A Hard Week

This week has been difficult to say the least. Wil and I spent every waking moment cleaning up our house to get ready to move out. Poor Wil and one of his friends actually spent a lot of time outside in the dark and snow staining fencing panels they had to repair. Our landlord, who has been largely annoying on the phone (he would call to tell us about his colonoscopy appointment and other bodily ailments) but mostly absent through out our two-year stay, suddenly decided that we were turning his house into a pigsty (no, we didn't) and started to get very critical of every nick and scratch on this 40-year-old house. First we were more than happy to work with him and let him keep certain amount of the security deposit to fix little stuff here and there, but it quickly became apparent that he had very little intention to return any, if at all, of our deposit. Wil and I are excellent renters. We always take care of our rental houses like they are our own, so it pissed us off to no end when George, the landlord, started making us sound like we had been subleasing his house to a couple of drunk frat boys. And he was blaming us for some of the things he should have been fixing himself, like the door that was always sticking (he told me to just slam it when we first moved in and yesterday said that we should have hired a carpenter to fix it) or the gigantic pile of brush that he left that he claimed Wil promised to remove once the weather was warmer--two summers ago. The accusation just got more and more pitiful and ridiculous (cobwebs in the basement, doggy nose prints on the glass door--all of which would required a service of professional cleaning, a.k.a. George's poor wife, and a couple of hundred Euros--according to George. We had enough and reported our complaints to the Housing people here after George refused, for the third time, to come out to inspect the house, because he firmly believed that there was no possible way that it could be "habitable" and he was just going to waste more time and gas coming to inspect it. All I can say is that thank God for my husband, who kept calm under the most infuriating circumstances. I would have punched the man and called the lost 1250 Euro a good investment. Between the Housing lady and my husband's finesse, he magically changed his mind and wrote us a check for the full deposit amount. The inspection was awkward and full of "you said you were going to do this," but at the end we all said our peace and wish each other well. Let's hope our path will never crossed again.

Thankful

Wil and I were hanging out in bed together a few days ago after he put Chase down for the night. Wren was with us, dozing off. He said "I love my life right now. It's everything I ever wanted." Couldn't have said it better myself. There are so much to be grateful and thankful for this year. Exactly a year and 5 days ago, my husband was wheeled into a surgery that would last 10 hours. It was the longest day following an even longer month of home care and pain management waiting for the OR schedule to open up. That WAS hell on earth. The uncertainty of his recovery and our future weighed heavily on our minds, which led us to a few important decisions, like trying for our second baby earlier than we had planned, that brought us here this year. And what difference a year make! Wil is healthy and fully recovered. His back will never be perfect and because of that his career path will change, but it's the kind of change we're happy about. Our family is blessed with yet another healthy, happy, and beautiful girl, whom we're all madly in love with. Chase was made to be the most adoring big sister and I can't be more proud of how she has handled this huge shift in her life. My mother being here to lavish my big girl with all the attention certainly makes the transition that much easier. Chase has Yai to go to whenever she likes and they are just the best of friends. I honestly dread the day we have to drop her off at the airport and already feel a heartbreak coming on for the both of them.

Having a baby and moving within weeks of each other is not exactly ideal, but such is a military life. Wren has made this whole process as easy as possible on us by being the sweetest and calmest baby. She worried me at first because she would rather sleep 4-5 hours at a stretch at night instead of waking up to eat constantly (or in Chase's case, about 23 hours/day). Her pediatrician assured me that she was doing well and putting on weight quite nicely, and that we should thank our lucky star before we went to bed for this perfect little angel. I'm just not accustomed to having a baby who wants to nurse a lot on schedule, sleep soundly on her own in her bassinet, and is generally the most relaxed little creature on earth. We're getting more sleep now than we ever did with Chase when she was 4-5 months old. Both of their personalities in utero have held true since we welcomed our girls into the world. I fought for the name Chase because she felt like a hunter, a go-getter the whole pregnancy, and Wren always felt like a delicate little bird from the beginning. I'm honored and proud to have these two babies call me momma and watch them grow up into wonderfully tough and smart broads with kind and humble hearts, who always strive to better their world.

Have I mentioned that I LOVE being a mother of two?!? It's such an incredible ride. Chase loves her sister so very dearly and is so caring. She constantly wants to hold and kiss Wren and will check on her just about every other minute if her baby is down for a nap in her bassinet. Wil and I put both kids down for a nap today and looked at each other like "now what do we do?" This just seems a little too easy, and therefore a little like some kind of a trick. I'm sure the hard part is coming in a few short weeks, so we should just be more thankful for our free time right now.

