Settling Down

Last night my family and I grabbed our ponchos and strolled downtown for an evening of 80s music and fireworks. While it may seem we were prepared due to my mention of ponchos, we were decidedly unprepared. We noticed this soon after we arrived at Lakeside park with no ID card with which to admit our ready-to-pee, penis-holding three-year-old to the restroom. You see, in our neighborhood, one has to have his town ID card to get into the amenities, such as the awesome playground our kids had to sit next to all night without being able to go in, because I forgot aforementioned card.

Also woefully left behind was the blanket we were to sit on, the cold beverages and tasty snacks, and the card game we would have enjoyed until someone got tired of losing and threw the cards all over the grass. Insect repellent: who would have thought to bring that along on a warm Florida night near the lake?

So we perched on our ponchos amidst our fellow townspeople who could pee when they wanted or send their whiny kids to the playground or pick up the Uno cards their sore loser seven-year-old tossed at her brother's head. We waited about two hours there shooing bugs and playing solitaire on our phones. We "watered" the bushes and found some toys in the bottom of my backpack amidst the layers of toddler snack crumbs, diapers, and sand. The children quit fighting and complaining about lack of snackage. It didn't even rain as expected. Little by little the "misery" eased (it wasn't true misery after all). We settled down.

I wish to "settle down" in the other areas of my life. Like our outing on the Fourth, our lives are lacking due to not being prepared. Granted, it is not easy to prepare to move a family of eight out of state and start a new job and life, but I am rethinking our decisions this past year. We have moved three times. We are currently paying high rent. We need new cars. We may have been emotionally damaged by homeschooling. I am only partly joking on that last one. Our decisions have gotten us to this place in our lives, and this place is not ideal.

Let me go back a few steps. I said it wasn't true misery on our Fourth of July outing. It wasn't. We were sitting under the stars waiting to see breathtaking displays of pyrotechnics to celebrate the amazing country in which we live. My baby girl perched on my belly as I lay on my back to view the show. The rest of my family was flung out beside me, the sparkles reflected in their eyes. It was worth the wait, and the wait wasn't all that bad anyway (spoiled Americans we are!). Reflecting back on that outing, let me put my life in perspective. The place we are in is not ideal, but it is far from horrible. We live in a beautiful home in a beautiful town, albeit temporarily. I could go on about the ocean, the weather, the Mouse at our disposal, blah, blah... We have the challenging, but fun task of finding a permanent home, school, and "life" for a family of eight. We may not have things exactly as we want, but like the fireworks display, all's well that ends well.

Midsummer Night

I am eating my Peanut Butter Captain Crunch as various minutiae orbit my mind. The peeling laminate on the drawer, the baby in the photo, the loud washing machine containing the VBS shirts that need to be clean by tomorrow. I should brush my teeth and go to bed, but some nights, like this one, delay me. What is the thing I should be doing instead of sleeping?

I am too tired to think of it. Pull away, brush the teeth. The bed will stop the searching, unless my pillow puts the answer in my head.

What's this Cardboard Thing with Pictures on It?

Why does it feel good to see my children sitting around the kitchen table playing Chutes and Ladders? Yet, seeing them in their respective bedrooms playing PSP and DSI brings no fuzzy feelings.

I have always loved board games, cards, and dominoes. I do enjoy the occasional video game, but I love the human interaction and physicality that comes with games like Monopoly and Uno. I think kids like those things too. It is ironic, but I think my kids like the "novelty." For me, it is the nostalgia.

I am always happy to retrieve the games for them from the closet, even though I know that, in this house, a board game never ends well. They end with silver thimbles thrown on the floor, or maybe a preschooler throwing himself on the floor. Dice are rolled, then eyes are rolled. Tears and tantrums. Yes, we have sore losers. Often, games are played too close to bedtime for tiny temperaments to handle. Then there is the cleaning up (or not) of little pieces, fake money, and flitting cards.

