tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61886523227073706862024-02-07T09:17:35.475-06:00PASSAGES (On the Brink and Diving In)Big Kid off to college? Baby girl really growing up? Husband closer to retiring after 20 years of Army family life? So many changes. I choose to dive in, rather than let it overwhelm me. (Photo Courtesy of Amanda Kim Stairrett and 1st Infantry Division.)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-26909561425803622062014-02-21T17:21:00.001-06:002014-02-21T17:21:38.604-06:00On a Day Such As This<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Oc-cENuf6ae3xgZ5McfVqn3qChRF_urTrFDmscmqrYxyO1hQW74KKtEuQhlsr3VPw84a27M47M5oX80wnYqli19dxm8PeBRgjaUoYh-mAmIRG5zg76Q4-K5fpny98l3ekNkrQA2OCYA/s1600/CAM00767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Oc-cENuf6ae3xgZ5McfVqn3qChRF_urTrFDmscmqrYxyO1hQW74KKtEuQhlsr3VPw84a27M47M5oX80wnYqli19dxm8PeBRgjaUoYh-mAmIRG5zg76Q4-K5fpny98l3ekNkrQA2OCYA/s1600/CAM00767.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Some days begin with a soft kitty snuggle, a hot shower, and a slow awakening to embrace them.<br />
<br />
This was not that day.<br />
<br />
Some days, everyone pitches in and is where we need them to be and helps without asking.<br />
<br />
This was not that day, either, exactly.<br />
<br />
Some days, there are moments to sit and breathe or at least drink some water. <br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
And I realize, quite fully, that it wasn't that day for many people around me. Mine was not the only back to ache, mine was not the only head to be spinning, and mine were most certainly not the only nerves to feel totally frazzled by the end of the school day.<br />
<br />
So what do I do?<br />
<br />
After a day such as this, when my heart feels empty and a little bruised, I begin a list. I am, as I'm sure you've seen, a list maker. <br />
<br />
<br />
<i><u><b>Things That Went Right!</b></u></i><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>A coworker offered to watch my duty station so I could get some of the delicious lunch that was provided to the school today, before it all disappeared.</li>
<li>Another coworker totally understood what I meant when I told her I was fighting off a bad mood yesterday. Today she asked me if it was gone, and had such a grin when I told her yes, mostly. </li>
<li>I did, in the end, get that full lunchtime break. Such quiet heaven.</li>
<li>The majority of the people I came in contact with were patient, smiling, and understanding.</li>
<li>No one threw up in the office, despite the strange stomach bug going around.</li>
<li>Another coworker came up to help with phones and with parents during the busiest time of the day. She did so with humor and grace.</li>
<li>Little G shared her week with me, and her rocky day as well.</li>
<li>And I got to help my Big G, something that doesn't happen as often any more.</li>
<li>The cats are healthy.</li>
<li>I have a fun evening planned with friends.</li>
<li>The weather is STUNNING.</li>
<li>We have one daffodil and one confused yellow iris growing already.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I had chocolate. :)</b></span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgbKy_m8fRr7HtHqn0Bj_c7xKqev5CNhwT57vmWKcDQmFvR6Vt7MelhkgX_rW2CGHP2MycItQoR2qcM6XNExNUbQjjevaxQPYBGUi3RJHejZ-Ng3nlE594pBO52TlAGjVgat3VbLpcXs/s1600/CAM00775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgbKy_m8fRr7HtHqn0Bj_c7xKqev5CNhwT57vmWKcDQmFvR6Vt7MelhkgX_rW2CGHP2MycItQoR2qcM6XNExNUbQjjevaxQPYBGUi3RJHejZ-Ng3nlE594pBO52TlAGjVgat3VbLpcXs/s1600/CAM00775.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-67310289386020728552014-01-21T21:29:00.000-06:002014-01-21T21:29:08.954-06:00Tuesday's Ten: Things I See Differently<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1wfsYYpEH_40qqnMTJc-AKUjIWYtzMDkyza-X0jthVfUZJ4NhH5DMjdaax5XMTG37DdVQmXFMNgPztyUlgfgtRbikh9Efhq3KOzitB2uKcQ3Lw-Y4Ddn4-aU2H036etvgyoUdDbi6iA/s1600/CAM00719.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV1wfsYYpEH_40qqnMTJc-AKUjIWYtzMDkyza-X0jthVfUZJ4NhH5DMjdaax5XMTG37DdVQmXFMNgPztyUlgfgtRbikh9Efhq3KOzitB2uKcQ3Lw-Y4Ddn4-aU2H036etvgyoUdDbi6iA/s1600/CAM00719.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I actually look forward to pulling out the garbage can.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There are a lot of things that are "givens" about any time our Soldier is "away". Something will break, someone will get sick, on and on. But there are a few things that I hold onto, that give me a little bit of pleasure, when he's gone.<br />
<br />
1. Trash Day. Since I measure extra-long "away" by the number of trash days, every time I'm out at the curb it gives me a little bit of joy.<br />
<br />
2. Counter space. This was a real issue in previous homes, where there was precious little real estate in the bathroom. In our current home, we have double sinks. When he's away? I use 'em both.<br />
<br />
3. Shaving in the winter. Why bother?<br />
<br />
4. Pillows. I have LOTS of them, all over the bed. Granted, the reason I do this is so I don't stretch out across the bed at an angle that is guaranteed to kill my back, but...<br />
<br />
5. Dinnertime. Especially with just me and Little G, dinner time is really, really simple. Meal planning? I might get a handle on it in a few months.<br />
<br />
6. Mail time! Sometimes there is a card or a note or a simple "hello". I LOVE getting mail but during long "aways" this is extra special.<br />
<br />
7. Hugs. Growing up, I was never that physically demonstrative with people, especially those I didn't know very well. Family, sure - but friends? People I had just met? The Army has made me a hugger. Not only does it help me when My G is away, to have that human touch, but I have noticed it helps other people.<br />
<br />
8. Technology. I have always liked new technology. I don't necessarily need to know how something works, but I will learn how to use it when it is available to me. And when My G is gone, I enjoy how technology makes so many things <i style="font-weight: bold;">easier</i> than any previous military generation has ever had it.<br />
<br />
9. Church. As Pastor Franks would say, "Glory!!"<br />
<br />
10. The simple things. Stuff that works the way it should, medicine that makes us feel better, a kind word, a bright sunshiny day, the buds on the trees or the first little stabs of green coming (too soon) through the mulch. When something big is difficult, the small things become so much more important.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-14215795539438433182014-01-16T07:00:00.000-06:002014-01-20T13:09:20.289-06:00My One Word, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We are halfway through the first month of 2014, and I hadn't even begun making a LIST of words for "My One Word". For the last few years, I've been following <a href="http://myoneword.org/" target="_blank">My One Word</a> and choosing, well, one word to work on for the year. What does God have in store for me? What do I need to work on this year?</div>
<br />
Previously, I've done "Focus," "Move," and "Up." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UBo8rvleoWfB2AWgqrXLkXHrqi7bYHzcCXPoJ3DrT_dLkuHzkM597B67r2dHgcaZ9BHvqzpRp8kG2k-_6NcmtbfiT2P9bRs8OyVX1zd1gjQtVO7GJzX4QUM-jLk1OFL8THt32TZG-r8/s1600/MOVE.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UBo8rvleoWfB2AWgqrXLkXHrqi7bYHzcCXPoJ3DrT_dLkuHzkM597B67r2dHgcaZ9BHvqzpRp8kG2k-_6NcmtbfiT2P9bRs8OyVX1zd1gjQtVO7GJzX4QUM-jLk1OFL8THt32TZG-r8/s320/MOVE.png" height="192" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I always do a word picture, and then save it to my phone and on my computer so it reminds me of what I need to work on.<br />
<br />
So, why "CHOOSE"? <br />
<br />
This blog - <a href="http://flightlinefightline.blogspot.com/2014/01/you-dont-choose-life-you-live-one.html" target="_blank">You Don't Choose A Life, You Live One</a>. I've been taking part in a blogging workshop (amazing...) and one of the participants posted her blog today. She talks a little bit about a job situation that is less than ideal, and about her husband and kids and...well, it really hit home.<br />
<br />
I've been in an uncomfortable place, work-wise, for a while now. My G's trip to Korea has loomed over our heads for months. I've felt tired and down and angry and whiny and just generally pissy.<br />
<br />
But I don't have to be.<br />
<br />
This week, I chose to go to the gym straight from work. You know what? I was much more able to spend time with Little G and really enjoy being home.<br />
<br />
This week, I chose to let a few things slide and to help Little G with her own transition to "just us girls". You know what? She pitched in a LOT without me even having to ask.<br />
<br />
Today, I CHOSE to smile when I wanted to let off some steam. I walked away, thought it over, and then I CHOSE to come back and finish the discussion and stand up for myself. You know what? The situation wasn't magically better. Nothing really got "fixed". But standing up for myself felt really good and it let the other person know that I was going to hold her to a higher standard.<br />
<br />
In the Army, we are given very few choices. As a Facebook status reminded me this week, "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit." Army families are really good at understanding this. We don't choose where we live, most of the time. We don't choose our bosses. Our Soldiers don't choose much of anything, and a lot of family members don't get to either. Sometimes we don't even choose basic things like vacations - we take our trips when our Soldiers can get leave, and that is left up to the needs (whims) of the Army.<br />
<br />
But we can choose to be thankful for what we do have. We can choose to enjoy what we are given. We can choose to be glad for any moments of communication, rather than grumble because our communication is too brief.<br />
<br />
I think there will be a lot of choice for me in 2014. I realize that the blog that inspired me, actually said that we are to live our lives, rather than choose them. But I believe that we live <i>better</i> lives when we choose our focus, when we choose to be thankful, when we choose our own outlook on whatever happens in the lives we lead.<br />
<br />
I choose, I want to remember to choose, to light that candle instead of cursing the darkness.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHCAtmFODOiz4plfovPgAo5GVNUlDgkdEftBEURLEahGEC9ciy6osqXQSnP7lyblxwheHHY25DO3DiBlTY272_onuRmMf022pTfW9M5BZtytAz8s3ihhA5Aj49QFfR4qucrQo1G6i07g/s1600/choose.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHCAtmFODOiz4plfovPgAo5GVNUlDgkdEftBEURLEahGEC9ciy6osqXQSnP7lyblxwheHHY25DO3DiBlTY272_onuRmMf022pTfW9M5BZtytAz8s3ihhA5Aj49QFfR4qucrQo1G6i07g/s320/choose.png" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-56681169496637615182014-01-14T22:14:00.001-06:002014-01-14T22:14:52.588-06:00Tuesday's Ten - When to Ask For Help<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySiRDkfjBhETImlsHdnCpNdLQ35DBOFYvBhYNlJibUe652xCL5_h7aK7TVaK7X99EYOCSxEMS78SWCJ8z-CE2Is7Nul7NHnHKa7zEFwF1TNSbdm6uD551xYukG6AWhZB2saf6ixh8h-I/s1600/CAM00708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgySiRDkfjBhETImlsHdnCpNdLQ35DBOFYvBhYNlJibUe652xCL5_h7aK7TVaK7X99EYOCSxEMS78SWCJ8z-CE2Is7Nul7NHnHKa7zEFwF1TNSbdm6uD551xYukG6AWhZB2saf6ixh8h-I/s320/CAM00708.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
