around and around we go

A boring day here in the rain capital of Telford. I'm getting thoroughly tired of rain. The people back home may have a point- rain sucks. This is worth canceling school over. This is worth calling in sick for work over. But it makes the grass this pretty green color, and I don't know a single person on this block who has sprinklers on their property, and there are colored blooming things called "flowers" coming out of the dirt.

Tomorrow is more gatherings of people to come and see the Toddler. They make little cooing sounds and flirt with her, and she flirts right back at them. Does me a world of good to see it. The only prob with it right-now-tomorrow is that I'm still feeling hormonal and miserable. Gee, wasn't this supposed to clear up by now? I'm going to have a serious word with my Pill if it doesn't shape up by next week.

...better living through modern medication? That's what it seems like. Fortunately for everybody around me, I'm not in the insane hormonal state right now. Just the achy and whiny hormonal state. I'm not sure that it's better, but at least the jury would be more likely to convict.

so happy I could FITB

When I wrote this, I intended the title to be sarcastic. But now come to think of it, maybe it's not. I am actually pretty happy today. Aside from the bloated, whale-like, puffy body. Tiff fell asleep in my arms tonight; she reached out for me at bedtime and she cuddled down and went to sleep. So trusting. So happy. How did I get so lucky?

How can I be thinking about pushing my luck in the motherhood department?

I'm going to go read instead. I'm going to curl up with needlework, and a book, and alternate between the two because I still can't figure out how to do both, aside from audiobooks which are great but I don't want to listen to one of those right now. I'm also going to stuff my face with garlic-flavored bagel crisps.

Yeah. That's going to make everything better. Not.

It will, however, make my evening feel better. The carbs will create a warm fuzzy feeling inside, and my fingers will be happy being productive on something pretty, and my head will swim with the images of new places and people that I haven't read about yet. I heard from the Boy today. He is continuing to be well. I miss him more than ever. There are just too many miles between us; even so it feels like there's not even a wall separating us when I hear from him.

deniability

Denial is a powerful thing. It makes it possible for so many things to happen; as long as I didn't have an actual Homecoming date it was possible for me not to miss him with that soul-crushing intense Loneliness. Now I've got a date. Now I know exactly how long it is- mind you, it's not long at all. A very manageable time, in military terms. But for some reason my brain has turned to mush at the thought, and my stomach is a quivering ball, and I want to curl up and cry and cry because I miss my Boy.

Sunday Review

This morning I sat in church and prayed for both inspiration and strength. With Homecoming about three weeks away (our own personal homecoming, not to be confused with the Ship's Homecoming, or any movements thereof), I face once again the hard part. Giving back control.

In three weeks I stop being the head of the household. In three weeks I will turn over that responsibility with a happy heart to my husband. It's hard to do that and not load it down with conditions. Mostly, because I'm a control freak. I need to feel control over certain specific things in our lives to keep the rest of my shit together. Fortunately for our family, the things I need to feel control over are things that I'm good at and that he doesn't want to deal with. That's a happy coincidence. So where do I draw the line in the sand and turn myself back into a properly happy shipwife? Where do I remember that no matter what time has passed and what has changed in each of us, we pick up where we left off? But we can't, really. The world didn't stop when we parted company the night before deployment. We didn't stop. We kept growing and changing. While I was able to work and practice my parenting skills, he hasn't. While he was able to remember what it's like to be free of caring for a child 24/7, I haven't. Which brings me to today's book.

Priority Parenting.

We'll be in trouble if we make Tiffany the center of our lives. We'll be in HUGE trouble if we rely solely on our roles as parents to come back together. There's going to be a really big period of adjustment when he returns. There's going to be growing pains and all sorts of friction. One of the things I've learned in this book is that we can't use her as an excuse to avoid those conflicts.

It's a lesson worth learning.

amazing or crazy?

I'm stealing today's title from a piece of spam I just saw in my mailbox. Call it my fee for reading my mail. I know that my brain isn't working just right tonight. It's been a long day. I'm dangerously hormonal right now. Also, I bought more yarn at the store today. Let's see, how many projects does that make that I'm taking back to SD with me, and I've got how many that are in various stages of completion? I lost count, that's how many. Although I am almost positive that I still own more books than crafts, so that's a happy plus.

