my week, and how was yours?

Two out of three of my itty-bitties that I birthed, one without the use of drugs thankyouverymuch, have gone off to summer camp for 5 1/2 days in the wild wilds of Michigan.  I'm telling myself how much they'll miss Mamma, but I don't think they even noticed when I peeled out of the parking lot, the sound of freedom ringing in my ears.  I almost ran down another mom doing the happy happy joy joy dance.  The little women are so excited they didn't even sleep last night.  Their week will be filled with s'mores and bunk mates and swimming and canoeing and sports and singing and crafts and torturing the counselors and I do believe we will be hearing every minute detail of their experiences for years to come (or at least until next year when they get to go again).  I sent them with disposable cameras so you too can be forced to hear/see the rundown of their week.

This week we have a work party coming to help out around the Children's Homes, doing things that need to be done, and all for the low low price of Mike's lasagna.  They're going to need nourishment as they clean out pole-barns and move out one entire household and then drive it across Indiana and Michigan.  Gotta love church youth groups!  We love slave labor  hearts on fire for God.

I have been spending some time trying to figure out where the dickens I am.  One thing about living in a state with no mountains - no landmarks!  Which way is north, south, east, west?  I haven't the foggiest.  I'm not saying that to be amusing, I really don't have the foggiest idea.  Since we live in the country, there are lots of county roads but they don't seem to connect the way I think they should.  Trying to find a back road to the nearest city the other day, I insisted I knew exactly what I was doing and argued with my hubs on which directions to turn for about 15 minutes.  As we slowed down and entered what I thought was the exact destination, I was feeling pretty smug.  And then I realized we had just entered the town we had left 15 minutes earlier.  I am now stocking the glove compartment with maps and home drawn directions to every which way I may ever need to go at any given time.

Today was my first day driving the big ol' school bus size van.  Easy peasy.  Much easier than navigating.  I'll take driving every time.  I just need a boost to get up into the driver's seat is all.

Alas, I must go clean the bath tub.  Again.  Every bloomin' day I need to clean the bath tub.  I keep wondering WHY.  WHY OH WHY?

And then I remember, oh -

Gianni's why.

Right now the little angel is doing dishes.  That's right.  Yes, I AM letting him stand on a wobbly kitchen chair, with full access to the sink, the water, the soap, and a half dozen dishes.  It's keeping him occupied.  So I can write this.  Which is so important.  It makes me think of the day that I had about a half year ago, when he was really being pesky and into every bloomin' thing (I like the word bloomin'.  It's my word of the day.  Makes me feel like Eliza Doolittle) and it was a super long week and I was pooped and he grabbed my phone and made a long distance call to some guy in like, Madrid, or somewhere, and they held a conversation for a few minutes.  And I just sat there.  Cuz he was occupied. And I had peace.

Laugh all you want and just try to take away my Mother of the Year Award. ( Runner-up).  I'm a professional parent and I have the job description to prove it.

Home sweet home

So you feel as though you were with us on our Great Road Trip of 2010, here are the highlights from each state we lumbered through.

Idaho...

...Utah...

...Wyoming...

...Nebraska....





...Iowa...






...Illinois...

...Indiana...





...and finally, Michigan...



This is the old gymnasium on our property. Apparently these willows have to go as they are messing royally with the sewer system. I love willows. But I suppose, given the choice, I would love a working sewer system more. You may revoke my tree hugging card now.




This is downtown St Louis.




This is our humble abode for the next 6 weeks or so. It's a two bedroom little house, maybe 900 square feet. How do we all squeeze in, you may ask? Are you kidding me? We've been on your couches since Christmas! This feels like a palatial McMansion!




This house sits right across the driveway and is the one we'll be moving into right around the end of July.





All in all, we clocked 2,013 on the good old Penske and I don't plan on traveling further than say, 20 miles, for about a year. But if you'd all like to visit me, I've got a fab two bedroom guest cottage in mind! Truth be told, the trip was not too bad and I don't think we'll even get Post Traumatic Stress Disorder symptoms whenever anyone shows us an ear of corn.

I haven't had a job in a bit now, so it's kind of fun heading to staff meetings and the like. We are reading each and every sentence of the Houseparent Training Manuel as part of our, wait for it, houseparent training. There's lots to learn, from parenting to paperwork to budgeting to everything else. I went to my first baseball game as a house mom to cheer on our 14 year old, who did awesome I might say. Mike started cheering and calling him "Wheels" since he's a fast runner and the name might stick. I can't talk about the kids here at the home(s) and I can't mention their names, so we may have to come up with nicknames for each of them - one down, a few more to go!

The girls are loving having room to run, and I must say, so do I. Not that I'm running, it's just a figure of speech. I only run from big, hairy spiders. I have gone on some country road bike rides though, which has been quite lovely. Anna feels as though it's Christmas as she rips through boxes we packed 7 months ago and discovers toys and clothes she forgot she had. She changes outfits about three times a day now. Cora is excited as she can now ride a grown up size bike. Moose loves the bugs and the tractor and the teenage boys who swing him up to the basketball hoop to dunk. All of them love getting most of our groceries from the food provided by churches in a big storeroom. Subsequently they have all discovered Chef Boyardee to their Italian father's dismay and chagrin.

