be learned. And most importantly that it will be up to them to make their destiny.

And just so you know, really, I'm not naive, I don't think that reading this book will solve all the country's let alone the world's problems, I just wish it would.

I *heart* faces

How could I not *heart* faces with such adorable boys? And with this weeks theme being messy I figured I HAD to participate. Quite clearly I am a beginner.

And by that I mean a point and click kinda girl, although I have promised myself that this spring I am going to work to figure out what the various buttons and switches on my new camera actually do.

Luckily they have a category just for people just like me. Whew.

Last year we had a giant dirt pile down by the barn that was going to be used as fill. Dash-2 being a little younger was a bit more timid of it, he preferred to drive his trucks around the outskirts of it and as the days went by he worked up the courage to climb the big dirt mountain. Dash-1, however, was climbing and jumping, rolling and digging, the very second I took his shoes off.

Hours were spent at that pile, days widdled it down and spread it around, over time it wasn't as high but it was still fun. Finally it needed to go into the hole that was waiting for it. But for two glorious weeks the boys were besides themselves. Dash-1 is already asking if we'll get another one this summer. After all a sandbox is pretty weak after a giant mountain of dirt.

I had recently bought my new camera and sat down by the pile taking picture after picture. Some are a bit blurry, in some there are shadows or the lighting isn't just right, but in every last one of them, the excitement and joy of childhood shows thru. These are some of my very favorite pictures of the boys to date, pictures of them playing, being boys, having fun, and just enjoying the moment.



If you have a messy picture that you want to share, head over to I *heart* faces and link up!

My birthday boy

Last week a certain little blonde hair, blue eyed, motor mouthed cutie turned four. That's right the big 0-4!

I'm pretty certain I said this last year and I'm pretty certain I'll say this again next year (and every one there after) I don't know how we've already gotten to this point. Really it seems like just yesterday you were a tiny baby, just babbling and watching the world go by.

You are fast becoming an honest to goodness little boy you now wants to take on the world rather then watch it from the sidelines.

You might look more like me little man, but you are all your father. You have his intensity, his fire, his drive. This is coming at a cost to me, just yesterday I bought wrinkle cream for the first time. But I see the light in your eyes and I know where you got it from. And I have some idea of what it means.

Some along the way might try to squeeze you into a mold, face it kiddo, you much like your father, aren't meant to be squeezed into a mold. You my dear are a doer and a thinker. Already it seems you are finding your voice and standing firmly on your own two feet.

Again I say this every year but I can't wait to see what you become in life, what path you will chose. I've seen such growth and maturity this year, I cant even begin to imagine what your going to be doing this time next year, let alone when your 18! As you finished up your third year of life you were writing your name, writing words down, trying to sound out words, getting yourself dressed, and becoming an actual helper around the house.

On of the greatest joys of being a mom is been being blessed to watch you grow into a little gentleman. Here's to another year of ups and downs, spills and messes, heartache and joy, hugs and kisses, and endless, unconditional love. Even when you drive me crazy.

Happy birthday to you, my very special little four year old.

Dreidels, Christmas trees, and faith

I think I have some small idea what parents of Jewish preschoolers go thru come Christmas time and probably Easter time come to think of it.

Dash-1's nursery school devoted class to learning about Hanukkah earlier this week. They read stories, sang some songs and he came home with a little dreidel. And while I'm no expert, I'm guessing there are more words to the song then just "dreidel dreidel I made it out of clay, dreidel dreidel dreidel" over and over again.

His recent lessons in Hanukkah has opened up new doors for his little three year old mind. I think this is wonderful, really I do, but now I'm left fielding some questions from him that I didn't really see coming. Not yet anyways.

"Do we celebrate Hanukkah?" "Why aren't we Jewish?" "How come we don't have a Menorah?"

Our real favorite around here is when he spins to play with his dreidel and then asks us what it has landed on. Neither flyboy and I are up to speed on reading Hebrew.

That's all that's on the dreidel.

I hope someone doesn't read this post and think that I have a problem with my son learning new things. I don't, I think its great that he is learning about new things and soaking them up like a sponge, something as simple as a little exposure in a nursery school class can go a long way in raising more aware kids. That is certainly not lost on me.

As I was driving home from picking him up and finding myself repeatedly answering, "I don't know dear, I'll have to google that." I felt for those parents who are fielding questions about Christmas tree's and the baby Jesus and who feel like they are navigating murky waters.

Man, it's rough when your three year old is making you sweat. It's also a little scary that a three year old knows what google is. But I drift.

It's interesting though, in describing to Dash-1 why we don't celebrate other holidays and the reasons behind the ones we do, I'm feeling a bit closer to my own religion and faith. For the past few months I've felt more of a move to get back to religion. I'm not going to lie, having small (read: loud and active) kids, being solo on more weekends I'd care to be, and having a tough time finding a church up here to call home, I've been what some would call truant from sunday services. But I'm feeling now more then ever drawn back to my faith.

