Extraordinary Parents

"I want us to be extraordinary parents."

That's the statement from "Charming" that kind if brought us back on track to being the parents we used to be and the parents we want to be.

Granted in essence that is what I have been saying for months but it finally dawned on him in those clear and precise words making it easier for both of us to achieve because it started accountability-- someone else reminding us of our goal, helping us to step back when tempers are short, frustration prevalent, and fatigue winning.  We even told each other to help remind us...even if maybe there is some backfire from it.  (There hasn't been since just by stating the desire to have accountability made it possible to calm down when reminded.)

See back when our first son Ralphie was born we were extraordinary parents. Not perfect of course--because no parent is perfect. But you know, we were at our best possible, I'm sure you know what I mean.  In fact we lasted that way for probably the first two and a half years...then stress became our common visitor.

"Charming" had no job for a few months in 2013, we used the little savings we had to survive, then we had to start growing debt on credit cards just to barely get by.  Finally he started a new job, but with a deep investment, a monthly loan payment that took about 75% of his monthly earnings, and a half/sort of graveyard shift.  Soon after that I got pregnant with Randy and I was to always exhausted and some where in there Ralphie hit his terrible "twos" (which I believe are actually the terrible "threes", but who's keeping track, right?) So suddenly we became these lame, tired, impatient parents I didn't recognize.  Granted we were still better than a lot of parents, but we were too tough on little Ralphie.  He was only 3 after all, but for some reason we expected so much of him that we started being tough.  Suddenly we felt like we were constantly on him about one thing or another.  Something I swore as a young person I would never, ever do.  Then we got emotionally drained from Randy's frightening birth (from which we still aren't fully recovered) and then Ralphie was too rough with Randy and crazy around him all the time and it scared us.  So we had more reasons to be "on him" constantly. Then I started working way too much and we became parents with little patience who raise they're voices.

Not cool.  In fact, it pretty much leaves me full of deep regret.

But since December we have been improving and for the past month or so we are 95% back to those parents we used to be. The ones I was proud of us being.  The ones that had no regrets, felt confident, and totted around happy kids.  We still have tough days where the boys are up all night so we are tired, or we are sick so we have no energy, or stress comes but for the most part life is better and we are better parents again.  This blog post is to help other parents, but more importantly, I think, to help me.  To remind me of what I don't want to let happen again.  No matter the stress, no matter the fatigue.

How did we do an immediate turn around in less than a month?  Well, this is how:

And we are focusing on - -- those things we should do to make us the extraordinary parents we should be.

1- Less work, more play.
I pulled back with the working-- or at least I am still trying to.  That may mean we are tighter financially.  That may mean we have less money to spend on anything besides food (which is crazy because we already had nothing).  That may mean that I often have to tell people no when they need pictures done.  But it gives me more time to spend with my family and taking care of them.  I don't have that constant nagging stress that I have an upcoming photo shoot or pictures to edit.  Seriously. It was consuming my brain so badly with stress and anticipatory anxiety that even while rocking Lance to sleep I couldn't focus on my baby.  I couldn't focus on the greatest things in my life.  Oh my life goal to be a mother--the best mother I can be.  I don't want to ever have regrets again of not spending time with my kids because I had to work when I didn't desperately need to.

2- Don't sweat the small stuff.

We don't sweat the small stuff.  Potty training has not been an easy road...by 3.5 we really thought it shouldn't still be an issue.  But it was and still is at times.  But we've stopped getting frustrated and started rewarding for the good and just being calm for the bad.  We don't get on to him for every little thing.  Instead we talk to him when he makes bad decision and we discipline for dangerous things (like hurting little brother, or anything that is damaging or potentially hazardous in any way).  He is four.  That's all.  Four.  There is no need to expect too much of him.  He is just a baby still.  He is still young.  He should be able to be an innocent, happy child as long as possible  It's funny how when you have that second kid you realize that at 9 months it's totally ok if they are biting or gently hitting.  There is time to teach them, it doesn't need to be this big, dramatic, horrible thing.

3- Put your kids first.

