Spur of the Moment Road Trip

The kids and I decided that we didn't want to stay at home all day, so we discussed it and finally figured out what to do. We loaded up in the van and headed north to Abilene, KS to ride on the Abilene and Smoky Valley Excursion Train. We've done this several times before, and they always love it. It takes just over an hour to get there from our house, so it's just far enough to be considered an adventure in their eyes.

It was pretty dreary as we headed out, but started to clear up as we got closer.

We hung around in the depot for a bit, and then watched a reenactment of an old west gunfight.

Candy from back home....made in Camp Hill, PA

They had Kwik Shop coffee in the wild west?

Daniel loves trains, but hates the noise...

Nothing but the best in seating on this train!

This hatchery was damaged by the tornado that went on to devastate the town of Chapman a few years ago. See the portions of the roof that are still missing?

Preparing to cross the big steel bridge

Checking out the locomotive

Daniel couldn't handle the excitement on the way back!

Driving home...

And this one is for a friend from another blog! :)

All in all it was a good day. Time to get them all in the tub, and then into bed. I love doing these spur-of-the-moment trips - always fun, and no stress in the planning!

A birthday

Today was Jared's 7th birthday. My first son. My beautiful blue-eyed, smart, funny, stubborn, scrawny boy with a smile that melts my heart. So many things have happened in his short little life - my divorce from his father, my remarriage and subsequent divorce, numerous moves, the death of his step-father...and the list goes on endlessly. I can only hope and pray that I am teaching him right from wrong.

We didn't do much for his birthday because it snuck up on me quickly. I made stromboli for supper at his request, and we had cake and ice cream for dessert. A friend is coming over after school for a playdate tomorrow. And we'll go shopping on Saturday so he can pick something out. Calm and laid-back celebrating - that's how we roll.

I love you, Jare-Bear!

And now hopefully, I can get this to post, since blogger appears to be in a coma still....the wonders of modern technology!

After the rain

I don't know where to start on this one. For once, I am absolutely speechless. And I know that no matter how much time I spend wording and re-wording this post, no one is going to understand the true enormity of something that I saw today. No one.

I went outside today to scope things out before the first round of storms was due to hit us. I wanted to make sure that there wasn't anything lying around that would blow away should the storms get as severe as was predicted. As I was coming back around to the front of the house, I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks.

Two of my irises bloomed.

So what's the big deal about the irises, you ask?

Seriously, I don't know that I can put it into words, but I'm going to try. And it's going to be a long story, so sit back and relax while I try to explain.

Ex1 and I moved in together in May 1999 and were married in August of that year. We were renting a little house out in the country, and in the 5 years that we lived there, we planted quite a few flowers, including the irises. On May 6, 2004 we closed on our house in town - our big beautiful dream house. We moved in immediately, and on May 12, 2004 we welcomed our son Jared into the world.

Jared and I spent the customary 2 days in the hospital, and then went home to our new house. We were busy unpacking and arranging things, which was no small feat after just giving birth. One of the things that still needed to be done, however, was going back out to the old house to dig up the flowers to transplant them to the new house, along with some cleaning. So, there I went, still hurting from giving birth and toting a newborn, back to the old house to dig up 250+ irises to bring to the new house. And once I had them all relocated to the new house, I planted them.

Of course, there was drama involved with all of this. I was criticized for not digging them up right, not replanting them right, not doing it fast enough, etc. I was told that they were never going to bloom because of the way that I had replanted them. Long story short, Ex1 and I divorced within months of moving into that house. I stayed, he left. The irises flourished, and there were hundreds of them that bloomed regulary for the next 6 years.

Fast forward to September 2010, when I had to move out of that house due to the separation and impending divorce from Ex2 and into our current one. There was no way that I was leaving my irises behind, after everything that I went through to get them to that house. So I spent a couple of days digging them up and putting them in garbage bags and plastic totes so that I could move them. It was hot, it was exhausting, but I was determined. I didn't get them all, but I got probably 90% of them.

I didn't get them planted over here right away - things were just too chaotic. The bulbs sat on the sidewalk in garbage bags and totes for well over a month before I finally planted them. I wasn't sure if they were going to survive, but they took root and have been sprouting lots of green leaves with no flowers. I know that it usually takes them a year or so to acclimate to their new surroundings so I was patient.

Then I saw it this morning.

The irises are blooming. They have been uprooted, moved, forced to adapt to new environments, been through horrendous transitions that no flower should tolerate, and they're still blooming.

