Joe the Polly Parrot

This is Joe. He (or she...since no-one really knows) is 24 years old. My Grandmother bought him in Plano, TX a few weeks after her last 'Polly Parrot' flew out the kitchen window and managed to make it to a grouping of trees to fly away. (Caged birds don't have the endurance required for long distance flights.) Joe was only a baby, and didn't even have any feathers at the time that she brought him home. I've grown up with this bird. He's as much a part of my family as a favorite uncle would be, and certainly my Grandma's baby.

Unfortunately, we've had to place my Grandmother in a retirement community. Against my Fathers wishes..she doesn't want to be a burden. Even worse, she can't have pets. For the past several years this has been lurking in the shadows. We knew it was time for her to leave her large house, and be around people her age. Especially after she started having episodes of dementia...calling the exterminator because of spiders the size of dinner plates, and flying turtles who wanted to 'get her' while she watched television.

The community that my Grandmother chose doesn't allow pets. Even pets that have been with you for longer than some of your Grandchildren have been alive. So, Joe is coming to live with me. It's bittersweet, but I'm happy about it. I can remember being a little girl and knocking on my G-Ma's front door. I'd hear her call out, "Come in, Jack!" (My Daddy) and we'd all go inside to find my Grandmother out back in her garden, or doing laundry in the back of the house. Because she's always been his 'Mama' it's her voice that he's learned to imitate. And he does it with an uncanny likeness. He'll be watching television with my Dad and giggle in my Grandmothers voice and say, "Oh..That's too funny!" or, "Oh that makes me so proud!"
He loves to eat whatever we eat and will call out from his perch, "Hey! Is that good? Is it good? Hey! Hey! IS THAT GOOD???" And won't stop until you give him a bite and let him find out for himself.

All of my Grandparents are getting older, and it's heartbreaking to see their age showing and to hear of the weekly visits to the doctor, or see the bottles of pills lining my Poppy's shelves. Having Joe is like keeping a part of my Grandma next to me all the time. Regardless of what happens...I'll have her with me through Joe. And, my children will hopefully take him after me. At 25, he hasn't quite lived a quarter of his life span.
What a beautiful way for my Grandmother to always live on.

Momma's Boys

So, Who watched Momma's Boys? I didn't mean to. I reserve my television for times where no Turkeys will interrupt, and I can really veg. But tonight my jaw is 2 times it's normal size thanks to an impacted wisdom tooth that my dentist was "positive" didn't need to come out. Not the first time my x-ray's have turned out to be liars, so I happen to have antibiotics and Vicodin here.
Vicodin and I have a love hate relationship. If it weren't addictive I might take it just to get my house clean. Don't know why...but it makes me want to scour every inch of my house with bleach & lysol. It also makes me z-o-n-e. So, I somehow got sucked into watching parts of the new TV show on NBC. I wouldn't have, cause I'm SO much stronger than that (ya friggin right) BUT...I know one of those chicks!

They showed her face while she was speaking, and she caught my eye from my place underneath the recliner where every dadgum dustbunny in the entire world goes to die. Her name is Rana, and it said she's from Dallas, but I'm 99% sure she's really from ****** (EDIT: You know..there just might be a reason her real city wasn't listed, so I took that part out.) I think that I worked with her at a restaurant called Bahama Breeze. 'Back in the day'. Before I hooked up with the law firm, before I hightailed my fanny to the mountains, I'm almost totally sure that I knew that chick.

And, it made me feel kinda like a rockstar. So, wherever you are Rana...What's up chick? ...I REALLY want some coconut prawns right now. Thanks for the trip down memory lane! And, if I don't know you...this is some freaky dream or someshizz...I'm sorry. I won't stalk you, I promise.

PS..HOSTESS! I think. Man. This is really gonna bug me.

PPS..I stole that picture from NBC's website... Please don't sue me.

PPPS..I would totally ruin my boys chances on that show. Poor girls wouldn't know what hit 'em.

