My incredible and gorgeous man, who I realize now just how much I take for granted, left a couple weeks ago for field training. He is literally right down the road, but can not come home. We can not see him. He is living, eating, not showering, and acting as if he was deployed. After all, it's training right? Poor guy is sleeping out in the freezing cold temperatures, walking around with monkey butt because there are no showers in the middle of a random field on Ft Stewart, eating what can only be described as astronaut food from a bag, and I don't even want to know what kind of sparkling clean port-a-potty he gets to share with a few hundred other guys. And yet, sometimes I wish I could trade places with him.
Pitiful, right? What on earth could be so bad that I would want to sit my bare naked bum (let's be honest, I would squat. There is no way I will ever sit on a port-a-potty seat.) on a seat that hundreds of filthy men use every day?! Well, where should I begin?
Mike left on a Monday. The night before he left, my best friend dropped off her two little girls for the week. She had a business trip in Texas and she knew she would get her girls back in one piece if she left them with me, so here they stayed. That Monday everything went smoothly. I got all the kids off to school on time and got back home and made breakfast for my two tiny two year olds. Unless you have twins, you probably haven't experienced this before- not by yourself for an extended period of time. It was such a roller coaster. Hilarious one minute, frustrating the next, exhausting, blissful, hilarious again, then mostly exhausting by the end of the day.
So, let's recap here. 7 girls for a week. Ages 12,10,8,5,4,2, and 2. 3 dogs that have their own quirks and high maintenance issues, plus a stray dog that brings a whole new set of high maintenance issues. A house that doesn't seem so big with all of us in it, until it's cleaning time. Then it may as well be the freaking Taj Mahal. All of this with no partner to share the load. Alone. Just me. Solo. Yuck.
My girls are all jacked. Hazel started being terrible the day after Mike left. She is not listening, talking back, being grumpy and fussy. She cries for her daddy here and there every single day. She spends a lot of time calling him and Face Timing with him, but it's not enough. Sophia has been whiny and snotty since he left too. She cried a lot when he left and didn't understand why he wasn't coming right home. Lila has been crying every single day before school saying she doesn't want to go (there is no bullying, I have had extensive talks and even talked with her teacher, and everyone - even Lila- says no bullying). Grace is clingier than normal which is saying something. She is basically halfway back in my womb. Luci is even showing some changes. Wanting to sleep in my room (she never wants to) and just be with me as much as she can.
The extra kids were no problem. They actually were great. They played well with my girls and kept them busy. The two year olds were getting more and more sick of each other as the week went on and by the last couple of days, I had officially become a referee. Hurricane Hazel was in full out "mine" mode. The batteries were hers. The bathroom drawers were hers. The lint in the dryer was hers. Everything was hers and if little Baby Grace even looked at it, HH wanted to end her. And Baby Grace don't take no crap, let me tell you. I could've sold tickets to that fight... instead I distracted them with fruit snacks. A lot of fruit snacks. The extra dog really isn't a huge problem except that he digs out of the yard. That is annoying because while I think it would be awesome for him to run around the huge yard and play unattended... I actually have to watch him like a hawk. He busted the bottom of the gate on my fence and I wanted to bust him. I decided, fine. You don't like it here.. then go. Until I stormed into the house and saw his sweet little jerk face in the front window staring at me and wondering when I was going to let him in. Geez. Little loyal adorable jerk. I forgave him. But my fence is still busted and it's added to the Honey Do list that is ever growing.
My husband and I completed out foster care training classes before he left. Woohoo! We had our graduation (basically just an hour of a bunch of people telling us things that we really already learned in the classes, then being handed our certificate of completion, and eating food and cake that us students had to provide for everyone) last Tuesday and we were able to bring our kids. I brought 7. And no husband. Once the excruciating hour was up and we were onto the eating portion, I decided we needed to cut and run early. Four of my kids were running around, while two more chased them. One was screaming and crying because her tummy hurt. It was time to go. Now. Only.. where were my keys? Oh no. Locked in the car. That's where. Or at least I hope, because I can't find them after searching every corner in that place and every purse and bag and trash can. After calling and waiting for a few different people, I finally called a locksmith who said he would come but I had to pay cash only. Crap. Luckily my child had a $100 bill on her from Christmas money. Normally I would be cranky that she was carrying that kind of money around, and I started to mention it, then I realized how her irresponsibility saved all our bums, and I shut my mouth. The keys were thankfully in the car, and after waiting an hour and a half after the class we were free and on the road.
The security system in my home is down and brought my entire phone system down with it, so after many phone calls, tech visits, and arguments, I finally got the phone fixed and an appointment tomorrow for the security company to come out and fix things between 12am and 11pm.
Then yesterday Grace hounds me to make her a doctor appointment. Why? You think you feel a scratch in your throat and are convinced you somehow must have ebola?! No. Close. She stubbed her toe at church 2 weeks ago. Oh Lord. Walk it off kid. Or at least, that is what I have been telling her for the last 2 weeks. Fine. I bring her into the doctor and sure enough. Broken toe. Go figure. So after 2 days of missing school, we now have a giant boot that is the size of half her leg and a very satisfied Grace. She's thrilled, thankfully, because otherwise she might be disappointed in the lack of mothering I gave her when I was telling her to walk it off on a fractured foot instead of taking her into the doctor like a good mom.
I want to sit here and tell you that Jesus has given me great strength and comfort through all this, but the reality is the opposite. Not because of Jesus, but because of me. I took on so much that I didn't have time to do my morning reading in the Word and start my day off like I normally do. My mind and my life has been so busy that I haven't taken the time to just stop and talk to Him. My life has been chaotic, crazy, undesirable, and hectic. It is a wonder that I am not an alcoholic. Seriously. I don't even have wine in the house. (Note to self: get a bottle of wine, just in case.)
I did start reading in the mornings again after the two girls went back with my friend. I realized the dramatic difference in my days, in my attitudes, in my whole mood and tone. It's crazy the difference and I apologize to those that had to even be around me on those days that I missed my "Jesus Time". I just pray tomorrow doesn't bring a flood or a hurricane or a fire. Lord. No fires. I just want things to chill out until Mike is back. Then they can go wild, cause I will have him to shake me and remind me to calm down and trust God.That's right, Mike. You balance me. You keep me sane in a very chaotic life. Not just me, but our entire family. We need you to balance all of us. To lead us and guide us and keep us together. You help me more than I give you credit for around here. And on terrible days when I want to pull my hair out, you pour me a glass of wine and send me to bed. I miss that a lot. Like. A. Lot. So stay warm, use a lot of hand sanitizer after using those potties, and hurry home.
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