The Hardest Decision I've Ever Made

I can't even believe I'm writing this. You might wanna sit down -- it may take a while...

I mentioned what had happened in the beginning of the year, right? If you didn't read it, feel free to read the previous post (or two). Then come back. I'll be here.

Hi again.

Since then, a few things have happened. Mostly good. Some actually pretty miraculous. I can't believe how mysterious God's ways truly are sometimes.

But darkness was still looming. It crept into my marriage, in a bad way, more than once. It seeped into my mothering. It caused me to gasp for air, even when the oxygen reader at the dr's showed a strong 98% flow. It made me cry harder, more often, with anger and guilt and loneliness. But I wasn't alone, I had very little reason to be angry, and I certainly had no reason to feel guilty. Yet I continued to cry. I cried and cried and cried and cried... until I couldn't cry anymore. I was numb. For what may have only been a moment, I hit bottom, and was ready -- so ready -- to quit.

At this same time, I was exercising regularly. I didn't have a set diet, but I naturally don't eat a lot anyway. This year I wanted to focus on the habit of exercising regularly, and I was getting pretty good at it. I even started eating less junk as a result of the exercising. Win! Except the scale didn't show a win. Neither did the measurement tape. Nor my clothes I thought I'd be able to fit by then. Other things manifested too: more fatigue, more brain fog, drier hair and skin, off-kilter digestive tract, mysterious wrist injury and back pain that I only get during pregnancy, irregular menstrual cycles, sore throat without the presence of a cold or flu, and a number of other things that I keep forgetting (I wonder why). I took a blood pregnancy test after my period was 7 days late and 3 home tests came out negative, and my OB/GYN found that I was not only negative, but my Thyroid Stimulant Hormone level was low. This is unusual because just a few months ago it was normal, and my OB/GYN knew this as well as that I have multiple cysts in my thyroid. She sent me to an endocrinologist who said that I'm borderline anything so he can only re-test me later on, but my OB/GYN is pretty sure it is the early stages of Hashimoto's thyroiditis.

Doesn't it all make sense now?

So what do all of these things have to do with the picture above?

(I told you this will take a while.)

Let me back up...

When my recovery was hard and I landed back in the hospital and my Christmas SUCKED, my mister and I began talking about if this baby should be our last one. This was the first newborn we brought up where we just weren't sure if another child was in our future. Parents of newborns know what I mean: "you just know when your family is complete." True statement. Well, we knew with all our other kids. But now we didn't. Our brains and emotions were so messed up this year that he and I just couldn't come to a definite conclusion. In the meantime, life happened, and my body couldn't handle it. We had tried scads of contraceptives but found none that fit us well -- the hormones messed me up, or my mister couldn't stand being able to feel them, or they got lost in my body. Another true story.

Oh, I didn't tell you about that one? Hmmm... another time perhaps.

But anyway, contraceptives were off the table. And abstinence... And I even tried the Fertility Awareness Method, but that only just showed me that something was definitely wrong in my body. In the midst of all of this, the darkness set it, and the one night where I felt I couldn't do it anymore (define "it" however you choose), that was the moment I felt like this chapter in my life needed to close. Needed to. I prayed, studied, and pondered on this for a week. My mister and I discussed this for a month. It was real. It was certain.

The picture above is my stomach this afternoon, just after coming home from getting my tubes tied. Yes, you read that right: I just got my tubes tied. I'm trying to say it as often as I can so it can sink in quicker. It's not something that gives me joy, and currently I'm in a lot of pain. But it's something that I need to share, to come to grips with. I'm not one of those women who wanted only 2 or 3 children. I wanted a lot... And then I didn't... And then I became a good mom... And then I didn't... And then my body got stronger... And then it didn't... And that's what I've been conflicted with for years. Years! So this decision has been a long time coming. And as much as all the negative feelings a Polynesian woman can have about it, I know that I needed to do this. That this was the way for me in my life right now.

Please know that I love my children, with every fiber of my being. I know that children are gifts from God and many people in the world do not get to enjoy such blessings. I still feel like 5 children isn't a lot, and that the right set of parents can juggle big families with their eyes closed and legs tied. But I am not the right mom, and we are not the right set of parents for the number of children we actually want. (Hint: it's more than 5.) And my deteriorating body and mind are proof of that. The hardest decision in my life is this: to give up the right and privilege to bring another child into the world for a chance to give my best to the children that I already have.

If any of you readers pass judgment upon me -- weak, crazy, stupid, heathen, selfish are just a few adjectives that you could want to comment with -- move along. This is not a space for judgment. To preach about Planned Parenthood or abortion or women's rights or what the scriptures condemn or how you feel about religion. This is a space of understanding. Of acknowledging human weakness as well as human strength. Of comfort to other who are struggling with incredibly hard decisions right now. If you are struggling, I will say this: God created us to make choices. Every choice that affects our lives is a choice that we have to make. Don't let life make your choice for you. Work with God. Know yourself. Find His plan for you. 

Then make a choice.