We put then first again.  Let the house get messy, let my photography wait, let dinner be late.  What matters are the boys.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the perfect parents would be selfless.  There would be absolutely no selfishness about anything they did.  So we are working on becoming selfless.  Listening to them when they want to talk or are asking for something.  Cuddling time is essential for us and them!  Playing with them, helping them learn skills.  Teaching them.  Family home evening.  Scriptures studies.  All these things are the most important things.  We get 18 years with our kids and then they are (most likely) out of our home and onto their own lives.  I'm not going to have regrets ever again about not spending what little time I do have with them.  It's taken me weeks to write this post...and that is OKAY because I paused when they needed me for whatever it was.  I didn't get mad when I lost my entire train of thought.  It's OK.  People make too big of deals about themselves and not enough about their kids.  America would be a different place if at least 80% of a parent's life was about make their kids lives better and less about the parents wasting life away online, or just being lazy or selfish.  It's true.  But none of us are perfect at that.  None of us ever will be. It's an impossible balance...I think some days you choose one way and some the other.  And some parents are just better and balancing then others.  But like I said, no one is perfect.  But you find your perfect balance and I think you can be your most potentially extraordinary parent.

But those are the things that have helped us.  I am so happy to say we are doing so well.  Our kids are so happy.  Just purely happy and what better feeling can a parent have then knowing their kids are happy because they are trying their darndest to be "extraordinary parents".

On one last note...someone on pinterest posted a quote from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland from a talk he gave in General Conference in 1997.  I read it and it was very comforting and inspiring to me.  So I'd like to share it here.  Whether or not you are a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints I think it will inspire you.

"Because She is a Mother"!

Just some thoughts I needed to share

Some days or weeks or even months I have so much to say, but I fear backlash and rudeness from other people and causing offense...so I hold my tongue and don't say anything...but some days I just want to vent on MY blog which is for ME and always has been ... to share and express what I feel so I have no regrets or bottled up frustration , but I feel like I can't write what I want without people being mad at me.  Today, I'm saying, screw that...I want to write what I'm feeling.  If you start reading and don't like what you are reading...just stop...you don't need to stir the pot or get angry, I just wanted to express myself somewhere where friends might read, but people who disagree are less likely too.  Ok?

I saw the movie "Frozen" yesterday.  I loved it.  Seriously, I did, don't get me wrong.  It was above and beyond better than "Brave" (I hated that one).  And the music and art was just stunning!  But I have one complaint...why does everyone want to get rid of the old, girl and guy fall in love, girl gets in a bind and guy heroically rescues her?  There is a reason that story line has lasted so long.  But for some reason hollywood and especially Disney is deciding to cater to only the other side.  Women who want not just equal writes, but like to be men or something. I'm all for mixing up plots but if we turn completely away from the story line I mentioned above I'm done with Disney movies.  At least in this one the hero almost saved the girl--in the end she saved the day, but at least he was close to being the one.

From the beginning of time men have a drive to save, to be heroes, to champion, to fight wars to protect their family.  And women have been blessed with the ability to nurture, to have great love and compassion, to serve, etc.  Why do we have to take away what is so naturally and deeply set inside of us?  I know we are individuals, but I know that those things are and should be inherent in most of us.  I'm sad that because there are women out there so hell bent on being treated as equals that the men are looked down upon for being heroic, for wanting to champion women. In my opinion a man like that-- one who tries to champion the girl he loves-- should move on when a woman doesn't appreciate it.  That's a waste of a man.  It's one of the things that I feel is so wrong with society today and why we are headed for an even worse place.

I think women should be able to vote, of course!  I think women should be treated equal in the workplace, and I'm sorry in some cases they still aren't. But there is a reason men and many women don't like those women who are too extreme and therefore emasculate men.  You don't have to be a total biotch to get your point across to the average, modern man or woman.  Be that way to men who doubt you, not to nice men who have no problem with the fact that you are a woman and their co-worker or boss...I'm pretty sure most men these days could care less one way or the other.  I don't believe that's necessary to emasculate men to over compensate for that woman's insecurities, and in fact I think it's wrong.

I wish I lived in an error where women's clothes celebrated the womanly figure (in all it's forms).  I wish it wasn't all about making us look more like men---right now it's all about being too skinny and having no chest.  They tried that in the 1920s...did we learn nothing from that?  I want to wear pretty clothes I want to wear clothes that show I am a woman.  I have hated styles for so long and I'm getting tired.  Why in the world should people at school ask my why I am all dressed up when I'm wearing jeans and a sweater?  Like what the crap?  There is something very wrong with that in my opinion.

