Memorial Day Every Day

I can't think of anything to say that hasn't been said a thousand times before. And in a much more poetic way.

As a child, "Memorial Day" was always like "Veteran's Day" to me. I was taught what (or who) the day honored, but I suppose the real meaning was beyond me then.

Now, it's a daily reality.

We made a choice to be a military family. We consider it an honor.
So many people have made that same choice and it changed their lives forever.
The people we live near and go to school with and meet at the grocery store make that choice every day.
And some of their lives have been changed forever, too.
Memorial Day means something very different to them.

I consider it an honor to know them.

I'm not ashamed to say I didn't fully understand the meaning behind the holiday as a child. Part of me is glad I didn't know.
But at the same time, I am grateful that my son will know the meaning of the day.
The frailty of life and the courage of brave men and women is something he's seen firsthand.

May those who have sacrificed so much be on our hearts and in our minds always.

Inappropriate Squirrel Pictures

That's your warning.

A few months ago, the boy and I decided to buy a bird feeder to hang near the kitchen window.
We've had the most fun watching (up close) all the sweet little birdies come and go and eat.
And these birds can EAT.
No one warned me I'd have to take out a loan to keep these feathered hogs happy.
I fill it up on Monday morning, and by Wednesday morning... it's empty.

We've seen some cute tiny brown and orangish red birds. (Note to self: Google them.)
We've seen the fat babies of these guys.
We've seen an occasional Blue Jay.
We have a dove family or two that eat from the ground underneath. And one dove that attempts to hang on and eat from the feeder.
The coolest by far was a beautiful red-headed woodpecker. Isn't he supposed to peck bugs from a tree? Why was he eating at our bird feeder?

But the latest amusement has been 2 persistent squirrels.
They wait (and play!) on the play fort in the yard, then they climb the wall.
From there, they hang onto the window screen and lean out to the feeder.

Here he(?) is in all his squirrel immodesty. And Cat#2 checking him out.


Apparently, Cat#2 thinks she can swat him from inside the window.


And here's Mr. Squirrel eating up my birds' birdseed. It's coming out of his allowance next week.


And here he is right after I told him exactly WHAT part of him I took a picture of.

Tuesday's 10

Ahhh. It seems like this week's questions were nice and simple. I like simple.
Life here at our house has been nutso lately. What with surgeries and all the end-of-school-year festivities. Phew.
This time of the year is busier than the holidays to me.

Thanks Roots and Rings, for a nice and simple set of questions today.
I needed it.

1. What is your favorite piece of furniture in your house?
Oooo. This is easy... cause I just got new furniture! I have been saving forever and we have desperately needed it forever. (One of our 2 cats had burrowed into the hole in the sofa cushion. Not joking.) I just couldn't bring myself to actually spend the money. But Dan/Daddy has no trouble doing that. So... I finally have a new sofa and 2 new chairs. The chairs are my favorite. Especially the one I can curl up in and see the TV.

2. If it was raining so hard on a Saturday that you couldn’t leave your house, what would you spend the day doing?
Reading and napping. There's nothing better.

3. What was your favorite candy as a child?
Probably some sugary "kid" candy... like Pop Rocks or Nerds. I've also always been loyal to the beautiful Snickers and his classic friend, the Hershey Bar.

4. Did you get an allowance? What was it based on? What did you do with it?
I am pretty sure I did. I really don't remember if it was based on doing chores or something like that. I spent it on junk... jelly shoes, tiny purses, cheap and gaudy jewelry, and snacks.

5. Do you have a favorite Etsy store?
I do... dustbunnyhostage.etsy.com
Jen is my Blogland friend, and she donates her proceeds to the fight against cancer. You go girl.

6. Do you prefer time with family or time with friends?
Hmmm. I think I'd have to say family, because I don't see them often enough or live close enough. But we have friends that are like family, and I enjoy being with them because of that. So... both!

7. Looney Tunes, Tiny Toons, or Animaniacs?
Loony Tunes, please. I am almost 40 years old. What the heck is an Animaniac? Are Tiny Tunes the baby Loony Tunes? I'm confused.

8. Best daytime talk show: Oprah, Ellen, The Doctors, Tyra (ha!), Dr. Oz, or Dr. Phil?
Ellen. No contest. I was an Oprah fan a million years ago, and then I was a Dr. Phil fan... but they both got weird. Tyra? Nope. Dr. Oz is okay, but Ellen is the BEST. So funny!!

