Moments in Mosul

Fly Boy’s troop is currently in Mosul, finishing up several days of "training" in order to assume the mission of the current Kiowa troop that’s stationed there.  In the next month or so, Fly Boy and his buddies will swap bases with those in Mosul for a whole different and very dangerous urban war zone.  I was fortunate to receive several telephone calls from him over the past few days, including this morning (his evening-with 11 hours difference) and I heard graphic details of one of his most "intense" combat situations since the one where he’d received his medal of valor.

Mosul is a city of 1.3 million people in the North West part of Iraq on the West bank of the Tigris River.  It is famous for its ancient buildings and beautiful mosques…Great Mosque, Red Mosque and the Mosque of Nabi Jarjis. The city has freeways and other modern conveniences, plus crowded housing areas topped with antennas and wires, which make it very dangerous for low flying helicopters.  Fly Boy is learning the evasive methods necessary for this sizzling hot spot from the pilots that have been there for the past 6 months.  "Low and fast", he says and "Fly it like you stole it!" since they’re going to shoot at you any chance they get!  In Mosul, they will have Apaches flying above and behind them as added firepower.

Today, he said they were dodging insurgent bullets, rockets and explosive devices, some of which blew up right in front of them. Then a suicide bomber, (nearly a daily occurrence) headed toward an Army Stryker vehicle, and blew himself up in an automobile right next to an innocent roadside vendor, who was minding his own business selling soda.  The soldiers survived with minor injuries, but the vendor was not so lucky.

My son was amazed at the 100’s of "looky-loos" that descended on the bloody carnage, then move along with their daily lives.  The collateral damage to the roads and electrical wires at the scene are quickly repaired and their Iraqi life returns to "normal" until the next car bomb explodes.

A day in the life of my American soldier.    ::SIGH:: 

However, after hearing how often our ground troops lose their lives when their Stryker vehicles are hit by suicidal martyrs, I can be grateful my son is in the air.  But my heart is heavy for the families of those 4 soldiers who gave their all just the other day in a horrible Stryker attack.

All considered, Fly Boy says at least their living accommodations in Mosul will be a great improvement over MacKenzie, offering very tasty food, including occasional steamed lobster tails, yummy Baskin-Robbins ice cream, and better choices for recreation.

In the meantime, he is anxiously awaiting his mid-tour trip home in May to spend some quality time in the safe, loving arms of his wife and family.

God Speed Son!

Remembering Smith River........

This morning while creating an entry for my photoblog, I was recalling our morning fun at the ocean in March.  Here's a photo of a fairly big sandcrab that Ab discovered on one of our morning walks.  You can read more by clicking-> here.

Truth, Justice and the American Teenager

Considering my profession, I have been conned a time or two by the absolute best. There’s a reason they call them convicts. But, when it comes to your kid messing with you like that, you’ve got to draw the line.

I know as the mother and considering the fact that she’s my fourth child, I should be able to effectively deal with some of these issues, but I’ll tell you, it’s so damn hard. Sometimes I just want to throw my hands up in despair and run. To quote a line from one of my favorite songs by Wynonna Judd, "Is it over yet?"

My youngest is becoming masterful at deceit and quite the manipulator. When it used to be nearly impossible for her to tell me a lie without laughing or displaying some other form of easily recognized body language which gives it away, she is learning to stand flat-footed, raise her right hand and swear that she’s telling me the truth. And…she won’t back down, even in the face of pure, irrefutable proof. That’s her story and she’s stickin’ to it!

Coming from a mother who is often honest to a fault and the fact that she’s been raised in an environment where truth is practiced and valued, this behavior is terribly distressing. Even Bubba, with all his issues, had the self-respect to own up to his misdeeds when they came to light. Am I going to be able to get this child to be a responsible adult and citizen? I know I felt the same thing at times with the two oldest, but Lord Have Mercy!

What really gets me is the fact that so many of her lies are just downright stupid and unnecessary. Take this example:

Me: What happened to the battery in the kitchen clock?

Her: I dunno. Why?

Me: Well, the kitchen clock is not running and there is no battery in it, so someone took the battery.

Her: Not meeeeeee! If I wanted a battery I could take one out of the drawer right here. <showing a fist full of batteries>

Me: Well, the clock was operating when I went to bed last night, and this morning it wasn’t. Upon inspection of the clock, the battery is missing. I didn’t take out the battery, and you say YOU didn’t take thebattery, so I guess we had a burglar last night? Ok, I know….Greyson (the kitten) took it out; he probably needed it for his CD player.

Her: <Gulp> Mom, I didn’t take the battery out!

Argggghh! So, now what do I do? It’s not like I can find and identify the missing battery and stick it in her face and say "SEE! Caught ya!" I can’t beat her into truthful submission! Do I treat this as I would in an inmate’s disciplinary hearing using "preponderance of evidence?"  We certainly have enough circumstantial evidence as well. Is this even a battle I want to fight? How about we let this one go? Nah…there’s been too many situations lately where she refuses to be truthful or take responsibility for her actions.

It’s not the battery. If she’d told the truth, I would have just scolded her, asked her to put the battery back and not take batteries out of something like that in the future. No big deal! So just why is this child being so deceitful and how do I handle it?

We ended up talking with a professional, her therapist. And, right in front of the kid, she gives me the new rule. If Mom suspects you are not telling the truth, she’s going to flip a coin. Heads, you skate, tails…you’re assumed to be lying and you’ll be receiving a punishment. The therapist feels that this 50/50 rule encourages kids to be truthful. So, that’s what we’re doing here.  I'm thinkin' it's worth a try. 

Comments and other suggestions are welcome!

What Kind of Key are You and What do You Unlock?

You're a little gold key, and you unlock other people's hearts. Your kindness and willingness to be there for those you care about lets people open up to you knowing they will be accepted. People will rely on you, but be careful not to give more than you have.

A True American Hero-Fly Boy's Air Medal with Valor

Fly Boy, my American soldier and true military hero, was recently presented with the Army's Air Medal with Valor by the Commanding General of the 42nd Infantry Division for his outstanding actions in a firefight with Iraqi insurgents.  You can read the specifics in the narrative below, which has been edited to remove his real name.  Emphasis with underlines is mine! 

