Mukkefuck Cafe

since I am totally incapable of stringing together my thoughts in an intelligible manner...

* I wonder if learning defensive driving in the United States and practicing offensive driving in Germany gives me any sort of advantage?

* When my kids play the game "Red Light/Green Light", they use the German traffic light pattern. (Red Light/Yellow Light/Green Light/Yellow Light/Red Light) This makes me chuckle.

* I have spent the past eight years being an Army wife...and next Tuesday I am going to be the wife of a civilian.

* I am fully aware of just how blessed we are. That Guy I Married landed a SWEET job as a Civil Servant and we get to stay in Germany! (Seriously...there were a LOT of people who wanted this job. TGIM is kind of an asshole. We SoOoOoOo do not deserve this good fortune. But I am very grateful for it.)

* The Army is withholding our last paycheck. We got our last pay check in mid-June. We won't get our next pay check until the beginning of August. Can you say "screwed"???

* I know that it is mostly our fault that we are screwed. We failed to save money. It is just that simple.

* But this is the thing...when you live at or below the poverty level for your entire adult life and you get a little bonus (like an income tax return) and you can make the kinds of frivolous purchases that you ordinarily can not...you sometimes tend to do just that.

* Without thinking about the impact it will have on your life six months down the road.

* Even though I feel guilt, I still love my Nikon D40.

* Once things are settled and we are getting regular pay checks again, I am going to be diligent about saving money.

* I will not have any excuse not to. Our allowance for housing is going to double. We are SoOoOoOo moving into a bigger house.

* We will be getting  an almost $20K raise in our base pay.

* And we will still get the Cost Of Living Allowance that helps offset the crappy exchange rate.

* And as a medical retiree, That Guy I Married will be pulling in a monthly retirement check.

* I think we might actually be moving on up. Middle class, Baby!

* I think it's about, freaking time.

* Also...the pounds are still coming off.

* I can see a little bit of a difference. I only have one chin!

* Sadly, the only other area in which I am seeing immediate results is in my bosom.

* Note to self: must wear supportive bra. AT ALL TIMES.

* Another note to self: consider plastic surgery to put all of your bits back in their proper places once this whole thing is done.

summer vacation?

Well, last Thursday marked the end of the school year for My Minions. In September, I will put all four of my kids on the bus...and then my life will begin. I am not sure exactly how I feel about that.

Elijah has been my constant companion for the past five years. Of my four kiddos, he and I just "click". Maybe it is because he is the most like That Guy I Married. Or maybe it is simply because he is the most easy going and laid back kid I have ever given birth to. Who knows? But what I do know is that I am really going to miss him when he starts school.

I have spent the past twelve years staying at home and raising my kids. I have done some volunteer work during that time, but for the most part, I have been fully devoted to just caring for them. I haven't felt compelled to finish my college education or to go out and find a job. Now??? I am facing the prospect of being a stay at home mom with no kiddos at home.

I am sure that I will really like it, at first. The freedom to come and go as I please. To go to the gym or the pool or to buy groceries without little hands grabbing for the junk food that I am so staunchly trying to avoid...but I get bored really easily. I just hope that I can figure out what I want to do with myself before I find myself in a funk.

As a side note...LOOK, MA! NO HANDS!!! I have been off my happy pills for almost a month, now. Turns out that simply eating right and forcing myself out the door and to the track every day is all I needed to do in order to feel good. Who knew??? Also, I dropped 7 pounds in the past week, for a grand total of 18 pounds lost from my all time highest weight. I am not physically seeing a difference yet, but I am certainly feeling it. And this morning when I bent down to tie my shoes...I noticed that I could breathe! (my fellow fatties will totally get this...everyone else just takes breathing while bent over for granted)

hmmm...anything else? Not really. I actually feel like the Internet and I are growing apart. Like maybe I have spent too much time fostering my online relations and in turn have neglected the real life people who have always been here for me. I have very few friends in real life...so I have always cherished the friends I have made online. I guess that I am finally feeling like I need something more than some words typed on a screen with their virtual (((hugs))) and LOL's.

