Saturday, August 27, 2011

Yada Yada Prayers

I have seventeen things on my to-do list today.  Which might not be a lot for normal people, but it's a WAY lot for this gal.  And I'm not in the mood to do ANYTHING.  The girl from two doors down is over, so all my bigs are entertained, and the baby is sleeping off her five am wakeup, so I have free time. And I don't want to spend it 'unloading dishwasher' or 'putting away clothes' or 'clearing counter.' So I grabbed my pen and squeezed 'put up blog post' way at the top of the list. Ha! Take that, ambition! I outsmarted myself.  Now I can sit on the computer wasting time AND check something off my list!!! I'm so clever it's scary.
This totally craptastic weather can't keep us away from the beach.  Take that Guam!
Unfortunately, now that I'm here, I can't think of anything clever and witty to say.  Sorry guys.  Oh, I do want to say (this was actually part of the post that I had to delete for fear of hate crimes being committed on me for speaking my mind about the state of things...) that I REALLY big super appreciate all the prayers.  So I'll try to think of what I said earlier...

I'm sure that ya'll remember when I asked for prayers.  It was right after we found out that this was going to be extended to a five month underway, but before we found out that after they finally get back from the five month underway, they're going to turn back around and go back out for another month, bringing the grand total to six and a half months before they're back for good.  How many times can YOU put the word 'back' in one sentence? 

When I learned this, I asked ya'll to pray for me.  Then I asked my mama's Sunday school class to pray for me.  Then I asked my pastor and his wife to pray for me, and then I said heck, why not get the entire team involved and I filled in the form on the bulletin at church for the prayer team to pray for me.  Then I asked strangers I met at the commissary to pray for me.  I could go on and on and on.  And on.  

And apparently, every single one of you did it.  How do I know this? Well, I'll tell you.

When the guys were gone for five short weeks last November, I sort of had a breakdown.  Like, seriously.  I considered walking in to mental health and asking them if they could get DCS involved to take my kids while I tried to find some sort of inpatient care.  I don't know what my problem was, but I wasn't handling ANYTHING very well.  Like, unable to perform activities of daily living.  For you non nurses, that's things like EAT BREAKFAST and BRUSH TEETH and COMB HAIR.  They're the basic things you have to be able to get through, to be a member of this society.  So when I say it was bad, I'm not having a pity party or  trying to make you giggle.  IT WAS BAD.
And this time, they've been gone for four months already.  And I'm TOTALLY FINE.  Yes, I'm overwhelmed.  Yes, I cry almost every day.  My house is a wreck, we eat either cereal or pizza most nights of the week.  We watch WAY too much tv.  Two of my four kids are actually crying and carrying on like a bunch of fools at this very minute.  But I peace.  I really, truly do.  There is not a doubt in my mind that I will survive this.  I am calm (on the inside) and peace.  I don't know how else to describe it.  
And it's the kind of peace where you just KNOW it's from God.  There's just no other explanation.  So thankyou.  From the bottom of my heart.  I would be on the fifth floor (in fact, I would have been there a long time ago!) if it wasn't for all ya'll.  BUT DON'T STOP!!! I have a hundred and twenty three days left on this rock (but who's counting) and then an eight hour flight with those stinky kids to get to another remote island without my mama for at least a year. So keep 'em coming ya'll!!

This is the baby that Nick left.

And this is the big girl he's coming home to.  Except she'll be even bigger because we've got more than another month left.

Yes, he did see her for three days at the end of April and three days at the end of May.  THOSE DAYS DON'T COUNT.  He still had to work.  If anything, those days made everything that much harder.  I can't speak for other Boat Wives, but I, for one, would rather they slept on the boat when they're in port for anything less than three weeks.  I'm just saying.  It confuses the kids and makes it THAT much harder when they leave again.

I guess she actually sort of looks the same.  Those pictures are deceiving.  She is COMPLETELY different.  I mean, hello, she's SITTING UP in that picture.  She 'talks,' she eats solids, she rolls over, she army crawls...she's a totally different person nowadays.  PRAISE THE LORD.  I don't think it will come as a shock if I tell ya'll that I am not the Number One Fan of the helpless baby stages.  In fact, it's safe to say that I HATE the helpless baby stages.  Give me an eight month old and I am GOOD TO GO.  
Hello.  I have a personality.  I don't just suck the life out of your soul while giving you absolutely nothing in return, like one of those sucky two month olds. 

We're having the tiniest snaggle in our schedule here lately.  Daisy June still has the sweetest disposition on the entire planet, and she could care not one iota less when her schedule is disrupted.  It's me who freaks out.  She's slightly more cranky than normal if she skips a nap, but it's nothing to write home about.  Me, on the other hand? I am a total wreck.  With everyone else, I've used that 2-3-4 schedule and it's been practically flawless.  Wake up, play for two hours, sleep.  Wake up, play for three hours, sleep.  Wake up, play for four, sleep through the night.  But with taking the kids to preschool, that middle three hours of play gets stretched to between four and five, giving us a LATE afternoon nap (usually three to five or four to six) and then she does NOT want to go to bed when I'm ready for bed.  Which is sort of a bummer.  BUT we're pushing through.  I still hardly ever leave the house, so her morning nap usually goes off without a hitch.  I have to get groceries on Thursdays, and if I need regular Wal Mart stuff, I try to do that on Monday mornings, after her nap and before I get the bigs.