1. Yes, I did open my orange Crush with a wrench. I nearly asked a neighbor, but I decided I didn't want the soda that much. Plus I thought they might laugh at me but, seriously, the darn thing was stuck tight.<br />
<br />
2. The bowl in the background was made by Little G in art class. It's a lovely, colorful, lightweight bowl made from papier mache. The flower painted inside it makes me smile.<br />
<br />
3. I hit an emotional wall today, about a week into this thing. But it was a little bitty wall, and I stepped over it rather than tripping over or smashing into it. I consider that a "win".<br />
<br />
4. I spent a good portion of my morning watching tiny children chase each other around my classroom while their mothers chatted, ignoring the children. This irritates me.<br />
<br />
5. The children then gave me hugs before they left. This helps make it better.<br />
<br />
6. I am thoroughly enjoying blogging again. It may be a huge saving grace this year.<br />
<br />
7. During any extended "away," I am like that poor dog in "Up" - SQUIRREL!!. My thoughts jump around like drops of oil on a hot skillet.<br />
<br />
8. All yesterday I thought it was Tuesday. I woke up thinking it was Wednesday. By Friday, I'll assume it's time for summer vacation.<br />
<br />
9. It's getting late, but....<br />
<br />
10. This Orange Crush tastes <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">really</u> good.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-33144608328378750692014-01-08T20:41:00.000-06:002014-01-08T20:41:15.348-06:00Man Plans, God Laughs My dearest battle buddy began one day by asking "Where do you hope to be, five years from now?"<br />
<br />
I'm sure I made some simple, probably sarcastic comment (sorry). It got me thinking, though, about the future and what it might hold for me, and for my family.<br />
<br />
I'll admit it, I'm a "Five Year Plan" failure. I have made these plans two or three times in my life, and never have they worked out as I'd envisioned. In fact, very little about those plans has actually come true.<br />
<br />
The first time I made one, it was my senior year of high school and we were given the assignment amid daydreams of Prom and the scattered letters of acceptance (or rejection) from various colleges. I knew what I wanted to do.<br />
<br />
<b>* </b>I'd be a recent graduate of the University of Arizona (nope).<br />
<div>
<br />
<b>* </b>I'd have moved from Tucson (this did happen).<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>* </b>I'd be a stringer for some newspaper or magazine or anything in the print media, well on my way to being the print version of Barbara Walters. It's not that I liked her super-much, but she had a unique way of bringing out people's personalities and I loved doing feature stories about people. (The closest I've come to working as a journalist was selling subscriptions to the Manhattan Mercury late at night, but I do still like to write.)<br />
<br />
Well, life has a way of changing one's plans. I didn't care for the way journalism was changing, even in my first semesters at the UofA. And then My G came back from Basic Training and I could feel the stars realigning. <br />
<br />
When Big G was nearly 7 years old, and I was finishing up my last semester at KState, they asked us to again write out our five year plan. A little more skeptical, but excited because I was the first in my family to graduate college, I complied.<br />
<br />
<b>* </b>I'd be working in a community service agency, and next in line for the Directorship (nope).<br />
<br />
<b>* </b>I'd have my Masters' Degree, or be very close to completing it (not that either).<br />
<br />
<b>* </b>I didn't know where I'd be, but My G and I would still be strong and facing that future together. (Well, yes, that was and continues to be the truth.)<br />
<br />
So I'm a little dubious about jotting down a few lines regarding any kind of future plans. There is a quote, though, that says something along the lines of "He who fails to plan, plans to fail." So I'll play along. <br />
<br />
<b>*</b> In five years, we will be in another state. The house will be sold and we will be learning about a new area.<br />
<br />
<b>* </b>In five years, Little G will be driving. We will be regulars in the antacid aisle of our local pharmacy.<br />
<br />
<b>* </b>In five years, Big G will be independent. Graduated or not, she will have made, and possibly changed, her own five year plan and be truly on her way. I put this in the plan because I know she, too, wants this.<br />
<br />
* In five years, I will have begun, if not finished, that dratted Masters' Degree.<br />
<br />
* In five years, Big G will have finally grabbed that retirement brass ring he has so earned, and we will have begun that new adventure.<br />
<br />
I could write things about the amount we'd like to have in savings or the job I'd like to have or where we'd like to be. But I've learned that this kind of planning can sometimes invite God to laugh, and laugh... And keep laughing. In fact, the retirement one may cause Him tremendous mirth, but I hope not and dare to write it anyway.<br />
<br />
Mentsch tracht, Gott lacht. Man plans, God laughs. And maybe that's the whole point. We sometimes learn best by changing and adapting. The most amazing things occur when we give in and simply follow. <br />
<br />
Sometimes, we can even laugh along with Him. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqacfgg0MFU2gbciFKbOSPTxmtNCMVRUh7AWfDGJ8A_6TsE-weZO-fiaY79HCFKsjUHEwwJuKB0rTs3j40sbJ_8TLDfM8q229-QBgHCvFRUqS_prp-KKGnb2CifHcmh1v9nDUn47S2DXA/s1600/IMG_1659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqacfgg0MFU2gbciFKbOSPTxmtNCMVRUh7AWfDGJ8A_6TsE-weZO-fiaY79HCFKsjUHEwwJuKB0rTs3j40sbJ_8TLDfM8q229-QBgHCvFRUqS_prp-KKGnb2CifHcmh1v9nDUn47S2DXA/s320/IMG_1659.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready, Get Set... GO.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-38053667397738928632014-01-07T12:22:00.000-06:002014-01-07T12:22:07.540-06:00101 in 1001<a href="http://dayzeroproject.com/about/" style="font-family: Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.99479103088379px;" target="_blank">Day Zero</a> came up with the neatest Life List challenge, and I've been seeing it all over the place today. <a href="http://www.aboyagirlandthemarinecorps.com/101-things-in-1001-days/" target="_blank">Here</a>, on a blog I'm happy to have found recently, and <a href="http://www.ifthesaddlefits.com/101-1001/" target="_blank">here</a>, on my friend's blog where she is finding her strengths and focus. It's all over Twitter.<br />
<br />
So what's the deal?<br />
<br />
The challenge is to name and complete 101 tasks in 1001 days, or about 2.75 years. From the original website, the criteria is thus:<br />
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.984375px; margin-bottom: 1.538em; padding: 0px;">
<strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">the criteria: </strong>Tasks must be specific (i.e., no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (i.e., represent some amount of work on my part).</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Lucida Sans', Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.984375px; margin-bottom: 1.538em; padding: 0px;">
<strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">why 1001 days?: </strong>Many people have created lists in the past – frequently simple goals such as new year’s resolutions. The key to beating procrastination is to set a deadline that is realistic. 1001 Days (about 2.75 years) is a better period of time than a year, because it allows you several seasons to complete the tasks, which is better for organizing and timing some tasks such as overseas trips or outdoor activities.</div>
Looking up some dates, if I start my 101 tonight, I have until September 30, 2016 to do them all. I already have a written "Life List" that incorporates some Bucket List ideas and some frivolous but fun living-in-the-now kinds of sensibilities. The 101 fits right in, and allows me to check in more often with smaller, bite-sized tasks as well.<br />
<br />
After I got most of these typed up, I realized I should have organized them somehow. Work, writing, personal, home, family, friends. Honestly, coming up with 101 goals was more difficult than I would have expected!<br />
<br />
1. Full emergency fund.<br />
2. New Job.<br />
3. Pay for Thirty One Conference with my Thirty-One business. <br />
4. Choose a small accent chair for the living room.<br />
5. Redesign my blog.<br />
6. Fully participate in "Blogging Made Bite-Sized".<br />
7. Paint the master bathroom.<br />
8. Mark a state off my Life List.<br />
9. Add 10 new things to my Life List.<br />
10. Go to spin class 3 times.<br />
11. Finish Jewel Park, the book I've been writing.<br />
12. Volunteer for 3 different organizations.<br />
13. Run or run/walk a 5k.<br />
14. Bake bread.<br />
15. Get my hearing examined and aids adjusted if needed.<br />
16. Full physical.<br />
17. Make all the Christmas cards we give out that year.<br />
18. Make a wreath for the front door.<br />
19. Learn to knit.<br />
20. 50 followers on Passages.<br />
21. 200 Twitter followers.<br />
22. Visit my friend in Kentucky.<br />
23. Visit my friend in Louisiana and take Little G.<br />
24. Redo one bathroom.<br />
25. Go one week without eating out at all.<br />
<br />
26. Read all of Psalms.<br />
27. Read all of Proverbs.<br />
28. Leave a 100% tip.<br />
29. Take a yoga class.<br />
30. Movie theater fun - double feature, one day. (Might stretch to three!)<br />
31. Get my passport.<br />
32. Test drive a car I have absolutely no intention to buy.<br />
33. Go three months without buying a single book, reading only the ones I already own.<br />
34. Totally clean out and reorganize my craft dresser.<br />
35. Jammie day. Don't get dressed for anything.<br />
36. Write five book reviews for Amazon and blog.<br />
37. Write five product reviews for Amazon and blog.<br />
38. Find and plant a rose bush for the front of the house.<br />
39. Update my resume.<br />
40. Publish Jewel Park as an ebook.<br />
41. Re-learn how to crochet.<br />
42. Take someone out to dinner who needs a break.<br />
43. Fix nicks and scratches on bedroom furniture.<br />
44. Go through closet and get rid of things that are unloved or unlovely.<br />
45. Let Little G plan out a day and follow her ideas.<br />
46. Visit Big G in KS again.<br />
47. Figure out how to style this short hair.<br />
48. Recarpet smaller bedrooms.<br />
49. Paint or replace front door.<br />
