Wednesday, January 31, 2007

She's Just Saying.....

After leaving the doctor's office yesterday, we headed to Chick F. to get some quick supper. We were driving off of the base when to my left I noticed a guy running.

Nothing new about that. People are constantly running around the base for exercise and P.T.

There was something different about this guy. He was wearing a backpack that appeared to be heavy.

Paige: Why is he wearing a back pack while running?

Me: He might be training for something and wants to get used to the weight.

Paige: PFT. The only way you'll catch me running with a backpack is if I'm late for class and I ain't running that fast because then I'll be all hot and sweaty and nasty but that's not too bad for him because he's kinda hot and stuff and it, like, looks good on him but I ain't gonna run with no backpack.

Point taken.

Me: You know I'm going to blog about this.

Paige: Yeah, I know. But I'm still not gonna run with a backpack.

Bummed Ankle

I must mention that Paige decided to be a Light Bright this past Saturday. There was a skateboard left on the cul de sac playground and she thought she could just hop on it and ride. She did. For a few feet. Then she fell. And Fred admits to laughing at her until he realized she was injured.

*insert injured ankle right about now*

After she broke her foot a couple of summers ago, I knew she hadn't broken it. Back then, she literally threw up from the pain. She says she didn't. I know she did. Don't listen to her. I know she did.

I finally got her an appointment yesterday. They immediately did an X-ray. No broken bones. She was diagnosed with a severe sprain and put on crutches for 10 days. The Lieutenant was great and I wouldn't mind using him as a doctor again. We're to go visit him again in 10 days so he can check to see if healing is going well.

Everything was cool. Until she tried to use the crutches. Not so cool then. Girls just aren't made with good upper body strength. I had it at one time because I worked like a dog with weight training....but it sure wasn't just something that happened naturally.

We had a war of sorts this morning. Suffice it to say that I am the world's worse Mom EVAH. I wasn't going to make her use the crutches because she was walking okay. I just wanted it elevated during class. Then she opened her mouth.

Why did she do that?

She opens mouth and out comes smart comments. It's like cocaine. She's addicted or something to it.

She says....You better hope I don't see anyone from the doctor's office because I'll tell them you won't make me use my crutches.

Oh yeah?

Go get them.

We then proceeded to have war over the fact that she didn't want to use them and the fact that she opened her mouth and now she was. There were raised voices. A few tears on her part. A stubborn set mouth on mine.

Fred took her to school with crutches.

I emailed her teachers and asked that she be MADE to elevate her foot. Yes, I did.

She's worse than a boy about getting injured. I've never known a girl to get hurt like this one and she doesn't even play sports!! Or walk fast!

She's not even 13 yet. Maybe I ought to go ahead and invest in graduated sized crutches and a wheel chair.

Just in case.

Monday, January 29, 2007

Quick Navy Lesson

I must respond to a question asked by someone. I was asked how could I not know that a neighbor in the cul de sac was out to sea.

We don't talk about it. It's that simple.

Lesson 1:

Surface floats are called ships. They are fondly referred to as "targets" by the submarine community. You can't hide one of those suckers if you tried. Therefore, their schedules aren't exactly hidden or kept too secret. That's why you see grand homecomings on the news when they pull in.

Submarines are called boats. Why the difference, I'm not sure. Please don't make the mistake of confusing the names. It tends to ruffle feathers of both surface guys and subbies.

Lesson 2:

Submarines are called the Silent Service. They are stealthy creatures. Able to go in take care of business and be far away before CNN even smells them. Their comings and goings are not discussed. Not in public. No grocery store talk or Walmart chit chat. Not even over the phone. You may talk in "code" with another sub wife. It's a hard language to learn.

You do not know when they're coming in until they are 24 hours or less out from port. You truly don't even know when your guy leaves out. He may report to the boat at 6 a.m., and they could leave at 7 a.m. or the next day. It's really tight.

Conversation between me and neighbor whose hubby is out at the moment.

Me: What happens when a submarine has a leak?

Her: You come back in to port to fix it and let a newbie who freaked out over it off of the boat!

