Goodbye for Now- The Remix

(6-11-12) It took me MONTHS to write and finally post this. I had to stop several times. Mostly because I started to write this too soon after. Im glad I did.
I'm leaving it with all its bad grammer,spelling errors and cuss words because I dont want to re-read it.     Hopefully, I can take this blog back up and continue to write about the oddities of my children, which I really enjoy doing. 
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Been a while since I've blogged.  Usually I blog about the children so that our families know what we are up to in our little bubble in the world.
Today I need to reenter my blog, but I need to write about my dad. This will be long, and is probably going to take me a couple days to write. You don't need to read it...misc. Internet person (though, I know that its mainly family and friends whom check this-which is the way I like it)  ...but I need to write it. Im hoping it helps.  Its the pink elephant in my brain's living room, and up till now I haven't said much about it. Just ignored the elephant.....elephant.....elephant....just had a beautiful memory of my dad.   And memory is what Im left with now that dad has passed on from the Earth.

Sept. 20th I think around 6pmish- not exactly sure...I mean...who looks at a clock when they are delivered the worst news of their lives?
Im at the table with Wyatt, going over his homework.  My phone rings. Its my mum. Hi mom. "Where are you?"  Ok...shes about to give me bad news and she wants to make sure Im not driving.  "Im at the table mom, whats up?"
"Daddy died."
"What?"
"Daddy is dead."
"What? Daddy? My Dad?!" *insert stunned stammering here*
Wyatt freaks out "My daddy?! My daddy is dead?!"  "No! Wyatt, your daddy is fine! Stay in the house"
I think mom said some other stuff, explaining, I think this is where she mentioned a quick heart attack...By this time I had stood up and started walking to my front door-destination unknown-
"I dont understand" I told her.
She hung up. She hung up, I know now, because she needed to. I needed her to, too.
I had walked to the side of my front yard and my legs gave out. 
I screamed. I screamed "no" *insert denial*  *insert incoherent swearing*
I slammed my fists into the dirt and I layed on the ground.  I cried until my throat caught fire.
My mom called back.
"Do you understand what Im saying?"
"How did it happen"
"Heart attack... He went very fast Sarah."
"Im coming home right now mom. Right now."
I sloppily hung up and called the one person I know well enough to cry in front of that could be at my house in less than 2 minutes.  Told Donna "My dad is dead, can you come over and watch the kids so I can pack."  "I'll be there right now."  Bless her heart.
Next call, my dear friend Lisa.  I told her what happened, asked her to book my flights for me because processing a flight was too much for my brain to handle. "Heres my credit card number, I dont care about the cost." I told her.   She did it within minutes. Bless her heart.
Next call Red Cross to inform Randy.  Nice folks there at the Red Cross....really.
Next call Tres and his sweet wife, Kim-   Who were rockstars. Hooked me and the kids up with a ride to the airport and agreed to watch our house and feed our fish.  Bless their hearts.  Extra blessings on Tres whom witnessed the death of Emma's Beta fish and replaced it with a more alive one before we got back home.

Lots of calls came in to me that night. I remember calling my dads house a few times. I learned that my dads body stayed in the house for a few hours after his death. I understand...but it still disturbs me. It also disturbs me to know that extended family came over (to say goodbye?) I dont fucking know...all I can process to this day is, extended family saw my father on the floor of our family kitchen and I dont fucking like it.  No. I wont and refuse to understand why it was necessary. I feel like it robbed my father of a measure of dignity. Im mad as hell about it. But... whats done is done I suppose.

 My brain went out of shock mode and into function and act mode?  Bless my brains heart...does that work? Anyway...I packed badly. Summer clothes for the kids as we flew into winter weather. oh well.
I cried. A lot. I smoked. A lot.  I slept none.

When we got to Wisconsin. (By way of Uncle Kim and Mikey pick up. Bless their hearts) I felt mounting unease getting to my dads house.  I walked up our long drive way. My mom came out the back door. I had to stop and turn my back to her, so I could breathe through the tears that threatened. I regrouped. I turned back and hugged my mother.  Had to walk past my dads truck on the way into the house. It was a strange feeling.

Got in the house. Saw my brother. We didnt hug. We know each other well enough to know that if we hugged our careful composure would be shit.

