**I received a complimentary copy of 29, by Adena Halpern, from my friends at From Left to Write and while this post was inspired by the book, I have received no compensation for it. The thoughts and opinions in this piece are all my own and are not necessarily endorsed by From Left to Write or the author of the book.**
I have often thought about what I would do differently over the course of my life, if I had a chance to go back and do it over again. Adena Halpern's heroine, Ellie, in 29 got just such a chance. I really enjoyed reading the book, but even more than that, I enjoyed a meander down memory lane and a mental do-over just to see how things might have gone had I made another choice at several crossroads in my life. And if I had that chance, would I get to have the benefit of knowing what I know now? THAT would make a big difference. What age would I go back to? Which choice would I get to undo? It really kind of opens up a whole bunch of other questions, doesn't it?
One of my big regrets that I often think about was my decision to quit the job that I loved when my first child was born. I was a cargo loadmaster in the AF Reserve, and I LOVED my job. I oversaw cargo loading and unloading on C141 jets, and flew (literally) around the world as part of my work. My crew and I would leave our base, fly somewhere and pick up a load of stuff bound for somewhere else, fly there and download it. Sometimes we'd stay there, or sometimes we'd go and pick up another planeload of stuff somewhere else. Sometimes we just flew passengers (usually troops or military family members) and sometimes we flew aeromedical evac missions. We worked hard and played hard. We stayed hotel rooms in beautiful places sometimes and we stayed in tents in scary places other times. I have been all over Europe, several Middle Eastern locations, Asia, Central and South America, the Pacific Rim. I have pictures of myself on horseback at the pyramids in Egypt, and outside of centuries-old German castles, and on the beach in Hawaii. My very first mission, my "dollar ride," went to the south of France. I have a collection of t-shirts and souvenirs from all over. We used to call them "MAC treasures," MAC meaning Military Airlift Command. MAC is no more; the name is gone, but the mission of military airlift moves on, just under a different acronym. There certain things everyone bought in certain countries. There was the black soap from Spain, the wooden chests from the Azores. There were Persian rugs from Kuwait and leather purses and jackets from Turkey. In Korea, you could buy an amazing array of embroidered things: what we used to call "morale patches" for your flight suit, helmet bags that were bigger than the AF issued ones with your name and your wings sewn right on. Bag tags with anything you wanted embroidered on them, in any color you wanted. I had blue ones with my name and my wings, and Snoopy the Flying Ace on mine. Most of my friends were flight crew members also, and so was my husband. My whole world was on that airplane, for the most part.
And then, there was Moe. Sweet little Moe, precious baby, forced me to re-evaluate what was really important to me. I believed, right up till the moment I said, "I can't," that I would take some time off to be with him, and then I'd pack my bag for a short 3 or 4 day trip once in awhile, keeping the best of both worlds. I'm a notorious fence sitter...my butt is perfectly made to get real comfortable up there. My boss, Chief H, was as patient and kind as he could be; his first grandchild was born close to the same time as Moe, so he got to live through his daughter's pregnancy and mine almost simultaneously. He said, "Take as much time as you need. Your job will be here." Until he couldn't anymore, and he called me at home and said, "It's time for you to make a decision. I need to get you into the training schedule." As I was talking to him, I was sitting in Moe's room, watching my four month old baby boy sleeping peacefully, and I just couldn't bring myself to say, "Put me in, Coach." Instead, I said, "I don't think I can, Chief."
I had made my back-up plan and lined up another job that did not require me to travel. And as much as I loved the folks in that office, the first day I set foot in there, my heart sank and I knew that I had chosen wrong. It was a no-win; I didn't want to leave my baby, but I wanted a job that made me feel good too. If I was going to leave him to go to work, even part time, hadn't it better be worth it? But I was stuck with the decision I made, and over the years, I think I have made the best of it. After Moe came Larry and Curly, and today, flying is certainly out of the question altogether. I'd have been able to fly for maybe another year or two, most, anyway. I have discovered other things I love doing and my military career marches on. To a different beat and at a different pace, to be sure, but still it marches on. I am still friends with some of the same people, and I am still married to the same guy, so I have done pretty well in keeping the best of both worlds.
But....given the chance, would I go back to being 29 and making that decision over again? I don't know that I would decide differently. I had parents who weren't there when I was growing up and as much as I loved my job, I don't think I could have done it with my whole heart anymore. The minute I left the local pattern, I'd have been itching to get back home and get my hands on Moe. Where I used to identify myself as an AF reservist, a loadmaster, a flyer....now I identify myself more as Moe, Larry and Curly's mom and Captain America's wife. I am still an AF reservist and proudly wear the uniform (although it's not a flight suit anymore) and I wear other hats too.
