Randolph Menagerie

Yes, we're all still here and alive. Things are just simply C R A Z Y! Here's the quick version of March and April. Believe me, there's so much more than meets the eye around here right now. It's hard to believe that one year ago this week... Anyway, that's another whole blog chapter that will have to wait. For now, here's evidence that the Randolph menagerie is alive and well.

Good night, all.

Daily Affirmations with Stuart Smalley

Here are the random thoughts which are bouncing around in my noggin like the room full of balls from Mr. Macgorium's Wonder Emporium...

1) Annie is silently plotting to take over the world. I don't have any real documentation of this beyond my own gut feeling that she's a bit too smart for her three-year-old body and she keeps eyeing me when I deliver a time out or other consequence that she's not pleased about.

2) I'm my own worst enemy. The more book knowledge I cram into this head, the more common sense gets squeezed out. Case in point... My parents were out of town and I had to tend to their animals. I simply drag the 120 pound dog to my house and let the kids pretend they actually got the pony that they've always wanted. However, their cat (aka Diablo, Lucifer, Satan and a host of other "pet" names I've granted her) is stuck staying behind in an empty house. Poor, poor kitty. Anyway, she hates her routine being changed. When she's mad, she poops in the tub. Who would make up this ridiculousness? Anyway, on her third attempt at letting me know that she was unhappy with my custodial care, I decided to get smart and simply fill the tub with water. (I'll admit that I was doing the evil snicker and dreaming of the cat having to dog paddle around the tub for hours). Anyway, after cleaning the tub and then filling it with water, I walked out the the bathroom feeling victorious until I noticed the door stop on the floor. Then, it hit me. Why the heck didn't I just close the dumb door to keep her out of the bathroom? It's moments like this when I just stand in awe of my own stupidity and listen for the air hissing out of my ears. Geez. Ok. I'll admit. I left the door open and the tub full hoping that the cat would go for an accidental swim anyway. :0 Oh darn. Poor kitty cat. Did your nice fluffy butt get a little wet?

3) Nagging preteens is pointless. The last couple of weeks have been really hectic around here and bedtime has not been held to any sort of standard. That translates into mornings being like scenes from some weird zombie movie where the mom is the zombie and keeps chasing the kids around the house and threatening to eat them if they don't get moving. I did, however, finally figure out a secret weapon. After all this time of getting the kids up and out the door by myself, I found the miracle cure - Annie with a squirt bottle! The drill now goes something like this - First, get Annie up by taunting her with a fully loaded squirt bottle and giving her permission to "shoot" anyone who doesn't get up when she tells them to. Annie (now locked and loaded) quickly dismounts her bed and heads off to torment the big kids while I get ready. Yes, I do hear frequent screams and guttural sounds eeking from the hallway but... The big kids have hauled their butts out of bed faster than they have in quite a while. Yes, their clothing has been a bit damp by the time they load up in the van but they've yet to melt. So, I'm going to invest in a whole arsenal of water cannons. I may even label them. One gun would be simply for "encouraging" folks to get their homework finished. Another cannon might be deemed for reminding children to finish up their chores. Wow. I'm beginning to think seriously about writing a parenting book with all of the creative tactics I'm devising out of sheer necessity and the goal of survival. (Oh, the other thing that works well is taping construction paper hearts saying, "My mommy loves me," to the side of the van when pulling up in car line. This method yields immediate results for a whole host of things). I'm beginning to think I might just live up to my parenting mentors - Claire and Cliff Huxtable!

4) Change is the new normal. I'm a creature of habit, routine, and overall dullness. However, I'm slowly learning to let go of that and ignore the house looking like a bomb went off in order to simply have fun. In the words of Ms. Frizzle (Magic School Bus), "Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!" There have been chances way out of my comfort zone. There have been LOTS of mistakes. There have been more messes than an entire warehouse of Mr. Clean could handle. However, I'm finding myself in a new season that has been borne from all of these things. I'm a completely different person than I was a year ago. Yes, there are definitely scars and bruises that I have to be aware of but those scars have added to the character of who I am now. And, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!" (Daily affirmations with Stuart Smalley).


And, these are the Boggle letters that are being jostled around in my brain right now.


Good night, all.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Annie!

So, poor Annie has fallen victim to the "3rd Child Syndrome." While I have tons of pictures of her with all of her birthday goodies, those pictures are locked into the deep dark corners of my camera's memory!

However, her birthday was definitely something special this year. This was the first year that she actually "got" blowing out the candles, getting presents, and eating HER cake! I just don't know where the last three years have gone. From the surprise of, "How can I be pregnant," to, "What if she has Pompe's," to "Is it ok to put her in a cage?" I regret that I don't have the time or energy tonight to follow the thought tangents which are bouncing around my head like a box of spilled super high bounce balls. The bottom line is that Annie is becoming her very own little person. She absolutely LOVES babies and cradles, coos, and cuddles over every doll she can get her hands on. Her sitter is now keeping a baby a couple of hours and week and Annie spends the entire days telling me about what the baby did. Annie, like the other kids, loves to please everyone, too. She has absolutely mastered pooking her lower lip out like a grumpy Gerber baby when she thinks she has upset you. She was overheard complaining to Dasha last week that I had, "Talked loud to her," and she didn't like it. Despite her fiery tendencies, she definitely has a tender heart under the stubbornness. (Please remember that I'm writing all of this as she sleeps soundly in her room and not under my feet. If she were awake and rousing the troops, my soliloquy might be a bit different)!

