Being My Own Glue

I have been stuck in this rut.  This place that is a lot like the waiting place a really smart Dr. once wrote about.  Being authentic is important to me.  Being the same person despite the company I am in.  Despite the circumstance.  Despite the occasion.  I've long called it being "real" and it's the one word I wanted people to use to describe me above all others.  But because I was so bent on being authentic I didn't realize that I was negating the validity of change.  Change doesn't mean I am inauthentic.  Things change.  Circumstances change. Relationships change.  I would never discount the renewed relationship between my brother and myself because I know that it is authentic and genuine and real but I wouldn't have rediscovered it if I hadn't been open to changing the way our relationship  was just a few short months ago. I didn't have a strong relationship with my extended family.  When I would see them I would enjoy the time we shared together but if it didn't happen I wasn't longing for it.  The change? The difference?  The glue that allowed me to be a passive participant in family relationships is gone.  If I want to be in touch with people *I* will have to be in touch with them.  It requires me going outside of my comfort zone to discover how to be my own glue.  I went outside of that comfort zone this evening.  I reached out and asked if I could "crash" their Friday night plans.  They said yes! I  felt awkward asking to spend a few hours and because of my terminology they thought I was spending the night, and they still welcomed me with open arms! So I spent a night laughing, ,crying and freezing with that extended family that I mentioned.  You know, the ones who I enjoy but don't long for? The difference this time? I left knowing that I will be creating an opportunity to see them again, not just waiting for it to happen.

When Jeremy retired we moved to a town knowing no one, not a super daunting task given our military background.  I had forgotten that it wasn't the moving that was the hard part.  The hard part of a new place is forging relationships.  I had discounted the glue of being military families.  We all knew what it felt like to be the new kid, so it was a title you wore for a very short period of time.  So here I sit in a 'new' town 4 months later and know as many people as I did when I arrived.  I keep waiting for the welcome committee, the new kid banishers to arrive and bring with them a gaggle of friends and a spot safely secured for me to plug in to and belong in. 

While my babies were little I found an amazing group of friends online, through a pregnancy centered website.  We talked and forged relationships and developed bonds.  I have met some of them over time and our families became great friends.  Consider some of them my close friends despite the fact that I've never laid eyes on them. After a decade of knowing these ladies I've seen their families grow and change.  Lifted them up through sadness and joy.

I've had a lot of glue in my life.  The glue of my mom being the anchor and the commentator on our family is no longer an option. It now requires effort on my part.  The glue of the military that bonded spouses together and allowed friendships to be forged quickly and deeply no longer exists in our new life.  Finding friends means going places and reaching out,again it basically means effort on my part.  The glue of my online family where somebody is always there to talk me through my current crazy or parental dilemma.   I didn't realize how letting somebody/something else be my glue had made me so lazy.  I  had never done things differently so I didn't think that I could because in my mind it would make me inauthentic.  It would make me less real.  It makes absolutely no sense when I walk through it.  So today I choice to reach out, to make awkward phone calls, to invite people in instead of just smiling and nodding.  Today I have decided that I will become my own glue.  If you get a phone call from me, be gentle.....this is new.

Building our future

We are buying a house, well building a house to be more exact.  We talked about buying for a while and would walk through various floor plans and neighborhoods and nothing ever clicked.  Mom was going to live with us when she retired.  We started searching for houses when we got here with her in mind.  The schilldren would dismiss a house w/too many stairs because of her knee. Or a house without a second living room because of her furniture.  Soon after she was killed we started looking for houses again as our family had grown.  It was too sad.  A house with stairs was something that we leaned toward because then it wasn't a house that Gramma would have lived in. But that made us sad too because it was blatantly not a house for Gramma.  Our realtor suggested building but we thought it was beyond our reach financially.  We met the builder anyway and everything has fallen into place. Step by step our house is growing.  It is such a beautiful thing because the house is new and fresh and doesn't come with history.  It didn't belong to a family that lost it to foreclosure (a fact that is pretty common we've discovered in our search) or it doesn't smack of being pro or anti Gramma since we are creating the floor plan to fit us each step of the way.  Today we met with the builder for the final time before they break ground and start building.  We picked out siding, shutters, roof shingles, and windows.  The final thing we needed to decide on was a front door.  So many choices.  We decided that we would give a nod to Gramma.  Something that will make us feel her presence every time we walk in or out. Something that will bring a smile to our faces.  We found the color of her lipstick.  It's a shade of mauve and burgundy and, dare I say  it, love.  All wrapped up into a front door.  The coolest part? The name of the color is Colorado, which is were the rest of our O'Day family is.  Perfect made even more perfect. Like I said every single step feels ordained and arranged. Filled with grace and anointed by God.  We are building future and it's being anchored on my Momma's kiss.

