I wrote this email to family and friends July 4, 2003. I don't think I have the emotional excess or capabilities to write about what I'm feeling this Fourth of July with Greg in Afghanistan. Because if that's not the epitome of patriotism, I don't know what is. However, I felt the need to say something, share something....
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Hello, all.
I hope everyone is celebrating the 4th healthy and happy!
It's about 11:30pm here and we just returned from the base. It was a good celebration. For me, this was the first year, since I waslittle, that I wasn't at Mashpee powwow with my family. But this whole journey is supposed to be a learning experience, right? And I have to admit today was just that. This was the first 4th of July that I actually sat back, realized what I had and was proud to be an American. I meanreally proud. It may be ignorant of me but like most Americans, I didn't think about anything else but my little world.
This 4th of July for me was not just about the barbecues, festivals, carnival rides and fireworks. I realized, finally, at 24, how much we really take for granted in the United States. We live about a 4-hour plane ride from Iraq and we're a lot closer to Liberia. If there were a bridge, it'd take 7 hours to drive there. To be an
American in a foreign country during times of terrorism and war brings things into a whole new light.
Tonight, we left our home surrounded by a perimeter of high fences and barbed wire and passed through the gate secured by armed guards. We drove 30 minutes to the main base, enclosed by several layers of fence and passed through a 2 foot thick steel gate that is designed to resist blasts and tank rams. We drove by the manned tank and stopped in front of 2 heavily armed gaurds for an ID check. We got through without a bomb check tonight.
We parked and put the girls in their jogging stroller. They were excited because they saw carnival rides. We walked around through the crowds of military families and single sailors, most decked out in red, white and blue, donning flags and sparklers...everything you would expect on the birthday of the USA. But I couldn't help but notice the stronger presence of security, walking around armed and alert.
The girls got to go on 5 rides. They were too cute. Katherine was a great big sister. She helped Julia onto rides and sat right by her and tried to help her off when it was over. Julia was mesmerized by all the lights and music. They had a great time! We got them some Cotton Candy and water. We then went to find a seat to listen to the music (they flew in some bands) and watch the fireworks.
We saw our friends, Rosa and Santiago, and sat by them to chat. Santiago was actually home for a few days. The fireworks soon started. I sat there with my girls on my lap watching the beautiful display...thinking. I was surrounded by Americans that put their lives or their hearts on the line every day for exactly what we are celebrating today...Freedom. There were sailors like Santiago who are gone more times than not, on duties they can't discuss, to places they can't tell their wives and children, to return when they're not sure. Spouses and children who accept that Daddy isn't here because he has a job to do.
I sat there watching the fireworks, listening to the songs playing in the background...Born in the USA by Bruce Springsteen, Angry American by Toby Kieth and Proud to be an American by Lee Greenwood. Rosa told me how she loved that song because they played it at the ceremony when she became an American citizen. Her family fled Cuba when she was young to be safe in America. I looked at the angelic faces of my babies who were awed by the fireworks and was thankful that they had never had to experience fleeing their country to be safe. I looked at Rosa, holding her husband's hand, thankful he was home to spend this weekend with her, but he'll be leaving again on Monday. I looked at my husband, thankful his current job didn't take him away from us for so long on such short notice, but there's always that chance. He's a Corpsman and when there's war, there's always someone getting hurt and needing his skilled hands.
I was thankful tonight to be an American. Thankful that these men and women put their lives and skills out there to keep me and my family safe. I hope tonight, while you sit on a blanket, lawn chair or your couch, watching the annual fireworks display, listening to the patriotic music, think about us over here. Think about the military communities all over the world, parents who are unable to watch their childrens' faces light up in awe at the exploding sky because they are somewhere fighting for an American cause...maybe not because they believe in the cause but because they believe in America.
Sorry to ramble on but I just wanted to share.
Take care everyone.
Until next time....
Wunnea
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I hope you enjoy your Fourth. Be safe..... and pray for the safety of our men and women in harm's way, fighting for what this holiday is all about.
I may need a little pick-me-up. So Hand Over the Coffee.... to go with my patriotism.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
Memorial Day?
It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died. Rather we should thank God that such men lived. — General George S. Patton
Memorial Day…. Memorial Day was established after the Civil War to honor war veterans, and was eventually made into a day of remembrance for all who died in service to their country. Today, the holiday is part of the three-day weekend marking the beginning of summer. People always talk about how others have forgotten the true meaning of Easter and the true meaning of Christmas… But what about the true meaning of Memorial Day? Have you thought about it lately? Thanksgiving is a time when we sit and give thanks for the things we have. Memorial Day is a time when we need to sit and give thanks for the ones who fought and gave their lives so you could have those things. Memorial Day weekend is a time for sunshine and camping, cookouts and fun. We think about the price of gas, the price of hot dogs, the price of alcohol. Have you sat on Memorial Day with the sun warming your face, watching your children play in the sprinkler and thought about the price of freedom?
