No words.

Our middle child, Jonah, has a speech problem. I first realized this when he was about 18 months old. He only said a handful of words, but most of them didn't "count" (doctors and therapist don't count names when they ask how many words do they know).

Da. (daddy)

Momma.

and maybe two or three others.

He didn't babble like most kids his age, nothing like our sweet boy, Peyton. I don't know what that kid's saying most of the time, but if you nod and agree, he keeps on taking. But Jonah never did that.

So I started the adventure to "fix" my kid. I thought it would be easy, most of my family members had speech problems, and was easily fixed with speech therapy. I even had a speech problem as a child, nothing like Jonah, but still.

I finally hunted down the early intervention program for Louisiana (it's called Early Steps, if you're ever wondering.) It took a while for me to find the program, and then even more time to fill out mounds of paper work, evaluations, more paper work, and then for said paperwork to be processed. At this point, Jonah was two. Early Steps only covers children under the age of 3, because at that point they can enter the public school system I guess.

Jonah loved his speech therapist, the one day a week she came was the high light of his week. I would send Blythe off, because if she was here, she was all in the middle of it. He got to have my full attention and the speech therapists full attention.

Then he turned 3.

Early Steps sent us the school board for an evaluation. They agreed that he had a speech problem, which DUH, you would have to be deaf not to realize that.

Then the school system and I had a communication problem. The woman at the school board office told me that for Jonah to receive speech therapy through the school system, he had to be enrolled IN the school system. I don't know what it's called in other states, but PRE-pre-k (3 year olds) in Louisiana, is called Head Start. And over my dead, cold, lifeless body was I going to send my baby to Head Start.

1. It's located at the worst school in the parish (they're ALL bad)

2. They don't teach the children anything.

3. Only crack heads send their kids to Head Start, looking for a free baby sitter.

My baby was not going to school with crack babies. In CrackVille. And not learn anything. Plus, Blythe was already going to school at the church school/private school, AKA where people who love their kids that care about their educations go (That may sound harsh, but the truth hurts. We had to scrimp and save every penny for them to be able to go there, but it was for their education, it was more than worth it) . It's a great program, kids that go there 3 year old - kindergarten have a great advantage over kids that go to the public school. So we were sending him there anyway. They only thing was that they didn't offer speech therapy. They used to, and it was through the public school system, even though they're a private school, but due to budget cuts and such, the school system cut it out.

The nearest speech therapist is an hour away. We just couldn't afford it at that time. We tried all we could to help him at home, but with little luck. Jonah developed his own sign language. We were all so frustrated. I just wanted to be able to have a conversation with my child.

Last year, Joey had three different pay cuts that equaled 40% of his pay check. Times got hard. There was no way we could even THINK about sending them back to the church school/private school. So I sent my babies to Hell (this is what I referred to the public school last year.) They learned very very little. And yes, Jonah was able to have speech therapy again, but because of pay cuts, they school system is short on speech therapist, so the few they do have have to go around to all the school, so they don't have enough time. So they do group speech therapy. Which is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. We saw very little improvement.

Things are changing at our house. My husband just took a job that tripled his salary. First thing I did was go and enroll Blythe and Jonah in The Christian School. (This is not the same as the church/private school. That one only goes to kindergarten, and Blythe is going into the 1st. This is also a private school.) It's the best thing in the parish. The kids there score two grades higher than what they're in when they take the state tests. And now we can afford it, thank you dear, sweet, Jesus.

Then I found the name of a speech therapist. Thought I was going to "fix" my baby.

Our current insurance (still from the old job) doesn't cover speech therapy. That just burst my bubble. But it's ok. I picked my self up off the floor where I was having a pity party, and realized it'll be ok. Either the new insurance will cover speech therapy or it won't. And if it doesn't, well, that's ok too. I'll be able to pay for it out of pocket now.

I feel like we're getting some where now.

________________________

Jonah has melt downs. Serious melt downs. Here lately they're worse. And then I get angry because DAMN what's your problem, kid?!

Tonight, while Jonah was having a melt down, I almost said to him, "Son, use your words!"

But then I realized.

He has no words.

6 years

Today was our 6th anniversary. (Ok, actually, yesterday was, seeing how it's now 1 AM July 11, but just go with it, k? Lets all pretend that it's July 10. Thanks.)

I know, that doesn't sound like that big of a deal, right? I mean it's not 10, 15... 50. But to me it is.

I have I mentioned that my husband is 26? Yeh?

I'm 23.

I'll give you a second to do that math. You got it? Is your mouth hanging open yet? Yeh, I thought so, that's what I usually get.

