Real Love is Always Unconditional

Today is our 16th anniversary. Sixteen years. It feels like a startling surprise that such a big chunk of life has blown by. It feels crazy to contemplate the fact that in three more years, we will have officially been married half our lives. It is mind blowing to look across the living room at all ten children...all ten representing the love that we have shared and the life that we have been blessed with thus far.
We celebrate our anniversary pretty intensely around here. It's a big deal to us. We aren't one of those couples who just sort of casually acknowledges it in passing. Nope. We make the day incredibly special and we revel in every detail of that day. We celebrate the fact that we have been blessed with each other and with our ten babies. Some of whom aren't really babies anymore and are in fact nearly grown, but that's another post. But just as importantly, we celebrate the very survival of our relationship. When I look at my husband, the fact that we are still married and the much larger fact that we are happy- really, truly happy- is amazing. And the knowledge of how fortunate I am- how fortunate we both are that we have this, is not lost on me.

we got married pretty young...with lots of obstacles already in our way. We were 19 years old on the day of our "wedding", which took place at the town courthouse in a very rushed attempt to get hitched before then end of Albert's 96 hour leave from the Marine Corps. In attendance at our wedding, held in my little sister's arms, was our four day old son. I was wearing an ivory colored dress I'd snagged off the rack from Sears. It wasn't particularly flattering as I was four days post partum. Albert had borrowed a pair of slacks, shirt and tie from his best friend, or else he'd have been wearing a pair of shorts or his Marine cami's.
There we stood. Surrounded by my mom, my sisters and my dad (who had rushed home on a lunch break after getting the call that we were getting married..right then....that day) and our newborn son. We were a nineteen year old, mixed race couple with a newborn baby that we didn't have the first clue on how to successfully parent. Not a great recipe for happily ever after.

And it wasn't. It wasn't happily ever after. Those first years were hard. We moved to California. Alone. Without our families for support. We were immature and selfish and honestly, each a bit spoiled. The years passed by. And we had happy times, but still always struggled under the weight of our immaturity, bad decisions and selfish behaviors- on both our parts.

As a couple we have experienced so much...we've had legendary arguments and fights. We've both been unfaithful. We've hurt each other, betrayed each other and been unloving toward one another. And yet, we've clung to each other even when no one in the world thought we'd make it. Even when it didn't make sense for us to make it. Even when there was no other logical reason in the world that we should stay together other than the fact that despite everything- we loved each other..even when our actions didn't seem that way. Sometimes our children were the glue that held us together. Mostly, it was becuase no matter how much we'd hurt each other, or been hurt by each other- the alternative...not being together, was unfathomable. And so we stuck it out. And fell in love. All over again in some ways, and for the first time in others...we fell into a deeper, more real love...

And then Brandon got sick. Really sick, and his doctors couldn't offer us what we wanted so desperately to hear- that he'd pull through and survive and grow up to be a healthy adult. During that time, we held tight to each other- because no one else we knew- not our families or our friends- could really fully understand our fears and our nightmare. What we faced in that moment was so much bigger than anything else we'd ever experienced. It dwarfed everything that had come before and everything that's ever come after. Sure, we'd felt similar emotions during other crises in our life...but nothing hurt like the prospect of loosing our son- not our fighting, not our financial issues, not infidelity. Nothing. We learned during that time though. We learned to depend on God. We learned that we were a unit and that we couldn't be broken. No matter what.

As the years have passed, Brandon has been healthy and we've added another five children to our lives, we haven't been immune from further crises, issues, hardships or troubles. Those things fall upon all of our lives. We all have to struggle through them. But this is one thing I am sure of. I never, ever struggle by myself. My husband is my best friend and the love that we share is the greatest blessing of my life. I know without a doubt that I am loved, cherished, respected and wanted. And I hope he knows those things about himself also. My husband has loved me when it didn't make any sense to love me, and he has loved me when life might have been easier for him had he not. He has stood beside me in the face of overwhelming reason not to...and I have done the same for him. I know with confidence that my husband would put me and our relationship first in any and all situations. No matter what. Regardless of what it costs him.

We don't have everything all figured out in the marriage department. We annoy each other from time to time, we fuss over who should have started that load of laundry or who should be cooking dinner.Sometimes we have very real, fundamental differences of child rearing. But here is what we do know. God CAN restore any marriage. God wants troubled marriages to be healed from whatever adversities they may face, from whatever sins or shortcomings each partner may possess. Bad relationships CAN turn around. Love CAN be worth fighting for. The good in a relationship CAN outweigh the bad. Real love is ALWAYS unconditional. And that if two people really, truly love each other, then no matter how steep the uphill climb, it CAN be accomplished. Because really, there is no other acceptable alternative. Not for our hearts, not for our children.