On Memorial Day 2004, I sat at my computer in Italy while the television showed the services and ceremonies from Arlington in D.C. Like many Americans, I was oblivious and naïve about the effects of the war in my life. I listened half-heartedly as they read the names of the fallen so far that year. Suddenly, a name immediately made my heart drop and my ears perk….Sergeant Benjamin Gilman. I instantly searched on the internet for something to tell me it wasn’t who I thought and the Meriden Record-Journal proved my fears true. My dear childhood friend was killed in an explosion in Ghazni, Afghanistan. He was the recipient of the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart, post-humously. An only child, Ben was an amazing person and touched the lives of so many. He was a fun-loving soul and always had a beautiful 1000- watt smile to offer everyone he met. The last time I saw him, he was getting ready to leave for upstate NY where he was stationed. He was home on leave for the holidays. He was so proud of being in the Army and the life he was making for himself. I miss him and his giant warm hugs. My heart goes out to his family, especially his mother, Edie and I thank her for her sacrifice as well as she spends another holiday without her beautiful son. Ben would have turned 35 last week. The same age Gregory will be in a few months.
Last night, Greg was in River City. For those of you who don’t know, River City means “reduced communication”; it is when they shut off phones and internet to the outside when a Marine dies so the family won’t hear word before the Marine Corps or Navy officially notifies them. Yesterday, we lost two Marines and this Memorial Day, two families will get those uniformed men at their door, hearing the words that so many of us fear. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times “River City” has happened in the month that Greg has been in Afghanistan.
As I face my fears as a military wife and my husband is faced with mortality and the realities of war, I cannot help but sit and be grateful to the men and women who have sacrificed all their tomorrows so that my children and I can enjoy all of ours. I cry for the families who will spend this Memorial Day in mourning and I pray for the men and women who are faced with death.
For many of us, it’s a day off of work, a day off of school. It's a sacred day to all war veterans. None of them need to be reminded of the reason that Memorial Day must be observed. But what about the public in general, and more important, future generations of Americans? Do most civilians really recognize the importance of the day honoring their fellow Americans killed in war? Do your children understand why they have the day off from school? The nation as a whole takes for granted the freedoms all Americans enjoy. Those freedoms were paid for with the lives of others that few Americans actually knew.
With a good portion of the last decade embroiled in war, the public has no excuse not to remember. That much is owed to the 5,456 men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice in Afghanistan and Iraq thus far, as well as their families. They came from all walks of life and regions of our country. But they all had one thing in common – love, loyalty and commitment to our country. Because of them, we do not have to pay homage to a queen. We do not need to quake at the sound of Nazi boots marching down our streets. We do not have to bow down to a demi-god bearing a samurai sword and we do not have the daily fear of our homes and land being overtaken by the terrorists of today. It is the least we can do to humble ourselves for one day of the year to show our gratitude, honor their sacrifice and preserve their memory in the minds of our nation’s future generations.
These are true heroes with characteristics that should be admired and emulated… the true definition of work ethic, honor, valor, hardworking and dedicated…. They are not rock stars, football players or fake ass debutante wannabe celebrities…. They are the United States Military, all around badasses, champions and superheroes.
So, Hand Over the Coffee… in Memory of All Who Have Sacrificed and in support of the wife that is getting that knock on her door and the children who will never again be tucked in at night by their mom or dad who laid down their life for your freedom.
Sgt. Benjamin Gilman
US Army
May 21, 1975 - January 29, 2004
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Happy Mother's Day!
I wrote this for Mother's Day, 2004. I came across it and felt like posting it here on my blog for this Mother's Day. It is funny to look back at how I looked at things when I was pregnant with Maggie and thought I was having my last baby. Then along came Anna and I started all over again.
So, Hand Over the Coffee...and Have a Happy Mother's Day!
I had the realization the other day that this will be my first and probably only Mother's Day being pregnant. I am at the epitome of not only motherhood but womanhood. Not only am I mothering two beautiful daughters at home, I am nurturing and growing another beautiful daughter inside me. This is also my first Mother's Day being a stay-at-home mother. Yes, there are times that I desperately miss my job and there are times that I desperately don't! However, I've come to realize that being a full-time mother is not only the most challenging and thankless of jobs but also the most rewarding and high-paying since the salary is in the pure love and affection of my children...
There have been many variables, trials, disappointments, and even tragedies in my life but through them all, one thing has been constant...Mothers; my mother, my grandmother and now I'm a mother. I have always been the victim of motherly love. Yes, that's right...victim. At times, it seemed stifling, like a giant foot holding me down, suffocating me and then at other times, it seemed the only thing keeping the world from crashing down on me was the pillar that is my mother and grandmother.
It is important to remember that motherhood is not merely defined by the bearing and raising of children but is rather a statement regarding the genuinely divine nature of women. Being a mom feels like the most important job in the entire world. In effect, I can create a masterpiece! Sure, my daughters come with genetic material that controls more than we know, but I have the awesome ability to direct those inborn traits to their fullest potential. If I could put "Mommy" on my resume, I would, because nothing has taught me as much responsibility, persistence and patience or given me as many new skills, as this amazing role.