I'm ready!

I think, today, I finally got into the spirit of this Christmas. The two older Turkeys are down with another stomach bug, so we spent the day watching Christmas DVD's. Ate tons of popcorn, and the baby and I polished off an entire bag of candy cane oreos.
My oldest developed an affinity to peppermint tea (I knew it was only a matter of time) and I sent the neighbor kid home with the rest of the cookies and fudge sitting on the counter-top.

It was quiet, and lazy, and just what I needed to remind me that this is what Christmas, or any holiday, is about. Hanging out with the people you love the most, doing the things that make you smile and feel good inside, and not worrying about what tomorrow is going to bring.

I love you, my babies. Get better tonight.

I met Santa Claus...

I had a check that I really, really needed to turn into cash. I bank with USAA, and do not (nor have I ever) had a single credit card..even with them. This is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it keeps me out of debt. A curse because it can take up to 3 weeks from the date I mail a check to them before it shows up in my account. Usually not a problem. Yesterday? Big Problem. But, I digress... By the time my friend was able to get off work and drive the half hour it takes to get to my house, our options were fairly limited. I was also dealing with a 2 party check and only had a copy of the 2nd persons ID to prove the validity so I kinda figured I was going to be SOL.

After being shot down twice, my friend said he knew of a place in Ft. Worth that was still open so we took off. (Mind you, my children were also grumbling in the backseat and demanding McDonalds as though they owned me!) Over an hour and a half after we originally left the house, we finally pulled up to a gas station. And, I'm looking at my friend like he's gone twice baked potato on me. Because really? A gas station?

We went inside and it's dingy. And, dirty. And, I wanted to take my babies and run. But, not in that neighborhood! The guy behind the counter barely spoke English, but made it clear that he didn't care about the 2nd party on the check. "Give me Check!"
After looking it over, he told me that he couldn't cash it because it was dated November 11, 2008. And, it's now December. Hu-What? I, of course, started explaining to him that the check had to first reach one destination, be signed by party #1 then mailed to me, where I've had to wait for an opportunity to leave the house and get it cashed. I was interrupted by my friend, (who I've known for 8 years and thought I knew all of his friends, and their friends, and blah blah blah) He told the guy behind the counter, "Ricky said to cash that check." To which counter guy straightened up, blinked, and said "You verify that?" My friend pulled out his cell phone and called 'Ricky' who talked to counter guy briefly before hanging up. My check was cashed with no more questions, while my friend took the kiddos back to his truck.

Afterwards, instead of driving back towards the highway, we pulled into a landscaping parking lot where there was another truck waiting. With 'Ricky' inside.
I said my (still bewildered) Thank You's. But I swear, that wasn't Ricky. It was Santa Claus. He had the beard and everything.
I didn't find out until we were already headed back to my house, Santa had co-signed my check! I've never met this man, but he told the guy behind the counter to cash my check, and he'd cover any problems if they arose. (I'm assuming I'm not the first person he's done this for, as the guy behind the counter didn't hesitate once he got the go-ahead.)

So. Yep. Santa saved my a$$. The real deal, and you can't convince me any differently. Straight jackets be damned, I'll be waiting on the roof with cookies and hot cocoa this year!~

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?

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 pads...you 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!

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.

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.

A decade of friendship & Tums

This is Erin. Isn't she a cutie-patootie?





This is her son, Tyler. He's too much for words! Just smile, cause that's how he makes you feel.




Tyler & Beena Baby (aka Demon child, aka Turkey #3) are getting married. NO. Not now. We're going to let them wait until they're old enough to at least understand that their Mothers are forcing an arranged marriage on them simply to satisfy our need to actually be related after all these years.

Erin & Tyler were visiting from beautiful Rifle, Colorado. She and I have known each other since long before Tyler or Corrina were even considered. Long before either of us were ever married, long before 9/11, the War on Terrorism, Long before Britney was a SuperStar!!!

