Help

After yet another long, busy day yesterday of an art festival, shopping and some more shopping for those little things that keep popping up on our list, I was completely zapped. Nothing in this world has the ability so suck the life out of me quite like Walmart. I still get extremely overwhelmed each time I walk into the store and go completely blank immediately after entering and always have to take a moment to look around and take it all in with my mouth hanging wide, no doubt. It is just so big. And so busy. I literally have to do a mental prep before I enter and do a check, double check, triple check for my list, then hold is tight because I am nothing without it.


So we came home around dark, all of us hungry and tired and wanting food but I haven't been too aggressive in stocking the kitchen because stocking up takes money and I have a serious phobia when it comes to spending. But I am going to fix the kitchen problem asap. Its a must. Because I am no good without food, as you are about to see.


So Nyah and I, and Jude and Elsa, all got settled in on our bed couch, which we are currently using until we purchase a popper sofa, in attempts to decompress before food, bath, story, and bed. Jude was nursing, Elsa was bouncing on my legs and Nyah butted in right in front of Elsa to get in on the Mommy action. I simply pulled her off my lap with one hand, not able to take a single person more on me. And I guess after a day of working on not interrupting and following instructions the first time they are given, she was over it. After being pulled off my lap, she so sweetly looked at me with her wide beautiful eyes and stated that, "You are a grumpy Mommy. You are a bad Mommy, just like Rapunzel's Mommy."


And just in case you aren't as well versed on your fairy tales as my fairly tale loving four year old, let me just fill you in. The Mommy she was referring to is the wicked woman who stole Rapunzel from her crib, from the castle, and from her parents in the newly vamped Disney version of Rapunzel called, Tangled. In this version, similar to the original story, the woman locks Rapunzel away in a tower, never lets her out, lets Rapunzel's hair grow, and often calls for Rapunzle to "Let down your hair!" Only so she can come up and pretend to love Rapunzel as a mother would, but really uses Rapunzel for her hair, which has special powers that allow the woman to retain her youth. 


So there it was. The words no mother wants to hear and Nyah's true feelings. She thinks I suck at this mother thing, the only job I truly care about in life and the only thing I desperately want to do successfully. George, of course, advised that I shouldn't take her so serious, she is only four years old and I couldn't help but think, exactly. She is only four years old. She is more innocent and pure now then she will ever be. She is not yet aware of purposely saying things to hurt another. She is only capable of telling the truth and in this case she was best able to get the truth out by relating me to the only mean "mother" she knows, not and evil step mother, oh no, but a woman who steals a child.


So, of course, I spent much of last night and today trying to recover from that blow and completely re analyzing myself and my life and trying to figure out how to be a better mother, a better person, and how to get more sleep with all the runny noses up in here. 


And so I guess this is a call for help. Advise is needed from much better and wiser mothers because I am feeling like such a failure. Is this a normal thing for kid to tell their Mom? Or am I just that sucky? I need help because it might come as a big surprise, but guess what? I am totally sucking at the recovery from this one. I almost feel as bad as the time I locked Elsa in the hot truck. 


Thanks in advance from one humbled Momma.

Back to School

It was back to school for this one last week. Better late than never. I feel like she has been waiting all summer for this moment, bored out of her mind with all of the baby stuff going on. 


I stayed awake late into the night on the eve of her first day with anxiety. Was it too much to send her so soon after the move? Would it be as inspiring as her old school? Did I pack everything she needed in her lunch box? 


Well, she woke that morning, got herself dressed, jabbered all the way there then rushed into school and jumped right into her work like she never stopped, and even forgot to kiss me goodbye. That is the great thing about Montessori, the work (activities) are pretty much the same around the world. 


She came home that day walking a little taller, showing her little sister how to do a few more things, suddenly taking her duty as "big sister" very seriously. On the second day she asked me not to walk her in, though I made up some excuse so I could. And now school is like her second home, it is part of her, something all her own.


Elsa on the other hand cried during drop off for the first two days. Now she just takes her shoes off at school and makes every attempt to stay and join the class. She wonders around the house calling for, "Yaya?" and shrieks when it is time to pick her up. She misses her partner in crime and so do I.

His Third Month

Congrats littlest buddy, you have accomplished so much in the three months you been with us, though it seems like you have always been in our lives. You made your first major move to a house that you will hopefully make many memories in with your sisters. I think we can relax for a bit now because your family is one again.