I have mostly given up having a solid night of sleep. I get one child to sleep through the night, but another wakes up to use the potty at random hours. Dinner is not really "sit down" anymore. It's stand-up, sit down, stand-up, sit down, stand-up, sit down. I can't really go anywhere spontaneously. I must have snacks, entertainment, appropriate change of clothes, and wipes for sticky fingers and faces. To date, I have changed approx 10,950 diapers and I have spent approx. 8,821 hours nursing (that's just over 12 solid months). That's just with 2 kids, and I'm having another one?!?!?!?! One daughter has pooped on my face (don't ask, long story), the other one has peed my bed on numerous occasions, mostly on me, I've had vomit in my hair, down my shirt and all over my clothes and those are just the moments my pregnant memory can fathom right now. Lord knows what Baby #3 has in store for me!
Do you know what else I have done? I have memorized over 25 children's books by getting to read them so often. I've wiped little tears from little cheeks. I've tickled little bellies and rolled on the floor. I've cuddled and rocked fears away through storms, nightmares and boo-boos. I have acquired quite a repertoire of songs. "Winnie-the-Pooh theme song" and "I've got a hole in my bucket" are tied at #1 on the Listener's Request List. I've experienced and of course, taken pictures of so many firsts: first smiles, first teeth, first haircuts, first steps, first days of school, first time riding a bike without training wheels, first baseball game, first ballet recital, the list goes on forever.
I've laughed, I've whispered, I've screamed, I've cried; I've never been more selfless in my life, and yet I have never been so keenly aware of my own complete selfishness. I have never experienced more frustration, more joy, more anguish, more desire to pray, more responsibility and more fulfillment all at the same time.
On the one hand, my life seems like just an organizational challenge to tackle: juggling schedules and chores and the constant needs of soon-to-be three children. But on the other hand, I face the sobering reality that I am accountable for the spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being of three little people with whom I have been entrusted.
My own short history in motherhood has shown me that I face some real challenges as part of this stage in my life: The first one is maintaining and nurturing my relationship with "Daddy". You see at one time "Daddy" actually had another name, and he also got a lot more of my attention. After being home all day with my little ones' constant demands, my unfortunate frame of mind when I look at the other adult in my midst is relief that there's someone else that I don't have to take care of and I can even dump some stuff on. Okay, well, he can kind of take care of himself. lol I can easily blind myself to his needs and feelings because I feel all used up from the kids. My clear selfishness in this category sets me up to view my mate as my enemy. Not only is this counter-productive, it completely lacks in strategy. We are soon-to-be outnumbered and I cannot afford the loss of an ally. Moving from a man-on-man to a zone defense is going to be hard but we have to stick together.
I remember that we started this family together, I'm committed to him for life, and one far-off day when this "Drowning in Babies" stage is traded for an "Empty Nest", I still want my husband to be my best friend. Even if this stage is leaving me sleep deprived, striped by stretch marks (really, it's bad, I look like a zebra), saggy in places we won't discuss, and feeling generally undesirable, I have only to look into the eyes of my amazingly patient and loving husband to realize he is a gift of grace to me, not only through this stage but, for life. Besides, we might even have fun spending time together.
I used to have the illusion that I was in control of my world. Now there is more cleaning, more cooking, more laundry, more shopping, more need for priorities, goals and organization. This while there is less time and the important things to do are things like talk, sing, play, love and just be with my children. In a world which to me feels more like chaos, the best choice of my time is ironically to sit down and do "nothing".
Somewhere along the way, stay-at-home moms have lost the respect of society. While I can scoff at how ignorant I think this notion of society is, I must take some of it to heart because I often struggle with feeling less important than an accomplished professional woman. The thing is that it really doesn't matter what I might say I do at home because I'm already judged by them and because that's not the point.
The point is that the Creator Himself, the creator of family and of the precious little lives in my family has given me a very clear assignment. My story could have been so very different. For the first 18 years of my life, I had no comprehension of spiritual things, much less responsibility and selflessness. But my life was given a new direction and meaning. Yes, my life was on a path to success. I had a full academic scholarship to study medicine and was on the road to becoming a doctor. After the discovery of my pregnancy, I was pressured from all angles to make that taboo decision that all pregnant teens are faced with. In the long run, I chose what was best for me and for the first time, someone else, my unborn daughter. I became an unwed teenage mother. Oooh, I know, I know…society's black sheep! Fast forward a few years and I have met and married my soul mate and we have formed a wonderful family together.
My spouse and my children are gifts directly from the Creator's hands. And as I care for my gifts however imperfectly my care may be, I need only to look to them for all the significance and purpose I'll ever need. Strange as it is, the coming midnight feedings and thousands of diapers, the mountains of laundry, and the countless other things I have the privilege of doing for my family....all cause me to fall on my knees before whatever that greater being might be in utter gratitude that he has chosen me to have such an incredible job.
