Tonight at dinner Asher says randomly,
"*Mike's dad is addicted to alcohol and is in jail!"
First reaction? Poor Mike!
Second reaction? No one goes to Mike's house!
Third reaction? Lets talk about drugs, alcohol, and God's commandments again.
*names have been changed ;)
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Sunday, March 16, 2014
The unknown. Again.
I was almost sure we were going to know where our next move was by now. It is middle of March and we are still in the dark.
I feel like I was just here. Actually I was.
Drew was 3 days old. My rental had just sold out from under me. I was homeless. I was touring nasty College rental homes with the after birth marking my path! I had no clue what we were going to do! I was anxoius, stressed, emotional, and a basket case. all while trying to care for a newborn (and I high maintanence one at that). I thought the family would have to move away and leave Derek there. I thought we might have to live in a 2 bedroom small apartment with 4 crazy kids. Or move back to portland with parents, and again be without my husband. I was lost and wrestless. I was a mess.
And here I am again. Just a year and a half later all these same emotions are back. The unknown. The feeling of helplessness. No stability. Homeless.
This. Is. My. Life.
I have all these options and outcomes circling in my head.
Should we sell our Vancouver home?
Should be move back into our Vancouver home?
Should we sell and buy another home?
Rent another home?
Can we buy?
Will the rental we are in now sell and we are kicked out AGAIN?
Where will the next job be?
How will it all workout? Will it workout?
Will we be on the street homeless or be living with parents?
When can I stop moving every year?
Where will my kids go to school?
Can I get a job when we move?
Can we afford to buy and not move again for a while?
When will the moving end?
All these things are in my head taking over every ounce of everything I have left in me. I know it will all workout in the end, it always does. I mean, when can we really say "it just didn't workout. I am non existant anymore and near death, pretty much gone." ??? in reality, we are still living on earth, it essentially IS working out, right? We are eating, breathing, sleeping, and clothed. What does "it will workout" mean anyway? yes, I can live with homeless people under the bridge and maybe that is "working out". But do I want that, NO!
Do you want to know how I think it will workout? I have not a clue. And this is my life.
I feel like I was just here. Actually I was.
Drew was 3 days old. My rental had just sold out from under me. I was homeless. I was touring nasty College rental homes with the after birth marking my path! I had no clue what we were going to do! I was anxoius, stressed, emotional, and a basket case. all while trying to care for a newborn (and I high maintanence one at that). I thought the family would have to move away and leave Derek there. I thought we might have to live in a 2 bedroom small apartment with 4 crazy kids. Or move back to portland with parents, and again be without my husband. I was lost and wrestless. I was a mess.
And here I am again. Just a year and a half later all these same emotions are back. The unknown. The feeling of helplessness. No stability. Homeless.
This. Is. My. Life.
I have all these options and outcomes circling in my head.
Should we sell our Vancouver home?
Should be move back into our Vancouver home?
Should we sell and buy another home?
Rent another home?
Can we buy?
Will the rental we are in now sell and we are kicked out AGAIN?
Where will the next job be?
How will it all workout? Will it workout?
Will we be on the street homeless or be living with parents?
When can I stop moving every year?
Where will my kids go to school?
Can I get a job when we move?
Can we afford to buy and not move again for a while?
When will the moving end?
All these things are in my head taking over every ounce of everything I have left in me. I know it will all workout in the end, it always does. I mean, when can we really say "it just didn't workout. I am non existant anymore and near death, pretty much gone." ??? in reality, we are still living on earth, it essentially IS working out, right? We are eating, breathing, sleeping, and clothed. What does "it will workout" mean anyway? yes, I can live with homeless people under the bridge and maybe that is "working out". But do I want that, NO!
Do you want to know how I think it will workout? I have not a clue. And this is my life.
Frozen goat bodies. true story.
Once a hint of Spring shows its pretty face people come out from hiding. All of a sudden colton's population goes from 0-25 instantly! Bikes, runners, strollers, kids, bbqs, and teens all outside. Where were they all winter?
I made my way over to the Jackson's and got a dose of some social interaction. How I have missed being human.
Mrs. Jackson is just too fun to chat with. We talk on her back porch. Her chickens are walking freely around, some tripping over little Drew (or should I say Drew tripping over them), her kids are shirtless and doing flips on the 2 huge trampolines she has lined up next to each other. Bisquit, the dog, is chewing up a box and I am trying to avoid stepping in chicken poop while I reach to keep drew from being pecked to death.
