I know his name and his jacket size.

This year, I talked Andrew into doing a Salvation Army Angel from the tree here in the mall. I wanted to get a baby, because they're easier... and because I wanted to buy baby clothes.

I found Jarrad.

He's age 0, as they put it, and wants a musical toy. His shoe size is 4, and he wears 18 month clothes.

I've spent the last month trying to figure out whether he's actually a little over a year... or just a huge baby.

But I know his name and I know his jacket size... and I hope that's enough to give him a good Christmas this year.

I'll be buying him two pairs of shoes, 3 shirts, 3 pants, a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and a jacket. Some socks, too, and maybe a little beanie to keep his ears warm.

And that musical toy :)

Merry Christmas, Jarrad!

My Family Needs a Little Help... *eye twitches*

It is my sincerest opinion that they need to add more variety to their pets.

I had to improvise.

Poor bird.

Make your Stick Figure Family at FreeFlashToys.com

In other news, we went bowling last night! It was fun, and I enjoyed it, although everyone was drinking and that was really quite annoying and gross. I hate alcohol, in all forms. It makes smart people stupid, and nice people mean. It is very, very possible to have fun without it... but it's not easy to have fun when it's split in half, some drunks, and some intelligence.

We brought Eirich home with us, which I wasn't especially pleased about. He sleeps on our air mattress and eats our food.... how is that anything cool or fun?

Today, we're going to a birthday part for Jen's little boys, Eric and Johnathan at around 3 or 4, and then after that, we're going to head to one of the civilian guys that works in the Armory, too, for a bbq potluck thingy. I'm going to do dishes and make Marlboro Man's Favorite Sandwich for brunch, and then, I'll take my camera and get some pics.

I want to show you more. I want you to meet Jen, who is beautiful and sassy. I want you to meet Stone, who's a walking stick with the prettiest brown eyes I've ever seen (and I really don't find brown eyes attractive). I want to show you Eric, and Johnny, and Jeffrey, who is adorable. I wish I could introduce you to Addison, who is an angel on earth, but she's still in the hospital, and her mom, Morgan, which is where she got the angelic-ness from, and Young, her dad that did not contribute in anyway to her angelhood, lol, because he's a felon (he rode a 4 wheeler through a cornfield that WAS NOT marked, and the owner, that doesn't live there, got mad... and we now tease him endlessly).

And I would like to give you more Andrew. Just cuz I like him so much. =D

Dear Santa... Writer's Prompt from Mama Kat

Ah, Thursday. Day of Writers' Workshops. I was born on a Thursday...they say, "Thursday's child has far to go." Seriously, isn't Tennessee and all of it's odd weather far enough?? The only thing further for me would probably be India...but at least it gets hot there.

But I digress. Brace yourself, this is gonna be a whopper.

Alexes did it.. I bet that if she wasn't having red and green food for Advent dinner, Michelle would do it. Therefore, I am gonna be a follower today and use one of Mama Kat's Famous Writers' Workshop Prompts :D

(Boy, I am just full of linky goodness today, aren't I?)

Dear Santa Claus,

This is not my best year. In fact, this might be the craziest year of my life so far, and given that you see me when I'm sleeping, when I'm awake, when I'm actually supposed to be sleeping but am instead awake doing ungodly things in the middle of the night....*ahem* Sorry, let's continue....you know that life so far for me hasn't exactly been --how shall I put this?-- SANE?

Ere-go, I've got quite the list for you. I don't doubt you can do it, but whether or not I merit it is still in question. I'm not really all that nice. Hence the snarky letter you're receiving atm. (That's chatspeak, means "at the moment". I'm sure you knew that. Mrs. Claus probably texts you like a madwoman when you're out with the reindeer doing whatever it is you do with them on the off season...)