50. Reorganize or reframe all framed photos on family wall.<br />
<br />
51. Hold three community classes at work. (If I have a new job, that can translate to three community classes at the library or elsewhere.)<br />
52. Throw out or donate 50 of my items.<br />
53. Have hair professionally colored.<br />
54. Try contacts again.<br />
55. Help Big G monthly.<br />
56. Go for a month only buying the consumable necessities (food, gas, etc). Trades allowed.<br />
57. Do a web-free day.<br />
58. Make a list of 20 classic movies to watch.<br />
59. Watch the 20 classic movies.<br />
60. Read at least one "good for me" book off my shelves.<br />
61. One in, One out rule for clothing.<br />
62. Reorganize and clean out hall closet.<br />
63. Reorganize, clean out, and deep clean pantry.<br />
64. Buy a classic interview suit.<br />
65. Volunteer with an election.<br />
66. New plates for the kitchen.<br />
67. Matching silverware.<br />
68. Go to a karaoke bar. Sing with a group.<br />
69. Do freezer meals for a week. <a href="http://dreamdinners.com/" target="_blank">Try Dream Dinners. :)</a><br />
70. Replace the large posters in the living room.<br />
71. Hardware on the kitchen cabinets/drawers.<br />
72. Do a technology-free day.<br />
73. New chairs for the dining room.<br />
74. Reupholster the shoe bench.<br />
75. Send 365 photos to my Soldier.<br />
<br />
76. Blog updates every six months on this project. <br />
77. Set up play area in Big G's room.<br />
78. Learn to heat-emboss cards.<br />
79. Fix grout in house tile.<br />
80. Hold 10 Thirty One parties. <br />
81. See a live football game. (Bonus if it's KState)<br />
82. Make 20 cards to donate.<br />
83. Hang ladybug houses in the backyard.<br />
84. 52 trash days.<br />
85. Fresh start in budget.<br />
86. Print another copy of "52" for the Franks'.<br />
87. Clean and reorganize office.<br />
88. Sort through books - return "borrows" and donate those I won't ever read.<br />
89. Use a blogging/editorial calendar.<br />
90. Meal plan for one month. (Hopefully longer but one month seems doable.)<br />
91. Caulk kitchen sink.<br />
92. Choose "<a href="http://myoneword.org/" target="_blank">My One Word</a>".<br />
93. Do a 52-trash-day series for blog. Perhaps incorporate the weekly savings plan.<br />
94. Participate in four blog linkups.<br />
95. Find a face regimen that works for me.<br />
96. Monthly "My One Word" posts. <br />
97. Better organize my 101 in 1001 so it makes better sense and I can track it easier.<br />
98. Do at least one vendor event for Thirty One.<br />
99. Do a fundraiser for Thirty One.<br />
100.Learn to use all the circuit machines at the gym.<br />
<br />
101. Go through and write a blog post about this project after the end date - list strengths, weaknesses, and end results.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-73366744174622100212014-01-04T21:08:00.000-06:002014-01-04T21:08:19.736-06:00The Difference Between Wanting and ReadyIt's coming really close now, and we're wrapping up the last-minute things that occur before a long "away". He has things he does around the house to make sure we're OK, and we have certain discussions that we always have before he goes. It's not easy, but this is where "we've done this before" really helps.<br />
<br />
I am not freaking out.<br />
<br />
Ok, I am, but only inside and only a little bit.<br />
<br />
One thing My G said last night really stuck with me, though, and it was something that my younger self needed to hear when we first got married, if I'd only known to ask. It's something that I think all "new" Army wives need to hear.<br />
<br />
What he said: "Just because I am ready to go, doesn't mean I want to."<br />
<br />
Sweet new Army wife, whether you're 20 or 40, these words are for you. <br />
There is a huge difference between your Soldier (or Airman, or Seaman, or Marine) <b><i><u>being ready to go</u></i></b> on deployment, to school, to TDY, on an unaccompanied tour of any type - and <u style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">wanting to leave you</u>. <br />
<br />
They are ready because they have trained, they have prepared, they are set to do what the country has asked of them or to fulfill the plan they've made for their career.<br />
<br />
They are ready because they've done what they need to do in order to leave. They have orders in hand or their bags are packed or they've checked the handy checkboxes that their units have provided.<br />
<br />
This does not mean they want to leave you.<br />
<br />
Many servicemembers cry just as hard as their kids or their spouses when it is time to leave, but there are just as many who remain stoic. My G was one of the latter and he still is. This is his job, this is his career, and this is what he does. But it doesn't mean he wants to leave us.<br />
<br />
Because we've been down this road so many times, we are able to joke a bit and make comments about "Good thing I won't be here" or "Whew, whole bed to myself!" But that doesn't mean that we are eager for this separation. It doesn't mean that, if plans changed and he could turn right around and come back to us early, we wouldn't rejoice.<br />
<br />
All it means is that he's ready.<br />
<br />
In the grand scheme of things, "ready" is a good thing. I want him to have all the things he'll need while he's gone. I want for me to be ready, too, and have some plans and ideas for how to get through this time. "Ready" means that I have a Power of Attorney. "Ready" means that he has the training and the gear he needs to get the job done, whatever the job may be. "Ready" means that our girls know what is coming and we've spent some special time with them while we can. "Ready," in our case, means that we've had talks about budgets and house stuff and he's shown me how to program the sprinklers.<br />
<br />
But I always remember that he'd really rather be here.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPG8UGW-mev1Z2q3m0lnD6gMwewsXb3tk7RAEvbRLus4xMR1hnnSRhivwGKfutp8MiQ8GV2_peak_Q4tVwuKH8jTIR1xoP7rew5_OGh67yy8leN_shcEIspIVSW65ddFrmSm8CrtFZI0/s1600/Photo_00010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPG8UGW-mev1Z2q3m0lnD6gMwewsXb3tk7RAEvbRLus4xMR1hnnSRhivwGKfutp8MiQ8GV2_peak_Q4tVwuKH8jTIR1xoP7rew5_OGh67yy8leN_shcEIspIVSW65ddFrmSm8CrtFZI0/s320/Photo_00010.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-45396195856702777452013-12-27T20:19:00.000-06:002013-12-27T20:19:24.325-06:00What He Hasn't MissedI think it's common knowledge by now that Soldiers miss a lot in their families' lives. Birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, school events... Politicians talk about the "empty chair at the table" like they've personally sat beside one of those empty chairs and know what they're talking about. (Note: some politicians do actually know how this feels, but I think I'm safe in saying that's a minority.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, that's pretty common knowledge. <br />
<br />
It's easy to sink into that blue feeling, looking ahead at 2014. It would be <b><i>very</i></b> easy to think about what he'll miss this time around, what things I will be alone for, what things the kids won't have their father close by for, etc. If I'm not careful, that line of thinking can become very depressing, very fast.<br />
<br />
Yeah, it's true he'll miss a lot. And there's a lot I'll be doing solo. But that ignores a very important fact, one I told my best friend 20 years ago when she asked how I could handle him being gone so much: "I'd rather him in my life when he can be, than not have our life together at all."<br />
<br />
I started a different line of thinking today, to help me focus on what is more important. What he hasn't missed, what he's been here for, and what matters most.<br />
<br />
He's been here for me through two surgeries, one minor and one more serious. He took care of me after both.<br />
<br />
He's been here to help get our yard totally landscaped. You'd never guess, looking at his work, what this house looked like the day we moved in. He's even set it up so I can plant one last rose bush once he's gone, because we just haven't found the right one yet. (Ask me about the hole in the ground.)<br />
<br />
He's been here to see our oldest graduate from 8th grade and from high school.<br />
<br />
He taught her how to drive.<br />
<br />
He has seen her first apartment, and met her first after-high-school boyfriend.<br />
<br />
He took care of everything (EVERYTHING) while I was away this summer, caring for my mother. And then he drove us 14 hours to go back there to help her move.<br />
<br />
He saw our Little G finish elementary school.<br />
<br />
He put up the tree this year, all by himself, so I would find it lit and gorgeous when I got home from work. All we had to do was hang ornaments.<br />
<br />
He puts out Christmas lights, each year a little more elaborate, whenever he's home.<br />
<br />
He helped choose and care for our first tree in this yard. (And decorated it with a few pitiful lights that first year.)<br />
<br />
He's rescued kittens from our back yard.<br />
<br />
He's taken care of pests in that same back yard (including wasps, for which I cannot thank him enough).<br />
<br />
He's cleaned and cooked and cared in every possible way that a husband and father can - which is why, this year, I will not be focused on what he's missing. I'll be taking photos and sending him notes and helping him "not miss" it so much.<br />
<br />
Our Soldiers sacrifice a hell of a lot for this country. The least I can do is keep my focus on what is right, instead of painful, about being married to this one.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-alspUiWF-9Pt81GnhZLrWCoQAX0QuRTeRBmdS9v6YwvGCZTyNJUA1gvDdmoi66gYT8Zfs0PeVidJ1EoFauBkIDahcokthyphenhyphen5Hb_ZRvsUYWIcnzh-JI9-OKeSAUZp-ova_NR-kgn9ui8/s1600/IMG_0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6-alspUiWF-9Pt81GnhZLrWCoQAX0QuRTeRBmdS9v6YwvGCZTyNJUA1gvDdmoi66gYT8Zfs0PeVidJ1EoFauBkIDahcokthyphenhyphen5Hb_ZRvsUYWIcnzh-JI9-OKeSAUZp-ova_NR-kgn9ui8/s320/IMG_0018.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-33583722659091872013-12-23T22:10:00.001-06:002013-12-23T22:10:34.062-06:00How We Do Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXDUVH2_Ru-_xJLBnhTmXfPAc3sL5tDD0jBKs6yE3G2CAQ6Kq9W8c899owNx1h0xxSR8WkeCDYg8fq75AwqtCbyinS-T-id05liaZoAJwMBPBULO9PjFbce23o8NPUvdFKaCeWUlJeLU/s1600/IMG_0362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqXDUVH2_Ru-_xJLBnhTmXfPAc3sL5tDD0jBKs6yE3G2CAQ6Kq9W8c899owNx1h0xxSR8WkeCDYg8fq75AwqtCbyinS-T-id05liaZoAJwMBPBULO9PjFbce23o8NPUvdFKaCeWUlJeLU/s320/IMG_0362.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's Christmas Eve Eve and I am hearing a slow quiet rumble amid the roar of happy shoppers and people on break and everyone so happy for the season.<br />
<br />
And the rumble says, "I am tired."<br />
<br />
The rumble says, "I don't even have the tree up..."<br />
<br />
The rumble whispers, so softly, "I have no Christmas spirit this year."<br />
