Monday, November 24, 2008

I don't know, but I've been told....

Have you ever had a nightmare that you just can't shake? Or woken up terrified yet, couldn't remember what had scared you so badly? How about a funny dream that kept a smile on your face throughout the day? Or just one that you can't stop thinking of because it was, freakin' weird man.

During my first pregnancy, I developed what I call "Sleep Tuerettes." I would yell things...loudly, that probably shouldn't have been mentioned. Like the time we were at my Grandparents house for a family get-together, and I screamed "Mama!! Shut the F*** UP!!" in the middle of the night. (My Grandmother is a very serious quilter, so there are about 8 full size beds in a huge room, with about 12 of us all bunked down together. So much more humiliating than it sounds at first!)

When I was 19 or 20, I started writing my dreams down. I keep a notebook and pen beside the bed that I use for all sorts of junk. Usually, it ends up being a make-shift To-Do & Grocery List as I tend to remember crucial details just as I'm slipping off to dreamland...but there are times that it's true purpose shines through and I write something important.

This morning, I grabbed the notebook on my way to the kitchen and tossed it on the counter while I got things ready for the Turkeys to wake up. After they'd settled in to eat breakfast, I brought my coffee in to check email and try and wake up a bit more. Not even 5 minutes go by before my oldest comes to me with tears in her eyes. She'd rolled the notebook up and was squeezing it tight in her hands, and frankly, she looked like she wanted to swat me with it.

I asked her what was wrong, and she sputtered, "I..I'm sorry Mommy. Puh Puh-leeeeeze don'tmakemegoto booooooooot caaaaaaaamp!!!!!"
And, it hit me. In my dream, my daughter joined the Army. I woke up and wrote out a list of items I needed to pick up from the store. Underlined, at the top of the page, with stars on each side (my go-to for super important things) were the words, "Alyssa needs for Boot Camp."

Yep. Where's that shrink? Go ahead and sign us up, sir.
What kinds of dreams do you have, and have you ever managed to scar your children with them?

Friday, November 21, 2008

Home Alarm System

If I had to pick my least favorite part of being a single Mom it would have to be the nights. They are looooong, and dark. They are creepy in way's you can only imagine, and I assure imagination runs rampant. I start jumping whenever one of the animals walks across the wood floor, the sound of a car door is a sign that someone is coming to mutilate my family and leave our bodies to be discovered by the oldest Turkey's friends. The ringing phone is a prank caller who's actually standing outside my window laughing at the stench of my fear.

It's really pathetic. I truly have nothing to be afraid of. Vigilant, yes ~ always. But, to be outright afraid is another thing entirely. I'm a smart woman. I pay attention, and should know better than to vibrate with fear each night. Our house sits on the corner and is 'faced' with another home, or a church on every side. Most would be break-in artists prefer to avoid such obvious targets. I'm also the proud owner of two dogs. Much like weapons, each has his own important purpose.

This is Simon. He is a miniature dobie. Most people know them as min-pins. Simon is the only animal I have ever bought myself. The little buggers truly believe they are the size of an adult dobie, and could rip anyone or anything to shreds. His bark is worse than his bite though, and in 7 years he's never bitten a human. Dogs...well, they should just stay away unless they want to be jumped into his gang.

Simon is my alarm. You can't sneeze in this neighborhood without a growl outta him. And, Lord help you if you park in my driveway...this freak will go nuts. He's an old man now, and has no patience for much of anything anymore. Simon prefers sleeping in my sons bed until noon or 1 o'clock..when I finally go in and roust his out for fear that he'll forget that he's potty trained. Can dogs get Alzheimer's?

This is Juju. Juju is my heart protector. It's a well kept secret (before today) that Juju is worthless. People look at him, and they're immediately scared, so he serves his purpose. But, frankly...he couldn't protect a fly from a from a tape roll. Or wouldn't, I guess would be the better word. His only weapon is his vicious tail that'll leave bruises on your thigh, and his wiggle that'll bowl over even the strongest of men. He's a big freakin' baby who just wants to be around, on, touching you at all times.