 Congratulations Son!

 

Narrative for Air Medal with "V" Device

CW2 Fly Boy

At 201750CMAR05 Palehorse 06/Crazyhorse 06 (PH06, CH06), a flight of two OH-58D Kiowa Warrior helicopters, observed a large explosion while conducting Reconnaissance and Security operations, vicinity Hib Hib. The Air Mission Commander's (AMC's) aircraft contacted Task Force Hammer (3rd Brigade Combat Team) to report the explosion and determine if there had been any controlled detonations in the area. Upon notification that there were no planned controlled detonations, the Scout Weapons Team (SWT), began to move to the location of the blast to actively develop the situation.

At 1800 as the team transitioned to that location, an unidentified rocket engaged CW2 <Insert Fly Boy’s name> aircraft. CW2 Fly Boy's aircraft broke right and began to conduct evasive maneuvers, while attempting to gain contact with the enemy. After conducting aggressive reconnaissance of the point of origin (Qual'at ar Raqqah) with negative results, the aircraft continued mission to the origin of the previous explosion.

The SWT arrived at the site at 1805 and identified the source of the explosion as a VBIED (Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Device) that had detonated inside of a GIA (Greater Iraqi Army) compound. While conducting multiple passes over the insurgent force, the SWT became engaged by small arms fire from seven individuals located on the northeast corner of the compound. CW2 Fly Boy, without regard for his own personal safety, quickly prioritized his greatest threats, established an engagement area and targeted the Anti-Iraqi Forces (AIF) personnel with .50 Caliber machine gun and rocket fire. His rapid assessment of the situation and timely response to the enemy resulted in saving the lives of multiple friendly Iraqi forces within the GIA compoundand seven enemy killed in action.

Once the enemy broke contact from the GIA station, the SWT conducted a thorough sweep of the area to gain situational awareness of the enemy forces and began directing ground forces into the area. As the AMC began directing ground forces into the area, both aircraft came under heavy large caliber weapons fire and rocket fire. CW2 Fly Boy's superb skill as an aviator ensured the safety of the aircraft and provided the AMC with vital information of the enemy in order to direct the battle. Throughout the battle, the aircraft continued to maneuver around the battlefield, directing the ground forces onto the enemy locations. The ground element, continuing to maneuver on the enemy were engaged by two Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), the SWT provided critical cover and situational updates which allowed the ground unit to establish security and overall situational awareness on the ground. Over the course of the battle, the aircraft were engaged multiple times without receiving and direct hits.

While conducting duties as Pilot-In-Command of the lead aircraft of a two aircraft reconnaissance mission, CW2 Fly Boy distinguished himself by closing with and engaging Anti-Iraqi Forces attempting to overrun a Greater Iraqi Army compound. His efforts as the pilot-in-command ensured the safety of his aircraft, his aircrew and vital security for the ground commander. His determination and fearlessness in the face of the enemy, allowed the disruption of a large scale, complex attack that would likely have led to the destruction of not only the GIA compound, but also the destruction of the Coalition Quick Reaction Force that actioned to re-enforce the GIA.

It's that time......

So, it’s Science Project time again.

I hate Science Project time. I feel I have good reason to hate science projects. Kids that have parents that can afford to put them in private school, at least judging by the automobiles they drive around here, have some pretty successful and smart parents helping them with their science projects.  I’m talking Doctors, Rocket Scientists, test pilots and stuff. Seriously. We’re not too far away from a major Air Force Base and usually they provide us with a couple of their smart guys to do the judging on some pretty amazing projects.

We’ve never even got an honorable mention. Last years experiment was pretty good too. We did how water expands and creates erosion on our streets. We used asphalt and watched it crack after repeatedly freezing water in it’s bowl like indention. Papa even helped us last year and we felt pretty good about the fact it wasn’t a "slacker" type project like some of the other’s we’ve done over the years. Funny, no one was impressed.

"Our" science project is due Tuesday and I am frantically working away, since Ab just informed me of the due date on Friday afternoon, during her progress report meltdown. Swell, three days to pull together a project that has at least some measure of the "Scientific Method" which they are to use.

The Girl Child didn’t have a scientific clue as to what to kind of project to do after her teacher nixed her brilliant, albeit last minute idea of the paper towel absorbency comparison-Brawny vs Albertson’s brand-saying it was "too 5th gradeish." Ya think?

After brainstorming for a few minutes, I suggested we do "The Affect (or is it Effect) of Carbohydrates on Blood Sugar." Does that sound impressive, or what? As Native Americans we have a higher risk of diabetes and a long family history of the disease. Plus, we just happen to have a mom on a low carb diet, a willing friend who can eat pretty much whatever she wants and is also willing to donate blood samples for comparison to mine, and Papa's super-duper, state-of-the-art, One Touch Ultra Smart, Blood Glucose Monitoring System to obtain the blood samples…which Mom will handle because the Girl Child is "not touching any blood!"

So far, my blood sugar, taken at regular intervals, has been steady, in the normal range-as I have eaten almost no carbohydrates. Our friend Patti has indulged in moderate amounts of carbs for the past few days and her blood sugar has been somewhat higher than mine, except for when she indulged in a donut. The donut caused her blood sugar to be 50 points higher than mine, before dinner.

Tonight, it was my turn to sacrifice. I told Ab it was all in the name of science as I was forced to eat a Push-Up "frozen treat" to allow us to see the effects of the sugar on my deprived system.  It was difficult...but I managed.  (Ok, in all honesty I would have rather had a chocolate candy bar!)

The things a mother does for love.  And Science Projects!

Another Interview......

Cynthia, my dear journal friend at Sorting the Pieces (a wonderful, thought provoking, and spiritual journal=a must read) was kind enough to pose me some interview questions, to keep me busy during my recuperation period.  If any of you would like to be interviewed, just let me know in the comment section and I will formulate some questions for you right away! 

 Now, here are her questions and my answers.........

 

What's the hardest thing about having your son in a war zone?