So, today is our day. Sixteen years. I feel so in love and so happy and so fortunate and so thankful that God is the ultimate healer. Of children. Of marriages. Of everything. And that He enabled us to move past ourselves and demonstrate to our children and each other that love He created is worth fighting for and worth struggling for.
And that He blessed me with this particular person to be my husband, and the father of my children, and my soul mate, and my best friend.

Sixteen Years

Yesterday, our oldest child turned sixteen years old. Sixteen! It's almost impossible to believe that I've been a mom for that long. Or that Drew, that tiny little baby I held in my arms for the first time in the wee hours of the morning on July 27th, 1995, has grown into a young man who is both taller than me, and weighs more than me. He is such a gentle personality- so helpful, sweet, compassionate and caring. I'm so proud of him- I can't even describe it.
He had a fabulous day yesterday. He got to go with his Dad to Target and pick out a digital camera. He's been wanting one forever. He also got an I-Touch from us...it's not everyday that you turn sixteen! On Saturday, his Dad is taking him to Six Flags. He's super excited. I'm super excited to keep on watching him grow and change. He's going to grow into a wonderful husband and father someday. But for now- I am loving watching him be a fabulous teenager.

Potty Mouth

It seems like everywhere we go, there is at least one child who makes it their day's mission to do or say something completely and utterly embarrassing. Lately, this child has been Sydney. Sydney has developed the horrifying habit of speaking her mind. Out loud. Frequently in the women's restroom. Case in point, while on vacation, we were having dinner at a buffet (with us, it's almost always a buffet). Sydney announced her need to use the bathroom and so I took her. Alexandria came along for the potty break because well, if one of them express a need to go, you can count on the other to claim that they too, need to potty. Without fail.
So, we got to the potty. Sydney went first, then Alex. Then Mommy had to go, because honestly, sometimes Mommies need to potty also. At only three and four years old, I don't feel comfortable sending them out of the stall alone, so I usually just potty with them still in the stall with me. Except this time I wished I hadn't. As I stood up from the potty to re-fasten my pants, Sydney began to exclaim loudly "BOY THOSE AR BIG UNDERWEAR MOM! WHY DO YOU HAVE SUCH BIG UNDERWEAR?"
I heard a couple of quiet snickers from other bathroom users. Seriously. What is wrong with my daughter? Why does she insist on doing things like this. She is quickly occupying "most embarrassing kid" status....an honor long held in our family by Brice. And before him, Drew.
The next morning at breakfast (also at a buffet...okay so the reasons for my weight concerns might be becoming clear now) Sydney again had to potty. In the middle of breakfast. So, I took her. When we walked in, there was a woman who was already in a stall. And there was an unpleasant smell. Before I could even think to fear her reaction Sydney shouted "EWWWWWW! It smells poopey in here! It smells poopey in here!" OMG you guys. I wanted to die. I try to teach her manners. They just don't seem to be sinking in. If only she were a boy, Albert or one of the older kids would be tasked with the job of taking her potty. But alas, with no older girls in the family, I get to be the lucky one, always able to experience Sydney's potty mouth first hand. Each and every time.

Long Time No Post!

We've been on vacation! I didn't have much access to blogging while we were away and I don't like to post online when we're planning to be gone. That's a stipulation of my running this blog, from my husband. Since I'm pretty open about identifying information such as our last name and the town we live in and since our blog is easily searchable on google, Albert has asked that I not post when we are about to be leaving to go out of town...I get it, and cognitively I agree. But gosh, it's hard not to share when I know we are getting ready to do something really cool!
And something really cool we did!
We took our whole family to Branson, Missouri for a few days. We had a blast. The kids got to do so much- we rented a pontoon boat and took the kids tubing (and me too!) We took them to a magic show, to a wax museum, to ride a gigantic sling-shot, and to a haunted ghost tour! We had a blast and so did our kids. We tried to gear the activities to things that everyone could enjoy. On the drive home, we asked the kids what their favorite parts were and all of them- all nine who can answer, said it was the magic show. I think for Albert and I, it was the day we spent on the lake when we rented that boat. Usually it seems that when we take a trip somewhere, I'm always pregnant and there are things I can't do. But not this time. I got to go tubing on the back of the boat and I think Albert hit every wave, bump and wake he possibly could. I almost flew off a couple of times. But it was so much fun. Brandon was riding next to me yelling "faster,faster, faster!" while I was yelling "no, no, no!"
I didn't take tons of pictures. Mostly we were just in the moment, which, out in a strange city, with ten kids, you really have to be, least a little one get lost or left behind. But we did get some cute shots- mostly with Albert's cell phone. I'll upload and post soon!
Our kids are still talking about their trip and all the adventures they had. It makes up happy to listen to them talk all about it.

