New Adventures Ahead

 We are 45 days away from the biggest scariest move of my whole life. We are about to pack up all three of our beautiful babies, a cat and a big lovably dumb dog and fly to Germany where we will live for the next 3 years. I am very excited (aufregend) and very stressed (stressig). We prayed over this change every step of the way. There were many unknowns and everything was up in the air for a while. But we got our answer and now we prepare to completely change our lives. I don't know what to think, how to feel, what to plan for. I don't know what the weather is like, how our cell phones will work, what kind of house we'll live in, how to interact casually with locals... I have heard is very different. I don't know how to enroll my oldest into a new school... when to do that or how to do anything. I'm so scared of the future but I also don't know that there is anything to be scared of.

    People keep telling me that I have to take advantage of being over there while we're in Europe and see as much as I can while there. But that thought freaks me out. I don't speak any other language besides English and even that I don't speak clearly enough to be understood. I just feel like I'm going to try to do what I can, take a few opportunities, but mostly just try to survive. Traveling with three little kids just to another state is stressful enough, let alone another country where they don't speak the same language. I do want to take my train-lover on some train rides, and I promised my oldest Duck that we would try to see Paris. But other than that, I'm going to stick pretty close to my bubble. At least that's how I feel about it right now. We'll see once I get there. 

    My husband is actually doing a new job for the USAF, with slightly different responsibilities so there's a pretty big possibility that I will be alone a lot more. At least 4 times a year, if not more. He will be deploying and going on trainings pretty regularly. I'm not looking forward to that, but I will cross each bridge as I come to it. I'm so nervous. I don't know what I don't know. I just wish I had someone to talk to who's been there and knows how to do this. I've never even been on a rotator before. And I'm worried about my dog because he didn't actually get one of the very limited pet spots on the plane, so I have to send him out later on a different flight, or possibly with my parents when they come to visit shortly after I get there. And then I have to fly back all by myself in November for one of my very best friends' wedding... So I have to be there for that, and flying alone freaks me out, especially from another country that doesn't speak my language!!!! I don't know how to do any of this stuff. Lord be with me. I'm so fearful. 

    I am learning Deutsch to try to prepare for this change. And I do know that a lot of German people speak English. It doesn't change the fear though. Not many people do something like this and no one really has any advice for me. Not in my family, anyway. I just have to do it and when I'm on the other side, be proud of myself for surviving. 

Baby Book is Complete

     How did this happen? When did my first baby become a child? I have reached the end of her baby book. There are no more pages to fill out. No more infant-firsts, no more baby experiences to be had by my oldest. 

    She is in school. I know she will have many more firsts, but the infant time, the baby time, the toddler time... are all memories. I wouldn't say the time flew by. But it passed with an aching speed that I fought and held on to, cursed and blessed, railed against and reveled in. I cannot believe her baby book is full.

     Her legs are so long now. I can still carry her. She still wants endless snuggles and asks if she can sleep with mommy and daddy. I still catch her sneaking into my bed in the early hours of the morning. She's brimming with bat facts, obsessed with "Teeniepings", and resolutely dedicated to the color purple. She's a picky eater, and a warrior for animals, insisting all things should be taken care of, even sharks. But not ants. She hates ants. There's no page in her baby book for that though. 

   How can it be full? How is there not a page for her 10th birthday? Her first day of high school? Her wedding day? How can the first day of Kindergarten mark the last day of having her be my baby? I can't wrap my head around it. I have so much babying left to do. 

   Will she let me grab her and snuggle her like this in a year? What will her first day of 1st grade look like? Will we live here? My husband Petal has already applied to move overseas. What if we're somewhere in Europe? Or in the tropics? How come there's no page in the baby book for moving? 

   Will we remember everything about these years living at home? What if she forgets because there's nothing to hold on to? I remember everything about my childhood because I lived in my childhood home until I was an adult. What if she doesn't have that? She already doesn't remember where she was born. She was only 2 when we moved here. How can we move again? 

    Are we making the right choices for her, or is this selfish? I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew what to look out for... what was important to remember... but there are no more pages in her baby book. No more memories to fill in. No more predetermined questions for me to discover the answers to. I just have to... figure it out, I guess. 

To-Do List Undone

Its never enough even when its too much

The smell of your head, hair soft to the touch. 

I’ve forgotten the screaming from when you were awake. 

I’ve forgotten the chores you made me forsake. 