Me: So when is your hubby flying out on vacation?

Her: Sometime in the next couple of days.

We may know when hubbies are gone. We may not. Usually you can guess if you pay attention, but you don't BRING attention to it.

Back at Christmastime, one of our boats was out on patrol. A neighbor friend said she got a call around the 20th telling her that if she had plans to go out of town....she might not want to go...because things happen and such. Talk about frustrating. Many holiday travel plans were suspended and plane tickets lost to get a day with a sailor. So goes this life. You piss. You moan. You deal.

One friend had a gender telling ultrasound planned. Her hubby got home in time to go with her. (It's a BOY! YaY Coty and Tristan!!)****Sometimes it works in your favor...sometimes it doesn't.

This concludes your Navy lesson for the day. That's why I didn't know Mr. Neighbor Across the Cul de Sac was gone and that he had returned until the sign was posted. Signs are allowed day of arrival.

And I may piss. I may moan. But, I deal. I'm very proud of the boys* here. It takes a special breed of sailor to ride a submarine.\

*I specifically say boys because the United States is the only country left that does NOT allow women to serve on subs. Let's see. Enclosed vessel. Close quarters. Nope, do not have a problem with it at all.

***I kept coming back and reading this post because something wasn't setting right with me. I misspelled Coty's name!!!!!! Girl, I am so sorry. Spell check don't cover you! *Will buy you cafe mocha to make up for it*

Like, Okay

I know teens talk in their own language. I did it. Drove my mom crazy.

But, I do get tired of the word LIKE being abused frequently by Paige. She was trying to talk to me one night last week, I believe it was.

Finally, I told her to say five sentences without the word like in it. Only five.

She couldn't do it. Until.......

Paige: I can't say one sentence.

Paige: Whoa! That was one sentence!

Paige: Wait! That was two sentences!

Paige: Ha Ha!! That was three sentences!

I just looked at her when she got to five. How proud she was! How smart she is!

I'm, like, clueless about this child sometimes.

Family Time

Friday afternoon Paige came to us with incredibly HUGE blue pleading eyes. Apparently this movie was coming out. Dude, it's like EPIC and everyone is going and I seriously need to go so I'm not like a social misfit and will totally be able to take part in conversations Monday at school. PLEASE please please don't make me miss it.


My baby is going to be 13 in April. She will be a teenager. I know I need to cut the string but it's so freaking hard when all I can remember is her 3lb 2oz self lying in an incubator. The love and need to protect her from all harm and foe that flowed unexpectedly through my hormonal veins then is no different now. I see danger for my children that they could never see and my nightmares of them being abducted and taken from my bosom haunt me quite frequently.

Okay. Enough of the dramatics.

We let her go. Dropped her off at the front door with goofy looking boys and squealing girls. Made sure she had her cell phone and drove off. Got some Sonic and made a quick trip to Walmart. As we headed home, I text messaged her (because I'm all cool and stuff and know how to text talk really well*) and told her to call and let us know AS SOON as the movie was over.

She called about 30 minutes later and I set off to get her. Back in South Carolina we lived 30-45 minutes away from a theater. It's still a marvel for me to only have to drive 5-10 minutes to get to one now.

When I drove up, there had to be the biggest group of young teens I've ever seen outside of her school. I believe every single one of them went to see this stupid movie. Then I counted 3 cop cars. Oh, really now?

Here she come to the van all giggly and bouncy with two friends. I was properly introduced before we left to come home. It seems the theater lets the cops come in and "supervise" large crowds. I believe they wear the uniform and get a free movie pass to look all official. What ever works. I don't have a problem with it. She had a ball. I believe she did some growing up right in front of my eyes.

Now comes Saturday night. Heh heh heh.

Fred deemed it Family night. We were all going to sit and watch the movie Cars. As a family. Boy, that ticked Paige off. She wanted to hibernate in her room. Listen to music. Talk on the phone with her friends. Nope. Her presence was required in the living room for movie viewing. She got to do her thang on Friday night. Saturday night belonged to the family.

