The mom I am

I had the strangest train of thought today. I was in the kitchen doing the dishes and musing over the conversations that went on this morning. It's a snow day and we've been up watching the weather and school closing list since pretty early, so there've been several conversations to muse over.

My oldest spud is not one to try new things. Or new foods. Or new ways of eating old foods. Or anything new in general. He's recently been living on the edge by eating his breakfast cereal with a spoon and milk, rather than eating it dry, with his hands, and drinking milk separately. This is a departure for him, and not a small one. I told him after breakfast today, that I was proud of him for trying a new way of eating his cereal, since I knew that it was hard for him to try new things. It was funny, he lit up like a Christmas tree. Just from the few simple words I said. That I was proud of him, and that I understood something about him.

As I was doing the dishes, I don't know why I had this thought, but it occurred to me that in March it will be 5 years that my dad has been gone. He died when the littlest spud was a tiny baby and I was still on meds for postpartum depression. My father, for better or for worse, is the most significant influence on my parenting. My sister runs a very close second. But they are polar opposites. My sister taught me how to love unconditionally and without limits, and how to have fun with my kids. My dad, well, let's just leave it with, he taught me what not to do, how not to be. And in that bass-ackwards way, he had a big role in shaping the mom I am. The mom who tells her kid that she's proud of him over something as silly as how he eats his cereal.

My sister has always told me, love them beyond reason, and praise them to the skies when they've earned it, but don't be afraid to scold and even yell when they've earned that. Speak to them with respect, apologize to them when you screw up, and let them know you understand who they are. And love them. Then love them some more. My dad actually, literally, rolled his eyes at me one day when I told him that some days all I did was sit on the couch with my first newborn baby, and hold him, because I was so in awe of him, and I didn't want to put him down.

I am by no means an expert, or a perfect mom who handles every situation well. I yell far more than I would like to admit, and I get impatient far more than I wish I did. I can be sarcastic, yes, even to an almost-ten-year-old, and sometimes I don't listen as well as I expect them to.

But I also tell them I'm proud of them. And I tell them I love them, many times each day. I hope, at the end of the day, it all balances out.

New Year, old questions

It's a new year, a new decade. In some ways, it's like hitting the reset button. Or Ctrl-Alt-Delete, if you prefer. I like New Year's....I don't make resolutions, as I may have mentioned before. They usually just make me feel like I've failed, and I hate that feeling. Instead I recommit to doing the same things I always try to do: continue making my faith and my family my top priorities, improving my relationship with God and seeking His counsel in matters great and small, taking better care of my family and myself than I did last year, and being a better person today than I was yesterday.

I do have a couple of specific things I'm mulling right now though, but I don't think you can call them resolutions. I'm considering training for a full marathon this year. And I'm in the process of making what could be a life-changing career decision. On the first one, I need to decide rather quickly so I can begin training. I run regularly, but marathon training is a bit different. On the second, I have some time to think about it. That's where the old questions come in.

I'm coming to a crossroads with the military, and I'm considering a new career path that does not include a uniform. In September of 2011, I will have served 20 honorable years and will then be eligible to retire. I've always thought I'd stick around much longer than that, maybe even long enough that they'd have to kick me out for being too old. Also in September of 2011, I will have graduated from college with a brand new, shiny undergrad degree, that I will presumably want to use. I could go the "safe" route and stick with the familiar: stay in the military and be a reserve bum, working far more regularly and predictably for my unit until I get tired of it and "it's not fun anymore." That's what people start saying when they are getting short, and they're ready to hang it up. Ask anyone who's retired from the reserve how they knew it was time, and they will tell you, "It stopped being fun." Not many people count on the reserve as their fulltime bread and butter, unless they are a reserve bum. And even in that case, most of the time, you only stay while it's fun, unless you really have no other choice.

Or I could retire, take the LSAT and apply to law school. Ever since I can remember seriously thinking about what I wanted to do when I grew up, I've always dreamed of being a lawyer. I like the idea of fairness and justice, and everyone is equal in the eyes of the law. Not that you'd know it by looking around or reading the news, but still, the idea is good.

