Posts
Hello world and sweet readers!!I'm here (waves hands)!!! For those of you who thought I died,let me put those rumors to rest. In actuality, we have relocated to Virginia via the good 'ole Army and military schooling. We left our beloved Fort Lewis in early August and took a 30 day walkabout (or drive-a-bout, if you will) coast to almost-coast summer vacation (read blog for deets) visiting family and landmarks along the way. I had planned to blog about our escapades as we traveled, but like so many good intentions, things (like shitty hotel wi-fi, kids bouncing off the walls, funner stuff) kept me from a nightly/weekly/monthly update. But I am mostly settled and so happy to get back to making random thoughts and experiences public forum on the world wide web. Oh... how I've missed my blog.
The interstate. What can I say about this many lane-d deathtrap, other than I hate it? The interstate was invented to get travelers from A to B quickly, and with as little fun as possible. It's fast, usually packed with non-courteous drivers and there's nothing to see except the random outlet mall, kooky 18-wheeler driver or dead armadillos. As I'm sure many of you learned from Cars and Lightning McQueen, this dastardly thingy we call an Interstate mostly killed off small town America.It turned once bustling vacation stops into ghost towns and slums. Ever heard of Route 66? I'm sure you have... but have you ever DRIVEN it? You can barely drive the whole 2,448 miles, in its original entirety anymore without the help of websites, or following historic marker. According to Wikipedia, and The Mother Road the original highway has been altered and even abandoned, disappearing into the horizon. How about the 101? It's also called the Pacific Coast Highway - for one because it runs along the rocky coasts of Washington, Oregon and California. It is literally the most beautiful strip of two lane blacktop I have ever taken. Evergreens, ocean, tiny forgotten towns. And so much to do along the way.How about HWY 285? HWY 380? HWY 460?
Well, I, for one, can't pass up a good detour. Ever. It's become a little joke-sky in my family that I can't ever just go from A to B. It's just not in me.The largest Rocking Chair? I saw it. Meteor Crater? Been there. And I've got the magnets to prove it. So... when we were planning our PCS (move), I got to looking at an atlas(not google maps, but the real paper deal) and realized quite a few things. First - there are several ways to get from A to B; a lot of them awesome, fun packed ways. Secondly - there were ALOT of things in our area we hadn't done yet. And thirdly - we had done this almost exact same drive 5 years earlier when we moved from Maryland to Washington. We needed a different route. We had to make this one better. I talked the hubby into taking some much needed leave,and making an even bigger adventure out of the already wacky thing called the military PCS. 30 days of travel. THIRTY. In some states, that's a month. We mapped out routes; places we HAD to see before we left the Pacific NW, places we had to see along the way, and all the friends and family in between that would offer to put us up. What we got at the end was the adventure of a lifetime, some good quality memories, and a new appreciation for our own beds.
Don't get me wrong, not every moment was fun (like when Hope pooped in the car), not every outing was worth the money (the Sea Lion Caves were MEH) and not every hotel was worth the "deal" (Econo-Lodge in Oregon). There were plenty of times I wanted to (did) scream at the kids to "keep it down/stop fighting/shuttheeffup" and I took baths in some pretty seedy tubs, just to have a 20 minute break from the craziness. 5 people and a dog should never co-habitate in the same motel room, but we did it and lived to tell the blog worthy tale. The next few posts will be a time line of the adventures - or mis-adventures - of the Foster Family. And the next time you're headed west (or east, in our case) Grab an atlas and make your own adventure. Lifes too short to just take the Interstate.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Slow mileage
Running BLOWS. BLLLOOWWWSSSS!!! I'm a tubby bitch and I'm short. I'm like one hairy mole away from the the non-runner trifecta. I literally dislike every second of running. I've cried on a run lasting less than two miles. Yes,cried. I've been mistaken for an asthmatic... by my husband, while running. And to be honest, I'm really misusing the word "running".People who run move from point A to point B at a quick pace. Their lean legs carrying them on long strides, their feet barely touching the ground beneath them. I am neither quick nor lean. I think I'm more of a jogger. A chunky,wheezing,ground pounding, crying jogger. At best.
So why am I doing something that makes me so miserable? For one, I forgot to mention I'm dumb. Secondly, I let my "I ran a marathon" husband sign me up for the Army 10 miler in October (YES, 10 FREAKING MILES) and lastly,I'm addicted to the way I felt after running my first race. I don't run far and I don't run fast, but I don't quit. And that is quite an accomplishment.
I've always wanted to be a runner. I've envied the ladies, in their little shorty shorts and their sports bras without the back boobs, seemingly effortlessly gliding through an hour on the treadmill. Or the toned legged cuties who run 6 miles "just for fun". Pshhhhh. Whatever. I can think if 25 other things more fun than running. Maybe that's' my problem... my attitude towards running sucks. So along with my husband signing us up for the million miler or whatever it's called, I also said yes when a friend invited me to an all woman's 4k. Sure, a 4k (or just under 2.5 miles) may seem like a breeze, and if you're an avid runner, it is. A 4k is probably your "rest day" run, or what you do to "warm up". But for Tubby McSlowlegs over here, 2.5 miles is like a loooooong way. It was over twice as long as I had ever run, consecutively in like my adult life. A mile was always my goal, and I abruptly would end my run at a mile. No further. I told myself I couldn't go farther, so I never did. Until my husband decided it was time to start training. Running with " a runner" sucks. They've been where you are now,and they know you CAN do it, so they make you. When you run with a runner, there is no quitting. You can slow down, you can complain, you can even cry. But you can't quit. Running with a runner also turns your breathless one mile into 2.75 miles of " I can't believe I just did that".
So I trained for about three weeks, (even by myself a few days and I didn't cheat) progressively adding distance until I had surpassed what I needed to run for the 4k. On race day, I was totally nervous. I mean, I get it was only 2.5 miles, but I was running these 2.5 miles. Alone. And I didn't even really have a cheering squad. It got in my head a little. I glanced around at all the other "runners", with their bibs dangling from their shirts, and I realized there were a lot of regular chicks just like me there. And there were a lot of walkers, so I knew I could at least come in BEFORE most of them.
TIP* Always check out your course before you race. I did not. There were hills. Hills are stupid.