Wow...this post is all over the place. See, Internet??? I am bored with you.

happy horseshit

You know, then other night when I posted that shallow little meme, I think I failed to convey the gravity of my situation, just then.

My dog was gone. Gone! She is a pretty neurotic pup and every since the fireworks fiasco of New Year's Eve, she has been a little bit more sketchy than usual. Pretty much, any time she hears thunder, gun fire (from the military firing range), garbage trucks, motorcycles, airplanes (I can see the flightline at Ramstein Air Base from my bedroom window) and did I mention thunder??? She crashes through the gate we have at the bottom of our stairs and hides in the bathtub until all is right in her world, again.

Well, on Sunday evening we had a pretty intense storm roll through here. She was outside with That Guy I Married and the kids when the first rumblings of thunder...er...rumbled, and she just bolted. Everybody was pretty distraught so about an hour later, when the storm passed, we set out to find her. In the 2+ years we have had her, she has never taken off like that. Since we all had to be up early the next morning, we had to stop looking at around midnight and go to bed.

The next morning I called for her, and she didn't come. We were pretty worried by then and so we started making phone calls. She is microchipped so I called the stray facility on base, first. They didn't have her, but put an alert in their system. We checked with the local tierheim, the Polezei and the fire department. She was nowhere to be found. I had just finished submitting an ad to the Stars and Stripes reporting her missing when I heard a thud at the back door. She was home. She was tired, thirsty, hungry, had almost an entire thorn bush tangled in her hair and was covered in (what I can only imagine to be) horse poo...but she was home.

I will admit that I spend a lot of time bitching about my dog. She is hairy (and therefore sheds...a lot), she barks rather incessantly, she tries to herd us into corners and she is just generally a spaz...but what this whole experience has proven to me is that I really, really love my dog and I am so glad she found her way back home.

I'm a jerk

I really meant to post this last night, but That Guy I Married got off work late, I had a date to play Rock Band with my kids and then my Good Friend from Alaska phoned me...so it didn't get done.

Oh...and the dog ate my homework, too...heh.

So we finally got some news we can work with, yesterday. The job has officially been approved and funded. There is still a little bit of paperwork that has to go through before the job can actually be posted...but it should be posted sometime next week. At this point, we are looking at (maybe) a couple of weeks without a paycheck vs. a couple of months...and we can totally deal with that.

To say I am relieved would be a gross understatement...

Thanks for the comments, thoughts and prayers...and sorry for leaving you all hanging like that!

I will be posting a couple more recipes today. Project Healthy Living is off to a smashing start! I am already feeling better...so I know I am on the right track!

sitting in the waiting room

We were told that we should have some answers by the end of this week. It is almost the end of this week and we still don't have any answers.

I am completely freaking the fuck out, right now.

The bright side...that I went to one of the Kaiserslautern Military Community's semi-annual bazaars and sampled enough wine to leave feeling pleasantly buzzed.

monkeywrenches

I guess I should start from the beginning or those of you who don't know me or haven't been reading me for long would be completely lost.

I kind of married an anarchist. If it were entirely up to him, we would be living off the grid on a large bit of land in a remote part of the US. When I found out I was pregnant with our first kid, I made the decision that I wanted to raise my kids as part of society. He wanted to live in our VW Bus. I allowed him to choose between living in that stupid bus or living with his family. He chose us.

For most of his adult life he has been making sacrifices to choose what was best for our family. He started out working odd jobs for very low pay. We barely eeked by, living in a horrible, dilapidated house owned by one of his sisters. We basically brought in enough cash to pay our utilities and to eat. A few months after Rowan was born, he got a job working at a grocery warehouse. He was making about twice as much money and he ultimately ended up in the Teamsters. We actually had health benefits by the time I was pregnant with our second child! He worked third shift for most of the four years he worked there, but it was a decent living. We rented an old, craftsman style house complete with a backyard and a dog. Life was good...for a while.

