Gone fishin'!

Fly Boy's Fire Fight

It can really mess up your whole day to get a call from your soldier boy who tells you that he's fine, but just wanted to let me know he was in a huge fire fight earlier in the day, getting shot at by insurgents with AK 47s, RPGs and some kind of other weapon with tracers. 

This apparently happened a little north of Baghdad, when some insurgents detonated a car bomb in or at an Iraqi Army base and Fly Boy and another chopper were called in for air support.  He said he used his 50 caliber machine gun and also fired some rockets during the incident, in which there were Iraqi casualties.  This was the first time he was directly fired upon, he said, but neither his helicopter or the other one was hit.  Thank God. 

I asked him how he felt about what he had just experienced, and he said he wasn't quite sure yet.  He was still running on adreniline, even though the incident had occured over 8 hours before he called.   

I know how I feel about it.  I want it over and my son and the others home, safe and sound, SOON!   Be safe my son!  I love you!

Work is once again in progress on my "Winchester Mansion" as my handyman calls this place. Today, Steve got the wood laminate flooring installed in the TV room and it's beautiful.  I don't believe you'd know that this wasn't a real oak floor, due to the grain and plank look.  This stuff is called STEPS Floor, by Uniclic and it has a fantastic, 15 year guarantee, at $1.49 a foot, plus the special padding for underneath!  It's said to be wear, stain, impact, scratch, fade and chemical resistant.  The great part is, that if it does get damaged in any way, that section can be popped out and replaced.  And...it's so easy to clean.  Steve put it in his house, so he's pretty experienced with it now.  I am glad I wasn't the guinea pig! 

This flooring will be put throughout the kitchen and dining room, which is connected to the TV room.  Then it will go in the hallway and laundry room which are off the kitchen.  After all that's in, the living room will be recarpeted and the entry way will be receiving new 12 inch ceramic tile.  This project will take Steve a couple of weekends to complete, but I am so excited to get rid of that old dirty, stained carpet, which was impossible to keep clean.   With the house in such disarray and all the activity, the kittens are a little freaked, but we'll all get through it and have a much nice place when it's all done. 

The carpet in Papa's room was replaced on Monday, so this weekend I shopped for a new sofa for that room, which will be our den/game room.  I found a buttery leather sectional with two recliners that I got for a great price, which will brighten up the area.  It will also be a very comfy place for me to sit and watch television or read with my post-operative ankle propped up in one of those recliners! 

Also, since a traditional coffee table wouldn't work because of the recliners on each end, I found a perfect glass-topped end table, that I am going to have Steve cut down the metal legs to make it the "cocktail" table.  I believe it's the perfect size and look to sit in the bend of the sectional.   All those decorating programs that I have been watching are payin' off!  

Oh, and speaking of the decorating, here's the bargain of the day....I found a beautiful, but scratched up footboard at that furniture store, in the clearance area, for 7 bucks!  Yeah, seven whole dollars!  What would I do with a lonely ol' footboard you ask?  Well, I will tell you.  This piece is metal and wood and the only damage is on the inside part where it would hook into a bed frame.  My idea is to turn it around, so the damage doesn't show, place it against the wall and it's a wonderful headboard!  For 7 bucks!  I will use it for the headboard for my temporary bed in Papa's room after my surgery.  When that is all together, I will post a picture for you to see how it all turned out.

In the meantime, I am off to finish reading the Sunday paper.  

Fly Boy....your mama loves you!  Goodnight sweetie! 

My sentiments (about this war) exactly!

I am not exactly sure if that is my son or not.  (Those guys all look alike in those desert fatigues!) But it's a photo he sent me.  In this case, I am not sure whether it's best to be the photographer or the subject of the photo!  LOL!  

There are more of his photos in my photo journal...the link for Up Close and Personal is in the sidebar. 

The Kids' Hero

My next door neighbor is a 3rd grade teacher and her class "adopted" Fly Boy before he deployed to Iraq.  The kids got to meet him and Fall Girl, when they were here for Papa's last few days, and the subsequent funeral.  They got all dressed in their desert fatigues and met the class that would send him packages, and words of encouragement, that I hope he cherishes.

Jana's class was so excited, that they invited another class to join them in collecting items to send to him, especially small toys and treats for him to drop from his chopper to the Iraqi children.  All in all, there are now four classes in his hometown that have "adopted" him and the kids that he tries to bring some cheer, in a war torn country. 

