Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Baby Girl Engelbrecht

Well there she is. Yes, she. I know it's a girl, so don't even bother trying to rain on my parade. You can't bring me down. SO...what are the odds that the WORST ob ever (not bc she's a bad doc or anything, just bc she has ZERO personality, and she's just sort of icky) would come out here? I mean, let's round down and say there were about thirty docs I worked with on the labor deck at Portsmouth. So what are the odds that this particular doc would come to Guam? And what are the odds that I would go out of my way to make my appt with the COOLEST doc ever, who also came out here from Portsmouth? And then that said COOLEST doc ever would be MIA and I'd have to see Dr. No Personality instead? And OF COURSE, it had to be THIS particular appt, where she had to violate me in every way imaginable, to get this picture? And THEN, she tore off the GOOD pics and stuck them in my chart and handed me the crappy shot you see above? That's because she knows I don't like her. She was all professional and fine and dandy, but still. She had to know I was one of the (many many MANY) nurses who groaned every time we came in and saw her name on the board.
Anyway. That's my baby. I still can't believe I'm pregnant. I keep forgetting, and then I'll be like "ooohh, that's right, I'm pregnant! HOORAY!!!" So that's sort of fun. Like finding out every few days, and finding out is pretty exciting, right?
Well, Nick is home, hopefully for a little over a month. He ran off the boat yesterday and had time to make it to my appt with me. As long as the ultrasound tech is cooperative with the schedule, he should also be able to go to my twenty week scan too, that way he can finally believe me when I tell him it's a girl. I'm not holding my breath though. The guy is supposed to call me to schedule it, and thus far, in my Guam experiences, that sort of thing rarely happens unless you stay on top of it. They really do do things differently out here...
Anyway. Not much to say. This last week was hell, the kids are even more out of control than usual, and if Nick hadn't come home on time, I probably would have had to drop them off with someone and drowned myself in the ocean. So good thing he made it.
I did, however, take a quick (and holy cow, EXPENSIVE) break on Saturday to go see Inception. I, obviously, loved it. Just my kind of thing. Not the hugest (is that a word?) Ellen Page fan, and she super sucked in this, but other than that it was EXQUISITE. Did she really just say exquisite? Yes, I did, because that's the best way to describe this movie. It really was. Tommy from Third Rock was perfect, as he always is, and this other guy who I don't know, he played Eames? He was really really good too. And Leo...what can I say. I was one of the millions in junior high with his picture from Teen Beat taped up in my locker, face covered with lipstick kisses. I just loved him, and I still do. How has he NOT won an Oscar yet? Oh yeah, because the Oscars suck. Sorry Grandma June, they're just not any good anymore.
Anyway. Hopefully now that Nick's home I can post more. Because I know you (four) are dying for some updates.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Flashback Friday

Today, I almost had it down to one pic. BUT, we all know that's never going to happen. At least I got it down to one week. Here's Ava, five weeks old. Cue the "awwwwww"s.

Now, I know that since I have a uterus and a pair of ovaries, I'm supposed to be all weepy over little teeny tiny babies, all oohhhs and awwws and the works. But truthfully...I'm just not that into them. Not when they're THAT little. Human babies are born TOO EARLY. It's because they're brains are so big, they have to be born early so they'll fit. I learned that in my human development class. Four years at Auburn-that's the one factoid I took with me. Sigh.

Anyway. Just born puppies? Fat and cuddly and cute. Just born kittens? Doubly cute, once they're dried off. Just born human babies? Long, scrawny, huge heads, skinny arms, bulging bellies, chicken thankyou. And why are their legs always pulled up like a frog? I mean, I know WHY, but still. You're not in there anymore, stretch your legs out! And open your hands!

And seriously, guy who taught my human development class? (Because you know, I'm sure he reads my blog...) They're born too early to keep their heads small and THIS is as small as it gets? IT'S AS BIG AS THE REST OF HER BODY!!!!

