It's About Time: Is It Time Already?

And no it's not about Biggests baby. She's taking her Sweet Time and it's Time for this post.


My Littlest was sitting in her 1st grade classroom on 911. Her generation grew up with a boogie man as real as it gets. Her generation has grown up with a war. Commonplace in their lives as eating breakfast.
 Is this when it began?
 I think most young people seldom give it any thought. But my very serious, very thoughtful little girl has always been aware. And always standing up for justice. Always felt the pull to protect. And serve. As she made her way through elementary school she wanted to be things like a firefighter or a soldier. I didn't think too much about it. You see, this generation, as my parents generation, grew up with those games on the playground. Being heroes. Saving the world. They played at being soldiers. I remember her coming home angry. The head of the games, a little boy she went all through school with, told her girls couldn't do the fighting. She had to be the medic. She was furious.
Was this when it began?
Well. They both graduated in June. He has 14 lbs. to lose and a medical waiver to get through, and my baby girl is going before he does : ) But she doesn't gloat. She's pulling for him because she understands. By 5th grade she was more straightforward about law and order than ever. She also carried a sort of sadness that was deep and rooted in the vastness of the world. And she wanted was to make it better.

I sent her to a school for the arts as a creative writer in middle school. She needed the outlet for the heavy feelings she carried. At eleven she was carrying the world.
 Was that when it began?
She never planned to be a writer and as she progressed to the high school for the arts, she thought about becoming a psychologist. Once again, to save, to protect, to serve. In tenth grade she began writing a story for one of her classes. It was about a couple who were both serving in  a war. She was researching her topic carefully for authenticity. I remember her once again coming to me angry.
 "The Army doesn't allow women to serve in the 'Special Forces!' " That's just stupid!
Was this when it began?
 After a time I realized she was still researching long after the story was set aside. And then I received the letter from the Marine Corps. informing me that my 15 year old was inquiring about joining and that they weren't allowed to actively speak with her about being recruited until after she turned 17 or in January of her Junior year. She came to me and said she wanted to leave the school for the arts. It wasn't getting her to the future she wanted. She was heart broken to leave but at the same time her focus had shifted. She had a new plan.
And that is definitely when it began but at the same time it merely came full circle.

The Marine Corps. core values are: Honor, Courage and Commitment.
Their Motto: Semper Fidelis-Always Faithful.

She has had these traits since the day she was born.

In July of 2012 when she was 16 she couldn't take it anymore and begged me to take her to the Recruiting office. Technically they weren't supposed to talk to her but she only had a few weeks till she turned 17 and I was with her, so they did interview her. I wrote about that day HERE.

We told her we wouldn't sign the papers and she would have to wait till she turned 18 but after her 17th birthday in September 2012 she began to plague us. We made her wait six months until January of this year, just to be sure, but her commitment never wavered and we signed. After talking to her recruiter multiple times we decided that the Delayed Entry Program would be a plus, as she would have physical training and other benefits to better prepare her for boot camp. She made it through MEPS the Military Entrance Processing Station and initially swore in on January 31. Her original ship date was August of this year but has been delayed twice while they waited for an opening in her preferred job area. That has been extremely draining and stressful for all of us. Not knowing what was going to happen or when. And now? Now in 9 days the Marine Corps will pick up my baby girl and take her to a hotel. We will lose all contact at that moment. The next morning she will have a second trip to MEPS for a double check and then be put on a bus for Parris Island SC. When she arrives she will be allowed one scripted phone call to let us know she arrived safely. Unlike other military branches, which train for 8 weeks, the MC trains for 13 grueling weeks in which we will have no interaction with her other than hand written letters. I am going to miss her more than I can express and am so proud I can't express it either. As I mom I worry, but not as you might expect. I'm not worried about her career choice. I'm worried about her heart and her hopes and I want her dreams to come true. And...

There is a reason they are called "THE FEW."

I have no doubt she has everything it takes to make it, as do the recruiters and senior officers for her recruiting station. From her test scores and physical abilities she is considered a valuable recruit.
But things happen. Accidents, illness, myriad possibilities. With no glitches she will excel and achieve this goal she has nurtured for so very long. So I'm asking you this. Regardless of how you may feel about the choice she has made, if you pray please send up a prayer. If you cross your fingers cross them all tight, and if you wish, Wish Upon A Star : ) because she is one, and help this amazing young woman achieve her dream: To Earn the title of United States Marine.

 

For My Starlight: Because I do understand and I know, It's Time. Time To Begin.

© 2013 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

She Mows In Beauty...?

I've been watching a lot. Secretly staring from across rooms. Taking in small details from the corners of my eyes. Memorizing bits and pieces to hold on to later. I stare out windows, unseen from the second floor. The scarlet mower bright as a cardinal against the summer green grass. She pushes. Petite but, sturdy is the word that comes to mind. Muscled legs in short denim shorts propel her onward. Black tank top. Black high top Converse. She has wires pouring from her ears. Her fine boned jaw is set, determined. Sharp cheekbones breaking the softness of rounded nose and high arched brow. Regal is the word that comes to mind. Her shorn hair, tree bark brown and damp with sweat. Gone the stark white of childhood, the later deep burnished gold, thick and wavy. It now matches exactly the deep mahogany of her eyes. Exposes the surprising grace of the rising slope curving from neck to shoulder. The unexpected charm of sinew and rounded bicep. Grasping the handle with deeply calloused palms.  The same grip with which she grabs an opponents GI, and holds them to the floor. The same grip with which she grabs a bar to pull herself up ten times, in preparation as a warrior. Powerful is the word that comes to mind. "Where has my little girl gone?", is the thought I search. The mower stops and starts stops and starts. I wondered if something was wrong with it, so I went out to see and end up seeing only her. She lets go and the engine dies. Creeping to the front of the mower she bends her knees and slowly reaches out, then suddenly scoops. Her hands cupped closed she travels to the wooded area at the end of the yard and stoops again, opening her hands and watching, then returns to mowing only to stop again moments later and repeat again. I can't resist. I blow my cover on the upstairs balcony to ask, "What are you doing?" "They're baby lizards, she says. They aren't moving out of the way. The brown ones. They just sit there so I'm moving them. '' The engine revs up again and I watch. She is almost directly beneath me. She grabs a large brown leaf and begins coaxing something into it. Her solid legs flexed, her rounded shoulders hunched. She stands. Her face tilted upward to look at me, her dark eyes innocent and sweet. And for a flash she is five again as she holds the leaf up to show me. "It's a slug, she says. Where should I put it?"



The Littlest Mower

She mows in beauty like a knight
A determined force they cannot fight
All fall before her blades when she pass
Cutting a swath through the grass
At the same time not depraved
Knowing some souls can be saved
Powerful leader, and never pawn
Joan d' Arc of the lawn


This has been a shameless and sacrilegious parody of Byron's stunning She Walks in Beauty
Brought to you by:
 The Center for Compulsive Bad Poetry Research- also known as my brain.





© 2013 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

Shooting Star Lands On Feet

Nearly four years ago I began this blog with a newly turned fourteen year old with a sarcastic sense of humor, a droll outlook on life and a solid ethic of determination and purpose.

My Starlight: Glittering sparks of light shooting from her mind

Now, here I am with a newly turned 18 year old with  a sarcastic sense of humor, a droll outlook on life and a solid ethic of determination and purpose.

My Starlight: Multifaceted beams refracting from her heart.

My Littlest has officially become an adult.  She hasn't been Grounded since I don't know when.

But that may be because, while her ideals have always been shining from the heights,
her feet have always been planted firmly on the ground.

My Starlight: Glowing rays pouring warmly from her soul.

