I could have sworn I wrote a blog topic about this story, but I did a search for it, and it didn't come up. So I'll just forge on ahead, and if you've heard it before, please forgive me.
My grandmother moved to Savannah after my grandfather died. They had lived there before, and I have an aunt and cousins who have stayed in the area. When I was about 15 years old, my mother and I went to visit her sister (and the cousin closest to my own age) around St. Patrick's Day. I don't know if the trip was planned for St. Patrick's Day on purpose or if that's just when we wound up going. It would be a lot like winding up in New Orleans for Mardi Gras by accident. Or deciding you just have to see Times Square, and you forget to look at the calendar and don't realize it's New Year's Eve.
We watched the parade, and my cousin and I went out with some of her friends that night. There may or may not have been beverages drunk for which we were not of legal age. Probably not, but I believe in full disclosure even if the details are fuzzy.
We were walking down River Street, where a bunch of 15-year-olds had NO business being on or around St. Patrick's Day in Savannah. There was a very drunk sailor literally hanging onto a lamppost as I approached. He slurred, "You've got beautiful eyes...." (I can do this much better in person than typing. I'm just saying.)
That's just hard proof that he was officially drunk, since my eyes are the color of dead grass and are nothing to write home about, let alone beautiful.
I did as I had been taught and kept my eyes forward and pretended I didn't hear anything. I walked past without acknowledging the sailor's presence.
So when I was about 10 feet away from him, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "BUT YOU'VE GOT A BIG ASS!"
Mortified much? You betcha.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Crazy Dream #12..........
Yeah, I know I just posted about a crazy dream a few days ago. My cray-cray seems to come in waves. But I promise this one is a short one. And does not involve foreign travel, so don't worry if your passport is not up-to-date.
I dreamed I went to the emergency room with a broken collarbone. Oddly enough, I don't remember being in any pain.
What I was worried about, though, was whether or not to tell the hospital personnel that my collarbone was broken because my OWN DAUGHTER had hit me with a baseball bat.
(She doesn't even own a baseball bat, to my knowledge.)
In the end, they didn't even ask.
I dreamed I went to the emergency room with a broken collarbone. Oddly enough, I don't remember being in any pain.
What I was worried about, though, was whether or not to tell the hospital personnel that my collarbone was broken because my OWN DAUGHTER had hit me with a baseball bat.
(She doesn't even own a baseball bat, to my knowledge.)
In the end, they didn't even ask.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
My Calendar Obsession.....
Even in this digital age, I find myself clinging to my paper calendar. Don't get me wrong....I have an electronic calendar. Two of them, in fact. And it was a happy day when I learned how to sync them. My school calendar on Outlook syncs with my Google calendar, and I get an email first thing every morning (at 4:37 AM to be exact) that lets me know of any events upcoming for that day. If you haven't tried Google's calendar feature yet, YOU SHOULD. You can choose what holidays to display, and you can choose professional and college teams whose schedules you would like to appear on your digital calendar. You can go overboard with that, as I'm SURE you wouldn't have predicted I would do. By the time I had it notify me of games played by the Atlanta Falcons, Detroit Lions, Atlanta Braves, Gwinnett Braves, and the Georgia Bulldogs, I had no idea whose birthday was when, because my calendar was chock full of sports schedules.
The older I get, the more I rely on such things. I have people's birthdays on my calendar. A couple of days BEFORE their birthdays, I get reminders to mail their cards. It's a tragic thing.
Because I am a teacher, I have bought academic year calendars for the past few decades. I have bought many different styles, and some years I have gone the cheap route and just used the ones that our local bank provided to every teacher in the district. That was before said bank had officers who invested people's money not very wisely, and now the bank goes by a different name.
This one is my favorite, though. You can't tell it, but it has a hard back, so the cover doesn't curl or tear even with repeated misuse and abuse. In the back are lots of blank pages for notes (I rarely use them, and if I do use them I forget to look back there for whatever I took notes on), and TWO clear pockets that I use as a portable filing cabinet. In it are random items such as a mystery letter I found in my step-father's possessions, this year's school calendar (because it's ultra-important to know when the holidays are), NEXT year's school calendar (even more important, to note my last day of teaching EVER), a cool poem from New Yorker Magazine, a random 6-digit code or confirmation or combination, a couple of pay stubs.