We finally broke down and bought you a crib. We ditched the tiny bassinet back in Indiana. It was time. You are a big guy and needed a big bed. And just to make me feel worse about having you sleep in a small bassinet up until this point, you went ahead and rolled over during your very first nap in the big crib. I am sure you have been able to roll over for quite sometime now but just didn't have the room to move. But now you have all of the protected room you could ever want, so roll on little guy. The funniest part though is that you do not like sleeping on your back and each night when you roll from belly to back you get really upset and cry until I pick you up. I am sure you will sleep again soon though.

You eat constantly and still despise your car seat. It is almost simultaneous that the moment your back touches the car seat your cries begin and it hurts me so but unfortunately we must go places, though I would much rather sit at home and snuggle your little biceps all day.

You are awake much more these days and take two major naps. You are pretty fond of your thumb, watching the ceiling fans go round, and hanging out with your Dad. You two seem to get each other perfectly. I think you are just what each other needed.

You still have the most adorable dimply flirtatious smile and you melt my heart daily. Thanks for hanging in there through all of the moving madness. Loved is what you are.

Walking in Circles

We are back, finally connected to the world again. The break from all technology (minus our cell phones and our house hold appliances) has been great and refreshing, though I can't claim to have accomplished anything great. Because it seems like I have just been walking in circles for the past week we have been in this home. Or wait, has it been a week? I actually don't even know what day of the week is. 


I finally unpacked the last of the boxes yesterday and everything is relatively put away to their rooms or piles. I mean we are talking piles galore up in here and all I can do is roam from one pile to the next and then get distracted by another without ever really putting anything away. There is just so much to do to make everyone feel at home. And George and I have told each other, "Just add it to the list," more times than I would like to admit. Its kind of the theme around here, to just put it some where, anywhere, on the list, just to get it out of sight and mind so we can deal with it all.


We did get the most important room of the house put away though, the dining room play room, so the little ones can keep busy while I make every attempt to get busy. 

I guess it's okay to be real with myself and admit that is all just a bit much. Our 660 square foot condo is like my security blanket that someone just abruptly took away from me. I just can't stop thinking about it. I could clean the entire place, top to bottom (bathroom and floors included) in a little less than an hour. And all members of the family were in talking distance and in sight with as little as a lean in either direction. It was enough. And now George is back to work and I just feel like I am wondering around someone else's house. I'm exhausted from cleaning just a few bathrooms probably due to the circles I walk in the trek from one room to the next in attempts get ahead while maintaining the current mess we've made. 


My Google search bar has been blowing up with things like, "Wtf is a convection oven?", "What is that beeping sound?", and "Why is my fridge asking me what temp I want my water? Cold, I want it cold." I had to ask our perfect neighbor wife how to mop wood floors the other day because I don't know these types of things and I am sure she could see right through my small condo mind. And then my high tech washer said, "Hi" to me this morning and programmed the temperatures for the clothes I was washing. Which I am thankful for because I am used scrambling for quarters, playing laundry mat politics, and doing my best not to have the laundry mat attendant yell at me, again, rather than learning what temperature things should be washed in. And I am almost positive it was cold water for everyone at that laundry mat, so it wouldn't have mattered anyway. 


And Elsa is most definitely messing with me. Her new game is to pick the farthest point away from me in the house to hide in. She remains so quiet in the dark spaces causing me to leave the room and make another long lap around the house in search of her only to find her in the original room behind a door or in a dark closet giggling at me. Aren't kids supposed to be afraid of the dark? But the echos this house produces usually gives her away if she would just make a sound because we have little to fill this place. 


And in case you weren't aware, when you do finally decide to give in and give up and test out the new big tub in an attempt to relax, don't continue to add bubble bath when enough bubbles aren't produced because once the jets come on, yeah, it will boil over with bubbles. And your husband might laugh at you because you're trying to act like you know how to soak in a huge tub but you really don't. 


So that is what I have been doing, getting aquatinted with this place, the mailbox, the garage, the technology, the ridiculousness and trying not to feel overwhelmed and really trying to convince myself that maybe if I walk in circles long enough, that this place might eventually start to feel like home. 