9. Would you rather have the power of invisibility or the ability to fly?
This is the boy's favorite question to ask me, even though my answer never changes! I want to FLY!

10. Name 1 thing you love about being an adult.
The tiny bit of control that being an adult gives you. Like choosing your own bedtime, eating what you want, watching stupid TV. Well, maybe I should go back to being a child... I need to go to bed earlier, eat more vegetables, and watch less trashy TV.
I still like the illusion of control.

Have a blessed Tuesday...

Got Drugs? Or Maybe Taquitos?

Well thanks to a little "incident" that shall remain un-named...

Dan/Daddy had knee surgery last week. Good times.

He actually had his little "incident" before he left for his beautiful all-expense paid trip to Afghanistan. So this surgery is one whole year overdue.
Why walk or run through a hostile foreign country when you can hobble?

On Thursday of last week, I dropped his crippled self off at the hospital, dropped the boy off at school, and then went back to the hospital to wait.

And wait.
And wait.
It wasn't that long of a procedure, and I was able to watch some old Gwyneth Paltro movie... where her mother-in-law is trying to kill her I think. The sound on the TV was turned way down in the waiting area.

So the doctor comes out, calls my name, and shows me some really interesting photographs of the inside of Dan/Daddy's knee.
And then I waited some more.

The Recovery Room is probably my least favorite part of surgery. I hate it. Other people may not like the part where their loved one is in surgery, or in Pre-op... where the waiting for the surgery takes place.
Me? I hate Recovery. It's where the throwing up and the incoherent babbling takes place.
Now Dan/Daddy was a brave soul and kept all his stomach contents to himself. Thank God.
We (unfortunately) have had WAY too much experience with the boy and WAY too many surgeries and WAY too many Recovery Rooms and WAY too much puking. Sorry. I know that's gross.

Dan/Daddy may not have thrown up, but he made up for it with his drug induced jabbering.
You see, Dan/Daddy is CHATTY when he's clean and sober. He can out-talk anybody.
Give the man some narcotics... and let the good times begin.

I heard him telling the nurse some story before I even rounded the corner.
He told me about 12 times that I looked pretty. (In my capris and tshirt.)
He asked me the same 5 questions about 65 times EACH.
He told the nurse she was nice.
And then he told her about going to the bathroom.
He told the next nurse she was pretty. (She was.)
He told me the doctor was nice. (He was.)
He told me the doctor looked 12. (He didn't.)
Then he asked me if he'd even had the surgery yet.
I lost count of the times I said, "Be quiet."
And then they told me I could take him home. Yippee.

In the car on the way home, he noticed that the gas light was on. He told me to go get gas, and then he asked me if I ever got gas at a certain gas station. I told him "no" and that the gas station he was referring to was always way too crowded.

He says, "It's because the people go there for the delicious TAQUITOS!!"

I sped up.

Once we got home, I thought he would drag his behind off to bed and sleep for the next 3 days. No such luck. He stayed awake. And chatted.

I made him promise that he'd never do drugs, because I would kill him just to get him to shut up.

I don't mind helping him with his crutches, helping him up and down the stairs, or bringing his food or drinks to him.

As long as he is quiet.
We're on Day 4 post-surgery. He's not taking the "good stuff" as of this morning.
Ahhh... the blessed golden silence.

Accidental Child Abuse

It seems as if I was unable to shake off the weekend stupor long enough to write a Monday post.

I think I was still brushing sand out of my luggage and off my feet when Ten on Tuesday rolled around.

Ahhh, yes. Sand.

We were at the beach this past weekend. Dan/Daddy took a group of soldiers and spouses and kids for a weekend retreat... And we tagged along, of course.

The waves were gorgeous, the wind was blowing, the shrimp was yummy, and the weather could NOT have been more beautiful. This beach bum was happy.

And then we came home, and I socked my child in the face.

Yep. Full on. Punched him. With my fist.

Of course it was unintentional. I cried harder than he did.

I was doing sit-ups (that's where the whole day started going downhill), and my personal trainer was holding my feet. That's Dan/Daddy.
I do not enjoy sit-ups, and sit-ups are not a walk in the park for me.
So I was holding my breath, straining, and probably saying not very nice things.

And the kicker? My eyes were closed.

In the middle of one of these sit-ups, I moved my hands from behind my head and clenched them into fists in front of me.

