Destination: Sanity.

We leave in... wait, let me do the math.... 8 hours.

We don't have as much to do as we both thought, though there is still plenty to keep us busy.

And as of right now, I am kind of feeling like I am on a roller coaster, making the slow climb up the first big hill, thinking to myself what the HELL were you thinking willingly climbing on this thing and strapping yourself down when you KNEW this huge hill was looming in the near future? But climb we do, and eventually, around 5:30, we will hit the crest, have a little moment of OMGOMGOMG, then down we will go, holding our stomachs in our mouths and closing our eyes as tight as we can.

Dynamic Duo

Paul and I make a good team. We each have our strengths, and eventually we get around to admitting our weaknesses. It only takes us a little bit to sync with one another and stop grouching and just get the job done. And we only very rarely resort to just ignoring one another for a little bit until the other finally admits that it was actually YOUR idea that worked. ...

We make a good team.

This was very apparent yesterday, as we painted over our daughter's very colorful room (me, with a heavy heart). Here are just a few of the tidbits from our adventures:



Laura: *Surprised yelp*

Paul: What happened?

Laura: I got paint on my eye! *begins to lift the tail of her shirt up to wipe the paint off*

Paul: DON'T GET PAINT ON MY SHIRT!!

Laura: ....



Laura: Oops.

Paul: ...what happened?

Laura: ...nothing.

Paul: *goes back to work*

Laura: Hey, Paul?

Paul: Ya?

Laura: Can you go turn the power off? Quickly?




Laura: Oops.

Paul: What happened?

Laura: ...nothing.

Paul: ...What happened?

Laura: Nothing! ...but we are carpeting this floor right?



Laura: Oops.

Paul: How about you go clean out the fridge? I'll finish this.

Laura: ...are you sure?

Paul: YES.

Laura: .... I love you?

Paul: Go.

StandStill.

I know. You didn't expect to see me here. I didn't either.

I am sitting in my living room, surrounded by boxes and empty cupboards. There are two girls in my house, going from room to room packing everything up. I am pretty positive that they are both younger than me. I keep feeling as if I should help or do something, but I'm not allowed. Which is not an entirely bad thing. The kids are with a friend, so I am left here by myself, only being utilized as a pointer and the 'final say'. I'm not sad about this.

But I am sad. I was out all morning with the kids, doing loops around the mall with Alex running beside me. We got lunch, ran some errands, and then I dropped them off. I came back to a house that was about halfway packed, one with country music melting out of the stereo that must be getting packed last for this very reason. I ate the lunch that I brought back for Paul and I, then went and sat on my back porch and cried. And really, it's too hot to being such things, but I couldn't stop it.

Paul was worried that I was sad to be leaving, regretting the decision to head back over the pond. I didn't calm his fears right away. I took a moment to examine myself, because I actually did not know why I was crying. But, no, upon further investigation, I'm not sad to be leaving. I am excited for this next leg in our journey. I am excited to take the kids to the parks we were tromping through when we didn't have a clue as to where our life was headed. I am excited for them to meet our friends we had to sadly leave 3 years ago.

I'm not sad at all in fact. The last few months of our lives, Paul and I have been running, full-steam. Things keep happening, which keep us going. Every bad moment, every stressful event, has taken step behind us. We knew they were there, but we kept running. I dealt with what I had to deal with, then forgot about it, letting it tail after me. When I walked into the house today, it was like I stopped running for the first time in such a long time. I stopped and looked around. And because my feet stopped moving, everything that's been building behind me for the past few months slapped me, one by one, in the back of the head. I was crying because of my mental instability in the home stretch of Paul's deployment. I was crying for the short amount of time we had to reconnect before Life shoved us forward. I was crying for Paul's dad. I was crying over the goodbyes I had to say to my family. I was crying over my damn toe onto which I dropped a fillet knife on last night as I was rushing to organize things.

But... not sad tears. Just tears that needed to be shed that I'd been neglecting for a while. I feel lighter with them gone, and it feels nice not being followed anymore. I am sure that for the next few months I'll continue to build more things up behind me as I go, but at least I will be starting with a clean slate.

Ok, really.... I'll see you on the other side. :)

Just Checking In....

First, this house is a madhouse.

