If Not for Sunday...

We arrived just in time for supper, Saturday evening, and left before lunch Monday morn.  Twenty four hours earlier than planned.  I sighted safety reasons.

The Rubies is known, to me, for her often shitty and unpredictably-predictable sleeping habits.  Most of the time, now, she sleeps through the night.  But if she does wake up, its always between 11 and 1.... or after 3..... or anywhere between the hours of 5:30-9.  For some reason, she's never up at the 2AM and 4AM time frames, which is about the only prediction I can make with sound confidence. 

What I can also confidently predict is that anytime she is not asleep in her own bed, in her own room, all by herself, she will let you know her severe displeasure.  All. Fucking. Night. Long.

She was not happy in the pack-n-play.  She was not happy in the bed, snuggled with me.  Or in the bed, on her own side.  Or in my arms sitting up, rocking.  Standing up, swaying.  She was not a happy camper, Sam-I-Am.

By 8AM, Monday morning, I called ENOUGH! and had the bedroom picked up, folded up and placed by the front door, ready to leave.  With Kyra sobbing through her tears, Lydia looking sullen and distressed, I had to tell our hosts we were leaving.  They didn't ask why.  They'd heard all the wails and frustration from both the Rubies and myself.  They understood, as I tearfully apologized while saying, "I just can't do this anymore!  She's not happy [pointing to The Rubies], I'm not happy and we're disrupting everyone else's nights."

The nights were rough.  Absolutely.  But Sunday, the one full day we were in the Arctic Tundra, it was a perfect day.  Mass in the morning.  Lunch with friends.  Home for naps... which Lydia easily took and The Rubies refused.  [Kyra spend nap time climbing the pear tree, fetching fresh fruit to share.] And, just before supper, the big girls got to ride and feed horses before taking turns mucking out stalls. The Rubies pranced around, acting like she owned the joint. 

The two awful, no good, horrible nights were worth the single, full day we got to spend with friends we so very much miss.  I'm glad we went.  But I'm also not so eager to repeat it any time in the immediate future. 

I left, reassuring George, Ruby and myself that The Rubies will get better.  One day she'll figure out we're not making her sleep atop the fires of hell.  One day we'll get to spend a decent amount of time enjoying each other's company.   

But when all I can think of, night 2 of no sleep, is to cover her mouth with my hand and force her face into my chest to muffle the screams... its time to go home.  Its time to call it a good.  Tried and failed.

Sunday.  Sunday was worth the effort.  Thank you, Sunday.

I am pleased to report, though, that last night The Rubies slept peacefully through the night.  And tonight she's on par for a repeat.  Sweet Ruby.  My homebody.

Ruby and Ruby

We drove back to the Arctic Tundra this past weekend to reunite with our previous neighbors.  They are an ornery couple, to say the least.  In their mid to late 70's, they're unwaveringly and unapologetically opinionated.  They have wisdom only someone of their age, lifestyle and caliber could possess and no matter what I say, I'm always wrong.  It's like my mother was a direct spawn of them.

Their names are George and Ruby. Typical snowbirds that they are, they came home from wintering on the beach one spring and came bounding over to our house to introduce themselves.  An instant connection was formed.  They don't have any grandchildren of their own, but they are the type of people where blood doesn't mean a thing.  My kids are their kids.  They call Jeremy son #2 (they already have one son) and I am their #1 daughter.  To us, they are Granma Ruby and Papa George. 

We love an adore them so much, we named our third child after them.  I had found the name Ruby from a movie.  It was the actress's actual name and I thought it was so very pretty.  I ran to Jeremy and said, What do you think about Ruby for a girl?  He said, Like, George and Ruby? I like it.  I said, I figure if we're going to name a baby with the same name as someone we know, why don't we name it in honor of them.  And there we have it, Granma Ruby and Baby Ruby.

To us, Ruby is Ruby is Ruby.  We love, adore and cherish her.  Whether we're talking about young or old, the feeling and sentiment are the same.  The way I see it, the world could always use another Ruby.

Mostly A Reason For My Grandmother to See Pictures of the Girls

I'd like to show you something that is nothing short of a miracle.

That there.... would be my kid SLEEPING.  Because, apparently, we can not feed Lydia a diet made of primarily solid foods without the aid of Zantac.  May God forever bless the makers of Zantac.

In other news, the slave drivers of this house hold are getting along BEAUTIFULLY.  It's so nice that Lydia is finally getting old enough to enjoy Kyra's company.  Kyra has always tried to play with Lydia, from the very beginning, and now she's thrilled to have her very own playmate.

