Marriage is Scary

Marriage is hard. Extremely hard.

It's not all pretty.

In fact, it can get pretty ugly at times.

I found this quote which pretty much sums it up:

More marriages might survive if the partners realized that sometimes the better comes after the worse.
                                                                                                                                ~ Doug Larson


Big Yankee and I are on our 13th year of happily ever after. Yeah, lucky 13. Looking back over the years we've had some of the better and some of the worse. These last four years-they feel like someone trucked in an oversize load of worse and dumped it on us.

We are making it...barely at times. Struggling to communicate across thousands of miles through texts, phone calls and an occasional email. Trying to share the burdens that can't really be transported across time and space.

Both of us trying to give to the other when we are sucked bone dry. Both of us are scared shitless of the what ifs-what if our house doesn't sell? what if my unemployment runs out before we move? what if it happens again? what if? Wondering how much longer our family will survive this kind of life without breaking in two...or two thousand pieces.

And then I feel guilty and selfish for feeling this way. Separations are a way of life for military families. And they have the added stress of putting their lives on the line.

Thankful Thursday

Trying to put a positive spin on life here in Fractured Family Tales land. Lately it seems I am sucked deep into the "woe is me" vortex. So here are some things I appreciate today:

1.  Nobody (including me!! go me!) yelled, cried or threw things while getting ready for school this morning.

2. THESE. No more sitting on kids, plugging noses and squirting nasty tasting liquid meds down their throats (which they promptly spew everywhere). StinkBug woke up with a sore throat and willingly took these magic pills.

3. PreCool Art class brings me great joy...and 45 minutes in which I can hit the track @ the recreation center without the drama of "I don't want to go to the toy room by myself!!" Ms. Sarah rocks with her enthusiasm and positive interactions.

4. Target. It's my happy place. My Mecca. My house of worship. I went today with two extremely energetic boys and it was paradise. They begged and pleaded to get in one of those annoying monstrosities-2 seated carts- and I indulged. The boys loved my crazy driving skillz and grabbing the cart just shy of crashing down a display of underwire bras sent them into fits of giggles while simultaneously covering each other's eyes and yelling "Don't look at the bras! Whatever you do, don't look at the bras!" The senior citizens shopping were not nearly as appreciative of my talents.

5. BATS..my new invention and healthy too! Bacon (turkey), avocado, tomato, and spinach on 

these: 

6. I'm working on a surprise for Big Yankee. I can't even give you any hints because he reads me. (Everyone wave and shout BIG YANKEE!) Let's just say it is going to be magnificent.

What are you thankful for this fine day?

Guilty

I have a confession to make.

My almost 5 year old doesn't sleep thru the night.

Yes FIVE. YEAR. OLD.

Nope he isn't 5 months or 15 months. He is two weeks shy of five years old!

He has very rarely slept thru the night since birth and it is mostly our fault.

Probably more mine than Big Yankee's as his work schedule rarely had him home at bedtime those first three years.

This means that I haven't slept thru the night in 5 years...more accurately ten years but that's Einstein's fault and probably another post.

I am chronically sleep-deprived.

Our living situations have been less than ideal for the past 15 months. With two days warning Big Yankee and Stinkbug headed south for a job. It sucked but it was the only way we could both keep our jobs which we desperately needed to do. They lived with my parents during the week and came home on weekends.

How do you explain THAT to a 3 1/2 year old?

It got to the point where he just slept with Big Yankee because it was the only for him to get enough sleep to function at work the next day. StinkBug would spend the week being an only child, hanging with grandparents all day and Daddy at night. When the weekend rolled around he would return to the chaos of a busy household with a brother, sister and Momma he missed desperately.

In mid January my dad got sick.Very. Very. Sick. ICU sick.

By then Big Yankee and all the monkeys had moved South and I was here clinging to my high stress job while looking for work there and praying that our house would sell. It was heartbreaking. With NO warning StinkBug moved back with me. His world was rocked once more. He went from living in a house full of people and hanging out with grandparents all day to being wrapped in a blanket and dropped off at Ms. L's home childcare at 6:30 am. He was once again separated from his beloved sister.

I spent all day teaching other people's at-risk 3-5 year olds. We were going through some extremely high stress times in our classroom and with the school as a whole. I was worried about my parent's health. I couldn't stop imagining worst case scenarios. I was completely and utterly exhausted. Physically and emotionally. My family was fractured and financial stress was off the charts. I wasn't sleeping. My brain would not shut off.

I was too tired and too empty to wage war over sleep. It got to the point where I just let him get in bed with me. I took the easy way out. He would watch a movie and fall asleep. I was relying on Tylenol PM to get some Zzzzs. Far from ideal, but I did what I had to do in order to survive. Big Yankee and the older two came home on the weekends.

The summer brought us layoffs times two but we were all back together in our own house. StinkBug's sleep improved somewhat but it wasn't a huge deal since no one had school or work to worry about. We messed that all up by going on a 21 day road trip where we traveled to eleven states and slept in a bazillion different places. Two weeks after we returned, Big Yankee moved across country for a job, the big kids went back to school, and StinkBug's world was torn apart once more.