She's been my rock when I thought I had nothing left, and her soothing words have gotten me through many a moment that I simply couldn't see past, and I love her like a sister. At times, I feel really alone on my journey here...and she's one of the people I turn to when the solitude starts eating at my sanity. She get's me through it by reminding me how great my kids are, how much she loves each one of us, and how proud she is of me for standing up for what I believe in and taking this huge risk. When other people look at me like I'm crazy for leaving my gorgeous husband with a good job, secure benefits, and such a happy-go-lucky outlook on life...Erin reminds me that the happy-go-lucky included days where the children and I ate nothing but MRE's because he'd spent another paycheck at a ski resort and partied his woes away.
She doesn't let me feel sorry for myself, but reminds me that I made the right decision for us.

Without people like Erin, and my Jen-nay...and my Mommy, I'd have given up. I would have crawled under my bed with a bottle of Jagermeister and allowed my husband to run us so far into a financial hole that we'd never see the light again. Erin is my "responsible angel"
When I told her that my utility bill was $420 she immediately started crunching numbers and looking online to find out why. And how we could get it down. Not me. WE. (I keep my thermostat down...My bill is actually one of the lowest that I've heard of around here. It's scary)
Letters to governors, calling the power company....that girl was on it. And, she was on vacation.
See, I was just going to pay the sucker and call it even. Not Erin. No way. Hu-uh!

We also spent hours in the kitchen cooking, taste testing, throwing calories out the window willy nilly! It was wonderful and great and fattening and perfection. I think we used 2 entire bags of sugar and over 3/4's of a large bag of flower. 2 dozen eggs, and we cleaned out the fruits & veggies at the Farmers Market. Then we ate it. All of it. Then we ate some Zantac. Then we slept in the same bed and told ghost stories by candlelight and giggled until the sun came up.
If you haven't had a sleepover with a best friend in a while, I highly recommend it! There's no better therapy!




I love you Erin! You are the bomb dot com. And, I am not Lame dot net.

Waltzing LaVonne

My Mother finally posted the video of her friends & family singing the song they'd written in celebration of her 50th birthday. Now, I'm passing it on to you for your viewing pleasure....Or pain. Ummm.. Well, Enjoy!

waltzing LaVonne


"Waltzing LaVonne"

Waltzing LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Who'll go with this 'ole gal LaVonne
As she picks up rocks & put's 'em in a box
Who'll go waltzing with LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Who'll watch the sled dogs with LaVonne
As we stand on a block of ice, cheering the puppies on
Will Rich waltz with LaVonne?
Waltzing LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Ain't it nifty, she's turnin' Fifty
You'l hear the woe's about her big toes
Who'll be limping to LaVonne

Now, a little background since you've seen the video in all it's glory.
My Mom loves/adores/worships the Iditarod. Her 50th birthday gift to herself (and a special cousin & sister) was a trip to Alaska to see the beginning of the race. This was after a cruise she went on several years ago, where she fell in love with the dogs to begin with. Someday, my Mommy's going to move to Alaska and abandon her family. But, she can't get rid of me as easily as she thinks! I'll be hot on her trail!
She also loves rocks. I believe I've mentioned that. And the toe thing? Not sure. And Rich? No damn clue who that could be!!! My family's a bit on the weird side. The ballgowns were because they were having a "Birthday Ball" and someone brought a bag of (bouncy) balls as gift. Most everyone else gave her rocks. Save for one Aunt who gave her football themed grilling accoutrement's. Excuse me for a moment, my head is spinning.
OK, I'm sorry. And, I'm sorry that I've subjected you to the oddity's that make up my family. Please forgive me. And family? If you're reading this? Well, you should stop now before you cast me unto the hellfire and disown me as your loved one.

Starlight, Starbright....

First Star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, make a wish upon you tonight.