There are lots of details over the next few days. I was thinking of writing all the little things. But. No one is at their best when there is a life changing death in their family.  People get touchy. People get ugly. I did my share of sharp tongue on undeserving people. (Sorry Aunt Patty)

My MIL Cindy and FIL Doc took Wyatt and Emma for me. (Bless their hearts)

My brothers fiance, Miranda (Bless her heart) Made a point to write everything down for us (appointments, things that had to get done, etc) Lord knows, without her keeping a notebook for us all, we would have just stayed in our family kitchen, drinking vodka/rum and staring at the walls.

My brother Dave (Bless his heart) knows my hang ups with caskets. Knows my hang ups with viewings. Simply put and in no detail, I hate them. I loathe them. I do everything I can to avoid them. People are smaller without their spirits.   My mother and brother decided that my dad would have wanted a casket and viewing instead of a cremation...so thats what was decided.  Again... my brother...God love him... made a point to inspect my father for me before I went in to see him for the first time.  I had told him, If dad, does not look like my dad, I cant go in. I wont go in. 
My dad looked like my dad. Everything was perfect. Well, except for the fact that he was not breathing. 

The first time I saw my dad.  God I really dont want to write this...
sigh.
k
The first time I saw my dad, I feel like the room was waiting for me to lose my shit. Everyone else had seen this version of my dad already.  I walked to him. I didnt cry. I visually inspected him and concurred with my brother that he looked like he was just sleeping. Really. He did.  I tentatively put my fingers on his hand. In life, I loved my dads hands. Workers hands, you know.  I wrapped my hand around his finger. Cold. But. Well...duh.
I let go. I put my hand on his chest and felt the cold was even stronger. That did it.
"Fuck!" *stomp my heeled foot*
"Fuck!" *grabbed the casket*
Someone grabbed me. Brother? I dont know.
Breathe
Breathe
I pulled everything back into that box in my stomach. Regained my control.  Looked on at my dad again. Smiled. He really did look like my dad.
Walk away.

The wake was.... well. A wake. Lots of people. Lots of people touching me, my brother, my mother. My brother and I tried our best to stay unemotional. Had to. If one tear fell, the whole dam would burst.  One of the hardest things was watching these HUGE men that my dad knew (bikers, auto workers, general tough guys) breaking down at their first look at my father, when you watched them you could see the moment that it sunk in for them. And they would break.  Then they would hug you. Fuck that was hard.

Hundreds of people filed into the funeral home over the course of 2 hours. I didnt know half of them. Apparently, my dad was well loved and respected in our town. (in our family, we know that) I was surprised to find out who knew my father. Who came in to talk to us. It was moving.  I really wish I hadn't been as numb as I was so I could remember more of the faces and talks I had with people. I sort of felt like my body was on auto pilot.

That night. My brother, my mother, Miranda and I are sitting in our family kitchen. My brother says "Im hungry."  Mind you... we hadnt eaten a thing... for days.  "I think Im hungry too"  Funny how you simply dont notice these types of things when you're mourning.  We all descended on a pizza like a pack of wild coyotes. 

Funeral. My MOPS mentor called me the morning of to pray with me over the phone. (Bless her heart)  Our immediate family was able to go in before anyone else to say goodbye. I thought we were all doing well ... you know... considering.  I went to my dad. And as I had the day before, I went to wrap my hand around his index finger. It was different than the day before. I wont go into detail, but to anyone thats tried to do this...you know what Im talking about.  I shook.I felt my knees wobble. And I yelled for my brother.... repeatedly. I turned and he grabbed me. Held me. I cried on him. He gave me a minute to do that...before, very carefully, he whispered in my ear (in the true way of our family) "Sarah, I know you are upset. I know. But Grandma Dinges just got here, shes behind you right now...and you know Dad would tell you to get your shit together."  Yes. Yes he would. I took a deep breath..a few. I straightened my body, detached from my brother. Stuck my chin in the air like I do when Im trying to push away feeling and walked away in search of a sugar packet.   I love my brother.
The service was beautiful. A grand send off for a grand man.  Standing room only in the funeral home...there were people literally standing outside the funeral home just to be there as there was no more room in the building.  We had a "please come up if you'd like to share something about Dave" type thing. My brother from another Mother, Kenny, did.  It was moving, and Im forever grateful that as torn as he was he delivered a beautiful message about Dad.   Miranda read the poem that Dave, Tim and I had contributed and wrote for Dad for Fathers Day a couple years ago.  It broke my brothers and I. It broke everyone in the building. From the end of the 1st paragraph you could hear the sniffling. Miranda made a beautiful delivery of the poem and it was perfect. 

