Frustrating Waste of Time #853,782

While getting Zoe ready for school yesterday morning, she decided to throw me a curve ball. Instead of the usual requests for her hair, she ran to her room and brought me back this picture:

I studied it, gathered hair bands, bobby pins and hairspray and went to work. This was the result:

I was very proud of myself, but she reached back to feel it and was unsure. I snapped the above photo with my phone so that she could see what it looked like and, certain that she would love it, I handed her my phone. She took one look and burst into tears.

"Everyone will laugh at me!!!", she wailed. I tried to dissect the photo and explain how it looked exactly like the picture she brought me. I told her ballerinas wore their hair like that. But she was having none of it.

I disassembled all the bobby pins, brushed out the hairspray and then I put it in a ponytail, braided it and left it hanging down her back. She was satisfied.

And I was exhausted- all before 9am.

The Neighborhood Bullies

They only come out at certain times. They travel in packs and sit outside your house and taunt you. Fed up, you run them off and as soon as you close the blinds, they come right back. They hold you prisoner in your home. When you step out, they threaten to encircle you and take you down. You fend them off with a big stick, but they can easily overwhelm you.

Most days, you carry on, ignoring them and not letting them get to you, but there are the days they break your spirit. You see them outside your door, taunting you with their very presence, and you feel defeated. You want to shut the door and the blinds and settle in on the couch with a hot cup of tea (or a toddy) and let them win.

But the reality is- no one will do the hard work but you. You must be the one to make them go away. It's time to put on your big girl pants, grab the big stick and go out and confront them head-on.

IT'S TIME TO RAKE THE LEAVES!!

(Noah-15 months)

(spring leaf cleanup-Spring 2011)

Guest Post- "Chaos at Camp"

I am very excited to announce that I have a guest-poster today. I can't really call him a "guest blogger" because he isn't a blogger. The person I am referring to is my eight-year-old son, Noah.

Noah's homework the other day was to write a paragraph including his "no excuse" words for the week- children, form, until, food, important, keep and going. Noah wrote a story. It came home in his folder Friday with "Wow! I love this!" and "You're a great writer!" written on it. This is a big deal, because Noah rarely applies himself. He always just does the bare minimum required of him to get by, so to go above and beyond and to be recognized for it is a big deal.

We wanted to encourage him, so we said we would scan it and send it to our family members and I told him I would put it on my blog. As much as I am itching to correct some things.. I won't. I will type this exactly as he wrote it- grammar, syntax, spelling errors and all. For an eight-year-old, I still think he did a wonderful job!

Chaos at Camp

The children at camp had to fill out a form to not be kicked out of camp. One kid thought that if you do not sign the form and you get kicked out of camp that you actually physically get kicked. He started to bawl saying unclearly, "I-I do-on't want t-to get kicke-ed." Mr. Mos the camp leader stared at the kid on the floor for a few seconds, then he called his mom. The kid cried until he saw his mom, the kid's name was Gorge. Gorge yelled "Mommy!" Gorge's mom said that if he keeps crying he will not have fast food. Mr. Mos looked at her with joy for making Gorge stop crying. After a few seconds Mr. Mos returned to what he was doing. Gorge heard Mr. Mos saying, "Welcome to survival class you all know why survival is important." Gorge told his mom "I no keep crying... I'm not going to continue." And he returned to his group.

I was impressed with his sentence structure, his use of complex sentences and most of all, with how he simulated Gorge's crying by typing out the quote as if her were stuttering." Perhaps I am just a proud momma, but it is my blog and I can show him off if I want to. ;-)

The Day I Faced Death While My Husband Sat Idly by and Ate Doughnuts

If you didn't already know that I am an extremely strong person after reading my fish story, you can read on here about how my children and I spat in the face of death. We rock!

The day started like any other. It was a Sunday and everyone was being lazy-moving slowly. My husband casually mentioned we should go to the local farm for apple cider doughnuts and possibly pick out a pumpkin.