The night my littlest baby was born was bittersweet. I was finally holding the little Turkey who'd been kicking me for months, and forced me to bed rest weeks before she made her squalling appearance. Of course I was happy, thrilled, and madly in love. But, I was also tired and achy, grouchy & sad. My family had all visited and left at my request...I wanted to be alone with my newest Angel.That day, I'd spent hours before, during, and after the labor & delivery with a cell phone plastered to my ear, talking to my husband in Baquabah, Iraq. His Commander's had given him the day off and he'd spent his day in a tiny cubby hole not nearly big enough for his 6'4" frame.
My Mom kept the video camera running right up until the last moment (due to some strange new rules regarding video taping in the birthing room) and Sergio stayed on the phone the entire time.
I still don't know why, but I was afraid for him to hear me make a sound. I didn't want him to think I was in pain. Though~ duh. He told me later that it made him unsure of what was going on. All he heard were the Dr and nurses telling me I was doing great and "PUSH". After she was born and being weighed the Dr. chimed in to Sergio, "I'm Proud of you Daddy! You didn't even Faint!" with her light southern accent, and sweet little voice.
After that things went blurry. There were people in and out of my room, Flowers everywhere. Sergio had sent 2 huge bouquets himself, and my mother (always aware of peoples feelings) cheated and had a bouquet sent "from Daddy" (just in case he wasn't able to get a florist) along with the flowers & fruit from her and my Father. All up and down the halls were doors with baby wreaths on them. Beautiful creations of ribbon, and plastic booties & pacifiers. My door boasted an Army poster of a Blackhawk & the saying, "An Army of One."
It wasn't what I would have ever wished for. And, oh, how I feel for women who are going through the same thing. But, it was beautiful. I bonded with my baby even more because I wanted to savor each and every tiny moment of her life. I knew that my phone would ring (usually around 4 am, and right after I'd just nursed her back to sleep) and I would get to relate each burp, funny face, and goofy noise to someone who was just as obsessed with the news as I was. I appreciated holding her close to me, and the smell of her hair even more because I wanted to be able to describe it to him in perfect detail.
My baby is 2 now. Into everything. And dangerous. Scary dangerous. But, I'll never forget the deep, raw love I had for her in those first few months. Where just looking at her could send my heart pitter-pattering and I would be overcome with a fervent desire to hold her little body close to mine and breathe in deep, the scent of my child. Where being away from her for even an hour was an intrusion of epic proportions, and I refused at any cost.
There's nothing like the first few weeks of falling in love with your newborn child. Getting to know them in a way that you'll be able to build on for the rest of your lives. Pretty soon, the love you feel stops making you tear up with a flood of emotion and grows into the confidant, relaxed, easy love of a Mother & Child.
I hope, when my children are old enough to have their own children that I'll remember to pass along the best piece of advice I was given, "Savor Every Moment."




Thanks for giving me the idea for this post, and if you enjoy creative writing, be sure and check this out before the contest ends! What a fun way to celebrate becoming a new Mom (again!) I had a lot of fun digging deep into the memory banks and remembering the feelings from those first few weeks. Made me go smother my baby Turkey with Sloppy Kisses!
Congratulations to those expecting!!

Happy 50th Mama!

We're back and I'll post more pictures (with promised video!) as soon as my Mother emails them to me....if she has the nerve to email them to me.

We had a wonderful time! Homemade peach ice-cream, family, and the river. I'm finally relaxed.
My Mom wasn't as surprised as everyone wanted her to be, but she was thrilled with the way it turned out.

It says a lot about a person when so many people you've known your whole life will come together to celebrate your 50th birthday. And, go to such lengths to make it a wonderful and joyful experience for you. My Mom is blessed, but more than that..she is an extraordinary woman. She has faced adversary's that we never think of. And came through the other side with an outlook on life as positive as if she'd never been there.

I'm proud of my Mom. I consider her one of my best friends, and certainly the one person who I can go to for anything and know that the advice I'm given is tried & true. Or she won't give any.

