Lyra, my Lyra. Sweet 7 year old Lyra who is missing her Daddy more than even she understands. I have spent night after night with her while she cries unable to wake up from a bad dream, or when she does wake up tells me she dreamt that Daddy got hurt or worse...that I told her Daddy was never coming home.
People can tell me all day how resilient kids are and I will tell them all the questions my kids have asked while Daddy's been gone. You can never completely bounce back from that kind of fear I think. I thought as they got older the deployments would be easier, I was wrong...way wrong!
So, back to Lyra (Leer-uh...rhymes with "Bartender, can I have a beer, uh make it two") Her full name is ILYRA. It's an Albanian name, that loosely translates to "freedom." And if I had any notion that naming her that would give her the personality to find her own freedom, I may have hesitated on the choice.
As far as I can remember she has done things her way. She has never been known to try to "impress" many of her relatives. This mainly goes to her Grandparents. Although she has a fun filled relationship with my father that has the two of them in a constant battle of who snuck the last spank, most days she doesn't give my mother the time of day. She's not outwardly malicious or nasty, just aloof. And it's worse with Charlie's parents. But, where my mother just ignores Lyra right back (which seems to maintain her respect), Charlie's parents try to force her to engage with them. This doesn't work out so well. It has gotten me in trouble for not "teaching that child how to respect her elders" and has gotten her a bad reputation for being a pill. For anyone who is agreeing with the elders comment; if you really use the word "elders" you're probably a little too prim and proper for this blog. Feel free to stay, I'm just sayin'...
The last time Charlie deployed to Afghanistan was in '07 and the child in question was 5. Although seemingly fine on almost every other front, she developed a ginormous fear of darkness and guns.
+++Note to parents: The musical OKLAHOMA, while seemingly innocent and fun, does nothing to reassure a phobic child when the theatre lights go down and the cowboys start kicking up their heels and firing their guns. However, should you forget this tidbit of advise, the guy working the lobby at Allenberry Playhouse in Carlisle, PA is very nice to chat with.+++
This deployment has been a bit different. She no longer screams bloody murder at the movie theater. This has been extremely helpful to the rest of the family as well as hundreds of theater goers. Nor does she blink an eye when her brother and 1/2 the neighborhood play Army Man.
She does however get angry. Very angry. So much so that after repeated unprovoked attacks on her siblings, I have put her into therapy. (I should mention here that I'm a big proponent of therapy. Everyone can use someone uninvolved in your life to talk to...and a professional usually gives you much better advise than the drunk sitting next to you at the bar.)
A few months ago, Lyra announced that she would be making her First Holy Communion when her Daddy came home and not on April 10th when the rest of the CCD class would. She told me "I want Daddy to see me do it with his own eyeballs, not through a camera." I had to admit, she made a good point. She was very upset that he did not get to see her play basketball this year. It didn't seem to matter that he didn't see Tali or Josie play either because "He saw them last year, he's never ever seen me."
I know this whole deployment thing has been hard on me and my brain can process why he's there. Tali made her 1st Communion while Charlie was in Afghanistan. It was hard for her, but Tali somehow has the ability to do what she needs to do and move on. She is mature beyond her years and my most emotionally stable child.
Lyra, not so much. So, when she announced she wanted to wait, I understood. After talking to friends and family I got up my nerve to go see the parish priest. Father Blank (no, not the real name, duh) is a very nice guy and is not any more threatening than any man of the collar. As a good Catholic, all priests make me a little nervous. Really, if you can completely let loose in front of a priest, you probably also use the word "elders" and we've already discussed your options to stop reading.
So, Father was cool and said "No problem. We'll figure it out once he comes home and do whatever you want to do." What was great was that he made this decision without the help of the DRE (Director of Religious Education). I did not want her involved any more than necessary. Let's just say she's a bit of a fanatic about Religious Ed., and loves to lay the guilt and any blame on the parents who are not "displaying a faith based example" for the children to follow. She announced at the beginning of the school year that "at least one parent of any child in a sacramental year shall sign up for an adult Bible study at the chapel." I refused for several reasons:
#1. The best way to get Mary Carlton to not do something is to tell her you are forcing her to do it. (Maybe why some of those college assignments didn't go so well)
#2. I had already signed up to go to the Women of St. Ignatius (WOSI) on Thursday mornings and they did a Bible study there. The DRE announced that WOSI and/or Knights of Columbus Bible studies did not count toward the sacramental year requirement. (I quit WOSI out of protest-- and the desire to have Thursday mornings free.)