"AND GO!" is how this race started. I think. I was kinda a nervous wreck and I was so busy jacking with my running app on my phone I actually missed the start signal and just started moving with the crowd. We rounded the track and entered a trail. It was like a cattle call, not a lot of space to move, and at first I was playing it safe, not really moving passed people, and clinging to the very far right in case someone needed to get around me. Then, all of a sudden, a crazy thing happened. I was closing in on this woman wearing a tulle petticoat, and I can just assume she heard my heavy breathing behind her and she got nervous, but she tucked her skirt into her arms and said "all clear". To me. I was passing another runner. And this began the epic mind control that I used on every other runner I passed. I passed a few more people who had stopped to walk (the trail was very hilly)and thought to myself I was glad the hubs made me do some hills on the trail we trained on. ("hills are speed work in disguise", he would irritatingly say while I was dying)
I was feeling pretty good as I cleared the trail into a neighborhood. Quite a few people had started walking by this point, and the jerk inside me thought "quitter!!", although that's so far from the truth. I stayed slow and steady in my pace. Even when this lady started using me as her gauge and would walk fast until I passed her, then she would run, staying right behind me, only to walk once she passed me again. She kept this up for about 1/2 of a mile, until my slow and steady pace left her in the dust. My heavy breathing intimidated people to move out of my way as I crept up on them. I was kinda like that asshole in the fast lane that just rides your ass until you finally move over. Only I wasn't speeding, I was just going slightly faster than the people directly in front of me. And it felt awesome. I wasn't going to put this in my blog, but I like to just let my nerd flag fly, so here goes - after each person I passed, I said (to myself, not out loud) " I'm stealing your power". I know!! TOTALLY LAME, but mentally, I needed it. It manifested physically for me. It made me work just a little bit harder as I came up on someone. As I finished the last of the street and headed into the parking lot towards the trail we started in, I realized I was alone. I had just passed the last person that I could see in front of me. Hitting that trail all by myself, hearing just MY breath, MY footsteps on the dirt was so peaceful I almost got emotional. I was less than 1/2 a mile away from finishing my first race, running the entire time, by myself. And as I was nearing the end of the trail, I heard one of the volunteers yell out to me " Great job... you're at 21 minutes and change!". WHAT?!? I thought for sure I had gone past my 30 minute goal already. I picked up the pace, practically threw myself down the last hill of the coarse and tried my best to hall ass onto the track. And then my legs reminded me that slow was more my style. I could see the finish line and I just wanted to make it there before any of the people I passed up saw how slow I had gotten. I did sprint the last, oh... seven steps or so. And there, waiting for me was a silver platter full of chocolates.
TIME : 27:37 - 92 out of 195 . Not too shabby for a new runner. And God, did it feel good. Maybe that's the runners high people talk about? Until that moment, I thought it was just something runners said to encourage non-runners to punch them in the face.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank those people who helped me get that moment.
Thanks Dania Bandas, for taking my joke about running being gross to the next level and inviting me to participate. I honestly appreciate you picking THIS race as my first of many to come.
Thanks to the ladies who didn't dress all uber cool runner chick, and showed up in yoga pants, baggy t's and even jeans.
Thanks to the lady in the martini costume who was slightly ahead of my up the hilly street! Nothing more motivating than chasing a drink.
thanks to the lady who run/walk raced me. You only made me feel more confident in my pace each time you passed me. I watched you run through the finish line well after I had gulped my Gatorade, eaten my chocolate and stretched
.No hard feelings.
Thanks to my free app RunKeeper for allowing me the freedom to just run while you do the hard work like track my route, miles and time.
And of course, THANK YOU to my husband Derek. Thanks for encouraging me, pushing me (even when I cried and said I hated you)picking trails instead of the treadmill and telling me my 11:37 minute mile was really good, even though we both know it's mediocre at best. Thanks for jogging along side me at my slowest and not leaving me behind even when I know it's not a good workout for you. Thanks for always being that one person who encourages me and believes in me, ESPECIALLY when I don't believe in myself.Thanks for leaving the pepper spray in my car for me after I told you I was nervous to run the trails solo. I still think that long ass hill on day 2 was total bullshit, but I apologize for laughing when that snake freaked you out.
Thank you to myself for taking my desire to be a runner from theory to practice.
So why am I doing something that makes me so miserable? For one, I forgot to mention I'm dumb. Secondly, I let my "I ran a marathon" husband sign me up for the Army 10 miler in October (YES, 10 FREAKING MILES) and lastly,I'm addicted to the way I felt after running my first race. I don't run far and I don't run fast, but I don't quit. And that is quite an accomplishment.
I've always wanted to be a runner. I've envied the ladies, in their little shorty shorts and their sports bras without the back boobs, seemingly effortlessly gliding through an hour on the treadmill. Or the toned legged cuties who run 6 miles "just for fun". Pshhhhh. Whatever. I can think if 25 other things more fun than running. Maybe that's' my problem... my attitude towards running sucks. So along with my husband signing us up for the million miler or whatever it's called, I also said yes when a friend invited me to an all woman's 4k. Sure, a 4k (or just under 2.5 miles) may seem like a breeze, and if you're an avid runner, it is. A 4k is probably your "rest day" run, or what you do to "warm up". But for Tubby McSlowlegs over here, 2.5 miles is like a loooooong way. It was over twice as long as I had ever run, consecutively in like my adult life. A mile was always my goal, and I abruptly would end my run at a mile. No further. I told myself I couldn't go farther, so I never did. Until my husband decided it was time to start training. Running with " a runner" sucks. They've been where you are now,and they know you CAN do it, so they make you. When you run with a runner, there is no quitting. You can slow down, you can complain, you can even cry. But you can't quit. Running with a runner also turns your breathless one mile into 2.75 miles of " I can't believe I just did that".
So I trained for about three weeks, (even by myself a few days and I didn't cheat) progressively adding distance until I had surpassed what I needed to run for the 4k. On race day, I was totally nervous. I mean, I get it was only 2.5 miles, but I was running these 2.5 miles. Alone. And I didn't even really have a cheering squad. It got in my head a little. I glanced around at all the other "runners", with their bibs dangling from their shirts, and I realized there were a lot of regular chicks just like me there. And there were a lot of walkers, so I knew I could at least come in BEFORE most of them.