Now the whole PC thing is to say Happy Holidays instead of Merry Christmas. I realize that for some this time of year doesn't have religious significance and for others it has religious significance different then mine.

That's fine.

But for me this time of year is helping me to refocus, refocus to my beliefs and what I hold to be really meaning of Christmas. And for me there is no escaping where God and the Lord fit into all that.

I read a post a couple months back written by a hilariously funny blogger who was being quite serious and going thru something similar but yet on the opposite side with her young son and her own strong feelings for her religion. Of course her son wanted to know why they couldn't have a Christmas tree.

Suzie, my friend, you have my son over to play dreidel and your son can come over and check out our tree.

I jinxed myself

There will be no dash-3. Last night I miscarried and flyboy and I are just trying to come to peace with it and what that means for us.

I am lucky to have been blessed with two very adorable, healthy, lively (at time too lively!) little boys. I am incredibly lucky to have an amazing husband who took off of work to just sit with me and stroke my hair as I cried. I am so very blessed to have such a loving family.

But it still hurts. I'm still angry and upset and heartbroken.

It hadn't been a planned pregnancy but we were still excited. We looked at our boys and we knew how lucky we were to get to bring another life into this world. I'm sure some think I went public too soon, however I felt safe, I had to pregnancies under my belt and had told about those early.

But it obviously wasn't meant to be. At least not right now.

Who knows when we'll try again. Maybe it will happen in the next few months, maybe with his schedule it will be a year or so off. What this has done is shown me that as overwhelmed as I may feel from time to time that a third child felt right.

The best medicine seems to be just taking all the free hugs and kisses offered up around here. To snuggle with my little ones and realize just what a miracle and a blessing having children is. To find comfort in the arms of my husband and the smile of my kids.

And while I have finally found something that entitles me to lay around in bed and do nothing while he takes care of the kids for me. (side note, cause there must be humor in here. did you know there are non cartoons on tv during the middle of the day?!) I hope this never happens again, once was enough.

Got me thinking...

A daily read of mine, New Girl On Post had an interesting post up on whether or not you would want your son to join the military.

I've thought about this. A lot.

I know my boys are young little ones and while it seems like the time for that decision is light years away, one of the first lessons learned in parenting is that time flies.

First sleeping thru the night, then potty training, nursery school, riding the big boy bus, first job, first girlfriend.... all right so perhaps I am a bit ahead of myself. But seriously sometimes they do seem to grow up overnight.

When I was pregnant with Dash-1 flyboy was deployed so I was alone at the ultrasound when the tech told me that we were going to have a boy. The first thing that I thought about was, oh God my baby is going to go into the military.

Flyboys first reaction when he called the night after was and I remember this perfectly, crappy phone connection and all, "Oh my God a boy. I don't have to pay for a wedding!".

We will not push our sons into the military, neither of us is grooming them for that. Both have college savings account and higher education is very important to us.

We joke about the boys going to a service academy and flyboy buying a very nice car with their college money, but the military is not a predetermined path in our house.

But I am also not blind to the fact that its a very likely possibility. Both of flyboy's grandfathers were in the military, his father was a career Marine, and then there is my dear flyboy and well we all know what he's doing with his time.

It seems to me that there certainly is a chance, a darn good one at that, that one of my boys will join up. I'd even make a bet and put my money on the Corps.

How do I feel about that?

Let me put it this way. I sit in my comfy glider chair at night when I'm reading stories or just sitting with one or both of them and I find myself kissing the tops of their heads. Their short hair is just so soft after bath and it smells so fresh. I kiss their heads and its as if I am trying to capture those moments forever.

And I think.

I think that these simple moments must be the memories that so many moms of very grown, very capable, and very honorable men who paid the ultimate price must remember.

When I think about the fallen, I think about the wife and the kids left behind, but now that I am a mom, I also think about his mom.

The woman who watched him grow up from a boy to a man and then into a warrior. The one who is now left with the memory of nuzzling his soft little head in a rocking chair.

I had thought about our kids joining up briefly before we had kids. I thought about the statistics of it logically like I outlined, but once I held my baby boys I felt the emotion of it.

Irregardless of what path they take in life military or college, they will leave the house at some point. They will go forth and start their lives as productive, responsible, young men. As a mom I want nothing more. And nothing would make me prouder to see my sons in uniform like their father.

But there is something in me that knows that if they choose the military it will be a different sort of striking out. They maybe made into men a little earlier, a little rougher, and a lot further from my reaches.

Thank God I have time.

who me?

A funny thing happened to me yesterday.

The boys and I were at the library checking out the latest Skippyjon Jones book and while they were being good they were also being themselves. Dash-1 was rambling about something and dash-2 was struggling to break free. I was not born yesterday so I held tight to him.

