Stormy

Last night was stormy.  Simultaneous lightning and thunder stormy.  See the flash from all the windows, hear the bolt make that cracking sound, stormy.

When I put the boys to bed, they asked me to sleep with them.  I told them that I might, after they fell asleep, if there was room for me in the bed they shared.  I had bills to pay and some sanity to recover.

I came downstairs, logged into the bank account and was plugging in numbers when E showed up by my side.  "I'll just wait here until you're done. It's too scary to fall asleep."

I looked at him and realized they were in no way going to let me off the hook.  And I hate storms.  So, I quickly finished then offered--- for the first time EVER (well, since they were each 4 weeks old)--- to sleep in my bed with me.  Of course that turned into 20 minutes of them squealing and jumping and being absolutely nuts while I tried to squeeze in a quick phone call to the hubs.
Z screamed when I turned off the lights.  Apparently he has a real fear of the dark.  So, I turned them back on for him, which meant he thought it was time to party again, but eventually, after much proving to him that I was *serious* (by flipping out the lights any time he got rowdy), he fell asleep.  At 11pm.  At 3, I woke up to pee.  At 5, Zach woke up begging to go back to his room to sleep. 

I'm not a fan of 24/7 parenting.  It's hard.  And I'm just dyyyyyying for some minutes alone today. But they ran upstairs for quiet hour while Makenzie was still wide-eyed so I've spent the time with her. I figured after she'd been awake for 3.5 hours, it would be safe to put her in bed, but she went down screeching.  I just want to faceplant.  Hard.  In the dirt.  And then let it rain on me.

On the plus side, my bed mates weren't too intrusive.  I'm amazed at how still they lie when they're actually asleep!  I'd totally let them join me more often, but I kinda need them in bed before 11pm if we are all going to survive.  :op 

The Mini R&R

My husband came home to visit for the four day weekend that Independence Day provided.  SO good to see him.  And now that we're back into the "normal" of separation, it's SO hard to comprehend that just four days ago I was holding his hand.   The close of tomorrow marks the halfway point.  So, so thankful to be at the downhill slope of this.

I keep thinking I want time to just stop for a minute so I can get a chance to breathe.  But time stopping just delays what my heart wants most, so we'll just keep on chugging.

With the boys struggling so much with this distance, Josh and I thought it'd be nice if he could spend some quality time alone with each of them.  Friday was full of family fun at his mom's house, so Saturday Josh took Ethan to the movies and the toy store... a full 4 hour adventure.  Zach got his time the next day with a trip to the playground park for trike-riding and rock-throwing and then to the toy store.  Their hearts were happy. Are happy. Those hours are still repeating benefits now, as they fully and completely understand that Daddy doesn't WANT to be away from them but *has* to be.

I had hoped that I could get MY time with him after the kids went to bed.  But we had no babysitter. And the boys were up late the night before Josh came home since my parents were here.  And their bedtimes were all screwy. So, they kept wandering downstairs for hoooours after bedtime.  Like, we finally got to be alone at 11pm, when we were both ready for some sleep.

It was good to see him.  It was just way harder to share him than I anticipated.  We've clearly hit a new chapter in life, where kids don't just disappear into a crib at bedtime and we can sneak in our time afterward.  Life pretty much officially revolves around them if we're inside the same building.  And that's fine and good and whatever... it was just... surprising in that it was absolutely unlike any other R&R or weekend visit we've ever had before.  Clearly recruiting has blessed us with minimal separation!

Today has too many awake minutes.

I haven't written in a few days.  I spent the weekend at my parents and brought home a suitcase full of chiggers. 

I voluntarily traded some of my twenty for cleaning another day.

And another, I think I sat on the couch and stared at the tv.

But today, I absolutely feel like I'm losing my grip, so here I am.

Sweet baby girl turned 9 months old yesterday.  She's so flappy and happy and sweet and shy and snuggly... and screamy.  The lack of consistency is killing her.  I rescued her from her bed one night because she seemed so.darn.sad. and ever since, she thinks the key to gaining affection is to shriek her lungs out.  It's exhausting and painful to listen to, and I'm tired.

I haven't gone to bed before midnight all week, either, which I'm sure only adds to the weary.

E has been a whining fool all day.  Instead of asking happily for things, it all only comes out in whine, and while I usually enjoy his company, today I want to hide in my closet and sleep.

And now for the stuff really on my mind, now that the keys have been dusted...

. . .

