Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Different Perspectives

Upon exiting the bus this afternoon, Noah rolled his eyes and said, "Well today was completely wasted! We got NOTHING done! We had a totally useless thirty minute assembly."

What was the assembly about? Why was it useless?

"The Cat in the Hat came to visit. It was so dumb. It was mainly for the little kids and we just had to sit there and watch."

*loud sigh followed by dramatic eye roll*

An hour and a half later, four-year-old Zoe practically jumped off the bus and was shouting with excitement at me as we crossed the street. The bus was too noisy and I couldn't hear her, but as soon as we got in the door, this is what I got:

"Mommy!! Guess what!? GUESS WHAT!!??"

What?

"The Cat in the Hat came to our school today... and we all got to go and wave at him... and his tail was pointy and pointing in my direction... and he waved at ME!! "

Wow! How exciting. You should tell your brother who came to see you at school today.

*Noah enters the room*

"Noah! GUESS WHO CAME TO OUR SCHOOL TODAY!?"

Noah, his interest genuinely peaked, "Who??"

*jumping up and down*

"The Cat in the Hat, THE CAT IN THE HAT!!!"

*massive eye roll*

I interjected, "Noah, tell her how exciting that is."

Now imagine a completely neutral mouth with a half-raised, awkward eyebrow and flat tone to his voice:

"Oh boy. How exciting. Lucky you."

We need to work on his acting skills.


Wednesday, February 22, 2012

If Buddhists are Correct, I Will Be Awesome in My Next Life and DJ Will Smell Badly

Another honest-to-goodness conversation I recently had with my husband:




I don't want to be there when y'all cook the crawfish. I can't watch.

Oh good grief! Why not?

Because you throw them live in boiling water and that just seems mean.

For Heaven's sake, you are CAJUN- surely this has come up before.

Yes, I have been to plenty of crawfish boils and I didn't like it then either. Also, when some get out of the cooler and are crawling across the yard, it seems like they are chasing you and it scares me.

Because crawfish are known for their lightning speed.

I'm just telling you how I feel. Besides, how would you like me to just throw you in a pot of boiling water?

Crawfish are pretty simple creatures. Do you also like to think the hamburger comes from a hamburger tree?

I know animals have to be killed for me to eat. I just don't want to meet the animal first. And I certainly don't want to witness it. And I would like to think that they kill the cow humanely.

Okay. You continue thinking that.

Besides, if there is such a thing as reincarnation, what if I come back as a human and you come back as a crawfish and I boil you and eat you?

Well, I will just be playing along in a ditch, and then I will be dead and I won't care.

Maybe then I will come back as a shit fly.




And that ended the conversation.

How can I argue with someone who aspires to be a "shit fly" in their next life?







Thursday, February 16, 2012

Conversations with DJ

Last Friday, DJ texted me that he was about to board his plane and would see me that evening. He had been in California for a few days and was headed back to the East Coast that night.

ME: Okay. Be safe and I will see you tonight! What do you want for dinner?

DJ: Oh... I don't know. It's 6:30am here, I'm not thinking about dinner.

ME: Every. Single. Time. I ask you that question, you never answer.

DJ: Well, I do....

ME: It is always "I don't know." or " I don't care."

DJ: That is because I really don't care. I approach that question like a guy, whereas you approach it like a woman.

ME: What is that supposed to mean?

DJ: YOU think, "Weeelll... I'm not really feeling beef-y today. I'm feeling more chicken-y. But my body says I need a salad. And it's too hot outside for something really hot or spicy, so I am thinking maybe something chicken-y and light with lettuce..... I dunno."

DJ: Here is MY thought process: Task at hand, task at hand, task at hand, task at hand, ooohh, I'm hungry, task at hand, task at hand, drive home from work, yeah- food- yum.

DJ: SO, "I don't know." or " I don't care." really means I don't know or I don't care! I will pretty much eat whatever you put in front of me.

ME: Fine! So.. pizza tonight?

DJ: Sure. I don't care.

I ordered pizza- half meat-lovers for him and half veggie-lovers for me...

...because my body was telling me I needed some vegetables.

And he was totally okay with that.





**I am linking up with Momma Made it Look Easy, Share Your Awesome!
Share Your Awesome

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Wordful Wednesday

Sunday afternoon, Noah discovered that at some point Saturday night, or Sunday morning, his fish had died. He was devastated and spent a good hour trying to convince me it was all his fault. And I spent that same amount of time telling him that fish die- and that this one had a good run- a lot of them only live a few months. This was his first pet to die and he is still taking it hard. Just this morning, he came in the kitchen sniffling and said that he went to feed Phineas and remembered he wasn't there.