I talk to my friends who are still flying and tell them how I still miss it, 11 years later. They ask me, if you could go back and change it, would you?
No, I still don't think I would. I would be tempted, seriously tempted. But I'd have to say that I love my life and if I had continued to fly, who knows what it would look like? No, it was a really hard decision that had some long lasting ripple effects, and I often wonder, what if? Given the chance, I still feel sure I made the right decision for me and my family, no matter how hard it was at the time.
In the book 29, Ellie gets to do some similar soul-searching, but you'll have to read it to see where her heart lies :)
12 April 2011
07 March 2011
The Pledge
I recently read about something called The Mom Pledge, on my friend Elizabeth's blog, and it really piqued my interest.
She's written this great book about ceasing and desisting from the colossally ridiculous Mommy Wars, where we moms beat each other up mercilessly for making different choices than we ourselves did. Stay-at-home vs. working, breast-feeding vs. bottle-feeding, co-sleeping vs. cry-it-out, spanking vs. no-spank, cloth vs. disposable, jar baby food vs. grow your own, circumcise vs. intact, baby-wearing vs. exersaucers.....the list of these battles never ends. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us are all doing the very best we can with our kids, from day to day, doing what we believe in our hearts is the best thing for our own families. Who can find fault with that? Why must we not just critcize, but crucify, those who make different choices than we do? What makes us the authority on someone else's child? What right do we have to demean and excoriate someone else's mothering? Is ours so perfect? Really?
So, I have a few things to say about the Mommy Wars and the Mom Pledge. You knew that was coming, right?
I've pretty much laid out my feelings on the Mommy Wars. But in case there is any doubt, I think they are stupid and destructive. Motherhood is a gift. It's a blessing. And until you are there in it, no one can tell you how unbelievably difficult it is, at the same time it is so rewarding. It's so hard, to be so sleep deprived with a new infant, a colicky baby, a stubborn toddler....it's shocking that such a small person can literally bring a grown woman to her knees. But they do. Daily.
Which is why we moms need other, more experienced moms so desperately to help us navigate the rough waters. And we don't need their criticism. Especially as a new mom, you need to know that you're doing ok. Even if you can't nurse, or if you have to go back to work, or if you simply need someone else to take the baby out of earshot for 20 minutes so you can decompress. So what if you aren't following whatever the latest baby book of "wisdom" just got published, because there just aren't enough hours in the day to grow your own organic garden to make your own organic baby food, hand-wash your baby's organic cloth diapers in spring water and lovingly prepare perfectly balanced meals for your adoring spouse and perfectly-behaved older children who never complain about what's for dinner and beg for the pizza delivery man? So what if you're flying by the seat of your pants? So what if you haven't showered in two days? So what?
I remember vividly when my boys were babies, and I stayed awake at night, when I should have been getting the sleep I needed so badly. I stayed up worrying because some other mom on a message board told me I had irrevocably scarred my son and he would fault me someday because of choices my husband and I made for him. Other moms proclaimed against those of us who had taken pain medication in labor, that we had all made conscious choices to drug our babies, and that they would suffer for it and we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. There is no limit to the ways mothers can wound other moms, and frankly it makes me angry.
Why? Seriously, why? Are we all that insecure with our choices that we need to beat up on someone else to make ourselves feel better? Do we really think we're so much better than others who choose differently?
Only in the last couple of years have I come to truly appreciate the depth of my need for my circle of girlfriends....my village. I lean on them and they lean on me. Dude, I NEED them. And I have been blessed, BLESSED, I tell you, with a phenomenal group of friends and acquaintances that help me navigate, whether they realize it or not. Some moms I know a little bit....we chit-chat in the school parking lot waiting to pick up our kids or on the sidelines of the soccer field. Some moms I know better....we attend Bible study, prayer groups, or book clubs together and share more of ourselves. And some moms I know really well: we've helped each other pick up pieces of broken relationships and comforted each other through real losses.
All of them are crucial and all of them, I need. A lot.
Which is why I've chosen to take The Mom Pledge. Not that my little blog gets much traffic or many comments but I don't tolerate bullying or being mean for the sake of being mean. I don't tolerate it in my kids' school or in their behavior, I don't tolerate it in my life, and I really don't tolerate it in conversation and interactions I happen to be a part of. I like a good healthy debate and differences of opinion are welcome.