So, Hand Over the Coffee...and Have a Happy Mother's Day!
I had the realization the other day that this will be my first and probably only Mother's Day being pregnant. I am at the epitome of not only motherhood but womanhood. Not only am I mothering two beautiful daughters at home, I am nurturing and growing another beautiful daughter inside me. This is also my first Mother's Day being a stay-at-home mother. Yes, there are times that I desperately miss my job and there are times that I desperately don't! However, I've come to realize that being a full-time mother is not only the most challenging and thankless of jobs but also the most rewarding and high-paying since the salary is in the pure love and affection of my children...
There have been many variables, trials, disappointments, and even tragedies in my life but through them all, one thing has been constant...Mothers; my mother, my grandmother and now I'm a mother. I have always been the victim of motherly love. Yes, that's right...victim. At times, it seemed stifling, like a giant foot holding me down, suffocating me and then at other times, it seemed the only thing keeping the world from crashing down on me was the pillar that is my mother and grandmother.
It is important to remember that motherhood is not merely defined by the bearing and raising of children but is rather a statement regarding the genuinely divine nature of women. Being a mom feels like the most important job in the entire world. In effect, I can create a masterpiece! Sure, my daughters come with genetic material that controls more than we know, but I have the awesome ability to direct those inborn traits to their fullest potential. If I could put "Mommy" on my resume, I would, because nothing has taught me as much responsibility, persistence and patience or given me as many new skills, as this amazing role.
I have mostly given up having a solid night of sleep. I get one child to sleep through the night, but another wakes up to use the potty at random hours. Dinner is not really "sit down" anymore. It's stand-up, sit down, stand-up, sit down, stand-up, sit down. I can't really go anywhere spontaneously. I must have snacks, entertainment, appropriate change of clothes, and wipes for sticky fingers and faces. To date, I have changed approx 10,950 diapers and I have spent approx. 8,821 hours nursing (that's just over 12 solid months). That's just with 2 kids, and I'm having another one?!?!?!?! One daughter has pooped on my face (don't ask, long story), the other one has peed my bed on numerous occasions, mostly on me, I've had vomit in my hair, down my shirt and all over my clothes and those are just the moments my pregnant memory can fathom right now. Lord knows what Baby #3 has in store for me!
Do you know what else I have done? I have memorized over 25 children's books by getting to read them so often. I've wiped little tears from little cheeks. I've tickled little bellies and rolled on the floor. I've cuddled and rocked fears away through storms, nightmares and boo-boos. I have acquired quite a repertoire of songs. "Winnie-the-Pooh theme song" and "I've got a hole in my bucket" are tied at #1 on the Listener's Request List. I've experienced and of course, taken pictures of so many firsts: first smiles, first teeth, first haircuts, first steps, first days of school, first time riding a bike without training wheels, first baseball game, first ballet recital, the list goes on forever.
I've laughed, I've whispered, I've screamed, I've cried; I've never been more selfless in my life, and yet I have never been so keenly aware of my own complete selfishness. I have never experienced more frustration, more joy, more anguish, more desire to pray, more responsibility and more fulfillment all at the same time.
On the one hand, my life seems like just an organizational challenge to tackle: juggling schedules and chores and the constant needs of soon-to-be three children. But on the other hand, I face the sobering reality that I am accountable for the spiritual, physical, and emotional well-being of three little people with whom I have been entrusted.
My own short history in motherhood has shown me that I face some real challenges as part of this stage in my life: The first one is maintaining and nurturing my relationship with "Daddy". You see at one time "Daddy" actually had another name, and he also got a lot more of my attention. After being home all day with my little ones' constant demands, my unfortunate frame of mind when I look at the other adult in my midst is relief that there's someone else that I don't have to take care of and I can even dump some stuff on. Okay, well, he can kind of take care of himself. lol I can easily blind myself to his needs and feelings because I feel all used up from the kids. My clear selfishness in this category sets me up to view my mate as my enemy. Not only is this counter-productive, it completely lacks in strategy. We are soon-to-be outnumbered and I cannot afford the loss of an ally. Moving from a man-on-man to a zone defense is going to be hard but we have to stick together.
I remember that we started this family together, I'm committed to him for life, and one far-off day when this "Drowning in Babies" stage is traded for an "Empty Nest", I still want my husband to be my best friend. Even if this stage is leaving me sleep deprived, striped by stretch marks (really, it's bad, I look like a zebra), saggy in places we won't discuss, and feeling generally undesirable, I have only to look into the eyes of my amazingly patient and loving husband to realize he is a gift of grace to me, not only through this stage but, for life. Besides, we might even have fun spending time together.
I used to have the illusion that I was in control of my world. Now there is more cleaning, more cooking, more laundry, more shopping, more need for priorities, goals and organization. This while there is less time and the important things to do are things like talk, sing, play, love and just be with my children. In a world which to me feels more like chaos, the best choice of my time is ironically to sit down and do "nothing".