Our Shelter

We waited all afternoon to hear from George. After much anticipation, we finally heard him slide his credit card key into the hotel door, which caused the girls to scream then hide, giggling the entire time. The smile he entered with said it all. 


After another meal in a sterile restaurant, we arrived with tired eyes in the dark with rain falling hard and the thunder rumbling even harder. The garage door hummed open, powered by our new opener, a free gift with our purchase. The kids piled out of the van and in they rushed in to fill their new home, their refuge from the world, with their echoing shrieks and extremely tired, nearly over the edge of sanity energy. It was all so surreal, such comfort from the storm. 

And all I could think about was hanging Christmas stockings, and decorating the girls room, and just how far we've come from the tiny space we started out in together on our tiny island. 


We've learned so much about each other and life leading up to this moment, and we now know that any space is perfect for us, that we can make any situation work, hopefully even one as perfect as this. 

Crackers were spilled, a rug was laid, diapers changed and a tantrum was thrown by our littlest girl who is testing the water of what her will is capable of in preparation for her second year of life. And then we had to say goodbye the place we will call home, leaving remnants of us behind, to head back to our hotel room for one last night. 

Tomorrow our journey as a family begins continues, in a house on a canal down in Louisiana. Our permanent shelter from the storm.

And I can't enjoy this moment without taking a moment to give thanks for the support, advice, encouragement and absolute love from all of those who helped us get here. We are blessed beyond words, not for things like houses but for you.

The Rough Life of a Little Brother

 

So much love for such a little guy.

Together at Last

We have made it. We are here, its warm, and we are in the South, deep in the South. I guess I wasn't really letting my mind accept that we were migrating to this special part of the country, where the southern drawl, sweet tea, spicy food, and southern charm have a way of making you feel all warm inside. Yes ma'am. Where college football matters, and alliances and rivalries for the given teams run thicker than blood, much to George's delight. This place is an explosion of purple and gold.


I might have a little thing called culture shock going on but I am trying to embrace it all because, well, this is home. I thought I had acclimated back to state side living from island life but I must say, this place is overwhelming me. Cement and strip malls and traffic are constantly clustering my mind causing George to realize what a slow, simple, small town island girl I really am. 


But my refuge from it all-our new house, which is not technically ours yet. Fingers crossed we will be walking through the doors with suit cases in hand Wednesday. George out did himself in the house purchasing department. We have been to visit our new digs and the only part I didn't like was leaving. It might be my oasis from it all until my senses acclimate.


And the girls, well they never cease to amaze. They endured the nearly 900 mile trip beyond all expectations, which I am sure made the mini van driver (their Pop) a happy guy. 

Elsa seems to be adjusting to hotel life quiet well. And she nearly downed an entire plate of grilled alligator yesterday. Yeah. Who knew? 

Nyah loves her new house and has been consuming the local black beans and rice like it's her job. Finally, the real thing, not the out of the box stuff I constantly force down her. But Elsa is still partial to her grandma's seasoned rice and beans. And I am sure its just a matter of time before Nyah picks up a little Creole accent of her own.


And Jude, our sweetest little guy, managed to discover his thumb a couple days before the trip and really became attached during his hours spent in the car seat. Though he detests his car seat, he hung in there during the trip with a little help from the thumb. I know we are not going to appreciate the orthodontic bill down the road but for now, his new discovery proved helpful. And if you're counting, yes, that makes two finger suckers in the family. Genetic? Who knows?

Now, I have to get back to the business of figuring how to set up whole house hold from nothing and prioritize the most needed (with George by my side). I have a feeling our wallets are going to be begging for mercy. 


But for now, a few Louisiana factoids, compliments of Wikipedia that interest me.

• Louisiana State Crustacean-crawfish
• Louisiana State Reptile-alligator
• Louisiana State Drink-milk
• Cajun-descendants from French speaking French Acadia (present day Canandian Islands of New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia).
• Creole-French, Spanish and eventually enslaved Africans born in Louisiana.
• Creole (the special meaning)-the name associated with free people of color from the relationship of European white men with (enslaved) African women (the men often freed the women and educated the children from these relationships). After the Haitian Revolution, this population grew to include French speaking immigrants and refugees from Haiti.

Finally, this rich land of mixed races, mixed cultures, and mixed languages is starting to make sense. French influences from every direction. Can't wait to see and learn more for myself and my children.