When I get a brand-new calendar, the first thing I do is go through and write everyone's birthday in. I always hesitate when I get to mine. Do I write my own birthday in my calendar, knowing I don't really need to remind myself of it? Or do I leave it blank and pretend it bothers me, when it really doesn't?
The next thing I do, because I get my calendar in July right before school starts, is write (in red) the dates of UGA football games. As soon as the gymnastics schedule comes out, I write those in (also in red, of course).
Other things are sometimes color-coded, sometimes not. I write in approaching deadlines, and as you can see if you click on the picture above, sometimes I write a deadline on a sticky note and put it on the appropriate date. No, I'm not sure why either. It seemed the right thing to do at that particular time.
At this time of year, my calendar pages start filling up with bicycle rides. It's impossible to do all of them, but I pencil them in anyway, then I check with Katydid and Rozmo to see which ones they can do. I write in Hubby's golf trips even if I'm not going with him, and I also keep track of his doctor's appointments.
My calendar is usually open on my desk, but I'm finding here lately that it's usually turned to the NEXT month, not the current one. I'm a planner by nature, so I am always looking ahead and seeing how events line up (or don't) in my calendar. It's why I email Katydid and Frogger Blogger and irritate the crap out of them asking them questions about events that are MONTHS away.
I think my paper calendar is sort of a security blanket. I take it with me to meetings, even if I know there is nothing to schedule, because it makes me feel better. And if it's a boring meeting, I can always doodle on the blank pages in the back. Maybe that's why they are there.
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Blood Pressure Challenge......
I've been on medication to control my blood pressure since 2004. It started with an allergic reaction to chlorine, when I broke out all over, my eyes swelled shut, and I had blisters on my eyelids. I was concerned about looking like walking circus freak show; my doctor was worried about my blood pressure.
"Have you LOOKED at me, lady? Don't you think I have a REASON for my blood pressure to be up?"
I tracked it for a couple of weeks, then they put me on medication, and I have dutifully taken it for the last five years. Once when she was out on maternity leave (AGAIN!), one of her partners (whom I really can't stand and can't understand why Hubby is so fond of him) INCREASED my medication because he didn't like the reading they got on that particular day.
In the past couple of weeks I have had a few dizzy spells. (Hubby would say "What else is new?") Nothing major, not to the point of fainting, just feeling light-headed and slightly off-balance. Correction....more off-balance than usual.
When I had my blood pressure taken at the "Y" for my Team Lean competition, it was 96/64 or something. I chalked that up to the fact that Hubby and I had JUST finished walking in the park. (I like to go exercise right before I weigh, just in case.....) Then when I went to give blood two weeks ago, my blood pressure was 116/60-something. I said something along the lines of, "Well, the pills work."
But then it occurred to me that my blood pressure was running LOW all of a sudden. It was time to get my (blasted) medications refilled, so I asked my doctor about cutting back and perhaps eventually getting off them. She was a little condescending, dubious at best, and questioned my reasoning. I explained I had lost about 25 pounds (she wasn't as impressed as I wanted her to be) and increased my exercise. She was still not moved, but she RELUCTANTLY split my combination blood pressure medicine into two prescriptions. She said if my blood pressure consistently stays under 120/80, I can drop ONE of the medications.
She is probably blissfully unaware of how seriously I take a challenge.
It. Is. On.
Another thing the doc said - "We don't like to change medications based on a single reading."
ISN'T THAT WHAT YOUR PARTNER DID WHEN HE DIDN'T LIKE WHAT HE SAW?
Just since Friday I have taken my blood pressure numerous times, at all different times of day, before and after exercise, before and after eating, before and after my laptop has pissed me off AGAIN.
Here's what I've had so far:
110/67
114/73
94/58
102/59
114/79
97/56 (That one was about an hour and a half ago, and I've been feeling fairly light-headed.)
I'm not one to play around with my medications, and I'm going to take both pills faithfully for another week or so. If these low numbers continue, though, I'm going to drop one of them as she said I could.
And THEN we'll have an entirely new challenge. I would love to add #51 to my 50 Things to Do list - Get off blood pressure medication.
"Have you LOOKED at me, lady? Don't you think I have a REASON for my blood pressure to be up?"
I tracked it for a couple of weeks, then they put me on medication, and I have dutifully taken it for the last five years. Once when she was out on maternity leave (AGAIN!), one of her partners (whom I really can't stand and can't understand why Hubby is so fond of him) INCREASED my medication because he didn't like the reading they got on that particular day.