Yes, I was 17. I'm happy that we're getting this all in the open here. We had Blythe Anne 2 weeks before I turned 17 (January 5, 2004). The following July we got hitched. Mostly just to make his mom shut the hell up. But you're living in siiiiiin living together and not being married. Yeh yeh yeh, we have a baby too, is that what really bothers you? It wasn't that I didn't love him, I just never wanted anyone to say that the kids were the only reason we were married. Never. I wanted to prove that there was more to it. I now know that people are going to think whatever they want to no matter what. So I guess I should have just gone on and married him as soon as I peed on that pregnancy test.

6 years.

The first 3, he was only home for 9 months because of his job. We nearly fell apart before we even got started good. We both went into this with the belief that divorce was not an option. I felt like I didn't even know this person that would come home (visit?) for two weeks after being gone a month. I finally broke down and begged him to quit his job. Find something else. This isn't working and I can't do this.

And he did. Because he is awesome. He quit his supper easy job, to go work in the oil field. Now that's love right there. He didn't do it because the pay was better, or because he just LOVES to be coverd in oil and grease and pipe dope and mud day after day (yeh right), , he did it to save our marriage.

At first it was hard, holy crap, you're only gone for 7 days and then you come home for 7 days? And there have been plenty of other hard times in the past three years since he started in the oil field, but the good out weighs the bad.

6 years.

They called them crazy when they started out
Said, "Seventeen's too young to know what loves about"
They've been together six years now
...Bought a little 3 bedroom house in the country
Where she blessed him with three more mouths to feed
Be a best friend, tell the truth
And overuse "I love you"
Go to work, do your best
Don't outsmart your common sense
Never let your prayin' knees get lazy
And love like crazy

(My edited version of Lee Brice's song "Love Like Crazy")

He's perfect

He was 18 when we met. He wasn't tall, but dark and handsome he was. Broad shoulders and chest, strong arms, and muscular from working in hay fields with his Daddy. He tried to be a bad boy, but I always saw through it. Not very far into our relationship, he started whispering in my ear, "I'm going to marry you one day." I would laugh and call him crazy. Before he really knew he loved me, it drove him nuts when I would prop my feet on the dash of his old beat up Chevrolet. Once he stopped complaining is when I knew he really loved me. Still, while we're riding around, I'll prop my feet up on the dash of the Ford, and I look at him and grin. He has no idea what I'm grinning about, he just thinks I'm crazy.

He works hard for everything we have, and I hate how he has to bust his ass just to keep up a float. I hate that he's about to take a job that's going to take him away from me most of the time. I will never know when he has to leave again, or when he's coming back to me. I don't know if I can take it. And it's not that I'm worried about taking care of the kids by myself, I can do that.

But I need him.

I need him here.

I need to be able to see him, to touch him.

I don't think I can do this.

And I can't say anything to him about my fears with this job, I don't want to make it any harder on him.

***

A few weeks ago, I went and saw him on the rig. I love these little "get aways". I find someone to keep the kids, I load my stuff up, and I drive 4 hours to spend one night with him. I hate the drive, the drive kills me. I have to drive through a city that I hate and I nearly have a break down every time. But as soon as I pull up on that rig location and I see him walking towards me, it's worth it.

These little trips to the rig are our only times completely alone together. No kids, we're not at our house, we get a hotel room and everything is perfect.

But during this last trip, we went and ate at a Mexican place. While sitting across from my husband, actually being able to talk to him and pay 100% attention to him, without these three children running around, I noticed something that surprised me.

My husband is aging. He's not that 18 year old boy any more. He's still dark and handsome, and I can still get lost in those brown eyes, and he's still muscular, physical labor will do that to you, but I'm starting to notice some wrinkles around his eyes. When did that happen? Where was I? Too busy raising our children to even notice that my husband's job is turning him into an old man at the age of 26?

***

We're not sure when the new job starts. I hope that I can keep it together.

Dear Naptime -- I miss you.

Nap time has become a complete nightmare in our household. I absolutely dread nap time. Oh God, it's 12:30, I need to lay Pey down...

Nap time was not a problem while Blythe and Jonah were at school. School has been out for a while now, and we still haven't worked out a schedule. The older two just cannot sit down and shut their traps for a merely hour or hour and a half. They would explode.

And let me tell you, mommy would like a nap too. But that's so not going to happen either, not even after finally get everyone settled down and Pey asleep. Because with all four of us here pretty much 24/7, his nap time and after they all go to bed in my only real time to get anything done. But I'm so tired and completely run down. No energy what-so-ever, I could fall asleep sitting here now... zzzzz...

Oh, sorry, like I was saying. I tired. The kids are driving me up the wall. The house looks like a bomb went off. I just cannot keep up. Looks, it's either I feed and bathe the children, or clean the house. They can't both be perfect (oh who am I kidding, Blythe's hair looks like a rat nest, Jonah's shirt doesn't match his shorts, and peyton.... well, he doesn't have any clothes on at all. Which is dangerous considering that he now takes his dirty diapers off and puts them in the trash. At least he puts them in the trash!!) I'm failing at the housewife gig a little more everyday.