I do realize he's a pitt bull. I'm sorry if anyone reading this is offended by the breed. I want to add that before I met Juju, I was the same way. I've done exhaustive research regarding Pitt Bulls, and I am satisfied with what I've learned. I believe that with proper care, and proper vet care we'll have no problems.
As it stands...Juju doesn't know he's a breed of any kind. No clue. He's pretty sure he's my 4th child who just happens to have 4 legs. If he ever figures out the truth, I'm sure Simon will put him back in his place. And really damn quick too.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Currently watching....

...this. Over & Over again!

This is great. I love the choreography! The dancer up front & center is WOW! amazing.. If I knew who she was, I'd invite her over for dinner and a show! (Think that'd be rude?)

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

One small step for Mom....A giant leap for Baby!

My 'baby' turned 2 in August. *ouch* It's been a struggle for me to let go of every step into childhood with her. I nursed until there was literally nothing left, and mourned those lost moments with a heavy heart. The first time she crawled out of my sight, it destroyed me. She can go places without me...waaaaah! Knowing that she's my last baby has forced me to cling desperately to every precious moment in her life. Except for (oh my and how!) potty training. I was ready for that with panties and candy in hand the very second she 'noticed' the toilet!

We're pretty much good to go with it too. She wears diapers to sleep at night, and that's about it. We just recently cut them out at naptime and so far, zero accidents! She's super proud of herself, and it helps that her siblings cheer her on. She knows her panties from her sister's, and is very adamant about which ones she chooses to wear. (FYI~she prefers bug's to even *gasp* Dora!) I'm slightly proud of our accomplishment. It's really adorable to be in the grocery store and hear, "PooPoo Dillars! Now! Now! Now!" Seriously, it is.
As is the case with just about every family, we have our own language for potty training. I enjoy antagonizing her Father, so her Poo is "Stinky Steelers". He didn't quite find it as amusing as I do, but hey...he who does the work, signs the art, right?

Anyhow, this morning Beena got up and tossed her diaper in the trash (ya, I'm lying...she threw it on the bathroom floor. We're not into formalities..) and we went about our day. A while later I heard her in the bathroom saying, "Gewhoa! Gewhoa! Gewhoa!" so I went to investigate, and she'd done her business, and was saying her goodbyes as some small children are wont to do. We cleaned up, and I didn't really think anything else of it.
Until she sat down at the computer to watch a DVD of Diego while I got dressed & whatnot. See. Man. I don't even know if I can describe this correctly, but I'm going to try, cause dang it ~ I haven't stopped laughing in half an hour.

OK, so Diego & his little buddy the Iguana need to get the seeds from the strawberry plants to the town so they can be planted in time for the towns Fiesta. So, the Iguana eats the seeds. They go through a forest, across a pond, around some lily know the drill. Right before they get to the town the Iguana says to Diego, "Diego, I can't hold the seeds much longer, we need to HURRY!!!!! I have to Gooooooo!" And, Diego jumps on a vine, swings across some alligators and drops the Iguana in a garden where the rows are just waiting for the little green dude to come along, and ~yep, you guessed it~ Poo the strawberry seeds into the ground for planting. Then Diego and his cousin & uncle stand around the field and chant, "GROW! GROW! GROW!" At which time, Beena jumps up and screams, "Gewhoa! Gewhoa! Gewhoa!"

I'm not sure how to explain to her that strawberries won't be shooting out of our septic tank anytime soon. I think this is going to be traumatizing for her. It certainly has been to me!

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Circus Freak!

Blogger gave me hell today, so the trax are on the round player up there there. See it? On the right? Pink & Gray? Yep, that one. Now listen. Unless you're at work. Then too bad for you. :-D

Do not attempt to hold an intervention. I will run. Take my ipods and hide in a faraway mountain with a generator to keep me boppin' to my tunes.
I cannot help it. If you could close your eyes and see what I see when I hear certain songs, you'd totally understand. It's worse than a drug...cause it's legal. And, I can drive and dance at the same time without getting a ticket. Major oversight in the "Protect & Serve" clause there Ossifers. Write your congressman. Or woman.