But the bottom line is respect, people. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
We moms have another choice to make. Right now. Do you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution? Do you want to help other moms and offer advice and friendship or criticize them and make them feel worse? Do you want to help create and be part of a supportive community or a playground bully, a "mean girl"?
Play nice :)
She's written this great book about ceasing and desisting from the colossally ridiculous Mommy Wars, where we moms beat each other up mercilessly for making different choices than we ourselves did. Stay-at-home vs. working, breast-feeding vs. bottle-feeding, co-sleeping vs. cry-it-out, spanking vs. no-spank, cloth vs. disposable, jar baby food vs. grow your own, circumcise vs. intact, baby-wearing vs. exersaucers.....the list of these battles never ends. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us are all doing the very best we can with our kids, from day to day, doing what we believe in our hearts is the best thing for our own families. Who can find fault with that? Why must we not just critcize, but crucify, those who make different choices than we do? What makes us the authority on someone else's child? What right do we have to demean and excoriate someone else's mothering? Is ours so perfect? Really?
So, I have a few things to say about the Mommy Wars and the Mom Pledge. You knew that was coming, right?
I've pretty much laid out my feelings on the Mommy Wars. But in case there is any doubt, I think they are stupid and destructive. Motherhood is a gift. It's a blessing. And until you are there in it, no one can tell you how unbelievably difficult it is, at the same time it is so rewarding. It's so hard, to be so sleep deprived with a new infant, a colicky baby, a stubborn toddler....it's shocking that such a small person can literally bring a grown woman to her knees. But they do. Daily.
Which is why we moms need other, more experienced moms so desperately to help us navigate the rough waters. And we don't need their criticism. Especially as a new mom, you need to know that you're doing ok. Even if you can't nurse, or if you have to go back to work, or if you simply need someone else to take the baby out of earshot for 20 minutes so you can decompress. So what if you aren't following whatever the latest baby book of "wisdom" just got published, because there just aren't enough hours in the day to grow your own organic garden to make your own organic baby food, hand-wash your baby's organic cloth diapers in spring water and lovingly prepare perfectly balanced meals for your adoring spouse and perfectly-behaved older children who never complain about what's for dinner and beg for the pizza delivery man? So what if you're flying by the seat of your pants? So what if you haven't showered in two days? So what?
I remember vividly when my boys were babies, and I stayed awake at night, when I should have been getting the sleep I needed so badly. I stayed up worrying because some other mom on a message board told me I had irrevocably scarred my son and he would fault me someday because of choices my husband and I made for him. Other moms proclaimed against those of us who had taken pain medication in labor, that we had all made conscious choices to drug our babies, and that they would suffer for it and we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. There is no limit to the ways mothers can wound other moms, and frankly it makes me angry.
Why? Seriously, why? Are we all that insecure with our choices that we need to beat up on someone else to make ourselves feel better? Do we really think we're so much better than others who choose differently?
Only in the last couple of years have I come to truly appreciate the depth of my need for my circle of girlfriends....my village. I lean on them and they lean on me. Dude, I NEED them. And I have been blessed, BLESSED, I tell you, with a phenomenal group of friends and acquaintances that help me navigate, whether they realize it or not. Some moms I know a little bit....we chit-chat in the school parking lot waiting to pick up our kids or on the sidelines of the soccer field. Some moms I know better....we attend Bible study, prayer groups, or book clubs together and share more of ourselves. And some moms I know really well: we've helped each other pick up pieces of broken relationships and comforted each other through real losses.
All of them are crucial and all of them, I need. A lot.
Which is why I've chosen to take The Mom Pledge. Not that my little blog gets much traffic or many comments but I don't tolerate bullying or being mean for the sake of being mean. I don't tolerate it in my kids' school or in their behavior, I don't tolerate it in my life, and I really don't tolerate it in conversation and interactions I happen to be a part of. I like a good healthy debate and differences of opinion are welcome.
But the bottom line is respect, people. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
We moms have another choice to make. Right now. Do you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution? Do you want to help other moms and offer advice and friendship or criticize them and make them feel worse? Do you want to help create and be part of a supportive community or a playground bully, a "mean girl"?
Play nice :)
25 February 2011
Just do it
I have been seriously absent from writing new posts lately. For the last several months, in fact. Not that I haven't had reasons, other demands on my time. And a sneaking suspicion that maybe my ramblings are only interesting to me, but I don't really want to think about that right now.
So, I have decided, right now, tonight, to just do it. Just write something.
