August 2013 – robinchartier

So You Think You Can Dance

Our internet has been horrid this past week. Our internet company is in some battle with Saudi over their frequencies interfering with the frequencies in Saudi . . . or something like that. What it means is our company has had to dial back the strength in their towers while they try to negotiate a solution. What that looks like on a practical level is very intermittent, very slow speeds, tons of refreshing, and loads of irritation. Good times. I’ve started loading a show in the middle of the day in order to have something to watch at night, but that doesn’t always work because the signal will drop out and then it looks like it has finished loading, but freezes part way through the show — usually at the most exciting part.

Another week of school down, many more to go. It hasn’t been the easiest week, figuring out class schedule changes, calling to complain about the bus dropping the kids off at the wrong time, getting in a drawn out phone “discussion” over the bus route, futilely trying to explain to the non-English speaking bus drivers that they were driving the route the wrong way, then glowing in the thrill of victory when on day 5, the kids finally got home on time. Sometimes you just need a Marine (to have a long, loud phone conversation of his own).

We ended the week in a whirlwind of sports and activities: Basketball tryouts, youth group, water polo, and ballet lessons all in a span of 3 hours. Thanks to my Sister Wife (my dear friend who lives across the street and has 4 kids around the same ages) I only had to do half the driving. She dropped them all off, and I headed to base a few hours later to bring Camille to ballet class, bring the boys from youth group to basketball, and then bring them all home after.

I never thought I’d be the mom of a ballerina, but here I am. She has the music in her.

Yesterday was her first class. She’s been seeing the advertisement posters around base and every time she squeals, “Ballet!!!” and then proceeds to demonstrate by stretching her arms out and balancing on one foot.

So it was time. Since class runs at the same time as the two older boys are at youth group and Caleb is as water polo, it’s easy to let her have her own activity.

She loved it.

This story is much better with accompanying video, but blame it on the Saudis — no videos today!

Bumping up

I’ve been fine lately. Fine. Really just fine. Functioning fine. And sometimes I’m FINE!! But I’m not where I should be. Instead of waiting until the hole gets deeper, I’ve decided to up my meds. The island broke me and I need some patching up.

Actually Josh is the one who yesterday said, “You need to up your meds” after I started tearing up while talking about this mall that we aren’t allowed to go to and I have no desire to actually go there, but I felt uncontrollably sad about it for some reason?!? It’s always easier to have someone on the outside who is an accurate judge of what is normal and what is not. And for me, that was not normal.

At the same time I switched crazy dog (said lovingly because he is not crazy like he used to be) over to Prozac because though I am very happy with how he has improved on Zoloft, he still isn’t relaxed enough to chew on a toy or a treat while he’s in his crate. He just lies there stiffly and when we’re not home he must claw at the gate because he has almost worn through the front plastic wall.

The boys are doing great (and thankfully not on any meds) and enjoying the start of the new school year. We’ve managed to get up on time 3 days in a row, though this morning Caleb crawled back into bed after his shower and fell asleep. Carter found him right before the bus came and we threw a piece of fruit at him and ushered him out the door with still-wet bedhead.

All three boys start basketball this week. They just hired a youth sports coordinator at the base and I am thrilled that they are providing athletic options for the kids: water polo, basketball, dodgeball, soccer, baseball, etc. Since we don’t have a yard, organized sports has been the only way to keep them active.

Now that we’re in year two, the wait begins to find out where we’re going next. The first round of options was released last month, but we were not on that list. A draft of second round possibilities came out this weekend and there is one location available where I could envision my life as a happily ever after, retired with my backyard vegetable garden, but it’s a long shot. A very long shot. There are a few other possibilities, but nothing else that sings to me like that one. We should know in a few days if it’s even an option and then begins the process of negotiation, dodging bullets (there are a few that we do NOT want), and begging.

Did I mention we got a cat? Yep, this is us with our new kitty.

Rewind 17 years and this is us with our new kitty. I wish I could have that frown-free forehead back.

We are getting a kitten though. In two weeks when they are big enough to come home we’ll be adopting one of the orphaned kittens. Finally Caleb will have his own cat. What’s one more creature to add to the madness?

letdown

My phone rings today and I see the base number on my caller ID and I get happy thinking that Josh actually found a spare minute in his day to give me a call. Nope, it was a kid from the base health clinic telling me that his records show that I’m delinquent in getting a pap smear. Seriously?! They call you for that? I can’t even get a call about the results of my biopsy (negative, by the way, after I went in and asked for the results in person), but they track speculum avoiders?

First of all, I’m not delinquent. It’s an every 3 year kind of thing now and Camille just turned 3 and I had one after I gave birth to her. Do I have a copy of that paperwork? Does everyone else carry around results of their lab tests? I sure don’t. But sure, I’ll look around for it and when I find it (probably about the time there is peace in the Middle East) I’ll bring it to you.

The kid (I can say that because these corpsmen are barely older than Calvin) wasn’t easily discouraged and wanted to schedule me right then for an appointment “any time in the next few weeks. The schedule is wide open.” On a day when the printer isn’t working and crumples every sheet that feeds through it and the 3 year old only wants to watch TV and dissolves into tears if I suggest anything else, I was not interested in signing myself up for anything other than a Mentalist marathon and a cappuccino.

I’ll get back to you. Maybe when I’m actually delinquent.

First day of school joy

The “joy” is that we actually got up on time, got “breakfast” (Caleb ate cereal, Carter only wanted decaf coffee, but I made him eat an apple too, and Calvin is in High School so who knows if or what he ate.) The pain will come tomorrow and every day after that when we have to get up at 6:30 for the 7am bus. I am not a morning person and neither are my kids. We can get up and get moving, but it’s not a pretty sight. Most people are super excited for the first day back . . . not me. I’d be happy to have them home all year long. Not because I’m an awesome mom and I love having them around all the time, but because I love sleeping in that much. Truth.

I only have one elementary schooler?

This year I have one in high school, middle school, elementary school, and preschool — that’s some awesome family planning, huh? Camille won’t actually be going to preschool though. It’s hard enough getting the kids out the door in my pajamas. I can’t imagine if I actually had to get dressed and drive her to school — no thanks! I think today we’re going to walk to the neighborhood salon and get pedicures. We’ll talk about nail polish colors and call it educational.

Waiting for the bus as dad leaves for work — the bus was late this morning and if I had to hear one more time, “Mom, are you sure today is the first day?” I was going to strangle them all.

For better or worse — déjà vu

I got this message from Josh yesterday morning. Since then, he’s been doped up, lying with his feet up and hobbling around base. Since he can’t drive or bike, I get to play the chauffeur.

How fitting that it was 9 years ago this week that we were in a similar situation: living in the desert, a husband who could barely walk, and celebrating our anniversary. I joked on the long drive down the hill, “Did you ever imagine on this day 7 years ago, that I’d be driving you to back surgery with three little boys in the back seat? (Our newest, Caleb, was only a month old at the time.) For better or worse, huh?” Back then I had a lot less wrinkles, but a lot more crazy. We were quite a pair — he was broken physically, and I was broken mentally.

This time we’re 4 days from our anniversary and I’m just driving Josh to work and physical therapy appointments, which is WAY better than surgery. And there’s something that’s a little more acceptable about having back problems when you’re almost 40 instead of still in your 20s which makes him less frustrated about it (or maybe that’s just the Valium working).

So we won’t be putting on our dancing shoes this August 23rd — instead we’ll be celebrating with a cocktail of Motrin and accessorizing with ice packs. PAR-TAY!!