Engleberts in Missouri [miz-er-ree]

I may get in trouble for this post. No matter how carefully I say this - it’s probably going to come out wrong. Someone’s liable to get their feelings hurt. Still, I’m going to take a deep breath and run fearlessly over the edge of the cliff…

I come from the last generation of women who were mostly expected to grow up, marry and have children. We might go to college and have a career. But we would definitely marry and have 2.5 children. We weren’t really expected to stay home with the children like our mothers were but rather we would keep working - do it all, have it all.

Remember that little ditty we wrote for the song contest? Well there’s more than a little truth in there. Most of my children were unplanned. Not unwanted, not unloved, not uncherished (is that a word?). But unplanned. Some, like Violet, were a complete shock. Others, though not planned, weren’t a big surprise.

I had my first child when I was little more than a child myself. Barely 20 years old when she was born I did escape the “teen mother” stigma. My husband and I hadn’t really planned on having children quite so soon but we figured we were going to have 2 children so why not just get on with it. I didn’t know what sex the baby would be (they didn’t routinely tell you those things back then) but I hoped for a girl. I know girls. I like girls. I love girly-girl things. I spent a lot of time imagining all the wonderful years ahead of us.

A few years later, my second child was born. Another beautiful little girl. I’d had my 2 children (I never could figure out how to get that .5 child) and our family was complete. A few years later, my marriage ended. I hoped I would remarry at some point - after all I was only 24 years old. I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life alone. But I didn’t believe I would have any more children. I really didn’t want any more - I was completely satisfied with the 2 children I had.

Then I met Steve.

He also had children - 2 lovely little girls. I knew if we married we’d instantly have a HUGE family. Four children is a lot of responsibility not to mention work. By then I’d been a parent for several years and I was somewhat older and wiser. Looking back, I wasn’t that much older or wiser still, I did know exactly how much work children were.

You would think that having another child would have been the last thing we would want to do. But Steve and I wanted to have a child together with a desperation that to this day I can not explain. Completely irrational. FIVE children!? We must have been off-our -rockers-crazy. But every time we came together I prayed I would get pregnant. When the stick finally showed those 2 faint pink lines, I was over the moon. I actually cried tears of happiness.

Then I started praying for a little boy. A little boy who would have all of the best of his father and I. Ultrasounds during a pregnancy still weren’t very common but our doctor was pretty progressive and we were able to have one. When asked if we wanted to know the sex I immediately said YES! Absolutely YES! The technician said it looked like a boy.

OMG! I can still remember how thrilled I was - I called Steve right away to let him know we were having a boy. I wanted to run out and buy all kinds of boy stuff - everything needed to be blue. Steve put the kibosh on that - back then they made mistakes about the sex of your child quite frequently. Maybe the tech had mistaken the umbilical cord for the required boy equipment- Steve was afraid to jinx it by buying a lot of blue stuff.

Throughout my pregnancy, I dreamed of the little boy I would soon have. I wondered what he would be like and had so many dreams for him. For 17 years, I have watched him growing into those dreams. He is handsome and has a wonderfully unique personality. He has a wicked sense of humor. And smart? Sometimes I am amazed at how intelligent he is and how logically his mind works. He can be self-centered, forgetful and irritating. We clash frequently lately. But he’s a teenasser so I kind of expect that.

This morning when my son left for school I was happy, excited and somewhat emotional. Today is the beginning of the last year he will live with us every day. This is the year that April and Jonathan are seniors in high school. The year my baby will graduate. (yes I still think of him as my baby. I know that is completely weird since Violet is actually the baby of the family but there you go.)

Tonight he will come home and we will probably argue over whether the grass needs cutting or why the trash didn’t get taken out or why his room looks like a bomb went off. He will get completely frustrated at the fact that I won’t let him play on the computer all night and that I force him to sit at the table and do homework or study. He will think that I don’t like him very much or that I’m disappointed with him. But before that happens let me say what I don’t say often enough…

You are one of the best things in my life and you bring me a lot of joy. The hopes and dreams that I had for you when you were conceived are becoming realized. You are on the precipice of adulthood and I am so proud of the young man you are becoming that it makes me tear up just to think about how wonderful you are.