It's Brice Time Again

It's been a while since I've had something funny to write about Brice. He's growing up. He used to give me so much fodder for blogging that I couldn't even come close to including it all...but as he gets bigger he seems to be aging out of his priceless antics. Okay, or maybe not...but they certainly aren't as frequent as they used to be.
He had a real gem yesterday though. Our upstairs toilet, the one in the boys' bathroom, has been leaky. Because we are super lame parents and procrastinate horribly, we haven't yet fixed the leak. We've been coping by teaching the kids to turn off the water so it doesn't run and only turn it back on to flush the toilet. Well, Albert has been teaching them this. I regard that boys' bathroom as a destination worse than hell itself and don't like to go near it. When I must pass it on the way to my own bedroom, I hold my breath and dart by. Yes, its that bad.
Anyway, surprise, surprise, someone turned it on to flush it and forgot to turn it back off. The result, by the time we noticed it, was flooding. All over the cheapo linoleum and about a foot onto the carpet. When I came downstairs, I noted that the ceiling was leaking and the carpet in the living room and the laundry room (which is the kitten's new digs) was also leaky and wet. And my office chair was soaked.
The most remarkable thing though was that one of the main areas of leakage, was the ceiling fan in the living room. I told the kids not to touch it or turn in on, as water was drip, drip, dripping from it, onto the floor.
A few minutes later, as Albert and the older boys scurried to soak up the leaks and I corralled the littles out of the way (from the comfort of the couch while I also talked on the phone to my mom), Brice appeared on the scene. Big grin, wide eyes, typical Brice delight at the disaster before us. As I chatted with my mom, and kept the little ones from getting in the wet spots or trying to go upstairs to explore the great flood, I noticed Brice standing very still in one spot. I looked harder, focusing on what he was doing. There he stood. Still. Head tipped back. Mouth Open. Directly under the leak.
Telling my mom to hold on briefly, I said to him, "Brice. That's toilet water leaking. You might not want to stand under the leak with your mouth open."
Brice looked at me and grinned. Then tipped his head backwards again, and continued.
Oh well. He was warned.

Walking Away

This morning I woke up earlier than normal. I got dressed in black stretchy pants, brushed my teeth and woke up my husband. Then, I put on my walking shoes and hit the pavement outside of the neighborhood. We walked three miles. Not much by many standards, but for me, it might as well have been a marathon. I was huffing and puffing and begging my husband to run home and bring the van around to pick me up. He refused. I completed my three miles, with sweat dripping and feet aching. And mind you, this is flat pavement. Totally flat. A sidewalk actually. We aren’t talking about strenuous hiking trails or any uphill climbs. And still, my feet were ablaze by the time I heaved myself onto the porch and through the front door. I wanted to collapse in the blast of cold air conditioner. I refrained, mainly because Isaiah was standing there in the foyer and I didn’t want to scare him…although I’m sure the mere sight of me was enough to do just that. When I took off my shoes, I discovered that I have an enormous water blister on the side of my right pinky toe. I think I need better shoes. A shopping trip is in order.

You see, here is the situation. I am a couch potato. When asked to describe my activity level, I have to regretfully check the box that reads “sedentary.” I hate to admit it, but that’s the one that describes me. Case in point, Albert and I have been the proud owners of the P90X series since Christmas. To date, we’ve watched it once. And that was the instructional DVD. The only weights I’ve ever lifted, is schlepping the infant car seat back and forth when our children are babies- though I submit the argument that when babies near the one year mark, the weight of their bodies in those seats should totally count as a workout.