Our days in the Arctic Tundra have been beautiful lately.  Absolutely beautiful.  The girls play nonstop outside between lunch and naps, driving their Gator around while collecting apples, berries and flowers. 

Sometimes I wonder if living in the country, in a scattered neighborhood with no small children, was the right decision for us.  Especially since we're going to homeschool. 

But then I know that they wouldn't be able to play outside so freely.  Scouting and picking fruit right in their very own yard.  There's something to be said about nature.

Seems to me, most days Mother Nature can teach you a whole lot of more important things in life then living in a crowded city.

A sleeping baby.  Two GREAT kids who get along with each other.  Except for this damned insomnia I've got going on, life is good.

I guess life has to throw SOMETHING in there for me to bitch about.

Love of the Ice

It's hot and humid outside. 90 plus degrees here in the Arctic Tundra of the North which means-- we've officially hit summer!

As a southern girl, the idea that it takes until JULY for our area to welcome summer shocks me every year.  Not that it's stopped any of the locals from opening their pools two months ago.  Having spent most of my younger years on the gulf coast of the Sunshine State, I've come to know that only tourists and small children swim in waters whose temperatures dip any lower then 85 degrees.  Weirdos.

Being that Kyra has come home from the Land of the CornHusker with a nasty case of ringworm, thanks to some barn cats she tried to love into submission, she is not allowed to go swimming for the next month, so says her pediatrician today.  I guess it's perfect timing, then, that ice skating has started back again.

Oppressively hot and humid outside...  Refreshingly frozen inside.

Last summer we signed her up for the Learn to Skate program, which teaches the kids an actual technique versus floundering wildly on the ice.

Last summer the instructor was a royal bitch who ignored Kyra because she thought she was too young to be in that particular class.  Halfway through the session, Kyra would cry- begging not to go back to ice skating. It broke my heart because I knew how much she loved this activity before that instructor came into her life.

Going into last fall and winter, I took her down from the Learn to Skate and back into a Tots program.  A program that focuses on the fun in floundering.  Once again, Kyra excelled, impressing her instructors who questioned my motives for taking a step back.  I explained, asking them if they could just bring back her love of skating, there's nothing else that would mean more at that moment.

At the request of her instructors, I signed Kyra up for the Learn to Skate program again this summer with the the hope that one of Kyra's beloved Tot coaches would be running Learn to Skate this year.

Indeed, Kyra's beloved Tot coach will be her instructor.

Today I posed an option for Kyra, would she like to do Tots AND Learn to Skate, or ballet and Learn to Skate.

I was caught off guard when she chose to skate two days a week.  I fully expected her to choose ballet.  I must say, I don't know if I owe Mother Nature's oppressive heat or her Tots coach a giant THANK YOU for bringing that love of skating.

Two days a week, while it's nasty hot outside, instead of swimming in a refreshingly warm pool, we'll be in a giant freezer.  I'm not complaining.  Not one bit.

In Case You Cared...

I am wearing size 6 jeans at this very moment. I'll let that sink in for a moment...

**crickets**

Given that I have done virtual NOTHING in regards to exercise thanks to the Arctic Tundra's lovely weather (fucking cold, cold, rain rain rain, oh, look, it's summer!, well, that was a fun 2 weeks!, rain rain rain, cold, fucking cold), I am quite surprised and pleased with myself.

Well, really, I guess I should be pleased with Lydia.  I hold any inches lost off of my waits, thighs and ass due to the fact that I now have to RUN after Lydia to swipe out whatever contraband she has successfully stuffed into her pie hole.

Seriously, though, Kyra didn't start to run until after she was 2.  She was content to walk, and occasionally walk quickly, but running has never been Kyra's thing.  Lydia, on the other hand, isn't even ONE and she's RUNNING.  And CLIMBING!  Oh, holy hell, I haven't even told you all about her climbing.... something else Kyra has never been too interested with.

Whatever the case, I'm in a size 6 jean today.  Just in time for me to start packing on my Winter 10.

As in the 10 pounds I gain every winter while I hide from the cold.

Maybe this year will be different... Maybe this winter Lydia will KEEP me running after her so I don't have a Winter 10 to try and work off next spring.

Or should I say summer, after all, if EVERY spring is like the one we had this year... I'm not sure that counts as spring.  It was more like WINTER because it was STILL SNOWING!

Hmmm... Now I'm rambling.  Probably because I'm now having panic attacks because Kyra was supposed to decorate sugar cookies with one of her friends this afternoon and it is SNOWING!!!!