I'm well down into my stack of Asperger's books and have become fairly certain that my husband has it, too.  He's so high functioning and well-adapted and social and capable of all the things, that I am not even sure a psychologist would diagnose it, but all the signs are there.

(He doesn't believe me, but I am sure that's only because he hasn't read the books.  He also said I'm allowed to talk about it with other people without it causing marital strife, so I figure the whole internet is a great place to start.  ((Love you, babe!)) :) )

Asperger's is a weird thing.  There clearly hasn't been enough research to determine what I believe in my (ever so wise---HAH!) heart to be the truth about it.  I think it's pretty black and white, not some sliding scale that if you gain enough social skills and tricks of the trade that you just magically no longer qualify for a diagnosis.  I think it's all brain structure and function, and when some parts are smaller or don't work as well and other parts work better than others, sometimes it displays itself as this psychological syndrome we call Asperger's.  I think if we could get a peek inside, a lot more people would have it than we realize.

My husband is so logical.  Somewhere along the line, his family fully adapted the notion that men are logical and women are emotional, so their strength in thinking things through without having to deal with "feminine" things like *empathy* just makes them more manly.  So, when I watch romantic movies or cry during engagement stories or get emotional for no apparent reasons, I hear things "Aww... girls are so silly."  Yeah, girls might be silly, but I might also just be a neurotypical human with an amygdala that lets me look into people's eyes and understand how they feel.

And that's just the *tip* of the giant iceberg.  But I'm tired and can't form any more thoughts at the moment.... so.... there ya go.  I do know that won't be short on material for a long, long time, though, if I pull on this thread.  So... we'll see where this goes.

After Going to Kids Up

I'm tired.  Just spent 2.5 hours at a kid's play place, toting M around while the boys expended some energy.  I think I will lay down this entire quiet hour.  Goodbye!  :)

Well, let me first say that I'm super proud of my kiddos.

E got really, really mad/sad/frustrated today but he followed his coaching and wrinkled his nose and said in a calm, normal-volume voice, "I'm sad" instead of having a giant, screaming fit in public.  I have no idea how his brain can do that, but I'm very, very proud of his hard work. 

And Z wore underwear the whole time, took a potty break, and stayed dry!

I'm raising small humans today!!!  Hooray!!!

(Sometimes I think I'm just raising wild jackals.)

Middle Child

Oh, today.  Always a struggle to seize every moment and enjoy the precious time with small people.

Today they fought over who would get to flush my poop.  I will never be more loved.

Thank goodness, right?  It's hard to imagine that these tiny people who cling to my legs and want my attention for every.little.thing. they do or every.single.thought. that goes through their heads will one day grow up and find me annoying, stupid and embarrassing.  Can't we just have a little balance, folks?  Why must the first twenty years of life be full of pendulum-swings? 

About an hour ago, I felt so trounced upon (I was trying to change the sheets in Makenzie's crib, which, if you are a bad mommy and use a cute fluffy bumper like me, is the most difficult chore in the house. The boys were trying to climb up the mattress as I was struggling to fit the sheet around the corners, after the monumental feat of getting the thing vertical... and before the inevitable fight to shove it back into the bed)... ANYWAY, I felt so trounced upon that when Z crashed into me, I purposefully fell over and pretended to be dead. 

I'm glad I don't really die around here. 

E peeled back my eyelids, lightly slapped my cheeks and asked me no less than 17 times if I would watch him throw a frisbee in the hallway.  Still "dead."  Z chimed in after a couple minutes with, "Let me try!"  His method was taking my arm and letting me hit my own self in the face then screaming Cock-a-doo-doo-dooo!!!" as loudly as possible.  It ridiculousness had me absolutely cracking up. 

So... let's talk about my middle child today. He is hilarious, fun-loving, silly and smart.  He also is trying desperately to figure out his place in our family... and it's breaking my heart.  (Reading that back is a little Seuss-y!)  He's old enough to be capable of doing some things on his own, but little enough that he *wants* help in most of it.  (Unless I'm actually offering help, then he yells at me to go away.  Love those toddlers.)  If he leaves a toy upstairs and asks for it, I tell him to get it himself. 
I know that he really wants the toy, but he also really wants my undivided attention.  He's in constant competition for it.

I hurt for him.  I know it must be ridiculously hard to be in his shoes.

