The Great Balancing Act

The Top 10 Reasons why I haven't written for 5 whole months.

1.  We moved from Germany to Rhode Island.  It was a thing.  Our energies were engaged with move "stuff."

2.  Curtis came back from Afghanistan.  Yippee!

3.  I took the kids on a marvelous 2-week cruise in the Eastern Mediterranean.  I know, you are perhaps not feeling bad for me there, but it certainly occupied some time.

4.  I am a hopeless Facebook addict, but I have given up all games.  That's step 1 of 12 -- right?

5.  My Amazon Kindle is my new best friend.  I'm sure Curtis is regretting that he ever got it for me.

6.  The kids didn't have any friends to play with this summer, they were very much around --over, around, under, and through.

7.  Did I mention the whole international move thing?  How about shipping the van, all our worldly goods sailing over the ocean blue for 3 months,  hotel living, trying to figure out how American works after being gone for four years, and endless unpacking?  Or that I prepped and sent out all of those worldly goods solo while Curtis was still in Afghanistan?  Or, one of my personal favorites, that I gave myself a concussion walking into the underside of the second story deck of the house not once, but twice on the day we moved in?  Like I said, it was a thing.

8.  It had been so long since I've written I couldn't figure out what to write.  (I know, lame, but true.)  It's kind of like not returning a phone call for so long you don't know how to explain yourself, so you just don't call.

9.  American TV, DVR, and Netflix on demand.

10. Rhode Island isn't called The Ocean State for nothing.  There are beaches on this here island, and we arrived here June 19.

Today I will be happier than a bird with a french fry.

I have been tired, overwhelmed, angry, restless, unmotivated, and generally at odds with life.

Tired of the challenges of the small, old, unmaintained houses the Army sticks us with.  So sick of appliances, showers, radiators, and . . . that work poorly.  Worn out by ten long months of my husband's deployment.  Overwhelmed by bones that brake; computers that won't work right; children who choose not to listen; cars that need to be maintained; the ills of an Army community that is in shut-down mode even  though over 10,000 people still live here; the missing pieces of my lawn mower; seasonal viruses; the never ending drive to gymnastics class; cold, dark weather; fighting with the Army healthcare system; and in case I forgot to I mention it, this blankity blank deployment.

And Angry.  Though I pretend not to be.  Angry that the Army has once again hung us out to dry.  Sick of deployments.  Sick with worry over the fact that they've taken away our school crossing guards.  Frustrated at the thought of conducting an International Move, by myself, in less than 3 months, and still not having the orders with which to do it.  So, so very angry at a school system that has offered my family absolutely no support and stability over this very trying year.  Violently, violently angry that my eldest daughter, amidst all the stress from the deployment that a child her age should not have to deal with, still occasionally cries herself to sleep over a teacher who choose to leave the classroom  to grab the brass ring of her "dream job" three months ago.  I try to understand, really I do.  I know that the anger isn't always rational, but it hangs on none the less.

Restless for time to pass and the deployment to end so we can move on to better things, and for time to stand still so that day to day things can get done.

Unmotivated to do anything about any of it.  After all, I don't need orders to know I need to clean-out closets, and toys, and clothes, and craft supplies, and . . . to prepare for the move.  A work order list for small items of repair in the house pile up.  I could certainly call them in -- it would take DAYS to deal with, but it can be done.

I'm a planner and a controller, and things have been so

very, very out of my control.

Yet . . . Steven Covey  would say I can't control all of this.  I can't control that the people at branch don't send out the orders.  I can't control that the powers that be seem to have lost sight of the fact that so very many of us still live in this dying community.  Nor can I control that the school system seems to have forgotten in its quest to "use its resources to the benefit of the whole school" that at the end of the day the school is made up of individual children.

I can only control how I respond to it.  And let me tell, you it's high time I got over it.

So . . . Today I will be a happier than

 a bird with a french fry.