One of the major reasons that I have been so lax on blogging is the fact that I am in an all-out sprint to the finish line of my undergraduate degree. Today ended the eighth week in a ten-week quarter. I have two weeks of classes, then finals, and then.....nothing. Till graduation in June. Nothing. Well, nothing but big decisions to make about what I am going to do next.
In an act of blind faith, I recently bought study guides for the GRE (grad school test) and the LSAT (law school test). I say "blind faith," because that's the kind of faith that I have, that I will know what to do, when the time comes. I've gotten quite comfortable up here on the fence, and the view on the grad school side looks a lot like the view on the law school side. A lot more school, more papers, and ideally, something at the end of the road to show for my hard work.
But I also have this new option to consider, that I hadn't really thought about until very recently. Maybe I won't go back to school at all. Maybe I'll continue doing what I'm doing right now: working part time for my Reserve unit, writing history. And I'll be an active engaged mom, instead of the frazzled, always-running-late-for-school-pickup mess that I have become. I am eternally grateful to have a supportive spouse in Captain America, who picks up way more than his fair share of my slack. When he's home. He does laundry, he drops off and picks up and chats with the moms at least as well (probably better than!) as I do. He does dishes, and he manages the busy social lives and practice schedules of Moe, Larry and Curly. And boy, am I ever grateful.
But last weekend, I had a little moment where I questioned myself, an epiphany of sorts. When the boys come looking for me (which happens less and less often these days), they come to the computer first. Mostly, they look for dad. But if he's not home, they have no choice. And it bums me out immensely that they have internalized that I'm generally too busy working on schoolwork to deal with their requests for snacks or their arguments, or just to help with their vocabulary homework (if it's math and dad's not home, they're really out of luck).
I get that it's important for me to do something that means something to me, whether it's work, or school, or a hobby; a pursuit that feeds my soul, and fulfills me in some way. I have said 'yes' to many of these things: I work part-time, I write freelance, I volunteer frequently at the dudes' school, I teach preschool PSR (parish school of religion), I go to school myself, I am part of a mother's prayer group, I have joined a book club, I help coordinate and put on Vacation Bible School in the summer. And I have a family that needs me to be present, and friends I want to spend time with...you see where I'm going with this.
It's a familiar refrain...learning to say 'no.' We women are helpers and nurturers by nature, and it's difficult to say 'no' to someone who is asking for help. I think maybe it's more of an issue of learning to say 'yes' to the right things, and concentrating on giving your best to those. So what is it that truly feeds my soul? Where can I channel my efforts so that I can feel like they matter and they make a difference?
I'm a Libra; I can see both sides of any issue and am hopelessly wishy-washy. Hmm, maybe this law school thing isn't the best idea for me.... In any case, making a decision is often really hard for me, especially when it affects everyone else around me too. Going back to school again involves time given up with my family, and saying 'no' to some things that would make me happy.
I need to make decisions, but I'm afraid to, afraid that I'm choosing the wrong thing, or that my choice will make someone else mad, or that I'll regret the choice I make. But fear is no justification for a decision, and if I pursue something that ultimately fulfills me and makes me happy, then I'm a better person, and better mother for it.
Just do it.
So, I have decided, right now, tonight, to just do it. Just write something.
One of the major reasons that I have been so lax on blogging is the fact that I am in an all-out sprint to the finish line of my undergraduate degree. Today ended the eighth week in a ten-week quarter. I have two weeks of classes, then finals, and then.....nothing. Till graduation in June. Nothing. Well, nothing but big decisions to make about what I am going to do next.
In an act of blind faith, I recently bought study guides for the GRE (grad school test) and the LSAT (law school test). I say "blind faith," because that's the kind of faith that I have, that I will know what to do, when the time comes. I've gotten quite comfortable up here on the fence, and the view on the grad school side looks a lot like the view on the law school side. A lot more school, more papers, and ideally, something at the end of the road to show for my hard work.
But I also have this new option to consider, that I hadn't really thought about until very recently. Maybe I won't go back to school at all. Maybe I'll continue doing what I'm doing right now: working part time for my Reserve unit, writing history. And I'll be an active engaged mom, instead of the frazzled, always-running-late-for-school-pickup mess that I have become. I am eternally grateful to have a supportive spouse in Captain America, who picks up way more than his fair share of my slack. When he's home. He does laundry, he drops off and picks up and chats with the moms at least as well (probably better than!) as I do. He does dishes, and he manages the busy social lives and practice schedules of Moe, Larry and Curly. And boy, am I ever grateful.