Noah didn't like the idea of flushing him. He wanted a proper burial. So, we all went outside in the freezing wind on Sunday, I dug a hole and placed the fish inside, covered him up and placed a brick on top. (to keep the wildlife from digging him up- but I told Noah to make it look like a real grave) DJ grabbed two wood scraps and made a cross.


RIP Phineas- faithful fish, loved by Noah.
2010-2012





**I am linking up today with Dumb Mom at parenting BY dummies- Wordful Wednesday
parenting BY dummies

Sunday, February 12, 2012

The Preschool Dating Scene

At dinner last night, Zoe casually mentioned, "Eddie likes to jump on me and hang on me when we are outside."

As a response, DJ jokingly told her she needed to stay away from the little boys and was teasing her about it. Suddenly, Zoe began to defend her actions.

"But, Eddie likes the Bear Hunt song and I like the Bear Hunt Song. And Eddie and I both run like this (insert demonstration) during the Bear Hunt Song! And, Eddie likes to play in the kitchen with me. We make ice cream."

I wonder what an online personal ad for a preschooler would look like?

Looking for: single male, 4 or 5 years old. Must love long walks in the pretend forest whilst listening to the "Bear Hunt" song and jumping for hours on the trampoline. Pretend cooking skills a must. Interest in a good debate over the big issues such as bedtime, wardrobe and meal choices , a plus. Dislike of Hello Kitty, Barbie or the Disney Princesses and an inability to reach the bathroom light, use the potty and antagonize siblings need not apply.


Friday, February 10, 2012

Taking Chances-Simply Valorie

I don't remember how I wound up on Valorie's blog, but at some point, I clicked that little "follow" button and never looked back.

You see, Valorie reminds me a little of myself when I was her age (except she is WAY more driven). When I found her, she was a junior at Texas A&M University and knew that she didn't want to stay in Texas. Her dreams and aspirations were much bigger than that. I have watched her struggle with personal relationships, kick butt in college, spend a few months in China for her studies, earn her Aggie ring and finally- this past December- graduate. She wasted no time in getting started on the rest of her life. She lined up an internship and an interview for a part-time job in Washington D.C., packed her life in two suitcases and boarded a plane a few weeks ago bound for a place where she knew only one person and still had no place to live. (She is crashing on her friend's floor while apartment-hunting) She is an incredibly smart and talented young woman and I know she will do great things.

A few weeks ago, she asked for guest bloggers to write about making a big move; and since there was a time I left everything I knew to move to another country, I thought I could submit my story. Today is the day my story goes live on her blog. Head on over there, leave her some comment love and I suggest you follow her. I can't wait to hear what her future holds!


For some reason, I cannot get the button to work- but you can find her HERE: Simply, Valorie

Thursday, February 9, 2012

A Well-Timed Visit

I wasn't in the mood to open the door. Not at that moment, but something told me to do it anyway. Reluctantly, I turned the knob, slowly pulled it toward me and peered around the other side. I was relieved and so thankful to see her standing there at that moment.

If you are going to survive as a military spouse, you must form friendships quickly You learn to rely on people you have only just met; and as soon as you are forming a true bond of friendship- someone gets orders and leaves.

It was 2002. That year was a big one for deployments. My husband was in a unit that deployed often at only a moment's notice and always to "an undisclosed location for an undisclosed amount of time." Translation: I didn't know where he was (though based on world events, I had a good idea) and I didn't know when he would be coming back. This was also the days before Skype, so we relied on email and the occasionally chance when he would catch me by phone for communication. I was working full time and hard to catch up with.

In June, my husband deployed- again. We had been officially trying to conceive for almost a year, but the fact that he was never home was throwing a wrench in that plan. The weekend of July 4, I found out I was pregnant. I didn't want to tell anyone before I told him- so I carried the secret with me for almost a month. Around the end of July, I went to the movie with one of my friends that lived in the unit next to ours. I don't know why, but I suddenly had the urge to tell her, "in case anything happened." I was thinking along the lines of- if I was suddenly ill or unconscious, someone needed to know I was pregnant in order to tell the medical professionals. So now, she knew and I knew.

A few days later, during a phone call with my husband, I couldn't keep it a secret any longer and I spilled the beans. I had wanted to tell him in person, but I didn't know when I would see him again, so I let it slip. He was elated- and quickly wrote the most beautiful email to the baby. I still have that email to this day. Five days after that phone call, I suffered a miscarriage.

I had been cramping all day at work, but researched it online and saw that it was possible to feel cramps at this time during your first pregnancy as your uterus was stretching. I think deep down, I knew something wasn't right, because I went to the bathroom every 10-15 minutes at work that day, but I convinced myself I was overreacting. When I got home from work that evening, I felt awful. I decided to lie down on the couch and then I felt it. I knew what was coming and I ran to the bathroom. There was no question what was happening. I knew it was over.

