Please don't do this to me!

Foodies beware!

I love food. Not all food, but lots of different foods.

I also love to make food.

Granted, I'm not great with fussy, complicated dishes (I tend to get distracted) or with "presentation." I like my food hearty, simple and filling.

That said, I do tend to be a bit more willing to experiment with breads -- fussy ones, hearty ones, ones with interesting shapes or tetures or flavors.

But, see, here's the thing: Even the easiest, quickest, least hands-on recipes take, at a minimum, two hours from pulling out your materials and ingredients to pulling it out of the oven and letting it cool for a few minutes before you start cutting.

So when an author writes a character who's a "foodie" I will NOTICE. When a character first spends the night at someone else's place, they don't usually go check out the kitchen for bread-baking staples before heading back to bed. Yet the next day (or later that same day, depending when they're gettin' it on) Foodie will make a quick store run, come back, and, in the time it takes to make a fresh pot of coffee, have a complicated meal, including fresh, homemade yeast bread, on the table and ready to eat.

I call bullshit.

Unless you're making it from a mix, soup is gonna take at LEAST half an hour, minimum, to wash, chop, saute, and simmer everything.

And the bread? Well, mixing and kneading and measuring is gonna be at least a good 15-20 minutes, unless you're using a mixer with a dough-hook attachment, and no one in books uses one of those, because, let's face it -- your new flame back there in the bedroom isn't gonna have one if he isn't into cooking, too. Or if he does, it's gonna be super-loud & it'll wake him up Too Soon. Then, there's the 45 min to an hour the dough's going to need to double in bulk. Punch it down, shape it, put it in or on the appropriate baking container, and give it another half-hour or so to proof (and don't forget to start warming up your oven!). Then 20 minutes to an hour to bake, and then it needs to cool for a while before you can even start slicing it and we're already up to, what, 2.5 hours, MINIMUM.

Now, there are a few recipes which skip the kneading step, and even a couple which skip the proofing, but really, that only knock maybe 45 minutes or so off the length of time needed. And some of those recipes call for sponging the dough, which means instead of that initial one hour rise, you may be waiting for three or more.

And even with frozen dough, you need to wait for it to come to room temperature and double in bulk before you can start baking it, and that takes a good hour or so.

So, no, unless it's a pretty damn complicated soup recipe, you're not going to be starting the soup first; your bed-buddy's probably NOT going have live yeast just lying around, (let's face it; probably not the appropriate cooking pans, either)... and, no, you're not going to have fresh, homemade bread in under an hour.

Unless, of course, you're God (in which case, come see me.)

Therefor: Unless you have baked bread and know how long it's gonna take, unless you're going to reflect that in your text, please, please don't write characters who can do it in less than a third of the time it takes to make your average pot of soup.

Saturday 9: 'Til I Hear it From You

I occasionally do this meme/blog hoppity thing (but don't usually link back to the original b/c I'm bad & I forget...

So, without further ado...

Saturday 9: 'Til I Hear It From You

1. If someone, that you trusted, told you that your lover was cheating, would you believe them or not? --Probably not, to be truthful. I know the DH & I don't think he could hide it from me.

2. What is something that you are disappointed about right now? --I'm disappointed that I felt too bad this afternoon to be able to load my kids up & make the 45min drive to go see a free concert featuring the Charlie Daniels Band (it's Friday night as I write this). But to be honest, the only song I'm familiar with is "Devil Went Down to Georgia," and I really *did* need to just stay home & try to relax a bit.

3. Jonathan Frid, who was the original Barnabas Collins on Dark Shadows from 1967-1971, passed away in Canada at the age of 87. Who is your favorite vampire? --ummm... can't actually think of one offhand. Not too long ago, I would have said Butch from J.R. Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood series, but I'm kinda off those at the moment. I enjoy Katie MacAlister's Dark Ones, but don't really have a favorite of the vamps (but love the Beloveds, especially Pia). And Angela Knight's -- which are all based on the King Arthur legends & personae -- are lovely, but it's been a while since I read any of them. I should consider re-reading.

