Where's a Carpenter Song When You Need It...

So week four. Rob is doing good. He's got his own room. He is happy and thriving. His peeps love him. But then, that's Rob for you. He's always the beloved employee. I'm happy for that. But this whole single mother thing...I'm a little bit lonely. I think I save weekends for breaking out a sad Carpenter's Song. Or I watch a clip from The Notebook. If that doesn't break you down into the sad despair of things, I don't know what does. For the most part, I'm doing GREAT. I will prevail. It's still the going motto. But there are things that are left undone that I'm not sure what to do about. For example: There is a beeping coming off the Verizon internet box down there in the basement. Beeps are not good. This one beeps about every 30 minutes. We keep thinking nuclear fallout is imminent. So I get online with Verizon and totally fake like I'm a techie. The guys tells me to go down and remove this and unplug that and connect red to black wires and suddenly I feel like I just got scripted to do the next Mission Impossible movie. Only, I'm totally picking a different lead character. So as of yet, the beep continues. I might name it. It is starting to become part of the family. Then one day 2 weeks ago the front door knob just fell off. I said that right...it just FELL off. CLANG...it went to the floor. That forcefield Rob took with him that held every last thing together is just unraveling the very fiber of our house. I took the door knob and shoved it in my purse, meaning to take it in to Ace Hardware and say "Here, YOU FIX IT". But that has yet to happen. So we totally have this system for opening the door. I've taught the kids how to use it. So if a Freeman is at your house and they stand on one knee and pull out a screwdriver to get your front door open, call it environmental conditioning. I thought, if a screw is gone that holds it, glue works equally as well. But when I mentioned glue to Rob, I could HEAR his head shaking on the other end. So don't mess with me people, I have a door knob in my purse and I'm not afraid to use it. It'll all work out. And I'll cut down on the Carpenter songs, mainly because I just went public with that declaration and I see mockery in my future. Do people egg your house when you listen to the Carpenters?

The iPhone is My Dad?

Alright...so I have let the day pass without mentioning anything about it. I did say goodbye to Rob on Saturday. It was sweet and short-lived. But we are existing in a new world where Rob is a virtual Dad. But first, let me discuss the departure. The Saturday was like any other...sleepy-headed children arising from a room where they all camp out together on the floor. For as long as I can remember, they have a sleep over of sorts in one of their rooms, where they all pile on the floor to sleep together. I love that they do this. It's just a symbolic gesture of brotherly/sisterly love. So we got up, did our cleaning, homemade breakfast and on to other things. I went shopping at Costco...why break with tradition even on the day my love was leaving us. So we met up at CiCi's Pizza for lunch. I'm telling you, this is where the SAD SONGS started. We were busy eating our pizza and no music. Suddenly, as though on cue, the music piped up loud and clear. I expected a young pizza attendee to get on the intercom and say "This song's going out to Rob Freeman this afternoon. We love you Rob, and we're going to miss you" and then bam...Landslide by Fleetwood Mac comes on. And it's sad. It's usually a reflective song for me. But now it's just sad. And I revel in the sadness. I'm about to break out my lighter as the mascara-stained tears run down my pathetic face but then I realize I don't smoke and so yeah..no lighter.

For the rest of the afternoon, sadness of music just played on the radio. Any station I put it on...sad,slow songs. I finally just embraced it and turned one up. Rob laughed. I told him the radio knows you're leaving and they really want to create a mood here. We went back to the house to retrieve his duffle bag that may or may not have been able to hold a dead body--yeah, it's THAT big. We had a family prayer...Rob asked me which just made me bubble over like some sad little puppy. The kids all cried. We were a mess. But there was love all around...hugs and promises and all. We drove somewhat silently to the airport. And that was that. We dropped him off, took a couple of pictures of kisses and more hugs and then we drove away, waving one last time as we watched him walk into his new destiny...a United Flight to the Middle East..land of terror. It's not without its risks. But I am hopeful that he will be safe, level-headed and come back to me safely.

We went to see a movie so we wouldn't be mopey. And I took the kids to the elementary school for some hoops wherein my dog, who usually doesn't react in violence, bit a child. Yeah, it was just THAT kind of day. What do you say to the parent when your dog bites their child? Is there a Hallmark card for that? I know, I sound so cynic. And I kind of am. I really did feel awful and there was just not much I could do. It's not like it is with a car crash where you exchange insurance information. I assured them that the dog was up to date on all his shots. But when I got home, it wasn't long before I called Rob in a messy heap of worried tears. "But what if he gets blood poisoning and dies and then they prosecute me because I let my dog bite him and then I'm not here to take care of my children and then they're left homeless and without parents...." It wasn't pretty. But I guess the brain tends to go to the worst possible place.