They shopped at the Dollar Store and cleaned out their toy boxes bringing a huge box of little treasures for him to drop.  I've sent him the zip lock bags to create the care packages.  Also in the package that the children are sending are sweet drawings, letters and Valentines, with heartfelt sentiment.  I've put some of their messages below, complete with their cute mistakes and missing words, for your enjoyment. 

The photo above is a collage of a few of their drawings and cards.  Is that sweet, or what? 

 

Dear Fly Boy (insert proper name here) and Crew………

Before I say anything, my name is Mike. What does MRE stand for? Have you or your crew ever been shot? If so, where? (not sure if he means which body part or what area of Iraq). By the way, how’s your family? Come home saftly.

Sencerly,

Mike

 

Dear Fly Boy….What kind of chopper do you fly? I want to know because I have road in one when my dad was in the military. He works for NASA now. So, have you ever had to fight on foot? Were you in the battle of Fallujigh? I think it is really brave of you to be fighting in Iraq. I am really thankful you are over there, trying to keep them out of heer, thank you.

P.S. Thank you for your service and detication to defend this country of ours.

Sencirily,

Kristopher

 

 

Dear Fly Boy…Have you ever been in combat or a dangerous sichuwacons being shot at. What do you do every day like, what is your Daily rountine. Do you like MRE’s? (first ? mark so far) Are thear any girls on the creuw?

Bobby

 

Dear Fly Boy….You and the whole U. S. Army are my hero’s. When I grow up I’m going to be in Army. I only five years away from coming.

P.S. Can you bring me some night vision goggles?

P.S.S Tell the whole army I’m coming soon and hi.

Sincerely, Ricky

 

Dear Fly Boy…

Are you guys liking it in Iraq? I mean like seeing all those little kids faces when you drop those toys? Thank you for serving in this country.

Sincerely,

Ryan

 

Dear Fly Boy….

When do you hope to come home and see your family? How did the elections go? I hope nothing bad will happen to you. I hope you will come home and see all of those happy faces saying "daddy we miss you" or your wife saying "I’m glad you made it home safely." Anyways, have you seen any famous people singing or entertaining you?

Sincerely, McKenzie

 

Dear Fly Boy….

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Suger is sweet,

and we miss you!

Amelia

 

Dear Fly Boy,

Thank you for fighting for freedom. I hope you come back to visit our school. Sorry you don’t have much sleep. Be strong. You are realy famus everybody talks about you. Please write back.

Your friend,

Jon

 

Dear Fly Boy,

I hope you saved some kids today. How high do you go in the helicopter. Do you see kids a lot? I hope you are ok.

From Morgan

P.S. You are my best friend.

 

Snapshot in time....

"Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story"

~unknown

 

If I happened to take a snapshot of yesterday for the scrapbook of my life, I am not sure it would make it into the album. I would probably rip it to shreds, saying it was awful and promptly throw it into the nearest trash heap.

Is there anything that can just ruin your day much worse than your hairdresser cutting your bangs, oh let’s see…about 3 inches too short?

YES.

As Bubba requested, I closed out his savings account and sent him the money via Western Union on Friday. It cost him $52 of his $606 dollars to have immediate gratification. But after all, he said, he planned to use it to rent a car and come see us during his Spring break. I argued against spending his money in that manner, but the truth was that I was just not sure I wanted him to "visit." Just last week we had a terse conversation, where he’s cursing at me about his per capita check, then a couple days later he’s the picture of sweetness and good wanting to reconnect, if I’d just be so kind as to send him the money. Call me cynical, but I just don’t buy it.

Do ya think I’ve got some serious trust issues with this boy?

Yeah, and I told him so.

I said, there’s a lot more needed to resolve our issues than a quick call saying I am heading out there to see you. Especially when in the last 15 months or so, we’ve had about 3 short telephone calls in which he’s tracking down his latest per capita payment, without so much as a "How are you?"

So we talked. I cried, a lot. I told him exactly how I felt about the devastation that he caused this family. It seemed to me that he talked in circles, never quite making himself clear on most things. But when it came to why he chose to run away, he said it was all because he was going to have to go to rehab, (again) and he "didn’t need it." He said he had to do what he felt was right for him, and that I needed to respect his decision and he hoped that I could forgive him. I told him that I had forgiven him a long time ago, but the hurt remains and it will take awhile to get through that.

Understandably, of course, he was very defensive about his "mother" and his "family" saying blood is thicker than water. To which I could only say that he has so much to learn about love and parenting which he must experience as an adult to ever understand my feelings about all of this.  He replied that he is now a man.  It is futile for me to explain, because I oppose him...and her. 