4. Should there be age limits on social networking sites such as facebook? --Tough one. It's good for kids to learn how to interact safely online, but at the same time, they're not receiving as much supervision as perhaps they should. Ultimately, I don't think there should be age limits, partly because it's too easy for someone to lie about their age online, and therefor it'd be impossible to effectively enforce. BUT I think adults need to make more of an effort to supervise what their kids are doing online, and make sure they're interacting in a positive way.

5. Tell us about your pets. Do you have one that you wish would run away? --Sometimes, yeah. We have 2 cats and 2 dogs. The cats are Mouse, 3-ish and grey, and Mr. Fuzzybutt, 13-ish, white and deaf. They can both get irritating, but Mr. Fuzzybutt more so because he's getting crotchety in his old age, and he's LOUD! The dogs are both obnoxious -- Butters is a 2YO boxer mix who looks like a half-grown Great Dane. He's loud, energetic, and, well, young. He can do some damage without intending to, and even when he's just playing or being affectionate, he can be a bit...overwhelming. And the other is Ike, who's very young (we're guessing 6-8 weeks, although he was a stray, so until we can get him into the vet, we don't know for sure.) He has impressed or something on me, and clings like a little vine. He's not housetrained, and he destroys training pads. He's tiny -- possibly a chihuahua mix -- and drives me absolutely bat-shit crazy!

6. Do you ever have a hard time with morals? --Only in that I feel like morality is used to justify things that would be unpalatable if people actually *thought* about what they're doing. Also, morality is very much more a gray area than people want to believe it is, especially as society changes, and things that were once considered immoral are moving more and more into the public eye and being shown as ridiculous. Even if you believe non-cis, non-hetero sexuality is immoral, it is no less immoral to bully, beat or kill those who stray off your beaten path. If you're going to hold people up to a certain standard, you have to be sure you are meeting that same standard -- in this case, the one which says no sex outside of marriage, no sex without intent to procreate, no lustful thoughts about a person NOT your spouse... I don't believe there's many people in this world who could live up to that standard.

7. Did you make 'a plan' the first time you made love or did it just happen? --Oh, it definitely just happened! I don't do too well with plans -- plans are what you do while life is happening around you! ;)

8. Do you agree that fame is lousy or would you love to give it a try? Why? --I don't necessarily think it's lousy; there must be a few perks or so many people wouldn't want it! I mean, I suppose if you have a certain type of personality that needs that, it's probably got some extremely great moments. I, personally, though, would really rather not be in the spotlight like that. I have trouble not panicking when meeting with a dozen women I don't know yet but they're all spouses of men my DH is deployed with. So, y'know, they know what I'm going through, at least to the extend that they're going through their own version of the same thing.

9. Do you believe in forever, as in 'love forever'? --Yes. I know that, even though we're not together, I still have feelings for those of my ex-boyfriends I genuinely cared about. And I know I always will.

Why I cut my hair off...

Just a random little ramble because I'm sitting in front of my computer right now...

I don't have any real pictures that I can find of my hair longer, but it was down nearly to the middle of my back. It hadn't been cut in close to a year, and was due for at least a trim. So I went for a jaw-length bob. Would you like to see?

Comments from friends & my mom have universally been that it's cute, they like it, it suits me... except my husband, who left a fairly grudging "I suppose if it makes you happy that's all that matters." (I know it was grudging because I know how he is about my hair.)

The reasons I gave people about the WHY of it are fairly simple & straightforward: It's Georgia. It's mid-April and I've had the air conditioning on since early March. My hair gets hot and heavy, and pulling it back with rubber bands or barrettes gives me headaches. And, yeah, those things are all true. But I guess I kind of left out an important one.

There's a teenytiny miniscule chance that at least partly, it was done out of irritation. I *always* have my hair back. It itches at my neck and jaw when it's loose. I keep it long because my husband likes it that way, but he never touches it, except, very occasionally, to slip his hand in at my skull. Every now and again, I can coax one of my kids to play with it -- comb & brush or practice braiding, or just flop it around with their fingers, but they're not enthusiastic about it, and, well... if no one's interested in playing with it except me, I might as well save myself some time and effort & just chop it off.

So, chopped it is. I love it. It feels so much lighter and cooler, and doesn't itch at me so much. I'm still getting used to it, though; I forget that I can't run my fingers through it and up to arms' length anymore, and I don't need to pull it out of the neck of my shirt or sweater. But mostly -- it's about me making a change that's all about me, without stopping first and wondering what someone else is gonna think. I love having people do stuff with my hair; it's relaxing. But ultimately, it's more relaxing short like this.

