Clearly I’m out of it. Anyone else notice I used the same picture on 2 recent posts? Wow. Yeah. You should all be worried about my mental state. I know I am!

Gabe got sick. 104.2 degree kind of sick and we ended up in the ER. So he is on Tamiflu, and is improving. Maggie is still getting over it. Jonas is better. Chris and I are somehow still healthy. I’m waiting on h1N1 results, and frankly, I hope that is what it is just so I can know we’ve already done it and can just stop worrying about it. Because finding out that they all have weakened immune systems and are now even more susceptible would make me extra nervous. We had a child in our area die last week- Jonas’ age. So very, very sad. And very, very frightening.

The Air Force has officially gotten back to us, and their big, official answer is. . .

Wait for it. . .

We go nowhere. Travis AFB, CA will continue to be Home Sweet Home. On the up side, I like my house, my children are happy in their schools and now I’m going to do some serious decorating. On the down side, will we ever leave? EVER? What’s it going to take? I really hope it is not another 4 years before I get to go home again.

So, my winner is:

I would say with the way things have been…that they are going to keep you there but I truly HOPE that you go to your #1 spot or Utah!

Comment by Casey Lu — October 17, 2009

The only pessimist in the bunch, You win! I really wanted to send the person who said I would get to go overseas a present. Hee! Casey, shoot me your mailing address and I will send you somethin’.

Peek!

Where’s Gabe?

A-Boo!!!!!

Babyhood, you flew by.

We watched a friend’s baby about two weeks ago and this little guy was crawling everywhere. Gabe watched him in awe, tracking his every movement, and then proceeded to do a frenetic breast stroke on his belly trying to imitate his friend. It was obvious that the concept of babies being mobile had never really occured to him, and this playdate pretty much blew his mind and altered his entire concept of what he could do.

Gabe has, over the past week, gone from laying on his back and not moving to scooting and rolling around. He has gotten into the cat food. He has nearly launched himself off my bed. He is about two seconds from crawling.

He can sit well enough for a bath in the kitchen sink. It happened so fast.

He is also sitting on his own well enough that I can sit him down and walk away. And his hair grew about an inch. And he looks. . .older. IN A WEEK, PEOPLE. I can barely stand it.

And yes, he is way proud.

Maggie is finally good and over her complete and total no-longer-the-baby-of-the-family multiple month long meltdown.

THANK HEAVEN.

The screaming and not so subtle control freak issues were getting old. In fact, I was beginning to feel like I had given up my sweet, silly daughter when I gained another gorgeous son. It was sad, and I was a little worried that she would never recover from being so unceremoniously de-throned by Gabe’s arrival. It took six months, but she’s my Maggie again.

Over the past few weeks Maggie has started to play with Gabriel. They are developing a bond, particularly when Jonas is away at school and I have both my little ones home for the morning.

Maggie has a gift for getting Gabe to laugh. Now, he is a giggly baby to begin with, but she seems to have a very good understanding of what he will find funny (probably because she’ s not that far away from babyhood herself) and there are many days when they are making such a ruckus that I run into the room to shush them and find they are both laughing hysterically at each other.

I may be in trouble with these two in a few years.

Church here starts at 8:30am. My husband works a shift that doesn’t allow him to attend, and so every Sabbath I drag myself out of bed very early to begin getting myself and three small children out the door. Although I have many things prepared the night before, it is inevitable that something turns this process upside down, and we barely scoot into our pew before the service starts.

This Sunday was one of those days where all three children were both irritable and needy, so as we tried to sit quietly, everyone needed to drape themselves over me or poke a sibling or talk loudly. Even when friends took Gabe, Maggie made sure it was impossible to listen to the sermons. When Gabe finally hit his limit, I took all three kids to the foyer. Yet another Sunday service abandoned by a frustrated mother.

I stood there for about thirty seconds before a familiar wave of nausea and splitting headache began. I was allergic to something in the foyer. A quick look around the room and I saw a huge floral arrangement that was left over from a funeral service that was held earlier in the week. It was emblazoned with lilies, which I am I am terribly allergic to, so I took the kids outside until the service was over.

Then I took the kids to Primary while Gabe and I went to nursery. This is my third time in four years having a nursery calling. It isn’t my favorite place to be, but there are good things about it. The noise level of a roomful of two and three year olds is not one of the good things, particularly when paired with a headache.

Gabe lasted about fifteen minutes before blowing out his diaper. When I got back from changing him he gave me just enough time to serve the children snacks and then I had to go nurse him, which put him to sleep.

As I was returning to the nursery with my arms full of sleeping baby, Maggie came crying down the hall. She was unhappy with her Sunday School class, so she came to nursery with me, where I had to focus most of my energies on her rather than on the nursery kids.

Right as church was ending, Maggie collided with her best friend and got a goose egg the size of a Cadbury Creme egg on her forehead. While I iced it down she screamed. She completely lost all control to the point where she was literally screaming the words, “I CAN’T STOP SCREAMING!!!”

She did this for over forty-five minutes. One of the doctors who attends church with us checked her out. No signs of a concussion this time (Maggie once had this exact same thing happen, except that time it knocked her unconscious and an ambulance was called. My life, it’s never boring).

Still screaming, I drove Maggie home where we continued icing her huge purple lump. While I was reaching into the fridge for something cold for her head, I somehow sliced two of my knuckles open. They bled, which made Maggie freak out even more. She screamed at me to get a band aide and leave her head alone. I kept icing her bump and opted to just bleed.

Chris should have been home at this point, but he got off work over an hour late.

I was thrashed.