Now, I can't very well drive down the side of the mountain we live on, with two kids in the car, to decorate sugar cookies.  For (1), the girls are sick- as in they both can sneeze and hit you from across the room with a glob of snot.  Yes, the parents of the other child know my girls are sick.  They're words were, well, if our child isn't going to get sick from your girls, then she's going to get sick from someone at school.  Better to be from someone we know.  For (2), I still don't know how to drive in the snow.  Though, that is on my "To Do" list this year, to ATTEMPT to drive on a road with a light dusting of snow and then work my way up.  However, we've gone from 3 inches of snow last Saturday, to 15 inches on Wednesday, to God only knows how many inches today.  Somehow I don't think the transition I'm looking for is going to happen as I would like...  And for (3), what did the girls ever do? Having to be forced into their car seats only to go sliding down the road with an inexperienced driver and hope we can make the 30 curves between us and the bottom while trying to not hit any trees along the way, that's just WRONG.  My girls deserve better. Jeremy on the other hand.....

ANYWAY!

To sum up... My ASS is now in a size 6 jean and there is SNOW on the roadways. 

And now I'm going to drink a mug of hot chocolate while sitting on the space heater, staring out the window and silently freaking out about how I'm going to drive Kyra to all of her activities this week.  And then I'm going to eat a bowl of ice cream. 

Nothing says IT'S SNOWING! like hot chocolate and ice cream.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

It's been raining here for the better part of six weeks. I was completely unaware that in moving to the Artic Tundra, we might as well be moving to Seattle, Washington.

Thanks to all the rain, Kyra has become atrocious. Most days leave Jer and myself shaking our heads with the thought of "where did our perfect child go?" And then we remember, oh ya, it's raining and she, too, has cabin fever. So we breathe deeply, count to ten over and over again and try to understand that what she needs is something to do, something to keep her mind occupied. We try to focus REALLY hard on not chucking her skinny ass out of her 15 foot high window into the cold rain outside.

And Lydia. Whoo, boy! This teething thing is something fierce with her. Kyra was never like this. She'd pop a tooth in over night that you'd never know was there. But Lydia? I think she might have a pack of wild hyenas gnawing at her chubby thighs for all the screaming and crying she does. I've taken to frequently wearing her around the house in my Beco carrier again. (Have I told you guys lately how much I LOVE that thing? Because I do. I love it a lot.) Some days it's the only way to save my sanity while trying not to off both of my beautiful children.

We're muddling through this, though. With Kyra we've managed to find a TON of school related things, from flash cards to work books and maps, in Target's dollar bin. She is thrilled to have them. The whole way home she was rummaging through a box of insect flash cards, quizzing Jer and myself on each bug in the pictures. These new things should last her, oh, about a week of playing by herself.

You all were right about the teething tablets for Lydie Kate. We've been alternately shoving those into her fat cheeks and dosing her up with Tylenol, too. One or the other works okay for a while, but alternating them both seems to be our best bet. When one wears off, oh!, she won't hesitate to let you know.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't have a lot to say. Unless you want to hear me bitch about my WONDERFUL children being absolutely HORRID thanks to an ass load of rain and a couple of teeth.

Funny, those curve balls life throws your way.

Can you all think of something you'd rather hear me talk about? At this moment, I've got nothing.

Picture Perfect Adventure

Over the weekend we ventured out into the deep dark depths of some caverns I found while searching the Internet for things to do OUTSIDE of the house. We chose to poke around the inside of the earth rather then poking around our own house for yet another weekend.


Kyra was excited. I told her how the caverns were formed over thousands and millions of years by an underground river. She insisted, no matter how much I told her it wasn't true, that there were sharks in that river and we'd have to swim really fast so they don't bite us. Eh. The imagination a 3 year old carries.

The day was fun. A nice 2 hour walking tour in 50 something degree temps inside the cave. We saw a whole bunch of rocks. Some of them looked awful slimy and kinda creepy.
Some looked dull and slightly resembled Jaws... I guess Kyra was right all along.

Not that she was smug about it or anything.

Jeremy had a slightly more difficult time through some parts of the cave, as he was taller then Kyra's 3 foot whatever and my own vertically challenged stature, but he seemed to manage all right.Lydia grumbled and fussed off and on through the tour. I think she was disgruntled because we dared to wake her up from her nap and take her somewhere that wasn't effectively 385 degrees in temperature. (No, seriously, this kid LOVES the air around her to be warm enough for her to sweat. Eww... She sleeps better that way.) But I'd pat her bottom, shush softly in her ear and sway back and for to calm her back down.

And when she fell back to sleep, then I too could once again enjoy the beauties and wonders of Mother Nature. We all left. Hand in hand. Or strapped to a chest, whatever the case was when we arrived, and we left happy.