I had the brief thought that I would speak about my dad on this day. But I know I wouldn't have been able to articulate a syllable. I would have liked to say something about all the people that thought my dad a cave-man. A man behind the times. The people that may have thought my dad brusk and a tad crude.   A big "to hell with you" to those people and you know who you are. My Dad did everything a man should do for his family.  He provided for us. We never wanted for a thing.  He taught all of us kids valuable life lessons. He taught us to not be victims. He may never have played sports with us and that was odd to some...but I did learn how to shoot a gun, throws knives and tomahawks and live life from the land if you havent a penny to your name.   So..Id joke...when the zombies attack... You go ahead and throw that football till they naw off your hand.  My brothers and I will be alright. ;)

My brothers and I, along with a few of my fathers nephews were pall-bearers. The processional line, in a word, was huge.  I lost count of the cars...but that was a huge line of car following my father. It made us all proud. Very proud.  We walked my fathers casket to the site that Dave and I had carefully and thoughtfully selected as Dads final resting place. (Believe me, that was a process and we took our time to find just the right place)  My heart was pounding as we laid him on the rails...and not because we just made a 100 yard hike from the car to the grave.  I think it was because it was the culmination...and everything being in that place represented. This was it, were were actually going to bury my dad.  I vaguely looked around at the people gathering by. I clung to my brothers arm. I felt my other brother and Mother at my back.  Words were said... for the life of me, I cant tell you what they were beyond the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.  It came to a close. My brother Dave pulled my fathers curve pipe and started to fill it with my dads own tobacco. I took my dads straight pipe and did the same while handing my dads 1st "Christmas pipe" to Tim.  We lit our pipes and let the smoke fill the air around us. That smell that we have come to know as our "comfort of home" smell. 
My brother Dave and I, stayed the entire length of time to bury my father. Descending, filling, smoothing, "farm equipment" taking its leave.  We just stayed there.  Now what?
The dirt on dads grave... the guy did a shit job of leveling it out. It was bothering the shit out of me. I asked my brother "Would you be mad if I fixed it?"  "Do what you have to do" he said.  I got on my hands and knees and used my forearms and hands to smooth and even out the dirt of the grave so it looked even and nice.  Oddly, it did make me feel a measure better.

The lunch after.  I hit the bottle. Straight rum.  I tried to look at the faces of the people that were there. To really remember who came.  I tried.  But its strange how little you remember even when you try.

It was suppose to rain on the funeral day. It was a gorgeous day. And a late September day in Wisconsin, thats asking a lot.  The moment that we all got back to the house. Ate something. Finally sat down.  The weather changed and it started to pour.  Hi Dad.

I've learned some things during this process. I had never experienced a death this close to me before. So, now I feel I have a good understanding of what people go through during this time, and I know what Im going to do for people who ever have to go through the same.

1.  Im going to bring food.  For the life of me, I couldn't understand why all these people were trying to feed us?  Oh yeah, cause we literally didnt eat for days, and didnt even notice. But when we did finally notice, it was awesome to not have to cook anything. Lord knows, if we would have had to cook to eat...we simply wouldn't have.

2. The first week... you are numb. I mean ... really numb.  While people who knew dad were crying on us and trying to comfort us, for the most part, we stayed in our numb spot.  We didnt cry back to them (mom excluded, but then, moms a crier... Dave and I are not)  We stayed stone faced, because the magnitude of the emotion we felt was scary to let out of the box.  If we let it out, it either would come out as a "flail on the floor" cry fest-- or a "break shit in the kitchen" throw down.  So. Numb we stayed. People would ask "How are you?"  Really ?  I get it...what else are people going to say?  But we will always respond with "ok"  Are we really? Hell freakin no.  But that is the simple easy way to stay numb and not freakin talk about what we are feeling.
Now... almost 2 months from when dad passed. Im in a position, where I can think about it longer than 2 minutes without tears threatening. So. Now. Would be an excellent time to get a phone call from family to check on us. Cause we aren't as messed up as we were when it just happened. Thus... Im going to (in the future) make a point to call people whom have lost a loved- about 2 to 3 months after the passing.  Take them out of their house (by force if necessary) buy them food... etc.  Because we are in a place to talk about it now and receive feedback. But...we are in a weird place, where we are noticing the loss. This isnt a dream, this is real. And right around the 1 month/2 month mark that settles in...and you get sad..... and need family and friends.  We can accept your comfort now, likely without being blubbering messes.

