Eleven Years and a Day

Yesterday we celebrated the 11th anniversary of the arrival of our first daughter. So today is the first opportunity I have had to catch my breath and reflect on the impact she has made to my life and what the coming years mean. After all, the gift wrap is thrown away, the leftover cake is on the counter (although I am sure there won’t be any left by the time I get home tonight!)

Eleven is double digits. It seems more significant than ten because eleven is heading to middle-school, eleven is discovering puppy love, eleven is wanting a straightening iron for a birthday gift, eleven is wearing junior’s clothes, wanting independence, and POOF- becoming a pre-teen complete with the drama and the attitude.

The past eleven years have gone by so quickly that my head spins. I worry that the moments I captured with the camera in my mind will fade, that they will become dim and I will confuse this magnificent being with one of her sisters. (Goodness knows my Mom still tries to make me believe I was the one who loved mashed potatoes when it was my brother!) The first time she smiled, the look on her face when she was tubing, or driving a go-cart for the first time. Tears when she moved from a friend. The possessiveness of the first time her baby sister came home. The wonder of cooking with her Grandma. The focus of homework, and the pride of a straight A report card. Catching her watch herself in a window- admiring herself for the first time.

I know she struggles with her identity in a family of four girls, and unfortunately, with being the first, we experience firsts along with her. How are we going to respond to sleep-overs, or going to the movies with a friend (without a parent), or spending money, name-brand clothes. Like I said, it makes my head spin! My husband laughs when I share these concerns and just tells me to hang on, that we haven’t seen anything yet- high school is coming up quickly.

I still remember the first time I saw her, this magnificent daughter of mine with her olive skin, dark eyes, and gorgeous auburn hair. I wanted her to look like me. I wanted her to have some outward sign that she was mine. I tried convincing myself for years that I saw this of me, or that of my Mom, but even I had to give up the dream because this precious girl is completely her Dad’s side of the family. I remember not being able to sleep unless she was in my room, then she had to be in my bed. I remember going days without doing laundry or any other household chore because I had to hold her at all times. I didn’t experience that with any of the other girls. My other daughters I could put in the swing or the bouncy chair and leave them be to get this done, or that done.

The road with my daughter has not been easy and in ways unseen to the naked eye, she is exactly like me. She is eager to please others- a little too eager, like me. She cares too much about what other people think- again all me! She would walk through fire to help a friend… this is a trait I am proud of! My daughter has been through a divorce, several moves, and diagnosed with a chronic illness- things that would make adults crumble and many days she came darn close- but she fights. Sometimes she rages against me, and many times I have crumbled in my closet in tears. Sometimes she rages against herself and again, I crumble in my closet in tears.
I worry about this daughter of mine. I worry that she will give up on herself. I worry that she will give up on me. I worry that she will face disappointment that she can’t handle. Of all my girls, she is the one I can see waving good-bye to for college and then only seeing her every other year for the obligatory 2 day visit home. I pray for this daughter of mine. I pray that she enjoys her life, that she really lives her life, that she reaches beyond the stars. With this girl, anything is possible and wherever she goes, a part of me will go with her.

An Old-Fashioned Dose of Testosterone

Have I mentioned how much I love my husband? My husband rocks! He is dedicated to me and the girls, he has a work ethic like no other, he holds himself to the same standards he expects of others, he has a deep faith, a solid sense of order and responsibility, and a FABULOUS sense of humor. I love my husband. I love him more than he will ever understand and more than I could ever express without sounding like a sickingly, sappy Hallmark card. All of these wonderful attributes of my Husband will occassionally go out the window. This usually happens when he is hanging out with the boys (I mean guys... no I think boys is more appropriate) and most often when our friend Mr. Bacardi is present.

Case in point, a few weeks ago we were invited to a friend's home for a family gathering celebrating our friend's birthday. Kids were welcome and present, burgers on the grill, women gabbing in the kitchen, kids running in and out of the house, and boys on the back porch enjoying the moment and a few toddies. The child-size 3 wheeler was brought out for all of the kids to get their adrenaline fix before dinner and then a great meal. Of course with the short days, by the time dinner was finished, it was too dark to get back on the 3 wheeler because of the lack of lights and the potentially dangerous terrain. My Husband did the dutiful, protective Dad routine. "Girls, this is unsafe. You will not ride that thing this late because you could hurt yourselves." I think he even threw out phrases like good choices vs. bad choices- very, very solid parenting. I was proud, the girls understood, moved on to the next fun thing and stopped whining. SCORE ONE FOR DAD!