Somewhere along the way, stay-at-home moms have lost the respect of society. While I can scoff at how ignorant I think this notion of society is, I must take some of it to heart because I often struggle with feeling less important than an accomplished professional woman. The thing is that it really doesn't matter what I might say I do at home because I'm already judged by them and because that's not the point.
The point is that the Creator Himself, the creator of family and of the precious little lives in my family has given me a very clear assignment. My story could have been so very different. For the first 18 years of my life, I had no comprehension of spiritual things, much less responsibility and selflessness. But my life was given a new direction and meaning. Yes, my life was on a path to success. I had a full academic scholarship to study medicine and was on the road to becoming a doctor. After the discovery of my pregnancy, I was pressured from all angles to make that taboo decision that all pregnant teens are faced with. In the long run, I chose what was best for me and for the first time, someone else, my unborn daughter. I became an unwed teenage mother. Oooh, I know, I know…society's black sheep! Fast forward a few years and I have met and married my soul mate and we have formed a wonderful family together.
My spouse and my children are gifts directly from the Creator's hands. And as I care for my gifts however imperfectly my care may be, I need only to look to them for all the significance and purpose I'll ever need. Strange as it is, the coming midnight feedings and thousands of diapers, the mountains of laundry, and the countless other things I have the privilege of doing for my family....all cause me to fall on my knees before whatever that greater being might be in utter gratitude that he has chosen me to have such an incredible job.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sad and Disgusted....
I wrote this blog a few weeks ago and was hesitant to post it because, with my current situation, I don’t want to deal with hearing other people’s dramatic bullshit if they disagree with my political or religious views, I have enough to deal with already…This is a personal venue. If you don’t like it, stop reading. Go reply on your blog or wherever …just don’t come at me right now…essentially, I could care less if you disagree with me.
........
It seems that this blog has become a venue for venting for me. If only a place for me to express opinions on topics of which I am passionate, particularly when I am pissed off. Previously, my blog entries have taken a humorous undertone, even if the subject is not humorous, i.e. “Dear Michelle Obama.” However, today as I sat in the Dallas Airport waiting for my connection flight back to DC, I was already missing my husband, who I left in Cali, worrying about when I would see him again as he prepares for deployment. While perusing some pictures from our time together, I looked up to see what was on the news. Immediately, I saw a hot topic headline flash across the screen….”Are funeral protests free speech?” It was followed by images of angry Americans holding horrific signs along a funeral procession route…..
“You are going to Hell!”
“God Hates America!”
“Thank God for Dead Soldiers!”
“Thank God for IEDs!”
They showed the protestors outside the funeral home and cemetery. The family had to be maneuvered around back and use a service entrance as not to be further harassed as they entered the funeral home. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How DISRESPECTFUL!!! I became violently angry, putting myself in the shoes of that fallen military members’ family….What if he was married? What if he had children? He was someone’s CHILD! How DARE you infringe on his family’s mourning time!
Sitting in this terminal, watching this news story, thinking of the possibility of my children being that lead car seeing those signs of hatred and ignorance, I am brought to tears. The anger and hurt that his mother must feel. I can’t imagine what kind of sick outrageous monster would think it would be okay to demonstrate in this forum.
I don’t care if you don’t support the war. The luxury to express your personal politics is one of the freedoms afforded us by the very life that you are protesting. Again… I could care less what your personal thoughts on the war are. BUT you have to support the service members. Many of them don’t necessarily agree with why they’re fighting. However, they believe in their country and the freedoms that our country provides its citizens and they made a promise to protect it. They’re just doing their jobs. Lord knows I was the farthest thing from a supporter of Bush and this war but I support my husband. I support my husband’s co-workers, my fellow military spouses and all their families.
Haven’t we learned anything from how we treated our returning Vietnam veterans? Now don’t get me wrong…I support your right to freedom of speech. Please go ahead and protest and stand up for what you believe in…..in the appropriate time and place. Protest outside every base, the White House and Congress. Go ahead and protest at my husband’s homecoming, at his retirement ceremony, wherever….I don’t care. It’s your right. But let a grieving family grieve. THAT is a human right!
I am an Indian woman and come from a family of activists and protestors. My grandmother was at Wounded Knee in 1973, my mother was on the Longest Walk in 1978 and I’ve joined my family to protest the murder of Melvin Coombs and Indian Hate Crimes in Rhode Island, as well as protesting against racist Indian mascots in Connecticut. I am no stranger to protests and picket lines; that is the beauty of our Constitution and the rights it upholds for all our citizens. However, I was raised with respect for other human beings, despite our differences. Clearly, that was left out of your upbringing.
These anti-Semitic and anti-gay protestors are a church group from Kansas and spew about the wrath of their God and that it is his fury with the US’s toleration of homosexuality is causing the justified death of our military members and most recently…the Coal Miners in West Virginia. Conversely, what about your Christian Priest pedophiles? Why is your God not smiting them and the priesthood for making excuses and cover-ups? Isn’t turning a blind eye not along the same lines as tolerance? History is overloaded with atrocious measures that have been taken against human beings in the name of your God. I’m trying to understand your reasoning and justification for one person deserving to die for what you identify as being an ultimate sin and then turning a blind eye to the other offences?