The uncertainty…the damn uncertainty, about if he’s safe………….. because I am continuously wondering, worrying and praying that he is safe while he’s in Iraq. Also, the uncertainty about when he’s coming home, and if he will have to go back to Iraq or another war zone in his Army career. Just imagine how many mothers and fathers, wives, girlfriends/lovers and children are feeling the same way. It’s got to be the very worst part of being in this position.

When you get off crutches and back securely on your feet again, do you have a pair of shoes you absolutely have to wear first?

Once, while complaining to a podiatrist about how difficult it was for me to find comfortable, yet stylish shoes, he said, "Well, no wonder. You have Fred Flintstone feet! They’re little rectangles!" (Gee Doc, I never thought of it that way, but you’re right!) So, my little feet with the chubby toes that go straight across are thrilled to have anything covering them (other than a cast, of course) that will make it easy for their owner to move comfortably from place to place, and remain in an upright position. These feet can NEVER, ever wear a pair of shoes that have toes that look like this < so I must always opt for sensible comfort over style. Therefore, my shoe wardrobe consists mostly of wide sandals that have adjustable straps, the flip-flop slip-on type, or athletic shoes. Of course there are my combat boots, which are the epitome of comfort! Yes, Fly Boy’s Mom wears combat boots, with lots of career miles on ‘em! Hmmm… As far as a pair that I absolutely have to wear first? I guess that would be my favorite pair of Sketchers that I will put on to walk out of the Doctor’s office when he says I am good to go! And, I will "beat feet" outta there!

What would be your ideal vacation?

Me, my camera and my perfect, oh so tolerant man to accompany me as I slowly travel the United States by motorhome, stopping to take advantage of every photo opportunity as we discover small towns, coastal villages, and the stunning beauty of every state in this country. Of course this vacation wouldn’t have a time limit. Simply….however long it takes! Now, if that man would just fall into my rain barrel!

Describe your favorite meal.

My mouth is watering as I sit here thinking about it, since it’s not on a low carb diet! Mexican food. Preferably, cooked by a Mexican National….in one of those places where the local Mexican people come to eat! That way, you know it’s going to be very good. I would have thick cheese enchiladas, placed under the broiler until they get a crispy, slightly brown bubbly top, served with cheesy topped traditional refried beans, rice and two soft carnitas tacos, with a giant bowl of fresh salsa and freshly made, thin crisp tortilla chips…and a blended margarita!

You asked for it. You got it. It's raining men! Who's in your rain barrel? (If you feel compelled to steal from mine, I'll share. After all I did get greedy.)

I’m hoping for an "economy size" rain barrel! Hmmmmm, I am obviously dating myself with some of these choices, but here goes…. A middle-aged Johnny Carson, because I think he was just the funniest man alive, well, when he was alive. His wit, facial expressions and his ability to have genuine fun made him so endearing. Next, Clint Eastwood…..say at about age 40 or so. My, my, my! Tall, dark and handsome. His voice, the squint of his eye, that Dirty Harry tough-guy demeanor made him my all time favorite male actor, so he’d definitely be one in the barrel. Garth Brooks would have to be next. I just love Garth Brooks’ personality, his good looks and balding head, that sweet Okie accent and his music. He’d be there to sing to me…continuously, whenever I wanted, or just when the moment was right! ::sigh:: Then I’d have to add my best ex-boyfriend (mentioned in The Write One) to cut it up with Carson and keep me in stitches. Finally, my friend Chuck…well, just because. Pretty greedy, huh!

 

 

Teenagers

There are just about 7 school weeks left before the girl child is supposed…I say supposed to graduate 8th grade and move on to a public high school. Currently she is on academic probation, and displaying a pretty poor attitude about school and life in general. Having little patience for excuses as to why she’s got bad grades, much to her dismay, I am requiring weekly progress reports.

After a Friday afternoon announcement that she and a girlfriend had plans to take in a weekend movie, I reminded her that I had asked her all week long to clean up her bedroom, before the Child Protective Services came for me as no child should be subjected to living in that kind of environment. Nor should the ants. And….since it still had not been accomplished we weren’t discussing any weekend activities.

I then asked to see the progress report.

Hmmmm. I am proud to say that my daughter is becoming much better at expressing her emotions and I am sure her therapist would be pleased. I was able to clearly hear and understand her issues. She hates the school, her teachers are sooooo stupid and totally unreasonable, as am I! However, we must have further discussion with her counselor about the fact she has not yet fully realized the necessity to take responsibility for one’s actions, or in this case, lack thereof. We’ll continue to work on that.

So, upon realizing that mom was not impressed with the fact that she still had missing assignments, the same poor grades that were reported last week, and a Science Project not yet started that is due this coming Tuesday, I calmly informed her that she would not be going anywhere for at least one week.

It was at that time, once she’d finished with the silent treatment, that I was able to see that she was becoming even more expressive about how she truly feels. This lasted way into the night, with at least 4 tearful and heroic attempts to get me to change my unreasonable mind about her restricted activities. As I wouldn’t relent, she finally gave up about midnight with a swift slam of my bedroom door.

My father used to say that it’s a lot easier to get good or decent grades than it is to get bad ones. Basically, he said, if you just put a little effort into doing the work and turn it in, that’s about all you have to do and the grades will follow. Then your teachers are happy, your parents are happy and YOU are happy, because they aren’t on your case all the time and life is good.

I don’t know if this child is going to grasp the concept, but we’ll keep trying.

Thank God this is my last teenager!

Do I sound a little testy?

"You want what?" I asked incredulously, speaking to the young woman from Cars 4 Causes on the telephone.

She repeated. "A copy of the death certificate and a copy of the will saying you are the executrix of the estate. We believe you, but we need that paperwork to transfer the title of the car." she replied. "You have those, don’t you?"

One thing I’ve always been proud of is the amount of common sense I possess. So, I explained…..

