A Month of Sundays...

My brother and my dog will be boarding their Guam bound planes (we tried to coordinate and get them on the same flight, but the bro is going through Japan, so the Isabelle has to fly on a different plane) a month from today.  I CANNOT WAIT!!  Trey, my brother, will be our first visitor.  I am so excited for him to get here so we can show him around and do some more exploring.  And Isabelle, I have missed her soooo much!  I can't wait for her to get here and chase all the critters that live on our porch like this 9 1/2 (at least) inch long lizard...

Sorry Mom, I know this really makes you want to fly half way around the world to visit

Photoshop can make smallish lizards seem large and menacing.

It was Godzilla on my porch- REALLY!

Or this praying mantis (ok, I really don't want the dog to chase the mantis, I just needed a good segue to show off these pictures)....

Both of these creatures were hanging out on our porch this afternoon, combined with the shrew that we saw a few nights ago and the frogs that we see every night and the geckos that jump out of my trash can every time I open the lid, we are practically living in an episode of Wild Kingdom!

I know that time will fly by before they get here since the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is always busy and filled with fun activities, and this year is going to be no exception.  It will probably even more fun filled because of Price and trying to make up for last year when Don was overseas.

PS- I have started experimenting trying to teach myself how to use Photoshop, today I played with basics like cropping and adding captions to pictures.

PSS- Bea, you're right- the mantis is missing a leg.

PSSS- Mom, I know you HATE lizards, and I'm really not a huge fan myself.  When I was taking the picture I kept telling the lizard, out loud, "As long as you don't jump on me we'll be OK.  Please don't jump on me, please, please don't jump on me."  He didn't jump on me, but I do think he and his little gecko friends really help keep the fly population down and for that I will always be grateful!

What To Do??

Ok, here's the situation...

I am not a great diaper changer.  You'd think after almost 16 months, I would have mastered it, but I have a squirmy wormy who'd rather run around butt naked than be re-diapered.  I often end up with just that, a naked little man scurrying about the minute the diaper comes off.  My little man also REALLY enjoys playing with the toy God gave him, the part that makes him a man- his penis.  Don assures me he will NEVER grow out of this and will always enjoy playing with it.

Anyway, time and time again, I run into this quandry when I am changing a dirty poo diaper- where to wipe first?  His hands IMMEDIATELY go down to his manhood, which is often covered in poo, so then I wonder do I wipe his hands or get the poo off his junk first.  When I wipe his hands first, they're clean, but they go right back in the mess, when I wipe the big mess off his bottom, his hands are dirty putting poo God knows where. Poo usually ends up on his clothes and on the carpet and me!

Fellow mommies (or daddies- or anyone with insight)- help me please!  Leave your suggestion in my comment area by Friday (Stateside Friday) and one lucky responder will get a treat from the Andersen Gift Shop.

Thanks!

Playing Catch Up

Things here are good.  We are just rocking and rolling along.

I can't believe that Thanksgiving is next week.  We are hosting Thanksgiving Dinner for Don's element (that's a flight to those of you on larger bases).  I love that even though we don't get to go home, we will still be surrounded by a great group of people and celebrating all that we have to be thankful for.  I'm starting to get everything planned- I'm not the only one cooking, but we still have some things to do to the house to get it ready for company.  One of those things is decorating- my favorite!!!

Tomorrow we are heading to the base gift shop which is another WONDERFUL place I have found to spend money; it's run by the Andersen Officers Spouses' Club (I haven't joined yet, but it's on my to do list).  I was only able to stay for a few minutes when I went for the first time yesterday- but I have my eye on several items (you can kind of see one in the second picture on the right column- the bowls shaped like stars and scallops- they have some in an incredible green color- they will be mine!!!!).  I can't wait to go back tomorrow and help the AOSC raise some money for their charities.   

Speaking of charities, two weekends ago, we went to a fundraiser for the Med Group's booster club.  It was a rug auction.  We bought one!  I didn't think we would since most of the rugs were a bit out of our budget, but the one we bought didn't sell originally, so we bought it after the auction was over.  I am in LOVE with it. It's a little too small for our dining room, but I know we'll have it for years to come and will look better once we have more furniture in the dining room.  Here are some pics (I'll post more pics of the house once it's decorated)...