So we've been 2 days without Rob. And tonight he was IMing with me and my children. And so I realized we don't have Rob, the body. But we have Rob the voice and we have Rob the chatting minstrel. So Aedyn commented that it felt like he wasn't even gone. And I questioned...do they even need the body? Do the little words coming out of the iPhone mean enough that we don't need the body? NO, we miss the body. But in this day of technology, isn't it the GREATEST thing to be able to talk to my husband at the drop of a hat just by messaging him over my phone!!! I love that. So the iPhone and I tucked the kids into bed. And then we retired to our bedrooms wherein I plugged my new husband in to charge and said goodnight and went to bed.

I love new adventures. I'm waiting for more things to come...good things...not so good things (someone stop the dog from biting children...this can't be good for my reputation).

No Woman, No Cry

Alright...it's time to dust off this blog. I'm blowing...big dust bunnies. I haven't posted for eons. I guess I figured no one was reading. But now I'm committed. I'm committed because this is going to be the saga of my life while my husband serves as a computer consultant to a company...in Afghanistan. Yeah, that's the kicker. He's going to Afghanistan. He isn't quite gone yet. He had to go to North Carolina for some training for a few days. But Saturday will come despite my attempt to shove the week into a closet and cram the door shut with my feet. Oh yeah, that Saturday is in there with the old clothes, coats that don't fit, and toys that no longer get played with. But sadly, the door is going to pop open and spill that Saturday out into my life to deal with whether I like it or not.

So, I have decided not to mope. I'm not a moper by nature. I have the will to succeed. I have decided to take my lemons and make at least watered down lemonade. So he is going to be gone for 6 months, wherein we will see each other for a 2 week leave, as a family, and then he'll resume duties in Afghanistan for another 6 months.

Someone told me I can do anything for a year. I suppose. I don't look at it in time passing but I look more at the things that will be missed, on both sides. He will miss birthdays, scouting events, camping trips with the boys. I will miss snuggling with him, talking with him while we sit in bed doing our nightly routines..he on the computer and me willing a ball of a yarn into a baby blanket for some poor unsuspecting mother who has no idea she's about to get her 6th yarn blanket for this poor baby...and it's not even Winter. What I have found already in his being gone since yesterday is that I have this intense will to survive and not just survive but excel. I can do it! And I can take charge and wield my wiry household into shape. So let's go to it.

One thing I have to laugh at is the things that seem to just rear their ugly heads. When I'm in my plain Jane life with Rob, nothing seems to really go amiss. There is the occasional foray into things unmastered before. But for the most part, we are self sufficient people who just go through our life, driving on the same roads every day, going to the same store (it's Groundhog Day, the movie..only I don't feel trapped by it). So lo and behold...the drama that seems to be lurking in the corners...waiting to come out when Rob isn't here.

Case #1: Monday was test day. The kids were due to walk home from school together for the first time in order to make life easier as I have to change my work hours to accommodate the new life changes. So they were instructed to gather together in the walker area and walk home together on a specified route. I'm at home for lunch and the phone rings. It's Laura, my 7 year old adult daughter. She happens to be Diane Keaton, stuck in the body of a 7 year old. So she's telling me "Hey Mom, can you come pick me up?" Rewind...pick you up..where you be child? She tells me that her new classmate wasn't sure how to get home so she walked her home. Oh crappo. I know right then that poor Aedyn is at the walkers area of the school, worried sick about why his sister is MIA. So I panic. Let's say I don't make the best decisions when I panic. I tell Laura I have no idea where she is. Common sense Eva would have said "Let me talk to your friend's Mom and find out where you are and I'll come and get you". But Common Sense Eva hangs out with 7 year old Diane Keaton only on Saturdays when the housework is done. We chill out and watch Hello Kitty movies together. I digress. So I told her to walk right back to the school and get to walkers area and I would meet her there. I drive over to the school in 10 seconds flat (it is after all just across the street). I am beyond normal behaviors at this point. I'm driven to find my daughter. She's now a little stray on the streets and perfect target for the many psychos that exist out there (or maybe they're just all in my head...but they're there). And yes, I'm going long here...bear with me. So I am running around at the back of the school, in the soggy baseball field that leads to a path that leads to the neighborhood where I believe my little Diane Keaton to be. So I'm calling her name, trudging through mud and debris, splashing it all over my work clothes. I don't care. I'm feeling helpless and stupid for telling her to walk back. She's not where I told her to be and it shouldn't be taking her this long. So I'm worried, I'm screaming, I'm crying...I'm a mess. I know my boys are in the school, probably in the front office because they don't know where else to turn and soon enough, my cell phone rings and it's the front office, wanting to know if I know where Laura is. I think this couldn't be any worse..nightmare is unfolding. I thought I might go all Gone With the Wind at that moment and get down on knees, in the mud, and cry out (only note I'm not wearing a dress made with the drapes from my window. I'll save that for when I'm institutionalized). So I go into the school to retrieve my brave little boys. I come back out and head to the field. Grant is suggesting I call 911. Oh I can't possibly be there at that point yet. I haven't exhausted all resources. I tell them that if I don't see her coming down that path in 3 minutes or less, we're heading home so I can call the phone number that Laura called me from and pinpoint the area where she might be. Then I see movement coming down the path and I feel in my gut this is my baby girl. And sure enough, I see that purple coat. Only, she's accompanied by two taller kids. I think at first they're just walking back to school and she happened to join their throng. I find out later that she was walking, or attempting to walk back to the school and got lost. Oh my heart breaks at hearing that. Dumb stupid nonsensical me...telling her to walk back to the school. But the boy, his name is Garrett, saw her crying and asked her her name and asked about her situation and then in the great goodness of his little 5th grade heart, he walked her back to the school and into my waiting arms. I wrote a gushing note of thanks and gave it to Aedyn to take to him (as Aedyn knows him) the next day. I can't express enough thanks to his parents for raising such a caring boy. Day 1 of walking...FAIL.

