Another day...

Today is Robert's birthday. Technically. For me, it is actually in the morning his day starts-- but he is halfway around the world from me right now and his morning sun is already bright in the sky. I sent him an email to wish him a happy day. I have no idea if I will be able to talk to him on this day. I did get the briefest of moments that I was able to IM with him, but it was cut very short by his Internet closing out. This could mean so many things.. but on this day I will only allow it to mean that there was a power surge and they lost Internet connection.
This is not the first time I have spent a birthday without Robert around. Life lessons assure me this wont be my last. However, this is the first time I have had to wonder what a birthday for my husband must be like when he has to wear an armored vest all day and watch where he steps as he carries a grenade launcher and rifle. I will never again complain about how heavy my purse is. This is the first time I cant call him a million times a day and sing to him in my best Marilyn voice and call him birthday boy.
And this is certainly the first time I have had to fear for his actual safety on his birthday. I guess like they say, there is a first time for everything.
And yet-- life goes on. I still have to wake up in the morning and feed the kids and shuttle them off to school. I still have to do the morning rush of activities and afternoon pick up chaos. I will still need to make dinner. And while he will certainly fill my thoughts throughout the day.. life still marches on. As he is so fond of saying-- its just another day.
Such is our life these days.
This is me.. clutching the Zen.

The weather ouside is frightful....

but inside is so delightful...
b/c I have a fire going!
Shall I make some cocoa? Come sit awhile?
Hey-- girls? How do I get your links on my page? I am so not a smart blogger...
Sigh-- I miss you all....

Boooo!

It's here.
Halloween is here! I love this holiday. Not only do you get to play dress up as an adult and not be looked at like you are crazy.. but it marks the start of the holiday season. Call me crazy, but I like the bustle of stores and people and music.. it is a whirl wind 3 months! And while, at the end, I am overcome with happiness that it is over, I really do enjoy it.
To add to all this, for the first year ever, my boys are up for being cool characters that arent on a tv show! This is exciting to me. After years of being Thomas or one super hero or an other.. this year they decided to be knights. I am doubly pleased with this because it makes my weekend trip to Vegas with the girls worth it. You see.. we stayed at Excalibur and I brought them home a set of knights and kingdoms from there. Yes, I agree.. it was a guilt present. HOWEVER.. they like playing with them so much that they chose to dress up like them for Halloween, making it somewhat educational. Hey, I will take it where I can get it.
I think I am going to go as Super Woman. Because what I do day to day fits me into her catagory. In fact, this is true for all moms. But for me, my cape randomly gets caught in the closed door. So I could use a reminder.. and a cool outfit serves as a great reminder. Plus, I can wear the cool bangle wrist bands.
So this year, I hope while I am out there with my cape flowing, and bangles flashing... I look across the street and see other moms and dads wearing their own capes, or their version of them. If we can all just start the season off remembering what it is to be youthful and fun and not afraid to dress up-- then there is hope it will be a good start to the holiday season.

Pass the Walker please..

When did I get old? I must have missed the memo.

I went to the movies on Friday night with my BFF for Girls Night. We went to see the movie "We Own the Night." When we got up to the counter to pay, I forgot what we were there to see. (ok- perhaps this IS a sign I am getting old) So I said to the kid-- baby-- child-- whatever-- taking my money.. "One for the Marky Mark movie."
And he said.... "who?"

Blank Face.

I mean come on! How do you not know who Marky Mark is? Has the Funky Bunch been banished to the archives with Mighty Mouse and the Fonze? Marky Mark doesnt sing anymore (ok, thank the heavens for that) but he is still around.. he acts!!! Frequently, in fact. Fairly well, in fact. Scrumptious , in fact. (hee hee) So really, how do the kids not know his self proclaimed nick name??
Because I am a well rounded woman, I was able to enjoy a good laugh over the whole fiasco with my BFF, but it still makes me a little sad. It seems, Marky Mark is a name that is now only known to the "older crowd", and I am a part of that crowd it seems.
Sigh.
Pass the Walker, and long live the Funky Bunch.