But last weekend, I had a little moment where I questioned myself, an epiphany of sorts. When the boys come looking for me (which happens less and less often these days), they come to the computer first. Mostly, they look for dad. But if he's not home, they have no choice. And it bums me out immensely that they have internalized that I'm generally too busy working on schoolwork to deal with their requests for snacks or their arguments, or just to help with their vocabulary homework (if it's math and dad's not home, they're really out of luck).
I get that it's important for me to do something that means something to me, whether it's work, or school, or a hobby; a pursuit that feeds my soul, and fulfills me in some way. I have said 'yes' to many of these things: I work part-time, I write freelance, I volunteer frequently at the dudes' school, I teach preschool PSR (parish school of religion), I go to school myself, I am part of a mother's prayer group, I have joined a book club, I help coordinate and put on Vacation Bible School in the summer. And I have a family that needs me to be present, and friends I want to spend time with...you see where I'm going with this.
It's a familiar refrain...learning to say 'no.' We women are helpers and nurturers by nature, and it's difficult to say 'no' to someone who is asking for help. I think maybe it's more of an issue of learning to say 'yes' to the right things, and concentrating on giving your best to those. So what is it that truly feeds my soul? Where can I channel my efforts so that I can feel like they matter and they make a difference?
I'm a Libra; I can see both sides of any issue and am hopelessly wishy-washy. Hmm, maybe this law school thing isn't the best idea for me.... In any case, making a decision is often really hard for me, especially when it affects everyone else around me too. Going back to school again involves time given up with my family, and saying 'no' to some things that would make me happy.
I need to make decisions, but I'm afraid to, afraid that I'm choosing the wrong thing, or that my choice will make someone else mad, or that I'll regret the choice I make. But fear is no justification for a decision, and if I pursue something that ultimately fulfills me and makes me happy, then I'm a better person, and better mother for it.
Just do it.
21 February 2011
Exploiting My Baby
is a funny book by Teresa Strasser, that I recently read, thanks to my friends at From Left to Write.
I'll be honest....at first, I wasn't crazy about this book. I thought it looked like a Jenny-McCarthy-Belly-Laughs-esque funny look at the hormonal train wreck that pregnancy often is...the irrational fears that keep you up at night, the breathless hope of what is yet to come, the consuming impatience to meet your baby, and the abject terror of BEING SOMEONE'S MOM.
When I opened it up, I found something a little different....Teresa is blunt and in-your-face. She's snarky and she makes fun of you, right to your face. She uses salty language and there are a LOT of people in this world she wants to punch in the face. I may be one of them, in fact, having mostly enjoyed my pregnancies, but I digress.
But Teresa is also real. I understand where she's coming from, a lot of the time. The fears that she will turn into her own kid-hating mother are very real, and I get it. When you come from dysfunction and your memories of childhood don't make you smile, impending motherhood is maybe a little scarier for you than for someone who had good role models and a living, breathing example of a functioning family unit. Some girls had moms who stayed home to raise them, taught them to cook and bake, led their Girl Scout troops, and proudly took an embarrassing amount of homecoming and prom pictures. Some girls had moms who worked and taught them how to set goals and then work hard to reach them, how to prioritize what's important, how to balance different aspects of their lives, and how to make things happen. Some girls had moms who juggled all of these things and more.
And then some of us had moms who just weren't there, literally or figuratively. And that's the hardest of all, learning to be a mom when you want to be completely and totally different from the one you had.
I give Teresa credit for having the guts to put herself out there and tell her story. I have to give her credit for being scared and doing it anyway (not that she doesn't get hung up along the way, mind you). While her near-constant paranoia and plentiful ragging on other moms whose methods or manners she doesn't like sometimes get old, I was happy for her toward the end of the book when she begins to make peace with her mom.
About all those pronouncements, though. I am reminded of the ancient piece of wisdom about karma: it's a bitch.
She kind of turns into the mom that she spent her whole book making fun of. She chases the dragon, trying to make that baby smile. She goes for a day or two (or three) without showers. She packs her schedule with Mommy & Me classes. She buys every toy, swing and Baby Mozart DVD that Toys R Us can hold and she not only has whole conversations about baby poop, SHE TAKES PICTURES OF IT.
I love it.
It happens to all of us, Teresa....you're in good company. We were all scared first-time moms too, and we all thought we were going to do it better too.
I liked the book, in spite of my initial reaction. I'm glad I kept going because, although I still don't think you need to use the F word a lot to talk about wanting, carrying, birthing, loving or exploiting a baby and I don't really advocate violence so I don't see a need to punch people in the face, Teresa's book made me laugh. It made me think about how I relate to other moms. It made me grateful for my group of mom friends that I lean on, and it made me kind of wish I could bump into Teresa at the mall.
