No time for number one.

Murph is impatient by nature.

I knew this when he arrived 3 days ahead of schedule, even though I had been warned that first babies often come late.

From the time he was little we would count to three to do things. Tickle, jump, slide, whatever was called for at the time.

Murph doesn't have time for that. This summer he would try to jump in the water to swim with each number. He would stick out his foot to convince me to let him go.

Now, he has decided to work around this insane counting thing.

He starts at two.

If I sit him at the top of the slide he will immediately call out DOO! Which in Murphish is two. No time for the number one. And by the number three he expects to be halfway down the slide.

Leave it to my child to figure out a way around such trivial things to get his way.

Time sure flies.....

When your 15 month old figures out how to reset the time on your alarm clock. Somehow Murph has decided that he should be on the same time as the land of his ancestors. I'm feeling a bit jet lagged.

I was at the doctor's office today. When you are 28 weeks pregnant, the bathroom and the doctor's office are where you spend most of your time. While I waited at the window for the receptionist to help me I couldn't help but over hear the conversation between two of the nurses there.

"I think it's just awesome when a dad brings in their little one for an appointment."

"Me too. I know my husband would have never done that!"

I had to smile. When the receptionist asked if she could help me, I proudly said "Yes. I'm here to meet my husband. He brought in our little boy for his appointment."

The appointment today wasn't for me. It was for Murph. That was MY hubby that they were praising. I couldn't get out of work in time to get him there, so Chiefy came and got him and took him. I was glad he was there with us. So was Murph. We got the last of his shots before Kindergarten today. And Daddy is the BEST at making him feel better after Mommy holds him down and those mean nurses get him.

All hail the Chief!

Tell me what you want..... what you really, really, want.

I'm not a political person. And I am not one to voice my opinions one way or the other. But if you didn't catch her speech I recommend giving it a good once over.

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0908/13144.html

As a former (ok current as well) fan of the Spice Girls, and all that girl power jazz, I have to say WOW.

You GO girl!

There I go stereotyping again....

Yesterday I passed a man on a bike. I did not immediately think he was in training for a Tour de Anywhere. That was wrong of me. I should apologize.

So here it goes.

Dear Middle Age Bearded Man with your Camo Hat and Confederate Flag shirt on your 10-Speed holding a Brown Paper Bag roughly the size of a six pack of some beverage.

I judged you and I am sorry for that.

I'm sure you are riding that bike for the health factor, and not because your license has been revoked due to too many DUIs.

Regards,

My Father's Daughter

Looking for the Silver Lining

So I've decided to stop pouting over the departure of the boys and look at the bright side of having them gone. I know it sounds a bit harsh, but you deal how you deal, and I'll deal how I deal. So this is a list so far of how it's not so bad.

1. The amount of laundry I have to do has dramatically decreased. Deuce will put on a fresh pair of socks about 3 times a day. It was worse in the beginning since their lovely, thoughtful mother never packs enough clothes. Unless we are talking about clothes taht don't fit them.
2. I no longer have to pick up socks that have been left throughout the house when Deuce decides to put on a fresh pair.
3. The number of dirty dishes has dramatically decreased. Eldest and Deuce both opperate under the impression that the dish fairy will take care of those glasses for them. That's why they feel free to get a new one out each time they are thirsty.
4. Not one single person in the house uttered the phrase "I'm so thirsty" yesterday. Deuce isn't able to come right out and ask for a drink. No he's more into hinting around.
5. This goes the same for the phrase "I'm so hungry" and Eldest's favorite "What can I have to eat?"
6. Murph didn't argue one bit when I said it was bath time, or tell me that he had had a bath only the day before. I didn't have to make him use the age old disagreement settler of "Rock. Paper, Scissors" to figure out who would be showering. I just started the water and he ran to the bathroom.
7. The house smells better. 9 and 11 year old boys just have an odor about them. Withing ten minutes of them arriving, their room will take on a definite funkiness. I'm not sure how it happens, and can only hope it won't happen with Murph.
8. No one talked about poop, farts, burps, or any other body function. Now I will say that Chief was a bit under the weather, so he wasn't quite up on his game yesterday.
9. No one asked to play the computer or the Wii. No one sighed and muttered how much they wanted to "rock out".
10. I was not "shinged" with a sword, or shot with a nerf bullet once yesterday. Though I did get poked with a stick by Murph as he said Doe! Hmmm.

