Water, water, everywhere

I, know, again with the blue posts, but this one is because of water. Let's clarify, Water Problems.
I took a lovely one credit class this weekend called Project Wild, if you get the chance, take it and have fun. On Saturday, I woke at my usual get-ready-for-work time and turned on the shower. My shower take a little while to get warm so I have it two minutes while I sipped on some coffee. Since that was enough time, I stripped off my PJs (which were actually the shirt I wore the day before and my undies) and swung a leg over the tub side and into.....
ICE COLD WATER!!!!!
I screamed and hopped out of the bathroom naked to tell Daddy that I think the pilot light on the water heater was out. Then I thanked God that I had a shower the day before and my hair wasn't oily because the pilot light wasn't out, the water heater cracked and water was pouring out. Our landlady had it replaced in time for evening baths/showers.
Then on Sunday, Daddy took the girls to dance practice and when he started to get them out of the van, he noticed a steam kind of sound coming from the engine. Turns out our water pump had just gone out. Daddy limped the van home and took his car to pick up the girls and a new water pump. He spent the rest of the evening taking off the old water pump, then the next day scrapping off the gasket and putting on the new water pump. One gallon of antifreeze/water went in, everything was fine. The second gallon and it all started leaking out. So my dad said to bring the van to his house (5 minutes away) and they could work on it together. Never have I seen my dad take to anyone I've brought home as he has to Daddy. And to think, it only took 2 1/2 years to get here.
Daddy has a theory about fixing cars. It's not fixed unless you bleed. Well, Daddy got quite a few scratches and gashes from trying to fix the van. I told him, "Now it looks like your theory doesn't hold....
WATER!"

Double D's or Difficult Decisions

Let me begin by saying I'm not one for admiting defeat, ever. Just ask Daddy. He says I drive him nuts because I just won't give up on something and will wiggle things around so that I still come out on top.
But this week was different.
And I'm a little blue about it, hence the blue color to my blog.

It looks like this move to Roswell is going to happen. Which means in a couple of weeks, I'll be without Daddy for most of the week. Really, I was OK with that. I've made arrangements for friends to pick up kids on those days when I'm in Chemistry class/lab. I made arrangements for Miss Becky to pick me up and drive me to/from my procedure on April Fool's day.
But then.....
I got my grade back from my first Chemisty exam. Talked with the professor about needing to take the April 1st exam early and turning in the labs I missed. So still, I thought, no problem there.
But then.....
I was at work, caught up on everything I had to do there and finishing typing up my labs during lunch. I got a call from the kid's school,
"Miss B? This is the secretary at ? school. I have Josie in the office and she needs to go home. There was an incident (just that word alone fills me with dread) with the parent volunteer, Josie pulled her hair and bit her. She's spoken with Mrs. Principal, and because of our rules, she is being dismissed from school for the remainder of the day."
With the parent volunteer.... that is so much worse than if she bit a teacher because a teacher would keep things quiet, never mention it again. But a parent volunteer will be the one who points me out at the next PTA meeting as the mom whose child bites! Perhaps moving now is the best choice just to avoid the stares.
I picked up Josie and got the whole story, upset in the morning, something got to her about lunch and she dropped her tray, something got to her again on the playground and she was screaming (enter the parent volunteer to calm her down) and the biting ensued. Took her to my office and, since I knew Daddy couldn't get her and I still had class to get to, called my mom to beg her to take Josie. My dad could get her at 1:30 (an hour and a half) and take her to mom so that I could go to class. It was after my dad (with a smug attitude, he doesn't think I can handle all my kids since I'm not my mom) picked up Josie that I realized that I forgot to cancel the counseling appointment for Lena and BB.
Various thought that entered my brain at that moment: Josie is finally showing us what she thinks about moving, I am just not going to do very well this semester (after having looked at the Physics exam), how the heck am I going to be there for the kids if I can't get them because I'm in class, what about all my medical exams, I can't do this, like this, once Daddy leaves for Roswell, since we're moving to Roswell and I have to change schools, and I don't need this Chemistry or Physics class for the degree from that school, why the heck am I going to kill my GPA (and myself) by struggling through classes I don't need.
So, I decided to withdraw from Chemistry and Physics. Since I have to be full-time for my financial aid, I found three Microsoft classes (which I use everyday at work) to take for easy A's and they are all online, I'll be home for the kids. What a wonderful idea.
But.... I felt like I was giving up. Throwing in the towel, something I just don't do.
It put me in a horrible mood. I know it's the right decision, but I've never backed down from anything.
Luckily, I had my Project Wild class this weekend, a one weekend, one credit class where attendance and participation are the only things that affect your grades. I spent the weekend running around like a deer or rabbit, drawing a to-scale 55 foot whale, and hiding in the brush from a predator. I felt like a kid again, lost my worries for awhile, and though I'm sore today, I had fun.
I'm thinking that moving won't be so bad, change can be fun, I'm going treat it that way.
Tough decisions made, looking on the bright side... a possible 4.0 this semester.

Ouch and oh my!

Several things occured this week that were unplanned for. Per the request of my doctor, who talked to my mother, who nagged me and got Daddy to nag me, and also some nagging from several of my friends... I finally made some doctor's appointments to get my tests done. First one up was the IVP, where it received an iodine solution intraveineously. 90 % of people who are allergic to the iodine solution react immediately. Apparently, I'm one of that weirdo 10% that doesn't react until later. I was changing back into my street clothes when I noticed that I was turning red and blotchy. Thinking it wasn't really anything to worry about, I put my clothes on and then asked the tech if that was normal. I guess it wasn't since she went to get the other tech and the doctor. I got hives, swollen hands, itchy lips and light headed. They gave me another IV and injected me with Benadryl and steroids to stop the allergic reaction. I was then put on a strecher, sent to recovery and then to OCU until I was finally released 6 hours after my appointment started. During that time, Daddy came to get me but had to go back to work when the doctor decided to keep me longer for observation. So he called my mom who came to see me, then went to get the kiddos from school, and then came back to pick me up. When they removed my second IV, I didn't exactly clot like I was supposed to and soaked the gauze, gotta remember to tell my doctor. Then mom took me home and drove Daddy to get our van. Since I had that allergic reaction, and the B-boy is over two, I decided we might as well complete weaning. I was in so much pain for the next two days! On night three, I secretly allowed B-boy a midnight snack so as to relieve both of us and because I hadn't really expected our last time to be the last time. I enjoyed the relief and stroked his hair and whispered how much I loved him and how I was going to miss his babyhood. So I got the last time I wanted, and our baby has officially graduated to little boy. He has been completely weaned for three days and I'm not in any pain. So I was able to start my new medication from the gastrointerologist last night (can't breastfeed on it) and this being day one, it seems to be working great. April Fool's day is my next procedure, not really looking forward to it. But each test brings us one more step closer to finding an answer to what's wrong with me. I've been waiting almost a year for an answer, perhaps I'll get one soon.
On another note, I got to order my graduation announcements last night. I'm really starting to look forward to "walking the line." Didn't think I'd be this excited about it.

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.......
Roswell?
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.

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!

My Haiku Buckaroo entry

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