We got dressed, drove to the farm, purchased the doughnuts and sat at a picnic table beneath a nice shade tree and ate one doughnut each. The kids were eyeing the corn maze and I walked over to see how much it cost to go through. The cost was ridiculous, so we decided that we would buy tickets for both kids and only one adult and the other could stay outside. My husband suggested I should take them through. I agreed.

We have been through corn mazes at other farms before and they are all set up a little differently. One farm offers a map of the corn maze and different things you must locate and check off your list while going through the maze. Another was a bit of a challenge, but there was a small platform in the middle where you can climb up, overlook the maze and either map your strategy out or call out instructions to people in the maze. Since this maze had neither a map nor viewing platform, I thought it must be pretty rudimentary. It is, after all, for CHILDREN.

The kids and I entered the maze and it seemed pretty simple at first. We quickly navigated winding paths throughout the corn stalks. All the paths were pretty straightforward. Occasionally we would come to an intersection, but the choices were always either a very clear path forward or a dead end you could see just twenty feet in front of you.

About five minutes in, we hit an unexpected dead end at the end of a rather lengthy, winding path. We laughed, backtracked and hit another dead end. We scratched our heads and went another way that circled around and brought us back to the exact same spot. So we started tracking our way back out the way we came and hit yet another dead end. It was at about the fifteen minute mark that my husband texted me, "What? Did you get lost?"

I responded that I thought perhaps we WERE lost and got no response. The kids and I began just randomly walking around trying to find new paths and kept hitting dead ends. Zoe decided she was thirsty and I regretted not bringing the bottle of water in with us. The sun was beating down on us and I started to get concerned.

I texted my husband again- "You would think they would give us a map if it is this hard." He responded with, "At least you are getting your money's worth." I was unhappy with this response. I expected him to find someone to come get us. Call 911- something. People are dying in the maze!

Noah decided he had to pee and refused to pee on a corn stalk. Zoe began to whine that she was hot, tired, and "This is the WORST FARM EVER!".

As we walked down another path that came to a dead end, we passed a pair of adult men's boxer briefs lying in the path. We giggled, nicknamed it the "underwear path" and used it as navigation. We passed the underwear at least three more times in our travels. It occurred to me that perhaps someone who had gone before us had been lost as well and maybe they went into survival mode and used their own underwear to mark the path. Were we going to come across their remains at any moment?

The sun was high over the maze and beating down on us. We were pouring sweat, tired and thirsty. Every two minutes or so, we could hear the happy sounds coming from families rolling by the outside of the maze on the hayride out to the pumpkin patch. How ironic that such gaiety was going on outside while people were perishing just a few feet from them, out of their eye sight. What a tragic human plight. I began thinking about my husband with his ice cold bottle of water and bag of doughnuts. WHY WASN'T HE RESCUING US? WHERE WAS HE?

I was appalled that no one was concerned about our time spent in that maze. At this point, we had been in there for THREE AND A HALF.. umm.. tens of minutes. I continued to hear the jolly sounds of the people on the outside and wondered if a search party would be coming for us soon. And if they would make it to us before it was too late.

We continued to traipse up and down pathway after pathway only to run into more dead ends. I could tell by the landmarks I was seeing above the corn stalks that we had been to every corner of the field. WHAT KIND OF AUTUMNAL HELL WERE WE IN?

Finally, as we hit yet another dead end, I looked up to see the top of the farmhouse. This alerted me that we were back at the front of the field of corn and that freedom, the shop, my husband, WATER AND DOUGHNUTS were right in front of us.

I made a desperate decision. I realized if I didn't get us out of there soon, my husband, in his doughnut-eating stupor, would never miss us and they would find our bones when they cleared the field in the spring. So, I took a deep breath and said, "Kids, grab hands, we're going off- path!" They grabbed hands and we shimmied, squeezed and traipsed between rows and stalks of corn far from any path until we finally emerged into the open air, dazed and dehydrated; covered in sweat, dust and dirt like a castaway family finally returning to civilization. I dropped to my knees and pulled all the sticker burrs off of Zoe's pants. I turned and glanced one last time at the maze that was my family's personal hell for dozens of minutes! Knowing we had stared death in the face and laughed, we walked forward- on to the picnic area.