Now that I type it all out, it sounds perfect.  So what's the snaggle? I don't really know, but there's something that's not right, trust me.  It doesn't help that she fights her naps now.  JUST LIKE WARREN.  And I went off the deep end when Warren did it! I'm trying to keep calm and carry on.  Or, as Pinterest says, keep calm and carry a wand.  Or, keep calm and marry Ron.  I could go on and on.  And on.  So I stick her in bed and she screams for a while, then what? Do I count from when I put her in there, or when she finally fell asleep? If I count from when she fell asleep, sometimes that will make for a three hours PLUS nap.  If I count from when I put her in there, sometimes she'll only actually get forty five minutes of sleep.  It sucks! I guess the only solution is going to come when she finally stops the fight, right? If she's still crying herself to sleep by the end of next week, I'm going to have to find a new plan.  Gag.

Update: I put the big kids down (doesn't that sound like I took them to the vet and had them euthanized? I did not do that.  I put them in bed for naps) and was rocking Junebug and she was flipping over and clawing my shirt and acting a fool, so I stuck her in bed.  Twenty minutes ago.  And haven't heard a peep from her.  Today puts us at five days of crying it out during naps, so I'm going to count it as a tentative victory.  Five days seems like a lot for me though...

So, guess who can army crawl all the way into the playroom (or kitchen, or bathroom, or any bedroom...) and get whatever toy she wants, then bring it back to the rug and gum it till it's a wet sloppy mess? I'll give you a hint.

It's this girl.  And the boys HATE picking up a train and discovering that it's soaking wet.  It REALLY grosses them out.  Hopefully the take home lesson from this will be PUT AWAY YOUR TOYS.  I have a feeling they won't get it though.

In other news, I went to the kindergarten peek in the other day, met Ava's teacher and got to show her her classroom.  It was AWFUL.  I cried.  And cried and cried and cried.  It wasn't AS bad as I thought it would be.  There's still lots of toys, and a mat for circle time.  She'll be at a table, not a desk.  Her teacher seemed all right, but my friend had her last year and the teacher told her her kid needed to be on meds.  If she tells me that about Ava, I'll cut her face.  You mark my words.

Now I'm wading through the guilt of The Bus Ride.  I want (NEED) Ava to ride the bus.  I don't want to deal with that carpool line, and I don't want to have to either drop the boys off at the butt crack of dawn, then hurry back down to drop off Ava, or drop her off first and then get the boys to school after classtime has started- I want them to get to play on the playground for a while before they get stuck in their chairs all morning.  So, I want her to ride on the very first day, or else I'm afraid that she'll never want to ride.  She's VERY excited, and even though I warned her, she says she won't be upset that a lot of other mamas will be in the classrooms with their kids on that first day.

How can I NOT be there on the first day? If Nick were here, I'd stick her on the bus, then race down to the school and still meet her in the classroom.  But he's not, so I'm stuck with the boys and the baby, and there's just no way for me to go into the classroom even if I decided NOT to put her on the bus.  I'm scared to death that someone is going to tell her she's dumb, or ugly, or mean, or too skinny, or too fat, or any one of a million bajillion insults.  Or tell her that she needs to watch shows that I'll NEVER let her watch.  Or teach her swear words, even though she sort of already knows them all.

She's my baby.  And I've been babying her, so she's actually quite immature, and sweet and innocent.  And I don't want some raggedy, sassy, skimpily dressed future star of 16 and Pregnant to make her feel like that's not okay.  You know?

Great.  Now I'm sick to my stomach about it.  I better close this out and go order my homeschool supplies.

Keep praying.  Please and thankyou.

PS Fifty bonus points to anyone who gets my title reference!


  1. I'll no more try to post the 'you can do it, stay tough, blah blah blah" stuff... but...

    prayers do work and so glad they are for you!

    And you're not the only sub wife that prefers them stay boat bound on those short pull ins. In fact, on one this spring the Buffy was only in for a night unexpectedly and the husband had duty. My kids never even knew their dad was on the pier. Easier that way.

    Praying the first day of school (especially the bus ride) goes seamlessly and the other kids become fast friends with your daughter!

  2. Have I mentioned how you make me laugh, even when you're maybe not trying? I'm not blowing smoke or anything, you should write a book! I'm glad you're hanging in there, and I can't believe how big Daisy June is getting or all of that blonde hair that she has!

  3. I say it all the time, but I mean it...
    YOU are my HERO. I'll keep the prayers coming!

  4. I'm still praying too. You kick ass.