Saturday- Things I can't believe I'm saying

We're going to try a new Saturday feature here at Spilt Milk.  "Things I can't believe I'm saying."  Every Saturday, I'll try to update with a quick post that will detail some item from the week that made me stop and go "hmm."

To start us off, I have a little nugget from this afternoon.  Today, we have a houseguest.  Casadie had a gymnastics workshop this morning, and when I picked her up, she and her friend Andrei pleaded for a playdate.  He's the gorgeous and charismatic son of the owner, an extremely talented young man, 9 years old.  Casadie has had a little crush on him for a while, and honestly, what red-blooded little girl wouldn't?  He's ADORABLE.  So, we get permission from his parents, and off we go!

Once home, they go upstairs to play.  The cleanest, most organized room right now is Alex's room, normally locked and off-limits since he's at college.  I decided to let them play in there while I was doing laundry.  Casadie kept trying to shut the door, and Andrei wanted it open.  I had to step in and say "Casadie, when we have boys over to play, the door should remain open."   Casadie said "Why?!",  and in an effort to avoid an uncomfortable conversation that could actually make them THINK about doing something inappropriate, I just shrugged and said "Because I said so."  Andrei looked at me for a moment, and looked at Casadie, and said "Thank goodness I'm a boy!"  I had to turn away quickly before they both caught me busting out a laugh.

Later, my policy on the open door became very prophetic..but not because Casadie got any wild ideas, but because my 5 year old, Delanie decided that Andrei WILL be her future husband, and was trying to seal the deal with a kiss!  Andrei had to ask (ever so politely..I LOVE that boy) for some assistance, and I had to go up and tell my 5 year old that kissing playmates is not acceptable.  Hopefully, there will not be a repeat with her or any of her sisters today.  I can only have this conversation once.

Kimball Traditions- The Tooth Fairy

Traditions.  Such a wonderful part of any family.  Whether big or small, traditions help unite generations, mark moments in time, and provide a connection to warm family memories for years to come.  I am particularly attached to tradition.  From the time I was a kid, traditional moments dot my reminiscing.  After being picked up from camp, we ALWAYS stopped at this little store for a snack and a potty stop.  Once I got older, started working at the camp all summer and that little store burned down, the tradition became a Saturday evening trip to Dr. Munchie's pizza every weekend.  Our Christmas tree was decorated every year on the Friday after Thanksgiving, and we burst into "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" at the VERY first glimpse of Christmas lights as the season got started.

Once I had children of my own, I of course continued many traditions and established new ones.  As a new, young mother of two, I took my kids to each new Disney movie, on the first day of release.  Preferably the first showing.  I continued decorating the tree on Friday after Thanksgiving, until Bethanie was born, on December 7th.  For a while, I decided to respectfully wait until after her birthday to do it, but have since become a little more fluid with that date.  We buy each of the kids a Hallmark ornament at Christmas and write a little inscription on the inside lid.  My Mom sent my ornaments with me to decorate my first tree, and I will do the same for my kids.

Over the years, as we've added more children to the Kimball brood, it's easy to see how some traditions, started innocently and easily with just 1-2 kids, can get VERY out-of-hand when you have a large family.  Today's example is the Tooth Fairy.   Of course, the Tooth Fairy serves every family, whether you have 1 kid or 18, but because she knows every family is unique and special, she tailors her tooth-retrieval service to the specific needs of the family.  At least that's the story in our house.  When Alex and Bethanie were little and the only kids on the horizon for this very ambitious mother, the Tooth Fairy delivered a BEAUTIFUL bookstore-quality book complete with inscription, AND a crisp $5 bill.  Yes, over-the-top..but who cares.  The Tooth Fairy loves books, and knows my kids love books, and so she aims to please.  The baby teeth days are fleeting, so my arrangement with the Dental Queen was something to be cherished and celebrated.