My husband was sitting in the shade, smiled and said, " How was the corn maze? "

He will never know the terror we endured out there.

**Edited to add: this blog was written the day before the news story about the family that got lost in the maze in Massachusetts and called 9-1-1. It was a quirky accident that I posted this before that happened and also a nice (for me) reminder that I am not the only one to get stuck in a corn maze. The day after I posted this, I had about four people post that news story on my Facebook page. Who knew?

Once a Band Nerd.....

Let me preface this post by saying that I was raised in the south where high school and college football is almost a religion. I know the rules, terminology, and logistics of most sports (excluding basketball, because, let's face it.. I just don't care about that one). But sometimes, that which runs through my very veins- the band nerd in me- trips me up a little.

I joined band in 5th grade- I played in the band all the way up through high school, also serving as a majorette and eventually as replacement drum major halfway through football season my senior year. I was in band in college and majored in music for two years before switching my major. Even after switching my major, my scholarship was contingent on my being in symphonic band and taking flute lessons (which obligated me to flute choir and flute class). I was in the band service sorority- and even served in the offices of historian, vice president and president. My junior year, I was elected by the band to represent them on the homecoming court. So, yeah.. "band nerd" could perhaps be an understatement. I was "supreme band nerd-ette". After I graduated, while I was still in Texas, I was still teaching flute lessons and judging high school twirling try-outs. Once I moved from Texas, I was out of commission for awhile. In 2005, missing my band nerdiness, I googled "community band" and discovered one right here close to where I live and joined. I briefly served on their executive board until I had to resign because DJ's crazy schedule was making me an unreliable member. My point... still a band nerd.

Now, my husband is not a musician at all. He played soccer all the way through college. He loves to point out my nerdiness and lately, it has come out several times in my children's sports. Like the dozens of times I have mistakenly informed my son to, "Hurry, up, or you will be late for REHEARSAL." and they always remind me.. " it is PRACTICE, NOT REHEARSAL!" Yeah.. I get it. Fine.

Then, a few weeks ago, while sitting at a game, the ref blew the whistle for half time. And one of the other moms looked confused and said, "Is it over?" and I replied, "No, it's intermission. Uh.. I mean half time." **blush** Yeah, I really did that.

While unrelated to the kids's sports, I also have been having a hard time at Zumba because the steps start on the right foot. My instinct is to march on my left foot and always step with my left foot first. This makes me angry because I am a perfectionist and I want to get the steps right. So when I go left and everyone else goes right.. it upsets me greatly.

Last week, while at Noah's game-in my head, I wanted to say that I should put Noah in a soccer clinic or camp to see if we can improve his skills; but what actually came flying out of my mouth was "master class". My husband looked at me, I corrected myself and we moved on.

The moral of the story: You can take the girl out of the band, but....

Oh HEY!

What is the football team doing on the marching field?

What's Up- the Moody Blues Edition

Right- so I used to blog regularly. I love to write. Really I do. But, lately, it has fallen by the wayside-along with everything else. I feel the need to explain what is going on- although you may not care. So, if this particular post is just for me, then that is fine, because that was all I intended it to be anyway.

When DJ and I first got married, he was in a maintenance squadron overseas. Maintenance entails shift work and crazy hours because the aircraft is the priority. He was a maintainer in a Special Ops squadron which also meant frequent, no-notice (well, okay- oftentimes it was like 8-10 hours notice) deployments to unspecified places for unspecified amounts of time. That was my initiation to the world of a military spouse. Living overseas, off-base, with an often-absent husband. It was an adjustment, but we did it. The thing was- when he worked, he worked hard and often, but when he was off- he was off to spend time with his family (just me at the time as we had no kids). We managed to squeeze in trips to Paris, all over the United Kingdom and a week-long tour of Italy. It really wasn't a bad gig. Yes, he worked the swing shift (3pm- 11pm) but it was only 8 hour shifts- he had plenty of time to rest and still hang out with me- even with me working quite a bit. They had to cover the weekends, but had it set up so that he only had to work one weekend a month.