I am So Proud of the young woman you have become my Sweet Littlest. You are Amazing.


Happy Birthday To My Starlight!

Infinite points of possibility reflected in your eyes.

You've been waiting to get here for so long and I know it was a hard wait for you. And I know how ready you are to shoot forward. Just remember, it can take tens of millions of years for the light from the nearest stars to reach us. You have plenty of time to shine. But it's official.
The world is laid out before you now Littlest and you're already starting from the top. There is no limit to how far you can shoot for yourself.
Almost time for the next step. Never break that stride : )

I Love You!

And I know you can Imagine Dragons ; )

Readers: if you like, please enjoy some of The Best of Littlest:

Guest Post By Littlest

An a in Math and an F in Language

Shop Till You Drop Dead From Humiliation

Problem Solved

We Got The Blues

She Said, Let's do It Today


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Quick Note: Traveling this week.
May be delayed in responding to comments but will catch you later!


© 2013 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

And We Have Lift Off

So I'm standing in my living room, with a camera, wondering who this drop dead knock out with the fashion forward super short haircut and an amazing figure, shown off by a sophisticated black and white dress, with nylons and high heeled black pumps, is.

Then she puts on her black robes and mortar board and pulls out a wand. Brandishing it around the room she announces she's graduating from "Hufflepuff.

Oh Yeah! It's definitely my daughter : )

And so began another 'Last'.

In a state of unreality we lined up in our seats at the Arena, strategically placed at the front so we could watch her face the whole time. We stand and wait anxiously to see her, and her boyfriend since Junior year,  walk together down the center aisle. And there she is! I nervously fiddle with my camera. I've been here before but every moment is precious because it's 'The Last'.

Once again we sit in our row, The SeaMonkey, Me, Biggest and Decent Guy and this time Middlest, all former students at the same school and happy that it's Finally Over, as is Littlest. A blank slate-well, only an outline, before us to be filled in with time. We see her trying to find us but we aren't where she expected, so we wave around a bit. Finally her boyfriend spots us and she grins. Excellent! We have a clear view of her face. We listen impatiently to the speeches, they aren't what we're here for. We three ladies actually get up to use the restroom during the orchestra concert because Biggest is pregnant and I'm old and I guess Middlest is just sympathetic, I don't know : )


At last the procession begins. We search out her friends as they pass and smile at them too. Some she's known since first grade, so the tug of nostalgia is very strong. The school principle has sternly warned everyone to observe decorum. The first few minutes this happens. Then, as is traditional in this school, one by one families begin to break the rules. A quick cheer here. A short shout out there. Mid asks if they can cheer. I say they really shouldn't. By halfway through it's total chaos, with whistles and roars and an air horn somewhere a few rows behind me. I turn to Mid and tell her, "You guys yell as loud as you want."

And finally my Littlest's row begins to move. She passes in front of us and glances up at our grins-and sticks her tongue out at us. That's our girl! Once again I'm fumbling with my camera trying to get the zoom right, nervous not to miss a moment while she stands to the side on stage and looks cool and calm as a cucumber and I feel like all the air has sucked out of the room.
Her name is called and cheers come from the direction of her boyfriends family but her dad and I just clap really hard and suddenly her sisters bellow out a huge OORAH! Simple and Perfect : ) I wasn't expecting that. She smiles. And I don't cry. I'm excited and my heart is full. But it's full of PRIDE.
 I can't believe my baby's all grown up but she's grown So Well! Then the principle says that he would like to honor the students who were joining the military by having them stand when he called their service. A Navy veteran himself, he finally called out what he called his 'second favorite service'
The Marine Corps. And my tiny girl stood, along with two young men, and that is when we came UNGLUED! Luckily we weren't thrown out : )

Congratulations to my 'Last' little girl!  My Strong Tough Amazing Young Woman with a Soft Heart inside. My Jiu Jitsu Champion. My Disney Song Singer. My Weight Lifter. My Cake Baker. My Bulldog Arguer. My Humble Achiever. My Most Shocking Public Language User. My Lover of Babies and Kittens. My Littlest. WE LOVE YOU BIG!

Thank You for rarely giving me a moments trouble...
 except over doing something worthwhile.... or shopping.

We Are leaving this LAST behind and lifting off into the NEXT!
Hang On Tight-This year is going to blast The Grounded Family into a whole new universe.

We Are Very Proud to Announce the High School Graduation of the Littlest Grounded!
I wish I could show you a picture but that would be Contraband.{ hint hint And you can only get contraband {hint hint if you find secret links {hint hint that lead to blogs{ that aren't listed in search engines and who knows where{ you might find one of those {  ; )



A Quick P.S. Unfortunately I have to travel this afternoon but will answer comments when I get back. See Ya!




© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

Hate to Post and Run but...

that is what I'm doing because I'm traveling again tomorrow. I returned home on Wednesday last week but I didn't visit much because Thursday was the 4th longest day of my life. The other three being the days I gave birth. And this was the day I, not physically but intellectually and emotionally, waited while my Littlest, my last child, began her journey into adulthood.

I am now 'Mom of the Marine Corps Poolee.' On Thursday Littlest spent the day at the Military Entrance Processing Station and passed all the requirements. We then watched her raise her hand and swear in to the Marine Corps in the Delayed Entry Program. What does this mean? It means we still have a way to go. She has to graduate. She has to wait for her Occupational Specialty to open. She has to complete Recruit Training. (Boot Camp) This could take up to a year but at this point the date is about seven months. It also means that as long as nothing changes to prevent her from qualifying she will become a Marine.

In my post about our first trip to the recruiting office I said that we would not be signing papers for her to join before she turns eighteen. We learned a little more about how this works. The Delayed Entry Program provides physical training and guidance in preparation for boot camp before you show up there. It's a way of having an advantage. We gave it six months and the fact is that she has been unwavering in her choice. Steadfast in her decision. More determined than ever. So we signed the papers. She will begin what they call PT on Monday with the other Poolee's led by Marine Corps instructors. She will train and consult with her recruiter several times a week from this day forward.

We Are Immensely Proud.

her sisters cried. her dad cried. i haven't cried yet. i will.

There really is no way to decribe this feeling as a parent. Proudified? Teriffoud?

This post could be a long discussion on a whole lot of stuff that is going on, but, honestly, we've been having that discussion at our house for about two years and there's nothing left to discuss. The last conversation we had the night before MEPS was what might happen if she wore her Superman underwear to processing : )

But here's something else. Littlest only needs 3 credits to graduate. She fulfilled and surpassed her elective credits long ago but she is still taking classes all day. She wants to drop these extra classes which would leave her with an AP Language Arts, AP Government and a Marine Science class. It's a split schedule so that would be two classes one day and one the next. She doesn't need the other classes or credits and would rather be doing something besides sitting there bored in classes she doesn't like. I think she should suck it up for four months and just finish the year and it will be over. Her dad said that if she was mature enough to raise her hand and swear to protect her country she was mature enough to decide she didn't want to take classes she doesn't need. We both told her to get her recruiters opinion because at some point in her career she will be continuing her education.

What do you think Peanut Gallery?

Now I'm going to try to visit as many of you as I can before I have to finish getting ready to head out. As always, when I'm gone, if I miss you I'll catch you when I get back. Namaste. (I don't actually say that..ever..it just sounds nice ; )



© 2013 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

She Said What?

That is the question that has most represented life with Littlest.

Since October is the month I originally began my blog and I'm lazy tired busy burnt out I thought it might be fun to look back a do a re-post from my earliest days and tell a story that No One Read, because I hadn't found any blog friends yet- I was so thrilled when I found Nicole at Help Mama Remote and she had a teenager too-even though her daughter wasn't grounded, and she returned my visit on Halloween becoming my first Blog Friend : )! At this time I think I was a better blogger. I was more tight, concise, and to the point. Why? Because no one knew about it in real life either and trying to do something privately at my house takes great powers of speed and precision.
 They still found out about it because they are just that nosy stealthy important in my life and I want to share everything with them.

