A Tale of Two Irons
I’ve got so many fun stories in my brain that I really need to get written down before they disappear. I graduated in May and have no excuses really other than procrastination! But this little gem that came up last night must be confessed.
So you know when you get married and you have to combine stuff? I mean The Husband and I were 30-ish when we go married. I had a house full of stuff in San Diego and he had half of a house full of stuff in Pensacola that we needed to combine once we met up in Maryland for our first house together. Basically, I tried to be nice and let him keep a few things that were not total crap, but things like camp chairs in the living room had to go. Yes, I confess most of his stuff got relegated to the donate piles or to the garage where I could slowly get rid of it without him noticing. (No, that’s not the big confession!)
So last night, we had just gotten into bed and turned out the lights when the Husband gets a text from one of his co-workers. Now just a refresher, the Husband is no longer active duty. He is a civilian in his day job for the Air Force. But he is also still in the Reserves. For his day job, he has a handful of active duty folks who report to him.
Starting today, the Air Force folks in his office have to go back to wearing their Blues on Mondays. So it’s Sunday night, a little after 10 p.m. and one of the LTs apparently has a “broken iron.” He claims that water is spewing all over his living room as he is trying to iron his uniform for work Monday morning. I will give him some credit that he didn’t text the Husband directly. Rather he texted a Captain in the office first and she, thinking it was hysterical texted it to the Husband. Of course she admonished the LT who lives less than a mile from a Wal*Mart to get to 24-hour store and just buy a new iron so that he was wearing the correct uniform this morning. We all agreed that a broken iron was a pretty weak excuse to get out of wearing Blues, but it led to the realization that when the Husband and I combined households almost ELEVEN years ago, we never agreed on which iron to keep.
I admit I do not iron much. And I definitely do NOT iron uniforms. So since he was ironing his own uniforms, he kept his iron. But since mine is much nicer, I of course kept mine as well. It’s never really come up before that, not only do we have two irons in the house, but neither one of them gets used very often. The Husband wears his flight suit for Reserve duty, I can’t remember the last time he had to wear (and therefore iron) his Blues, yet his crappy iron remained in my closet. That is until this morning, when guess what the LT got as a gift? Yep, we donated an iron to the cause (granted the Husband might be better served keeping it in his office just in case this happens again!).
God bless the Husband some of the LTs that he guides on a daily basis. (I keep threatening to start a new blog called, “Life with an LT” just to share some of the antics these guys come up with. It’s what I imagine parenting adolescent boys would be like!)
Please tell me it’s not under there!
So I woke up to the unmistakable stench of very close skunk spray. I flew out of bed to see where the dog was. She was asleep in the house. I then went to close her dog door and realized the skunk smell was not in the front part of the house. So I went back to my bedroom where it clearly reeked of skunk. I admit, I ignored it figuring the dog was inside and I can’t do much about the smell so I am going to sleep for 20 more minutes.
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I got the girls ready for school, and we all waked to school. When I walked back into the house, it smells like skunk. The back of the house where the bedrooms are clearly smells much stronger of skunk. So I went in the backyard. Over near the crawl space the skunk smell is very strong. Before you ask, no I never resealed it when I saw that it was open a week or so ago. I was afraid something was under there and I didn’t want it to die under my house. (Trust me after having been at my parents’ house about a year ago when they accidently trapped an opossum under their house. I can go the rest of my life with seeing or smelling a rotting rodent again. )
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So who’s got a theory about why the smell is so strong in the back? I am begging, someone please reassure me that there is not a skunk in distress under my house.
Nobody Wins the Blame Game
My heart is still hurting when I think of the horrific events that occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School. We still haven’t talked to the girls about it. I think in one sense I figure ignorance is bliss, but on the other I do worry about what they might hear at school. I heard kindergarteners talking about it yesterday, the Little One wasn’t paying attention to them, so I don’t think she heard anything. The girls haven’t asked about it and we have not talked about it. I don’t know that it will ever come up at home.