So, to my baby girl who's brought so much sunshine, laughter, gray hairs, and insanity to our house, Happy Birthday. Without you, things around here would be... quiet? boring? restful? Nope. Without Annie, life as we know it would be very different!

Good night, all!

(As an addendum to my last post, my lawnmower accident did require my leg to be glued back together again like Humpty Dumpty and a tetanus shot. I'll admit that I'm still laughing about the whole darn thing! Like I said, it just gave me a bit more character)! :) Good times at the Randolph Asylum!

2nd Annual Randolph Lawn Freak Show

Here's the run down for today...

• 5:55 a.m. - Mom, I'm sick. I can't go to school.
• 6:15 a.m. - If you plan on riding to school and not walking, get up NOW!
• (This coming from the child who spent the weekend on a ship with a bunch of other scouts in Charleston and is extremely sleep deprived).
• 6:20 a.m. - Mom, did you realize that Annie doesn't have any pants on?
• (Um, we've already pulled out of the drive way so she'll just have to go "as is" today).
• 10:30 a.m. - Phone call from middle school nurse letting me know Grant wasn't feeling great. Once again, I get another strike on this nurse's tally sheet for my lack of concern by replying, "He'll be ok. There's only five more hours in the day."
• 1:00 p.m. - Front office calls to tell me to check my voice mail regarding a phone call from the middle school nurse. Are you kidding me? I couldn't figure out how to check the VM on this new phone (pining for my iPhone) so I didn't worry about it. I'm sure she added another tally next to my name!
• 2:00 - 4:30ish p.m. - This time block was somewhat of a blur of trying to finish up the yearbook and filling out the annual "letter of intent form." Ugh.
• 5:00 p.m. - I give up and go get the kids from mom.
• 5:30 p.m. - I realize that Dasha isn't wearing the same clothes I sent her to school in. Not good. Her nice loose jeans had been traded for yoga pants that left nothing to the imagination. This wardrobe change was the topic of the nurse's second phone call according to Dasha. Also according to Dasha, someone made her laugh so hard she peed her pants. (Second code yellow for her in less than a month due to hilarious laughter at lunch). After realizing that she was clueless about the condition of my blood pressure, I simply told her that on the 3rd code yellow, you have to wear Pull Ups to school. She can go ahead and add it to her list of topics to talk with the therapist about. Ugh.
• 6:00 p.m. - I need to escape. I'm surrounded. I decide to hold the second annual Randolph Lawn Circus. Yep. First, there was the ordeal of starting the lawn mower. I'd already tried to do this and then someone lovingly pointed out that it "might" just be out of gas. Hmmmm... Yeah. So, the lawn mower and I did the first act without too much drama. I did have to pull the string several times and ended up yanking the knob off of the end of it but that wasn't anything a good 'ole knot wouldn't fix. In the second ring, though, the edger and I ramped up the drama. I couldn't start the darn thing to save my life. I primed it and cranked it but by the time I'd pushed the throttle open, it stalled. So, using every ounce of common sense I own, I sat down in the drive way, put my foot on the throttle and cranked it. Ta Dah! (I think it was probably around this point when the neighbors started calling their kids inside for fear of what I might do next). I have to say that I'm completely astounded and in awe of folks who can edge in a straight line without sending sparks flying everywhere. Not me. I'm surprised I didn't set the yard on fire with all of the sparks flying. Metal against cement. The sound is as bad as fingernails against a chalk board. As one guy walked his dog down the sidewalk while I was working, I think I saw him bend over and look down into the trench I'd dug to see if it was really a mote filled with angry crocodiles. Oh well. I dare weeds to grow next to my sidewalk or driveway any time soon! Ring three of this circus was supposed to be the weed eater. But, alas, despite every trick I did, I couldn't get it started. I'm thinking that my poor old Craigslist weed eater may be destined for the junk pile. But, I was left with a problem. I needed the weed eater to get the wildness off of the bank between my house and the drunken neighbor's. (Although, if I just let the weeds keep growing, maybe she'd get lost wandering over and stay on her side of the hill)! Anyway, I decided to start the mower again and try to just mow around the ground cover shrubs on the hill. (This is the point when you should hear the theme music from Chariots of Fire playing). I restarted the mower with one pull. I think I might have heard a strain of the Hallelujah chorus with that one pull! Then, I gingerly starting pushing the mower in a diagonal design across the hill. Not up and down. I'm not stupid. I didn't want the mower rolling down on top of me. However, I neglected to factor in the old weed barrier cloth that was up underneath everything. In one swoosh, the mower sucked up the cloth the way the vacuum sucks up abandoned Legos. My first reaction was to tug. Duh. I let go of the throttle which killed the engine (major blessing) but then found myself falling backward over the spiky shrub and having the mower following me with quite a bit of momentum. Somehow, I ended up on the ground with the mower in my lap. It was a picture for one of those World's Most Stupid... shows. Luckily, I only sustained surface level wounds which will simply add some character to my wounded ego. However, I'm sure my neighbors are all taking about the freak show at this year's circus! Geez.