But anyway, it's a back in time both on my blog and with Littlest story, about when she was actually still pretty Little.
This week we have a RE-RUN of a post from October 2009

 My Littlest was a child who wouldn't stand up for herself. This is not true anymore. Nowadays she could fill a resume with moments like this. In 5th grade her teachers didn't seem to like her much. She could be a little abrasive & perhaps was not worshipful enough. She seemed to be particularly annoying to her gifted class teacher,  which makes this even sweeter. The class was assigned to work in groups and create a "TV" show using fairy tale characters, that they would perform for parents of the class. These kids can be really clever so this is usually a lot of fun. My child was assigned with a partner to write commercials. "Glittery", we'll call her,  told Littlest that she wasn't allowed to give out her phone # so they couldn't work that way or meet up. This assignment had several weeks to be completed. Littlest worked on it. Every week "Glittery" didn't have anything to contribute.
 Just to clarify, I try to teach my kids responsibility by making them deal with situations themselves instead of Mom rushing in to save them.
Littlest wrote a couple of outstanding & hilarious commercials. I told her to tell her gifted teacher that the work was all hers. She kept putting it off. She was waiting to see if "Glittery" had something to add. I think she also sensed the teacher wasn't fond of her & avoided dealing with her. She turned the work in but didn't say a word about Glittery not participating, just complained to ME. I repeatedly told her that if she wanted the credit for the work she needed to speak up. Littlest didn't want to be the "kid who tells". She asked "Glittery" to admit that she hadn't helped. Yeah, Right.
 The day of the show arrived. The acts were introduced. Including: Commercials by; Littlest & "Glittery". After a very entertaining show it was time for a curtain call. The MC announced:   Commercials brought to you by.... Littlest, who stomps up on stage with arms crossed & PO'ed look on face and "Glittery", who floats up, smiling wide, her arms akimbo as she gracefully plunges into a curtsy, her long hair streaming forward to touch the stage as her forehead is bowed to the ground in humble appreciation of the applause of her fans.... And then a voice is heard above the din of parental clapping... SHE DIDN'T WRITE IT! I DID ALL OF IT. SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! Glittery's curtsy wobbled a bit & her eyes widened. Confused parents looked relieved as the next kids were called up. Glittery's mom appeared frozen for a moment, then ignored the situation.  The teacher looked like she wanted to smack Littlest. I had my first Littlest experience of 'Oh My God what did my kid just do?' But I maintained my dignity.
 Immediately afterward I told Littlest and her teacher, "She could have picked a better time for that." "Yes, she could have ", answered her plainly annoyed teacher.
 But to be honest,
 I was Awed by her Beauty in that moment & Forever became her Biggest Fan!
(And laughed my butt off as soon as I got in the car)


© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

Shine On

The Miracle of Birth, Drama, Spiritual Light..and **WARNING some bad language.

The Biggest and Middlest were born at a hospital with one of the best maternity wards in our area. Not just state of the art, the rooms were comfy and pretty and private.  My obstetricians experienced and from a well respected group. And that is what was paid for. In 1994 the company The SeaMonkey worked for went under and we decided to take a risk and start our own. It paid off in the end but in then beginning, we were in tight circumstances and uninsured. Without making this story longer, yes I knew how babies were made but still unexpectedly became pregnant again when Mid was about 13 months old. I had to make some changes. For prenatal care I learned to make use of a clinic that would work with our income and the birth would have to be at an associated teaching hospital that would do the same. No frills, no familiar obstetrician, no warm fuzzies. It was a deeply stressful time in our lives. But that was ok. I prayed and I wished and sometimes wonder if possibly I Willed another girl. This was fulfilled. I was having another daughter.

I was a month away from turning thirty and had two kids already so when the pain came I knew what was up. So we packed up and headed out about 5 PM. It being labor day weekend I figured they would be prepared ; ) After they checked me and told me to go back home I was pretty annoyed. But, they didn't seem to think it was time yet.  I usually would dilate very slowly and then very suddenly-wide open. I also had a tendency to develop inconsistent double contractions that didn't really even out. I would just suddenly be ready to go. I told them this but they just nodded. I went home and laid in bed in agony until my water broke and I knew they couldn't shuffle me off. When I arrived, as always the first thing I made clear was that I wanted an epidural. I have  a credit card. I'll pay for it now. Just get it. I told this to every person I came in contact with and they all nodded, mmm hmmm, ok. And I waited. I was there an hour and dilating. My epidural? Mmm Hmm, she'll be here. Two hours? We just called because you're getting close. You what? Don't worry. Needless to say when the anesthesiologist showed up I was having hard contractions and couldn't stay in place. And she said, " I can't do this if you can't stay still. Then she said to the nurse in charge, "We can't do it at this late stage, she won't be still." Like I wasn't even there and marched out. Which is when the 'Nurse in Charge' said, "You should have said something sooner.." And I said Fuck You I mean I said, "I Did."

 While I waited the 'nurse in charge' bustled about my room. A tall young woman in her twenties, she was loud, bossy, falsely cheery and condescending and extremely curt with the other nurse in the room, A short, older woman with caramel skin, wise dark eyes and a rich island accent, though she was very compassionate with the SeaMonkey. Now the poor SeaMonkey wasn't much help on this trip. He was used to me being all numb and happy and even though we took Lamaze classes all three times, he was lost. I know many people endure natural childbirth with grace and pride. I am not one of them. It was horrifying and even though I was breathing it didn't help. "Don't Scream", bossed the charge nurse, "You need to stop that screaming", she admonished, standing at the foot of the bed looking exasperated. I told The SeaMonkey, "if she doesn't shut up I'm going to slap her." He said, she's just doing her job, she's trying to help." I said, Fuck You Both "I want her to go away." I turned my back on him and lay on my side. The older nurse left the papers she was filling out and came to stand beside my bed. When we asked about her accent she told us she had come here recently from the Caribbean islands where she had been a midwife. She spoke low and soft, her melodic accent flowing over me like warm water. I looked into her eyes, her brow lightly lined, her mouth a straight line of consternation, but her dark eyes soft with compassion.  As the next contraction swelled she reached out and I grasped her hand tight. Lightly wrinkled and powder soft skin padded the tiny bones that took my grip without a flinch as she whispered. Her eyes held mine with each slow deep breath, her calm flowed into me. I felt anchored. I felt safe. She stayed there the whole time and I held on to her gaze and to her hand until the end.

Which was when the obstetrician was hurried in.. I assume she was finished with medical school but I'm not sure. She looked about 20 and she was very sweet, and pretty, tucking her long brown ponytail under her cap, and reassuring, at least she seemed to know where everything was. The SeaMonkey was back up helping and with him on one side and my hand holding angel on the other, I finally pushed and I had a baby. The sweet young doctor was ready, hands in place and caught my little shooting star firmly in her grip. She didn't lift her up right away but I could see the doctors smile as she was turning her around head up to look in her face , "a girl" and then without any prompting my Littlest took her first gasping breath of life..and at the moment I hemorrhaged. The blood and fluid flowed down into the face and mouth of my baby girl as she sucked in her first breath of life, and she drowned. The first breath was the last. She stopped breathing. They cut the umbilical cord rapidly and rushed her a table and began trying to revive her. The pediatric emergency team was called in. There are no words to describe the feeling of helplessness. No way to describe seeing the obstetrician back away from the table as pediatrics took over, her hand held against her mouth, her eyes terrified as she turned to me and said, "I'm so sorry." The SeaMonkey and I were frozen in shock watching the team work over her tiny body, pumping air into her lungs. All I could see was the top curve of her forehead..and her little calves and feet, still as a doll, lifeless. It was only minutes but felt like infinity, while the obstetrician returned to finish delivering the placenta with the contractions still waving through me to finish the job. The 'nurse in charge' was busy being important somewhere but the little nurse remained by my side, holding tight to my hand, her eyes closed. When I looked her way I knew she prayed and I continued to cling to that anchor.