Just a reminder...

Mostly to myself... that I love my best friend on the planet. That I should not kill my best friend on the planet. That the fact that I have to use countless cups of caffine and toothpicks to keep my eyelids open is not really a good reason to fly cross country to smother said friend in my grumpiness.
You are a lucky man-- my best friend on the planet-- that you are waaay over there and not here.
And that I love you so very much.
But any more 4 am laughing phone calls -- and you may need to go into hiding.
Smag-- you kill me-- softly..
*manic tired laugh*

Phantom Vibrations?

No, this is not an ode to Bay Area earthquakes. Nor is it a spooky tale just in time for Halloween.. well perhaps it is.
There is an actual phenomenon going on right now over this so called phantom vibrations. The story goes, if you are addicted to your phone or blackberry, that you may suffer from feeling the phantom vibrations when there is in fact, none. When you see people looking at their phone, feeling their phone, etc.. it could be perhaps due to this. They believe they are feeling something that isn't there-- and it is due to over use of technology.
I read the article and laughed. How absurd. And then I realized.. gulp-- um-- yeah-- that's me. Just this morning, I am ashamed to say. When working out after drop off, I tend to keep my phone tucked into my sports bra for lack of anywhere else to put it-- (don't laugh-- it works) and I was sure I missing a text or call. I kept feeling my phone to see if it was vibrating or not.. when it occurred to me that it looked like I was feeling myself up.
On base.
In front of other mommies.
And Daddies.
Some in uniform.
GROAN. (OK-- laugh now)
Also, I regularly feel my backside when I have my phone in my back pocket to see if it is vibrating or going off, or just plain there.. and so I am sure that gets equal amounts of looks. When did I become so embarrassing to myself???
Turns out-- I am part of the phenomenon!! I suffer from phantom vibrations! And-- to add to the pot-- I also appear that I have some weird form of torets syndrome but opt towards feeling myself up in various public areas rather than scream out profanity. Perhaps I should add that to my pot-- the shouting of various profanity -- might as well be rounded out after all. *eyeroll*
It is now of no surprise to me that my oldest doesn't want me to walk him into school anymore. Look for him on Dr Phil. Airing his woes of me on public TV. I will be the one sitting next to him, feeling myself up.

I am sick of Barry Bonds

I wrote this blog a long time ago-- and I was seethign at the time, so there is some emotion to it. For whatever reason, I chose not to publish it then.. but my Twin has encouraged me to post it now, so I am. So, yes-- this is old as the hills.. but-- the feeling still remains.




I live in a City that is torn by him. He plays well; he is bringing the team success and notoriety. But it comes with a price. The on again off again debate of steroid use is constant, perhaps because I reside in the very City he boasts the name of on chest.

Right now, there are people.. grown men might I add, that have taken up residence behind the stadium in the water area. They are out there in goofy outfits and kayaks, canoes and dingy's.. all in the hopes of catching a home run ball from Bonds. And you know they are going to sell it on Ebay because really.. what are you going to do with a Barry Bonds ball. People cant actually compare it to having a ball from Babe Ruth or Joe DiMaggio can they? In a heart beat I would have one of those balls..proudly display it. Frankly, I would never even let my kids play with a ball that Barry used. He is a disgrace to the game as far as I am concerned. And not just because he is a pill popping power player.. mainly because he is a crappy role model. I don't really care what these athletes say-- you put on a uniform and you instantly become a role model. Kids look up to you. They aspire to be you. They go in the back yard and pretend they are you hitting a ball. So if they see you using steroids, it becomes cool.