TIP* Always check out your course before you race. I did not. There were hills. Hills are stupid.
"AND GO!" is how this race started. I think. I was kinda a nervous wreck and I was so busy jacking with my running app on my phone I actually missed the start signal and just started moving with the crowd. We rounded the track and entered a trail. It was like a cattle call, not a lot of space to move, and at first I was playing it safe, not really moving passed people, and clinging to the very far right in case someone needed to get around me. Then, all of a sudden, a crazy thing happened. I was closing in on this woman wearing a tulle petticoat, and I can just assume she heard my heavy breathing behind her and she got nervous, but she tucked her skirt into her arms and said "all clear". To me. I was passing another runner. And this began the epic mind control that I used on every other runner I passed. I passed a few more people who had stopped to walk (the trail was very hilly)and thought to myself I was glad the hubs made me do some hills on the trail we trained on. ("hills are speed work in disguise", he would irritatingly say while I was dying)
I was feeling pretty good as I cleared the trail into a neighborhood. Quite a few people had started walking by this point, and the jerk inside me thought "quitter!!", although that's so far from the truth. I stayed slow and steady in my pace. Even when this lady started using me as her gauge and would walk fast until I passed her, then she would run, staying right behind me, only to walk once she passed me again. She kept this up for about 1/2 of a mile, until my slow and steady pace left her in the dust. My heavy breathing intimidated people to move out of my way as I crept up on them. I was kinda like that asshole in the fast lane that just rides your ass until you finally move over. Only I wasn't speeding, I was just going slightly faster than the people directly in front of me. And it felt awesome. I wasn't going to put this in my blog, but I like to just let my nerd flag fly, so here goes - after each person I passed, I said (to myself, not out loud) " I'm stealing your power". I know!! TOTALLY LAME, but mentally, I needed it. It manifested physically for me. It made me work just a little bit harder as I came up on someone. As I finished the last of the street and headed into the parking lot towards the trail we started in, I realized I was alone. I had just passed the last person that I could see in front of me. Hitting that trail all by myself, hearing just MY breath, MY footsteps on the dirt was so peaceful I almost got emotional. I was less than 1/2 a mile away from finishing my first race, running the entire time, by myself. And as I was nearing the end of the trail, I heard one of the volunteers yell out to me " Great job... you're at 21 minutes and change!". WHAT?!? I thought for sure I had gone past my 30 minute goal already. I picked up the pace, practically threw myself down the last hill of the coarse and tried my best to hall ass onto the track. And then my legs reminded me that slow was more my style. I could see the finish line and I just wanted to make it there before any of the people I passed up saw how slow I had gotten. I did sprint the last, oh... seven steps or so. And there, waiting for me was a silver platter full of chocolates.
TIME : 27:37 - 92 out of 195 . Not too shabby for a new runner. And God, did it feel good. Maybe that's the runners high people talk about? Until that moment, I thought it was just something runners said to encourage non-runners to punch them in the face.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank those people who helped me get that moment.
Thanks Dania Bandas, for taking my joke about running being gross to the next level and inviting me to participate. I honestly appreciate you picking THIS race as my first of many to come.
Thanks to the ladies who didn't dress all uber cool runner chick, and showed up in yoga pants, baggy t's and even jeans.
Thanks to the lady in the martini costume who was slightly ahead of my up the hilly street! Nothing more motivating than chasing a drink.
thanks to the lady who run/walk raced me. You only made me feel more confident in my pace each time you passed me. I watched you run through the finish line well after I had gulped my Gatorade, eaten my chocolate and stretched
.No hard feelings.
Thanks to my free app RunKeeper for allowing me the freedom to just run while you do the hard work like track my route, miles and time.
And of course, THANK YOU to my husband Derek. Thanks for encouraging me, pushing me (even when I cried and said I hated you)picking trails instead of the treadmill and telling me my 11:37 minute mile was really good, even though we both know it's mediocre at best. Thanks for jogging along side me at my slowest and not leaving me behind even when I know it's not a good workout for you. Thanks for always being that one person who encourages me and believes in me, ESPECIALLY when I don't believe in myself.Thanks for leaving the pepper spray in my car for me after I told you I was nervous to run the trails solo. I still think that long ass hill on day 2 was total bullshit, but I apologize for laughing when that snake freaked you out.
Thank you to myself for taking my desire to be a runner from theory to practice.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
The worst day of my life
Have any of you seen Office Space? Hilarious movie, but this scene kinda sums up my mood lately. Only it should start with, " Ever since I found out my daughter isn't graduating with her class."
So if you've been wondering where I've been, or why I'm stressed, that's the reason. Wondering why I'm not at derby practice, the gym, or returning your texts? Because I have been in a total funk. I have been in "failure as a mother" land, "how did this happen -ville", " WTF city". I have been having the worst day of my life. It's very sad in these places.
Disappointed barely begins to describe the range of emotions I've been experiencing. People say there are 5 stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.
I'm somewhere around anger and depression, and I really don't think I'll ever get to acceptance, the reason being, is that she LIED about it. She lied to us for over a year, probably longer than that. She lied all the way up to the 11th hour, honestly thinking someone would feel bad enough for her to let her walk with her class, even though she hadn't done the work. "The work" being finishing two online classes of English she failed as a Freshman and Sophomore. Yes, I realize she had two years to get these done. I KNOW she knew this, because I harped on her about it weekly. She actually tried to get these done in three days. AFTER telling us it was done. Lying about why the tests hadn't come in. Blaming everyone but herself. Never actually taking responsibility for it. She failed.
I had the proud duty of calling my parents, who had already booked trips out here, to tell them that their first grandchild wouldn't be walking with her class, and there would be no graduation celebration. A celebration we had all been looking forward to. This was, after all, 17 years in the making. Patience was going to break the cycle of non-graduates on my side of the family. I guess I set my standards too high. Sadly, plane tickets are non- refundable now-a-days. So everyone decided to come out anyways, as planned, for one last trip to the Seattle area, since we are moving very soon. You know, my step-dad was the ONLY person to take the situation and the mood into consideration. He actually asked me how I felt about having family come out. He gave ME the option to bow out.That meant quite a bit to me, knowing, that this was a difficult time for ME, as well as our family.He offered to come at a later time, or even hold off the trip until we were in Virginia.