 Finally I saw the shoulders of the pediatric team relax, an unheard but deeply felt sigh of relief in the room. She was breathing. She would have to be observed because of the fluid that had been aspirated but I could hold her just for a few moments before they took her away. Her eyes were round and dark squinting up at me. I tried to nurse her a bit as I had the others, gently wiping at flecks of dried blood in the corners of her mouth. but the 'nurse in charge' hovered expectantly, ready to snatch her back and send her to the nursery for whatever it was they still had to do, I'm still not sure. But I relinquished her to their care. The nurses began the cleanup process.  With annoyance I heard the 'charge nurse' snottily and loudly reprimanding the older nurse about something with the paperwork. The older women stood quietly listening and nodded her head. When she looked my way again, a tinge of embarrassment on her face I was furious. I don't know how I would have made it that day without her.  Someone arrived to wheel me to my room and suddenly it was just too much. I sat in the chair and my throat constricted. I had held it together all the way through. I burst into tears. I couldn't stop the stream from my eyes. I was so exhausted I didn't even lift my hand to wipe them away, letting them flow across my chest and seep into my hospital gown. As I passed the older nurse I told her thank you, so much, and The Seamonkey thanked her too. The 'nurse in charge' was ready, smiling at the door, to say you're welcome and wave goodbye. When she saw my tears, she asked in a peppy voice full of surprise and concern, "Oh! What's wrong?" What's.Wrong. ? Fuck You, I smiled, "Nothing, nothing at all."

 I lay in a gray blue cubicle of a double room, curtained off. I can't recall the actually color of the curtain but in my mind it is black. I lay alone in a black hole that suited my mood perfectly.  The SeaMonkey was sent home to the other girls. They kept her in observation for several hours, so I lay in my pit of frustration, fear and sadness. I still didn't know how she was doing or what damage this could have done to her. I kept asking when she would be brought in. I breast feed, I told them. Should she be going without this long? I was patted and condescended to some more. They wouldn't give me details. The assumption seemed to be that if you were there because of financial reasons, you were obviously ignorant and uneducated and wouldn't understand anyway so it was best to keep it simple and keep you in the dark so you wouldn't kick up a fuss. But finally, they brought me My Littlest.

And she was my Littlest. 7lb.8oz. The other girls had been over 8 lbs. Her head was round and what little hair there was downy white. Oh look! I got a blonde this time! But her eyes were deep deep gray and foretold the brown eyes to come. When she looked up at me, instead of helplessness and newness in her eyes I thought I saw knowledge. I felt I looked into full and complete comprehension. A disconcerting wisdom in her face that threw me off balance. An old soul? Did I believe in such things? I didn't know. But from that moment I recognized and watched the strength. The independence, the inner compass automatically guiding right and wrong. I saw indomitable will and a sense of purpose that self directed and did not falter. I saw a Star. Shining with Power from within. Shining with Promise. Shining with Purpose. With Destiny. With Love and Empathy. Vulnerability laced With Strength

My Littlest has turned Seventeen. When I look in her eyes I see a Star. Bright with Promise. Shining with Purpose, with Power, with Destiny, with Love and Empathy, with Strength. I remember the day she was born with mixed feelings. A frightening day. A miraculous one. And I have to ponder how she may have been affected by these moments of her birth. Are these things possible? Could the moment of life being snatched away have returned a soul with deeper strength and created a fighter? As I lay there holding the hand of the nurse and pulling my strength and calm from her, could the wisdom of years and perseverance have seeped through my skin and into my child, giving her a sense of self and maturity way beyond her years? And most of all...could all of the F words I swallowed during labor have passed through the bloodstream and circulated within her for years only to burst out of her mouth in unexpected public explosions as a teenager? As you can find HERE and HERE. ; )
But I can overlook that because she is a great kid in every other way.

Happy Birthday to My Star Light.

 Shine On. You have a purpose in this world.
To meet your destiny head on..... and apparently tell it where to go. ; )

LUV YA!

© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

She said, Let's do it today....

And I said, ok.
What should I wear, she asks?
You don't have to get dressed up. Just look neat.

She's been researching and trying to garner information for over a year. Her first attempts result in a letter to me: This is to inform you your child is attempting to......we cannot ....until she is seventeen.

That is still a month away.

So we get in the car and I drive. She is questions all the way. What should I say? What do I tell them?

That you are considering and want to know the options. That's all you need to do right now.

We pull up outside the offices, set in the corner of an older, gold stuccoed, strip mall. The windows tinted black with a different insignia on each door. Doors. Choices.

The story of The Lady or the Tiger comes to mind.

We sit in the parking lot with the summer heat already creeping around us at ten thirty in the morning. She stares at the windows. "In a minute", she says. "Not yet".

We sit.  A couple of young men walk up and we watch to see which door they will approach. . One, small and wiry, short dreadlocks, wife beater T,  drooping shorts and drooping posture, skulks on. His friend, with short hair, dressed casually but neatly in t shirt and jeans, reaches for the door on the right. A tall figure comes out the door on the left and we silently stalk him as he stands on the sidewalk for a quick smoke. "When he goes in" she says.

He goes in. Let's go, I say, "it's hot and I have stuff to do. They'll probably just give you some information." You aren't old enough to do anything yet so there's nothing to be nervous about, says mom,with my stomach sinking. She sits, very still, then suddenly bangs her head on the dashboard twice. She grabs the door handle. She says, "Let's go."

We cross the short distance, I'm smiling and chatting like we're relaxed.  It's all bravado. I'm so uncertain. What am I doing? I don't know if I'm doing the right thing or not.
I reach for the handle and we enter the door on the left.

Inside it's cramped and cool. The same tall young man greets us, "Hello, can we help you?"

I wanted to get some information, she stutters, for after I graduate next year.

Certainly,  I'll be with you in a moment, have a seat. I glance at the black leather love seat covered in toy cars from a basket nearby.  He swoops down and gathers the them. Thomas the Tank Engine catches my eye just before the hand sweeps him up and away.  She loved him when she was little.
I smile at her, "look it's Thomas", and sit down awkwardly. Don't cry, I think. She stands. Stiff. Her arms crossed,  her face inscrutable. And waits. A small child wanders the office while his mother chats with another young woman at her desk. I'm afraid to make eye contact with anyone. I think, "he said to sit, she's not following directions."  "You should sit down," I begin to tell her, but then he is back. Shaking hands, introducing himself, asking her age.
 I'll be seventeen in a few weeks, she answers.  Her school? Hey, I was just assigned there he grins! I'll be starting this year. How do you like it? It's alright, she answers, uncertain. He leads her to a small desk against the wall and turns to face us.  I hang back until he says, you come over too mom, pulling up another  black metal chair. We sit facing him with our backs to the room which is a relief. I don't know where to look. The cold edge of the metal chair is an anchor I cling to. I don't know what to do with my hands. He asks questions. When she will graduate? What does she want to do? What are her interests? Why? Why is she here? She sits up straight and rigid on the edge of her chair, a posture I never see her use. In response to a question, words come out of her mouth,
"Yes Sir."