<br />
Some years, the Christmas spirit comes hard and fast and there is nothing but joy in the tree and the cookies and the gifts. Some years, the list of to-do is the same but the heart is hurting or exhausted or just empty - and the list feels utterly insurmountable.<br />
<br />
This year, for us, we are facing our first Christmas with the Big G away at school. She has shoveled her front walk, finished her final exams, and is cozied up with some great books and hot cocoa and friends. <br />
<br />
This year, we wait for my G to take a very long plane ride to a very long "away" and try to hang on by our fingernails to what joy we can, without thinking ahead to the pain. But of course we can't quite do that as there are plans to make and our own lists to complete before he goes. But we try.<br />
<br />
So this is how we do Christmas during the stressful years, and this is what I would tell anyone whose heart is tired, whose list is too long, and who just isn't feeling it this year -<br />
<br />
Do what you can. <br />
<br />
Christmas trees and cookies and cards and festivals are wonderful, wondrous things. But if they are sucking you dry in a season that should be delightful, then they don't have to be done. Here's a novel thought - skip the tree. Skip the cookies. Skip whatever it is that you'd "like" to do but that you dread or just can't do right now. If something else seems simpler and more "real" or even just more true to this moment right now - do that.<br />
<br />
Go see the comedy that you've all been eyeing.<br />
<br />
Order the deli tray and bakery cookies for Christmas Eve.<br />
<br />
Ask your family if they really have to have the tree in order to feel the spirit - and if the answer is "yes" then tell them to get in the living room and get to work because the holiday is not about one person pulling the rest of the family together. <br />
<br />
This is how we do Christmas... We boil the holiday down to its most basic and most humble and simplest, joy-giving parts. We do those. The rest, we do next year or even the next after that when we have more energy and more time and more spirit. We make our own way and our own holiday and we teach our girls to do the same.<br />
<br />
Won't you join us?<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-65344506599878467382013-12-20T20:30:00.000-06:002013-12-20T20:30:17.579-06:00New Life Rules<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpw47oWni3curLwftP178kFUHZ0nuhNnakYA9cZmVKisevDHsjytZWTL1pazvjbJXmtby6l7Jif0wCM5KFw0gqW2GIu83oZ34tfWcJryxMngt0OWRdcuIGG5I_vK1TtXI7jQdTRJP-E4g/s1600/2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpw47oWni3curLwftP178kFUHZ0nuhNnakYA9cZmVKisevDHsjytZWTL1pazvjbJXmtby6l7Jif0wCM5KFw0gqW2GIu83oZ34tfWcJryxMngt0OWRdcuIGG5I_vK1TtXI7jQdTRJP-E4g/s1600/2014.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Time to write again, as there is another long "away" in our future. Between some work stress and some major life changes, it's a good time to reflect on what I want life to mean to me and what I expect from myself going forward.<br />
<br />
This list is not conclusive and it's certainly going to need some additions, but it's what's been in my heart.<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>It's ok to ask for help when I need it.</li>
<li>Pray without ceasing.</li>
<li>If my heart is feeling sore, I need to state the truth, at least to myself.</li>
<li>Telling myself to "buck up" is not helpful.</li>
<li>Reaching outside my comfort zone, however, can be a good thing.</li>
<li>Even when things are dark, if I am simply trying to do the right thing and reflect God and goodness in my life, it does not go unnoticed. I don't always hear about it, but it is not unnoticed.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Most importantly:</div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>If I wouldn't give certain "advice" to a girlfriend, why do I think it's OK to give it to myself?</li>
<li>I matter.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div>
Ultimately, the year ahead will have dark and light and strength and weakness - there will be times of sorrow and times of great joy. I'm fortunate that this is just an "away" and not an "away and in danger". I have a dear friend who has told me to take this year, search inside for the person I want to be and the future I want to share with my G, and build the foundation we'll need. She, as always, has good advice.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Join me?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-49868032577560649112013-05-29T21:09:00.000-05:002013-05-29T21:09:45.866-05:00The Flag<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are days when my relationship with the US flag is a
conflicted one. By turns, I both love
and hate this emblem of our country.
There is such a pull to it, holding us tight, demanding that we give and
give and give, and so rarely giving back.
Then there are the days when I am so proud to be a citizen of this
country, that the pure and lonesome beauty of its stars and stripes nearly
brings me to weeping.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is a powerful thing, that flag. Over 20 years ago, he raised his right hand
and swore to uphold it, to fight for it, and to die by it if necessary. Over 20 years ago, I made a vow to him, which
in turn binds me to that selfsame flag.
Our children have made sacrifices because of his original oath, and have
grown up stronger for it. And yet…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our lives are very different from what I had grown up imagining our lives to be, and certainly different from that of most Americans. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most Americans, when they hear the National Anthem, or they
recite the Pledge, do so unfettered, unbound by its power. There are some, not all, who realize and
appreciate fully the freedoms they enjoy because our country is a unique
one. They are proud, loyal, and
steadfast. Some, I am sad to say, are
blithely uncaring, or unaware, or both. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most Americans are not asked to fully support that flag.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And most Americans would surely not die for that flag. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most Americans do not move because their country needs
it. They do not go without their
families for months, years at a time because their country demands it. They do not serve at the needs of the Army,
nor at the needs of any part of this great country. They do not bathe the flag in blood, sweat or
tears.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most Americans do not occasionally hate the demands that
their flag puts on them, because most Americans have not had much demanded of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is much to say that is good and positive and right
about this country. All of those
reasons, plus family tradition, are the inspiration for my husband’s original and
continued oath. Those are the
predominant reasons he has stayed with this service, and we have all given so
much. We are free to do so much that in
other countries is forbidden, or unavailable, or unheard-of. We are freer than free, in so many of the
ways that count. Speech, Religion,
Press, Self-protection. Some days it
feels as though those freedoms are under attack by the very forces that are
supposed to uphold them, yet still they endure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most Americans pay absolutely nothing for this tremendous
privilege, short of grumbling at the tax office. Freedoms are, by their nature, not free. Their cost is far deeper than a monetary
one. Their cost cannot be purchased
except through the unfailing loyalty of those who have promised their lives to
it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some days, that cost seems far too high. Some days, that cost makes me weep for the lost
days and months and years that we have sacrificed. Some days, I could hate that flag. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most Americans do not understand. They do not see the conflict that pulls at
our military families, where fealty to “home” and “country” must constantly be
an either-or, all-or-nothing choice.
Many Americans blithely say, “Well, at least it isn’t…” or “It could be
worse,” not realizing that each change and each sacrifice must be weighed on an
individual occurrence. Gone is gone, and
we miss the time we might have spent together.
Let us grieve a moment, let us feel comforted and not forgotten while we
are half of the family we once were. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am proud of the choices that we have made, to follow and
support and remain loyal to this great country and that beautiful, terrible
flag. Most days, I would not change a
thing except to be more appreciative of the freedoms it represents. But there are times, when the anthem plays
and the flag is flown, that my heart aches inside at the price we have paid.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are days, I will admit, when there is no comfort there.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4b_FH3xdtHUYdvxHE0pAUpWVJQE4_9A8uifJHSbDN4mTA4DS7tl8TBb7YzXwa0yvkLItCtpA5uOD3bQxrCR-SYvyO5SqO2XHvap1UJamzX1kHzJ5LAZ9tSmNFN64sO8Botl1HPfk2HM/s1600/Field+of+Flags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4b_FH3xdtHUYdvxHE0pAUpWVJQE4_9A8uifJHSbDN4mTA4DS7tl8TBb7YzXwa0yvkLItCtpA5uOD3bQxrCR-SYvyO5SqO2XHvap1UJamzX1kHzJ5LAZ9tSmNFN64sO8Botl1HPfk2HM/s1600/Field+of+Flags.jpg" /></a></div>
.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-60457922414058620792013-05-24T20:43:00.000-05:002013-05-24T20:43:00.884-05:00SleepI won't be going to sleep any time soon... Little G is on her way home from a long field day with her class, and I am waiting for the bus to safely deliver her. The waiting is difficult, but not unfamiliar. It's fairly early in the evening, but I'd really like to be in my jammies and ready for bed.<br />
<br />
Sleep is something I've learned to postpone, to do without, to occasionally fantasize about like I once dreamt of seeing my name published prominently.<br />
<br />
What's that you say? My kids are older? Oh, how funny...as if that makes any difference! Easy and consistent sleep is, I believe, one of those things we simply sacrifice for our children on occasion. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiY6QPK3lFHhbNbX0QWj2xt6fnf2B9DPT8_hhoer2e0dPGyPClbUOox2n74pDVGBkmkh5hEmjRWUfkS6imW3BljixqVc3igfXZDYa39GCuqX8XBZx8Vo1ikAbJgWPcmAG8-Td5LeBNxGU/s1600/sleep.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiY6QPK3lFHhbNbX0QWj2xt6fnf2B9DPT8_hhoer2e0dPGyPClbUOox2n74pDVGBkmkh5hEmjRWUfkS6imW3BljixqVc3igfXZDYa39GCuqX8XBZx8Vo1ikAbJgWPcmAG8-Td5LeBNxGU/s320/sleep.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before that baby’s even born, the physical and emotional
upheaval of pregnancy keeps us awake.