Hope your Thanksgiving is bountiful and full of love from friends and family. Ours will undoubtedly be since we'll be introducing my mother to our family Thanksgiving tradition of joining the crowd at a DFAC (Dining Facility for those of you non-military). I'm sure she'll be mortified :).

P.S. One last, but never least, person that I'm most thankful for: an incredible Husband. I've said it numerous times before, there's no one else I would rather go on this crazy journey with. To see Wil hold our babies just melts me into a mushy puddle of love. Thank you, Honey, for letting me dupe you into marrying me! I yoveeee you!

Nuts!

In my head I feel a little like a hamster spinning a wheel, although my body is anything but in motion. I'm sure the only reason I haven't gone into a panic attack about this move yet is because the last trip to the bathroom/kitchen sucks all the energy out of me. We picked up two more luggage this weekend to pack up the clothes that we'll be using for the next two months and have lined them all up in the hallway. So far we'll be traveling with 5 30"+ luggage, 4 carry on's, 2 car seats, 1 double stroller, and 2 giant dog kennels, plus the six of us. I'm not sure how we're going to transport everything and everyone (we could barely fit everything in a German rental van when I first got here--two fewer children ago), but that's another worry for another time. The movers are coming next week and hopefully the baby will be coming this week. My mom is flying in to help out, and no one is more excited about it than Chase. I ask her what she has planned for Yai, and the list she gives me includes things I haven't been able to do with her much like playing tag and chasing pigeons. Makes me a little sad, but I know we'll get over this horribly challenging hump in some kind of fashion.

Not in the same kind of moving news, but I did attempt to induce my own labor by knowingly consuming Taco Bell. I was hoping that it would make me so violently ill, as it always does, that my body will be forced to expel EVERYTHING it's currently holding hostage. No dice. I only gave myself horrible stomachache for 8 hours to add on to the discomfort level. Nice work there, Umer. I have also decided that, since some people view a huge pregnant belly as a form of insensitive comment/cheap shot practice, I am under no obligation to put up a polite front and just "let it roll off my belly." This revelation came to me during this week's unfortunate trip to our BX to buy more stuff for the move.

Me, pushing a cart full of stuff and dragging another luggage behind me and getting stuck behind 3 shopping gal pals and their carts that had no intention of moving after 30 seconds: Excuse me.
Girlfriend #1, who was wider than she was tall and sporting a sassy headband that only made her fat head looked fatter, after looking me up and down a few times: Oh, yeah (barely made room for me to pass).

I didn't made it 5 steps ahead of them and was clearly within an earshot when I heard:

Girlfriend #1 to #2 and #3: Well, she's not THAT fat.

Back in the days before I packed on 40 lbs, I would have taken down the heifer in one fell swoop. I'm less than 2 months out of Germany and can't afford to get banned from the only place nearby that I can buy heaving piles of organizational plastic crap for cheap. Inhale and exhale. Walk on.

After finally tracking down my Husband and Child in a crowd that was as stupid as we were to brave KMCC on a 3-day weekend and feeling an imaginary baby head crowning, I told Wil that I needed to go sit down somewhere STAT. And wouldn't you know it, the only available table I could find was conveniently located in front of a Baskin-Robbins shop. I was too tired to breathe and left the chowing to the other two Stooges. Somehow, I was still an uncomfortable recipient of the glares, stares, and whispers from EVERYONE, and especially from a woman who was sitting a row over and a table behind us. She kept giving me these frightful looks then turned her face in horror to whisper something in very hush hush tone to her husband about every 15 seconds. After about 10 minutes of this I had enough:

Me: Please stop staring. I'm not a freak show.

Her husband thought I was hilarious. The wife? Not so much.

Then a random woman just started yelling at me as I was walking pass her to tell my Husband that he was going to walk home if I had to wait for him 5 more minutes.

Woman, who was about 5 yards away from me: BOY? BOY? BOY?
Me: No. None of your business, but no.

I'm limiting my outings for the next couple of weeks for public safety reasons.

Because He Wants to Die Alone in an Empty House?

Wil had some business to take care of a few days ago in Baumholder, from where we moved nearly two years ago. He called and told me that he was coming home bearing a present. As soon as I saw the wrapping I knew what it was. Our favorite bakery is in Baumholder, and it should give you an idea what kind of valued customers we were when the baker saw Wil's face and asked where he had been all these times. He said she gave an uproarious laughter when he explained that we had moved and that his wife was pregnant again before bagging up a generous portion of my favorite dessert on earth in the most familiar cheerful yellow little wrapper. I must have asked her the name of it in German a million times, but honestly, as soon as I see the thing, all I can hear is angels singing and blowing their trumpets. I've tried this dessert all over Germany and none comes close to the delectable masterpiece from this bakery.