Anyway, so...Circus leaked. What do you mean, "Circus??"
Duck. I'm throwing things.
If you've been unkind enough to not pay attention to my most guilty obsession, Britney Spears (ahem, get your mouse away from that X RIGHT NOW!) has been promoting the release of her new album. 'Circus'...supposedly out on December 2. But, I'm so cool, I got an un-released copy it leaked online.

To the Jerk who leaked it; BAD BAD person. You are BAD. (Now, come get your cookie!)
And, Oh Em Gee!! It's really great. 'If U Seek Amy' & 'Circus' are definite chart toppers (when they come out). Mannequin is an amazing dance track, and one of those I close my eyes and choreograph the most awesome performances ever. *Pure Bliss*
'My Baby' (written about her sons) will turn you into a big cry-baby sissy poo, and 'Unusual You' is sweet and catchy.
'Mmm Papi' is getting alot of heat because of the guy she supposedly wrote it about, but I like it. I think it's catchy and fun, and frankly if he were that bad for her, Papa Spears wouldn't have allowed the song to be on the album.
Phonography is A-DOR-ABLE. Seriously, her cutest song ever. Listen for is as everyones ringtone in the coming months.

I've got to say, I'm satisfied, and you should be too. After all, it could be worse. I could be blogging that Michael Jackson just released his 'Bedtime for Babe's' Album, and I bought it for each of your children as a stocking stuffer.
If she takes this album on tour and does some promotion for it, she'll be 'back', and love or hate her, you're going to have to deal with her. With any luck, she'll retire before she has Madonnna's arms. Until then, STFU and let me dance!

P.S. That's not the real album cover art...But, I like it better.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Before Iraq

(Photo of Sergio taken Aug. '06 by SGT Leonard of Bravo Co. 1/68 ~ Baquabah, Iraq)

I don't think it comes as any surprise that I love my husband. States & Separation be damned. I married him because he was everything I'd ever wanted and then some. Because his idea of a first date was carving pumpkins with my Turkeys and ordering pizza so we could all watch movies together cuddled up on blankets on the floor. Because he shared the values I based raising my children upon. And, because every time he knocked on my front door, I was deliriously happy.

The day he left for Iraq, he had to be at his duty station at 5 am. We woke up the Turkeys and bundled them in the van. It was winter and everything was gray & gloomy out. I remember sitting in the dark van waiting on his soldiers to show up before he left and thinking that these would be our last moments together for 12 long months.
What do you say in those moments? He wasn't leaving for college, or going on a long trip. He was going to Iraq. To war. To kill or be killed. I told him that I loved him, and that I would be praying for him every moment. And then, I cried. He left and I sat there and cried. Deep, crushing sobs that woke up my babies and had them climbing into the front seat to comfort me.

The next several hours are a blur. My girl had school, so off she went. My Jen-nay showed up with 2 pictures she'd taken of Sergio with a cell phone and framed for me. We sat on the floor in my bedroom and she told me how he'd pulled her aside a few days prior and told her that he was worried about how I was going to take him being in Iraq. He was worried about me.

When my phone rang at around 10 am that morning, I never expected to hear his voice asking me to get to post As Soon As Possible with.......his keys.
Yep. You can send the boy to war, but you can't make him tie his shoes!
Off I went, happily jingling his keys and for once, glad that he was as forgetful as a 4 year old. Ft. Carson was a zoo that day. Women and children were everywhere in every state of sobbing, and consoling you can think of. It was madness, and Sergio and I found a quiet corner to sit in until he was told to get on the bus that would take them to Petersen AFB where they would board the flight that would fly to Kuwait.
I have no idea what we talked about that day. I remember the feel of his ACU's against my face, and the way they smelled. (Never matter how much fabric softener you stuff in the pockets) I remember being interrupted by nervous looking soldiers and thinking, "He's just a little boy. Surely his Mama's not letting him really go to Iraq. There's a friggin' WAR over there!" And being asked by every other person we saw to, "Please take one last picture of our family."