Dreams, wild and sometimes theatrical, keep us from sleep. Joints and ligaments and body parts we never
knew we had, are suddenly calling to us overnight. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People tell us, “When the baby comes, you can sleep when
they sleep!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the sweet bundle of joy is placed in our arms, a whole
new reason for our sleeplessness appears.
Absolute dependence shines from those sweet eyes. When they do sleep, we find ourselves
watching them, guarding against the night. Or bathing. Or grabbing bites of
lukewarm dinner. Or staring into space,
wondering, “Why can’t I sleep?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Toddler years, terrific and temperamental, show us how even
the most exhausted of children won’t necessarily sleep when they’re tired. They fight, bleary-eyed and puffy-cheeked,
against the rest that their parents desperately crave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We briefly think, “We can rest now that they’re older!” when
it’s time to send them off to school.
But, alas, we are mistaken. They have sleepovers , stomach bugs, school
projects and insomnia. They wake us on Saturdays for sports. They wake us to share the
nightmares of the night before. Tossing and turning, we sleep lightly and wait for nighttime
visitors.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Independent and growing fast, our children soon no longer
visit us in the middle of the night.
They sleep as late as we will let them, they have whole sections of
their lives that don’t involve us (much). Do we sleep now, secure in their
growing autonomy? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now we think about who their friends are. What their grades are. Their futures, their present, the diaphanous
and distressing unknown that arises as our children begin to stand on their
own. We await curfew. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People tell us, and we believe, “When they move out, you can
sleep.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have come to suspect, though, that parents are never going
to rest well. We will never consistently
lay our heads down at night, safe and secure and utterly at peace. Once our kids move out, we think about
college, and safety, and whether they’re happy.
We dissect conversations, life choices, events and aspirations… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The
phone rings with a wrong number, at the dreaded darkest hour, and we lie awake
wondering if it might have been them. If they are okay. If they, in turn, are sleeping.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-46403541419308959022013-04-12T20:30:00.001-05:002013-04-12T20:30:22.753-05:00Say Something NiceThis week has been an incredibly challenging one, and really I hadn't planned to do any writing. Hadn't planned to do much beyond pulling on my Old Navy sweatpants and curling up with a good book.<br />
<br />
But something keeps niggling in my brain, telling me to write today.<br />
<br />
Often, our school principal uses the morning announcements to challenge us to do something. "Learn one thing new today" has been a pretty consistent theme. Today, his challenge was the following:<br />
<br />
Say Something Nice.<br />
<br />
It began with an email. One teacher needed 50 black pipe cleaners for a class project. "I'll trade other colors if you want!" Within minutes, a second email popped up, "We have more than we need, thank you so much!" This speed of help is not uncommon in our school.<br />
<br />
A third email quickly followed, reminding us of the morning challenge and saying her "something nice" was that it was so wonderful that we work in a community like this where we help one another. <br />
<br />
It got me thinking of all of the "nice" little things that have happened during this harried and hectic week, and I thought I'd share.<br />
<br />
A baby's laugh, drawing smiles from everyone who walked past her.<br />
<br />
Coworkers, pitching in where needed and never complaining that it "isn't their job".<br />
<br />
Quick emails and phone calls from teachers, letting us know where their classes were so we didn't have to search.<br />
<br />
Patient parents.<br />
<br />
Smiles.<br />
<br />
Chocolate.<br />
<br />
Bright sun and a nice breeze after refreshing rain.<br />
<br />
One of my pink lilies finally bloomed. <br />
<br />
My husband's coworker, saying good morning with a smile, when I dropped My G off at work.<br />
<br />
Kids talking and swinging outside. You'd never guess they were nearing 13.<br />
<br />
Caring veterinary staff, helping us care for our crazy cats.<br />
<br />
A thank you.<br />
<br />
A hug.<br />
<br />
A smile.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjoWKwJrfNF2eCgeFhBoSDYuI4O5JA6a_Mwd42xDfJvJYjj6JUgbX7idA_DY_yTEH4PpGla6jFdyqfkuW3Db7-09uVE4wKiEMmBJswRZ8x_oq8nWXYHtVy5ogrZXu7FW8UNz4yCDUmVA/s1600/Cici.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjoWKwJrfNF2eCgeFhBoSDYuI4O5JA6a_Mwd42xDfJvJYjj6JUgbX7idA_DY_yTEH4PpGla6jFdyqfkuW3Db7-09uVE4wKiEMmBJswRZ8x_oq8nWXYHtVy5ogrZXu7FW8UNz4yCDUmVA/s320/Cici.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
There are so many things that make life difficult, so many things that make the days stretch too long and too hard. If we take a few moments to say something nice to someone who has made a difference, or notice something positive that is going on in our world, it refreshes our spirit. If we do it often enough, it becomes a habit. If we have a healthy habit, before we know it, others will notice and start to do it too. <br />
<br />
Philippians 4:8 is one of my favorites, and I think it fits tonight. "<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Let's say something nice.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-45754464267713667422013-01-24T21:05:00.000-06:002013-01-24T21:05:01.897-06:00Home<b id="internal-source-marker_0.6157645946368575" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In my dreams, I am nearly always at the home where I grew up. I walk through the same rooms where I lived then, with the view out the window the same as it’s always been. My things are in the closets, the wooden doors as familiar to me as my own skin. Sometimes, the dream is more a memory, with past players and old conversations that never were or that should have been. Sometimes the house is just a stage, set with different props and acted upon by new talent.</span></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In my dreams, the walls know me and I am part of them.</span></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dreams never keep me safe at the home we have made together, where we currently lay our heads at the end of each day. I don’t return to California, or Colorado, and only seldom do I revisit the wood-paneled walls of our first place in Kansas. If I briefly glimpse that former home, the floors are bare and the rooms echo with the memories we created there. Those homes look just as they did the day we left them, spotless and shining and vacant of everything but the role they played in our family’s story.</span></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I awaken and remember the night, my heart will ache. My sighs are long and deep as I realize that I was home again, and not even able to appreciate it when I was there. For while I miss the view, and the way the light plays through the rooms, I miss most the people who filled those rooms. I miss their voices, their touch, the soft scent that means home. And I hope for more dreams to return me there.</span></span></b><br />
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLCrVJG8Dzlp9mJP3IUzsqgW8uwQDjf7PJ5_wL4R13QmYPfIvAdWZS-PU-KSedgU0wHSmDm7vUbIxnC0XYBtNp5PklyyitFv4g1ilb8Rmll4dyUFSPMasbXoDuinyqUafhL8F-nrWHCw/s1600/catalinas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLCrVJG8Dzlp9mJP3IUzsqgW8uwQDjf7PJ5_wL4R13QmYPfIvAdWZS-PU-KSedgU0wHSmDm7vUbIxnC0XYBtNp5PklyyitFv4g1ilb8Rmll4dyUFSPMasbXoDuinyqUafhL8F-nrWHCw/s320/catalinas.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-17424139435374327102013-01-20T13:28:00.002-06:002013-01-20T13:28:42.458-06:00Getting Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZvFLVYOZ5awqtPepazZ_E4kh2NDyU_XOmQTzJxsG6LhOdvooRTNuaIc0jd3pL61jzrzH0LNam4hEVt5XDa5TUghniiy5aiP05LDe9o6N8L9XcvN6evmQZlJC0w6rjKaxuC276BQnisA/s1600/retired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZvFLVYOZ5awqtPepazZ_E4kh2NDyU_XOmQTzJxsG6LhOdvooRTNuaIc0jd3pL61jzrzH0LNam4hEVt5XDa5TUghniiy5aiP05LDe9o6N8L9XcvN6evmQZlJC0w6rjKaxuC276BQnisA/s1600/retired.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Since My G has 21 years in the Army, of course we've talked a lot about retirement. We have our plans, which of course the Army has changed for us a half dozen times at least. We are taking steps to make Plans A, B, and C work, as well.<br />
<br />
We get asked a lot, "So, when do you retire?"<br />
<br />
Well, it's complicated. Every day, it seems, I hear a new story about someone getting out of the Army. And I hear stories of "what happens next". <br />
<br />
Folks, it isn't good news.<br />
<br />
One friend and her Soldier husband were forced to med board out from the Army after he sustained injuries. They had no backup plan, and had planned to stay in until he reached his 20. Now they are both trying to find work, find a home they can afford, and they feel stuck. From what I'm reading, there's a bit of panicky feeling, too.<br />
<br />
One of My G's battle buddies was all set to retire, having hit his RCP (Retention Control Point). RCP essentially is the "get promoted or get out" point that the Army sets, and he hadn't reached the next promotion point when the Army thought he should have. Thankfully, he was able to take retirement. During the retirement health assessment, they did a body scan and found that he has a form of cancer that is becoming more and more common among Soldiers who have deployed. So instead of going through simple retirement, he underwent chemo, and now radiation, and later a full medical retirement. He's still able to retire, but the Army has exacted a pretty high price from him and his wife, both physically and emotionally.<br />
<br />
I know of a Soldier who was dealt some terrible back injuries, healed, fought the Army for proper treatment and the correct surgery, and now is getting med-boarded out of the Army because he can't properly run and has other health issues. My friend, his wife, has put in for any and every job that she is qualified for, all across the United States, because she knows they may have to rely on her income for a period of time after this process is over. So far, nothing. This is despite many of the applications coming back, saying she is qualified.<br />
<br />
My own battle buddy says that her husband didn't make the promotion list this time around, and they are gearing up for major changes with the Army and in their lives. They were once caught without a backup plan, many years ago, and they will not do so again. Still, there is a tinge of worry and fear -- the world is an uncertain place for a veteran, even one with 20 years under his belt.<br />
<br />
Getting out is scary, right now. We hear every day that the economy is getting better, that jobs are easier to find, that people are getting back to work, that we can afford to keep a roof over our heads. We hear that the Dow is so high, it must be great! We hear that there are jobs that are open, and available.<br />
<br />
(We even, sometimes, hear about companies that hire veterans specifically to help them once their Army time is done. I pray, when it is our time to get out, that we will all have found a safety net and a job.)<br />
<br />
Not one of these Soldiers, nor their families, are asking for handouts. They want to work, and they have all pushed through incredible odds already. But I think it's time we talk about preparing our Soldiers better for "getting out". We need to talk about fixing the programs that help them transition from Soldier life to civilian life. I hear that this program works really well for the Soldiers who put in 4 or 8 years of their lives and then want to go back to school or work outside the Army. But these programs are failing the Soldiers who have given the most time and lifeblood<br />
<br />
I think it's time we talk about the Soldiers who have put in the most time, and the deepest commitment. I think it's time we figure out a better way to serve them. Because these Soldiers are often the ones who know the most about their jobs and their installations, they are also often held back from properly taking part in transition programs because their loss will be felt so deeply. But at the same time, these are the very Soldiers who need the programs the most, and the units owe it to them to commit to making sure their Soldier-to-civilian transformation is the smoothest it can be.<br />
<br />
So, while it's not time for us to be getting out, it is definitely our time to plan for it. And make a Plan B. And C. Or more.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-55548150322272523622013-01-10T21:22:00.000-06:002013-01-10T21:22:04.510-06:00Sleep<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qk7qPxYV-IAmpxjVK8Ic_OKRzG_LvHcYHGSbylAYB7pXcHNJf5drpfjoaHWdTgqzMdjBaxsEejRRWBpueOIXixi0jgafwZiynRZUck7MltTl_2qfNdsCqVuCZnLVRSWhiGudQ2DsqEM/s1600/Sleep-Dep-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qk7qPxYV-IAmpxjVK8Ic_OKRzG_LvHcYHGSbylAYB7pXcHNJf5drpfjoaHWdTgqzMdjBaxsEejRRWBpueOIXixi0jgafwZiynRZUck7MltTl_2qfNdsCqVuCZnLVRSWhiGudQ2DsqEM/s320/Sleep-Dep-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Originally from<br />http://www.eziahp.com/effects-of-sleep-deprivation-on-health</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before that baby’s even born, the physical and emotional
upheaval of pregnancy keep us awake.