Second, I am not nearly as mad (mad hatter style, not mad hulk style) as I thought it would be at this point, and I think most of that is a direct effect of our previous few (uh.... 7?) months. I am not glad that they happened, but they prepared me for this move. I have been pretty calm and collected through most of this (besides the beginning of our garage sale, with people showing up a good 45 minutes early and rifling through our baby clothes before I even took them out of the storage bin. NOT IMPRESSED, EARLY BIRDS! Quite a few of my family members can attest to my not-calmness and maybe-a-tad-bit-crazyness. Sorry guys. Thanks for being troopers!). Yesterday was hard only because we had had a break the night before, getting out of this house to spend some quality time with some friends that we will miss dearly. It was like our garage sale, where we baked outside in 99 degree heat for 8 hours, and we grew used to the heat after a while, but when we came and ate lunch in the AC, it was SO HARD going back out into the heat. And now that we've had a break from the constant go-go-go, it's been hard to go back under.

Third- our movers come tomorrow. Our house does not look like we are moving, aside from the gaping holes that some furniture left after we sold it in the sale. We don't pack anything, so it's not too bad. I am just trying to get things organized, so when they get thrown into boxes by men who do not care whether it is grouped into different categories, it will make just a little sense when I pull it all out in a few months. I'm impressed with the work that Paul and I (and our parents, who were here to help last week) have gotten done in a relatively short amount of time. We have most of our suitcases packed (pretty sure we will have about 7... yahoo!). I am mourning the loss of my washer and dryer, as we are leaving it here (I don't think ANY house in England would be able to house those suckers. They are huge!), and cringing as I think of the teeny tiny washers that will be undoubtedly waiting for me on the other side. We are cooking steaks, hamburgers, fresh rolls, and two different types of roasted veggies for LUNCH today because it will be the last time that we are in a REAL kitchen for quite some time. I might even make some ice cream for the road just because I can. And I woke up this morning with a little frown, only because I know that this would be the last morning that I wake up for a 'normal' morning in this house. With everything that we've done to this house, not to mention that huge yard, I've grown more attached than I thought I would. It was a blank canvas when we walked in, and we've made it our own. Though we will still own it for the next three years at least, there will be strangers here, painting over our colorful walls, erasing Alex's chalk marking off of the pantry door, and probably taking down my very colorful and very lopsided home-made curtains. It will no longer be our home. But that's ok. We will hopefully get settled in not too long into our new home in England, and then after that, hopefully make our way to somewhere in the States and settle in. Moving every three years is wearing on me.

Fourth- I can only assume that our hotel will have Wi-Fi, but if not, this is it until we get tucked into our army barracks in England (yep.).

Till then!

Winding Down.

I was raised with two older brothers. For my entire childhood, they had me by height, weight, gumption, everything. I was never on the receiving end of any cruel treatment (well, if you don't count my bike being dragged down the street by a car... thanks Mike!), but I learned to stick up for myself. Add to this years and years of playing sports (on girl's teams nonetheless, which I still hold to be more brutal than any guy sports out there), and what you have are lots and lots of head injuries, one which actually drew blood (tackle soccer, anyone?). I never worried too much about them, because why else would your skull be so hard if not to protect your brain? But I think all of those bumps and bruises are catching up to me, because I cannot for the life of me remember that we have about two weeks before we move to England. And only one week before our movers come to take away everything we own. I look at the calendar about 5 times a day, and every time my eyes pop open and my jaw hits the floor, because, OMG, two weeks.
In preparation for the big move, I've been pilfering through everything we own and setting aside some for a garage sale this weekend. Anything that we have not looked at since we've moved back from England? Gone. Baby stuff? Gone. Those size 10 pants I've been holding on to with lofty dreams? Gone. I refuse to take anything with us that we will just have to find a place to store, if only because storage space and England do not coincide. My days have been busy, going from room to room and pulling out memories, deciding whether or not they are valid enough to be shipped. It's an exhausting task, both mentally and physically, but Saturday will come, and the plan is to have the bulk of the work done by then.

All this being said, those bright and shiny moments of relaxation are welcomed with open arms, one of which was my birthday.

Breakfast: Homemade pancakes with homemade blueberry syrup, courtesy of Paul.

And then... surprise!

I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. I've already put it to use, making some pita bread. And not having to knead dough for ten minutes was so, so wonderful.