3. Im going to tell everyone who will listen to TELL YOUR LOVED ONES TO HAVE THEIR SHIT IN ORDER AND EASILY AND READILY ACCESSIBLE. If you dont have your own shit in order. Do it now. DO NOT wait. 'nuff said.

Coming back to this post draft a few months after bullet 3.  It gets easier. Not right away. And the pain never ever goes away. Its a black spot that lives inside of you.  You're never rid of it.  And thats ok. Thats where memories live.

Over and year ago....

Its been over a year since I've made a blog post. I had ended with Randy's deployment, that should probably speak volumes about why I hadn't been able to update. Then life. Then death.   I wrote a post shortly after my dad died. I havent posted it yet. It was about that experience.  It has taken me months to complete it. I hadn't felt like writing anything and writing about that particular experience took time.  I'm still not done. But I think its time to kick back into gear. The kids are growing. Getting wittier, smarter, more devious.  I continue to be far away from family which was the whole reason I had started a blog in the first place. To update family and friends.  Annnnd.... so that when the kids are older and I'm at deaths door and cant remember shit, they can look back at their mothers account of their lives at the time. In the heart of things.  So that maybe even I can look back and say...God I was stupid, what was I thinking ?  Or wow, I could have done THAT differently. Or, wow. I'm a pretty awesome mom.... sporadically.  So. Sorry kids, for reference to your lives the past year, check my Facebook.

Anyway. Thats that.

Goodbye for Now

Randy was deployed this past Wednesday. (11th May)

He will be gone until around Christmas. 7 months roughly.

If you've ever known that your time with someone is going to be coming to an end (whether permanently or temporary) there is this feeling like you are running towards the end of this high cliff...and you get to the edge and you try to skitter to a stop and back away. That's sort of what our week before deployment feels like.

Trying to get last minute things finished. Trying to spend as much time as humanly possible together.

Setting plans in place. Wills-always unpleasant. Power of Attorney-I'll try to contain my excitement. Trying to learn things I don't know how to do that I'll need to know.

The kids getting read a million books by dad, because he wont be able to do it for a long while. I try to memorize what it looks like when he holds the kids, or smiles at them. The way they look at him. Like he's the greatest play toy on earth.

I try to tell him at every opportunity that I love him and that if he cheats on me while in port- I will emasculate him with my bare hands. Cause I will not have that shit, I will not have it.
I try to really feel and commit to memory- his hands, because I need that memory to last while hes gone. I need it. I need to remember what it feels like for that hand to hold mine.

And then the day comes. I haven't afforded myself to cry. Neither has Wyatt. Neither has Randy. We did everything we possibly could before this day came, to prepare ourselves and in our minds..."We got this." Our nerves steeled and brave faces plastered on, we walk to the pier. Wanting to keep it short and sweet, not to draw it out, we want to say goodbye quickly. Its never that simple. I cry. Its always at the last minute. When you realize. Shit. Its here. This is it. There's the ship. No going back now. (How deep a shit would we be in if I cracked him upside the head with my platform shoe and dragged his unconscious ass back to the car?)

Wyatt- my little man, still has his brave face plastered on and tells dad in a quiet voice "I don't want you to go." Randy hugs him. What else can be done?



Randy asks Emma for a kiss goodbye. She punches him instead. Yeah. Shes taken the high route and is just plain pissed over this fiasco. Randy rebounds gracefully and eventually gets his kiss.



Goodbye. We wait till he is out of sight before we turn our backs on the pier and walk to the car.

I buckle in Emma (who's still pissed and thinks dad is coming back in the morning) and look at Wyatt. His eyes are beet red and it looks like his eyes are filled with unshed tears. "Wyatt?" I say. He says, "Mom, I think I need to cry." "Do it." I tell him. And my little guy who kept his brave face on in front of dad, has finally let it out. Bravo child. You're braver than I was.

This is what hurts the most. No matter the preparation. No matter the time you spend. No matter how steeled and ready you think you are. You cant really prepare for how much the actual goodbye is going to hurt. Albeit temporary, it hurts.

Conclusions

Emma has finished soccer. Thank the Lord. That was an ordeal. Im thinking...not her thing. She just couldnt get over the other kids "being mean to her" (The opposing team was trying to kick the ball away...thus they are being mean.) Perhaps T-Ball this fall instead?