Dreams, wild and sometimes theatrical, keep us from sleep. Joints and ligaments and body parts we never
knew we had, are suddenly calling to us overnight. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well-meaning people tell us, “When the baby comes, you can
sleep when they sleep!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the sweet bundle of joy is placed in our arms, a whole
new reason for our sleeplessness appears.
Absolute dependence shines from those sweet eyes. When they do sleep, we find ourselves
watching them, guarding against the night. Or bathing. Or grabbing bites of
lukewarm dinner. Or staring into space,
wondering, “Why can’t I sleep?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Toddler years, terrific and temperamental, show us how even
the most exhausted of children won’t necessarily sleep when they’re tired. They fight, bleary-eyed and puffy-cheeked,
against the rest that their parents desperately crave.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We briefly think, “We can rest now that they’re older!” when
it’s time to send them off to school.
But, alas, we are mistaken. They have sleepovers , stomach bugs, school
projects and insomnia. They wake us on Saturdays for sports and to share the dreams of the night before. Tossing and turning, we wait for nighttime interruptions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Independent and growing fast, our children soon no longer
visit us in the middle of the night.
They sleep as late as we will let them, they have whole sections of
their lives that don’t involve us (much). Do we sleep now, secure in their
growing autonomy? No. Now we think about who their friends
are. What their grades are. Their future, their present, the diaphanous
and distressing unknown that arises as our children begin to stand on their
own. We await curfew. People tell us, and we believe, “When they
move out, you can sleep.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have come to suspect, though, that parents are never going
to rest well. We will never consistently
lay our heads down at night, safe and secure and utterly at peace. Once our kids move out, we think about
college, and safety, and whether they’re happy.
We dissect conversations, life choices, events and aspirations… The
phone rings with a wrong number, at the dreaded darkest hour, and we lie awake
wondering if it might have been them. If they are okay. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If they, in turn, are
sleeping.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-70853962664731321972012-12-31T21:53:00.000-06:002012-12-31T21:53:03.036-06:00Welcome, 2013A year ago, I sat down and wrote down all of the momentous events that I could remember from the year past, and then described what was coming up for 2012.<br />
<br />
I don't want to do that this year. 2012 was momentous, surely, and I am curious what 2013 will bring-- but does it really need listing?<br />
<br />
My G is home, safely. Both girls are becoming amazing young women in their own right. I have a new job that challenges and uplifts me, with coworkers who are making a difference every day. There is much hope and joy and love on the horizon. <br />
<br />
What more could I ask for? <br />
<br />
So this is my wish for 2013. That I learn from my mistakes. That I embrace joy, that I find the good where good is hard to find, that I make changes when they are called for and accept that which cannot be changed.<br />
<br />
I'm learning that I cannot change others. I can only act in a way that makes sense to me, forging my own road and praying those I love the most will continue to come along with me. My G is a pretty good travel partner, and I am so glad we have been on this journey together. <br />
<br />
Mostly, though, I want to enter 2013 with a thankful and resolute heart. There have been some struggles inside me over this year, and I am making some choices that will hopefully bring about lasting change.<br />
<br />
Four things I am starting or continuing for this year are <a href="http://myoneword.org/" target="_blank">My One Word</a>, <a href="http://www.lumosity.com/" target="_blank">Lumosity</a>, <a href="http://www.plantoeat.com/" target="_blank">Plan to Eat</a>, and <a href="http://www.youneedabudget.com/" target="_blank">You Need a Budget</a>. Past One Words were Focus and Move...this year may be UP-- this gives a focus for my spirit and betterment. Lumosity helps me stay sharp and is just challenging enough without making me scream. Plan to Eat will help us all do better with our diet, You Need a Budget has software and a financial methodology that has literally changed our lives this year. There are other things I'll be doing, but these show four walls to the year we want to build.<br />
<br />
May God bless you and keep you, may our nation stay strong, may our lives and that of our children stay blessed and happy and safe. Welcome, 2013.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaWBDCp5mpucpUEWpSSvsk8AB-7Na9YJ5nmMNOuEKeyrZxJJ34_uneSIaqe97eHbZrHtmx1_jDaNXKrqsbxYnzpPEYq8q5nIsB4a5bsVc8qVfhVBCwNpgKKCUU0BHkWVNRW1nR0AVoNM/s1600/2013+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaaWBDCp5mpucpUEWpSSvsk8AB-7Na9YJ5nmMNOuEKeyrZxJJ34_uneSIaqe97eHbZrHtmx1_jDaNXKrqsbxYnzpPEYq8q5nIsB4a5bsVc8qVfhVBCwNpgKKCUU0BHkWVNRW1nR0AVoNM/s320/2013+2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-31986257310149100582012-11-22T22:20:00.001-06:002012-11-22T22:20:06.044-06:00Changing the Family Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Cj-6EIJKLu8kPoMXDyA_n84IB_CT28cUrdELcC5kb3Do_MFp1LZwI0Oc-agZAo4yXcooEV_w1JOBn9vAxNaoFKD-VYsLxP22lKR6PQ4GlM3KeFBQnTVNc8KcxNaToaLyXOo_dm7-3Lg/s1600/Family_Tree_img.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Cj-6EIJKLu8kPoMXDyA_n84IB_CT28cUrdELcC5kb3Do_MFp1LZwI0Oc-agZAo4yXcooEV_w1JOBn9vAxNaoFKD-VYsLxP22lKR6PQ4GlM3KeFBQnTVNc8KcxNaToaLyXOo_dm7-3Lg/s1600/Family_Tree_img.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Little G and I were talking about her best friend the other day, and about T's parents. As we were talking, I thought about the friends she has, and the families she sees the most often, compared to what I grew up with.<br />
<br />
T's parents have been married a little longer than My G and I have. They're fun, caring, welcoming people who seem to like my little girl nearly as much as I do. I love having T over to our house, too. <br />
<br />
Little G also has friends R and B and E-- they, too, all have have families where Mom and Dad have been married for a long time, are committed to each other and to family, and who are raising their girls to be terrific people.<br />
<br />
Then I thought a little bit more about my friends. I've been very blessed to have the most amazing friends, many of them for 20-25 years or more. <br />
<br />
J and J have been married for 16 years. I know a lot of what they've fought through to get to this point. They are wonderfully committed, funny, loving, and they are determined to give their kids a good life and to raise respectful, thoughtful kids. <br />
<br />
K and D have been married since she was a baby. No, really, they met in high school and they've been married for 20 years and together for (I think) 24. Their kids are super-smart, funny, caring, and individual. I love this whole family.<br />
<br />
R and N have been married for 22 years. Their son, C, is expected to be respectful and to be independent. He's had some "stuff" to overcome, as have they, but no one in that family takes it as an excuse to give up. In so many ways, they are our Army Rock.<br />
<br />
As we grew up, many of these same friends had few to no examples close to them of happy, healthy marriages or families. There were issues of divorce, abuse, trauma, and worse. <br />
<br />
Little by little, we are surrounding our kids with examples of marriages and families that have what it takes to stay together. My G's parents have been married for 44 years, and his grandparents were married for 60+. My own paternal grandparents were married for (I think) 50+ years, but the best and closest example I had near to me of a healthy marriage was in the family for whom I babysat.<br />
<br />
Little G's family tree will look different from mine. Sure, we share many of the limbs, but hers has a chance to keep those broken parts from splintering. Her family tree, and that of her friends, could create a forest. My G and I grew up during the divorce epidemic of the 70s...today I'm seeing hope that we might be turning this around. And Big G and I are part of it.<br />
<br />
This Thanksgiving, I give thanks for that.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-23211164530851557292012-11-12T10:41:00.000-06:002012-11-12T10:41:32.683-06:00That Person's GoneYesterday was Veteran's Day, traditionally the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. Also called Armistice Day, we honor our troops and our veterans and say 'thank you' for their sacrifice. I love seeing my Facebook newsfeed filled with "I am thankful for our vets," and Youtube videos of the Star-Spangled Banner (which still makes me tear up) and flag-filled photos.<br />
<br />
But I also want to call attention to something. In theory, we know the sacrifices these men and women make. In theory, we look at images of vets who have had to completely learn how to walk again, and we say we "understand". We see vets and current Soldiers who tell us they don't sleep, or they are learning to control a hair-trigger temper, and we say we support them.<br />
<br />
In theory.<br />
<br />
Do we really get it, though? Do we <i style="font-weight: bold;">really</i>?<br />
<br />
Sitting with a friend and his little girl, we start talking about the work he is doing to help vets around our area. He talks about how it is, to come home totally changed. "The person I was before Iraq-- that person's gone. He's not ever coming back." He looks at his daughter and I realize she has no idea who her father used to be, how he might have been. He has two other children, who are older and who probably knew both the "before" and "after" story of this man. Yet, he is one of the lucky ones, with family to support him and a determination to hold on. <br />
<br />
We have a family friend who has gotten a recent cancer diagnosis. Is it something caused by the burn pits overseas? No way to know, right now. It took decades for us to admit that Agent Orange might have forever damaged our Vietnam vets and I am certain it will take at least that long to admit we're making our own troops sick.<br />
<br />
There are changes within our own family, too. Concentration is much more difficult, and some things either take a little longer or they just don't happen. Movie night together on the couch is a thing of the past. We are very fortunate. He is healthy, we are happy, and we have had these days together. But we both realize he's not 100% the same man he was before he deployed the first time, let along the second and third times.<br />