 

 

We have some spectacular things coming up:  a move to a GREAT location, an opportunity to take my children on a marvelous cruise to Egypt and Greece, less than 100 days left in this darn deployment, piles and piles of friends and family who love and support us, birds at the feeder, and 16 lilac bushes that will be blooming before I know it.  I will re-find my excitement for our life -- even if I have to fake it for awhile.

 I will get more sleep.

I will rejoice in my healthy, bright, loving children, and the fact that even though my marvelous husband is gone from us right now, he will be returning.

And I'll get back in the cleaning out for the move saddle -- tomorrow. Today I'm refilling the bird feeder and taking my kids to a movie.

Sharpies and Calendars

I spent some quality time with my New Pack of Sharpies and New Mom's Plan It Calendar this afternoon.  Sharpies make me happy -- I am ridiculously excited about these thin point, limited addition café colors.  The only thing that would make them better would be if they had the medium point on one end and the fine point on the other -- those are my favorite Sharpies ever.  Don't judge me -- I need my Sharpies.

This is my third year using the Mom's Home Plan It calendar.  I love it!  There is lots of room to write, and the weeks are organized like a regular calendar which makes my brain oh so happy.  All the neat little rows really help me keep track of  the crazy events in our life.   This can be complicated when you consider that my kids not only attend two different schools, they attend two completely different school systems.

** Don't let this fool you into thinking I'm ridiculously organized and ahead of the game.  Since this is a 17-month calendar  I purchsed it this summer intending to make the switch from last year's model and get the whole school year on the darn thing.  I didn't quite make that goal -- first quarter ends Thursday. 

***  I plead broken thumb.  I'm wondering just how far I can get with this one this year -- surely I've already exceeded my quota.  If Curtis were home he so would have cut me off by now, but I'll still plead the thumb.

 

So Long, Snowball

 

It was a bit of a sad day for us.  Our good neighbors, the Kellys, are off to Atlanta today.  We have enjoyed living next to them, and their pets for the last three years.  I already miss greeting Snowball (pictured above) each morning in my garden, and Irene in the driveway.  Katie has been a bit of a lost duck without her good friend Adriana.  We wish them the best of luck, and hope to hook up with them again some day.

It's 80's Time

 

Are you scared yet?  Some of our neighbors had an 80’s themed promotion party before Spring Break.  With my new Facebook activities, I’m just now getting around to posting a few pictures from the event.  The party was a lot of fun, though we were a little bit late – I had forgotten just how much time it took to sculpt ones hair like that.  Really, for this particular event, a few pictures really do speak a thousand words.  Enjoy!

 

Katie is channeling Madonna, and Holly is going for the Punky Bruster look.

 

Look, I finally was successful at feathering someone’s hair – I never could get my own hair to do this.

 

Curtis didn't put quite as much work into it as the rest of us, but in the end, he found something that worked.

Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot

I keep telling my children, particularly the youngest one, that if they succeed in their quest to kill me things are not going to improve the way they seem to think they will.  However, they continue to try.  Case in point, just this morning Holly tried to boil me alive.

Every morning I dutifully set my alarm to get up before the children and get ready for my day before I have to wake them up and drag them kicking and screaming into their day.  Just to prove he has a sense of humor, God occasionally wakes Holly up early.  Today was one of those days.