#3. I have 5 children...given the choice, do you really think I would rather stay at church while they go to CCD instead of go back home and be alone for an hour and 1/2? Do you even have to think about that one???
#4. Perhaps, most importantly, the kids go to CCD at 8 AM on Sunday mornings. Please re-read reason #3 and then think about where I'd rather be at 8 AM on a Sunday morning. I kick them out the door and go back to bed!
Back to Lyra. We avoided the initial discussion with the DRE, and things continued along the chaotic path that has been this deployment. Lyra continued to fulfill all of her requirements and attended the day long retreat in mid-March. That afternoon they had a professional photographer come to do pictures. I signed up and we had Lyra's picture taken. Truthfully, I was afraid if I didn't do this, she would end up making her 1st Communion some random Sunday and never put the "outfit" on.
The pictures came out beautiful and the dress fit and all was well. The Friday before the Big Day, I mentioned to Lyra before she went to school, that if she had any intention at all of making her 1st Communion the next day, she HAD to go to practice that afternoon. I was very worried she would wake up Saturday and say "Let's go do my Communion thing now." I didn't really think that would happen, but with Lyra, you never do know. So what does she do...she says "Yes, I do want to make it tomorrow!"
After scraping my jaw off the floor (and washing my chin as the floor is perpetually filthy) I told her we would go to practice that afternoon.
So we went and it was entirely too long and the kids were losing their minds by the time we left. The morning of Communion was full of the typical chaos. The boys were fussing because they didn't want to go to childcare, the girls were annoyed I made them go at all BUT THEN I made them dress up. Evil Mother!!!
Mass was held at 10am on Saturday. We were instructed several times at practice AND at the actual mass that this DID NOT fulfill our Sunday obligation! (Thanks for nothin!) The mass itself went on for TWO HOURS! How many second graders do you know that can hang that long in church? Then, put them in uncomfortable outfits...
Lyra was horrible during mass. Fidgeting, fussing, whining and complaining. I finally realized she is at her worst behavior when she is nervous (it all makes sense now). When I questioned her about being scared she nodded and provided me with enough "What ifs" that I started to worry. I honestly was not sure she would go through with it until the host was actually in her mouth, and when it was, I'm sure the entire church heard my huge sigh of relief.
All I kept thinking was it's done, it's over, I don't have to stress anymore. As mass continued another 15 minutes the boy in front of us was crawling under the pew and the girl in front of him was twisting her head piece around so that the veil was against her face and she was sticking her tongue out against it...pretty!
Lyra was more than ready to go (so was I, so were Tali and Josie) when the DRE stood up and said "We have a few children out there whose Mom's or Dad's are deployed..." At this point, I was thinking that we were going to pray the "Peace Prayer for Deployed Soldiers" that we usually pray at the end of each mass which seemed like a nice touch. But no, they asked that the kids with a deployed parent to stand up. I stood up with Lyra because she was looking a bit pale. We were the only ones who stood up, and everyone looked at us with those pity filled faces and Lyra burst into tears.
As the DRE continued to talk I'm sure what Lyra heard was: "Lyra Carlton, please don't forget that your Dad is not here on your special day. Everyone else's Dad is here and we'd like to rub that in your face! Please stand up so we can all stare at you and make you feel worse than we already have."
It was then time to process out of the church, so there we went. I looked really tall surrounded by little girls wearing white. Lyra was hysterical. And after all that do you think that Father or the DRE talked to Lyra afterwards? NOPE! How sad is that?
I didn't realize I had stopped listening when Lyra started to cry, but my friend told me that the DRE ended her talk with "We're sorry they cannot be with us today, but well, life goes on. And the closing song will be..."
LIFE GOES ON??? Those are your words of wisdom for a heartbroken 7 year old? Thanks for your insight and "faith based example" lady!!!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
And then there are books...
I love to read...have always loved to read. I remember walking to the post library as a kid and checking out 10 books only to go back 3 days later b/c I was done and needed more. In fact, my Dad tells a story about how I came home crying one day saying the librarian wouldn't let me check out the number of books I wanted b/c she didn't believe I was reading them all. I think he came with me the next time I went.
***NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR*** I don't care what anyone says. Being a "reader" does not automatically make you a good speller. My Mother used to tell me that all the time. She figured since I read so much, spelling would come easy. Yeah, not really!
I am a horrible speller and will forever be a horrible speller. I keep meaning to create a Face Book group called "Please give us a spell check button."
Anyway, so I have continued to be a poor spelling reader. When I went back to work, after 5 kids and 10 years, I worked at Barnes & Noble which was perhaps the best job ever! Who doesn't love a bookstore? Very few people! (And they are the type of people I don't want to hang out with anyway) Who comes into a book store? People who like to read, that's who!