 

Last week, I decided I needed to do something to make it feel like fall around here.  It absolutely, without a doubt, DOES. NOT. FEEL. LIKE. NOVEMBER!  I decided to bake, with pumpkin.  I hoped that maybe baking with one of the season's most bountiful fruits and filling the house with the aromas of spices (nutmeg, clove, ginger) that feel like fall would help.  It did (but I still miss the brisk crisp fall air we had in Ohio this time of year, although I can't complain too much- we are in a trade wind cycle right now- so it's very pleasant during the day and the evenings are amazing, even with disgusting shrews scurrying across our patio).  

I found a great recipe for pumpkin bread; I substituted applesauce for most of the oil and added chocolate chips to 2/3 of the batter.  I made muffins (one tin of chocolate chip, one tin plain) and a bunt cake instead of 3 loaves of bread.  Because I really want to be like Pioneer Woman or Smitten Kitchen, I tried to document my baking with photos...

 

These pictures illustrate why I probably won't ever be a successful food/cooking blogger- look at the mess- and this was BEFORE I started baking.  I also forgot to take pictures of the finished product, but let me tell you- it was worth it.  I'm starting to like baking more and more- I just have to reign myself in and remember that baking is an art based on physics and science and that measurements must be accurate to be successful.

This week has been educational.  Last night, I learned how to hula dance.  It was quite beautiful (not me dancing the hula, but the hula itself).  Each dance tells a story and there are common signs used in dancing.  The women who put the lesson on were great!  They brought sarongs for all of us to wear and gave us flowers for hair.  Did you know, there is significance to where you wear your flower?  If you wear your flower on the left side, it means you are taken, on the right side it means you are looking and in the middle you are undecided.  We also ate traditional Hawaiian food and had the most to die for, delicious piña coladas made with fresh coconut milk and fresh coconut chunks.  The fresh coconut tasted like white chocolate and literally melted in your mouth- I don't know if I'll ever be able to eat the stuff out of the bag again.  There are places here in Guam that you can bring coconuts from your trees and they will milk them and grind them for you.

Every day, I feel more and more thankful and blessed that we are having this amazing opportunity!

Humbling Perspective

Today I watched an episode of Dirty Jobs.   It's one of my all time favorite shows on TV.  I must admit, I have a teeny bit of a crush on Mike Rowe  (don't worry, Don is well aware of my crush, as I am aware of his celebrity crush- I won't name her here to save him from embarrassment).  I love this show, and appreciate Mike Rowe, for showing the world what it's like to have job that most of us would never want to do.  He does it in such a respectful way that truly honors "Everyman."

The episode I watched today highlighted the dirty jobs at a diaper service.  Having had a child in diapers for the past 15 months, I can only begin to imagine what it's like to be the dirty diaper picker upper, sorter and cleaner. I don't enjoy the smells that originate from the diapers of this ONE sweet, precious child (who I helped create).

So the thought of being surrounded by hundreds of dirty diapers, filled with messes made by children who are not my own, is a bit revolting and definitely not on my dream jobs list.

But here's the beauty of it... the guy who cleans the diapers has done it for 30 years.    He likes doing it, it keeps him from being tied to a desk.  At first I thought, how sad, to be happy to throw 600 lbs of dirty diapers into a washing machine day in and day out.  But then I realized, how lucky is this guy to be happy doing a job that no matter how gross most people may think it is, how routine it may be, no matter how many times he has to fix a broken machine, he's happy?  It hit me like a ton of bricks- the reminder that for the most part, we create our own happiness (or misery).  If we're given loads of crap to deal with we can either wash it out, keep going and be happy with the outcome or we can just think about how rotten our load of crap is.

Things have been much better here in Good Ol Guam lately, but this reminds me I need to keep creating my happiness to get to the really happy content place I know I can be.

Do Your Boobs Hang Low?

Do they wobble to and fro?  Then either you are big busted or you have nursed a child.