The librarian, who herself was a grandmother to a little one dash-2's age said how cute they were. I agreed and said what great little boys they were, thought I did admit that some days they ran circles around me and could be far less then ideal.

She just looked at me and I thought, Oh shit, I don't think she has a sense of humor.

I was wrong.

She smiled and said and I will quote it for accuracy, "I wish my daughter could see you."

Me? Hmmm... library was empty, no one else that could have been directed too.

Let me recap, yesterday was wicked humid, so my hair was a giant frizz ball, turns out I had a cheerio (oh who are we kidding it was a Toastieo) stuck to my butt, and my struggling child in my arms who at one point pulled the v-neck on my shirt awwwwfuly low.

I asked if her daughter needed a laugh.

Apparently her daughter is uptight about parenting. And she wanted her to see that everyone struggles, no child is perfect, but you need to have the right attitude.

Ah well attitude. That flows freely around here!

I told her that I've been actively working to change my expectations about my kids and parenting altogether. Perhaps that's a crappy thing to have to do but I think its been so important and so far has made a change.

I need to remember the age of my kids, I need to remember the spunk of my kids, I need to remember that it is my job to raise them up fostering independence and strong will but also equally important to raise them to be respectful and mindful of others.

That's quite a task. This could take days and weeks, though I'm told most likely YEARS.

When dash-1 isn't listening, he's not the only three year old not to do so. He's not doing so as some great conspiracy against my sanity (however much it might feel like it at the time). When I ask him to stop playing in the pool he isn't always going to jump right out, come on over, and offer to take the bags to the car.

He's three. He's a boy. He's his fathers child (all right and mine). That sums it up.

Same goes for dash-2. He's at that very tough stage. 20 mths, searching for freedom and independence but not really able to handle any. He just wants to strike out on his own and take on the world. He's very clearly not ready. He wants to walk in the store and doesn't want to hold hands, doesn't want to stay with the pack, just wants to run and laugh. I shouldn't take this personally. When he has to sit in the cart and cries and screams and people look at me like I am a horrible mother, this too shall pass. Surely there is another mother going thru this. Somewhere.

When I see the other mom's put together and their kids oh so well behaved I've been trying to remember that sometimes, to someone else that's me. Just like there are not so great days, there are days when everything flows and motherhood is a breeze. Ok motherhood isn't really ever a breeze per say but you get the point.

Motherhood is no doubt a wild ride, full of bumps, ups and downs, but if I can relax and learn to just go with the flow a little more I think I'll get more from it.

That and maybe I'll sweat less and my hair wont frizz so much.

Something in common

Today was another fun filled morning at the big base (and for those of you familiar with WP you can only imagine how small our base is if WP seems big!). Dash-2 had his 18 mth checkup, a month and a half late but I prefer my kids to actually see a pediatrician for their well baby check instead of an adult doctor who's on loan of WR and is really a podiatrist. Call me picky that way.

Anyways, he's doing spectacular, he weighed in at 23 pounds. Despite having never met a food he wont eat he's only in the 20th percentile for his weight. The irony is not lost on me that I am paying to lose weight yet for some reason my kids are on the small size.

So after the errands at the hospital, quick commissary run, dropping off dry cleaning, we went to get lunch in the little food court. Although really is it a food court if there is only one place there to eat? I drift.

I let dash-1 pick where we sat and he happened to choose a table right next to a woman my grandparents age and her son. I apologized in advance for what would probably not be a peaceful lunch. They seemed amused with the boys. The gentleman told me that everyone was put on earth to amuse others, and so today we were there amusement. An excellent way to look at it... because amuse we do.

As soon as I got the food placed in front of the kids dash-1 had to go potty. Of course. I looked over to ask if they could just keep an eye on our things and they were laughing softly. I took this to be a yes.

When we got back and settled the woman leaned over to talk to me, she spoke so soft I could barely hear her over the yammering of my kids. She said, "I have been there, they were the best years of my life. A mother is more skilled in commanding and leading them a platoon leader."

Ain't that the truth?

It turns out that she met her husband, an Army man, after WW2 and when they were a young married couple with two little boys he headed off to Korea for a 16 mth tour. She said that they had no email, no phone calls, and the mail was pitiful. She said he came home only to then have to go to Germany for 2 years which at that time was an unaccompanied tour. At that point they had three kids. She said he was just around long enough to give her more work! But she said it with a smile and looked longingly at my boys when she said it.

It turns out her son who was eating with her was a retired Navy Corpsman, who had served with a Marine Air Wing so we had plenty to talk about. It kept going back to our kids. I told her that I recently had a civilian acquaintance offer her two cents that the life we lead was unfair to our kids and that by being a military family we are hurting them. I looked this woman in the eyes when I told her that in a way that not everyone can understand we are doing it for them. That while I know it isn't always an ideal family life, we are doing it to provide for them, to instill in them a responsibility. She just nodded and said,"You do the best you can. Lots of people asked me how I could do it and my answer always is I just did."