Thank goodness my husband has a fondness for those scrawny little runts. When I'm the only woman in a room not clamoring to hold someone's fresh-from-the-hospital baby, no one notices because everyone thinks it's "SO WONDERFUL" that Nick is all over the drowned rat. Again, no thankyou, he can have it.

Fortunately, even when they're all elbows and knees, you can cover them up with a super cute, although totally unnecessary, snowsuit and pretend you caught a picture of their first wave.

Incidentally, the photo above was taken the first and only time I've ever gone to visit my husband on the sub. That was when he was on the Scranton. The best boat ever. Man, if only I'd known how good that boat was. Jane, if you're reading this: WE MISS YOU AND YOUR HUSBAND MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW.

And, as long as we're "flashing back," remember that old commercial (I'm assuming for a cell phone, but I don't actually remember) where the guy calls his dad collect and says "First name Bob, last name WeadddababeEeeetsaboy." And the dad hangs up on him without taking the call and turns to his wife and says "That was Bob. They had a baby. It's a boy." Man, that was a good one.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Thursdays Random Thoughts

Up first: The Navy. And how it sucks. Yes, I'm sure that if Nick had a different job, I'd find a reason to complain about that too. Suddenly, going to live in Stuart and work for his dad is looking more and more like a better idea. Why'd we say no to that again? Who can remember. But the Navy....ah, the Navy. The boat's been gone for like a month. And they were supposed to come home on Tuesday, for at least a month. And then it got bumped to Wednesday. And THEN it got bumped to a two hour visit to the pier and then back out, either for a week or six. Who knows. Not them, and not me. Good thing he got me my three stone ring last year on our anniversary, because that may very well end up being the only one we EVER spend together. At least until we hit our seventeenth, in which case we will be out of the Navy for good and hopefully we can dump all the kids somewhere and go somewhere fun. Come on lucky seventeen!!!

Second. Are movies ridiculously long nowadays? Back in the day, when I was little and had to hike up hill both ways in the snow with no shoes to get to school every day, movies were normal. Ninety minutes, with the epics lasting a good two hours, but still manageable, and usually worth it. Every single time I race to the mailbox for my surprise Netflix envelope (you never know when the mailman will come to work out here, and I have seven thousand movies in my que {is that what's it's called? that doesn't look right} so I never know what I'm going to get, so it's such a fun surprise-do I really sound like that much of a loser?) the movies are always two and a half or three hours long. Seriously. Who was two and a half hours to watch a movie? It takes me three days. I get an hour at naps, then I can usually make it about another hour after the kids go to bed, then I have to spend the next day rewatching most of it because I forget what's happened, and then I can finish it off the third day at naptime. That's a LOT of work for entertainment. And I LOVE movies! So this seriously disturbs me. Am I just renting the wrong movies? Are there good short movies out there? The last short movie I got was Jumper and it really really really sucked. So...there's that. I have Inglorious Bastards (I refuse to misspell something on PURPOSE people!) and I'm so intimidated by it, I haven't even tried to watch it. It's like two hours forty minutes. Groan.

I got a flat tire yesterday. Through no fault of my own. It just went flat, all by itself. I certainly did hit a curb while speeding through the gate. It just went flat! And, even though my father taught me how to change a tire, and I actually changed one once in college, I totally panicked and called Laura and made her do it. Even though she cut her thumb off last weekend and she was grimacing in pain and dripping blood from her hand while she did it. So my rant here is this: it happened at the gate, and I pulled to a stop ten feet past the gate. Which is guarded by fifteen Navy guys standing around in the gatehouse not checking IDs while a line backs up past the traffic light. And no one came to help me, while I turned on my hazards and tore my van apart trying to get to the spare tire. (They're not in the trunk like on TV, it's under the front seats. Huh??? How is THAT convenient?) No one came to help when Laura showed up, parked even closer to the gate, and turned on her hazards while she literally sweat blood to change that friggin tire. NOOO, they show up when she's HALFWAY DONE, because someone ELSE called them and asked why there was a van dumping trash right outside the gate. WHAT THE HELL!?!? Call me old fashioned, but one of the perks of being in the military community is that people go out of their way to LEND A HELPING HAND. You know? Those **ckers should have come right out and changed that damn tire.