And why are women losing one of their most important traits? -- that of nurturing.  So few mothers are nurturers anymore.  Facebook made me sick yesterday with all the horrible things mom's were posting on their about motherhood or their children.  Things on the verge of cruelty.  I would hate to actually be in their homes and see how they treat their children in person.  It's like suddenly it's too hard and too much work to be kind, loving and nurturing and instead so many (not all, but enough) of moms today turn to lies, cruel punishments, lies, and impatience when it comes to their children.  If children are so inconvenient to these moms why are they having so many??  I can guarantee that most kids would benefit much from parenting with truths, explanations, love and patience.  You would see a world of better people, I can guarantee that.  I'm sick of the excuses of "well, I have so many children" (again I ask, then why did you have them in the first place?) or "but they are too young to understand"...there is research out there that says kids understand much more than we give them credit for before they even learn to speak.  And sets the stage for future teaching moments. Seriously.  It's not that hard...it just takes time and patience...and the mother might have to focus completely on someone other than herself for a while (possibly years).  Oh no!  Having children means you are making someone else a priority...it's no longer about the mother. It's another thing that is wrong with society and it's going to make the next generation worse.

My son is the happiest and most kind-hearted little boy.  I hate that he will have to be sent out in a world with children raised to be cruel and bitter and rebellious.  It nearly broke me as a person and it kills me to think it will happen to my son who just loves people and only wants to give and make them happy.  Something happened yesterday and it just reminded me of why I avoid play dates, why I don't believe in preschool, and why I wish I could homeschool and he didn't need social interaction.  I know it's necessary and I know he needs to learn to deal with creeps like those horrible kids out there, but it's frustrating knowing those kids would be very different if they had different parents or parents who raised their kids differently.

I would just like to add that I am not perfect. I am far from perfect--like SOOOOO far and this post was not to make people think I was saying that.  It's not to point fingers at anyone, it's just to make people think and reconsider and refocus and just think for a minute.  If someone truly, deep down disagrees than that's fine, whatever.  My mind won't be changed so I understand.  But I would like for anyone reading this too really look and listen deep and their soul and consider if any of my points and views are valid.

If anyone happens to read this and disagrees, then I would suggest you keep your comments to yourself, however.  I don't want to hear more crap on things that already hurt my heart and soul...I was really down yesterday after reading some status posts from other moms and I just needed a place to share without backlash.  And usually the commenters are only people who think I'm targeting them...and I don't think anyone I'm talking about reads this blog or is even invited, so every body cool down...it's very very likely not even you I'm talking about.

Life Surprises You Sometimes

How crazy is life? No, really, how crazy and unpredictable is it?

I have been transcribing mine and "Charming"s journals lately and yesterday I was working on my journal from the second semester of college.  (You know, the semester when I met The Hubby.)  It's funny to compare my journal to his journal of the same weeks...I talk about him the first time about four or five months before he talks about me in his. Granted, I am a girl and have about 5-7 entries to each of his one entries.  But still!  Course...I also only wrote about crushes, and dates and drama in mine and he wrote about more intelligent stuff...you know, like working out or selling pest control.  You know, boy stuff.  (I'll have to find a picture of him from back when I met him!  You'll love it!!  I only have one or two from that semester...so tell me if you wanna see them!)

But one of the last entries from that semester...one on April 26, 2006...last day hanging out with him (and other friends) before we all left for summer ends like this: "Sadly this is probably the last time I'll ever see him [The Hubby] again though!" 

Hmmm...six years, a wedding, and one baby later I guess I guessed wrong on that. :-D

Bug Invasion

          So...I've been thinking lately that we just can't seem to get a break from weird, and a bit miserable, happenings.  I'll tell you the newest one here in a minute, but then I realized that these little and weird happenings are much better than trials that we could be getting.  I'd much rather deal with no air conditioning briefly, postponed house purchasing, a small car accident where no one got hurt, low cash flow, and the lastest adventure (swarming ants) then deal with say...a more serious accident, or a seriously sick family member, or any number of things I could mention.  So bizarre as it sounds I was very thankful in my prayers last night for our recent small trials.  I would much rather them any day.

        

       So here is our latest trial.  Swarming, flying ants invading our home.  Yep, that's right.

        It all started innocently enough.  "Ralphie" and I would play on the back porch and these big inch-long flying ants would occasionally come at us and I would smash them. They have huge pinchers and the last thing I wanted was for Ralphie to get bit.  I can remember getting bitten by New Mexico ants as a kid and it hurts and stings for a long time after.  Pretty soon though we start finding a few in the house and, like, you know, 5 instead of 2 outside on the porch.  So I tell "Charming" to get some bug spray for us to take care of them.

        It takes him a few days and finally he gets some.  He sprays the back of the house's perimeter then decides he will spray our bedroom sliding door too since the few days before this we'd seen 5+ in our room.  Well, I was downstairs helping Ralphie with something when Charming calls from upstairs, "Uh...Sandy?  Can you come up here?

        I kind got scared from the sound of his voice and asked, "is it gonna freak me out Charming?"