Another True Confession of a SAHM

This time, it's about a couple of things I hate about being a SAHM. I may have mentioned this somewhere before, but I'm not going to dig through what Blogger tells me are 63 posts to find out. If you've read it before, you can skip it this time or just read it again.

Thing the First (and the biggest): Dear Professional People of the World, Guess what? I'm not dumb. Maybe you have a higher degree of learning than I do. Personally, I think that's a subjective thing; even if you've got a piece of paper to back you up, I can guarantee there's at least ONE something I know more about than you do. Maybe you just have a trade, a learned skill that I need to make use of because it's not in my repertoire. Yet. I can take classes and learn that shit, too; don't get all uppity on me. I know plenty of women who can change the oil in their own cars. I can do it, too, with instruction. And then *I*, for one, won't be paying *you* to do it for me.

So, yeah, I don't have a college degree, but I did go to college. And, no, I didn't flunk out. Maybe I screwed up a bit what with the whole "getting pregnant before finishing school" think, but college and I were on a break, I wasn't cheating! Hell, as a teen, I used to read the AMA journals, so I know a thing or two about some stuff. I listened and paid attention when my dad was all into making furniture and built-ins for my mom, so I could probably construct a halfway decent set of shelves if I were to set my mind to it. I know how to make bread, from scratch, and how to debone a chicken. Can you do that? All of it? Maybe yes, maybe no. And, ok, yeah, I'm a Stay-at-Home Mom. My kids are in the public school system, but I'm still not working. Therefore....

Therefore, dear Doctor who saw my son last year when he had pneumonia, please, oh, PLEASE don't talk down to me like that again. It may interest you to note that, while you misspelled the word on the note you wrote for me, I didn't have to look it up to spell it correctly on here. And the way you were using all your Real, Big People words with my husband? He was nodding politely, completely lost. After we walked out of there, he turned to me and said, "What the Hell was that all about? What's going on?" And I had to explain it to him. Here's a hint -- he has less education than I do. His d*ck does not automatically confer upon him the knowledge to translate doctorese. He's the one who needs you to lay it out in the simplest words possible. In fact, he's requested that from here on out, I take all the doctor's visits because he's afraid this will happen again sometime when I'm not there to translate for him, or to be talked down to like a babydoll.

Dear Tradespeople who look down on me when something goes wrong and I need it fixed, BITE ME. Yeah, my husband probably could fix it himself, but guess what? He's busy being a soldier and being deployed to a freaking WAR ZONE. Let's see you fix a drain from over there. I have puppy poop to clean up and laundry to fold and put away and toothpaste to try and clean out of the carpet and...do you really, *really* need more? I mean, I could save myself some money and attitude and wait for my parents to come visit because Daddy will take care of it for me, but I'd really like to be able to wash dishes over the next two months.

Thing the Second: Is it really so much to ask that I not either have another living creature literally attached to me every moment of every day, or else be trying to clean up the mess caused by said creature because it's Lonely Without You, Mommy!? Arranging occasional childcare sucks, and when I have to ask my neighbor to do it, it's like telling her "if you have something come up that normally you'd want to do, too bad. For today, MY needs come first and yours can suck it." I don't like doing that to people. And then when I get home I feel sorry for the puppy left alone too long who got all destructive. Destruction which *I* get to clean up, of course.

Thing the Third: So many activities scheduled for The Wrong Time. I'm either never invited to anything, or I'm invited to events that start at 2:15 -- 30 minutes before my kids get home -- or 4:00 -- the time my daughter gets home -- or 6:00 -- dinnertime, followed shortly by showers and bedtime. I'd love to find it in my schedule to see you, but can we please make it lunch? Or Saturday? You know, some time when I might *actually* be able to get there?