He asked that I not turn Ab against "her family" there and that I let her know how much they love her. He suggested that I was "afraid" of losing her to them. Since she was 3 months old, that child has only known me as her mother and her family is here. I told him I was not afraid of anything like that. Ab has always known the truth and I have never prevented her from supervised visitation with that family who’s got a documented history of alcohol, neglect and physical/sexual abuse. One child died as a result of injuries sustained.  Bubba even let it slip that his older sister now has 4 children and Child Protection has been involved in a "custody dispute.'  The cycle contines. 

In fact, I have always let the children make their choices about seeing their birth family during the many times we’ve vacationed in Oklahoma.  There were times that Bubba chose only to see his brothers.  As an adoptive mother, I have been pretty liberal considering the circumstances.  I have never had to point out any of the family's failings.  And, most recently, Ab’s lived through what Bubba’s dished out.

Besides, I told him, there’s plenty of love to go around. Bring it on.

Bubba ended up hanging up on me. I guess that means he’s not coming?

Just stuff....

It's Monday, and I'm enjoying the end of a much needed 3-day weekend, having taken today off just because I was pooped.  We're working extra hard at work due to bigger than your every day, routine prison problems.  Like Rodney King said..."Why can't we just all get along?"

Yesterday, we made some more progress in Papa's room, sorting papers and deciding what else to donate to charity. 

Earlier in the week we hauled off the old sofa and his bedroom suite to the local Catholic thrift store. Today I will make a quick trip down the mountain to pick out the new carpet and arrange to have it installed within the next week or so.  I am frantically trying to get that room cleaned up and ready so that I can occupy it while I recuperate from my ankle surgery that's scheduled for March 29th.  Since I won't be able to manage the stairs to my bedroom, it'll just be easier for me to sleep there until I can walk without crutches.

It was interesting to go through his paperwork that dated back to his military days in the 1950s, when he contracted TB, apparently from an Eskimo, when he was stationed in Squaw Harbor, Alaska.  I found a transcript from the military proceedings in which they decided to medically retire him after he'd been off work for sometime due to the TB, and it said that he'd been attending medical school at the University of Oregon.  I never heard that story!  Medical school?  He was always good at self-diagnosis so I used to call him Dr. Newman! 

There was also a letter of commendation for his part in saving the life of an airman who crashed a big airplane at the base.  He had car registrations going way back, including one from a favorite automobile, a 1953 Cadillac DeVille.  I remember his stories about that and how proud he was to drive it through his hometown in Oklahoma.  It was so interesting to see those pieces of his life and to actually connect them to the wonderful stories he'd tell.  I've saved most everything will add them to a scrapbook that I will put together to honor his life. 

Talked with Fly Boy for a few minutes yesterday and he's anxious to get home for mid-tour in May!  He talked about how enthusiastic he was about deploying to the war zone, before he met and marriedFall Girl.  Now he's saying he wants to become an Instructor Pilot for a few years so they can establish a stable home life together stateside and how he'd rather never see war again.  Amen.  Sounds really good to me and bring on those grandbabies will ya! 

In other news...I am so happy I am raising an accepting, open minded young woman. 

Yesterday Ab said, "Mom, guess what Cassie and I are going to do?"  (Hmmmm, Heaven only knows and I am afraid of what I am about to hear...but go for it sister!) 

She says..."We're going to go to a Gay Pride parade!"

I said..."Well Honey, that's fine, but why?"

"Just to support the gay people!" she replies, and continues..."I am not gay, but we just thought it'd be cool to show our support!"

Alrighty then.  

And, it really wasn't necessary for her to tell me she's not gay, since her "boyfriend" John was visiting that afternoon and I walked in the TV room just in time to stop a rather steamy kissing session. 

She's definitely not gay.  Neither is he.

Money, Mail and Lies

Bubba called today. He usually gets Ab, and today I answered.

It wasn’t the Bubba that I know. It was someone with what sounded like a contrived, guttural accent, who mumbled and freely used profanity in an effort to emphasis his point. "This is f------ing, pissing me off!" he said. I called him on it, saying there’s no point in using that language while talking to me. To his credit he stopped. Maybe that means he still has some respect for me as his mother.

I was looking forward to talking with him, since the last time he called while talking to his sister, he implied that I lied about sending him his Indian "per capita" check that arrived here last Christmas. He still hasn’t received it, he says.

I don’t lie. I especially don’t lie to my children. I have no reason to lie about forwarding his measly $180.00 per capita check to the address he provided. And I told him that this morning. I told him that I sent the check exactly when I said I did, and it’s entirely possible that someone else, maybe even one of those folks where he’s living, obtained that check and cashed it.

