Sleepover Shenanigans

Grady has made a bunch of friends in our neighborhood. It's really the ideal place to live for a kid. The best way to explain it is there is one large road that cars can drive on that goes in a circle. This is how you get to your house. In the middle of the circle is one great big gigantic park that's maintained by our homeowner association. It's massive and beautiful with gorgeous flowers and winding paths that you can walk forever. Believe me, I know this because you have to walk forever to get Lennox to knock off for a nap sometimes.

Anyway, since there isn't any traffic to worry about, the neighborhood kids are allowed to play together and and have free reign over acres and acres of land. I make Grady carry his cell phone so I can keep tabs on him (although his frequent butt-dials tend to get obnoxious) and sometimes it's the only form of communication I have with him all day, aside from him stopping in to ask me when he's supposed to eat food again.

I'm not saying an affluent neighborhood equals nice kids, but I will say that all of the kids Grady plays with are respectful and nice, where the kids he played with in Maine acted like they had just been shot up with espresso after undergoing a lobotomy. Mean thing to say? I don't especially care. I don't miss those kids at all.

Even though Grady has made great friends that I'm thrilled to know he's spending time with, the idea of sleepovers still stress me out. I'm leery of other people's kids. What if they don't like the food we serve? What is the proper way to tell someone else's kid to knock it off when they get all rowdy and act like a goon? What if they discover my large cache of automatic weapons? Can I even let them go home after that? The whole thing is very complicated.

SO, when my husband said to Grady last night "Hey, tomorrow you should have Ferdinand spend the night!" I almost looked into a divorce lawyer. I wasn't prepared for this and we're still experimenting with the right dose of Valium to get me through things like this. (I think the right dose is 'all of it' but no one ever listens to me) Then my husband said something about me sleeping in the next day while he handled Lennox and I immediately tabled the divorce idea. I think that horrific week of rollercoaster emotions is coming up anyway, and I assured myself that will be punishment enough.

So, here we are. Ferdinand is playing Xbox with Grady after eating out at a local restaurant that has mediocre food but also an arcade, so we'll probably be going there weekly from now on. Mr. Betty Crocker is out in the kitchen making a batch of his to-die-for cookies and wrangling the boys when they get a little too rowdy.

Me? I'm hiding in my bedroom. I love Ferdinand, he's a great kid, but I need to ease myself into this whole thing. I have a feeling it's going to be a common occurrence around here from now on. Plus someone has to snuggle with this adorable little baby that's snoring in my ear.

And the nice kid spending the night? He isn't named Ferdinand. He actually has a nice name, but I think it's weird to share stuff like that without some kind of release. I should totally type up a release for his parents to sign. How hilarious would that be?

Hey! In addition to making killer cookies, my husband hangs lights pretty nicely. This is the start of our fall-oween outdoor decor. We are the only ones in our neighborhood with outdoor lights, so I'm wondering if we're in some kind of violation of HOA rules. Meh.

Quick Recap

We moved from Maine to the central coast of California.

It was a miserable process that separated my husband and I for a few months while he started work in CA and I wrapped up loose ends in Maine. I hated it and gained a whole new level of respect for military spouses. All set with ever doing that again.

We found a house in an amazing neighborhood that I love.

Aidan is living in Maine during the school year and in California during the summer and holidays. Our family is devastated and Aidan is having immense difficulty with this. Please send positive vibes/thoughts/prayers or whatever you are into. We know this isn't permanent, but it's still very painful. And that's all I plan to say about any of that.

Grady loves California and I am so thankful he has made friends, become involved on Karate and started tutoring other kids at school. He was very unsure about our big move. Now, you would have to hogtie him and knock him out to get him back to Maine.

Lennox is getting big and naughty and cuter every day. The word 'no' is his absolute favorite and makes him giggle, which is adorable and messes up my angry mommy act.

We live really, really close to the ocean. There are some hills between our house and the ocean, which I sincerely appreciate. I have an issue with tsunamis, and those hills? Tsunami shields. I call them that, tsunami shields. I try to do it quietly though, in case my husband is listening. I don't need him trying to slip risperdol into my Diet Coke, thank you very much.



I think that's the major stuff. I didn't really know how to cover the major stuff, so it made it hard to start blogging again. Now it's just a slippery slope.

I just wrote this post at my husband's work. He works at a prison. I'd love to take a picture, but I'd probably be shot on site, and I really have to go grocery shopping later so a bullet wound would be very inconvenient. I'm sorry.

We've Moved

.....and it probably won't change the fact that I'm horrible about updating my blog. But hey, new catchy blog title!

Thanksgiving

     We made the trek down to Sturbridge, MA, to spend Thanksgiving with my family. Lennox was perfect on the trip down, probably because his Daddy was in the back seat with him while Grady totally passed out  kept me company in the front seat. Aidan was the only other person in the car to stay awake during the entire trip. He amazed me with how many variations of "are we there yet"  he could come up with.