Mike loves his sock drawer. You never want to see a grown man cry, but these were tears of joy when he finally got to unpack that suitcase and put everything in an actual dresser. It was a beautiful moment - we embraced and wept and than held a ceremonial suitcase burning in the backyard.

I love everything. It's a beautiful place and we're having a great time. I miss all of you and if EVER you felt guilted into leaving comments for lonely, friendless, me, now's the time.

It's the final countdown! (dumdadumdum...dadadumdadum!)

I have been absolutely terrible about taking photos these days, so here a few from times gone by.

It makes me want to break out in song.



Like, 'Sunrise, Sunset...'





Or 'Cats in the Cradle...'





But I might get teary.

What happened? Where did it go? Could it be that the elderly gentleman in the grocery store was actually right when he said I would blink and it would be gone?

I LOVE this one.

Anna and her Billy Ray inspired mullet.

This is the last blog written from Idaho, land of late May snow showers, before we head out to Michigan, land of extreme humidity and mosquitoes the size of hummingbirds. I don't even know which box to look in to find the shorts and tanks and other summer clothing, but I suppose it hardly matters since last summer I was considerably smaller than I am this year. Drat stress. Drat too much eating out. Drat Cheezits. Who knew the three combined would be a recipe for pudge? See that photo up there of a brand spankin new, we're talking hours old, Gianni? He has pudge. And it's delectable. Mine? Not so much. I even took up jogging for a few weeks. I swear to heaven it made me fatter.

In other news (because there is other things on my mind beside my weight - occasionally) I have also been forbidden from the camera by The Middler. My poor sprout. My punkin head. She is our hmmm, shall I say, coordination challenged youngster? I have never seen a child or adult or small animal or large animal, for that matter, bounce off walls and furniture as much as she. I think it could be a matter of not being able to do two things at once: talk and walk. And Lordy knows she certainly isn't going to give up talking. Anyway, we went hiking this past week in the mountains. I rephrase - we started to go hiking this past week in the mountains, but we didn't get too far before we returned a bloody mess. I know, I know, I am the Queen of Under supervision when it comes to letting my kids be kids and take their lumps and learn and get dirty and climb trees, etc, but to be honest I would never have endorsed what Cora and Anna were attempting to do when calamity occurred. And yes, I should have noticed, but until you've pushed a Moose in a jogging stroller up an incredibly steep mountainside, don't judge. It takes focus. Dedication. Bulging forearms and calves that moo. The first inkling I got that something had gone terribly wrong behind me was the screaming from Cora. Mike goes running back down the trail while I sprint with the stroller which was in danger of becoming Nellie's wheelchair in my favorite episode of Little House. It's Cora who's screaming and it's not your typical everyday holler for help either, it's a terrified out of her mind scream. They had decided to cross a tree bridge (a dead tree connecting one side of a 8 foot high cavern) which apparently didn't even seem a trifle bit unattainable for someone who can barely walk a straight line without tripping. So, yes, she fell and when her daddy managed to shove her back up to the trail, she was a bloody, bruised pulp of a girl. So, long story short, she's fine (and extremely lucky) but her face looks quite questionable when out in public. A huge goose-egg in the middle of her head, two black eyes, lots of bruises, and lots of red scrapes. All that to explain that she won't let me near a camera for fear I will document The Episode Of Which We Do Not Speak.

It will take us several days to get to Michigan, several days of Uhaulin it with three rambunctious and bored trolls and one severely paranoid canine. I am so excited to get there. My family and friends are so excited for us to get there. We decided to delay this whole job change thing as lonnnnnng as possible basically for their sakes: it took us 6 months of couch hopping to finally leave and as a result it's going to take at least that long for anyone to miss us. You are welcome. They've been planning the goodbyes for weeks. Sometimes they practice. But we just come back. We're like bad pennies. Or cats. Or your drunk uncle who shows up for Christmas. Just sigh and let us in.

I don't know how much I'll be able to blog about the new gig as house parents, or the new kiddos (due to laws and privacy, etc) but I will be back when I can, whenever I need to vent or tell a story or write love sonnets to my paper towels. So don't abandon me, even if I do emotionally pull guilt trips on ya when ya don't comment often enough.

That was a hint.

photos to go with

update

It's official and the bags are packed! Check out our new employment/digs here:

http://www.baptistchildrenshome.org/

After you're done checking that out, come back and show me some love and support. I am feeling needy. Here's how you leave a comment and tell me you still love me:

scroll down to the end of a post...

...see where it says "comments?"

...lately it says "0 comments?"

...see how insecure and unloved that makes me?

...click on it...

...write me something, anything...

...poetry would be swell...

...tell me you're still reading so I don't feel like a dork writing in my diary...

...obey the word verification thingy...