There was a woman with a small baby who also stayed off to the side by herself. I remember wanting to talk to her..she looked as lost as I felt. And determined not to cry, but I saw her hands shaking when she took their baby from her husband right before he walked away. I saw her stare at the ground determinately and then raise her clear eyes to her husband for one last wave before she turned and hurried from the building. It took every ounce of energy I had, not to run after that woman and hug her. I wanted to tell her that she was just as brave as he is. Letting her soul walk away had to be the hardest moment of her life, and that she is a wonderful woman for holding her composure. For making sure that the last image her husband had of her was one of a smiling, strong face. He could get on that plane knowing that his wife and little baby would make it through the next few months because of her. I still think of her...of them to this day.

After the boys were really gone, I went home and collapsed on my bed. I didn't cry again though. Seeing all the families that were torn apart that day made me realize how fortunate I was to be in the position I was in when he left. We weren't married yet, and I'd already been living alone and was a single parent. The only thing that really changed after he left were the empty nights. My children missed him, but he wasn't their Father and it wasn't a life-style change for him to be gone.
Little did I know...Nine days later, every bit of that would change...

Thursday, November 13, 2008

I am...

I'm a little bit obsessed with my music. For every moment in life, I can name the soundtrack that relates. I love music videos with a passion, and have logged hours on youtube searching for the one that'll make me feel it. One of my least favorite questions is, "What kind of music do you like?" What a broad question. Do you really have 3 or 4 hours to discuss this? I love music. Period. My favorites range from Parkway Drive to David Gray. Beyonce, Britney, Jenny Owen Youngs, Katy Perry, Madonna (back in the 80's where she belonged). I do prefer female artists. I think they're better actresses and can switch it up a whole lot easier than say, Eminem or Fallout Boy could. I like today's music. Don't get me wrong, my itunes is full of classics from Johnny Cash to Ozzy, but I love the anticipation of waiting for a favorite artist's new album to drop. I love the the interviewing process where the artist is inevitably asked his/her inspiration behind the album, seeing how they were made, the entire process from selecting the music to go with the lyrics, to auditioning performers for videos, and watching the numbers rise or fall on billboard lists.

Last night, I got my hands on Beyonce's new album. It's called, 'I am...Sasha Fierce'. You may (or maybe not) have heard the first 2 singles. If I were a boy, and Single Ladies (Put a ring on it). Apparently, it's getting excellent press reviews and those two singles are damn good. But, those two singles are about the only good things on the album. There are two discs with 5 or 6 songs on each. One is titled 'I am'... and the other is 'Sasha Fierce'. Symbolizing the real Beyonce vs. Sasha Fierce, her superstar alter ego. 'I am' is mainly love ballads sang in Beyonce's strong, beautiful voice. But, they bore me and I couldn't sit through any of them in entirety after 'If I were a boy'. (Which is lovely. Slow, strong lyrics, and Beyonce's voice is perfect for the tune.) This is the side she wants her fans to see as the 'real' Beyonce. 'Sasha Fierce' is too raunchy. I do love 'Single Ladies (Put a ring on it)' but after that I just kinda felt dirty listening to 'Diva', and 'Radio'. It's one thing to put yourself in your music...something else entirely to put yourself on a throne and crow about how fabulous you think you are. That is, very simply, annoying.

I loved her last album, 'B-day'. So, it really took me by surprise that this one $ucks as much as it does. And, since I need the space on my ipods (yes..I have 3. They're all full) I'm going to delete all but the first song on each disc. Sorry Queen B. You'll do better next time! A little less ghetto fab & a little more Ring the Alarm...M'kay?

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

My Boyfriend

I took this picture about halfway up Pikes Peak mountain right after one of the switchbacks, which was super stupid seeing as I could have been hit by a car barreling down the mountain, but totally & completely worth it!

Today was cloudy and overcast. There was a bite to the air that can only be explained by the damn humidity in Texas. I'm saddened to say that my first thought looking out the window this morning was, 'It's gonna Snow!!!!!" Then it hit me. No snow. Not here. Not real snow. Not ever.
I miss it. I miss my mountains. All summer, I could pretend that this was just a side-trip. But, we're coming up on Thanksgiving and my kids haven't even worn jackets to school yet. Days like this in the Springs meant one thing. Snow. Whether it was a few inches or half a blizzard. The overcast sky rarely meant rain this time of year. If the mountains were 'invisible' you could bet money & win every time.