If God hates Americans and America is doomed, as you preach, for their acceptance of Jewish people and homosexuality, why not move? Get the fuck out…that’s always an option and a freedom you have as an American citizen.
Today, (4/19/10), the Westboro Baptist Church is protesting at the memorial of PFC Jonathan Hall in Chattanooga, TN. This statement was on their website, “ Pfc. Hall gave his life for the Constitutional right of WBC to warn America. To deny us our First Amendment rights is to declare to the world that Pfc. Hall died in vain, and that America is a nation of sodomite hypocrites.” It turns my stomach and weighs so heavy on my heart for his family and friends that they would turn and twist the death of this young man to serve their own hateful agenda…. PFC Hall was a combat medic, like my husband, and died April 8 in Afghanistan from a roadside bomb. He was 23 years old.
Now, let this serve as fair warning, my husband and his fellow military members also fight for our right to bear arms. One day you might “preach” to a military family that chooses to exercise that right…. Would that be God’s wrath if someone beat you senseless with a baseball bat? Just askin’. So, God Forbid, I am put in a position where you have an opportunity to protest….I warn you…don’t. If I were mourning my husband and found protestors disrespecting his life along a funeral procession, I would spin off into a dimension of pissed off I have never experienced in my life.
So, Hand Over the Coffee…and some basic human respect, please.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Where's the love?
Dear Michelle Obama,
Here's the thing...I've been a registered Democrat since I was 17 years old. I love politics and consider myself a patriotic person. Yes, it's true; initially, I was not an Obama fan. In the preliminaries, I was supporting my girl, Hillary. However, when he got the nod, I took the time to listen to what he had to say in comparison with McCain and made the decision to support your husband. So, I got behind him, I supported him, I campaigned for him and had heated political debates with those who didn't. I went to bat for your man in....southern...rural....Missouri! If that's not support, I don't know what is.
Now, today, when my husband's deployment orders just got extended for a THIRD time, I'm frustrated and mad as hell and I'm looking for MY support. You decided to make Military Families your signature cause and I thought we would finally have an advocate in the White House; someone who would take the time to understand what we go through, what our sacrifices are and how our children have a childhood that most of their friends can't relate to. Who's going to break it to my daughters that Daddy won't be here for Christmas like they thought? The impending look of heartbreak and sadness on their faces brings out the Mama Bear in me and makes me want to smack somebody's teeth straight....So why don't you jump on Marine One and drag your happy ass down here and YOU tell them?
All I've been seeing lately is how you want to make American kids healthy.....I'm all about making our kids exercise and eat healthy but what about military kids? Let me see you start supporting military kids and I'll help you out with your cause too....I will personally buy every fat kid I see a Jenny Craig dinner and a jump rope! Seriously, though, military kids make such a sacrifice that they didn't sign up for and have no control over...give them some love too, not just the fat ones.
What's more, your husband recommended the lowest pay raise in 38 years for our service members. How the hell is that supporting our military families when a good portion of our enlisted families qualify for Food Stamps and Welfare? I see you rubbing elbows with high-up officers' wives...but what about us enlisted families? What about the wives of the men on the front line? Are you taking the time to get to know them and brown nose them even though their husband's aren't Generals or Admirals?
Now, don't get it twisted...I am fully aware that your husband did not start this shit and he inherited a lot of crap to deal with. I've already drafted my letter to G. Dub. However, your husband promised to end it....So it's about time we wrap this shit up. Put your man on his plane to Afghanistan and have him tell all our troops that "they ain't gotta go home but they gotta get the hell up outta here! This party's over!" I'm just sayin'
The job's not done you say? Stop playing nice...they're not. So, here's my proposal... Plan A: Send a group of hardcore Rez girls over there, they'll have that business handled, real quick....Plan B: two words....CHUCK NORRIS.
All joking aside, as a military family that is stationed only 30 miles south of DC, I'm not feeling the love.
So, Michelle, tell your husband....Hand Over the Coffee....and the support.
Sincerely,
A Military Wife
Here's the thing...I've been a registered Democrat since I was 17 years old. I love politics and consider myself a patriotic person. Yes, it's true; initially, I was not an Obama fan. In the preliminaries, I was supporting my girl, Hillary. However, when he got the nod, I took the time to listen to what he had to say in comparison with McCain and made the decision to support your husband. So, I got behind him, I supported him, I campaigned for him and had heated political debates with those who didn't. I went to bat for your man in....southern...rural....Missouri! If that's not support, I don't know what is.