And, when they finally showed up, when Laura was halfway done? They stood there talking to each other while she finished up, and drove away before we had a chance to unjack the car. Go Navy.

Friday Night Lights finally got nominated for some Emmy's!!! I heart me some Kyle Chandler ya'll. Talk about the best show that no one watches. I love that show. And, although I tried to resist, and I denied it even after I realized it had happened, I love me some Dirty Tim Riggins. Mmmm.

I drank five bottles of Blue Gatorade yesterday. Strangest thing. Four pregnancies, four identical, insatiable cravings for Blue Gatorade. Yes, I know it's called something besides Blue, but I don't really care. I grab the Blue bottle (doesn't matter if it's light or dark, although, given the choice, I prefer the dark) and down it in two goes. And I don't drink it any other time. Hello, it's the same calories as a real Coke, and I'd MUCH rather have that. But being pregnant, I dunno. I could drink it by the gallon.

And I happen to LOVE Gatorade commercials. I mean, they are the BEST. Sometimes, I even get a little choked up. Angela, remember when we were at Fernwood and the Gatorade commercial was the Love Hurts one where that girl is doing a backwards cartwheel on a balance beam and she falls off and sort of lands on her face, on the beam? Ouch. Loved that one. And out here, now they have this new one where it's like the History of Hydration, how people used to drink water and now they drink Gatorade, and it's all these famous athletes (I have no idea who they are, I'm not much for sports) drinking the different types of Gatorade.

Which leads me to: thank God I didn't understand that it's called Gatorade because it was invented by some guy at the University of Florida for their football players. Because I love a good ad campaign THAT MUCH, and because it was an option for my ROTC scholarship, I probably would have gone to Gainesville instead of Auburn. And what a sorry state my life would be in if I hadn't gone to Auburn. Can you even IMAGINE!

So that's what I've been thinking about today. Scary, right?

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Proof That I Do More Than Cry in my Shower and Bite My Babies...

Haven't been taking my camera everywhere with me lately, because I'm still bummed that I haven't learned how to use it yet. I mean, it's been over a year since I got it. And I'm still in auto mode. I took it out and tried to put it on full manual, so that I could adjust the aperture AND the shutter speed, but I have not idea how to actually DO the adjusting. Like, aside from knowing HOW to set everything, like what numbers, I actually couldn't figure out how to actually SPIN the dial down for aperture. Alls I got was shutter speed. So that was frustrating. And by the time I got home, no way was I going to try to find the manual and look it up. Although I probably should. Knowing how to use the buttons on the camera is probably a good first step to learning how to take a great picture, right?

So these shots are from yesterday, outside in the backyard. And both boys got sunburned! I feel AWFUL!!! I never think about sunscreen in the yard, because 90% of our yard is covered by a carport. And they ALWAYS set up the pool under it. Yesterday though, even though I was right there the whole time (reading the rest of my book, I finally finished Mom!) they inched the pool out a little at a time until they were in the sun, and I didn't really realize. They were still under the carport, the sun like slanted in or something. I dunno.

Here's Warren, pushing Scott around on the car. Whatever. Boys are so weird.

When the pool isn't enough, you gotta put the sprinkler right there, so you get two for one.

Putting 'gas' in the jeep. Here's hoping they never get that hose near the gas cap in my van...

And it just wouldn't be the Engelbrechts if I didn't have a hiney picture. And yes, in case you're wondering, he DOES having a bathing suit. But why have to deal with having THREE wet suits to pick up after they throw them on the bathroom floor when I can just do two? And come ON, how cute is he?

These beach pics are actually from two different trips, but they're all wearing the same clothes, so I guess it doesn't matter, right?
"Wherever I was going...I was RUNNING!" C'mon Dad, name that movie.

