Birthdays should not make you cry...

but this one does.

I got pregnant with the M-n-M's a little less than a year after our son died in my belly.

That little stick made a plus so quick...I knew something was different this time.

An ultrasound at SIX weeks....the tech says, "both babies look great!"

I'm sorry..."WHAT?"

Six weeks later I'm sobbing in my driveway as I say good-bye to my husband.

By the time he comes home I'm so big I can't sleep, eat or breathe. But there are 2 healthy babies in my belly, just waiting to meet their daddy & mommy & sisters.

By the skin of their (as yet non existent) teeth & one mommy meltdown, they meet Daddy just 5 days before he leaves again.

A move to Maryland when they were 4 months old....

one busy daddy, one stressed mommy...one lonely Charley...one sweet Eva...and 2 very sweet babies.

3 more moves, 1 more sweet baby, 1 more deployment...

and those 2 surprises are 3. years. old.

And I'm crying because all I want for their birthday is for my Marine to jump out of a damn box somewhere. I want to feel his arms around me, see his entire face light up when he sees our children, I just want to hear him sing them Happy Birthday. I just want to see the unbridled joy on their faces when they see their Daddy.

And I know I can't give them what they really want for their birthday. I can only give them as much love and snuggles as my heart will hold. I can thank God for the sweetness of my Eva & Charley... who have been making cards all week...planning parties...imagining gifts...wishing for Daddy. And just making Mommy feel like they've got it all under control.

Which is really good. Because I absolutely don't. I just want to postpone the whole thing until the other half of this unit is safely home on American soil.

My husband is my heart, my soul, my anchor and my best friend. And I just can't imagine celebrating 2 of our miracles without him.

But I will. Because I do. Because we all do. Military wives. It's what we do. We just have to keep going forward...knowing that eventually the other half of our hearts will be home. We just wish, with every fiber of our being...that it was right now. this moment.

Charles....we miss you and we can't wait to celebrate all that we've missed...with you. Because there is no other way to celebrate. Not without you.

In 9 minutes, our twins will be 3. No longer babies...not quite big kids...but in the sweetest, softest, smooshiest stage ever.

I cannot wait for you to see them. Hurry home, love, hurry home.

love,

clanmacmama

It has a name...

Cognitive Dulling.

It.

makes.

my.

brain.

dull.

For the security of knowing I'm on an even keel, I seem doomed to sacrifice the pieces of me that make me exactly who I really am.

Uh, did that actually make any sense to anyone but me?

I should probably elaborate....

One of the medications used to treat bipolar disorder is called Trileptal. "On-label," it is an anti-epileptic. "Off-label," it is used widely to treat bipolar disorder. (I'm guessing most of you who read this know I'm a certified wacko, but for those of you who don't, I am considered bipolar II.)

Let me reiterate from previous posts...I DO NOT think I can fly, I DO NOT think I am someone else, I DO NOT hear voices in my head (well, maybe just a few...) I DO have a lot of emotional bungee cording that is frustrating and a lot of chaos in my mind that makes my type A personality SO MUCH worse as I try to offset the chaos in my mind with order in my environment...

To get to the point, I take Trileptal. It makes me a little more sane, a lot less fun, a lot less creative and a whole lot less able to write "easily."

I have always loved to write. It just kind of makes me a little more normal, a little more grounded and a lot more relaxed.

Well, I just can't do it very well anymore. I struggle all the time to just get a few sentences, let alone a full on post on a weekly basis like I used to.

Next point...last doc appt, as I complained once again to my shrink about my inability to "be me," i.e. write, be creative, think outside the box...He finally informed about something known as "cognitive dulling." Apparently, it's a phenomenon experienced by many patients on these types of meds. Needless to say...it explained a lot.

Last point. I find it extraordinarily annoying, disheartening and altogether a pain in my **s.

So, what to do, what to do?

And the praying begins.

Can you say some for me too? The writer in me would sure appreciate it. :-)

with love,

clan mac mama

I should probably not homeschool...

or parent...or do anything at all.

when. my. husband. is. deployed.

I should hole up in a cabin somewhere in the woods, far far away from all other living things that I could possibly damage with my own mental mud while my life is upside down.

I read an amazing post tonight...www.goodmorningvietmom.com

I cried.

I smiled.

I laughed.

And I realized, with a clarity I haven't experienced in, well, a ridiculously long time, that this woman knew exactly how I feel. How I will feel when Charles is finally here...10 more trash days from now.

She knows that I feel not like 2 parents, but only like 1/2 of one. Because when one is gone...the one who is left is not really there either. The one who is there is...

exhausted.

checked out.

emotionally bereft.

doubting every choice.

second guessing every word uttered.

guilt ridden for yelling.

wrung out from crying over the guilt.

also...

so attached to my children that I hate being away from them, but desperately crave just a few moments of calm...

and when I get the calm, my heart is so full, so joyous. I want it to go on forever and wish with all of my soul that I could capture the joy and replay it over and over for the one who is missing it.

humbled when my sweet almost 3 year old stops me in my yelling tracks to tell me she loves me and gives me a kiss.

humbled when my friend, the temporarily single mother of a special needs child (who gives of her time and heart to my twins every single week for several hours...) tells me what a great job I am doing.

grateful when my friends (really, they are my family) come over for dinner or invite my motley crew over to destroy their homes and screw up their kids bedtimes, just to fill my heart and my kids' souls with some extra love.

rejuvenated when I'm surrounded by amazing women who all struggle too, but still share their hearts and faith with me.

tired, so tired, because I just can't bring myself to go to bed without my other half.

so thankful when a sweet friend who has so much on her own plate helps with my many littles and gives my bigs an afternoon of unfettered fun and a bit of learning too...

filled with laughter when my equally beleaguered friend and I decide we should star in a new TLC series titled "Poop Wars..."

thankful for the neighbors who have become family and always come to my rescue at a moment's notice...

appreciative, with every fiber of my being for my family. For the time they take to travel, to help, to support and to lift us all up. It is not always easy or fun, but they are here every chance they get. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You!!

finally....so blessed to be a part of this community of amazing Christian people. What WOULD I do without the blessings God has rained down. Here. In this place.