In the past couple of weeks I have had a few dizzy spells. (Hubby would say "What else is new?") Nothing major, not to the point of fainting, just feeling light-headed and slightly off-balance. Correction....more off-balance than usual.
When I had my blood pressure taken at the "Y" for my Team Lean competition, it was 96/64 or something. I chalked that up to the fact that Hubby and I had JUST finished walking in the park. (I like to go exercise right before I weigh, just in case.....) Then when I went to give blood two weeks ago, my blood pressure was 116/60-something. I said something along the lines of, "Well, the pills work."
But then it occurred to me that my blood pressure was running LOW all of a sudden. It was time to get my (blasted) medications refilled, so I asked my doctor about cutting back and perhaps eventually getting off them. She was a little condescending, dubious at best, and questioned my reasoning. I explained I had lost about 25 pounds (she wasn't as impressed as I wanted her to be) and increased my exercise. She was still not moved, but she RELUCTANTLY split my combination blood pressure medicine into two prescriptions. She said if my blood pressure consistently stays under 120/80, I can drop ONE of the medications.
She is probably blissfully unaware of how seriously I take a challenge.
It. Is. On.
Another thing the doc said - "We don't like to change medications based on a single reading."
ISN'T THAT WHAT YOUR PARTNER DID WHEN HE DIDN'T LIKE WHAT HE SAW?
Just since Friday I have taken my blood pressure numerous times, at all different times of day, before and after exercise, before and after eating, before and after my laptop has pissed me off AGAIN.
Here's what I've had so far:
110/67
114/73
94/58
102/59
114/79
97/56 (That one was about an hour and a half ago, and I've been feeling fairly light-headed.)
I'm not one to play around with my medications, and I'm going to take both pills faithfully for another week or so. If these low numbers continue, though, I'm going to drop one of them as she said I could.
And THEN we'll have an entirely new challenge. I would love to add #51 to my 50 Things to Do list - Get off blood pressure medication.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
#47 - Ride Local Roads I've Not Ridden Before....
I'm not sure exactly what I was thinking when I put this item on my 50 Things to Do list. I was probably thinking I was running out of ideas and wasn't quite to 50 yet.
I'll pretend to be a much deeper thinker than that, though, and say I was thinking I meant to get out of my comfort zone. Ride not only routes I hadn't ridden before (or created on the computer beforehand), but take off on roads I wasn't familiar with and see where I ended up.
My favorite kind of bicycle riding has become those rides when I leave with no particular route in mind, not even a definite destination. When Hubby is playing golf, I always have the option of ending up at the golf course. Or I can ride back home, but for some reason it's more satisfying when I don't have to. Not to mention it knocks about 5-7 miles off the end of the ride, depending on which direction I'm coming from.
I wound up riding in four different counties today. I was going to shoot for a fifth one, but I ran out of steam. I had ridden 35 miles when I realized I wasn't even headed back in the direction of home. I rode on several (many?) roads I had never been on before, on bicycle or in a car. I crossed a major four-lane thoroughfare SIX times. When I got close to the golf course, I texted Hubby to see what time he thought he would finish. I was at the point of deciding whether to ride to the golf course or continue on home. When he said it would be another hour, I decided to go straight home. I didn't have an hour of waiting in me, and I certainly didn't have another hour of riding.
There is a point on one of my usual routes where it's only a mile to my house, but getting there requires being on a busy, hilly two-lane road on which drivers go WAY too fast. I usually cross that road and swing around by the landfill (joy, joy), which adds about five miles and five hills to the end of a ride. Today I sat and debated. To the right it was a mile home, and one hill. Going straight would mean those other five miles and all those hills. I said, "Screw it, I'll take my chances," and I turned right for the direct route.
The road is busy, but there's a nice wide shoulder outside the white line. The wide shoulder is both a good thing and a bad thing. It gives me a little more room between me and the cars, but it means most drivers don't feel it necessary to slow down AT ALL. The speed limit on that part of the road is 55 mph, so riding a bicycle on it can be a hair-raising experience. I decided I would chance the hair-raising for only a mile, and it turned out to be an okay thing to do. Well obviously, since if it had proven an unwise thing to do, I would more than likely not be writing this blog post.
Here is the map for anyone who is interested.