I used to work at Camp New Hope

as a teenager.  It is a camp environment for kids and adults with physical or mental differences and it was such a giant learning ground for me.  It taught me so many things about others, about life, about myself.  It also provided me with 2 life lessons that I have carried with me far beyond the length of a job.  2 is really short changing the lessons I learned there, but 2 stick out more boldly than others.  The campers changed weekly and while you truly shouldn't have favorites, I couldn't always help myself.  I fell hard and fast for a child about 8 who was wheelchair bound.  His name is imprinted on my heart and has been since the moment I held him while we swam.  He had severe brain damage and I assumed it was some form of cerebral palsy.  One day while working with him one on one another counselor came in and asked if I knew his diagnosis.  It was a pretty popular game at camp, and over time I became pretty good at it.  I offered my guess and the other counselor shook her head.  I made a couple more half hearted attempts at guessing but I couldn't figure it out.  After a few minutes she said "He's a shaken baby" in that exact moment I experienced a heart break that I had never felt before.  By this point I had lost my Dad and knew what loss was, but I had never mourned the loss of potential.  The loss of what was to be because of another.  My Dad died of a heart attack, not at the hands of someone else.  That loss was hard to endure and sad but this baby was 'normal' (i loathe that word).  Somebody he trusted got frustrated that he wouldn't quiet and shook him, until his brain would be forever damaged and his life forever changed.  That child is the reason I don't do crying babies.  That boy is a huge reason I parent the way I do.  I saw a glimpse of what unchecked rage can do. An instant can impact forever.


Now the 2nd lesson is not quite as dramatic.  One week I had 2 sisters who were hearing impaired in my group.  We signed and they signed and it was a thing of beauty.  I love sign language and am so geeked to get to start a class tomorrow to truly learn how to sign. This story though isn't about being heard, it's about being dismissed & shut down.  They asked to swim, it wasn't our turn.  They asked for crafts, it wasn't quite time.  They got frustrated with me and I was signing and trying to figure out what we could do that would make them less frustrated.  And then.  The moment that is seared in my mind.  They looked at me and widened their eyes so I would notice them and then with deliberate direct eye contact they both slowly closed their eyes.  They didn't close their eyes tightly it was gentle and a passerby would have thought they were just taking an extended blink.  I knew better.  I was shut down.  In a way that I had never been before.  You can talk louder if a child covers their ears.  You can keep talking if they look away and refuse to engage, knowing that they still hear you.  A deaf kids closes their eyes and that's all she wrote folks!  There is NO way to counter that.  That is the feeling that makes me crazy.  It is that feeling that makes me shut down in relationships that should feel safe.  I feel the deliberate gaze of people in my life and then they simply close their eyes.  Sometimes they shut them about all things and I am left trying to figure out how our friendship has taken such a turn and why I wasn't aware of it.  Sometimes they shut them on certain topics and I am left trying to figure out what is allowed to be discussed and what is not. I would far prefer direct dialogue.  Tell me why you are whatever you are.  Are you angry? why?  Are you disappointed? why?  Speak it.  Don't close your eyes and just refuse to acknowledge the source of whatever it is that has you closing your eyes in the first place.  It's probably why I over think, over talk, invest way too deeply in the ramifications of words and actions.  But just like a deaf kid with eyes closed there is no way in.  No way for me to rectify the relationship or fix the issues.  It  leaves me wondering if I should step in or step out.  And that is where I am. 

Bed time routine

Our bedtime routine used to include me singing each child 2 songs someplace after brushing teeth but before saying prayers. Joshypot got wise and would ask me to sing "the song that never ends" which, as it turns out, actually does end after about 3 go rounds.  Mostly though they would ask me to sing Gramma O'Day songs.  I would sing a song of six pence, or share my favorite things, talk about a cherry that has no stone.  Hosts of other songs would come and go but they would always have at least one "gramma song" in the mix.  I stopped the practice several months ago...perhaps even a year.  In an attempt to streamline bedtime the singing got cut.  My mom always gave me grief about it, blah blah blah they are only little once, blah blah blah you will regret this when they are older. As she would crawl into bed with them on every visit and sing for far more than the 2 songs I used to allot.  I felt like I was off the hook because it had turned into a special thing for them.  Now that the blah blah blah has subsided in my head I can hear what she said even louder.  They are only little once, I do regret the time I spent not singing to them.  I started singing a few nights ago.  Only one song.  I can't do more.  Right now it makes my heart ache as I sing and hear echoes of her voice in mine.  My voice catches when I try to sing more than one song.  Scratching his back, stroking her hair.  Making sure the Gramma sticks.  It's only been 2 months and yet it feels like I can already not hear her voice in an instant. 

