Sugar in Boots and Poop on Floors

I finally have my computer hooked up! But... I can't find my mouse... I think I prefer hooking my keyboard into my cell phone if I don't have a mouse for the computer. What a pain! #firstworldproblems
First, a NC update: Tomorrow my aunt and uncle are coming to visit, along with their son and his new fiancee. I can't wait! This is our third visit from family and friends since our move, which makes being so far away from all of them a little bit easier. I don't miss them any less, but when I do get to see someone from home, the distance between us makes the visit so much better than it used to be when we would see each other on a regular basis. I believe I've said it before, but I'll say it again: Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. And being away from your loved ones makes you appreciate them so much more.
So today I want to ask all of you a question, even though--let's be honest--not a single one of you are going to comment in the section below (it's okay--sort of--I still appreciate your readership). So my question is this: What are some of the most memorable crazy/silly/unbelievable things your children (or nieces, nephews, grandchildren, etc.) have said or done?
Just yesterday, Noah, who's two and a half (30 months if you prefer that kind of thing), dumped Stevia into my husband's work boots. Kevin didn't think it was very funny, until I realized Noah also sweetened my rain boots, as well. Then it was all-around hilarious.
At bedtime, Noah came into my room as I was reading a book (Gone Girl, which I highly recommend!) and said, "Mama, my diaper off me" (we're still in the potty-training process). I asked him why and he responded, "I pooped in my bed." Why? "Cuz."
Thankfully when I went into his room I found easy-to-clean-up "turds," if you will, on the floor and not in his bed. We then had the "you need to go poop on the potty, not on the floor" talk before I got him a new diaper and put him back in bed.
Noah has colored on the walls (which I can honestly and thankfully say Sebastian had never done), unraveled entire toilet paper rolls, colored on cabinets with permanent marker, rubbed Desitin all over his lips and eyes, and then some.
When Sebastian was about two years old, he decided to do something "nice" for mommy. We were playing together outside one warm, sunny day and I realized my phone wasn't on the table where I left it. "Sebastian, where's mommy's phone?" His reply? "I washed it for you, mama!" And there it was. Inside his watering can. Which was also full of water. "Why, thank you, hunny."
Another time he walked outside onto our deck and peed right off the side. "I'm watering your flowers, mama."
When he was a bit older, he "drew mama a picture." On the side of my Jeep. With a rock.
Another time he was playing and called one of his toys a douche. I gave him "the look" and his eyes got wide and he quickly stammered, "No, mama! It means bag!" Of course I had to turn away and stifle my laughter, and explain that it did not mean bag. And then try to mind the words that came out of my trucker mouth (sorry to disappoint, but I do curse!) a bit better.
The other day he actually told me to "Talk to the hand!" I was in shock. How does my seven-year-old son even know that phrase?! I guess some things just carry on from one generation to the next, unfortunately. As long as he doesn't start saying "As if" or "Like, totally!" I think I may be okay. I hope.
The things my children say and do are not always appropriate and sometimes it's hard to contain my laughter. I do explain to them that they need to make better choices, watch their mouths, never do that again, etc. But depending on the issue, I usually end up walking into another room and smiling, thinking to myself, "You're gonna miss this."
So feel free to share your memories! I'd love to read them and share a smile or a laugh! Comment below or share your stories in the comments on my Facebook page, www.facebook.com/sarahstreetblog.

In the Realm of Dreams

I'm here again. In my grandmother's house. And nothing has changed.

Plastic "rugs" cover the hallway carpet. Light pink. Brand new after my grandfather passed away. There are pictures of my cousins and me all over the living room; on top of the old fashined radio, the TV stand, the floor. The grandfather clock still sits in the corner, reminding me that time stops for no one. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The pendulum swings on.
The rotary phone still hangs on the wall. My grandmother's powder jar still sits on the bathroom vanity. My aunt's room is still decorated exactly the same. Trolls cover almost every inch of her dresser, a rainbow of wild fuzzy hair and gemstone belly buttons.
My grandmother's rooms looks exactly the way it did the last time I slept there. And I miss her.
Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so real that you can almost feel as though someone is there with you, even though they aren't present in the dream? I've been dreaming of my grandmother's house so often lately. Something different happens each time, but the setting is always the same. My grandparents' home. One of the places in which I grew up.
My grandmother is never there, but I can feel her. As I walk from room to room I can picture her there. Baking in the kitchen. Putting on lipstick in the powder room, just outside the bathroom. Taking a nap in my aunt's bed. Putting a load of laundry in the washer, filling the room with the scent of Tide. I can see her in the garage, getting a box of Klondike bars from the chest freezer. Eating dinner at the table, telling us all to talk less and eat more.
And then I'm a little girl, lying next to her in her bed, her hand in mine. And she's brushing the tips of her fingers over my fingernails. And I miss her. 