When I was 18 a couple friends and I decided to move to Panama City Beach, Fl. We made our move right around Spring break, and entered into a party atmosphere the likes of which I've never experienced since.
We lived in a beach house on a street called Front Beach Road. If you've ever been to PCB, you know that Front Beach is the main through way to all the hottest clubs. It was like watching a parade each night, and we'd sit on our balcony and hoot & holler at all the cute guys driving by. I worked at a shop called "Purple Haze" which was also right across the street from the beach. Lunch breaks were spent tanning and work meant flirting with tourists.
A single 18 year old living on the beach with her two best friends, working at one of the coolest stores in town, and partying all night with amazing people...I hated it.

Don't get me wrong, it was an experience I'll never forget and memories were made that I'll cherish forever. But, I'm a mountain girl at heart. Hot weather, and humidity drive me to distraction. As much as I loved my time spent in Florida (2 other loooooooooong vacations since then) to me, the ocean will never compare to a mountain. The view from the top of Pikes Peak, the smells driving through Pike Nat'l Forest, the way you can stand in 2 feet of snow and not feel a chill as long as the sun is shining...

And then, there are the people. Texans are friendly, yes. But DF-Dub is full of pretentious a$$holes, and I happen to look like one of them. People are intimidated by me, and consequently don't make the move to come talk to me. They mistake being shy for being stuck-up. (And, I'm probably guilty of doing the same to them)
Colorado is full of hippies. It's rare to see a woman dressed to the nines at the grocery store, and inhibitions be damned. People talk to you out there. For no reason. Maybe it was the military town, the people who understand Carpe Diem. You may not have another chance to meet that person, she may be gone next week. Either introduce yourself and make a lifelong friend, or watch her husband get transferred to Alaska and kiss that chance good-bye.

I've lived in Texas for the majority of my life. I've traveled a lot, and moved around as much as possible for someone raising children. But, my heart has been in Colorado since I first vacationed there at 23. From the first moment I laid eyes on Cheyenne Mtn, and Pikes Peak right next(ish) to it, I knew that that was where I wanted to call 'home'. At the time, I was working for a law firm in Dallas. They were paying me way too much money, so I eventually packed up ship and moved to the mountains that had been calling my name for a year. I never regretted it.

When I told my Mother that I was leaving my husband, and therefore would be moving back to Texas, her first concern was; "I'm afraid you'll miss the mountains too much and cause even more misery for yourself"
And, I do. Not to the point that I'm miserable, because they surely will be there when I go back. That's the beauty of being in love with a mountain rather than a man. Pikes Peak will never leave. He will always be standing in the last place I saw him. He may be wearing a green sweater, or a brown one, or a white one...but he'll be there. Standing tall in all his glory, welcoming me back to the Springs.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Performance Junkie II

This made me laugh out loud a few times. P!nk always puts on a great performance, in my most humble opinion. She seems to have lost her 'Give a Damn' a long time ago, and uses that lack of inhibition to put her true feelings out there in a way that makes you think she's a heckofa lot tougher than I bet she really is.
Really, haven't we all wanted to pop someones 'Just Married' balloon at least once? Don't be shy. You can tell me...I won't hold it against you. In fact, I'll make a batch of margaritas and hire a driver so we can go Chapel Huntin'!

My Boy

This is my baby boy. Tomorrow marks 8 years of my heart literally, outside my body and walking around of it's own accord. Dangerous stuff, this freedom we (as Mothers) are required to allow our own organs.