Yes, of course I have that paperwork. But, if you will look through those papers I sent with the tow truck driver yesterday, you will see an official document from the State’s Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV)….a form entitled, AFFADAVIT FOR TRANSFER WITHOUT PROBATE in which I swear and certify under the penalty of perjury under the laws of this great state, that my father died on August 25, 2004 and I am a guardian of the property of the decedent and an heir and that I have the right to have the title to the vehicle transferred without probate proceedings. That little paper contains my full name, signature, date and telephone number. In addition, I provided my Driver’s License number and signature on a form for you as requested by your tow-truck driver, signed the original title, and YOU KNOW where I live! Also, I am notifying the DMV that I am transferring the vehicle to your organization, by sending the official NOTICE OF RELEASE OF LIABILITY, and have signed the form, indicating my father is deceased.  And, the DMV certainly knows how to find me!

No, I don’t think I want to give you a copy my father’s death certificate, which contains way more information than you need.  Nor do I think you need a copy of his will-which contains some very personaland pretty sensitive information about his entire family-to do this title transfer.

Trust me, this is the third vehicle transfer that I handled in this exact manner, dealing directly with the DMV.  Everything was just fine. No death certificate in hand, no problem.

Ok….talk to your manager on Monday. I will await your call and if it’s a problem, you wouldn’t mind bringing the car back, would you?

Arrrrggggh!

Corralling Our Urban Sprawl

Sly and Tianna, our playful Boxer dogs, are safe in their new pen, purchased solely for containment while our new fence is put in place. After their ordeal a few months back when they escaped from our rickety fence and ended up in the "care of the Animal Control" officials, they wouldn’t be able to take the stress of being away from home in temporary boarding during this construction.

For months, we’d been promised a new fence by the company building a few hundred new homes, which now border my house on two sides. Today is the day. The fence is said to be their "Thanks for being such a good neighbor" for the past year and a half, while putting up with the continuous noise, dirt, dust, trash, dirty automobiles (after a visit to the car wash), traffic, and did I mention DIRT…that a major project like that creates.

If the truth be known, the fence they are trying to pass off as a token of their gratitude and total good will, is something they’d have to do on at least two sides anyway since the new homeowners would probably expect something a little more substantial then what sits there now. Considering the fact that my 15 year old fence has been gingerly held together with a lick and their promise after months of them running into it with dirt movers and the like, plus causing my dogs to end up captives of the dog catcher, I feel that providing me one length of the fence for free is the very least they can do.

Good fences….Good neighbors!

His Vision in White

He loaded it on the bed of his car hauler and strapped it down securely for the 3-hour journey. The paperwork was signed and the "valuables" removed. An out-dated, but well worn map book. A nearly new first aid kit, "For Life’s Little Mishaps" it said, removed from its home in the glove compartment; fortunately never needed.

She laughed at the old Four Aces-Best of Rock and Roll tape that they found in the stereo.  She began humming Mr. Sandman and Love is a Many Splendored Thing, wondering why it wasn’t a Merle Haggard tape instead. There were envelopes stuffed with yellowing receipts of the loving care the owner once bestowed upon his beauty. New tires, oil changes, factory service at the suggested intervals.

She provided the driver the colorful brochure describing the multitude of "luxury features" on the once expensive, Chrysler New Yorker; an automobile that turned heads back in 1991. Then the owner’s manual, a long overdue safety recall notice for the anti-lock braking system, along with a fist full of keys. Oh, one more thing, the remote locking device…the "clicker" she called it.

It was now official. The last remaining vehicle in her father’s fleet, this one going to charity as he had requested.

Remembering the day at the dealership when he bought her, she recalled talking him out of the Champagne color, saying it looked like "an old man’s car" and he settled for a vision in white. Until he was close to death, she never thought of her father as "old" and she didn’t want him driving something that made him look that way. "How silly" she now thinks.

As the tow truck started down the street, her tearful eyes shifted to the empty place on the driveway where his memories once stood. Returning slowly to the house, she quietly closed the front door and sobbed out loud.

Another Interview!

Wendy, at On a Wing and a Prayer was the latest journalist to ask to be interviewed in our little journal land game that's been spreading like wildfire!  Click on her journal name to read her answers to the questions I posed!  Also, leave her a comment if you'd like to have her interview you! Enjoy!

Casts, Carbs and Calories

Days go by. 

Tomorrow it will be 3 weeks since my surgery!  Three down, three to go...before I get this dreaded cast off, in trade for a "Cam Walker" (a removable walking cast) which will allow me to use two legs again.  Heaven, for sure! 

During tomorrow's surgical follow-up the cast will be temporarily removed and I will finally be able to scratch those elusive itches that have been hiding under my tie-dyed patterned cast!  Ahhhh...simple pleasures of life.  Of course, I am also interested in see how we're coming along with the healing process and seeing the sutures removed, but first things first.   

True to my word, it has also been 3 weeks since I began my change in eating habits, returning to the Atkin's diet which is the best for me.  I have been successful at losing weight with Atkins in the past and find that I don't feel deprived or hungry while avoiding the dreaded carbs.  As the offspring of two parents who had adult onset diabetes, I shudder at the possibility of it affecting me, so now is the time to change my lifestyle. 

As a certifiable sugar freak, I have let that go, for the most part.  Minor cravings for sweets are satisfied with a few bites of the forbidden or with sugar-free Jello or pudding topped with whipped cream, diet root-beer floats made with whipped cream as an ice cream substitute or a (Power Bar brand) Pria Carb Select nutrition bar (available at Costco) with a total of 2 grams of impact carbs.  They are very tasty and are truly like eating a candy bar, in my opinion.  Chewing gum will also often suffice when I feel the need for a little something sweet.

The thing that has helped me the most with avoiding the inappropriate foods, is that I can't really get to them.  And, that is a really good thing!  The fact that I must use this dreaded walker every where I go within my home, makes it impossible for me to carry anything in my hands, nor stand long enough on the one "good" leg to consume anything at the pantry.  At my instructions, family members who I am dependent on to fetch me my meals, just don't supply the offending foods. 

Voila! 

Weightloss! 

I have no idea how much weight I have lost as of yet, because it is impossible to properly weigh oneself with one leg on the scale.  Granted, I am sure I would love the reading-but it wouldn't be accurate, damn it!  At this point I am unable to even determine if my clothes fit differently, since sweats are the only pants that I am able to maneuver past the cast on my right leg.  Sweats are fairly sloppy looking as it is, so my family is unable to notice any difference at this point either. And, since I would NEVER subject any of them to seeing me in any form of undress after a shower, I must wait for the "good news" until the end of my 6 week recuperation period. 

