Horrible title I know, but it's true. I can spot victims of potential crimes from a mile away:
The woman who leaves, not only her purse in the cart as she walks away, but her purse is wide open with her wallet ready to be grabbed.
The people who leave their car running, while they "run" into the store real quick (Note to those that do that with children....you should be arrested for endangerment, no questions. Go ahead and ask me what happened to the child that got left in a car at a gas station in St. Louis, go ahead, I still have nightmares.)
For some reason, I see these situations and turn them into possibilities for criminal actions. I've tried helping people by suggesting they at least close their purse or lock their doors, but then I get looks as though I'm the criminal. Whatever, to each their own stupidity, I guess.
I have discovered in my own home that I am a criminal. It was horrible at first, my moral angel sitting on my shoulder was telling me that it was wrong and I was going to get caught. The OCD devil thing on my other shoulder was listing the positives in the situation in alphabetical order. Sometimes my guilt, brought on by my moral angel, was just too much and I would create places for me to store these items. That was a year ago.
Now that I have almost finished through a year of first grade and preschool projects, my OCD devil has won outright. Now the two of us actually get a thrill from a successful plot.
What am I talking about? Those with kids, are familiar with the war we fight everyday, unless you are a pack rat or hoarder. This fight is against unnecessary things: broken crayons, broken toys, puzzles with pieces missing, random artwork (no, not every little piece of scrap paper they doodle on is special, sorry) or clothes they've grown out of. No, I don't throw it all away, I do give the clothes and usable toys to charities. On occasion, my kids will actually pick out a few things to donate....once a year, just before Christmas.
With toys and clothes I have a three step process. First they just sit on a shelf in their closets for a month or two. If they don't take them out, and either wear them or play with the toy in question, in then goes into the garage. If it makes it successfully into the garage and it's whereabouts aren't questioned, off it goes to charity. Clothes and toys are easy, I've got those down to a science.
Crayons, broken toys and classwork are an entirely different story. These involve a slight of hand that would make any pick pocket jealous. If you fail at this and the child sees you, you are in for crying and/or screaming, plus days of guilt.
We honestly have about 500 crayons, about 100 of them are broken into pieces. Yes, there are those that are crafty, that turn them into disks or whatever in their ovens. I honestly think these people just don't have the will power or the ability to throw the crayons away, and have found another outlet. Suck it up people!
As far as artwork and classwork, if my daughter writes a story or takes her time and draws a picture, I do save those. Same with my son, as far as pictures goes, he's not into writing just yet. However, if it is just regular, daily classwork, then yes, it gets tossed. When my son literally scribbles on paper and hands it to me, so he can scribble on the next paper, yes, those too get tossed.
The problem I have is, I think the pack rate gene skips a generation, because like my mother, my kids will go through the trash can to make sure I haven't thrown anything away.
I accidentally threw away one check when I was younger and my mom went nuts. I'm pretty sure when I visit, she still checks the trash, just in case. Fortunately my kids aren't at that level, but if they throw something away and happen to look down, I usually get the "why did you throw away this?" Ugh!
For those of you that need help with this slight of hand ability, the key is quantity. I will pile their non-important stuff in an area close to the trash can, this makes it seem as though I'm keeping every little thing. Then you wait until the high junk mail day comes, you know what I mean, that one day you get all sorts of random ads in the mail. Anyway, you go through it and make sure you pile those things on top of the non-important pile. Then you slide all that into the waste basket. The junk mail on top disguises what is underneath, and there is usually so much that the quantity isn't questioned. Either that, or you throw it away as you take the trash out to the bin, but you better be good at slight of hand, otherwise you are in for it.
Crayons and toys are trickier, because they usually make a thud in the trash can, no matter how full the stupid thing is. That small noise will bring the kids running as if there is a fire, be cautious. Piles by the non-important stuff seems to work too. The key here is quantity also, however the fewer the better in this case.
If you manage to think about these things when the kids are at school, then you have a huge safety net and your success rate should be really good. However, I can never remember until they get home, so I have to be sneaky.
In another post I can share how to eat snacks without your kids finding out. If you have a walk-in pantry, then you are golden. Otherwise, I will share how to get into the chocolate chips without crinkling the bag.
Good luck!
Friday, May 31, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Joys of Motherhood
Do you ever have those feelings of complete panic? You are in a place, it doesn't matter if you are surrounded by people, or completely alone, you have this horrible anxiety creep in.
Imagine this if you will...
You are walking. You are not in a hurry, you may have a destination in mind, or a goal. Maybe you are on your way to the kitchen, or picking up various socks placed around the house. Perhaps your mind is blissfully blank for a small moment that day, or like normal, it is blazing with all the things you have NOT accomplished today, but were due yesterday. Either way, what's on your mind is brought to a screeching halt by one thing.
This one thing is about the only thing that can bring ANY mother to a screeching halt. At this point it is only vaguely present, just barely touching on the outskirts of having to deal with the situation. You know it's coming, it's only a question on how much time you have left. Now the process of deciding how to react to a situation, that hasn't even occurred yet, is rapidly screaming through your head.
You happen to be in the middle of a room, do you walk forward and sit down, in order to better contimplate the oncoming situation, or do you stand there, grit your teeth and endure it with muscle tension unknown to women without children?
You only have seconds to decide....
It doesn't really matter though. Whatever option you decide, will evidently lead to embarrassment and the possibility of a small wardrobe change.
For those of you who aren't aware of what I'm referring to, it is truly the arch enemy of the mom. The nemesis. The kryptonite. Alright you get it.
It is the sneeze.
Yes, sneezing can bring a mother, quite literally, to her knees. This isn't due to pain, or even embarrassment for those people with weird sneezes. This is due to the possibility that you will wet yourself.
Yes, you read correctly.
This is something all childbirth books leave out, conveniently. Yes, childbirth and having a child is one of the most...memorable, experiences you will everendure go through. Those stupid books make it seem like those 7 months of morning sickness are enjoyable. The heart burn, where you can actually feel and taste the acid creeping up your esophagus, is just a small stomach issue. They don't even mention the agonizing pain of when the kid's head finally "drops into the birthing canal". Then, boom, you have a baby, so the book ends.
There are TONS of books on raising kids and how to deal with illnesses, feedings and what not. There are no books on what the hell happens to your body AFTER the baby comes out. (Most of these are books written by comedians or TV personalities, but no, you know, scientific ones.)
I understand the whole watermelon/lemon thing. I understand that some bones have shifted into their NEW and not-so-IMPROVED positions. I want to know why I can no longer sneeze without fearing I will wet myself! I can even argue that I had two cesareans, so mine isn't as stretched out or whatever happens!
Don't even come at me with those kegel exercises, either! Even after a dramatic commitment, that I have shown no other exercise, I still have to sit down to sneeze! It also seems that my pre-baby bladder has yet to return! Then again, maybe the pre-baby bladder is a way to deal with the sneezing. If you think about it, you are always taking bathroom breaks. So I guess it's always a good thing when you are already in the optimum position for sneezing.
It wasn't until AFTER I became a mother that people offered up all this advice on how best to deal with sneezing, coughing, heavy bouts of laughter, you get the idea. I will also add that now I understand why women who have had children, now look at trampolines as a new torture device. This includes those small trampolines for aerobic exercise, yeah right!
I started thinking that maybe I should write a book on what happens to your body AFTER the bundle of joy appears. The more I thought about it though, my experiences may lead to a direct decrease in babies being born. Now that I am a mother (of two) I would go through it again in a heartbeat to get the kids I have now. However, if I would have read about my experience BEFORE I thought about having a child....it may have taken a bit more convincing!
Imagine this if you will...