She huffed. She puffed. Fred held his ground. Makenna popped popcorn. We all settled in.

Until the cars come on. Then Vitt was in testosterone heaven. They were fast. He had to get up and show us all how fast he could go. He almost took out a door and stool in his excitement. Finally, he was settled and we sat to enjoy the movie.

Mid-way through I stepped out to make a cup of coffee and whatnot. I was gone too long. Paige came hunting me and said I HAD to get back in there.....I was missing good stuff!

Is that right?

So, Family Night was a success. Vitt passed out half-way through. Full of popcorn and milk.
Thank Goodness. Our house can't take a two year old who acts like he's on speed.

*You can ask anyone who calls my cell and gets voice mail. I inform them right off that I probably won't check my voice mail, but will get a text quickly. Goes with the territory of having a text freak child.

Friday, January 26, 2007

An Apology and Complaint

Dear Ms. Neighbor Across the Cul de sac,

I am so sorry for talking smack about you. Not really to anyone but my husband, but still it was wrong. Yeah, I thought it was so not cool to leave your Christmas tree up WAYYYYYYY into January. I even snorted at you being too lazy to take it down. I figured you were taking the "if I leave it up I won't have to put it back up in November" route.

Then I saw the "WELCOME HOME" sign in your front yard a few days ago. And I knew. That tree was waiting on your sailor to make it back home from deployment.

I would have left mine up, too.

Welcome Home Mr. Neighbor Across the Cul de Sac.

Teensy little complaint here.

Does anyone know how to get in touch with the soup makers? So I can let them know that they don't HAVE TO PUT CELERY IN EVERY FREAKING CAN OF SOUP THEY MAKE? That many people can not seriously like celery.

Thank You, Lord, for Cambells' Chicken Noodle Soup. They keep it simple and classic. I won't stray again.

School Time

Miss Hope has been in school! For three days this week, I attended a class for Navy wives. Very educational. Very enlightening. I learned alot, but I am so glad it's over.

The only way I was able to attend what's called the Compass class was because they provided free child care. And snacks. And coffee. From 9 a.m. until 1 p.m. Tuesday through Thursday, I had unlimited coffee and diet coke.... candy bars. Someone else watched Vitt and kept him entertained two doors down the hall.

One day I learned how to read my husband's pay stub. Just one look at a military pay stub is enough to cause pains in the chest region if you've never seen one before. There's pay for this. Pay for that. Then there's the take away. Uncle Sam hits the military member so that you can't ever forget him. It amazes me that not only do they own you body and soul, but if a computer or user malfunction over pays you (God forbid!) can wipe you out without any prior notice. Put it this way. If the military owes you X amount of dollars....they can take their own sweet time paying you back. If they over pay you? One fell swoop can make your family starve for a month. It's alot of ups, downs, sideways, and backwards that I can't even begin to explain.

I was one of the oldest there. There were so many 18-20 year olds. ~shakes head~ These are girls who mostly just graduated and got married. How sad. They have no clue how to do anything and just don't know how to go about learning HOW to do it. One girl told me she hadn't had a pap smear in 2 years because Tricare (military insurance) just overwhelms her. I have her number and will be calling. We had graduation Thursday, complete with cake and certificates. I was the first one called and I made sure I made my valedictorian speech. I wanted these girls to understand that it's okay to be married, but you have to take care of yourself!

And another thing. You women out there who get up each and every day? You get your kids ready while getting your own self ready to go out and work? You have my admiration. Because it literally kicked my butt getting it all straight. I had clothes done at night. We were put on a tight schedule so that no one had a nasty butt. I informed Fred last night that I was going NOWHERE today. Laundry waits for no woman.

And to think I'm probably going to volunteer for this program. Get the word out to other women.

Hey, it's free child care and unlimited snacks. Count me in.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

A Good Wife

She may not know how to cook. She may not know how to clean. She may even forget you exist when she gets lost in her own world from time to time.

All I know is Makenna LOVES action movies. She loves japanimation cartoons. To obsession. She carries on a dialogue with the characters and voices her opinion. She'd rather watch a car race/crash and good fighting over smoochy smoochy any day of the week.