Holly greeted me on my way into the shower.  I stopped what I was doing and got clothes out for her instructing her to get dressed while I took a shower, dried my hair and got dressed – what is generally a 15 minute process.  She tried to argue; I sent her on her way and hopped in the shower.  I have managed to get Katie’s cold virus, so I was indulging in a 30 second soak to try to get rid of the good old night time congestion and return to the land of the living.  Then, Holly flushed.  Now, in this old house when you use the plumbing upstairs, the shower loses all of its cold water, and the hot water is REALLY hot.  (Before you tell me to turn my water heater down to a safe level, we don’t have a water heater -- all of the hot water and radiator steam for the whole neighborhood is made in a central steam plant.  Our hot water literally goes on forever, but boy is it hot.)  I of course then did what any self respecting person being boiled alive trapped in a teeny tiny shower stall before they were awake would do – I screamed and beat at the shower doors.  Once I managed to remember how to open the doors, jump out of the shower, and attempt to towel the boiling water off of my back and out of my hair I was confronted with hysterically sobbing Holly.  Apparently she changed her mind about cooking Mommy for breakfast.  So there I am, naked trying to frantically get the boiling water off of my back while it continues to shoot out into the bathroom through the open shower door, on my knees with a fake smile plastered on my face and soap in my hair saying, “It’s OK, Mommy’s fine, no really my red back doesn’t hurt anymore, see my face is happy. . . .”  Somehow I managed to shut the shower door, calm Holly down and send her back to her room to get dressed, and return to the torture chamber itty bitty shower stall to finish my shower.  When I got out of the shower, Holly still was not dressed and chatted at me about half a million things while I was trying to dry my hair and tell her to get dressed.  I threatened her enough persuaded her to get dressed only to have her return screaming and crying because one of her socks wasn’t cooperating.  40 minutes into my 15 minutes process, we finally made it down the stairs.

I then got to rush through breakfast serving and packing stuff for school all the while fighting the urge to rip my shirt back off my burned back.  Today was my day to volunteer at Katie’s school and all day long every time I moved a certain way I felt like a woman with a bad sunburn.  No, don’t hug Mrs. Nowak today children her back is on fire.  Now, before you make fun of me for being a delicate flower with sugar spun skin whining about a little hot water, at this point my back is still red and I have a raw spot in the center where my bra strap sat all day.  And before you tell me to turn my hot water to a safe temperature (a topic I’m obsessive about -- ask any grandparent who’s house my children have ever visited ) recall that this is one of the many things that I have absolutely no control over.

Happy Feet

 

We have happy feet!  Croc Mammoths rock!  You soooo need to get some.  We did a little last minute shopping today – hay fish have to eat too.  Mostly we enjoyed the mall décor, had ice cream, and bought Crocs.  We vow to never take them off our feet again.  Curtis has Croc envy.  They did not have any in his size.  What can I say, the man has mammoth feet. Just look!  They don't even fit in the picture.  I just ordered him some, so he can wipe the boo-boo face off.

All I Want For Christmas

It’s that time of the year.  People have been asking me what I want for Christmas, and I have no answer for them.  So, here it is – the official wish list.

Dear Santa,

1. I want Alice from the Brady Bunch.  How nice it would be to have someone who cooks, cleans, and does the laundry while I worry about that fact the one sister is having a tantrum because Marsha, Marsha, Marsha gets all the attention.  “It’s Ok Mrs. Nowak; you go ahead and go get your hair done while I take care of this.”

2. I would like a full night’s sleep.  Holly still has night terrors – she screams in the night without even waking up to notice that she’s doing it.  If you could maybe wave a magic wand and un-possess my youngest child I’d really appreciate it.  Seriously, she screams enough during the day, she doesn’t need any extra practice at night.

3. I’d ask for peace on Earth, but that’s probably asking too much so, how about just peace in my household?  How about even peace for 1 hour and 45 minutes?  Okay, maybe just a piece of really good cake?

4. I’m a little obsessed with Vera Bradley purses.  I don’t know why, maybe it’s because printed fabric appeals to me.  Or maybe I've just lost whatever is left of my marbles.  I’ve never been one for switching out multiple purses, but I find that I would like a Vera in just about every variety they come in.  Don’t worry; I’m keeping myself under control.  Okay, I’m hanging off the edge of a cliff by bloody finger nails, but who’s to judge.  My gateway drug bag has little owls all over it -- how cute is that!

5. My hip, that I’ve had off and on trouble with since I was a teenager, has been hurting since I was about 8 weeks pregnant with Holly.  We’re going on 5 years now, so perhaps you could take care of that one.  Hmmm.  Please don’t make me gnaw off my own limb here.