Case #2: Last night Grant was in the bathroom and thought it would be a great idea to try out the lock on the door. He's never used it before. He's 8, not at that trouble making age where they have to test and try out everything. But he did it. And then wouldn't you know it...he thought "What if..." and shut the door, light on. I can be glad at least he didn't have the water on. So no fear, we have keys. Yeah we have keys. We have keys to every lock known to man in the house...except the keys for that particular bathroom. THIS STUFF NEVER HAPPENS TO ME. Only when my husband makes a declaration to leave the country do these things seem to come out of the woodwork.

So with that, I bid adieu. I am looking with an eye to God, praying every day for peace and patience and a spirit of doing the best job I can do. That woman's poster from the 1940's WWII era, with her fist pumped and her do-rag on..THAT'S ME PEOPLE.



P.S., the bathroom door is still shut. Anyone know a locksmith?

Man UP, Woman!

So I am a total wimp. I admit this now. I am passive aggressive. Not much gets me mad. But there are things that get me upset. Today at work I was trying to explain something and it felt like I was speaking a different language to this bull dog of a lady. She heard Charlie Brown's "wa wa wa wa wa" while I was thinking I was being perfectly relatable and clear. After our group meeting, she pulled me aside and laid into me. I mean, we're talking drill instructor to his charges. She was ticked at what I said and felt that I was being unreasonable. I was speechless. And in the doom and gloom of my speechlessness (that's a lot of s's) I became silent, like a mute. I can't speak. I can't stand up for myself. Lumps the size of golfballs form in my throat as I gulp them down, like I'm drowning in my own spit. It's awful. And I have yet to find a way to overcome it. And then I saunter off, trying to remain calm but my emotions are very near the surface and I feel like exploding. If anyone talks to me in this perfect storm, I melt like butter and not in a good way. I become that girl everyone tries to avoid, the one that cries when you say hello. And so to my 5 readers I ask, what can I do? How do I toughen my exterior shell? How do I find a way to be like a football player in the workforce? I don't know. I am opening the line to suggestions. P.S. Going postal is not an option. And the FBI is probably recording this blog as I type it. I'm safe boys, I'm safe.