Through lots of tears and heartbreak (his and mine) Stinkbug was once more sleeping in his own bed and only waking up three nights a week. My dreams were coming true. The birds were singing, double rainbows decorated our world and life was good. I was hopeful that he would be sleeping through the night by his fifth birthday.

Things started to slowly deteriorate and by Thanksgiving he was back to waking every single night. Big Yankee's Christmas visit was amazing but his departure left a broken hearted little boy. Sobbing, crying, clinging to me. Scared if I leave the room he shares with his brother for a split second. He comes into my room every single night.

He doesn't sleep through the night and I feel guilty. It's our fault. We have put him through so much. Too many transitions, complicated living situations. As adults we can barely make sense of things, so how can we expect him to manage?

As I solo parent there are many, many nights I am beyond desperate for bedtime so I can have a few moments to myself.

Moments when I am not needed-when I can take care of myself and enjoy the silence, when I can really breathe and let go of the day-when I am not being touched or talked to. When I get to be me.

And then I will hear his feet padding down the hall.  He clings to his pirate pillow as he  stands in my doorway and says, "I thought I told you I needed you? Can I lay down with you?"

I pull the blankets down and pat the bed. It's our fault. We are guilty.

I look at his big brother who won't allow himself to need us like that anymore.

My heart breaks for both of them.

Avoidance Tactics

After dropping off the kids at school (Was I still in pj pants? No Comment) I was thrilled to receive a text request for a house showing-tomorrow evening.

YES I text back in all caps (because if it's not all caps they call you which means talking to a living, breathing human).

I look at my living room which has become headquarters for Project Organization 2012. I have two of these

a massive pile of important papers, enough art supplies to stock Michael's, my newly acquired Dymo Label Maker, and a random assortment of other crap  random items I have deemed essential for survival. The vaccuum cleaner is still plugged in (yes it has been there for three days...you got a problem with that?) ready to suck up any renegade white pine needles I may find. A mammoth cardboard box overflows with gifts from Christmas at my parents..waiting patiently to be unpacked and put away.

 My kitchen table has transformed into a Playdoh Mega Fun Factory command post.

 Two Rescue Forces helicopters use the coffee table as their launching pad. John Deere tractors, Caterpillar front end loaders and dump trucks stake claim to any remaining floor space as two little boys start their "work day."

And don't even get me started on the rest of the house.

So rather than ACTUALLY take steps to prepare for previously mentioned house showing tomorrow I will provide you with a list of things to do in order to avoid cleaning and staging the house.

1. Tweet about it. Ask for cleaning fairies.

2. Call and see if little boy down the street can come over to play because it is so EASY to clean and organize with two demanding tornadoes  calm, independent children shadowing you.

3. Cyber stalk electric company to see if current bill has been posted.

4. Tweet your shock at electric bill increasing by $30.

5. Flip through rec center catalog and circle activities that you and children fantasize about doing.

6. Get out your spiffy new old school calender (Thank you Barnes & Noble) and consult as you consider enrollment in various activities.

7. Spend 10 minutes looking for images of your rad calender to post on blog. Unsuccessful.

8. Text Big Yankee about house showing "I don't know how I will get it all done!"

9. Check Facebook to see if your MIL has responded to your message so you can plan for their arrival accordingly.

10. Go to realtor.com and greedily devour house porn where you will be moving. 

11. Check dryer and dump clothes on the only made bed in the house. Vow to return in 5 minutes to fold and put them away.

12. Intervene before all hell breaks loose between 2 little boys. Send them downstairs to make a fort out of the sofa cushions because you are a glutton for punishment.

13. Check Facebook so you can get your recommended daily allowance of annoyance.

14. Write a blog post about how to avoid getting your house ready for a showing.

Desperately Seeking Sleep

Sleep

I am in such desperate need of it and yet it continues to evade me. It has been a week now and I am starting to  beyond desperate. With three sleep challenged monkeys I have probably only slept thru the night a handful of times over the last 10 years but I usually manage to patch together a decent night's sleep. Luckily, I can coerce StinkBug into a nap once a week and you can be damn sure I join him! By nature (and unemployment) I am a night owl but by the time Friday rolls around I usually fall into bed exhausted by the time 11 o'clock rolls around.

It all started over the holidays. Between Big Yankee's visit and the kids's being out of school we just did whatever the hell we wanted. Since the monkeys were staying up later this meant we HAD to stay up later  if we wanted any chance of time alone. Seeing as we have have been separated by 1231 miles since August we were desperate for time together...alone. No more details or images necessary I assume? With another parent at home I had many opportunities to sleep late. I may or may not have slept until noon on more than one occasion.