See. It's not so bad having the little bleeders gone. I'm sure I could think of dozens of good reasons!

Of course I don't think Murph is quite as convinced. He tried to go into their room several times, called them on the phone, and laid down on the piece of cardboard they had turned into his magic carpet waiting for someone to pull him down the hallway.

Searching for Normal

I took the boys to the airport yesterday. We actually drove to the city the night before and stayed in a hotel because of the early departure of their flight. The Chief had to work this weekend, yes poor planning, so he wasn't able to make the trip with us. That of course made it even harder on him, and harder on me for having to watch it.

We had one last dinner as a family, then all three boys and I loaded into the car for the 3 hour drive. Murph did pretty well. Even sleeping for part of the trip. Once at the hotel, it took awhile to get everyone calmed down and asleep. Murph would sit up and jabber at his brothers whenever they made a sound. "Snort like a pig!" they begged. Murph would oblige and even that made me tear up.

We were up by 5 to get ready, eat a little, and get to the airport. All three played on the bed for awhile, smiling and laughing. Again, the tears.

I was extremely nervous about how Murph would do at the airport, but he was perfect. Me on the other hand, well I was a sobby mess. I hate departure day more than any other day.

They talked about when they would be here next (4 months from today). Four months isn't so long they decided. And the baby will be here by then. Duece asked, "How old will Turk be when we get here? One or Two months?" "Two or three weeks," I replied. "That's little!" They didn't meet Murph until he was a month old.

It was finally time for them to board, and time for hugs and goodbyes. Murph was sleepy enough that he wouldn't hug them or give them smoochies. I was struggling not to cry, but that made is so that I could barely tell them goodbye.

Driving home, friends and family would call to check to see how it went, but even talking about it hurts. Our boys are gone, Murph's brothers are gone, and there is nothing that we can do to change that. Nothing legal that is, and I'm too pretty for jail.

So now we wait. We count down the 4 months until they are home again. We try to get our lives back to whatever normal is without them.

Who says normal is so great?

And then there were six...

We are expanding the family. I think most of the people who happen to read this have known that for awhile. But I haven't even made the official announcement. So there it is.

We are calling the baby Turk. Which is short for Turkey since this is a Thanksgiving baby. Thought since Murph was originally Bear that the animal name would fit right in. We aren't finding out the gender of this one either, so don't ask.

Anyway.... I had one of those silly hormonal pregnant moments yesterday, that I think that some of you might get a chuckle out of.

The boys and I were enjoying our Sonic lunch watching the movie The Incredibles. Have you seen the movie? Well in it there is a scene when the mom is flying a jet and it is being attacked by missles. Her oldest children are on the plane with her, so she calls out over the radio "Abort, abort, there are children on board!"

And of course it caused me to get all teary eyed. (Even now typing the words, my eyes are filling up again.) It is well documented that I am NOT a pretty crier. I firmly believe that that (and a lack of all talent) are the only thing that have gotten in the way of my Broadway career. My eyes and nose get all red and splotchy instantly.

It's hard not to notice.

Even if you are a 9 year old boy. Deuce looked at me and said, "Why are your eyes all red?". Did I tell the truth? Heck no. I instead said, "Oh, I chocked on a bite of my sandwich". To which he innocently replied, "Oh I HATE that. It gets stuck right HERE and hurts." "Yes. It does", I said.

Yes. I lied to him about it.