Check this out: They actually PAID me to hang out and help people find books, recommend books to people, shelve and display all the latest books, and watch how much money people spend on books while I saved a bundle going to the library! (Okay, I didn't save a bundle working there, BUT I really only spent money on gifts for other people and it was at 40% off!) To top it off, I didn't have to bring the kids to work! How cool is that?!?!
So, to celebrate my love for books and assist my ever depleting memory bank, I have started compiling a list of the books I read. It's great for recommending books to others when I can't think of the title AND it's good to check back so I can know if I've read a book before so I don't waste my time reading it again. I always include a little synopsis of the plot to remind myself what it was about. I may not remember the title, but maybe I'll remember the story line...or not.
To protect the potential reader of books off my list, I don't give anything away that you wouldn't find in the jacket cover and maybe less. I love my father dearly and would recommend asking his advice on almost anything...except a book or movie that you don't want to know the ending to. Honest to God, I cannot discuss a book or movie with him that he doesn't give away the twist at the end. Come to think of it, he does that with TV too. I'll say "Dad, I started watching _______ (pick a series, any series). I'm on Season One." He'll reply with "You know I really enjoyed that until they killed off so and so in Season 3. Seriously?!?! This is typically a main character and if it really bothered him it was most likely an attractive female).
The other issue I must touch upon is one regarding the books I read. I don't judge you based on the blogs you read (however lame they may be), so I don't expect to be judged on the books I choose. I have graduated from college and am done learning anything I don't want to learn. Therefore, I feel no need to exercise my brain when it comes to books.
This can best be explained by describing to you what happened when someone criticized my preference in books.
I had recently been stuck in a German hospital with no English TV or radio for two weeks before Baby Charlie was born. I was reading a book or two a day. I wouldn't have thought you could manage a John Grisham in a day, but I did...several times. In addition to about 8 John Grisham's, I had read the first two Janet Evanovich books which featured Stephanie Plum, bail bonds woman.
A few weeks later I was at a dinner party and the wives started to discuss books. I recommended Janet Evanovich to everyone. Someone said she'd never heard of her. I was trying to explain the story line to her and one of the the other ladies said. "Oh, there's really no intrinsic value to reading her books."
I wish I had enough self esteem at the time to tell her to get off her high overly Christian horse and kiss my ass! Excuse me for reading something beyond "The Red Tent," which if you want my opinion was too long and TMI. Alas, Mary the Meek won over.
I did look at her and respond "Well, the intrinsic value in reading her books is that they remove me from my reality here!" There most certainly is value in escaping your reality. Even when you are enjoying that reality. At that time I was most certainly NOT enjoying my reality so what better way to survive than to forget who, where and why you are...better with a book than a drink, I always say. Come to think of it, I never have said that. Both seem to work equally well at times. BUT, a book doesn't give you a hangover, so it's got that going for it.
Regardless, I have never forgotten, or forgiven that remark. Have I mentioned my grudge issue? The issue is that I hold them near and dear to my heart. I have honestly tried to work on this, gone to confession, wrote about them, trying to get over hurtful things people have done or said...and you know what? Ain't gonna happen!
I wouldn't say I have tons of grudges...but the ones I have held aren't goin' anywhere. There are simply some things I will NEVER forgive. I guess I just don't want to bad enough. I would love to tell you some, but seeing as my marriage is in a really great place right now, I'll just keep my mouth shut. Just to clarify, these issues are not with my husband, but trashing his family on my blog may not go too well. Actually, I've deleted and re-typed this about 5 times debating on what I can get away with. Now I'm just curious to see if he'll read it and comment. Waiting honey...are ya out there?
So, back to the point. I will start putting my book lists on here for anyone interested. Read them, delete them, print them out and shread them for all I care. I'm just lettin' you know.
***NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR*** I don't care what anyone says. Being a "reader" does not automatically make you a good speller. My Mother used to tell me that all the time. She figured since I read so much, spelling would come easy. Yeah, not really!
I am a horrible speller and will forever be a horrible speller. I keep meaning to create a Face Book group called "Please give us a spell check button."
Anyway, so I have continued to be a poor spelling reader. When I went back to work, after 5 kids and 10 years, I worked at Barnes & Noble which was perhaps the best job ever! Who doesn't love a bookstore? Very few people! (And they are the type of people I don't want to hang out with anyway) Who comes into a book store? People who like to read, that's who!