Thing the Fourth: I'm really sick and damn tired of being a target of other parents -- either I'm a sellout to feminism and setting women back *decades* by choosing to bow to the man, or I'm something like the so-called "Desperate" housewives of TV. Here's a newsflash -- a LOT of stay-at-home parents did not CHOOSE anything. We didn't have a choice in the matter. There are as many reasons why we were forced into this as there are SAHPs. Maybe we have medical issues that make it impossible to hold down a job. Maybe we have a *child* or more children with medical issues that require a parent being on hand just in case. Maybe we're in a position where, in order to be able to work we'd have to have 2 jobs -- one for the paycheck and one just to pay the child care bill. So, no, it's not a choice. And I don't have the luxury of being able to do whatever I want and create a "career" for myself, nor do I have a nanny/housekeeper and money for everything I could possibly want, twice over. My house may not be spotless, but I work DAMN hard, every day, making sure that whatever else it may be, it's also a home -- a place where friends and family are welcome and comfortable, where you can eat, or pull up a good book, and know that a friendly ear is there waiting for you.

So maybe it's not *my* name on the paycheck. Until you've walked that mile in my shoes, try not to judge me based on your observations of the outside of my life.

True Confessions of a SAHM: Attachment Parenting

Attachment parenting, for those who've been living under a rock for the last couple of decades or so and don't know, is a "new" parenting method hearkening back to days well past days of yore. I first learned about it when my mom bought me my first baby book when my daughter was born.

The Baby Book by Dr. William Sears, et al

In this book, Dr. Sears and his wife (and in newer additions at least one of his sons and possibly a colleague or two) espouse "attachment parenting," that is, forming a deep and meaningful bond between parents and children. At its base, this is something I think most of us, as parents, aspire to; the book is full of how-to's and personal anecdotes as well as the usual baby book stuff relating to development and health that parents (especially first-timers) need to know. (I'm really wishing I still had my copy of the book, but it really only covers major info from birth to about 2 years old, and I recently gave it to a friend who had her first baby.) A lot of the concepts of attachment parenting are lifted straight out of so-called "First-World" societies.

One of the big things in this book, which really still gets the media covering parenting "trends" is the concept of co-sleeping -- where the entire family shares a bed. Dissonant voices blame co-sleeping for spoiled kids, squashed kids, say it's connected with SIDS, that it conflicts with marital relationships and makes kids codependent with their parents. And, guess what? Some, if not all, of this stuff *can be true* -- but not for all people. If you're drunk and you have a tiny baby sleeping next to you, you may roll over and crush the baby. Kids may go through a period of time where they're super-extra-clingy. It can be hard to have sex with a kid in the bed -- at least, if you really want bed-sex. And there's no clear scientific data on what, exactly causes SIDS, so it's kind of hard to refute that.

On the other hand, spoiled kids are going to be spoiled whether they sleep with Mom and Dad or not. That's about how their parents are parenting them in other areas -- spoiled kids need only point at something (or pitch a hissy fit) to get it; look crossways at something and Mom & Dad are raising cain to get it out of society -- or at least, away from their Precious Darling. There are ways to make co-sleeping safe for baby -- or toddler, preschooler -- right up until everybody's ready for them to sleep on their own. And as for the clingy, co-dependent thing? I parented all three of my kids the same way. One is more clingy than the other two (why do you think I call him VelcroBoy, after all?) So a lot of that is pure personality. And still, he's happy to stay with anyone I tell him he can trust; he's happy to range free within a comfortable distance, knowing I'm always there in the background to give hugs and ooh and aaah over his discoveries.

For the record, if you want more information on Attachment Parenting and co-sleeping, check out Ask Dr. Spears or pretty much anything Mayim Bialik writes on the subject. She's a little more devoted to the approach than I am. I took what worked for me; just more of it worked for her.

Now, on to the fun stuff; a.k.a. How Attachment Parenting Works for Me.

Breastfeeding and Co-Sleeping: This are two of the most basic components of Attachment Parenting. Most pre-industrial societies really have no easy way of feeding infants if breastfeeding is not an option, and, frankly, it was not really an issue for me. No body hangups to get in the way and I was able to produce in plentiful amounts once my milk came in (although I never was able to pump successfully; that was stressful or perhaps there were some mental hangups that were making it difficult. Something.) Co-sleeping was a major boon for this; I slept in the middle of the bed between baby and husband (being the lighter sleeper of the two of us) and we got a toddler bed rail to go on the outside edge beside the baby so no danger of her falling out. There are actually cribs that can be set up as a sort of "side-car" and attached to Mom and Dad's bed, but this wasn't really an option for us. One of the reasons I love co-sleeping and breastfeeding so much is that, while I'm a light sleeper, I have a hard time reaching full consciousness. It was really easy to, 3/4 asleep, just pat around to find Baby and latch on. I never had to fully wake up so didn't have *quite* as many problems with interrupted sleep as I would have had I had to wake all the way up, get out of bed, feed Baby, put Baby back to sleep, and then try to find my own way back to sleep. We tried it that way; usually I would only finally manage to drift off just to be reawakened within a few minutes for Baby's next feeding.