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Of course all of my adult friends are talking and sharing their opinions. It’s getting to be similar to election time on Facebook. There is a lot of arguing and nastiness. A lot of people are blaming guns, some people blaming Asperger’s or other mental health issues. And others are blaming President Obama, the zero-gun policy, the parents of the shooter, God not being welcomed in school and the list goes on. But the bottom line is only one thing is to blame in this whole mess – evil. An evil man with evil thoughts who did unspeakably evil things. He is the sole person to blame. And honestly does it matter? It’s done and over with. Yes, we need to do all that we can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. But most importantly right now is to support, love and lift up those who are suffering from the most difficult kind of pain – the loss of a child.
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Twenty precious children, six loving adult staff members and the shooter’s mother that were lost are what matter most now in these days leading up to Christmas.
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Can we please stop the arguing and bickering about gun control, gun laws and arming teachers? And just remember those precious babies, they are the ones that matter right now.
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We do need to try to understand why this happened. We do need to understand how it happened. But taking away all guns is not the answer. Giving all teachers a gun is not the answer. I think the answer lies somewhere inside each and every one of us. I think the answer has more to do with who we are and how we treat each other than it does what labels we put on people. Yes, mental health issues clearly played a role in this tragedy. We need to find more options for people who need mental health care. We need to support families struggling with children suffering from mental health issues. But overall we need to be more loving to one another. We need to be kind. We need to be respectful. We need to value each and every life that God creates. Once we do these things, then we can look to the next level – whether that’s stricter gun laws or more security at schools or something entirely different. Unless we start caring more about one another, nothing about our society will change.
Stuck With ‘Em
The Husband and I have been married almost 10 years. During the first 8 years, we moved five times. I often have joked that if we ever had neighbors or coworkers that we didn’t particularly care for we were fine because we’d always move after a couple years so we weren’t stuck with those people for life.
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{I must clarify that we have been very blessed with wonderful neighbors and friends throughout our journeys! This observation was about nobody in particular!!} Once the Big One started kindergarten and I started getting to know some of the kids and parents, it struck me that we are not moving again, so the friends she was making are quite possibly the same friends she will go to junior high and high school with. You see, we are in San Diego until we die, so the friends the girls are making now are the friends we are most likely stuck with for a while. Some of the Big One’s friends in kindergarten were a bit sketchy. Who says that about 5-year olds? Well, I just did!
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I will admit that now that the Big One is in second grade, I am cool with the friends she hangs out with. Most of them are in my Brownie troop, so I know the girls and I know the parents. They are all good kids and their parents are involved and care, which can make all the difference in the kids’ lives.
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So that brings me to the whole point of this entry. The Little One is now in kindergarten and clearly I need to begin guiding her towards different kids. She cannot be trusted to pick out her own friends. They’ve been in school for a few weeks now and the Little One has declared that this one little girl is her best friend. We’ll call her “Sally.” Mind you it took at least two weeks for the Little One to remember Sally’s name. But now she is convinced that Sally is her new best friend.
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As soon as we got home from school today, the Little One asked me what a “sexy momma” is. A bit taken back, I asked her where she heard that phrase. She said that Sally called the Little One that today. So I fumbled through what that might mean and told the Little One that at 5-years old we are not sexy, nor will we be until we are at least 30 years old.
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Then we went to the parentals to swim because it’s too dang hot for October and we needed to cool off. We were in the pool when the Little One randomly said, “DANGIT!” was the worst, most baddest word ever to say at Sally’s house. Now considering our previous conversation, I was a bit surprised by this revelation. So I told the Little One that everyone has different rules for what words are okay and that dang it was okay to say in our house.
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About 10 minutes later, the Little One exclaimed, “OH! Wait F@#k It!!….. that’s the worst most baddest word to ever say at Sally’s house.” After a mild little freak out and explanation that that word is not okay for her to ever, ever, ever say, I have decided that the Little One is not allowed to pick her friends. I will be volunteering in her classroom very soon so I can steer her in a different direction, because these are the kids we are stuck with!