Now, today, when my husband's deployment orders just got extended for a THIRD time, I'm frustrated and mad as hell and I'm looking for MY support. You decided to make Military Families your signature cause and I thought we would finally have an advocate in the White House; someone who would take the time to understand what we go through, what our sacrifices are and how our children have a childhood that most of their friends can't relate to. Who's going to break it to my daughters that Daddy won't be here for Christmas like they thought? The impending look of heartbreak and sadness on their faces brings out the Mama Bear in me and makes me want to smack somebody's teeth straight....So why don't you jump on Marine One and drag your happy ass down here and YOU tell them?
All I've been seeing lately is how you want to make American kids healthy.....I'm all about making our kids exercise and eat healthy but what about military kids? Let me see you start supporting military kids and I'll help you out with your cause too....I will personally buy every fat kid I see a Jenny Craig dinner and a jump rope! Seriously, though, military kids make such a sacrifice that they didn't sign up for and have no control over...give them some love too, not just the fat ones.
What's more, your husband recommended the lowest pay raise in 38 years for our service members. How the hell is that supporting our military families when a good portion of our enlisted families qualify for Food Stamps and Welfare? I see you rubbing elbows with high-up officers' wives...but what about us enlisted families? What about the wives of the men on the front line? Are you taking the time to get to know them and brown nose them even though their husband's aren't Generals or Admirals?
Now, don't get it twisted...I am fully aware that your husband did not start this shit and he inherited a lot of crap to deal with. I've already drafted my letter to G. Dub. However, your husband promised to end it....So it's about time we wrap this shit up. Put your man on his plane to Afghanistan and have him tell all our troops that "they ain't gotta go home but they gotta get the hell up outta here! This party's over!" I'm just sayin'
The job's not done you say? Stop playing nice...they're not. So, here's my proposal... Plan A: Send a group of hardcore Rez girls over there, they'll have that business handled, real quick....Plan B: two words....CHUCK NORRIS.
All joking aside, as a military family that is stationed only 30 miles south of DC, I'm not feeling the love.
So, Michelle, tell your husband....Hand Over the Coffee....and the support.
Sincerely,
A Military Wife
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Fly Ninja Strikes Again
I may be slightly apprehensive to blog about my OCD tendencies but I figure most of you will at least get a giggle out of my insanity...
Ok, so most people who know me know that I have 2 pet peeve/OCD issues. The first is loud eaters...Seriously, when you're smacking your food so that the people on the other end of the room can hear you, I want to smack the taste out ya mouth. Second is Bugs in My House! Bugs are awesome if they're outside...Have a nice day, Mr. Beetle....Oh, excuse me, Mr. Ant, you had the right of way.
However, once they step in my house...IT'S ON LIKE DONKEY KONG!
My girls call me the Fly Ninja. I can tell even if there's one fly in the house. I have a nearly 3000 sq ft house and I can hear a fly no matter where I am. I can swat & kill a fly in mid-air. My girls will run and toss me the fly swatter like they're arming a knight with a sword!
"Mommy, over here! FLY!" Swatter in hand...My inner Xena, Warrior Princess emerges..... With my shrill battle cry, let the killing begin.
SWAT! BAM! CRASH! WWWAAAPPP! ....got him... It's one of my many superpowers.
When I was 9 months pregnant with my youngest daughter, my 2nd daughter had snuck a popsicle into her room and left the wrapper under her bed. I had no idea until I went to change her sheets and there was a line of ants marching down her bed frame from the window. Let me tell you..."freaked out" does not even begin to describe it. At 9 months pregnant, I lifted her mattress and threw it across the room like I was lifting a car off my hurt child and proceeded to scrub her entire bed frame with bleach. I washed everything on her bed, including stuffed animals and pillows. I vacuumed the entire room and made Greg re-caulk the entire window, after I sprayed it inside and out with Raid! When all was said and done, I felt better and didn't feel like things were crawling all over my skin.
When we adopted our dog from the local shelter and brought him home, the poor thing was COVERED in ticks and fleas but he sure as hell wasn't coming in my fully-carpeted house like that. After a flea bath that used about half the bottle, I sat on the front porch with him for 3 hours with a flea comb and tweezers picking every flea and tick off him. He was such a good boy for his new neurotic owner, probably thinking "Well this is at least better than the Puppy Mill!"
When I know there is a bug in the house, I can't sleep, I can't eat, I constantly feel like something is crawling on me...I become obsessed.
So, needless to say, when I opened my cabinet at lunch time today to find a couple happy little ants crawling in there.....Fly Ninja had to engage in a little insect warfare!
I had to wash every dish in that cabinet and the one next to it. I bleached the counters and wiped everything down, including all my spices in the cabinet next to it. Sprayed a little Raid and caulked the ENTIRE kitchen.
I still feel a little skeeved and creepy crawly but I had to send a message to the bug world of my new neighborhood...Stay outside and we're cool....Inside? Homey don't play dat!
Excessive? Most definitely. But does it help me sleep at night? Yes.
So...Hand Over the Coffee.....and the bleach!
Ok, so most people who know me know that I have 2 pet peeve/OCD issues. The first is loud eaters...Seriously, when you're smacking your food so that the people on the other end of the room can hear you, I want to smack the taste out ya mouth. Second is Bugs in My House! Bugs are awesome if they're outside...Have a nice day, Mr. Beetle....Oh, excuse me, Mr. Ant, you had the right of way.