I blink. Seriously? Who are you? I wonder to myself.

 They latch on to her Brazilian jiu jitsu training, as I knew they would, bringing up their extensive martial arts program. She tells them being an instructor would be her ultimate goal but we all know she would be used where they say she is needed most. She asks which path would be most likely to take her in that direction. He can't discuss that in detail, just yet,  but lets her know everyone is trained in martial arts. She may have a chance someday at this dream job. He finds out she is writer. We are both a little taken aback when he begins to recite Robert Frost. A piece of The Road Less Traveled. She could have finished it for him. She's too shy to presume to.

I listen and watch. With certain answers I see him sit up, a touch more alert. I know she is hitting it right. I know, because I have read and researched along with her. And I know they aren't just words. She is not saying what they want to hear. She is saying what is in her heart.

I tell myself, Don't Cry.

 To my surprise they send her into another room for a reading and math test. A preview of what would be on the real test. I thought maybe they would give her some pamphlets. Tell her they would see her at school and would talk some more over the coming year.

I watch her walk away, she is nervous. She wasn't expecting this either.

 The young mother has collected her child and left. I realize she was there casually. She knows them. She is one of them. I'm not sure what to do with myself. I feel disheveled and messy with my loose pony tail and crumpled linen jacket.  I feel like I've come for a job interview unprepared. I ask if I should go back to the couch. Oh no, he says, you can stay there.
 He begins to ask me questions about why I think she wants this and how we feel about it. I tell him we are hoping she will attempt the scholarship and go that route. He explains that she can also go that route at a later date with a recommendation or even just have tuition paid for whatever career she pursues. I tell him I stand behind her and her decision. I explain that her Dad is very upset and worried and that I am worried too. My pride is immeasurable but all it takes is to turn on a tv to set the fear in motion.

 Don't cry, I think.

But I am honest. I tell them she is very physical. That she enjoys being challenged and reaching a goal that she has to really work hard for.  That she is disciplined and focused when she has a goal. I tell them about how long she has been researching and what is important to her. Her values. The tiny young woman sitting at the other desk is listening intently. She asks questions too. She tells me,

"I think the writings on the wall, Mama."

I say, "I know."  I think, don't cry.

This young woman is small, with a round face sprinkled with pale freckles, her hair haphazardly pulled back in a ponytail. She seems benign. Calm. Down to earth and casual she feels like home compared the the starched and polished young man.  She seems very self assure. She tells me about herself. What she wanted. How she came there. Why she did.

I know this.

When she gets up to leave I notice the slogan on her t-shirt, Pain Is Weakness Leaving the Body.

When the test is over he checks her score and returns to announce that she blew it out of the water and it was about 45 points higher than the average. He is more alert than ever.
 He hands her a stack of plastic cards with writing on them. Some things, he says, some estimable people have stated were what they gained from being a part of this. Which, he asks her, best represent what you are looking for?

I read the cards as she shuffles through them and feel a little confused as she discards:

Physical fitness

Financial security, advancement, and benefits

Educational opportunities

Travel and adventure

Professional Development and opportunities

He stares for a moment silently at the cards she laid out:

Challenge

Pride of Belonging

Leadership and Management Skills

Self direction, self reliance, self discipline

Courage, poise, self confidence

My heart swells. I bite my lip. Don't Cry!

His eyes are more alert than ever as he points out the purpose of this exercise.
These things are Tangibles: Physical fitness, Technical skills, Financial security, advancement, and benefits, Educational opportunities, Travel and adventure.

They are things that you can accomplish through myriad avenues in life.

These things are Intangibles: Challenge, Pride of Belonging; Leadership and Management Skills;
Self direction, self reliance, self discipline; Courage, poise, self confidence; Professional Development and opportunities.

She laid down no Tangibles. She left one Intangible out: Professional Development and opportunities. One that can certainly be done in the regular workforce.
The other Intangibles can also be accomplished with many avenues in life but she isn't concerned with education and training for a job or career. She wants to fulfill these things for herself in the way she feels irresistibly called to do them.

She just wants to be a Marine.

By the time we leave she is ready to come back in six weeks and sign on the line for the moment she graduates. His face falls ever so slightly when I explain that we won't be allowing her to sign anything while she is still seventeen. It will be a year before this final decision is made. I would prefer she wait another year beyond that. I still don't know if I'm doing the right thing. I should support my daughter. I do. I also feel like Abraham offering her as a sacrifice.

On the way home we discuss once again what has been gone over dozens of times before. The fact that nothing is guaranteed. Not that you will ever be a martial arts trainer. Not that you won't be a paper pusher counting supplies. You do what they want. Not what you want. She says she knows she will probably get screwed over. She says she should just get a T Shirt that says, I'm about to be screwed over,  and then she laughs.  Horrible things can happen. I know that, she says. And she does know. And just like being screwed over she doesn't care.

When we get home the NROTC scholarship brochure she sent for has arrived in the mail along with a letter telling her, not that she was too young to get information, but that they were preparing the packet to send her when she turned seventeen. I would prefer this. She wants to do it the hard way.

I don't know how to describe the feeling this creates inside me. Inexhaustible Pride. Absolute Terror. They are intertwined and deeply rooted in my heart. My tears are always just at the rim of my eye only dammed by the depth of her desire.

She just wants to be a Marine.

Pride and Fear ask me..."What's that I see in your eye?"

© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

We Got The Blues

Last week was spring break. Since Middlest 'grew up', shopping has become more sedate around here and Littlest and I did what moms and teenagers do. We went shopping for summer clothes and Prom!  As a group we have all always felt that a long dress is most appropriate for prom. The first dress she chose was a  short, form fitting sheath and it looked amazing on her.  Very simple and elegant. But she thought she should go fancier. Well. Littlest tried on long, full, puffy, hitched up, jacked down, sleek, ruffled, bejeweled, glittered, and sequined. With each dress her frustration grew.  Lit is short and compact. She has an excellent figure and she is tight and muscular. She has phenomenal legs. There is nothing frail or ethereal about her.  She would stomp out of the dressing room with comments such as, "this looks ridiculous, this is hideous, this is skanky", and my favorite, "I look like a freakin cupcake." I stood outside the dressing room chuckling to myself because recently my friend Nicole at Help Mama Remote wrote a post that mentioned the possibility of Promzilla's. To which I blithely commented something along the lines of, I was glad that would never happen with my girls. *snicker*...feel free to snicker at me here { *******} : ) But thankfully, when I borrowed the phrase, 'Promzilla', things quieted down considerable. After the 4th store Littlest realized that long, full, puffy, hitched up, jacked down, sleek, ruffled, bejeweled, glittered, and sequined were just not for her and we returned to the first store for the very first dress she tried on. It was perfect. As Middlest said when Lit modeled it for her,
"God Lit, You're a knockout!" Yes, she is.

Not long ago I mentioned that Littlests' doctor suspected she had a stress fracture in her arm and Littlest was very upset because there was a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu tournament coming up. Well. She had a recheck and they still saw no sign of a fracture. By last week it seemed to be fine and so she said:

 "Nothing is going to stop me!"

And nothing did.

 This plaque was placed on her trophy.
A very Awesome Samurai Sword sheathed in Royal Blue.

But the best part?


It matches her prom dress perfectly ; )

Littlest took down two tough competitors without any points scored against her. They were both older than her and one outweighed her by at least 20 pounds. She was phenomenal. Especially when you consider she has been doing this less than a year. Her instructor calls her a natural. During her fights the guys she trains with, all men including 4 giant bald men covered in tattoo's, were cheering her on and taking pictures. Which just tickled me : ) She's like their little sister. Her instructor had been stuck in Brazil because of a canceled flight and when the guys sent him a text telling him Lit won her division, he replied asking them to tell her that when he gets back, she gets her Blue Belt. She deserved it. Hmm, wonder how it will look with the dress...


© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

Better Than a Purple Sash and Tiara

It's hard to believe that Littlest is nearly halfway through her sixteenth year. So much  about her seems to jump from twelve to thirty.  In good ways. Don't misunderstand me! In many ways she is an average teenage girl. She likes clothes. Cares about her hair and make-up. Listens to music. She has a boyfriend and likes to hang out with her...well... her one female friend she can abide. She has posters on the walls of her room....Marine Corp recruiting posters...not pop stars or kittens but.....posters anyway....

Three times a week, more if she is off from school, she walks in to a cinder block building with no heat or air and spars with grown men twice her size. Or the one woman who is a black belt and occasionally comes in. She revels in it. She is thrilled with her power and intimidated by nothing. She takes her lumps and savors them as a learning experience. Her eyes glitter with delight at what she accomplishes. She was in her first  Brazilian Jiu Jitsu match recently. It was just a small one but she did very well.  When we first walk in a guy from her class comes up grinning, tells her, "I feel sorry for whoever gets in there with The Technician." Yes. She already has a nickname with her classmates.  There wasn't anyone to evenly match with her. At five foot four and 127lbs. (of pure muscle) the closest to her size was a twenty four year old young man who was ranked one belt higher than her.  I watched, amazed at the fluidity of her movements. Surprised at the beauty of this dance of strength, skill and will. At the end she popped up slightly mussed, but calm cool and collected. Her opponent was red faced and out of breath. His hair standing straight up, his Gi falling off.  It was a draw and they both received a medal. Though when she went to her next class the instructor told her that as far as points went she had actually won.  I think there may have been some saving face for the more experienced student going on. But that is fine. It was her first time out and good practice for a larger tournament this spring.  She is very pleased with herself.

 At home, after the fight she happily carried her medal into her room. Later she came running in the kitchen, jumping up and down and waving her arms around.  Look, she exclaimed, I have a black eye!  Pulling her hair back from her forehead she exhibited a swollen,  deep purple blood vessel on her brow bone oozing  blue stains into her eyelid. I'm bruised, she shouted excitedly, clapping her hands. "I'm injured!" She grinned from ear to ear like she had just won Homecoming Queen.

That's my girl. : )


Moon Music





I'm gonna go find a place to hide from Littlest if she watches this video now.....



© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

The Transaction

It was a long frigid winter two years ago.

I never saw it coming. We had standards and beliefs. Hadn’t we given her enough?

Outside it was a dreary damp afternoon. Ice cold rain had been drizzling for hours. Safe in our warm cozy home I heard a firm knock on the front door. I watched, curious, as my husband opened up for the unexpected visitor. Who would be out in this weather?

He looms tall and sinister in the doorway, rain dripping from his long black trench coat. The collar turned up to meet a wild halo of frizzy black hair and his face, thin and somber partially hidden behind dripping fogged glasses making his dark eyes impossible to read . A deep voice echoes in the hall. “Is Littlest here?” Hesitant, my husband draws back a few steps.

“Littlest”, he calls out uncertainly, “there’s….. someone… here.”

His voice trails off into silence that spills into the entryway and expands until broken by the rapid beat of our fourteen year old daughters’ footsteps above.

“Oh” I hear her say as she peers over the banister, “just a minute.”

I’m puzzled now. She didn’t mention anyone coming over. What is he doing here? What does he want? She deftly descends the stairs holding something in her hand and approaches the dark figure. Saying nothing he opens his trench coat and slowly reaches inside. I see my husband tense slightly  as the stranger pulls something from deep within an inner pocket. His hand emerges holding a square black box. There are wires springing from one end and wrapped around the outside. Our youngest child stops abruptly,  holding out a small paper bag at arms length. They cautiously and swiftly make the exchange without physical contact. He opens the bag and peers inside, nodding as though to confirm that it's all there and carefully tucks it into the recesses of the trench coat. “Thanks”, Littlest says quietly. The stranger dips his head in acknowledgement and turns away, disappearing into the mist.

My husband stands at the door confused.

“What was all that”,  he asks?

Littlest answered brightly. "That was H. He rides my bus. He doesn’t use his Game Cube anymore and said I could have it because he has an Xbox now, so I made him some cookies.

Oh yes. I did recognize the perfectly average boy I've seen get off the bus in the afternoon.

We are 'mean' parents. My daughters do not own a lot of fancy gadgets. They don't have an iPhone or Androids. Just plain cheap cell phones. The fact that they break or lose at least one a year confirms this decision.  Lit has an older model iPod that DecentGuy gave her but we will not purchase one. A perfectly reasonable MP3 player can be had for twenty five bucks. They each have a PC but they don't have laptops. Littlest did get a Nintendo ds as a birthday gift a couple years ago but the last full system we purchased was a PlayStation 2 and that will be it.  If they want something fancier they can save and buy it themselves someday. They had asked for a Game Cube for the sole purpose of playing ONE game on it. Even though they were already down in value we vetoed, saying it wasn't worth spending the money for one game and they had enough stuff anyway.

So yes it’s true.

Our poor deprived children resorted to Bartering With Baked Goods.



© 2012 All Rights Reserved by MOTPG

That Littlest Girl

I thought I would continue the theme of picking on Littlest. Something very strange has been happening to her recently and has come to a head this week..
Littlest is what you might call a slightly late bloomer. At least by today's standards. She has never been the flirty type and held herself in reserve when it came to boys. She turned her nose up at the constant boyfriend switching her friends participated in during middle school. She rolled her eyes at Middlest whenever she proclaimed herself  'In love '-Again. In her early teens she focused her affection on a boy who barely knew she was alive for a long time and was satisfied with adoring him from afar. Until she got close enough to really know him and that was the end of that. She has always been the exact opposite of boy crazy and because of her aloof manner unfortunately attracted boys who were inappropriately to old for her for some time. She would deftly avoid the situation until they went away.

She hasn't necessarily been happy being boyfriend-less though. For a long time she lacked confidence, feeling Middlest was prettier than her and got more attention from boys. Starting about the middle of ninth grade and continuing on through her sophomore year she created her mantra:

"I'm Going To Die ALONE"

She even carved it in our picnic table.

Finally, last September when she became a Junior, a boy whom she has actually known some time got the nerve up to ask her out. I have mentioned this briefly before and they are still an item.

But. As soon as she became happily ensconced in having someone to sit with at lunch and hold hands with in the hall something started to happen.

It started with a boy she liked briefly last year who chose a slightly more.... 'wild' girl instead. After realizing and discarding his mistake he found Littlest otherwise occupied and um..cried.

There was the one who also was interested in Jiu Jitsu and was harboring some hope during the 'Homecoming  Incident.' but had to back away.  He is suffering from terminal jealousy and Today he very meanly asked Lit's boyfriend if ,  "he was embarrassed that his girlfriend could beat him up." The boyfriend is a quiet boy. He didn't respond. The other is pretty lucky they were at school because Littlest might have beat him up instead.

 Then. There is a...young man, now I guess, who has been pining for Middlest for twelve years. Starting in 1st grade. No Joke. He has been Middlests boyfriend in 5th & 8th grade and for a short time during Sophomore year. In between they were just buddies and wrestled and threw rocks at each other in the front yard or complained about the people they Were dating. This is a great kid. The kind any parent of girls would Love their daughter to date.  The kind Most Girls would knock themselves out trying to catch. There is even family history. His mom dated The SeaMonkey briefly in High School.... then again, who didn't?...but anyway....He's a terrific kid but all the same Mid says,

"I can't date him anymore because he's like my brother."