But just like all stressful things, it's always better to deal with them in the company of your parents. So the weekend that was to be graduation packed fun days were spent being grieved in the company of family.
Luckily, no one really brought it up. I think everyone could tell I was in no mood to discuss it. Or they took cues from the tense conversations I was having with Patience. I really think EVERYONE was holding out hope she would pull it out of her ass at the last minute. Derek and I had already decided, that even if she passed the classes (which she had NO TIME to get the test results back on anyway) we weren't going to let her walk. Neither of us felt she deserved it. WE deserved it, because WE sacrificed for this moment. But SHE did not.
This entire last year here was for her. Derek made sacrifices in his career to be HOME for her graduation. We were supposed to be on to our next duty station, but Derek fought for stabilization orders for her to finish high school here. With her friends. Like normal kids get to do. I'm quite positive she took none of this into consideration as she was doing everything under the sun EXCEPT the one thing that she needed to do to graduate.
I guess I'm so disappointed for two reasons. Obviously, I wanted to be a part of the pomp and circumstance that a graduation ceremony brings.I wanted to yell and scream as her name was called out and she walked the stage. I wanted to snap pictures of her in her cap and gown and I wanted HER to have those memories, hugging freinds and sharing in the pride of a right of passage.
But even more upsetting was the lying. I'm not proud of her. And that is a terrible feeling to experience. I have been disappointed by her actions before, don't get me wrong. But in the 17 years I've been her mother, I don't think I've ever been this kind of NOT PROUD, totally ashamed of her actions. It hurts. It is a tangible ache inside of me, knowing that the person I raised could be so selfish, so uncaring, and so self involved to take no ones feelings into consideration, to be so disrespectful to every person that made her who she is, and helped her get to where she is today, that her thanks to all of us - TO ME - was to lie about a situation over and over again, and then to rob us - ME- of this moment. A moment we will never get back.
But, it is what it is. The day has come and gone. The moment we all looked to has passed. Now, nothing but a circled date on the calendar,a brightly noted box in my day-planner, all the "TO -DO's" left undone.
My beautiful, intelligent daughter, who had every opportunity to be special, chose to be mediocre.
My heart is broken.
So if you've been wondering where I've been, or why I'm stressed, that's the reason. Wondering why I'm not at derby practice, the gym, or returning your texts? Because I have been in a total funk. I have been in "failure as a mother" land, "how did this happen -ville", " WTF city". I have been having the worst day of my life. It's very sad in these places.
Disappointed barely begins to describe the range of emotions I've been experiencing. People say there are 5 stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.
I'm somewhere around anger and depression, and I really don't think I'll ever get to acceptance, the reason being, is that she LIED about it. She lied to us for over a year, probably longer than that. She lied all the way up to the 11th hour, honestly thinking someone would feel bad enough for her to let her walk with her class, even though she hadn't done the work. "The work" being finishing two online classes of English she failed as a Freshman and Sophomore. Yes, I realize she had two years to get these done. I KNOW she knew this, because I harped on her about it weekly. She actually tried to get these done in three days. AFTER telling us it was done. Lying about why the tests hadn't come in. Blaming everyone but herself. Never actually taking responsibility for it. She failed.
I had the proud duty of calling my parents, who had already booked trips out here, to tell them that their first grandchild wouldn't be walking with her class, and there would be no graduation celebration. A celebration we had all been looking forward to. This was, after all, 17 years in the making. Patience was going to break the cycle of non-graduates on my side of the family. I guess I set my standards too high. Sadly, plane tickets are non- refundable now-a-days. So everyone decided to come out anyways, as planned, for one last trip to the Seattle area, since we are moving very soon. You know, my step-dad was the ONLY person to take the situation and the mood into consideration. He actually asked me how I felt about having family come out. He gave ME the option to bow out.That meant quite a bit to me, knowing, that this was a difficult time for ME, as well as our family.He offered to come at a later time, or even hold off the trip until we were in Virginia.
But just like all stressful things, it's always better to deal with them in the company of your parents. So the weekend that was to be graduation packed fun days were spent being grieved in the company of family.
Luckily, no one really brought it up. I think everyone could tell I was in no mood to discuss it. Or they took cues from the tense conversations I was having with Patience. I really think EVERYONE was holding out hope she would pull it out of her ass at the last minute. Derek and I had already decided, that even if she passed the classes (which she had NO TIME to get the test results back on anyway) we weren't going to let her walk. Neither of us felt she deserved it. WE deserved it, because WE sacrificed for this moment. But SHE did not.
This entire last year here was for her. Derek made sacrifices in his career to be HOME for her graduation. We were supposed to be on to our next duty station, but Derek fought for stabilization orders for her to finish high school here. With her friends. Like normal kids get to do. I'm quite positive she took none of this into consideration as she was doing everything under the sun EXCEPT the one thing that she needed to do to graduate.
I guess I'm so disappointed for two reasons. Obviously, I wanted to be a part of the pomp and circumstance that a graduation ceremony brings.I wanted to yell and scream as her name was called out and she walked the stage. I wanted to snap pictures of her in her cap and gown and I wanted HER to have those memories, hugging freinds and sharing in the pride of a right of passage.
But even more upsetting was the lying. I'm not proud of her. And that is a terrible feeling to experience. I have been disappointed by her actions before, don't get me wrong. But in the 17 years I've been her mother, I don't think I've ever been this kind of NOT PROUD, totally ashamed of her actions. It hurts. It is a tangible ache inside of me, knowing that the person I raised could be so selfish, so uncaring, and so self involved to take no ones feelings into consideration, to be so disrespectful to every person that made her who she is, and helped her get to where she is today, that her thanks to all of us - TO ME - was to lie about a situation over and over again, and then to rob us - ME- of this moment. A moment we will never get back.
But, it is what it is. The day has come and gone. The moment we all looked to has passed. Now, nothing but a circled date on the calendar,a brightly noted box in my day-planner, all the "TO -DO's" left undone.
My beautiful, intelligent daughter, who had every opportunity to be special, chose to be mediocre.
My heart is broken.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
ch-ch-ch-changes
So, for those if you wondering "where is that super cool, totally hysterical chick that writes this amazing, Pulitzer prize worthy blog?". I'm here!!! (waves hands).