To top this off, he is mean. I cant think of another word for it just yet-- but he is. I recently went to a Yankee/Giants game and we sat in his "turf". We were surrounded by kids all excited to be so close to him.. and there were foul balls being popped off constantly. The other players would pick the balls up and toss them into the stands.. wave at the kids, take time to simply look their way. Barry didn't. They stood at the rail screaming his name, begging for a glance and he kept facing forward, never once giving them the time of day. What kind of person does this? How can you look at the image of yourself in the mirror everyday and honestly think that you don't owe some of that to someone else's belief in you. Barry Bonds at one time feel in love with the game from watching other players. I am sure he once stood at a gate calling out his role models name.. and there is a huge chance that he was greeted with at least a look or wave. Why does he find it so difficult to give that back-- or even remember it!
I am ashamed of him for the sport. I am ashamed of him for our City. Barry Bonds, you leave me searching for the zen ....

This is for my cyber gals...

My car rocks.
For future reference to all, my car is named Pepe.
Pepe Rocks.
I have the ability to save songs on my XM stations in Pepe.. so if a song comes on that I enjoy a great deal, I can save it. This makes me happy-- it reminds me of being in 7th grade and waiting by the radio for the DJ to stop talking so I can push record on my tape player. Except I shouldnt have to wait on the DJ with XM b/c I pay such a pretty sum to have it.. even though I do indeed have to wait-- but that's another blog.

Today I was driving in the car and I stumbled on to a terrific station. It played songs that had me smiling and singing along. The weather is HOT and it is perfect for singing along in. Life was grand.

I got to thinking how it has been awhile since I have blogged-- I have kept myself busy and out of the house. I havent even been able to read and catch up on my forums, blogs of my gals, or emails! I am behind! And then it happened:

I have to share it.. b/c it brings to my mind thoughts of my cyber gals-- and I miss you all so much. And I want you to know it. So-- this is for you.









Strumming my pain with his fingers.. Singing my life with his words ...


(sing it with me)


Killing me softly with his words...


Killing me softly, with his words...

Thats for you Twin, Mumps and Jen-- and all my other forum gals. I saved it to the number on e spot-- and it makes me think of you guys... and I want to laugh and call Jen each time I hear it. You gals rock-- just like Pepe.

The Essence of Girlness

Those who know me best of all, know that I try very hard to be the rounded out woman. Killing spiders, fixing broken dishwashers or disposals, all things I attempt to do because I have a fierce can do pride attitude. However, in the end-- I am pure girl. I may tackle the broken toilet, but I will do so with my nails shaped and manicured and my hair up in a cute french twist. And I am OK with that. I am a girl to the core. I think it is one of God's funny ideas that he granted me with only boys, for it is the essence of girlness that I am blessed in. The rest I just make up as I go along.
In my journey's along the way.. I have come across so many people like me. We attempt to round out the soft sides of ourselves with the the woman that NOW created. We think it is a sign of weakness to ask for help from a male or perhaps we simply have to prove to ourselves that we CAN do it..(as I do) I always welcome these people into my life. They make me feel normal, at ease, and secure in myself.
However, I am blessed to have a few Queen of the Ladies in my life too. The ones that are more than able to do it, have the brains and the brawn to do it-- but prefer not.. so don't. Ahh- how I love these gals. They make me smile. They make me want to scoot into a rose petaled bath. They make me want soft skin and to pamper.
There is one Queenie in particular that has been on my mind this week. I will give her the artful and well thought out name for this blogs purpose of A from B. (oohh--but it is funny!) A from B left me one of her HYSTERICAL 10 minute messages on my voicemail (without a whisper of annoyance about me never answering my phone by the way-- fellow blog readers-- you know who you are..) and on it-- she drifted from the subject of her location to the recent celebrity gossip. I saved the message. I have listened to it everyday. It reminds me that SHE reminds me how fun being a girl is. I have known her for 10 years, and she has always left me these kind of funny messages. I can't walk past a a Cosmo magazine without fighting the urge to pick it up, turn to the quizzes and call her so we can can do them together, like old times. No one else quite understands that it does, in fact, take most of a Sunday afternoon to do your own nails. And I have to say-- I have yet to find anyone on the planet who understands the magnitude of eyebrow gel like her. All that said, please know she is not a foo foo Queen. She can certainly hold her own, I have seen it. But- A from B also basks easily in the essence of womanhood-- embraces it.. and reminds me it is fun along the way. I guess I need to remember that more often.
All of you reading this have at one point or another, given me the strength I need to go on when I can't find it. I could write about each one of you for days on end and it would not begin to cover how I feel about you. I chose this particular person to speak about today because I am seeing that I need the reminder that being a girly girl is GOOD! And I can't help but wonder, if I need the reminder.. perhaps someone else does too. Perhaps someone else needs to be reminded that yes-- a waxing is painful, but necessary. That getting your nails done is expensive, but the feeling you get after is worth it. That eyebrows do need tending to.. that lipstick is not the enemy. That shoes can make you smile. That sparkling body lotion is the coolest invention since sliced bread. Or maybe, it is just me who needs the reminder.. and that is equally as important.
Any way that makes you feel girly and good is what we should do for ourselves today-- to make us feel like we have that extra bounce in our step. It may not be adding lip gloss to your lips, or color to your nails.. it may be rubbing on some lotion you like, or using a new shampoo. Whatever it is, we should do it. Summer is upon us, and frankly-- we don't need a special reason-- we are the special reason.
So, I am going to go get a Cosmo, dap some glass on my lips, dip my feet into a pedicure, and call A from B to tell her thanks for the reminder. And there are quizzes to be done.