It was an amazing conversation with a total stranger who understood this part of my life better then most of my friends. She understands the exhaustion in being a single parent so much of the time, she has felt the hurt in having to explain again and again where daddy is and why he isn't home, she understands that holidays and birthdays spent together are normally the exception to the rule and should be cherished.

She smiled when I told her that I realized today at the doctors appointment when I was filling out the 18mth questionnaire that both boys had the very same first three word combination (they make you fill out what it is and I remember it vividly from dash-1). "daddy airplane bye-bye"

Its an amazing bond that military wives have. Generations apart, different wars, new technology to help with communications, but yet so much is the same and so much is understood.

I will try to remember this the next time a retiree disregards the line at the commissary cuts in front of me or parks crazy in the parking lot.

Kids are funny little creatures

Aren't they?

I post a long blog about how they never listen, I call bitter betty to lament about my failings in motherhood and then what do you know. The next morning they wake up on the other side of the bed and are angels for the past few days.

Man they know how to screw with your head. Take you to your breaking point in sanity, then pull it back just to make you think your going nuts.

Bitter betty and I did indeed go out on Saturday. It was great, we decided to go on a mini adventure and drove out to Henderson Hall to explore the exchange there since I had never been. We took a few detours, stopped for some chickfila, and shopped as only we know how. That means balking at the price (19.00 bucks), standing there and debating the merits of it and if its necessary (it was a bra), then getting it and feeling guilty about it. Really she's the only person I know how shops like I do. Maybe she's an enabler I don't know.

Any who the boys were great with my parents. I should say that my parents love to babysit the boys and are always so willing to do so. They take them for an hour here or there while I'm down so I knew they were capable, but the boys had just been so... spirited, shall we say, lately that I was worried about leaving them for such a long chunk of time. And I hate, hate, hate, feeling like I'm taking advantage of them.

But would you know that when they took them to lunch someone actually came over to the table to compliment them on how well behaved they were? They were angels.

Angels.

I realized something too. The problem is perhaps.... well not so perhaps... it is partly my fault.

Crap.

I have horribly high expectations for them. I want so hard to have such well behaved kids that I tend to stress about it and forget what they should be acting like at their respective ages. I blame being high strung and working in a school. I know what bad kids are like, I know what people think about them and think about their parents. Oh I don't want that to be me. So I try so hard to keep them reigned in that I forget to let them just be.

Note to self. To enjoy motherhood more and to raise kids who will visit regularly and send flowers on mothers day... RELAX some.

If only relaxing were a strong suit of mine.....

last night

There was a death last night in the squadron. It seems harder to accept because it was very much an avoidable circumstance. I think as military wives we have a certain amount of acceptance that something may happen to our husbands as a result of their jobs. Flyboy and I have known several guys who left for work one day and didn't come home, its very much a calculated risk for aircrew or for those in a war zone. As a spouse you never like it but you accept that it may happen.

Last night this wasn't the case, it was on home turf, no war, no flying. Too much beer was involved, too many stupid choices were made, and someone wont be coming home. Ever. I don't know how his poor wife will make sense of this. I know I couldn't.

My heart breaks for her and for her small kids. My heart breaks for them now and my heart breaks thinking about the day that they will be able to fully understand why this happened and that it didn't have too. I'm not sure what pain will be worse.

Thankfully my husband was about as far removed from this situation as one can be. Who knows what the full story will be, you know how these types of things can just spiral around like a tornado. The bits and pieces that have come out already are not pretty. When the dust settles who knows what the command will have to say. I hope that if nothing else comes of this that people will stop and think just a little bit harder about how no one is invincible and stupid decisions rarely go off without a hitch.

Happy 4th!

Happy fourth!

I drove down to the commissary today and passed by the Last Encampment of the Continental Army. Its not much to look at but I am fascinated by history so I've been there several times to walk around the outline of the fire pits, check out the blacksmith barn, and gawk at the "living" quarters. What hits me every time I drive by it or walk around there is that the troops arrived in October of 1782.

October folks up here can be the beginning of a looong winter.

I routinely drive past it in the early winter when there are six inches of snow and your fingers freeze just walking to the car. Yet those men, fighting for our freedom were often in unbearable conditions. I cant imagine going out in that weather without my coat, scarf, gloves, and still I complain that I'm freezing. Most men had barely adequate uniforms, shoes, and protection from the elements. I'm in awe of their fortitude. And quite grateful.

Hope everyone has a wonderful fourth of July! Try not to eat to many burgers at one time, over heat outside, or blow off any fingers with fireworks. Can you imagine the company you'd have in the emergency room on today!