I had a few, rather irritating, issues arise with the blogger site, and it kept me from A) being able to blog and B) being able to enter my blog site. So during the lockout, I did some investigating AND I started a 30 day Paleo challenge. I decided to marry these two things and I started a wordpress blog . I'm not giving up on the Manic Military wife by any means,so stay tuned for random babbling and shenaniganizing. But for now, you can get you fix of me being a blogger by clicking on the above link:)
see ya soon fellow wackadoos <3
I had a few, rather irritating, issues arise with the blogger site, and it kept me from A) being able to blog and B) being able to enter my blog site. So during the lockout, I did some investigating AND I started a 30 day Paleo challenge. I decided to marry these two things and I started a wordpress blog . I'm not giving up on the Manic Military wife by any means,so stay tuned for random babbling and shenaniganizing. But for now, you can get you fix of me being a blogger by clicking on the above link:)
see ya soon fellow wackadoos <3
Thursday, May 19, 2011
becoming a celebrity
Since my last blog entry was kinda suckish, I'm gonna make it a twofer week. I had some issue with my netbook, then with blogger, then with rushing, and I realized after posting I was missing huge chunks of writing, so really the whole ramble just sounds like I'm being a bitch. I'm not denying that self accusation, but it also wasn't my total intent. Let's just all chalk it up to not being my best work and move on. I feel better, don't you?
So I recently had the privilege of being featured in my towns free newspaper The Hometown Clipper (see Heather Foster:Rolling with the Bettie Brigade).It happened quite by accident,as most important moments in my life do (see pregnancies, FRG leader, PTA board member). A fellow volunteer-er, Beth, writes fantastic articles about local goings-on and I thought getting her in the know of my kick ass derby league would be a great way to get other military chicks within the community involved. I think the topic of roller derby came up naturally, Lord knows I'm a talker, and Beth actually asked if she could do an article about us. "US". As in I thought it would be about the league. I only have myself to blame for the silly picture taken in the bathroom enlarged for all my neighbors to see. I guess I thought the TWO HOURS I spent talking to Beth in the cafe(in my defense,they make a damn good latte) across the street would end up being a blurb on one of the pages, sandwiched in between JBLM traffic, and the SHSD school board meeting. It was a Facebook message that alerted me to the reality of my new found popularity.
What a totally humbling experience.
Imagine my surprise when I walk in, all haggard and grumpy mind you, to the office at school to get some PTA work done, and I am met with cheers and excitement and even autograph -seekers! Is it weird to have the people you sell popcorn to call you Smut Peddler, you ask? Yes...yes it is. But it is also freaking AWESOME. My very own paparazzi in the Secretary staff of an elementary school. I'll take it!
I was already pretty popular in my community. Being the "popcorn lady" has it's perks. But I also know that fame is fleeting. Sure, they love you on popcorn day, but the rest of the month, you're just "in the PTA".
Oh,but the stardom didn't stop here. I had people telling my kids they read about me in the paper, parents that know me were stopping me at Target and Ross to chat me up about my "other life". The secretary at the primary school I volunteer at told me she "wasn't surprised" and then asked me all about joining a league! And so many people made the same comment over and over again... " I had no idea you were into Roller Derby". This leads me to believe that A) people tune me out, and B)ROLLER DERBY IS AWESOME!!
While I know that "A" happens all the time (see my kids for a reference), "B" has become more and more obvious since I was thrust into the spotlight. I wasn't the only person in the news. Our bout had press there to cover the event. The article was in 3 major newspapers that week with huge photos of our derby girls in action. It was like a domino effect, every time we turned around, someone else was alerting us to another article,another source. And just this week, a friend deployed overseas alerted me of the article and coverage of the JBLM Bettie Brigade league in the STARS AND STRIPES!! Yep - takin' it International, baby.
Should I let it go to me head? Meh... like I said, I was already a pretty big deal around town anyways. Kids here wear a t-shirt I designed, for crying out loud! But then again... It's pretty freaking cool when you're name comes up in a google search. And I DO give autographs :)
links to other JBLM articles:
http://www.army.mil/-news/2011/05/05/56078-members-of-the-jblm-bettie-brigade-roller-derby-league-bond-together-and-build-character/
http://www.thenewstribune.com/2011/05/01/1647770/queens-of-bases-bettie-brigade.html
http://www.theolympian.com/2011/05/02/1637027/women-rule-lewis-mcchords-bettie.html
NEED MORE JBLM BETTIE BRIGADE INFO? - BETTIEBRIGADE.COM
OR JUST GOOGLE!!
So I recently had the privilege of being featured in my towns free newspaper The Hometown Clipper (see Heather Foster:Rolling with the Bettie Brigade).It happened quite by accident,as most important moments in my life do (see pregnancies, FRG leader, PTA board member). A fellow volunteer-er, Beth, writes fantastic articles about local goings-on and I thought getting her in the know of my kick ass derby league would be a great way to get other military chicks within the community involved. I think the topic of roller derby came up naturally, Lord knows I'm a talker, and Beth actually asked if she could do an article about us. "US". As in I thought it would be about the league. I only have myself to blame for the silly picture taken in the bathroom enlarged for all my neighbors to see. I guess I thought the TWO HOURS I spent talking to Beth in the cafe(in my defense,they make a damn good latte) across the street would end up being a blurb on one of the pages, sandwiched in between JBLM traffic, and the SHSD school board meeting. It was a Facebook message that alerted me to the reality of my new found popularity.
What a totally humbling experience.
Imagine my surprise when I walk in, all haggard and grumpy mind you, to the office at school to get some PTA work done, and I am met with cheers and excitement and even autograph -seekers! Is it weird to have the people you sell popcorn to call you Smut Peddler, you ask? Yes...yes it is. But it is also freaking AWESOME. My very own paparazzi in the Secretary staff of an elementary school. I'll take it!
I was already pretty popular in my community. Being the "popcorn lady" has it's perks. But I also know that fame is fleeting. Sure, they love you on popcorn day, but the rest of the month, you're just "in the PTA".