     Once we made it down, Benjamin and I ran to the grocery store to pick up a few things I needed to cook the next day and, for the first time ever, we were together without Lennox. My parents insisted he stay home with them since it was so cold outside. It was a wierd feeling, being without him. He's been within 20 feet of me since he was born. It was amazing to take our time looking things over in the grocery store and holding hands and snuggling like we used to before one of us always had  baby in our arms, but we both later admitted to each other that something was missing without him there.

     The next day was busy. I volunteered to cook Thanksgiving dinner for 14 people, plus I made appetizers and desserts. I really enjoy doing that stuff, so it was actually pretty fun. Grady and Aidan were really well behaved and Benjamin spent the whole day snuggling Lennox, except for when I needed help moving the 25 pound turkey around the kitchen. Then we had to pass him off to Grandmoms and Aunts that were more than wiling to take charge of him. Dinner went off without a hitch and I think everyone enjoyed themselves.

     I think Ben had high hopes for Black Friday, and when we finally rolled out of bed at 9:30 we both decided we could care less. A lot of the things the boys have asked for, I've been able to find deals on already. So it just wasn't a big deal to miss out on shopping at 4am to save five dollars on a video game. We did end up braving a gigantic mall in Connecticut, but the whole experience was uneventful aside from seeing a shoplifter get taken down by mall security.

     Now it's 1:30 in the morning and I'm being an irresponsible parent by letting the boys stay up and play video games with their grandfather while Lennox snoozes on my chest. Benjamin is asleep upstairs and was expecting me to wake him up four hours ago, but I'm pretty sure that when you love someone and have a baby with them, the best gift that you can give them is sleep. So I hope he is having plenty of sweet dreams.

     If you had told me a year ago that this is what my life would look like, I would have laughed in your face, But I am so very thankful for the way things have turned out. I have three handsome, sweet boys, and a fiance that loves me and my sons like no one ever has before. This Thanksgiving has reminded me that I have a lot to be grateful for.

The Souvenier From California

Before Benjamin and I left for California, we asked Aidan and Grady what they would like us to bring them back for a souvenier. A shell? A toy? A leaf from a palm tree? Botox? We gave them lots of ideas, none quite as good as botox, but I digress.

Aidan thought really hard for a few days, which was terrifying because often when Aidan is thinking really hard about something there is always the distinct possibility that something will get lit on fire. Finally at dinner one night he told us he has decided on what he wanted us to bring him from California.

"I want a scorpion" he said. And he said it as calmly as if he was making a weather observation.

"They're kind of poisonous buddy, and I don't think they'll let us take one on the plane. We might be able to find you one that was like....stuck in glass or something after it died. Would that be good? A dead, glassed-in scorpion?"  I looked hopefully at Aidan, praying that he would change his mind and ask for a shell instead.

"It will be alive," he said confidently as he hopped off his chair to clear his plate, "and you can still bring me a dead one in glass."

Psychotic banter like this is pretty routine around our house, so I didn't think about our conversation much until I was laying in bed with Benjamin in Oceanside, CA, wide eyed and wondering why Nuvaring had abandoned me as a form of birth control, the thought of a third child leaving me completely stunned. That's when Benjamin and I both realized our due date would be sometime in early November, a scorpio baby. Aidan was getting his bizarre little wish.

His name is Benjamin Michael Lennox Lake, but we will call him Lennox because my brain will explode with two Benjamins in the house. He was born 11/09/10, the same day as the release of Call of Duty: Black Ops, which is something I'm sure his father considers a wonderful sign. We are happy and feel very, very blessed.

Right before heading to the hospital

One more picture with just me and my big boys

I had to go in to the hospital the night before being induced. That bed was murder.

Yet somehow, he slept through the night. What was I doing all night? I was doped up on the Ambien the nurse gave me to get me to sleep so I'd have energy to....give birth? Unfortunately, it had a paradoxical effect on me and I wound up being awake most of the night playing some crazy bubble popping game on my iPad. And let me tell you, that game just isn't as interesting without Ambien.

My first time getting all hooked up so I could have an epidural. I've never had one before, and I feel cheated. It's amazing.

Three minutes from "I have to push NOW" to baby. I set a labor and delivery record. Lennox doesn't seem impressed.

The proudest, sweetest daddy I have ever seen.

Almost There....

THAT, is Catalina Island. It's off the coast of California. It looks way to lush and exotic to be American, no?

I have never been to Catalina Island. I have never been to California. I have never even been west of New Jersey, because my parents didn't really love me and take me on decadent trips to far-off lands as a child. Plus I had a kid when I was eighteen, which totally throws off your traveling groove.

So how did I remedy such a sad, sheltered existence and break free of the East Coast for a vacation? Easy. I suckered a native California boy into loving me and wanting to take me out to visit his home. No roaming gnomes involved.