I'll pretend to be a much deeper thinker than that, though, and say I was thinking I meant to get out of my comfort zone. Ride not only routes I hadn't ridden before (or created on the computer beforehand), but take off on roads I wasn't familiar with and see where I ended up.
My favorite kind of bicycle riding has become those rides when I leave with no particular route in mind, not even a definite destination. When Hubby is playing golf, I always have the option of ending up at the golf course. Or I can ride back home, but for some reason it's more satisfying when I don't have to. Not to mention it knocks about 5-7 miles off the end of the ride, depending on which direction I'm coming from.
I wound up riding in four different counties today. I was going to shoot for a fifth one, but I ran out of steam. I had ridden 35 miles when I realized I wasn't even headed back in the direction of home. I rode on several (many?) roads I had never been on before, on bicycle or in a car. I crossed a major four-lane thoroughfare SIX times. When I got close to the golf course, I texted Hubby to see what time he thought he would finish. I was at the point of deciding whether to ride to the golf course or continue on home. When he said it would be another hour, I decided to go straight home. I didn't have an hour of waiting in me, and I certainly didn't have another hour of riding.
There is a point on one of my usual routes where it's only a mile to my house, but getting there requires being on a busy, hilly two-lane road on which drivers go WAY too fast. I usually cross that road and swing around by the landfill (joy, joy), which adds about five miles and five hills to the end of a ride. Today I sat and debated. To the right it was a mile home, and one hill. Going straight would mean those other five miles and all those hills. I said, "Screw it, I'll take my chances," and I turned right for the direct route.
The road is busy, but there's a nice wide shoulder outside the white line. The wide shoulder is both a good thing and a bad thing. It gives me a little more room between me and the cars, but it means most drivers don't feel it necessary to slow down AT ALL. The speed limit on that part of the road is 55 mph, so riding a bicycle on it can be a hair-raising experience. I decided I would chance the hair-raising for only a mile, and it turned out to be an okay thing to do. Well obviously, since if it had proven an unwise thing to do, I would more than likely not be writing this blog post.
Here is the map for anyone who is interested.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
I'm Not Complaining, Really.....
This is going to sound like a complaint, or like I'm HOPING someone will say, "Oh, shut up already!"
But I promise that's not the case.
While my weight loss hasn't been as FAST (immediate? please?) as I would like, it has been steady for the most part. In our Team Lean competition, I have lost 7 pounds in 7 weeks. While I would like to lose TWO pounds per week, I realize that with almost-50-year-old metabolism, that ain't gonna happen. Apparently.
I've lost around 22 pounds since the school year began, and I'm just now entering that phase where clothes that used to be really tight are becoming too loose to wear. That includes some of my favorite slacks.
Like most women, I have a range of sizes in my closet. I would go through phases where I refused to buy anything larger than a certain size, even if I could only breathe in short bursts throughout the day and I had a red welt around my "waist" at the end of the day. Then I would go through a period of, "Oh hell, I'm never going to be any thinner, who am I kidding?" and buy the next size up. And sometimes THOSE got too tight, and I blamed it on the clothing manufacturers. Because it clearly had nothing to do with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
I've worn a couple of pairs of slacks from the larger size this past week, and they are getting to the point of looking ludicrous on me. They aren't belted, so I just have to hope that I don't sneeze or cough while standing up, or that the school doesn't catch on fire, because any sudden movement might mean my slacks are suddenly pooled around my ankles.
I know, I know. Terrible problem to have.
But some of these are my FAVORITES. (I'm guessing they are my favorites because I finally bought the right size and they were the ones that didn't make me almost hyperventilate.) One of them is a pair of Ralph Lauren slacks with flared legs that I can wear with almost anything. They are my go-to slacks of choice for funerals and classroom observations. Those two things have a lot in common when it comes to how I feel about them. Another is a pair of black-and-white slacks that I can pair with a black tank and sweater set if I'm feeling more serious, or a white blouse if I've A) ironed it; and B) not brought a salad with Catalina dressing for lunch that day.
I realize I can have them altered, but I'm wondering at what point I should have them done. Now? I'm still about 20 pounds away from my goal weight (although the BMI charts say I will STILL be overweight). If I wait until then to get my favorites altered, what do I wear in the meantime? I don't want to go out and buy ALL new clothes, especially when I will only need my "teacher" clothes for another year. (Have I just told on myself? Does anyone else out there wear something for four or five years, particularly when you've paid $80 for it? Hello? Tap...tap.... **Crickets**)
I guess, since we're about to change seasons and wardrobes, that this problem is something I really don't have to worry about for a few months. Once warm weather arrives I wear mostly capris and knee-length shorts to school anyway, so the slacks will go in the back of the closet until fall. Which doesn't really begin here until November.