His naiveté was amusing. "No one could cash that check since it wasn’t signed!" he replied. ‘Oh my 18 year old child, you have a lot to learn’, I thought. Then I proceeded to explain how many thousands of checks are stolen and easily forged every day. He listened. I know, in his heart he trusts my judgment, life experience and the knowledge I’ve obtained from 24 years in the criminal justice system.

So, I said, it’s real easy to find out if that check has ever been cashed. You just go to the tribe’s accounting office and tell them what happened. They’ll pull up their records and determine if it’s been cashed, and by whom. If it hasn’t been cashed, they can put a stop payment on it and issue you a new one. Now isn’t that a lot easier that all that resentment that you’ve been harboring for me?

You’d think his "family" as he now refers to them, could have suggested that way of tracking down that check awhile back.

Hmmmmm.

 

 

Some people take better care of their pets than they do themselves. Their animals can run like the wind and they can barely make it up a flight of stairs.    -Jim Rohn                                          

That’s right, and my Greyson can make it out the open front door in a flash. This time it went unnoticed as Ab and her friend headed out to the movies last night. It had to have cost him at least a few of his 9 lives in this weather, since it’s rained and rained and rained. For days and days. He’s lucky it didn’t turn to snow.

I thought neutering was supposed to settle little boy kitties down a bit. At six months old, he’s found the outside to be rather interesting and he desperately wants to get out and explore. Of course, mama won’t have that, because I expect them to be totally indoor cats. Greyson just has to push the envelope.

Ab and Cassie had to be giggling in anticipation of a girl’s night out as they headed off to see Hitch, Will Smith’s latest film and we suspect that’s when the culprit made his escape. I was down the mountain with a friend, at the annual Home Show. Ab and I returned home about the same time, but it wasn’t until about an hour later that we noticed Greyson wasn’t anywhere to be found. We searched everywhere in the house and then headed out in the weather to see if he was somewhere outside. It was pouring. Freezing rain, with gutters nearly overflowing with rushing water. I got in the car and drove slowing around the neighborhood with my bright lights, but I couldn’t find him. We’d call out his name from the front porch, to no avail. All night long, we’d check for him at the front door, but no Greyson.

I was just crying and heartsick that this very loved and extremely, well-taken-care-of-pet (just ask my vet) was likely to be coyote or owl food in no time, if he didn’t freeze to death or get swept away in flash floods. Fortunately for him, the Boxers, who love to terrorize cats and skunks, were hunkered down together for the stormy night in their insulated igloo and they didn’t see or hear him in the side yard.

This morning, while calling his name and following his cries, he was found with cold, wet paws, but no worse for the wear. After lots of warm hugs from his people, he decided to eat and play before curling up with his brother for a cozy nap.

I hope he’s learned a lesson about the great outdoors.

We’ll see.

In the meantime, I'll be working on getting up my stairs without huffing and puffing.  :)

 

 

Another Birthday!

She entered the world feet first on February 6, 1973. Six pounds, nine ounces of a perfect, beautiful baby doll! She grew to be a chubby bundle of happiness and joy to her young parents. An infectious laugh and dimpled smile, on what was surely the most intelligent child ever born. Her parents doted on her, taking her everywhere. She soaked up language, speaking like a little adult, and while her first word really wasn’t "irregularity" as they’d joked, it was something similar.

With a microphone held up to her rosebud mouth, she’d sing along with the Lennon Sisters on Lawrence Welk’s weekly show. After she was put to bed on warm summer nights, she’d disobey her mommy by sneaking out to the front porch to watch the Disneyland fireworks light up the sky. Who could get mad about that?

She loved to help in the kitchen and once made a nice, colorful batch of Kool-Aide for her goldfish….in their bowl. The goldfish didn’t really appreciate her gesture. She loved her baby brother who called her Sissy, until they both outgrew it. Her thumb was a comfort, as was a special pillow that she’d hold close to her sweet face.

She grew up with Barbies, Big Wheels and bunkbeds. She played soccer and basketball and desperately wanted to be one of the boys. She was a Brownie and Girl Scout. A boy-crazy and rebellious teen, who graduated high school by the skin of her beautiful, straightened teeth.

She’s now 32 years old, and still hasn’t decided what she wants to be when she grows up. But there’s one thing for sure, she’s still her mama’s beautiful baby girl.

And, baby…..look at you now!

                  

                  Happy Birthday Sweetie!

 

Bubba's 18th Birthday

We do not want riches, but we want to raise our children right.

