There are certain similiarities to my children. As much as I think they are so different in some ways, they are mirror images in others. Like baths – Jessie used to scream so much that she gave herself hives, and Sam’s the grubbiest kid I’ve ever met because he’ll literally cry so hard, he pukes when I give him a bath. And the doctor – oh, the doctors… Jess had ear infections all the time when she was little. And she HATED going to the doctor’s. And Sam is following right along in step behind her. He refused to get on the scale, so I had to get on the scale first holding him and then drop him on the floor and get on without him to get an accurate weight. Then the time came to take his temp – and he clamped his little arm down and wasn’t going to let the nurse stick that thing into his armpit. I had to pry it up (and he’s scary strong for a two year old) and the poor nurse shoved it in. Meanwhile, he’s got a fever, and is screaming – so he’s all sweaty (and grubby – see the beginning of the paragraph). Finally, we finish the preliminaries, and I latch him on (one of those instances when I’m actually glad he’s still nursing because it’s an instant calm down for him). The doctor came in, he screamed thru the entire exam – fighting and struggling to get away. When it was finally over (he’s got a wicked cough/cold, but nothing else, thank goodness), he stood up and said emphatically “Wet’s get outta dis pwace!”

There’s very little that’s harder for me to deal with than my child’s unhappiness. That’s not completely true, there’s lots that would be harder – but this morning, I had to ship my little girl out the door kicking and screaming to go to school and know that I will spend the rest of the day feeling guilty and worried about her. Jess seems to be thriving at school, has friends, children who come to greet her when we walk into the school yard, her teacher raves about her – so I know that she’s not going there and being victimized by horrible six year old bullies, I know that she’s not struggling academically and not measuring up. I know all of these things in my head, but in my heart, I’m scared that I’m wrong. Scared that there’s something about school – something that I can’t possibly know because I’M NOT THERE, and she’s dealing with it (whatever this phantom problem is) all by herself, and that’s why she’s crying. That’s why she left this morning with tears on her cheeks and misery in her eyes.

Although it probably had more to do with the fact that I got her ready about ten minutes before Marc was ready, so she had time to get involved in a game with her little brother, and just didn’t want to leave it. But what if that wasn’t the case? What if it’s the horrible six year old bully? What if, what if, what if?

It’s mornings like this when I really regret not homeschooling.

(on a side note, I’ve used this title before – which I think is kind of a nice sign of how I feel about my life 🙂

I’m all sunshine and lollipops today – Samilicious is still soundly sleeping, and Miss Jess danced off to school with a smile on her face. We had a busy weekend, Jess and I both got hair cuts, and I’m still loving mine, and loving Jessie’s as well. Marc and I have been at each other’s throats for most of the weekend, which is blessedly rare, but have patched things up rather well, I think. We fought about the way the house looked when I came home on Saturday (why, oh why would they destroy my house? Why?) and his work out schedule (which will forever be a source of conflict for us). For me, marriage is all about choice. When it’s hard. And sometimes it is. You (or at least I) have to consciously CHOOSE to not stay mad. To remember why you love him, to remember that his overall goal is good, and while he might screw up royally in the execution of it, his desire is not to make you miserable. And the nice thing about Marc is that while he might not ever be able to be the first one to make that overture to end a fight (his theory is that if you ignore it, maybe it’ll go away), he’s always receptive (and relieved) when I do it.

Moving right along… today – today is MY DAY. This is the day I’ve been clinging to, all last week, when I was drowning in children. I babysit during the day, but that’s different, I love my babies (toddlers), it’s when I’ve got four school age girls running around that I want to rip my hair out. And last week, I had more than my fill of whining and crying and yelling and ‘it’s my turn on the computer’ and ‘she won’t share with me’ and just the general nastiness that three sisters and one Glennys can get up to when they’re stuck together for too long. But today – ah, today… I’m going to relax, unwind, chill out, watch all kinds of television, read a lot – Sam took unbelievably crappy naps on both Saturday and Sunday, which is why he’s still asleep, and I’m so excited about just being me today.

I went out yesterday with my mother and my daughter and my favorite cousin – and had a LOVELY day. Really – got my hair cut, got a couple of new shirts, bought Jess a webkinz, got Jessie’s hair cut (she looks gorgeous), then Marc met me down at my mother’s house, she made a big dinner for everyone, it was delightful – right up until I came home. To find… just this huge, disgusting mess. And I’m mad and upset and all those negative things, thinking hostile thoughts towards husbands and step children, and angered that I must pay for any fun time out of the house by having to spend the entire next day cleaning up after people too lazy and apathetic to make any effort to do it themselves.

Just depressing.

Anyway – so I’m cleaning, and cleaning, and cleaning today. Picking up Barbie shoes and clothes, throwing away crayons (I have adopted the “toss it out if it’s on the floor” theory in regards to art supplies) and folding things. I crawled into Sam’s bed last night with Jess in the middle of the night (Sam having spent the night in my bed) and it was filled with dirt and crumbs and CRAP that I had to clean off the bed before I could even put my poor tired girl in there (she wet the bed – my fault, I was too cold to get up and take her to the potty in the middle of the night). I’m filled with hostility and resentment and not feeling particularly warm and fuzzy.

But my hair looks FABULOUS.

Not too much going on these days… it’s February vacation here, so I’ve been drowning in children. Today I’ve got Lilli, Sarah, Jessie and Sam and for the moment, they are all playing together quietly in Jessica’s bedroom. I don’t expect this to last. But actually, when it’s just the four of them, it’s relatively easy – they break up into two groups (usually Lilli/Jess and Sarah/Sam).