He came home late, and Chase and I had just about finished our dinner. I thought about my weekly weigh-in that was in a few days and an hour of free open bar (read: Halloween candy bowl) the kid and I had earlier, summoned every fiber of strength I had, and graciously thanked my husband before asking him to put it away for tomorrow. My evil Husband grinned. He knew he was going to have a little fun at his wife's expense.

Wil: Chase, this is Momma's present! Would you please take it to her?
Chase, carrying the wrapped tray on both of her open palms: Momma, here's your present! What did Papa bring you, Momma?!?
Wil: It's a dessert!
Chase: May you please share your dessert, Momma? PLEASE?!?
Me: Of course, Honey! Papa can give you a few bites (because I don't want to be in a close physical contact with the thing that has gravitational force of the sun).

A few minutes passed...

Me: Okay, fine, would you please cut me a little sliver of it?
Wil, letting out a mischievous snort: Here, Honey.
Me: Alright, give me another. Oh, forget it, just pass the tray to me.
Chase: Can I please have some more, Momma?
Me: Yes, Honey. You should like this dessert. I had this EVERY DAY when I was pregnant with you.
Chase: I eat this when I was inside of you!
Me: More or less, yes. That's how my butt got really big.
Wil: Well, you haven't had any during this pregnancy and your butt still got really big.

Oh, yes, I ate the whole thing after that. In one sitting. It was as delicious as I remembered.

Overheard

A conversation in the bathroom

Chase: Papa, can you do me a favor?
Wil: Yes, Chase. What is it?
Chase: A big fat favor?
Wil: Ok, Honey, you just have to tell me what it is.
Chase: A. BIG. FAT. FAVOR, PAPA.
Wil: So you want me to do you a big fat favor.
Chase: Yes, Papa, a big fat favor.
Wil, walking out of the bathroom scratching his head: Did you hear your daughter?

We don't say that!

Chase: Momma, we don't say pooppy head, doo-doo, what the hell, damn it,...
Momma: No, Chasey, we don't say those because they are bad words.
Chase: So, we don't say "what the hell" and "damn it" anymore.
Momma: It's great that you know that but I wish you would actually stop repeating it.
Chase: We don't repeat "what the hell" and "damn it"?
Momma: Really, Chasey?

My Husband

Chase: I'm mad!
Momma: I'm sorry about that. Why are you mad exactly?
Chase: I'm very very upset.
Momma: Ok, I'm assuming you are going to tell me why you are upset?
Chase: I NEED my father! I want my husband!
Momma: I'm sorry, Honey. Papa is at work but he'll be home soon though.
Chase: At work? Again?!?

Chase: How are you feeling today, Momma?
Momma: I'm great, thank you! How are you doing?
Chase: I'm good. What are we going to do today, Papa?
Papa: Well, we're having dinner together right now, and we can hang out together after dinner?
Chase with a heaving sigh and a slight eye rolling: Anyways, I guess we're not doing anything then.

My Lame List

-I'm a day shy of 36 weeks, which means I was ready to have this baby a month ago. Exhausted, obnoxiously huge, and especially love it when people just yell at me "you haven't popped yet?!? (as if I'm holding the baby hostage). If I'm out and about with Chase more than 6 hours/day, I get real strong painful contractions all night. Her movements are becoming very creepy to whomever that is talking to me, because it really does look like she's trying to bust out. I have pregnant friends who say that their husbands never get to feel the babies, so I should be thankful that both Chase and Wren keep Wil up all hours of the night kicking and punching him showing their father their personalities. Thankfully, I don't think he's going to be sent across the pond again anytime soon until we leave (although he did come home this week starting a sentence with "next week one of my soldiers has to be escorted..." He has enough wits about him to immediately tell me that another coworker would take over that gig. 3 trips in 3 months is enough).

-Spent all of last weekend sorting through ALL of the kids' clothes we had all over the house, cleaned and repacked them according to sizes in those huge RubberMaid tubs. So far I've got 7 plus a few in smaller containers. Now onto packing my own clothes. It's awfully tricky to pack when we have to live out of suitcases for 2 months (and for me in the ever changing post-baby body, no less). Thankfully, this WILL be the last time I'm pcsing across the ocean with a newborn. Crazy husband seems to think that I might want #3 down the road when I start sending Little Mutt #1 to school. Clearly the man is insane. We're only having as many as we can afford to send to college. Post 9/11 GI bill is sponsoring one and we're the other. That's enough for momma.

-The weather sucks. Overnight lows are already way below the freezing point and it's been dreary for days. Snow is in the forecast 3 nights this week. Tears. This, coupling with having sent off all of my besties back to the States, actually makes saying goodbye to Germany much easier to deal with.