Meanwhile, I'd left Dasha at the table working on homework and Grant overseeing Annie. Yeah, I know. Not great decisions on any level at any time. However, I drug myself back into the house in order to get everyone to bed and now I'm ready to give up for the night myself.

While I may be adjusting to the "normalness" of this new life, there is nothing normal about it! There are days when I wonder if I'd be better off working at Disney as one of those characters that you frequently see kids slugging and then I'm reminded how blessed I am to have a job that allows me to do this drama with my kids every afternoon and still provides for our needs. Provisions, blessings, grace, and a very steep learning curve have marked this last year but in nothing short of a miracle, life is good and I'm grateful.

Good night, all.

Conversations with Convicts

So, the new normal seems to be a Monday night post to update the last week's insanity. There's just no time to catch my breath right now. Here's the run down of the last week. Please heed this warning, if you are prone to blush or be easily embarrassed, you might as well stop reading right now. If you are prone to spew your drink out of your nose if you laugh too hard, you'd better put the drink down now. It's been one of THOSE weeks!

February 2010

February 2011

February 2012

Let's just begin this little jaunt down looney lane with last weekend. It was Dad's birthday. I'm amazed at the progression of the kids each year through these pictures. However, look closely at this year's picture and you might be just as disturbed as I was. Annie is holding the cake cutter as if she's Chucky coming to get you. Dasha is eyeing Grandma like she's sizing her up compared to the straight jacket she just bought. And then there's Grant. His look (and the lighter) say about all that needs to be said. So, what is normally considered to be a joyous day sort of takes on a story of it's own after looking at this year's picture. (And, poor Dad isn't sure if he should lean in and snuff out the fire stick or try to protect Grandma from the cake cutter). Where was I while all of this was going on? Well, I've learned a thing or two over the last few months and I'm getting smarter by the second. I was behind the camera gently inching toward the front door ready to flee the moment things got out of hand. Yep. This girls got some learnin' goin' on in her noggin!

The broken doughnut

I mentioned this whole drama last week (I think). Anyway, Annie woke up for several nights in hysterics screaming about her "broken doughnut." Of course, I'd go in and comfort her (while mumbling under my breath that I wish Benadryl would work on this little angel). Every night, it was the same thing. She'd cry and cry and blow snot bubbles and tell me about a broken doughnut. We emptied out her entire kitchen area looking for a broken doughnut. There was nothing there. She did have a few other doughnuts in her set but they were just fine. Finally, we found the broken doughnut. It was not a figment of her imagination as I'd assumed. It was real. It was at Grandma's house amongst the kitchen stuff there. Geez. I really was beginning to worry that this girl was dreaming about being a cop and missing her doughnuts. I'm still not sure why this crazy mystery only surfaced between 1 and 3 a.m. but I'm grateful that I didn't have to call in NCIS or Columbo to solve the mystery! (I'd probably have tried to get the guy from Lie to Me first, though)!

And that, my friends, brings me to last Monday night. Prior to my post last week, I really thought that I was going to have to hand my Mommy Card in. For my Dad's birthday, I baked 3 dozen cupcakes to surprise him with at the scout meeting. First of all, I've admitted more than once that I am not Martha Stewart. The only thing that I ever might even have in common with the woman would be getting locked up. However, in moments of crisis, for some crazy reason, the spirit of Martha always seems to possess me! Thinking I was some diva baker, I whipped up 3 dozen cupcakes (thank you Betty Crocker boxed cake mix - definitely NOT Martha approved) and let them cool. As they cooled, this little crumb snatcher, grabbed a couple of "muffins" and popped them in her mouth. OK. I calmed down and did the math. There were still enough "muffins" to feed the troops so things were going to be alright. Then, I needed to ice those bad boys. Ha. I felt like Dora when she chooses the map (instead of the crayon) to get her over the Troll Bridge or when Blue finally sits on his Thinking Chair and solves the mystery! Ta-Da! I'd seen Martha use a Ziploc bag before as an icing utter. (Um, not sure what the appropriate term is but I bet you know what I'm talking about despite your utter shock)! :) I plopped a bunch of icing into the baggie, snipped the corner off and, nope. Not gonna work. I didn't snip enough of the bag off. So, I snipped again. Yep. It worked - a little too well. Icing started oozing out every where. I moved as fast as I could to just put a pile of the stuff on each cupcake. Mind you, as I'm doing this and feeling very panicky, Annie is dragging her stool around my feet saying, "Can I help you? Can I help you?" I'll admit. I wanted to scream, "Yes, you can help me by being quiet for 3 nanoseconds and standing still over there, away from my bubble of anxiety!" No. I didn't say it. (If you don't know Annie, I'll tell you that even if I had said that to her, she wouldn't have been bothered. She would have continued to drag her stool around and follow me). So, I finally got icing globbed on each cupcake and then used a butter knife (I think that's what it is. It's a cute little knife with a triangular shaped blade) and smoothed the icing out. Finally, I stuffed the cupcakes into a big box and waited for Mom to come and watch the girls so I could deliver the confections to the meeting.