...you can do it...

...sign in...

...creating a google account is easy - it's just your email and password...no one else will see that part...or you can use the 'open url...'which I do believe is simply your email which everyone can see...but who cares, cuz like, 4 people read this anyway...

...now, publish...

...and imagine my happy smile.

If you want to make me postively giddy with excitement, go to the right of the blog and click on to be a kool-aid drinker, er, I mean, follower. If you don't, I pretty much have terrible photos of all of you just about, so I can make my own with your names on them. Just sayin'.

correction

Missouri is abbreviated MO.
Michigan is MI.

Phooey.

Thanks, Pamela.

Michigan

Several years of daydreaming and whining have finally come to fruition with the Williams' girls: they got to ride an airplane. The countdown started when the tickets were bought approximately 5 weeks ago. Gianni however got stuck on the phrase, 'I'm going on a big airplane in two weeks!' so that was his answer (and will continue to be) for the past, present, and future of air travel. As anyone knows, getting there is half the fun. Unless you're the parents and then getting there is a headache of logistics, luggage, directions, time, tickets, hunger, expense, pockets stuffed with items bribery, and the occasional wet underpants. The take-off was everything their fevered imaginations had concocted and we did well until we all remembered Anna has a tendency to get car sick. 'Nuff said. Moving on.


We were very pleasantly surprised to learn that Michigan (which I may or may not had to learn both to spell correctly and to find on a map) is quite loverly. Everyone I told our destination to only had this to say about it,

'It's flat.'

People there however have this to say about Idaho,

'Isn't that the potato place? Are there any cities there?'

So, I guess I learned we all need to get out more.

I also may or may not have offended the locals when I snapped a photo of not one, but two, tractors getting gas at the Quicki-Mart. Sorry about that, locals, I couldn't help but find it funny.

Gianni discovered a fierce loathing of vans. Odd, since we in fact own a said minivan. But you never heard so much howling in your life as every time we switched vehicles. 'I don't like the green van! I wanna get out!' Since his future involves a lot of vans packed full of a lot of kids, we are hoping to get past this mental block of rectangular shaped automobiles without full-on head-shrinking help. I'm thinking tapes played at night on a continuous loop encouraging him to love the vans, embrace the vans, find joy in the vans...

The humidity and the mosquitoes are something for an Western-er to reckon with. Suddenly my husband looked like Harrison Ford in The Mosquito Coast and I couldn't help but worry that he was going to go bonkers and our tale would take a tragic turn for the worst. Then I remembered Harrison Ford is a looker and so it couldn't be all bad. Which made me think of River Phoenix. Which in turn made me think of Corey Haim, whose death I am still not completely over. Please wait here while I go grab some Cheezits for comforting.

Our entire week was a bit of an audition and we felt like we were in a fish bowl. A parenting fish bowl. One where the guppies were alternating between various degrees of naughtiness. There was a lot of saying the right things while simultaneously shooting laser beams out of our eyeballs and whispering threats to shorten their life spans considerably. In spite of that, we enjoyed our trip immensely and look forward to moving forward in this adventure that is life.

We got to spend time with all the group home kids. At first I was terrified to think of being Mom to teenage boys whose feet are bigger than my legs, but after meeting them, most fears diminished. Teenagers kinda crack me up actually. Mostly they wanted to know if I can cook. That seems to be the only prerequisite for mothering in their book.

Our move there will consist of driving exactly 1952 miles which I had cheerfully been complaining about until the person I was speaking with casually mentioned his missionary son who lives on the Amazon with his wife and four tiny adopted children and recently traveled 1000 miles in a wooden canoe, killing deadly snakes along the way and fearing for their lives, and loving every minute of it. And probably not complaining. So I gather from that no one will feel sorry for me in my air-conditioned minivan complete with snacks and dvd players. I will still complain and beg for sympathy. Naturally. And you will give it to me, my loyal readers. All four of you. 'Cause that's how you roll.

As far as the certainties and for-sures and the whens and the whys, the directors are not in a rush to hire people in a business where turn-over is high. So, we wait. Waiting on the Lord. Much like the waiting room in Beetlejuice...hmmm, first The Mosquito Coast and now Beetlejuice. I need slightly less off the wall movies to parallel my life. So for the next few days we are once again at the mercy of friends and family for floor space, table space, and showers. It's amazing and amusing what you learn when you live with people and I considered writing a whole blog post on just that, but then I was afraid that my muses would rebel and write their own blogs on having me as a house guest. And no one needs to read about my weirdness. They might learn about my ninja skills when you put a dirty dish in the sink I just cleaned (sorry, Ike, I feel I may have wounded you for life and also given you a tic when you approach your own sink), or my frightening bed-head in the morning, or my knack for canceling your dvr recordings behind your back (sorry, Sadie). I also may or may not, snore. I do wonder if our respective hosts and hostesses are secretly starting a support group behind my back...

'Hello. My name is (insert your name here). And I'm a recovering Williams' family host.'

There probably should be a 12 step program.