In the middle of the next one, I PUSHED those fists out to the front and side. In a punching motion. With a LOT of force.

What I didn't know (eyes closed, remember?) was that while I was dying there on the floor in my sit-up induced rage, the boy had scooted up real close to me. And LEANED in to make a face at me. A mocking, jeering, "look at my outta shape momma" face.

He leaned in at the exact moment I punched into the air. Except it wasn't air I hit. It was a little face. Actually, it was a little lip.

POW!

He rolled on the floor, I rushed him into the bathroom, and we surveyed the bloody damage. Yes, blood. One split fat lip (his) and one split fat knuckle (mine).

I really thought about taking pictures, but I didn't want Child Protective Services to have anything they could use against me.
This is just one more reason exercise should be banned. It's downright dangerous... even to "innocent" bystanders.

Hair Idol

Now this is some American Idol I can watch.
All the folks I was feeling a bit "half-hearted" about... They are gone.
Leaving my "fav" 4.

Lee... and his sweet little crooked-y smile.
Big Mike... and the way he looks like he's about to pop out of whatever he is wearing.
Casey... and his hair. The dude can work the curls OR the ponytail.
Crystal... and all her talent.
Can you tell I've chosen my winner? And she comes in first place for me because hair can't win American Idol.

So tonight, for the first time this season, I'll be sad when someone gets sent home.

But there is a ray of hope and sunshine.

When Ryan announced Wednesday night's musical guests, I squealed. Squealed.
Bon Jovi (the pioneer of good hair) and Daughtry (who OWNS the bald look).

Have Mercy.

Ten on Tuesday With An Adorable Picture (Not Mine)

You must go visit the Hursts at Roots and Rings... they have baby pictures!! How can sonogram pictures make you all teary and excited?!? Even when it's not your baby!

Here's the proud new mom's questions for today!

1. What was your high school superlative (if you didn’t have one- what would it have been)?
"Most Likely To Be Glad That High School Is Over"

2. What sports did you play in high school?
Huh? What's that? I can't hear you for the sound of the roaring laughter. Mine and all the people that knew me and my non-athletic self.

3. What was the best part about your wedding (if you’re not married yet, what are you looking forward to)?
The reception! The stress was over, and the fun could begin. I also happen to be a fan of eating. Especially wedding/party type foods.

4. It’s your last meal– what Appetizer, Soup, Salad, Entree and Dessert would you choose?
Appetizer: Crab Cakes
Soup: Charleston She Crab Soup with Sherry
Salad: Caesar with homemade croutons
Entree: Shrimp and Grits
Dessert: Apple Pie... no ice cream

5. What song is your guilty pleasure?
Please don't tell on me to the Chaplain Wife Boss... if there is one.
"Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas.

6. What is your favorite professional sports team, and why do you like them?
I don't like pro sports. Sorry. I like college sports. Mostly football. If I had to choose, I'd say the New Orleans Saints. I like a team that can rise above the adversity around them. The city of New Orleans deserved that Super Bowl win. And lots more.

7. What is your favorite reality show and why do you like it?
Do I have to choose just ONE?? Mercy. Around here, if it ain't reality, I ain't watching! Let's see.... American Idol, of course. Want to know a crazy one that I love? The Repo Guys. I don't even know if that's the right name. And the little girl beauty pageant queens and sometimes Tori and Dean and oh my word have you seen Hoarders? I think I've said enough.

8. How would you classify your home decorating style (modern, classic, french country)?
Eclectic. Fairly traditional with a few touches of really old or really new in there.

9. Pizza- deep dish or thin crust? White sauce or red sauce? What toppings?
THIN! With red sauce and just cheese. Or pepperoni if you MUST have another topping.

10. Favorite weekend getaway within a two hour driving radius?
Yawn. I'm boring. The beach.

Dazed and Confused

I hope and pray that all of you mommies out there had a wonderful Mother's Day.

I hope that your people remembered to treat you well and thank you for the awesome job I KNOW you do.

I hope you got a few moments peace. A few.

The men-folk in my house pulled off a nice day...
Breakfast and lunch made by someone other then me and a new TV... to replace the one in the bedroom... that the pilgrims brought with them on the Mayflower.

I've had my eyes on a new TV and my money saved for a while now. I just get very sweaty and nervous when it actually comes time to SPEND the money.
That was Dan/Daddy's gift to me... the ability to walk in and drop all the moolah without any hesitation.