• He has an older brother who gets immediate attention from meltdowns.  They look a lot like tantrums, but E's breakdowns aren't manipulative; they happen when life has totally overwhelmed him and he doesn't have the skills or maturity to cope.  In those moments, I have to stop the world and help.  My child needs me. 
• He has a baby sister with legitimate baby needs (hello, she's 8 months old).  She gets attention when she whines hungry or needs toys or has her brother's cut out paper planets stuck in her throat.  A lot of her needs are extremely immediate, and life must be put on hold to meet them. (I'm a nursing single mom at the moment!)

Z is so smart.  (His speech therapist did a receptive language test on him two weeks ago to see how much he understood, and he worked his way through all the sets of questions that a six-year-old would answer.)  He gets life.  He watches and puts things together. I know he's noticed that crying, whining, screaming "NO! I'VE HEARD ENOUGH!" at me (what E does in the middle of a meltdown) earns his siblings my attention.  He's too little to understand that I stop the world for their need, not because of their behavior.  So, he mimics the behavior, then gets totally frustrated when I don't cater to him. 

I know he's confused.  And hurt.  And needing more attention, especially one-on-one time.  And it breaks my heart because I don't know how to give it to him.  I'm trying, but 10 minutes here and there throughout the day just aren't doing it for him. He needs his dad here.  And I can't give him that, either.

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Squirrels have always been special to me.  I love them, think they're cute, and they make me happy.  When I was in college one day, I went to the park alone (funny how I'd be terrified to do that now, but I used to do it all the time, like a naïve dummy!!), and I sat on a bench and journaled.  I was interrupted by two squirrels chasing each other, chattering, leaping from branch to branch, scurrying around humorously for at least five minutes.  When they got tired, one stopped at a branch near me, hung upside down and looked me square in the eyes.  My heart almost burst.  (My husband would be calling me ridiculous right about now.)  Looking at him the Bible verse about the birds crossed my mind. 

 

"Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?"

And immediately my heart equated it to my little rodent friends.  Since then, any time I see a squirrel I feel immediately, exquisitely taken care of by my Father.

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 I normally blog with the blinds closed (it gets hot in here with the sun pouring in), but today before I started, I cleared off the table to help clear my mind, and thought "God has blessed me with these windows to our happy, private backyard.  I should look out of them while I still have the chance." (And it's cloudy right now, which is a huge bonus!) We're probably moving on post, to the land of townhomes and zero seclusion and solitude; I *must* enjoy this yard while I can!

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I just saw a squirrel eating an acorn on top of the hill in my backyard. 

I don't have any answers; my child is still frustrated and hurting and trying to find his way to be.  I'm still as stretched thin as I was 10 minutes ago, and my other children are just as demanding.  But now my heart has peace. I remember that, in spite of it all, we are exquisitely taken care of.  <3 p="">

Gray.

Let's talk about gray hair today.

I have a lot of it.

First I plucked it.  Then when I got more, each pluck hurt my heart as I thought, "God made me this way, and I'm actively disapproving."  Then I got pregnant.  And I nursed for a year.  And 4 weeks later, I was pregnant again.  Nursed a year.  And knowing baby #3 was in our heart's plans, I just watched the gray come in for four months... then got pregnant again!

Now I'm three months away from being done with body sharing, which would technically make me ready and willing to cover my head in chemicals.  Every time I go to the grocery store, I stand in the aisle and consider throwing a box of brown in the cart.

I did, in fact, do just that before my husband's graduation from OCS.  Being exhausted from single parenting during his few months away, I just really wanted to feel pretty and human at his formal.  I didn't want to feel like the mom of three kids under five.  So, I dyed my hair a week before.  Well, guess I should say I lightly combed through about 2 quarter sized dabs of it just to barely maybe mask some of the gray.  I was nursing, after all.

But now I'm back to the debate.

I want to like myself just the way God made me.  I want to teach my children that the world's standards of beauty and youth-keeping are frivolous and impossible.  I want to feel beautiful and inspire others by my happy, at-peace heart, and embrace the gray and the wrinkles as proof of having lived well and rightly.

At the same time, I don't want to embarrass my children. I hate admitting this, but I distinctly remember being in middle school and thinking, "She'd be sooo pretty if she would just dye her hair!" about a close relative.  I even calculated her age and made a promise to my teenage self that if I started to get gray hairs by then, I would surely dye them.  I thought, "Does she not KNOW? I must pay attention!  I refuse to 'let myself go!' just because I'm married or have kids!"  I really don't want my children to be ashamed that I'm their mom because of how I look.