We’re still working on the diabetes thing. I know that it’s so much better than it could be – it could have been something awful, diabetes is chronic, but controllable. But still, I was thinking last night of just how crappy it really is. Marc has been dealing with it for a solid week now, and it struck me of how sad and unfair it is that for the rest of his life, he’ll have to make himself bleed every morning and eat no more at a single meal than what I would consider a good meal for my six year old daughter. He’s fighting off a cold as well, which just makes it all seem that much more crappy.

But all in all, things really are going well. Other than the diabetes and the head colds that Sam and Marc have, everyone is healthy and happy. Well, Jess seems to be spending a lot of her time miserable and mad, but I think she’s just in touch with her inner drama queen. Intellectually, I know that she’s not crying all the time, but sometimes it feels that way. I’m chipper as can be. Really. Although if Sarah keeps yelling I might lose my mind today.

Here’s a link to last year’s anniversary post. It’s all still true – he’s still my best friend and I still can’t quite believe I got as lucky as I did.

When I was younger, the qualities that I always said I wanted to find in a guy was that he be smart and nice. Good looking, sure, tall, yep, absolutely – but what really turned me on was intelligence and kindness. Marc is literally the smartest and nicest man I’ve ever met.

Happy Anniversary, honey – I still love you the best!

And Jessica’s “friend” party and my first girl day in a long time… VERY busy couple of days here…

Thursday night, Marc went to the doctor’s. He came home early and I, of course, assumed he’d been laid off. His company has been in the process of shaking things up, and when I heard the car pull up and watched him get out and trudge upstairs, I assumed the worst. Which is a really bad habit of mine in many ways, but on the other hand, I’m frequently so relieved when whatever I’m assuming is happening, isn’t, that’s it’s not too bad. Anyway… so he came home sick, and actually made a doctor’s appointment for that night in Urgent Care. Four hours later, I get a phone call from him, and he told me that he’s been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes. Marc’s adopted – so we have no idea about his medical history. He’s really young for this – and while he’s definitely carrying more weight than he should be, he’s in fantastic shape, working out all the time and he eats healthier than anyone I know. So it was a huge thing – and I think we both freaked out at first. We went to the doctor’s together Friday morning and have been diligently working on getting the sugar number down (well, he’s been working – the man is eating a ridiculous amount of celery). He’s not on insulin, and so far, the sugar has decreased from over four hundred to about 230 something – so he’s making lots of progress there.

The more research I’ve done, the less panicked I am about it. It’s going to mean a pretty major change in the way he looks at food, and the way I cook and the way we feed the kids – but Marc’s always been really disciplined and focused when it comes to doing things he knows he has to – so I know he’ll put the work and the effort into it. And mostly, what I feel is just relief. Thank God, if he had to get something – if one of us had to get something – it was this. Because you can live a LONG healthy life with this. It’s entirely in his control, he just has to do the work with diet and exercise, and I know that he can, and more importantly, he will do it. But I worry about him – this diagnosis has thrown him for a loop in a lot of ways, and I hate to see him struggling with it. I know he’ll be fine, I know that he’ll handle it better than anyone – but I still hate the thought of him feeling vulnerable and scared.

Saturday was Valentines Day – and at some point, when I’m struggling for a post topic – I’ll write the story of the first couple of months that Marc and I were together. We met on Valentine’s Day – and meeting him changed it from my least favorite day of the year (really, a whole day to make me feel like crap for being single is excessive) to my all time favorite. Our wedding anniversary is in October, but we never really do anything for that – it’s Valentine’s Day that’s our day – seven years. I’m very proud – and happy to report that I like him just as much today as I did when we met. I love him, of course, but he’s legitimately my buddy – he’s my go-to guy, the person I most want to be with. And I’m very happy that he’s still my best friend.

We had Jessie’s friend party on Saturday as well – and that went exceedingly well, I think. It was at a magic shop – and the magician did a forty five minute show (that I missed entirely because Sam planted his little heels and insisted “My not going in dere!” and ended up nursing to sleep. But I had a lovely little mommy type conversation with a friend of mine (who was also out nursing her boy – granted he’s about eighteen months younger than Sam) so all in all, it was a good day for me.

I went out today. By myself. For several hours. And it was delightful. I listened to the radio with the music up exceedingly high, bought several lovely little things, including a toy for Jess, one for Sam, some beef jerky for Marc, slippers and a new bag for me. And met Becky and my mother for lunch and a movie. I feel like an actual person instead of just Mommy. It was again, delightful. I have to do that more often 🙂

Or if they did, they returned it pretty quickly.

I lost Jessie’s lunchbox this morning. Looked everywhere, it was gone. This happens a lot to me. I lose all kinds of stuff, shoes, hair brushes, cups of coffee, keys, wallets, etc. You name it, I’ve probably put it somewhere safe and subsequently, can’t locate it at all. This drives my poor husband insane, since he never loses anything. Ever.

I’ve made my peace with it. The losing stuff, I mean. I just blithely assume that tiny fairies have snuck in and taken whatever I’ve lost. They almost always return it (except for a can of baked beans that I swear to God I had in the cabinet, but it was gone when I went to use it – that’s never come back). I can tear the house apart looking for something (and have, on numerous occasions because I never seem to lose something unless I really really need it) and it’s just simply… gone. Then a couple of hours (or days, sometimes weeks) later, there it is.

The lunchbox was next to the computer.

Sam is walking around my living room, with goggles on, blue jeans, dinosaur t-shirt, and Jessie’s purple belt on, wearing a pair of blue flowered socks as his ‘gahbage glubs’ (garbage gloves), carrying a little toy frying pan, and picking up various toys, muttering to himself “come here gahbage, gahbage, I wooking for you.” Every now and again, he yells for me to say “Dis going well, Mama.”