Our conversation went from "which chicken would you kill and eat first in a crises" to Mrs Jackson telling me about a family in town that killed their young goats and froze them in their freezer. Suddenly my mind jumps to a recent Dateline I saw while running on my treadmill. She continues to tell me the goats were killed and just stuffed in the freezer whole. I had to wrap my mind around it.
"Like bodies in a freezer?"
"yes" she says.
"so they just killed the goats and then put the entire goat in the freezer."
"Oh yes" she says matter of factly.
I think I had a little barf come up in my mouth at that moment. We both sat in silence and stared at the shirtless country boys bouncing on the tramps.
"so.... how about that trampoline?" I said akwardly. and it ended there.
I made my way over to the Jackson's and got a dose of some social interaction. How I have missed being human.
Mrs. Jackson is just too fun to chat with. We talk on her back porch. Her chickens are walking freely around, some tripping over little Drew (or should I say Drew tripping over them), her kids are shirtless and doing flips on the 2 huge trampolines she has lined up next to each other. Bisquit, the dog, is chewing up a box and I am trying to avoid stepping in chicken poop while I reach to keep drew from being pecked to death.
Our conversation went from "which chicken would you kill and eat first in a crises" to Mrs Jackson telling me about a family in town that killed their young goats and froze them in their freezer. Suddenly my mind jumps to a recent Dateline I saw while running on my treadmill. She continues to tell me the goats were killed and just stuffed in the freezer whole. I had to wrap my mind around it.
"Like bodies in a freezer?"
"yes" she says.
"so they just killed the goats and then put the entire goat in the freezer."
"Oh yes" she says matter of factly.
I think I had a little barf come up in my mouth at that moment. We both sat in silence and stared at the shirtless country boys bouncing on the tramps.
"so.... how about that trampoline?" I said akwardly. and it ended there.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
A girl can dream.
My birthday is coming up in a week. I am actually REALLY happy about getting older. My 30s have been fabulous and I know the older I get the better it gets, the more I learn about life and the prettier I feel. My husband asked what I wanted for my birthday. Well, I really have everything that is the most important- my kids, the love of my life, my sexy body (wink wink). But honestly, there really is something that maybe I will get only by wishing upon a star: A place to live for more than 2 1/2 yrs!
Me and Derek have been hitched for 10 years this coming December. In that 10 years we have moved 8 times. The longest we have parked our little rears is 2 1/2 years, and that was in our first home in Vancouver. We were then uprooted in a weeks time to Pullman Washington. Just thinking back to that sudden and crazy move makes my heart beat faster, brings on anxiety and depression, tears start to fill my eyes and sweat collects on my hairline. The worst move I ever want to experience in my life. You couldn't pay me a million dollars to do that one again! Maybe I will touch on the details later. And to add some icing on top of my depressive Pullman experience, our rental home sold just 8 months after we had moved in and we were nearly homeless the week I gave birth to Drew. I was AGAIN, having a panic attack trying to find a nest for my family. Yes, I was touring rat infested rental homes next to the college campus just days after I gave birth. I swear I left some after birth in some of those homes I toured, at least I hope I did. Take that Pullman!!
And here I sit, again, just months away from the unknown. Where will we move next? We never know. That is the nature of the construction biz. We sit we wait. If it goes down like last time Derek will come home from work some day and say "they needed me yesterday in BLANK city. Gotta move asap!" It is an emotional roller coaster for sure. The anxiety is already setting in. My heart is racing and my mother instinct is kicking in : Must find a nest for my little birdies! A nest that I can teach them to fly on their own and watch them grow for years to come. A permanent nest. I don't want to find new nests again!
So, when my sweet husband who I support and follow everywhere asked what I wanted for my birthday I decided to pull out all the stops.
This home. This is what I want. I saw this on zillow and it melted my heart. Why not? Why not ask for this. I want a home just like this to stay and live in for AT LEAST 5-6 years. I want a town I can call my own. A place where my kids don't have to say goodbye to their friends every 2 years. I want HOME. Because nothing has felt like home to me in the last 10 years. I have been floating and it was ok, but now it's not. This home will do :)
I have simple dreams. A girl can dream. Right? For some reason I have a feeling my birthday wish won't come true... maybe I should just ask for chocolate.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
The Jacksons.
OK. This is awkward. I have been wanting to post but nothing seems "worthy" of a first debut official post.