He'll be 8. To him, that's an entire lifetime. Ages & Ages. While to me, it's nothing. I just found out I was pregnant with him. Remember? No? Hmmm. Well, it felt like it was just a moment ago.
When he was born, my first baby was still a baby. I thought I had it under control. Looking back, I realize just how difficult those first years were. Their Father, while wonderful now, wasn't around then. He umm. Well, he spent some time in prison. And, while he's changed his life (for the most part)and is wonderful now...back in 2000, I was a 21 year old single Mother of 2. I worked nights at a bar so that I was with my children during the day and their Grandparents could watch them while I wasn't there. I'd pick them up at 3 or 4 AM and take them home where we'd all get in my bed and snuggle till cartoons were over around 10.
Like I said, totally under control. That is, until I got pregnant with Turkey #3 and realized that I have very little memory of Turkey #2's pregnancy, infancy, or toddler hood. I don't remember his first steps. I don't remember how long I breastfed him for sure, (only that I stopped after a month or two because he was lactose intolerant and I have weight issues that require massive amounts of dairy.) I don't remember his first words, or the first time he said "Mama."
Chalk it up to pure exhaustion.

There's no doubt that I love that little guy more than life itself. He's an easy kid. He's a great kid. He's also a bit of a genius.
Because we've moved around so much in the past year, I'm not sure what level he's actually reading at right now, (still waiting on testing results from the beginning of the school year...C'mon Folks!) but at the end of last year he was at the highest reading level for the military elementary school they attended. He's scoring 100's on Turkey #1's math tests (online tutoring, the tests can be taken as many times as we want) She's in 4th grade, and we've never taught multiplication to him. I explained the concept to him, and he gets it. Last week he was taking a division test, and missed 2 out of 30 questions. He, very matter of fact, told me that the test was wrong, that the right answer wasn't a choice and that's why he'd had to pick the closest. To be honest, I figured he'd gotten the answers wrong and didn't want to admit it, but we checked anyway. (OK, the calculator on my computer checked. Hmph!)
He was right. Here's the kicker. He's in 2nd grade. They haven't done division. He only took the test to see if he could figure it out. Granted, we're not talking long complicated division here. Easy stuff such as 36 divided by 6, but still. What the hell? So, like I said, the kid is a genius.

No matter what happens, I have my kids. On the bad days, when I'm afraid that I can't deal with life's punches anymore...they're there to remind me to suck it up. I'm very fortunate to have kids that rock. That don't cause trouble, talk back, or set the house on fire.
So ya. Tomorrow the boy turns 8. He wants pizza and a yogurt marmalade cake.

And, you can bet your bottom dollar he's gonna get it.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Excuse me, Mr. President...

I've played with the desire to write about the election for the last week. I didn't want to because (as proven by the results) my views run the minority, and I'd rather not cause conflict if I don't have to.

All I'm going to say is that I am disappointed.
Fundamentally, I do not agree with many of Barack Obama's platforms. But, I am an American. I support our country, and the people have spoken.

I am angry that military personnel stationed overseas were unable to vote because they didn't receive their ballots in time. It seems to me, those were some pretty important votes and regardless of the landslide they mattered. Someone made a huge mistake that better damn well be fixed in 2012.

That being said, prove me wrong President Obama.

This is what I'm talkin' about!

Loooooooooove This! The vocals are SO much better than this. Enjoy! You didn't hear this from me. ;-)


This is Tiger-Jac. Beena's got him in a choke hold because...well, because she's evil. Don't try and make me feel better about it either. I've come to terms and I'm sure it's a phase she'll eventually grow out of. Either that, or she'll channel her energy into becoming the next Stephen King.
Focus! This is about the cat. Do not allow her cute-ness to deter you from my original thought. Which was...was...$hit.

Oh ya, the Cat. Tiger-Jac. Tiger came into our lives by way of my Jen-nay. He was/is her baby. But, I stole him. He's freakin' cool man. Okay, I didn't steal him. Jen had life to deal with and needed a place for him to stay for a while. I hadn't had a cat since my beloved Gypsy jumped off the balcony to go get laid and never came back, so it was a nice change of pace. Then I fell for him, and refused to give him back. (Sorry Jen. I love you lady!) Oh man. This cat is somethin'! He knows. He cuddles when I need to be cuddled, leaves me alone when I need to be left alone, and he doesn't use a litter box! See, he knows how much work I already have to do, so he uses the bathroom outside like a good boy.