(I do realize that I have the opportunity by having gray hair to explain to my children my choice in it.  If I embrace it, perhaps that will empower them.  Or... it may just make them less likely to have friends over or go to the mall with me. :(  I also acknowledge that they'll probably find plenty other reasons to be embarrassed by me, even if I had the most gorgeous hair in the world.)

I've really struggled in this city.  It has been harder than I want to admit to make friends (there will be another post about that later), and sometimes, I feel like I would have done better if  I had highlights and manicured nails and pretty spring scarves. I very much fear moving to a new city and having to make friends, only to be instantly excluded because I don't look right.  Lawd knows I'm awkward enough without having a head full of gray hairs to wonder about at first meeting. I really, really need friends, and I don't want the lost pigment in my hair to close doors before anyone has the chance to see my winning personality. ;)

My husband is sweet.  He calls me beautiful no matter what, and just keeps saying that he'd much rather go gray than bald.  Not exactly helpful in decision-making since gray hair on a woman is the equivalent of a man with no hair... but he doesn't understand that.

So... yeah.  I don't know what to do.  The practical side of me has been leaning toward dying until my baby girl gets married... unless I hit 60 first.  (I'm definitely allowed to have gray hair at 60, no matter what my children are doing!)  Then, I stand in the aisle at Kroger thinking "Thirty years? I'm going to be dying my hair for *thirty years.*  This is lunacy!" and keep walking.

I'm thirty.  And I'm going gray.  Our culture would definitely consider that premature.  I just wish, in the deep recesses of my heart, that I could accept it, be confident in it and feel that instead of being early, it's at "just the right time." 

But I don't have that peace.  Or that wisdom. Or that confidence. And if it comes from within, that leaves me without much beauty, either.

Sweet, sweet misery!

My mind has been swirling with Asperger's info.  It's amazing how a little brain wiring can affect pretty much every single thing a person says or does.  I'm having years worth of experiences roll through my mind, suddenly explained, no longer mysterious.  TA-DA!  Everything makes sense now!  And I still have three more books to read, which will only be more enlightening.

So, my mother-in-law watched the boys for 22 hours this weekend.  Twenty-two hours of peace for my ears... and lots of random sobbing, imagining how distraught I would be if they both died in a car accident away from me.  Apparently I have lots of emotions I never have time or energy to express!

But they all came home happy and fine... well, crying and exhausted, but once they settled in and had a snack, they were okay. 

I started potty training Z yesterday.  He's an interesting, hilarious kid.  I've gotten so used to E's quirkiness and parenting a "neurotypical" child full of manipulations and limit testing is an adjustment.  I may look like I know what I'm doing over here with three kids, but I feel like I'm a first time mom *so* often.

I don't think anyone really knows what they're doing.  Except for those loud people who've never had to do it.  ;)

Anyway, Z requires that I only give him two acceptable choices.  Like, "Do you want the underwear with planets or the ones with stripes?"  If I ask anything like, "Do you want to wear underwear?" I'm always going to get a big fat "NO!!" and a naked little boy running away from me as fast as possible.

It's kind of exhausting, coming up with one standard set of rules around here, but having to implement them and train them differently to accept them.  Guiding absolute polar opposite boys and meeting the needs of an infant?  Yeesh.  I'm amazed I can form words.

Today we went to the library and Sonic.  E has moved onto a new love-- The States!  He's already memorized them all by shape and location, as well as their capitals.  That took, what?  Two days?  (I don't know what we're going to do with school.)  The book he got today includes the states and their... what... nicknames?  like..  "The Peach State,"  "The Granite State" and lots of random quirky facts about each one.  That should be interesting to hear him prattle about.

I keep intending to cut us down? off? from excess sugar (like, limit us each to 30 grams a day --- fruits excluded, of course!)... but then I potty train with candy bribes and take us to Sonic because it's too hot to breathe outside. 

I've been watching bits and pieces of the news lately.  So depressing.  And I don't even feel like I can blog about it in case some one is waaaatchiiiiiing.  ISIS, trading a deserter for terrorists, everyone flooding our border because word of the Dream Act got around... what in the world are we doing?   Sounds like the downfall of a country is coming.  I've read The Harbinger. 

But anyway, like a typical American I'll instead talk about how my 3 slushes (and mine, chock full of Nerds) from Sonic only cost $1.27!  Sweet day!  I can poison my body for a low, low price.  :D