Then again, I don't know. I don't want to get punched in the face.
I'll be honest....at first, I wasn't crazy about this book. I thought it looked like a Jenny-McCarthy-Belly-Laughs-esque funny look at the hormonal train wreck that pregnancy often is...the irrational fears that keep you up at night, the breathless hope of what is yet to come, the consuming impatience to meet your baby, and the abject terror of BEING SOMEONE'S MOM.
When I opened it up, I found something a little different....Teresa is blunt and in-your-face. She's snarky and she makes fun of you, right to your face. She uses salty language and there are a LOT of people in this world she wants to punch in the face. I may be one of them, in fact, having mostly enjoyed my pregnancies, but I digress.
But Teresa is also real. I understand where she's coming from, a lot of the time. The fears that she will turn into her own kid-hating mother are very real, and I get it. When you come from dysfunction and your memories of childhood don't make you smile, impending motherhood is maybe a little scarier for you than for someone who had good role models and a living, breathing example of a functioning family unit. Some girls had moms who stayed home to raise them, taught them to cook and bake, led their Girl Scout troops, and proudly took an embarrassing amount of homecoming and prom pictures. Some girls had moms who worked and taught them how to set goals and then work hard to reach them, how to prioritize what's important, how to balance different aspects of their lives, and how to make things happen. Some girls had moms who juggled all of these things and more.
And then some of us had moms who just weren't there, literally or figuratively. And that's the hardest of all, learning to be a mom when you want to be completely and totally different from the one you had.
I give Teresa credit for having the guts to put herself out there and tell her story. I have to give her credit for being scared and doing it anyway (not that she doesn't get hung up along the way, mind you). While her near-constant paranoia and plentiful ragging on other moms whose methods or manners she doesn't like sometimes get old, I was happy for her toward the end of the book when she begins to make peace with her mom.
About all those pronouncements, though. I am reminded of the ancient piece of wisdom about karma: it's a bitch.
She kind of turns into the mom that she spent her whole book making fun of. She chases the dragon, trying to make that baby smile. She goes for a day or two (or three) without showers. She packs her schedule with Mommy & Me classes. She buys every toy, swing and Baby Mozart DVD that Toys R Us can hold and she not only has whole conversations about baby poop, SHE TAKES PICTURES OF IT.
I love it.
It happens to all of us, Teresa....you're in good company. We were all scared first-time moms too, and we all thought we were going to do it better too.
I liked the book, in spite of my initial reaction. I'm glad I kept going because, although I still don't think you need to use the F word a lot to talk about wanting, carrying, birthing, loving or exploiting a baby and I don't really advocate violence so I don't see a need to punch people in the face, Teresa's book made me laugh. It made me think about how I relate to other moms. It made me grateful for my group of mom friends that I lean on, and it made me kind of wish I could bump into Teresa at the mall.
Then again, I don't know. I don't want to get punched in the face.
16 December 2010
Blocked
I have come here to post, to write, to ramble, and I find that I can't. Over and over, I have started to write something and before I can string together a couple of coherent sentences, I just throw up my hands and hit 'delete.'
I always have something to say. I always have an opinion on things. I always want to write, too.
But, just lately, I find that I can't. And it bugs me. Like, really bugs me.
I've never had writer's block before. I've never wanted to write, and found that I couldn't.
So, I still haven't come up with anything good, but I'm hitting 'post' this time and not 'delete.'
To all of my readers, and you know who you are (all three or four of you!), I wish you a very safe, happy and blessed holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
I always have something to say. I always have an opinion on things. I always want to write, too.
But, just lately, I find that I can't. And it bugs me. Like, really bugs me.
I've never had writer's block before. I've never wanted to write, and found that I couldn't.
So, I still haven't come up with anything good, but I'm hitting 'post' this time and not 'delete.'
To all of my readers, and you know who you are (all three or four of you!), I wish you a very safe, happy and blessed holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
11 November 2010
Thank you
Today is Veterans' Day. I want to take a moment to say thank you.
Thank you to all the veterans who have served and sacrificed and worked long hours in awful places, so that I can sit comfortably in my house and watch my children play safely in my front yard. Even though that wasn't the reason you did what you did, that's the result and for that I'm grateful. You may not consider yourself a hero, but I do.
Thank you to the families of veterans who have given up so much precious time with their fathers, husbands, daughters, sisters, wives, sons, and brothers, spent long hours on your knees in church or by your bedside, praying for the safe return of your loved ones, and waited by the phone or computer for the phone calls and emails that come as often as they can but are never quite enough.