It's just like me to devote an entire blog post to something I don't have to worry about for another eight months. At least it takes my mind off this afternoon's gymnastics meet, senior day for our two seniors. (Sniff, sniff)
But I promise that's not the case.
While my weight loss hasn't been as FAST (immediate? please?) as I would like, it has been steady for the most part. In our Team Lean competition, I have lost 7 pounds in 7 weeks. While I would like to lose TWO pounds per week, I realize that with almost-50-year-old metabolism, that ain't gonna happen. Apparently.
I've lost around 22 pounds since the school year began, and I'm just now entering that phase where clothes that used to be really tight are becoming too loose to wear. That includes some of my favorite slacks.
Like most women, I have a range of sizes in my closet. I would go through phases where I refused to buy anything larger than a certain size, even if I could only breathe in short bursts throughout the day and I had a red welt around my "waist" at the end of the day. Then I would go through a period of, "Oh hell, I'm never going to be any thinner, who am I kidding?" and buy the next size up. And sometimes THOSE got too tight, and I blamed it on the clothing manufacturers. Because it clearly had nothing to do with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
I've worn a couple of pairs of slacks from the larger size this past week, and they are getting to the point of looking ludicrous on me. They aren't belted, so I just have to hope that I don't sneeze or cough while standing up, or that the school doesn't catch on fire, because any sudden movement might mean my slacks are suddenly pooled around my ankles.
I know, I know. Terrible problem to have.
But some of these are my FAVORITES. (I'm guessing they are my favorites because I finally bought the right size and they were the ones that didn't make me almost hyperventilate.) One of them is a pair of Ralph Lauren slacks with flared legs that I can wear with almost anything. They are my go-to slacks of choice for funerals and classroom observations. Those two things have a lot in common when it comes to how I feel about them. Another is a pair of black-and-white slacks that I can pair with a black tank and sweater set if I'm feeling more serious, or a white blouse if I've A) ironed it; and B) not brought a salad with Catalina dressing for lunch that day.
I realize I can have them altered, but I'm wondering at what point I should have them done. Now? I'm still about 20 pounds away from my goal weight (although the BMI charts say I will STILL be overweight). If I wait until then to get my favorites altered, what do I wear in the meantime? I don't want to go out and buy ALL new clothes, especially when I will only need my "teacher" clothes for another year. (Have I just told on myself? Does anyone else out there wear something for four or five years, particularly when you've paid $80 for it? Hello? Tap...tap.... **Crickets**)
I guess, since we're about to change seasons and wardrobes, that this problem is something I really don't have to worry about for a few months. Once warm weather arrives I wear mostly capris and knee-length shorts to school anyway, so the slacks will go in the back of the closet until fall. Which doesn't really begin here until November.
It's just like me to devote an entire blog post to something I don't have to worry about for another eight months. At least it takes my mind off this afternoon's gymnastics meet, senior day for our two seniors. (Sniff, sniff)
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Blog Post That's Sure to Get Me in Trouble.....
It occurred to me tonight, after reading Pioneer Woman's blog entry for today, that there is one thing I don't blog about nearly enough. Some nights I struggle to find a topic, and I have a ton of fodder just sitting up in my brain waiting to be used.
It's all about my Sweet Girl.
Pioneer Woman has FOUR children, and she sometimes devotes an entire blog post to one of them, and I rarely write about the ONE child I have and how proud I am of her.
I stumbled onto this epiphany while she and I were texting back and forth a little while ago. She had just landed in Las Vegas, en route to San Diego to see her cousin. (Only MY child would be headed for the West Coast on the same day a tsunami hits..... I take that back. I'd be willing to bet there are LOTS of folks' children headed to the West Coast on airplanes even as we speak.)
Most of us try to raise our children to be independent, and it is a very sharp double-edged sword. We want them to be independent and able to think for themselves, but when they wander off at a water-based theme park and you find them ONLY after a park attendant has purchased a popsicle, you have to wonder if they might carry the independence thing just a wee bit too far. Or when a child is, oh let's just say, hypothetically speaking, around the age of nine, and he or SHE wanders away from three adults in the train station in MUNICH, absolutely comfortable in her ability to walk around by herself in a country where she doesn't speak the language.