First, though, I want to say thank you. It's been rather a while since I wrote. In fact, I was about 13-ish, and madly in love with Justin. I thought, heck why not? and asked you for a boyfriend that would love me "at least as much as he loves himself". Got that line from a book by Lynn Kurland. She's awesome, btw, I recommend her to the Mrs. wholeheartedly. Well, Santa dear, you delivered. In fact, you old over-achiever you, I didn't just get a boyfriend from the deal. I got an entire lifetime goober! =D Said goober is at work right now, but I'm sure he sends his love. He wants CODMW2 for the 360. (Again, I'm sure you're familiar with all of these acronyms by now. My life seems to be filled with them these days. That one there is Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. Like we need another bang bang you're dead game around these parts, right? Because I don't already hear REAL gunfire when I go get a gallon of milk at the commissary, right?? *facepalm*)

So yes. Thank you. I loved him. He came at a weird time though. October? I mean... really? But it's made up for by his original plan to propose on Christmas....too bad that didn't go through. Friggin Army. But thank you =D I'll keep him for a good long while, feed him, all that good stuff. Unlike the Nano Baby that was in my stocking one year. I... *sniffle* I don't talk about Onan often. It hurts too much...*wipes nose on shirt*

This year, Santa Baby, I want a yacht. No, I'm joking. I can't swim. Why would I want a boat??

No, I want to win the lottery. Here is my plan. I want to win the Tennessee Lottery and move back to Arizona. Then, I want to with the Arizona Lottery. With both winnings, I plan to buy a little ranch somewhere around Oracle. Maybe... hmm, maybe somewhere off behind Great Grampa's old house. I wanna get a pair of good, sturdy saddle horses, a mare and a stallion preferably, one white and brown paint and the other a nice deep brown... oh, or one of the tan ones, with the black manes and feet. I'll plant watermelons and daisies and lavender and strawberries in my garden, as well as beautiful tall Ponderosa pines, like G. Grampa did for the Forest Service. We'll get a white Jeep Wrangler, and a nice sports car for Andrew. 350Z should do, dark metallic blue, and makes sure our road is mostly paved so that it doesn't hurt the suspension on it.

And the house we can have specially built. Two stories, with lots of open space and big windows... and a wide, open staircase so I don't have crazy vertigo like at Camp and Teresa's. Wood floors with big, soft rugs (the kind that don't slip, lol, you know me, Santa...) and a big kitchen, with an island in the middle that has a sink. Stainless steel fridge, one of those cool ovens that are stacked on top of each other, like the one in Mr. and Mrs. Smith. But I won't keep guns in mine. Oh, no, they will be fully functional, and fully used. The house will have to have at least 4 bedrooms, but we should probably mark that up to 6 bedrooms. We have a lot of family, and I know that eventually, someone will want to come stay with us. Six bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, a living room, a family room, and probably 3 bathrooms. Or maybe 2.5....definitely want one in the master bedroom, with a big clawfoot tub that I could (hypothetically) drown in. I don't really want to drown. I wouldn't be able to enjoy all of this as a ghost.

We could then have our three beautiful children that will have my coloring and Andrew's eyes...but probably need glasses and classes on how to move gracefully. I'll take them with the kids, for that matter, I could use a little extra grace... Oh, and a husky we'll call Hank Jr. and a Great Dane I want to call Clyde. Or Clementine. Cats, too, we need two, not including our lovely Kahlan, and maybe Diddles. But two cats usually turns into 12 cats eventually, so two breedable kitties will do fine.

Yes, Santa. I want all that for Christmas. It doesn't have to be this Christmas. I understand that some things take time, and I can imagine that the lottery, in two states nonetheless, could be tricky. But I'm confident that if we had both lotteries, we'd be able to pull all that off just fine. Oh, one more simple wish, though....could you pay for our schooling? I mean, if the lotteries don't cover it. I want to be a Midwife. Andrew is looking for something, but he would love to be a wolf rehabilitation expert.Then we would be able to afford all of this once the lottery dough runs out.

