Call Me Charlie

There are a lot of downsides to having Garry in training in Quantico, but the one that I struggled with this week was being the sole focus of my kids' neediness. "Mama! Mama!" is pretty much all I hear all day long. Oh, it was so much better when those "Mamas!" were sometimes replaced with "Dadas!"

Finally I reached my "Mama! Mama!" limit and told the girls that for the rest of the day I was to be called Charlie.

They thought that it was pretty funny, and it worked! My nerves recovered enough to be "Mama! Mama!" again by the end of the day.

It took awhile to learn to respond to "Charlie!". I'd hear the girls talking about Charlie this and Charlie that and would just think that they were acting out Charlie and Lola.

Little Girl, Big Attitude

Little Miss Molly may be a petite little thing, but she carries around a lot of attitude. Garry and I have both noticed that a few months ago when you gave her a snack or a treat, she would take it and accept it in such gratitude and wonder. The day that I gave her a graham cracker, she looked at me with eyes of amazement. In her gaze, I could feel her trying to tell me that after tasting the sweet goodness of that graham cracker she knew that her life would never be the same.

Now whenever I give her a bottle or a snack she snatches it away with an attitude of "Where the heck has this been?" And she has started to get her own snacks. Though she is only ten months old, she is a fruit snack addict. They are a treat I try to save for dance or church, when I am desperate for her to be quiet and good! But today she went into the pantry and found some herself and brought them over. Hmmmm......

We've also had problems introducing her to shoes. She has gotten really good at walking without shoes and considers them to be horrible hinderances. I should have named her Blossom or Star or Daisy because she also hates coats. She just wants to be free.

On Sunday I forced a pair of shoes on her. She finally got one off and then proceeded to stomp on it. Perhaps she was trying to put it back on?

What Would You Trade? What Would You Pay?

My Dad always talks about how strong I am. Not physically. Just with regard to determination and goal-setting. But he warned me that when I get sick I allow even the littlest thing to overwhelm me.

Not that losing thousands of dollars is a "little thing" but neither is it the end of the world that I feared it might be. This weekend I thought a lot about the challenges and trials friends and family members are facing. Would they trade their trial with ours? Would they pay $18,000 to make it all go away. Almost definitely.

How lucky and how blessed we are that our "trial" had a price tag on it and with the help of friends and family we are finding a way out.

Money is just money, and I do feel bad about all of the DRAMA. Hopefully from here on out I can go back to loving and laughing and joy. . .through editing, of course.

Compassion

I have noticed that when I see someone go through a really hard time, I judge what they are going through and mentally go through all of the reasons why I would never be in such a similar situation.

But here I am, in a tough situation (see provious blogs). We never knew that a job offered in June and benefits promised in writing in July would still not be processed and available in October. It's not life and death. Everyone is strong and healthy, and Garry still has a great job that provides for us. We are blessed. But I still worry about losing the money we have saved to take to Utah and buy a new home. Without that, what will we do? Rent? Where? For how long?

But over the last few weeks I have received a crash course in compassion. The next time I see someone struggle and worry about their future and their family and their home, I hope I will not judge. I hope that I will remember, express sympathy and understanding, and extend help.

Meaning

The last few weeks have been really stressful as we have tried to get ready for the big move. Before anything can happen, though, we need what is referred to as a Transfer Order Number. Without this number, we are nothing and no one in the transfer department will talk to us because we do not have a number.

The hard part is that all the paperwork is done, we just need it processed to get this magic number. PROCESSED. We just need someone to enter it into a computer and spit out a little number. It's a problem because the transfer department was supposed to help us sell our house. They were supposed to help us with realtor fees and taxes, something that totals over $18,000. Since we are essentially cutting even on the sale of the house (and in this market, we are considering ourselved lucky) we really need the help promised by the Department of Justice.

When we agreed to a settlement date, we had no idea that we would not have a transfer order. Garry has worked very hard to get any movement at all on this one little number (after all, it just has to be processed!) but we are now seven days away from settlement and still no magic number. We were hoping to push back settlement but the buyer is locked into a loan rate that expires in 7 days.

So what do we do? Default on the sale? Put the house back on the market and start all over, hoping that the next time a buyer comes around we'll be ready? Take out a loan for $18,000 and pay it ourselves? These are the questions that have literally racked me over for three weeks.

And yesterday I just collapsed on the phone when my Mom assured me that there was something to learn from all of this -- there was meaning.

What meaning can be found in THIS? I wonder if sometimes we look for meaning and purpose when there's just life?

Really? Now?

This morning was really hard. I woke up and the house was FREEZING. I realized that the heat was not working. I went downstairs and found that the pilot light was not lit, and so, using the expertise gained just a few weeks ago (see previous blog), I lit the pilot light and waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally I realized that something was still really wrong and so I called a neighbor who came and looked at it. It turns out that I needed to turn a switch over from pilot to on but you can only move the switch when its had time to warm up. Ironic, no?

Amongst all of this I had kids complaining about the cold, runny noses, and being hungry. And did I mention that I was alone? What fun.

To add to the fun, our cable and Internet and phone lines kept going down as Comcast was working on the lines outside of our house. In all of this I was emailing my realtor regarding problems with our settlement date and getting all the parties at the table by next week.

It was a really stressful time, and I told the girls after breakfast that I was really busy and needed them to watch tv or play with toys but there were things I needed time to take care of and address.

Emma, sensing my stress and I guess trying to change the subject walked up to me while I was peeling an apple and asked, "Mama, how does a baby get in your tummy?"

Someday I'll look back at this and laugh. But not any day soon.

Have You Done THIS?

Yesterday Emma woke up and was feeling a little warm. But, then again, my hands are cold and so I think that everyone always has a fever. But, she was a little lethargic, too, and just wanted to cuddle on the couch.

Garry is usually our point-man-in-charge of all sicknesses, but I tried to fill in since he is gone. I gave her some Motrin, dressed her warmly, and tried to feed her breakfast.

The Motrin did the trick and soon she was her bouncing, jumping, climbing off EVERYTHING self. So, I sent her to school.

A few hours later she came off the bus, looking like death warmed over.

"I have a fever," she told me. "School wrote you a note."

Oh no! A note home from school, probably demanding to know why I sent my child to school with a fever and clearly sick and telling me that Emma was not to come back to school. Didn't they know the magic that Motrin can work? Didn't they know that when I sent her to school she was fine? I braced for the unkind words surely written on the pages.

Instead, I found a quick note saying that Emma was not herself that day, they took her to the nurse, and she had a temperature of 99 degrees.

Today she is home; we're kickin' it and watching movies. She is probably well enough for school, but I am not going to risk THAT again. Can you imagine what her teachers would think if I did that two days in a row?