You are walking. You are not in a hurry, you may have a destination in mind, or a goal. Maybe you are on your way to the kitchen, or picking up various socks placed around the house. Perhaps your mind is blissfully blank for a small moment that day, or like normal, it is blazing with all the things you have NOT accomplished today, but were due yesterday. Either way, what's on your mind is brought to a screeching halt by one thing.
This one thing is about the only thing that can bring ANY mother to a screeching halt. At this point it is only vaguely present, just barely touching on the outskirts of having to deal with the situation. You know it's coming, it's only a question on how much time you have left. Now the process of deciding how to react to a situation, that hasn't even occurred yet, is rapidly screaming through your head.
You happen to be in the middle of a room, do you walk forward and sit down, in order to better contimplate the oncoming situation, or do you stand there, grit your teeth and endure it with muscle tension unknown to women without children?
You only have seconds to decide....
It doesn't really matter though. Whatever option you decide, will evidently lead to embarrassment and the possibility of a small wardrobe change.
For those of you who aren't aware of what I'm referring to, it is truly the arch enemy of the mom. The nemesis. The kryptonite. Alright you get it.
It is the sneeze.
Yes, sneezing can bring a mother, quite literally, to her knees. This isn't due to pain, or even embarrassment for those people with weird sneezes. This is due to the possibility that you will wet yourself.
Yes, you read correctly.
This is something all childbirth books leave out, conveniently. Yes, childbirth and having a child is one of the most...memorable, experiences you will ever
There are TONS of books on raising kids and how to deal with illnesses, feedings and what not. There are no books on what the hell happens to your body AFTER the baby comes out. (Most of these are books written by comedians or TV personalities, but no, you know, scientific ones.)
I understand the whole watermelon/lemon thing. I understand that some bones have shifted into their NEW and not-so-IMPROVED positions. I want to know why I can no longer sneeze without fearing I will wet myself! I can even argue that I had two cesareans, so mine isn't as stretched out or whatever happens!
Don't even come at me with those kegel exercises, either! Even after a dramatic commitment, that I have shown no other exercise, I still have to sit down to sneeze! It also seems that my pre-baby bladder has yet to return! Then again, maybe the pre-baby bladder is a way to deal with the sneezing. If you think about it, you are always taking bathroom breaks. So I guess it's always a good thing when you are already in the optimum position for sneezing.
It wasn't until AFTER I became a mother that people offered up all this advice on how best to deal with sneezing, coughing, heavy bouts of laughter, you get the idea. I will also add that now I understand why women who have had children, now look at trampolines as a new torture device. This includes those small trampolines for aerobic exercise, yeah right!
I started thinking that maybe I should write a book on what happens to your body AFTER the bundle of joy appears. The more I thought about it though, my experiences may lead to a direct decrease in babies being born. Now that I am a mother (of two) I would go through it again in a heartbeat to get the kids I have now. However, if I would have read about my experience BEFORE I thought about having a child....it may have taken a bit more convincing!
My Hero
This morning on the radio, it was announced that the station was having a contest for military kids. It's a collaboration between National University and Star 94.1 to nominate military kids as unsung heroes. I am by far, not a contest person. I think I understand odds and winning too much to have any fun. It doesn't end with contests either. Once someone gave me $20 to play the slots in a casino. I used $2, sensed that I wasn't going to get any type of return on this and kept the $18, to give back to my friend. (They weren't amused.)
For some reason this contest actually got my attention. As I sat in the car with my daughter before school, I realized why this contest intrigued me. My daughter, is my hero. I sat there and recalled her 7 years of life, while she played Sudoku, with a concentration I've never seen. As a child, she has been through more changes than me AND her father had been through in our childhood, combined!
As of right now, my parents have lived in three different cities. Military Dad lived in a VERY small town in North Dakota (well, it was small before the oil boom), until he went to boot camp. Princess has lived in 6 different cities already!
Through all these changes and Military Dad's various Navy-related travel destinations, she is still this strong, calm individual. It absolutely amazes me how resilient she is.
Yes, I actually entered a contest! Since I wasn't able to write a book about Princess, I had to greatly sum up my feelings on her. (I changed the names for my blog)
My daughter has been this military family's hero ever since she was born. I personally believe she tried her hardest to delay her birth until her Dad could get home from his deployment. She missed his return home by 1 week, already 2 weeks past her due date. Technically, it was closer to 10, so I rounded up for the sake of story-telling.
During the first 3 years of her life, her daddy was able to be home for maybe 7 months (not all at once, either), due to deployments and various underways.
After a wonderful shore tour and the addition of a younger brother, we are heading back to the "normalcy" of sea duty. During the past 7 months, while Daddy has been away, she has been our rock.
Amazingly, she remembers a little bit about him being gone when she was younger. When asked about her father, she always says, "He's in the Navy, so he's protecting our country. I miss him bunches, but he'll be home soon!" She somehow finds ways to help out a few kids in her class that have a parent deployed too!
Princess' biggest project right now is helping her younger brother cope with Daddy being gone for the first time in his life. Poor Little Dude is the only boy right now in a family of girls, even our pets are all girls. Princess does her best to pull him through this difficult time, while maintaining the fierce rivalry of siblings.
Princess is our source of calm. She is our hug distribution center. She is also our dose of sanity in the crazy that is being part of a military family.
Princess is proof that sometimes the best things in life come in small, child-sized packages. She is definitely THIS military family's hero.
It does not matter whether we win the contest at all. I already have the best prize possible!
For some reason this contest actually got my attention. As I sat in the car with my daughter before school, I realized why this contest intrigued me. My daughter, is my hero. I sat there and recalled her 7 years of life, while she played Sudoku, with a concentration I've never seen. As a child, she has been through more changes than me AND her father had been through in our childhood, combined!
As of right now, my parents have lived in three different cities. Military Dad lived in a VERY small town in North Dakota (well, it was small before the oil boom), until he went to boot camp. Princess has lived in 6 different cities already!
Through all these changes and Military Dad's various Navy-related travel destinations, she is still this strong, calm individual. It absolutely amazes me how resilient she is.
Yes, I actually entered a contest! Since I wasn't able to write a book about Princess, I had to greatly sum up my feelings on her. (I changed the names for my blog)
My daughter has been this military family's hero ever since she was born. I personally believe she tried her hardest to delay her birth until her Dad could get home from his deployment. She missed his return home by 1 week, already 2 weeks past her due date. Technically, it was closer to 10, so I rounded up for the sake of story-telling.
During the first 3 years of her life, her daddy was able to be home for maybe 7 months (not all at once, either), due to deployments and various underways.
After a wonderful shore tour and the addition of a younger brother, we are heading back to the "normalcy" of sea duty. During the past 7 months, while Daddy has been away, she has been our rock.
Amazingly, she remembers a little bit about him being gone when she was younger. When asked about her father, she always says, "He's in the Navy, so he's protecting our country. I miss him bunches, but he'll be home soon!" She somehow finds ways to help out a few kids in her class that have a parent deployed too!
Princess' biggest project right now is helping her younger brother cope with Daddy being gone for the first time in his life. Poor Little Dude is the only boy right now in a family of girls, even our pets are all girls. Princess does her best to pull him through this difficult time, while maintaining the fierce rivalry of siblings.
Princess is our source of calm. She is our hug distribution center. She is also our dose of sanity in the crazy that is being part of a military family.
Princess is proof that sometimes the best things in life come in small, child-sized packages. She is definitely THIS military family's hero.
It does not matter whether we win the contest at all. I already have the best prize possible!
Monday, May 27, 2013
Jokes, it's all about the gas.
