Sammy


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We officially have the keys to our first house. It’s rented, but it’s magic. I have wanted a house for the kids for over a decade now. And this house… It’s a 4 bedroom ranch with two bathrooms. Finally enough room that we aren’t tripping over each other just to move around. (We’ve been in a 5 bedroom for the past 6 years. The 5 of us.) The backyard could be classified a park it’s so big and it’s on a non-active air force base. We’re in the old base housing. We actually got an officer’s house. And we’re a 5 minute walk from the airport itself, right down from where they park the Apaches. My boys think they’ve died and gone to heaven. Even the most hesitant of them, Lucas who has only ever know this house and is timid and sensitive, is in heaven. Sambam is just in aw. It’s like she’s been left alone in a candy/toy store. Her favorite part is her closet, she insists she’s going to sleep there. I share the sentiment, it’s been a long time since my clothes haven’t hung from a pipe in the basement. I asked Thomas what the best part about leaving this house was and he waved his arms around to indicate all of it. It’s taken us over 11 years, but Pat and I have finally been able to give our kids what we’ve always wanted for them. I don’t even care it’s rented; that means if shit breaks, someone else has to fix it. The neighborhood is safe, the schools are great, I want to die of old age in this house! We can rent to own so that might damn well happen!

Here is this problem: This very first month, with the costs of moving, and some new financial sources not yet kicking in, we are in the biggest financial pickle we have ever been in. I am asking, hoping, wishing that those who might be able, to kick a buck or two or whatever you can our way. We are desperate. This money wouldn’t be covering shit and giggles, but the essentials of life. If you can help, please visit the donation button to the left which will go straight to my paypal. It’s always been there as a thank you for running this site, and as a little extra something which people have very kindly occasionally offered. But now, I really need it there. If you can’t give, please know we understand and love you all the same. We accept happy thoughts, crossed fingers, and blessing of good luck on this next stage in our family adventure, just as gratefully. There is also the option of sharing this cry for help with those you know? Only if you are comfortable with it. But sometimes, just sometimes, magic happens. And we really could use just a little more. (I’m not lying, this house is pretty magical.)

Photos you ask?

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The front of the house, which needs some work but we’re happy to. Thrilled to!

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The back yard! I assure you: Sambam and I have already twirled barefoot in that grass. Skirts swirling, heads dizzy, hearts, glowing, mouths laughing.

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Ah there she is, exploring our first ever covered parking. We’ll finally be able to keep the kid’s bikes at our place, chained to those pillars. But the neighborhood is perfect for afternoon bike rides.

I truly love you all who come here. Please know that. And I thank you all for every visit. For every comment ever left. And for any outcome from this post.

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My Samantha and her “Lou-Lou” have always had a unique relationship.  It is a step beyond your typical brother-sister relationship.  They are buddies, but it’s more than that.  It’s almost like a twin bond, but they are years apart and that still isn’t it.

A recent example of this is the recent discovery that when she wakes in the early morning light, but isn’t quite ready to face her day, she breaks out of her room (There is a baby gate up that she can get past easily but it’s there as a visible boundary that all children need.) and crawls into bed with him until the day begins.  Last night there was a fierce thunder-storm and I fully expected her to land into bed with me, but she didn’t.  So I went to check, and sure enough it was Luke’s bed she sought safe haven in.

 

I have always believed that we all have more than one soul mate.  Some are meant to be life-long lovers.  Some are meant to be life long friends.  Some are meant to come in like a force and leave just as fast, but having played an important life changing role in the eye of the storm of their coming and going.  I can name a few of mine, I assume I have more to come.

I have truly come to believe that my Lucas and Samantha are soul mates.  In a way, they way they act around each other it’s like they are in love, but in a strictly non-sexual way. (Come on, don’t go there.)  They just have this love and need for each other that is fierce and knows no ends.  They find comfort in each other when scared.  He protects her like it’s his sworn duty, not caring that mommy and daddy would be just as happy, nay honored, to protect her.  His patience with her is a patience my Lou-Lou is not well-known for.  She can get away with things their big brother could never dream of.  When he is in deep need of his personal space, and quiet not letting anyone in, there she is by his side.  She doesn’t seem to have to ask to be let in, she’s just in.  Sure, she may not know the worries of my troubled little boy, but she seems to know how to treat them.  Hell, maybe she does know.  They’ve shown signs of being able to read each other’ minds.  You jest, but we’ve made the hive mind joke more than once around here and it’s eerie at times.

I am curious to see how their relationship forms over the years as they mature, and it matures.  However I’m willing to bet it will only get stronger.  She may not always need to crawl into his bed when the midnight storms scare her, but I’m betting if she does need to, he’ll simply role over.  Then as they’re grown and separated by more than a hallway, well… I can honestly say that thought breaks my heart.

My Sambam and Lou-Lou are one of a kind.

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Look, the decision to leave the kids with Pat was impossible and yet obvious. I grieve not waking to their fighting and kissing them goodnight every night, but it was a decision that had to be made with logic and not emotion.

First, while I am biologically their mother, he has been their primary caregiver from day one. He knows them better than I do, he has attended to their needs more than I have. I would be taking them from the parent that has raised them.

Financially, he will get an increase in government aid this way that he wouldn’t otherwise get.  This may well make the difference between a roof over his head or not.

What do I do, have them live with me then put them in daycare 6 days a week while I work?