Babywearing: I loved my sling. Just cannot tell you how much. And why did I love my sling so much? I'm not totally sure, honestly. My kids were usually happy to ride in it, especially if they could see out, right up until they went mobile, when they only wanted it for naps. I could leave them in it to nap or put them in the car seat, which made getting them resettled when they woke up easy (and eliminated most of that awkward infant-car-seat in-and-out-and-carry mess). I could still do most of my housework with Baby along for the ride. And going for a walk, the added weight made it more effective exercise. Plus, the Girl-Child went through a stage where Only Daddy Will Do. She was a tiny thing, and the ONLY way to get her to sleep was for Daddy to cuddle her up in the sling and take her for a nice long walk. She was cozy in her little pouch, gnawing on Daddy's knuckle and listening to his heart beat. Made for some loooong evenings when he had to work late, though.

There's lots more about attachment parenting on the web -- stuff about learning your baby's cues and cries -- but I'll be honest, I never really got the hang of that, not completely. And sometimes you can't answer a baby's need right away. Mom needs to use the bathroom or take a shower or fix herself food or a drink sometimes (or Dad does; I know -- or know of -- a few dads who were the stay-at-home parent; kudos to them. Parenting is hard as is; I can only imagine there would be moments it's a little more difficult when you're bucking a trend and being all nontraditional and stuff.)

And this, in its own possibly choppy way, brings me to what I really wanted to say. Puppies. Having a puppy is a lot like attachment parenting, only, well, not quite as much fun. I mean, in some ways it's great -- you can shut the puppy in the bathroom (easy clean, Big Dog Butters can't knock the door down like he does with baby gates) and go out to the store without having to wonder what's gonna be trashed when you get home, which you can't really do with a baby. But those every-three-hour wakeups? Not so much fun when it's a pup yapping at you to come play because he just woke up and pooped on your carpet. Because, of course, he doesn't let you know he needs to go first. He just does it. And, because he's a puppy and you haven't breastfed in 6 years, you can't just stuff a nipple in his mouth and he'll go back to sleep. You can't (well, unless your name is Paris Hilton, you can't) just stuff him in a carrier and take him everywhere (#1 Eeeew, he's gonna poop & pee all over it. And #2, most business don't like yappy little dogs inside them.) You can, I suppose, sleep with them -- I know people do sleep with animals on the bed -- but this particular little puppy likes to be as close to my face as possible, and I don't really want the mess on my bed. And you know it'll happen -- he won't be able to get off the bed, but he'll need to go, and he won't want to wake me up, so he'll puddle. Probably on my pillow. Ugh. He feels the need to be touching me all the time, unless he's playing, and even then he gallops over regularly to make sure I'm still paying attention.

This is where attachment parenting breaks down for me: I'm an introvert. I have a Personal Space bubble that I really need to remain intact, except for hugging. I'm a big hugger. But Attachment Parenting means that my personal space is always full of small children (or, right now, a small puppy). Sometimes, I feel like I'm suffocating, almost literally.

But mostly... yeah, it's been worth it.

True Confessions of a Stay-at-Home-Mom

This is something that, somehow, I have a feeling would earn me a lot of backlash if I shared it with certain of my fellow SAHPs. And some of them may find it by accident and hate me. But some may find it and love me for saying some things they feel...

I know a lot of SAHMs. Like, a LOT a lot. I'm, after all, a military spouse. Especially among the enlisted classes, it's a big thing -- sometimes almost a necessity. There aren't a huge lot of college degrees between us, and, while the pay's not great at this level, it's usually barely enough to scrape by, as long as you don't try to pay extras like childcare.