         "Maybe."  He paused and then said, "actually maybe you shouldn't come up here."

        Yah, right, I was right around the corner and almost there...so I walk in and almost die.  There are like at least 50 ants crawling around on our carpet, walls, blinds etc.  And then I'm like panting crazily, cause I seriously have bug nightmares all the time and this was like a nightmare come true.

        And with a guilty look he says, "it's worse."  And opened the sliding door blinds. 

       I seriously almost start hyperventilating.  There are literally HUNDREDS of these huge flying ants covering our porch.  Hundreds. Maybe even thousands...I was never good at guessing numbers.  And even weirder they are like in clumps.  I only have a cell phone picture of the first night, and it can't figure out how to get it on here...but anyway...

        Charming sprays the door and I texted my mom the picture.  My dad calls back and says Charming better spray the entire perimeter of the house.  So we head outside and he starts spraying.  I spotted our neighbor Kimberly outside and went to ask her about the bugs to see if she had a problem too...because if it was just us I hated to think what that meant.

         So I asked her and she tells us that it had happened the first year she lived here.  Her back porch was black it was so covered with them.  And that her pest control selling neighbor told her they migrate through here sometimes and land on the roofs.  And that usually they are high in trees when they migrate and so you never notice them.  But where we are there are no trees and her house at the time was the highest in the area.  So they landed on her house only.  She said she had to have someone spray the roof to kills them and it helped.  She also told us she had been seeing tons of them too...and that since we were the only two two-story houses nearby that's probably why it was just us.

         So Charming doesn't want to spray the roof and he says we'll just wait it out.  We vacuum up all the ants in our room and more and more just still keep coming in.  So I slept in Ralphie's room with him, refusing to have to worry about the bugs climbing on us or crawling into our ears.  Which I did dream of and had to keep getting up to check on Charming all night.  The next day they just got worse.  And the next day worse.  Charming still wouldn't spray and I still refused to sleep in our bedroom.

          About three nights ago or so it rained hard and I washed a bunch of them down.  Here is a picture of the ants after I had washed a bunch down already.

Then the next day after that there were even more than I had washed down.  Here they are on the roof flying, buzzing and falling in clumps.

 Here they are in  their piles in the backyard.  They are nasty huh?

 FINALLY it just got so bad in our room and on our balcony that Charming finally sprayed the room, porch and door.  And they finally all died.  Here is a pick before I washed them off last night.  They had blown into piles (piles at least 1/2 an inch thick)...just imagine these in clumps and spread all over the porch.  Ick ick ick!  I am iching just thinking of it.  Anyway, I think the poison helped and the worst is over...but seriously yuck!  Ugh!

(Charming's foot in an attempt to show the scale of the pile...this one was 1 inch deep in the middle at least)

The rain gutter as I was washing them out.

GROSS!!!

Remember to vote on that little picture that says "click here to vote" please!!  Thank you!
     

     

Finding Ourselves

The other day on my personal facebook account I wrote this: “Living back out here I have found a huge part of me that started getting lost many years ago when we moved to WA :-) It's nice to have it back. :-)”

            But what does that mean?  And what part of yourself did you lose?

            Well, let me step back a second and explain something.  I was born here in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  Yes, it’s a desert.  Yes, it’s dry here and we have droughts year round.  Yes, there are few trees or lawns and we have rock yards full of desert plants.  But you know, what? I LOVE it!  I love it more than any other place I’ve seen or been to—in fact I prefer this.  

             Are you thinking I am crazy?  Probably, but have you ever been here to the “Land of Enchantment”?  There’s something about it.  Something that strikes a chord in most people who visit here, many of them afterwards wish to come back and live here—and many do!  Especially this part of NM...because there really are some ugly parts haha...

            Well, I spent the first 10 years of my life here (minus about 9 months that I lived in New Orleans as a little girl).  And I loved it!  We played outside all day every day it seemed like.  Our dog killed our backyard grass and so all there was was dirt, but my dad built us a cool damn and mountains out of the dirt and we would run the hose for hours making rivers and playing with our toys in it (as an adult I would love to know how much my parents water bill was every month haha).  New Mexico is hot—we often have a few weeks that are up in the 100s, but an average summer day is between 87-94—perfect.  And it’s not like 90 degrees would feel like in Louisiana.  No, it’s dry, there is no humidity, so it feels a lot cooler and you aren’t all wet and sticky.  I HATE humidity.  Denver was too humid for me even!  