Although, we had 18 cartons of Books when we moved from coast to coast. This number has gone down slightly since then- but we've also accumulated lots of other things. In any case, I'm currently not worrying about it. That's one more thing I don't have to think about tonight.

I'm still going to lay awake feeling bloated and craving pizza, though.

Off in the hinterlands

A fun trip through the back country roads and the wilds of Berks County, where live the wild and heathenish people who- gasp- still farm. With, like, tractors that are smaller than a barn. And real cows. Grazing placidly in a meadow, where black yappy dogs run around to wag their tails and sniff the visitors. We took Tiff to Reninger's farmer's market, and the Wooden Bridge dry goods store, and the Bestest Cheesesteak Shop in the state, and then we went to the Kutztown U bookstore. Cause our commemorative t-shirts had worn out.

I tell you, I really don't need more needlework on my pile of Stuff to Do Before I Die, but they had just enough packages of an embroidered southern belle with parasol and flowers and a big swishy skirt (packs of quilt blocks, doncha know?) that I could get them and squirrel them away to make for Tiffany for when she's older. The first rule of needlecrafts is that if you once see something that's completely perfect for you/someone you love, if you don't buy it there on the spot you'll never see it anywhere for the rest of your life.

I'm feeling, well, happily domestic at the moment. Not sure why. Maybe it's the sweet baby-head smell I got to cuddle this afternoon before she took a nap in my arms. Maybe it's that time of month and I'm all hormonal and stuff. Maybe I should shut up and just enjoy this moment while it's here.

another day

Once again I'm sitting here mildly concerned with the goldfish cracker budget. It's almost payday, which is why I'm stressing. No matter how well we do it always seems as though the money is spent before it hits the account- not spent in the overdrawn sense, spent in the promised sense. At least we're still in the black...

I'm excited about the current promotion with my "wellness products". If I enroll four people this month there's a bonus that would take care of two whole car payments. I think that there's one person in my immediate contact list that would be interested, but I'm trying so hard not to get my hopes up about it. At any rate, I can definately say that this stuff is worth my time and energy in using- free of fumes, SO worth it when it comes to cleaning up baby-byproducts. I don't have to wait until she's contained in another room to use it. And should we have another baby sometime down the road, it'll be better for him/her in the preemie sense.

If anybody reads and wants to know more about these products, drop me a line. I promise I won't pimp them to you, I'll just answer your questions and try to help.

once upon a moonbeam

Once upon a time in a land far, far away from California, a stubborn little one year old girl fell asleep. Or at least that's how the story should go. If I had my way, it would be written in permanent ink on the crib so that she'd remember it. Given our luck, she'd slurp the ink off and make a permanent stain on her chin.

Take one stubborn little girl, one stubborn mama, and one stubborn grandma. Sprinkle in a smidgeon of patience, a heap of giggles, and a plate of ravioli. Stir. Gently rinse with warm water. Wrap in a blankie and tuck into bed with a kiss. That's how it should go every night, like a story. Not like a three ring circus of Mama moaning "I'm tired." and Grandma taking a well-deserved nap before she rises again to wrangle the toddler so that Mama can go back to sleep and nurse her sore tummy.

Through it all I see the shining eyes of my baby girl, and I hear her giggles as I fall asleep, and it makes me smile no matter how achy or crappy I feel.

Pool!

Today Tiffany was introduced to the wonders that is a swimming pool in southeastern PA in July. Love at first splash. At last, a place where she can splash her fingers and tootsies in comfort without her mother screaming at her to "Get that out of the toilet!!!"

I use three exclamation points here, because, as Terry Pratchett once pointed out, using four or more constitutes a diseased and deranged mind.

We had a wonderful time playing. A wonderful time that will be eclipsed by tonight's wonderful time sleeping. She's going to sleep SO GOOD now that she's tired out, and I'm going to get some much needed early bedtime myself.

If she ever stops wailing... not my fault. The tv is having a personality crisis this week. The little gizmo that controls the volume is busted. Periodically it goes off and raises the volume to MAXIMUM sound, thus startling the heck out of anyone in the house. This is able to be corrected about 50 percent of the time. The other 50 percent, the only two options are to wait it out or turn it back off. I was nowhere near the tv when it did this, five minutes ago. I did not wake up the baby. Therefore, I feel no desire to get off the Net and soothe her back to sleep. Besides, she's nearly asleep anyway. It's more a protest at this point.