But... if you can't get me any of that, can you just make Andrew realize we need to move to better apartments? I'll take my life as it comes, Santa, but maybe living somewhere NOT filled with bugs (the crawling ones and the ones that you can fix) would make me very happy.

Merry Christmas.

PS. I know we moved, but if you could please bring our gifts in whatever form to Leslie and Chip's house in Arizona on Christmas Eve, we'd sorely appreciate it. For some reason, Grandpa Cavanagh doesn't want us at his house on Christmas Eve, so we're headed for the ranch instead. Be careful on the road. Grand Pappy Wash is a doozy in the winter time, even if you are flying over it. And remember, it's just after the Chapparel steakhouse on the Florence Highway. See you around when we have kids of our own :D

I am alive! I didn't fall off the planet, I swear!!

I just looked at the date of my last post. I feel rather sheepish. November 3rd was a long while ago, nearly a month. I have not posted here in nearly a month.

You have my deepest, most sincere apologies.

So, I'll give you a bit of an update on things, just important highlights and whatnot. First though, something weird just happened...my keyboard gave out. I had to unplug it completely from the back of the tower and plug it in on the front USB port instead. Doesn't make any sense to me, but if it works this way, I'll use it this way.

Updates, right, got it.

Laptop is still in a state of disrepair, although I had a wonderful, amazing dream last night that I turned it on and it miraculously worked. Gonna try it today, I feel ready for the disappointment, lol.

Andrew got a promotion! He is not Private First Class Adami, not just Private Adami. That means a new little symbol on his chest, and new embroidery on his Class A's and helmet... and a little extra moola in the bank for us!

I got a job! I now work a few hours a week, and those hours are steadily increasing as Christmas gets closer, at the local Hallmark! Yay! You know, the more I work there and learn about Hallmark in general, the more I like the place. And oh, the holiday stuff. I love the holiday stuff. For instance, I recently turned my fridge into a snowman, with magnets. How cool is that? I would show you... but my laptop doesn't work. Every single penny from this job is going right into our now very low savings account. We live fine and well off of Andrew's income, but we have a few large purchases that we need to make (read: CAR), so we're stepping up the saving up.

We adopted a cat! We went to Petsmart recently, on a whim looking for something for Guardy for Christmas (yes, my bird gets his own stocking, complete with birdy toys and treats), and ended up adopting one black and orange calico they called Yoko Ono. We changed the name immediately. She's more black than orange, with green eyes, and she's a year old. She's had one litter of kittens, but is now spayed and has all her shots. We named her Kahlan Sedona Adami. Guardy promptly disowned us.

We're going home for Christmas!! There are a few bugs left to work out, because I was stupid and bought tickets for too early in the day, but it shouldn't be too hard. We leave the evening of Dec. 22 and come back to Tennessee on the 29th. I have a whole lot of people to squeeze into a week, let me tell you. Everyone that got a Thanksgiving card... plus some. It should be interesting, and it's important to see them because there are a few old friends of mine that I may never see again if I don't do it now. Amy and Danny especially, because they're getting married and moving away in the summer, and I can't just let them leave :( I am so excited to go home.

We're almost done with the shopping for everyone, just about 4 more ppl left.

I am still, perhaps worse than before, addicted to Facebook games.

I am still, probably a little less than before, addicted to IMVU.

I can hear Kahlan in the other room, attacking things. She got a wild hair up her butt this morning at about 3 am, went running around the whole house, knocked the bird off his perch, then jumped up on the bed and attacked my toes with every ounce of ferocity in her chunky little feline body. I bought her a mouse when we got her. It's fuzzy and brown and when you touch it, even slightly, it squeeks. She loves it. I can hear the random, slightly terrified squeeking as I type. Cracks me up, I tell you.

Lately, since I started working, my housekeeping has gone severely downhill. I think the laundry in the living room as been there for a good two weeks, and I can't really give you a good reason why... I can give you an excuse, though.