Times are busy, and soon they will be even more busy, but I am lucky to have my family to help ground me every once in a while.

Speaking of family, I went through about five tubs of baby clothes yesterday, and I put every single thing in the garage sale boxes.... except.... these two. The teeny tiny shirts they both wore at the hospital and for the majority of their first few weeks of life. I surprised myself with my inability to toss these away. I'll just stash these away in a small box in the back of my closet, taking them out every once in a while to bury my face in their newborn scent. My, how fast they grow.

Birthday.

Aside from the kids, birthdays aren't much of a big deal in this house. We get each other small things, and maybe a high-five, but that's pretty much it. The same goes for Valentine's Day, Christmas. Gifts are never the priority. Both of us would much rather do something than get something.

There is one gift, however, that I look forward to every year. And it's one that has not been forgotten once by Paul, so props to him. I'm not sure why or when this started, but since I was young, I always got really excited when I saw that milk cartons had my birthday printed as the 'sell by' date. I suppose it was because that meant that my birthday was that much closer. (Man, do you remember how excited you would get for your birthday when you were young?? Am I the only one that doesn't get thrilled by the prospect of another birthday anymore? It's not that I dread them, it's more like I just don't care.)

Anyway, for some reason, this got brought up the first birthday that Paul was around for. And since then, whether we needed it or not, a carton of milk with my birthday on it has always made its way to our fridge.

So much better than roses.

Do Not Feed The Children.

My birthday is this week. I am almost positive I will be 26. For a while this year, I was telling people that I was already 26. I think that's where the confusion lies. I really did think I was a year older, until one day I did the math and, lo! I was only 25. So... yes. 26 this year. ...Right? Ya. '84. Means 26.

Anyway, I've been doing a lot of baking and cooking lately, and because of that I have been really looking forward to my birthday this year. I knew it would a perfect opportunity to do the most ridiculous cake recipe I could find, one that I would never have an excuse to do otherwise. The winner? Irish Car Bomb Cupcakes. ... go ahead and read that again.

Irish. Car Bomb. Cupcakes.

Oh my word. I started them yesterday while the kids were both down for their afternoon naps. It was a little more labor intensive that I had thought in the beginning, but that was ok. They were fun to make. I had a moment of doubt in the beginning. I had to mix 2 (TWO!!) sticks of butter with the Guiness and a bunch of cocoa powder. It was heating on the stove, and it just smelled so good that I stuck my finger in and grabbed a taste. It was so awful. So bitter. I couldn't believe it. I was a little worried that the end product would be inedible (which, in hindsight, wouldn't have been too bad, because then I could just choose another recipe to do!). But... I worried for nothing. These cupcakes are the most delicious and rich cupcakes I have ever tasted.


They have a Guinness chocolate base, with a Baileys-infused ganache in the middle (which is the most wonderful surprise when you bite into them!), and a Baileys butter-cream frosting on top. The frosting is like kick-you-in-the-mouth Baileys, so much so that I made a few with a simple white frosting on them for the kids. I don't think the officer would understand when they were stumbling around drunk that, SIR! IT WAS THE CUPCAKES!



I didn't get a picture of the inside because when I took the first bite, my eyes dilated and my nostrils flared and then my memory just went black until I was standing in the kitchen with cupcake residue smeared all over my face.

The recipe can be found here, and if you have time, I highly suggest browsing through her website. I have tried a ton of recipes I found there, and not once have I been let down.

In other non-related news, I snapped a video of the 'other one' this morning, so if the kids ever look back at this blog, neither one can say they were featured more than the other. Nothing like planning ahead!! Enjoy my sweet sweet daughter.

One of the family.

When things are already stressful because of things that are beyond our control, it's hard to see the silver lining of joy sometimes. It's hard to look past the sleepless nights (thank you teeth!), and the early mornings, and the constant whine that's sputtering out of my kids mouths.

But sometimes, it's sinfully easy. And those times fill me up and sustain me for the time being.

And soooometimes... I even catch them on video to share!

Eli has become quite the jokester. Between yelling BANANANANANANANA at various times in the day, looking like the hottest cock in the hen-house as he's standing there not holding onto anything, and scrunching up his hands and mumbling "giggle giggle giggle giggle" (read- tickle tickle tickle tickle), he's cracking me up. I find myself just laughing with delight with our interactions now, which is just so fun. I forgot how fun this transition was, from babyhood to toddlerhood, when the interaction is more than just butt-cleaning and boob-feeding.