Son, I love you.

April and the Boy got home late from school. They had been at the District band competition until about 6 o’clock (no results yet). The Boy walked into the living room and stood there in a black shirt and black pants. Something didn’t look right. His pants were strangely puckered at the waist, looked kind of tight and the legs were nearly high-waters. They looked so strange that I thought he was wearing a pair of April’s pants.

“Boy, where did you get those pants?”

“They’re from my suit. April washed them for me last night.”

This is the suit that I bought him to wear to 2 weddings this past summer. The one I spent more than a small amount of money on to get a good quality. The one where we deliberately got the pants a little long so that he could get at least a couple years wear out of it. The one I imagined he’d be wearing to a whole list of occasions over the next year. The suit whose care label clearly states DRY CLEAN ONLY WITH LOW MOISTURE SOLVENT. The suit that was apparently WASHED in WARM WATER and then DRIED on the COTTON setting of the dryer. The suit that is now ruined.

This is so irritating to me. I am not even sure who I should be angry with or exactly what makes me the maddest. The sheer waste of money, the complete obliviousness of my children, or myself for listening to other people.

Why didn’t I just wash the mounds of hidden April and Boy laundry myself? Why did I feel the need to “teach them a lesson”? Lessons and laundry should never be combined. How have I managed to raise 2 children who are completely oblivious to laundry labels and washing instructions on top of being too lazy to put their clothes in the laundry in the first place?

For all of you “advice givers” who constantly tell me that I am ridiculous for not making my teenagers help with the laundry and helped to convince me that being forced to wash all of their own clothes was an appropriate response to the laundry situation I mentioned on the day that I thought sucked more than a cheap hooker on a Saturday night, all I can say is SEE, SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET KIDS WASH THEIR OWN CLOTHES????? So, the suit is ruined and the kids - well let’s just say they’re on thin ice.

From that low, the day ended on a complete high. You never know when your husband is going to blind-side you with a love note or in this case a song. Scroll down so you can see the comments.

Today is my 17^th wedding anniversary. It is also my dad’s 77^th birthday. I could have been married on any day but I chose to be married on my dad’s birthday.

They say girls marry their fathers and to some extent that is true for me. My dad gave me the example I needed to find not just a good husband and father for my children but a good man.

My mom and dad started dating when I was 7 yrs old. Whenever he came to take mom on a date, dad always brought us kids small paper bags full of candy. He was trying his best to get us to like him. My parents married in 1972 just before my 8^th birthday. Shortly after they married, my dad adopted my brother, 2 sisters and me. What could he have been thinking! It takes a man with a lot of love and commitment to take on 4 kids ranging in age from 18 months to 10 years old! That’s the kind of man my dad is and it’s the kind of man Steve is.

The 17 years that Steve & I have been married haven’t always been bliss. Marriage and parenthood are a lot of hard work – work that’s not always appreciated even by the one you’re partnered with. I think about what it takes to make a relationship work. Who could blame me? I have one failed marriage in my past because I wasn’t mature enough to realize that it’s not “happily ever after” every day; that you have to be willing to compromise and be unselfish.

Even though I’m wiser this time around, I’m still often guilty of neglecting and disrespecting the union I swore to God I’d put above everything else. I have turned down outings with Steve because at that moment I’d rather be a couch potato, only to turn around and complain that we never go anywhere. I’ve frowned at the purchase of yet another tool after spending hundreds of dollars on new clothes or shoes. I’ll let the entire evening pass in a quiet stew; answer “Nothing” when he asks what’s wrong, only to unveil my anger at the exact moment he wants to turn off the lights for bed.

Luckily Steve forgives me and accepts that I’m not perfect. He sees past my shortcomings in the same way I overlook his. To make a marriage work you’ve got to remember that no matter how bad a day you are having, it’ll only count for a small part of your life together, and each bad spot has to be approached with the confidence that it’s going to get better. Because it does.