<br />
That person's gone. Not totally, not irrevocably, but there are things that aren't coming back and there are adjustments that are permanent.<br />
<br />
The best way to take care of and care for our troops is to make sure that they aren't going to return home and be afraid for their jobs. We need to protect their healthcare and the services they have paid for so dearly. We need to let them know that their service is appreciated beyond just pretty words and yellow ribbons on posters. We need to know that their story doesn't end the day they are finally able to come home.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGY7zIH3PKVZgMzhdb2Yb1Gp99KlszEdz1hNaRcRaVUaq7Er9L2v3HRSN2xClSak5spTdk36dZF66s9D9ngJRYhMYGr5hcgyEEXUl-cJUv-luyQJBz8dZScg3a-9Cl2w8vMIEKGLv2o5w/s1600/thank+you+from+Gabbie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGY7zIH3PKVZgMzhdb2Yb1Gp99KlszEdz1hNaRcRaVUaq7Er9L2v3HRSN2xClSak5spTdk36dZF66s9D9ngJRYhMYGr5hcgyEEXUl-cJUv-luyQJBz8dZScg3a-9Cl2w8vMIEKGLv2o5w/s320/thank+you+from+Gabbie.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet Gabby, thank YOU.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-27758008081919357882012-11-06T22:15:00.001-06:002012-11-06T22:15:59.519-06:00This Is For You<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AEN0zjHVngrfE5D7c_zXJWf82Uhe8ymRE4GkIRNl4-PMUVOP13CvnMa6ds6WeR6EI0DGkP9VpWzMoTl7MIPuhj_OfYMrtYOKoQ91FEpZm6PWdRlHz-6XAXbu_YH8XHCv6Ze52pcufWE/s1600/Baby_crying_at_large_formal_dinner_table_10700003147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7AEN0zjHVngrfE5D7c_zXJWf82Uhe8ymRE4GkIRNl4-PMUVOP13CvnMa6ds6WeR6EI0DGkP9VpWzMoTl7MIPuhj_OfYMrtYOKoQ91FEpZm6PWdRlHz-6XAXbu_YH8XHCv6Ze52pcufWE/s320/Baby_crying_at_large_formal_dinner_table_10700003147.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is for you, sitting at the table with your spouse while
your child screams bloody murder because you won’t give in. You picked your battle. You set the boundaries. You won, and you understand that this is only
the first of many but there will be sweet moments as well. Good job.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been there, I know the looks across the dinner plates,
wondering, “is this worth it?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes. It will be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is for you, watching your child walk down the hall to
their classroom every morning. You know
they can make it on their own but the sweet backward glances won’t last
forever. So you watch them. Every step.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is also for you, who drive your children to the door
and give them a quick, air-blown kiss.
Your confidence in your child will help them stand strong. Those sweet air kisses won’t last forever,
either, so you cherish each one. And you
give them space.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is for any parent who has cried over their children,
desperately seeking answers. Something
feels wrong, something is hurting your child, and you aren’t sure where to
turn. You keep asking and calling and
calling again—This is for you, who keep asking the hard questions of those who
are supposed to help you when things seem impossible.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is for any parent whose child seems like Super
Kid. Your battle is different, seeking
to help your child achieve balance and define success in their own terms. There are different pressures for you and
yours, but there is still pressure.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is for you, and you know who you are, as you daydream
of a future where you can sit next to your ex at your child’s wedding. The bitterness, the lack of communication,
the stonewalling—over. It will take a
lot of work to get there, but you hold out hope even as you don’t settle for
less than the best for your kids.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is for you, Mom and Dad, who did it. Despite the anger and the disappointment and
the horrible sadness of a marriage lost, you were able to be at our wedding
together. And we saw nothing but smiles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Parenthood is among the most difficult of jobs, because
while we are in the moment we cannot see ahead to the results of our
labor. Will they learn? Will things change? Will the constant drip drip drip of love from
us be enough? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We think about those dinosaurs in “Jurassic Park,” that
bumped against the electric wires, one by one, finding the weakest link until
they escaped. We know children are like
that. They test and they test and if
they find a weak spot…they can go on the attack. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Think, too, of the ultimate vulnerability of a newborn. Eyes closed, defenseless and full of need, <b>need, <i>NEED</i></b>. Children are like this, too. Soft and pliant, impressionable and
growing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It can be so hard, sometimes, to decide which child we are
dealing with. Is it the defiant,
dangerous dinosaur? Or the needy, vulnerable
newborn? Or neither? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And even as we raise our children, we do so with
others. The parent who is here, the
parent who isn’t. We deal as a team, or
we struggle as foes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each parent, each child has different battles to be fought
and won. Some will be lost, some will
not even begin because you’ve carefully decided that this isn’t a battle to die
for. I’m not trying to imply that
parenting is a war, or that there aren’t infinite rewards when it works. Parenting is hard, though, no matter who your
kid is. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The most important thing is that if we stand shoulder to
shoulder, instead of pointed finger at pointed finger, we all succeed.<o:p></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-73979072252925994432012-10-27T15:16:00.001-05:002012-10-27T15:16:18.342-05:00OCD and ADHD Had a FightThis post could also be titled "Why We Still have CDs". My G's Mom asked me if I could let her listen to a CD soundtrack, and I grabbed the box only to realize that the CD was missing. I looked in the car. I looked in my laptop. I looked in the car <i>again</i>. No CD. I did, however, find about 20 CDs with no boxes, and more boxes with no CDs.<br />
<br />
By the time I finally found the CD I originally wanted, there was a pile of boxes and CDs and just a general mess. I had also noticed that the entertainment center needed a good dusting. This was 'Give a Mouse a Cookie' for adults.<br />
<br />
So...why do we still have CDs? I have itunes. I have an iphone. My car has a jukebox that holds hundreds of CDs for me, provided the jukebox can find the information on the music when I buy a new one. I have a laptop that would be happy to play music for us, and My G has even copied most of our music, if not all, to the large hard drive we bought for sharing.<br />
<br />
So...why bother?<br />
<br />
Because here is the CD we listened to when we first got married, and we drove in his mother's car over to the ritzy hotel they had gifted us with during our precious two days together before he had to go back to the Army. We have lived Breathe's "Hands to Heaven" more times than I can count.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/KC5InWPjtL8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Here is the CD where Big G danced like mad, in her grandparents' living room. She would boogie and boogie for hours. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/z0GDXc9Mjc4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Here are all the soundtracks to movies that we watched together as a family... And listened to for "car music" as we drove countless miles from Army Home to True Home, tying our roots together as the highway rolled on.<br />
<br />
Here is the first CD Glenn owned, and here is the first song we danced to. Here is music that comforted me during long absences, helped me study, and soothed our babies. <br />
<br />
Sure we could have this on our computers, but it wouldn't be the same as looking through these piles and shelves full of memories. Here, in these racks, is our history together. As both the girls find their own tastes of music, they have their own piles of memories (and music files they've begun to prefer to our hard copies). And that's okay. Some people have loads of photo albums to stimulate their memories. I have music and album covers.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://2.gvt0.com/vi/ZGoWtY_h4xo/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZGoWtY_h4xo&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZGoWtY_h4xo&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-31944275753467556462012-10-05T18:03:00.003-05:002012-10-05T18:03:59.848-05:00Feel 'Em UpTonight, my heart is aching. Nearly a year ago, a dear sweet and spunky friend lost her battle against a merciless foe-- breast cancer. It just.kept.coming. Another friend finished her chemo not long after that, and every time I see her post something or I think of her smiling face and her gorgeous hair growing back-- it makes me smile, happy for her. And yet it's bittersweet.<br />
<br />
Yeah, yeah, October is this. And that. I don't generally participate in awareness months (ironic considering what I used to do for a living), but this is important. TOO MANY WOMEN are having to fight this battle! Every day it's someone else. Every day it's a positive biopsy or a lump or a battle lost.<br />
<br />
Feel those breasts of yours. If you love a woman, remind her to do self exams. Know what is normal for your body, and get regular exams and know what to look for.<br />
<br />
Support research into new treatments, support women who are going through this fight.<br />
<br />
There are so many awareness ribbons out there, so many different colors to remember and think about-- but PINK is the color for October. Pink is for our Mamas (yes, mine too). Pink is for our sisters, if we have them-- I know a trio of sisters who has been through absolute hell. Pink is for our best friends, our work friends, our always-there friends. Pink is for our daughters, those we want to see grow up, and those who deserve to live long, happy and healthy lives.<br />
<br />