I’ve always been chunky but for most of my adult life, it’s been under at least decent control. I mean, I was never going to be asked to appear in any fitness magazines but I could still buy cute clothes in regular women’s sizes and looked okay, so I was fine with that. I have gained and lost and gained and lost but my weight has been reasonable, at least. Until now. Now, its pretty much out of hand. Being pregnant every year since 2005 and having six babies in five years has really taken its toll. I’ve been meaning to eat right and exercise, but at the end of the day when I lay the last little kid down to bed, I’m exhausted and there are a million things that seem like they should be higher on the priority list then exercising. And waking up early to fit in a work-out before the kids wake up? Are you smoking crack? Sleep is hard enough to come by in this house. Who in the hell would voluntarily surrender some of it? Well, it turns out…me. Because something has to change.
Albert was diagnosed with diabetes last year. And until now, we’ve done nothing, at least nothing lasting, to improve the way that we eat or to help either of us lose any weight. At his last check-up, our doctor actually told him that the levels of his blood sugar were “not compatible with a long life.” That was scary to hear. And yet the rib grilling, McDonald’s eating continued. Both of our weights are totally out of control right now. And frankly, the little kids keep asking both of us if there are any new babies in our bellies. That’s no fun (especially for Albert). He’s on two medications and still his diabetes is not under control. We have ten children. Four daughters who are counting on their Dad to walk them down the aisle one day. Boys who are counting on him to do all the things Dads do. Like wait in line for seven hours at the American Idol audition sign-ups in a thunderstorm, or stand just outside the end-zone yelling and screaming at your little league football game. And high-school. And hopefully college.
It’s not fair to them, to our kids, to not get this disease under control. It’s not fair to them to basically tell them that ribs and burgers were more important than being around to see them grow and to see them become parents and to watch their children grow. It’s not fair to them not to get healthy and lose this weight.

Diabetes runs in both our families. Since Albert has it now, and the doctor is telling him that his sugars are not compatible with a long life…who is next in line to get it if we don’t make some major changes? As parents, we can’t live with that. If we make the decision not to do something about it, its condemning our children to a far greater likelihood of the same fate. And that’s not okay.



On a purely superficial but very real note, when I visit my sisters in Tennessee, I’m totally the fat sister. The sister who looks completely different than the other two, who can wear short shorts, cropped shirts and tiny dresses. One of my sisters actually went out dressed in what appeared to be a pair of bloomers. And got compliments. Okay, so our mom was the one paying the bloomer compliment, but you get the point. I, the Fat Sister, had to wear a long dress, down to my ankles…one that was supposed to ‘float away” from the body but when your ass looks like mine, there is no floating away happening. My amazing husband told me I looked beautiful all night long, and bless his heart, even made “My Wife Is Beautiful,” his face book status. Of course, an hour later my sister sneaked his phone away and added “but my sister-in law is hot!” to his post, but I digress…

Yesterday we walked four miles. Not at one time. We did half in the morning and half at night. Today so far we have walked three. We also went grocery shopping and filled up our house with healthy foods. This meant walking right past all the potato chips and junk. We now have a fridge full of veggies, fruit, yogurt and chicken breasts for grilling.

Also today, my shins are killing me, and the blisters on my feet are ridiculous. But we’re keeping at it. This is day two. The goal here is that Albert will be able to wean off his diabetes medications as he hopefully will not need them anymore. And hopefully we’ll both loose a decent amount of weight along the way. Because I want us to be healthy…and to be here for our children for a long time….and cute clothes for fall.

Sibling Rivalry at it's Finest

In our family, Emanuel is the kid who is constantly bothering his siblings. Picking at the littles, aggravating everyone else. He's the kid who sticks his foot out when someone comes walking by and then is shocked when that person trips. He's the kid who might give the extra little shove in the back as Drew is walking along the edge of the pool or as Brandon is almost at the bottom of the staircase. It's not that he means any real harm...more so that he enjoys a good prank and loves seeing someone get all riled up. On Saturday, I captured it on film. And rather than being embarrassed to be caught by the camera, he hammed it up all the more. This is vintage Manny and I can't wait to share these with him again one day when he is settling disputes between his own little ones and his himself, trying endlessly to stem the tide of petty disputes and irritating behavior. As you can see from the pictures, Emanuel is thoroughly enjoying himself..Brandon not quite so much.
Never fear though, Brandon engages in his own share of anti-social, and anti-sibling behaviors, evidence of which will surely show up on this blog soon. For now, enjoy Manny's fine display of bad manners.

The Farmer's Market Post

Saturday, we took our children to the Farmer's Market. We were looking for something to do that was inexpensive, and would appeal to all of our kids, from babies to teenagers. The Farmer's Market was something we'd heard about for some time, and talked about visiting. Albert brought it up on Saturday morning and we immediately began the long process of getting everyone dressed and ready to go.
It was in fact, three in the afternoon before we actually arrived. But boy was it worth it! The sights, sounds, and smells were amazing and brilliant. We took everything in, enjoying every second of it. All our kids loved it. All except for Mia, who remained unimpressed.