Yeah, she'll make some lucky boy a good wife someday.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Passionate about Art

I still stand by the notion that my son will be a tattoo artist one day. Or have many put upon his body.

All markers and pens are fair game in our house. We literally have to buy a new pack for school projects every time. The Boy can sniff out ink in any form. Like his blood is made of it. We all get so tired of trying to hide them, we just trash every one we come across.

Enter the Magna Doodle. I told Santa the boy needed something to write with and on that would not send me into Magic Eraser (good stuff!) mode every 30 minutes.

He loves it. He will write and erase for minutes at a time. The ability to make it disappear is just amazing to his bright eyes.

I come around the corner into the East Wing a while ago and I see him on the floor in front of the t.v. Very engrossed in his show. Beside him sits the Magna Doodle. Suddenly he is focused on writing. Furiously. Like he has to write or die!!

He then takes the attached pen of the Doodle and tries to write on the wall. Nothing. He writes on the Doodle. There is a black line. He tries to write on the wall again. Nothing. He shakes the "pencil" and tries yet again. Nothing.

Eyebrows are deeply furrowed in concentration. I stand behind him quietly to see what he will do next.

He THEN gets up. Moves the coffee table. There is an orange crayon. Stashed away. He picks up the crayon and heads to the wall.

"UH UH UH UH!!!" I say. Loudly. He is shaken.


I hold my hand out and he looks at the crayon. He looks at me. A deep mournful sigh comes from his belly and he hands the crayon over.

He then sits back down and is immediately engrossed in his show again.

I'm adding to my notion. We'll probably have to bail him out of jail a few times for graffiti. I guess when the feeling hits....ya just gotta go with it.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Construction Site

As you can tell...there is some construction going on from the Edge here.

I've finally been compelled to play around with blogger and see what she can do. I'm not saying it's all good or it's even bad. Just something different to see when you're visiting.

You will also see a small list of blogs that I like to check out on a regular basis. Please be aware that not all of you will like what I have chosen. Some have some language. will. This boy is already raised and there's nothing I can do about him. He is a friend, though, and we're both trying to raise boys. 'Nuff said on that. (Did I word that okay, Hung?) Oh, and he's the KING of 80's music. He puts up lots of good stuff for your viewing pleasure. Mr. Cookie's blog is a treat. He makes me laugh on a regular basis. Even Fred takes a gander at his site. Crazy Me is probably what I would have been if I had never gotten married and got my kids (which I wouldn't trade for anything!). And check out the Fashion Police site. Women will probably appreciate this more, but these girls are harsh. Love it.

There are at least a dozen more I read religiously, but they're BIGTIME. Like, getting around 5000 hits a day kind of sites. I might put a few up later on. Let me play around with this thing more.

If you want your link put up, let me know.

I'm working on posting some pictures now. No promises because I know just enough about computers to be dangerous. To the computer.

I was getting help with this new technology from Hung via a messenger and I finally told him this was too much like work and I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.


The results are in.

Are you ready?

Paige made a 100 on her power point!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her Aunt Mar says she got the computer genius from her.

Paige agrees.

All I know is she got a 100 in a gifted class and it's a major grade.

That's my girl.


*my nickname for my baby

p.s. Michelle, I know you're reading this. You CAN make a comment if you want. Everyone in internet land would love to hear from you. My secret counter on this blog shows lots and lots of lurkers. Now how fair is that?

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Burn Me a New One

Go ahead. Burn me a new one. I don't care.

Fred and I have "spirited discussions" about the military from time to time. Today, at lunch, was the scene of another one. I'm just not a conformist by nature. It's not that I set out to be difficult, because I really don't. (I heard that snort out there in internet land) I just have my own opinions and thoughts on subjects. I' m not even saying I'm always right, but I know how I feel.