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The Truths of Life

As Sunday is peeking its way in, I am surrounded by five sleeping children. Three of them have low-grade fevers, three of them have runny noses and coughs, and 2 of them have apparently developed a snore. My mister is faithfully away at drill without us tagging along with him for the first time since he transferred to Utah (last September or October), and I miss my mom.

Did I mention my mom died?

It was last month. It was a hard month. All the sadness, all the pain, the confusion, sorrow, loneliness, stress that had accumulated throughout this year had culminated into a heavy and swift reverse roundhouse to my face the day that Mom died. I tried to make it to her. I tried to see her, to say goodbye. But I have too many little kids, and not enough people around me that I trust.

But I digress.

6 weeks later, I am doing alright. Still a bit lost. Still a bit sad. Still a little confused. But alright.

My husband's gone for the weekend. My kids are sick and passing it around each other. I weigh more than I EVER have during a non-pregnant time of my life. The events and issues of the past 5 months have not really passed or been resolved. I don't even smile much anymore.

But right now, in the middle of the night, it's not so bad.

And I'll tell you why.

Because I know things. Certain things I know to be true. To be fact.

1. I am loved. My husband and I may not be on the best of terms all the time, but I know that man loves me more than he's ever loved any person before, and that has never changed. Kids I swear are God's gift to us, to shower us with unconditional and blissful love that at times we may not even deserve. I have friends near and far whose hearts are linked to mine eternally, no matter how different our lives are. And, of course, my Heavenly Father and my Savior love me. Fact.

2. Doing things designed to make people happy WILL make people happy. Exercise. Lots of water. Rest. Eating yummy food. Taking in sunshine. Reading good books. Listening to good music. Playing good music. Dancing. Writing. All these things I've tried at some point this year, and I promise you that all these things work. If you try them, I PROMISE the struggles will become more bearable. They may not solve your problems, but they WILL make you more capable of solving your problems. Fact.

3. Everyone gets the same amount of time in the day. While most days I feel like I totally wasted time, mentally returning to this fact helps keep myself in check. Do I spend it dwelling on problems? Do I spend it finding solutions? Am I in the right mindset to effectively accomplish this task or that task? What is the best use of my time today? When was the last time I focused on my husband? My kids? Myself? Get yourself in check regarding your time. It just may help pass the time better. (See what I did there?) Not to mention... a lot can happen over time.

A week ago I wouldn't have been able to write this post. A week ago I thought I was going to lose something again, and it felt like my heart stopped for a few days. But the great truths of life do not fail us, if only we work with them. They are all dependent variables in the big formula for success and happiness. They always have been. We just have to let them work in our lives the way they are meant to. Enjoy the love that is for you. Do things you know will make you happy. Use your time wisely. Trust in the process, in the system. And it won't be so bad.

P.S. Bonus fact: engaging in projects bigger than yourself is the secret to happiness. This past Mother's Day was the worst Mother's Day of my life until I made it about other mothers. Service is the bomb diggity. You gotta try it.

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1/4-way Into 2016

I just read the two most recent posts about going on a hiatus and reviewing 2013. I'm glad I did, because this post was originally going to sound a lot like "2014." If there is anything I learned from 2015, it's that we can't afford to look back anymore. What's done is done. The decisions we made are made. All we can do about them now is live with the consequences and prepare ourselves for future decisions.

But for the family newsletter sake of this blog, I will quickly recap what has happened since said last posts:

• We moved from paradise to the wild frontier
• We lived under the home of yet another family member
• My mister had a $9/hr job for 6 months before being able to land a decent job that had career potential
• I applied to be a Hot Hula fitness instructor and ended up being a Group Kick/Group Fight and dance fitness instructor
• We bought a house
• We had a miscarriage
• We got pregnant again
• My mister took on a 3rd job (4, if you count the ARNG)
• The kids and I traveled by plane a lot... and got stuck in various airports around the western U.S. almost every time we flew
• My mom got cancer
• Siblings from both sides moved in with us
• My 3-year-old son and I joined a preschool co-op
• I got C. Diff. right after my 2nd C-section
• Our eldest got diagnosed with severe ADHD
• I pulled her out of school to homeschool her
• My brother-in-law died
• We kicked people out of our house
• My mister went back to (online) school
• He also signed up for a business opportunity
• We crashed our family car
• We bought a new family car and are back in debt
• I have depression (only slightly related to postpartum depression)

And I'm pretty sure I'm missing things in the mix. Overall, 2014 was a year of starting anew, and 2015 was jam packed with joys and sorrows. My prayers at the end of 2015 were to not let 2016 be like 2015 -- aside from the home that we live in and our beautiful child #5 entering the world, 2015 was a struggle like no other. And so far, 2016 has proven to be even worse.

It's like the universe is saying to me, "Prepare yourself. This is not over." The world around me has been sadness these first 3 months. Nothing but hurt and sorrow. I had never tried so hard to find the most comfortable rock I could live under for the rest of my life. Hope is very scarce to come by nowadays. My faith has been tested, undeniably. The end is not in sight. Not anywhere.

