Surprise!

SURPRISE!

Just when things were settling down with my 4 year-old at school/work and things were seeming to calm, a couple of interesting things happened that last week of school. One, my husband's severe abdominal pain was finally diagnosed as appendicitis, and two, I found out I was pregnant with Baby #3!

To be quite honest, this couldn't have happened at a seemingly worse time. We're in the process of a bankruptcy, not knowing if we'll be able to keep our home or not. My husband is dealing with several medical problems. But the idea of having another child is quickly growing on me. At the end of the day, we'll still be one happy family and things will fall into place as they come.

I'll be having an ultrasound on July 1 and get a better idea for a due date. But it looks like the last of January or first of February is when Baby will be making his or her debut.

Just when you think you're in conrol, God smacks you in the forehead and reminds you who's boss!

Seems as though the Smile Worked

I did it. I slapped a grin on my face and decided it was going to be a better day. When I picked the girls up from school at 11:00, it wasn't looking promising. Fast forward an hour and life was completely different. The three of us were playing a memory game on the living room floor. There was no whining. There was no arguing. There was (gasp!) laughter. Could it be true? Could Daddy's long conversation with his girls about how sad mommy was when they didn't listen have worked? I think it did. No fights getting to the car for work. There were unprompted pleases and thank yous. Even throw in a "Here, you can go first." thrown around in there. Maybe we all just needed a little reality check.

Now onto more happy kid stuff...

Tonight they were cracking me up. Here's a sampling of two conversations we had while getting ready for bed:

Willow: Eliza said that Travis kissed her the other day. (They are all 5 years old, mind you.)
Me: Really?
W: Yeah. And he told her he was gonna do it again sometime soon.
Me: Well, Travis really shouldn't have given Eliza a kiss like that. It wasn't really appropriate. (Trying to get it through her head NOT to kiss boys at the age of 5!)
Fiona (from the other room): Yeah, he shouldn't have done that. That's how you get people's germs. That wasn't appropriate.

That's when I silently said a "Thank you, Jesus!" Then, while lying in bed with Willow as we said our good-nights, this is how it went:

W: I want a good-night kiss, Mommy (I gave her one.)
W: No, I want a long kiss. You know, a long kiss.
Me (trying to come up with something reasonable to say about that): Well, long kisses are really only okay when a mommy and daddy do it. It's not appropriate for mommys and kids.
W: Why?
Me: Ummmm...
W: I know. The mayor must have said that and you don't want to break the law.
Me: Exactly.

Great end to a great day.

Taking Your Kids to Work

I started a working part-time in the extended care program at my girls' private elementary school this fall. It was the best scenario possible: part-time work, a little money to help out with our crazy finances, and I wouldn't have to hire a babysitter; the girls would come to work with me.

The first three weeks were really hard on us. My then three year-old was extremely clingy, upset and didn't like the change in our routine. I totally expected that from her. My five year-old seemed to be handling the changes like a pro. She made some new friends that she otherwise wouldn't have met, only being in half-day PreK. Fast forward a few weeks and it seemed like we were moving right along.

But then February happened.

What exactly changed, I really don't know. But my three year-old (about to turn four) completely did a 180 and was stuck to me again like glue. I don't mind her wanting to be attached to me while at work, as long as I can detach her when necessary to do my job without her screaming at the top of her lungs. I'm sure you moms can sympathize with me.

I have tried all that I know. Extra 'just mommy and Fi' time. Extra snuggles. Extra hugs. Extra praises. Better listening from mom and a real effort to be engaged in our conversations. A few weeks ago, I was at my wit's end with her attitude at work and explained that if she didn't listen to mommy better while at work, I'd have to hire a babysitter and she wouldn't be allowed to come to work with me. That stopped her in her tracks. She seemed to understand my desperation.

Then yesterday happened.

Sparing you all the detailed drama of my kids and co-workers alike, yesterday was horrible. It was one of those days that you wished Life had a reset button. You know, one of those days where you suddenly realized that you were only kidding yourself when you thought you had been handling life's stressors very well up until that point. One of those days where you try really hard to look as if you hadn't been crying for the last forty minutes, but there's no hiding it. And a simple, sympathic smile from a co-worker passing by you in the hall is enough to open the flood gates onces again.

There are only twenty-one days left in this school year. Then I'm a stay-at-home mommy and watching a sweet six year-old girl for the summer. Twenty-one days seems like an eternity right now when every day is such a fight with my little one (and throw in some struggles with my older one too.) I thought I had the best of both worlds when my kids could be with me at work. Now I'm wondering what's the best thing for my family. Do I pay a sitter to watch my youngest for four hours a day while I go to work? I'm sure the sitter's charge and my hourly rate would essentially cancel each other out. Or do I grin and bear it and try to keep it together for the next twenty-one school days?