The boy was kind and sweet and promised to crawl in my bed every morning to turn my channels on my new TV from the Today Show to SpongeBob.

For just a few hours, they tried to show their appreciation, and they succeeded.
I obviously have a Mother's Day hangover.
I woke up this morning and remembered 2 very important things that I'd "signed up" to do. Two things that I'd TOTALLY forgotten about.
I had to cancel plans with my pal.
At one point in the afternoon madness, I put the water pitcher (which lives in the fridge) in the PANTRY. At least it wasn't the milk.

I must be confused and disoriented from the un-natural behavior of my husband and son yesterday.
Maybe it's a good thing that every day isn't Mother's Day.

The Book I'll Never Write

I really really really really am not making this up.
Really.

I keep saying I'm gonna write a book one day. If I ever get around to it, this story will be in there...

Here on Planet Army Base, we have to drive through gates to get home or to go out into the real world. It's not a big deal... You just can't transport lots of weapons or terrorists.

There are times when the lines are long. VERY long. A dose of patience is necessary. It's important to protect our bases and the soldiers who call them "home."

The gate guards are usually friendly, too. They always say "hello" or "have a good day." They occasionally ask how you're doing.

This week, I had the privilege of learning a new phrase from one of the gate guards.

And. Oh. My. I plan on using it.

He said, "Hello there!"

I said, "Hello to you. How are you today?"

He said, "I am doing all right. How are you?"

I said, "Oh... I am hanging in there."

And HE said, "Like a hair in a biscuit."

I promise. That's what he said. "Like a hair in a biscuit."

I was disgusted and happy all at the same time.
The thought of a hair hanging in my biscuit is yucky. But the idea of being able to use that lovely phrase myself?!?

I can hardly wait for someone to tell me that they are "hanging in there."

I wonder if I need to be wearing my shirt from the Cracker Barrel when I say it?

Teacher Appreciation

The strep test results finally posted, and I was right. (I love saying those 3 little words.)
A full 48 hours after we saw the doctor, we have confirmation of strep. Hello 1972.

Thankfully, the doctor suspected an infection and we started the antibiotic on Monday. The boy is LOTS better, and I sent his bee-hiney back to school.

This is the conversation we had yesterday while sitting at the table.
I was paying bills and balancing my checkbook. (Does ANYone else still do that besides me?)
The boy was doing his homework... 3 days worth... and talking non-stop.

I like to call this...

"Reason #8564 I Don't Homeschool" or "He's Like a Monkey on Crack"

Me: "You have GOT to be quiet. I don't know how you do your homework with all that jabbering."

The boy: "I don't know how you work without talking."

PS... It IS Teacher Appreciation Week. And I REALLY appreciate my son's.
Go hug a teacher today! Or better yet, take her/him some lunch. Or a cup of coffee. If I could, I would send the boy's teacher on a cruise. She deserves it.

Waiting on a Strep Test With 10 on Tuesday

Here on Planet Army Base, we apparently live in the Stone Age. I am still waiting on the results from yesterday's strep test on the boy.
I know, I know... There's this thing called a "Rapid Strep Test" and most of you leave the doctor's office with your results that day.
Not here, honey. I think we're waiting on a rabbit to die or something. Wait. Wasn't that a pregnancy test from 1940?

So, NO. No one is pregnant, but someone may or may not have strep.

While we wait....


Here's Tuesday's 10 Questions... from Chelsea at Roots and Rings.

1. Do you prefer markers, crayons, or colored pencils?
Markers are my favorites, but I love all things related to "school supplies." I was one of those nerdy kids who got excited about new pencils and notebooks. Especially markers and crayons. I still AM one of those kids.

2. As a child, how did your parents celebrate your birthday? (Parties, cake, you pick the dinner, etc.)
When we were very young, it was a birthday cake at home with grandparents. (I still remember loving the smell of the grown-ups' coffee brewing.) Later, we could have any kind of party we wanted. Sleepover, skating trip, movie night... Now that I am a mommy, I have much more respect for the level of tolerance my parents had. Or maybe they were drinking.

3. How do you feel about leggings?
I feel that they are adorable. On anyone with skinny legs and tiny behinds.

4. How do you prefer to follow directions? With a map? Words?
Interesting question. I prefer the word kind. Especially the words that say, "Go right at the mall, turn left at the Krispy Kreme, stop where you can see the red barn, turn left at the house that some fool painted pink." I am Southern, after all.