Many years later, as Casadie began to lose her teeth and the Tooth Fairy would again be visiting the Kimball household, I stopped short, and quickly counted the number of baby teeth this Enamel-Wrangler would be picking up from our home in the next several years.  4 more girls, 7-8 teeth apiece (how many baby teeth do kids lose, exactly? I've lost count!) Speaking conservatively, we're talking $150 bucks and a veritable library of top-shelf Newberry Award Winners.  The Barnes and Noble CEO should be sending flowers to our house.  Bill hopelessly suggested (he never had a chance) cutting the cash back to $1 and buying paperbacks, but I said the Lady of Floss could afford $5, 2-3 times per year.  He sighed, rolled his eyes lovingly (I swear), and drove me to the bookstore to make a few selections. (The Chomper Collector treasures and uses Mom's suggestions when she delivers the books, of course.)

Casadie has been working on her top two teeth, which have REALLY taken their time.  I was worried that an Oral Surgeon might be needed to help these along, and that given her age of 7, she might be close to abandoning her belief in the Princess of Plaque.  But, once the tooth came out yesterday, the debate as to where to put the tooth, which bed to sleep in (we really have a musical beds thing going on over here lately..with bunk beds in two different rooms and sisters who like to switch loyalties and alliances..a long story for another day), began in earnest. 

Any doubts I may have harbored, ie "will the kids REALLY remember this as a cherished tradition, or is this Queen of Gleam just wasting her money?" was absolutely dispelled this morning, when Casadie marched downstairs, grinning a toothless smile ear-to-ear, and clutching a large book under her arm, "Zen Shorts."  

"Mommy! Look what the Tooth Fairy brought me!"  She showed me the book with the beautiful water-color illustrations, and read the, may I say, very touching inscription to me.
"That looks wonderful!" I replied, "have you read it yet?"
"No, not yet.  I want to get Library Mouse, & the Marshmallow Incident first. I haven't found them yet."

Mom very confused: "Why do you need those books first?"

Casadie "Well, those were the first and second books the Tooth Fairy ever gave me.  I want to read them in order before I start Zen Shorts.  The Tooth Fairy always gives me such beautiful books."


A Mother's silly indulgences completely validated in the wise and wonderful words of a 7 year old, who is losing her baby teeth kind of late.  She still believes in the magic, and I am absolutely proud and excited to provide it to her.

Rock on, Tooth Fairy.

For the birds....(I mean, KIDS)

Confession time.

I hate birds.  Also, I am not bright.  Impulsive and child-like, but not necessarily bright.  One might wonder why on earth these two things are related, and one might also note that probably only ONE of those two facts is news to anybody.

A little background on my bird-hating-ness.  I haven't always hated birds.  They are pretty.  They have a beautiful, melodious sound.  They eat bugs and such.  I once even owned a bird.  A co-worker of my ex-husband talked him into taking on an orphaned cockatiel.  I believe the cockatiel was orphaned because it was the devil, and no one could stand it, but I digress.  I happily thought that a cockatiel was just the most adorable pet to add to our brand-new little family.  Because every newlywed couple needs a squawking, obnoxious bird that wants out of it's cage at all hours of the day and night, right? That kind of stress is perfect on a budding new marriage when you're all of 18 and 19 years old.  So anyway, to make a long story short...the bird didn't work out (neither did the marriage, but it would be a few more years before we'd admit to that), and we ended up giving him away.  At least I *think* we did..I'm pretty sure I didn't agree to one of Jay's wilder plans to let it go free in the Oregon wilderness.

Cut to several years later, not really on *loving* terms anymore with birds in general, I was pecked, rather ferociously in an aviary at the Portland Zoo.  We had our adorable son Alex with us, baby Bethanie in the stroller, and some horrible little green and red beast nearly pecked me to death while my husband (now EX-husband) laughed riotously at my predicament.  Not long after that, he rented Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" for us to enjoy in the privacy of our own home.  Evil bastard.  

