Friday, March 25, 2011
Paranoid.
Does anyone else suffer from extreme anxiety at the thought of having to eventually remove your bandaid after a blood draw? I don't know what it is. It's almost like, I believe that bandaid is the only thing keeping the blood inside my body. I will leave the bandaid on for DAYS if I can. Eventually though, it falls off in the shower. When it does come off, I hesitate to look for fear blood will be running down my arm. Then, I sigh in relief when I see a little scab over the little hole and realize that I'm still alive after the whole bandaid removal ordeal. So stressful.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Because whatever Kirsti wants, Kirsti gets.
And here's a belly pic for Kirsti. 13 weeks along. I know, I look like I'm 20 weeks along. With how many el-beez I've put on....I think I SHOULD be 20 weeks along. And yes, I cropped my face out because I was making a hideous expression.
As far as what's been going on here lately? Welllllll, I've been a single Mom for 5 weeks now. I'm not a fan of the whole dealio. And, I'm not very good at it. I need accountablility, you know? I need to know that Matt's going to be a little bit annoyed if he has to dig through a pile of laundry to find some underwear. That way, maybe I'll put it away. I need to know someone else has to be able to live in my room besides me so that it isn't a pig stye. I need him. Lots and lots. Plus, when there's never anyone else to discipline the kids I justs get so so tired. I stop caring about things that I care A LOT about when Matt's home. Like hitting for example. Chase hits SO much lately, that I've given up dealing with it unless it REALLY hurt. Or being disrespectful to me. Matt would never let that fly, but they've both been pretty beastly as of late and I'm sick of fighting it. So sick of it. I've more or less been in survival mode.
However, I will walk away from this experience being able to say, "well Sara, you did it. You made it through 5 weeks of single parenting. Maybe you'll be able to make it through 4 months when the time comes for loooonger deployments." I can do this. I know I can. The house may not be perfect, the kids might not be pilars of politeness, but I can make it through. And hopefully improve along the way.
Friday, March 11, 2011
What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man. (come on! Salt n pepa?)
I finally went and checked the mail today and was confused when I saw I had a package from Piperlime. I thought to myself, " I don't remember buying shoes...hmm, I must have." Well I opened the box when I got home to find this amazing treasure:
Oh you good, good husband you. I miss you too. Can't wait for you to get home!
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
The hard stuff.
Hallie was laying in her bed with the covers pulled up over her head, sobbing. She wouldn't talk to me, but she would let me wrap my arms around her and try to comfort her. Just don't try to pull those covers off of her head. I get it, the whole hiding under the blanket thing. I did it just five months ago trying to block out the world and the loss of a baby, trying to keep those things away from me. The blanket means protection.
At some point as a parent your resposibility shifts from just teaching proper behavior and nurturing your child, to having to teach that child how to deal with the hard things that life can bring his or her way. In my opinion this is more dificult and so much more important than all the other "stuff". Our neighbor, who Hallie loves dearly, went in for surgery a few weeks ago and had some complications. She slipped into a coma and has been in that state ever since. She has a teenage daughter and husband who are now trying to sort through life without her there. We found out a few days ago that the doctors are predicting that she only has days left to live. It's really, really tragic and my heart aches for her family.
Hallie knew that Mickie was "sick" in the hospital. Sick was the simplest way I could find to describe what had happened to her. When I received word that Mickie would soon be leaving this world, I was left with the responisibilty of explaining death to my 5 year old. Not the death of a stranger, or the loss of a baby she never met, but the death of a person she knows and loves. A woman who she could count on for popsicles, and babysitting. A woman who we enjoyed spending afternoons with walking the dogs. A woman who genuenly cared about Hallie and her little life.
That night when Hallie went to say her prayers I decided that would be the best time to gently break the news to her. She was cozy in her bed and we had just sung a song. It was prayer time and I told her, "Hallie, make sure you ask for a special blessing for Mickie and her family, because it looks like Heavenly Father is ready to bring Mickie home to be with him." She looked at me with big, round eyes as the realization of what I just said hit her. The tears instantly began to fall and the blanket was quickly pulled up over her head. Not a word from her. Just the shaking of a sobbing little body under the blanket.