Check this out: They actually PAID me to hang out and help people find books, recommend books to people, shelve and display all the latest books, and watch how much money people spend on books while I saved a bundle going to the library! (Okay, I didn't save a bundle working there, BUT I really only spent money on gifts for other people and it was at 40% off!) To top it off, I didn't have to bring the kids to work! How cool is that?!?!
So, to celebrate my love for books and assist my ever depleting memory bank, I have started compiling a list of the books I read. It's great for recommending books to others when I can't think of the title AND it's good to check back so I can know if I've read a book before so I don't waste my time reading it again. I always include a little synopsis of the plot to remind myself what it was about. I may not remember the title, but maybe I'll remember the story line...or not.
To protect the potential reader of books off my list, I don't give anything away that you wouldn't find in the jacket cover and maybe less. I love my father dearly and would recommend asking his advice on almost anything...except a book or movie that you don't want to know the ending to. Honest to God, I cannot discuss a book or movie with him that he doesn't give away the twist at the end. Come to think of it, he does that with TV too. I'll say "Dad, I started watching _______ (pick a series, any series). I'm on Season One." He'll reply with "You know I really enjoyed that until they killed off so and so in Season 3. Seriously?!?! This is typically a main character and if it really bothered him it was most likely an attractive female).
The other issue I must touch upon is one regarding the books I read. I don't judge you based on the blogs you read (however lame they may be), so I don't expect to be judged on the books I choose. I have graduated from college and am done learning anything I don't want to learn. Therefore, I feel no need to exercise my brain when it comes to books.
This can best be explained by describing to you what happened when someone criticized my preference in books.
I had recently been stuck in a German hospital with no English TV or radio for two weeks before Baby Charlie was born. I was reading a book or two a day. I wouldn't have thought you could manage a John Grisham in a day, but I did...several times. In addition to about 8 John Grisham's, I had read the first two Janet Evanovich books which featured Stephanie Plum, bail bonds woman.
A few weeks later I was at a dinner party and the wives started to discuss books. I recommended Janet Evanovich to everyone. Someone said she'd never heard of her. I was trying to explain the story line to her and one of the the other ladies said. "Oh, there's really no intrinsic value to reading her books."
I wish I had enough self esteem at the time to tell her to get off her high overly Christian horse and kiss my ass! Excuse me for reading something beyond "The Red Tent," which if you want my opinion was too long and TMI. Alas, Mary the Meek won over.
I did look at her and respond "Well, the intrinsic value in reading her books is that they remove me from my reality here!" There most certainly is value in escaping your reality. Even when you are enjoying that reality. At that time I was most certainly NOT enjoying my reality so what better way to survive than to forget who, where and why you are...better with a book than a drink, I always say. Come to think of it, I never have said that. Both seem to work equally well at times. BUT, a book doesn't give you a hangover, so it's got that going for it.
Regardless, I have never forgotten, or forgiven that remark. Have I mentioned my grudge issue? The issue is that I hold them near and dear to my heart. I have honestly tried to work on this, gone to confession, wrote about them, trying to get over hurtful things people have done or said...and you know what? Ain't gonna happen!
I wouldn't say I have tons of grudges...but the ones I have held aren't goin' anywhere. There are simply some things I will NEVER forgive. I guess I just don't want to bad enough. I would love to tell you some, but seeing as my marriage is in a really great place right now, I'll just keep my mouth shut. Just to clarify, these issues are not with my husband, but trashing his family on my blog may not go too well. Actually, I've deleted and re-typed this about 5 times debating on what I can get away with. Now I'm just curious to see if he'll read it and comment. Waiting honey...are ya out there?
So, back to the point. I will start putting my book lists on here for anyone interested. Read them, delete them, print them out and shread them for all I care. I'm just lettin' you know.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Addendum to Dear Frog
This just in:
A strange looking female was seen wandering the streets of Ft. Leavenworth, KS last evening. It was not the well known ghost who is occasionally seen walking the grave yard and golf course on the base looking for her children. ('The Lady in Black' apparently sent her children out to get kindling for a fire in 1880 and they never returned).
No, not your average local ghost, this woman was dressed in pale pink pajamas with frogs all over them (frogs whose eyes glowed in the dark mind you), a hooded gray bathrobe flapping behind her and very comfy looking black Merrills on her feet. She was also carrying a flashlight.
As neighbors peered out their windows they report hearing the woman mumble a string of mostly indistinguishable words. The only word they could make out (that we are able to print) was "frog."
Rhythmically panning the yards and carports with a very weak flashlight that her children had obviously drained the batteries from, she continued most of the way down Thomas Ave.