Please tell me that I'm not the only one whose life totally sucks.

Well, not totally.

As I'm writing this, my #4 is unconscious and sprawled across my lap, my 3-month-old #5 spread out on the couch next to me, and it's 6 o'clock in the morning. Motherhood and constant worrying have taken the morning person out of me, but seeing the beginnings of the sunrise peek in through the blinds is refreshing. Hearing the clock tick its early tocks brings me out of my mental slumber. And although hope is scarce, it's still there. I know that I never not have something to live for. A husband who kisses me every morning. Little souls who say "good morning, Mom," all the time. Siblings, parents, family and friends who are silently and distantly rooting me on. Hope is still there.

Hope is still there.

So here's to 2016: the year to hope.

Ganbatte.

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Another Hiatus

if it hasn't already been apparent to you:

i'm taking a hiatus from blogging.

this year has taken a bold turn, and i'm still trying to process it all.

and every time i step back up to my blogging plate, i stare at it blankly for about 5 minutes before just closing it and doing something else with my day.

so this blog will still be here

i will still keep ownership of this domain

but for now, it will remain as is

until i am ready to take it

to the next level

i have to take myself to the next level, first.

just know that i am doing well.

we are doing well.

and i am thinking of you.

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2014

2013 taught me something...

... It taught me that there is a huge difference between remembering the past and looking back.

It taught me that a new beginning and second chances can be the same.

That there really are worse things in life than... well, MY life.

That moments are really what count.

Not much happened since my last entry. I was the cause of my Almonds being chronically late to school in the mornings. I had a scheduled induction which turned into an emergency Caesarian Section. I hated my body and resented my doctor for the rest of the year. My loving Jobi returned home, and it changed our family in small and unexpected ways.

But through it all, I was grateful that we made it. That the year had drawn to a close, and we survived it. And when I say "we," I don't just mean me and my little family. I also mean my sister who went through two major surgeries in her never-ending cancer battle, another sister who had a major surgery in her own battles, a mother who's cancer has returned, a brother who's illnesses are always unexplained but ever present, financial difficulties, emotional traumas, spiritual trials, separations, loss, pain. I'm not writing all these so people can feel sorry for us. Don't feel sorry for us! We do not feel sorry -- we feel grateful.

Last year tested us, and I do not wish to repeat it for the world (my baby being the only exception). It tested us, and we were strained under the pressure. But we survived. Yes, we are all still alive, we all still have roofs over our heads, we all still have foods in our bellies. In this age of extreme consumerism, how lucky am I to appreciate the true value of the simple things in life.

2014 is 1/12th of the way done, but I still feel like it has only begun. That is why I have no problem blogging so far along in the year. I don't have any concrete resolutions because so much is already going on that I know I will see change in my life. We are leaving Hawaii, this place I've called home for nearly a decade, and creating a new chapter for ourselves. A clean slate of sorts. I have finally stopped making excuses and applied at the fitness center on campus to be a Hot Hula fitness instructor for next month. I messed up my back again, doing the same thing I did last time, so I already have some kinks to work through this year. (No pun intended.) And I did something I feel like I only have dreams of anymore: I sang a song solo in Sacrament Meeting. Very VERY few people know my nature of singing and my feelings toward singing in Sacrament Meeting, so to accomplish that was a miracle indeed. This year is already turning out to be different.

But I do have two "mottos" for this new year. Mantras? Themes? Whatever you call them, here they are:

MOVE. FORWARD.

Jobi told me he heard a saying ... The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago; the second best time is now. So just do it already. No more excuses, no more hesitations. Be proactive. Own your decisions. Own your life. Remember who you are; remember your legacy. But don't look back. No more looking back. Always look forward. Always step forward. The pain will be there, the struggle will be there. Don't fear it. Be strong; have faith; keep on moving forward.

May this year be the year you have much to look forward to.

Lecheim.

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39 Weeks

I've never made it to 39 weeks before.

This is a new experience.

It's like this baby is trying to be a rebel.

And maybe her being so old (in womb) is the reason why I am in so much pain.

But she's coming when she wants to come. And I am going to let her.

Ok, not entirely...

I'm getting induced this Thursday.

(Teeheehee...)

Being back on North Shore Oahu, I was nervous about getting to the hospital in time, especially since Chip's labor started at 7:30am (very first strong contraction) and ended 2 hours later. Now, the hospital is an hour away, and I did not want to be giving birth on the side of the highway. So I was granted a medically-induced labor. And the timing was perfect for this induction date, so I didn't want to rush it -- just relax and let the labor progress on its own.

But man, it's painful. And tiring.

Otherwise, I'm excited for this week.

(And scared. Even though this is my fourth time.)

I just had to let you know.