Wyatt has "bridged" from Tiger Scout to Wolf Scout. Another big milestone. He's worked all year to earn "Tiger" Im counting my blessings that Wyatt still wants to stay in Boy Scouts. We have lots of activities planned through-out the summer with the boy scouts.

Soccer and Science Update

Wyatt is loving the mad science classes we enrolled him in. He brings home a little home experiment every week. Surprisingly you tell us everything that happens in class- not like school where you just tell us "its ok...we didnt do anything." Im happy that you like it.

Emma loves soccer. Emma hates the structure involved. She doesnt want to run the drills, she just wants to run and kick. We are working on it. Her first game is this Saturday!

Wyatt is 7

Wyatt,

We celebrated your 6Th birthday twice again this year. Once when your father was home and once on your actual birthday. We had a Despicable Me pajama movie party and invited 2 new friends over. It was perfectly controlled chaos and it was the first time I've seen you truly happy and carefree since moving to Virginia. Dad and I bought you a Lego Fire Boat. You and I put it together. You were proud of us for not needing dads assistance for once.

You've been having some trouble in school. Not because you don't understand what is being taught, but because you are refusing to be tested to your ability. You wont demonstrate for your teachers that you know how to read and write without fuss. Math and science, however, you shine. I knew you would. You are taking a fun extra science class after school once a week all about being a sleuth. I'm worried about getting you through this reading writing hump, I mean, how exactly can I make you love reading? Its all you kiddo. I'll do my best, I promise.

You lost your first tooth in January 2011.

You are 53 lbs and are exactly 4 feet tall.

You are one heck of a snappy dresser. You prefer button down shirts, vests, ties and fancy shoes.

You have a critical mind. You don't think inside the box. You think outside and around the block from the box. You come up with the best quips and have quick wit. You are a deep thinker and don't even realize it yet. Example- You told Emma "Imagination lets your brain roam freely, but remember, you're still in mom's hands." or... telling the doctor during your well check that taking off your underwear for the exam is inappropriate and the fact that the doctor sees children every day without their underwear is even more inappropriate. Not many children can make a doctor feel like a dirty perv, well done child, well done.

You caught a nasty case of ringworm on your scalp from a hair cutters clippers. Because of your amoxicillan allergy you were unable to take the recommended course of treatment. We had to take a medicine that would potentially damage your liver, which means we had to have blood draws every 2 weeks to check your levels. After that first blood draw... to say you've caused a scene at every subsequent blood draw is putting it mildly. You're reaction runs the same with what I imagine it would be like if I was sticking bamboo shoots up your fingernails while making your walk over burning hot coals. Its bad. I'm bringing this up in your birthday letter because I'm praying that these blood draw memories wont make it to the grand cut of memories in your adult life. And if you do end up having a horrid fear of pointy needles as an adult, I want you to know that this is why.

We are getting to a point with you where we need to talk to you about what autism is and how it effects the way do and think about things. I've given you a generic rundown but I fear the time is coming for a more lengthy hallmark discussion. I'm hoping by understanding autism you will have a better idea of how to make this life work for you in the best possible way. The sooner the better right?

You are a bright, loving kid, Wyatt. You are truly thoughtful and I couldn't ask for a better 7 year old.

Love,
Mom

Embarrassing

Oh....Emma.

You are talking to other women about boobs. "You have big boobs. I have small boobs. Mommy has big boobs. You have small boobs. Here...Look at my boobs."

Dear Lord....Please tell me this is a phase.

You do know your colors. In fact, whenever you see an African-American you let them know exactly what color they are and what color you are. And....if they arent paying attention to you...you lay it on me "Mom....they are brown . And I am vanilla colored." Ok...so...I know I don't point out the differences in people, so why the hell are you doing it?!?!?!?!?!

Again...Dear Lord....Please tell me this is a phase.

Oh my Emma

Its nighttime and we are sitting by the sliding glass doors. She looks over to her reflection and says "Oh! Hello there Black Emma!"

tee he he!

And now, if I may, a picture montage...


Believe it or not, the best Christmas Day shot I have of the kids...


Lots of snow! (For Virginia standards) 5 inches.


My boys.


Emma and her new bed...

Lost his first tooth Jan 5th 2011...

Daddy bought Wyatt Mouse Trap for his birthday before he left for sea..


Wyatt and I at Wyatt's Pre-Daddy Leaving Dinner

Emma looking all sassy.



Emma studying hard.