"It's a wonderful life"

I have this phrase matted and in a frame hanging on my wall.  It's a curious story how it came to live with me.  I bought it as a present for a friend years ago and yet, on my wall is where it hangs.  I had placed it gently into the van and then my toddler stepped on it climbing out of their car seat.  I heard a single pop and noticed later that the glass was broken. I was so disappointed that it was broken.  I waffled back and forth back and forth on what to do.  Returning it for a replacement popped in my head for a moment but that would have been like stealing to me.  The store didn't break the glass.  The store shouldn't lose out on their profit simply because of our accident.  I thought about buying another one but simply didn't have the extra money in my budget at the time.  It sat on a shelf for a while in the department store bag, forgotten.  Months had passed and I discovered it in a cleaning spree of my closet.  This time I pulled it out of the bag and read the words "It's a wonderful life" with the words "wonderful life" written even bigger in the background in big block letters.  And there in the middle of this wonderful life was a giant break in the glass.  I fell in love.  There could not have been a truer statement.  This is a wonderful life.  With all the breaks in our glass. It's through the flaws and the hurt, the difficult and the struggle that we are able to appreciate the strengths and the love, the easy and the journey.  It's been on my wall for many years.  Anytime people mention the break and how easy it would be to get it fixed I am reminded of the story and why I like the broken.  My Mom has helped me move several times and "It's a wonderful life" became part of our moving dance.
Hey Kam, the glass in this frame got broken in the move
Aww man! Which frame? Is the picture damaged? (usually from another room so I headed to see)
Nothing is damaged it's just a crack in the glass but it goes all the way through.
Oh, *that* I know, it's been like that since I bought it. 
By this time I would be standing next to her and I would go through the whole story.  She would fill in the details I'd forget because by  now she knew the story.  And our dance. 
I am so blessed and thankful for that frame, those conversations, and the fact that despite the broken in my life right now I know that it is still wonderful.

Creating home...

One of the things I love about our house is that when people visit they stay longer than they intended.  Some days that is the exact thing I dislike about our house too.  Mostly, though, I love it.  I love that my house is homey and comfortable. That dinner around the table is always able to accommodate another plate or two and that everybody pitches in to clean up afterward.  I love the concept of family and I think it partially because of my experiences in the military.  We can disassemble and reassemble our house and have the same feeling because it's the people that make the home not the place. 

I was talking with my brother about what I hoped to impart/accomplish/teach/do for Sarah since she was living with us.  He talked about financial planning and money management. He talked about schooling and jobs.  I want to mentor her in all of those things but I realized during our conversation that the single most important thing to me is creating home.  I don't want to step into my moms shoes in her life, for the same reason that I want nobody else to step into them in my life.  They don't need to be filled.  What I do want for her is to create a place that is hers forever. A place that can hold her history and anchor her future.  When she is ready to go off to college I want her room to remain ready for her return.  When she is ready to step out on her own I want her wings to spread because her roots are safe.  I tend to over think, shocking I know, and I am probably putting too much energy into this whole thing but I am trying to pinpoint exactly what this new family dynamic will look and feel like. 

Today I sang....

sang a song.  Sang out loud, sang out long.  I didn't matter if wasn't good enough for anyone else to hear...  Top of my lungs in my van as I drove home from Mattoon.  It was sunny and bright outside.  It felt good.  It broke my heart and made it soar all at once.  I sang through the tears as they came.  I laughed through songs that reminded me of her.  I am so thankful for the joy that my mother left for us.  She sang and laughed, danced and joked.  She watched the schilldren like they were TV and then would recount their antics to me as if I'd not been in the same room. Joy is underrated and overlooked.  Thank you Momma for all the gifts you are still giving me!



written on 8/17/2012

Brave.