Oh,but the stardom didn't stop here. I had people telling my kids they read about me in the paper, parents that know me were stopping me at Target and Ross to chat me up about my "other life". The secretary at the primary school I volunteer at told me she "wasn't surprised" and then asked me all about joining a league! And so many people made the same comment over and over again... " I had no idea you were into Roller Derby". This leads me to believe that A) people tune me out, and B)ROLLER DERBY IS AWESOME!!
While I know that "A" happens all the time (see my kids for a reference), "B" has become more and more obvious since I was thrust into the spotlight. I wasn't the only person in the news. Our bout had press there to cover the event. The article was in 3 major newspapers that week with huge photos of our derby girls in action. It was like a domino effect, every time we turned around, someone else was alerting us to another article,another source. And just this week, a friend deployed overseas alerted me of the article and coverage of the JBLM Bettie Brigade league in the STARS AND STRIPES!! Yep - takin' it International, baby.
Should I let it go to me head? Meh... like I said, I was already a pretty big deal around town anyways. Kids here wear a t-shirt I designed, for crying out loud! But then again... It's pretty freaking cool when you're name comes up in a google search. And I DO give autographs :)
links to other JBLM articles:
http://www.army.mil/-news/2011/05/05/56078-members-of-the-jblm-bettie-brigade-roller-derby-league-bond-together-and-build-character/
http://www.thenewstribune.com/2011/05/01/1647770/queens-of-bases-bettie-brigade.html
http://www.theolympian.com/2011/05/02/1637027/women-rule-lewis-mcchords-bettie.html
NEED MORE JBLM BETTIE BRIGADE INFO? - BETTIEBRIGADE.COM
OR JUST GOOGLE!!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Fairness and other B.S.
* I was overwhelmed by the response of my last blog entry. First, by the fact that more than 5 people read it (click “FOLLOW” to follow manicmilitarywife), and secondly that so many people connected with my rant. I guess it would make sense to discuss Army life, as my blog is titled The Manic Military Wife. I half assedly promise to include at least one military-esque blog entry per month. Let me say that I was not using my blog to complain about the ARMY, as being an Army wife I am PRO-MILITARY. But I will entertain you with random shenanigans that only other Mil-spouses can truly appreciate.
THANK YOU SWEET READERS!!
Ever heard the phrase “it’s not fair”? Of course you have. Everyone says it. My kids say it daily. But then again… they’re KIDS
This is how it’s played out in my house:
KID - “It’s not fair that ‘sibling’ gets to take a bath”
ME- “It’s because I love ‘sibling’ more”.
This usually works for most scenarios and they have learned that this means DROP IT. Is it nice? No. But I’m a parent, and my job isn’t really to be nice, it’s to teach my kids life lessons and to help them be productive adults when they go out into the world. If I could be nice AND make sure they don’t pick people off with a rifle from a clock tower, then great. Most days niceness isn’t the path that works.
Lately, I have noticed this phrase being used more and more by grown people. I’ll even go as far as to say “adults”, although for some I use this term loosely. “It’s not fair” you say? That’s right, it’s not freakin’ fair… because this is REAL LIFE, where fairness is relative, and expectations are real and there are consequences to your actions. Sometimes you don’t get what you want, sometimes you’re told “NO”. Sometimes (hopefully every time) you are held accountable for your actions.
Fairness and equality are two terms that are very often used for one’s own agenda.
(And this is where the OPINION disclaimer needs to be entered, as I’m sure I will offend.)
Remember the days of having to try out for a team? Or the MVP getting the trophy? Now-a-days it's a free for all, because we can't hurt anyone's feelings, and EVERYONE get's a trophy because somewhere some mom who thought her kid,who picked weeds in the outfield,was just as good as the kid who had natural talent complained enough to disrupt the system. We celebrate mediocrity. Everyone is equal. It's a "team effort". While I agree in team efforts, I also believe that the person who WORKS HARD, PUTS IN THE EFFORT and EXCELS should be celebrated. It gives the other kids (or adults) on the team something to strive for, to set goals, to become better.
Now, if your kid (or you) is the weed picker, you will disagree. If your kid (or you)is in the "natural talent" section, you're giving me a virtual high-five. BUT... If you're weed picker kid is in a different situation... let's say they are asked to participate in a program that you feel their skills have surpassed, well, THEN equality is thrown out the window. EXAMPLE (for those not tracking)... Last year, our daughter was asked to be put in a split class of second and third graders. She was in the third grade. Many parents (including me, for honesty's sake)went ape-y over this. The second grade parents were concerned about the third graders negative influence , the third grade parents were concerned about their kids not being challenged with the second grade curriculum. Let me point out not very many parents were concerned with WHY this was happening *coughbudgetcutsthanksbiggovernemtcough. Two of these parents, who's kids were in the third grade, had just come to a PTA meeting all aflutter about the PTA giving out awards to the "winners" of a certain contest. "We should send the message that we are all winners", they said. Well, yes, but some of us are better winners than others. I guess this would include third graders, as opposed to second graders.
Recently, my youngest kiddo was picked to be on the pre-competition team in the gymnastics program she's in. This was like a huge big deal. She had only been taking classes (the first in her life) for about 10 weeks. She and her sister started in the same class, and when Gracie was asked to try out, and then was accepted, we thought Ruby would be upset, even though she had already stated she wasn't interested in the pre-comp team. At first she praised her little sister for such an awesome accomplishment, but I could tell there was a little jealousy. I talked to Ruby about it, and how she had stated the pre-comp team wasn't really her thing, but that it was OK to change her mind. The next 4 weeks Ruby worked really hard to improve her skills. She practiced at home, flipping off the couch, kipping up the side of her bunk bed, spending recess getting callouses on her hands from spinning around the playground bars. Her determination paid off, and she was asked to try-out for the pre-comp team last week. She never once played the "fairness" card. And you know what else? She was PROUD of herself.
Now, I could have been the mom that complained about the program, or put her in a class that she would never feel the need to challenge herself in because at the end of the session everyone got a medal. None of us Moms want to see our kiddos hurt or feel left out. But not "making the cut" is a life lesson. It's how we rebound from the disappointment that shapes the athlete or scholar.
Think about it: How many times did you QUIT something because it got hard? Or you weren't master of the universe? I can easily raise my hand in shame. And I'm sure I thought it "wasn't fair".