And I'm ok with that. Why? Cause I'm pregnant. Which makes it ok for me to be just a little bit insane.

Going Home

It's always nice to go "home" for a bit. The Chief, Eldest, Deuce, Murph and I all went to visit family and friends for a couple of weeks. With the cost of gas, it's about all the vacation we might get, but we enjoy it none the less. The boys would live there I think if we would let them. Lots and lots to do at G-Ma's and G-Pa's house. Not to mention the fact that they can do no wrong there.

I happened to run into an old friend while we were there at the gas station (where my left kidney was removed to pay for the trip). Someone that I used to teach with in my home town. My last year there he moved up to an administrator's role, and is now the admin guy at the school.

He basically told me that when we are ready to move back home just to give him a call a little in advance and there will be a job waiting for me. "You can do a lot with adding sections when you want to". Which is teacher talk for I can make the classes smaller to have more of them so that you can get a job here. How awesome was that? It's nice to know that I have friend's and co-workers who think that much of me. Makes is sound like when the time is right, we really will be able to go home.

Poop

As the mother of an infant, it's amazing that I haven't had to discuss this topic before now.

It's only in the last few days with a couple of events happening in the house that I've been thinking about it way more than one would want.

I remember being about 7 or 8 and my parents calling my sisters and I into the bathroom for a family meeting. What happened next was a lesson on toilet paper usage. We were shown how to wipe, fold then wipe again. Aparently we had been using WAY too much. I remember thinking that my parents were insane. But then again this wasn't the first time I had thought that. But we were never called back for another TP conference, so I guess my sisters and I got the idea.

I need to have my parents offer the course again.

Our oldest boys arrived for the summer this weekend.

Since that time we've had two "incidents". The lesser is the fact that while doing laundry I've had to fold skid marked skivies. "I only use a piece this big to wipe my butt," was the response we got from Eldest. The bigger incident is that poor Chief had to unclog the toilet that had been filled to the brim with toilet paper. Well it had been clogged once, and then "used" the second time. "I had a whole lot of poop on my butt" was the response that time mubbled from Deuce. Even the steel stomached Chief about lost it on that household task. "Next time just get your @ss in the shower!" cried the Chief!

And here I thought that having Murph try to grab the poopy diaper would be the most disgusting thing I would have to deal with this week!

The year in review

Murph turned 1 this weekend, and I was filled with wonder, joy, and a bit of sadness all at the same time. I get weekly updates on where he "should" be developmentally, and this was the first week that instead of saying "Your Baby" it said "Your Toddler"

In the weeks leading up to his birthday I would look at him and still be amazed that a year before I didn't even know that Murph was a Murph. We had chosen to be surprised with his gender and so we didn't know what his name would be. Heck we didn't know that HE was going to be a HE.

On his birthday he allowed us all to sleep in to a very respectable 7 am. Not bad for a kid who is usually up at 4:30. We celebrated with pancakes, and I even let him have a bit of syrup. He was a sticky giggling mess, and I loved it!

So I've been thinking a lot about the last year. It has gone by faster than he can run and get into the dog's water dish, but has been just incredible.

We have this amazing little boy who finds finds joy in everything!

He makes us laugh everyday with the things he does. Even when he's being defiant and strong-willed like Daddy.

He has a Mommy, Daddy, brothers and an extended family who adore him

He has GREAT friends

He runs, he climbs, he carrys on entire conversations with us and the dog. Everyday he is doing something new. His mind moves faster than his little feet, so that means big trouble for everyone around!

I can't wait to see what the next 50 or 60 years have in store for him!

Mommy Moments

Yesterday I had changed Murph out of his jammies into clothes. He likes to "help" with the laundry so I was letting him carry the pajamas down the hall to where I was doing the laundry. I was walking in front of him and all of a sudden I heard a THUD! I looked around to find my brilliant little boy had put the pajamas over his head and walked straight into a wall! If I wouldn't have been laughing so hard I would have probably felt bad! I rushed back and took the jammies off his head to find him looking at me with a "What the hell just happened" expression. Thank goodness he has those gorgeous blue eyes!