The night moved on, Mr. Bacardi became very generous, and the poker table came out. The four letter words started slipping more and more and so I thought it was time to round up the kids and head home. I encouraged my dear Husband to stay and enjoy his friends. One even offered to drive him home after the game.

Around 2 AM I get a phone call. I can't really understand what my Husband is trying to tell me... I just understood 'three wheeler', 'ouch' and home. He mercilessly put our friend and the Hostess of the night on the phone and all I heard was "I am so sorry- please don't be mad at me." These words at any time are not good, but combined with the lateness of the hour- spelled disaster. Somehow, the boys (and you will understand now why I have chosen that term) had thought it a great idea for them to take turns riding the child-size three wheeler around the yards. Three men over 6 foot tall- my Husband is 6'4"- felt they could squash their bodies one by one onto a tiny machine and run at full speed. One friend decided to take on the Step By Step Toddler slide- the slide (may it rest in peace) did not stand a chance. My husband decided the best choice was to mow the neighbor's lawn with his face, shoulder and teeth. God Bless testosterone.

Anyway, they threw Hubby-Mine into a cab, which brought him home. The next day he was swollen and bruised and nursing a bit of a hangover. The road rash on his face brought up many questions from the girls. Without missing a beat, Hubby merely responded "You girls kept pestering about riding the three wheeler at night and did not believe me when I said it was dangerous. So, to show you what can happen, I rode the three-wheeler and ended up getting really hurt. I did this all to prove to you that I was right about the danger." Boy, were the kids impressed. On Monday, his shoulder was still really rough, and he went to the ER because we were concerned it had dislocated. Fortunately, it was a severe sprain and he was able to get it to 'pop' back as the day went on.

I teased, but I did hold back. He was, after all, hurt and I did not want him hurt ever. At the same time, I am pretty apathetic when people get hurt from pure stupidity. His face healed, his shoulder became better, and the only memory was the stained-beyond-repair shirt he was wearing that night. I still can't bear to throw it out because our 5 year old picked it out for him for Christmas. (I didn't mean for that touch of guilt to come out- sorry babe!) We hit the point where we can laugh heartily with our friends about the incident- which I am sure will be added to a long list of- Lordy, Did My Husband Really Do That?

As I said, the incident was becoming a distant memory when I received a call from insurance yesterday regarding the Hospital visit. They wanted to know about the nature of the injury. Was it an accident? Did it happen at work? In a car accident? Could the liability be passed off to another insurance company? My answers:

Yes, it was an accident.
No, it did not involve a car.
No, it did not happen at work.
No, there is no other liability.

"Well, Ma'am, what was the accident a result of?"

My answer--- "I hope stupidity is a category in your computer."

Addicted...

I have prided myself on not being addicted to any 'bad' things in life. Yeah, Yeah, I understand that addiction of any kind is wrong, bad, damn me to hell sort of stuff, but I am not addicted to illegal substances or alcohol. (Since I am above- well above- the age of 21, this substance is not illegal but still on that very bad list). I do laugh about my 'addiction' to Dr. Pepper. I honestly cannot go longer than 4 hours without one. I do laugh about my 'addiction' to physical affection- no goodnight kisses from my girls each night can send me in a tailspin. But yesterday I did discover an addiction I did not realize I had.

Is there a meeting for "Technology Addicts"? Let me explain. On Saturday afternoon my phone fried. I mean fried- possessed. It was flipping from one screen to the next, I could see that calls were coming in- but I couldn't answer them. I could try to text people to let them know my phone was fried, but it kept cutting me off after two words and zapping away my message. I cried, I laughed, I got really pissed off! I had never realized how dependent I was on my cell phone. I have many friends who don't even talk on the phone anymore- we just text. A line here, smart aleck comments there. On the weekends, this goes on for hours- on American Idol nights, Phil and I text back and forth with C. and J. for a couple of hours. Phone calls make you miss things, texting allows you to multi-task. Plus, I don't know anyone's phone numbers anymore. They are all plugged safely into my contacts list on my phone. Do you know what happens when you don't have phone numbers? You can't even use the archaic land line because you don't know what number to call.