The kids enjoyed lining up to get their faces or arms...or nails painted. It only cost a dollar each, so we couldn't say no. I can't remember when the last time we've found face painting for a buck....







While we were there, Albert found his meat heaven. He discovered all sorts of meats- things our family loves, such as chicken, beef, and shrimp, and things we've never tried before, but that Albert has been eager to try- such as alligator, shark and goat. As soon as we were home, he lit up the grill and began to work his magic. I tell you, he stayed outside on that grill until the wee hours of the morning. And, as a bonus, I kid you not, I haven't cooked again yet. Our fridge is still full of his delicious grilled meat. Tonight, he made Tater Tot Casserole using the leftover beef (yes, pretty similar to the Duggar's recipe which is where we adapted ours from...except we tend to use whatever meat is around, tonight it was leftover beef that he pulled). While he grilled, I wrapped up the corn on the cob, also purchased at the market, to go on the fire as well, while our little kids danced and played on the trampoline. the middle kids crushed cans to take to the recycling plant and the older kids played with the new kitten.






It was a great day. For everyone except Mia, who was pretty hacked off that she had to spend the day out at the market, in her stroller. For all the brilliance of the various venders and all the totally cool wares being sold in addition to fresh meat and produce, the market was not air conditioned and was pretty hot. Mia wasn't too happy. And she didn't mind letting us know.


Our family is very excited about the next time we go to the farmers market. I'm not sure if its open in the fall, but I so hope it is. I would love to go in cooler weather and see all the fall produce on display. Anna and Lisa should be visiting us in October. It would be fabulous to bring them as I know they would both really love it. Although I'm certain that as awesome as it is, it probably doesn't compare to the fresh markets in Greece, which is where they both are currently for the summer. Albert and I are so jealous!

In the end, I guess we did spend some money there, but it was primarily in groceries which replaced the need to shop at the grocery store this week so it wasn't really spending, right? I mean, it was food shopping that would have had to been done anyhow, only now it was done via buying local produce that was fresh, tasty and locally grown. And we got a sweet kitten out of the deal, who by the way, had her first vet appointment yesterday and weighed in at a whopping 1 pound, 8 ounces. She was dewormed and received her first set of shots. She's such a doll and the kids love her already. So do I.

Meeting Mishka

This afternoon was Mia's official introduction to our new kitten, Mishka. Yesterday, we didn't really let Mia get too close, because the kitten was a bit scared and overwhelmed- can you imagine that poor cat trying to settle in here with all these kids?
So, today, I carefully sat the new kitten, whom we decided to officially name Mishka late last night, on Mia's lap. She did pretty good for several seconds, and then smacked the kitten, thus ending her turn at holding Mishka.




I think that Mishka is adjusting to the chaos that is our household very nicely. There are always a fresh pair of arms ready to hold her, plenty of little kids ready to play and a camera constantly clicking away new pictures of her. She may be as well documented as some of our babies! Our Rottweiler is adjusting also. So far, so good. Zoe is curious and on high alert for Mishka's sudden movements but thus far, Zoe has behaved herself well and not attempted to cause any harm. Hopefully they'll soon be good friends. Okay, well at least learn to tolerate each other harmoniously.

Issues

I have some issues going on with re-sizing pictures right now. I'm working on them. Sorry if you only see half a cat in the below pictures. That's not how it's supposed to be and I'm trying to figure out why my re-sizing efforts aren't showing up! Thanks for your patience!

Look What I Brought Home

This afternoon, we took all the children on an adventure to the farmer's market. We were looking for something to do on a Saturday afternoon, something we'd never tried before, something that didn't cost a lot of money and something that would be a neat experience for all the kids even with the variety of ages we have...the farmer's market was perfect! In fact, I have a whole post full of pictures coming soon. The reason I'm posting right now is because...I found an interesting sign at the market. And I just HAD to follow it.
Here it is

And of course, after I walked in, I came right back out...with this


Albert tried in vain to protest...but when he saw her cute little face, and maybe mine too...he couldn't resist. And as it turns out, our new addition seems quite attached to him! This is how our new little kitten made herself comfortable while Albert was playing PlayStation tonight with the boys! She looks right at home...

So now we need a name for her! You all know how much I like to pick out names for things- babies, puppies, kittens...heck, even plants. So far our kids have come up with Raven, Piper or Duces. Raven and Piper are definitely contenders. Duces...not so much. Lend us a hand and help us come up with a name for our new little sweetie! I don't wanna keep calling her Kitty...or Cat...or girl.