All I see is an angel where my opponent once stood, 

The light of my life, all gentle and good. 

Did I really sigh in frustration when I heard you cry?

Did I prioritize tasks when you were nearby? 

Who was the person who dared put you down

For the sake of the laundry, that stupid old clown?

It couldn’t have been me when I love you so

That I sit right here even when I could go. 

To-do lists still waiting; interrupted, half-done

But all I can do is sit and watch my dear one.

Watch you snore in your bed, mouth slightly a-gape

Making no use of the time I have tried to escape. 

I want to bottle each moment and save them for later,

When I’m less stressed, but time is a traitor. 

It never sits still, much like these children of mine

Who keep on growing and changing with time. 

I wouldn’t change it, each stage is a gift, 

But wouldn’t it be nice if I wasn’t on shift?

No more working, just games to be played 

With these wonderful children, the people I’ve made. 

Don’t give up on me when I’ve had a bad day,

I’m sorry. And thank you. Its all I can say. 

I love you, Tallulah, Evie and Finn. 

You make this a life I’m thrilled  to be in. 

Tired like a Mother

 I feel so used up by the end of each day. I have no more patience, no more energy, no more brain power. My body has been a playground all day, pulled on, poked, scratched, pushed against, fed on. My skin is sore from constant touches, but so is my soul, my emotional capacity, even my aura feels totally and completely touched out. Overstimulated, overwhelmed, overworked, over everything. The noise has been too loud, too constant, too worrying. Who hit who? What show can we all agree on? Is that the baby in the bedroom, waking up from a nap? Let's play the song one more time and then be done. Is there any chance anyone wants to go outside and be loud out there so mommy can have five minutes of silence? My brain is full of lists, groceries that need to be purchased, chores that need to be done. We just had a four day weekend, did he really not get to the lawn? When is the package with summer clothes arriving? Do we already need more diapers? I really need to go through everyone's drawers and pull out the things that don't fit... I'm always playing catch up. I'm so tired. I'm so drained. I'm so empty.

But also full. I am full of love. I'm full of kisses, and answers to questions, and songs. I'm full to overflowing for these tiny amazing crazy-makers. I have time for one more book, one more song, one more kiss, one more prayer over the heads of my sleepy-eyed babies. I could get up one more time for one more last minute need. Because there always is. One more request for water. One more precious snuggle. One more question about the mysteries of the universe.

And when the new baby, baby number three, daughter number two, my sweet and precious angel, needs to be snuggled and fed at some ungodly hour of the night, I will have more milk, more snuggles, I will lean in to smell that little head, even though I've sniffed it a thousand times today. And when the older two come in at the crack of dawn, while my husband gets up to get ready for his day at work, I will have arms enough for all three of them, one more hour of sleepy snuggles until they begin their day of making requests and demands. 

I will survive this part of life. And I know I will look back on it with fondness and longing and exhaustion and gratitude. I will mourn the loss of the littlest phase, missing the babies and toddlers who have sprouted to children and teens and adults. There will never be enough. And yet it is exactly enough. And too much. The universe is packed into a marble. And I keep finding it in the pockets of my kids' clothing before processing a thousand loads of laundry. 

Stickers and Rainbows

I have always been a maximalist

Covering my walls in the art that I love

Piling mismatched pillows high

Shelves of collections, 

Tiny treasures, stunning sparkles, and nifty knick-knacks

Each a tiny part of my personality

Each a little spark of joy. 

I fell in love with bursts of color young 

And I never let go.

Did I pick orange, or did orange pick me?

I was always going to be myself

100% original, the good and the bad, the flaws and flairs 

Of a girl who mostly knew her mind.

I'm still that way.

Each wall a different color.

Each room a testimony to my love of rainbows.

Art heavy. Candle rich. Figures for the eye to see. 

I make no apologies for my decorative taste. 

Its not everyone's cup of tea, 

But that has never bothered me.

So why do I struggle so with everything else?

I want to be thin, and quiet and digestible

I want to be easy and agreeable and suggestible.

I want no one to have a problem with who I am

I want to be everyone else's biggest fan.

I don't know how to just be me 

and let go of everyone else's negativity.