As previously mentioned, Beena is evil! Without fail, at least once a day, she grabs Tiger-Jac around the neck and drags him to whatever her destination may be. Most cats would claw the heck out of my precious demon, but Tiger just looks at me with a plaintive look on his face and meows sorrowfully to express his desire for release. His reward for having the patience of a saint?
Plastic milk tops. Yep. I wish everything in life were that simple.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Rants & Raves

Last night, my Jagerbomb(s) gave me a case of insomnia, so I cruised on over to Craigslist to read the Rants & Raves pages. Below is a 'conversation' I had with an atheist.
Before you read in entirety, please understand that, as a rule, I keep my religion to myself and my home & lifestyle. I have a hard time understanding people who don't believe, yet condemn those of us that do.

(Original Rant)
I can see why you would believe in a god that doesn't exist but there are people with high IQ's who believe in this story while they have no merit to do so. It is a book people that was written by people who could tell a good story and want to put fear into those who don't believe. Take a look at how much your churches make. They get you to give 10% of your hard earned money and teach you that if you don't live by their rules that you won't make it to "heavens gate". It is the biggest and oldest scam of all time.

Prove to me your god exists with factual proof. You can't. I don't want to hear about faith or stories that you heard, prove it to me. Do you have a picture of him/her? Do you have video? When has he showed up? You have people who are so poor and barely get by and do no wrong, but they pray to god and nothing changes. They die of starvation, they die because they were out in the cold with no shelter, they die because they were murdered for no reason.

Oh, where is your god when this happens?

You are so damn blind, it is pathetic. Believe in yourself and the ones who care about you. There is no god and never has been. Prove it to me. Do you have a mind that uses a thought process. If you did, you would know there is no god.

Why is he so absent for thousands of years? Go ahead and write some verse from the bible. I can write a line from a Stephen King or Bill Maher book, does that make it real?

(My Response)
Why are you so angry at people who do believe in God? What harm does my faith cause you?

I feel sorry for you that you don't understand the peace that Christianity brings me, but I don't condemn you for being an Atheist.
I don't ask you for money when my bank account runs low. I don't cry on your shoulder when a tragedy strikes my family. I don't ask you to bless my food before I serve it to my what's your problem with the Man that I do lean on?

I watch my babies run through our yard and I thank God for giving me the strength to be a single Mother. I prepare our food, and I thank God for the resources available to me. I sleep peacefully at night with the knowledge that whatever the future may bring, I'm capable in God's hands.

Please. If this is a problem for you, aware me of the details. Am I physically hurting you when I hold my children's hands and pray with them? Have the items we donated to the food pantry in the Lord's name given you food poisoning? Are the values we teach our Christian children causing your Atheist children to consider *gasp* GOING TO CHURCH instead of to the local skate & smoke park?

If so, please forgive me. You see, I would never offend you on purpose. I AM a Christian after all.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Another Bombshell.....

Really? I don't get it. Am I a target of some kind?
The X just called. He wants another chance. To ensure that happens, he's moving to DF-Dub.
Isn't there a limit to the amount of morons this state can handle?
OK, I'm just being hateful. But, I don't understand how he thinks he can just force his way back into our lives. He wants to put a halt to the divorce proceedings because, "we're making a huge mistake'.
Ya, so I thought so too. A year ago. When I begged for counseling.

I'm just getting to a point where I'm proud of the things I've accomplished since I left. I'm happy with my life (albeit, it's crazy and half the time I'm rushing too much to know what's really going on)..but it's MY life. I've created, and endured all the good and the bad that comes from this place.

I'm not sure that I'm ready to be in a position where I have to decide whether or not to give up my freedom.

Me. Me. Me. I. I. I. Mine. Mine. Mine.....I sound like one of the kids. Petulant, and angry because a change is coming that I have no control over. Maybe some coffee will make this seem a little less crazy.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Here & Gone

It's over. Emotional Roller Coaster... I'm gonna make a song out of that.