When we moved to New Jersey, the first squadron he was assigned to was a special duty. He was no longer working on aircraft, but was working in a unit that goes where there is trouble in the world. When someone has an earthquake/tsunami/ flood/hurricane or any natural or man-made disaster- they were there to facilitate relief efforts. This included US as well as international locations. After September 11, 2001- they deployed often. As in, he was gone just short of 300 days total in 2002. When they worked- they worked hard. But, this squadron recognized that when they were home, they weren't home for long and allowed them to spend time with their families. They would often release them on Fridays at noon if it was a beautiful day or on the eve of a holiday weekend. So- again- parts of it sucked- but when he was home, he as able to spend time with us before he left again.

After this assignment- in March 2004- he moved to another special duty as an instructor. There was rarely any getting off early, but he had the closest thing to a civilian job he will probably ever have in the military. He worked Monday- Friday 7:30-4:30, weekends and holidays off with minimal TDY's (temporary duty for you non-military folks). It was a good gig. We had a good six year run with that one.

All good things must come to an end and in March 2010- he was assigned back into the maintenance world. If you look back through my post history- everything began to unravel at that point. They work 12 hour shifts- 7pm- 7am or vice versa. If you are on the night shift, you NEVER get off at 7am because all the normal things you must take care of- like finance, doctors appointments, any administrative stuff must be done during their normal hours (7:30-4:30) so you have to stay over past your shift to get it done. When DJ was on nights, he most often came home around 10-10:30am but also came home plenty of times around noon. Just to go to bed for a few hours, get up and go back to work. He was exhausted and cranky. When he was on dayshift- it was better, but he still rarely only worked 12 hours. And oftentimes, he had to go in on his day(s) off if even for just an hour or two.

Then, last January, he deployed. Granted, because of his work schedule, not a whole lot changed- we weren't seeing him much as it was, but the kids did take it hard and it was a long winter with a lot of snow-shoveling by my lonesome self. He came back in May with the promise of getting a new position where he would work Monday- Friday dayshift until further notice. He leaves every day at 5:30am and is home most days around 6:30pm but it is not uncommon for him to come home between 7-8pm. He is stressed, tired, and cranky when he gets here. All of the perks enjoyed by the "nonners" (military lingo for non-maintenance world) like days off for scoring a 90 or higher on your physical do not apply to his world. This "day job" does allow him Fridays and Saturdays off with us, but he has been tasked for several TDY's at last minute that cause him to miss even those with us. They have told him at work it is just a matter of time before he goes back to shift. That means- same long, crazy hours, but nights and weekends too. Still stressed and cranky when he comes home, still missing everything the kids do. Still going in on his "days off". I try to plan around his his schedule, but EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I plan something based on it, he either has to work late, work a day off or go TDY. I am not exaggerating this- EVERY TIME I have planned something around his schedule- I have had to change or cancel it because he has to go somewhere. Seriously.. EVERY TIME. What it has come down to, is that after the fall activities are over with, the kids will no longer get to be in extra curricular activities, and I will no longer get to participate in anything outside of the kids and their schools. I can't do it. I am trying to honor my commitments now and am failing miserably. Why put that stress on myself any longer?

My point is- our world has drastically changed. I am- for all intents and purposes- a single mom. He is not around to help with anything. During my battle with the school district that started last May when they informed me that my daughter would not only not get to go to preschool at her brother's school, but that they would not allow her to go to his school at all, ever. I listed this as a hardship. I explained that it the responsibility of parent-teacher conferences, back to school nights and every other school obligation falls solely on my shoulders and having to get to two different schools, with start and end times an hour and a half apart, makes my life extremely difficult. In some cases, I just can't do it. My concerns have fallen on deaf ears time and time again.