The frustration was intense, the need for medication was rising. And then, the white knight arrived! Verizon. We had switched to this cell phone provided in October. Phil hated T-mobile, I am apathetic- I think most cell providers suck in one way shape or form. My family is on Verizon, and so are a lot of friends, which makes calls free. So switch we did. Verizon was able to find us local numbers- something T-mobile was unable to accomplish in almost three years. We got great deals on new phones- and they give teachers a discount on everything. But the biggest white knight moment occurred on Sunday.

Phil and I drove over to the store expecting to have to purchase a new phone- $100 not in the budget. So we were bummed, but knowing that the cell phones are our main source of communication with one another- there wasn't another option. I walked in and met Jose. Jose was dealing with a gentleman whose puppy had decided to bite through his Blackberry, and was able to multi-task and help me at the same time. I was amazed I could still stand- after all, customer service is non-existent these days- much less finding someone who could actually handle two customers simultaneously. Jose asked me what happened. I explained that my phone was fried, that I was lost without it, that I had only had the phone since October, that I did not abuse it by throwing it across the room or submerging it in water. I didn't push it past it's limits- hell, I don't even know how half of the functions work! He asked for the phone- which even with it not working, I had a hard time handing it over. Then he left.

I began to panic. The Verizon man took my phone and left. He went behind the security door. I began to sweat, my stomach began to flip in a very bad way. What do I do? The man has my lifeline. After what seemed like an eternity. He came back and handed me a brand new phone. He told me my contacts were switched over, to call customer service to get the ring tones I had downloaded re-downloaded for FREE, and then asked- Is there anything else I can do for you today? Holy crap.... I love Verizon! My addiction is back. I am reconnected to the world. I am happy.

Career Aspirations of the Next Generation

You would think that I was used to the unusual career aspirations of children. We have survived the moments of announcing to the Doctor or Priest "I want to be a WalMart Check-Out Girl when I grow up." We have survived the, "I thought I would live forever with you and you would take care of me." conundrum, but I must say, what hit us last night was unusual- to say the least.

We were out to dinner and Molly announced that she had decided what she was going to be when she grows up. Molly is seven, and being the ever-curious Mom, I promptly asked her to share.

"I am going to be a scientist Mommy."

The silence, the pride, the amazement my husband and I shared. Wow we thought and mouthed to one another. What an amazing career choice this child has selected. We were impressed, we were shocked. We were happy! Finally, a child was planning a career that required an education! Filled with pride, I asked Molly to please go on, tell us what type of scientist she was going to be.

"I am going to study ice."

Phil immediately started giggling. I reached into the depths of my brain- ice? Had I read to her the article about the alarming rate at which the ice was melting and significant impact this was going to have on our environment? Had we watched something on Discovery? My brilliant child absorbs things with amazing skill and I was awed at this prospect. But, still I had to keep going and ask her what type of ice does this type of scientist study.

"You know Mom, the cubed kind, the crushed kind, the walk-on kind, and the break- ice kind."

As I said, the Career Aspirations of the Next Generation, at least we will be saving lots of money on college tuition!

A Moment that Makes a Mother Proud

As usual our weekend was jammed full! We had P.'s Christmas Party in Orlando. We had to finish shopping for the kids we Holi-dopted from my school. (Holi-dopt- to adopt a child for the Holidays to make sure they have a merry Christmas), get R. and C. ready for their performance tonight, and my goodness- the three million other things Moms have to do on weekends.

Anyway, after the mountains of errands, we decided to treat ourselves to eating out for dinner. This is an expensive engagement for a family of 6- and we even chose Chili's. Like a typical female, I run for the bathroom and leave P. to wrestle with the kids, get a table and get drinks ordered. It wasn't long until I heard little voices approach- first it was C. then M. soon followed... this is the glorious conversation I witnessed from the safety of my stall.

C- "Molly, is that you?"
M- "Yeah- you went way to fast across the restaurant. I couldn't keep up."
C- "Well, I had to piss like a race horse, so I couldn't wait."