So, here's the thing. I don't actually enjoy a lot of the "Good Parent" type stuff. I'm not particularly religious, either. Both of these things are nearly anathema, at least in the community of SAHM/military spouses -- a lot of them are extremely (but not, thankfully, scary-) conservative. They all seem to feel like a "Good Parent" doesn't let their kids mix in with the rank and file of just-anybodies who go to public schools (and I'll admit there's a LOT wrong with the public school system; however, that's a rant for another time) but they can't afford a religious school if there WERE one locally that catered to their particular religious mores. Obvious solution? "Good Moms Homeschool Their Children" -- And, ok, I know all about the potential benefits of homeschooling, but. And this is a huge but. It is not for everyone. I, personally, would never make it -- my kids drive me batshit crazy when they're home for a long weekend; how would I survive all three of them 24/7?

Plus, it takes a lot of discipline from *everyone* involved -- I have to be motivated to make them work, they have to be motivated to actually do the work. I can barely motivate them to get their rooms cleaned up! I don't have the temperament to stand over them, and they don't have the temperaments to let me. Plus I'd have to deal with subjects that, frankly, I hate. And if I go out of my way to avoid them, why would I want to force my kids to deal? It's like my husband trying to make the youngest child eat something he doesn't like: I tell DH he has stuff he refuses to eat, but the rest of us like. Why should a child be forced to eat something HE dislikes, just because Daddy likes it? So I can't justify homeschooling on those grounds.

And, you know, now that my kids are in school, I could maybe look for a job. Maybe part-time childcare after school and on weekends/evenings while my husband is some 5,000+ miles away wouldn't be so expensive? Yeah, right! I still don't have the education to get anything that pays.

And anyway, I grew up in a two-income family. Honestly, my parents, for all that they both work, were never any more financially secure than my husband and I are now. And I saw the toll it took on my mom -- She loves her work (mostly); she thrives on the nuts and bolts of it -- she's a college professor; she loves teaching.  But the weekends? After a long week of everyone working or going to school or both, we would then have two days which would be filled with all the stuff that nobody could get to during the week. Bathrooms cleaned. Floors mopped. Mountains of laundry washed, dried, folded, put away. Grocery shopping, dusting, changing the kitty litter. Mowing, sweeping, raking, weeding, digging.

There was never really any time to just enjoy being together. And I don't want to do that to my kids -- I don't want us to have so many chores waiting on the weekend that we don't have time to be a family. I don't want to do that to *myself*! Sure, my kids have weekday chores, light stuff like dishes and feeding the animals, taking out the trash. And on the weekends, we throw in a few heavier things -- vacuuming their rooms, cleaning their bathroom, helping with the yard. But usually, that's less than half a day's worth of work; we can spend the rest of the time playing with the dogs, riding bikes, fishing, playing on the beach, dominoes on the dining room table and puzzles on the playroom floor.

And, honestly, I'm not as good at keeping my house clean during the week as I probably could be. There's usually a pile of laundry needing to be folded, more than one floor needing attention. The truth is, during the week with no one home, it's easy to get caught up in other stuff, stuff that's just MINE -- reading or needlepoint or just sitting on the sofa with the new puppy curled up next to me napping. But the point is that I have time to do those things or put them off.

I don't really LIKE doing Mom-stuff a lot of the time. I'm not into crafting with my kids. I'm not an athletic, outdoorsy person. I get touchy when they get too close, too talkative, too clingy.

But I love giving them free time to explore and learn and do on their own.

That, I hope, is the real gift -- their childhood, on a platter.

The times, they are a'changin'

Somehow, this calls for a video...

(Flogging Molly -- "The Times, They Are A-Changin'" song by Bob Dylan)

Which is actually pretty apt. Dylan is a foavorite of my brother's, but not of mine, and I've recently been turned on to paddy rock (which is to say, Irish rock groups). Which shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who knows my love of Carbon Leaf and Gaelic Storm, but honestly, I didn't even know this was A Thing -- somehow, I assumed they lived in a bit of a bubble.

But I digress...