I really thought that I was getting the better part of this deal. Mom was left to bathe and bed the girls while I delivered cupcakes and celebrated with Dad and the boys. NOT! Do you know what a group of boys between the ages of 12 and 18 acts like? I heard more bodily noises and disgusting jokes than I care to hear in a month. There wasn't enough sweetness in those 30 cupcakes to counteract the testosterone pumping through that building. Ugh. However, I managed to tough it out and Dad was genuinely surprised. It was worth my elevated blood pressure and need for a very long and hot shower to wash away the stench of all of those boys afterwards!

For some kids, they need to carry about a blanket for security. For others, they want a special lovey to carry around. For Annie, she needs her stool. I can identify the exact location of Annie by the sound this stool makes while scraping across the floor. Our newest discovery - reaching the sink via the stool. This is a wonderful thing when it's time to wash hands or clean a dirty face. However, turning the sink off seems to be a challenge that she's not up to meeting yet. Once again, I am SO thankful to have tile floors in the kitchen. Whew.

If you haven't seen these "Annie Antics" via FB, please take a moment and make up your own captions for these. And yes, it has already been very well established that Annie is simply mimicking me getting on my own broom in the last shot. Go ahead and say it. Many others have! :)

As for the big kids, there aren't any photos to go with their antics this week. (Those who've heard the story are breathing major sighs of relief on that note)! So, the first email came on Friday. Dasha's teacher informed me that she was having conversations with a boy about... oh, what shall we call it... girl business, lady's days, meeting Aunt Flo... ok. I'm sure you got the picture. I've had SO many conversations with her about being discrete and private but for some reason, she just doesn't get it. So, this weekend, knowing that I was opening up a major can of worms, I kind of danced around having "the talk" with her to see what she knew. Here's what I got. The birds and the bees according to Dasha - Having a boyfriend means that you talk and hug. If you kiss them, that means you've had sex with them. The only time a boy and girl should touch is if they're hugging, kissing, or helping each other. (OK, I got the giggles so bad at that point that I had to take an intermission. The smart alack in my brain wanted to say, "I've never heard it called 'helping each other' before")! Geez. Anyway, I tried to gently steer the conversation back to first base and start at the beginning. Well, it didn't take too long to realize that we needed the remedial beginner's version. After a few very blunt questions from me, I came to the conclusion that Dasha didn't have any clue that there wasn't anything like "boys business, men's days, or visits from Uncle Flo!" Why in the world was she worried with trying to be secretive about something that she thought everyone dealt with. Ugh. I'll admit that I had a visual image of someone stamping "FAILED" across my forehead at that moment. So, I gently lowered the bomb that boys didn't have the same issues. Of course, that was followed with, "Then why do girls have to deal with it?" I truly tried to give just the facts and leave any emotions out of my whole delivery. However, the look on the poor girl's face was just too much to handle at some points and I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. So, we ended the conversation much as I end the conversation with Annie. Boys and girls are just different. After pondering that thought for several hours, I think I might just leave the discussion at that because that's about all that holds true in every single account! :) (Oh, but I did order a couple of books from Amazon because I'll admit major defeat in this area. Eric handled this business with Grant and I have a hard time staying serious. I can't even say some of the terminology without getting the church giggles). Geez.

However, it got even better after that. Don't say I didn't tell you! The minute a boy gets involved, things get ten times more complicated! So, Grant climbs in the van and kind of sits quietly for a minute. I can't decide if he's huffing at me for another unknown reason or if there's a problem. So, I fall for his bait and ask him what's wrong. Absolutely nothing could have prepared me for his question (not even my discussion with him after this year's sex ed class). He mumbles quietly so I almost had to have him repeat the question but he said, "What does choking the chicken mean?" Seriously? I'm SO thankful that I was stopped at a traffic light. I'm pretty sure that I would have put the van into a ditch if I'd been any further down the road. Well. Now. Do I answer him? Play dumb? Tell him to call his dad? Crap! In my mind, I was flipping through all of the episodes of The Cosby Show to figure out what Cliff or Claire would have done if Theo had asked them a question like that but I came up empty. So, I tried to answer his question with a question. (Some might call this stalling). After a few questions from me that got more and more detailed, his poor face went white and then he burst out laughing. Well, dang. I was glad he was laughing because my blood pressure had definitely exceeded it's maximum limit! (Look folks, the first thing I'll admit to is naivety so I'm not really even sure how I knew what the term meant but I was kind of glad that I did at that moment). For the rest of the night, every time Grant made eye contact with me, he bust out laughing and ran off. Poor thing!