The monkey's went back to school last week so regular routines and normal bedtimes are happening once again...for them. My body and brain however, are rebelling with all their might. I do my standard evening routine and still I lie awake at night...tossing and turning and becoming increasingly agitated by the minute. I have been operating on 5-6 hours of intermittent sleep for the past 8 days. I am cranky, impatient, groggy, and drinking too much caffeine to name a few.

So what can I do? My options are limited....as the only adult here I can't go to bed until they do. We barely make bedtime as it is so pushing their's earlier won't help. In fact, it would likely backfire as things would be more rushed and increase the likelihood of meltdowns-both theirs and mine. I managed a nap once this week but trying for more than that isn't very realistic. I can't help but think the naps could be screwing up my nighttime sleep even more. 

I have resorted to taking Benadryl twice now in the past week. Though I wake up a bit foggy it does work it's magic but I don't want to rely on it. There was a time last year I was taking OTC sleep meds 5 to 6 nights a week in order to get some zzz's. My doctor was aware of it and assured me it was fine but when I got to the point where I absolutely could not fall asleep without it that was my wake up call. Luckily some things in my life changed a bit and over time I was able to wean myself of sleep meds completely. While I NEED sleep I am afraid it would be a slippery slope.

How much sleep do you get a night? What do you do when you can't fall asleep?

Big Yankee On the Prowl

I am thrilled to introduce my VERY FIRST guest blogger:

 BIG YANKEE

aka my husband. Even better is that I convinced him to write about 


                                ME!ME!ME! 


It's going to be a he said/she said series of how we met posts. Amazingly enough he is going first.

Robbie K. -- a name I've never addressed her by in the 16 years we've known one another, you should know -- asked me to write about how she met and ultimately fell in love with me, The Big Yankee. Don't know which moment provided the latter, but I can definitely tell you about the former.


We have Darius Rucker to thank for our first encounter. For those of you under the age of 30, there was this band in the mid-1990s called Hootie and the Blowfish. And I loved me some Hootie back in the day. Or at least until they came out with Fairweather Johnson. Blecch. 


But enough of that. I was in Oklahoma, on assignment with my college newspaper at the University of Utah, covering an NCAA softball regional tournament. Just as important as Hootie was in setting up my first encounter with Robbie so was the Utah softball team, which won something like 15 of 16 games to end the year just to qualify for the NCAA Tournament. 

The coach at Utah, Jo Evans, is now at Texas A&M. I think she's won a national title there, or come pretty damn close. One of these days, I'll have to give her a ring and tell her what she wrought with that win streak (and it wasn't a deep run in the NCAA Tournament; Utah went, as they like to say in baseball, two and barbecue. Translation: They lost both games in a double-elimination tournament, thereby ending their season).


So on Friday night, after Utah lost its first game, that I went prowling down Washington Street, aka, The Strip. The only thing that would cause anyone to confuse Stillwater's Strip with the Las Vegas Strip is the sheer amount of alcohol flowing from ... ahem ... local businesses. But even though school was out, I had a great time at Willie's -- it's where Garth Brooks had his first public performance in 1986 while an OSU student -- and J.R. Murphy's. 

Headed back to my room in the hotel that's housed in the OSU student union, I didn't notice the bar on the top story of a two-story building. But I heard Hootie -- it was Let Her Cry, a song you couldn't go halfway down the radio dial without some station playing it. I had 30 minutes until last call, so I headed up the stairs.

Now, being the Jack Mormon I am today, yet barely three years removed from serving a Mormon mission, I was not an aficionado of the bar scene. Still, The Wormy Dog Saloon (I shit thee not over the establishment's name) was unlike anything I had ever stepped into. The seats at the bar weren't stools, but rather saddles. The dance floor was about the size of a shoe box. Upon walking in, there was a series of 8-person booths to the left, some tables in the middle and the tiny bar to the right. In the back were pool tables, 2 or 3 if memory serves. (This was in my pool playing days, so I got some quarters and waited things out.). Highway rest stops thought the bathrooms at The Wormy Dog needed cleaning up.

Outside of Bar-X in Salt Lake City (which today is partially owned by Ty Burrell of Modern Family fame), I had never been in such a small, dark, dingy, dusty bar in my life. And there was a huge shit-kicker element to boot -- quite a clash from my tan slacks and buttoned shirt. I might have been the only guy in the place wearing penny loafers and a collar. I felt like an miscast extra in Urban Cowboy.

Sitting down waiting for my next shot, she glided into my life -- or at least my line of vision. And while Robbie was doing her thing, totally unaware of the set of eyes that were glued to her every move, I felt like I was in a car wreck, with the steering wheel crushed against my stomach. That sounds like a bad thing, but it's not. You know that feeling you get when you encounter someone that you must absolutely "have"? Some get weak in the knees, others begin sweating in various bodily regions. With me, it's all in the gut, combined with a faint head rush. If I was standing up, you could've knocked me on my ass with a feather.


And with that, you now have the build-up for how I "met" Robbie. Next, you'll read about the actual meeting, as well as finding new levels of disrespect for Robbie for how she fell so hard for a sucker like me.