Ever since then, I avoid aviaries, even if it requires back-tracking half a mile through the zoo or park path to find an alternate route.  I don't need to see any more birds.  They have feathers, two feet, and occasionally one will have a very interesting-looking beak.  Whoopee.  Somehow, the big kids caught on that I wasn't just disdainful and bored..but that there was a real fear involved.  Like my unreasonable fear of popping Pillsbury biscuit cans, this has now become a source of gleeful amusement for them.  They pat me condescendingly on the head or shoulders, offer to hold a map or jacket over my head and escort me quickly through the aviary so I don't have to backtrack.  They say witty things like "Oh..that's RIGHT...you're as scared of birds as you are of loudly popping biscuit cans, AREN'T YOU??" and I just give them my best "I will KILL you when we get home" grin..and run through the aviary at top speed to prove my bravery, flinging other people's small children aside like they are bread crumbs.  Which I hope the birds think they are, at least long enough to distract them from me.

So, when one irrational woman is afraid of birds, and is ridiculously annoyed when the chirping outside wakes her up at the unholy hour of 7am, what is the best course of action?.....

.....buying a bird feeder for homeschool of course.  The girls saw the project in a book, and clamored endlessly and adorably for it, until I gave in.  The project actually involved BUILDING a bird feeder..but since I'm handier with a debit card than a hammer...a beautiful black bird feeder came home, along with a bag of "Songbird mix."  (Is it made of real songbirds?  I hope so!  *maniacal hand-wringing and 'muahahaha-ing'*) So now, the girls can gleefully watch for birds in the backyard, and I can lay in bed at 7 in the morning with a pillow over my head.


.....I'm thinking of buying a BB gun.

PS.  As I wrote this..I realize then, what an oddity it is that I enjoy playing "Angry Birds".  I realized that I'd rather be the pigs.  But I'm still mildly obsessed.  Just an odd coincidence.

I broke my funny...

Sorry folks, my funny got broken.  I have always intended for my blog to be a humorous and light-hearted look at the craziness that is our life..but I suppose it wouldn’t be real and honest if it didn’t occasionally explore the darker, crazed side of my “crazed life as a homeschooling mother of 6”.    The end quarter of the year, all the way through February is what Bill and I lovingly and laughingly call “Kimball Crazy Quarter”..and it’s a time filled with the normal stressful holidays, our anniversary, and not one, not two, but 4 birthdays for our family.  So understandably, my stress level rises during this period anyway.  Add to it the exceptional hardships we’ve been facing financially through our layoffs, the new added stress of a job that doesn’t fit my personality and a few tragic and horrific situations for family and friends, and it’s a recipe for a personal fitting of a white coat for me.

I’ve struggled lately with severe feelings of self-doubt, plummeting self-confidence, worry about the future , and even confusion about what I WANT from our future.  I had dreams…they were to have a beautiful family, wonderful husband, and a job at Walt Disney World.  Have, Have and Had.  Now what?  It’s definitely time to re-evaluate and set some new goals, but that’s where the self-doubt is coming in.  Our financial hole is so deep, I can’t see the top, let alone the beautiful horizon.

Homeschooling fills part of that horizon.  I see my children enjoying each other’s company, I see Bill and I really reconnecting with them and learning much more of their personalities that I ever would have known if they were in daycare and school for 8+ hours per day.  For this, I am grateful.  It gives me small, meaningful goals for the day, the week, and even a year’s worth, but still, I feel lost.  I worry that my depressive episodes will cause me to lose focus on this particular goal, and that wouldn’t just hurt me, it would absolutely be damaging to the girls and their future.  So the self doubt creeps in, and makes me wonder if they wouldn’t be better off back in school.  I know every homeschooling parent experiences some measure of this worry, but mine are just exacerbated now with my overall hot mess.

I could spend an entire blog complaining about my job, but I’ll just say that I do love Hilton.  I love most of the people I work with.  I could easily see myself leading this team, supporting them in this very difficult job of telemarketing, but the actual job of being on the phone, suffering the abuse of a nation of people that feel it’s ok to demean, demoralize and otherwise rudely treat me simply because I’m a telemarketer is so hard to endure.  Each sale equals success, and refills my bucket a little bit, and the rare no-sale with a wonderful person and a great conversation does as well. 