Naturally her independence caused us to butt heads over the years (still does on some occasions), but I'm so proud of what she's done and who she's become. She has served in the Navy for 8 years, been to a gazillion places, bought a home and lived completely on her own, and she is very comfortable hopping on a plane and flying across the country all alone to visit her closest cousin. I used to teach with a young woman who had NEVER spent the night alone. NEVER. She went straight from her parents' home to her husband's, and when he had to travel out of town on business, she always had one of her students or former students come spend the night at her house so she wouldn't have to be alone. I tell every young lady I get the chance to say it to, "You need to live completely by yourself at least once in your life."
She has never been afraid of the water. NEVER. Perhaps she was destined to be a part of the Navy, even if she is in aviation. She would have been perfectly happy without the water wings.
I have no idea why she climbed into this laundry basket, but she was playing when she did it. She jumped in it and giggled wildly, but then she fell asleep. She had started sucking her thumb when she was four months old. I remember thinking how cute it was. And I didn't have to keep up with a pacifier! When she was ten YEARS old, however, it wasn't quite as cute anymore. I think she finally stopped sucking her thumb when she started going to sleepovers. Notice the painted fingernails that contrast nicely with the rather large gash on her forehead. It's a wonder I didn't go to jail for child abuse; she was always scratched up/cut up/bruised. Oh, and once we had to take a snake away from her. She cried.
I had a large (16" by 20") framed print of this picture, and I lost custody of it in my divorce. I have grieved over the loss of that picture way more than the end of the marriage. Even more than my books. And I'm sure my ex's new wife didn't keep the portrait around either. They probably threw it out. Butt heads.
She will be leaving the Navy in June, and not of her own choosing. She missed the minimum score on her promotion exam by half a point. HALF A POINT. It was her last try, so she will be processed out right after her eighth anniversary. Here they've got a person who WANTS to serve, is GOOD at her job (but perhaps stinks at taking tests), and is an EXCELLENT aviation mechanic, and they are forcing her out. Perhaps the powers-that-be haven't heard of North Korea. Or Libya. They may be needing a few extra good helicopter mechanics. She isn't sure what she's going to do yet, but I have no doubt that she will land on her feet, and she will be good at whatever she finds to do.
She held down a job from the time she was fifteen years old. She played in the band when she was in high school, and I never had to worry about where she was. She was either at school, at cheerleading practice, at band practice, at work, or she was in transit between two of those. She never smoked, she didn't drink (even after she joined the Navy, when some of her shipmates got busted for underage drinking, she asked me, "Don't they understand it's against the LAW?"), she didn't do drugs, she didn't wear outlandish clothes or hairstyles or do things to her body that would make me embarrassed to be seen in public with her, and she didn't make me a grandmother before my time. I don't give a damn if she NEVER passes another test; I'm proud to call her mine.
She and the cousin she has gone to visit are only six months apart in age, and we were just tacky enough to dress them alike when they were young. People would often ask if they were twins, and we loved to see their jaws fall open when we replied, "No, they're six months apart."
She is grown up and on her own, but she still calls me almost daily, and we send lots of text messages. She calls for advice, which she never takes (ha ha ha ha ha ha, Sweet Girl), but it makes me feel useful that she asks anyway. One of these days I'll learn to tell her the OPPOSITE of what I really think, and maybe then she will follow some of my words of wisdom. It warms my heart for her to text and/or call me on every leg of her journey. It's times like these that I really appreciate cell phones.
It hasn't always been sunshine and roses between us, of course. We still have our little spats even now. I will always have a scar on my heart from where she broke it in October of 2007, and that is what I'm using to justify putting this picture in my blog. PLEASE click on the picture to get the full effect.
I love you, my precious girl. Safe travels to you, and give your cousin a hug from me.
It's all about my Sweet Girl.
Pioneer Woman has FOUR children, and she sometimes devotes an entire blog post to one of them, and I rarely write about the ONE child I have and how proud I am of her.
I stumbled onto this epiphany while she and I were texting back and forth a little while ago. She had just landed in Las Vegas, en route to San Diego to see her cousin. (Only MY child would be headed for the West Coast on the same day a tsunami hits..... I take that back. I'd be willing to bet there are LOTS of folks' children headed to the West Coast on airplanes even as we speak.)