Hopefully, at the end of that time, I will be rewarded with a significant weight loss and the ability to wear some of my favorite jeans without the distinct feeling that my abdomen is being sliced open with every move I make, due to cramming my ample body into clothing made for someone two sizes smaller. 

What is that saying of Oprahs?  "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels!" 

Bring it on!

 

 

Another man that can write!  <---------click

Good God, I think I am in love! 

The Roving Reporters Strike Again!

My friend Lisa, at Coming to Terms with Middle Age, was kind enough to think up some interview questions for me, as we continue this "Interview Game."  If you'd like to be interviewed by me, just indicate that in the comment section and I will get the questions off to you!  Only catch.....you must post your answers and allow others to ask to be interviewed by you. 

Here are her questions to me, and my answers:

You have two adult children, and are raising another who is now a young teenager. What are the differences between raising a teen now and when your older children were that age?

When raising my two oldest, my community was small enough to embrace the spirit of "It Takes a Village to Raise a Child." Although now, the young adults would probably have a laundry list of things that they got away with back then, I was fortunate enough to hold them responsible for many of their inappropriate actions due to the fact that concerned neighbors, friends, family and co-workers would always be on the lookout and well, let’s be honest…they’d just "Tell." Often times I’d be armed with specific and reliable info about the misdeeds before they’d darken the front door that evening. It really was as if I had eyes in back of my head. Or, possibly they thought I was just "all knowing!" One thing for sure, and much to the dismay of my children…..I knew everybody. Really.

Of course, I realize my answer to this question would be considerably different if I had raised my children in Orange County, where the oldest began their young lives. Location is everything, and I am so grateful they had the opportunity to grow up here instead.

Times have definitely changed. Our little community’s population has swelled and with the growth, the culture here changed as well. Parental networking isn’t as strong. Big city attitudes and influences have made their mark. Teacher’s hands are tied. Our law enforcement officers are stretched to the limit with the increase in major crime, drug activity and area that they must cover. This town now has 26 registered sex offenders living amongst us. Perhaps that is a good thing, since before, they were unknown and more of a danger to our kids.

My oldest children had very few radio or television channels to choose from while growing up on this mountain. Sex was not mentioned in every single television program and cursing on TV/Radio was unheard of, and their music didn’t contain lines like "Rape Me" or "I like your pants down around your knees." "Reality" was only what was happening in their lives, not a TV show full of immorality and sickos on MTV. Sexually transmitted diseases didn’t come with a sure death sentence like AIDS.

My youngest daughter is now exposed to so much more than the older ones, despite my futile efforts to shelter her in a local private school. In September, she will start the 9th grade at our public high school as a professional advised me that she needs more socialization. I can only hope that my influence and constant supervision will help her through these difficult years, since I am not getting much help from my community or otherwise.

It’s so tough to be a kid these days. God love ‘em and keep them.

You have made a career in your state’s correctional system…no mean feat for a woman. Can you cite a single incident that made you wonder if you were really cut out for this work?

Man’s inhumanity never ceases to amaze me and in that environment, we see the worst of it, often on a daily basis. Over my career, there have been so many instances in which I have observed the aftermath of sickening and unnecessary violence, it’s hard to pick just one. Early on in my career, since there were so few women in the system, I was devastated by the way I was treated by the inmates. I took the nasty, verbal abuse they spewed very personal. It just rolls off my back now and considering my rank and experience, it doesn’t happen much anymore. We early women "pioneers" paved the way for those who followed and of course, the novelty of having women in that role has definitely worn off.

As far as a single incident, I would say that when I was a fairly new supervisor, I dealt with a homicide (stabbing) that occurred on the "graveyard" shift,where staffing is pretty limited. The situation was very tense in anopen dormitory. The crime scene was very bloody and during the emergency, we trampled through the victim’s blood as it was everywhere and unavoidable. For months afterward, I was unable to touch the bottom of my boots, despite the fact they had been cleaned, because the whole ugly scene would just play out in my mind. I would also dream about the situation, over and over. That particular incident made me question if I was "cut out" (no pun intended) for that type of work.

Retirement is just around the corner for you. What do you plan to do to keep yourself active?

I am hoping the youngest will have lots of fun high school activities going on, such as sports, that I can take her to and observe. Also, just being here in the afternoon when she gets home from school, will make me feel that she’s better supervised as a teen.

Of course, I will continue to play on the computer, hopefully mastering some photo editing programs and write. I am considering writing an educational book about inmate manipulation for staff in my line of work. It is sorely needed. I want to continue my genealogy work for my family and finish the kids’ scrapbooks. I will continue with my photography and I’d like to create a line of blank greeting cards, featuring photographs of my community and place them for sale in local businesses. I have an exciting opportunity to do some part-time private investigation work, which I will pursue. There are books to be read, places to go and people to see. Antique malls to prowl, a home to perfect, exercise, and so many other things! Believe me, I would never be bored.

We know that your son, Flyboy, is stationed in Iraq. How has this affected your feelings about the sharp political divisions that exist here in the U.S.?

I certainly have my own mixed feelings about all of this, so I can understand the feelings of the populace. As a registered Democrat, I am pretty much a moderate. Also, I have to admit that I have never been as passionate about understanding the political aspects of my world, as I probably should have. Considering my interests in all things, that is my downfall. That being said, I have never understood how our government is so selective in which countries it tries to "help!" With modern day atrocities like genocide, female mutilation, starvation and countries facing major problems with AIDS epidemics, it beats the hell outta me, why we are only dealing with issues in the Middle East. Human rights are human rights. And, if we think we are the world superpower, then every nation ought to have our intervention, if needed. Otherwise, we need to concentrate on our own domestic issues, especially our security in this day and age of terrorism and mind our own business.

Lastly, I support my son in his choices and duties. But, I want him and all of our soldiers home, safe and sound, as soon as possible. As a child of the 60s and 70s I still say…War is not healthy for children or other living beings. At least I think that’s the way that ol’ saying went!

