Been awhile....

Wow. It's been over a month since I've written something on here last.

Let's see....what's happened? Well, my beloved Charlie died. He had FIV and feline leukemia, and was healthy as a horse (well, a healthy horse, that is) for the almost four years that I had him. Until a week before he died, that is. And then it went very quickly. My other cats, selfish and jealous creatures that they are, battled like...well, like cats, for the extra amount of attention that had previously been Charlie's. And being the sucker that I am, I over-indulged them to the point that they've started ignoring me again. Ingrates.

My husband moved out to Kentucky for his job, so I'm alone again. And not happy about it. What's it like to get to live with your husband? To eat dinner together every night? To sleep in the same bed all the time? Baseball season is especially cruel for me; I watch all these dads at practices and games coaching the boys, or just yelling at them from the sidelines, and I think, I wish my husband were here to do that. Eventually, and by that I mean sometime before he retires, we may get to live together.

Some people's goals include mountain climbing, losing weight, or traveling the globe. Mine is to live with my husband. I have simple dreams.

My middle son started t-ball. It's quite entertaining; I'd forgotten how cute the little ones can be. My oldest has been playing for several years now and the kids his age are getting competitive. For the little ones, though, it's all about how dramatic one can be while running, sliding, and catching the ball, (and if you can manage to fall down and lie on your back for a few minutes with your feet in the air and a play-dead expression on your face, it amps up the "fun" factor by about 90%), and the drinks and snacks afterwards are really the only reason they all show up anyway.

I have thrown away four kitchen garbage bags full of nothing but trash from my older sons' room. And when I say trash, I'm not talking about broken toys, games with lost pieces, or Easter basket grass. No, I mean literal trash: empty chip bags, candy and gum wrappers, cracker sleeves, tiny shreds of paper, ripped school papers, all manner of crumbs and petrified food, and so on. The food and food-packaging is what really blows my mind, since they are both fully aware of the threat of certain death that comes from taking food to their room. We actually had a lock on the pantry at one point; they broke it. Now, my boys are not obese or even teenagers; they are elementary-school-age boys who seriously eat twice as much as me when they're not even hungry. I am going broke just feeding and clothing them now; I cannot even imagine how dire the situation will be in five more years. I can, however, see the day in the not-too-distant future when our family will have to order the party-package-special when we have pizza for dinner; one for each boy (minimum), and one for my husband and I. I'm not sure I can afford the tip for that much food, let alone the food itself.

But I digress.

I have donated approximately 18,976 things to various charities while cleaning out and packing my house for the impending move, which, the way it's looking, could take another two months, along with the rest of my sanity and the only nerve I have left. The good news is that I have significantly reduced the amount of crap we are moving with us; this is important indeed, since we must stay under a weight requirement for the military to pay for this move. I have also given away/sold almost all of the large baby gear (car seat, stroller, swing), but I am steadfastly holding onto the crib and pack & play, since getting rid of everything is the most surefire way to find yourself unexpectedly pregnant. Believe me when I say that we are done procreating, but despite the finality of that statement, I am absolutely not going to tempt fate on this one. My rational excuses for holding onto the afore-mentioned items is that a. the crib converts into a headboard and footboard for a full-size bed, b. I might have a friend/relative over someday who needs a place to lay her sleeping baby down while visiting, and c. both store almost flat. Laugh if you must, but I am not getting rid of these two items. EVER.

I went to my mother's house for Easter, which both she and the boys loved. Eggs were dyed, hidden, and broken, and her weenie dog assisted the boys in all three endeavors. Much fun and mayhem was had.

I guess that's about it. I'll try to keep up with this on a more regular basis for the two of you that read it on a semi-regular basis.

Toodles for now,
Soonerchick