Tuesday, February 26, 2008

An Answer from God

About two years ago, as we were struggling from job losses, we prayed to God that something big would come our way to really help our family out. We both got different jobs, mine allowing me to continue my education and finally getting my degree, Daddy's giving him more banking skills and his own office. We are in debt, mostly due to the Big B's misdeeds (turning in Daddy for child support when the children live in our house 24/7) but it fortunately is a drop in the bucket compared to the debt others must wittle down. Let's just say it's under $6500 and that's with car payments. To me, we are doing fine~not in need of anything or in want of anything. And I'm talking about the serious need. We have plenty of food, home, gas, electric, water, toilet paper and coffee (yes, that's a necessity in my life). But we do not NEED anything.
Daddy, however, has a horrible compulsion to provide. I think it's a guy thing. I currently make more $$$ than Daddy and though he says it doesn't bother him, I can shake this feeling that it does.
Daddy went through a horrible blue mood two weekend ago. Even snapping at me and the kids, which is unusual for him. I finally got out of him that he was depressed that he wasn't giving us everything we need. I told him we were fine and happy. Not good enough and he was blaming himself. I couldn't seem to put it into prospective for him that under $6500 in debt was a good thing and other people have it much worse than we do. Still not good enough. After two days, I finally had enough and told him to call his mom and his sisters, who only reaffirmed what I told him and somehow that was enough to get him out of his mood.
So there we were, content with our lot in life for the moment and repeating that God only give you as much as you can handle. I think that weekend was cutting it close for Daddy.
Then out of the blue an old friend, who also happens to be Daddy's former boss, called four times in twenty minutes! Now, that's unusual for him to call that often, ever. We missed the call because we were out for a Lenten dinner at a Mexican seafood place (and yes, seafood enchiladas are good!). So before Daddy could set down the diaper bag, I dialed this friend's number and handed Daddy the phone.
For over 30 minutes they talked......this is what I gathered from the faces my husband was making:
W (our friend) is offering Daddy a job.
From the look on Daddy's face, it's more money.....
obscenely more money.....
doing the job he was doing two years ago.......
not as much work.......
At this point (honestly, though I don't tell Daddy), my heart sunk. Roswell is two hours away from where we live now. Away from friends, family, my job, my school, the kids friends, their school, their grandparents (one of whom relies on us for daycare income)..... Away.....
Though I was supposed to be studying for my Chemistry exam, my brain was no longer in it. How was I going to tell my parents, my co-workers in my already understaffed office, the kids? Oh God, what are the kids going to think?
The offer is on the table for a position in six months at almost double what Daddy was making before, $10,000 more than his current salary, but we'd have to move to Roswell. They'll pay moving expenses.
OK, six months is plenty of time to prepare my parents, the kids, finish the semester, attend my college graduation in May.
Turns out, the kids aren't too keen on the idea. The grandparents, while understanding this will help the family, aren't keen on the idea of only monthly (instead of daily) visits with the babies. Grandpa even lays on a little guilt-trip, jokingly (maybe) about, "Now you say six months, but just watch, you'll be gone in three weeks." This was said yesterday when I was picking up the kids.
Then, I went home..........
W calls Daddy. The jerk (aka: the guy Daddy was going to replace in six months after W learned what he could from him and then fire him because the big boss didn't like him) walked in yesterday morning and quit! So W needs Daddy ASAP! Timeframe: three weeks! Time for big decisions. Daddy and I agree that the children and I will stay where we are until the end of the school year/semester. Daddy will go to Roswell and come home for the weekends. My heart is breaking because I've never been without Daddy for so long or so often since that vacation I took when we were first together. My thoughts are overrun with ideas that tonight will be the last time we go to dance class together and I don't like dancing with anyone else. Who's going to take the B-boy from my arms at night to place him sleeping in his bed? How am I going to wake up every morning when I've gotten used to him waking me and no longer wake with the alarm clock? I cried in my shower this morning thinking about this. I'm worried I'm going to bomb my Chemistry test because I can't concentrate on it. I have 18 formulas to remember....sometimes I've got them, mostly I feel I don't. I need Daddy like I need air, I feel like I can't breathe. I'm supposed to be strong but I feel so small and fragile right now and I'm not used to it, I'm not like this. I know this is a good thing, that this will give Daddy time to find a place for us and see if this job fits before I leave mine and pack up and move. So why do I hurt so much? I know I can't make everyone happy, but I'm also sad that I'll be without Daddy. But I do thank God and everyone who's been praying for us that something great came our way. And I do look forward to the adventure.....not to mention, leaving the Big B behind and not having to worry about her around every turn. That's probably the best thing of all.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Baby no more...

February is turning out to be a very "mommy-moment" filled month for me. My baby, B-boy, turned two in December and I realized that it was time to start putting baby thing away. Weaning (yes, two years of breastfeeding is recommended by the WHO and BB kept getting sick everytime I tried to wean her till she was two, not taking chances with the only Powell boy) began in December. Luckily it has been going slowly because B-boy was the only one who didn't get this horrible flu and I think my supermom antibodies in the milk were the reason. But this month we've been taking the BIG steps. First, the toddler bed was ordered (Cars of course) and received. When Daddy brought in the bed set (bed, table, chairs, toy organizer, etc), B-boy started screaming with delight shouting "Vroom, vroom!" I tried, while still sick with the flu, to put together the toy organizer while Daddy made dinner. I managed to get it almost done, with some screws still sticking partway out, before having to rest. The next day, I found Daddy and B-boy in his room putting together the bed. Well, Daddy was putting it together while B-boy was handing Daddy every part he didn't need. When the bed was done B-boy proudly sat upon it eating the ice cream I had given him in a failed attempt to get him to leave Daddy alone. He didn't leave the bed all night. It wasn't until 5am that he woke and realized he was alone and there were no boobies close by. Our brave little boy made his was down the hall, through the kitchen, and down another hall to Mommy and Daddy's room, crying the entire time. This has turned into our routine minus the crying (mostly) for the last three weeks. My bed is my own now, but I do miss my warms baby boy curled in my arms. And then.....
Daddy and I had been debating about B-boy's curls. To me they were baby-curls, to Daddy "it" was a mullet. So after much thought, which was actually my mother telling me how little old ladies were telling her what a pretty little girl HE was and when are we getting her ears pierced, I decided to let go of this last bit of babyhood. He is afterall a boy, all boy, car playing, hair-pulling, cat throwing boy. (Later I will explain my theory about boys being an entirely different species from girls) So I told my mom I was ready for his hair to be cut. She said ok and left out the details. I didn't know what day it would happen, I just didn't want to be there because I knew I would cry. Strong women don't cry... yeah, right. They just don't cry in front of their children because mommies are supposed to be strong. The resulting little boy (no longer baby boy) was just so cute and so different. I'll swear that he even carries himself with more of a big-boy attitude. And with that attitude came the word ~ no! He has learned the word no and I am hearing it almost as often as I ask for a kiss. It seems like in a few days he'll be asking me to drop him off a block from school, he already thinks farts are funny.

Hail the Meatloaf!

As is typical for me, I could not help but accept the meatloaf conversation as a challenge. Not only did I sucessfully make a meatloaf, I slammed that sucker right out of the park! According to my future hubby (between mouthfuls of meatloaf), "This (snarful, gulp) is the best (chomp, chomp, chew) meatloaf I've (swallow, shove another bite) ever had!" So yes, I can and do make a pretty good meatloaf. How's that for American!

Friday, February 15, 2008

My Haiku Buckaroo entry

Four children play here~
Two mine, two not, together~
Love, thicker than blood.