So...... I'll skip the "premiere" debut and just get right down to business.
I have been sentenced to 2 1/2 years in solitary confinement. Where you ask? Colton, WA (12 miles out of Pullman, WA.). Why, you ask? I am still asking this question. My sentencing should be up pretty soon. I am hoping for early parole. I wanna get out of this place in June. Things are looking up.
Before my sentence I was living a busy, full life in Portland. I had it all going for me. Then, it all changed. Now I live in a town of 300 people. No stop lights. no stores. not even a gas station. We do have a library and a catholic church. I have 1 friend. A good friend. An amazing friend. She lives down the street from me. She pretty much is the reason I talk most days (well, I always talk to myself but she gives me a reason to, like, actually talk). She has 9 chickens. OK, she HAD 9 chickens. That is after the raccoon came and attacked one in the middle of the night. They found it dead in the morning, all torn up with guts everywhere, and she had her 12 year old son take it out to the fields, behead it, and leave it for the coyotes. I must have had shock on my face because she smiled and continued to tell me that they had a dog once that was very old, and she sent her boys out to the fields with the old dog, and a shot gun in hand. She said they popped him one to his head and did him a service by putting him out of his misery. My eyes bulged out, I giggled nervously. Her son came in right then wanting to show me a project he had done. He is my favorite of them all. He has white, blond hair, just like my boys. He has big blue eyes and just this classic country boy thing about him. He mostly always has dirt on his face, ragged and dirty shirts that are paired with shorts in the winter and his mud boots that were most likely worn by his 3 older brothers. He placed a raccoon skin on the table and said he skinned a raccoon and was now working on it. To be honest, I have no idea what he said he was doing to it. I was stuck on the "I skinned a raccoon" part. But he was proud. He quickly said to his mom he was going to send it to his brother that is on a mission. Oddly enough, I bet his older brother would love to open that raccoon skin and hang it proudly on his missionary wall, reminding him of home! Not so sure what his missionary companion would think though.
My kids are over at the Jackson's home like everyday. That is their name, the Jackson's. Seems very fitting of them. It just fits. They have 5 boys and a girl. The girl, Emily, is their last. My friend, Mrs Jackson, said she cried when she found out it was a girl. I am not sure if she cried because she didn't know how to do girls or if she cried for poor Emily coming into a family with all boys. Not just any boys. Real, 100%, country boys. Guns, dirt and all. Mrs Jackson was in labor for 2 full days with Emily, it was a tragic labor for sure! Emily can fend for herself. She was over at my house talking to me just straight about chicken guts she saw and how her cat ran off and a coyote ate her up. She is a kid where you don't need to have the "death" talk to. She sees animals come and go all the time at her house. It's no big deal. And she talks like it's no big deal. She can see animals beheaded and not blink, but that one time she was eating at my house and a piece of corn got mixed in with her mashed potatoes, that called for some serious gagging and near vomiting!
The Jackson's are the most loving, big hearted family you will ever meet. Mrs Jackson (that is what I am calling her on this blog) is like the coolest person I have ever met. She is real. Real as they come. She doesn't sugar coat anything, she can't. She has 6 kids to feed and like 50 animals to take care of.... OK, not 50, but it sure feels that way to city girl me. She never says no to my kids, although I tell her time and time again to slap them and send them home. But she just can't. She has the inability to say no, and the word "selfish" isn't in her vocabulary. I drive by and there are kids like pouring out of her house. People ask her to watch their kids and before you know it she is watching like 20 kids at once plus her own. There are kids, animals, dirt, trampolines, chickens and all sorts of craziness over there. I am pretty sure she invented the nursery rhyme "there was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn't know what to do..", but lets take the "old" out and add "nice"! My kids are over there so much they kinda blend in now, dirt and all! She is a big softy but also hard as a rock. She has been through it all. She has taught me so much in just the 2 years I have lived here.
In our first house we lived at in Colton (yes, I have lived in 2 homes here, don't remind me), I could look out my kitchen window and see the Jackson's home. They were right across the street. I had a perfect view of their 2 trampolines and all the dirt piles. The dirt piles, ugh, my Nemesis. I had never seen shoes get so dirty until I moved here! I swear dirt doesn't exist in the city. But out here there is dirt no matter where you go. I grew so tired of having my boys nice school shoes black with mud and dirt and who knows what else so I ran to Walmart (walmart is another post in itself) and picked up some "mud boots". I quickly told the boys I got them some new "mud boots" and they were to wear these when playing outside.