You become suddenly aware of how much you are failing as a parent when upon passing a herd of cattle, your five year old happily screams out: "Look-- horses!"

It's funny how, no matter how hard you try to cover all the bases, something always gets left out. This job of parenting, it bewilders me. How is it possible that I drill into them the art of manners, kindness, understanding and patience; but along the way, it is painfully evident that I missed the whole chapter on farm animals. And how is it, of all the accomplishments and opportunities I have been blessed with, my brown haired clone of me in the back seat is the one thing that makes me able to scoff at them all and realize what is important.

The nice thing about having kids, is that you get a constant reoccurring chance to try again. So I failed at the introduction of animals to my kid, but I did manage to teach him math, writing and social skills. And after all, how often is going to have to use his knowledge of cattle in his life?? Naturally, this means he will be a diary farmer. But even so, he may not know they are cattle.. but he will know how to count them, write about them and how to interact with them! Look at me! I am an amazing parent! Please pass my crown!

Apparently, today's travels will include a trip to the library where we will be checking out numerous books on animals. *eyeroll*

This is me: searching for the zen.....

A little ditty about bleach...

So I know I promised I would avoid the blow by blows on cleaning products, but it must be said that my laundry day today warrants being talked about. If for no other purpose than to make all feel relieved, nay-- scratch that-- over come, with joy that they do not live in my house.
Today is laundry day. It is one of the chores that I frequently try to avoid until my OCD kicks in. The sorting, the changing loads, folding, putting away.. all trivial bits that annoy me. However, of them all-- the one that takes the place in the prime spot for me is the actually washing of the Whites. I detest the Whites. I have actually, in desperate times, been known to simply run up to Target with my friend in tow (and laughing) to BUY more socks rather than actually placing a load of whites socks and such in the washer. (and to clarify.. I actually have done this for jeans as well-- which ranks in 2nd place of least favorite load to wash)
Anyhow-- back to the whites. So, today-- I was inspired to do them without a fuss. So, I got the water going and started to put them in to the wash, when suddenly, I felt a vibration JUST as I was letting them fall into the water. A sickening feeling overcame me-- was that my cell phone laying in the soapy abyss? I start panicking on this one.. I mean.. its my phone! I have all the numbers saved into it!! And while there is some discussion about how I don't ever answer my phone.. I still have the option to if I have it!! So I do the natural thing here.. I reached in and started pulling out the whites in a mad scramble to save the cell phone. I am tearing at these things, feeling deep into the basin for the metal of the phone. But the water keeps adding in and right about now seemed a good spot for the bleach to enter into the picture. So from this side is the bleach pouring out-- the other side, the water is still going full force and I am screaming words that my mother would blush at the thought of; all the while, yanking and pulling wet, thick, heavy items of soiled clothing. Here might be a good place to let you all know that I keep my laundry room in the garage... my car and the washer live happily in there together on most days. Today however, I had pulled in too close to the washer side with my car and so it made actually getting IN to the washer more difficult. Hence making my next decision seem sensible at the time. This is where I decided to grab the clothes in the washer and pull them OUT of the washer -- all in my quest to find my phone. So, I am pulling out my wet, bleach watered clothes and throwing them sopping wet on to the floor of the garage.. and still, cant find this tiny little phone... and I am looking. I am in tears with frustration. And NOW, the front of my pretty blue shirt and jeans are soaking wet-- and turning a brilliant shade of white.
I now have all the clothes out of the washer, still no phone.. and I am rifling thru the heap on the ground and my kids are staring at me like I am some sort of reality show reject.. and that is when.. I heard the soft sound of the ring tone of my cell-- INSIDE the house. I get up and look, and there is my pretty bright pink razor-- sitting dryly on the table.
And this is why I am just going to go to Target for the blasted socks next time.