It's a simple word.  A word I sometimes take for granted.  Joshypot climbed a deer stand and I cheered and praised how 'brave' he was just a few days ago.  Kaity will try a new food and I let her know how brave she is to try something foreign.  Today I saw the definition of brave in my sweet Saracita Bonita.  She decided to move in with us and today we set out for home from Mattoon.  Mattoon was the only place Sarah has ever lived.  She loaded all her things into boxes last week and Jeremy brought them here.  She grew up going to school with the same set of friends and I think that as a military brat I discount the value and weight in that.  Today I watched her come 'home' to a place she had never even seen.  She wasn't coming to a place that she'd spent her weekends or holidays.  She'd spent them with the people living in the house but the house itself was totally new.  New state.  New house.  New town.  New normal.  She walked around and took it all in.  It wasn't what she expected, I don't know that anything would have been.  She is brave.  She is strong and smart and determined.  I am in awe of her guts. 

Wide awake at 430 am...

is  simply not cool.  It is made even less cool since at 1130 I took an ambien.  I've used ambien on occasion for years.  1 prescription would last about a year. I took them to break the cycle of a headache or the cycle of insomnia following a rash of headaches.  I called them my suspended animation pills, I would take them and then suddenly it was 8ish hours later and I felt amazing.  As of last night I have taken them for 23 days in a row.  I am typically pretty drug sensitive so for it to not work makes me feel totally uncomfortable.  I am done.  I will lay in bed awake.  I will let my mind race and my heart ache instead of copping out with my suspended animation.  I guess know I will have to learn to fall asleep w/o it and I am not looking forward to that AT ALL.  I am blessed with a fantastic husband who will rub my back or my feet until I fall asleep when I am having a rough go of life.  I am in Mattoon handling appointments and issues from my moms death so I have 1 more sleep w/o Capt Fantastic here to aid in the falling asleep process.  I will have to settle for a warm shower and a dark room.  I think the ambien allowed me a certain degree of numb.  It helped the nights be less lonely.  I would call my mom (or she would call me) at all hours of the night just because we remembered something we'd forgotten to tell the other in our last conversation.  I still have those "oh I need to call mom to..." moments.  I've even dialed her number a time or two.   Yesterday I drove from Janesville to Mattoon all alone.  That would have meant a 4 hr phone call to my mom just a few weeks ago.  This time it was a sharp reminder of the *why* for my trip to Mattoon.  I called a few people and talked for a few minutes.  I called a few others and talked a few more.  I spent the majority of the time in the silence.  Singing along to the radio.  Maneuvering in the periods of heavy rain.   Feeling the sadness of knowing I couldn't talk to her and hear her voice and know she had my back.  To be snarky and silly and just be raw.  I'd already started shopping for her for Christmas...that stings.  My faith is solid, I am sure she is with Jesus in heaven praising God and whole.  The part of me that hurts is the flesh of me.  The part of me that is sad is the selfish part of me that would rather her be her than there.  It's quite a conflict really.  To be content in spirit and tormented by emotion.  Even as I find myself crying I realize her position and tears slow.  It's when I think of all that I will miss, that my babies will miss, that my siblings will miss.  THAT is where my hurt is and my tears are torrential.  I know that I have busy-ed my way to a spot where I don't have to fully deal with the emotional part of her passing.  I am a little afraid of what happens when everything is settled.  When the boys are in Colorado.  When the hurry up and wait game of her death is finished and squared away.  When the only thing left is to acknowledge the lack of gingerbread and snowmen. Oh my momma I love you.  You were supposed to come and live with us, we made plans. We looked at houses.  I felt like it was my prize, I *got* you to live in our house and I wouldn't have to stuff all our fun into the weekend.  I love you I love you I love you I love you...how many times can I say it until I feel like I've said it enough? 

Sundowning....