P.S. Reason #327 why I hate Facebook: not only are so many of my friends pregnant, but they blow up my page about their pregnancy statuses. "19 weeks! Look at me!" "30 weeks! Almost there!" "Natural birth rocks" "I'm craving this food" "My hubby's the best dad-to-be ever" blah blah blah. Ultrasounds and preggo bumps. I still think what I thunk before (name that movie!): pregnant women look weird! And I love that women still believe in being mothers, but I don't care how special it is for you! I have my own pregnancy to worry about; I don't want to compare it to yours. Or exchange nursery ideas.

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School: A New Chapter

The morning was cool and quiet, not a soul on the street except the wild birds and chickens. I had my new Nikon 1 J1 in hand; Almonds donned her oversized purple Jansport. We began the cross-town walk to her first day of kindergarten.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

I believed her. And why shouldn't I? She's been ready to go to school for a long time.

As we walked, I told her of all the things I expect of her as a student in school.

"Listen to your teacher..."

"Be kind to the other kids..."

"Don't worry if kids are mean to you..."

I started to wonder if those were the right things to tell her, and if our first walk was the right time. Should I have told her to study hard and get really good grades? Should we have made a plan on how we would do her homework when she got home everyday? Should she have practiced saying her full name, or memorizing my phone number, or gone over spelling and counting? And what especially do you say when you know, at this big moment in her life, she wishes her daddy were here with her?

Braxton-Hicks were bugging me, and Almonds was getting tired of our walk. But once we arrived at the elementary school, both our weariness became anxiety. A group of kids were playing with a bouncy ball against the wall of a classroom. Others were running around us kicking a soccer ball. Parents and teachers and staff were scrambling to get individuals here and there. The fields and playgrounds were packed, more so than Almonds and I have seen before. Her first exposure to public school. She slowed her pace.

"Are you getting nervous?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she muttered.

I held her hand with as much calmness and confidence I could. "It's okay," I started, "this is what school looks like. A lot of kids go here at the same time. After a while, you'll get used to being around so many people. And I'll always come to pick you up when school is done."

All I could do was hope that those were the right words. If my Jobi were here, he probably would've just said, "eh, never mind," and that'd be the end of it.

Man, I wish my husband were here.

I guided her to the correct classroom. She said hi to the teacher and walked in, as if forgetting I was still there. Good girl, I thought. You'll do just fine. I turned around and waddled home, breathing deeply, trying not to cry.

My dad used to say that kindergarten is not a big deal. It's a part of life and kids should go, so parents shouldn't fuss over it so much. The same with graduation from elementary school, and even graduation from high school. Parents need to reserve their celebratory urges for life events that deserve it: graduation from college, marriage, honorable full-time mission. Those kinds of milestones. Kindergarten is not one of those.

At least that's what I thought. So I didn't plan anything. I made Almonds her favorite breakfast and took maybe five pictures of her, and I think my dad would find that sufficient.

But as I walked her to school that day, just me and her, I realized it wasn't just that she was starting kindergarten. She was leaving her baby and toddler self behind for good. She was about to leave home -- to really leave home -- for the first time and see the world. She was, literally, growing up. And we as her parents have to let her. Have to allow Time to pass as it's supposed to. Have to accept the fact that we are now parents of people other than babies.

This was the time of parenting I was most looking forward to. Being mom to kids that went to school. I've always loved the idea of sending kids off into the world, spending my mornings doing whatever I wanted all those things I needed to in peace, helping kids with homework in the afternoon and eating dinners without high chairs. I pictured my husband coming home from work before dinner, teaching the kids how to throw a frisbee, or kick a soccer ball, or shoot a basket. Or even wrestle, if he wanted to. (Because I know he'd want to.) I imagined family evenings would be easier because all our children would be eloquent and expressive and we could clearly understand them; we can have great discussions and, as a family, come up with ideas that would satisfy and enrich everyone. I especially loved the idea of our kids sleeping in their own rooms. Of them being too big to stay on our bed, so they would rather be in their own space, on their own beds, ultimately giving us a little privacy back. Being parents of little school-aged children will be the best, I thought. I'm over this stage of having a house full of babies, I thought.

So why am I trying not to cry? Why am I secretly wishing my Almonds didn't have to go to school this year? Why did I walk home from that elementary school reminiscing about her potty training days, and her crawling days, and the day she was born? Why am I looking at Blondie and Chip as kids that will soon grow up and leave me, and feeling sad about it?

Is this what parenting truly is? Having so much love for (an)other human being(s) that, even when the responsibility may seem too much, you wouldn't have it any other way?

My Almonds started kindergarten. And my family, as a whole, just grew up before my eyes.
I wasn't ready for that.

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I Told Myself I'd Take the #31WriteNow Challenge

... and already I've failed.

Hahahahahahaha!!! Why do I even think this is funny!?

Today, the day I'm writing this post, is Saturday, August 3, 2013. The challenge began on August 1st, in which I had published 3 posts within the first hour of the day (read: midnight). So yesterday I thought I could skip a day given my progress yesterday.

But today I reread the terms of the challenge...