 So. Recently he found out Littlest has been working out at the same gym and suggested they start working out together because he couldn't find anyone else as dedicated as he is. So they did.
 Now Littlest has been in the middle of all the wrestling and rock throwing all along but apparently his eyes just opened and it took about a week for him to fall for Littlest instead.
 (Can you say, Little Women?..I knew you could.)

That would be Littlest who says... "No, I'm happy with my boyfriend...and

 "I can't date him. He's like my brother."

 I told The SeaMonkey we should have had more daughters to give him a few more shots at being related to us since he seems determined ; )

Littlest was relieved that he is transferring to an out of state college this week because she likes having him as a friend and felt bad. He isn't giving up easy though. he left her with a care package. A backpack full of Ramen noodles, chocolate, martial arts movies, some spare shin guards and a Hello Kitty pillow. Oh, and a three page letter explaining how Awesome she is.
 Very industrious this one. But then, he knows her very well.

Still. According to Littlest, no one can beat her guitar playing, theatre performing, dorky, long haired boy who likes to sport a fedora and a vest and gave her a giant Key Blade for Christmas, (pretty much the key to her heart) even if she is stronger than him.

But as for the young lady who despaired that she wasn't attractive and was certain that she would never find love and

"Will Die Alone"

I Think Not ; )


Moon Music

© 2012 All Rights Reserved

You Are What You...Are

Life With Littlest

She says:

"I don't want to 'be' an artist. It's Middlests' thing."

It is her sisters thing. But I tell her,  "Sometimes it's not a question of trying or becoming or even loving it more than anything else." Sometimes it's a case of :

You ARE

You can have fun with it if you want to.

You can even combine it with what you really love.

It doesn't have to be your life's work...BUT

"The simple fact is, You ARE Failing Art!"


How, you may ask, do you Fail Art?!

It goes something like this:

"I can't just do something every day because I'm supposed to. I don't know how the 'elements and principles played a part in the creation of my piece'. I can't analyze the deep meaning of my work. It's a picture. I did it. That's all."

I tell her: "Everything doesn't have to be a masterpiece. Just make an effort and write what you think they want to hear about it. It doesn't have to be perfect."

  "Yes it does."

MmmHmmm......

My normal response to Very Bad grades is:

Then you ARE Grounded.


What do you think, Moms and former High School students?

Should you ground or punish for failed electives? It may not be related to their goals in life but it all goes into the GPA.

If it doesn't change by report card time is she grounded?




© 2012 MOTPG All Rights Reserved

Now, Where Was I....

Oh. Yes. After harassing Bleeps department store I left on my trip.  Now that I returned last night and made a mad dash to the store for turkey and stuff,  alleviating  my anxiety that they would be out of those little white heat and serve rolls, and am under the influence of over a weeks worth of laundry, I can take a moment between cycles to catch up.

I left just at the moment of the full moon and so was not able to give my monthly report. However, being away did not stop the lunacy at all and I can now share Novembers events.

First, and simplest of all, the night before I left,

Biggest called.

And told me I have a new grandchild.

His name is Eugene. He is approximately 7 to 8 weeks old. We weren't home an hour before she was calling to see if she could bring him over. Apparently Eugene's Mama was carrying him across a road when a jerk in a truck almost hit her and she dropped Eugene and ran into the woods. A nice lady saw this and stopped to get him out of the road but Eugene's mama never came back so she scooped him up and the natural magnetism of the earth aided by the full moon brought her in the direction of Biggest.
Now Eugene has a new Mama.

We also had some teenage drama in the week before I left. The night before I left , a Thursday, was Homecoming week at Littlests' school. She and her boyfriend had mutually decided that wasn't their bag. However Lits' boyfriend has a female friend that Littlest just barely abides, because she doesn't trust her. So. This young lady kept lamenting the fact that she was not going to Homecoming so pitifully, and pathetically, and constantly that a few days before Homecoming Lits boyfriend took pity on her and volunteered to take her and sent Littlest a message letting her know and asking if since he was going anyway did she want to tag along too.

Yeah.

The sequence of reactions from both Littlests' friends and family went some thing like this:

What? Dump him. Can he really be that dense? He can't be that dense?

Yes. He. Can.

So she dumped. They both cried. Then he must have performed some kind of desperate gesture because within 24 hours He was not going to Homecoming and Thursday night he was hanging out at our house with Littlest,  watching movies. Wait...wait...this is the full moon part...During the course of the evening...

I Heard Her GIGGLE- I've been sworn to secrecy but that's why I'm anonymous.

Last of all. I may have mentioned Middlests' singing before. Mid has a full rich voice that could grace a mezzo soprano diva. And the pitch of....a toddler with a wiffle ball.  If she sings along with someone she does ok but otherwise it is something akin to a cat fight.  She was able to tune her instruments by ear with no problem. Maybe playing in bass clef all those years confused her brain. I bought the girl an Irish whistle on our trip and in less than 24 hours she has worked out,  Oh Danny Boy and part of the theme song to Lord of the Rings. I don't know what the disconnect is with her vocal cords but one of the things I love about her is that it doesn't stop her. She sings her heart out. It doesn't matter where either. She often sings while walking or riding her bike down the road. Which leads me to the phone call I received from her while I  was gone. It went like this.

Mom. I'm walking home from work and first that stray cat started following me again and I was walking along with him and was singing and was halfway thru the cut through neighborhood and three police cars suddenly came tearing up and stopped to question me because someone reported I was walking down the road threatening to kill myself.

What?! What did they say?

They said someone called and then they asked if I was alright and where I was coming from and where I was going and made me show them my ID.  I told them I was perfectly happy I was just going home and singing. Then they asked if that was my cat and I said no.

What on earth were you singing?

Nothing really. Just some Rancid ........

and The Hare Krishna Song.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As for The SeaMonkey and I we had a wonderful time. It has been over two years since we went on a vacation and visited the mountains. And though we do get to travel for business and spend some time together we realized it had actually been ten years since we have been able to go on a vacation trip together. Just us. That was way overdue and though we missed our girls at certain landmarks it was nice We really needed it.


We drove to Virginia where there were still a few pockets of gorgeous fall color and then followed the Blue Ridge Parkway down to North Carolina and across to Tennessee where we played in The Smokies for several days. We had some lovely cold weather and I sat on my rock.

This is my rock.

And I could play with all the smaller rocks to my hearts content.





We had a couple days of really good rain and the rivers swelled and were raging. And then best of all, up in the mountains of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, It Snowed!  I know many of you live in places where the trees become bare and it snows tons so winter isn't a big deal but to people who don't get a serious winter it can be very exciting. That morning it snowed for four hours leaving about a 1/4 inch on the ground and getting drifts of maybe 1/2 inch! ; ) Snow does something to natural born Floridians and others from warmer climates. For four hours we played around in the snow and watched others do the same. All ages, young and old, acting silly, taking pictures, throwing snow, catching snow, dancing around in snow and just watching in wonder as it fell on us. It was as much fun as playing in it to drive past and watch a group of people with cameras and looks of pure delight on their faces jumping around in ecstasy and joy. We craned our necks to check as we passed. Yep. Florida tags : ) 

The next morning there were still a few pockets in the shaded places and I did what any good Southerner would do with a wealth of half inch of snow

Made the worlds smallest snowman!

I had my fall and winter all in one week and it was wonderful : )

I told The SeaMonkey I was going to have all the snow pictures blown up, paste them to the windows and have my own personal white Christmas. But even if it ends up being 80 I am feeling Refreshed and Blessed and Thankful beyond words. Bring on The Holidays! I'm ready.