A quiet shriek came across her lips as she was walked across a nearby residents yard and spotted a green (possibly grey) stuffed amphibian sitting comfortably in the baby swing of the swing set.
The last visual we have on the perpetrator was an anonymous witness seeing her trot up the alley, robe pulled tight around her and frog tucked under her arm and a delirious smile on her face.
Take caution if you see anyone resembling this description. Call the police and DO NOT under any circumstances try to take her down yourself. Any one nuts enough to leave the house at 11pm to comb the area for a stuffed animal has certainly lost their mind and is capable of anything.
Letter to the editor:
Dear Mr. Editor,
Why must you print such slander of what I can only assume is the most normal of women?
I'm sure many mother's would tell you that not only would a sane person leave their house in the dark of night to track down a stuffed animal, but an argument could be made that the parent that did NOT do that could qualify as a full blown lunatic!!!
Survival is an instinct of even the most incompetent of parents. And to survive while maintaining sanity, certain things must be considered.
1. How long does it take the normal child to scream themselves to sleep when desiring to hold their most prized possession?
2. How many parents will tell you they have an "normal" child? (And to those of you who think your child is normal, you are sadly mistaken.)
3. How many other non-normal children are in the house?
4. How long does is take those other children to fall back asleep?
5. What is the cost/benefit analysis of hunting the neighborhood for said prized possession at 11pm while it is windy, but dry vs. 3am in the rain?
6. Merrill's are so comfortable and functional, only the most savvy mother's wear them as slippers.
7. You may think that only a nut-job would parade around in pink pajama's with glowing eyed frogs, but perhaps her sister gave her those pajamas. The same sister probably recommended the Merrill's so we can only assume the sister is a smart contributing member of society. And sanity usually runs in the family does it not? Insanity certainly seems to.
So my point Mr. Editor is this: The woman's only mistake is not having 3 - 5 of these silly frogs. Why she doesn't just go to eBay and buy a few more is beyond understanding. However, if she is so dedicated to one child that she will sneak around the neighborhood at night, she must be severely dedicated to her other 4 children as well. Of course, I don't know for sure that she does have 5 children, why would I? And I wouldn't know that she's gorgeous either. That would just be a guess.
I'm just saying give her a break!
Respectfully,
Anonymous person that may or may not know the subject of your article, but someone who definitely, maybe, is NOT the person you (or I) was referring to.
A strange looking female was seen wandering the streets of Ft. Leavenworth, KS last evening. It was not the well known ghost who is occasionally seen walking the grave yard and golf course on the base looking for her children. ('The Lady in Black' apparently sent her children out to get kindling for a fire in 1880 and they never returned).
No, not your average local ghost, this woman was dressed in pale pink pajamas with frogs all over them (frogs whose eyes glowed in the dark mind you), a hooded gray bathrobe flapping behind her and very comfy looking black Merrills on her feet. She was also carrying a flashlight.
As neighbors peered out their windows they report hearing the woman mumble a string of mostly indistinguishable words. The only word they could make out (that we are able to print) was "frog."
Rhythmically panning the yards and carports with a very weak flashlight that her children had obviously drained the batteries from, she continued most of the way down Thomas Ave.
A quiet shriek came across her lips as she was walked across a nearby residents yard and spotted a green (possibly grey) stuffed amphibian sitting comfortably in the baby swing of the swing set.
The last visual we have on the perpetrator was an anonymous witness seeing her trot up the alley, robe pulled tight around her and frog tucked under her arm and a delirious smile on her face.
Take caution if you see anyone resembling this description. Call the police and DO NOT under any circumstances try to take her down yourself. Any one nuts enough to leave the house at 11pm to comb the area for a stuffed animal has certainly lost their mind and is capable of anything.
Letter to the editor:
Dear Mr. Editor,
Why must you print such slander of what I can only assume is the most normal of women?
I'm sure many mother's would tell you that not only would a sane person leave their house in the dark of night to track down a stuffed animal, but an argument could be made that the parent that did NOT do that could qualify as a full blown lunatic!!!
Survival is an instinct of even the most incompetent of parents. And to survive while maintaining sanity, certain things must be considered.
1. How long does it take the normal child to scream themselves to sleep when desiring to hold their most prized possession?
2. How many parents will tell you they have an "normal" child? (And to those of you who think your child is normal, you are sadly mistaken.)
3. How many other non-normal children are in the house?
4. How long does is take those other children to fall back asleep?
5. What is the cost/benefit analysis of hunting the neighborhood for said prized possession at 11pm while it is windy, but dry vs. 3am in the rain?