Here are the rules: (click for link)

* Put up a new post on your blog at least once a day for the next 31 days

* The posts can be written in advance (it doesn’t count as cheating if you schedule some)

* Use the hashtag #31WriteNow when you tweet the link to your posts

... and I thought, "Crap, I didn't hashtag or tweet the posts."

*sigh* good one, Esther.

Maybe next month...

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Tinkering with Pixelmator (Attempt #1)

Like I said before, I am not aspiring to be a photographer. But I do like the idea that you can take a photo and make it look different. Better. Even artistic. I used Picnik for forever until it got sold to Google. Then I started using PicMonkey and absolutely love it. But I got curious. I wanted to try a better editor. Something that could enhance a photo and make a new image from scratch. Something that artsy photo editors and graphic designers use for their masterpieces.

Just not Photoshop. It's waaaaay too expensive, and I know I'm not exceptional enough with graphics to need it.

(And no, not GIMP, either. I've used it before, and it gives me a headache. Don't ask me why. It just does.)

Enter Pixelmator.

It cost me $15 from the Mac App Store, which is totally reasonable for a graphic novice like me. I spent all evening looking at YouTube tutorials and tutorials from their site before starting a project, and my brain is on overload. But I had to try out some of the things I learned before I slept for the night and forgot everything, so I pulled out a picture I took at my brother-in-law's wedding. Some of the tutorials were difficult to follow, and I realized that I'm better at reading instructions than watching instructions. Which is surprising because that's totally opposite in dancing. But when I followed the written instructions on Pixelmator's site, I found the process was much easier and I could remember it better.

I could've waited a few months to keep practicing until I got a really good product created, but this job took me so long to work on that I don't want to just leave it like it was nothing. Besides, this may be a good reference post for me to see my progress with utilizing this program. Like how you see on all those weight loss commercials testimonials with "Before" and "After" photos. Maybe this could be my "Before," you know?

Anyway, here is the original photo:

... and here is my first Pixelmator edit of this photo:

It's not much, but I'm proud. I have more photos of their wedding I want to edit and give to them, so I better hurry up on the others. Aren't my husband and his family so handsome? :-)

Pixelmator: so far, so good. I like all the features that I've learned it has so far, and I can't wait to see what else I can create with it.

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Getting Back on Facebook

So, like I said in a previous post... I'm back on Facebook.

I know, I know, you're thinking, "of course you are. No one can stay away from Facebook. No one!

"Muahahaha!"

Ok, maybe you're not saying that.

But I digress.

Being back on Facebook is ... well, it's just as I expected. I see friends posting their opinions on gay marriage, or gun control, or Republicans. I see friends putting up photos of their latest weekend getaway to an exotic destination, or extreme aerial shots from their last skydive, or their latest supercuteandtotallytodiefor beauty and fashion haul, or their totally fit bodies and zen lifestyle. I see friends post the most scrumptious dish that they daintily whipped up for friends and family to ooh and aahh over. I see friends having fantastic careers and talking about their exciting business ventures and remodeling their home that they own.

And of course, I see lots of ads. If I sign up for the Color Run 5k, will they stop putting that up on my page?

Facebook is addicting, time-wasting, and depressing. And that's why I had no problem closing my account to begin with.

But there was something I didn't expect Facebook would be, and that is ... nostalgic.

I've been looking through the photos on my own page, and I couldn't believe how much of my life I forgot. I've only had FB for a decade, but man -- a lot had happened to me in that single decade.
(There I go, talking like I'm old. A decade is only 1/3 of my life.)

BYU-Hawaii Concert Choir tour to China and Mongolia, 2007.
My FB page is crammed with photos of this tour, thanks to all the choir members who took their cameras.
This was when the phrase "Facebook it!" was popular.
(Yes, that is the Great Wall. It's spectacular.)

Not only is the gospel true, but finding good company in others who share your beliefs is priceless.
FB helps with that, I've noticed.

People come into your life randomly it seems. But even after years of not seeing them again,
you still feel the effects they made on you when you were together as friends.

Who these people I call family are and what they've done make my own life seem insignificant.
But in actuality, I have done great work too; and it's because of what my family has blessed me with
that I've been able to. (Sapi, Tama, Grandpa -- I miss you.)

It's funny how pictures pop up on Facebook that are Pre-FB dated.
What are they called? Throwback? Either way, I'm glad to have reminders
of "the good ol' days."

I was just telling my mister that my childhood dream was to be on stage. Doing anything I could.
I realized that I fulfilled that dream already -- a lot.
Singing, dancing, acting, sharing my culture... I did them all. It was beautiful.

And I can't forget how this decade, with Facebook as our witness, was the decade said mister changed my life.
Forever.

It took forever to choose all these photos, and even longer to organize them for this post. And even now I'm looking back and wishing I had picked this one or changed that one that was on my FB page. But in the end, it doesn't matter -- because, in the end, what matters is that I have these pictures because of Facebook. Thank goodness for technology that keeps ties bound, that keeps memories alive, and that keeps us smiling about the great lives that we really do have.