            And the autumn in NM is GORGEOUS!  The beautiful cottonwoods (which are my favorite) the line the bosque and streets turn an amazing yellow!  Oh, you haven’t seen anything like it until you go down to the river and see the gorgeous blue haze of the Sandia Mountains hovering over the golden yellow of the cottonwoods on the Rio Grande river.  It’s breathtaking.  And the winters here?  Wonderful.  It rarely gets colder than the 30s/20s and we hardly have snow.  But we get enough snow to fulfill kids dreams of building snowmen.  And many days of the winter we don’t even need coats...just sweaters...and I LOVE sweater weather!

And the Sandia are gorgeous mountains...the sunsets reflcting on them are always pink...sometimes bright sometime pale, but that is where they get their name.  Sandia is spanish for Watermelon...the Watermelon mountains...how gorgeous!

            I LOVE it here.  But soon after my 10^th birthday in about April, 1997 we moved to a little sleepy, wet town in Washington state, minutes from the Canadian border and even closer to the coast.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  Ferndale is a lovely town, with lovely people, and it’s gorgeous and green.  But the people there are different…the landscapes are different…the weather is different…and it rains…all the time.  In fact it’s a lot like that place Bella moves to in Twilight…gosh, I don’t know they name of the town (I've only read part of the first book and seen the movies each once), but it’s the same.  Only rainier than the movies show it.  I mean it rains ALL THE TIME.  Some machine in Seattle once measured how much sun shone through in 90 days (and that included little second bursts of sunlight through the clouds, however brief).  THREE HOURS.  That’s it.  Three hours total in 90 days.  Yuck.  No one dresses nice there either.  I don’t think this matters to most people and many times I think people would prefer it nowadays.  But when you wear a sweater and jeans to school and people ask why you are all dressed up…that’s a bit weird and kind of sad.  But when the average Ferndale student wears their pj bottoms or sweats to school, that’s what you get...I'm was odd I guess. 

And I really am not dissing on Ferndale.  I loved it.  It gave me many opportunities I would not have had here—especially where school is involved.  I have many dear friends and families there who touched my soul and brought a lot to my life.  But even through the fun and finding new loves, hobbies etc…over the eight years we lived there I slowly lost a part of myself.

And through college in Idaho, and our few years in Colorado, it completely vanished. Do I know exactly what that part of myself was?

Honestly?  Not really.  All I know, is yesterday while driving through the slopping mesa, under the bluest of blue skies, which the prettiest and most unique puffy white clouds, with a complete view of the beautiful Sandia Mountains from highest peak to lowest foothill, and listening to the Dixie Chick’s “Wide Open Spaces”, it hit me.  I had found a part of myself—a feeling I hadn’t had in many, many years. And suddenly I felt almost whole again.  (I say almost, because there are a few things I’ve realized I am missing in my life like music, singing, acting etc that I still need to add) but that is the closest to whole I have felt in many years…the most recent moments like before this where when I was 16 of 17, and they were very brief moments where I was living in a world of music and performance which is also a huge piece of my soul—that’s the part that is still missing right now.

But I think that driving through town feeling is one of the biggest pieces of my soul—of who I am.  And it sure feels good to have it back.  And I think, that I will make sure I slow down in life and remind myself of it.  That’s part of why I am writing this.  To help remind myself.  And to tell you, that if you are feeling anything but whole—like you are missing some part of yourself…go find it!  Keep searching!  Trust me, to make it through this crazy world of stress, frustration, disappointment, heartache (you name it) we need all of ourselves.  And I won't lie, it's a constant, constant battle, but it's worth it.

Lame Agents, Bare Behinds, and a Heat Wave (Part Two)

Please read the previous post (part one) before reading this one for a little bit of background information.

So we wear ourselves (and my dad and brother and mom out) the next day packing and moving.  We move in, finally pick up "Ralphie" and take him to our new home.  Guess what.  The air conditioning isn’t working.

That’s right.  NO air conditioning on the hottest week so far this summer—temperatures in the 90s…nothing but unpacking for me to do.  And what’s worse The Hubby didn’t believe me for hours until it was too late to call anyone.  (Actually it was too late anyway, but still he needs to start believing me!!)  You should also know that I go CRAZY when I am tired and hot and often get sick when I get overheated so I was flipping out, literally.  So mom basically drags me out of the house (I’m convinced this was more to save The Hubby rom me than to actually help me) and brings me to Wal-mart where we buy three osolating fans (I have NO idea how to spell that and apparently Word has no idea what I am trying to spell either, so…sorry!)