These words from my daughter- and my husband thought he had no influence on the girls.

The Downside of Being a Teacher- What they never tell you and probably should!

I am sitting here contemplating lunch. The glorious time of a Teacher's Day when we have about 20 minutes to catch our breath. However, noone tells you that you don't get to leave- so the lunch menu leaves much to be desired. Your choice is either school lunch- as expensive as a meal deal from McDonald's, yet much less appetizing. Leftovers from home (which you really have to be organized and awake enough in the morning to bring) or the large variety of frozen meals out there today. I am becoming quite the connosuier of frozen tv dinners- the cheap ones that is. I am known as Coupon Kate for a reason, if I have an expensive variety of frozen meal, I must have had a coupon! Banquet mashed potatoes are no even worth the space they take up on the plate, and while Michaelinga's tast good- the portions are tiny and the visual display of the product does not match the picture.

To make matters worse, the subject of lunch creates a deep seeded anger towards my husband. My wonderful, hardworking husband who leaves the house before 5:30 AM everyday to return well after 7 PM every night. My husband who stands in the cold, or the rain, or the blistering heat to double check details 12 hours a day on a construction site only to come home to get 'tagged' into the wrestling ring of parenthood. Help me with my science, Daddy. Do I really have to take my shower? It's not mmmmyyyyy turn to empty the dishwasher! Complete with puppy dog eyes and whiny voices. Not to mention the wife who has discovered a new hole in her pantyhose, hair rumpled like I don't know what a brush is anymore, running on empty- yet needing to finish dinner and completing just 3 more loads of laundry.

So why the anger? Well, everyday my husband gets to go out to lunch. Oh and he gets to complain about this too. How tired he gets of eating the same things each day at the same places. Today I spoke to him and he was eating a salad and sandwich. Me- I was eating a Banquet country-fried steak thing. Imagine a weekday of eating a meal someone else created, someone else served, someone else cleans up! The thought is pure bliss!

However, with my career choice comes sacrifices. Let's not even discuss the pay scale- but the loss of leasurely lunches at restaurants I now consider a huge treat- extravagance- is an unseen sacrifice of all teachers.

So for all of you parents out there struggling with what type of holiday gift to get your kids' teachers? The best I ever received was that of a menu in a card. I was able to pick out a lunch of my choice and it arrived two days later. That one blissful meal that someone else prepared, was one that I will remember always.

Its Been Almost a Year, but I have a good excuse!

I was looking at my blog and just stared blankly... my goodness, my last post was last March. I guess that puts me in the ranks of all time crappiest blogger. I think I have a pretty good excuse- or multiple excuses.

Last March we really kicked into overdrive with trying to finish the house. I can honestly say it was a blur, and something I never care to repeat, but definitely worth it. Seeing the looks on the girls faces when they saw the completed house for the first time, their new rooms for the first time- made it all worthwhile! We moved in at the end of July and have been striving to turn it into our 'home' ever since. I sewed drapes and Phil completed built in cabinets, we added touches of furniture, found artwork, and have been slowly adding pieces here and there. I wake up every morning at 5 with Phil and always think it is a dream that we made it! In the shower I laugh, remembering the hours we spent at the tile and stone shop picking out the perfect pattern and match. Every wall, every fixture, every tile, paint color and window has a story- the story of how we became a family. Some memories aren't the greatest, but most are in their funny, quirky ways.

The past year has also been a struggle with managing Ryley's bi-polar. She is a fighter and when she wants to throw in the towel- we won't let her. She hates being different, she hates taking medication, she hates fighting for control of her emotions, but fight she does! She is every bit of a hero to me. We found her a mentor- God Bless Mindy! M. lives with this disease everyday and has become a successful professional, married, and expecting her first child. She answers all of R.'s questions and supports her in a way Phil and I can't. God Bless Phil! He has taken this challenge with a gusto I would have never thought possible, and when R. is losing it, she goes to Phil, she listens to Phil, and she relies on Phil.

Everyone grew this past year. Emotionally, physically, intellectually and spiritually- we all grew and we became a family through our struggles. God threw almost everything at us, and we didn't break. That is my blessing for the year!