Making a House a Home

Life is good. So so good. It has taken me a while to adjust to living in a new place, so far away from my mom and the only place I've ever known. I still miss her like crazy. I also miss fresh mozzarella cheese from Colandra's, Rita's Italian Ice, Spin Radio, Slater Taters from Little Creek Bar-B-Cue, coffee and conversation at J. DeFranco and Daughters Catering and Deli. I miss my friends. But I'm really happy with where my family is in life right now.
Hubby started working second shift recently and we thought we were going to hate it. It turns out, it's perfect for us. We enjoy spending time together in the morning and early afternoon, running errands or having breakfast at our new favorite diner. It's such a nice change from when Kevin worked third shift and we barely saw each other.
My oldest son, Sebastian, has made new friends in the neighborhood, and I've developed a relationship with their mothers.
I visit the local library once a week or more because I've made time for myself. Every day, even if it's just for 20 minutes or so, I sit down with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, and I read a book. And letters! I keep in touch with friends and relatives via old school snail mail and I absolutely love it! In a way, I feel like I've developed better relationships with quite a few people in my life since I've moved away.
And my birthday this year was so wonderful! I received gifts and cards and flowers! It felt so good to know that my friends were thinking of me on my birthday, the first one I've spent so far away from "home."
Even better, my parents were here for my birthday! We only had a few days together, but we were able to take the kids to the zoo, have Easter dinner together, and just enjoy each other. It really was a great time.
I still have boxes to unpack and laundry to sort through. But I am more motivated to do it all, because I'm finally enjoying my new home.

Tired. Hospitals. Kidnapping.

I. Am. Exhausted. But! I must stay awake, so here I go.
I've been at the hospital with Kevin since 2am because he started having chest pains last night. Chest pain is nothing to take lightly to begin with, but Kevin was a bit worried given that his father just had a heart attack last month. To sum it up, he's not having a heart attack and the doctors don't believe the pain has anything to do with his heart, but they're running some tests to rule out blood clots and any illnesses, so we're going to be here a while yet.
Coming to this hospital this morning has really opened my eyes and shown me how great St. Luke's is. I've always loved St. Luke's hospitals for they're short waiting times--Anderson Campus had my father-in-law in the OR in less than 30 minutes--thoroughness of their doctors, attentive nurses, and the sweetest house keepers! The list goes on and on. It truly is a wonderful hospital.
And now here we are in a hospital where ER patients have waited for more than an hour and a half to be see a doctor. The overall upkeep of the hospital itself is the worst I've ever seen. The nurses and doctors have all been great, which is the most important thing, obviously, but my experience here has really made me think.
There are so many things you take for granted in life. And with that, there are so many things that we don't really think about as anything less than staples in everyone's lives.
Hospitals are one of those things. Clean, well-maintained and functioning hospitals where doctors are knowledgeable and experienced, where the entire staff goes above and beyond to make sure every patient receives the best possible care.
It's hard to believe that many people don't have access to doctors or sanitary health care practices. It's a necessity, something most of us don't think twice about. We need it, so it's always going to be there, right?
Just something to think about...
On that note, I must get back home now so I can get Sebastian ready for school--don't worry, they're not home alone! But I may wait another few minutes to witness the action going on outside Kevin's room... "You can't hold me here against my will. It's not kidnappin' but you can't keep me against my will. I'm signin' my right to walk out this hospital."
Have a great day, everyone!!

