A Letter to my Baby

Dear Littlest Monkey,

I love you so much!  You are, by far, my squishiest, squeeziest, cuddliest baby I’ve had.  “The others” were cuddly, but not nearly as squishy and squeezy.  I have to be honest with you though.  You are the baby of the family, and because of that, you are being treated differently.  Sometimes it’s good.  Sometimes it’s not.  But as your mother, I feel like it’s my job to be honest with you (and to pay for your therapy later.)

First of all, there’s baths.  Yes, you take baths.  But not nearly as often as your brothers did.  I don’t let you get disgusting, but it’s just not a daily ritual like it was with “the others.”  And… you don’t have any bath toys.  Strike that.  You have one bath toy.  It’s the stress ball the nurse gave Mommy when I was in the hospital having you.  I found it under the sink in the bathroom tonight while I was giving you a bath.  And actually, there’s a pink plastic thing attached to your bathtub that you like to chew on and you really like the cup I use to wash your hair.  So, really you have three bath toys.

Secondly, there’s food.  I was doing a really good job making homemade baby food for you.  I never did that with “the others.”  But, honestly, baby, I stopped.  I don’t understand the benefit.  It’s not cheaper, and it’s a lot of work.  I’ll make your food soon enough, I’m practically a short order chef at lunch time.  So, as long as I can easily buy a box or a bag or a jar off a grocery store shelf, it really helps Mommy stay sane.  You understand, right?

Also, you’re lucky.  I’ve realized that “the others” have never died from anything I’ve fed them, so sometimes when you cry in a restaurant, I give you french fries.  You seem to like them.  And I justify it by calling them potatoes, because potatoes are healthy and they come from the Earth.  And you really like sweet potatoes, so it’s kind of like eating sweet potato’s crispier cousin, the french fry.  You’ve also eaten sand at the beach, and I didn’t try to stop you.  Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmm.

Last week, I took you to the movies for the first time.  “The others” didn’t get to experience a real movie in a theater until they were well passed one, maybe even two.  But look at how lucky you are!  You got to go when you were only 7 months old!  Lucky ducky!  Mommy really needed to get out of the house and she couldn’t find a babysitter, so you came and sat on my lap and ate a lot, a lot of puffs.  But you were really good!  You kind of have to be.  So, thanks for that.

Finally, there’s nighttime.  When “the others” were your age they were definitely doing a better job at sleeping through the night.  But not you, Sweet Angel.  Some people say that it’s because you’re the baby and I want to hold on to that “baby stage” as long as I can.  (We call those people “crazy.”)  What it really is, is that Mommy is exhausted.  And letting you cry it out or doing any form of sleep training causes Mommy to lose sleep, and Mommy doesn’t like that.  So, instead Mommy feeds you a few times every night.  I know that in the long run, this will really work against me, but, like I said, I’m tired.

Well, Sweet Monkey, I love you!  I feel better now that I’ve been honest and we’ve had this heart to heart. You may want to hold on to this letter and save it for your therapist later. It may explain a lot of things to him.

Love,

Mommy

I Have an Audience

Does everyone have an audience while they get ready in the morning?  No?

I like to call them my entourage.

Teenage Girl Facebook Faces

First things first, look to the right!  See that awesome new logo of mine!  Do you LOVE it?  Me too!  Thanks Jane!

I have lots of different friends on facebook.  In fact, I have 282 friends on facebook.  You’re probably one of them.  And if you are, go “like” my new page, Queen of the Jungle right now and then come back!  And if you’re not, just click that little box to the right and I’ll be your friend.  I’m friendly, I swear.

Back to my friends… Some are from different churches we’ve attended, some are from school, some are family.  But my most entertaining kind of friend is definitely a teenage girl.  They are always updating their statuses, always letting us know where they are with their hand dandy “check in” feature, always posting photos, and always changing their profile picture.

I have quite a few teenage girl facebook friends since Geric used to be a youth pastor, and honestly, their photos crack me up!  There are a few different circles of girls that don’t know each other at all, but there are some common threads in all of their pictures.

First of all, they love, love, love the photo booth application on a mac computer… or in the apple store.  If their girlfriends come over, then it’s non-stop photo booth fun.  They usually take their photos with some kind of effect… black and white, sepia, thermal.  But never the distorted effects, because those make you look weird and unattractive.  (Those effects are for bored stay-at-home-moms and their kids when they need a good laugh.)   And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they all have very similar themes.  They all contain variances of the following photos.

Please excuse the wrinkles and the lack of make up or the fact that I didn’t do my hair today.  I am not a teenage girl.