We were discussing one of the boys in our Navy. Apparently he doesn't want to be in the military anymore and decided to take off for parts unknown.* Did you know after so many days, the Navy (or any branch of service) will put out a sort of A.P.B. to all police departments in the country. If this guy gets stopped for anything or is involved with police in any way, they can run his license and the lovely message "WANTED BY THE MILITARY" shows up. He is immediately arrested on the spot.


So, I just climbed up on my horse and proceed to ask my husband, "So what then? They bring him back to be put in jail because he didn't want to work for you anymore?" And I swear my husband must think the house is bugged or something. Or he could be working on his political career. Who knows. But, he gives these pat answers that are neither negative or positive. Just an acknowledgement I've said something. He tells me that if these rules weren't in place, people would just up and leave.

Spank that horse and get him running.

Then I reply.."What does that tell you about how our military is run then? That people....if given the opportunity to leave with no serious repercussions...would leave in droves."

Of course Mr. Navy replies that he doesn't feel that would happen. And our military would go down the tubes if it did. That's why there are rules!

Giddy-up, Hoss.

Big sigh on my part. I told him it was babysitting a bunch of kids. Which in a sense it is to the new ones coming in. They may have that "I'm-A-Man" or "I'm-A-Woman" complex going on, but the truth of the matter is: They still can't walk in the store and buy a beer. They can shoot a gun, kill a person, launch a grenade, and wear camouflage. I don't say this to offend anyone in the young age bracket. You just don't know jack. Nothing. Seriously.

Then came a small discussion on brainwashing. It's obvious that the army and marines have to brainwash to a certain degree. Well, to me it's obvious. I think there's a conspiracy theory in that when these kids get inoculated in boot camp- they give them a shot of something that kills a part of the rational brain so they're able to walk into dangerous situations with real bullets. It kills or numbs the rational part so they are enabled to kill or be killed.

I got serious thoughts on this stuff, people.

Lord only knows what they shot in my husband's butt when he was in boot camp. Hopefully it's worn off 17 years later. I told him he was now the brainwashER instead of the brainwashEE.

And can you believe he STILL loves me? My mouth overloads my butt on a regular basis and he STILL wants to hang out with me. Hmmm. Must be the pot roast that keeps him hanging around.

*Please understand that Fred does discuss work with me from time to time. He never mentions names and nitty gritty details. I don't want to know the particulars- it won't benefit my life in any way.

Friday, January 12, 2007

Power to the Point

Just when I think she's quit amazing me for a while.

Paige is self-taught smartness. She's so freaking independent. If there's something she doesn't understand....she hacks and hacks at it until she figures it out. This can be good. This can definitely be bad sometimes.

She's finding her niche in the gifted class. She's a point away in each class from having an A. Normally this would freak me out because I insist on all A's. Someone was kind and gracious enough to point out to me that I needed to chill out. B's in gifted were like BIG A+'s in regular class. Point taken.

I love this school. The gifted teachers constantly tell their students to think outside the box. Take a different route than normal to get to your conclusion. The kids get tired of hearing it....but I really think it's working.

Take for instance:

I'm not sure which class she was working for last night, but she had a project due today. Each student was given the flag of a country. They had to make a flag. No printing off the computer and turning it. Hand-made, people. To scale. Hand drawn. Let's not forget the all important report due on said flag and country.

Paige jumped clean out of the box. She got the brilliant idea to do a power point presentation. I'll be honest with you. I didn't even know I HAD power point on my computer. Never had any use for the program. So, last night she retires to the East Wing to work on her presentation. Of course, she had some Grey's Anatomy going on behind her. (MAN, that was a good show last night)

An hour later my attendance was required to enjoy the show. Dang, if she didn't do it. I was down right impressed. She had music added in. Everytime a new page came up she would clap all excited-like and say over and over..."YaY Me!" YaY Me!"

I asked her how did she know how to do power point? She replied..."I found it one day and have been messing around with it, so when the time came...I'd know how to use it." See what I mean?

She emailed it to her teacher to be shown in class today. I can't wait to see if she got far enough away from the box for the teacher.

Sweet Daddy Fred made a quick late trip to Walmart to purchase construction paper and poster paper for the flag. We forgot the glue. I hate last minute projects. I'll be fair to Paige...she got the assignment Tuesday.