  But when in a 6.5 hour shift, and well over 400 calls results in no sales, my bucket is empty, overturned, stomped on, and has a hole drilled in it.  Filling it with a success just becomes that much harder.  I’m told I’m very good at this job.  My superiors say that my style on the phone is awesome, and I’m the best of the best.   This is so hard to believe after someone has just cursed at me, and told me I’m worthless because I happened to call them during their 7:47pm dinner.  I can see a future with this company as a leader, and I’m making inroads toward that end, but the emotions that threaten to bubble over and become on display are endangering the professional demeanor I struggle to present.  For those who say “why wait until you can be promoted? If it’s that hard on you emotionally, find something else!”….I’m trapped.  Utterly and absolutely without options.  The money I make when the going is good is absolutely enough to make it impossible to leave.  There are zero comparable options out there for someone like me, with no degree and with my need for reasonable hours and legal work.  I mean, I suppose I could be a prostitute, but then we’d spend so much on bail money, lawyers, etc.   *sigh*  And face it, there’s only so much of a niche market for gals like me.  (ok..so my funny is bruised, not necessarily broken.) 

I struggle with exhaustion.  A job that requires so much mental Olympics and verbal sparring until 10:30 or later each night, means that I am too keyed up to sleep until well into the wee hours of the morning.  In turn, this results in me having to sleep later, cutting into exercise time, homeschooling time, errands, housework, etc..something has to give, and often, it’s ALL of the above, rather than just one or two things.  All of this feeds back into the overwhelming feelings of worthlessness  that are becoming harder and harder to rise above.  On numerous occasions, I’ve called one friend or another only to burst into tears and blubber my way through a rant on how awful my life is.  To those friends who have endured those calls, I can only apologize and thank you for listening.

At the risk of making this the longest post ever, I’ll wind down by saying that I DO remember the positive things in my life.    I do see the value in my beautiful family and my wonderful, generous husband.  I recognize the luck I have in that regard and I count the little things among those things I value the most. 

A husband that continues to get my car door for me, 13 years into our relationship.  He is the best of the best in so many ways, and he supports me  99.5% through all of this, even while dealing with his own feelings of stress and struggle with our situation.  I say 99.5% because no one can truly support 100% the sour moods I get into.  It’s impossible to ask of someone, and he occasionally is just done with them, has his say, and then he slips back into the wonderfully supportive man I know.  I would love to just have him welded to my side.

A talented, intelligent son who has risen above his own personal challenges of autism, and is successfully navigating college life in pursuit of a physics degree.

A beautiful, creative teenage daughter, who while exhibiting normal teenage attitude, continues to provide invaluable assistance to me and her father while we get through this difficult period in our life.

Little girls who love unconditionally, and who always are a source of laughter and fun. 

Our health..recent events with friends and children of friends make me so grateful that my children are healthy and that they continue to thrive. 

Homeschooling.  I am so grateful to have found this outlet for my energy and my need to plan and set goals.  With no other goals in my personal life to strive for at the moment, this becomes a good focus for me, and I get to be closer to my girls.

Friends who listen.  My circle of friends is wide and varied.  I am continually entertained on Facebook, so when I’m at my darkest, reading their observations and anecdotes of their lives truly help me get back on track, at least for that moment, and I gain a lot of positive energy from that.

This blog.  I am grateful that I started this, and I’m grateful for the wonderful feedback I’ve gotten.  My family is special to me, and I’m glad that at least a few of you enjoy their antics.  I’m sorry to post something that is seemingly so out of character, but truly, this is just another side of Jennifer, one that not as many people see.  I am fairly good at faking it most of the time, but lately, I’m just so tired.  I do promise to find my funny again soon, and I am taking notes of the little things that happen.  Maybe another thankful list will be forthcoming soon.

Much love and sincere thanks for popping in and spending time with me.  I promise to follow doctor’s orders regarding my broken or bruised funny, and will be on the mend.