After a good, long cry I coaxed her out from under the blanket and into my arms. I told her, "I know this is hard...but Mickie is going to be with Heavenly Father and that's a good place to be." She looked up at me with wet eyes and a runny nose and said "But I'm REALLY going to miss her." Ah yes, here is the hard part of death. No matter how great our understanding and beliefs about life after death, we are still left with a hole in our life where that person used to be. We MISS them. We will all really miss Mickie, but are still praying for a miracle that she somehow makes it, because while we believe in a loving God and eternal life...we still (selfishly) really don't want to have to miss that person. Even more, we don't want her family to have to miss her.
Our night ended with Hallie sleeping in my bed with me. She would randomly wake up throughout the night, reach over for me, scoot up close, and start crying again. This went on for most of the night. Since then, I have suggested that whenever she gets sad she can get down on her knees and say a prayer to ask Heavenly Father to help her feel peaceful. That seems to be helping and there hasn't been anymore tears since that first night.
This experience really opened my eyes about the hard things to come...because they will come. I realized that night that it's my job to teach these children to have faith, turn to their Father in Heaven, and ask for the help they are going to need to get through tough times. It's learning to deal with our trials that make us strong and make us faithful, and there is nothing I want more for my children then for them to be strong and faithful.
At some point as a parent your resposibility shifts from just teaching proper behavior and nurturing your child, to having to teach that child how to deal with the hard things that life can bring his or her way. In my opinion this is more dificult and so much more important than all the other "stuff". Our neighbor, who Hallie loves dearly, went in for surgery a few weeks ago and had some complications. She slipped into a coma and has been in that state ever since. She has a teenage daughter and husband who are now trying to sort through life without her there. We found out a few days ago that the doctors are predicting that she only has days left to live. It's really, really tragic and my heart aches for her family.
Hallie knew that Mickie was "sick" in the hospital. Sick was the simplest way I could find to describe what had happened to her. When I received word that Mickie would soon be leaving this world, I was left with the responisibilty of explaining death to my 5 year old. Not the death of a stranger, or the loss of a baby she never met, but the death of a person she knows and loves. A woman who she could count on for popsicles, and babysitting. A woman who we enjoyed spending afternoons with walking the dogs. A woman who genuenly cared about Hallie and her little life.
That night when Hallie went to say her prayers I decided that would be the best time to gently break the news to her. She was cozy in her bed and we had just sung a song. It was prayer time and I told her, "Hallie, make sure you ask for a special blessing for Mickie and her family, because it looks like Heavenly Father is ready to bring Mickie home to be with him." She looked at me with big, round eyes as the realization of what I just said hit her. The tears instantly began to fall and the blanket was quickly pulled up over her head. Not a word from her. Just the shaking of a sobbing little body under the blanket.
After a good, long cry I coaxed her out from under the blanket and into my arms. I told her, "I know this is hard...but Mickie is going to be with Heavenly Father and that's a good place to be." She looked up at me with wet eyes and a runny nose and said "But I'm REALLY going to miss her." Ah yes, here is the hard part of death. No matter how great our understanding and beliefs about life after death, we are still left with a hole in our life where that person used to be. We MISS them. We will all really miss Mickie, but are still praying for a miracle that she somehow makes it, because while we believe in a loving God and eternal life...we still (selfishly) really don't want to have to miss that person. Even more, we don't want her family to have to miss her.
Our night ended with Hallie sleeping in my bed with me. She would randomly wake up throughout the night, reach over for me, scoot up close, and start crying again. This went on for most of the night. Since then, I have suggested that whenever she gets sad she can get down on her knees and say a prayer to ask Heavenly Father to help her feel peaceful. That seems to be helping and there hasn't been anymore tears since that first night.
This experience really opened my eyes about the hard things to come...because they will come. I realized that night that it's my job to teach these children to have faith, turn to their Father in Heaven, and ask for the help they are going to need to get through tough times. It's learning to deal with our trials that make us strong and make us faithful, and there is nothing I want more for my children then for them to be strong and faithful.
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