I went to bed around midnight. Left her to her work.

She got three hours of sleep.

Should a 7th grader have that much homework????

Oh, and at the end of her power point.....she has the curtains and in front of them is her name, block number, and teacher.

Don't forget the applause in the background.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

It's all Nana's fault

I warned my mother that I was going to blog about this.

My kids have a good Nana. She loves all her grankids...says each one has something special about them.

Back in Nana's day, small babies and kids took a quick bath in the sink. I know each of her six grankids have taken a bath in her kitchen or bathroom sink at least once in their lives. We even have the cutest pictures of Paige doing this.

Vitt, being the smallest(by a hair..he's catching up with Cousin Cayden quickly), has been the most recent to take a bath in Nana's sink. That boy loves his Nana and Papa....they can get him to do things I never could.

Well, Vitt's not like normal kids. He's real sharp and independant. He's discovered here at our home, he is quite capable of giving his own self a our bathroom sink. And you better watch him, or he'll be naked in a flash.

It's almost become a daily occurance for him to go missing and to be found in the bathroom sink. Thing is...he's not quite adapt at doing this on his own. We have a small sink and he's got a juicy butt. Not fat...just juicy. We are also not equip at recreating Niagra Falls. Which is what happens when he sits that cute little hiney of his down in the sink. Nor are we prepared when he gets soap. Everywhere. Talk about slip-sliding away.

I've tried to explain that we only do this at Nana's house. He, then, in his broken English says.....I go to PapaNana's?? I go to PapaNana's?

Thanks, Mom.

Heavenly Chorus

I almost think I heard a heavenly chorus break out this morning.

Why? you might ask.

Because Paige and Makenna are now back in school.

Thank you, Lord!

Conversation between Paige and Makenna, per Paige.

Makenna: Sissy, I'm ready to go back to school.

Paige: Why is that?

Makenna: Because we don't have to clean the whole school. Everytime we turn around at home, we have to clean something.

Paige was dressed and ready for school when I got up this morning at 6:30 a.m. She had on her new tshirt which reads: "I put the R in Rad" . Thank you Old Navy for giving my child more ego-boosting clothing. Like she needs it.

In my excitement of school starting back, I sent Makenna to bed at 7:45 p.m. last night. It's quite a treat to watch someone go to bed with attitude.

I'm quite sure the girls enjoyed their Summer break. No, I didn't lose my train of thought or get it wrong. When you wear shorts and flip flops out to's not a Winter break. This morning is the first time it's been cool enough to wear a jacket.

The news reports that this bizarre warm weather we're experiencing down here in the South is called Global Warming. So, is that the new politically correct name for God? Global Warming?

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

The Supper Table

I love supper time at our house. When we moved into our bigger home, I made a rule that we would eat together as a family. We had this beautiful big six chair table* just built for a family. Every evening we sit down to eat. This is the time where we ask the girls how their day has been. Both get a chance to tell us what's going on in their lives. This also helps our Little Man learn how to sit and eat a meal. Although.....that's not working out too well most of the time.

Last night Makenna had our next door neighbor over for a sleep over. I was busy arranging the East Wing living room. It is now a CLEAN living room/computer room/play room. Fred took over cooking duty to make us some chimichangas.

We sat down to eat and I am like my mother in law. I put cheese on everything. The kids have picked up this habit also. Paige and I had put cheese on our chimi's when Makenna decided she needed some, too.

"Pass the cheese, please," she said in a sing song voice.

Paige huffed and held it out of her reach. "Say it normal"

"Pass the cheese," Mak said in a deep voice.

Paige huffed and puffed. "SAY it normal."

"Pass the cheeeeeeeese, pleeeaaaasssseeeee," Mak said in squeaky voice.


Makenna lifted one eyebrow at her crazy acting sister and said,

"Not all people are normal."

She got the cheese.

I love supper time at our table.

*Big shout-out to HelenAnne and Mitch who brought that beautiful table all the way from Nashville for us. That's love, people*