Most of us try to raise our children to be independent, and it is a very sharp double-edged sword. We want them to be independent and able to think for themselves, but when they wander off at a water-based theme park and you find them ONLY after a park attendant has purchased a popsicle, you have to wonder if they might carry the independence thing just a wee bit too far. Or when a child is, oh let's just say, hypothetically speaking, around the age of nine, and he or SHE wanders away from three adults in the train station in MUNICH, absolutely comfortable in her ability to walk around by herself in a country where she doesn't speak the language.
Naturally her independence caused us to butt heads over the years (still does on some occasions), but I'm so proud of what she's done and who she's become. She has served in the Navy for 8 years, been to a gazillion places, bought a home and lived completely on her own, and she is very comfortable hopping on a plane and flying across the country all alone to visit her closest cousin. I used to teach with a young woman who had NEVER spent the night alone. NEVER. She went straight from her parents' home to her husband's, and when he had to travel out of town on business, she always had one of her students or former students come spend the night at her house so she wouldn't have to be alone. I tell every young lady I get the chance to say it to, "You need to live completely by yourself at least once in your life."
She has never been afraid of the water. NEVER. Perhaps she was destined to be a part of the Navy, even if she is in aviation. She would have been perfectly happy without the water wings.
I have no idea why she climbed into this laundry basket, but she was playing when she did it. She jumped in it and giggled wildly, but then she fell asleep. She had started sucking her thumb when she was four months old. I remember thinking how cute it was. And I didn't have to keep up with a pacifier! When she was ten YEARS old, however, it wasn't quite as cute anymore. I think she finally stopped sucking her thumb when she started going to sleepovers. Notice the painted fingernails that contrast nicely with the rather large gash on her forehead. It's a wonder I didn't go to jail for child abuse; she was always scratched up/cut up/bruised. Oh, and once we had to take a snake away from her. She cried.
I had a large (16" by 20") framed print of this picture, and I lost custody of it in my divorce. I have grieved over the loss of that picture way more than the end of the marriage. Even more than my books. And I'm sure my ex's new wife didn't keep the portrait around either. They probably threw it out. Butt heads.
She will be leaving the Navy in June, and not of her own choosing. She missed the minimum score on her promotion exam by half a point. HALF A POINT. It was her last try, so she will be processed out right after her eighth anniversary. Here they've got a person who WANTS to serve, is GOOD at her job (but perhaps stinks at taking tests), and is an EXCELLENT aviation mechanic, and they are forcing her out. Perhaps the powers-that-be haven't heard of North Korea. Or Libya. They may be needing a few extra good helicopter mechanics. She isn't sure what she's going to do yet, but I have no doubt that she will land on her feet, and she will be good at whatever she finds to do.
She held down a job from the time she was fifteen years old. She played in the band when she was in high school, and I never had to worry about where she was. She was either at school, at cheerleading practice, at band practice, at work, or she was in transit between two of those. She never smoked, she didn't drink (even after she joined the Navy, when some of her shipmates got busted for underage drinking, she asked me, "Don't they understand it's against the LAW?"), she didn't do drugs, she didn't wear outlandish clothes or hairstyles or do things to her body that would make me embarrassed to be seen in public with her, and she didn't make me a grandmother before my time. I don't give a damn if she NEVER passes another test; I'm proud to call her mine.
She and the cousin she has gone to visit are only six months apart in age, and we were just tacky enough to dress them alike when they were young. People would often ask if they were twins, and we loved to see their jaws fall open when we replied, "No, they're six months apart."
She is grown up and on her own, but she still calls me almost daily, and we send lots of text messages. She calls for advice, which she never takes (ha ha ha ha ha ha, Sweet Girl), but it makes me feel useful that she asks anyway. One of these days I'll learn to tell her the OPPOSITE of what I really think, and maybe then she will follow some of my words of wisdom. It warms my heart for her to text and/or call me on every leg of her journey. It's times like these that I really appreciate cell phones.
It hasn't always been sunshine and roses between us, of course. We still have our little spats even now. I will always have a scar on my heart from where she broke it in October of 2007, and that is what I'm using to justify putting this picture in my blog. PLEASE click on the picture to get the full effect.
I love you, my precious girl. Safe travels to you, and give your cousin a hug from me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)