So if you are ever in a rut (as technology also makes us feel sometimes), please please PLEASE don't forget who you are. Don't forget how you came to be, and don't forget where you always knew you were meant to go. And if you do forget... remember. Find those things that will remind you. Pull those triggers that will get you back to who you are. And find the small miracles in the everyday. I look at these photos and remember exactly what happened to me during each time, and each experience, good or bad, is an influence to me even today. And even though other people's lives may seem better than mine (heck, they probably are better than mine right now!), it doesn't mean I have to lose hope.

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Jewelry Holders

My sister's room; my sister's jewelry; my sister's idea. 

Isn't she a genius?

Push pins. That's the secret! Push pins hang the necklaces, and push pins hang those square rack sides that hold the earrings. She even uses push pins to hold a lot of her purses!

Just had to share. The end.

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Father's Day Sign Nightmare

So I saw this great Father's Day sign on a lovely little site called Pinterest:

link here

But alas, there was no link to a free printable, like it said.

So I thought: I'm crafty, right? I can make my own!

And make my own I did! And I was so proud!

See? Cool, huh!

But something happened...

(as it always does with me and crafts)

... my printer's color printing capability was broken!

What the holy?!? Jeez!!

I spent a good part of an entire evening/night trying to fix it, but with no luck.

So the next morning, after huffing and puffing, I thought: ok, Square One.
Make from scratch!

I hate it when I overcomplicate things.

Like, for example, cutting corrugated cardboard with a flimsy Xacto knife instead of a box cutter...

or instead of using thinner cardboard... or paper.

Almonds took this photo, btw

(Lesson 1: unless the triangles are HUGE, corrugated cardboard is a waste of time.)

Or trying to combine two Pinterest projects into one:

trying out this art idea ... but not actually following instructions

I thought the kids would enjoy painting these.
Turns out, none of us did.

I looked at the painted triangles and sighed. Jobi's not gonna like these. I just know it. Effort and creativity don't compute in that man.

So I left the painted side as is and wrote the letters on the back.

What a waste

Do you notice only the "W" has holes punched in it?

Yeah, the single hole punch I had was not strong enough for me to use for the rest of the triangles.

And guess what???

The 3-hole punch didn't have an opening big enough for the cardboard to fit!

(Lesson 2: don't plan on hole-punching corrugated cardboard.)

At that point, I screamed... and threw them straight into the trash.

That's right. I gave up.

To put icing on the cake, this was what I saw Almonds doing while I was working on my triangles:

permanent marker

(Lesson 3: nail polish remover gets permanent marker off wood.)

Ok... I didn't REALLY give up...

Two days later, I had a simple but ingenius idea:
If the colors don't print, just make the sign in black and white.
DUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Like I said, Jobi's not creative. He's not gonna care.

This one took me all of 10 minutes to do. He has it hanging in his room as we speak.

Ultimate Lesson: if the craft gives you gray hairs or bald spots, DON'T DO IT!

(P.S. When I figure out how to make these into free printables, I'll put them up here! I really was proud of my sign work -- but alas, even turning them into printables is giving me a migraine.)

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Carrot Cupcake with Cream Cheese Frosting

A visiting teachee of mine just gave birth, so last-minute I made her dessert.

I'm soooooo grateful we had cake mixes, cupcake liners, cream cheese and powdered sugar.

We actually had tons of cake mixes (it's kinda dumb, because we never make cake), so I asked Almonds to choose one.

She chose carrot cake. Yum!

So naturally I made cream cheese frosting to go with it.

These were literally the only thing I've created all week that didn't make me wanna scream!

I found this recipe online, which just so happened to be the one all my sisters and family has used my whole life. The only thing I added was one teaspoon of lemon juice, to soften the cream cheese taste. Sometimes the cream cheese frostings taste too cream-cheesy for me, ya know?

It was so yummy! You guys should make some sometime.

That is all.

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Saying Goodbye

Almonds took this picture

I can't believe this week has actually come... and gone. It was filled with too many trips back and forth, more ups and downs than I can count, tears, laughs, hugs, kisses, prayers and well wishes. And of course, goodbyes.

The last time I said goodbye to Jobi, he called me at 1:00 am telling me he forgot his keys in the van. And of course those keys were so important, that I had to find them, drive all the way across the island at 4 in the morning, and give them to him before he left. I spent that whole drive there yelling at the top of my lungs at him for making me do this. "Why couldn't you just remember to grab them?" "I do everything for you!" "You suck!" 

Not at him, him, of course. Just pretending that he was in the car with me. So I can give him a piece of my mind. You know what I mean?

So after an hour's drive and asking half a dozen people for directions, I found him and gave him his precious keys... and prayed with him one last time. And suddenly I felt pretty lucky. Lucky that I got one more chance to pray side-by-side with my husband. Lucky that I got to see a different part of the island for the first time. Lucky that I could say goodbye once more, and that each goodbye felt a little bit easier.

After 6 years, I still can't believe I married "Weird Boy." And now our weird adventures continue, and because of them, this weird boy has become the love of my life.