And to top it all off, Joey starts a new job in a few weeks. Which requires him to be gone. A lot. And when he's home, he's pretty much on call, so we'll never know when he's leaving again. The new company told him that the first three months, they'll keep him away from home as much as they can, to make sure he can take it. That's just lovely.

I was telling a friend of mine about this whole he'll be gone for three months, and she asked, "So, when do the kids go back to school?"..... About three months. So, after I picked myself up off the floor from my fit I was throwing, I started searching for a babysitter. Just someone to keep the kids once a week so I can go pay bills, buy groceries.....

... oh who am I kidding, I'm going to come back home and take a nap.

Anissa

Wow.

I'm reading over here, and I'm amazed. I've been reading this blog for the past two days. It just seems like too much for one family to deal with. A two year old with cancer, beating it, and then the wife and mother has a stroke. I want to cry as I'm reading the words that her husband has wrote while trying to keep everything together. But! It's a story with a happy ending. And that's the best thing ever.

And I've decided that I really need to work on my organization skills. Anissa's husband said in one post "Saturday was bill day, because having the power turned off now would really kinda suck. I think I figured out her filing system and found some paperwork." Joey would never be able to figure out my "filing system" (HA HA HA HA), so he and the children would probably be sitting in the dark without running water. I worry about these things all the time. Seriously, what would he do without me? How would the bills get paid? He doesn't know how to run a household, to plan menus, grocery shopping, exactly how each kids likes their sandwich. I worry about it all the time.

I really need to work on my don't-worry-so-much skills too. *deep breath*

I'm meeeelting...

Remember when I told you about how Joey caught the kitchen on fire once?

Well, it ruined the blinds in the kitchen and dining room, so we tossed them out, you know, going to get new ones. That was a year and a half ago. And still no blinds.

It is some kind of hot in the great south, let me tell you. The rest of the house is OK during the day. With the blinds shut. And the curtains closed. And the ceiling fan on high. But the kitchen is a killer, without trying to cook. It's seriously 80 degrees in my kitchen RIGHT NOW. The rest of the house is around 75. It's just too hot for the central unit to keep up.

Anyway, the kitchen and the no blinds problem. There are four windows and two doors that are mostly windows. The windows have curtains, but they're doing no good, what so ever. It's a green house in here. So this weekend, I'm going to The City (an hour away, the nearest place with a mall and a Lowe's and a Target and and IHOP, all of my favorite things in the world) and I'm going to fix this green house kitchen.

It's either blinds, or I'm pulling out the tin foil.

(I'm joking! I promise!)

It doesn't take much to make this girl happy

I'm already slacking at this blogging business. Geez.

Today was the best day ever, I swear.

Joey has a honey-do list that has been ignored. He mows the yard, what more do I want from him?! (I don't know, put your dirty clothes, IN the dirty clothes closet? Put the dishes NEAR the sink? Take the trash out when you notice it's over flowing? I love the man, I really do. Hey, he DOES put the toilet seat down.) The crown molding to go in Blythe's room has been laying on her bedroom floor for almost a year now. A YEAR. He started to put it up once, got the tools out, looked up some info on his iPhone, made one cut, and then I guess he saw something shiny and the project was dropped. So the crown molding laid there for a year. At one point I asked a contractor what he would charge to come out and put up molding in ONE room ($200. It's a small room. We're talking 13x13 I think) So it continued to lay there.

March 17 of this year I started repainting the living room. I did really well, thought I was going to get it done in a reasonable amount of time. HA HA HA HA. It went great until I ran out of paint. At this time, our WalMart was remodeling also. For a while the paint section was gone all together while they moved things around. Then when it finally came back, there were always so many people there and, Hey, I'm a busy person, I don't have time to sit around!! Or, I couldn't find anyone to mix the paint because they were all busy helping move stuff around. And then the paint machine broke one time... yes, I'm full of excuses, I know. Why didn't I just go to the next town over? I don't know, that thought never even crossed my mind. SO. That's why three walls were the great awesome **NEW** color, and one wall still looked like crap.

This week I got more paint, and I guess since I was busy making the house beautiful and doing projects, Joey felt like he needed to also. The crown molding it up, people! He also fixed the threshold from the kitchen to the hall, which has also been on the to do list for about a year now. After I finished painting, he put my curtains back up and my pictures and all. It looks awesome, I've got to take pictures to share. And, we got all of this done in one day.

So, just to recap:
Joey's projects, from start to finish -- One year.
Jenna's projects from start to finish -- three months.

I win.