I figure with all the thirty minute sessions of torture Disney programs I endure with my children, I am entitled to watch shows I enjoy, while my children suffer through them. I think they still come out ahead, because I watch programs that are appropriate for the kids to watch. Appropriate might be a strong word, because it implies that kids should watch the program, however most programs today have language or "adult situations" that kids probably shouldn't be exposed to at a young age. Then again, I saw a group of people take a 4-6 year old to that Rob Zombie horror flick, so by their parenting standards, I am June freaking Cleaver.
I watch programs on the Cooking or Food channel, (or one of the other five networks they have now) plus shows like Modern Family, Big Bang Theory and well, that's about it. I found Animaniacs on the Hub being run at 10 at night, so the DVR snags those up. I pretend that the show is for the kids, but I think I get more enjoyment out of the humor than the kids. Granted when fart or burp jokes are part of the skits, my kids will laugh uncontrollably, and the fart or burp isn't even the truly funny part.
This baffles me. Why is it that burps or farts (mostly farts) are hilarious to kids and to be honest, most adults? I remember when I was younger and that song about who farted, left me and my mother in tears from laughter. Why?
In my opinion it's because everyone does it, but for some reason when you get caught, it's embarrassing. Mostly because when it accidentally happens, you are in a place or situation that farting would not be appropriate, even frowned upon (if people weren't currently laughing at you). Even if you manage not to get caught with the sound, your body seems to know ahead of time that it needs smell so you don't get away with this natural occurrence.
So you sit there, in the few seconds after you got away with the quiet, hoping beyond all hope that it doesn't smell. Then someone downwind wrinkles their nose, and then you know. Your body then in an act of defiance makes your face or ears turn red and you start to sweat, because it's only seconds before someone points the finger at you, for that noxious gas now filling the board/classroom.
It's funny because you have been there, we have all endured this at one time or another, especially if Taco Bell is in your diet. It's funny, just because this one time...it wasn't you. You get to share in someone else's misery.
After sitting down with Little Dude and subjecting him to Good Eats with Alton Brown, all it took was one episode to make him a fan. If you have seen the episode concerning yeast, then you are aware of his yeast sock puppets. These sock puppets eat sugar then proceed to burp all over the place. This display shows the science in why/how bread rises.
Little Dude and I were watching an episode about muffins, when he brought up making English muffins which use yeast. Alton recalls his yeast episode with one sock puppet and gives him some sugar. Knowing that Little Dude hadn't seen the bread episode I knew this would make him laugh. The yeast sock puppet eats the sugar and then does the signature burp, while Alton is explaining the science behind the gas. This is when the episode takes a turn I didn't see coming.
The sock puppet, after burping, twists his little sock body, tilts to the side and farts. (It makes you wonder if they rehearsed with the sock puppet in order to best represent a tubular body lifting its butt cheek to fart.) I thought Little Dude was going to pass out, from laughing. He was literally laughing so hard his face would get a little blue before taking that all important breath in. I was of no use, because I too was laughing. The fact that the sock body lifted it's theoretical butt cheek was hilarious.
Once again, we've all done it, (yes, everyone has even lifted a cheek at one time or another) so there isn't any real reason to be ashamed. However, until we can get everyone else to stop laughing, and your body to stop acting in complete defiance of keeping gas expulsion a secret, it will always be embarrassing.
Even with all my thoughts about why it's funny, there are sometimes when the question of "who cares?" comes to mind. I now have an episode that I can recall at a moment's notice, in order to make me and my kids laugh. There are some days when you just need to laugh, because it truly is the best medicine. Even if that medicine is laughing at a sock puppet farting.
I watch programs on the Cooking or Food channel, (or one of the other five networks they have now) plus shows like Modern Family, Big Bang Theory and well, that's about it. I found Animaniacs on the Hub being run at 10 at night, so the DVR snags those up. I pretend that the show is for the kids, but I think I get more enjoyment out of the humor than the kids. Granted when fart or burp jokes are part of the skits, my kids will laugh uncontrollably, and the fart or burp isn't even the truly funny part.
This baffles me. Why is it that burps or farts (mostly farts) are hilarious to kids and to be honest, most adults? I remember when I was younger and that song about who farted, left me and my mother in tears from laughter. Why?
In my opinion it's because everyone does it, but for some reason when you get caught, it's embarrassing. Mostly because when it accidentally happens, you are in a place or situation that farting would not be appropriate, even frowned upon (if people weren't currently laughing at you). Even if you manage not to get caught with the sound, your body seems to know ahead of time that it needs smell so you don't get away with this natural occurrence.
So you sit there, in the few seconds after you got away with the quiet, hoping beyond all hope that it doesn't smell. Then someone downwind wrinkles their nose, and then you know. Your body then in an act of defiance makes your face or ears turn red and you start to sweat, because it's only seconds before someone points the finger at you, for that noxious gas now filling the board/classroom.
It's funny because you have been there, we have all endured this at one time or another, especially if Taco Bell is in your diet. It's funny, just because this one time...it wasn't you. You get to share in someone else's misery.
After sitting down with Little Dude and subjecting him to Good Eats with Alton Brown, all it took was one episode to make him a fan. If you have seen the episode concerning yeast, then you are aware of his yeast sock puppets. These sock puppets eat sugar then proceed to burp all over the place. This display shows the science in why/how bread rises.
Little Dude and I were watching an episode about muffins, when he brought up making English muffins which use yeast. Alton recalls his yeast episode with one sock puppet and gives him some sugar. Knowing that Little Dude hadn't seen the bread episode I knew this would make him laugh. The yeast sock puppet eats the sugar and then does the signature burp, while Alton is explaining the science behind the gas. This is when the episode takes a turn I didn't see coming.
The sock puppet, after burping, twists his little sock body, tilts to the side and farts. (It makes you wonder if they rehearsed with the sock puppet in order to best represent a tubular body lifting its butt cheek to fart.) I thought Little Dude was going to pass out, from laughing. He was literally laughing so hard his face would get a little blue before taking that all important breath in. I was of no use, because I too was laughing. The fact that the sock body lifted it's theoretical butt cheek was hilarious.
Once again, we've all done it, (yes, everyone has even lifted a cheek at one time or another) so there isn't any real reason to be ashamed. However, until we can get everyone else to stop laughing, and your body to stop acting in complete defiance of keeping gas expulsion a secret, it will always be embarrassing.
Even with all my thoughts about why it's funny, there are sometimes when the question of "who cares?" comes to mind. I now have an episode that I can recall at a moment's notice, in order to make me and my kids laugh. There are some days when you just need to laugh, because it truly is the best medicine. Even if that medicine is laughing at a sock puppet farting.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Deep Thought For 5/19/13
We should start charging by the calorie in fast food restaurants.
You really want to upsize that fry (300 extra calories)? Lovely, that'll be $3.00.
It may shut down Rhode Island due to their love of Dunkin Donuts, but it may improve nutrition awareness in the fattest countries in the world.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Duct tape isn't for EVERYTHING
I am absolutely amazed at the many ways people use duct tape. Wallets, pen flowers, various crafts, entire prom dresses, oh and taping things together, of course. Interestingly enough, I heard that you aren't actually supposed to use it on duct work, it's flammable or something.
Every time I see a new craft idea or something mentioning duct tape I recall something that happened many years ago. I think I have finally gotten to the point where I can laugh at myself, but I still cringe every single time I recall this event.
I just started dating my now husband, Military Dad, and we were invited to a wedding. My best friend from college was getting married and she wanted me to be a bridesmaid. Fortunately she has a level head and did not turn into those horror story bridezilla creatures. She even picked a wonderful bridesmaid dress that complimented everyone's color and size! Too good to be true, you are saying, but no really, she was an awesome bride!