On our wedding day, we promised not to give up on each other, to face the tough times, to rise above the monotony of the day-to-day, to cop to all of our hang-ups and admit we’re not always right, and most importantly, to remember all of the qualities we appreciate in each other.

There are so many things about Steve that I appreciate. It’s funny how much easier it is sometimes to remember when he doesn’t pick his clothes up off the floor in the morning instead of how my insides get gushy when he gives me that look. I know I don’t tell him often enough but you should know that Steve has many wonderful qualities and these are just a few of the things I love most about him…

• Steve’s love for me is deep and steady. It is built on a foundation of respect and genuine caring.
• Steve is a loving and caring father. He really knows his children.
• Steve is responsible, careful with people, and mindful of their needs.
• Steve is realistic in his expectations of other people.
• Steve is patient and forgiving.
• Steve is compassionate, loving and generous.
• Steve is trustworthy and faithful.
• Steve is an excellent provider for our family.
• Steve is incredibly SMART.
• Steve has an innate sense of how things work and his ability to fix things is a constant wonder to me.
• Steve has a great sense of humor and can really make me laugh.
• Steve is spontaneous and fun.

Steve – I love you. Happy Anniversary.

The grandbaby should be here in just a little while (and his parents too). I am looking forward to holding him again. This time I’ll be in full Grandma mode. “Steph, I think Alex needs a clean diaper” “Here sweetie, he’s crying for you” “Alex is happy, clean and dry? Oooh, let me hold the little bunchkin” If she’s smart, Steph should be able to work a diaper con game on Amber, Vicki or April at least once or twice before they catch on.

This morning as Steve left for work, I was moaning about how much my hiney didn’t want to get back in the car and make the 5 hour/ 375 mile round-trip to the Kansas City airport to pick up the kids. Off he went to work and I resigned myself to making the drive. But then — Steve came home! He had worked as quickly as he could to finish the tasks he had for today so that he could come home and save me from the trip to KC.

I love that man!
Makes me glad I was willing to dig through garbage for him…

The other day while I was out shopping I stopped in at Lowe’s to pickup some fall flowers for my porch (I do all my home improvement shopping there cause my brother John would be sad if I didn’t help out his stock values). While I was standing in line I noticed that Maglite had finally come out with an LED version of their flashlights. They even had a bulb conversion kit for flashlights that you already own. Now, my husband loves his flashlights. He especially loves Maglites. For about the last 4 or 5 months, every time we’re at the store he looks for an LED Maglite. When I saw them at Lowe’s, I knew I had to get one for him.

Fast forward to our house….While in the middle of trying to put my message center together (remember the crooked little project from the other day?), I decided to put the maglite kit somewhere Steve wouldn’t see it and then surprise him with it. Good idea right? Anyway, I wrapped the plastic Lowe’s bag around it so that you couldn’t see what was inside and then tucked it away for later.

Last night I went to get the kit to give it to Steve. Couldn’t find it. Searched everywhere – well everywhere except where the kit was, because I couldn’t find it. Then I remembered scooping up a lot of empty plastic shopping bags and putting them in the trash. I couldn’t believe it but, I must have thrown it away! So, out I go in the dark (with the non-LED maglite) to the trash cans where I start going through all of the garbage looking for the kit. Have you ever noticed how all trash bags looks alike – white on the outside and disgusting on the inside? I searched every bag with no luck. I cleaned myself up and decided I would go through them again today in the daylight.

This morning, as I prepared for another round with the garbage, I found the kit. Wasn’t in the garbage at all but safely tucked away where I wouldn’t misplace it. I had dug through the garbage for no reason! Oh well. Steve did love the LED kit as much as I thought he would and the trash trolling was completely worth it if it got me out of driving to Kansas City today!

I’m going to be busy sniffing Alex’s head for awhile. Since you’re not so lucky, try this game to keep you busy: Highway-Hunter