What I neglected to mention about this whole scenario was that the girls were in the back seat. I thought they were doing their own things and oblivious to my heart attack and Grant's embarrassment. Nope. Without going into any more detail than I've already subjected you to, I can tell you that Dasha heard just enough to be dangerous. She decided to "one up" her new found knowledge about what boys don't have to deal with by telling someone that boys can most certainly choke chickens. (When she told me what she'd said, she literally made a choking sign with her hands around her neck). Ugh. And this, my friends, is why I'm having a sign painted to hang over the front door that reads, "Randolph Asylum!" Once again, we had another conversation about parts and pieces, their respective owners, and the privacy that they demand. Maybe Dasha would have been better off in a nudist colony where there are no secrets of this nature. Just saying!

So, as the week begins, I'm looking forward to celebrating Annie's 3rd birthday this weekend. She's getting a new "big girl room" with an official big girl bed that she won't fall out of. (Oh yeah. Add her falling out of the little toddler bed every couple of nights to our list of night time interruptions). :)

As for me, I'm finding myself again for who I really am and I have to admit that it's kind of fun. New friends, new experiences, and... well, lots of new and different things that I had no idea I enjoyed.

Philippians 1:9-10
And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ.

Good night, all.

(Oh, and to the anonymous deliverer of the rubber chicken this afternoon, that just about made me faint from not being able to catch my breath from laughing so hard. Very funny! You must have a house full of boys yourself)!!! It's so nice to have demented friends who constantly make me feel like I'm a little bit normal!

Ansley's Day

Friday will mark nine years since Ansley slipped away from us. I don't have the stamina to revisit the "story" or really even put too much emotion into it. Time has healed so many of those hurts and has also opened my eyes to the impact she made on so many people in her nine short months. No, the day doesn't slip by without my thoughts wondering how many meds I'd need if Ansley and Annie were both residing under this roof! Those two would have probably figured out a way to take over the world by this point. Whew!

What a blessing to be able to look at this picture, though! This is exactly where Annie was sleeping (lounging) when I got the phone call from Dr. Hardin that Annie had tested negative for Pompe's. Words can't describe that moment in time. It's hard to believe that Annie was ever that tiny, still, or quiet.

So, that's sort of where a piece of my heart is tonight. I've been so busy lately that it has been hard to even slow down and think much less be emotional. There are so many things that are going on right now! But, I thought I'd take a minute to quickly spat down what I know may be the biggest thing in my week. (Never mind Annie stealing cupcakes intended for Boy Scouts, Dad's birthday, or other crazy things! Those crazy things will wait for another night's musings)!

Good night, all.

Song of Solomon lessons for Dasha - NOT and Cow Brains for Dinner

So, the blogging has been moved to the back burner (obviously) for a host of reasons. School work has become overwhelming and reproduces at the speed of little bunnies. The kids have all made a pact to take turns seeing who can pop the most gray hairs out of my head. And, I've just sort of been in protective mode for the last several weeks. I've spent a lot of time thinking through who I am as this new journey begins and what I'd like the journey to look like. Now, I've made enough plans to know that I need to check my flight plan with the Control Tower and get clearance to take off and land but I'm also way too familiar with having my flight rerouted through foreign (and enemy) territory! The process has been frustrating, painful, and even gut wrenching at times. I make it sound as if I simply wrote everything down and said to the kids, "Load up! We're heading on an adventure." No. This new journey is definitely going to take some tweaking along with the way but I feel like I've at least got my bearings about who I am now, what I stand for, and where I'm going. Some of those things didn't change but a lot of them did. When you're with someone for close to 20 years, your dreams sort of mesh together and it's nearly impossible to separate them. (Think about trying to separate Kool Aide powder from water). So, many of those dreams and goals have to be rewritten within the new template. OK. Maybe this is all strange and unintelligible for some. However, if you've ever walked this journey, you can relate.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

This kids have done their normal things and taken turns seeing who could make mom dial 9-1-1 first. There hasn't been too much major drama beyond getting an email from Dasha's teacher informing me that Dasha seemed to have a new beau. The teacher said that Dasha gave the boy her phone number and then hugged him. OK. I'll admit. The first three thoughts that ran through my head were 1) she doesn't know her phone number, 2) do they make cages big enough for 14 year olds, and 3) I looked down at the floor to see the hood that I'd zipped off of Dasha's vest before she left for school that morning and suddenly had the realization that I could have her wear the hood backwards and avoid any more interactions with the wild boy species! So, before the week is out, I have to figure out how to have a portion of "the talk" with her. I'm just not sure where to start or stop. I think I'll start at the beginning (Genesis 1:1) and then stop when her eyes start bugging out or before getting to Song of Solomon for sure! Beyond that little bomb, things have progressed in a semi-normal fashion.

Grant has convinced her that everything tastes like cow brains!!!! She asks for cow brains for a snack. The next time I see cow tongue or something that only a tribe in Africa would eat in the meat section, I'm going to buy it and make Grant eat it!

See? Nothing abnormal there.