Why do I still enjoy handing them Operation or Connect Four? You see, all that fighting and frustration is good for them. Video games bring frustration as well, but a computer won't talk back or fight. It is good for children to work out these human conflicts and have a little fun while they're at it. They also practice different skill sets playing a board game than with a computer game.

Secretly, I am glad board games, flat, non-animated, and sans flashing screens, still entertain my children. It means they still have innocence of some sort. They aren't completely spoiled by modern technology.

I'm sure I'm not the only parent who gets an uneasy feeling by the fact that my kids know more about computers (or possibly everything) than I did at their age. In fact, it is because of computers that they probably know more about everything. This knowledge separates us, and it does so early. My three-year-old is already joining the ranks of the computer literate, as are most three-year-olds.

So help me Candyland. Work your magic, Slap Jack. Keep them a little longer laughing at the kitchen table. Sibling rivalry, you're OK, go ahead and stay. It's better to play and fight than to never play at all.

Home is Where the Heart Is

I am packing tonight for the third move here in Orlando. We stayed in corporate housing for the first two months before finding a rental we loved in Reunion. We planned to stay for a while, as we are hesitant about buying a house in Florida. The home was foreclosed by the bank, unfortunately. We were offered a sum to move by the end of the month, and we decided to take it instead of staying for the end of our lease. I may regret that decision.

It's tough work to move. Moving from Indiana to Georgia was tough enough to make me not want to do it again. From Georgia to Florida, we had movers do most of the work, but the "work" is not just packing and lifting, it is also mental and emotional. We had to move ourselves from the apartment to our Reunion house, and that was bittersweet for our children. They were glad to be in a house instead of a small apartment, but moving means upheaval. It was more of that. Now, even more.

We are moving from this house that was starting to feel more like home every day. The kids loved their bedrooms and their own bathrooms. We hadn't even swum in our pool yet. Again, it is bittersweet. The kids are excited to be moving to a better school district and go to a school with other children instead of being homeschooled. The new neighborhood has lots of kids for playmates. It is bittersweet because the move makes us feel homesick. Homesick for our old house, sure, but also just in the generic sense. We want a home for keeps.

While packing, I found a small planter that my mom gave me. It was my grandmother's. It's vintage, but nothing of monetary value. When I unpacked it back in December at the Reunion house, my husband asked if I wanted to keep it. We were thinning out, since we didn't have as much storage here. I said to put it in the "maybe pile," because it was my grandmother's and also chartreuse, my favorite color at the moment. It has a pink dogwood flower on it, and reads "home is where the heart is." As it turned out, I didn't even have time to sort out the maybe pile, and it is there that I again find the planter. I reexamine it, thinking of the Goodwill box. I read the message again and know its destiny is not to be among the other discards on a thrift store shelf.

Earlier this evening, I was thinking of a pep talk for my kids. Emotions are tender and tough. The environment here is uncertain. The planter's little saying hits home, pardon the pun. Wherever we are, as a family who loves one another, that's where the heart and home is. After we return the rental truck to Uhaul, after we get around to unpacking all the boxes for a third time, we are heading to Home Depot and picking out a little plant. Maybe an African violet would look nice in this inherited pot that is destined for the window sill of our new "home."

Adventures in Moving

Moving Day

We'd been planning our trip to Disney World for several months. We helped clean a local park and got free tickets through Disney's Give-a-Day, Get-a-Day program. Finally, we were heading to Orlando over Labor Day weekend. Coincidentally, Steve landed a job interview with Disney, so he coordinated it with our trip.

I enjoyed Magic Kingdom as much as I could, being eight months pregnant. I have actually never been to that park not pregnant, so I am used to swollen feet, aching back, etc. etc. of being at a theme park all day with an extra passenger.

Steve had his interview, and I didn't think much of it, as he'd had many interviews this past year. Maybe it would work out, maybe not. Whatever happened, I'm sure it would happen way after the baby was born.