No, they are right where they should be.  My heart didn’t want to leave them with him, but it was sound, though painful, logic.  I’ll see them all the time.  Custody will be shared.  He will never deny me access.  It’s simply where they live.

It hurts like hell.

But the right thing is rarely easy and very rarely is the easy thing ever right.

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Years and years ago, when Thomas was so very little, less than 6 months, but after I went back to work, he went through a fussy period each night.  His siblings later went through the same period.  It was the, “Thank God mom is finally home, I can go ahead and tell her how much I missed her” hour.  Not colic.  Not even close.  But still infant misery hour.

So it was when Thomas was 2 months old that I wrote him this song

Hey there, Baby Bear

Go to sleep

Momma’s here, Daddy’s near

Your safety we will keep

Recently I substituted “Princess Bear” in for “Baby Bear” when Sambam gave me the “I ain’t no baby!” look.

Speaking of Princesses, Sambam has her own royal throne now.

She isn’t fully ready, but she is so very close.  Close enough for the purchase so she can get comfortable with it being something known.  I’ll show her later how to use it.  Then in a couple of months I’ll gently start encouraging its use.  Then in September I’ll actively try to enforce its use.  If she doesn’t beat me to it.  She is rather excited about it being in the house.

She also has a padded seat that goes over the big potty.  Should she prefer.

After all, I true princess gets their choice of thrones.

(Edit with up-to-date additions taking place after the rest of this was written: Apparently while at Grandma’s house over the weekend, the second she found herself naked for her bath, she made a beeline to the little potty my mom has in her bathroom from when Luke was little, and used it without anyone even suggesting it.  Which means my kid is potty training herself.  Your jealousy is OK and natural.)

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I want to put Sammy in ballet in a year or so.  I have no intentions of having her grow up to be a Prima Ballerina.  In fact, I’m planning on withdrawing her from classes once she reaches around first grade.  But I would love her to acquire a grace in those early years that I simply never had.  Never will have.  A grace that she’ll take into her later years.

If she hates it, I’ll make her finish whatever I’ve paid in advance for, and then she’s done.  I won’t be that mom.  At least not over something I plan to pull her from after a few years anyways.

If she has a natural gift and loves it, I’ll make it happen for her long-term.  Not what I want for her, but it isn’t about me.  I’m not that mom either.

If she uses this grace to become a soccer (or other sport) playing tomboy, then that will be what she takes from it.  I’ll gladly be that mom.

But really, my only real goal will be to give her a left foot and a right instead of two left feet.  A good sense of coordination.  A sense of self strength that comes from being the master of your own body.  Some sense of rhythm so she isn’t afraid to say yes when some boy asks her to dance would be nice too.

I just hope that if she takes it into her childhood, teenaged years, and even adulthood, that she’s healthy with it.  I need to know that she knows french fries can be OK in moderation.  That she isn’t starving herself to leap and fly higher.  And her worth isn’t tied to a dress size.

I know not all dancers are like that, but unfortunately those who are, are the ones you hear about.

 

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I spent all weekend at my mom’s doing laundry because my drier blew a fuse and while it’s a 3$ fix I had to order it in because this is a commonly needed part and local ran out.  Apparently this is the fuse that blows when trouble is brewing so it prevents more important shit from blowing, sparking, firing and burning.

So I wasn’t home to write.

Then oh hey, I’m a student now.  Turning work in and all, plus working nearly 50 hours this week to boot, so really, writing is the least of my concerns.  For a few days anyway.

So I decided to keep the 5 posts a week momentum going, I’d spread some baby joy.  I threw in the brothers for free.  I’m kind.

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We’ve already established I’m crazy. Stable or not, I don’t have issues, I have subscriptions. Though I prefer eccentric. So it shouldn’t be too far of a stretch of the imagination in me saying I’ve decided I’m going to try to teach Sambam to read by the time she is 3 or 4.

Hear me!

First, she wouldn’t be the first in my family to read that young. Not even the second. The power is within her.

Second, the younger the brain, the more sponge like it is. The younger you introduce things the greater and easier they learn it.

Third, I’m not assuming I’ll be successful.

Forth, I knew better than to try to attempt anything that involves the fine motor skills of writing that young. At that age it’s hard to even color inside the lines.

Fifth, I really don’t assume I’m going to have success.

Sixth, no this doesn’t mean I’m home schooling her like Luke.

Either way, even if she can’t read, I’m going to at least teach her the alphabet and I have no interest in waiting until she is older. I already have the flash cards.

She gets momma’s undivided attention as we play what is a game to her. I get the satisfaction that this might actually work.

The alphabet, not the reading. Not yet.

We go through each card in order. I say the name and make the sounds. Sometimes she giggles, sometimes she repeats the name, sometimes she says “a” 5 letters in a row. Her favorite is the letter “d”.

Then we go through again saying just the name since saying the sounds can be confusing to what it is called.

Then if I still have her attention, which is hit and miss, I grab about 4 cards, hold up 2 at a time, and ask her which one us the “a” or whatever, depending on what I’m actually holding. If she happens to point to the right one, which is currently pure chance, I get all excited and get her excited. Then I’ll hold up 2 different cards. Working different combinations of the same random 4 I selected. Repetition is key after all.

I don’t know that it will work, but I know we are having fun trying. She adores my attention and I know to stop when I lose hers.

It’s fairly win/win.

On a related note, I’m going to try the “which one is the…” game with Luke to see if it gains me any ground on teaching him his letters.

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