After getting the dress altered and home, we discovered there was actually something wrong with the dress. How to wear a bra became a serious issue. Emails and phone calls were exchanged, discussing what might work and what didn't work. We all tried different types of bras, because of what we had lying around.
It was a halter-style dress, but not exactly. The halter top was just weird enough, you couldn't get away with wearing a halter-style bra. The open back of the dress was also curved weird so you couldn't wear a backless bra. Only one of the bridesmaids wasn't full figured, so she had no worries and went sans bra. So we did what normal people do...we put it off until the day before the wedding.
The day before had us trying those weird glue on cups, which didn't work. We even tried going sans bra, however once you are used to having the girls out on display, it gets kind of depressing to see them flatten and basically disappear. So that was not an option.
An idea was tossed into the mix about using duct tape. Evidently they had seen it on a show where models use all sorts of weird stuff to do their job. (Evidently, if you have puffy eyes from crying or lack of sleep, hemorrhoid cream will lessen the swelling. They didn't mention this, but I felt that I should point out, that I would make sure that was an unopened, virgin tube of butt cream, before I put it anywhere near my face!)
We went back and forth on this idea for awhile. Day of the wedding and we still haven't gotten anywhere in the boulder-holder department. While we were getting our hair beautified and what not, a bridesmaid walks in with duct tape and says, "Well, ladies?"
I should interrupt and mention, we were completely, horribly sober at this point.
Into the bathroom the three of us went. One girl cut strips of duct tape. One girl held her boobs into the optimum lift and separation position. The other poor girl slapped those strips of tape on. Then we switched.
Three out of four bridesmaids had the perkiest boobs ever! It was awesome, I was thinking of doing this daily. Hell, the cost of a roll of duct tape and the many applications I could get, per roll, is way cheaper than one decent bra!
Now we are all beautified and ready to get our bride hitched. We all walk out of the air conditioning and into the 95 degree, humid weather of a Missouri summer day, at 1:00 in the afternoon.
The wedding coordinator informed us that the wedding was now moved indoors due to the elderly people attending. Old people having heat stroke was not on our agenda. 30 minutes later we are dying of heat and humidity, because of course the wedding party has to wait outside the damn chapel place. This is the moment when the sweat dripping from our bodies makes us realize that duct tape, is NOT for everything.
Your body has one function in the heat; cool itself off. It sweats. Sweat evaporates and cools the body, except in the Midwest where the humidity prevents evaporation. It just becomes a sticky substance that won't go away.
The sweat is loosening the duct tape, securing our perkiness. This isn't a huge deal because that just means it will slip off, right?! No, your body also has tiny, little hairs all over. Those hairs may have mattered ions ago, but right now, they are the only thing holding that duct tape to our bodies. Gravity is trying to defy our perkiness, and with the sweat, it's winning. The duct tape is slowly, painfully starting to stretch down.
Our poor bride has no idea, that three of her four bridesmaids are idiots. (Well, at least not for this specific reason. She is friends with us after all.) She has no idea that we are all silently crying because the pain is rapidly increasing, to agonizing.
Wonderfully, it is a brief ceremony. We are all gathered for photos and then we are off to the reception, while the bride and groom take more photos. Like all smart bridesmaids, we head to the bar.
After a few drinks and the rest of the wedding formalities out of the way, I go to the restroom. I can no longer bare the pain. It feels as though my skin is being ripped from my chest. I gather my courage and barricade myself into a stall and attempt to rip it off.
OH MY GOD!
I managed to loosen a tiny corner. I have now come to terms that the duct tape is part of me until it falls off on its own. I make my way back to the table. The flat chested bridesmaid is out dancing and has no worries. One bridesmaid has left and gone to her room, and the remaining one is at the table with the same look I had on my face...BEFORE, I went to the bathroom.
Time passes and more drinks are consumed. Military Dad being the gentleman he is, offers to rip the duct tape off for me. A sound between a laugh and sobbing comes out. Before I know it, the remaining bridesmaid is dragging me to the bathroom.
While barricaded in a stall, she and I work out a deal to remove the duct tape. I will rip hers off, she will rip mine off. I was in so much pain, I volunteered to go first. Since I have no pain tolerance, this should tell you how much pain I was, in order to volunteer for more pain.
She, would on the count of 3, rip it off in one motion.
One....
Two....
RIP!
WTF happened to Three? Then a string of obscenities flew out of my mouth.
Her turn...on the count of 3...
One....
RIP!
I take vengeance very seriously. I got my "three" back!
I don't remember much after that. I remember having to get something to stop the blood flowing from where it actually ripped skin. I was horrified that through our stupidity (repeated) we had ruined our friend's wedding.
Somehow, we managed to keep this from her and 95% of the people at the wedding. Aside from the innocent victims in the restroom and the people sitting at our table, no one had a clue. She did find out later, as we each got a phone call...it was kind of hard to understand her opinion on the matter, because she was laughing so hard.
I also found out later, that the show on models did not mention that most of them wax or shave their whole freaking body, before they apply the duct tape. I never watched that show again. I still can't look at a roll of duct tape without pain coursing through my chest!
While it seems there a million uses for duct tape, here are two it is not approved for:
duct work
bras, any type imaginable!
Every time I see a new craft idea or something mentioning duct tape I recall something that happened many years ago. I think I have finally gotten to the point where I can laugh at myself, but I still cringe every single time I recall this event.
I just started dating my now husband, Military Dad, and we were invited to a wedding. My best friend from college was getting married and she wanted me to be a bridesmaid. Fortunately she has a level head and did not turn into those horror story bridezilla creatures. She even picked a wonderful bridesmaid dress that complimented everyone's color and size! Too good to be true, you are saying, but no really, she was an awesome bride!
After getting the dress altered and home, we discovered there was actually something wrong with the dress. How to wear a bra became a serious issue. Emails and phone calls were exchanged, discussing what might work and what didn't work. We all tried different types of bras, because of what we had lying around.
It was a halter-style dress, but not exactly. The halter top was just weird enough, you couldn't get away with wearing a halter-style bra. The open back of the dress was also curved weird so you couldn't wear a backless bra. Only one of the bridesmaids wasn't full figured, so she had no worries and went sans bra. So we did what normal people do...we put it off until the day before the wedding.
The day before had us trying those weird glue on cups, which didn't work. We even tried going sans bra, however once you are used to having the girls out on display, it gets kind of depressing to see them flatten and basically disappear. So that was not an option.
An idea was tossed into the mix about using duct tape. Evidently they had seen it on a show where models use all sorts of weird stuff to do their job. (Evidently, if you have puffy eyes from crying or lack of sleep, hemorrhoid cream will lessen the swelling. They didn't mention this, but I felt that I should point out, that I would make sure that was an unopened, virgin tube of butt cream, before I put it anywhere near my face!)
We went back and forth on this idea for awhile. Day of the wedding and we still haven't gotten anywhere in the boulder-holder department. While we were getting our hair beautified and what not, a bridesmaid walks in with duct tape and says, "Well, ladies?"
I should interrupt and mention, we were completely, horribly sober at this point.
Into the bathroom the three of us went. One girl cut strips of duct tape. One girl held her boobs into the optimum lift and separation position. The other poor girl slapped those strips of tape on. Then we switched.
Three out of four bridesmaids had the perkiest boobs ever! It was awesome, I was thinking of doing this daily. Hell, the cost of a roll of duct tape and the many applications I could get, per roll, is way cheaper than one decent bra!
Now we are all beautified and ready to get our bride hitched. We all walk out of the air conditioning and into the 95 degree, humid weather of a Missouri summer day, at 1:00 in the afternoon.