Ok, so we get the fans going, but the temperature in the house keeps creeping up even as the evening wears on…80…81…82…83…etc.  I am laying there like a sweaty slug trying to calm myself while my house is covered in boxes, the food hasn’t been brought over (and won’t for probably 24 hours) so I am hungry as well (my family has a tendency to get SUPER grumpy when we are hungry...I'm the least worse of those of us infected, but it's nowhere close to pretty) and try to remain calm and keep from getting to sleep.  Finally we bath Ralphie, The Hubby akes a cold shower and then I do.  I feel slightly better, but am sooo not excited to have to sleep in the heat.  I don’t know about you but I can’t sleep very well in the heat.  It's like super impossible for me.  We had the windows open and I have this intense (The Hubbycalls it ridiculous) fear of someone sneaking in our house at night and stealing Ralphie.  So of course, with the heat and the fear mixed together, I lay awake for hours….and hours…and the clock rolls on.

And I just keep getting more frustrated and hot so I continue to toss and turn…finally at about 2 or 3am I get up and go downstairs.  I figured I might as well be productive if I can’t sleep so  I find the manual for the gas furnance/air conditioning unit thingy where the air conditioner is attached and read the troubleshooting page…well, not too helpful since I have no idea what the crap it’s talking about.  So more frustrating than ever I head upstairs and close all the windows, thinking that since there is a tiny bit of cool air coming out of the vents maybe that would work better.  And per my OCD I make sure they are locked tight, and proceed to throw myself in bed and groan some more.  (I should add that Ralphie has been asleep this entire time!  I can’t tell you the last time he slept that long without waking.  It was like some kind of miracle.)

Anyway, my most recent groan wakes up The Hubby and after some groans and frustrated conversation between us we decide to get up (in our undies cause that is all we were wearing because of the heat) and go into the garage and check out the system.  Well, we head through the utility room and The Hubby pens the door to the garage.  I briefly think it’s weird that I had locked that door (I know, I know, The Hubby ells me it constantly, I’m OCD and too freaked out about someone getting into the house, but whatever)—anyway, I think it’s weird that I had locked the door but The Hubby pened it no problem.  But this was literally a brief instance of thought though since The Hubby as continuing out the door and heading toward his drill and so I quickly followed him out.

Ok, so The Hubby akes apart the bottom of the system and all seems to be working…so we have no idea what’s up. Nothing looks wrong or switched off.  So we sigh and he starts to drill the plate back on.  I go to the door to check on Ralphie…and um, yah, the door is locked.  Apparently it was locked but not closed when The Hubby ent through it to the garage.  So there we are…in our undies, locked out of our new house with no keys, or cell phone, and our little baby asleep (hopefully) inside.  Our little baby who wakes up every night totally out of it (takes after his mommy) and freaks out if he can’t find us.  And he is locked inside the house, upstairs, in the dark with only one bathroom light on and nothing else, in a new house he doesn’t know, where mom can’t come to him when he calls for her. 

So I literally start freaking out.  The Hubbygets mad, asking me why I locked the door and why am I so OCD and why do I even think someone could get in through the close locked garage and adds, also, that no one could ever climb up onto our second story to get Ralphie.  We stare at each other  and wonder what the hell we are going to do??

The Hubbyopens the garage and we go outside (undies and all) and he looks around trying to decide what the best option was.  The workers who had built our house had left a pile of sand bags and tiles next to the garage and by the outside wall.

“I’ll climb up and get in through on of the windows,” The Hubby says.

Through my frenzied, emotional wreck, guilt-ridden self, I say, “you can’t.  I closed and locked all the doors.”

He glares at me.  “You sure?"  

I can only nod.  

"I think I’ll try in case.”

So he climbs up on the sand bags grabs the roof and pulls himself up onto it (in nothing but underwear--no shirt or anything.) 

Let me throw this in here while I have the chance and a voice—and he wonders why I think someone could easily get into Ralphie's window.  Sheesh.  And he has done this before in even harder circumstances, so sorry, but if someone wanted to steal Ralphie they could do it if they were strong enough.  Sheesh!

Anyway, he pulls himself up and checks Ralphie’s window.  Nope, locked up tight.  He kind of walks around up there angrily for a second and then climbs back down.  Then he goes to the back door just in case it’s unlocked.  You got it, locked up tight thanks to his OCD wife.

            So he comes back around and we go back in the garage and try to decide what to do.

            “Your mom has your keys right?” he asks.  “I’ll have to go get them.”

            Again, the over emotionally, crazy lady (me) says, “you’re only in your underwear.”  Even though I knew that was our only option, I still didn’t think he would do it.  “What if Ralphie wakes up, freaks out and falls down the stairs?” I cry suddenly all freaked out.