Your dad passed away last summer. What's the most important lesson he taught you, that you are now determined to pass down to your children?

My dad was brilliant. Absolutely, amazingly brilliant! He knew something about everything and could carry on the most interesting conversations. His trivial knowledge was incredible and he loved to play along with Jeopardy on television. He read anything he could put in his hands and watched educational and news programs most of the time. Even as he was dying he continued his search for knowledge about his disease and medical issues through very thorough research. I believe he blessed each of us with the knowledge that education is the key to success, in every aspect of our lives.

Knowledge is power!  I think all my kids know that and I continue to reinforce the idea as much as I can.

The Write One

I dreamt of him last night.

Apparently he still holds a fragment of my heart, even though I have long since decided he wasn’t the "right one" for me.

There were so many things about him that I found attractive, but he was never what I pictured as my ideal man. Pretty much, he was exactly the opposite. He was just barely my height (5’8") and thin, without much muscle tone. When all this started years ago, I may have outweighed him. I surely do now. He had the same passion for his career as I, and he was damn good at it, which was especially appealing. That in itself made us soul mates, I thought.

Funny. Oh, was he funny! The one person who could make me laugh until I cried. The "Comeback Kid" was always ready with the perfect one-liner. Such amazing wit and it was the hook that reeled me in. My youthful, and much too serious nature craved the laughter he provided. Everything was f-u-n-n-y in his world. But sometimes that was r-e-a-l-l-y annoying. Seriously. Good God, I thought, couldn’t we have a few conversations without them being peppered by humor or sarcasm?

But, the clincher? This was a man who could write. Poetic, almost. Tucked away in my old journals is a note from him that simply says….It’s inevitable.

Be still my heart!

What brought these long buried memories from my subconscious to last night’s dream? A man who can write. A beautiful dreamer, a man who creates perfect pictures with his words. A thinker. A poet. Storyteller. A man who’ll sit and watch a movie like The Notebook, and cry, with the understanding that we should all hope to have about such a deep love.

Call me a silly, incurable romantic…..but give me a man who can write and fully express himself and I will go to my grave a happy woman.

::Sigh::

We're Not in Kansas Anymore....

Come meet Tonya, a 30 Something Kansan who's brand new to J-Land, stumbled across my journal, and requested to be interviewed!  Read her delightful responses to my questions and welcome her to our little community!  I think she's got a great start on her journal, and as a young...and I mean young mother of 5, she's gonna have lots to write about!

Now, I am off to compose my questions for Lisa @ Coming to Terms with Middle Age, who is playing along with the interview game!  Now this should be a great interview!

HillareeDay Interviewed Me!

This is going around some journals, so I thought I'd participate.  HillareeDay at Serendipity; one of my favorite journals, provided these interview questions.  Now, if any of you would like to be interviewed by me, read the rules, then let me know in the comment section! 

 

So here goes, starting with the rules because every game has got to have them you know. Leave me a comment saying "interview me." The first five to leave a comment requesting to be participants will be interviewed. I will respond by asking you five questions. You will update your blog/site with the answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions. (Write your own questions or borrow some) Fun and easy right?

Here are the questions from HillareeDay and my answers!

What inspired you to start a journal on aol?

I’ve kept some form of handwritten or typed record of my thoughts, sometimes in a journal format for most of my adult years, although I wasn’t really faithful about keeping up with them. However, my need to write, share and have an outlet for my feelings persisted. When I felt inspired to write, whether it be in my Day Runner or in a letter to family or friends, I would often keep a copy and hide it away in a drawer or box in my room to reflect on later. My first experience with an online journal was on Oprah’s web site, but it was somewhat limited and way different than what’s possible with AOL’s journals. I would have to say that my true inspiration to start one on AOL, was my friend Chuck, who had an AOL journal in which he vented about issues in his life. I just thought it was so cool to have that outlet. That was enough to get me started. My son hooked me up on AOL and the rest as they say, "is my history!"

What advice would you give to someone that wanted to take up photography?

Gosh, I am hardly an expert and I have absolutely no formal training in photography, so my advice isn’t worth much, but here goes.

Just let the spirit move you and take photos of what you think is interesting! Look closely at your environment and you’ll be surprised what you will see! Just ask Kat, photographer extraordinaire, who’s taught me so much just by posting her wonderful photographs!

Notice the shapes, shadows and colors of your world. Snap away until you get the shot you like. Look at the photographs of others and learn from them, i.e. the way they compose their shot, subject matter, their use of color and/or black and white, lighting, etc. Read and learn about photography online as are some incredible informational sites to visit and best of all, your lessons are free!

Learn what your camera can do…and believe me, it’s gonna take some time for you to discover all that you and your camera can accomplish! Especially, in this day and age of digital photography and all the associated editing programs! Most of all, have fun and be sure to share your shots with all of us here!

What is your greatest accomplishment?

Hmmmmm. That’s a tough one. Personally, I would say becoming the person I am, despite the all the hardships of my youth. Lots of stories there. I am a firm believer that we can accomplish anything that we set our minds to, and all our troubles just make us stronger. There’s nothing I hate worse than someone who wants to blame their failures or problems on their parents or their upbringing.

Professionally, it would be attaining my current rank in a male dominated field. I was the first woman, to promote all through the ranks at my institution. Sort of "history in the making!" I am really proud of that accomplishment, which was an amazing, bumpy ride that is about to end with retirement in a year or so.

If you won an enormous sum of money in a lottery, what would you most want to do with it?

First of all, I’d get the best medical care money could buy for those I love. Several of my family members are suffering from serious diseases that really affect their lives. I would love to see them healthy or at least better, because I want them in my life for as long as possible.

Secondly, there are family and friends of mine who I would love to give the money to purchase a home of their own as they are not in a position to do so. There’s such a sense of security in being a homeowner and as a result of our childhood, we didn’t have a stable home life and moved often. A house to make a home would change that for some of my loved ones.

Above all else, what would you want people to remember about you?