I feel like I have the mourning version of Alzheimer's.  I am okay during the day, even happy on occasion.  We tease and joke and carry on like things are normal.  Like Mom is at work or in the other room.  Then all of the sudden it's evening.  Evening starts the ache in full force.  I long for her. her voice.  her laugh.  her smile.  just her.  It feels surreal, I can't believe it has happened.  I can't wrap my mind around the fact that she was alive and now she's not.  That she had a happily ever planned with us and now we are picking up pieces and trying to construct the puzzle of our future when all the edges are missing.  How do you do thanksgiving? Christmas? how do you just carry on? How can I celebrate when I can barely breathe.  I hate the sunset. I loathe the night.  The darkness makes it worse.  I don't want to revisit sad with people who are still processing.  I want to be irrationally angry and frustrated and kick things and tantrum.  I want to have an outlet that exhausts this sadness. I want to not feel panic as 5pm rolls around.  To dread laying in bed because there are no distractions.  Nothing to fill the time between my head hitting the pillow and actually falling asleep.  I always tell my babies to not 'borrow trouble' to deal with today today and let tomorrow handle itself.  I am trying to remember that. To just handle the waves of sadness and the loss one moment at a time. There are so many things looming.  So many details that need to be handled and issues to be dealt with.  What will I do when there isn't a list of to-do?  When there isn't something to manage or fix?  What will I do when it's just me alone with my sad?  She was everywhere....in every corner of my life.  I pray that eventually it comforts me.  Right now it just taunts me, reminding me of what is beyond my grasp.  I love her so much it hurts.  I mourn so deeply I am numb.  I am afraid of how comfortable the numbness is and how much I want to allow it to stay instead of fighting through to the hurt. 

2 weeks.

I feel hollow today.  I realized it's been 2 weeks.  That is a measurable amount of time.  It's not yesterday or a few days ago.  It's a chunk of time and it feels like the span of a second.  When I stop to actually think about it, to process and feel it, I can't breathe.  Not deeply.  I was getting Sarah & Alex all squared away with as many insurance requiring needs since tomorrow they no longer have coverage and was plotting and planning my next move when I realized that I had started driving to my mommas house.  I was supposed to be going to my cousins where we are staying.  I was on autopilot.  My momma is my go-to and she is gone.  It instantly made me well up with tears. My sweet Kaity is so in tune with me.  She stands a little closer, asks if I need a drink.  Doesn't ask my feelings but says things like "I know Momma, me too" or "I love you" which makes me proud of her and makes it worse all at once.  Joshua and I were walking through the county fair a few days ago, talking and being silly.  He looked over his shoulder and then hastened his steps and started getting frustrated. 'I need to get out of here, get me out of here now!' I didn't understand but we started to hurry, he looked and nodded to a display on the side of the show barn.  It was a table of Tupperware style containers that had a sign that said "not your grandma's storage solutions" Simply seeing the word makes him sad.  Today we were at the pharmacy getting prescriptions filled and he caught sight of the section for "grandson" and tears welled up in his big blue eyes.  Again with his fingers chasing away the tears almost before they ever hit his cheeks.  He is defiant in his sadness and soft as he steps next to his sister.  He acts out as soon as he gets sad so he gets into trouble as it's easier to be in trouble than it is to feel.  I didn't realize that at first.  I see it now, it's hard to juggle his naughty when I know the reason. 
Jeremy left on Friday to go up to Janesville because he had to stand call on Saturday.  He worked Monday through Wednesday and will be back late tomorrow night.  I miss him but honestly have been so busy staying busy that it's been more bearable than I thought it would be.  I felt like a jerk when he told me he was lonely tonight and didn't like being by himself.  I didn't even think of that.  I was worried of how I would deal with out him, I didn't think about how he would deal without us. 
Mostly I just want to call my Mom. I want to tell her about my day. I want to complain about the heat and laugh about the schilldren.  She was supposed to come and live with us.  We were going to start house hunting.  What little house hunting we've done has always been Gramma tested.  Joshypot dismissed a house right away because it had to many steps for his gramma's knee that sometimes hurt.  It simply unequivocally sucks.  I want to tantrum like a child and kick and scream and pout but I know it will do nothing and require more energy than I currently possess. 
And then I am at peace. I know she is with Jesus.  I know she is reunited with my Daddy, with her parents. I know she is whole and happy.  I find comfort in that and my heart is not sad.  I am not sad for her.  I am not uneasy with her final destination.  It makes me feel selfish to be sad.  Such a conflict.  Thankfully sleep will come soon and I will get a reprieve from the thinking of it all. 

On a side note I've woken up the past 2 mornings with the same song in my head, I can't remember it right now but it is my moms song. I just know it.

My mom is dead. My mom died. My mom passed away.