-My Wonder Kid finished potty training herself about a month ago, and she would have done it sooner if I just let her do what she wanted. Momma wasn't jazzed about kneeling in front of public toilets during the first trimester, sorry Chaster. Some of my friends' asked what our secret to super quick and painless potty training was, and to be honest I had very little to do with it. She was ready, and I followed her lead. We never used pull-ups like it was intended though. The whole idea seemed a little crazy to me--"you can pee in this big-girl panties but not the others." Pull ups were only for entertainment, but once we were serious about it, we just stuck with her real little undies. I'm telling you, this kid will go far in life if I just stay out of her way. She's my constant source of amusement and we're thoroughly enjoying the last of our alone time together.

-In the Husband news: Wil's work replacement is here (yay!), although his department is still sadly under staffed (boo!), which continues to make for occasional long days and weekend work but it hasn't been nearly as bad as before the Damn Bike Trip. Speaking of the trip, although I was mighty bitchy about it, I have to admit that I am also very proud that he was able to complete 450 miles on his own in 7 days without any kind of training, getting up and biking on after numerous falls and crashes, and keeping his cool when the rich CA people in their Ferrari's and Bentley's gave him the fingers for being in their lanes. Ride 2 Recovery is such a fantastic program, and if I weren't hugely pregnant and pretty much alone away from friends and families, I would have let him go on all the rides around the country. He got to keep his brand-new and expensive 5-lb road bike and is now contemplating the Soldier Ride once we get situated in our new home stateside.

I gotta go get ready for our Saturday Doughnut run and farmer's market visit. Hope your weekend is equally fattening and blissful!

Chase

Sometimes there's not much else I want to do but to sit and marvel at my darling girl. This year has transformed her from a baby into such a little girl, and there's no amount of "don't blink" warning to prepare me for any of it. She's grown into a funny, sweet, considerate little lady, who's testing out her boundaries and independence every single day. It both breaks my heart and makes my chest puff up a little to hear her say "no, Momma, I can do it all by myself!" Lately the weather has been so wet and dreary, and to couple that with her father being gone on yet another work trip and her BFF's PCSing, it's just been a lot of us hanging around the house together. I used to dread days like these when Chase was a tiny baby, because it felt like the days would never end. Now it feels a lot like I'm hanging out with a really cool friend, who can make me laugh all day--just like her father does. It's also a big plus that she gives spontaneous hugs, kisses, "I yove you, Momma," and still lets me cuddle with her whenever I want.

Yesterday she woke up and asked for her father. I choked up a little before reminding her that he was away again. Her eyes said she remembered, although she kept asking and answering her own questions about him all day. I'm sure he's missing her just as terribly, since the only reason he signed up for a Facebook account after barely 8 hours away from home was to have constant access to new pictures of her I might put up. He was born to father our girls.

Later in the day when Chase was serving me food from her kitchen, she also made a plate for Nadia, her best buddy whom just moved away. I really teared up that time because I knew it was the first, and perhaps the easiest, of many goodbyes coming her way as a military brat. I'm pretty sure she thinks that all of her friends are just moving to the same place we are, and we'll soon have daily playdate just like this past summer.

She seems to know when I'm a little down and need some cheering up. After she woke up from her nap and had her snack on the couch with me, she grabbed my hand, dragged me off the couch, and said "come yook at the tree Momma." She took my hand and led me to my bedroom. From the window there, she stood pointing at a maple tree that was turning beautiful golden color. "The yeaves are falling--they are SO beautiful!" I could never hug her tightly enough.

This evening, perhaps sensing that her mother might never ever let her out of her grip unless she fought for it, she uncharacteristically ventured out to a group of older boys that had been playing around our house all day. "Heyo, I'm Chasey--Dr. Steinhauer. Yook at my pretty birdie necklace and dandelion!" Those 4 boys, who alternated between riding their loud bikes up and down the street and a pick-up game of soccer clearly couldn't care less about a little 2-year-old, who was wearing Hello Kitty rainboots with her pink outfit and trying to get their attention from the sidewalk. Again with the heart break/motherly pride combo. She did everything she knew to do to show them that she was cool, too. Her red little balance bike got one of the boys' attention (or perhaps it was pity?), but she quickly grew tired and settled to sit and cuddle with me while watching them make more noise with bikes and soccer ball. If those kids were girls, she would have been the bell of the ball, but neither one of us meant much to a gang of 7-year-old boys. So I sat next to her and swallowed 20 more hard lumps in my throat. My whole traumatic middle school years flashed before my eye and I was almost mad at those poor boys for not lavishing my baby with all of their attention. Then she happily said "cuddle with me, Momma," and all was right with the world again. I couldn't have birthed a more perfect creature.