Supersize

When did everything in my life become supersized? I spend more time at Costco than ever, where I purchase nearly everything necessary to run my home in institutional sized packages. Yet, somehow, I seem to run out of the same stuff in the same amounts of time, which means I'm also spending supersize. My stress is supersize. With two kids recently diagnosed with ADD/ADHD, and one having behavioral issues at school and at home, I could easily resort to a liquid diet. And I'm not talking about Slim-Fast. Add to that a husband who is rarely home, and when he is, he's working on his 1970 Karmann Ghia (that old German girl is more high maintenance than any lady you've ever met), or watching every episode of Top Gear ever recorded. It's spring, and the Christmas lights are still up. The laundry room has remained unfinished since my older daughter was three. There were no other children then...now there are four. That was NINE years ago. The windows are unfinished from two years ago. Several rooms need to be painted (including the two supersized messes-Cameron's and the boys' room), the porch needs to be stained. The siding needs to be replaced, but that is a supersized battle. My husband wants to use some old siding (he swears it will match) that he found in his grandmother's garage to cover the section that's been lacking for nine years. I want new siding. Yes, it's a considerable expense, but one that would make a phenomenal difference for our house. I'd say a supersized difference, but I'm getting tired of that word. You get the picture. I need to somehow simplify, get stuff done, and relax. How does life fly by so fast?

Wow, a Whole Year Gone?

I can't believe an entire year has gone by since I've posted. Amazing. Here we are at spring again, although you wouldn't really know it. Today, the high is only in the 50s, and it's raining.

We just had Mother's Day. Once again, in my own little family, it was nothing special. Last year was the year that it was completely ignored; and then when I bristled at being taken to Home Depot to choose my own gift (really?!), Gordon spent the rest of the day installing my pond. It would have been easier to just teach the children that it's not too much to ask to treat your mother nicely for one day out of the year. Do little things for her...offer to do the dishes, the laundry, etc. And if you're the father of those children, you could probably pitch in, too. After all, she bore them all, didn't she?

Anyway, my children paraded into my bedroom with a card and an orchid, which I have been wanting and is lovely. They climbed around in my bed for a few minutes, and filed back out of the room. Gordon then announced that he was going to play volleyball. Yep, on Mother's Day. That's his way of making sure he's still the most important: force it to be so. So, I was left to prepare the Mother's Day food, do the dishes and laundry, and wait until the baby had taken her nap. Sounds like fun, eh? Worst of all, my children are growing up believing that we don't celebrate one another. Hopefully, HOPEFULLY, they take more notice at how I celebrated my own mother.

It was a bit of work, but I made kabobs for everyone, plus basil & mozzarella tomatoes. Angie and I had made an edible arrangement for my mom-it turned out pretty well, even though it was our first attempt. We had fun doing it, although at first, we were sort of at a loss of where to begin. We did have a great day at my mom's which made up for the morning (even though Gordon did spend that entire time on the couch, as well). I was determined not to have a completely crappy day. We had great food, good wine, and good conversation. It's always great to hang out with my mom and my sister.

Today is yet another year since my baby Jacob died. Cannot believe it has been twelve years. I went to the cemetery today...some babies had just been buried. I wish I could have his body exhumed and moved to a different location-someplace meaningful to me. I know that's silly and futile. Nothing will change. Even still, I've spent the better part of today thinking and remembering, allowing long repressed notions to surface. Nothing will change, and the pain never goes away...but each day, I learn how to live around it a little better...learn to be a little more grateful for my children who have not grown wings.

Work

It's kinda hard to feel sorry for myself with so much promise exploding outside-buds, bees, birds, flowers...pretty hard to keep me down today. And 75 degrees? Perfect.

But, we've been through a lot this week. When the kids are older, maybe even when they have kids of their own, I think we'll look back on this and say, man, remember when Collin was in kindergarten and everyone got Rotavirus? That was terrible. As in, it doesn't ever have to happen again. Ever.

Truth be told, only half of us have had it. That's the scary part. Poor Collin has already lost 10% of his body weight, and refuses to eat and drink much of anything. He does take comfort in white milk, something he has long abhorred. That's odd. But, whatever will stay down and isn't complained about is okay with me at this point. It's been very trying, and HE'S been very trying. He's a terrible sick kid. I remember as an older baby, he had a stomach flu, and completely slept through the throwing up part. Of course, the diarrhea lasted for days, as it is now, but there's not much to be done about that. My mom tells me I always got it badly, too. Yay, genetics. Anyway, Gordon and I each briefly escaped, and later we agreed that it was such a nice break. I'm certain he was happy as a clam to go to work.

The tv's been on every waking moment. That, of course, has resulted in Collin wanting every toy that is currently offered. There is also a constant stream of "Mama! Get Splenda! It's sweet, but not sugar...you won't get fat!" and "Mama! Why don't you ever listen to the tv? Just press OnDemand, so you don't have to go to the movie store or wait for the mail!" So, yeah, Collin must be a little better.

Now, it's Monday morning, and Cameron is "sick", too. At 8am, she looked perfectly fine, but claimed her belly didn't feel right. Gordon wondered if we should let her stay home. I shrugged and went back to bed. Now, she looks like she might not feel great, but admitted that most of the problem is the fear of throwing up in school. I can't say that I blame her. Her teacher is the man who, when a kid asks to go to the nurse for nausea, tells them to get the garbage can and sit back down. Which reminds me that I was supposed to have a meeting about him with the principal today. Which reminds me that while I feel like I really need a vacation from this whole mothering thing, there is much more work to be done this week.