These blabbering and horn tooting examples are just my way to express my frustration with the amount of people I hear complaining about their lives. It's not always going to be rosy, and while I don't except everyone to always have a smile in the face of adversity, don't use "it's not fair" or "I'm not being treated equally" if you're just pissed off because you A) lost, B) were put in your place, or C)life happened. There are a slew of woman, African Americans and Gays that could tell YOU about "Fairness".
THANK YOU SWEET READERS!!
Ever heard the phrase “it’s not fair”? Of course you have. Everyone says it. My kids say it daily. But then again… they’re KIDS
This is how it’s played out in my house:
KID - “It’s not fair that ‘sibling’ gets to take a bath”
ME- “It’s because I love ‘sibling’ more”.
This usually works for most scenarios and they have learned that this means DROP IT. Is it nice? No. But I’m a parent, and my job isn’t really to be nice, it’s to teach my kids life lessons and to help them be productive adults when they go out into the world. If I could be nice AND make sure they don’t pick people off with a rifle from a clock tower, then great. Most days niceness isn’t the path that works.
Lately, I have noticed this phrase being used more and more by grown people. I’ll even go as far as to say “adults”, although for some I use this term loosely. “It’s not fair” you say? That’s right, it’s not freakin’ fair… because this is REAL LIFE, where fairness is relative, and expectations are real and there are consequences to your actions. Sometimes you don’t get what you want, sometimes you’re told “NO”. Sometimes (hopefully every time) you are held accountable for your actions.
Fairness and equality are two terms that are very often used for one’s own agenda.
(And this is where the OPINION disclaimer needs to be entered, as I’m sure I will offend.)
Remember the days of having to try out for a team? Or the MVP getting the trophy? Now-a-days it's a free for all, because we can't hurt anyone's feelings, and EVERYONE get's a trophy because somewhere some mom who thought her kid,who picked weeds in the outfield,was just as good as the kid who had natural talent complained enough to disrupt the system. We celebrate mediocrity. Everyone is equal. It's a "team effort". While I agree in team efforts, I also believe that the person who WORKS HARD, PUTS IN THE EFFORT and EXCELS should be celebrated. It gives the other kids (or adults) on the team something to strive for, to set goals, to become better.
Now, if your kid (or you) is the weed picker, you will disagree. If your kid (or you)is in the "natural talent" section, you're giving me a virtual high-five. BUT... If you're weed picker kid is in a different situation... let's say they are asked to participate in a program that you feel their skills have surpassed, well, THEN equality is thrown out the window. EXAMPLE (for those not tracking)... Last year, our daughter was asked to be put in a split class of second and third graders. She was in the third grade. Many parents (including me, for honesty's sake)went ape-y over this. The second grade parents were concerned about the third graders negative influence , the third grade parents were concerned about their kids not being challenged with the second grade curriculum. Let me point out not very many parents were concerned with WHY this was happening *coughbudgetcutsthanksbiggovernemtcough. Two of these parents, who's kids were in the third grade, had just come to a PTA meeting all aflutter about the PTA giving out awards to the "winners" of a certain contest. "We should send the message that we are all winners", they said. Well, yes, but some of us are better winners than others. I guess this would include third graders, as opposed to second graders.
Recently, my youngest kiddo was picked to be on the pre-competition team in the gymnastics program she's in. This was like a huge big deal. She had only been taking classes (the first in her life) for about 10 weeks. She and her sister started in the same class, and when Gracie was asked to try out, and then was accepted, we thought Ruby would be upset, even though she had already stated she wasn't interested in the pre-comp team. At first she praised her little sister for such an awesome accomplishment, but I could tell there was a little jealousy. I talked to Ruby about it, and how she had stated the pre-comp team wasn't really her thing, but that it was OK to change her mind. The next 4 weeks Ruby worked really hard to improve her skills. She practiced at home, flipping off the couch, kipping up the side of her bunk bed, spending recess getting callouses on her hands from spinning around the playground bars. Her determination paid off, and she was asked to try-out for the pre-comp team last week. She never once played the "fairness" card. And you know what else? She was PROUD of herself.
Now, I could have been the mom that complained about the program, or put her in a class that she would never feel the need to challenge herself in because at the end of the session everyone got a medal. None of us Moms want to see our kiddos hurt or feel left out. But not "making the cut" is a life lesson. It's how we rebound from the disappointment that shapes the athlete or scholar.
Think about it: How many times did you QUIT something because it got hard? Or you weren't master of the universe? I can easily raise my hand in shame. And I'm sure I thought it "wasn't fair".
These blabbering and horn tooting examples are just my way to express my frustration with the amount of people I hear complaining about their lives. It's not always going to be rosy, and while I don't except everyone to always have a smile in the face of adversity, don't use "it's not fair" or "I'm not being treated equally" if you're just pissed off because you A) lost, B) were put in your place, or C)life happened. There are a slew of woman, African Americans and Gays that could tell YOU about "Fairness".
Thursday, May 5, 2011
MAKING SACRIFICES
Let me start off by saying I woke up with an urge to punch someone (anyone, not a specific person)in the face today. This blog will most likely by angry rantings, but as it is MY blog I am taking this time to give my OPINIONS on things. This is not an opinions column, and if you disagree with whatever it is I am ranting about, feel free NOT to comment. This is also fair warning to not read this weeks edition of The Manic Military Wife. Thank you.
Yesterday, someone said to my husband " sometimes you have to make sacrifices." Just typing it sends me into a rage. I am a fucking Army Wife( there goes my adsense approval). Don't even talk to me about sacrifices. I could fill a lake with the sacrifices this family has made in the last 6 1/2 years. Back to back deployments, having to FIGHT to get one year stabilization, being counseled on said stabilization, rumors of marriage troubles because my husband requested, simply, to be home for 365 days in a row, as promised by his battalion AND the CIC. Was he trying to get out of a deployment? Nope. Just wanted his 365, or a week and a half after deployment date. Derek had to SACRIFICE a family camping trip to go home for the death of his grandfather, feeling the need so desperately because he's missed three already. We have SACRIFICED birthdays, holidays , firsts, lasts, sex, money, moves, wants, needs, sleep, time (we will never get back), bedtime stories, kisses awards, plays, conferences. The only time I've seen Derek get an award or promotion was when I pinned his 2LT bar on him at OCS. He is now a CPT. With a chest full of accolades. We have a daughter who was just a few months old the first time Derek deployed, and is now 7. He has been to 3 of her birthday parties. We sacrificed 18 months, then 3.5 months, then 15 months, then 12 months of our life with only ONE full 365 days at home EVER thrown in there. Don't fucking talk to ME about sacrifice.
