Wednesday, March 31, 2010
"Yes, dearest child who somehow cannot speak anywhere near a normal volume"
"We need to get fancy clothes for Easter!"
"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
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
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...um...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 writing...so 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
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:
RULE NUMBER ONE IS "YOUNG MEN DIE"
RULE NUMBER TWO IS "YOU CAN'T CHANGE RULE NUMBER ONE"
RULE NUMBER THREE IS "SOMEBODY HAS TO WALK THE POINT"
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.
and thanks, Meadowlark for sharing the link to begin with...you rock!
Monday, March 15, 2010
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,
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.
Gifts for a blueberry girl.
(Neil Gaiman, 2009)
Saturday, March 13, 2010
and the laughter of her children.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
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!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
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!?