My laptop failed me. Without it, I have no desire to sit in the living room, and therefore, I do not see the messiness of it on a daily basis. No see = no fix. That's my reasoning. Plus, I can't play my music, my stories are null and void, and IMVU runs like snail on here.

Andrew says Lappy will be fixed for Christmas. Darn tootin', it will be, if I have to go get it done myself.

I'm gonna get him a wireless mic and keyboard thingy for the Xbox for Christmas. He's also got lots of little things coming to him in his stocking, including, of course, Swedish Fish. The boy would die without them, I think. He's supposed to be filling my stocking this year, too, for the first time. I'm worried, to be honest. I have a feeling that I'm not gonna get much in my stocking this year, because he's going to forget, or he's going to claim he doesn't have time. I work, too, and I take care of the house, and I take care of him, and I find time. It's a matter of sacrificing things you would do for yourself in order to give to others, and that includes time on the XBox. We'll see.

In other news, I need your help. Young, one of the guys in Andrew's Armory, has a little girl named Addison. She's about a year and a half... and she's in the ICU right now. She has severe pneumonia; she isn't breathing on her own. Her mother's name is Morgan, and I can only imagine how she feels, knowing that her baby is on a breathing machine in a hospital, and not home safe.

So if you pray, pray for them. If you send good thoughts and empathy, send it their way. If you cross your fingers, cross them, and your toes, too. Put everything you can towards this baby getting better, if for no other reason than because no child deserves to die.

Thank you.

Pics of cute kids.

The title says it all. They're too cute to pass up, lol.

So, first we have the kids I've adopted as my nieces and nephew, the way I was adopted by their mom and aunts and grandma as family, too. They are Megan's oldest sister's children. This is Cora, she's 9:
This is Makaila, or just Kaila, and she's almost 7:

And finally,Robert, who goes by Bubba. He just turned 6:
Btw, Kaila and Bubba are only 10 1/2 months apart, lol, so yes, they are both 6 right now:


I also adopted Megan's little sister's son as my nephew. His name is Maurice, but we call him Moe. He'll be 3 in July:


We also have the daughter of my friend David, whom I've known since we were about 7 years old, also my adoptive niece, Harmony. She turns 2 in June.


Then of course, Mattison, my lovely little ducky, who is turning 2 in just about a week and a half:


and finally, Masen! He's due mid-February:



(Btw, that is Megan's tummy close to the end of her 5th month)

An epiphany that we can't afford.

A little while ago today, I had what some people would call an epiphany. That's very likely the right term for it, too, and now, looking back, I wonder that I didn't see it before. I started with the usual little kid, When I Grow Up dreams... a ballerina, a firefighter, an archaeologist (okay, maybe not THAT usual) and moved on when I realized that I liked helping people to a nurse, a psychiatrist, and a teacher. The last one is the one that stuck with me. In high school, I didn't know what I wanted and because I enjoyed English so much, as well as working with people younger than me, I made up my mind to be an English teacher. It was a good plan. My English teacher was thrilled with the idea, lol, and I was going to settle for it.

That was my first mistake: settling.

I worked from my 7th grade year as a Vacation Bible School helper every year until I graduated high school. I loved the little kids, and I eventually found myself working in the church nursery for a little cash every week. I did that for several years and during those years, I got to take care of and play with children ages 0 to 5, as well as babysitting that I did on the side. I loved it. I adored the babies and I worked with the kids, and I just enjoyed sitting and watching them play sometimes. Other times, I wanted to beat my head against a wall and duck tape them to the roof... but that's how life is with preschoolers, lol.

After high school, Andrew and I moved in together. We got jobs, we moved on with life... and I missed working with children. I missed it so, so terribly, but there were no opportunities around for me to rectify the situation until we moved in with my parents again. We coached jr. high wrestling and the girls' wrestling team as well, and I loved it. I loved the fact that my husband to be willingly tossed me around like a rag doll and willingly allowed his younger brothers to do the same to prove that if I, a girl who usually showed up in skirts with make up and curled hair, could be flung this way and that, so could they, by golly. And of course, we were working with kids, so both of us were incredibly happy.