Thank you to the kids who are this very moment packing for basic training, the kids who, in spite of the reservations their families and friends must have given the state of the world we're living in, are answering their nation's call. Thank you to the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines you will all become in a few short months.
Thank you to those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for the United States. "Thank you" isn't even nearly enough...your loss will be felt forever and there is nothing that can give enough comfort to a mother or father, wife or husband, son or daughter who has said goodbye for the last time.
This morning, I spent some time at my kids' school helping put on a Veterans' Day presentation. Along with several other moms, I gave some of my time to help the kids learn about what a veteran does, and why it's important to say "Thank You." I don't know a single vet (and I know a fair amount) who really wants to be made a huge deal over. I don't know many who would call themselves a "hero." Most would say, "I was just doing my job." No one expects or even really wants the ticker tape parades and all the hoopla. But it sure is nice when someone says, "Thank you for what you do."
I think of one the most important things we can do is to teach our children about the value of service, of giving something back, of contributing to something bigger than yourself. Our children are not only our own futures, but the future of this country. Saying "Thank you" takes no time at all, and it doesn't cost anything at all, but the dividends are tremendous.
So for this one day, no politics, no points to be made, no agendas. Just....thank you.
Thank you to all the veterans who have served and sacrificed and worked long hours in awful places, so that I can sit comfortably in my house and watch my children play safely in my front yard. Even though that wasn't the reason you did what you did, that's the result and for that I'm grateful. You may not consider yourself a hero, but I do.
Thank you to the families of veterans who have given up so much precious time with their fathers, husbands, daughters, sisters, wives, sons, and brothers, spent long hours on your knees in church or by your bedside, praying for the safe return of your loved ones, and waited by the phone or computer for the phone calls and emails that come as often as they can but are never quite enough.
Thank you to the kids who are this very moment packing for basic training, the kids who, in spite of the reservations their families and friends must have given the state of the world we're living in, are answering their nation's call. Thank you to the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines you will all become in a few short months.
Thank you to those who have given the ultimate sacrifice for the United States. "Thank you" isn't even nearly enough...your loss will be felt forever and there is nothing that can give enough comfort to a mother or father, wife or husband, son or daughter who has said goodbye for the last time.
This morning, I spent some time at my kids' school helping put on a Veterans' Day presentation. Along with several other moms, I gave some of my time to help the kids learn about what a veteran does, and why it's important to say "Thank You." I don't know a single vet (and I know a fair amount) who really wants to be made a huge deal over. I don't know many who would call themselves a "hero." Most would say, "I was just doing my job." No one expects or even really wants the ticker tape parades and all the hoopla. But it sure is nice when someone says, "Thank you for what you do."
I think of one the most important things we can do is to teach our children about the value of service, of giving something back, of contributing to something bigger than yourself. Our children are not only our own futures, but the future of this country. Saying "Thank you" takes no time at all, and it doesn't cost anything at all, but the dividends are tremendous.
So for this one day, no politics, no points to be made, no agendas. Just....thank you.
04 November 2010
Seriously, is it worth it?
Good Lord. I'm posting maybe twice a month lately, and it's because of school. It feels like I have zero time for anything besides school. These are my last two quarters, and it is HARD. I finally reached the place where all my man-cubs are in their own school all day, and I thought I'd have time. More time. I have one afternoon and two whole days a week off from school, and silly me, I thought that would be, you know, free time. Heh.
I cannot adequately express how many pages of reading (and subsequently, writing) I am required to do every week for three history classes. Hundreds of pages every day. Literally. Not only do I have to read them all, I have to analyze them in the context of the geopolitical situation, AND remember it all well enough to discuss it intelligently the next day, or the day after that. Maybe I'm not cut out for college after all. Oy vey.
In one of my classes, we received a sound scolding today for not doing the reading. The professor did not raise her voice or call us names, but she made her disappointment perfectly clear. She sent us home to read, with the promise of a quiz at our next class meeting. On top of the quiz we were already having. When she said, 'you need to go home and read' and dismissed us a half hour early, I felt like I'd been naughty, and sent to bed without dinner. But I was grateful all the same, to get out of 30 minutes of class time.
I know it's ridiculous to even entertain the idea of quitting school. I'm less than two quarters from my degree. But right now, I'm wondering if it's worth it. I'm giving up a lot of time with my family, a lot of sleep, and my stress level is through the roof. I told Captain America the other day, "I've come to a realization and I don't like it, but it is what it is. I am useless to this family until the end of March, when winter quarter is over and I will be finished taking undergrad classes. Useless." He is totally supportive and awesome but I hate this not being present at home business. I'm here but I'm not. And when I am here, I'm busy writing for my freelance gig (deadline Monday!) or organizing a Veterans' Day event at the kids' school (which I do NOT begrudge and I do enjoy, it's just a lot of work).