Well, I guess I probably should homeschool and do all the other things God called me to do...since He has a much better plan than I could ever dream of. If I'd just get out of His way, He'd have the chance to do great things in my life.

He says...

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

I know, with my heart, that this too shall pass. I know that my kids are great. I know that I am blessed. I also know that I am stubborn, strong willed, impatient, cranky and moody. I just hope that isn't what my kids remember. I hope this deployment fades away into the recesses of their memories, overcome by the times that are, were and will be, amazing.

So...to steal a phrase from our coins and use it for my own selfish purposes...

In GOD I Trust.

Do You?

with love,

clan mac mama

Is it possible to be grateful for Poop?...

I thought to myself as I was observing the pile of poopy underwear awaiting my attention tonight. Apparently, it is.

Almost 2 months ago, during my last sporadic post, I swore I was going to post one thing per day I was grateful for. Well....I don't actually remember writing that post, so I can't be held responsible for forgetting, right? And, anyway, I'm here now. Grateful for poop.

Now that I have your attention...

I know you are on the EDGE OF YOUR SEAT, wondering what the H*ll I am thinking.

I'm not really sure, if you must know.

I just know that when I was getting ready to throw myself a pity party over the 10 pair of undies I need to rinse and the fact that I had to clean nastiness off both my sons multiple times today in PUBLIC, I just felt like I should be grateful. That they had clothes to wear. Food to eat. A roof over our heads. A paycheck. Education. Family.

That I had them to clean poop off of.

I gotta tell ya, it's hard not to live in a pity party when your husband is half a world away and your'e the temporarily single mama of 5 little beans. Some days, I'm in the penthouse suite of the pity party. Other days, I'm SUPER HOMESCHOOLING FORMER MARINE TEACHER MOM, ready to leap piles of crap in a single bound, teach with my eyes closed and little people underfoot, whip up a dinner (not frozen...) and not shed a single tear or down a half bottle of wine to make it all better.

And, well, I guess I didn't want to turn 40. Well, I take that back. By the time it rolled around, I was actually pretty laid back. It was the 6 months leading up to it that had me in a tizzy. I know it's just a number. I know 40 is the new 30 . I know my kids will keep me young. I also know that there is SO MUCH I still want to do. SO MUCH I haven't finished. Guess I better get moving, since I'm apparently half dead now.

HA.

I celebrated in style...with old friends, little kids and some really great food.

So here's to turning a Fabulous 40. Kiss my grits, 39. 40 is WAY better.

Still kickin' it and crazy...

love,

tiff

Type A...

go away!

Who can possibly be this type A? Who can possibly only ever see the thing that is not right...not just so...not the WAY IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE?

Well, I guess that would be me.

Me. That lady with 5 kids who are great. A really nice house. A great husband. Lots of blessings. All of which I see and am truly grateful for. SO, WHY WHY WHY am I such a debbie downer half the time? Do I have any idea how blessed I am? Yup. SO, again...I ask: Why can't I just be, um...content?

My Mom and I dissected this tonight and we came up with a few possibles. None of which I care to share. Suffice it to say I have issues. Ones that truly need some resolution. Is it possible to become a squiggle if you're really a square?

Man...I'd really love to be a squiggle.

How exactly does one become a squiggle from a square? Should I de-alphabetize my spices? Jumble my clothes so they are not in color/sleeve (or pant...or skirt) length order? Unschool my kids? How exactly does one RELEASE the pressure valve that type A seems to have me under?

I've GOT IT.

I'm moving into an RV. In a warm climate. With no yard.

Crap, that won't do it. My hair would NEVER be clean with that crappy water pressure. And what would I do with all those alphabetized spices?

Ok...plan B.

I am going to post one thing every day that I am grateful for. One thing that God has blessed me with.

Starting right now.

I am grateful for this house. Every square inch of it. Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.

type a, checking out for now...

clan mac mama

Writer's block + insomnia=

a very sad mama.

sassy and a smart a** i used to be...

then i lost the biggest part of me...

my brain has left me in a tizzy..

the words just fly & make me dizzy...

the only thing that I can pen...

are these silly, nilly....

well, stink. I can't even rhyme that one!

This is REALLY irritating. I can't even find a funny way to write about my littles. HELP...HELP...HELP...please return my brain to sender if you find it in your box....

I DON'T get the flu...

so what the heck is this sick business I've got going on here? On day 2 of the flu and it just makes me crazy to be stuck here on this stupid couch, staring at the mess around me...and I don't even feel like cleaning it up.
We have 4 weeks until the hubby leaves and there seems to be no end in sight for the piles of junk that need to be dealt with. The school room...the junk off the deck...the school planning...the wills...the POA's...
And my poor husband is perpetually exhausted and overwhelmed. I wouldn't blame him one bit if he was looking forward to the deployment just so he can get a little rest.

We need a vacation. Alone. Most of the time, we forget that before the clan mac, it was just Tiff and Charles. And yes, I love my life, I love my kids and I'm SO grateful for the blessing of them in my life, I just don't want to forget the blessing of my marriage.

Here's to praying for a smooth 4 weeks.

Clan Mac Mama