I do want to mention how hard it was for me to make this video so short. What I wanted to do was keep the camera recording for our entire dinner, just so you could hear how funny he was, and how hysterically Alex was laughing at him. But I kept it short so I could load it on here, and because I realize that not everyone wants to watch hour long videos of my children.

Enjoy. (and because I think a caption is necessary for this video, I will just let you know that what Eli is doing is 'sneezing'. Alex fake-sneezes all the time, with her head thrown back like that, and it's a game for me to say "BLESS YOU!" right after, and it goes on and on and on as toddler games do. Apparently Eli picked up on it.) (Also, I LOVE this game because now when I sneeze, I will hear Alex say BLESS YOU from the other room. So precious.)

Oofta Oofta etc. etc.

Where did June go? I'm not even sure. For some reason, I've missed the entire month on my calendar, which sadly leaves all of those Waldo characters unfound. That's a shame.

To say that we have been busy is an understatement of great proportions. I find myself giggling from time to time just thinking about what we've done in the past month and what we have yet to do. And it's not a fun giggle that releases tension and therefore helps you carry on with your day. It's definitely the kind of giggle that comes right before you completely lose any remnant of sanity that you had somehow retained up until this point.

By the end of May, we had finally started to get things done in preparation of our impending move. We had lined up someone to come take the pool, we (Paul) had taped the entire basement and started painting, we had booked flights, scheduled movers. We were on a roll. July 5th was coming fast and hard, and we were doing a pretty good job of keeping up. But then.... *sigh*... we got the call.

Paul's father passed away at the end of May, and four hours after we heard the news we were backing out of the driveway with four weeks worth of 'stuff' jammed in the trunk, along with the dog who was on her way to a friends house for the month. The next two weeks were messy and sad and everything else you would expect at that particular point in someone's life. We struggled to keep a balance of normalcy for the kids, as well as getting things taken care of for Paul's family. In the midst of all that, we celebrated Eli's first birthday, the third birthday we've celebrated for the kids in Michigan. So, that makes all of them. It ended up being a breath of fresh air, a night in a gorgeous park surround by family, celebrating life.

Since we already had our vacation planned for the last week in June, we stayed in Michigan until it was time to leave to avoid 2 extra days of driving. At the last minute, we decided to cut out early and spend two nights in Chicago and take the kids to Shed Aquarium. It was fun, although I feel as if we will get more out of it when the kids are older. Most of the time was spent chasing Alex around and taking her up and down and up and down and up and down the stairs.

From there we drove to the farm that my mother grew up on in Minnesota. It was so nice to be back there, showing Paul that part of my history, walking the kids around the grounds that I used to traipse as a child. It was so cathartic, exactly what my heart needed. To reconnect with that part of my family and to be able to spend so much time talking with my Grandma and hearing all of the stories that she has to tell. Plans were made for our return whenever we can manage. I would so love to make that a regular stop. It had been too long.

After a few days there, we all jumped back into the car and headed to the resort. We were the first to arrive, quickly followed by various family members. The week was spent not doing much of anything, which was exactly what we all needed. I am 100% positive that this trip was divinely timed.

Finally, we headed out, stopping for one night in Minneapolis to take the kids to the Mall of America, and finally getting back home, four weeks after we left.

And now, with flights rescheduled, movers rescheduled, painting stalled, and laundry coming out of my ears, we have until July 29th to get ready. Our house gets packed on the 22nd, and then it will be hotel-life for us until we ship out. We've done so much hotel-ing in the past month that this part no longer makes me nervous. The kids are adaptable, and are used to all of use being crammed in one room. (I can't TELL you how great it was have a room to ourselves again when we got home! We've been sharing our room with either one or both kids this whole time!)

My head sort of feels like everything in it has gone to mush and just slops around inside as I whip it around trying to find what needs doing next. But it will be done soon. Like... in September when we finally settle in a house in England. Soon enough.

That being said, anyone have any good books they are reading that can be read and enjoyed by a brain that's gone a bit numb? Nothing too heavy, but interesting enough to hold my attention? :)