I guess I would want people to remember my loving and giving nature, especially if it has made a difference in their lives. That’s the part of me I like best!

Perhaps I didn't need to push the panic button yesterday.  But, who knows.  What I found out, kinda makes me wonder!

Yesterday afternoon I called my Daughter-in-Law, in North Carolina, and shared the experience I had that morning and explained my concern for our soldier.  What was really strange is that she said she had terrible anxiety that night, and had only had about 2 hours sleep because of it.  Were we on the same wavelength?  Was Fly Boy in danger?  What caused the two of us-normally calm women-(I work in a prison and she jumps out of airplanes for God's sake) to experience the same concern about our soldier? A woman's intuition?

Fortunately she had talked with Fly Boy about 3 hours before my call to her.  She told me that he was preparing to participate in some "special mission" on his upcoming shift.  Fall Girl said he was to telephone her that night at the completion of his assignment, which would be about Midnight, eastern time.  I asked her to make sure that he called me too, regardless of the time.   I just had to speak to him myself.

At 11 p.m. (Pacific Time) last night, I received a call from North Carolina and was delighted to find that Fall Girl and Fly Boy were both on the line.  She had arranged a 3-way conversation!  My son was fine!  Thank God!  But, he did have a close call the day before and keep in mind, Iraq is about 11 hours later than the States..............

He said that he and his co-pilot had to "bail" from his helicopter, just before take-off after somehow getting spewed with fuel and he said "Thankfully, it didn't ignite!" 

Thankfully?  Oh yes, thankfully! Thanks be to God!  Dear Lord, Thank You!

Oh, and that "special mission".....His commanders called it off, because they just didn't like the way it was supposed to happen!  As I understand it, they felt the Kiowa helicopters were not appropriate for the mission, and called in the Apaches instead.  Could that have been the danger? 

At this point, I guess we'll never know.   Thank God!

 

 

Shout for Mom?

It's never, ever happened to me before. 

This morning at 7:14 a.m. my heart raced, and I began shaking with dread as only a mother of a soldier would know.

It was clear as day, his voice, sounding panicked, shouting...."MOM." 

 

I was instantly awakened, and responded by saying "Whhaaat?"   Outloud.  To nobody?

I was outta that bed and to my computer as fast as I was able using a walker, looking to see if he was online, or perhaps he had emailed me.  No to both.

Was it a mother's intuition that my son is in trouble?  Did he call out to me at some awful moment?  Was it my subconcious responding to the fact that yesterday we filled up four boxes of goodies to ship to him?  The conversation we had the other night, in which I thought he was so depressed?

Now, I sit and wait for assurance that he's okay. 

 

Be safe son!  We love you! 

Scalzi's Weekend Assignment #54

Weekend Assignment #54: Tell us all a single piece of wisdom you've learned from personal life experience. It can be a small thing, it can be a big thing, a simple tip or trick or the most important thing you've ever learned from life. But whatever it is, you should be able to state it in one sentence. That way people will remember it easier.

Extra Credit: Tell us: Would you have listened to your own bit of advice as a teenager? Be honest, now.

Here's my piece of wisdom:

It's all going to work out in the end! 

As long as I can remember, whenever I fretted about something, Papa used to say, "It's all going to work out in the end.  It may not work out exactly as you think it should.  But, it's all going to work out, so there's no sense in worrying about it." 

I have found this piece of advice to be so true.  My worrying isn't changing anything and things just seem to work themselves out, often without my help! 

Extra Credit:  Of course I wouldn't have listened to this advice when I was a teenager!  Isn't everything catastrophic when you're that age?

::graphic borrowed from My Elegant Chaos::

Where My Son Lives

My Fly Boy is really developing an eye with his camera. 

This photo is the barracks at his camp, which are little box like containers with bunkbeds.   He changed bases a few weeks ago, and he says the accomodations at this one pale in comparison to what he was used to at Mortaritaville.  He says the food is not very good, as it's not freshly prepared.  Apparently it's pre-cooked and sealed elsewhere, then heated up right before it's served.  The menu is the same from week to week.  So, he's asked me to send him things he can heat up in a microwave.  A package will be put together this weekend, and sent off next week.  I hope that'll cheer him up a bit! 

With today's technology and my recuperation period here at home, we're having many more opportunities to chat on Instant Messenger or talk on the telephone.  He's so homesick right now, and really missing his beautiful new bride.  It concerns me, because he's sounding depressed, although he says he is not. 

Despite the fact that he loves his flying "job" he's sick of the warfront, Iraq and being so far away from his loved ones.  Sad part of it is, he hasn't been there very long.  But, he hopes his "mid-tour" opportunity to visit the states, comes soon.

He now has 10 years in the Army, but says he may not re-enlist if he ever has to go back to Iraq.  I don't blame him and I certainly understand.  He is maturing, and his family is becoming more precious to him all the time.  Fall Girl loves children and they'd like to start their family.  But they want to wait until he comes home for good, so they can share the excitement of a pregnancy together. I am hoping that it all coincides with about the time I retire next year and I can join in the excitement of my first grandchild making it's way into our world.

Be safe son....I love you! 

Fly Boy's Firefight

Today's Stars and Stripes magazine has an article featuring the details of the March 22nd firefight in which Fly Boy was involved. Although his name is not mentioned, he was one of the pilots involved, taking fire.  In fact, he is pictured on your left with his co-pilot in the helicopter photo.  Yep, that's my boy, even though you can't actually tell that it's him!   Please keep this brave fighter pilot in your thoughts and prayers!  And...his buddies too!  Thanks!

Scalzi's Action Shot

Although a day late, as I was busy falling down, this action shot is of the ocean at Smith River, California.  I took this shot on my recent visit our beautiful northern coastline.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the waves are round me breaking,

As I pace the deck alone,

And my eye in vain is seeking

Some green leaf to rest upon;

What would not I give to wander

Where my old companions dwell?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder,

Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!

                                     ~John Milton

                                               Paradise Lost

 

Above, another photo taken on the beach during our mini vacation last week and how I long to be wandering through those anceint weathered logs on two good feet! 

The way things are going, I may not have one good foot or a brain in my head by the time this ordeal is over.  Last night I took a terrible fall in the foyer! 