Wyatt and his class at their "Way Down Deep in the Deep Blue Sea" Muscial Production. They all look a little nutty because it was Pajama day, then the kids had to put on their tropical gear on top of it for the production. It was adorable. And this year Wyatt actually sang and moved his hands! Woot!

sad thoughts

My boy will be 7 in a week.

Wyatt is super sad. Now all of a sudden out of freakin' no where, he wants a kids party ON HIS BIRTHDAY and not after. (we were going to do something after Randy got back end of the month) He's really upset that people wont be here for a party. I dont know what to do. I put a event on my mommies site for a pajama party the day before his birthday to watch Despicable Me and have pizza, but no one has replied and I dont think anyone will. They just don't know us well and a lot of the womens kids are younger. It sucks. I just...feel so helpless. Part of me just wants to say the hell with it and put invites in his bag on Monday and see what shakes. I wouldn't have a clue what to do for a birthday party, I dont have games ready and Wyatt thinks hes getting a magician on his birthday and I have no idea where he got that from. *cry*

This is such a mess. I just feel so bad for him

on top of that....

Emma was sitting on the couch looking like someone shit in her cherrios. I asked her.. Whats wrong?" she told me "want friend to come play with me" I said "Where, at school?" She said "No, I want my old friends to come my house and play with me."

That broke my heart. I knew Wyatt was having trouble not having friends, I had no idea Emma was sad and thinking about it too.

Well babies...that makes 3 of us.

My God. Just tell me what to do. Tell me how to make this better for them.

Classes

Kind of excited.

I've enrolled Wyatt in Mad Science. Its a science program that does after school projects with interested kids. Wyatt is very interested. He loves all things science. I'll take it. As of yet, Wyatt isnt a sporty kid. But hell....I say the world doesn't need more athletes...it needs more scientists and critical thinkers. Cant wait to see if he likes the classes.

Emma is enrolled in soccer. Hes uber happy about it. She cant wait to get the "soccer socks" I have no idea why. Shes a really aggressive kid, though. Im a little nervous about that on the soccer field. We'll have to wait and see!

Randy has been gone only a week. Its been a looooong week. Got about a month left.

Pinewood derby is coming up! Cant wait to post the pictures!

My bad

Christmas was good. It went by in a blink. Randy had to be back to work right after Christmas. On the plus side...it did snow here in craptastic Virginia Beach. Of course on Christmas night when it started to snow, Wyatt leaned his head out the window to touch it and got all twitterpated, said something like "Wow! I cant believe its actually snowing!" Which was then met with my ass-hat neighbor screaming "Shut Up!" at Wyatt. Merry Christmas asshole, enjoy life on the sexual predators list and your case of crotch mouth. I said as much (drunk as I was) and get nothing but smiles from the freak. Have I mentioned lately that I LOATHE THIS PLACE?

We had our usual silly string party for New Years. Was able to have it outside in the snow. Fun was had by all.

Preschool search.

I have been researching preschools. To my dismay, the cost is ridiculous. It will be about 300 a month for Emma to attend 4 days a week. Yes...a MONTH not a semester. I have a feeling I will be giving up my hopes to work to home school Pre-K. Don't get me wrong. We can pay for it.... at the expense of not being able to save a nickel the entire time shes in school. That is unacceptable to me. They cram so much in Kindergartners heads. Its appalling to me that Pre-K isn't offered by the school system. bleh.

Emma's speech continues to improve and grow. She is carrying on full understandable conversations now. Its great. The surgery was clearly a success.

Wyatt is doing OK in school. We have gotten to some tricky things. His autism. Never before has he had sensory issues. Now he is. He is making noises pretty consistently. Say he's bored with the lesson, or not interested, the noises will start up. Somewhat loud and obnoxious. He will make noises when he's content too, but they are more quiet and to himself. Its seems to be the way he's handling the energy he needs to get out. Hes progressing in school, not falling behind, but we need to work at it. Just have to keep him interested.

Randy will be gone for a month in a few weeks. He will deployed for the big one in the spring "sometime" I feel like I'm... prepared? I guess. Because during his training in San Diego then his stationing in Norfolk, we didn't see him for 7 months. Its going to be hell on the kids. On Randy too. He's been gone so much in the last year. The kids and I will most likely be spending part of the summer back home. Better to be home than baking like a fritter in the Virginia heat.

oh! Wyatt's obsession with when I'm dying vs. when he's going to die seemed to ease last night. We were looking at a height chart we are marking him on and it goes to 12th grade.