I'm certain the way will be made clear for me when it's time to really decide and start acting on the decision. But still, here I sit, chewing on it and considering and thinking and praying. New year, old questions. What do I do? Which way to go? Can I really do that? Will my family suffer? Am I smart enough? How will we pay for it? (That one is covered, I think, by the new GI Bill, but it's a legitimate question nonetheless)

I don't know if I'd be a good lawyer. I'm too wishy-washy and can't make a decision.

The other big question I wrestle with, and have wrestled with for a lot of years now is this: who am I, and what makes me unique or special, without the uniform? It's a huge part of how I've defined myself for a lot of years. I went through a similar identity crisis when I quit flying and quit wearing a flight suit to work. I switched to BDU's and instantly became invisible. That has been a tough struggle, and even now, 10 years after my last sortie as a loadmaster, I still feel a twinge when I see girls in flight suits, especially if they are loading airplanes. The fact remains that I did what was best for my family. I wouldn't make a different decision if I had it to do over again. But it was really, really hard.

So giving up the uniform entirely is going to be a difficult transition. One I'm not sure I'm ready to make. So, I'm kinda glad I've got another year or so to sit on it, and think about it, and pray about it, and then wait and see what life looks like in a year.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

It's a couple of days after Christmas. The dudes are stuffed full of various partially hydrogenated oils and all manner of other kinds of junk food, spoiled rotten by various family members who spend too much on them, and sleep deprived. I'm exhausted and coming down with....something, and Matt is in Spokane. Another successful Christmas break.

We had a great time in the chaos of the holidays. We got to see B for a short time while he was home on leave (another story for another day) and we spent Christmas Eve at the in-laws' house with 62 of our nearest and dearest. And that's just HIS family. We opened our gifts at home and went to Columbus to hang out with my family and spent the weekend. Well, the dudes and I did, because Matt had to go to work. First stop? Bermuda. Is it wrong that I took a kind of evil pleasure in the fact that it was "too cold" to go to the beach? (60 degrees) Or that it was Boxing Day and nothing was open?

ANYWAY. Had a great time with friends and family, and so glad to be back home cleaning up and doing laundry. No big plans for the next couple of days, just hang out and decompress.

We actually still have the rest of the week to go, Christmas Break is not over yet. And neither is the Christmas season. Not really. We still celebrate for two more weeks, until Epiphany. It's not over just because He was born. That's only the beginning.

It started snowing last night and has continued, off and on today. It looks so pretty, so....Christmasy. So I'm leaving my Christmas tree and decorations up for a while longer, to remember that it isn't over yet. And I don't think I want it to be over. The crazy hustlebustle, yes, I'm ready for that to be over. But taking time to remember and celebrate the birth of our Savior....that's pretty cool too.

That's odd

I just cruised by to re-read yesterday's post, and happened to notice ALL of my ads, are for spyware to catch a cheating spouse, or a lawyer to help you unload a cheating spouse, or a life coach to help you forgive a cheating spouse. I am not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I noticed a pattern there....jumped right out at me.

Just thought it was a bit odd.

That is all.

There's a lesson here somewhere

Today was supposed to be a low-key, quiet, even lazy day. All I had on the agenda was teaching my preschool PSR class at church at 10:00. My friend came over to watch the dudes for me, and brought her dudes...all the dudes are great pals. Piece of cake.

So I taught my class, stopped for milk and a spur-of-the-moment video rental, and came home. All excited for my lazy afternoon of sweatpants, finishing the Christmas tree, and rented movies. I told the kids that we weren't going anywhere for the rest of the day and we were going to be L-A-Z-Y. And the oldest mutt looked at me with sad eyes and said, "So we're not going to the concert tonight?"

Concert?

Oh yeah! Christmas in Warren County! Where the St F children's choir (of which oldest mutt is a member) is singing! Tonight!

There went my lazy afternoon. Now we had to rush to finish lunch, the tree, showers, dinner, and getting dressed up in concert attire. Meaning a tie for him. He doesn't like ties. And the poor guy looked like he was wearing his dad's tie...I was afraid it was too long on him, although more than one of my friends assured me he looked very handsome.