AT-TI-TUDE

This one is all about the eyes and the lips.  Eyebrows up and lips all cock-a-mae-me.  This is an image that’s saying, “What?  I will not be taking any crap from you!  I’m a teenage girl for crying out loud!  I have attitude to the max!  Do not walk all over me, cuz I will not tolerate it… boi!”  (All that was being said with a finger waggin’ in the air.)

DOE EYES

This image usually involves lots of eyeliner and heavy eye makeup, both of which are absent from my face because I had a total of 3.6 minutes to get ready before the baby woke up from his nap and the other two realized I was out of the room and started destroying things.  This photo is usually taken from their own personal camera, and not from the typical photo booth application.  You get this one by holding your camera way up above your head and barely tilting your head back.  Your open you eyes nice and wide like a doe and give an ever-so-subtle smile.  Sometimes a pout will do.  It says, “I’m innocent.  I’m pure.  I mean, I’m just a teenage girl after all.”

NOT TOO SEXY CUZ MY MOM’S MY FRIEND, BUT KINDA SEXY

This is as sexy as most of the teenage girls that are my facebook friends get.  I mean, this isn’t myspace, people!  They adjust their hair by poofing it up with one hand… and keep your hand there.  Don’t use a clip.  Everyone likes to see a little upper arm, a bicep if you will.  Then you pucker up your lip-gloss-slathered-lips (which I neglected to wear because my kids stole mine and hid it.)  This one says, “Hi boys, I’m a cute teenage girl.  Like my hair?  It’s poofy, right?  Look at my bicep.  And aren’t my lips shiny?  Can’t kiss ’em, cuz I’m on your computer.  See ya at school tomorrow.”

CLOSED LIPS SMILE

This one cracks me up.  I don’t know why but it reminds me of an opening song to an 80’s sitcom like Charles in Charge.  It’s like the teenage girl in the show would be doing something like putting towels away in the closet and then the whole top shelf would fall on her head and she would turn around, put her hand up like she’s saying “I don’t know” and give this smile.  It says, “Oh my gosh! Silly me!  What was I thinking?  I’m just a teenage girl!  Duh!”  But it’s not too funny because you never show teeth.  Never.

HAND ON HIP SMILE

This one allows some teeth to show.  Because the teenage girl is genuinely happy.  You usually get these ones when she’s on her way to a dance or out with friends or what have you.  She puts her hand on her hip to make her arm look skinny (so I am told) and to add a little sass.  She’s saying, “That’s right!  I’m cute!  I’m a teenage girl and I’m going out!  Woot, woot!”

Oh, teenage girls, I love you!  You remind me of my high school days, you make me smile, you crack me up, and you make me ever so thankful that I have sons.

In Which Geric Can Never Leave Again

I took the boys to go see Winnie the Pooh the other day and I noticed that all the Winnie the Pooh stories start with “In Which.”  I like it.  Enjoy.

Geric left on Tuesday night for a missions trip to Detroit with our church.  I was really okay with it.  I really, really was.  He loves doing ministry.  God was going to show up and he would get to be a part of it.  Awesome.

But due to series of mishaps, I have decided he can’t leave again for a very, very long time.

Here’s what happened:

1.  Notice of foreclosure:  If you missed it, you can read my rant here. And, actually, the notices came the day before he left, but I was left here with the thought of being in foreclosure and that thought got to fester and annoy me all week, without him here to hug me and say, “We’re going to be okay.”  I got to obsess looking at Craig’s List and the MLS for a new place to live in case the sheriff came and put the “sign of shame” on our door while Geric was gone.  My mind never stops, people!  

2.  Positive TB Test:  Yes, you read that right.  I have TB!!!  Okay, not really.  Well, sort of.  I don’t know.  I have to get a TB test every so often because I’m a teacher.  The district sent me to this tiny clinic where the front desk girl was the “nurse” that gave me the test.  Not sketchy at all.    When I came back two days later, it was positive!!!  The nurse practitioner said I have to go to Kaiser now for a chest x-ray and then I have to meet with a doctor after that.  It really just means that I’ve been exposed to the infection, cause I’m not coughing up blood or anything.  That would be really scary.  But, honestly, it’s annoying that I’m doing all of this just so I can keep my job that has cut my hours to two hours a week.  Lame.  I’m spending more time at the doctors that I will be working my first month back to school.  And my three kids get to accompany me every step of the medical journey.  Yay.  They were so noisy in the doctor’s office the other day that the NP actually yelled at them.  That’s so not embarrassing in case you were wondering.  So.  Not.  Embarrassing.