One summer when I was about 10 nearly my entire family was struck down by pneumonia. It was probably the most miserable I had ever been. I can remember the moment it hit me and how terrible I felt for what seemed like weeks.

During that time I learned a very valuable lesson from my dad. "If you are going to eat something when sick, you might as well eat something that makes pretty puke" I know. He's a deep, deep man. But this was the advice he gave me right before getting me a bowl of strawberries. (Which did indeed make.....well you get the picture). Yesterday, Murph followed Grandpa's advice. He has a tendency to shove as much into his mouth as possible, which sometimes leads to gagging and regurgitation. Rainbow goldfish. I'll stop there or else you'll never again eat confetti icing on your cupcakes.

How do you know you are a mom? When you write a blog entry about vomit.

I miss....

Be kind, Rewind
Not feeling naked without a cell phone
Sleeping through the night
Eating anything I wanted without reading a label
Wearing clothes with an odd number size
Being able to go to work still smelling like the evening before and having that be "cool"
Being able to hit a round number on the gas pump. Because it's damn near impossible to go from .96 to .00.
Respect. Because even at my bitchiest, I was always repectful to my "elders"

I know I'm committed (or need committed) because...

It's nearly summer. (I say that on a less than "summery day", but go with it). And with the change of season comes the much anticipated change of wardrobe. Now this is NOT to say that I love my summer wardrobe. More it's that I HATE my winter wardrobe that much (to be fair come fall I'll feel the same way about my summer wardrobe).

Digression.

But the other morning I had decided to wear a pair of Capri's. So non committal the Capri. Not quite a pant.... not a cellulite showing short.... Maybe it's the lack of commitment that draws me to those half pants.

Digression

So I had laid out the pants and realized that the reason my legs weren't cold is that they weren't bare. No, they had a bit of stubble to them. So in the shower I lathered up lefty (we'll call her Mary-Kate), grabbed my razor, and began. It didn't take more than 2 swipes to know that this razor was past it's prime. The spattering of blood droplets was my first clue.

Dilemma.

Do I A) step out of the shower dripping wet in search of a new razor (with hopes that there IS a new razor) B) Wear something else. C) Carry on and suck it up.

I carried on. I finished Mary-Kate and started and finished Ashley. With all the red spots you would have thought I had the measles.

If nothing else. You HAVE to admire my dedication to the capri.

Knock, schmock!

I should apologize to those who've heard this story before, and of course to the Chief since he gets tired of me sharing all the stories about him.

So I'm sorry Chiefy Dear. But not sorry enough to stop.

We live in a rental house that is fine, but has some quirks.

Like the bathroom doors don't latch all the way. And if say an 11 month old pushes on them, they will spring open. Suppose this wouldn't be a big deal, but we are very private pee-ers in our house.

Last night Chief literally ran down the hallway to get to the bathroom in the hopes that Murph wouldn't follow.

No luck.

Murph is obsessed with Daddy right now and wants to be where he is!

So of course a few moments later I hear the startled cry from Chief when his "business" is interrupted! I can't help but laugh! Almost as funny as when he was doing a sit down job and Murph burst in! I can just imagine his shocked face!

He would like me to feel bad for him.

People in Hell would like ice water.

Just another day.

There are some days in your life that stick out more than others. A graduation, a wedding, a birth of a child, just to name a few. Days that make you smile or bring a tear to your eye because of the joy you felt.

There are other days that stick in your mind as well. Days that you will forever remember where you were or what you were doing. A presidential assassination or attempt, a space shuttle exploding, a plane hitting a tower.

Today is one of those days for me. Twelve years ago I was standing in a high school gymnasium where we had just gotten news that his organ's had been donated and he was gone.

May 6th.