(Quick- babies everywhere unite! Raise your picket signs and sing songs of solidarity. Let's end the oppression of bedtime!)

Surprisingly enough, Mommy doesn't need a nap at this point. A heating pad for the cramps and a gallon of herbal tea for her anxiety-ridden stomach, but not a nap. This is a good thing.

Virtuous me

Virtues. I got em. Somewhere. Today at this minute it's hard to keep that in mind because I want to jump up and down and up and down. I keep repeating "Patience is a virtue". This is my theme song for the day.

The retreat this morning was very cool. Much needed, and I didn't know how much I really did need to go completely quiet and still the restlessness in my heart until I was sitting by the pond and watching dragonflies cruise for snacks.

I'm going to go cuddle my toddler now. It's bedtime. I love her.

Sunday Book Review

For this week I read "Help! I'm being intimidated by the Proverbs 31 woman!". Otherwise known as That Woman. It was a really funny book and helped me clarify the things that I should stop fussing over.

I'm not going to be a perfect wife or mother. I'm just human. Everybody here is human, and we've all made mistakes, and if we're REALLY REALLY fortunate we'll never see those mistakes on the 6 o'clock news or the Jerry Springer show. At least, that's my constant prayer when I look down at my toddler's big blue eyes and realize that Um, WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING when I thought that motherhood was such a great option.

It is, though. She's still in the Mommy is God stage, and I hate to disillusion her of it but we're going to have to at some point. Otherwise I'm going to have a very critical sitdown with the priest after Sunday School one of these years.

Take joy in your imperfections. They mostly just irritate me, but I'm trying to see the bright part in them. They make me who I am. They make me more loveable than Martha Stewart's Public Image. Best of all, it's why my Boy fell in love with me and continues to do so on a regular basis.

thought for the day

Just because a person is 29, doesn't mean they're too old for their mothers to arrange a playdate for them. It just means that it's nice when the 29 year old in question is consulted first.

*I was, and I did, and I am. And I'm looking forward to my playdate tomorrow.

life in a bubble

I recently found out that due to current politcal events, the combat-designated hazardous duty zone that my husband is currently in is actually safer now than certain other parts of the world. This explains why I haven't heard much from him the past week beyond, "everything's fine, I'm alive"

I could think of it as a drawback to being unplugged from the 24/7 cable newsfeed and the always-on Net connection. The realities of dialup at my mom's house mean that I live with once-a-day checking of email, my Net habits are greatly curtailed, and I don't watch much more than 2 hours of tv at most per day. This is not a bad thing. It's good for all of us to unplug from time to time and just enjoy life. Play with your kids. Watch them grow. Get your butt off the living room floor and out into the grass in the shade of a tree. Especially when the summer's here, and the weather's perfect for going outside, and even more especially because these days are all too short.

In a few short weeks I'll go back to the daily grind of Knowing. I'll be reading the news everyday instead of deleting the emailed highlights that I get from the Washington Post and never even logging onto CNN. I'll be aware of the risks facing our armed forces in a way that only life in a military town/community can make you. It's not just some Thing on the news, when I'm home in San Diego. It's the Thing that may mean that my husband will be away for a lot of the next several years. It's the thing that may mean that he'll be in harm's way, and that communication will be severely restricted.

It's the Thing that means a lot of other women's husbands will be shot at and may never EVER come home again.

A good friend of mine reminded me of the Shipwives' wisdom last night when she told me to enjoy my bubble for the time being. The political reality will be there when I come back. The peace of mind that comes with being able to sleep at night and not worry that my Boy comes back safe... that's all too easily broken sometimes.

there I was, ravioli in my hair and entering a second childhood

When I was young and my mom babysat for my cousin Emil, she would often read us stories and fill in our names for the names of the characters. One of the favorites at the time was the Tale of Two Bad Mice. When I was reading to Tiff this afternoon we got to that story, and I automatically started saying "the Tale of Emil T. and Mary E." And then it hit me. Now that he's a proud daddy, is he going to start remembering this sort of thing? I wonder if he'll do the name switch for his little girl. Him and I are, of course, too mature and grownup to be two bad mice.