However, once they step in my house...IT'S ON LIKE DONKEY KONG!
My girls call me the Fly Ninja. I can tell even if there's one fly in the house. I have a nearly 3000 sq ft house and I can hear a fly no matter where I am. I can swat & kill a fly in mid-air. My girls will run and toss me the fly swatter like they're arming a knight with a sword!
"Mommy, over here! FLY!" Swatter in hand...My inner Xena, Warrior Princess emerges..... With my shrill battle cry, let the killing begin.
SWAT! BAM! CRASH! WWWAAAPPP! ....got him... It's one of my many superpowers.
When I was 9 months pregnant with my youngest daughter, my 2nd daughter had snuck a popsicle into her room and left the wrapper under her bed. I had no idea until I went to change her sheets and there was a line of ants marching down her bed frame from the window. Let me tell you..."freaked out" does not even begin to describe it. At 9 months pregnant, I lifted her mattress and threw it across the room like I was lifting a car off my hurt child and proceeded to scrub her entire bed frame with bleach. I washed everything on her bed, including stuffed animals and pillows. I vacuumed the entire room and made Greg re-caulk the entire window, after I sprayed it inside and out with Raid! When all was said and done, I felt better and didn't feel like things were crawling all over my skin.
When we adopted our dog from the local shelter and brought him home, the poor thing was COVERED in ticks and fleas but he sure as hell wasn't coming in my fully-carpeted house like that. After a flea bath that used about half the bottle, I sat on the front porch with him for 3 hours with a flea comb and tweezers picking every flea and tick off him. He was such a good boy for his new neurotic owner, probably thinking "Well this is at least better than the Puppy Mill!"
When I know there is a bug in the house, I can't sleep, I can't eat, I constantly feel like something is crawling on me...I become obsessed.
So, needless to say, when I opened my cabinet at lunch time today to find a couple happy little ants crawling in there.....Fly Ninja had to engage in a little insect warfare!
I had to wash every dish in that cabinet and the one next to it. I bleached the counters and wiped everything down, including all my spices in the cabinet next to it. Sprayed a little Raid and caulked the ENTIRE kitchen.
I still feel a little skeeved and creepy crawly but I had to send a message to the bug world of my new neighborhood...Stay outside and we're cool....Inside? Homey don't play dat!
Excessive? Most definitely. But does it help me sleep at night? Yes.
So...Hand Over the Coffee.....and the bleach!
Screwing my Kids up?
Why is it that your children push and push and push your buttons until you completely snap and then when you do you feel like the worst mother in the world? My girls have been fighting, not listening, refusing to do chores and making bigger messes in the meantime. Trying to get them to school on time is frustrating to say the least.
They want and want and want until I don't think I have anything more to give. And then I lose it. Am I the only parent this happens to? I know things are harder now with Greg gone and I was never this emotional before he left. But I feel like things are just piling up and the walls are closing in on me. I get more and more irritable every day and I hate it.
So, this morning, after I flipped my lid on the 2 middle girls, I came home and was nearly in tears, emotionally beating myself up because the look in their eyes when I yelled broke my heart. I felt horrible. Maybe it's because I'm getting less sleep, I'm stressed out with the weight of the world on my shoulders, my husband will be entering a war zone shortly and I don't know when I'll see him again. I'm in a new duty station where I haven't met anyone; I've been told the PTA moms are extremely cliquey and exclusive. Whatever it is, I need to get a handle on it.
My mission this deployment is to learn how to balance it all...the house, school, soccer practice, the kids, supportive wife, a good friend, aspiring teacher...etc etc etc...and throughout all of it try to raise my daughters so that they won't be sitting in a therapist's office in 20 years telling them how much their mother screwed them up.
So, Hand Over the Coffee....I've got shit to do!
They want and want and want until I don't think I have anything more to give. And then I lose it. Am I the only parent this happens to? I know things are harder now with Greg gone and I was never this emotional before he left. But I feel like things are just piling up and the walls are closing in on me. I get more and more irritable every day and I hate it.
So, this morning, after I flipped my lid on the 2 middle girls, I came home and was nearly in tears, emotionally beating myself up because the look in their eyes when I yelled broke my heart. I felt horrible. Maybe it's because I'm getting less sleep, I'm stressed out with the weight of the world on my shoulders, my husband will be entering a war zone shortly and I don't know when I'll see him again. I'm in a new duty station where I haven't met anyone; I've been told the PTA moms are extremely cliquey and exclusive. Whatever it is, I need to get a handle on it.
My mission this deployment is to learn how to balance it all...the house, school, soccer practice, the kids, supportive wife, a good friend, aspiring teacher...etc etc etc...and throughout all of it try to raise my daughters so that they won't be sitting in a therapist's office in 20 years telling them how much their mother screwed them up.
So, Hand Over the Coffee....I've got shit to do!
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