Dear Charlotte, Lydia, Derrick, and Veronica

Dear Charlotte, Lydia, Derrick, and Veronica,

One day when you grow up and have a family of your own you might hear stories about when we lived on Fort Hood in the year 2013.  You'll hear about how I was 9 months pregnant with Veronica and taking care of you three older kids, all while Dad was gone for half the month.

Since you will have been too young to actually remember this time I thought I'd tell you a few stories and take a few pictures to give you some idea of what life was like.  I'm doing this because I don't want any of you getting the crazy idea that I was some sort of perfect super mom type.  (And Derrick you better show this to your future wife because I don't want her to have a complex about her mother-in-law doing all sorts of fantastic things.)

First off, I didn't "do it all."  I couldn't.  Three toddlers and a pregnancy dominated my life.  I basically gave up on having any time to myself.  I'm glad none of you remember how many times I took a shower while you jumped on my bed and ran in and out of the bathroom.  (And if you do remember, I'm sorry.)  I couldn't even brush my teeth without all three of you wanting to brush your teeth too.  Which would have been fine if some of you didn't have the habit of wandering off with your toothbrushes and loosing them.  (Lydia, you were the main culprit.)

Somehow I was blessed to have an easy third trimester.  I had more energy than I did during the second trimester.  And I wasn't depressed like I had been during the first trimester (Sorry Veronica, but you know you weren't planned.)  But "more energy" is a relative term.  It means instead of absolutely needing a nap to get through each day I could survive on cat naps I took while holding you as you watched your favorite movies each afternoon.

And boy did we watch a lot of movies.  Toy Story, Finding Nemo, Wall-e, Flushed Away, Pooh's Heffalump movie, the Yellowstone Documentary (which you called the Bambi movie because it had deer in it), and Shrek were some of your favorites.  I often joked that I was majoring in animation studies during this part of my life.  I usually spent movie time either writing on my computer or sleeping.  Sometimes I cleaned - but that was only if I was really sick of the movie.  

Here's something I want you to see.  This is our kitchen floor.  In this picture it hasn't been mopped in about 3 weeks.  It hasn't been swept in a day or so.  Derrick had a habit of throwing his food on the floor when he was done eating.  Then a few hours later he would wander back into the kitchen and eat his "second dinner" off of the floor - yeah it happened - every day.

I stayed on top of the laundry and the dishes.  Everything else was done on more of a "when it needs it" basis.  You kids were really good about helping pick up toys.  And you ALWAYS wanted to vacuum.  We'd clean about one room a day.  But the whole house was never all clean at the same time.

I had you kids convinced that vacuuming was the greatest thing in the world.  You all would beg for your turn to vacuum.  Derrick constantly walked around with our little pink vacuum and pretended to vacuum every square inch of our house.  I always wished that vacuum actually worked.

There were times you kids tried my patience like none other.  And yes, sometimes I yelled at you.  Sometimes I spanked you.  Sometimes I put you in your room and held the door shut.  I didn't do it to keep you in, I did it to keep me out.  I was so upset by your freakouts I didn't trust myself to be with you until one or the other of us calmed down.

Sometimes I just ignored you.  This picture was taken late at night when I'd given up on doing anything more for Lydia.  I went in the laundry room where the sound of the washer could drown out her whining.  I just worked on the computer and she cried herself to sleep at my feet.

And yeah, I spent a lot of time on the computer.  There were these awesome things called Facebook, blogs, and Pinterest that allowed me to connect with other adults and share thoughts with them.  Those sites helped me feel like I still had a life.

I also had a hidden stash of chocolate chips or root beer or ice cream that I'd eat after you went to bed.  Sometimes just thinking about those treats got me through the last few minutes of bedtime.

We ate really simple meals.  I'd learned that if I fed Lydia pasta or rice every couple days that seemed to be enough to keep her going even when she didn't feel like eating anything.  Any meal that took longer than 10 minutes to make wasn't worth cooking.

And when I did cook I broke pretty much every single "cooking safety" rule there was.  I left the stove on while I ran to change someone's diaper.  I carried hot pots from the stove to the sink over your heads.  You girls sat dangerously close to the stove and watched me cook. Thank goodness Daddy had cut his hand a few weeks earlier because that at least taught you to be scared of sharp knives.

I had to pick my battles very carefully.   The "peanut butter stays in the kitchen" rule was the only rule that wasn't more of a guideline.  Everything else was negotiable.  Some nights I even let you come in my room and sleep in my bed if you promised to be quiet.

Even though it was difficult to be the only parent in charge of you kids it was still do-able.  I had to do everything slower and more strategically than I would if Daddy had been around.  Just getting you all into the car to go anywhere usually took about 10 minutes.  And I don't know what I would have done without fruit snacks to use as an incentive to get you buckled into your seats.    

I guess the thing I want you to know the most about this time in my life is that I wanted to do what was best for you - while still taking care of my needs.  Some days we didn't have a perfect balance between the two.  But other days we did - and I think those days were more common.

So even though the house was messy, you ran around in your underwear, we ate macaroni and cheese for lunch every other day, and sometimes you went to bed at 11:00 pm, we were still a happy family.  And I'd rather be the mother of a happy family than a perfect family any day.

Thanks for the memories,

Love,

Mom