Pennies From Heaven
Today is a tough day. One of the toughest that I’ve had in a really long time. This morning our family’s Pastor and friend passed away. He has been my Pastor for 28 years. Truthfully most of what I know about God, church and being a Christian I learned from him and my church family. He was like a second father to me. He baptized me when I was 13. He married The Husband and I 10 years ago. He married my sister and her husband. He conducted the memorial services for my grandma and grandpa. He supported me and the girls when The Husband was deployed. He was at the hospital with us last year when my dad had a heart attack. He was there for countless fun memories, and silly moments throughout my life. He is going to be missed terribly.
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I am eternally grateful that he and his family are a part of my life. I am grateful that he didn’t suffer for very long. As horrible and evil cancer can be, he was shown some bit of mercy by being taken so quickly from all of us.
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I picked up the girls from school today and told them that Harvey had passed away this morning. They were sad for a few seconds and then they went back to be 7 and 5. They had been asking to walk up to 7-11 for Sluprees for a couple days now. Today I told them we’d go. So we went. As we were walking home, Sluprees in hand, the Big One stopped to pick up a penny in the parking lot. I told her that my mom and grandma always told me that when I found a penny on the ground it meant someone in Heaven was thinking about me.
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The Big One asked what I meant. So I told her again and added “so maybe someone up in Heaven is thinking about us today.” To which the Big One said, “Someone like Harvey maybe is thinking of us.” Oh how it broke my heart. I said maybe and did my best to not break down in the parking lot.
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I don’t know why cancer still happens. I don’t understand how great people can be taken from this earth so easily, but I do know that my faith tells me that someday we will be reunited. Whether that penny was a gift from above or not, I will take comfort tonight knowing that Harvey and my grandparents and countless others are celebrating his arrival in Heaven tonight.
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Please pray for my church family as we journey into an unknown future. And of course, continue your prayers for Harvey’s family to find peace, strength and comfort in the coming days.
That Second Kid Thing
I honestly feel bad for the Little One sometimes. She started kindergarten this week. There was no real fanfare or big emotional freak-out. She just got ready, we walked up to school and then off she went into her classroom like she had done it a million times. The little turkey didn’t even say goodbye to me or the Husband. She hung up her backpack, walked over to her teacher, got her name tag and went inside her class. There was no tears, no hugs, she didn’t even look back. I guess that’s a good thing. I admit it did sting just a little though!
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I worry sometimes that some things that were a big deal for the Big One are kind of passe now for the Little One. Granted I am the baby, so I am sure the same things happened to me and I turned out just fine.
{Here’s the recap from the Big One’s first day of kindergarten two years ago.}
Times Have Changed
Today after school the girls were arguing (imagine that!). Today it was about whether or not grapes and raisins are essentially the same. The Little One was adamant that grapes and raisins were not the same in any way shape or form.
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The Big One was getting frustrated trying to explain to the Little One that raisins were in fact grapes at one point in time. Finally exasperated she said, “I will prove it to you!”
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I admit I was curious as to how she was going to prove it. Maybe ask me. Maybe read the box of raisins to the Little One. Nope, instead she fired up her Kindle and found it on one of her e-books.
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I was impressed and a little afraid all at the same time.
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Man, It’s Tough
The Little One was helping me make a dessert salad for today’s Labor Day festivities when she exclaimed, “Man, it’s tough being a kid!”
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The child was putting cut-up apple pieces in a bowl and then stirring in a container of Cool Whip and box of vanilla pudding mix. I was perplexed as to what could be so hard.
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So I asked, why it was so tough to be a kid?
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She replied, “Well, when you ask to help in the kitchen all you get to do is stir and that makes your stirring arm get really tired.”
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So I replied, “Well, if your arm is tired, I can take over.”
