and....a new day begins!

The small window of quiet between getting seven kids out the door to school, and Mirielle coming in from work is over, she just pulled into the driveway. She works the night shift at the hospital, and sleeps during the day. I will chat with her for a few minutes, then Jonathan will be up. Kathryn cooked breakfast for the school kids before hunkering down with her books.

Mirielle is heading to bed now, and Jon is still sleeping, so it is quiet once again. I love hearing about Mirielle's work, though of course she never tells me specifics, per the patient confidentiality laws.

I am picking the princesses up early from school today. Char tried to negotiate for 1:00, but I stuck to 2:00, even though I initially was going to get them at 3:00, so I guess Char is brilliant.

Mirielle is picking up her car this afternoon. Paul and I and Jonathan will go with her, then Paul and I can drive home alone, just a little time together because he is leaving tomorrow. Jon, of course, will ride with Mirielle:) He always gets to go when someone gets a new car.

And, I lost two pounds. Now, I want to get truthful about this weight-loss journey/new lifestyle thing. It isn't easy. I lost 70+ pounds, but have gained almost 20 back. And this is with being careful, it's not like I just totally ditched the whole thing. So now I am working to get back down there, plus all the extra I haven't lost yet. It is not easy. I don't eat bread or cereal anymore, have my oats with blueberries or apples only occasionally. I am getting back to being strict in the evenings, sticking to just tea, and chewing sugarless gum if I find I really want to eat something bad. Yesterday I was in the store for milk, and had Samuel and Kathryn and Jonathan with me. I told them they could get a Cookie-wich, which is two giant chocolate chip cookies with ice cream in the middle, and yes, they are almost to die for. There were also smaller ice cream sandwiches, and nutty cones....I was sorely tempted, started reasoning things out...then finally just said NO. Then, at the register, I picked up a small Swiss Chocolate bar, and bought it. Yay, a chunk broke off and fell on the floor when I opened it on the way home. I took one bite, then passed it out to the kids. phew. It is never easy.

But I do have a vision, I want to feel better, I want to be able to move better, I want my knees to not hurt as bad. And if I am going to have replacement surgery sometime, the smaller I am, the better I will fare. I don't want my blood pressure going up, and I don't want to get type II diabetes. So it isn't about vanity, it's about quality of life.

But all the visions in the world mean nothing if I can't say NO when I am tempted to eat something I shouldn't.

Ahh, cake and cupcakes and ice cream and peanutbutter cups and chocolate with almonds, why do I love thee so?

Chips and fries and big greasy pizza slices, will you ever cease to call my name?

And bread, oh luscious bread....hot bread, slathered with butter....just shut up, okay?

Anyway. Yesterday I made the girls whole wheat toast with real butter and honey, served with mugs of milk. They are picky princesses, and weren't sure how they felt about the honey. They finished off most of their toast, but each left some on the plates (they are not their mother's daughters!). Let's just say that throwing those toast pieces in the garbage wasn't on my list of Fun Things To Do.

Anyway. My obsession with all things yummy can be beaten, it can be dealt with, one temptation at a time, and I know I can do it. It WILL involve suffering, and we people don't really like to suffer, we want it and we want it NOW.

So Paul is leaving again tomorrow, and I am sad. Honestly, this time is different. I am glad that he likes his job, and that he gets to do some adventuring. But ouch, not without me! This sadness is just bleak and the two weeks before me stretch like grayness. It just hurts a little that for me it is sad, and for him it is....not sad. Although I do know he will miss me too, it doesn't really help. Now don't worry, I am not going to wallow and cry a river and throw a pity party. And I will enjoy reading late into the night without disturbing his sleep.

So the day marches on, and here I sit. Tomorrow my oldest "child" turns 29. We are working at the Dome after dropping Paul off at the airport (he goes to Paris, I go to the Dome, wah.) I am hoping to do something birthday-y and fun after the Dome with the birthday girl.

Oh what the heck, I may as well reminisce about what it was like when Emily was born....

We were so young. Paul was 22 and I was 19. Back then, one didn't have routine sonograms, so we didn't know what we were having. To the hospital we went, when those contractions were five minutes apart, we learned that in our childbirth class. We learned how to breathe through those contractions, too, ha. Emily was a stubborn baby, she was transverse. My labor progressed, I dilated to 10 somehow, even though I was IN BED, as per how they did things back then....and the dr. said the baby just had to come out, but was still transverse. He had me sign all the paperwork for a c-section just in case his alternate plan didn't work, which was a huge episiotomy and forceps. He found her little skull with those big tongs, grabbed it, and pulled her out. I wasn't awake for the fun, I was under anesthesia, gas, which dulled the sensations, causing terrible hallucinations...I snapped out of it, and opened my eyes to Paul sitting there crying. I asked, of all things, what time it was. I remember looking at the clock, it was almost ten p.m. She had been born at 9:53. He said, "We have a little girl first." I said, "First? Seriously? First?" I couldn't get beyond that, I just couldn't imagine having MORE. I was still disoriented when I first held her, more wondering how I got ink all over my hands, then I looked at her. She was perfect. More than perfect. I know I cried. Paul couldn't stop crying.

Emily was adorable. I spoiled her as rotten as I could, holding her and dressing her like a little doll, taking her for walks every day, feeding her on demand, oh she was the bestest baby in the world.

She grew into the smartest, sweetest little thing. Paul always teased her and told her she couldn't turn five, she had to stay four. At four, she could read and tell time. She had a huge attention span, and asked me once why all the angels were named Harold. (glory to the newborn king).

Emily has been the most blessed daughter a mom could ever ask for. She has grown up to be a giver, and a nurturer. She understands Evelyn's strong need for library books, and takes her there when she can. She understands the girls' need to get out of the house sometimes, so she takes them places. She is so good to her sister Mali, who lives with her. Being with her is not like being with one's child, but with one's friend. And I know I could have been a better mother to her. She was the first child, she had to drink all her juice and eat all of her vegetables. She had to take a nap, even if she wasn't tired. She had to wear those braids and skirts, and no scary movies for her. I even pre-read all her books, until I gave up because I couldn't keep up with her anymore:) (I once threw out a Ramona Quimby book when Emily was like four, because Ramona was not a good example, ouch)

So Emily, I am sorry for all the mistakes I made raising you. I am thankful for the responsibility you felt for the younger ones, and for all the times you babysat when you would rather have been up in a tree somewhere with a book. I am thankful for the meals you made when things were crazy, and for the words of steady wisdom beyond your years, when I needed them most.