Feeling pain- both emotional and physical, exhaustion and completely overwhelmed, I curled up on the couch and began to cry. I cried for something I didn't even know or have- yet something my husband had already grown attached to. I cried for the fact that I was going to have to break my husband's heart and tell him the baby was gone. I cried for the baby I would never hold and the plans I had already made. I just cried.

About ten minutes into my meltdown, I began to pull myself together. I knew I was going to have to call the doctor, but I didn't want to. I didn't feel like it. So I cried some more- because I was alone- because I needed my husband. I knew if he were home, he would call the doctor for me. He would comfort me. At that precise moment, there was a knock on my door.

It was my friend- the one I had told about the pregnancy. She took one look at me, and immediately put her arm around me and came inside. I don't remember what I said- but I managed to tell her what was going on. She walked me to the couch and laid me down. She picked up my phone and called the nurse line for our insurance company. She spoke with the nurse and then handed the phone to me. The nurse told me I should call my doctor's after hours line.

My friend then called the after hours for me and left a message for the doctor to call me back. Less than five minutes later, he did and I answered the phone. She sat next to me on the couch, holding my hand, while I spoke with the doctor. When the conversation was over- she went to the store to get some supplies I needed and came back and sat with me until I told her it was okay to leave.

Her husband was in the same squadron as mine and the only reason he wasn't deployed was because they were moving overseas in less than a week. He called the squadron for me, let them know what was going on so that they could contact my husband and have him call home. He came home with his squadron two weeks later.

That was one of the hardest things I have ever endured as a military spouse. The loss of a pregnancy-alone. Except that I really wasn't alone. I will always be so grateful to that family for what they did for me. I will always be thankful for the impeccable timing of her visit that day.

They moved a week later and we wrote and emailed regularly for about a year. Then, we sent yearly Christmas cards and eventually, even that stopped. I lost contact with them and have no idea where they are now. But they will forever hold a place in my heart for the role they played in my life.

My military family.





This post is inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Prompt #1: Who was at your front door?



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Wednesday, February 1, 2012

How to Raise a Codger

If I were to just transcribe some of the conversations in this house without crediting the speaker, you might think I was living with an elderly relative.

I'm not.

I'm living with a Noah-who just happens to be eight-with the soul of an eighty-year-old man.

Unless you have experienced this, it is hard to understand. I have often heard people describe others as an "old soul". And I got it. But I didn't truly understand it until Noah was born. Even as a newborn infant, he was cranky. He cried most of the time. And when he wasn't crying, he was looking through me. THROUGH ME. It was unnerving- having a newborn stare right through me almost as if he was annoyed at my incompetence at keeping him happy. I almost got the impression he knew more than I did.

(He is four days old in this picture)


(here, he is not yet three, and yelling at me for taking his picture)


And now, today, he is a funny, funny little old man trapped in a child's body.

Yesterday, he scolded me when I woke him. He was tired and he told me I should not let him go to bed so late (his bedtime is 8- but it was 8:30 before he went to bed the night before). He informed me that he would be going to go to bed at 7 that night. HE MOVED HIS OWN BEDTIME!

We had a very unusual day here in New Jersey yesterday. It was sixty-five degrees! That is incredible for February. This time last year, we were buried in snow and I was cranky because I had to deal with it by myself since my husband was deployed all winter. Today was a day to be enjoyed. It was a day to be outdoors.

When Noah arrived on the bus yesterday afternoon, he lamented that he wished he could play outside, but he had a lot of homework. I told him to go play and enjoy the day and we would tackle his homework that evening. He worried about it for a few, finally ran off to jump on the trampoline and then fifteen minutes later, he decided he was going in to do his homework. His schoolwork, after all, was more important than playing. I reminded him that he is a kid and that ultimately he is supposed to PLAY. And that, yes, his school work is important and that we would get it done, but that there was no harm in taking advantage of this beautiful day, because it may not come again for several more months.

I had to force him to stay outside. Fast forward two hours and he was at the kitchen table working on his math when his father got home. He immediately tattled on me. He told his father how I told him that play was more important than school work and now he has to do all this homework and he just wished he had gotten it out of the way earlier. His dad backed up what I said and Noah sighed. Apparently he was not going to get any sympathy from his parents. Within the next few minutes, he was in tears- stressed because he was having trouble with his homework, sad that he hadn't finished, tired and still throwing the criticism my way as to my poor parenting skills.

Ultimately, he finished his homework within a half an hour, he ate his dinner, showered and put himself to bed at 7:30. (At least he didn't wake up at 4:30 this morning and ask for Grape Nuts)

I will let you know when he starts requesting we hit the early bird specials.


(Noah- this past December at his piano recital)