The wedding coordinator informed us that the wedding was now moved indoors due to the elderly people attending. Old people having heat stroke was not on our agenda. 30 minutes later we are dying of heat and humidity, because of course the wedding party has to wait outside the damn chapel place. This is the moment when the sweat dripping from our bodies makes us realize that duct tape, is NOT for everything.
Your body has one function in the heat; cool itself off. It sweats. Sweat evaporates and cools the body, except in the Midwest where the humidity prevents evaporation. It just becomes a sticky substance that won't go away.
The sweat is loosening the duct tape, securing our perkiness. This isn't a huge deal because that just means it will slip off, right?! No, your body also has tiny, little hairs all over. Those hairs may have mattered ions ago, but right now, they are the only thing holding that duct tape to our bodies. Gravity is trying to defy our perkiness, and with the sweat, it's winning. The duct tape is slowly, painfully starting to stretch down.
Our poor bride has no idea, that three of her four bridesmaids are idiots. (Well, at least not for this specific reason. She is friends with us after all.) She has no idea that we are all silently crying because the pain is rapidly increasing, to agonizing.
Wonderfully, it is a brief ceremony. We are all gathered for photos and then we are off to the reception, while the bride and groom take more photos. Like all smart bridesmaids, we head to the bar.
After a few drinks and the rest of the wedding formalities out of the way, I go to the restroom. I can no longer bare the pain. It feels as though my skin is being ripped from my chest. I gather my courage and barricade myself into a stall and attempt to rip it off.
OH MY GOD!
I managed to loosen a tiny corner. I have now come to terms that the duct tape is part of me until it falls off on its own. I make my way back to the table. The flat chested bridesmaid is out dancing and has no worries. One bridesmaid has left and gone to her room, and the remaining one is at the table with the same look I had on my face...BEFORE, I went to the bathroom.
Time passes and more drinks are consumed. Military Dad being the gentleman he is, offers to rip the duct tape off for me. A sound between a laugh and sobbing comes out. Before I know it, the remaining bridesmaid is dragging me to the bathroom.
While barricaded in a stall, she and I work out a deal to remove the duct tape. I will rip hers off, she will rip mine off. I was in so much pain, I volunteered to go first. Since I have no pain tolerance, this should tell you how much pain I was, in order to volunteer for more pain.
She, would on the count of 3, rip it off in one motion.
One....
Two....
RIP!
WTF happened to Three? Then a string of obscenities flew out of my mouth.
Her turn...on the count of 3...
One....
RIP!
I take vengeance very seriously. I got my "three" back!
I don't remember much after that. I remember having to get something to stop the blood flowing from where it actually ripped skin. I was horrified that through our stupidity (repeated) we had ruined our friend's wedding.
Somehow, we managed to keep this from her and 95% of the people at the wedding. Aside from the innocent victims in the restroom and the people sitting at our table, no one had a clue. She did find out later, as we each got a phone call...it was kind of hard to understand her opinion on the matter, because she was laughing so hard.
I also found out later, that the show on models did not mention that most of them wax or shave their whole freaking body, before they apply the duct tape. I never watched that show again. I still can't look at a roll of duct tape without pain coursing through my chest!
While it seems there a million uses for duct tape, here are two it is not approved for:
duct work
bras, any type imaginable!
Friday, May 10, 2013
Military Spouse Day
It's not everyday the President of the US creates a holiday for you. Not me specifically, but something I am labelled. I am actually very proud of the efforts that this presidential administration (mainly Michelle Obama and Dr. Jill Biden) are taking to support our military. I won't even get started on Veteran's benefits or hospitals, that is probably several rantings worth. However, I am very glad that someone is taking an interest in what happens when the men and women come home and/or get out of the military.
In the last few years, Michelle Obama and Dr. Jill Biden have actually brought an unknown entity, forward into the public eye: the military spouse. In the last 5 years, I have seen more endorsement and appreciation for the military spouse (and the military, itself) than in the last 12 years I have been involved with the military.
All this change aside, I do appreciate that military spouses are being recognized as hard working individuals who don't ask for much in return, other than our spouses home safe. From experience, I have had several people thank me for my service. It's awkward, I don't feel like people should thank me for my service, because I am not in the military, I am not making this huge sacrifice for my country.
Usually it takes reading about what someone else has posted regarding military spouses, in order to appreciate that I do actually make sacrifices. Through our sacrifices, our spouses are able to leave and do their jobs, without worrying whether things at home are good. Through our sacrifices, our spouses are able to concentrate 100% on their duty, so they can return safely. Knowing these things makes it a little easier to be thanked by complete strangers.
My kids and I, are thanked regularly from the employees at Lowe's or Home Depot. Most times, I turn beet red, mutter some horrible combination of your welcome and thank you, then hurry away. My kids are much better at accepting compliments than I am, so they skip outside, with their heads held high and a smile on their faces.
On those rare days I get time to miss my spouse, it's usually then, that employees (it's like they sense it) will specifically thank me for my sacrifice as a spouse. They will say something like, "Thank you for your sacrifices. You definitely have the hardest job and we really appreciate you taking care of our military!" These are the times when I usually start to cry, say thank you and walk away with my head held high.
So with my head held high and a tear (or three), I say thank you to everyone that has helped a spouse in some way! (A HUGE thanks to those that have helped me!) It's a hard job, but it is really wonderful to know that we are in people's hearts; it's nice to know we aren't as alone as we feel sometimes.
Thank you!
In the last few years, Michelle Obama and Dr. Jill Biden have actually brought an unknown entity, forward into the public eye: the military spouse. In the last 5 years, I have seen more endorsement and appreciation for the military spouse (and the military, itself) than in the last 12 years I have been involved with the military.
All this change aside, I do appreciate that military spouses are being recognized as hard working individuals who don't ask for much in return, other than our spouses home safe. From experience, I have had several people thank me for my service. It's awkward, I don't feel like people should thank me for my service, because I am not in the military, I am not making this huge sacrifice for my country.
Usually it takes reading about what someone else has posted regarding military spouses, in order to appreciate that I do actually make sacrifices. Through our sacrifices, our spouses are able to leave and do their jobs, without worrying whether things at home are good. Through our sacrifices, our spouses are able to concentrate 100% on their duty, so they can return safely. Knowing these things makes it a little easier to be thanked by complete strangers.
My kids and I, are thanked regularly from the employees at Lowe's or Home Depot. Most times, I turn beet red, mutter some horrible combination of your welcome and thank you, then hurry away. My kids are much better at accepting compliments than I am, so they skip outside, with their heads held high and a smile on their faces.
On those rare days I get time to miss my spouse, it's usually then, that employees (it's like they sense it) will specifically thank me for my sacrifice as a spouse. They will say something like, "Thank you for your sacrifices. You definitely have the hardest job and we really appreciate you taking care of our military!" These are the times when I usually start to cry, say thank you and walk away with my head held high.
So with my head held high and a tear (or three), I say thank you to everyone that has helped a spouse in some way! (A HUGE thanks to those that have helped me!) It's a hard job, but it is really wonderful to know that we are in people's hearts; it's nice to know we aren't as alone as we feel sometimes.
Thank you!
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Deep Thought for 5/9/13
After many years of trying to include my husband in discussions about things that bother me, or cause me stop and think, I have decided to include you in my deep thoughts. Military Dad is probably laughing right now, because he sees my "deep thoughts" as a form of torture. He seems to think I have my own stance on reality and therefore, don't live in the "real" reality. Or even worse, he won't answer my questions, he just says, "I don't know sweetheart." His "sweetheart" is the equivalent of, "Yes, dear."
More importantly, since he is almost 3000 miles away, I need purge my thoughts. My brain seems to find it acceptable to wake up at 2 am to ponder strange things.