Someone at school took pity on Ava and did her hair the other day. I've always wanted to learn how to french braid, and now that I've seen her like this, I really HAVE to figure it out. Anyone willing to teach me?

Here is Ava with sweet Will, her boyfriend from school. Will's daddy is technically our daddy's boss, but they don't seem to care about any of that business.

And this is Will's little bro, Chris. Look at that hair! That was my plan for my boys. You see how that one worked out.

This is Ellyssa, draggin Ava in a boat. Why is she pulling Ava? Is Ava some sort of prima donna who can't just get out and swim? What a weirdo. Guess girls are weird too. Ellyssa's daddy works with Nick too, and her mama is one of the people who kept me from throwing myself off a cliff when I first moved here.

Guess he's on a boat too.

Not as cute as a bare hiney, but a hiney covered in sand is pretty cute too, right?

So there you go. We do leave the house, occasionally. In fact, I'm homebound now less than I have been in four and a half years, since Warren is finally starting to give up his morning nap. Just when I finally get a taste of freedom...I'll be homebound for REAL by February. Sigh.

Friday, July 16, 2010

Now I'm SUPER Famous!

You can say "I knew her when..."

So anyone who reads blogs knows how easy it is to lose three or four hours of your life. You go to the blog you're reading, you read a few posts, then you notice on the right hand side of her page that she's got a bunch of link to other blogs. So you follow one that seems interesting, read a few posts there, then follow a link on her page that takes you to ANOTHER one. And on and on and on. I don't know how I stumbled across Holly, but I remember when. I was a "work," after I'd started at the AIC. I had a fantastic HN who always took the initiative (in other words, did my job for me) and I had just set up a four hour infusion, with no one else in any of my chairs. In other words, I had a LOT of time on my hands, time I had to spend in the room since I had chemo flowing, but not necessarily paying attention. But don't tell my boss I said that.

So I read a few of her current posts, then I went back to when she started her blog and read them all, in order. She had FOUR kids. At the time, I only had two, so this was muy impressive. She stayed at home with them. She didn't send them to preschool. She didn't seem to be ridiculously wealthy (I refuse to read the blog's of rich people, I don't know why). She was FUNNY, and HONEST, and didn't talk about things like how clean her house was, or making homemade peach ice cream. In other words, she had the perfect blog!

I stalked her from afar for (literally) years, before finally leaving a comment. And she commented back, and then I commented back, and now we're friends, even though we've never actually met. Isn't that crazy? I sometimes write posts just because I want to hear what she'll say about it. She's got five now (no thankyou) and she's still just as overwhelmed and down to earth as ever. She also started another blog, this one less personal, more professional. And...asked me to write a post for it!!! Isn't that INSANE?!?!?!

Although terrified, I did it. I mean, it's not even the real world, so what's to be scared of, right? And if you wanna check it out, here ya go. Check out the professional website, because it's good, full of helpful hints and things like that, but to REALLY get to know Holly, you HAVE to check out her blog. It's just great. It'll make you wish YOU could be her online bestie too. But too bad, that position's already been filled :) Holly, when Nick and I retire and live on Lake Martin, you better watch out. Because we're coming over for dinner. A lot.

Flashback Friday

I don't know who looks stupider. Uh, I mean, cuter. I don't know who looks cuter!
-May 2007 (Ava, 18mos Scott, 6weeks)
And yes, stupider is a word.

Thursday, July 15, 2010


You can cancel the suicide watch. I stopped sobbing long enough to put away the food in the kitchen and eat a kitkat while I watched an NCIS rerun. Okay, two kitkats. And I even decided that taking the trash down wasn't actually going to end life as I knew it, so I did that too. That's it- the house is still a wreck, but the big kids are in school tomorrow and I can try to work on it then.

