a blended life

The year is sometime in the early 90's. I'm on a road trip with my parents and brother. Maybe we're going to The Dallas on our way to the coast. We do this a lot. We stop for gas and snacks. My dad returns from the gas station with a pile of crappy food and drinks.  He hands me a Slim Jim and says, "Want a petrified elephant trunk?" I laugh hysterically for probably way too long. In fact, I still refuse to eat Slim Jims and laugh hysterically when someone asks why.    Today was a milestone of sorts. Not the landmark ones, like teething and crawling (both of which have happened this week and I'm so tired and can't stand up straight.) She played in dirt. Not just because it was there, but because it was so much fun and I must eat those dead leaves, Mom. The other two girls never played in dirt. Or ate leaves. I tried to be cool about it. Failed. I'm torn between loving her curiosity and vivacity and reading the future inevitable messes and dirt parties. ...

I started this blog when Hannah was a year and a half old. She never slept. Fast forward nine years and my blogs posts are telling the same story-- this kid doesn't sleep. I think we clocked it m a total of three hours, but broken up over the entire night. Nine years ago I had a husband who flat out refused to get up for a variety of uninteresting reasons. Today I have a husband who offers to get up with Lucy and I won't let him because he drives a car and cures people for a living. Not something that should be done on no sleep, McFly. Plus we're all in the same room (Thanks, NYC!) so I'd wake up anyway.  Folks, my body is really tired.  I had a job interview yesterday. It was three hours long and included a demo lesson (given by me that sort of flopped), observations, 'coaching', and debriefing. And actual interviewing. It was so exhausting to prepare for and go through. {insert another tired comment} I have super mixed feelings about working right now. I feel ...

It's been one month and a few days since Dad died.  I'm the worst person to talk or write about feelings and experiences so deep and profound like losing a parent.  Most of my days and nights since the funeral have been spent in constant care of the girls. All of them. Lucy is teething horrifically and will scream herself awake ( and the rest of the neighborhood) up to five times each night. Leah continues to have endless piles of homework and drama from school, convinced she is being bullied when actually someone is just looking at her. Hannah decided to adopt her role as Middle Child with martyrdom and tells me everyday that she's been replaced by Jacob and Lucy. Both are handling grief in their own way, though Leah's way is to talk loudly about every detail and give unfounded opinions repeatedly. I secretly wish she'd stop.  They need me-- to get out of bed, run the house, play Clue, and be solid. It's been a year and a half of trauma and instability. Does th...

Confession: I really like blogging. I miss being able to document some of our shenanigans, failures, triumphs, failures and moves (hopefully there won't be a move to document for a really long time).  Other confession: I hit some blogging obstacles (blogstacles) that I'm trying to iron out. Old technology, lack of space, lack of time and even more pressing, lack of sleep.   I'm feeling a stronger urge to blog since my dad died last month. Maybe I don't know where else to put my words or maybe I live in house of REALLY talkative people and by the end of the day, I don't wanna hear anyone's voice. Even mine.  I grew up with a brother who talked nonstop and I'm pretty sure that has prepared to live with a group of external processors.  Anyway.  I think I'll post this and see how I like being a mobile bloggypants.  Here's a real time pic of what is supposed to be nap time:   And here are a few from this morning, when Jacob thought it would be quicker ...