Sticks and Stones

Valentines Day seems to have diminished. Year by year it seems less attended to. Grocery stores devote less aisle space. Candy seems to get cheaper and waxier. And the little Valentines that the children give out to their classmates seem to shrink in size so that you're left with a small square of a paper with which to scribe your feelings to your beloved classmates. With all that said, we still cherish the day because it gives us a chance to tell the ones we love that we do love them, in case we forget any other day of the year. If we're good (like myself) we express love every day. I feel I express it in many forms. I wash your poopy underwear child, that means I love you. I pick out the pee soaked tights that dearest daughter left in the bottom of her dirty clothes hamper to rot and stiffen like a clothing corpse. This means I love you. Although years later when you read this, you won't equate it with love. And I love my husband. He's so much fun to me. His humor every day, his way of making me laugh even when I have every reason to be mad...that's love. That's devotion. And I'm so thankful for it. Rob and I don't do anything for each other on Valentines Day. I'm not a sentimental gal. And that's alright. He isn't either. So we express our wishes for a Happy Valentines Day and move along. No hard feelings harbored. But what do we remember most for Valentines Day? The unique things. Take for instance the things I saw in rooting through my children's homemade sacks of Valentines. There were homemade cards. I wonder..do parents feel that homemade cards created on thin printer paper, in a blue bic pen are sentimental or they've given up? Don't know. I'm assuming the better thoughts on that though..that homemade says I care. There were little bits of candies. And little expressions as we always remember Valentines Day to possess. Be Mine's and Kiss Me (please don't until your 16 children...ya hear me). But there is one gift given this year that I think my entire family will remember. You're on edge of seat, waiting for me to reveal it. Get your tissues you're thinking right? No. I arrived home from work, after picking up the three youngest children. Grant comes to me and says "Mom, Aedyn got a stick for Valentines Day". A stick? A stick, really? Aedyn chimed in, "It's true Mom". It didn't sound right so I asked him to bring it to me. It was a skewer, one you use for kabobs. It was cut in half. And there was nothing on it. No residue of fluffy hearts, no remnant pieces of a candy wrapper or waxy glue gun leftovers---just half a stick. Awesome. Who knows what its mission was in life. But it will always be the Valentine that we remember. A half a stick. Grant and Laura thought it was cool. My kids won't remember the candy or the cheap bic pen Valentine this year. They will remember something different, the stick with no indication as to what it was intended for. So lesson learned...to stand out..be a stick.

Ugh, Growing Up

When you're young, the last thing you ever think about is that life has an expiration date. No one of us knows when we're really leaving this beautiful Earth. And thank goodness I had a great childhood where I wasn't reminded of death or lived with it. The first time I felt the pangs of loss of life was when Grandma Eva died. I was eight years old, hardly old enough to process truly what I was losing. I remember the pain I felt at her death. I'd never lost anything before. And I cried I think because my Mother was in so much pain that I felt that same pain. Her funeral was beautiful. I remember sitting on the front row. They sang I Know That My Redeemer Lives. To this DAY, I still cry at that song. If I let myself think about the experience of being 8 and facing that death, I tear up and can't sing. I love the song though.

So after Grandma died, Grandpa Que was not long in life before he too passed away. I mourned his loss as well but for some reason Grandma's death seems to stand out more. Along the years, I faced death as dogs lost their lives to cars and illness. It was sad and I hated the grief--it was paralyzing. But even at these ages of losing something precious, I still had no inner reflection as to my own life and its length. It didn't hit me until one cold January day 3 years ago. I was going through boxes in the basement, trying to clear out space and organize. I found a sweet little picture of all the nieces and nephews. And they were holding my baby boy, Evan. Evan is now 12. But at the time of finding the picture, Evan was 9. I remember staring at that picture and my thoughts drifted back to that time. I remember that day when the picture was taken and my thoughts. Evan was a few months old and I thought to myself "Those parents who tell you your children grow up too fast are crazy. I have 18 plus years with this sweet little boy and that is a long time". And then like a brick dropped from an 80 story building, I realized Evan was already half way to 18 and it felt like I had closed my eyes and opened them again and he shot from infant to 9 year old. And then the reality of life and of death hit me. How there would be a time when I would be old (I hope) and that my life had an expiration date. And I cried. I mourned the loss of nothing in particular...just that Evan was growing up too fast and I was growing old too fast. And then I realized all these years why my Dad has practically had one foot in the grave, saying he was old when he was in his late 30s and I understood now why he was doing that.

When you love life, it's hard to think it's gotta end sometime. I could go on living like this for another 100 years. Only, the kids gotta stay small. Please let them stay small. Please let them say words wrong and get food in their hair by mistake and have blobs of chocolate on their chin after licking the beaters of a cookie recipe. Let them hold your hand in innocence forever and squirm in your arms when you try and plant a juicy kiss on their cheek. I could go on if you want. There are plenty of these moments I cherish and want never to go away. Nights of listening to them talk as they sleep in one room together on the weekend, sharing stories and giggling over something completely ridiculous. God knew what he was doing by sending children...they are the greatest beauty in their simplicity. And why do we have to lose that to their adulthood? I guess that's what my parents said as I aged. I was eager to get older and they were eager to keep me little. Life!