Life goes on, and the motherhood ache started right about then, so... maybe in about the end of 2007 to the start of 2008. It had always been present, but that's when it starting biting me in the... uterus, as it were, lol...

As I've gotten older, I've come to realize that my happiest moments were spent with babies, whether screaming or laughing, and that I've always been interested in the woman's body, the entire pregnancy process and what happens afterward. I can't see my own blood, but my period has never been a problem. I've watched countless marathons of A Baby Story on TLC without cringing, and the idea of bringing someone into this world fascinates me, not just on a motherly level, but as a spiritual human being. Now, I'm not silly enough to realize all of this makes a good reason for a new career and Lord knows, I might change yet again before I take the steps to accomplish it.

I'm considering being a Certified Professional Midwife. I've looked at the classes, the time it will take, the work it will take, and everything in me is saying, I can do that. I can be there. I can help these women and help these babies. The classes would take about 3 and a half years, but it might take a little longer depending on how many births and exams I can attend to in that time. Aviva Institute offers distance learning through online classes and hand-son experience with qualified women in the area you specify. A CPM is not a nurse midwife. They don't have a nursing degree or anything along those lines, but they are allowed to practice in 11 states, including Arizona and Tennessee.

Aviva Institute Homepage

Midwives specialize in home births and natural births, water births and a lot more, including herbal techniques. There are so many resources behind that link, it boggles the mind. The classes are all interesting to me, with the possible exception of using an IV *feels queasy*, and it's something that Andrew supports whole-heartedly as well.

I'm not going for it yet, but I'd like to. I'm interested and I'm excited about it... and I've never been as excited for a career as I am for this. It's something I'm thinking about... but the fact that gets me is, as many times as I've thought about it, I assumed you had to have a nursing degree. To find out you don't is a dream come true and I wonder why I didn't look into it before. Stubbornness? Settling? I don't know. I feel a little like I'm at a turning point, though, a door that opened and showed me a little more of who I am than I've known before.

Now if that door would open again and show me Andrew's TWO (count 'em, 2) paychecks that have not arrived, I would be a happy camper.

Yeah, we're still living out of savings. This is the last month it will be possible. I don't know what will happen if we don't get something soon. We're out of food as it is, scraping the barrel for stuff to make for dinner and I'm drinking water all day so I don't eat lunch. There's still one more bill to pay, but God has blessed us with not having to pay car insurance or internet this go round, so that helps, but on top of all of it, Andrew has a Class A inspection next month. He has to have certain patches sewn onto his uniform, and moreover, specific boots called jump boots that he has to wear. They cost close to $130 if not more, the patches not sewn on are $26, and all of this plus food, rent, electricity, bird food, the car is on it's last half of a leg with no exaggeration... all this little stuff that we are completely fine with when he gets paid is suddenly HUGE. The only help we might have is if we take out an Army Emergency Relief loan that has no interest, but is a small amount and still has to be paid back. How long will even another $1000 keep us afloat, you know?

*sigh*

One year.

This is not going to be an easy post for me. Please, bear with me. There's gonna be tears by the end of it.


After my post about motherhood and the overwhelming ache that I've been feeling for it, I got some wonderful comments. They were encouraging, and thoughtful, and they were what I needed right when I needed it. Especially yours, Dani... I took all of them into my heart, but yours most of all.

Before I get going, I should explain this. I'm not a religious woman. I believe in God as the Almighty, Jesus as His Son and my personal Savior, and the Holy Ghost as their embodiment in each and every person on earth, but I'm not religious. I have other beliefs, too... I believe that sometimes, for the lessons we need to learn, one life isn't enough and out souls are sent back for another round, maybe even another hundred rounds, until we figure it out. I believe that we were given intuition, empathy, vibrations, and more to guide us in each life we have. I believe in angels that are just as much in our lives as our friends, and I believe that everything I've listed is a God-given blessing. But this post is not about my beliefs, or it wasn't going to be; you need to understand, though, that it has been a long time since I prayed every night, a long time since I spoke to God the way I have been lately, and a long, long time since anyone has actively prayed for me.