In the midst of the rushing, I went down to the basement to put away the totes that we keep the Christmas stuff in, and noticed a lot of small colorful fibers in the carpet, that are not supposed to be there. Not part of the pattern. It's beige carpet, there is no pattern. I asked the dudes what it was, and it was apparently all that was left of my silly sombrero hat, that oldest dude and his friend had decided to shred because it was "part of their game." Shredded. An. Item. That. Did. Not. Belong. To. Them.

I don't care about the sombrero....got it at a party a year or so ago, and didn't throw it away. The kids found it and wanted to play with it, so it was in the basement. I DO care that they were perfectly ok with destroying something that did not belong to them, and I DO care about the giant mess they made, and didn't feel compelled to clean up. So I made the oldest dude clean it up. By himself. By the time I saw the mess, his accomplice was long gone. There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth over the size of the job, and I honestly felt kind of bad making him do it all. But....there is a lesson to be learned in that mess. Don't let your friends encourage you to do something you know is wrong and/or destructive. Don't let your friends leave without helping to clean up the mess they've helped make. And failing those two things, don't let your mom stumble across said mess when she's rushing around trying to get 47 other things done....tell her about it. Or better yet, clean it up without being asked. Or told. Or yelled at. How many times does a child need to hear things before they start to become ingrained, even a little? Rhetorical question....no one knows the answer, because there is no answer. Adam and Eve are still waiting for their kids to figure it out.

I'm glad we went to the concert. The music was beautiful and really got me feeling the Christmas spirit. The kids sounded wonderful. We only made it through about half of it though, because the littlest dude was getting very whiny and wanted to go home, and it was kind of late for a school night. But it was really, really nice.

That mountain of laundry that I was avoiding the other day, has sadly not disappeared, in spite of my fervent wishing and resourceful avoidance. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate folding laundry? Maybe I'll watch Twilight while I fold.

WOW!

No sooner did I type that last sentence, and go downstairs to play trains with the littlest dude, than the phone rang and guess who it was? The UC advisor! How bout that?! I have an appointment Monday morning to bring her some papers she needs to certify before I can talk to the Veterans Assistance people. But it doesn't take very long and is just a step in the checklist.

Am working my way towards committing to running a full marathon in 2010. Right now I'm sort of on the fence, wanting to do it so that I can say I conquered the challenge. But very afraid. It's a LOT of miles and I'm intimidated.

So I'll probably be writing quite a bit about wrestling with it, and ultimately, about the training process. I ran 13.1 twice, and I found that after about 5-6 miles, it's about 90% mental. I'm betting that is the case with 26.2. Shoot, it's already messing with my head and IF I run it, it's almost a full year away.

Anyway. Back to my regularly scheduled day. And the mountain of laundry I'm desperately trying to avoid folding.

OK, OK

Tiger is a serial cheater. I take back my previous defense. I still don't think the world at large necessarily has the RIGHT to know all this stuff, but I can no longer raise the argument that maybe it was a one-time thing, a big mistake.

Shame on Tiger Woods.

And on Mark Sanford too...I read this morning that his wife filed for divorce. I have a huge amount of respect for how she handled the public side of that mess. She's a smart, classy woman that Mark Sanford will regret cheating on for the rest of his days. He said he wanted to reconcile out of one side of his mouth while calling his mistress his "soul-mate" out of the other. You got to make up your mind Governor! And what a fine example you've set for your four sons! Jenny Sanford will come out stronger on the other side. I respect the fact that she drew firm boundaries and stuck to them, as far as what she was willing to do. I respect that she didn't blast him publicly, and that she publicly stated that she was willing to forgive and work her marriage out. I respect that she gave him a chance when many other wives wouldn't have and now that he's shown he's not willing to give up his mistress for his family, I respect that she is walking away with her head held high. She did exactly what she said she was going to do.

I wish my advisor from school would call me back so I can file my VA paperwork.