All Because She's Proud of Me

If no one ever took risks, Michelangelo would have painted the Sistine floor. -Neil Simon

I checked my mail this morning (apparently I forgot to do so on Saturday) and was pleasantly not-so-surprised to find a letter from a friend. The letter itself meant so much to me, but the most important words were, "I'm proud of you."
I don't hear this often, so after everything we've been through since we decided to move our family to another state, I couldn't help but smile and blink away a few tears.
I am the type of person who needs constant reassurance that I'm doing the right thing. So when Kevin and I made the decision to pack up our family and move 500 miles away from everything I've ever known, I was beyond uncertain, scared, excited, heartbroken. Completely and utterly overwhelmed.
Was I doing the right thing for my family? Would my mother hate me for taking her three grandbabies so far away from her? What if my grandparents get sick? Will Sebastian experience a culture shock, moving from a rather small mostly-white community to a very diverse suburb on the outskirts of a big city? Will I be able to find a job if I need to, in a place where I don't know a single soul? I've always had at least a connection or two whenever I started a new job "up home."
So many questions unanswered. No reassurance that I was doing the best thing. But I knew. Deep down I knew that this is what our family needed. The time had come when our income was lower than our expenses. So when Kevin was offered a job making more money in a community where the cost-of-living was so much less than what we were used to... I would have been stupid, not to mention a bad parent, to talk myself out of it.
Indeed I did try. When it came time to say goodbye to my closest friend. My grandfather, crying for the first time since I was small. My mom. My children's Mum Mum. Crying. Heartbroken. When I had to tell her to leave because I couldn't bear to see her falling to pieces any longer. Knowing it was all my fault. "Just go!"
I tried to talk myself out of it. Just stay. Unload the truck. Put the pictures back on the wall. Put the coffee maker back on the counter and brew a cup for mom. Tell her you can't do it. You can't live without her being any farther than a 30-minute drive away. You can't live without your best friend, just a couple towns away to be there for you whenever you need a quick escape from the walls of your own home. Don't do it. You don't have to do it.
But I did it. Despite the absolute fear of the unknown, I took the biggest leap of faith I have ever taken in my entire life, and fell. Over and over again I fell. But every time, I got back up. I hyperventilated. I cried. I had anxiety attack after anxiety attack. I yelled. I sobbed. I gave the silent treatment. I turned the radio on and sang away my sorrows.
And hear I am, sitting by my fireplace all alone while the littles are asleep, knowing that this journey to a better life is far from over. But, son of a bitch! I did it! I DID IT! I looked fear in the face and I flipped it the bird! I'd be lying if I said he didn't spit in my face and kick me while I was down, but I still told him to kiss my ass!
"I'm proud of you." I am proud of myself. I'm proud of my husband. God knows how crazy it must have been for him! To leave his job of ten years! To start over in a brand new place, so foreign and fast paced (the job, not the south). But he's doing it. He's doing it for us. We're doing it.
Life has been hard. But my God has it been so good. And now I know that I'm not always going to have reassurance. Every single person I love will not always agree with my decisions. And I don't "need" them to. Sure, I'm going to want it. But even when I can not see the top of the staircase, I will keep climbing.

What a Beautiful Day for Heartbreak

It's beautiful here today in North Carolina. It's 64 degrees, the sun is shining, and there isn't a cloud in the sky.
The house is filled with the aroma of citrus and spices, along with the voice of Nathaniel Ratecliff on the radio. Sebastian's at school, Kevin's at work, Noah's napping, and Avery's eating her lunch.
Laika and I are sitting on the deck, listening to the birds calling to one another.
It really is a beautiful day.
But it's one of those days for me. I miss my mom and I just keep picturing her crying over Noah on my living room floor as he slept the night we said goodbye. My heart is broken.
I'm trying to be positive and I know this move was best, but it's really hard. I just try to keep busy so my thoughts aren't constantly racing.
I know it'll get better with time. But today, I just want to cry.

Chaos Ensues! Oh, the Irony!

