Ladies and Gentlemen we have normalacy

Or something approximating it anyway. Normalacy is fleeting.
We are, to be frank, a damn mess. Our stuff is not here, we are still at my mom's which goes okay, but the kids miss their stuff. Our Dad is not here; he is getting our stuff which goes okay, but the kids miss their dad.
Owen and Abra are at school which goes okay, but it's always hard to move and have to make new friends. Last night was Abra's open house and because this is a small town everyone was waving at each other except us. Owen is starting the IEP process because of his Asperger's. They are trying to get him an aide in class.
And I, well, I don't know. I have a job doing typesetting for my mom at the newspaper. I do it after the kids go to bed which works. Mom is trying to get them to hire me for real and I would like to, but there are some obstacles. Like my son will not, cannot drink out of a bottle. Not really sure what the hangup is; just that he won't.
Anyhoo, Easter is almost here and my husband is coming tomorrow, but I still try not to think to hard. Mostly, I don't have time, but sometimes I just don't want to. Then I have to think about all the things that I have to do or don't or will or won't and I feel swamped. Almost, but not quite completely overwhelmed.
Ah well, at least it's not the end, right? Because you know, everything will turn out right in the end.

On Hiatus

We are currently experiencing mass amounts of chaos.
The world is blowing up.
The world is caving in.
The world has lost its way again.
But you are here with me.

And that makes it okay.

I'll be right back. Promise.

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man...well, sort of.

So now that we are mobile, I will just say that I love the country that is America. I love road trips and driving to strange lands in my land. I love the angry man in Cle Elum, Washington who thought we were hippie flower freaks for letting Abra pee behind a tree when she was doing the potty disco and there was no bathroom. He was a total psycho and we almost got into a fight, but the experience was very road trip. I love the conglomerate of eating establishments, hotels, motels, single servings, and dusty exits. I love watching thunderstorms in Oregon in the morning and driving by the Boise Temple at midnight. I love visitin'. I hope to one day transverse this anomaly of a nation not by air, possibly by train, and mostly by car. Provided there is a home to return to.

There is not yet, but there is a glimmer of light. That all these people who have loved us and missed get to see us while we trip the light fandango.

Or some other such hippie flower freak nonsense.

Aloha 'oe

So we have officially left Hawaii behind. I still feel as though I were going on some extended vacation and not at all as if I had moved on entirely. I cried and cried almost the whole way to Hilo to eat at Ken's one last time and then to hop on board.

And I still think...

I never got to eat at Merriman's.
I didn't buy a Koa salad bowl and forks.
I didn't go surfing or learn a hula.
I never stood at the top of Mauna Kea.

I want to go home.

Where I can...

Eat crepes at the Farmer's Market. Or lau lau. Or teri pork.
See snow and sand from the same viewpoint on the road to Hawi.
Go on my daily walk down Mud Lane with my kiddos.

And part of me thinks that God made my last day rainy on purpose because if it had been sunny I would have went to the beach and stood there on the sand with my heart breaking into little pieces and this empty void where the life that I have made being cleansed out with seawater washing back and forth on the waves...

Oh, man, enough, now. That's enough.

You must ALWAYS bring the diaper bag.

This is my son today after he pooped all over himself at my friend Eileen's house. I was just picking up the kids' from school and thought I would make a quick stop by. Just picking up the keiki, no need diaper bag. So of course, poop EVERYHWERE. Eileen's kids don't wear diapers anymore, not since her daughter left them behind.

My poor son. Do you see what I've done to him?

Look real close.

Yes, he is in a GIRL'S pullup.


There now. That's better.

Sorry, son.

Don't tell your father.

The horror...the horror.

My house is officially in shambles. Everything is everywhere, including my brain. I think I actually packed it up in a box somewhere, but I forget. And the list of things still to accomplish is ENORMOUS!

Must go through filing cabinet.
Must go through kid's toys.
Must pack entire bathroom.
Must pack entire kitchen.
Must rent two cars.
Must look for hotel.
Must find kids...nope sorry. Too busy for that last one.

I really hate packing. I am looking forward to moving, though. Since I am crammed between boxes, forward is the only way I can look.

Cherry Blossom Festival

Today we went to join in the Cherry Blossom Festival here in Waimea. It's a celebration of the Japanese tradition of hananmi or the viewing of the Cherry Blossoms. I figured it was the last time we would get to go to one, maybe ever. And I wondered if the reason I wanted to do something so crafty and pretty and special is a sign that I am getting old. It was the kind of family outing that I would have secretly enjoyed and then scoffed at when I was younger. Including that there were lots of little booths and trinkets and knickknacks that I refrained from buying because we are moving. Okay it was really because we don't have the money, alright, alright? Feel better? Just kidding. It was just the kids and I as Jeff was laid up, but we had a good time viewing the sakura. I will miss these cultural things when I go. Even if they make me feel old.

It was hot. And I mean hot. And there were an amazing number of people for pokey old Waimea. Owen picked me out a locket with real flowers in it and he got a bento baby christmas ornament and a koi necklace. Abra got a koa hairpick with flowers and crystals hanging off it and Ruthie ate rice krispie treats. I tried to find mochi, but either we were too late or there wasn't any. I saw Auntie Eva at the Hawaiian Quilting booth and both of the midwives for James, but mostly it was pretty touristy. We brought home plate lunch for Jeff that tasted distinctly Local Beef moo-ey.

Later on I will make Chicken Papaya for dinner over rice and the beautiful Waimea day has turned into a typical foggy drizzle-y Waimea evening, but Jeff and the kids are fighting over the Xbox and all is normal in the Barrett household.