Jobi's parents and my sister... support

Daddy-daughter (mini) date ... watching a Netflix movie on his phone

Waiting for dinner ... while Chip runs off

A hui hou, sweetie. Can't wait to see you again soon.

"Weird Boy" -- 7 years later

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Pre-Deployment Family Photos

Sorry about that last post.

Depressed much?

I try to keep this blog as honest and true to myself as possible, but I still have yet to find that perfect balance between what is too much and what is not enough

... as far as content, that is.

But the fact of the matter is that this is my life now -- pregnancy and deployment. And as much as I can  post another movie review or another fabulous DIY tutorial, my blog wouldn't be my blog if I didn't share myself with it. My struggles in finding my place in this world. My true feelings about "going for broke" in life. So yeah, you'll keep seeing those kinds of posts now and again.

But this post is not one of them.

This post has pictures!

One thing I wanted to make sure we did as a family before Jobi left was to take family photos. No way was I going to let him go off on his grand adventure without leaving photos of himself behind for the kids. Sure, we have Skype and what not, but we don't really have photos of him with the kids, and in case anything happens, I want them to see that their father loves them, that they love their father, and that we truly are a family.

I'm beyond grateful for Marianna Ah Quin who took our photos. Because the kids are still small, there aren't any pics where all of them are looking at the camera at once. But these pretty much portray my little family accurately: from my Jobi's military haircut, to the clothes that Blondie picked out herself. Here are only a few:

I love this one!

And Chip's crying never ends.....

Daddy's little girl -- Almonds' best friend

My studs

My favorite

And our happy family... never mind that we all look a little funny.

 I know my kids are gonna love these. And I hope that Jobi will too -- especially while he'll be so far away, and since we'll be adding one more before he returns.

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As He Prepares to Leave

Everyone has their battles. Everyone has things that are difficult to do, even if they are easy for other people. Before it all began, I didn't think I would have a problem. I had even looked forward to the idea, thinking of all the possibilities that would be open to me once these situations arise.

I'm talking about deployment.

In the 6 years that my Jobi has been in the military, he has not seen deployment once. Yes, he's been to BCT/AIT, LDAC, and BOLC, but not an actual deployment. Where it's a minimum of 6 months and a maximum of I-can't-tell-you. Where he won't be able to call me until whenever-the-heck-he-can. Where his mission is to something-I-don't-know, and he's going to who-knows-where. This is his first time, and so this is my first time.

And I'm not ready.

I'm not ready to send our bossy little Almonds off to kindergarten this year without him by my side. I'm not ready to make the day-long grocery and household shopping trips across island with Chip screaming in the back, by myself. I'm not ready to give birth to #4 while he watches via Skype. I'm not ready to pay the bills, register the car, fix the fridge, and kill the giant cockroaches. I'm not ready to spend more sleepless nights with anywhere from one to four kids needing to be held, rocked, bathed, fed, sang to, read to, or anything-else-to-get-them-to-sleep. And I'm certainly not ready to spend the hundredth night in a row sleeping alone.

Almonds and Blondie cried the other night. And when I say cried, I mean wailed. I sang them songs; I read them stories; I spoke kind and loving words for what seemed like days. Then I just sat next to them and cried too. Because I knew why they were inconsolable. And it hurt. Their dad isn't deployed yet, but he hasn't come home since post-mobilization began, and they know something's up. This time, "Army work" is different. And they don't like it. Not any more than I do. Not at all. 

So yeah, of all the things I anticipated about being a military wife, I did not expect to hate deployment so much. I did not expect I would cry every night for a month, even while he's home. I especially didn't expect I would dread doing the mundane, laborious things that my husband usually takes care of. Before marriage, I never had a problem with paperwork, money issues, car stuff, household repairs, or shopping with the kids. (I always hated killing giant bugs though -- let's not get ahead of ourselves.) But now, I am a massive stress case. These things have been swirling around me and I can barely keep my balance. But it's too late -- he's already "gone," and so I'm the man of my house now. If I had a choice, I'd fall asleep and wake up when he comes home. But I have no choice. I take it back -- I made my choice. I chose to marry this man. And now I must make another choice: to be strong, or not to be strong. (Wow, that wasn't cliche at all.)

I know I have help. My siblings are the best, and my children adore their family. My friends are just a phone call away (which I suck at, just to let y'all know). This town has lots of great things me and the kids can be involved in, and I'm kinda excited about that. And I know that if we just keep moving, the time will indeed pass. It's my mantra for the rest of this year: Just Keep Moving. And when me and the girls wanna cry for our "Daddy," we will stop and cry. And then we will get up and keep moving. I can't stop too long or I will stay there, and that's no good for anybody. Especially not my children, who need their mother so badly.

So as he prepares to leave, I prepare to stay. To be present. To be lonely, but never alone. To move, and to keep moving. This is my battle, and I'm scared to death.

But I'm gonna win.

