Wednesday, March 31, 2010

They call him Mr. Fancypants!


"Yes, dearest child who somehow cannot speak anywhere near a normal volume"

"We need to get fancy clothes for Easter!"

"Wha...? Ok...why?"

"Because that's What You Do. You buy fancy clothes for Easter."

First off...seriously? This is why we're paying the big bucks? For him to go to a church pre-k so he can learn the true meaning of Easter--bunnies, parties, egg hunts and fancy clothes?

Second off..."fancy" in this house simply means long pants without holes in the knees. Oh...and socks. And underpants. Fancy clothes definitely means underpants.

Then he went on...

"I want pants with polka dotted Easter eggs! And a shirt with polka dotted Easter eggs too! That'd be pretty fancy, don'tcha think, Mommy?"

Oh, baby! And at that moment, I knew that all was not lost.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Tougher than the rest...

For some reason the (not-so-old) old Bruce Springsteen song has been running through my head...

Well, it’s Saturday night
You’re all dressed up in blue
I been watching you awhile
Maybe you been watching me too
So somebody ran out
Left somebody’s heart in a mess
Well if you’re looking for love
Honey, I’m tougher than the rest

As I was searching for the lyrics, the "dressed up in blue" part stuck out. Probably not what the Boss meant...but seems appropriate anyway. While I don't believe it takes a "special kind of person" to be married to a police officer, I do believe it takes the type of person who is determined to see a relationship work. To realize that the fairy tale stories are a load of crap. To love unconditionally, fiercely and wholeheartedly. To be tougher than the rest. And I just described my mom, my sister and most of the woman that went before me and whom I surround myself with.

Life's been a little funny lately. Not necessarily "funny ha, ha"...just...funny. We've found ourselves in situations we never thought we'd be in. Planning through scenarios we never foresaw. And tonight I find myself digging deeper.

Our wee girl is sick. At this point doctors are a little baffled. She's seen a few different ones lately--all highly trained specialists in their fields. And I've exercised that "fierce love" by advising lab techs to step away from my child. In the morning we're taking her in for an MRI...they'll need to sedate her and have asked that we bring her in sleep deprived. Not an easy task considering our history. Deliberately depriving my child of sleep is wrong on so many levels. But Sean is getting her up around 4...he has a pre-dawn Firefly morning all planned.

To look back over the past month and a half and recognize a Divine presence over everyone and everything is comforting. Appointments being made where none were available. Sean getting time off. Jacob's school offering him a spot in their extended hours program for whenever we need it. Messages of comfort and encouragement and prayer from friends far and near. I know that Presence isn't about to leave us now.

Tonight I don't want to be tough. I want to curl up under the covers and make it all go away. But I can't. So, I dig deeper. Because I'm tougher than the rest.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Simplicity is neither Simple nor Easy...or, Things I've done today...

Slept in...thank you, Most Wonderful Husband In the Whole Wide World...

Snuggled with munchkins whilst enjoying PBS kids and a second cup of coffee before it got cold...

Took Jacob out shopping for another sweatshirt/fleece since he has now lost the second of two at school...thank goodness for second-hand stores! None of us have a surplus of outerwear (with the exception of someone's "tactical" gear...cough, cough), so the poor child has been wearing his too small hooded fleece from last year for the past three days!

Wandered through Southern States with Jacob gathering seeds and seedlings...all the while explaining exactly why it was we weren't purchasing the chicken coop (chickens requiring far more care than we can give right now and all that).

Dug in the dirt...our "polycultural" veggie bed experiment is underway...all the while admiring the awesome raised beds Sean and Jacob put together for this! The family that grows together...or something...

Cleaned out old pots, re-potted with fresh herb seedlings...

Dug in the dirt some more...planted seeds indoors for seedlings to go in the "traditional" semi-monocultural veggie bed...

Planted marigold seeds around "traditional" bed...

Realized that some things never change as I'm filling pots, look over and see my gloves laying on the bench beside me...why do I even own gardening gloves?

Looked back over my veggie bed diagrams and realized I can't even decipher my own key and I decided to just wing it...that seems to work out well for us.

Tired...wondering--as always--if I've bitten off more than we can chew...or preserve...

Ending the day watching "Police Academy" with the husband...who, for some reason, keeps shushing me every time I snicker at Tackleberry's zany antics...

Pretty good day, I'd say.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Walking the point...

A fellow law enforcement wife posted this a few days ago. The life of a police officer is never easy...but they have the rare benefit of doing something they love.


There are some things you just can’t do without suffering casualties… very literally and profoundly, and our job is one of them. You can’t race cars without crashes. You can’t dig mines without cave-ins, and you sure as hell can’t send cops out into the streets of a violent society without violent deaths.

Our fallen brothers and sisters knew that and did it anyway… as we all do or have done.
Their friends will tell you they did the job because they loved it, and any of us who can’t say that should envy them for it. At least they died as rare and precious people, doing what they loved to do, and doing it for the noblest of reasons. That is something we can never explain outside our profession.