And Pink is for ourselves.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqQaiF6uQJKOpCLWyQo4xHbkVvQLPcS0EfrV8brpkm6IqseMxkY0aMn4j0B1ljR5AUwmxmyKjG6P6qBlAKfwWFLKMx4MFyyzeyjVBYpFAGK7vNsgCKgGIbfbQTpRqzKWR-YpHGogHt8I/s1600/for+tabatha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMqQaiF6uQJKOpCLWyQo4xHbkVvQLPcS0EfrV8brpkm6IqseMxkY0aMn4j0B1ljR5AUwmxmyKjG6P6qBlAKfwWFLKMx4MFyyzeyjVBYpFAGK7vNsgCKgGIbfbQTpRqzKWR-YpHGogHt8I/s320/for+tabatha.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I miss her every day. Lawwwwsss, how I miss her.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-49115455712183776032012-09-30T15:57:00.002-05:002012-09-30T15:57:49.271-05:00Let's Enjoy the NowWhen I was in HS (I can hear my two girls giggling as I write that), the phrase "Carpe Diem" was something we'd chat about and write in our yearbooks and pretend like we really knew what we were talking about.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ylbRLsmtMPcmQjMBoukqQvGzlbDJ4IU8CyB5f0AW1tNXGWMKAWeJp23AwM9-dlTxZmdxwH3vdqntg9OdNdCugcef6yUY3y-DLL5XLFy3EdvpAk7zm0tXxwtRTVuB7Pg86awfnZCTyrg/s1600/carpe-diem-quotes-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ylbRLsmtMPcmQjMBoukqQvGzlbDJ4IU8CyB5f0AW1tNXGWMKAWeJp23AwM9-dlTxZmdxwH3vdqntg9OdNdCugcef6yUY3y-DLL5XLFy3EdvpAk7zm0tXxwtRTVuB7Pg86awfnZCTyrg/s320/carpe-diem-quotes-10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd love a ring like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Kids today have "YOLO," which I prefer to think means "You obviously lack originality" but apparently is supposed to be "You only live once" and to some is also a free ticket to acting like an idiot. <br />
<br />
Neither of these are bad ideas, and neither are terribly original. "Carpe Diem," after all, comes from Horace and is shortened from <i style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero</span></i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>. </i>The whole thing loosely translates to, "Seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Today, some friends of mine on a Facebook page were discussing the possible drawdown in deployments. Rumor has it that only 10% of troops would be deploying next year. My knee-jerk, and slightly cynical/bitter thought was that it would probably be the 10% that has already deployed the most times, but the point was that this supremely high op-tempo that we've had for the last 11 years, might actually stop. It might slow down. Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors might actually come home without having the date of their next deployment in hand. They might see more children born, they might be able to have family time again.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There are signs of this already, small faint rays of hope that are more easily seen by those of us who have lived this life for a long time. "Payday activities" means we see Soldiers on post wearing dress uniforms for inspections. Sergeants' time is happening again. And the military is doing what it can to get rid of those service members who bring the whole rank and file down. (The methods they are using to do that are worth their own blog post, but I'm going to try to stay on topic here.)</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">However, those of us who have been around for a while are a little suspicious. We'll believe it when we see it. We'll believe it when their heads are on their own pillows, next to ours. We'll believe it when our kids get to see their dads. We'll believe it when the POA expires and can sit in a dusty folder, unused.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In response to her husband's comment about the 10% deployment rate, she said "as much as I'd like to believe you're not going to deploy, I'm not going to get happy or excited. I'm still going to plan in my head that you're leaving late next year. I've learned never to get my hopes up with the Army."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">His words to her, said while holding her tight, are where this blog actually begins: "Let's enjoy the now."</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For now, he's home. For now, his arms are around her and holding her close. For now, the bags are stored and the gear is away. For now, his head rests next to hers in the bed they share. For now, he can hug the kids and he can discipline the kids. If she's lucky, for now he can pinch her rear and chase her around the living room, embarrassing the heck out of the kids. They can have dinner together, and watch movies together. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 21.58333396911621px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 21.583332061767578px;">Whatever may or may not happen in the future with our Soldiers, our Sailors, our Airmen and our Marines-- let's enjoy the now. If it's that we see them on Skype, or we get a text from them while they're at school, or they're home from a weekend before they return to their duty station... Whatever we have, let's count ourselves blessed.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 21.583332061767578px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 21.583332061767578px;">Let's enjoy the now.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 21.583332061767578px;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 21.583332061767578px;"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-35780825528467692722012-09-27T16:30:00.000-05:002012-09-27T16:30:22.039-05:00Goal-SettingI have neglected this poor blog horribly, and there really isn't a concrete reason behind it. Perhaps I'm just tired, emotionally. There are many good and wonderful things going on in our lives, and I am thankful and happy-- just a bit worn out.<br />
<br />
I've started a second blog, <a href="http://52voicesand52prayers.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">52 Voices and 52 Prayers</a>, based on my year-long journey for a new church. It's been fulfilling and thought-provoking, and it's made me accountable to pray and learn and research. It's fed my soul in ways I could not have predicted.<br />
<br />
My G and both G's are doing pretty well, with a few bumps along the road that we've managed well so far. I have a new job, which keeps me learning and occupied and has a tremendous amount of support.<br />
<br />
So, what's missing? Not much, really, but I want to be writing more. The church blog is a wonderful and wondrous thing, but it has a singular focus and I want to write more extensively.<br />
<br />
A friend of mine posted <a href="http://joyfulmothering.net/2012/09/27/when-the-days-are-long/" target="_blank">When the Days are Long</a>, and after reading that, I found Joyful Mothering's <a href="http://joyfulmothering.net/2012/08/03/august-goals/" target="_blank">August goals</a> post. Since I, too, believe that the days are long but the years are short, I want to do more than mark time and "get through". White-knuckling it through our children's years at home wastes so much precious time. By setting specific goals, month by month, I hope to actually <i>accomplish</i> something that is concrete and measurable. For myself, and for my children as well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXJbYBZsYvG8duL6TVsq6ez453issZAX9jJ09yAY8MIHwA4fKtD5p2slTFPEkrmgbwk-Jo8uRDgGCTxGmQGujjdF1t4Zl5ta7-WBc1g1ICtHdrOpfNTZMlQ3acKBD28iHZAt4UV-vyt4/s1600/October+Goals.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXJbYBZsYvG8duL6TVsq6ez453issZAX9jJ09yAY8MIHwA4fKtD5p2slTFPEkrmgbwk-Jo8uRDgGCTxGmQGujjdF1t4Zl5ta7-WBc1g1ICtHdrOpfNTZMlQ3acKBD28iHZAt4UV-vyt4/s320/October+Goals.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Here are my goals, and I hope Joyful Mothering will forgive me for ripping off her categories:<br />
<br />
<b>Personal</b>:<br />
Write once a week in <i>both</i> blogs for all of October.<br />
Figure out a savings budget and timeline for getting my Masters'.<br />
<br />
<b>Marriage</b>:<br />
Make concrete plans for November<br />
Have a phone chat with him that is NOT focused on work, his or mine.<br />
<br />
<b>Children</b>:<br />
Spend time doing something fun alone with each of them. (Movie?)<br />
Help each of them accomplish one goal that is on their list.<br />
<br />
<b>Work</b>:<br />
Finish the classroom<br />
Sign up two more unique volunteers.<br />
<br />
I have a good feeling about this. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6188652322707370686.post-52361388523372406562012-09-07T18:13:00.000-05:002012-09-07T18:13:03.269-05:00Mea Culpa<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m sorry.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To all of the office staff at all of the schools through all
of the years, I humbly apologize. For
all of the times I have filled out a form and trusted that you could read my
letters and numbers and quickly-jotted information, I am sorry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For the phone calls with weird requests, for any of those
times when I came in at lunch or right after lunch or any time that every other
parent comes in, I am sorry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For those times when I forgot to send in a note, or my
children didn’t bring it back, mea culpa.
For those times when the children folded the notes into teeny little
squares, I apologize on their behalf.
For any marks/scratches/tears/scribbles/or smears of dirt, I beg your
forgiveness.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ve been told that I have been a reasonably responsible
parent. I’ve tried to help the schools that help our children. I’ve sent notes, made phone calls, asked
questions and tried to follow rules. For
the most part, I did not immediately think the school was at fault when there
was an issue, especially a discipline problem.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But I know, as I decipher and unfold and reassemble these
notes, I have most definitely not been perfect.
I know now that each of these notes added just “one more thing” when the
pile of papers was already tall. I know
that crinkles and wrinkles and even dirt are the norm when grubbly children’s
hands have touched these missives from the school. This week I’ve seen crayon and dirt and pink
ink and grease/glue/godonlyknows on some of these little notes, and it makes me
wonder what joys my own children have given their schools over the years.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, please forgive me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7Ggc6ytsPWd14-o7U-xIdwFocwwmfn6ZZK0PMIW8bOQrpV6HmTxUN8TafQQXj56vKFTxjBt4enYQ8vmCzzWL_ogIVr-iu82Tj1R1zizJ41V6_NNyAMIJXv6nesr0imttL88ZFrNbIR4/s1600/sorry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7Ggc6ytsPWd14-o7U-xIdwFocwwmfn6ZZK0PMIW8bOQrpV6HmTxUN8TafQQXj56vKFTxjBt4enYQ8vmCzzWL_ogIVr-iu82Tj1R1zizJ41V6_NNyAMIJXv6nesr0imttL88ZFrNbIR4/s320/sorry.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love it when they have little ones at home. :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1