As I'm beginning this new journey, I've realized that less than a mile down the road, the flight plan I'd filed is already being modified, though. I've said it over and over. I absolutely know that God has quite a sense of humor. Slowly but surely, I'm learning to let go and relax enough to see the humor and adjust my route. I feel like my poor old GPS screaming, "Creating a new route! Creating a new route!," when I miss a turn! I'm simply taking comfort in Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Things that I never thought possible just might be.

Good night, all.

The End and The Beginning

As many of you know, Thursday was the day. So, instead of answering all of the emails and trying to rehash everything, here the details are.

Arrived at courthouse only to find that for some reason, I couldn't get through the metal detectors. I've never had a problem anywhere else before. Every time the officer waved the wand over my butt, it sounded like an alarm going off. Seriously? Looking back, I can find a little bit of humor in the situation but at that very moment, it was definitely not funny. My mind was racing and I was beginning to look around to see if they were going to make me strip in order to go into a courtroom and have the remainder of my dignity taken. Finally, the officer laughed out loud and waved me on. I'm still not sure what the deal was. Was I their morning target for their first laugh of the day? Who knows.

In my mind, I'd pictured a quiet courtroom with a few other people sitting nervously as they waited for their marriages to be obliterated. Nope. This was civil court. People suing their contractors. People suing their banks. The courtroom was packed. This was definitely not what I'd expected. Thank goodness, my case was second on the docket for the morning so I wouldn't have to sit there all day or risk my case getting bumped to another date as we'd originally thought might happen.

The first case was called and the judge made a complete mess of the girl's lawyer. He kept asking for other documents and then asking the girl about the details of why she was divorcing her husband. He asked about her children, her own personal life and finances, and even asked her why she felt that her marriage could not be salvaged. What the heck? I'll admit that I thought more than once about bolting from the courtroom. I don't know what I would have done but I figured I could have at least made it to the elevator before having a heart attack. So, the judge did not grant the first contestant of the day her divorce. Her poor lawyer (very young and kept apologizing for his ineptness) looked as though he'd been hit by a truck. They were missing some paperwork that the judge found to be quite necessary after his badgering.

Then, they called my name. But, they didn't call my name. They said something like Randolph vs. Randolph or some other nonsense like that. No sooner than I'd been called, I felt the tears starting to well up. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why must I cry about everything? I did manage to stifle the tears after my lawyer gave me a look that would have scared a dead person. Her words to me right before court began were, "Simply take the stand, raise your right hand, agree to tell the truth, answer any question form the judge with simple responses, and don't get emotional." Yeah. This coming from a lady who dissolves marriages on a daily basis. Anyway, somehow, I made it to the stand, was sworn in, and from there, it honestly becomes a blur. The judge started asking me questions. However, my lawyer literally gave me "the hand" to inform me to stop answering the questions and she began to answer them for me. Oh my gosh. The questions that were asked made me want to slink behind the stand with embarrassment. Personal questions about finances that the entire court gallery was hearing. Personal questions about the details of the divorce decree. Justifications about certain parts of the decree. I alternated between channeling my energy to keep myself from crying and to keep myself from leaping over the banister and into the judge's box and strangling him for making Eric sound like a monster. (Then, I spent time being mad at myself for wanting to protect him). Geez. The day I can make my heart and mind connect, I might be safe to society. But, for now, the two entities don't seem to be on the same wavelength. Anyway, this went on for an hour. For a flipping hour, I sat there listening to two strangers rehash the details of the last twenty years like I wasn't even there. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't have answered if I'd wanted to. But finally, in some sort of secret motion, the judge and lawyer seemed to quit their tug of war and I was divorced. I seriously don't remember walking out of the courtroom. I made it to the elevator before I lost it. Lost it is putting it mildly. As I bolted back through security, the same officers who'd haggled me a couple of hours before just opened the doors and let me fly out of that God forsaken building like a wild animal escaping from a cage. Once I got to the van, I started it, and just drove. I ended up in the Publix shopping center on Riverstone. I guess I was there for a little over an hour before I got myself together enough to navigate home. I don't think I've even processed all of the emotions of that journey. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to, either. But, bottom line, he got what he wanted. In fact, it was a year ago this weekend that he made his final decision. I can see that now. Heaven knows that I couldn't see it at the time, though. He chose to lie to me about a business trip and rendezvous with her at a hotel in TX. That was the first time that I'd realized he'd directly lied to me. Yeah, he'd been "hiding" things for a while at that point but he hadn't just right out lied. I was at home with sick babies and pulling my hair out. I thought he was in TX trying to work with a new client. Yeah, he was sure working with a new client. He blamed "her" for tempting him by driving from Lubbock and getting a hotel room. Why am I reliving this? It doesn't even matter what the details are now. The bottom line, a year ago, he chose her over me. Now, he can legally get what he wants. Grant's first words to me were, "Tonight is the first night that daddy is doing the right thing." It took me quite a while to ask for clarification because in my heart, I knew exactly what he meant. From the mouths of babes. As I ask for that clarification, he slammed his next question directly into my bleeding heart. "What's the difference in the importance of you and me to him?" Once again, I didn't want to assume the meaning so I asked him. I won't forget his answer to me as long as I live. We both just sat there and cried. I'm not exactly sure what his tears were for but I could begin to make a pretty good list. Heck, I'm not exactly sure what my tears were for, either. In the end, I'm divorced. (That still sounds ugly and dirty to me but I guess I should get used to it).