6. I would really like an extra 2 or perhaps 3 hours in my day.  Could those hours perhaps occur when the kids are at school?  Of course, if mastering the time space continuum is beyond your powers, you could just refer to number one.

7. I would like for Christmas to be officially moved to December 27 -- I could really use a few more days to get things done.

8. I could use a driver – I still rather dislike that driving thing.  However, I could make do with a designated parker.  One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to not hit another stationary object on little, tiny European roads with the widest mini-van on the American market.  A driver would really help me reach my goal.  Alternatively, I could have the magic bus from Harry Potter that gets really skinny when necessary.  I’ve considered replacing the mini-van with a mini-cooper, but then where would I put all those purses from number 4?

9. I would like my 3 foot wide wardrobe in my bedroom do be like the one in C.S. Lewis’s magic tales.  Holly could so slay that White Witch in 10 seconds flat.  Then all of Narnia could serve as my storage.

10. I could use the services of a professional organizer and their herd of minions.  We are moving again this summer, and I’m sure there is at least 2,000 pounds of stuff in this house that I don’t need to deal with ever again.

11. And a bonus request, I'd like for no one in my house to throw up for any holiday this year.  That includes Christmas, New Years, Easter, various Birthdays, and Mother's Day.  In fact, I spent two prenancies throwing up continually -- that's 18 months total, so could we perhaps just never throw-up again?  Surely I've already served my life sentance.  Ditto for any other crazy virus you've got out there, and special bonus things like head lice, ring worm, and basement floods.

If all of this is a bit too much, I’ll just settle for Alice.

Thanks,

Jennifer

P.S.  Please don’t give the kids coal, I ate the cookies.  I washed them down with a margarita though, so you can drink the white stuff.

** My friend, Stephanie, now tells me that Alice is an urban legend,

but darn it --- I Believe! **

Make Me Some Cookies

 

Our German/American Women’s Club Mother and Child group took a field trip to a German Bakery this evening to make Christmas Cookies.  They had the dough all rolled out and the supplies all ready. The kids made their cookies and then brushed them with egg and decorated them with sprinkles, chopped nuts, raisins, or all of the above.  We then got to see them bake in the multi-layer industrial ovens.  They then brought out melted chocolate to drizzle on the cookies or dip them in, and off they went for a round in the roll-in refrigerator.  I think the club had about 30 kids there.  Each child brought home a pile of cookies.

Whining

I have a head cold.  It’s not the worst I’ve ever had, but it’s REALLY making me mad!  We have had at least one large event every weekend since the middle of September.  You know, that month there where I posted nothing at all and you were all checking, and checking and seeing the exact same thing week after week. (You have to admitt that shower story was funny, wasn't it?)   I was sooo looking forward to having a peaceful weekend this weekend, and now I feel like poo.  I think I’m going to whine worse than Holly did that week we lost in eary October to her Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. 

During the Missing Month we also:

 

Had a fabulous Friday afternoon at a Labyrinth (Corn Maze) with our German/American Women and Children group.

 

Worked really hard, did a ton of push-ups, and got advanced to the next level in gymnastics.

 

Researched and manufactured StarWars costume pieces for everybody and their dog.  No one wanted to be Yoda, so a German Sheppard stepped up to the plate.  (Yes, we’re stilling working on the mega StarWars post.)

 

Got new braces, and had to go to Heidelberg on a Saturday and have the emergency dentist called in to fix them when they broke.

 

Picked a pile of apples and learned about organic farming with our Brownie Girl Scout Troop.

 

Had a relaxing 3-day weekend visit from an old friend who recently moved to Belgium.

Played in the leaves.

 

 

Learned a ton about Richard Nixon, Title IX, the Apollo moon landing, Watergate, and a dog named Checkers.

And Walked For a Cure

By the way . . . Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease is caused by a blankity blank intestinal virus.