It was a nice family outing. And our first opportunity to get a picture with the four of us together. Our new family.

Even if it was only half of Kyra's face and the back of Lydia's hat covered head. It was our family, in print, for the first time.

Better Late Then Never

I finally uploaded the few pictures I had on my camera from the move. Just to prove to you guys we used to have an ass load of snow when we first arrived.... here ya go.

Lydia had to make certain she wasn't left behind. So she screamed until we put her in the carrier.Cricket insisted during every pit stop that he was willing to take over the wheel. He was a bit sad when Jeremy declined.

Kyra frequently insisted she wasn't tired. I insisted she close her eyes anyway. And she fell to sleep.

I tried to tell her the snow was deeper then she was tall. And this is less snow then what was on the ground in January when we first saw the house. This picture was taken seconds after pulling up in the drive.

After a few days of above freezing temperatures, and still no furnature, Jer and Kyra decide to try to dig out the walk way.

They found it!

Once the movers arrived with our stuff, Kyra got down to business. She was "grocery shopping". Look at what she bought!

Sunday! SunDay! SUNDAY!

We attended church for the first time since arriving in the Artic Tundra. In Father's homily I counted 2 Oh my God!'s and 1 Damn you to Hell.

I don't think that was the church for us.

So...

Leave it to the husband to keep you off the internet for 4 days even though it's hooked up and you're paying for it because 1) while he found all the pieces to the computer on Wednesday he didn't know where the movers packed the cords until I found them with my bra's and panties (yep, seriously. Bra's, panties, power cords. I'm not sure how those got into my top drawer...) and 2) when the computer is completely hooked up and functional I gave the husband permission to make the computer run faster on the premise that he will not break it annnnnd then it doesn't work until late Saturday night because he has to buy some fancy-shmancy cord for 20 bucks because the other one shorted out.

Anyway. Kyra's schedule is slowly coming into place.

• Her library time is set as she attends her second class this week.
• One week of ice skating down, two more to go before they shut down the rink.... What the hell? The Artic Tundra closes an ice rink for 3 months yet the Mason Dixon Line manages to find enough cold air to keep their ice frozen year round?
• I have the number and will call to set up Kyra's gymnastics sometime this week.
• And finally, Jer and I are researching the local Catholic School system they've got going around here. We're hoping to find a school that still uses dunce caps for the kids sitting in the corner and nuns with rulers just the right size to smack a hand or desk with. Yep, we're those parents. The kind who is happy to see a village raising a child.

Lydia is back to being a normal baby. She sleeps for the better part of the day, a feat not accomplished since she was in her 3rd week of life. She wakes up long enough to eat, smiles and coos at you for an hour, demanding to be held during the entire awake period and then it's back to bed for 3-4 more hours. That is normal, right? I mean, Kyra never slept that much but I've heard most babies do.

Also, the little midget has been growing. I've had to fold up her first 0-3 month outfit today. Her arms were too long for the long sleeved onsie. No. Really. It fit everywhere else except her arms extended farther then the end of her sleeve and it looked funny. Think she's going to be one of those freaks with the creepy long monkey arms? Think I maybe, might, shouldn't be calling her a freak so young in life as it maybe, might give her a complex?

Eh, that's okay.

We'll probably be paying for her therapy bills later in life for doing much worse to her. We often use the phrase Where's the Disgruntled Baby? or Do you want the Disgruntaled One? because of all the crying we've endured the last 6 weeks. Maybe we should get over that nickname since she's hasn't really been disgruntaled lately. If we call her disgruntled enough she might just turn into one of those pissed off old ladies you see in the movies ---->

Anyway. I'm all kinds of lonely up here. I need new friends. I miss my Mason Dixon friends. Jer so kindly nicknamed us the Park Mafia because there were four of us with children and we frequently got together at the park for lunch and play time. Although, we also managed to get together at the zoo, each other's houses, Chuck E. Cheese... apparently he didn't take any of that into consideration.

So, 2 of those friends came into my life because they just invited themselves over to my house. Both would show up randomly, without warning just to hang out and chit chat. The third friend I met through the other two. She was a quick fit into our group. Because I'm socially inept, that seems to be the only way I know how to make friends, you either show up on my doorstep frequently and without warning or friends though association. Whatever works.

My problem now is that I live kind of out there. Our address is considered "rural" even to the local post office which, I think, is a converted old house. A very small old house. And, lets face it, Wal-Mart is 30 minutes away. Not many places anymore where there isn't a Wal-Mart within 3 minutes of your house. And unless I wonder around Wal-Mart all day, how am I supposed to be social in a rural community?