There's the story in one big pile of words. There are some details that might come back to me as I process through the day. But, for the most part, I've closed the door on those memories for now and decided to simply keep moving forward. The longer I stand still, the more those memories get wrapped around my feet and ankles and pull me down. It's useless.

I've tried to make some extra time to spend with Grant lately and wow. Conversations with a middle school boy deserve their own entry (as do my early morning conversations with Annie). So, maybe I'll have time to put to paper the insanity of those conversations on another day.

For now,
Good night, all.

What happens when I can't do it any more? I'm at my juggling capacity. If I try to juggle one more thing, I'll most likely drop all of the other balls I'm trying to keep in the air. Which balls will fall first? Which will fall the hardest? Which will fall and roll away? Kids, job, house, bills, sanity? Which one is it? I'm tired to pretending to have it together. I don't. Things are beginning to unravel at an alarming rate. Today, Grant punched his closet door. He's currently trying to finish two assignments that were due on Friday. Why? Grant has never given me grief about school work. He's always been on top of things. What changed? Then, Dasha made Annie bleed. She decided to pick the hang nails off of Annie's toes and convinced Annie that this was ok. When Annie started screaming and I ran to see what was going on, Dasha just looked up and said she didn't know what happened. Annie quickly told me that Dasha had "picked her skin off." At that point, Dasha started justifying it by saying that the little pieces of skin were bothering her so she decided to take them off. (I'm just counting my blessings that she didn't decide to get the nail clippers and do it). Annie... well, Annie is two and just doesn't understand. The potty training has gone well and accidents have been minimal. Believe it or not, the biggest problem has been getting her to sit down to pee. She wants to perch like a gargoyle on top of the potty. There are some things that I just can't explain. However, I will tell you that a little potty chair will tip over and expel its contents when a child sits on it gargoyle fashion.

I'm just tired of the lonliness of the whole situation. If you have someone's arms to run into and momentarily hide from the world, don't take them for granted. Yeah, my parents help out but if they really knew how close things are to falling to pieces, they'd never stop hovering. They've already raised kids. This is not their job. Their expectations and methods are not what we had in mind for our kids but it's becoming harder and harder to maintain those expectations since I have to rely on them for so much. Our initial expectations are blurring with the leneniancy of their grandparent ways. The kids get confused with what they're supposed to do and what's acceptable. Why can I do that at grandma's but not here? That wasn't a problem when they visited there once or twice a week but when they are there nearly every day, black and white begin to blur to gray.

My wish for tonight... To run into the shelter of someone's arms and be able to let my guard down without fear of everything falling to pieces. Without fear of condemnation. Without fear of judgement. Without fear of losing who I am and who I want to be for the kids. I just want to hear someone say, "It's ok." Even it's a lie. Maybe this sounds really shallow or even silly. I don't care. I can't keep up the charade. Three jobs, three children, one house, financial responsibilities, and trying to figure out who I am through all of this. It's becoming too much.

Good night, all.

Negotiations, Men in the Shower, and Anniversaries



6:30 a.m. "Mama! I wanna eat pamcakes. Let's go downstairs so you can get me some."

7:00 a.m. Quick shower reveals that some sort of skirmish has gone on in my shower over night.

This silly hook doesn't hold my razor like it's supposed to but battling G.I. Joes seem to cling effortlessly to it! Really? I just wanted a simple shower without an entire troop of men monitoring the situation. "Grant! Come get your men out of my shower! Now!"

Then, I discover this poor guy on the table next to the bed. Hmmmm.... Wondering if he pulled his own leg off or if Annie got to him.

"Mama! Look what I found. Can I play sand?" This is what she was discovering while I took a 2.5 minute shower. She also stripped her pants and diaper because they were "too wet." I told her she could have this "prize" if she'd use the potty all day. She immediately began negotiations which lasted all stinking day! At one point, she tried to bargain with me to get the diapers back. At another point, she told me that she'd use the potty if I'd give her the treat first. Seriously? Ok. Go ahead and say it. Most of you are thinking it! She's her father!!!!!! She would argue with a wall if she thought she'd be able to get her own way!

Ok. I give up. If she can change her own clothes, tell me that she's "too wet," and can assume a particular position in a particular place to do her "business," I'll admit that it's past time to potty train. Ugh. I don't want to!

We survived day one of potty training boot camp. And, yes, I handed her prize over at the end of the day. She only had two mishaps so I don't think that's too bad. (Why would any sane parent buy an inside mini sandbox full of purple sand)?

She waited until bed time when I'd put her Pull Up on to take care of her major business, though. When I asked her why she didn't poop in the potty, this was the response I got. If she wasn't so darn cute.... I wonder if the judge is going to see it that way when she messes with the wrong person? Probably not.

So, that was my day minus rebuilding a vaccuum cleaner, rebuilding a dresser drawer that Annie used as a step stool to reach her paci, and doing about sixty five loads of laundry. Whew.