Thank you for praying for me, for praying for us, and I'll get to why in a second.

More background for you: my husband is a wonderful man, but he is the epitome of stubborn. Once Andrew's mind is set on something, it literally will take an act of God to change him, he is that dedicated to whatever it is. I've seen it in action: we fought because of it, I've cried a hundred times because of it, and he's been sorry because of it. It's not an easy thing to live with, for either side, but at the same time, how blessed am I to have a man who will stand by his convictions til the day he dies? How many people are like that these days, really? Not as many as there should be. However, that is my love for you: single-minded and set in his ways like an old fart.

We're not very religious, and he's a stubborn, stubborn man, but I've been praying, and you guys have been praying, too, and a few others have been sending good vibes to us: good stuff all the way around.

So, the night before last, we were together in bed and we were about to have a little fun, if you catch my drift, and as I watched him use protection, I whined a little more than usual about it. He tells me that we have to use it, and asks, don't we? And before I can stop myself, out pops the word NO and he looks at me like I've lost my mind for a split second as I redirect myself and tell him, yes... yes, we have to use it *enormous, heartfelt sigh*. Split second finishes and now he's looking at me with those danged gray-blue eyes of his that know me far too well for my own good and we go about our business that I barely enjoy because my heart is in my chest aching and trembling over the fact that I am so, so fertile and he is too, too careful, to the point where not long after I'm in tears from it. By now it's 10 pm and he has to be out of the house by 5:50 the next morning and I can't bring myself to talk about it when he needs the sleep. He asks me if I want to talk and I tell him no, not now, not tonight, maybe later... and we set the date for the next day after he gets off work.

I spent yesterday reading and re-reading and re-re-reading the comments and my post, looking up all kinds of information on babies, costs, what we would need, diapers, everything I could think of to give him numbers if I needed to, and promising myself I wouldn't cry, I wouldn't cry. I spoke to a guy friend on IMVU about it, who gave me a little insight as to how he might be feeling, and he told me the same thing you did, Michelle: no emotions. Guys don't work that way. They need facts, statements, truths, and I saved all of my strength up in order to give him that.

The time came, after we'd spent a good few hours talking anyway (which was nice, it rarely happens these days), to discuss it and for a good period, I did fine. I didn't cry... and then I did, and I got up and left the room. I went to the bathroom and of course he followed me. I told him very plainly that I was trying hard to keep my emotions out of this, please give me a minute, and wait for me in the living room. He did as I asked and I composed myself as well as I could, went back, and we continued. He told me all the things I didn't want to hear, about how we didn't have the financial stability, this and that and this and that, but then I told him how I FEEL, not anything else. I couldn't look at him. I had to look at our garbage can, because if I had I would have cried more, but I told him how much it hurts me every single day, how it's gone beyond a want and become an unending ache in my chest and I think it surprised him. He asked me if I could please try to put it into words and I had to shake my head and tell him no. No because it goes far, far beyond any words I have. And that was the turning point, where he stopped stating facts and started telling me the truth. He told me about how much he wants kids to, but how worried he is because of where we are now. We're leaning on only each other for the first time in our lives, he says, and we have to be sure we can do this before we bring someone else into it. He told me about driving past the elementary school on post and how he sees kids from preschool to high school every day and it tugs at him just as much as it does me, but that he can't bring himself to put a child through what he went through... the moving, the uncertainty, the loss of friends. I told him that it would be 4 years before the child would even realize things were changing. As long as he or she had mommy and daddy for the first few years, life would be fine. He said he wanted to be here for the pregnancy, for the birth, for the child's everything and I understand that, because I want him there too, but how will waiting until later be any different than now? I asked him. He said, the first four years of the military are the hardest. They put you where they want you, you have no choices... you have the lowest quality health care, the lowest quality housing, the lowest quality of everything when you're a private and a private's wife. (which, if you knew the way I grew up, seems like a huge luxury to me. Health care, when I need it? For only a little bit of money out of pocket? Does that make me a princess or what?? Yeah, ask me about my childhood one of these days, it's a doozy) I want us to wait and see how we do here, with everything new, this new job and this new place to live, this whole new situation, before we bring something else new to the equation. Not to mention, we're still new in our marriage. Yes we;ve been together a long time but being married is different, and it's only been a year, most of which I've been gone. Let's have this talk again when my first term is over(we counted and he signed for only 3.5 years. It's been 1 year in October, like our marriage) and see where we are now, because I want to tell them that I'll re-up if they can promise us Ft. Huachuca...