I was hoping I'd wake up this morning to the feeling of a new start. When I woke up, my sweet husband even said, "It's a new day, Mommy." Turns out it was a new day. A new morning with all the usual struggles of getting ready for school. But I've decided I'm slapping a smile on my face and looking at going to work this afternoon as if Life did in fact have a reset button. We'll see what happens.

Feeling Old

I'm turning 30 this June. Ten years ago I had this misconception that at age thirty you had your life together. You were supposed to have the husband, kids, house and your 'forever job'. You were to be debt free. You were supposed to be the fun mom to whose house all the neighborhood kids would flock. You might even throw in a completed marathon or two and a college degree. So now I ask myself, "What have I been doing the last ten years anyway?"

So here's my checklist:

Great husband and kids. CHECK.
House. CHECK (for now).
Forever Job. I HOPE NOT.
Debt free. YEAH, RIGHT.
Fun neighborhood mom. SORTA CHECK.
Completed marathon. DOES WALKING TWO HALF-MARATHONS COUNT?
College Degree. NOT EVEN CLOSE.

You combine this rather unimpressive checklist to the fact that I was mailed a free mobility assessment from The Scooter Store (!) and the fact I thought I broke my hip at work yesterday from tripping over a balance beam, and one might say that I have some work to do.

Oh, did I mention that to celebrate my thirtieth birthday my sister and I will be renting a bed and breakfast in Brown County to quilt and knit for the weekend? I'm officially eighty trapped in an almost-thirty year-old body.

My five year-old helped me feel even older yesterday. On the way home from Pre K she says to me, "Mom, Drake and I exchanged phone numbers so we could talk." WHAT?! Then she proceeds to tell me how she already lost his number and she'll simply have to wait on his call. This is said in nearly the same breath as, "I want my ears pierced."

I suppose I'd feel better if I worked on some of those checklist items, eh?

Eighty Degrees Here in Indiana!

What a beautiful day! We're on Spring Break. No schedule to follow. And God gave us a perfect, 80-degree day!

After taking Willow to her very first dental appointment (yes, she's 5 1/2 and I've never taken her. I won't get any Mommy awards for that one.), we headed to Swinford Park in Plainfield. The park was full of Springbreakers and their moms, dads and grandparents. Absolutely gorgeous day.

All Grown Up

I had a sad mommy moment last night.

Fiona (who just turned four years old) woke up about midnight, came to the top of the stairs and told us she really wanted her SpongeBob blanket. No problem. Mommy to the rescue. She was in her feety pajamas, hopping back to her bedroom with her thick, short hair bouncing around and it hit me. My baby is a big girl.

This freaked me out a bit. I've never really been one to say, "Oh, I miss the baby stage." or "I wish they would stay little forever.". Truth be told, I like them being old enough to do things on their own. And ever since potty training has been done in this house, the thought of going back to 'baby' seems like a journey I wouldn't want to go on again. But it made me a bit sad to think that they only get older from here. Made me want another baby. Almost.

I Just Couldn't Help Myself

I started a blog a while back with high hopes. I soon abandoned it when other things came up. Gonna give it another go.

When trying to think of a URL for my blog, I figured I had to put "hooker" in it somewhere. Yes, that's the odd, childish name given to someone that is obsessed with crocheting. Get it? Hooker. Oh, Lord, that's corny. I was surprised how many blogs had the word hooker in it. Kinda creepy, actually. As for my personal "I'm a hooker!" story, that one will have to wait. Let's just say it involves me in second grade, a poor-man's Halloween costume and the need for a dictionary.

So here it is: Kung Fu Hookery. Why Kung Fu? I guess it's a combo of references to a favorite movie of mine, Office Space, the fact that Kung Fu looks pretty awesome and it just sounded kind of cool to say. Kung Fu Hookery. There you have it.

My obsession with crocheting started when I was six. Granny taught me. I soon realized it was pretty awesome. Granny was pretty awesome herself.

So here I am as an almost-thirty-year-old wife and mother with a hooking problem. Cabinets of yarn. Tubs full of half-completed projects. An etsy shop. The best of intentions. Trying to get my mind organized and figure out my next plan of attack in terms of properly promoting my shop and introducing myself to local boutiques. I could spend all day reading helpful articles online about this. That sort of takes away time to actually work on my items though. But I suppose that's life. A delicate balance of what you want to do versus what you have to do.

I hope to use my new blog as a way to organize my thoughts, so friend or stranger, please don't hold back. When I'm acting like a fat kid who just got his chocolate cake taken away, tell me. If I'm boring you like an elementary school's film strip on the history of Indiana, tell me. I'm a big girl. I can take it. That's what all those years of therapy were for.