I seriously stopped dead in my tracks and felt the tears in my eyes when I saw them. There are only the two so far, and they might be the only ones to bloom this season, but the point is that they ARE blooming. They are coming back from circumstances that could have - should have - killed them, and they are surviving. Not just surviving, but thriving.

It might not seem like a big deal to some people, but to me it is huge. I don't give myself credit for things that I've done because frankly, I don't think that I deserve it. I made crappy choices that led me to where I was and then I had to pull myself back out of it. But at the same time, I know that I have learned so much in the past few years - I have learned from my mistakes and I know that I never want to go down those paths again. And with this knowledge, I know that I can thrive. I will survive.

Just like my irises.

Adventures in Grocery Shopping

Let me start off by saying that I *hate* grocery shopping. Actually, I hate all shopping. I am totally non-girly in that respect. I've never been into it and it's something that I've grown to despise more and more as I get older.

I think the reason that I hate grocery shopping so much is that I can never go alone. I always have a minimum of one kid with me. Generally, if it's just the youngest, I can tolerate it. He's getting to that age where he can have conversations and he's starting to pick up on sight words (*gasp*) and things like that. Plus, he's just really easy going. But add any of the other kids in, and it's just a riot waiting to happen.

I had to go today. I didn't need to get a whole bunch of stuff, but I was getting really tired of washing dishes with hand soap so I bit the bullet after Alex left for preschool, and Daniel and I went. Like I said, with just him, it's pretty easy. But I still don't like it.

I made some observations while we were at the store and mentally added them to my list of pet peeves related to grocery shopping. Actually, some of these have been brewing for a long time, but I figured I'd put them all down now. Enjoy. Or not.

Pet Peeves:

~~ People who walk down the middle of the row in the parking lot. For crying out loud, people, pick a side and stick to it! You wouldn't walk down the middle of the street, would you? Well, guess what?!?!?! You're doing it here, and I'm about to run you down if you don't MOVE!!!

~~ Along the same theme, the people who walk diagonally from the parking lot into the entrance of the store. You know what I'm talking about - rather than moving along the ends of the rows of parking spaces until they are across from the entrance, they take the long diagonal path across, making their trek from one side to the other take as long as possible, again holding up traffic.

~~ Better yet, the ones who walk out of the store and straight into the parking lot without stopping (or even pausing) to look both ways. Yeah, there's a crosswalk there. But guess what? Regardless of whose fault it is when you get run down for walking in front of a car, it's going to hurt. A LOT. Make an attempt to avoid it.

~~ I use the self-service checkouts, because unlike the cashiers who are TRAINED and PAID to work there, I know how to bag groceries. Not to mention that unless you live with me (which you don't) you don't know what I want to have bagged together. So - (a) don't hassle me when I choose to wait in line to ring the stuff up myself (b) if you're the cashier who is monitoring the self-service checkouts, pay attention! Don't walk away from the area to talk to someone! F-O-C-U-S. (c) and don't automatically assume that my kids deserve to get your silly little stickers. Chances are that they didn't earn them, and even if they did, I don't feel like peeling them off of my furniture later tonight.

General Observations:

~~ The kids know the way to the free bakery cookies at an early age.

~~ They can also spot the cups of macaroni & cheese from halfway down the aisle (good thing too, because they weren't on the list).

~~ No matter how carefully the groceries are put into the cart, the wallet and the reusable bags always end up at the bottom of it - so when I get to the checkout, I have to dig the bags out from under everything and find my wallet so that I can scan my shopper's card too.
~~ I want to nominate someone to stand at the entrance wearing a badge that says "CART POLICE". This person will be responsible for making sure that the only people who use the double (or car shaped) carts are those who actually have more than one child who is not able to walk throughout the store. Using a double cart for one kid, or using it for your multiple kids who run around the store instead only leads to undue stress for those of us who are already prepared to choke someone because we have multiple kids and a cart with one seat. Be prepared to get a really dirty look for me if I have 5 kids and a single cart, and you have 1 kid who is walking and the double cart that I need. Common courtesy people - think about it.
~~ Finding a parking spot next to a cart return is so much better than finding one close to the door. Trust me.
~~ Making a grocery list is key to reducing stress. However, after making the list, it helps to (a) take it to the van when leaving the house for the shopping trip (b) get it out of the van and take it into the store with you when you get to the store (c) not allow the aforementioned list to blow away in the Kansas wind before entering the store.
~~ No matter how detailed the list is, I will walk out without at least 2 items on the list. This can happen either because they are out of stock, I already walked past them and don't feel like going back, or I just plain gave up and need to get out of the store. NOW.