Steve got a call from Disney only a few days after we returned from Orlando. He was offered a job. I was in shock. Didn't the company have a bunch of red tape it needed to cut through, a number of people to consult, many other tasks to do, taking a month or two, before they could just hire Steve? I was going on nine months pregnant! We didn't need another life change. I told Steve I was OK with moving to Orlando, but I was having the baby first, and the kids were finishing the nine weeks period at school.

Steve accepted the job and gave October 11th as his start date. Our baby was due the third, so he thought he was in the clear. Dear Steve forgot that our babies tend to be late. If our little one was two weeks late, that would put her birthday on the 14th. However, I had a good feeling about this one. I really thought she was going to be a forty-weeker. The one constant in all my pregnancies is that I start having serious pains two weeks before the birth. The pains started at 38 weeks, so I was hoping 40 weeks would be the time. Thus, I agreed to the start date of the 11th, and moving date of October eighth, after the kids got out of school. Disney did say Steve could start later if the baby didn't come in time, but he was really hoping to get a good start at his new company without having to ask for time off right off the bat.

October third came and went. Then the fourth, and the fifth... We had painters coming and going, cleaning crews, packers (who packed our stove knob by mistake), and movers. We were slowly closing up our Georgia life. One thing remained "open." Our last little Sullivan still had not arrived. We were getting nervous. We knew we weren't able to make the eighth as moving day. Maybe the ninth, or maybe Steve could go ahead without us. We were trying to figure it out, when I decided maybe I would have an induction.

A semi truck worth of stuff

I don't like inductions; I learned with my first pregnancy that Pitocin is not my friend. I realized that an induction may not even be an option, anyway, because I had had a previous c-section. We were getting desperate. We went to talk to my doctor. He said, "come in tomorrow morning, and we'll get you out of this pickle." Elated, but also nervous (I'd had all of my babies except the c-section, without medication or interventions) we left the doctor's office to prepare. Steve's mom came down to help with the kids.

As the evening went on, I told Steve we were probably going to the hospital that night. My "pains" that started two weeks prior, were organizing themselves into regular, consistent contractions. Sure enough, little Delaney Grace was born that night, October sixth at 10:33 PM. I suppose we just had to threaten her with the induction to get her to come out.

Eli, Sawyer, and Delaney

We were released to an empty house on the eighth, our original moving day. I slept on an air mattress. We decided Steve was going to Orlando on the ninth with or without us. We just had to decide if I could make the trip, or come later after resting up. Well, this being my sixth baby (and ninth pregnancy), I just didn't feel that beat up. It was an easy delivery, and she was sleeping a lot still. The house was empty, and so I decided to go ahead to Orlando with Steve the next day. Yes, you are reading this right. I birthed a baby on the sixth, and took a roadtrip on the ninth. Yes, for those of you who haven't caught on yet, we are crazy. Did you miss the fact that we now have six kids? We are still waiting on Amazon to deliver our straight jackets.

We loaded up the vehicles and said good-bye to Kilmersdon Lane. I went to use the bathroom before we left. I heard a plink and a small crashing sound. I looked down in horror to see my cell phone in the toilet. It had fallen out of my back pocket. I grabbed it and dried it off the best I could, but it was ruined. Now, I wouldn't be able to keep in contact with Steve on our road trip.

I go outside to share the news only to find that our van won't start. We had left the doors open all morning. Steve jumped the van and told me he'd meet me at Chipotle for lunch. I left him and his mom and got a head start for my burrito.

I turned the corner and drove through a big pile of glass. Great, now I could get a flat tire and not be able to call Steve. Steve and his mom would drive through this pile of glass later. So Steve's mom could get a flat on her way back to Indiana by herself.

At Chipotle, the kids and I wondered what was taking Steve and Baka (my kids' name for her) so long. Finally, they came in and told us Baka's van wouldn't start (this is a problem with Dodge minivans). We were off to a terrific start (pardon the pun).

All's well that ends well. The rest of the trip was uneventful and the baby slept through most of it as did I. Just kidding. We agreed that if I got tired we would stop. We broke the trip up into two parts. Four hours each day. Not bad for a sleep-deprived mama.