            He just stares.  “Aren’t there ANY clothes in here?”

            Then I remember that there are actually some boxes that the boys had put into the garage instead of the appropriate rooms because they were so tired by that point and that perhaps there were some clothes in there somewhere!  “Maybe,” I tell him.  And began searching while I pray we can at least find something for him to wear.

            A miracle, by some bizarre chance…amongst the girly sweaters and a silky robe I find a pair of his swim trunks.  I keep looking hoping that I can find shoes, but to no avail.

            He stares at me then, in only his swim trunks and undies and thinks a moment. “Ok, I’ll have to run there barefoot.  It’ll take me six minutes or so to get there.”

            (My parents now live only about 1.2 miles away, so you do the math.)

            He heaves a sigh and points to the rocker that we left in the garage for him to fix.  “You can sit and wait there.  I’ll kind of close the garage.  It’ll take a little while, ok?”

            I nod crazily and he heads out.  And then the longest minutes of my life start.  Long minutes where all I do is stand by the door, rocking crazily (this was either from being freaked out with worry or because I had to pee really bad) and listening for a scared frightened cry behind the locked door.  My mind goes crazy (as a mind of an OCD, overly worried, fatigued mind does) and I think…”what if Charming gets bit by a rattler or attacked by that damn coyote that’s been wondering around the neighborhood without fear?”  Our little neighborhood is at the bottom of a hill surrounded by nothing but mesa.  Once you go the 1.2 miles to my parents then you get to their little neighborhood around which is nothing but mesa…so yah, it’s very possible those things could happen…unless rattlers aren’t out at night, but I have no idea about that.  So I rock back and forth for five minutes or so that seem like five hours and finally decide to start counting the seconds to maybe calm myself.

            Meanwhile, Charming, after running on a lightless, dead street he finally arrives at my parents house…sore-footed, sweaty, and tired.  He rings the doorbell, waits a few minutes…nothing.  He tries again…and again…who knows for how long.  My little brother Trent finally comes to the door in a confused, sleepy state—he said later he thought it was the police since in our past besides a crazy family we once knew in another state that is the only time our doorbell was ever rang that late at night.  He stares at Charming and Charming says, “we locked ourselves out, Ralphie’s in the house alone and we need Sandy’s keys.”  

           So Trent hands them to him and stares again.  “And I need a ride home,” Charming adds.  

           And Trent kind of shakes himself awake and is like, “oh yah, duh.”  Lol, he’s cute.  Anyway, they finally arrive and we are able to get into the house.  Ralphie slept through the whole thing and never woke up that night until 6am…that was a crazy, once in a lifetime thing for him!  So quite a blessing.  We finally went to sleep…Charming had to get up 2 or 3 hours later to go to work poor guy.  Days later his legs and feet are still aching from the barefoot, dark run.

            The next morning we went to my mom’s house to email the house people about the air conditioner.  My mom, all distraught says, “what kind of mother doesn’t wake up when her poor son-in-law is half dressed and locked out of the house at 3am?”  

            Lol, my dad and brother start cracking up and ask me if Charming was “bare-assed” under his swim suits.  When I told them no, they said they were sure he was and begin to tell me about some part in that movie “Water Boy” (which I have only ever seen part of) in which where they are all reminiscing about someone running down a football field losing his pants but the guy runs “bare-assed to the touch down” or something.  So they start saying in a deep southern accent (which is not hard for my dad, being from New Orleans and once having an accent himself--which still crops up now and then), “remember that time when Charming got locked out of the house and ran 1.2 miles bare-assed to get the key?” and start busting up.  Mom adds, “that’s probably how the story will go down in our family history.”  Haha, probably knowing my brothers and father that's true.

            Well, two whole long days later (after finding a huge, basketball sized, 50 pound chunk of ice frozen around the air conditioner pipes and waiting for it to melt and another day for them to arrive) we finally got it fixed--it was low on...free-on because someone didn't do their job fully.  Since then it turns out our microwave is shotty and only works half the time…we probably shouldn’t use it for that reason, but I NEED my microwave to thaw meat and crap.  (Ok, that sounded really gross haha)  Anyways, that’s the story and as I sit here headache and all I’m just glad I have air conditioning, and wasn’t the one who had to run bare-assed 1.2 miles.  Also there are some cute little desert owls that live in a dirt hill one our way out of our complex…they are adorable!  I love to stop and see them every time I come and go. :-)  Pictures soon I hope!