As you may know (if you've read anything previous to this, or, my "About Me" stuff) my husband is military. A week ago tomorrow, we said goodbye for the third deployment in our military marriage (prior to the Youngest Child's conception, we were a civilian family). This time is particularly rough -- the first two deployments were both in Iraq; and the second one had many more contact options available. This one is going to be shorter than the first two (nine months, compared to the 15 months and 1 year, respectively), but chances are we'll only get to talk intermittently by computer, and even less frequently by phone.

Just in case you're not getting how stressful this potentially is, let's take a look at the last, oh, five months of my life:

November: Cartman, beloved family dog, who had been part of our lives since our oldest (currently 11-1/2) was 2, had a heart tumor and had to be put down. A week later, Hubby had surgery to remove a bone spur on his heel, which required the Achilles tendon to be removed and then reattached with metal screws. (Apparently, it does not heal in the "reattaching itself" way.) A week after that was Thanksgiving. Hubby could not drive until he was off his crutches, which occurred at the end of January, just a few days after rumors of deployment were confirmed (yep, they went on less than 3 months of prep. Think about that for a moment.) Not long after that, he was cleared for putting on his combat boots again, and then he left for California for a month of intensive training, during which we had little-to-no contact. March was spent running around like headless chickens trying to get done all the forty-three thousand and one things needed to prepare him to leave and to prepare us to not have him here -- things like ordering new uniforms, making sure we have two vehicles in good running order (although I don't think he ever managed to bleed the brakes on the Jeep, and the inner door handle on the driver's door is broken.), hiring a lawn service... And then, somewhere in there (just over a week ago) our neighbor found a tiny puppy abandoned behind a local business. They couldn't keep him because, well, they have several dogs already, and one of them had just days earlier, given birth, and was Not Happy about having another baby in the house. SO...well, Hubby fell in love. So I am now wrestling with our HUGE 2YO boxer/Great Dane mix, 2 cats, 3 kids, and an un-housetrained (in fact, probably-too-young-for-housetraining) puppy.

I swear I thought next week was Spring Break, but as it turns out I was wrong. I still haven't done any Easter shopping; I need to find someone who'll watch the kids for me so I can do that later today.

I still need to get the puppy into the vet for a first checkup. And all the other pets are due, too.

Oh, and not next week, when they go back to school, but the week after, all three kids have standardized testing. Luckily none of them seem to have the same levels of test anxiety that I do. But it's gonna make for a rough week. It'll mess up the youngest's schedule and that always makes life hard for everybody.

Less than two months of school, and then we'll be out for the summer. I may lose it before then.

And I'm not entirely sure this is where I wanna be anymore.

Morning ramble

Yesterday, my DH left for a nine-month deployment. If you don't know where the bulk of the fighting is happening right now, I'm sorry. I don't feel up to educating you. I'm busy trying on my new normal. Yes, I've done this deployment stuff before, but each time is different. This time, there's a tiny puppy who woke me up whining, desperate to go outside to do his tiny business. So today, we have a list:

Things Which Would Have Made The Morning SO Much More Pleasant:

1. Time to use the bathroom.
2. Time to make some tea.
3. NOT discovering the Reader had no charge (C'mon, Sony, what's up with that? I'm charging my reader every couple of days or so. I know I read a lot, but that seems excessive!)
4. Fewer mosquitoes. Or not being allergic to all the effective bug sprays.

On the other hand:

Things That Were Pretty Awesome:

1. I had time to just sit in my chairs, which I love but hardly get to use because of heat/bugs.
2. The bugs really weren't that bad (I'm just the skeeters' favorite meal)
3. The temperature was gorgeous, and the sun was lovely (if on the other side of the house) and there was that sort of greeny-gold glow to everything that comes after a storm.
4. I think the puppy is finally starting to sort of maybe get the hang of this potty-training business. Although he apparently has a bladder the size of a pea. Wonder if I could litterbox-train him? LOL

Anyway, now I'm ensconced on the sofa with a big dog at my feet and a little dog snoozing beside me (he claws his way up on to the sofa; good job the cats have already damaged the upholstery, huh?). The reader is charging (maybe I should just spring for Sony's special converter-dealie to plug the USB cord into that then plugs into the electrical outlet.) The boys are happily settled under a blanket in the playroom watching some random movie or other and the girl is, apparently, still asleep. I have tea. The only thing I don't have is my husband next to me watching the highlights from last night's hockey.

The term is geographically single.