Actually, it was rather spectacular now that I think about it!  Thank goodness Patty and Abbie were here to keep me from breaking my arms, which were entangled in the crutches that were sprawling out in different directions as I fell to the tile floor, convieniently wedged between the Grandfather Clock and short stairway wall, as my butt landed on a drawer of CDs which were cracking under my weight and baseboard fell on my head. 

Yeah, I sat on CDs and baseboard toppled on to my head. 

Is that descriptive enough?

It's just not a good idea for a wobbly, uncoordinated, one-legged woman to attempt to walk on crutches through a house that's under construction.  

I shoulda stayed in my room.  

Today we're looking into renting a wheelchair.  

Something Cheery!

Today I woke up with a huge case of feeling sorry for myself.  After a few, well quite a few tears and venting about my situation, I am feeling better. 

I just can't stand being immobile, dependent on others, uncomfortable and not sleeping in my own bed.  I guess it would be different if I were sick, but I am not.  Thank You Lord!  But, I am such a creature of habit and a Type A personality that it's hard for me to enjoy this quiet time.  So, maybe there are lessons to be learned here and I hope they reveal themselves soon. 

The thought of nearly 6 more weeks of this makes me want to scream!  It's been two days since my last shower, which was such an exhausting ordeal with plastic bags and a shower chair, then trying to maneuver and dress while using crutches, that I dread doing it again or multiple times during this recovery period, for that matter.  

Today, I think I will ask Tam to come over and blow dry my hair once I get out of the shower and maybe that, and a little makeup will make me feel more like facing my little world.  You know...the ol' "You look good, you feel good!" 

My body is probably a little out of whack too because I started my Atkins routine after my surgery.  I have gone DAYS without chocolate, sugar and had minimal carbs.  That in itself is depressing, but I am determined to go back to work weighing considerably less than I did when I took off for this surgery.  I am way sick of being fat.  And, I know that I am the only one who can change things, so now's the time. 

Today's photo is one I snapped Easter Sunday at the Tulip Hill Winery (click on the name for more photos-not mine-of this beautiful place) on the way home from our mini vacation. True to it's name, the place was filled with thousands of colorful tulips and I had to get some pictures.  The winery  (<---click for the winery website) was closed, so I ended up sticking my head and camera through the wrought iron bars, and snapped away while my family laughed at my persistence. 

Never one to pass up a good photo opportunity, I got what I wanted and thought I'd share it with you! 

I think this is a rather cheery photo!  And...believe me, I need some cheer.  

P. S.  I updated my photo blog, Up Close and Personal with more photos of our trip!     

Sunset for Terri Shaivo and Pope John Paul

This sunset was taken last week, from the beach just below my family's home in Smith River, California. I thought it was perfect to honor the Holy Father and Terri, who was there to meet him in Heaven today.  I imagine my Papa was pretty impressed with his latest company!  May they all rest in glorious peace!

Surgery Notes

I make a terrible immobile person.  Rather than whine BIG TIME, suffice it to say I have had enough of this "non-weight bearing and crutches" routine.  I'd much rather keep my fat lazy rear in bed, pull the covers over my head and pray for the 6 weeks to pass quickly, than try to lug my fat lazy rear about this house on those damn crutches.  But, my body is telling me otherwise.  I just can't stay in that bed, vertical or horizontal, for the majority of 24 hours now that the affects of the anesthesia has worn off, and pain pills aren't necessary every four hours.

Crutches are a total pain.  One must be fairly coordinated and steady to use crutches.  I am not steady on two "good" feet.  Reducing it to one foot is asking for trouble.  Thank goodness that I have Papa's potty chair near the bed, because by the time I'd get out of bed and up on the crutches to the bathroom, it would be too late.  I wonder how many urine soaked casts the ortho doctor has had to change due to such problems?  

I'm told the ankle surgery went well.   I was given a spinal block when I went into the operating room, along with some IV medication which they told me was Verced and it would help me "relax."  At one point I was awakened by the very distinct sound of hammering.  So, in my Versed induced stupor I say, "It sounds like someone is hammering down there!"  The nurse anesthetist says..."Well, yes he is, and I think we'll just give you a little more medicine so you can go back to sleep until were all finished here!"  You'd of thought that they'd have given me enough to begin with, so that I would not have to hear the reconstruction of my ankle at any point in the operating room, let alone remember it after the surgery.   

Once in the recovery room, I was throughly enjoying some wonderfully oxygenated sleep, disturbed by only an occasional squeeze of the blood pressure cuff, until the post surgical patient that they rolled in next to me, made her grand entrance.  My gosh, she carried on, continuously crying, moaning and saying, "Help me, I am hurting so bad!  Pleaaaaaasssseeee!   OH GAWD!  HELP meeeeeeee!"  

I looked over at her and saw that she had the exact same bandage on her right foot and ankle as I did and noticed the nurses rolling their eyes at her dramatics.  Finally I said to her, "Did Dr. K repair your ankle?" and she sobbed, "Uhhhhhh, huhhhhh!"  Then she proceeded to get back to the business of pure pitiful, unrestrained whining! 

"Oh GAWD! HELP Me! PUH LEESSSEE!"

Geez.  I didn't carry on nearly that much when I had a breech birth and this woman was just coming out of surgery.  Shouldn't she still be under the effects of whatever anesthesia they used?

It was at that point that I began to roll my eyes and woke up enough to watch the show.  We were told that the anesthesiologist had gone to lunch and would give the cry baby and I our "Bier Block" injections upon her return.   In the meantime, everybody in recovery had to listen to this woman carrying on.  Some recovery.

When Dr. W. arrived, she came to my bed first to administer the block since I had been out of surgery the longest, as the cry baby continued hollering about how much she was hurting.  I graciously suggested that I go second, seeing that my pain level was considerably less than hers. 

The doctor and the nurses thanked me profusely.  No, really, my pleasure!  Anything to get this woman to shut up! 

It did the trick and we all got a little more rest, before it was time to go home. 

Oh, and for some reason, my Bier Block injection didn't hurt a bit, compared to hers!