Deep breaths

Walking around the house tonight it started to occur to me just how much I have to do. My list was literally growing every minute and I began to feel overwhelmed and stressed. Braden graduates this week and his whole family is coming to stay. And then we move two days later. There is a lot that goes into that. Over the course of the last hour my mood changed and I started to feel incredibly burdened and irritated. Then while I was sweeping I thought back to bedtime just three hours ago and remembered how I was so absolutely happy. I had FHE with the girls- we sang songs and I told Anabelle several stories from the scriptures. We read from the Book of Mormon and she got it. She grasped the principles and was excited about learning it. We laid in her bed together tickling faces and hair and arms and giving kisses. She said, "Mom, remember the rule: No matter how big I get I will always be your little girl. I will never get too big to hold your hand, or give you kissies or lovies, or tell you love secrets". She told me I was the best and prettiest Mom. She is so tender with me. So nurturing and loving. It was a moment of pure joy. One of those rare moments when you realize you actually have everything in the world- and you feel so complete. So instead of checking things off my list and being efficient around the house I decided that I would come write down how perfectly happy it makes me to be a Mom. How very honored and downright lucky I am to spend my days with these delightful girls. In coming years it won't matter that I didn't accomplish most of the things on my list and that my house doesn't look anything like I want it to. But I want Anabelle to know how these nights with her fill me up in a way I can't describe. I don't ever want these days to end. So at the risk of being totally unprepared for the next insane week, I feel the need to stop and make sure I'm not missing what's really going on here. That I don't get so distracted by all my accomplishing that I forget what it is I'm really trying to do. You know, big picture stuff.

Snack Mom's weekend report

Nothing gets the weekend kicked off to a good start like a surprise party. Especially when you're the surprisee. Our ward had a playgroup baby shower for Golden Diamond (Anabelle's latest name for the babe). It was so perfect and thoughtful. It does not make it easier to leave the Hoover ward. Not at all. They should have thrown trash at me and pointed out my dreadful split ends so I don't have to cry next week when I start saying good bye. I was excited that I actually had my camera in my backpack. I took it out. I set it on the counter. And at the end of the shower I picked it back up. And that is the story of why I have no pictures.

Happily and thankfully, Anabelle had a wild turnaround on Friday afternoon (thanks to Marilyn). There are no words for the gratitude. I was losing it.

When Braden got home Saturday night we ran some errands, went to our favorite restaurant (Costco), and stocked him up on junk food. After the girls went to bed I was sitting at the table and Braden, wearing his AF getup, broke out the impersonation bag and started telling me stories of the last 10 weeks. I think even people who know him pretty well probably don't know how hilarious his voices and impersonations are. It is the talent he stashes under the bushel and only busts it out with a very select few. It is one of my favorite things about being home with him. I had tears rolling down my cheeks, my big belly was shaking like jelly (which makes us laugh harder), I even had to use the double fan. It was medicinal. It was the Braden I miss. Even though we get to talk on the phone sometimes or even see each other, I feel like I rarely get Braden my husband or Braden my childrens' father. It's usually OT Reynolds with a hint of Braden. It was an hour of normalcy and I needed that.

Sunday flew by with me holding a sick Lila. She's even sweeter when she's sick. Melts my heart. Anabelle handled the departure much much better. Here's hoping for a great week. I'm sure Braden is in heaven. We won't talk to him all week because he is on a week long paintball war against the commissioned staff. They arrived at a camp this morning and they get off the bus under enemy fire and have to overtake them. Basically the best week of work ever in his life. Can't wait for these stories.

Survival

Well here I am approaching another weekend. Exciting? Yes, of course. Dreadful? Yep, that too. I still haven't recovered from last weekend. No, really, I mean that.

This week was about survival. I don't want to say survival of the fittest, because that's clearly not how I feel right now. Survival of the hormonal? Survival of the perpetually hungry? At any rate, I found myself just trying to make it to bedtime without absolutely losing it. Big aspirations, I know.

The scene when Braden had to leave last Sunday was just pitiful. Tears all around. Weeping and wailing through the brushing of teeth. This went on for hours. I put Anabelle to bed in his AF undershirt with her new AF bear that he brought home for her. It became clear to me that her increasingly terrible behavior has a lot to do with this whole situation. I knew it was part of the equation but was unsure exactly how much. And now I know. Screams of anger, sobs of sadness, nothing pretty. Now she has this thing where if I am not in her sight she screams her face off and has a little panic attack. Peeing alone? In my dreams. But she is also dreadfully mean to me at all times of the day and night. She is past caring about any form of discipline. She is absolutely not herself. Not sweet, not funny, not happy. It's not good. She tried to make me promise her that when Dad is done with "soldier practice" as she calls it, that he will never ever leave her ever again. Yikes. I promised her that he would spin her around in the laundry basket when he comes home tomorrow. That's pretty much the same thing, right?

But Lila's good with it. She does this fabulous squeal/giggle/scream whenever she hears his voice and otherwise she just drags her dog around the house waiting for bath time and hoping for a cup of juice to get thrown at her.


3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks, 3 weeks,......



Post-hysterics slumber

...at the mention of "Dad"....