I am trying to find the way that it feels right coming out of my mouth.  There isn't one.  It feels awkward and wrong no matter what words I use.  It doesnt seem real. The words are bitter and sharp no matter how I say them.  I watch my babies mourn and it takes my breath away.  People who know me know that I don't do crying babies.  I comfort.  I jostle.  I distract.  I find myself back in that place from when they were infants.  Trying to find the right combo of it all to take their minds off of their current pain.  Kaity has made herself physically ill from sobbing.  She has wept silently when she thought we were all asleep.  I don't know which is more heartbreaking.  Joshypot is angry.  So. very. angry.  He is frustrated at the mourning.  He is annoyed with the crying.  Until he can't hold it any longer.  Then as he pushes the tears across his face with his grubby little boychild hands as my heart aches.  I remember angry.  I felt angry when my dad died.  I was angry for years.  I don't want my boychild to be angry for years. 
I feel like I can't breathe.  My chest aches, my heart is heavy, my stomach is twisted.  It makes me want to insulate myself.  To not love anybody. To not feel this hurt ever again.  And then I remember how she laughed.  How she built crutches for those she loved to excuse our stupidity. our youth.  our delivery when our intention wasn't realized.  How her hands felt when she hugged us tight or massaged away the worry from my neck.  Then I realize how lucky I am to have had a champion, a cheerleader, a friend, a confidant, a prayer warrior, and encourager. How her love was what made her those things.  Her willingness to be real and raw and invested.  I do want to love.  I do want to care.  I already do.  How can you not when you spend your life being loved and cared about?

Moving on up......

to Wisconsin that is!  We have officially changed our address and joined our cheeseheaded roots.  I have to admit that being an air force brat I have always thought that roots were a little overrated.  Things that people clung to when they didn't embrace adventure.  When they didn't understand the beauty of the next move.  I fell in love with a man who has a hometown.  A single place.   For his entire life.  In the beginning of our relationship I had a hard time seeing that a a positive, it made me instantly claustrophobic.  I couldn't imagine one place...a single place....FOREVER. Fast forward about a decade and a half and my feelings have changed.  Jeremy is retiring from the Navy after 20 years and we were searching for a home town.  We have moved into a rental as we are settling into the area and will start shopping for a house in the fall.  If you know me at all the fact that I am eagerly looking forward to house hunting is, in itself, an amazing thing. 
Picking a place to live blindly is a huge gamble.  Before if we moved someplace and didn't love it we knew there was always the option of moving in just a few  years.  And if we were stuck at least we were stuck at the hands of the Navy and could lament and complain and blame and it wasn't OUR fault.  There is something to be said for not having to own the location choice.  We have prayed for our post Navy location for years.  We wanted to be in Wisconsin for the veteran benefits.  We wanted to be roughly the same distance from my family so they could come and visit (read: my Momma could still come for the weekend OFTEN).  We wanted a job for Jeremy at a place he would love.  God answered all of those with our move to Janesville.  We decided to wait a year to buy a house so we could find the neighborhood we wanted and get our bearings a bit.  That meant we needed a place to live in the interim.  3 bedroom rentals that allowed pets were REALLY hard to find.  We made THREE trips to house hunt each turning up empty.  On the 4th trip we found our house.  It was a little difficult to see the potential as it was filled with another persons belongings.  And then it was a solid month before we saw it again empty to move in to it.  In that month it got bigger, shined in the sun as the clouds parted and birds chirped. When we got the keys I had tears in my eyes.  Not from the fact we were finally in a spot after almost 8 weeks.  Not that we were officially starting our new adventure.  Not that 'home town' was just around the corner from us and our roots were starting to spread.  No, I cried because it was filthy.  We saw the true house, empty w/o the distraction of belongings.  Seriously, it was horrible.  I don't have much of a poker face and the schilldren saw the first raw reaction to the filth.  They saw the tears and frustration.  

"...watching....always watching...." 