I knew it was too good to be true. Every night I wake up at least one time before 1am and 3am. I take a drink of water from my bedside table, toss and turn, and eventually scroll through Facebook until I fall asleep again.
My first five--yes, five!--nights in our new home were completely uninterrupted. Until tonight. I knew all along it must have been exhaustion and stress weighing on me, and sure enough, I think I've finally returned to my "normal" sleep pattern. Ugh.
So as you might have guessed, the craziness has not stopped. After we found a house here in NC, we returned to PA with my father-in-law, "Big Kev," so he could drive our moving truck to NC while my husband, Kevin, and I drove our personal vehicles. As we got into bed the first night back in PA, Kevin realized he forgot to lock the back of the truck, which we had already begun loading with our belongings. And thank God he did.
When Kevin and I went downstairs, Big Kev was sitting up on our couch, saying he didn't feel well. He followed us outside because he felt like he was going to be sick, then told us it felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. I knew he was having a heart attack, but all of my in-laws are stubborn, so he said he was fine. Needless to say we took him to the ER, and sure enough, he was having a heart attack.
Not only were we worried about my father-in-law, but we were running on about 6 hours of sleep over the previous three days, and now we had three vehicles to two drivers. It was decided that Kevin would leave his truck in PA at my uncle's so Kevin could drive the moving truck to NC, and we'd come back in a week or two to pick it up. No biggy. Then the chaos with the moving truck happened.
Upon renting the truck, Kevin questioned whether the driver needed a CDL because it had air brakes. The woman at the rental company assure him it did not, so my husband drove the truck home. A day or two later, my uncle, who has a CDL, questioned it again. Not only did the truck have air brakes, but once it was loaded, even just a little bit, the truck was overweight to be driven by a non-CDL holder. Fantastic. We called the company again and this time we were told, "Oh, I guess you're right." I guess you're right?! You guess?! Now we either needed a CDL driver to drive our moving truck, or we needed two non-CDL trucks, which--of course--the rental company didn't have. Lovely.
My uncle couldn't get off work. My grandfather couldn't get off work. If my father-in-law were cleared by the doctor to drive by our moving date, he no longer had his CDL. Now what?
The rental company agreed to give us two more days because of their error. Too bad I couldn't get my CDL in that time frame! Kevin called his grandparents in NC, who mentioned two cousins with CDLs; one in PA, and one in NC. Grandma called cousin Donny in NC, who was just pulling out of the lot at his job to take a load to Long Island. He turned his tractor-trailer around, told his boss he had a family emergency, and agreed to come to PA that night to drive our moving truck for us. I am still unbelievably grateful and simply amazed by this incredibly selfless act. I could write an entire post on this act itself.
But how would Donny get to PA without bringing yet another vehicle without a driver? We later learned that Big Kev wasn't going to be released from the hospital for another day, hours after we had planned on leaving for NC. So Big Kevin's parents and fiancée, Regina, along with Donny, piled into Regina's car and headed north. Regina and gram would wait at the hospital until Big Kev was released, grandpa would ride with me to NC, and Donny would drive the truck. Kevin would follow a few hours later with his pickup, as he needed to get an alignment (another long story), and no one could do it on a Sunday.
Grandpa and I left Monday morning a bit after 5am, and Donny followed shortly after 7. A few hours into our trip, Kevin called to say he couldn't get an alignment because he needed to replace his universal joint. At this point, I just laughed out loud, and Grandpa joined in. What more could go wrong? I had to ask... Shortly after, Kev informed us that the "few" remaining things that hadn't fit inside the moving truck--a 26 footer!!--would not fit in his pickup. Rather than spending even more money on a trailer, Kevin took the two or three loads of stuff to my parents' house, almost 30 minutes away. Needless to say, he wasn't getting out of PA that night.
He finally arrived in NC around 2:30 the following afternoon, after getting two or three hours of sleep before making the nine-hour drive.
Since we've moved into our new home, we've had the plumber here twice, the fireplace fill our home with smoke, and the washer spray water all over the basement. Good times. Oh, and the kicker... residential moving trucks do not require a CDL driver. Isn't it ironic?
While I'd love to end there, I must say, this entire ordeal has made me realize just how many amazing people we have in our lives, and we are truly grateful to each and every one who have helped us in one way or another. And while it seems as though we keep getting kicked while we're down, not only do I know it could always be worse, but I am a firm believer that when God has a plan for you, the devil himself will step in and try to do whatever he can to stand in your way. But I assure you, the good Lord will provide!