3.  My Kids are Out of Control:  Honestly, this is nothing new.  My boys are not the most behaved kids in the world.  I love them with all my heart.  I truly, truly do.  But I know that if we’re at the park or church or Chick-fil-a and I see another kid crying, it’s probably because one of my boys did something to them.  I don’t know why they’re like that.  Maybe is my awesome parenting skills?  I don’t know.  Sometimes they’re little angels, like when they’re sleeping.  But this week, they have been extra, extra obnoxious.  For example, see #2 above.  And without Geric here to give me a break it has felt non-stop.

4.  Elijah Doesn’t Sleep:  My baby is great napper.  He’s like clockwork when it comes to napping.  Nap Champ, that’s what I call him.  But nighttime is a completely different story.  He still wakes up two or three times every night.  It doesn’t help that he’s still in our room, but since we live in this dinky little two bedroom house (that is in foreclosure!!!) there’s no where else to put the poor guy.  So, I hear every peep and roll-over and what have you.  Which equals one exhasuted mommy.  Which is probably why my parenting skills are less than stellar.  Which is probably why my kids are out of control.  Which is probably why I have TB.  Just kidding.  On the last one.  Just to give Elijah a little credit, he did sleep well last night, but it didn’t matter because…

5.  Throw up:  Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, I think we all ate some bad spaghetti sauce.  I started feeling nauseous yesterday afternoon.  (Sidenote: why does everyone jump to “are you pregnant?” if you feel nauseous?  Is it just me?)  So I took the big boys to my mom and dads, where I threw up.  Always a good time.  I could never be bulimic.  Never.  I took Elijah home with me (where he slept well) but I was up all night sick.  My mom called this morning and the first thing out of her mouth was, “How many times can a little boy throw up in the middle of the night?”  I know it sucks for my mom and dad, but THANK GOD they were there and not with sick ol’ me.  Today we’re feeling a little peaked, but better.

Geric is due to arrive home tonight at midnight.

If we make it through today it’ll be a miracle.

And he’s never leaving again.

The Ridiculousness of Loan Modification

This may be too much info about me, but since I already mentioned in a previous post that I put my pregnant self and newborn baby on medi-cal I figure you all know that we aren’t the riches folks in the world, right?  We aren’t the poorest by any means, but we aren’t the richest either.

So, back when Geric started his own business (over two years ago now) we contacted our mortgage lender in order to start the loan modification process. Obama said we could.  We were practically “Joe the plumber.”  My parents had been helping us out with our mortgage and Geric didn’t feel right about that anymore, but since there was also a significant decrease in our income we thought we were a shoe in.  Wrong.

Did I mention that was over 2 years ago?  Because it was.

Since then we have filled out three separate applications (each about 20 pages long), turned in income tax records (for both years), pay stubs every month from me, profit and loss statements in several different formats that weren’t acceptable to “the review team”… even the one from our accountant wasn’t acceptable, contribution letters, quick claim deeds, a couple of other affidavits, and guess what?  We are in the same place we were in two years ago.  That would be in a house that is worth far less than what we paid for it, making less than what we made when we bought it, and no hope in sight… even though the program we’re applying for has the catchy title “Hope for Homeowners.”  Love it.

I guess this post is just a rant.  Because, honestly, there’s nothing funny about it.

A couple of days ago, the day before Geric left for a missions trip for a week, the mailman came to my door with 40 pieces of certified mail.  40 pieces!  Practically a fourth of the rainforest.  Geric, my mom, my dad, and I all received 10 envelopes and within those envelopes there were two different letters (each repeated 5 times.)  I suppose they didn’t want us to use the excuse that “we never got that letter.”  Don’t worry, we won’t.  Each letter said two things.  The first one said that we owed a debt.  Thanks, Captain Obvious!  The second said that we were in foreclosure.  Cue the piano to drop on my head.  I mean, I knew it was a definite possibility.  Actually, I knew it was more than a possibility, but when it really happened, it was just shocking.

The problem is that we really wanted to try and short sell our house, but we can’t even apply for that until we’ve been rejected for a loan modification.  So we called the bank the day we received our “fan mail” to see if any progress was bring made in the way of a loan modification, and guess what?  They need another contribution letter (slightly re-worded), the quick claim deed to be faxed (for the third time), and last months profit and loss statement from Geric.  Really?  Really?

I feel like I’m being played with.  I feel like they’re just stringing us along.  I feel like we are getting royally screwed, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it but keep answering they’re requests, hope for the best, and hope that a sheriff doesn’t come knocking at my door and tell me I have 30 days to get out of my house.

