Control What You Can

We've spent the first seven weeks of 2012 being enmeshed in a crazy new schedule with crazy new stress at my husband's department. Our computer has been at the computer hospital for a few weeks so I have been relegated to "connecting" via my smart phone. "Relegated"? Since when did society become so entitled? But I digress...

I've been through the whole shift change thing enough times to know that you just have to let it happen to you. You can't force it, you can't make it be something it is not or something you are not. You just have to go with the flow. I'm not like that. I like a plan. I can go with the flow when there is a plan in place. (Don't you roll your eyes at me!) So in the first seven weeks of being back to graves after almost three years off and major, huge stress at work for my husband, I'm getting my butt kicked.

In the eight years of our marriage, I have never once sat down for three hours straight and "discussed" my husband's job with him. Sure, I hear plenty of stories every day, but I don't get three hours of straight entertainment. And it's happening regularly now. The stress and frustration and irritation are oozing out of him and pouring over the rest of us at home. He's trying to not let it, but... it happens.

With all this background (and does anyone even remember I'm still busy building lungs, bones, and vital organs?!?!), it should come as no surprise that we had a day of "intense fellowship" this weekend. He was angry. I was hurt. I got angry. And it never got resolved. Some of it just can't be resolved right now. There is all this crap, serious C-R-A-P floating around in our lives and it seems so overwhelming.

Now that I'm at this point, I don't care anymore. As my friends keep badgering me -- in the nicest way possible, I'm sure -- "When are you going to buy a bigger car? When are you going to move from your 700 sq ft house to a bigger house since you're going to have four kids?" I've hit on, "I don't care any more." Of course I care, but I'm beyond worrying about it. The most amazing revelation someone once gave me was that YOU cannot make ME feel anything I don't want to feel. You can't make me feel dumpy, sloppy, stupid, or ugly, unless I give you permission. In all of this, I WILL CONTROL WHAT I CAN. I can control how I respond. And that's about it.

Every situation, and every dilemma I encounter, presents me with a choice. Will I get my panties in a bunch and freak out, or will I put on my big girl boots with a good attitude? Talk to a friend who has no job. No food in the cupboards. An eight-year battle with ovarian cancer. My choice to do the best with what I have and not throw a temper tantrum seems much more clear cut.

Of course this weekend I absolutely did not follow this advice, and what a waste of time and energy that was.

Dear Officers On The Corner

Dear Officers on the corner,

I write to commend you on your handling of the crazy man in front of the cafe last week. I was out running errands in town with my three young children when they excitedly noticed the two police cars with lights and sirens pulling up to the curb nearby. There was a man in handcuffs screaming about being unjustly cuffed. A nearby employee mentioned he's a regular. As in, regularly in cuffs. There were four officers handling the situation, and the man was screaming.

I was very impressed that none of the officers were yelling back at this obviously disturbed man. I was impressed that they weren't joking with each other, or casting sideways sneers his way. Thank you for handling this man, who many would consider the dregs of society, with respect and dignity. I know there is no reason you should except for the goodness of your heart. I also know most of that goodness is tested, banged, and tarnished every day by those whom you serve, and deign to tell you that they pay your salary.

Thank you.

Thankful Thursday

I'm thankful for an awesome OB/GYN who listens to my baby's racing heartbeat (a perfect 140) and says "That is one of the best sounds in the world."

I'm thankful for good health insurance.

I'm thankful for little baby feet stomping on my bladder.

What are you thankful for this week?

Thankful... but I need some help

I was inspired by Katie over at My Daily Bread Crumbs to get back into my habit of posting my Thankful Thursday musings. It was a good habit for me to be in, to actually practice mindful thankfulness and be willing to look for the good in my life regularly.

Anyway Thankful Thursday came and went this week. oops.

This week I was thankful for our car. It is comfy, it works, and I never worry about it. It's reliable and wonderful, and unfortunately too small to cart around four kids. We bought the smallest car seats we could find (Sunshine Kids, now officially Diono) so we could fit three across in the back seat. They fit. Barely. So I'll be happy to move up to a larger car (I guess?) but I sure will miss this car. I am so thankful it has been so good to us all these years.

I'm also thankful for my husband's job. But he's gone back to graveyards and I'm forgetting how to make it all work. Including myself going to bed at a regular, normal time. :) So I'm asking for help -- what are your tips and tricks for making graves work in your family?

Works For Me Wednesday -- Soap

In light of my ever-hopeful-hope that we will move from our tiny place with an impending fourth child moving in, I've been trying to declutter and really use up things from my stockpile.  One thing I have not used in a long, long time is bar soap. I was an original convert to shower gel and liquid handsoap (FREE of triclosan, thankyouverymuch).  No bar soap for me!