Within 5 minutes or so I hear screaming, which isn't unusual, so I just ignore it. Half the time out here I have no clue where my kids are. Let me paint a better picture for you, just picture miles and miles of rolling wheat fields surrounding a couple houses. Picture a nice breeze blowing by that house with the sound of wind chimes on the porch, nothing else, just the sound of wind chimes and maybe kids laughing. Now picture a woman, wearing an apron walking out on the porch and ringing the supper bell, calling out to her children because she has no idea where they have run off to because she doesn't have to worry because this is a very very very very small town and no one in the world even knows it exists. That's this town. (but I wasn't that woman though... I don't wear and apron and I don't have a dinner bell. But I totally should get those....). Okay, back to someone screaming. Makenzie, my sweet 7 year old blond daughter, runs in the house and screams "the boys are stuck in the mud!!!". I look out and there are my twin boys up to their knees in mud. They are in the middle of one of the huge dirt piles! Well, I know for sure that I am not going to be the one to get them, no way. I wave to one of the Jackson boys to rescue my boys. They roll their eyes, as they should, put on their boots and basically swim through the dirt to get my boys. My boys came out but not their boots, those were stuck solid for a while. After the incident I gave it to my boys "why would you do that? Why would you ever think to walk in that huge quicksand of mud??!?!" The boys had a look of confusion on their faces. they said "you gave us MUD boots!" Ever since I have called them "your play outside and try to avoid mischief" boots.
I have so much more to write about, and I will. But for now my baby is up from his nap and I must continue my day of doing nothing in this town of isolation.
You have no idea. No idea.
So...... I'll skip the "premiere" debut and just get right down to business.
I have been sentenced to 2 1/2 years in solitary confinement. Where you ask? Colton, WA (12 miles out of Pullman, WA.). Why, you ask? I am still asking this question. My sentencing should be up pretty soon. I am hoping for early parole. I wanna get out of this place in June. Things are looking up.
Before my sentence I was living a busy, full life in Portland. I had it all going for me. Then, it all changed. Now I live in a town of 300 people. No stop lights. no stores. not even a gas station. We do have a library and a catholic church. I have 1 friend. A good friend. An amazing friend. She lives down the street from me. She pretty much is the reason I talk most days (well, I always talk to myself but she gives me a reason to, like, actually talk). She has 9 chickens. OK, she HAD 9 chickens. That is after the raccoon came and attacked one in the middle of the night. They found it dead in the morning, all torn up with guts everywhere, and she had her 12 year old son take it out to the fields, behead it, and leave it for the coyotes. I must have had shock on my face because she smiled and continued to tell me that they had a dog once that was very old, and she sent her boys out to the fields with the old dog, and a shot gun in hand. She said they popped him one to his head and did him a service by putting him out of his misery. My eyes bulged out, I giggled nervously. Her son came in right then wanting to show me a project he had done. He is my favorite of them all. He has white, blond hair, just like my boys. He has big blue eyes and just this classic country boy thing about him. He mostly always has dirt on his face, ragged and dirty shirts that are paired with shorts in the winter and his mud boots that were most likely worn by his 3 older brothers. He placed a raccoon skin on the table and said he skinned a raccoon and was now working on it. To be honest, I have no idea what he said he was doing to it. I was stuck on the "I skinned a raccoon" part. But he was proud. He quickly said to his mom he was going to send it to his brother that is on a mission. Oddly enough, I bet his older brother would love to open that raccoon skin and hang it proudly on his missionary wall, reminding him of home! Not so sure what his missionary companion would think though.
My kids are over at the Jackson's home like everyday. That is their name, the Jackson's. Seems very fitting of them. It just fits. They have 5 boys and a girl. The girl, Emily, is their last. My friend, Mrs Jackson, said she cried when she found out it was a girl. I am not sure if she cried because she didn't know how to do girls or if she cried for poor Emily coming into a family with all boys. Not just any boys. Real, 100%, country boys. Guns, dirt and all. Mrs Jackson was in labor for 2 full days with Emily, it was a tragic labor for sure! Emily can fend for herself. She was over at my house talking to me just straight about chicken guts she saw and how her cat ran off and a coyote ate her up. She is a kid where you don't need to have the "death" talk to. She sees animals come and go all the time at her house. It's no big deal. And she talks like it's no big deal. She can see animals beheaded and not blink, but that one time she was eating at my house and a piece of corn got mixed in with her mashed potatoes, that called for some serious gagging and near vomiting!