So the reason I have such great reflection today is that a good family friend passed away. She and my mom have been the best of friends since they were young girls in the small town of Mt. Pleasant Utah. And they shared everything together, from growing up and dating to getting married and giving birth. And as a child I remember going up to Susan's house. I loved her house. And my life is synonymous with the Litchfield Family. Susan played piano at my reception. And then the evil ugliness of an early end to life stepped in. Susan had pancreatic cancer. She was such a kind spirit and you think those that live good lives and have good spirits should be the ones that never die. But her life ended peacefully on December 8, 2010. And I mourn her. I mourn what was her life, mixed with mine as I think about where I was when I knew her best and where I am now. I am not old. But I still have that heavy heart of having to sometime face that the end of life is inevitable. I don't want it to be. But when a friend or loved one dies, it is the cut into life that says "Yoo hoo, remember me? I'm death. You have to face me sometime Eva". I don't want to. I feel like Scrooge when he's with the Spirit of Christmas Future. He sees his grave and his tombstone and weeps openly, begging for more of his life and the chance to live it right. I want to live long and joyously and I'm sorry Susan's life got cut short. I think positively that she got to live to see her kids grown and living lives of their own. She lived life to the fullest. And that is good. And there is some peace in thinking that. But dangit, don't let me experience death before I'm 90. I have decided to become a marathon walker and weight lifter extraordinaire by the time I turn 50 so I can be a buff grandma (later, much later).

I usually like to post funny commentaries because life has lots of funny to offer. But today, it's all seriousness so that you know I can own it. Love the world! Love your life. And you young parents, know that us older parents ARE right...kids do grow up too fast. It's so great to be a part of it all. God is good. He gave me four beautiful kids to completely adore and parent. And I am thankful for friends and for family (for you reading). I love life. I hope you find a way to love it too, for the sake of those who lose theirs early. It makes you realize that every day should be seized to its fullest. I forget that as I hop in the car and repeat the mundane things of the every day life. But when I reflect, my gosh my heart is full and I see the greatness of the Plan of Salvation. I hope to live my life to the fullest. And if I forget, I now have this post to remind me. Life ROCKS.

Out in the Busch

Our family took a trip to one of our favorite amusement parks. Busch Gardens. It's a 2 hour drive through dense trees, dense traffic, and dense people for that matter. And I don't mean dense to the people in a nice way. Get a license people. Okay, rant over. Is it wrong for me not to want my children to age? I keep thinking that this is as good as it gets. And don't we preserve things that are as good as they get? The football trophies, the blue ribbons, the framed art piece! It's the culmination of showing "This is as good as it gets". Only I can't stop time and frame my children (at least not in the U.S. anyway)and I can't stop these awesome children from growing up. They amaze me every day. They stretch my heart to the ends of the Earth's boundaries and then back again. Not always in good ways mind you. But they are good kids. And I feel so blessed it's immeasurable.

So small diatribe of love out of the way, I'd like to discuss the potential future driving issues I have to look forward to. My kids, of all the rides at Busch Gardens, picked the bumper cars as one of their favorite rides. Laura was too small to ride alone so she was Evan's back seat driver. And boy did they have a great time. Nothing but smiles wracking those faces. But here I have broken it down to the three boys and what I have to look forward to if we equate bumper cars as any indication to what potential driving skills will be. Evan will not ever get insurance. They won't even touch us. That kid deliberately crashed into every vehicle he could get his rubber bumper on. Old men, young fathers with giddy kid like goof grins on their faces were no match for my 12 year old. He rammed them like the Vikings of old, all rolled into one human. And he was happy about it. Yikes. So that said, I'm going to have to enroll him in car insurance prior to his driving record hitting the streets. So I'm nicknaming him "The Viking Crasher". On to second child--Aedyn. Aedyn will never make it out of the driveway. He will just sit there contentedly and rev the car. Perhaps he'll get trapped in a cul-de-sac and never make it out. He was "The Spinner" in the bumper cars. Couldn't quite figure out that whole steering wheel thing and continued to spin like a pretty ballerina for the duration of his rides. Eventually he picked it up but yeah...there's no "eventually" permitted in driving. It's drive or die suckah! And lastly there was Grant. Grant I'm labeling as "Mr. Rogers". He tooled around the track like Mr. Rogers might in his neighborhood of make believe. Grant didn't pay attention to any of the crashers. He just drove around oblivious to the fact that the whole idea behind bumper cars is to bump (or pummel as Evan would do). He stayed clear of the trouble makers. He should have been wearing a sweater vest with a comb over. But I think he's set for driving when he turns 70. He's got that whole 20 miles below the speed limit down pat. He tired of the bumper cars more quickly than The Spinner and The Viking Crasher. But that's alright. This gives me hope that Allstate isn't going to send my rates through the roof. That whatever deeds of destruction Evan sews, Grant will retract. And Aedyn is going to save me gas mileage. See, positive thinking. Please don't forward this post to Allstate if you value our relationship AT ALL.