It went on more, but that's pretty much it. The same thing it was before, a no. The only difference is that we came to a compromise that we would talk, instead of in 2 and half more years, in exactly one year. We would see where we were, how we had done in the past year, what the economy was like, and so on and so on. The yearly check up he called it, and I agreed. But I told him that a year from now, whether the answer was yes or no, this ache will still be there, and in fact, it will probably be even stronger.

So that's the results. One year until maybe. One year until we even talk about children again, because I refuse to bring it up any more. It hurts too much to bring it up, even if it's only an offhand comment at the commissary. Right now, a year feels like forever, and I know, in my mind, the same way I know that he's right, that a year will go by before we even blink twice, because they always do. But for my heart, a year is like an eternity. I have to have a plan, and my plan is thus: no more spending. No more getting what I want, when I want it. From now on, I'm going to be saving every last penny I can so that when one year rolls around, I can point to our bank account and say, this is what I've done for the child I don't have yet. So that when one year rolls around, I can point to the second car we have and the first one that runs great and say, this is what I've done in the past year. And I'll do a hundred other little things, things that will put us closer to him being comfortable having a child, even if it means doing things I'm not ready for. We need this... but the only way to get it is that, and I'm terrified of that? Fine, I'll do that, because doing that and getting this might be the turning point next year when we talk about TTC. But even the best plan can't stop my heart from breaking about this.



Taken from Michelle as she's on vacay :D

From Mama's Losing It: Originally posted 2/20/09

The Prompts:
1.) If you were starring on American Idol TONIGHT and HAD to sing, what song would you choose and why.

2.) Take a picture of yourself right this minute without primping and explain to us why it is you have not washed your hair today.

3.) I just asked Pat to help me with a writing prompt so here's his: "What do you think about the NBA All Star game"...blech.

4.) What's your number one pet peeve? Develop a punishment for anyone caught in the act.

5.) Write about something mean you did to a sibling growing up.

Motherhood Ache.

I am frustrated. I am frustrated, I am sad, and I am impatient. Now, I am able to blame this frustrated, sad, and impatient outlook on the fact that I'm a day away from my period, but only a portion of it. The rest is just... well, I am. So there. And when you read the rest of this, you're probably going to call me selfish, you're probably going to tell me I'm too young. You'll think I'm a silly little girl, perhaps, and undeserving of such an honor.

So here I go. Judge as you see fit.
Every day, I go to the PX and the Commissary, and I see lots of people. I see lots of women... and these women have children. They have babies, they have big bellies. Most of them have a child, a toddler, and a big belly. I hate admitting it, but oh, I am jealous. I see these sweet little ones, or the not so sweet little ones, and 9 times out of 10, my eyes fill up and I have to look away because it breaks my heart. I want to reach out and hold one of them, and just pretend for a little tiny second that this little boy, or that little girl, is actually MY baby. There are days when after seeing pregnant woman upon pregnant woman that I go home and stare at my flat tummy in the mirror and wonder, what if? What if there was a little person in there? What would it be like? How would I feel? Would he or she know me? What would Andrew say, how would he react? How angry would he be with me if we were unexpectedly expecting?