This isn't me wining about my husbands job. We read the fine print, we knew about the war going on. We knew about deployments. We new we would be making SACRIFICES. This is more about how OTHERS perceive said sacrifices in relation to themselves.
We are PCS-ing (moving) at the end of this summer. Derek is tasked to do a training exercise on a different continent this summer. A 6 week exercise smack dab in the middle of when we need to be packing up, and clearing out. For my non-mil readers -6 weeks may seem like time o'plenty.HA! PCS-ing is an involved process that includes making appointments well in advance to have your household goods packed and shipped to an address your not even sure of yet. And paperwork paperwork paperwork for out processing. 5 days worth just for him. I have to make sure medical records are all accounted for in the electronic system,all shots are up to date and in our possession and NOT PACKED, find housing in a different state, hope you get on the housing list before arrival, and that housing is available when you get there, book accommodations for your last 5 days in this state and your first 5 in the next.PLAN and Pack for a road trip across the country, with at least two kids and a dog. Don't even get me started on the older kid and what she'll need. All this and a hundred other things have to be taken care of. And it looks like it will have to be done by ME. Which sucks because you can't take a shit in the Army when your soldier is gone without a SPECIFIC POWER OF ATTORNEY.
Question: why would you send a person who is essentially down to less than 90 days at BN on a training exercise for the BN?!?!
Also - why did you keep his name on the roster when you KNEW three months ago his orders were coming?
So this summer, instead of easing our kids into a transition (they will make TWO next school year), we will be pressed on even making it to school before it starts. No time to make friends in the neighborhood, or get unpacked, or to even miss where you left, really. They will most likely be living in a hotel when they start school and we can only hope that the school they start in will be the one they stay in.
*Also, if you're a relative and reading this - don't make any plans for us. We'll basically be driving in,sleeping and leaving again. Sorry.
It will be fine, because we're a military family and we've dealt with this kind of crap before. You put your big girl panties on and you get shit done. We know about sacrifice.
But what I really want to say to that motherfucker who made that statement to my husband is:
If we sometimes have to make sacrifices, why don't YOU make the sacrifice? Why don't you take one for the team so that my kids don't have to? Just this time. Because this isn't really Derek who is making the sacrifice, it's his kids. And you are a total buttfuck for even making a comment like that in the first place.
Yesterday, someone said to my husband " sometimes you have to make sacrifices." Just typing it sends me into a rage. I am a fucking Army Wife( there goes my adsense approval). Don't even talk to me about sacrifices. I could fill a lake with the sacrifices this family has made in the last 6 1/2 years. Back to back deployments, having to FIGHT to get one year stabilization, being counseled on said stabilization, rumors of marriage troubles because my husband requested, simply, to be home for 365 days in a row, as promised by his battalion AND the CIC. Was he trying to get out of a deployment? Nope. Just wanted his 365, or a week and a half after deployment date. Derek had to SACRIFICE a family camping trip to go home for the death of his grandfather, feeling the need so desperately because he's missed three already. We have SACRIFICED birthdays, holidays , firsts, lasts, sex, money, moves, wants, needs, sleep, time (we will never get back), bedtime stories, kisses awards, plays, conferences. The only time I've seen Derek get an award or promotion was when I pinned his 2LT bar on him at OCS. He is now a CPT. With a chest full of accolades. We have a daughter who was just a few months old the first time Derek deployed, and is now 7. He has been to 3 of her birthday parties. We sacrificed 18 months, then 3.5 months, then 15 months, then 12 months of our life with only ONE full 365 days at home EVER thrown in there. Don't fucking talk to ME about sacrifice.
This isn't me wining about my husbands job. We read the fine print, we knew about the war going on. We knew about deployments. We new we would be making SACRIFICES. This is more about how OTHERS perceive said sacrifices in relation to themselves.
We are PCS-ing (moving) at the end of this summer. Derek is tasked to do a training exercise on a different continent this summer. A 6 week exercise smack dab in the middle of when we need to be packing up, and clearing out. For my non-mil readers -6 weeks may seem like time o'plenty.HA! PCS-ing is an involved process that includes making appointments well in advance to have your household goods packed and shipped to an address your not even sure of yet. And paperwork paperwork paperwork for out processing. 5 days worth just for him. I have to make sure medical records are all accounted for in the electronic system,all shots are up to date and in our possession and NOT PACKED, find housing in a different state, hope you get on the housing list before arrival, and that housing is available when you get there, book accommodations for your last 5 days in this state and your first 5 in the next.PLAN and Pack for a road trip across the country, with at least two kids and a dog. Don't even get me started on the older kid and what she'll need. All this and a hundred other things have to be taken care of. And it looks like it will have to be done by ME. Which sucks because you can't take a shit in the Army when your soldier is gone without a SPECIFIC POWER OF ATTORNEY.
Question: why would you send a person who is essentially down to less than 90 days at BN on a training exercise for the BN?!?!
Also - why did you keep his name on the roster when you KNEW three months ago his orders were coming?
So this summer, instead of easing our kids into a transition (they will make TWO next school year), we will be pressed on even making it to school before it starts. No time to make friends in the neighborhood, or get unpacked, or to even miss where you left, really. They will most likely be living in a hotel when they start school and we can only hope that the school they start in will be the one they stay in.
*Also, if you're a relative and reading this - don't make any plans for us. We'll basically be driving in,sleeping and leaving again. Sorry.
It will be fine, because we're a military family and we've dealt with this kind of crap before. You put your big girl panties on and you get shit done. We know about sacrifice.
But what I really want to say to that motherfucker who made that statement to my husband is:
If we sometimes have to make sacrifices, why don't YOU make the sacrifice? Why don't you take one for the team so that my kids don't have to? Just this time. Because this isn't really Derek who is making the sacrifice, it's his kids. And you are a total buttfuck for even making a comment like that in the first place.
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