 HAVE A HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

and if you're one of my friends from outside the US, have a Wonderful Week in general and eat some turkey anyway, just cause it's Awesome ; )



Then Sings My Soul. Those might be the words.

© 2011 All Rights Reserved

 

Sweet Pea Soup

My Sweet Pea is Sixteen. Once again, how did this happen?  I call Littlest my star. She is one. She completed my universe. The Sun the Moon the Star. My daughters. I also call her my Sweet Pea. My Curmudgeon. Old soul. Gentle heart. Tough cookie. I try to find a word that truly describes her. The closest I can come up with is Complicated.

She has so many ingredients that it seems like they would clash. Sweet and sour like her favorite Asian foods. A complex creation that creates a perfect blend.

My quirky kid who has big goals. The one who melts into a puddle of mush when confronted with babies but spends an hour a day punching a bag. The one who sings like an angel and has awesome biceps. The one who bakes cakes and plans to serve her country in the military. The one who is a wonderful writer and talented artist and wants to be a psychiatrist.
The one that sparkles even though she would hide behind a cloud. The child who absorbs the pain she sees around her and has such empathy for those who are hurting or victims of injustice that the feeling sometimes overwhelms her. And thinks 'people suck'.

The one who cries easily when she is angry or very stressed. The one who is immovable when she sets her mind. The kid who cried her eyes out when she transferred schools last year because they couldn't get her schedule straight. The one who this year came home ranting because due to a scheduling glitch the school put her in Honors English instead of AP Language Arts and that the girl next to her didn't know what a simile was and hadn't read a book all summer and said "reading was stupid"! And when the school still hadn't fixed her schedule by Thursday parked herself in the Guidance Office and refused to move till they fixed it. And they did. Even the school cowered before her. As soon as they realized this tiny person who is cute as a button would not be given the run around and is packed with a steel will.
 Good Job Sweet Pea I'm Proud of you!

The one who loves to watch UFC and Project Runway but mostly Dr. Who. The one who drove me nuts reading Manga crap for years but read and loved East of Eden and The Good Earth this summer!! Yay!!

She is a fighter. She fought for life when she was born. She came out swinging and has never stopped since.
Except when she sees babies or puppies or kittens........

So is she the sweet child who gives me hugs and bakes me brownies or the kid who makes me want to bang my head against a brick wall because she is so stubborn?
Both of course. Because she's complicated.

 Happy Sweet Pea Sixteen!!! because I know that's your favorite nickname... ; )

For the one who says,

"Big Deal. I'm still only sixteen"

Yes. It's A Big Deal! And I still haven't figured out how to make a cake that looks like a Tardis but I'm trying. I might need your help.

Always hard to find the perfect song for you but I thought this would do.

Oh, and how was Language Arts today?

Happy Birthday Littlest. I would try to explain all the ways I love you but it would be way too complex and complicated.  I know you know, I do.
 Even though when I said it this morning you proclaimed it, "Lies! All Lies!!" ; )


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Problem Solved

Being  a parent means being a problem solver. I have been through so many situations where I had to search for the answers that I can't count them. But this is one I wouldn't have guessed.


"Could you do something about Nan?"

These are the words Littlest put to her Dad recently.

"She won't stop trying to tell me I shouldn't join the Marines and now she decided I'm a lesbian."

Ok. Awkward.

Some stuff about Littlest.

 Littlest is not a girly girl. She likes to wear a dress and heels occasionally and she uses makeup and perfume. She likes being a girl. She is feminine. She is also strong. She is very self possesed and composed. She isn't 'silly' about boys but she likes them.  She just isn't a..well...girly girl. But then, neither am I.

She will say just about Anything at home, to us. She won't say much to anyone else. My mother in law is a loving, caring, helpful woman who will sometimes run with an idea without knowing all her facts. She can be a little overbearing. She sometimes butts in a little too much when it comes to the girls personal business so they have started being a little more discreet. ( Like having Middlest in tears one time because she overheard a group of teenagers talking about a boy with the same name as Mids boyfriend cheating on his girlfriend, even though she had no idea who these kids were or whether it could be the same boy.) She sometimes can't take a hint and her feelings get hurt if you are too blunt with her.

A predicament.

"When you were gone and she was driving me to Jujitsu she said, Aunt B said that she was worried about me because I remind her of herself at this age.  She always felt like Aunt A was prettier, like I feel about Mid, so she is right about that but she is afraid I have low self esteem. So now Nan thinks I'm a lesbian too.  At first I thought she was starting on the Marines again but then I realized she thinks I'm a lesbian and I don't know if Aunt B thinks that too but Nan kept bringing up how Aunt B felt when she was growing up and talking like she thought I was having the same issues. She didn't say it out right but I could tell that's what she was getting at. "

 Ok. Littlest reminds me of Aunt B too. She always has.  Similar strengths and similar insecurities. Aunt B is one of the coolest young women I have ever met. She has traveled the world, she is a fire fighter,  she is super smart and in incredible shape. She is not a girly girl either but she is feminine as well. She has accomplished an amazing amount for someone who is just turning 30. I have known her since she was 5 and I adore her. I see her perseverance in everything she attempts and pushing herself to be her best mirrored in Littlest a great deal. I consider her an excellent role model for my daughters.
 Both she and her life partner are beautiful and accomplished women.

With Lit I see the same kind of persistence and dedication to what she is doing. She looks a lot like Aunt B and since she has been seriously working out, seeing her start to cut in with muscle tone just enhances it.  Lit keeps Marine Corp. recruitment posters on her wall as inspiration to get up early in the morning to swim and lift weights. Um, I'm sure the fact that they are all handsome young men has nothing to do with it ; ) But, when Nan was driving her to her Jiujitsu Dojo, which is All Guys except for Lit, she must have escaped noticing the mention of someone affectionately referred to as Monkey Ears and the fact that Lit's Gi (martial arts uniform) recently starting smelling a whole lot like Liz Claiborne Curve. But then again, Lit probably doesn't mention  it because she doesn't want it to become another topic for Nan to butt in on.

Since Littlest is a private person, she doesn't share her personal thoughts with extended family much. I don't know if they realize that she does talk to me a lot and the fact is, though they love her, they haven't spent a great deal of time with her and really don't know her that well. I had noticed she was avoiding spending time with her Grandmother.  She actually was sad about it because she loves her and usually enjoys her company but she was driving her crazy.

 So Seamonkey and I were a little floored (and trying not to laugh because we already know the answer) and we said,
" Well, let's start with this, just to make sure."

"Are you? Are you sure? It's ok if you are. You can tell us : )"

To which Lit, who will say Anything to Us, looked at us with pure disdain and flatly answered,

"I Enjoy Shirtless Men."

To which The SeaMonkey left the room and I snorted... just a little.

I suggested she just tell her Grandmother flat out that she was barking up the wrong tree and to please climb down it but she felt uncomfortable and didn't know what to say. Plus,

"She won't listen. She will just keep talking about it every time I'm with her. Just like with the Marines, she won't quit and I don't want to seem like I'm being rude to her. She's my Grandmother. "

A dilemma.

So I pondered for awhile and I Got IT!

"You have two years before you do anything. Tell Nan that you haven't decided for sure whether you want to go in the Marines after all but you are keeping the Marine Corp recruiting posters up on your wall because you think the guys are really hot."

Two birds with one stone.

Problem Solved.

Next?

So obviously that isn't a real solution.  Though it's all we have so far and may actually be the easiest solution. This requires careful stepping. How do you manage sticky situations within extended family?



For awhile we have had songs that Big and Mid feel speak for them. We couldn't find one that defines how Lit feels because, as she explained it, "I am just too Awesome for anyone to manage it".

But then she found it.

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