I tell you all this to now point out that in my previous life (BEFORE March 2010) I liked to craft and scrapbook. I played flute in a local community band and enjoyed it very much. I also enjoyed pouring my efforts into Halloween every year and my kids' Halloween costumes. Having the contest-winning costume was kinda my thing. I also took pride in throwing some pretty magnificent parties for my kids. (Circus, Circus Outfit, More Circus, The Lego cake, and my personal favorite-the Ice Cream Social) I LOVED that sort of thing. And lastly, I have always loved to write and enjoyed chronicling my kids' lives and adventures through creative writing. (Don't forget this one).

But, I have not scrapbooked a page since Fall 2009. Two years ago was the last time I made a Halloween costume and last year was the last time I orchestrated the idea and had them made by someone else. This year, I- GASP- bought their costumes. June and August 2010 was the last time I threw a party for my kids. This year, I went to Party City and bought minimal supplies and had the party at my Dad's house in Texas. It was still a hit with the kids because he has a pool, so they had a blast. However- I have lost the desire to create. I cannot tell you the last time I blogged regularly, or creatively.

We are in survival mode here. I feel that we are just barely keeping our head about water. I know it is just one of those hurdles you get through as a family and one day it won't seem so big. But I am war-torn and weary and frankly, I am just treading water, barely hanging on. I get the kids where they need to be, I participate in what school activities I can, I keep the kids fed and make sure homework is done and piano is practiced. I am surviving and that is all.

I appreciate if you still read my blog, but if you have moved on and given up on me, I completely understand. I cannot promise anything exciting in the future. In fact, I cannot promise anything at all. I will blog if the mood and inspiration strike me, but let's face it-it hasn't in a really long time and I don't see it happening anytime soon.

Thank you for reading. I am closing comments because this is not about me fishing for sympathy, support, advice or comments. Frankly, I am tired of all the Pollyanna comments I get sometimes about how I should be thankful and I need to realize how blessed I am. Because, right now I am barely surviving. I have tried to put a smile on and force myself to do things I like, but I find no joy in it.

Tight Schedules

When I got an iPhone recently, I gave my iPod Touch to Noah. Since that moment, he has been in love with it!

Last night, I picked it up off the end table and flipped it on to see if it needed to be charged. There was a note that Noah has opened and started but not finished. That caused me to look at his other notes- and laugh hysterically. It also gives you insight into the tight schedule Noah keeps during his summer vacation.

Here is the content of a couple of the notes he has written and saved:

August 22-

Play Legos

iPod Touch

watch TV

run erens (errands)

ask to play with Logan

August 24-

Pet Lindy (the dog)

iPod Touch

ask to play with Logan

August 25- (I need to give you a little background on what actually was going on that day for you to understand this- that day, Noah had a soccer practice scheduled and another parents was going to bring him to me after practice at Zoe's soccer parent meeting scheduled at the same time. After we were all done with Zoe's parent meeting, we were supposed to drive straight over to the high school to meet DJ where the school board meeting was going on. This was also a Thursday night and when preparations were beginning to be made for Hurricane Irene which was expected to hit our area Saturday evening/Sunday morning)

Watch Irene (on the Weather Channel, perhaps?)

play dsi xl

iPod Touch

lay down ( I LOVE that he scheduled a nap)

6:00pm- soccer canceled (his)

Team 7, time-? ( we must have been in the parent meeting at this point because that is Zoe's team number and her team didn't have a coach or time for practice yet)

Bord (board) meeting. (I think he is taking dictation now and we have arrived at the school board meeting)

I am going to play Legos.

Irene comes on Sunday.

Zoe draws a picture.

School starts on September 7- 2011-2012 (he was LISTENING at the board meeting!).

Hope school is easy.

I am bord (bored).

The high school is nice.

Lego set- built Qidich (Quidditch) match!

Dad is speaking.

Finally too!

This may not be funny to you if you do not already know Noah. But, just seeing how his mind works, how he alternately took dictation of his day and scheduled his activities is so amusing to me.

I also realized that if ever I question what exactly happened or was said at some point during a day- I might should check Noah's notes. The answer is probably there.