The Grass is always greener..

I have a lawn boy. It sort of just happened. Up until now-- my way of doing the lawn and keeping it trimmed was to NOT water it so it didn't grow. This proved to be nothing less than making my house look like it belonged in a land far far away-- in a vortex of its own-- one I like to call Winslow. (sorry C.)
So my lawn boy appeared. He is the husband of my shortest friend. He showed up one day with a hedge trimmer, and started doing the front walk. I had not even met him at this point. I walked out with my hands in my back pockets and made mumbling noises about how I had no idea who he was and why he was whacking my dry, dead weeds.. but I loved him. Lucky for me, he is blessed with a sense of humor.
He trimmed, and cut both lawns. Then he came back the week after, did the same thing.. AND pulled all the weeds out of every place a weed thought about growing on my property.. all while still in uniform. Yesterday.. after the ball game, (see future blog) I came home to a tall man standing in my back yard, moving the swing set around to mow back there.
Right about here, my catholic guilt kicked in. I mean, I am not invalid.. I CAN actually do my lawn-- I just despise it with all the passion I can muster. So, I walked out, looked up (because my lawn boy is, in fact, a 6'4" Texan) and said- - "now-- you know I appreciate this more than words can say-- but you don't have to do it.".
Without a blink of an eye.. he said-- "we take care of our own".
I felt like someone punched me in the gut. I felt like I wanted to lay down and cry right there on the pavement. I still get tears in my eyes.
We Take Care of Our Own.
I am in a special group-- the one that refuses to ask for help-- but needs it desperately. And I guess, without knowing it-- my group attracts a different group-- the ones who don't need asking. I had the king of the 'don't need asking' standing in my yard, cutting my grass happily. With a smile on his face. And it occurred to me, that is one of the perks of being a deployed spouse. You get to see people in their truest colors. You cant hide it. Here stood a man, who up until a few months ago, couldn't pick me out of a line up. And now, he is one of my most trusted friends. In that sentence, he opened up a world where I finally don't have to be afraid to ask for help. His wife sends me over dinner, and calls to make sure I am ok when she doesn't see me at morning drop off. I should add here, these people don't know Rob-- have barely seen pictures of him..aren't even in the same branch. But what matters to them is that, we take care of our own.

I think we are all put in situations where we think they may need help but are unsure just how to do it. We might think they will find it offensive, or simply they might not want it. I know I have. But from right this second, I am going to follow the lead of my lawn boy-- and just do it. Because in the end, taking care of our own isn't about being a military person, a co worker, a church parishioner. Our own is all of us here. Our own walks among us day in and day out. And knowing what I know now-- I can't go back. I only hope I helped open up a window that others can see through as well.
So now, under orders of my friend, I am off to water my lawn-- because if he is going to keep showing up to cut it, it's only right I make sure it is bright and green and desperately needs it.

Where has the time gone?