So here is my thought/question for today:
Is it redundant to put lettuce on a veggie burger?
More importantly, since he is almost 3000 miles away, I need purge my thoughts. My brain seems to find it acceptable to wake up at 2 am to ponder strange things.
So here is my thought/question for today:
Is it redundant to put lettuce on a veggie burger?
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
I have been "served"
There is nothing like sitting in between two children that constantly try to outdo each other in everything. I mean everything: screaming, telling on each other, sports, drawing, nap taking, you name it, both of my children have done it better than the other. I can usually ignore it for the most part, however they seem to save the best arguments for when we sit down at the table to eat.
Mostly it is telling on each other. "Sissy isn't sitting right!"
"Well, Little Dude isn't eating at all, he's just talking!"
"Mommy, she's talking with food in her mouth!"
"You still aren't eating anything! I don't want to sit here and wait, while you finish your dinner!"
And it goes on, until it is reduced to "Uh-huh!" "Nuh-uh!" based arguing, in which I normally clap my hands on the table or yell, "For the love of anything, Shut IT!"
I know that I am not alone in this area. I am fully aware that there are parents around the world, dealing with this sibling...love and attention. It stands to reason that they would not go to these measures if there wasn't some sort of love or affection towards one another, right?!
After dealing with this for months, almost every night, I either ignore it until I can't take it anymore or I invoke the "no talking during dinner" rule. I realize this breaks down the entire reason we come together every night to eat dinner. You know, the conversations and family memories that are made at the table. The conversations and family togetherness that they will remember fondly, years from now. (It's a frail hope, but I'm still hanging on to this, so please don't cut the thin thread that is holding it together.)
Last night was a little different.
I attempted to make a pizza crust out of cauliflower. Yes the white broccoli vegetable. I think it was supposed to be a gluten-free option, but something went wrong, epic-fail kind of wrong! It tasted good, but was not up to my standards of what I consider a pizza crust. (For example, I expect my crust to come off the pain without scraping it into pieces.) So I quickly threw in my back up personal pizzas from the freezer and then we sat down to eat.
They were quiet because they were actually eating. I was amazed, there was no yelling or telling me they didn't like the food (without ever trying it, ugh!) I should have known something was off.
Our personal pizzas come in a pack of four. Normally, we eat three and then Princess inhales part of the fourth one. For some reason, Little Dude (who rarely finishes one) wanted to stake claim on part of the fourth pizza. I explained that they could both have half of the pizza and everything would be fair.
Finally, Little Dude looks up from his pizza and yells at Princess, "Princess, you are eating too fast! Slow down!"
(This is a normal occurrence at meal times, because Princess likes to only breathe between bites, therefore she inhales her food.)
Princess looks back and calmly says, "I'm not eating too fast."
I take this moment to look over at her plate and see that out of four sections of pizza she's currently working on her third. "Princess, maybe you need to slow down a little, please."
This is the moment when everything goes wrong, horribly wrong.
Princess looks down at her plate, then she looks at mine, looks up at me and says, "I'll slow down when you do."
(Oh crap.)
I am currently working on my third section of pizza, also. What can I say? After my epic fail in the cauliflower pizza crust department, I had gotten a little peckish. The Saturday Night Live skit comes to mind, when Chris Farley's character is wolfing down the fries and one of the other characters mentions that she was on a diet. Chris Farley's character responds by saying, "I'M STARVING!!!" Yeah, it was a little like that.
Little Dude sensed the shift, I think, because then he starts talking about how sissy is going to eat his pizza. I explain "Princess won't get any extra pizza until you are finished. How about next time we try not talking with our mouth full of food please?"
Little Dude looks up at me, "But you have food in your mouth!"
(Oh crap)
After this point, I figured good manners were out the door, so-to-speak, and just shut my mouth and ate quietly. The kids started laughing and I finally joined them. All-in-all it turned out to be a pretty good dinner.
Mostly it is telling on each other. "Sissy isn't sitting right!"
"Well, Little Dude isn't eating at all, he's just talking!"
"Mommy, she's talking with food in her mouth!"
"You still aren't eating anything! I don't want to sit here and wait, while you finish your dinner!"
And it goes on, until it is reduced to "Uh-huh!" "Nuh-uh!" based arguing, in which I normally clap my hands on the table or yell, "For the love of anything, Shut IT!"
I know that I am not alone in this area. I am fully aware that there are parents around the world, dealing with this sibling...love and attention. It stands to reason that they would not go to these measures if there wasn't some sort of love or affection towards one another, right?!
After dealing with this for months, almost every night, I either ignore it until I can't take it anymore or I invoke the "no talking during dinner" rule. I realize this breaks down the entire reason we come together every night to eat dinner. You know, the conversations and family memories that are made at the table. The conversations and family togetherness that they will remember fondly, years from now. (It's a frail hope, but I'm still hanging on to this, so please don't cut the thin thread that is holding it together.)
Last night was a little different.
I attempted to make a pizza crust out of cauliflower. Yes the white broccoli vegetable. I think it was supposed to be a gluten-free option, but something went wrong, epic-fail kind of wrong! It tasted good, but was not up to my standards of what I consider a pizza crust. (For example, I expect my crust to come off the pain without scraping it into pieces.) So I quickly threw in my back up personal pizzas from the freezer and then we sat down to eat.
They were quiet because they were actually eating. I was amazed, there was no yelling or telling me they didn't like the food (without ever trying it, ugh!) I should have known something was off.
Our personal pizzas come in a pack of four. Normally, we eat three and then Princess inhales part of the fourth one. For some reason, Little Dude (who rarely finishes one) wanted to stake claim on part of the fourth pizza. I explained that they could both have half of the pizza and everything would be fair.
Finally, Little Dude looks up from his pizza and yells at Princess, "Princess, you are eating too fast! Slow down!"
(This is a normal occurrence at meal times, because Princess likes to only breathe between bites, therefore she inhales her food.)
Princess looks back and calmly says, "I'm not eating too fast."
I take this moment to look over at her plate and see that out of four sections of pizza she's currently working on her third. "Princess, maybe you need to slow down a little, please."
This is the moment when everything goes wrong, horribly wrong.
Princess looks down at her plate, then she looks at mine, looks up at me and says, "I'll slow down when you do."
(Oh crap.)
I am currently working on my third section of pizza, also. What can I say? After my epic fail in the cauliflower pizza crust department, I had gotten a little peckish. The Saturday Night Live skit comes to mind, when Chris Farley's character is wolfing down the fries and one of the other characters mentions that she was on a diet. Chris Farley's character responds by saying, "I'M STARVING!!!" Yeah, it was a little like that.
Little Dude sensed the shift, I think, because then he starts talking about how sissy is going to eat his pizza. I explain "Princess won't get any extra pizza until you are finished. How about next time we try not talking with our mouth full of food please?"
Little Dude looks up at me, "But you have food in your mouth!"
(Oh crap)
After this point, I figured good manners were out the door, so-to-speak, and just shut my mouth and ate quietly. The kids started laughing and I finally joined them. All-in-all it turned out to be a pretty good dinner.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
My War on Hot Wheels, Legos and Barbie
I think I may actually have to admit defeat when it comes to my war on Hot Wheels,Legos and Barbie accessories. No matter how many times you ask/beg/scream for your kids to pick up ALL the pieces, there are always a few left. A few left out isn't a big deal as far as the clean house picture, is concerned. It is however, a big deal when those few pieces somehow end up being the ones you step on in the middle of the night...barefoot.
I have read several books related to the humorous nature of motherhood and several of them deal specifically with toys. A few moms seem to still be fighting the good fight, sometimes it involves a vacuum, but they seem to have a handle on things. Things meaning the war on toys, not exactly the WAY in which they are dealing with the toys themselves.