And here's the really crazy part....I'm considering (or at least, I was till this quarter) grad school. I think maybe it's this one professor and her class that has me feeling so bad. She barrels through lectures, she's kind of soft spoken and I'm hearing-challenged, AND she clicks through her power points so fast, I can barely read them, let alone process and/or write down notes. She has high expectations and I am just not meeting them. She keeps saying things like, 'this is a 500-level class so we have to up the ante...' but my 600-level professor is perfectly happy keeping things a little more relaxed. I'm learning just as much, if not more, from him, but he's not tightening the screws every time the class meets.
But in spite of feeling so maxed out, today was really a good day. I was afraid that, due to overnight guests in my bed keeping me awake till all hours, it was going to be a rough one but it's a funny thing....I said a little prayer and asked for help to get through my day (Captain America is somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, enjoying a nice walk in the sunshine and sleeping in, by himself. Not that I'm jealous) and I did. The boys sailed through getting ready for school and were even ready to go 5 minutes before I asked them to be. No muss, no fuss. This doesn't happen on the days I don't take the time to ask God for help.
Note to self....maybe you should think about asking for help every day, not just the crappy ones. Hmm.
So, I'll be going to morning prayer with the boys at school tomorrow. To remind myself that it's ok, and necessary to ask for help. And also because the middle man-cub is participating in a skit. Dressed like George Washington. White wig and all. I sense a photo op.
I cannot adequately express how many pages of reading (and subsequently, writing) I am required to do every week for three history classes. Hundreds of pages every day. Literally. Not only do I have to read them all, I have to analyze them in the context of the geopolitical situation, AND remember it all well enough to discuss it intelligently the next day, or the day after that. Maybe I'm not cut out for college after all. Oy vey.
In one of my classes, we received a sound scolding today for not doing the reading. The professor did not raise her voice or call us names, but she made her disappointment perfectly clear. She sent us home to read, with the promise of a quiz at our next class meeting. On top of the quiz we were already having. When she said, 'you need to go home and read' and dismissed us a half hour early, I felt like I'd been naughty, and sent to bed without dinner. But I was grateful all the same, to get out of 30 minutes of class time.
I know it's ridiculous to even entertain the idea of quitting school. I'm less than two quarters from my degree. But right now, I'm wondering if it's worth it. I'm giving up a lot of time with my family, a lot of sleep, and my stress level is through the roof. I told Captain America the other day, "I've come to a realization and I don't like it, but it is what it is. I am useless to this family until the end of March, when winter quarter is over and I will be finished taking undergrad classes. Useless." He is totally supportive and awesome but I hate this not being present at home business. I'm here but I'm not. And when I am here, I'm busy writing for my freelance gig (deadline Monday!) or organizing a Veterans' Day event at the kids' school (which I do NOT begrudge and I do enjoy, it's just a lot of work).
And here's the really crazy part....I'm considering (or at least, I was till this quarter) grad school. I think maybe it's this one professor and her class that has me feeling so bad. She barrels through lectures, she's kind of soft spoken and I'm hearing-challenged, AND she clicks through her power points so fast, I can barely read them, let alone process and/or write down notes. She has high expectations and I am just not meeting them. She keeps saying things like, 'this is a 500-level class so we have to up the ante...' but my 600-level professor is perfectly happy keeping things a little more relaxed. I'm learning just as much, if not more, from him, but he's not tightening the screws every time the class meets.
But in spite of feeling so maxed out, today was really a good day. I was afraid that, due to overnight guests in my bed keeping me awake till all hours, it was going to be a rough one but it's a funny thing....I said a little prayer and asked for help to get through my day (Captain America is somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, enjoying a nice walk in the sunshine and sleeping in, by himself. Not that I'm jealous) and I did. The boys sailed through getting ready for school and were even ready to go 5 minutes before I asked them to be. No muss, no fuss. This doesn't happen on the days I don't take the time to ask God for help.
Note to self....maybe you should think about asking for help every day, not just the crappy ones. Hmm.
So, I'll be going to morning prayer with the boys at school tomorrow. To remind myself that it's ok, and necessary to ask for help. And also because the middle man-cub is participating in a skit. Dressed like George Washington. White wig and all. I sense a photo op.
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