THE END

Lame Agents, Bare Behinds, and a Heat Wave (Part One)

            We made it.  We’re here…in our new home…finally.  Oh, and our air conditioning is working.

            Say, what?  Oh, I see you missed that headline.  Let’s start at the beginning.

            Everything went pretty smoothly the whole while our house was being built—minus the fact that they forgot one of the windows that we paid extra for and were going to put our tile in our dining room down crooked, but yah, whatever, we got that taken care of without too much drama.

            Even our walk-through went well.  Charming’s dad, through a stroke of genius, suggested we film it.  Which we did and in the two weeks since we have referred to it numerous times since.  But a few days after that was when it started to get bumpy.

            But, I need to step back again briefly.  We originally were meeting with Mark Smith at Frost Mortgage here in Albuquerque. We LOVED him!  He was fantastic!  He made our buying a house possible through his know-how, even though Charming was self-employed for six months last year.  He knows his stuff!  Anyway, we just adored him, but at some point we got transferred to another person.  A lady who is here in town, I am guessing because she was closer and Mark Smith is so awesome he was needed elsewhere.  Well, she was not as wonderful as Mark, not even close.  She never told us what was going on and always informed us of things last minute.  And later we realized her secretary did most of her job anyway.  Yah, she’s one of those people.

            Anyway, we call her a few days before the walk-through to see what the deal is and why we haven’t heard anything about closing.  She tells us they are planning for the twelfth.  We are excited—knowing we have given them everything they wanted and the literal hour they asked for it.  No messing around or procrastinating.  We were on top of things.  So let’s see…the walk-through was Thursday the 7^th and closing was supposed to be Tuesday the 12^th.  So Friday (at 5:50pm, of course) the secretary calls us and tells us that they had us fill out one of the forms wrong and we need proof of employment from Dish Network before 11 on Monday.  Wow, thanks lady. 

So we are frustrated, mad and worried all weekend wondering if we can even get that that fast.  We know Dish Network and they are jerks to their employees…we don’t even want to know how mean they are to their ex-employees.  Ugh.

So first thing Monday Charming calls them…only to find out that it’s even HARDER to get proof of employment that we had figured.  You have to go through this email address and it can take at least 5 days.  So we are mad.  Mad that the lady told us to fill out the form wrong, mad that Dish can still torture us even though we quit them.  So we email, and hope they get back to us in not too long.

Days roll by…days and days…Wednesday we hear back…oh, sorry, “Please advise.”  What does that even mean.  At least use the word correctly.  So we send them some extra info, and figure we have to wait at least two more days.  Friday the 15^th in the morning, the secretary calls us…the lady (notice I am omitting her name to be nice) called and hounded Dish, accusing them of breakings some equal employment act.  So they eventually send the proof over and it goes to underwriting.  The lady tells us we could maybe close that day. We don’t.  So she says Monday.  We don’t.  Finally Tuesday we close…and it’s a breeze because we have everything prepared.  And the house is ours! Nothing can go wrong…well, except for that we can’t move until Friday cause of Charming’s bizarre work schedule. But wait!  TCharming goes to work and finds out that by some rare occurrence his schedule was changed (in six months they have only changed his schedule one other time) that we can move Wednesday!

So we wear ourselves (and my dad and brother and mom out) the next day packing and moving.  We move in, finally pick up Ralphie and take him to our new home.  Guess what.  The air conditioning isn’t working.

To be continued (because that is probably enough reading for right now huh?)

A Lonely Little Petunia

When I was little my grandmother and my mom used to sing me this little song that goes something like this:

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch,

An onion patch,

An onion patch.

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch,

Oh, won't you come and play with me

Boo hoo,

boo hoo,

The airs so strong it takes my breath away

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch,

An onion patch,

An onion patch.

I'm a lonely little petunia in an onion patch,

Oh, won't you come and play with me.

And when I was little I knew what petunia's were of course. My mom planted them frequently in a little spot by a spruce tree in our front yard. Not much else grows in New Mexico. Anyway, I used to imagine this little fushia colored petunia alone in the field of plant--as a child I imagined a potato field because I don't think I knew what an onion was. When I got older, no one sang the song to me and I forgot about it.

Untill today....

When I was driving through town and I started singing it to Ralphie. As I got to the part: "the air's so strong it takes my breath away", I had to pause and go, "oooooooh!" Because for the first time in my entire life--all almost 24 years--I had never understood what it meant or why the air was strong and taking its breath away.

So there you have it. It's funny how things you didn't understand as a child and don't think about for years don't make sense to you until you are an adult!

(Check out that picture! It really IS a lonely petunia in an onion patch!)