All I can say is, my Mom rocks. And guess what she got for her birthday? Guess..No, I don't want to tell you. You have to guess.
Fine crybaby, I'll tell you. She got rocks. Yep. Are you jealous? You should be. The rocks were her favorite part. Really. They were. She's not senile. She just likes rocks. What?

I love you Mom!!!

A moment of silence.....

It's been 7 years since the World Trade Center attacks. Seven years of war, misery, heartache & turmoil. It suddenly occurred to me today; my children have never really known a life without a war in Iraq. When I was growing up, war seemed like something that happened to other countries. Not ours. Our country had finally figured out that war was senseless.

My Father was in the Navy, both my brothers were in the Navy. (I could say both my Fathers were in the Navy, but one was a POS, so he doesn't get props here) I married into the Army.
Our daughter was born while my husband was in Baquabah, Iraq. My Mom drove me to the hospital at 5 o'clock in the morning and stayed with me throughout my labor. She was the first person to see my little baby be born, and she cut the cord.

My children have welcomed home many a sailor and soldier from Iraq. To them, it's a far off place where boys go when they're older to 'protect' our country. It's a way of life.
They aren't shocked at the knowledge that millions have died and are still dying.
Am I the only one who thinks thats wrong?

I sometimes get the impression from my son that he thinks he's going to have to go to war too. I try and make him understand that he makes the choice...then he comes home and tells me I'm wrong..."It's called a draft Mom, they can make you go to war, unless you have flat feet. Then you get to stay home."
Yo, kiddo. Your seven. You don't have to worry about a war.

So, to whoever wins this dadgum election, please put a notation on my sons roster that says he's got flat feet. Or hands. Or a flat brain. Whatever it takes.
Or, here's a novel idea....Lets figure out a way to end this thing. Whatever it takes. Cause, my kids not fighting this war. Got it? Great. Thanks.


P.S. I'm not saying to surrender. Or Forget. Just get this $hit figured out so my kids can be as carefree & clueless and I once was. Please don't burn my house down. I love the USA. And, I support our troops. Like you wouldn't friggin' believe.

Coffee & Mountains with Papa

My Daddy just left from a (too, too short) 3 day visit. It was special to me because my Dad doesn't travel a whole lot. He goes to Padre Island when he wants a break, and rarely does anything else.

I guess I'm growing up, because my parents aren't really 'parents' anymore. They're my friends. The oldest, and best friends I have and I cherish every moment we get to spend together because they're too few and far between. My Dad's getting older, and he's not in the greatest of health. You know you aren't supposed to think about those things, but you do. You really can't help it when you see your Father opening 6-7 different bottles of pills every morning, to take with his coffee. It puts things into perspective. We discussed what should happen to my Grandmother, who's health/sanity is horrible but she refuses to move from her house. We talked about my Mother's parents, who aren't doing well right now. We talked about MY parent's impending move to AK, and the financial straights that's put them in... When did things like this become my business? Or rather...when did my opinion begin to count? And, do I really want my opinion to count? I'm not really sure I'm ready for this side of adulthood. Yet, there I was. Sitting on my back porch, drinking coffee and looking at Cheyenne Mtn with my Daddy...discussing the darker side of family life that was concealed from me until I was old enough to have a valid opinion of 'what should be done'.

I'm grateful for this visit. I'm so glad that I'll have the memories of taking my Dad through Garden of the Gods, and Helen Hunt Falls, and especially our drive to the summit of Pikes Peak. I see those things all the time, and the list of people that I can associate with my landmarks is growing, but I was able to add my Daddy to that list. I have to say, for now. That's my highlight. He'll always be able to say that the first time Corrina ever went to the summit, was with her Pawpaw. She wont remember, but you can bet that picture will be framed for her to keep forever.


P.S. This was an old post from another blog ~ Before life went crazy and I moved back to DF-Dub