However, one of the items in my stockpile that has grown is bar soap.  I don't use it, so I wouldn't buy it, but wouldn't you know there is plenty of it in our closet!?  It's come from gifts and gift sets, and I decided now was the time to use it all up.  So the kids have been using it and it's going well.  It's totally not as gross or icky as I had made it out to be in my mind.  However, being the frugalista that I am, I want to know:

WHAT DO YOU DO WITH THE TINY LEFTOVER PIECES OF SOAP SLIVERS?

I have an answer for you.  I tossed them in the bottom of one of the foaming handsoap pumps I'd saved for refills, added some water, and voila!  It "works for me" -- not just on Wednesdays, but every day.  And wouldn't you know, the kids prefer the bar soap over the foaming soap!?!? 

What do you do with the leftover tiny slivers of bar soap?

Well Hello There, 2012!

Happy New Year.  I guess I have to say that, although considering I'm still stuck in November 2011 as evidenced by the fact that it has been about six weeks since I last posted.... well, I'm in a bit of a quandary as to how to welcome 2012. 

We have had a glorious holiday season.  DH had much of December off, and we spent more time than I can remember in recent memory laughing, giggling, and having a wonderful time.  But all good things must come to an end.  School and work start up again next week and already the stress and "police mentality" is creeping back in.  While I'm so grateful for the wonderful, wonderful time we have had together, I'm also battling the "What if's..?" in hard-core style. 

It doesn't help that we're starting the new year with a bang -- literally -- in the law enforcement community.  I follow a variety of law enforcement related facebook pages, and after reading about the three deaths across the country on this first day of the year, I ran across this status update from Wives Behind The Badge: "We're following the story in Washington and will post the official notification when it is available. Sending prayers to all involved."

That made me so mad.  Are you freaking kidding me?  I'm so tired of "following the story" of the crazies in the world that think it's open season on our law enforcement officers.  Mostly, I think it's that I don't want to be part of the next story y'all are following.  So when DH comes home all angry and burned out and treating us like we are suspects on the verge of running and in need of incarceration, I'm very inclined to encourage him to go get that job at Starbucks.  I sure would work less at not worrying. And maybe we would all be -- albeit poorer -- a lot happier.

That was my one last nerve!

I don't care where you work -- if you're a cop, you automatically have a big fat target on the back of your uniform. You may work in a more "dangerous" area -- cities that people across the country may hear of and know about, and not for their beautiful beaches and friendly people -- or you may work in a neighboring jurisdiction that gets the overflow from one of those crappy towns. The longer my husband is in law enforcement, the more I learn that there are all kind of cops working for all kinds of agencies (ever seen a Postal Service Police Officer? I have!). And they all have their unique idiosyncrasies.

There has been major tension in our larger metro area lately, with lots of conflict between the cops and the illogical, left-leaning, narrow-minded citizens that see the uniform my husband wears and make all sorts of assumptions about him. And they don't even know him! Now, generally speaking, my husband's jurisdiction is rather benign. One of those places where you automatically think "Oh, that's not too bad," but at the same time they get the overflow from some of the more nasty towns around.

So, yeah, I feel pretty "safe" when my husband goes to work. (What a joke that is. But that's for another post.) He's gotten plenty of his shift buddies out of jams in his years on, been crashed by a drunk driver... but really? It's not that bad.

So imagine my surprise when I was driving home with the kids in the car recently and I heard the breaking news that there had been a shooting right in the middle of DH's jurisdiction. When he was on duty. In the middle of his shift. In the middle of his jurisdiction. Did I mention he was working right then?

Like I recently said on Twitter, my insides died a little while I heard that tiny snippet. I knew not to call him. If he had been the shooter, or on the call during the shooting, or been shot, he's wasn't going to answer the phone. If he was providing support to the whole situation (highly likely, eh?), he wasn't going to answer the phone. So I just had to breathe... and know that whatever had happened had already happened. And I would know if I needed to know and when I needed to know. I called my brother and had him comb the internet for details -- just find out who got shot, was it a good guy or a bad guy? I hung up and called home to check the messages remotely. No messages. Ok, I think that's a good sign. I think.

It turned out to be a good sign. About 90 minutes later DH called and my insides collapsed in relief. Yes, he was still on duty. No, he wasn't on the call. No, he wouldn't be coming home on time. Yes, I would need to scramble for a babysitter. That "late home" and "not available for you" part sucked. But I didn't even care when I knew he wasn't involved in the incident.

I'm having a hard time synthesizing my feelings about the whole thing. The multiple incidents piling up -- a fight here, a shooting there, crazy morons here, obscenities and profanity... all in one week? I can take it spread out but shift after shift after shift, working 12 hours on with three days off spread over 14 days?

If I'm having trouble, how are these officers doing it?

DH had a glorious day off yesterday and now he is back in the trenches. I'm sorting through my feelings, and definitely not discussing with my non-LEO friends because they cannot wrap their mind around it. Oh, and potty training. And cleaning up barf. That's what we are doing today. What's on your schedule today?