I don't know where or how to start. The X called last Tuesday to say he wasn't going to be able to make it. The Army changed his schedule again, and he didn't have anyone to cover down for him.
Breathe. Sigh. Get upset. Get over it.
Cut to Thursday. My phone rang 4 times while I was conferencing with a client online. Finally answer it. The X wants to know if I'll "be around" later. Cause he's in the car. On the way. Here.
Panic. Breathe. Get annoyed. Get the house clean.
It was strange. Beena didn't know who he was or why he kept trying to hold her and kiss her. She's gone through a stage of calling every male she sees "Daddy"... so it wasn't hard for her to call him by name.

Grrr. I just can't deal with him. He IS an emotional roller coaster. While he was here, it was all about Beena. Heartfelt conversations about how much he's missed out on. How much he's missed her. Then he's gone and..just, gone. No phone calls. No emails.
His attention span is that of a 5 year old child.

The VA is requiring him to be treated for PTSD in order to receive disability for his injury. Thank you VA!!!!!!!!!
It's about time that someone else recognized the need for treatment. I'm a bit infuriated that his wife wasn't listened to during the crash of our marriage. The phone calls to his commanders that went ignored, meetings with chaplains where promises were made that never came to fruition, letters to the FRG, and Post Commander that wasted my time and brain power...
He's also being treated for something else that I'd always thought was Sergio's way of 'getting out of it'...
Apparently, there really is some short term memory loss. I can't tell you how many fights started with, "But, I told you..."
So, on that one I'll say this, "My bad"

We dressed Beena up in her Steelers outfit and bought 4 huge bags of candy in anticipation of the neighborhood hordes showing up. The older Turkeys went to their Dad's where all 4 of them dressed as pirates. (Much as I hate to admit it...they were a cute 'lil pirate family!)
Sergio left at about 8 pm after getting a phone call from the soldier who was covering his shift. Apparently, the guy's wife can't stand S. and wasn't losing her husband on his day off for him. (Ya, I've been there) So, he had to make a mad dash back to Colorado in order to get a few hours sleep before he had to work a 24 hour shift.

And, just like was over. I was left with a baby dressed up for Halloween, and no-one to take her trick or treating. (I have a real problem with an empty house on Halloween night...I feel like I'm disappointing children and it hurts my heart too much to swallow.)
So, Beena and I danced around the living room, played our music waaaaaaaaaaaay too loud, and Mommy had waaaaaaaaay too much (really good) wine.
We didn't get a single trick-or-treater. I guess all the kids in the neighborhood knew that The A's were going to be in Flower Mound and didn't think (?) I'd have candy. We passed out goodie bags when the older Turkey's got home to make up for it, which saved my Mommy Soul.

Last night, my baby boy came into my room about an hour after he'd gone to bed. He was crying gut-wrenching sobs, and told me he wanted to move back to Colorado. He misses his friend, he hates it here.
We talked for a while about what it would mean if we were to move back to CO. We'd lose the friends we'd made here (ok, so I meant's not as though I've really branched out). We wouldn't be as close to his Dad and the weekend visits would come to an end, and his friend (darling Gabriel) is an Army Brat...which means his life in Colorado is tenuous at best. They could be transferred at any moment with no choice but to go where the Army sends them. Just like we were when we were Army Brats.
I moved the wii to his bedroom last night because he wanted to play the new Lego Indiana Jones game, and Turkey #1 wanted to watch election updates (seriously. She's that cool!) and that triggered his memories of hanging out with Gabriel. (The pic is of Gabriel & his sister Jade) Gabe & his family lived next door to us on post. The place where my nightmares came true. I went through hell there and his Mother held me up. Her name was Maritza, and I miss her as much as my boy misses Gabriel.

Life changes and we evolve into adults based on how we react to those changes. My job is to steer my children in the direction that I hope they'll take. I hope the Turkey takes the memory of a wonderful childhood friend, and maybe this is a friendship that can last throughout the years. Maritza and I exchange emails and IM fairly often...without a doubt, it's time to get the boys in on the mix instead of just calling him in when I get a funny picture of G.

And now...its back to the grind. I'm SICK of log...wood...the color hello???? $50 for rights to use an image I can make with photoshop??? Jeez. Guess I'll spend 34 hours glued to that program tonight a$$wipes.

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