If you've ever seen Monsters Inc you too will hear Roz's voice.  Usually it's a voice I reserve for people who annoy me or are frustrated with something I've done when I tell stories.  I sometimes forget that the schilldren are like a double dose of Roz as we walk through our everyday life.  Their personalities are definitely their own but I can see the impact my opinions and attitudes have made as they develop.  Sometimes it makes me wince, like this time.  Kaity teared up.  Jp got frustrated.  Then I exhaled.  I looked around and took inventory of what needed to be done.  Jeremy assured me that it would be okay, that we could make it work and I believed him.  The schilldren looked around in disbelief that it would be anything other than awful.  Jeremy was working during the day and then would come home to an evening of work to get the house ready for our personal property delivery.  I tried to get our personal property delivered early but they were not able to arrange the change because it is such a busy time for moving.  I am so thankful for that!  We had the time we needed to clean before we put our things into the house.  As we were getting started Kaity looked at me and said "We can clean dirty Momma, this house will work"   Joshy put on disposable gloves and unleashed serious elbow grease on the baseboards and braved the cobwebbed basement with us.  We spent HOURS cleaning. We scrubbed walls and floors and ceilings. We had the carpets re cleaned. We bought a new (to us, thank you craigslist) stove because the one left was beyond words and I simply couldn't cook food on it. We replaced light covers. We had the lawn tamed. We painted. We replaced hardware. Cleaned the fridge.  Hung blinds because no window had a covering.  Mostly we invested into the feeling of family.  Of roots.  Of building something better (yes we *did* spend quite a bit of time at Home Depot).   Our household goods arrived yesterday and we are engulfed in boxes that are being tamed. We are home and looking forward to getting to know our hometown.. 

Someday has arrived....

Allow me to dust the cobwebs from the corners of this blog and attempt to write the words that are swirling and whipping through my mind.  It's been over a year since last I've posted.  Honestly it's the ADD in me that simply forgets.  I enjoy blogging but after a few posts I forget and then *poof* it's a year later and I find myself reading homebody's blog and missing mine.  So...here we go again.  I will not try to catch you up.  But let me tell you what is going on in our lives right now.

Since we got married we've operated under the assumption that some day Jeremy would retire from the Navy.  Some day we would lay down roots. Some day was said so much it became it's own word "someday" was the answer to a myriad of questions.  Someday was always looming...approaching...but it was sort of like the pot o'gold at the end of the rainbow.  Never did we really think we would find ourselves smack dab in the middle of our someday!  And yet...here we are.  Jeremy is half way through his final leave from the Navy.  We are homeless.  All our earthly possessions are boxed in crates in an undisclosed location awaiting an address.  We are full of all the promise of our someday and yet it feels a little like new shoes.  The ones you've noticed a friend wearing and they rave about them.  The ones you've eyed at the store and toyed with the idea of buying.  Then finally you plunk down you money and take them home.  Try them on and they are not comfortable, they are stiff.  They don't fit like a glove they rub like a blister.  The reality is you have to wear them through the discomfort.  You have to break them in.  So we are breaking in our someday a little at a time.  We've been nomads for almost a month.  Visiting friends, staying with family, getting reacquainted with the schilltastic4 w/o the distraction of work or school or any outside responsibility.  All four of us together for every meal.  Sleeping each night in one bedroom on a combination of air mattresses and pallets.  I think we're finally through the blisters and starting to get comfy.  Kaity girl can make any bed over her brother Joshua like a pro.  Just this evening he said "You've gotta watch this Mom, Kaity makes a bed HARDCORE" as she flipped the blankets into submission.  Joshua knows which body wash & scrubby are his and puts them back into the appropriate suitcase when he's done using them.  Our someday will take us to Janesville Wisconsin to plant deep roots after a lifetime spent perfecting shallow ones.  I am sure more new-shoe-syndrome will ensue but we are excited.  We have plans to rent for a year and then buy a home.  Buying a house makes me excited and filled with claustrophobic panic all at the same time.
Jeremy starts his job in a few weeks and is looking forward to being a civilian.  If you had any doubt his facial hair should be an indication on how he is settling into retirement.  The schilldren are registered for a homeschooling program in the fall.  We've decided to get a membership at our local YMCA as soon as we move into our house and have been looking at classes, lessons, and sports they offer.  Our roots are already starting to spread cautiously into our new life.  We are not sure what we will do for the 4th of July this year as it has ALWAYS been at Great Lakes.  We are still discussing driving down (the current vote by all) or pushing past the comfortable and seeing what our someday has to offer locally.  We are trying to model faith and not fear as we step into this new journey.  This is our adventure and it can be a "get to" or a "got to" and if you know us even a little bit we are a get-to kinda folk.  I am grateful for friends who have gone before us that know the trepidation I am experiencing.  That they have gone through these phases and stages and have come out seemingly unscathed.   I am thankful for friends that are going through their own transitions out of the Navy right now alongside us.  It's a great thing to not have to say anything and  yet have somebody hear it all.  I am reminded of how blessed we are in the way we've been taken in and taken care of at every pit stop as we were searching for a home.  Basically our someday looks pretty good and I am crazy happy to be having a go at it with my best friend.