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“No way! This is my job!” she replied
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In my defense she typically does more than stir, however cutting apples as I was doing was not negotiable, she was not helping with that task. So yes, she was relegated to stirring and apparently I am a slave driver!
Everything Takes Longer
I’m just going to whine a little about how everything seems to take longer these days, otherwise known as, “YES! I love summer break for the kids!”
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So y’all know I am enrolled in an online Master’s degree program through West Virginia University. I am taking just one class this summer. For those of you not familiar with the online course program, each class follows pretty much the same format. The semester is nine weeks long. Each week we have reading assignments and then we have to answer a discussion question and post our response by Wednesday evening. Then by Friday we have to respond to at least four of our classmates’ discussion postings. By Saturday evening we have to have read at least 90% of all the responses. And finally on Monday evenings we have to turn in our written assignments which vary in length and difficulty.
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So today is Friday, which means I am trying to get my four responses to classmates done. When the girls were in school, I typically spent Thursday mornings getting this part of my homework done. But now that it’s summer that is not happening, we spent yesterday meeting Hello Kitty and watching a very cool dog Frisbee demonstration. Both very cool events, but neither of which got my homework done.
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I told the girls this morning, my first objective is homework. Now it’s almost noon. In the four hours since I started working on my homework, I have gotten three of my four responses done, but have also cleaned up dog poop, fed the dog, completed two loads of laundry, cleaned up the kitchen, dug-out some Halloween costumes (the Big One needed to be Super Girl today!) and cared for injuries. Today’s injuries began when the Little One ate it on the fake grass. We love the fake grass for many reasons, but it is not very forgiving when one is running on it and wipes out. So as I was cleaning up the Little One’s bloody elbow and knee, I was suddenly stopped by the Big One’s blood-curdling creams! She slammed her finger in her bed’s drawers. OY! So a lovely blood blister on her finger and Band-Aids on the Little One’s knee and elbow, this oh-so-entertaining blog post and I am going to try once again to finish my homework.
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If nothing else, grad school is definitely helping with my multi-tasking skills.
And Here is One Reason…
Why my poor blog is so neglected. No, it’s not because my little angels have not done anything exciting recently. Trust me; there is always some excitement around these parts. Rather the issue is trying to survive and clean up all the antics.
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Today I was doing so well. I got my homework done and submitted for the week. I updated the church’s website and was working on Batter Chatter, a newsletter that I do for the California Cake Club. The girls wanted a snack, so I told them to help themselves to the snack shelf (one shelf in the pantry devoted to crap they can eat).
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They both chose Nutella snack pack things. These are a rare treat as they are expensive and they are chocolate for goodness sake. They contain little “bread sticks” in one side and a glob of Nutella for dipping on the other side.
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Everything was fine and good until I hear the Big One, shriek, “EWWWWWWWW, You are DISGUSTING!” to which the Little One replied with giggles. I was honestly afraid to look because I obviously know the Little One all too well.
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Here is what I saw:
So I told her to go into the bathroom and wash her face and hands…. With soap AND water. Yes, these specifics are in fact necessary. Fearing a huge water mess, I asked the Big One to please get the Little One a washcloth to help in the cleanup.
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Something told me, I need to go check on the situation. There in the bathroom was the Little One happily scrubbing her face and hands with my white Turbie Twist thing that I use to dry my hair. Knowing that my exasperated sigh was not good the poor Big One immediately started apologizing, although I am not sure she truly understood my sigh. She just knew I was on the edge. Poor kid was just trying to help. The turbie twist was probably in the washcloth stack and it is washable so it’s not a big deal, it’s just another one of “those things” that bring eternal joy to my daily tasks. I swapped out the Turbie Twist for an actual washcloth and all is right in my world. Well except for the Little One’s soaking wet clothes, the puddle of water on the bathroom floor, and the sticky faucet. *sigh*.
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Did I mention the Little One has only been home about 15 minutes? Today was a “Grandma and Grandpa Day” so I could attempt to get some homework done.
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