You see you can’t be a good cop simply because you couldn’t find another job. You can only be a good cop because you want it. And there is an answer to why they died, something I learned a half world away many years ago as a young Marine, preparing to face an enemy in combat for the first time. It was then that my Sergeant explained that, like it or not, there are only three rules in war:



You see when soldiers advance, knowing the enemy is near, there is always one man way out in front of everyone else. His duty is to look and listen and sense that first contact, to spot the enemy, pinpoint the ambush, fire that first shot, and as a consequence, take those first shots.

It offends the logical mind and denies the instinct for survival. It ages and saddens and wizens, and frequently kills those who take their turn “WALKING THE POINT." But it must be done, or there will be no protection for the rest, just more bloodshed and more grief…for the "POINT MAN" is there to save lives, even if he gives his own in the process.

Society might not be a company of soldiers, but it certainly has and needs someone walking the point. Every time you go out the station door. Every time you answer a radio call, every time you stop to check out something suspicious, you are "WALKING THE POINT"...And you can’t change rule number one.

If I could say something directly to the people of our society, it would be this. I know some of you will remember our fallen brothers and sisters, but that’s not good enough. I want you to honor them for what they did for you... that which they needn’t have done.

I’m not just talking about that day or night that a "ROUTINE" call or traffic stop went horribly bad. I mean what they did for you day after day, in darkness and light, rain or shine, on holidays and on their loved one’s birthdays. Without even expecting a "THANK YOU" in return.

They volunteered to "WALK THE POINT."

and thanks, Meadowlark for sharing the link to begin rock!

Monday, March 15, 2010

Prayers for my own blueberry girl...

Blueberry Girl
Ladies of light
and Ladies of darkness
and Ladies of Never-you-mind,
This is a prayer for a Blueberry girl.

First, may you ladies be kind.
Keep her from spindles and sleeps at sixteen,
Let her stay waking and wise.

Nightmares at three or bad husbands at thirty,
these will not trouble her eyes.

Dull days at forty,
false friends at fifteen--let her have brave days and truth,
Let her go places that we’ve never been,
trust and delight in her youth.

Ladies of grace and ladies of favor
and ladies of merciful night,
This is a prayer for a blueberry girl.
Grant her your clearness of sight.

Words can be worrisome,
people complex,
motives and manners unclear,
grant her the wisdom to choose her path right,
free from unkindness and fear.

Let her tell stories
and dance in the rain,
somersault, tumble and run,
her joys must be high as sorrows are deep.

Let her grow like a weed in the sun.

Ladies of paradox, ladies of measure,
ladies of shadow that fall,
This is a prayer for a blueberry girl.
Words written clear on a wall.

Help her to help herself, help her to stand,
Help her to lose and to find.
Teach her we’re only as big as our dreams.
Show her that fortune is blind.
Truth is a thing she must find for herself,
precious and rare as a pearl.

Give her all these and a little bit more:
Gifts for a blueberry girl.
(Neil Gaiman, 2009)

Saturday, March 13, 2010

In celebration of Sunshine and Warmth and Open Windows...

Wee girls splashing, playing and leading parades...

Wee lads and big, bad police bomb doggies
frolicking with a rousing game of Ball...

And a grateful Mommy, soaking in the warmth of the sun
and the laughter of her children.

Friday, March 12, 2010

a longing...

The warmish spring rain will always remind me of home...the chilly damp...the sweet smell of rain on the coffee plants...the sound of birds rejoicing as they wash off the fine red dust. If I could only convince my partner in this world to rip off our perfectly good existing roof and replace it with tin, the illusion would be complete.

“If I know a song about Africa...of the giraffe and the African new moon lying on her back, of the plows in the fields and the sweaty faces of the coffee pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Will the air over the plain quiver with a color that I have had on, or the children invent a game in which my name is, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or will the eagles of the Kagulu Hills look out for me?” ~ Karen von Blixen

Monday, March 8, 2010


The whole family back together...and if a certain 2-year-old had anything to do with it, we'd never be separated again. I celebrated by taking a three hour nap yesterday. Apparently my body had been trying to tell me something...oh, like...SLOW DOWN...or something along those lines.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Tasty project for a Blustery Day...

Imagine my son's delight when he showed me
this picture and asked if we could make these...

And I said...absolutely!

The animal crackers even came with their own commentary:
"Hey, I can't see...who turned off the lights?"

Gosh, I love this kid!

So...anyone else use Zemanta? I just had to share...this is one of the images that popped up when I typed "Animal" and "Cracker"...meerkats at the London Zoo playing with Christmas crackers...

LONDON, ENGLAND - DECEMBER 17:  Meerkats at ZS...Image by Getty Images via Daylife

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Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Random observation...

You know those family stick figure stickers? The ones typically found on minivan rear windows? There was such an adorned minivan in front of me at a rather long red light this morning and I couldn't help but notice something was missing. The "mom" sticker wasn't there. Stick Dad was there...he was the one holding the golf bag. Stick sisters...girl with soccer ball and girl in tiara and tutu. Stick Pets even. And a very noticeable gap between Stick Dad and Stick Daughter. And a man was driving the van.

How messy does a divorce have to be for the dad to not only get the minivan, but to scrape off the Stick Mom. What line did she cross for him to be all, that's it--you're off the rear window!?