AND THEN, I got online to look for an email from my husband (no such luck, naturally) and I found out that I'm actually probably a little famous! Check it out! Ya'll know how I hop around reading people's blogs all day, right? Well, it all started with this girl Robin. We went to nursing school together, and it was neat because she was married, like me! It's sort of hard to find married people in college, in case you were wondering. We didn't like have sleepovers or braid each other's hair or anything, but we were friends on facebook, and that's how I found my very first blog. And it was a good one, and none have really lived up to it so far. Her first post I read was about a mama-pedicure, how it takes five days and never really gets done...I'm not doing it justice. It was hilarious. I read it on my phone one day while I was waiting in line at the midtown tunnel and it just made me laugh and laugh and laugh. And then I finally made it to work, and that's when I discovered this whole blogging world.

Anyway. Robin interviews people and puts it on her blog, and she interviewed ME!!! I thought she was joking when she asked, because she usually does real people, but she said she was serious, so I did it, and wonder of all wonders, when I got online tonight, she had posted it! Seriously, I can't believe it. And I sound like an idiot, and I wasn't going to post the link, but I want to because I want you to see her blog and get to "meet" her, so here it is, my very first guest apparence on someone else's blog. Don't read my interview, but look around her website. It's pretty friggin funny. Even though I'm a little jealous that she's got my dream of three little blond, curly headed daughters. I'll try to find the post about the pedicure...ahh, you knew I'd come thru for you. Here it is.

And fine, it was three kitkats. Lemme alone already! I'm getting a tummy-tuck-boob-job-butt-and-thigh-lipo after I have this kid, so cut me some fricking slack, a'ight?

You're Hereby Invited to my Pity Party

Worst day ever. Seriously.

And it started out so great. I think that makes it even worse. I'd rather just have it start out crappy. Starting out good, that's just playing dirty. That gives you a false sense of security, setting you up for the kill shot. Hitting below the belt.

But it did start off nice. Big kids woke up at five thirty, even though they were up forty five minutes past their bedtime last night. But I gave them some lucky charms to dump all over the living room floor and turned on noggin and went back to bed, and they left me alone until seven twenty. And in their defense, they would have kept leaving me alone, it was the baby who got me up. And once I'm up, the big kids suddenly NEED MAMA, even though they've been doing fine all morning long.

Got them to school, got home and read a little of my book (SO GOOD!!!) and did a HUGE amount of cleaning. Huge for me anyway. I got all three bedrooms and my bathroom done, and seriously, we're talking about three straight hours here. It felt good, I was in a great mood, the baby was laughing and having a good ole time...I shoulda known better. I really should have.

When we got home from school, things started going downhill fast. They were both sleeping HARD at school (since they'd been up since FIVE THIRTY) and I inadvertently woke them both up while trying to schlep them to the van. WHICH, as long as I'm devoting my post to a pity party, smells like cat urine because I left the van door open last night and there were six cats in there when we went out this morning.


So we're outside playing, and Scott is throwing rocks at the baby. And we're not talking pebbles here, we're talking rocks as big as my foot. And I'm a nine and a half. All right, I'm a ten. I don't even know how he lifted those suckers. He hadn't managed to hit the baby yet, so I say "SCOTT!!!! If you throw ONE MORE ROCK I'm gonna take you inside and beat your butt!" And, in true Scott fashion as of late, he looked me right in the eye and chucked another one right towards that baby.

So I snatch him up and take him to the kitchen and spank his hiney and throw him in his room and go on about my day. Which includes making dinner, in my grossly unsanitary and disorganized kitchen. And dinner which, by the way, no one eats but me. As usual. And while I'm making dinner, Scott grabs Warren by the forearm and proceeds to chomp down on it.

What the hell is wrong with that kid?

Well now I've just about had it, so I grab him and start screaming at him. Which, obviously, does no good. I always said I wouldn't be a screamer, because I know from personal experience that it doesn't work. So I said "You wanna bite people? I'm gonna bite you!" (He had bitten Ava on the calf outside, right before the rock incident, and when she came sobbing to me I told her to work it out herself, either bite him back or stop playing where he could reach her. What kind of mother says that to her kid?) And so I bit him, and dragged him to his room.