I'm quite sure that there's more, but right now this will have to suffice. Maybe in the fall, when ALL OF MY KIDS ARE IN SCHOOL *gasp* I can go shopping alone, and maybe I'll even start to enjoy it.

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Won't happen.

My latest run-in with the cops...

May 6, 2011 was the 2-year anniversary of the last time that I had to call the police to my house. Ironic as it was, the night before that momentous occasion, I had to call them again.

Let me start by saying that I am not normally a jumpy person. I have lived alone for 2 years, and things that go bump in the night don't generally bother me. However, this past Thursday, as I was sitting here playing around on the computer, I heard a noise that scared the daylights out of me, to say the least. It took me a few minutes to figure out what the noise was, but I suddenly realized that it was the sound of the plywood over the steps that lead into the crawl space under my house being moved - like it had been lifted up and dropped on the cement ledges that support it. I grabbed a flashlight and looked out the kitchen window, and sure enough the plywood had been moved to the side by a good 18" or so.

The plywood over the steps

I immediately called 911 and asked them to send someone out to take a look around to make sure that there wasn't anything that I needed to worry about - being here alone, a single mother with 5 kids, I do feel a bit vulnerable at times. Not to mention the fact that the previous tenants had engaged in some rather colorful illicit activity when they lived here - because of that, I'm a *little* bit more cautious when I hear strange noises.

The dispatcher stayed on the phone with me until the officers arrived - she let me know when they were on my property and that they were in stealth mode, poking around without flashlights first to see if they could see anyone without scaring them away first. I could hear them move the plywood away from the stairs and go under the house.

The crawl space under the house is grotesque, to say the least. It is not a cellar - it is a crawl space. I can stand upright under there, and at 5'4" I still have to duck in some areas. There was a sewage leak under there when we first moved in, and there is a carcass of *something* under there - maybe a cat - that I have no intentions of moving. It can stay, as far as I'm concerned because I'm not spending any time down there unless my life depends on it.

When the officers were done poking around, the dispatcher had me go out on the front porch to talk to them. They assured me that there was no sign of human life down there, as there were still massive amounts of intact cobwebs all through the space. Their theory is that a raccoon came in through the window on the opposite side of the house...

I had just put that piece of wood back up earlier that day...

...and when it couldn't get back out the window, it went up the steps and pushed the wood aside to get out. I've seen raccoons in action and I know how smart the little buggers are, so I bought the theory with a minor amount of embarrassment at having called 3 officers out in the middle of the night for nothing. They assured me that it was fine and that it wasn't a big deal, and we chatted for a few minutes. I told them that I was aware that there was some drug activity in the house before I moved in, and one of the officers snickered and muttered under his breath, "THAT'S an understatment" and gave the other officers a knowing glance. Great - the neighbors had filled me in on some of the goings on here, but I didn't realize that it was so frequent that the cops would remember the house - it's been 8 months since we moved in here. But then again, it's a small town so it shouldn't be too surprising that they remembered it.

They did assure me that because of the house's history and my living situation, that if I EVER "hear, see, or even feel anything wrong" to call them and they will be more than happy to check it out for me. That did make me feel better about the whole thing.

So after they left, I came back inside, got back on the computer, and had a rather long (uh, 400+ comments on one status) discussion about everything from the noise to the cops to beer to who-knows-what. Laughing and joking with my friends - even at a distance - put my mind at ease until I was finally able to lay down and get some sleep.

I did find it extremely ironic that it was 2 years, almost to the day, since the last time I had to call the police to my home. Thankfully, this was a much less dramatic call than the last one, and a whole bunch of people got a good laugh out of it.

Oh, and I spent some quality time on Sunday anchoring the wood back to the window to keep critters out, and I also fastened the door at the bottom of the steps shut - no one is getting down there again without either brute force or power tools.

Have any of you had to make a 911 call that ended up being nothing?

It's a lost cause...

I tried...I really, really tried to get the kids to sit down and take a nice picture together. I don't have many of all of them, and my favorite one is about 2 years old now, so it's time to get a new one.

First, Daniel looked down.

Then Alex did that teeth-grinding thing and held his head at some crazy angle.

Then Alex got mad when I told him to smile right.

Close enough. It'll work.




And just for fun, one that's more realistic.

I Took My Life Back

Today marked a very important anniversary for me. It is almost a birthday of sorts. Two years ago today, I took my life back and reclaimed it for myself.

It started out as a typical day, for the most part. I don't remember anything in particular about the day itself. My husband had been laid off about a month and a half before this and so he had just been pretty much hanging around the house and was drinking anytime he had the chance. I left to go pick up the 3 older kids after school, and I believe that we stopped at the grocery store on the way home, so we were a bit later than he expected us to be.