Here we are-- in May. And while I am glad that the year is slipping away-- I still am a bit taken aback by the fact that it is MAY! Tomorrow my youngest child "graduates" from preschool. They do the whole performance, dance skit and ceremony thing. I know it is ridiculous, but I pay a lot of money for that preschool so I am happy to have a big bash at the end of it all. And while all the planning, the buying, the preparing is happening.. I still can't believe it..... he is going into kindergarten.
I am there. I did it.
All those times I laid down at night over stressed, over tired, over weight (lol) only to get back up in less than an hour to feed a hungry baby yet again.. it all paid off. All the food I gave up to breast feed two kids back to back. For the wonderful job I gave up so I could be at home to care for my kids in their infant stage b/c "we" wanted me to. It all is over. It paid off. Now, here I stand with two school age kids. It kinda blows my mind a bit.
(enter nostalgic music and glossy memories)
Well enough of that-- now those two school age kids I was misty eyed over are battling it out for the last go-gurt.
So ends the reminiscent moment.

The day the rude people came out..

Tell me Rude People.. how do you all synchronize the day that you will all come out? Is there some special Bat Signal which shows itself only to those who wear the red badge of R on their chests? Do you have a special date set aside of every month where you all trollop through the world together.. reaping havoc? There has to be something.. it seems too coincidental that you all just decide TODAY is the day I want to piss off the world.
Today is that day here. Take for instance, the woman in the supermarket today-- who -- with two very good eyes -- saw me holding my hand out for my 5 year old son to grab hold of and assumed that in fact I had created the prefect area for her to push her way through. Never mind the 5 year old pushed to the side. What is more important is that you, dear woman, got to get to the rows and rows of shopping carts before I did. There was such a danger that I might take all of them to shop with, leaving you to walk around and hold your own items.
And then there is that man at my 6 year old's school, we can't leave him out. Although.. frankly, he is wicked rude everyday-- no special days set aside for him. He must be the grand poobah of rudeness. I bet if we asked him, he would show us his R badge. The Grand Poobah was in front of me driving into the parking lot. He passed a parking spot and decided he wanted it, so he put it in reverse.. and proceeded to floor it backwards PAST the parking spot and two others to pull into the one closest to me. Why? Grand Poobah, I suppose there was a reason for you to create a dangerous circumstance at an elementary school.. I am sure you were perfectly justified in starting a traffic jam that went on to annoy a huge scale of mothers. Those of us damned with manners just cant seem to see it. Could you enlighten us?
I suppose it is no far fetched surprise that today in the paper a list of the rudest cities came out. Ours hit number 10. ( I have been to number 2. I quickly ran home to my humble number 10 home. ) I wonder if people read it and in a surge to rise us higher on the list, came out in full force today-- trying desperately for a recount. Obviously, my sarcasm that drips in cynicism directly derives from this. So perhaps I am doing my part to push us up on the list.. but after encountering the many card carrying members today.. I don't think they are going to ask me into their secret club anytime soon. So, for now, I will keep my eyes focused upwards in search of a bat signal... and my sarcastic comments at the edge of my tongue.

In the Beginning...

When I was first approached with the idea about starting a blog, I was fearful. (ok, really I was in a fit of hysterical laughter first-- THEN came fearful). Beyond fearful really.. I kept thinking-- what would I ever talk about? I kept thinking that all my posts would consist of what dish soap I used today-- the fresh apple one or the lavendar. And so I put it on the far back burner. But I kept thinking about it. I thought about it even more.. and the more I thought, the more I discovered that hidden beneath all the various layers of wife, mommy, daughter, sister, friend..I was a brilliant author yearning to escape. Ok.. so a bit much of overly dramatic there, but I have things to say darn it!! There are things happening in my day to days that are thought provoking, or plain funny and my children have little interest to hear about it, and my friends have little TIME to hear about it.. and thus, a blogger was born.
I vow to do my best to not include a blow by blow of my daily chores. Hang in there with me-- somewhere amongst all the words, I know we can find Zen.