I am and I have.  I have always had large ta-tas, big girls, quite the set of melons.  Since fifth grade, I have been the girl that has always stooped over just a little or stood behind something trying not to stand out and get recognized for the "wrong" reason.  I have always had a hard time finding shirts that fit and bra and bathing suit shopping, those are traumatic events that really to need to be discussed on these pages as it may cause me to have nightmares.  Oh and let's not forget running- if I don't wear at least 3 bras I end up with black eyes and broken ribs.  Shopping for bras and bathing suits coupled with being leered at by older men (even at the young age of 17, I remember walking down Bourbon Street and one of the sleazy barkers at a strip joint told me they were hiring) and really just being naturally much larger up top than most women on this planet have given me body image issues.  One nice thing, I guess about the size of my boobs is it makes my waist look smaller (when I have a bra on, otherwise, I just look like a Two-Ton Tessy).  Speaking of Two-Ton Tessy, that reminds of another one of my boob related stories... I successfully landed a job sight unseen- just a series of great phone interviews.  However, I had to let my new employer know my shirt size before I arrived for my first day.  My new boss thought it was weird when I was asking what kind of shirt it was- did it button or was it a pullover? And then proceeded to tell her, "well, I need this really big size if the shirt is button and fitted, I only need this large size if it's just a plain button up, etc. etc."   So, since my position was one that would have me out in the public quite a bit and image was very important my boss contacted someone at my (then) current place of employment and flat out asked if I was a big girl and they replied, "No, you didn't hire a Two Ton Tessy, she's actually rather small but very chesty."  Great- the whole world now knew a thin, but boobalicious girl was coming to work.   And unlike the Real Housewives of whatever city is on these days (see how I'm trying to play it off like I have no idea that The Real Housewives of Orange County starts tomorrow), I can't just let them hang out there and have their day in the sun (probably because I don't have gel packs to keep them firm and perky). So, for most of my life, my boobs have been a curse.

But then, I got pregnant.  And although my boobs grew just short of requiring a call to Ringling Brothers to see if they could sew me a tent to keep them covered to sizes that I didn't think possible, I didn't care.  I felt like the fact that they were growing meant the baby was growing and that the bigger they grew, the more milk they would make.  And finally, at long last, I would learn to love my boobs.

Unfortunately, I was one of many women who had problems breast-feeding.  Price was born several weeks early and he had a teeny, tiny mouth and didn't know how to suck.  I didn't have a great lactation consultant at the hospital and did everything wrong from the start.  Wanting so badly to use my body the way nature intended and not being able to made me feel like such a failure.  I felt like I was failing as a mother and as a woman.  And I was so mad at my boobs- how could they give out on me, why wasn't the milk gushing out and nourishing my baby?  After carrying them around for so long, how could they not serve their purpose?  But, for all the lazy, procrastinating bones in my body- I have a very strong stubborn streak and I refused to give up.  Everyday, I pumped (I did it completely wrong for the first 8 weeks) pretty much around the clock, I tried to get Price to wake up to eat, to latch on.  Everyday, I cried. I wound up in my room in a heap of self pity on my bed.  I argued with Don, who wanted me to be successful, btu at the same time wanted assurance that Price was getting the nourishment he needed.  It took me almost two weeks to get out of denial that I was giving him what he needed, but he was losing more and more weight and I finally gave in and gave him formula, from a bottle.  Everyday, I felt like a piece of me was dying because I wasn't able to breast feed my baby.

Yet, something miraculous happened.  One day, Price figured it out.  He liked booby juice!!  Don had left for the desert and it was just me and Price and days and hours on end with little to do except figure this out.  I finally saw a good lactation consultant.  I dragged myself in, feeling broken because once Price figured out he liked the booby juice, I didn't know how to get him on right and my poor boobs were in bad shape.  I covered them in olive oil and tea bags- anything to make them quit hurting and stop bleeding.  I was frustrated all over again because I had reached another breaking point.  It hurt so bad I ended up crying in pain every time he even looked at my boobs, not to mention kicked them or grabbed at them.  The LC gave me some advice, told me to heal myself, but he wasn't getting enough milk from me.  So, I went home, tried again and ended up in tears with Price screaming because he was hungry.  So, I gave up.  I decided it wasn't healthy for me to be so upset around my son all the time.  I knew he could feel me tense up before each feeding and I didn't want those early days to mold him into a tense person later on in life (I figure I'm crazy enough that I'll wear off on him in other ways later on in his life).  And since it was just the two of us, I should be a strong, tear-free mom and move on.  I knew that giving him formula out of a bottle wasn't going to kill him.  It just felt like it was going to kill me.  I could literally feel my heart breaking and I grieved for the fact that I wasn't able to do this thing that comes naturally and that society makes you feel like should come easily to "real" women/mothers.

