Withering in the desert

Since moving to AZ I've had several friends or relatives ask me, "Do you think you'll like living there?" I was always surprised by that question because, well, I've liked every place I've lived. Until now I've been convinced that happiness is a state of mind, and anyone who doesn't like where they live just hasn't explored the area enough. Well, now that it's been over two months since we've arrived I'm finally understanding that, yes, some places are actually harder to like than others.

It only took finding 4 scorpions in my house for me to conclude that humans just weren't meant to inhabit this place. What will it take for us all to get the message? The 125 degree days? Or the black widows festering around the perimeter of my house? Could it be the dozens of crickets that creep in every night from who knows where and cover my carpet despite several pest control attempts? No? How about the rocks and cacti just waiting to shred my children's hands and knees? You pick, but I'm convinced that we should just stop fighting nature and ship out.

OK I'm mostly kidding. I just happened to move here during the most extreme time of year. I LOVE LOVE my house, and my kids are making friends and Alaina is enjoying school. The area has a killer Craigslist and there are 3 Goodwill stores within 10 miles of me, thus satisfying my thrill for bargain hunting. I have 3 cousins and an uncle living close by, which has really helped with the transition. But I may or may not have already written Aldi headquarters with a plea to open a store here, and I miss having lots of grad student families around, and I really miss all the GRASS. So in the meantime I'll give myself the same advice I give Jesse every time we get in the car and burn ourselves and he yells, "I HATE PHOENIX:" Just give it time, Buddy. Someday soon this place will be home.

There is really good news though. In 4 months I'll be blogging about how wonderful the winter is here, and all you Midwesterners will be eating my dust (maybe literally if you come to visit me. There's a lot of dust.)

Westward Ho!

Well we did it. We said goodbye to our Indiana home and relocated to the Phoenix area. I have such mixed emotions about our move, because I loved West Lafayette and all my friends there, but it was time to take the next step in our lives (aka employment). The last few weeks before we left I would suddenly find myself overcome with emotion in the most random of places. Like when I was at the library for the last time. Here I am returning all of our books, and the tears start flowing because who knows what the libraries are like in Arizona, and the librarians will probably hate my loud children, and they will all probably have LATE FEES! Then another time I'm putting Koy down for a nap in the crib that I used for all three of my children, in the house that I brought all my newborn babies home to, and I lose it all over again. Indiana really had become my home. So last week when Alaina started urinating on random surfaces (on beach towels, in tupperware ???) after being fully potty trained for 3 years, I had more patience than normal. Change is hard, kiddo.
 We received a very warm welcome when we arrived. Like very warm. I'm talking 125 degrees warm. Our kids have really struggled with the heat, and tell me all the time that they want to go back home. Thankfully my MIL came out for a few days to watch kids while we looked for a house, but also provide some sort of normalcy for my poor uprooted children. It's been 7 days and we've already bought a car and put in an offer on an adorable house in North Mesa. Caleb isn't so convinced on the house, though. Maybe it's because I call it the "cutesy", and most men probably don't want to live in a life-size dollhouse. But all the women in his life gave it a double thumbs up. Pictures to come when we close next month!

We're currently in a 2 bedroom hotel suite until our short-term rental is available. I thought I'd go stir crazy in a 400 sq foot place, but let me tell you: two weeks of no cleaning, free breakfast every day, and a pool just around the corner convinced me. Let's not forget that I can keep the thermostat at 73 without paying a $700 electricity bill. Talk about living the suite life! It's also been nice to have friends/family in the area reach out and invite us over, so we're no cooped up every day. All in all, the transition hasn't been so terrible, and I'm excited to start making a home in the desert. Just no cactus, please. The kids are terrified of them. Literally cry every time they see one, which is obviously a lot. I'm just bracing for the day when they learn about scorpions.

C'est moi

I got a new phone for my birthday. A few days later I took a selfie of me and Koy, and thought to myself, "You don't look too bad, Snell." (Snell is what I call myself when I'm talking to myself.) But then I discovered that my new phone has a standard "touch up" feature that automatically smooths out and brightens complexions. I had no idea, and I felt so betrayed. It reminded me of the last time we took Snell family photos, and the photographer thought it necessary to photoshop my arms down to a more acceptable size.
This made me ponder about a few things:
1. Constantly seeing "perfect" images of ourselves and others only leads us to feelings of inadequacy and competition. It's unhealthy and unrealistic and we shouldn't buy into it.
2. Never compare yourself to others based on what you see on social media. For all you know, that "gorgeous" girl you graduated high school with used "touch up" mode to hide 50 extra pounds and a mustache.
3. I have a little souvenier on my body from the pregnancy/birth of each of my children. Alaina left a freckle on my temple and a zillion stretch marks. Jesse gave me permanent bags under my eyes from the sleep deprivation, and about twenty more stretch marks. Koy's mark is a wallet-sized patch of varicose veins on my right lower leg. It's so visible that most people ask me if I got kicked in the shin. Sure, it's not ideal, but that's mortality for you. All are prices I would happily pay for the blessing of having them in my life.

Physical flaws just give us character anyway. I guess the one perk is that now have an idea of what I'll look like after the resurrection.

Playing Catch up

Hello World! It's been so long since I've thrown my thoughts out to you in cyberspace. Let's attribute this to me being the world's most devoted and dedicated mother of 3, never sparing a moment for myself... (or not. My Netflix viewing history will say otherwise...) Seriously, 3 is WAY easier than 2. WHO KNEW?!?! My older 2 kids are best friends and play all the time, so I just get to snuggle the world's best baby and watch yet another episode of the Great British Baking Show. (Ok, I usually only do that when I'm folding laundry, but we have a LOT of laundry.) Life is really good right now. I'm not saying there aren't times when 80% of us are simultaneously crying, but somehow adding Koy to the family has had a calming effect on the other two kids, and it's made me remember that I actually like children!
We're still in West Lafayette, Indiana. Caleb is currently applying and interviewing for jobs. We have loved our time here, but are both ready to move on to the next phase of our lives.
I don't think I even wrote about Koy's birth story. Probably because I'm trying to purge it from my memory. Best baby, but worst delivery. I guess it could have been a lot worse. Nobody was in danger of dying or anything, but let's just say that pushing out a posterior 9.5-pound baby es no bueno. I had planned a water birth again, and we even invited Caleb's mom to be there because we were so confident everything would run as smoothly as the last time. Contractions were a piece of cake. I basically skipped into the hospital at 7 cm dilated. But when my water broke the midwife suspected meconium, and so they nixed the water birth plan. Then came pushing, which was no fun. I mean, it never is, but with your third you expect to push 3 or 4 times and be done. Instead, because Koy's head was turned and he was HUGE I pushed for about 35 unbearable minutes. Lots of pain, and lots of screaming. I'll forever remember looking up and seeing Caleb's mom hiding in a corner with a pillow covering her head and thinking, "Inviting her sure backfired. She'll need therapy after this." The recovery was also a lot more difficult, probably because of Koy's size, and because I'm apparently no spring chicken anymore.
But in retrospect I'll take a harder delivery for a healthy chubby baby who sleeps all the time and never cries except when his older brother kicks him in the head or steps on him or bites his finger.
So yes, life has been great, and suddenly I blinked and my baby turned six months old and my oldest is registered for kindergarten. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to pastry week with Paul and Mary.