               ~Red Cloud

Bubba, my wild Indian child, became part of our family just after he turned 8 years old. I embraced that child with love, even before he stepped over the threshold to his new home. I became his mother in every sense of the word, whether or not he chose to address me in that way. Despite the fact he was only 8 and he hadn’t lived with her since he was 3, his neglectful birthmother had made an indelible mark on his wounded heart. I didn’t try to erase the connection, I only hoped to fill the gaping wounds with love and show him what true mothering was all about. I figured he’d come around, and eventually realize that I was his mom, and he’d finally bestow me the honor.

By the time Bubba was 11, we stood before an Oklahoma judge and sealed the adoption for both kids. The kind judge, who had been involved in Bubba and Ab’s case for years, stood for pictures with our "finalized" family, figuring on a success story. It was at that time our family counselor said, that Bubba needed to start calling me some term of endearment worthy of a mother. If it wasn’t Mom, then there were some alternatives other than "Lisa" that she suggested, or he could make up his own name for me.

It didn’t happen. At least not out loud, to me. There were times when I thought we were getting close. Mother’s Day cards made at school with cutout red hearts and loving sentiments. A wooden photo frame, stamped with the words MOM in various sizes, that contained a picture of him in his swimsuit, with his boogie board. "I’ll have to ask my Mom!" hollered breathlessly as he ran home to get permission to stay at a friend’s for dinner.

We spoiled him. Probably gave him way too much, in an effort to compensate him for what he lacked in earlier times. In return, we received his love, gratitude and appreciation. He made us laugh, hysterically. Bubba’s favorite comedian was Jim Carey and he could do some great imitations. And you should have seen him dance, exaggerating fancy moves with his round bottom sticking waaaayyy out! Handsome and charming wasn’t even close to describing that young man.  I encouraged him to be a model or an actor someday and "support us in our old age!"

Everyone loved Bubba’s personality. He never knew a stranger and could work his way right into a crowd without noticing or caring if he’d invaded someone’s personal space. He was comfortable talking with adults and children looked up to him, following him like he was the Pied Piper. He was loved beyond measure and yet disciplined, when necessary. We had such high hopes for him. College. Military. Law school……after all, I told him, he was always one to find the loopholes in anything we told him he couldn’t do. He kept us on our toes!

What ever he wanted to do in life, we knew he’d be a success. We thought he’d finally break the cycle of alcohol abuse and the bad choices made by his birth family with our love, encouragement and our never-ending faith in his abilities.

Instead, the dark days of adolescence and the ghosts of his past began taking root in his susceptible heart and we mistakenly believed his behavior to be normal teenage angst and rebellion. It got worse. There were lies and manipulation, theft, drugs and alcohol. Near death experiences. Then, thankfully, his genuine plea for help. Rehab and family counseling. A change in heart and my ol’ Bubba returning to me. Fear, great disappointment in himself and the fact that his Papa was dying, seemed to be a catalyst for a new way of living.

But only for a short time.

Another near death episode and it was decided that it was now time for a longer stint in rehab. We couldn’t lose him. We’d seen that change was possible and we knew that relapse was a possibility. He knew that was the next step. At 16 years old, he was on his way to long term drug rehabilitation.

Rather than returning to rehab, he ran. All the way to Oklahoma. Back to that troubled blood line and an unstructured, undisciplined life. Living with his drunken "Mom" and "his family" and making it clear that he’d just run away again if he was made to come back home.

Today he is 18 years old and my legal obligation is over. I have to say it’s a relief in a lot of ways. It’s been 14 months since he left and my grief at the loss isn’t as raw. It was like I had two deaths in the family during that time. I don’t worry about him like I used to and I don’t choke on my bitterness anymore.

I still have the greatest hope that Papa and I had enough positive influence on him that he’ll succeed in spite of it all. I know that I am his mother. I am the one who rocked him and sang to him every night when he first came to us. I am the one who read him stories, took him to the doctor, comforted him when he was sick and dried his tears when the big stray dogs scared him to death, by jumping on him. I am the one who attended his basketball games and wrestling matches, did teacher conferences, and elementary and junior high graduations. We are his "family" that celebrated milestones, holidays and birthdays, all lovingly documented in scrapbooks. This mom created "Gotcha Day"…. a day of kid selected fun to celebrate their adoption on the 7th day of August each year.

I am the mother that stayed at his hospital bedside for hours when he nearly died from drug or alcohol overdoses. I am the mom that loved him enough to send him to drug rehab.

I am also the Mom who loves him enough to let go and let him grow into the man I have always hoped he would. Here’s hoping he’ll someday understand what true mothering is all about.

                          Happy Birthday Bubba!