So, my question to you is... how do I make new friends?

I tried to get my old ones to move up here with me, they politely declined- something about "hell no, they're not stupid and their husbands are fully planning on getting out of the navy" or "we have orders elsewhere," to which I have to say psh. But, seriously. How in the world do you make friends in the adult world without them forcing themselves upon you? Apparently, I like being a hermit and am quite fond of pushy friendships but you can't find those everyday when you enjoy living away from society.

Just a Quick Note to Say...

There is FUCKING SNOW falling from the FUCKING SKY and I am not at my FUCKING HOME!

Sometimes, I wonder if it's God or Mother Nature who has the sick sense of humor.

Apparently, we're supposed to get 2-4 inches of the white powder. I might have known had we had television and cable...

Also, we had to take Kyra to an UrgentCare facility late Saturday afternoon. She started that morning complaining her right ear and right side of her mouth hurt and by 2 o'clock it was ear shattering wails and screams erupting from her tiny throat. It appears she was trying to develop an ear infection. We were here less then two days... and Kyra decides to up and get sick. Ugh. She's now on antibiotics and is a much happier camper.

So.... that's it for now. Movers come tomorrow. Cable/Internet/phone comes Wednesday. Time to get this show on the road. I'm ready for normalcy to return.

Greetings! From the Artic Tundra of the North

We've arrived safe and sound in the Artic Tundra. And while we all arrived safe, sadly, Bird passed away during our first night in our new house. Apparently the stress of the move was just too much for him. Lets all pause for a moment of silence....

****crickets****

Okay, now that we're all done with that, on to the funny stuff. Kyra keeps informing me that Bird's OK, Mama. Bird's in Heaven. To which I reply, You know who else is in Heaven? Jesus. And Kyra answers back, No, Mama! Jesus is on the cwoss! He can walk and when he falls, he bweeds on his knees and someone helps him up. You member that? He's on the Cwoss!

Ahh... too cute.

In Lydia news, we have made it a solid WEEK with out the hysterical crying fits that nothing seems to soothe! And, AND! She hasn't had another rash on her rear since my last reporting of it. AND! AND! Last night she slept from 8:30 at night to 6 this morning.

HA! Life is great!

Except for the fact that there is ice in my driveway and my leetle, bitty car isn't fond of trying to find traction while driving in and up the slight incline. Oh, and Jeremy thinks that I'm being silly when I cover my eyes in panic and just ask him to park the damned thing already! I'm confident that one day he'll learn that I'll never get used to the frozen'ness of everything in the winter. One day...

Three Shades of Lydia

In order of their most frequent appearances.
Complacent:
Followed very closely by pissed:
And trailing waaaay behind, happy:
The new formula has seemed to help with the screaming, crying, will nothing stop the madness? tantrums. Yea! But her stool has turned into what appears to be watered down honey mustard and today more blisters started to appear. I'm not certain that is exactly what we're going for. Fix one thing at a time, I guess.

Wednesday we leave for the Artic Tundra of the North so you may not hear from me for a week or so unless I find a computer at a library to hijack. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping by this time next week I can happily report that Lydia is just as happy and blister free as a baby can be. We shall see...

Everything We Hoped For and Then Some

So. My initial excitement of fitting into a pair of size 10 pants was short lived. Today I tried to squeeze into another pair only to be disappointed when they wouldn't button. Apparently yesterday's pair were a larger version of 10.

Hmph.

In other news, if you were wondering where I was this past week, Jer and I ventured to the Artic Tundra of the North in search of a fancy new place to move into and damn if we didn't hit the the jackpot.

My new home, folks---->

We have upgraded from a 2 bedroom, 1000 square foot apartment in the city to a 5 bedroom, 2500 square foot HOUSE on an acre and a half of land. With only 2 neighbors. On one side of us resides a pair of snow birds (northern folk who travel down to Florida for the winter) and on the other side a vacant house that's soon to go into foreclosure. Our landlord told us he'll eventually buy that house and rent it to Navy people too... which means no neighbors there for a while! Across the street and behind us features woods that goes on for miles and miles and miles and miles and, it's a national forest back there. Faaab-u-louuus. I'm telling you, this location was destined for us.

Now, only to make sure Mother Nature gets on the ball with this whole snowing business. I mean, I like it, it's beautiful and all, just so long as it doesn't snow on days I need to be on the road. Cause let me tell you, Jer was ready to throw me out of the speeding car on Thursday because it was snowing while we were house hunting and I still haven't learned to keep my cool (or at the very least, panic quietly) while sitting in the passenger's seat.

And he thinks I'll get used to it. HA!