6. Merrill's are so comfortable and functional, only the most savvy mother's wear them as slippers.
7. You may think that only a nut-job would parade around in pink pajama's with glowing eyed frogs, but perhaps her sister gave her those pajamas. The same sister probably recommended the Merrill's so we can only assume the sister is a smart contributing member of society. And sanity usually runs in the family does it not? Insanity certainly seems to.
So my point Mr. Editor is this: The woman's only mistake is not having 3 - 5 of these silly frogs. Why she doesn't just go to eBay and buy a few more is beyond understanding. However, if she is so dedicated to one child that she will sneak around the neighborhood at night, she must be severely dedicated to her other 4 children as well. Of course, I don't know for sure that she does have 5 children, why would I? And I wouldn't know that she's gorgeous either. That would just be a guess.
I'm just saying give her a break!
Respectfully,
Anonymous person that may or may not know the subject of your article, but someone who definitely, maybe, is NOT the person you (or I) was referring to.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mother's Day
In honor of Mother's Day 2010 while Charlie is gone for yet again ANOTHER Mother's Day; I have taken the day off and am recycling something I wrote a long time ago.
This was written in 2004. Just think, I didn't even HAVE the boys yet!
ENJOY....
Since Charlie is not here to buy the girls gifts for me, I was thinking about what I’d really want from them anyway. They do love me unconditionally, and make me laugh when I’m on the verge of tears. They are my amazing miracles. Still……If their little brains could just somehow open up (however briefly) and grasp the following advice from me, their Mother, I think it would be incredibly beneficial to us all. I would certainly be more sure of maintaining my sanity, which could save us all time and money in the long run. (Therapy costs are rising.) Contributing to my sanity could only assist in keeping Charlie and I together longer. (A stable home life is healthy for children. Just ask Dr. Phil.) Hours of “timeouts,” loss of TV, even medical bills from needless beatings would all be saved. Life could be grand. Unfortunately, at their age, they could never process my words of wisdom. They’d be lost on 5, 4 and 2 year old brains that don’t absorb much beyond Barney, Cheese Sticks and the shape and size of their feces.
Instead of talking to the walls any more today, I’ve decided to share my thoughts with you…
1. When we are in public and you are working of rhyming, please stop when I ask you to. This will typically only happen after certain words such as: Duck, Muck, Luck…. Or Mit, Sit, Slit…..
2. When you aren’t listening and I start to count “One, Two…” This is not the time to show me that you know how to count to three. Also, should I be counting to your sister, please keep your numbers to yourself. I prefer to count on my own thank you. This will benefit both of you when the beatings begin.
3. Two things I never want to hear you say after you answer the phone: “She’s doing poopies” or “She’s doing Spit-em-ups right now.”
4. If I look exasperated and ask if you want to see my head spin around, this is not a promise of entertainment. It would not make you laugh; the thought should make you afraid. Be very afraid!
5. If you MUST touch, breathe on, or look at each other. Please do not do so at the following times: When I am driving, & when we are in public, including, but not limited to the grocery store, church, or any place the Germans will stare or feel the need to correct me or you.
6. When I have been gone over lunchtime, and I ask if Daddy fed you, please lie and say “Yes.”
7. When I have been sick or unable to assist you in the morning and I ask if Daddy picked out your clothes, please lie and say “No.”
8. The rule about not pointing is a good one. People who point too much get beat up. Same goes for staring. Same goes for people who tattle.
9. I will never think that cutting your own hair is a good idea until you are old enough that I no longer have to take credit for how ridiculous you look.
10. While you are rolling around on the floor of any given public place and people look down at you and smile. They DO NOT think you are cute; they are simply fantasizing about how far they could punt your little body. Either that or they are telling themselves how lucky they are that you are not their child.
So there you have it; my feeble attempt at maintaining harmony between parents and children.
Hope everyone has a wonderful Mother’s Day!
Love~
Mary
This was written in 2004. Just think, I didn't even HAVE the boys yet!
ENJOY....
Since Charlie is not here to buy the girls gifts for me, I was thinking about what I’d really want from them anyway. They do love me unconditionally, and make me laugh when I’m on the verge of tears. They are my amazing miracles. Still……If their little brains could just somehow open up (however briefly) and grasp the following advice from me, their Mother, I think it would be incredibly beneficial to us all. I would certainly be more sure of maintaining my sanity, which could save us all time and money in the long run. (Therapy costs are rising.) Contributing to my sanity could only assist in keeping Charlie and I together longer. (A stable home life is healthy for children. Just ask Dr. Phil.) Hours of “timeouts,” loss of TV, even medical bills from needless beatings would all be saved. Life could be grand. Unfortunately, at their age, they could never process my words of wisdom. They’d be lost on 5, 4 and 2 year old brains that don’t absorb much beyond Barney, Cheese Sticks and the shape and size of their feces.