Other moms seem to deal with reality a little better and have decided that it's better to admit defeat, than go crazy. They have yards overflowing with toys and their houses have piles of toys here and there.
I am somewhere in the middle of these two groups of women. I have several OCDs, one of which, is I like everything to be put away neatly in the place it is supposed to go. However, having two children has pretty much bludgeoned that OCD into submission. Now I am happy as long as the toys are in the "toy closet." (Out of sight, out of mind.) Every once in awhile, if I'm feeling anxious or stressed out, that is the first place I go to in order to organize something/anything. Many of you may be thinking, "wow, she may need help!" Yeah, well, ask my husband I'm doing MUCH better.
I've noticed that when you have only one child, it is much easier to keep up with them. You have more patience in which to instruct them on how to put away their toys or do general chores. Two kids, well...you have less patience and time to deal with things such as toys, cleaning your house, taking showers, you know, the little things. Fortunately, we stopped at two children, because if we had three, I am pretty sure the toy war would already be over...and I wouldn't be the winner.
However, last night as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed Legos, cars and barbie shoes randomly thrown around the house (even after the kids cleaned up). Usually I pick these items up and throw them in the toy closet, but last night came a turning point in the war. I actually looked at some of the toys and realized just how gruesome they were. So gruesome, in fact, that if someone were to break in to my house, I'm sure the toys would take them out.
I actually imagined someone breaking into my house and subsequently being attacked by random toys. I pictured them writhing on the ground in pain, my dogs hearing the noise would "attack" them, giving me enough time to get a bat and call the police. (Attack meaning one dog would lick them to death, another would just bark a lot).
I would then tell the police that the Hot Wheels cars next to the TV made him slip and fall, landing on the Legos mixed with Barbie shoes. These pieces are now embedded deeply into his skin, in crucially painful places. Word will spread of this spectacular event and I, for once, will be proud that I didn't clean my house!
Sadly, I smiled, turned off the lights and went to bed.
Early the next morning, I went downstairs to let the dogs outside and fell not once, but twice on those damn cars! After getting up I only had to dig out one Barbie shoe from my palm, so I considered myself lucky.
I guess the war isn't over yet...
I have read several books related to the humorous nature of motherhood and several of them deal specifically with toys. A few moms seem to still be fighting the good fight, sometimes it involves a vacuum, but they seem to have a handle on things. Things meaning the war on toys, not exactly the WAY in which they are dealing with the toys themselves.
Other moms seem to deal with reality a little better and have decided that it's better to admit defeat, than go crazy. They have yards overflowing with toys and their houses have piles of toys here and there.
I am somewhere in the middle of these two groups of women. I have several OCDs, one of which, is I like everything to be put away neatly in the place it is supposed to go. However, having two children has pretty much bludgeoned that OCD into submission. Now I am happy as long as the toys are in the "toy closet." (Out of sight, out of mind.) Every once in awhile, if I'm feeling anxious or stressed out, that is the first place I go to in order to organize something/anything. Many of you may be thinking, "wow, she may need help!" Yeah, well, ask my husband I'm doing MUCH better.
I've noticed that when you have only one child, it is much easier to keep up with them. You have more patience in which to instruct them on how to put away their toys or do general chores. Two kids, well...you have less patience and time to deal with things such as toys, cleaning your house, taking showers, you know, the little things. Fortunately, we stopped at two children, because if we had three, I am pretty sure the toy war would already be over...and I wouldn't be the winner.
However, last night as I was getting ready for bed, I noticed Legos, cars and barbie shoes randomly thrown around the house (even after the kids cleaned up). Usually I pick these items up and throw them in the toy closet, but last night came a turning point in the war. I actually looked at some of the toys and realized just how gruesome they were. So gruesome, in fact, that if someone were to break in to my house, I'm sure the toys would take them out.
I actually imagined someone breaking into my house and subsequently being attacked by random toys. I pictured them writhing on the ground in pain, my dogs hearing the noise would "attack" them, giving me enough time to get a bat and call the police. (Attack meaning one dog would lick them to death, another would just bark a lot).
I would then tell the police that the Hot Wheels cars next to the TV made him slip and fall, landing on the Legos mixed with Barbie shoes. These pieces are now embedded deeply into his skin, in crucially painful places. Word will spread of this spectacular event and I, for once, will be proud that I didn't clean my house!
Sadly, I smiled, turned off the lights and went to bed.
Early the next morning, I went downstairs to let the dogs outside and fell not once, but twice on those damn cars! After getting up I only had to dig out one Barbie shoe from my palm, so I considered myself lucky.
I guess the war isn't over yet...
Monday, May 6, 2013
Raising a Military Family
This isn't a "How-to" article, it's more of an out loud question/thought post. I've been thinking of how I should raise my children in a general sense: am I doing a good job, are they going to be good kids, etc?
My husband and I try very hard to raise our kids well. We aren't perfect and some things work for us that don't work for other parents and vice versa. We do believe that our kids should have manners and should NOT act like lunatics in public! We understand that they are kids and they are allowed to make mistakes, but when Princess uses both hands to shovel food into her mouth at a restaurant, yes, I will tell her to use her fork....several times. Little Dude is still not allowed to use potty words at the table either.
You are thinking "and this is different from a normal family in what way"? Well, Military Dad has now been on the opposite coast for five months, in order to go to school for his next position in the Navy. So far the kids and I have done alright, most of this is due to the fact that he is still Stateside, a phone call away. The only major hurdle is the 3 hour time difference in scheduling Google Hangout chats. The kids are still going to school, going to bed on time and using their table manners.
Princess has gone through this before, however it was 4 years ago. Every once in awhile I get the random comments, "I really miss Daddy." Then I get to imagine the awful sound of my husband's heart breaking, as I try to explain how it's his job. Fortunately she is now old enough to understand that his job is to protect our country, in a way. He obviously doesn't do it alone!
The easiest way I found to explain it to her was to compare Daddy to a police officer. A police officer protects the cities and states that they live in. The military just does it on a much bigger scale for our entire country. They also protect other countries from bullies.
This conversation with her was actually the best thing I've done for her. She is very proud of her father and she seems ok with him having to leave us every once in awhile. But the best was hearing, "Mommy, even though Daddy does a hard job, I'm still going to want him home with us because he's my daddy and I love him!"
Little Dude has had Daddy home the entire time, so when Daddy left, there was a definite adjustment period. He took on the typical, temper tantrum/general refusal to do anything, attitude. It was difficult but we got through it. He is still four, so he has those moments as a normal child.
The hard part is raising your kids while your partner is gone. Yes, he is a phone call away, but to the kids he could be in outer space; he's just not here, in the now. I go into what I call "survival mode", which is just getting through the day and surrounding yourself with tasks to keep busy until you can pass out at bedtime. It's absolutely exhausting, stressful and very hard to do on a daily basis for extended periods of time.
The major problem with raising your kids in the military is the inconsistency. How do you keep them sane and regular when everything around them isn't? If your partner is on a ship and has to stay late or overnight to fix problems, "Sorry, kids, Daddy has to stay on the ship again tonight! Here's your dinner."
Every once in awhile these "pop-ups" are okay to deal with and move on, however if they are underway or deployed, it gets harder to keep things regular or rules as strict. You can't say, "Daddy won't be home for 78 days, 4 hours and 2 minutes", not because your counting or anything. So it becomes, "Daddy won't be home for awhile", or general avoidance, "Daddy's on the ship remember?"
Sometimes it's just easier to order a pizza and watch a movie for dinner, instead of sit at table and practice manners.
It's the weekend, do we really need to get dressed? NO! Pajama day!