So after dinner (that no one ate but me) we're cleaning the playroom. It's not even that messy. But no one is doing anything productive, so after thousands of empty threats, I start loading up the garbage bags with all the stuff on the floor. And Scott looks me right in the eye AGAIN and says "I don't care if you throw it away. I don't like you." So then I REALLY lost it. Spanked his little butt (which apparently doesn't bother him either) and shove him into his jammies and throw him in bed.

So Ava's sobbing because it scares her when I'm screaming (duh! some crazy lady roaring at the top of her lungs would scare me too!) and she doesn't like for Scott to be in trouble, and because Warren has gotten ahold of my spanking spoon and is clocking her in the head with it. Does it ever end?

So I finally get Ava and Warren down too, and my kitchen is such a freaking mess and my house smells horrible and my kids hate me and I'm the EXACT kind of mother I swore I'd never be, and I want to just crawl into bed, but there's seriously food ALL OVER the place, and we have bugs and lizards and ants and it doesn't matter anyway, because no matter how early you go to bed, five thirty always feels like five thirty. So I climb into the shower, and I'm literally sobbing and carrying on like a crazy person (which I obviously am) and Ava comes in and asks me to take her ponytail out. Because obviously I didn't do baths tonight.

Seriously? Take your ponytail out? I know it's not her fault, and that she's not selfish, and she has no idea how upset I am, let alone why, so I take it out and bring her back to bed (dripping shampoo and water all over the floors I just mopped) and get back in the shower and cry even harder.

And there's nothing I can do about it.

I can't call anyone back home because it's three in the morning. I can't call anyone here because the two friends I've made don't know that I'm a lunatic yet. I just want someone to come over and give me a hug and watch Friends with me. And maybe I'll let them have some of my Cold Stone I got last weekend.

Why did we have to move to the wrong side of the world? Why didn't they give us a house on base, where I would have at least had a chance at making a few friends? Why did I have to fall in love with someone who works underwater, where they don't have phones? I mean, COME ON!!! They have phones in the Amazon jungle these days! Why are my kids so fricking naughty, even though I try and try and try to be patient? Why can't they follow the ONLY rules we have? WE ONLY HAVE TWO!!!!!!

I gotta tell you, right now, knowing that I have to drag the big trashcan down to the's pretty bleak over here. Knowing that between five and six tomorrow, those kids are going to walk up to me like today never even happened, and ask me to wipe their butts and get them some more lucky charms...I don't know how I'm going to do it.

And PS, for anyone who thinks it might be helpful to me if you were to say You gotta cherish these years, you're gonna miss it when it's gone- DO NOT DO IT. I will end you. I swear to God, I'll see you dead. No one cherishes this. No one misses this. People who say they do, they either didn't have more than one toddler, or they're just stupid. I mean it. I'll stop your heart.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Ohhh, Ava

Well, it's finally happening. After four and a half long years, she's finally starting to fight her afternoon naps. You know how I'm always blogging about what a difficult baby Warren is? Well, as difficult as HE is/was, Ava was twice that in easiness. Yes, the first twelve weeks were rough, but as soon as I calmed down, she did too. She settled into two two hour naps a day, plus sleeping ten to twelve hours a night. She gave up one nap shortly after Scott was born, so I guess she was about eighteen months, but her afternoon nap stretched to about three hours. And she kept that up until last week.

So yeah, to say the very least, no matter how difficult my days have been over the last four and a half years, I've always had two to three hours of peace and quiet to look forward to. Every. Single. Afternoon. Yeah, it was annoying back when Dub wasn't napping well, but still, I just had him, because the big kids were napping. So it wasn't even that bad.