It sucks even more knowing that we actually started off doing the right thing.  We bought our house putting 20% down and we got a 30-year-fixed-loan.  And, honestly, they didn’t even start taking out requests seriously (as if they’re serious now) until we stopped paying our mortgage, which we had faithfully been doing for a year and half of this ridiculous process.  It’s almost as if we are being punished because we did things right and everyone else that bought a house with nothing down or with a government arm loan is being told, “Oh, bad move.  Here let me help you.”  No offense if you did that, but those people went into it knowing there was a risk that their mortgage would go up significantly.  So why are they being soothed and we are being ignored?  It just seems backwards.

I know, in the end we’ll be okay.  We won’t be homeless, ever.

But It’s the injustice of it all that’s killing me.  It feels like nobody cares.  Like all they care about is their money.  And I don’t expect Obama to care about me individually, but where’s the hope and change, Big Man?  (Sorry, was that out of line?  The “big man” reference I mean.)  I kinda want to call up Michael Moore and have him make a documentary about the injustices of the housing market, but it seems like he’s simmered down since democrats have taken over, doesn’t it?

I don’t know.  It’s all enough to make me want to throw up, really.  The unknown is a killer.  And being completely out of control is even worse.

So, anyone been through this before?  Can you relate?  

Blogging Anew

Last week I launched this new and improved sight.

Doesn’t that sound exciting?  Like I’m part of the space program or something.

Well, a few things have happened since then.

First of all, I obsess.  I think I have an obsessive personality.  Actually, I know I do.  I start getting interested in the slightest thing and I need to know all the info behind it and spend most of my time thinking about it.  For example, when we bought our minivan, I researched every minivan on the market and scoured Craigs List and Autotrader for the best deals for months.  That’s just the way I am.  So, it kind of makes sense that I would be the same way about this blog.  Learning the techie ins and outs of getting it all set up, networking on major blog sites, thinking of topics to write, checking stats to make sure all my research is working, setting up links to facebook and twitter, etc.  It can be overwhelming and exhausting.  

Secondly, strangers showed up on my doorstep.  Not literally.  I mean, on my blog’s doorstep.  And honestly, I don’t mind strangers reading my blog, that’s kind of the point here.  Welcome strangers!  What I do mind, however, are the people that stop by and leave a comment without even reading my post.  It’s totally obvious that they are from one of the aforementioned blogging networking sites and have read the first sentence of a post and nothing else and then left a comment in order to increase the traffic of their own blog.  I get it, it’s the name of the game.  Increased traffic = bigger audience = a more successful blog.  But it’s kind of uncomfortable for me.  I mean, I write from my heart.  This is my life.  These are my kids.  This is my family.  I’m letting you in.  You don’t just barge into my house without wiping your feet on the doormat, right?  It just feels…weird.

P R E S S U R E ! Thats the last thing that happened.  SInce I was checking my stats, I saw that my readership (is that a word?) has gone up.  Yay!  But along with that I felt pressure.  People think I’m funny… they like what I write… they’ll come back for more… what if I can’t deliver? 

Yesterday it became too much.  I walked away from the computer (just like the little guy with the bullhorn in my brain was telling me to do) and gave Geric my phone and made him hold it.  He actually TURNED IT OFF!  *gasp*   But, honestly, after the inital shock, it felt good and free.  I looked around at my boys , who, frankly I had been neglecting (slightly) for the past week and I realized, they are my life.  Not blogging.  Yes, I love writing.  It comes naturally.  It’s a great outlet when things go a little haywire.  But it’s not my life.  My family is my life.

So, I’ve decided to make some rules before I go any further.

1.  No more neglecting my kids… It’s not like I was leaving them alone in a swimming pool to drown, but they were playing A LOT of Super Mario Brothers… I think they conquered the game.

2.  I’m taking the pressure off.  I started blogging for the love of writing, so I need to continue to do that.  So what if my traffic doesn’t increase?  So what if I’m not on every mommy blog website?  I will survive.  Honest to God.

3.  Honestly, I don’t know what to do about the strangers.  I guess, just let it slide off my back?  Hey, maybe they’ll help me out.  But I still think they should wipe their feet on the doormat.

So, how about you, my fellow bloggers… do you ever feel the pressure?  How do you handle it?

How to Catch a Bunny

Caden spotted a bunny in our backyard the other day.  Unfortunately the bunny ran away from him, but he set out to lure it back and catch it!

My own little Elmer Fudd.

His plan was simple, really.