Finally, everyone got reasonably calmed down. I settled into the quiet of my craft room with my head still pounding, hoping to salvage the afternoon.

It was at this point the doorbell rang.

It was the Relief Society president and her counselor with a plate of brownies. “Wow,” I thought. “Someone cares. Someone noticed what rotten day I was having and brought me brownies. How kind. How inspired. I feel so acknowledged. Wow.” I was stunned and moved. I invited them inside.

At this point in my thinking (and thank heaven I didn’t say it out loud, or break down crying from the apparent kindness of being noticed) my Relief Society president informed me that the brownies were not for me. They were out visiting inactive families and realized that my neighbor was on their list. I knew this, but it was news to them, so they wanted to ask me a little about the family before they went to introduce themselves. Uh huh.

Now, I have a very morose sense of humor. In fact I spent the rest of the day far from a pity party, laughing actually, over my misunderstanding. I’d say “Haha! Someone cares! NOT.” But that smacks of bitterness, and that wasn’t what I was feeling. It was just plain funny. (For the record, many people were kind to Maggie and I during this mess- really- I’m not feeling badly about it).

And the day did improve. I was invited to over to a friend’s house and got to enjoy the evening, so the whole day wasn’t a bust.

I’m scared just thinking about next Sunday.

Day of rest. HA!

Maggie started preschool last week. We were told when we applied that we had almost no chance of her getting in because of the long waiting list. I completely prepared for that. We were set to homeschool Kindergarten and enjoy this last year. And then we got an acceptance letter. It has been hard for me to take.

When I sent Jonas to preschool, I had no misgivings. Life with an unmedicated ADHD/special needs toddler/preschooler is absolutely draining. It isn’t draining in the usual motherhood-is-tiring way. It sucks your soul out and leaves you a hollow, sleep deprived, angry person who is deeply conflicted between feelings of all consuming guilt, exhaustion, love and being extremely pissed off. There are no medications (for the parent) that fix this. I know. I tried most of them. When preschool offered to give me four afternoons of sanity a week, I was on cloud nine. Jonas being a child who required constant (and I do mean CONSTANT) stimulation, the highly structured and activity driven atmosphere of preschool was great for all of us. He got to ping off other people and I got to go slam my head against a wall in peace.

With Maggie, the experience is totally different. Our life has evolved so much. Things are happier. Things are calmer, even though we are busier. We’re in the groove, and over the hump. I’ve learned this dance.

Now, I am experiencing what I think most moms go through when their babies grow into school kids and leave home. Pair that with my idealistic goals, the control freak at the wheel, and a general distaste and distrust for any government run educational institution, and I find myself smack dab in the middle of some pretty good internal conflict.

Is she really big enough? Of course. She could start Kindergarten if she were a week older. She can write better than some first graders, and the social lessons of functioning in a group will be beneficial. I see this.

But I don’t want to give my daughter over to some establishment where I have no idea how she is really doing and if they are squashing her creativity and her little spirit. I don’t want to be monitored by “the man” who runs all this. I don’t feel I should have to “prove” my aptitude as a parent by sharing my daughter’s medical, dental and family information beyond the very most basics, and they do ask for everything. I firmly believe this all falls under the category of nobody else’s business, even if I have absolutely nothing to hide.

I really, really hate the system. I think it has something to do with being military. The government already owns my husband, my medical records, controls where we live- I would like my children left alone.

But I crave some quiet time with Gabe, and the concept of a silent house and during his afternoon nap are so, so alluring. Time to rest, to clean, to enjoy my husband, to complete work. . .wow.

And Maggie, with all the upheaval with becoming a big sister, needs something that is hers and hers alone.

And when I get my quiet time, my productive time, I am better for her when she is home. I know this.

She is so ready.

I am the one with the issues, and so I’m dropping my ideal of the perfectly homeschooled preschooler that I had so easily adjusted to when I didn’t expect her to get into school. I tell myself we will learn and grow and play together every morning - and then I let go in the afternoon.

I let go.

Because I know it really is a good thing for her right now.

Yes. I have my issues. I know I’m neurotic and cranky. I know I’m idealistic and unrealistic and that I expect more of myself than is healthy and reasonable.

But I see others pull it off. People who are not me, do not have my children, do not experience the same challenges- and it is ok.

So I keep telling myself that.

I am doing the best that I can.

And when my children arrive home from regular school and announce that they would like to be homeschooled in addition to regular school, it makes me feel really good. It tells me we’re ok. Sending them off hasn’t made them value what they learn at home any less. It just opens up more opportunities for them, and at the end of the day they come home and they are ok.

For once, it is enough.

This is what I did in Fargo:

I sat in the hammock. I did this over and over until I got it right, and then I had to go back home where there is no hammock, and no decent weather to enjoy one anyway.

I miss you, hammock!

Call me.

*Sniff*

Now we are home and in full swing with back to school. I am up to my eyeballs in everything I didn’t do whilst on vacation. Fun stuff, but I could use a few more hours in each day.

I will post more about Fargo later- but I must tell you what Maggie said when we were flying there, and it must be prefaced by the fact that altogether too much Sci-Fi is viewed in our home.

We flew from San Jose to our connecting flight in Denver. Denver, with all of it’s blinking signs and moving walkways and four (COUNT ‘EM!) toy stores was totally enthralling to Maggie, who hasn’t flown since infancy. Other-worldly type enthralling, as a matter of fact.

When we sat down in the plane for our flight to Fargo, Maggie turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, “Are we going back to Earth now?”

Apparently she thought we’d jumped the galaxy.

Hee!