That Guy I Married is a really smart guy. I mean reeeaaallllllyyy smart. He is actually only about two IQ points away from being eligible to join Mensa. Funny thing about people with really high IQ's is that that are oftentimes a little bit batshit crazy. He is no exception. (you know I love you, babe;) The bottom line is that he gets bored with things pretty easily and after a while, he got bored with the whole house, wife, two kids, white picket fence ideology, so he stopped coming home after work most nights. No, he wasn't having an affair...but he was doing things that weren't conducive to family life and so things got Very Bad. I was on the very verge of calling the previous five years a loss and moving back to my hometown when he decided to join the Army. Getting out of his hometown seemed to be the only way to really walk away from the lifestyle that he had fallen into. It took a couple of months to come up clean on a piss test, then he was off to the MEPS, then Basic Training, then AIT, then we watched the movers crate up our meager household goods and ship them off to our first duty station in Germany.

I knew from the beginning that he was not making a career of the military, that it was just a means to an end. he originally enlisted for four years. His first MOS wouldn't translate to a great job on the outside, and by the end of his first enlistment we had two more mouths to feed...so he decided to re-enlist and chose a new MOS. His new MOS is in a very good field and we will have no problem finding a good paying job on the outside. He just wanted to do his job and get through his last three years in the military. He has managed to keep his same rank for almost seven years, and not because he is a dirtbag who gets into trouble all of the time. He made the decision to avoid getting promoted to an NCO despite a LOT of pressure from his superiors to do otherwise. One thing I can tell you for sure about That Guy I Married is that if he decides he isn't going to do something, it isn't going to get done...and the more he is pressured, the further he turns the other way. I am not going to lie, it has been extremely frustrating to watch him NOT get promoted year after year...I mean the pay raise(s) would have really benefitted our family, but in the end, I have to respect TGIM's commitment to the causes he believes in.

Two years ago, TGIM was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. We have spent the past two years dragging out what should have been a fairly immediate medical discharge. He does have a few chronic symptoms that have become a part of his daily life, but so far, none of them have interfered with his ability to do his job. We just wanted to be able to finish out our time here before moving on. Our plans were changed last summer when TGIM was forced into standing before a promotion board. Everything was fine until he was asked why he thought he would make a good NCO and he told them that he didn't think he would make a good NCO and that he was not there by his chosing. after that, pretty much all kinds of shit hit the fan. The med board process was started almost immediately, with their hope being that he would be out of their hair within a few months. in January, it was decided that he would be medically retired in February. We asked for an extension so that our kids could finish out the school year, thus pushing his retirement date to the beginning of July.

In the meantime, an opportunity to fill a civilian position over here has opened up to us. This would be a Really Good Thing for our family. We had everything lined up to hopefully fall into the position right after his retirement. Well, due to some paperwork sitting on some dude's desk for a couple of months, there would be about a 2-3 month delay in getting into the new job. There is no way we could possibly afford to keep living over here for a few months, without an income. I know that there are some major strings being pulled to try and get this whole thing to work out for us, but we are also having to prepare (mentally and physically) for a possible move back the the US. Since we have spent the past six months planning for a European Separation from the military and for having a job ready and waiting for us, we could possibly be right back at square one.

I have to wonder...our life together has been wrought with all kinds of situations where we have found ourselves bent over the back of someone else's office chair...have we done something to deserve this??? Are we such ginormous assholes that the universe sees fit to make us struggle at every freaking turn??? Seriously...can we just PLEASE catch a break, this time???

when the fat lady sings

I have a confession to make. I am fat. Not only am I fat, but I am obese. According to the charts, I am actually considered morbidly obese. Doesn't that sound just fucking horrific???

Morbid obesity.

When I  was a kid, my aunts and uncles used to call me spider legs and spaghetti arms. I was a tall, gangly kid. I was a late bloomer, but when I bloomed, I really bloomed. I wasn't a fat young adult, but I was definitely curvy. I was built like Marilyn Monroe. I had perky boobs, a small waist, curvy hips and a big butt. I liked my body, back then. I was physically strong. I rock climbed. I hiked. I felt good and I felt good about the way that Iooked. I managed to say pretty fit during my time On The Road. Then I got pregnant.