When I pulled into the driveway, I saw him in the garden. He had his back to us at first, but I could tell just by his posture that he had been drinking. He turned to look at us, and one look at his face confirmed it.

The next thing that I saw was the knife.

There, on his belt, was a sheath with a very large (to me) knife in it. I don't know a lot about types of knives, but I would say that it was similar to a buck knife with a blade that was about 8" long. I was immediately terrified, and tried desperately not to show it. Sarah saw it next, and in her 9-year old innocence asked me why he had it. I told her that I didn't know, and to just go into the house with the other kids.

We all made our way inside. The kids ran, he staggered, and I tried to walk as normally as I could with my knees knocking and my heart pounding. Once we got into the house, he became extremely agitated. The kids were wound up, which was never a good thing to be around him when he was intoxicated. He started yelling at them and at me. I tried to convince him to go back outside and calm down - all I wanted him to do was walk out the back door, give me a few minutes to get the kids to relax, and then he could come back in - but he refused to do so. Sarah started to get really scared and asked him to snap the knife sheath closed - it was hanging open and she was afraid that the knife was going to fall out and hurt someone.

Instead of him snapping the sheath shut, he pulled the knife out and started waving it around his head like a lunatic. The kids panicked and I looked at Sarah and yelled at her to call her father (Ex1) to come and get them - at that point, I knew that there was no turning back. He kept waving the knife around - never directly at anyone, but as agitated as he was it would have only taken a slight wrong move to seriously injure himself, the kids, or me. I kept telling him to put the knife away, and he refused. I told him to go outside and calm down, and he refused. At one point he walked toward the back door and I used that to my advantage - he was not a large guy at all (I outweighed him by about 20 pounds) and I used my body weight and every ounce of strength that I had to push him out of the back door of the house. I slammed the door shut and locked it, then ran to the front door and did the same.

Within minutes, the police were there - thankfully, Ex1 had called them as soon as he got Sarah's call. They questioned my husband, they questioned me, and as much as they wanted to, there wasn't enough to arrest him. I told them everything exactly as it happened - that he never made a direct threat or pointed the knife at anyone, but that I was still terrified that something could have happened. Keep in mind that this was not the first time that they had been called to our house - there had been several instances of violence when he was in a drunken rage, so the officers were familiar with the situation.

I told them that I understood that they couldn't arrest him - that time - but that I just wanted him to leave the house. With the house being in both of our names, they couldn't legally force either one of us to leave, but they did talk to him and strongly encouraged him to disappear for at least the night. The last I saw of him that night was his back as he rode his bike down the street. I found out later that he went to our pastor's house to talk to her, as she called me later and asked if I would pack some clothes and things for him and put it out on the porch so that she could get it for him.

Before the officers left, one of them looked at me and said, "How much longer are you going to put up with this?" He wasn't saying it to be nasty - the tone of his voice showed that he understood the position that I was in at that point. He had been to our house on numerous occasions so he saw the pattern that I had chosen to ignore up until that moment. I looked at him and said, "I'm done." And I meant it.

I was done. I was done with the lies, the drinking, the verbal abuse, the physical abuse, the threats, the name calling...everything. I was done with it. He never spent another night in our house again.

The past two years have been a rollercoaster. For the longest time, I stuck my head in the sand and ignored everything that was falling apart around me. I was in a deep depression, but very few people saw it or understood the depths of it. I look back now and I wonder how I made it through those times, because they were by far the darkest times of my life. There were times that I really questioned whether or not I could go on - but my kids kept me going.

When I was finally able to file for the divorce, it was a feeling of relief. I feel horrible saying that now, but it really was. I needed to take that next step in the reclaiming of my life. I celebrated when it was final, because I could finally feel the control coming back to me. When he died 20 days later, I went through every emotion in the book.

I still struggle. Life isn't easy - at all. But now, 2 years after I made the decision to take my life back, I truly feel that I am in control of what happens to me. This is MY life - and I can do what I want to do with it. I don't have to answer to him or anyone else. I can and will do what needs to be done to take care of myself and my kids.

I spent the day at my friends' house, working in the garden. My friend took the boys with him while he ran errands, so I had close to 5 hours of quality time to myself - I planted seeds and enjoyed the feel of the sun on my face and the wind on on my skin and just reflected on everything that has happened over the past two years. For the first time in a very long time, I can honestly say that I'm happy with where I am.

I took the kids out for supper tonight - mainly because I'm too tired and sunburned to cook - and caught this shot on the way home...

It just seemed peaceful - something that I am finally feeling for myself.