Instead of talking to the walls any more today, I’ve decided to share my thoughts with you…
1. When we are in public and you are working of rhyming, please stop when I ask you to. This will typically only happen after certain words such as: Duck, Muck, Luck…. Or Mit, Sit, Slit…..
2. When you aren’t listening and I start to count “One, Two…” This is not the time to show me that you know how to count to three. Also, should I be counting to your sister, please keep your numbers to yourself. I prefer to count on my own thank you. This will benefit both of you when the beatings begin.
3. Two things I never want to hear you say after you answer the phone: “She’s doing poopies” or “She’s doing Spit-em-ups right now.”
4. If I look exasperated and ask if you want to see my head spin around, this is not a promise of entertainment. It would not make you laugh; the thought should make you afraid. Be very afraid!
5. If you MUST touch, breathe on, or look at each other. Please do not do so at the following times: When I am driving, & when we are in public, including, but not limited to the grocery store, church, or any place the Germans will stare or feel the need to correct me or you.
6. When I have been gone over lunchtime, and I ask if Daddy fed you, please lie and say “Yes.”
7. When I have been sick or unable to assist you in the morning and I ask if Daddy picked out your clothes, please lie and say “No.”
8. The rule about not pointing is a good one. People who point too much get beat up. Same goes for staring. Same goes for people who tattle.
9. I will never think that cutting your own hair is a good idea until you are old enough that I no longer have to take credit for how ridiculous you look.
10. While you are rolling around on the floor of any given public place and people look down at you and smile. They DO NOT think you are cute; they are simply fantasizing about how far they could punt your little body. Either that or they are telling themselves how lucky they are that you are not their child.
So there you have it; my feeble attempt at maintaining harmony between parents and children.
Hope everyone has a wonderful Mother’s Day!
Love~
Mary
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Letter to the General
I was missing Charlie the other night (pretty much like every night, except the ones where I'm too tired and delirious to miss anything) and I decided that maybe I should write someone a letter to let them know that I really needed him to come home.
One of the Generals over there is a family member's friend that I got to know several years ago. It was during my early 20s when I was not nearly as calm, refined and cultured as I am today. Hard to believe, I know!
Anyway, this is what I'd like to tell him:
Dear General Whom-I-Knew-Many-Moons-Ago:
Please let Charlie come home now as I am tired of his extended play date in Iraq. He has had fun, but is now needed at home b/c I am losing my mind. In order to maintain any amount of my sanity, which is currently down to ounces, he needs to leave your playground and return to my war zone.
BTW, as I am known as a 'helicopter Momma' I may as well be known as a 'helicopter Wife' and feel the need to let you know you have a pretty boy living next to my husband who is complaining about his need for beauty sleep. It would be nice if you could re-locate Zack Efron to where he would not be kept awake by my husbands TV, perhaps instead he could fall asleep to the sounds of IEDs or shells hitting the perimeters of his building.
Getting back to my husband; I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need this favor. You see we have five kids, yeah, stop laughing General Whom-I-Used-To-Party-With, and they have morphed into psychotic monsters while Charlie has been away. Today, I took them to a swimming party and Josie felt the need to hide Lyra's clothes in a different locker than Lyra left them in. This made Lyra so angry that she went to the stall where Josie was getting dressed and pulled the towel out from the bottom of the stall. Unfortunately, Josie was standing on the towel at the time which only confirmed that the floor was made of concrete.
I brought the two of them to the car and left Tali with Baby Charlie at the party so he could have some cake. As they came out and I went to meet them, I was informed by one of the other mothers that Baby Charlie had pushed her son for no reason and her son had pushed Baby Charlie back and knocked him over. Although he got the brunt of it, she was sure to emphasize that Baby Charlie started it. Makes a mother proud!
Later in the day, I was informed that Baby Charlie had broken a glass bottle outside the back door. When interrogated, he said "That was like 3 yesterdays ago and besides TJ told me to do it." This was reassuring as when questioned about hiding Lyra's clothes, Josie's response was "Tali told me to." I really think that if Charlie is not returned to maintain order in this house, my children will grow up susceptible to suggestions and end up jumping off bridges.