On another note, happy 40th anniversary to my parents! Wow. The story that I'd chosen had that same milestone in it but, obviously, part of my story is having to be rewritten. I'm just hoping for the same sort of happy ending. Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!

Good night, all.

Hockey Pucks, Poo Cookies, and Lead Weights

Let's see, here's how it all works out so far...

1) No sleep due to a wheezy baby and my own emotions which seem to have grown into a three headed monster and are once again taunting me with visions of sleep but allowing me none.

2) Overwhelming guilt about two epic character fails on my part. I'm not used to screwing up but when I do... dang. (If you were unlucky enough to catch the last post before it was deleted, I'm sorry. That's about all I can say).

3) Trying to cook burgers so the kids could have a real meal that wasn't 100% from a box. Had gas turned too high when I lit the burner and toasted my hair and eyebrows. Hmmmm.... I need a haircut anyway. Guess it's mandatory now.

4) Hamburgers were served as either hockey pucks or bloody. Hard to see what you're doing in the dark.

5) Tried to save myself with the kids by making cookies. They turned out ok but it suddenly dawned on the big kids that the hamburgers and cookies resembled poo patties and, well, though I laughed, I just wanted to throw away my mom card and run away.

6) Had to run to the grocery store to buy litter when I realized I was completely out and the cat had decided she wanted a refill. She filed her complaint in the middle of the office floor multiple times. Left the kids home and occupied to make the quick trip but returned to drama.

7) Finally got everyone in bed only to realize that I don't have a darn thing to give Dasha for her birthday tomorrow. Oh well. I didn't have anything to give Grant last week, either. Maybe I can just call it another new crappy tradition.

8) Crawled in bed with my laptop in order to get some work done (backed up to paramount status) only to flip channels and find "My Best Friend's Wedding." I'd never seen it before. I have now and wish I hadn't. Not what I needed.

9) The sheer magnitude of emotions and questions right now are pulling me down like lead weights. In the beginning of this journey, the emotions were definitely real but they alternated from high to low and were almost surface level emotions which could be quelled by throwing something or screaming. What I'm dealing with now... Nope. I could throw all of the shoes in Payless and it wouldn't help a thing. There are points when I cry out to God and there are days when I scream in anger at Him.

10) Through all of this, I've come to realize that the team I work with at school couldn't ever be replaced. Knowing that seven other insane ladies have your back can make all the difference in the world! We've laughed so hard that our stomachs hurt. We've cried together. We've even discussed... well... I'll never be able to tell those women what they've meant to me over the last... 12 years? Really?... That makes me really old! Anyway, there are definitely bright spots in all of the darkness right now.

So, that's a snap shot of where I'm at.

Good night, all.

Safe

Happy birthday to a 12 year old who knows more about living than most adults

County science fair

Accepting 2nd place in microbiology against a bunch of 12th graders

Annie's first hair cut

 This week was a non-stop barrage of events and escapades. While Grant's birthday and science fair win were definitely high points of the week, they were gut wrenchingly bittersweet, as well. He's 12. He's not looking for my stamp of approval. He simply wants his dad. When I texted Eric a picture of the 2nd place ribbon, Grant got teary eyed and then mad at me for some ridiculous reason. I'm guessing this is what the next few years will look like for me. Next week, we'll celebrate Dasha's 14th birthday and hopefully have a few minutes to catch our breath from the past week. I don't have too much to spill right now. I'm just kind of in a holding pattern. If I move to the left or right, I might just lose my grip and slip off of the edge of solid ground. So, I'll keep still for now until I can regain some strength and process the piles of poo that seem to be building up around my ankles. In one of those piles is a final court date with a little memo attached saying that I'll have to do quite a bit of retelling and talking with the judge and that one session might not put an end to this nightmare that I'm walking through. I may have to be poked, prodded, and tortured a second day (or more) to satisfy the questions and time constraints of this judge. Like I said, I'm going to stand very very still as if I were hunting for rabbits like Elmer Fudd and wait for my strength to return. In my current state, the decisions I make aren't rational. The projects I finish are half-a@@ed. And, my heart just isn't in it right now.

This completely sums up my position right now. I just want to let the guard down and be safe for a while.

To the one who's dreams are falling all apart
And all you're left with is a tired and broken heart
I can tell by your eyes you think your on your own
but you're not all alone

Have you heard of the One who can calm the raging seas
Give sight to the blind, pull the lame up to their feet
With a love so strong he'll never let you go
oh you're not alone

You will be safe in His arms
You will be safe in His arms
'Cause the hands that hold the world are holding your heart
This is the promise He made
He will be with You always
When everything is falling apart
You will be safe in His arms

Did you know that the voice that brings the dead to life
Is the very same voice that calls you to rise
So hear Him now He's calling you home
You will never be alone

These are the hands that built the mountains
the hands that calm the seas
These are the arms that hold the heavens
they are holding you and me

These are hands that healed the leper
Pulled the lame up to their feet
These are the arms that were nailed to a cross
to break our chains and set us free

 Good night, all.