The Jackson's are the most loving, big hearted family you will ever meet. Mrs Jackson (that is what I am calling her on this blog) is like the coolest person I have ever met. She is real. Real as they come. She doesn't sugar coat anything, she can't. She has 6 kids to feed and like 50 animals to take care of.... OK, not 50, but it sure feels that way to city girl me. She never says no to my kids, although I tell her time and time again to slap them and send them home. But she just can't. She has the inability to say no, and the word "selfish" isn't in her vocabulary. I drive by and there are kids like pouring out of her house. People ask her to watch their kids and before you know it she is watching like 20 kids at once plus her own. There are kids, animals, dirt, trampolines, chickens and all sorts of craziness over there. I am pretty sure she invented the nursery rhyme "there was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn't know what to do..", but lets take the "old" out and add "nice"! My kids are over there so much they kinda blend in now, dirt and all! She is a big softy but also hard as a rock. She has been through it all. She has taught me so much in just the 2 years I have lived here.
In our first house we lived at in Colton (yes, I have lived in 2 homes here, don't remind me), I could look out my kitchen window and see the Jackson's home. They were right across the street. I had a perfect view of their 2 trampolines and all the dirt piles. The dirt piles, ugh, my Nemesis. I had never seen shoes get so dirty until I moved here! I swear dirt doesn't exist in the city. But out here there is dirt no matter where you go. I grew so tired of having my boys nice school shoes black with mud and dirt and who knows what else so I ran to Walmart (walmart is another post in itself) and picked up some "mud boots". I quickly told the boys I got them some new "mud boots" and they were to wear these when playing outside.
Within 5 minutes or so I hear screaming, which isn't unusual, so I just ignore it. Half the time out here I have no clue where my kids are. Let me paint a better picture for you, just picture miles and miles of rolling wheat fields surrounding a couple houses. Picture a nice breeze blowing by that house with the sound of wind chimes on the porch, nothing else, just the sound of wind chimes and maybe kids laughing. Now picture a woman, wearing an apron walking out on the porch and ringing the supper bell, calling out to her children because she has no idea where they have run off to because she doesn't have to worry because this is a very very very very small town and no one in the world even knows it exists. That's this town. (but I wasn't that woman though... I don't wear and apron and I don't have a dinner bell. But I totally should get those....). Okay, back to someone screaming. Makenzie, my sweet 7 year old blond daughter, runs in the house and screams "the boys are stuck in the mud!!!". I look out and there are my twin boys up to their knees in mud. They are in the middle of one of the huge dirt piles! Well, I know for sure that I am not going to be the one to get them, no way. I wave to one of the Jackson boys to rescue my boys. They roll their eyes, as they should, put on their boots and basically swim through the dirt to get my boys. My boys came out but not their boots, those were stuck solid for a while. After the incident I gave it to my boys "why would you do that? Why would you ever think to walk in that huge quicksand of mud??!?!" The boys had a look of confusion on their faces. they said "you gave us MUD boots!" Ever since I have called them "your play outside and try to avoid mischief" boots.
I have so much more to write about, and I will. But for now my baby is up from his nap and I must continue my day of doing nothing in this town of isolation.
You have no idea. No idea.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The birth of my new blog.
I am going to cut to the chase.
Let me fill you in:
I had a private blog musing about raising my 4 kids. I turned that into a book.
I had a house decorating blog. I moved away and now rent that house out.
I have a photography blog which turned into my much loved business.
I miss my blogs and have now started a new, fresh blog that consist of anything that I want. House ventures, mom ventings, family outings, photography nonsense, fitness, style, travel, chocolate, whatever I want (my photography website will continue to be up in full throttle)!
After all, I am an artist and I need somewhere to express myself. So here I go.
Ready.
Set.
Go.
Let me fill you in:
I had a private blog musing about raising my 4 kids. I turned that into a book.
I had a house decorating blog. I moved away and now rent that house out.
I have a photography blog which turned into my much loved business.
I miss my blogs and have now started a new, fresh blog that consist of anything that I want. House ventures, mom ventings, family outings, photography nonsense, fitness, style, travel, chocolate, whatever I want (my photography website will continue to be up in full throttle)!
After all, I am an artist and I need somewhere to express myself. So here I go.
Ready.
Set.
Go.
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