So, that's what I did.  I stopped.  I quit pumping, I quit trying to get him to latch on.  But then another miraculous thing happened.  I started leaking.  I healed.  We started back slowly.  If Price woke up in the middle of the night, I would nurse him back to sleep rather than make him a bottle.  Then, I started nursing him before each bottle.  I gradually stepped down his bottles from 7 a day,  to five a day, to three a day.  He was nursing!  He never got completely off the bottle/formula, but he never got completely off the boob, until yesterday.  I nursed Price for the last time yesterday.

Slackerdoodle

Wow!  It's been almost two weeks since I last posted anything.  I wish I could say it was because life has been so full and exciting I just didn't have time.   Life has been kind of busy since our household goods were delivered and Don came home, but busy with kind of routine mundane things.  Boxes being unpacked, another little tropical storm, car problems- things better suited for Facebook status updates and not paragraphs long blog postings.

Things are good though.  We only have 2 boxes left to unpack, but still have curtains and pictures to hang and furniture to buy.  Oh yes, there is some pretty fabulous furniture for sale in Guam.  I already have my eye on a buffet/side board for the dining room and am on the lookout for some bookcases.  We went to a store, Monika's, on Saturday and I am in love!  We may not have Target, but I might be able to come to terms with that (at least I tell myself this) since I am happy to go to Monika's and peruse the treasures there.

We are slowly meeting more people and doing more things, which is nice- we have plans every weekend until the end of November.  I think back to a few weeks ago and think maybe I was being impatient or just feeling lost at sea or something...  anyway, it's nice to feel more settled and at home.

On a different topic altogether... have any of you been following the story of Jessica Watson?  She is a 16 year old who is sailing around the world all alone.  I have become quite enamored with her adventure, although I have mixed emotions about it.   As a parent, I can't imagine letting my child sail around the world in a small boat through some extremely rough waters and unimaginable conditions all by himself.  But on the other hand as a parent, I can't imagine myself telling my child that he can't pursue a dream of his.  I also can't imagine a 16 year old girl wanting to be alone, by herself, with no human contact for 8 long months.  But on the other hand, as a sixteen year old girl, I remember there were days when I wanted nothing more than a day or two at a time to not have contact with anyone- no parents, no school, no siblings to bother me.  I know I couldn't have undertaken such a feat as she is attempting.  I am a little bit in awe, inspired and intimidated by her, but I hope all goes well and that she has smooth sailing.

Gratitude

For all my mopey prognosticating complaining about the recent transitions in my life, one might think that I have forgotten how much I have to be thankful for and also how much my life DOESN'T stink.  I haven't, but I really love it when I am reminded how good life is and can be.

Today, I woke up early to make sure the house was ready for the first set of movers to come and take away our Boonie furniture.  Although happy to see it go, it wasn't that awful- the bed was super uncomfortable, but compared to where Don has been sleeping for the past couple of weeks, I really couldn't complain.

They left and a few of the women who offered to help me with the second phase of the move showed up.  Unfortunately, the movers did not.  Since my moving buddies are all pros at this PCS thing, they had me start calling to track down the movers.  Uh-oh, turned out some paperwork was mishandled and no movers were scheduled.  As I sat on the phone with my mouth gaping in disbelief, and tears welling in my eyes-  I was told that they would have a crew with my stuff here by 5:00 (this was after I had to play the my Boonie furniture is gone, I have a baby and my husband is TDY card).  The lovely ladies all said they would come back whenever I needed them too, but they would have kids in tow.

I decided to embrace the lemons that I had been given and decided, well I could be down about this or I can have a party of the NON-pity variety.  So, I headed to the Class  6, bought adult beverages and sent out an email for anyone who wanted to spend the evening with boxes, beer and pizza.  The movers showed up earlier than expected, the ladies all came back, a few additional folks came too.  The kids played with Price, we laughed and chatted and had a nice time getting to know each other better and the ladies dove in just tore the boxes up- and in 8 hours from start to finish- my kitchen is unpacked and almost completely put away, Price's room is mostly unpacked, the living room is unpacked.  It's amazing!  Of course we had some extra motivation- Don will be home very soon.

Thanks isn't big enough for how I feel.  I am overwhelmed (in a good way) and blessed and full of gratitude.

PS- sorry that there aren't any pics- I really wanted to take some, but it didn't seem right for me to stop working and take pictures of everyone else working