You want macaroni and cheese for the fourth day in a row? Okay.
The list goes on, but you get the point. In order to not go insane you depend on friends, because normally your family is in another state or country. These friends become more like family, but better (less drama, usually). They become your entire support system.
Imagine having one of those days when nothing goes well and you are just exhausted. Somehow, your friend can feel this from miles away and calls you (my friends text, since I'm not a talker) and asks you over for dinner or she's bringing over her hoard of kids to help make dinner.
I know some of you may be thinking: seriously? some woman just invited her kids over to your house? You are having a bad day, just order a pizza and send everyone to bed early.
Problem with that is, you already did that yesterday and more than likely, the day before. Think about it, you now have your kids occupied doing constructive things, socializing, while you and your friend are venting and getting some much needed therapy while you (completely unaware) make a wonderfully healthy, complete meal. It's weird, but it works and it is what keeps military "families" together.
"It takes a village to raise a child."
We may not live in the traditional village setting, or even remotely close to one another, however military families are their own village. We aren't just raising children either. We are laughter when we need it, a shoulder to cry on, a therapist, an emergency contact for your kids, and someone who will share horror stories without judgment. Most important, throughout all my years, I have never met and connected with people on the level that I connect with other military families.
Thank you sisters and brothers!
My husband and I try very hard to raise our kids well. We aren't perfect and some things work for us that don't work for other parents and vice versa. We do believe that our kids should have manners and should NOT act like lunatics in public! We understand that they are kids and they are allowed to make mistakes, but when Princess uses both hands to shovel food into her mouth at a restaurant, yes, I will tell her to use her fork....several times. Little Dude is still not allowed to use potty words at the table either.
You are thinking "and this is different from a normal family in what way"? Well, Military Dad has now been on the opposite coast for five months, in order to go to school for his next position in the Navy. So far the kids and I have done alright, most of this is due to the fact that he is still Stateside, a phone call away. The only major hurdle is the 3 hour time difference in scheduling Google Hangout chats. The kids are still going to school, going to bed on time and using their table manners.
Princess has gone through this before, however it was 4 years ago. Every once in awhile I get the random comments, "I really miss Daddy." Then I get to imagine the awful sound of my husband's heart breaking, as I try to explain how it's his job. Fortunately she is now old enough to understand that his job is to protect our country, in a way. He obviously doesn't do it alone!
The easiest way I found to explain it to her was to compare Daddy to a police officer. A police officer protects the cities and states that they live in. The military just does it on a much bigger scale for our entire country. They also protect other countries from bullies.
This conversation with her was actually the best thing I've done for her. She is very proud of her father and she seems ok with him having to leave us every once in awhile. But the best was hearing, "Mommy, even though Daddy does a hard job, I'm still going to want him home with us because he's my daddy and I love him!"
Little Dude has had Daddy home the entire time, so when Daddy left, there was a definite adjustment period. He took on the typical, temper tantrum/general refusal to do anything, attitude. It was difficult but we got through it. He is still four, so he has those moments as a normal child.
The hard part is raising your kids while your partner is gone. Yes, he is a phone call away, but to the kids he could be in outer space; he's just not here, in the now. I go into what I call "survival mode", which is just getting through the day and surrounding yourself with tasks to keep busy until you can pass out at bedtime. It's absolutely exhausting, stressful and very hard to do on a daily basis for extended periods of time.
The major problem with raising your kids in the military is the inconsistency. How do you keep them sane and regular when everything around them isn't? If your partner is on a ship and has to stay late or overnight to fix problems, "Sorry, kids, Daddy has to stay on the ship again tonight! Here's your dinner."
Every once in awhile these "pop-ups" are okay to deal with and move on, however if they are underway or deployed, it gets harder to keep things regular or rules as strict. You can't say, "Daddy won't be home for 78 days, 4 hours and 2 minutes", not because your counting or anything. So it becomes, "Daddy won't be home for awhile", or general avoidance, "Daddy's on the ship remember?"
Sometimes it's just easier to order a pizza and watch a movie for dinner, instead of sit at table and practice manners.
It's the weekend, do we really need to get dressed? NO! Pajama day!
You want macaroni and cheese for the fourth day in a row? Okay.
The list goes on, but you get the point. In order to not go insane you depend on friends, because normally your family is in another state or country. These friends become more like family, but better (less drama, usually). They become your entire support system.
Imagine having one of those days when nothing goes well and you are just exhausted. Somehow, your friend can feel this from miles away and calls you (my friends text, since I'm not a talker) and asks you over for dinner or she's bringing over her hoard of kids to help make dinner.
I know some of you may be thinking: seriously? some woman just invited her kids over to your house? You are having a bad day, just order a pizza and send everyone to bed early.
Problem with that is, you already did that yesterday and more than likely, the day before. Think about it, you now have your kids occupied doing constructive things, socializing, while you and your friend are venting and getting some much needed therapy while you (completely unaware) make a wonderfully healthy, complete meal. It's weird, but it works and it is what keeps military "families" together.
"It takes a village to raise a child."
We may not live in the traditional village setting, or even remotely close to one another, however military families are their own village. We aren't just raising children either. We are laughter when we need it, a shoulder to cry on, a therapist, an emergency contact for your kids, and someone who will share horror stories without judgment. Most important, throughout all my years, I have never met and connected with people on the level that I connect with other military families.
Thank you sisters and brothers!
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Is there a fine line between being color blind and an artist?
I am coming to terms with the fact that my daughter is either color blind or some sort of artist. Princess has this way of dressing that makes me shudder or wear sunglasses....inside...when it's dark.
For example, right now she is wearing: white tennis shoes, dark blue socks, white leggings with multi-colored hearts and a white Dolphin's (NFL team) shirt. Her argument in wearing this is, "What? It does to go together! The shirt has white on it, which matches the leggings. The socks match one of the hearts and they were near me so I could put them on."
This is one of her more bland outfits. The other day she was wearing a neon green shirt with a dark green skirt. After being told that just because they were both green didn't mean it matched, she switched to neon yellow shorts and bright pink socks. The only thing tying them remotely together was the fact that they were all neon colored.
She will wear plaid with polka dots, or stripes with patterns. She just has this "style" that I have to get used to.
I think I'm just really fortunate that her elementary school has a uniform policy. Otherwise I think our mornings would be close to awful. While other parents would be fighting about appropriate clothing, I would be stuck trying to get her to wear something that wouldn't cause people to have seizures!
I am looking forward to the future, in which this turns out just to be a phase, a rebellion, if you will. Or...she's going to be a successful artist! (Maybe I should get her to pick the colors in our bedroom, then again, maybe not...)
For example, right now she is wearing: white tennis shoes, dark blue socks, white leggings with multi-colored hearts and a white Dolphin's (NFL team) shirt. Her argument in wearing this is, "What? It does to go together! The shirt has white on it, which matches the leggings. The socks match one of the hearts and they were near me so I could put them on."
This is one of her more bland outfits. The other day she was wearing a neon green shirt with a dark green skirt. After being told that just because they were both green didn't mean it matched, she switched to neon yellow shorts and bright pink socks. The only thing tying them remotely together was the fact that they were all neon colored.
She will wear plaid with polka dots, or stripes with patterns. She just has this "style" that I have to get used to.
I think I'm just really fortunate that her elementary school has a uniform policy. Otherwise I think our mornings would be close to awful. While other parents would be fighting about appropriate clothing, I would be stuck trying to get her to wear something that wouldn't cause people to have seizures!
I am looking forward to the future, in which this turns out just to be a phase, a rebellion, if you will. Or...she's going to be a successful artist! (Maybe I should get her to pick the colors in our bedroom, then again, maybe not...)
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