I made some huge lifestyle changes after I found out I was going to be a Mom, and I know that some of that contributed to my weight gain, but something metabolically happened to me, as well. I gained forty pounds during my pregnancy, and lost about thirty pounds within a few months of her birth...then they slowly crept back on and I haven't seen a weight below 200 pounds, since then.

I eat a normal, balanced diet. I don't sit and eat a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon for breakfast. I don't have a whole pizza and a 2 litre bottle of Coke for lunch. I don't eat fried foods and really try to limit my intake of sweets. I am not going to kid myself into believing that my diet is perfect, but I think it is good. I have really worked to cut down on the size of my portions and instead of Coke (my one, major vice) I have switched to Coke Zero, iced green tea and I have increased my water intake.

I do not have a regular exercise routine. I am moderately active in that I am raising four kids and maintaining a household of six people, most of whom are seemingly incapable of cleaning up after themselves. I will admit that there are some days where I don't do a damned thing...but those days are relatively few. I also go and walk at the track a couple times a week. I know I should do it more often and I am not even going to bother trying to justify my laziness.

Before That Guy I Married was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, I was seriously pursuing gastric bypass surgery. I knew the risks, but after years of (unsuccessfully) trying to get my weight under control, that seemed to be the right weight loss tool for me. I didn't see it as an easy way out. I saw it as a way to force me into eating less and only eating foods that were good for me. That all changed once TGIM got sick. What if I became one of the few who had long-term ill effects? What if I couldn't physically care for my family, if the need arose?? What if I died???

So here I am, two years later and still just as fat.

I had my annual "well woman" exam last week. As my doctor was putting in the order for some lab work (thyroid, blood sugar, etc.) she asked me if I was interested in being referred to the Wellness Center. I have been here for three and a half years and this is the first time I had ever heard about this! Basically, I will be assigned a nutritionist. They will run tests on me to see how many calories I actually need to consume. They will get me started on an exercise program! For the first time in years, I have a little bit of hope that I might be a healthy weight again, someday.

It is so hard, being a fat person. Have you ever had to ask for an extender because the seatbelt on an airplane won't buckle around your belly? Or stood in line for an hour to ride a roller coaster only to be told you are too large to ride? Or sat on a flimsy-looking chair and prayed that it would hold up under your weight? Most of society looks at me and all they see is a disgusting body. People don't really go out of their way to get to know fat people. Americans are notoriously bad about judging people by their outward appearances. I do not want to lose weight for those people. I want to lose weight so that I will live a long and healthy life and so that I can set that example for my own kids. I will never be a petite size 2. Or 4. Or even a 6 or an 8, and I am cool with that.

My goal isn't to look like I have just walked away from a concentration camp. My goal is to get healthy. And to be able to buy my pants in a regular shop.

I truly believe that we can be healthy at any size and I also think that the whole fat acceptance movement is a good thing. Some of us are just designed to be bigger than others. I just know that in order for me to feel good about myself, I have got to shed about 100 pounds. Wish me luck!

I was the champion of forgive and forget...but I haven't found a way to forgive you, yet

The past 24 hours have been a prime example as to why I should be a hermit.

After the little "discussion" I had with Spideymommy yesterday, I made it clear that I needed my space. I received about 42 e-mails today asking if we could talk, if I was OK, what was wrong. I largely ignored them, but one can only be asked so many times before they just snap, you know??? So I sent an e-mail back, clearly outlining the course of events as I saw them. The root of the issue is basically that I was providing care for their child, not as an employee but as a friend. He wanted to be able to treat me like an employee. (My regular readers might remember me bitching about him wanting to use my meager income as a tax deduction. I made about $2.50 an hour, caring for their kid. Seriously. I was doing them a favor.) If he wanted me to act as an employee rather than a friend, I would have made him sign a contract agreeing to my terms. And I would have charged him about three times as much money.

My fault lies in that I tolerated being treated like the hired help for WAY too long. I enabled him to shirk his responsibilities as a father. Instead of keeping my mouth shut for the better part of a year, just to keep the peace, I should have said something. Right from the beginning. Instead, I let my frustration build for months and months, and yesterday...I snapped. I tried to call him on it in a civilized manner, and he chose to get ugly.