Seriously, I am beyond excited for this trip. Truth be told, it's not just a vacation, but also kind of a prospecting thing too. I am tired of winter. I never, EVER imagined living in Maine this long. It seemed like one thing after another has come up keeping me here longer and longer and now I am finally ready to leave. So while we're in California, we'll be checking out schools, nearby hospitals for work and different neighborhoods and hoping to find one that we can call home. In a couple of months we'll be taking the boys out there to show them around. As long as they equate moving to California with Legoland, resistance to the move should be minimal.

It's funny when you talk to people about moving across the country. You're met with either extreme pessimism or total enthusiasm, (the enthusiasm gets me all paranoid that the person I'm talking to is psyched to get rid of me, sometimes they go a little overboard). But there never really seems to be a lukewarm reaction when it's brought up, and that's more what I'm hoping for. I'm thinking I'm going to just stop talking to people about it all together and let my sudden absence be a total surprise to everyone. Including my boss.

No. Maybe.

Regardless of who knows and who doesn't, I'm excited. My insurance doesn't really cover psychiatric inpatient hospitalization, and that's where I'm headed if I'm forced to resolve myself to another winter in this Godforsaken tundra where only very, very bad people should have to live state. The grass may not be greener in California, but at least you can see it 12 months out of the year.

We're kind of winging it as far as trip plans, but Catalina Island, Santa Monica Pier and sea kayaking in La Jolla (pronounced "LaHOYa", guess which idiot has been pronouncing incorrectly since Hollister started selling La Jolla body spray?) are all on the agenda. And Coronado Island, because up until 20 minutes ago Mr California himself thought it was a restricted military area and it warrants a trip just for that reason alone.

Unfortunately, Mr California is smarter than me, by a long shot, and I have to really give him a hard time when he's wrong about something, like Coronado Island. He makes a mistake as often as the eclipse rolls around, it's remarkable. And unfair. Do you ever find yourself Googling a topic furiously to try to prove someone wrong because you KNOW you have got to be right? Hoping and praying that out of the thousands of hits, one schmuck will see things your way and blog about it or something?

.....me neither. Never ever.

2009 Was A Very Hard Year

    

I successfully dropped out of the blogging universe for 2009. I would love to say that I was so busy doing  incredibly constructive and world-bettering activities that I just didn't have the time to stop and blog. But that would be a big lie, and so would me telling you that I'm totally positive that "world-bettering" is proper English.

     If you haven't been living under a rock or been held captive by Somali pirates, you probably have a Facebook account. One of the things I'm fascinated by is the drama-soaked status updates that I see four or five times a day from a lot of my "friends" on there. Not just the generic "having a rough day" or "not feeling well" stuff either. Let me share several examples of the updates I've received in the last 24 hours:

(I've changed names to protect the integrity of my friend count)

Frannie is "wondering when her cheating boyfriend will decide to come home and what color lipstick will be on his collar tonight"

Adam is "hating the world. Women suck (you know who you are Jennifer)"

Shannon is "going to kill her ex"

.......and my most very favorite:

Terry is "FML"


     These come up day after day, usually peppered with song lyrics about setting people's pants on fire or walking blindly into traffic while holding a rose in your teeth (Hellooooo new name for an emo band! Yesss!). Whether it's cathartic for these people to blurt out to an entire social network that they're hurting or they are in desperate need for validation or just feel that it bears announcing that women......specifically you Jennifer.....suck, I don't know. And don't get me wrong, we're all guilty of these posts, there is just a really wide spectrum measuring the frequency of how often we do it. I just hope that when people notice I've updated my status people aren't instantly thinking "Awesome, how close is Ingrid to driving into a K-Mart store front today?". (For the record, I'm pretty close to doing that everyday since we have the most ghetto, miserable K-Mart on the planet right here in Bangor.)

     My point is, some people don't mind talking about bad things in their lives. Some people are actually rather enthusiastic about it. Some people simply shut down and don't want to talk about anything when things in life are hard. I am one of those people, and 2009 was really hard.

     The worst of 2009 centered around my break-up, separation, pseudo divorce....whatever you want to call it. When you share a house, family and help raise each others children, the term "breaking up" seems like something that should be reserved for middle schoolers and doesn't really do the situation justice. Anyway, I don't really have a lot to say about it other than it was hard, it was my choice, I wish we both could have handled things differently and minimized the negative impact on our children, I miss people in my life that I either pushed away or lost as a casualty of the "taking sides" phenomenon, it was the hardest decision I've ever made, it was the right decision, I miss a little girl more than I've ever missed anything in my life, I'm doing better, the boys are doing better too, I'm looking forward to seeing what life has in store for us.

     So that's that in a nutshell. I missed blogging and even though I rarely comment, I still check in with my Google Reader every day and have kept up with all the "regulars". All my old posts on this blog have been switched to drafts and are no longer visable to the public. I feel like so much has changed and I'm continuously moving forward. Having posts that illustrate a past that I'm so far removed from staring me in the face everyday just doesn't seem comfortable right now.

     It will keep getting better and it will be okay. "Every little thing is gonna be alright" in the words of Bob Marley. Or was that Garth Brooks.......or Lady GaGa?


I'm going with GaGa

Who wouldn't, really?