So you see, General I've-Seen-You-Sing-Paradise-By-The-Dashboard-Lights, no one here listens to me! Maybe you could break the cycle. Pretend like you care about what I have to say and that you are not only just hearing words, but realize that these words have meaning and perhaps there is a request of action among them!
I am well aware that there are many, many real 'Army Wives' who have had multiple deployments of 12 or even 15 months. These women somehow manage to feed, clothe, and even bath their children on a regular basis without maiming anyone in the household. I cannot promise the same. Somewhere I heard "The first step is to admit you have a problem." HELLO, Houston?...it ain't goin' so well!!!
I am low on rations, ammo, and Mike's Hard Lemonade. Aw hell, if I thought lawyers, guns, and money would help, I'd tell ya to send them! But what I need is my children's father. No one can put the fear of God into those creatures like he can. (That thought alone makes my heart smile)
I will be available to pick him up at the airport any time, day or night. Don't worry about compensating me for the duct tape and rope to keep the kids immobile at home while I go. If time is a problem, he really doesn't even need you land at the airport. I have runway lights lining the front porch and Charlie does a mean PLF.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, remember who I am, and figure out who my husband is. And of course, returning him to front lines of my household.
Respectfully~
Mrs LTC Charles Carlton
One of the Generals over there is a family member's friend that I got to know several years ago. It was during my early 20s when I was not nearly as calm, refined and cultured as I am today. Hard to believe, I know!
Anyway, this is what I'd like to tell him:
Dear General Whom-I-Knew-Many-Moons-Ago:
Please let Charlie come home now as I am tired of his extended play date in Iraq. He has had fun, but is now needed at home b/c I am losing my mind. In order to maintain any amount of my sanity, which is currently down to ounces, he needs to leave your playground and return to my war zone.
BTW, as I am known as a 'helicopter Momma' I may as well be known as a 'helicopter Wife' and feel the need to let you know you have a pretty boy living next to my husband who is complaining about his need for beauty sleep. It would be nice if you could re-locate Zack Efron to where he would not be kept awake by my husbands TV, perhaps instead he could fall asleep to the sounds of IEDs or shells hitting the perimeters of his building.
Getting back to my husband; I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need this favor. You see we have five kids, yeah, stop laughing General Whom-I-Used-To-Party-With, and they have morphed into psychotic monsters while Charlie has been away. Today, I took them to a swimming party and Josie felt the need to hide Lyra's clothes in a different locker than Lyra left them in. This made Lyra so angry that she went to the stall where Josie was getting dressed and pulled the towel out from the bottom of the stall. Unfortunately, Josie was standing on the towel at the time which only confirmed that the floor was made of concrete.
I brought the two of them to the car and left Tali with Baby Charlie at the party so he could have some cake. As they came out and I went to meet them, I was informed by one of the other mothers that Baby Charlie had pushed her son for no reason and her son had pushed Baby Charlie back and knocked him over. Although he got the brunt of it, she was sure to emphasize that Baby Charlie started it. Makes a mother proud!
Later in the day, I was informed that Baby Charlie had broken a glass bottle outside the back door. When interrogated, he said "That was like 3 yesterdays ago and besides TJ told me to do it." This was reassuring as when questioned about hiding Lyra's clothes, Josie's response was "Tali told me to." I really think that if Charlie is not returned to maintain order in this house, my children will grow up susceptible to suggestions and end up jumping off bridges.
So you see, General I've-Seen-You-Sing-Paradise-By-The-Dashboard-Lights, no one here listens to me! Maybe you could break the cycle. Pretend like you care about what I have to say and that you are not only just hearing words, but realize that these words have meaning and perhaps there is a request of action among them!
I am well aware that there are many, many real 'Army Wives' who have had multiple deployments of 12 or even 15 months. These women somehow manage to feed, clothe, and even bath their children on a regular basis without maiming anyone in the household. I cannot promise the same. Somewhere I heard "The first step is to admit you have a problem." HELLO, Houston?...it ain't goin' so well!!!
I am low on rations, ammo, and Mike's Hard Lemonade. Aw hell, if I thought lawyers, guns, and money would help, I'd tell ya to send them! But what I need is my children's father. No one can put the fear of God into those creatures like he can. (That thought alone makes my heart smile)
I will be available to pick him up at the airport any time, day or night. Don't worry about compensating me for the duct tape and rope to keep the kids immobile at home while I go. If time is a problem, he really doesn't even need you land at the airport. I have runway lights lining the front porch and Charlie does a mean PLF.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, remember who I am, and figure out who my husband is. And of course, returning him to front lines of my household.
Respectfully~
Mrs LTC Charles Carlton
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