But now, I fear, dear readers, that is coming to an end. She goes into her room willingly, and then plays quietly for a while, and then she gets loud and starts coming out. Nine times out of ten, after an hour of yelling at her to get back in her room and read her books or play with her baby, anything as long as she's quiet and LEAVES ME ALONE!! what was I saying? Oh yeah, usually at the hour mark when I go in to tell her she can come out, she's fallen asleep on the floor or in the closet or halfway under the bed on her Dora couch. So, she's obviously still a little tired. She must need a nap, at least some of the time. And if I'd let her, she'd sleep for two and half hours, so that would take us to five o'clock. And yeah, I'll admit, I've done that once or twice. Or more. But I know I need to wake her butt up or she'll never go to bed. Then she'll sleep in (yeah right) and not want to nap the next day.

Sigh. I know everyone out there with normal kids who don't nap are just rolling their eyes and saying "shut up, you had four and a half years!!!" but this is a HUGE deal for me! I NEED that afternoon time! Especially now! I'm not half as tired as I was with Warren (isn't that weird?) but I'm pretty friggin tired. Even when I don't nap, I always just lay on the couch and relax while they're out. I can't give that up, at least for another four weeks or so, after I get out of the horrible first trimester. And what is she supposed to do all afternoon? Ugh.

Monday, July 5, 2010

4th of July

Guess who's daddy came home for a surprise three day visit? Wait, before you guess that, guess who's big kids are playing in the playroom, quietly, together, peacefully, and have been for over an hour? And they're not even coloring the walls or sneaking a box of lucky charms, they're just building a tower of legos?!?!?! I know, right, those can't be Engelbrechts in there, no way, jose. Remember that? Angela said that to me the other day, and it put a smile on my tired face. No way, jose.
Anyway. Did you guess? It was OUR daddy who came home. I went to the movies on Thursday, leaving the kids at school an extra two hours, and leaving Dub at the CDC for almost SIX HOURS, and while I felt guilty about leaving him (he was a hot mess when I left) I didn't feel THAT guilt. And I had a blast at the show. What was I talking about? Oh yeah, I went to the movies, and on the ride home, I got a call, saying the guys would be home the next day. Now, this phone call is all official, we have a "phone tree" and all kinds of secretive stuff, because when they pull in has to be kept quiet because we don't want any crazies heading down the the pier with a backpack full of C4 or anything, but my 'official phone tree caller' happens to be my friend Laura, so I assumed she was just kidding. But, eventually, she convinced me she wasn't. Okay, she didn't convince me. But the girl I was with called her phone tree contact, and got the same message, so I finally became a believer.

What am I talking about? How do I keep getting so sidetracked? I'm waiting for my pics to upload, so I'm just going on and on and on! Sheesh.

So, Nick came home for the weekend. I took an amazing two hour nap on Saturday, we went out to eat Mexican food, we went shopping on base (not as fun as it sounds, trust me) and ate out again for dinner, and the kids never said one single word to me all weekend. In other words, it was HEAVEN.

We went to the base 4th of July shindig (hence the cute pics I'm STILL waiting for) and that was pretty fun, in a cheesey, little kid sort of way, until Scott got lost. In four and a half years of parenting, I've never lost a kid before. And it was just as terrifying as you'd think, maybe even a little more so because we were SURROUNDED on three sides by water. But there were tons of people on the beaches, and I (probably incorrectly, but I refuse to consider that now) assumed that if he'd fallen in, someone would have done me a solid and fished him out. Nick finally found him, a hundred yards from where he'd started, wandering around. When Nick picked him up, he said "Hey daddy, I was looking for you!" He wasn't scared, or scarred, or anything. I've always told them, if they EVER get lost, to find another woman, a lady who looks like she might be a mommy, not a man who looks like a daddy, and tell her that they're lost and need help. BUT, he didn't know he was lost. So that wasn't very helpful. Poor guy.
And now Nick's back under water and we're back to real life. School is closed for the holiday, the fridge is completely empty, and nap time feels like it may never come. But we'll get through it, just like we alwys do. Right?


Thursday, July 1, 2010

Warren Wants to Tell Everyone Sumpin'

Although it's no secret to anyone who's seen me lately, falling asleep mid-sentence, or finishing off an entire pizza with a side of...another pizza.

What can I say. I'm tired. And hungry.

And it better be a girl this time.