5. What do you eat for snack?
Whatever I can find. My favorite is cheese and crackers.

6. Have you ever ordered anything from an infomercial or bought any As Seen on TV products?
I'm certain I've never ordered anything directly from TV, but I think I may own an item or two that are "As Seen on TV."

7. What’s your favorite thing about summer?
No school for the boy equals more sleep for me. And the beach.

8. Do you have a tattoo? What and where is it?
Yep. It's a sea turtle on my left foot. And I know you didn't ask, but it hurt. Worse than childbirth. And that was not a fun experience.

9. Are you good at journaling?
Sadly, not anymore. I used to be. I think I became consumed with paranoia that someone might see my inner thoughts... And they are not horribly sadistic or incredibly intelligent. I get more and more private the older I get. Even if I am dead and gone, the idea of someone reading my journaling stresses me out. I would love to start again.

10. What’s your favorite way to eat a hamburger?
If it's homemade... with just mayo. If we're eating out, then I like all the fixins. Weird, I know. And I don't want it burnt. Nor do I want it mooing. Nice and done, not a hockey puck.

Don't Put Me in a Home Just Yet 'Cause My Shirt Didn't Come From Cracker Barrel

I thought I was ready for the support hose and bifocals yesterday. Until I eavesdropped on some real older ladies today.

It all began so innocently. It always does.
We were stuck at home.
The boy has a very sore throat and was running a fever, so we didn't go to church.

I do love my son, and I don't mind taking care of him when he's sick, but I was a little stir crazy by about 5:00pm. I had cabin fever, and we were both staring out the back door when we saw it.

A police car.
And then another police car.
And then another and another and another.

All pulling up onto our street!
Within just a few minutes, there were 7 cars.
And 7 officers jumping out and walking around!
On my street!

Technically, most of them were MPs... military police.

They began to stroll through our backyards and talk with some people standing around. We had no clue what was happening, and it's a good thing there was no gunfire, because we were not about to walk away from that back door.

It may have been the lack of sleep from the previous 2 nights that impaired our judgement.
(A good weekend's worth of sleep does not involve being wakened by the tapping of a child on your leg or arm or booty or whatever happens to be hanging out of the covers in the dark at the hours of 1:00 am or 4:35 am. To tell you his throat really hurts. Because I knew that already. And momma has very little patience or sympathy at 1:00 am and 4:35 am.)

Anywho...

We watched the long arm of the law stroll around the neighborhood for about an hour, until I couldn't stand it any longer.

I got on Facebook and put out my own APB...

"What's going down in our 'hood? I am a bored old lady and I need to know."

It wasn't long until I got the answer.

"Two teenagers were seen looking into parked cars and then trying to enter an empty house."

The reply came from my friend who claimed to be nosier than me.
I told her thanks and that the things I was inventing in my old-lady head were much more exciting.

Fast forward to today. This morning. The boy and I venture out of the house to visit the doctor.
(Strep test results are pending, but we'll keep you informed.)

We were sitting in the Pharmacy waiting area... again, bored... so I began to eavesdrop on the 3 little old ladies sitting behind us.

I PROMISE none of this is made up. I'm not that creative on low sleep.

(Add your own thick Southern accent.)
Little Old Lady #1: "Boy, they sure do keep it hot in here."

Little Old Lady#2: "I have to be careful what I wear, 'cause I sweat sa dang much."

Little Old Lady #3: "I got this here shirt at the Cracker Barrel."

Little Old Lady #2: "Well that's real nice, but they got some real good food. We go there when we go up to the outlets."

And that's the end of what I heard. They called us up to the pharmacy window.
I'll never know how much she paid for her shirt or who puts what in their biscuits or how they keep from getting all sweaty in the summer... because I'm sure those were the conversations that followed.

So, after the eavesdropping experience, I have a new criteria for being an old lady.
I may be getting close to 40.
I sometimes shout at teenagers to turn their music down.
I have more than a few gray hairs.
I have been known to eat at a restaurant before 5:00 pm.
And I am VERY nosey... especially standing at my window or on my porch.

But I do not own a sweat-free shirt from the Cracker Barrel.
Yet.

PS... If you DO have a cute shirt from Cracker Barrel, please don't hate me! I don't mean ANY offense at all. I'm sure they have some lovely clothes. I'll just keep my purchases to biscuits, candy, and Yankee candles.