Our daughters, however, are not.

oooh, I know what I'm getting her for Christmas this year. The tale of Kathryn M. and Tiffy A.

gourmet on a budget

If you're like most of my readers, or most of the people I know, you get awfully tired of finding new and creative ways to stretch that grocery dime. Here's something I ran across on the Net a while back, and modified it to fit my personal needs and tastes. I haven't run the numbers, but I think this could be made for a family of five or six for under .50 a serving... and the best part is that it's extremely yummy.

tomato-basil pasta

1. boil some pasta
2. dice 1 to 2 tomatoes, depending on how many you need to feed. For dinner tonight I used 1.5 tomatoes, and there were three people with leftovers.
3. to the diced tomatoes, add a handful of fresh basil, chopped.
4. if you put steps 2 and 3 in a plastic bowl, you can then add 2 Tbsp olive oil, and 2Tbsp red wine vinegar, snap on the lid, and shake vigorously.

you could probably do step 4 in a large ziploc bag as well...

then spoon the results over your cooked pasta, sprinkle with parmesan cheese, and eat.

If anybody tries this at home, let me know how it worked for you.

rain rain go away

Back home we pray for rain. We love it and fear it and see it in a rosy light because we so seldom get it. Here, it's different. Here, it's getting wierd. Here, it's getting to flood stages, to the wierd place of wet air and wet grass. I'm not used to the grass being green at this time of year anymore. I've grown accustomed to it being brown and crunchy in most places, with the sprinkler circles of bright, bright green where the only water hits.

I am glad for the rain. I missed hearing the rain sounds on the window in the middle of the night, which soothes me back to sleep. Tiffany has never really known it. And yet... I long for the desert and the mountains and the ocean that I can see and smell all in one breath.

Happy Fourth

When Daddy comes sailing home again, hurrah, hurrah
We'll take the yellow ribbons in, hurrah, hurrah!
See them dancing in the street
Daddy will sweep Mommy off her feet
And we'll all be glad when
Daddy comes sailing home again...

feels like a munday

Well, at least it started out that way. Now all of a sudden my mothers are here and have taken over with Tiffany, and I've been temporarily given a vacation. I'm not complaining just yet. When I'm done here I'm going to have lunch. By Myself. Without a small person gnawing on my kneecap. oooh. I must have done something right recently.

Tonight is the Gestational Birthday Party, complete with tiki torches and hawaiin leis. And grass skirts. As you might surmise, it's a luau theme. I don't know how it happened, I was on the other side of the country when this was planned. I'm trying to keep my nose out of it, and will have a wonderful time.

And if this Tired Toddler decides to be up with Mommy trying to play every two hours tonight, she may end up being shipped priority mail to her Daddy, who will be informed that it's His turn now to get up with her in the middle of the night.

tales from the living room, Part One

"There comes a time in everyone's life when they finally say to themselves, I need a diorama."

"Okkkaaayyyyyy."

"Yes. Especially when reading certain scenes. You can just feel the dramatic tension and it would help set the stage for later in the plot."


...This is someone I love. Names and certain details may be changed for the protection of the reputation of those involved.

Sunday Review

I'm taking a dive back into Terry Pratchett this week. The blend of comic satire and really funny stuff is perfect for lightening my mood and keeping my frame of mind perfectly in harmony with vacation time. And isn't summer vacation the time for reading? Let us not let our brains turn to mush with endless repetitions of the same plot with crappy dialogue and stale humor. At least, not without a good reason for doing so.

Thud! was a very good read. So good that the stanzas of "Where's My Cow?" have gone through my brain nearly every day since I first picked it up last year. I've even ordered the spinoff picture book of "Where's My Cow" for Tiffany. My evil plan is to evesdrop on her Daddy reading that to her when he comes back home. I picked it up again on impulse at the local library because I knew it was good, it was THAT good, and I wanted an easy read that wouldn't strain any of those brain muscles late at night. I have to admit, it was even better than I remembered. That doesn't happen often for me.

So pick up your own copy and settle in for some laughs. It's worth it.