Dependapotamus

 Dependapotamus. I heard the term pretty early in in my marriage to my military husband. Stuck in Guam with very little contact home, completely dependent on a man I had only known for a year and a half over Skype, never having lived on my own before… hearing a term that completely encapsulated who I was and what I did was horrifying. I didn’t work. I had no car, developed a crippling case of social anxiety, and no desire to leave the house without this stranger I married. I had no kids, which made my status even lower in the eyes of every responsible human on the planet. I literally stayed home all day everyday with nothing to do but eat, tidy, process the occasional basket of laundry… eventually we got a dog and I worked on training him but there were still many hours in the day lost to binging tv shows and worrying.

   My husband said it with such ease… casually mocking this hypothetical Hippopotamus-sized leech on society with his buddy, never once stopping to consider that I, his wife, the woman he promised to honor and cherish forever… not only fit the criteria perfectly, but couldn’t escape the weight of guilt the label carried with it. I was this person. I still am. I didn’t want to be someone worthy of being mocked. I didn’t want to be a fat, selfish, lazy blight on society. When I tried to bring my insecurity, my fear, my disgust that this is how the world must see me… when I tried to say all this to my husband, he half-heartedly tried to reassure me that I was most certainly NOT a dependapotamus. But still… the guilt remained.  

   It wasn’t until a few weeks ago, when I was visiting my sister for my birthday, that I finally felt free from the burden of this rank. I casually dropped the term in front of my sisters, self-mocking, but drenched with insecurity, they were both horrified. My younger sister said, “What a horrible word! You are NOT a dependapotamus. But you know what? No one ever called that is.” This struck me cold. I realized that she was right. No woman married to a military man, stuck at home in some foreign place, far from family and friends, possibly raising children, DESERVED to be called that horrible name. Here I was, terrified of being lumped in with some disgusting hippo-like creature, mooching of the hard-working, upstanding military men… when they probably all felt the exact same way. Normal women. Married and struggling to feel worthy. Riddled with insecurities. I am not better than them. I am not different. Because we are all supporting our men. Cleaning houses. Raising children. Doing the invisible work of stay-at-home mothers and homemakers. 

  I am not a dependapotamus. But I identify with every other woman who has ever worried that she was one. And if I am a dependapotamus, than my husband is too because he depends on me just as much as I depend on him. 

A Small Update

 I haven't written much lately. I have been trying to keep up in my journal and reading and taking care of my babies and home while being pregnant. I guess the blog has just sort of taking the back of my priorities list. I don't really have much to say, but I wanted to update this for the first time in a while. 2021 hasn't been depressing for me... I have enjoyed many of the changes that it's brought. 

    I feel for my sister, though. 2021 has not been kind. I worry about her and her family a lot. I'm so glad I live close to them. I think I would be freaking out a lot more if I didn't get to see her all the time. Somehow, being close... even though I'm powerless and pretty useless to help... I feel like being close is enough. She supports me through so much, I feel guilty that I don't know how to do more for her. But she never makes me feel like I fall short. And I hope she knows how much I love her. 

    I was working for a small elementary school teaching drama, but I'm not really doing that now. I just sub when they ask me to. I wish I could do more for that school. It's been such a lifeline for my family.

    We have had a lot of drama in my family over my dad's needs and failures. He is a good person whom I love very much, but the man is full of human fault. There's only so much that people can put up with before boundaries must be drawn and if there's one thing my dad doesn't know how to handle, it's feeling rejected by other's boundaries. I appreciate his ability to PRETEND like he gets it, or like it doesn't get to him. But I know how vulnerable he is. I hope his therapist helps him deal with some of his narcissistic tendencies.

    Once again, I am trying to "read" the whole Bible this year. I did it last year (took me a liiiittle longer than a year). I'm really listening to the Bible app read it to me. But I don't know that I have opened my heart any more than it was open the last time I tried to do this. I feel like I need something... more educational. Its one thing to listen to a book read outloud. Its another thing to learn to understand it. I don't have the peace that passes understanding. My life is too filled with chaos. 

    Here I am, a few weeks away from Thanksgiving. This year really flew by. Covid has limited a lot of our ability to fill our time with all the things we thought we would get to do moving back back... but I thank God every day that we are here with family and not across the country suffering through the pandemic alone. 

    Next weekend, I think my husband is going to take the kiddos to his folks. I'm looking forward to it, I haven't had a break like that for a long time. I'm hopeful that I get the vacation I hope it will be and I can rest. It will be my own private "babymoon" before baby number three joins us next February. I will miss out on visiting with my extended family, but I'm willing to make the sacrifice!