1.  Get three carrots out of the fridge.

2.  Chop them into bite size pieces with a butter knife.

3.  Line up the carrot bites in a trail from the front yard to the back yard.

4.  Wait with your brother ’til the bunny returns.

So far, there has been no sign of Bugs.  But I don’t see how this fool proof plan can fail.

Life is short.

My little sister changed her facebook status update to this the other day: Tired of all the “goodbyes” this year… God is definitely filling up his house with some of the most amazing people.

She wrote that because my brother-in-law’s mom had just died.  It was sudden, and shocking, and beyond words with sadness.  Vicky was an amazing woman.  The quintessential mom.  She birthed and raised a beautiful daughter and identical triplet boys!  She had a touch of the same cooky-ness my Gramma had.  She was warm and inviting and loved you right off the bat.  She baked homemade cookies and cooked delicious dinners, and made her own ceasar salad dressing.  She was funny and easy to be around and talk to.  You met her and felt like you knew her forever.  The last time I saw her at my nieces’ birthday party, she came up to say goodbye to me and she gave me a hug and told me I was good mom and “a very special lady.”  You know if you’re a stay-at-home-mom like me, encouragement like that is few and far between, but means the world.

Both of the deaths of Vicky and my Gramma, so close together, have sent my mind whirling.  Life is such a blip on the radar screen.  And death will come.  We don’t know when, but it will.  And no matter how long you live for, life is too short.

It’s made me look at my own life and evaluate how I’m spending it.  Am I spending my days doing what is most important?  Or am I spinning my wheels with meaningless activity?  What’s “important” and what’s “meaningless” anyway?  Who decides?  Will I die one day wishing I had done more or regretting choices I’ve made?  I hope not.

So, I’ve been sitting with these questions for a bit and, while I certainly don’t have it all figured out, I think I can say with certainty that I have part of it figured out.

We live simply.  We have to.  We just don’t have a lot.  We can’t afford a lot.  Five and half years ago, we made the choice for me to stay at home and raise our children while Geric worked, so we went from a dual income family with no kids to a single income family with three kids.  And there have been days that I’ve questioned that choice.

The day that I sat in the social services office waiting for two hours to put myself and my unborn baby on medi-cal was definitely one of those days.  

But when I sit and think about how incredibly short life is, I know with certainty that we made the right choice.  We may be “poor” by American standards, but I will never regret all the time I have had with my kids.

Life can so easily become about making money and running in the rat race and striving to be more successful than your own parents.  But, honest to God, I won’t be an old lady wishing I had bought one more pair of shoes, or had the swagger wagon with the video players inside, or owned a house with a pool.  Family is what is important. 

May I always remember that.  Even when the days feel long and exhausting and frustratingly impossible, may I always remember what a privilege it is to be able to spend my life in such a meaningful way.

Did you miss it?

Did you miss the post that said I’m moving?  Because I did.  There’s a way better looking blog over here:  www.queen-of-the-jungle.com

Link it to your blog!  Add it to your Google Reader!

See ya there!

7 Months Old

Mt littlest monkey is seven months old today.  Incredible.  I know I say it every month, but TIME FLIES!

The biggest accomplishment for the month is the growth of Elijah’s first tooth!  It’s on the bottom and is quickly being joined by the one right next to it.  Any day now.  Any day.

He’s also increasing his appetite.  He’s eaten some vegetables, but gags with anything green.  You name it… peas, green beans, broccoli.  If it’s green he scrunches up his face, his eyes water, and he gags.  I think it’s all an act to get out of eating his veggies.

He hasn’t started crawling yet (which is fine by me) but he’s rolling all over the place.  It cracks me up and he thinks he’s pretty hot stuff, too.  Caden and Jacob are amazed every time they see him roll over.  They say, “Mom!  Mom!  Look!  Elijah just rolled over!” as if it’s the first time, every time.  So I go along with it and act surprised every time they tell me.  It’s getting kind of old, but they like it.

I know other moms may shun me for this, and I wish I really cared, but Elijah LOVES “Yo Gabba Gabba.”  It’s a TV show, in case you’ve never heard of it.  He watches it very intently and dances/rocks along to all the dancey-dances.  It’s hilarious.

Here’s some pictures from the last month:

Not too sure about carrots. At least he’s not gagging.

Hanging out with Jacob.

Bathtime… the big boys had just come in from swimming. I’m not making them sit outside the bath naked. That would just be weird.

He’s been doing this lately… making this face and saying, “Ooooo.”

Big smiles! See that tooth?

And here’s a video that only the relatives will probably be interested in. He’s watching a little Yo Gabba Gabba and he shows off some of his moves.