I got an e-mail from him today totally trashing my integrity as a parent.

Now, I have been called many, many things in my life...and most of them are true. I can be a miserable, wretch of a human being. I have a tendency to see the glass as half empty rather than half full. I really and truly AM a bitch. I can live with people thinking these things of me. For those who have earned my loyalty and trust, I have the potential to be a really great friend. I don't mind that my circle of trust really small. Actually, I quite prefer it that way.

What I can't tolerate is someone calling me a bad mother. I have dedicated the past twelve years of my life to raising my kids. We do without many of the "extras" so that I can stay home with them. We don't own our own home. We don't drive nice, new cars. We have never taken a family vacation, but you know what??? My kids haven't spent a single minute of their lives in day care. From the minute our first child was conceived, all we have thought about is what we need to do to help our children grow into kind, generous, productive members of society. I think we have done a pretty good job. Are we perfect??? Not by a long shot. Are we failures??? Not by an even longer shot.

So, for those of you who know me in real life or just through the Internet...you can call me whatever you want...but you had better not call me a bad mother. It is the thing that defines me, and I will not stand by and let anyone try and tear me down.

mutters day

Let me begin by saying that I read enough blogs written by infertiles to know just how blessed I am to have these four wild and wonderful little people in my care. (the red headed chick in this photo is not actually one of my children; she is my sister who just happens to be in the most recent photo I have of all four of my minions, together)

I know that there are many, MANY women out there who want nothing more than to be a mother, but for one reason or another, their bodies refuse to cooperate. It is heartbreaking...but it doesn't make me feel any less crappy when my mother's day is really nothing special.

*Disclaimer: That Guy I Married swears that he wished me a happy mother's day the minute I came downstairs in the morning. After I had tried for TWO hours to sleep in. But was awoken exactly every 15 minutes by my youngest minion. Because he didn't want to disturb he sleeping father. Yeah. I know. So if he did greet me with a warm, mother's day salutation...I missed it. Does that mean there should be no further effort made to make it a special day for me???

Money is tight right now. We are kind of freaking out about an expense that has come up (and we were hoping to use our stimulus payment to cover it...before we were made aware of the fact that we have to wait until June, for a paper check, because we had Turbo tax deduct their fees from our return. Bastards. But that is a topic for another day...) So anyway, I was not expecting an elaborate or fancy gift. A card would have been nice, though. I'm just sayin'.

So there's that. The reason why my Mother's Day sucked. I'm just a big, fat, Whiny MsWhinersons and I am sure that some douche will read this and cleverly point it out to me. I suppose it would be their right, just as it is my right to feel angry and hurt. I can live with that.

On the bright side, my 1st grader didn't trade the gift me made for me at school for a Gladware container full of snails, this year! Since I still haven't decided is I am ever going to repost everything, since I had my little episode and deleted the entirety of my blog's content (well...not before saving it all to a word document for myself), here is the post I wrote last Mother's Day.

Internets, meet Ethan. He is my third born child. My first son.

He is in kindergarten this year.

One of the perks of being Mom to a kindergartner is that you will inevitably be gifted a lovingly planted bean sprout in a hand painted baby food jar, or some such, for Mother's Day.

My Boy, Ethan, carefully carried his gift for me onto the bus for the short ride home this afternoon.

All was well until this little Punk Ass First Grader got on the bus and sat down beside him.

He didn't have a lovingly planted anything for his mom. What he did have was a snail. And some dirt. In one of those nifty Gladware containers. With some holes poked in the lid for ventilation.

He thought Ethan's lovingly planted gift was nifty. Ethan thought his snail was nifty. Punk Ass First Grader proposed a trade.

After school today, Punk Ass First Grader presented his mother with a lovingly planted bean sprout and Ethan presented me with his new pet snail.

This motherhood gig is thankless, I tell ya.

hurt

All I can really say today is that I LOVE being a Mom...but I HATE Mother's Day.