For years I would dread the weeks and days leading up to today. I would be teary eyed and be in a funk.

But today it was different.

I didn't have any of that leading up to today. In fact it was quite a shock when I looked at the calendar and said, "May 6th. Why do I know that date?"

I felt bad when I realized it. Like I had been unfaithful to him and to my grief.

It's still there of course. But just like an injury, the grief is faded now. The swelling has gone away and it's no longer the nasty jagged eyesore it once was. Now it's just a faded white line that you have to remember which arm it's on when you go to show someone and tell them the story.

I guess time does heal all wounds. Well at least to the point that sometimes you have to look for the scar.

~~~~~~~

I'm adding instead of editing. It was actually fourteen years ago. Twelve years ago is when he should have graduated. Fourteen is just one year short of how many years he had been alive.

I wonder if it is a coincidence that I read this story last week.

http://www.newsadvance.com/lna/news/local/article/no_hostages_only_birds_at_wards_road_wal_mart/3909/

I'm wondering because last night as we were walking by the frozen waffles, the Chief was dive bombed by a bird. Yes. He was pooped on right there on the hand in the frozen food section.

He was not amused.

He was the only one.

A pig in a pot.

Murph took his first step on Easter, and has been getting more confident every day since then. He's now is officially a walker. If he's crawling it's only because he is too far from something to pull himself into a standing position.

He also has a new thing where if you find him doing something he isn't supposed to do, he will yell at you before you get the chance to yell at him. He raises his little fist and does his best to shake it at you, as if to say, "How DARE you catch me doing this!"

He's very adverturous. You can't turn your back for more than a minute or he is long gone. Usually to torment the wonderpup, but sadly that isn't all he's been doing.

I was certainly hoping that it would take a little longer than this, but Murph has discovered the toilet.

Oh how I wish he was potty training himself, but it seems that is still a ways off.

He's potty training his toys instead.

Should I be alarmed that Murph's little shirt and hand was wet when I discovered this?

Note to self while watching Transporter 2 (again)

Dear Self,

If you ever find your self becoming a member of a band of unseedy characters, and are asked to join your comrades in attacking one guy.... Don't underestimate him. And for the love of GOD! Don't wait to attack him one by one! Rush in there at the same time! There is safety in numbers.

Remember, there is no I in Team, but there are definitely a couple in "ass kicking"

A what barn?

So yesterday I was having a normal conversation with a friend from a west coast state. You may recall that I am a mid-westerner, more specifically a proud Hoosier currently living in the "Land of Lincoln".

For once that was not a digression, but actually relevant to the topic.

Anywho....We were talking about lack of storage space and how more was always needed. I said, "Ideally I would have at least a 3 car garage and probably a pole barn"

To which she said, "A WHAT barn? Sorry you lost me"

Did I lose any of you?

I had no idea that other people didn't call those multi purpose buildings with aluminum siding "pole barns". So I decided to ask a few Lincolnians if they knew what I was talking about. They did not.

I had the same feeling I did my freshman year when talking to my college roommate. I told her that when I was little I was "Dutchy".

Lose you on that one too?

Dutchy is what you call a little kid with a speech issue. It's not meant to mock the residents of Holland. I'm not really sure where it came from to be honest.

For example: I couldn't say L sounds so I said Yuve for Love, or Yucky for Lucky. My dad was Dutchy too. He said Tair Tep instead of Stair Step. Don't worry. Dad and I both got over our issues, turns out he had hearing issues, and well who knows what my issue was. But a little time in speech therapy cured me!

So I'm wondering if anyone else has ever run into this "regionalization" of terms. I would love to hear some examples!

And for the record, a pole barn is where you would keep your shop, classic car, horse, derby car, dirt bike, tractor, hay bales, four-wheeler, or anything else you might not be able to fit into your garage.

And no, it's NOT the same thing as a regular barn. Those have wood for siding.

http://www.mortonbuildings.com/