We're sort-of settled here in Orlando. We're in temporary housing and the kids aren't in school yet. We are ready for our new adventure in Florida. We'll sell our Atlanta house (hopefully), get a new one, make new friends, explore the state, but we miss our old life. It is painful, but exciting. Just like giving birth, no pain, no gain!

Eli and the view from our new balcony

We began our married life in Indianapolis. Seven years later we moved away from our home state of Indiana to the foreign land of Georgia. I was pregnant then too. New house, new job, new state... Another seven years later, here we are again. Who knows where the next seven years will take us?

Why We are Going to Hell

Bubble Boy asked me, "what state does God live in?" We had just gotten back home after visiting relatives out of state for Easter. We had traveled through three states, and the kids always get excited to cross the borders. Bubble Boy knows his grandparents live in Indiana and he has cousins living in various states. Naturally, he wondered in what state God resides.

I told him God doesn't live in a state or even on Earth. Most people believe God lives in a place called heaven, and that might be in outer space, but no one really knows where heaven is. At least, that is my belief. "But, you will see him some day," I told him.

"When I'm dead?"

"Yes."

He put his head down, and I noticed he was crying. I asked him, "what's the matter- you really want to see God?"

"Uh-huh."

"Would you like to start going to church so you can learn more about God?" We never go to church, but always say we will start going someday.

"Uh-huh." He is feeling better now.

Is this mere curiosity or is he missing something in his life? People usually seek out God when they need fulfilling of some sort. He's four. What fulfilling could he need? All kids are curious about God, but do they cry when they can't see him?

As parents, I believe we are guides for our children. We can impart upon them our wisdom and beliefs, but should also allow them to explore other beliefs on their own, hopefully with our guidance (we are the guides after all). We haven't been going to church, and I feel we are denying our children an experience. Perhaps we aren't church goers because we don't feel it is crucial to our well-being. What if it is crucial to our children's well-being?

Here is this little wide-eyed four-year-old who wants to know God. As Christians, it feels sinful to not make this happen. However, even an atheist should allow her children to explore religion. A child should learn about the world for himself and not just from what his parents tell him.

In any case, the former Baptist in me says we better set the alarm clock next Sunday, or we parents are really going to HELL.

Rewind, Pause, Fast-Forward

Today is the day. Was supposed to be the day, anyway. Only five percent of babies are born on their due dates. Lily's already gone, so no sighing when today comes and goes and I still have a huge belly to "sleep" around tonight. I wish I could rewind to the day I saw her tiny arms waving during her ultrasound. To the day our children's faces lit up at the thought of another baby. If only I could enjoy again those brief moments before we lost her. To rewind and not feel this pain.

Things are back to normal around here. However, it is not the same normal. After a tragedy, the old normal is never felt again. The same is true of any major experience. My life has to accommodate this change and all the pain, lessons, and inconveniences that go with it. It is a "process," it does "take time," but in the meantime, a new normal is constructed for survival.

We have a new normal and a new reality. Our baby plans have been pushed back. I am not having a baby girl, our last child, this March at the age of 36. We still want to go for another baby, because we are nuts. So, I will be pregnant this summer. I won't be able to paint and vacations must be considered. I have to wait another several months to find out if my daughter will finally have to share her room or if my oldest boy will get his own room. I will be another year older when our last Sullivan arrives.

These inconveniences won't mean anything when we finally hold that last little baby in our arms. The nine months we have to wait will be scary and tiring. Morning sickness and fatigue, etc. Before every ob appointment, I will be holding my breath until the heartbeat is heard or until the tiny image appears, moving, on the ultrasound screen. I wish I could fast-forward.

At the same time I wish to rewind and fast-forward, but we all know we have to enjoy life in the moment. The cliches are all true. Our children grow up in the blink of an eye. I have to remind myself daily to enjoy them now. So I smell the baby shampoo in my toddler's hair as he hugs his "Melmo," see my school-agers pretending to be spies with all their homemade gadgets, watch my husband squeezing our four-year-old who is giggling only as four-year-olds can. Pause.