He asked me "Are you going to be alive when I'm a senior?"

"Yes" I told him. He perked right up and had a big smile on his face. It looked like a lifted a real weight off him by telling him that.

So I said, "I'm going to be there when you go through college, and find a wife and have kids..." He says "Then I get to watch my kids grow like you did me?"

"Yes" I said. And his relief was obvious.

So I wonder all this time he's been stressing about when I was going to die I've been unable to ease him about it in any way until last night.......Did he think I was going to knock off soon, or what?!

Surgery

I'm late posting this.

Emma had her tonsil and adenoid surgery Nov. 11

All things considered she did beautifully. She wasn't really scared or anything. The hospital was a great children's hospital here so they had all the fun bells and whistles for distraction. Emma's favorite was a TV that swung anyway she wanted it while she was in bed. Cartoons 4 inches from her face....greeeeeeat.

After surgery, she was crying at first. Scared mostly I think. Then when I got there and she snuggled in she was just quiet. Loved her Popsicles.

She got a grand exit in the wagon. She thought that was pretty cool. Sat in there like the freakin Queen of England.

After she got home the boys had loved on her with flowers a balloon and a "Get Well" ribbon.

The first 2 days after surgery she was talking and eating her soft food just fine. In fact, she would even ask for the crunchy food and we'd have to tell her no and watch her pout.

But, about the 3rd day after surgery she started to really feel the ouch. 6Th day was worse. Its like all the numbys had worn off and she was hurting.

The one thing I don't want to forget about this surgery is how different her voice is now. Before, she was so nasally. Deeper voice. Now she has this high tinkly little voice. A real little girl voice. Imagine, lollipop guild meets helium, but in a good way. Its great.

The very very best part is this. Randy went to check on her 2 weeks back while she was sleeping. When he came out he said "Do you know what I heard in Emma's room?" "What?" I said. "Nothing, absolutely nothing." This is the greatest thing. Before she snored, awful. She'd stop breathing then would gasp when she "remembered" to breathe again. Not hearing a sound while she's sleeping, is priceless.

This is a video from after surgery. She has finally woken up a bit to eat her 1st popscicle. She was doing this super weird tongue thing. Then saying even weirder things. "Bust off!"

Burning.

Im upstairs when the timer rings on my cupcakes.

Wyatt: "MOOOOOOM!! Come down and get your cupcakes before you burn them like you do everything else!"

I come downstairs scowling.
Me: *snappy mom tone* "Dont be mean, Wyatt."

I go into the kitchen to tend to the cupcakes.. Wyatt from the living room....

Wyatt: "I know you work hard mom, I wasnt trying to be mean."

I dont say anything in reply cause now he made me feel guilty for snapping at him.

But then...

Wyatt: "Mom?"
Me: "What?"
Wyatt: "Remember when you burned the stapler that was on the oven?"
Me: "Yea."
Wyatt: "Remember when you burned the handle to the spatula?"
Me: (getting irritated) "Yea."
Wyatt: "Remember when you burned the oven mitt?"
Me: (irritated further) "Yeeaaaaaa."
Wyatt: (as cool as can be) "Thats all Im sayin'"

Guilty feeling is now gone.

My Tiger

With Kindergarten has come the rite of passage and time old tradition of boy scouts.

He loves it. He really is putting forth a lot of effort during the meetings. He has been working hard to learn the "shake" the "motto" and all that jazz.

Yesterday I went to the scouts store while he was a school. I thought I'd surprise him by getting all his uniform stuff together before his meeting tonight. $70 later (Oh yea! for a stinkin button down shirt, hat, scarf tack, patches and book) so a whole lot of bitching about cost on my part, I was at home trying like hell to attach these patches. I didn't finish before he got home like I wanted., While I was tacking the corners because the cheater adhesive strips weren't holding Wyatt was watching. I finished 2 minutes before we had to leave. I told Wyatt to come put his uniform shirt on.

*Cue Rocky music* Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Duh Du Duh....Duh Duh Duh Da da daaa daa da daaa daaaaa!!!!!!

He stalked over to that shirt with a mad purpose and a Cheshire cat grin. He looked like he was about to put on the single most important 100% cotton garment of his life. Grinning the entire time he buttoned then gave me a thumbs up when he was all done.

From the moment he put on that shirt with such pride and purpose he became a dedicated little tiger scout and I buried my gripe over the cost of the uniform.

I think we have finally found Wyatt's "thing."