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9 Things I Hate About Pregnancy

1.   My body changes. A lot.

For those of you who've never experienced pregnancy before, let me elaborate... your belly gets big (obviously). Your butt gets big. Your feet get big. Your boobs get big. Your face gets big (even your nose sometimes). Your skin looks flawless, but then three months later it looks hideous. Your contact lenses don't fit anymore. Your hair looks thicker. EVERYWHERE. Your teeth hurt. You have to pee a lot. (You may not even make it to the toilet... *crickets*) And your taste buds -- you either absolutely love food or loathe and detest it. And don't get me started on your sense of smell...

2.   My emotions change. A LOT. 

Once I made dinner and went to my room before putting away the leftovers. When I came back out, my sister already put them away. I cried. Yep. 

There are other indicators of emotional changes in pregnancy, like when someone puts down the cafeteria food at your old stomping grounds and your usually passive self tells them to shut it. Even if you didn't really eat at said cafeteria; you just suddenly presume they are spoiled, rich brats and you now hate them. 

Or when you cry tears of joy for Russell Crowe's performance at the Oscars with the Les Mis cast... (I will write a review on that. I'm just trying to not make it into an analytic essay.)

3.   My 'okole hurts. 

And my lower back, and my legs. One word: S-C-I-A-T-I-C-A. Look it up. And if you have it but don't get it in check, it'll get worse every pregnancy (trust me -- I KNOW)!

4.   My wardrobe sucks.

Don't ever tell me "but they have super cute maternity clothes all over the place," because then I will pop your face. I hate hate HATE clothes shopping, and I hate even.more. when I can only wear clothes for a limited time. Maternity clothes fit that category. So does a wedding dress.

So yes, instead of trying to keep myself sexy and cute while my belly gets too big for me to walk straight, I dress more like .... well, like I can't walk straight. And save my money for food that helps me do that.

5.   My diet sucks. 

Speaking of food... remember how I said that pregnant women either love food or hate food? It's true. These instances are called food cravings and food aversions. For the first 20 weeks, I am always the latter: nothing tastes good to me. Not my favorite brownies or guava cakes or rocky road ice cream. Not Chinese or cheese or soups. Nothing too sweet, too salty, too sour, or too spicy. Which leaves -- that's right -- fruits and vegetables. What kinda pregnant woman eats only fruits and vegetables?!?

I also have had a diet problem in pregnancy called Gestational Diabetes. I've mentioned it before. That occurs in the latter half of pregnancy, and that is when my taste buds level out and I'm ready to eat my Snickers and M&Ms and milkshakes again. But now I can't. Yep... suck, suck, suck. 

"But it's for a good cause... it's for your baby!" Yeah, don't say that to me, either.

6.   My sleep sucks.

First trimester you just want to sleep it off. Second trimester you can't sleep at all. Third trimester you're thrown in a stupid mix of the first two. I'm too tired to say anymore on this.

7.   I get anxious about being a mother.

Not the yipeeIcan'twaitforthisbabytocome anxious -- the holycrapwhatamIgonnadowiththisbaby anxious. For example: 

Will the baby be healthy? Will she like me? Will she get along with her siblings? Will she be a good, righteous, faithful, upstanding person in the world? Will she be smart, and go to college, and get a good career, and own her own home? Will she wanna get tattoos and pierce her nose and dye her hair the same color as her feelings? Will I be able to teach her how to read, and write, and work, and obey, and share, and take turns, and respect, and love? Should I homeschool her, or put her in every sport and instrument under the sun? Should I make her custom chalk, or shoes, or wall decal? Will I give her everything, or will that be too much? How am I going to handle raising this child? What will people think? 

Like I said, emotions. These questions have come to my mind (not always this dramatic, of course) each pregnancy, so by deductive reasoning (which will also be in short supply now), I blame them on the pregnancy.

8.   I miss being not pregnant.

I miss being on stage. I miss having a sound mind. I miss wearing the cute clothes I have (and can wear over again). I miss working towards getting skinnyier. And I really could go without items 1-7 on this list.

9.   The end is the worst.

If you have ever had a normal pregnancy, the last trimester was probably spent waiting and waiting and waaaaaaaaiting for your little "bundle of joy" to arrive. This is how mine have gone:

Week before delivery: "GETTHISBABYOUTTAMENOWORSOHELPME!!!"

Once in labor: "OWWWITHURTSHOLY***INEVERASKEDFORTHIS!!!"

It's pathetic. But I can't help it. 

I was trying to come up with 10 things, but my brain stopped working.

Of course, there are some things I do like about being pregnant, 

so in all fairness, here is another list for you.

9 Things I Love About Being Pregnant

1. People treat me extra special. ("Oh, take a break." "Let me get that." "You just sit here." "Relax, we got it." I could get used to it.)
2. I have an excuse. ("I can't carry her." "I can't remember." "I can't eat that." "Don't blame me." You could pretty much get away with murder. I'm thinking, though, that the more kids you have, the less effective this could be...)
3. I can eat whatever I want. (Never mind.)
4. Uhhhhhhhhhhh.........

Forget it. That's it.

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