There are days when I don't think about it at all. Those are the days when I am too busy cleaning, playing with the bird, or running errands elsewhere to think about having a baby, when I'm not inundated with images of little tiny life and I can't consider how much it's missing from my own. Those days are few and far between. If you talk to him, Andrew would tell you that I'm always pointing out the antics of children, of that little boy in front of us in line at the Comm. that kept bringing back Ding Dongs to put in the cart, and Mom just kept taking them and putting them back. Or the little girl that was staring flat out at both of us at Walmart, like we might have been aliens, probably because we didn't have kids. We don't have kids.

But oh, I want to.

Blogging isn't helping, either. I read these posts from women who have three, four, five little lives in their hands and I think, how lucky they are! How much I wish I was in their shoes! Quiverful families, or my cousin's family... people that are blessed and blessed and blessed and it only serves to make me more upset, more impatient.

You see, as far as I know, I can. We can. We can make babies, we can have little ones, but we aren't. Andrew wants to wait, he doesn't want a child right now. He says we don't have the money, we don't have the room, we don't have the stability. What don't we have? We have him with a steady job, with good security, and extra money building in the account every day. We have a two bedroom apartment, and a 4 door car that runs well. We love each other very much, we have very few minor problems in the relationship (such as when he doesn't rinse the dishrag, I'm going to strangle him, lol). I KNOW our finances like the back of my hand, and I'll tell you, that yes, it will be tough, but it's possible for us to afford a baby right now. I've brought it up to him, and he knows. He sees the look in my eyes when I see a child, he sees the tears... and he looks away. I don't know if he looks away to keep from having to see it, because it makes him mad, or if he turns away because he hates to see me cry, or if it's so that he doesn't have to see me cry over something that is, partly, his doing. I don't know. But he doesn't like to see it. We've talked about it, and now the excuse is he wants to wait until his first term is over to see if he's done, or if he re-ups. And he says, once the term is over, then we can have kids. So I was excited for a while, I was thinking to myself, that's great! Two years! I can wait two more years, right? Yeah, yeah, sure I can... and then he said he's probably going to re-enlist. I thought about that and asked, but if you re-enlist, and you don't want kids in the Army, what does that mean for us? Because if he re-ups, he's going to stay it out and retire... that's twenty years.

I can wait two. I can. I'll make myself. But twenty? I'll be 41 years old, and yes, I realize that's a fine age to have children... but not for me. I want to have the energy I have now, the body I have now, the health, the ideals, all of it, when I have children, not what I'll have in 20 long years as an Army wife.

He says that if he re-ups for the next twenty, "we'll see where we are". Okay, reasonable. Don't really wanna have a baby in Germany, got it, sure, fine. But if we're in the USA? I need answers from him, and he won't give them to me, and God help me, but I'm crying even while I'm typing this, thinking about it.

So I'm frustrated, because I have never wanted anything so much in my entire life as to have my own beautiful child. I'm sad, because the answers I'm getting from the man I love suggest that he may not really want to have children at all, even though we've talked about names and how far apart and everything else, and he was excited then... and I don't think I can live my life and be who I'm supposed to be without having children. They're my life and I haven't even begun one of them yet. I'm impatient, because I've been taking risks, just to try. Days that I'm not perfectly infertile, I've been treating as safe, on the off chance that maybe God has a different plan than my husband, but I'm starting to think they're in cahoots. I'm impatient because even in the best circumstance, two years is still a very long time for something I need more than breathing.

So there. Yell at me. Tell me all kinds of awful things. But now you know why the blogs I follow are the ones that belong to mothers with families. It's jealousy and admiration and the fact that I can't get parenting out of my head long enough to think a sane thought, so much that I look for examples of what I want to do with my own children in others' words. And now you know the thing I don't tell people, too, this motherhood ache that I have, the fact that my biological clock isn't just ticking, it's ding donging in there to get my attention.

See you later.