Notes to Self

Dear Self,



- Do NOT go to any more function thingys on base anymore. Because if you do? You'll get roped in to volunteering for something else. You are working with three different things now. That's enough. No more.



- Stop arguing with the thirteen year old about eyeliner. She's only practising to be a lawyer and your final word IS law. She'll realize it sooner or later. You really don't care if she thinks it's fair or not. She's not wearing it now and a thousand buckets of tears is not going to change that.



- Please don't make faces when the eight year old proclaims that she is almost a woman because she is wearing deodorant. And please refrain from passing out when she announces she has "armpit hair". Yes, she believes that, but the rest of us know that after inspecting, she's feeling blind.



- Make sure, Self, that when you are PMS'ing, you get all the month's built up frustrations out in that one day. It seems the family is able to immune itself to one day's worth of lunatic rantings and ravings. Use it to your advantage.



- Don't put off blogging all the cute or funny things being said around the Edge. You are old now and can not rely on the memory to be as sharp as it once was.



- Also remember to make the computer "broken" when oldest has weird symptoms. You will find your go*gle search history will be filled with many symptoms that will make you want to rush her to the E.R. straight into emergency surgery. Hope and pray that she will use her go*gle knowledge to become a doctor and make loads of money so that she can take care of her Mama in her old age.



-Tolerate the World Series with a smile. It is only once a year and the man DOES let you enjoy your most important shows before turning it there to settle in and watch. (I bout crapped when I saw that man using the chain saw on his foot on Grey's last night. I literally covered my eyes!)



- Listen to the man throw out stats on teams like an encyclopedia. It gives him pleasure. He knows deep down you don't give a flip. But, he likes reciting them. Let him, it won't hurt you.



- Admit to the Internets that when you went to the craft thingy yesterday on base, you carved your very first pumpkin. And did a right nice job of it. Don't admit to the Internets that you upset a few new wives with the fact that leaving the pumpkin outdoors all carved up might not be a good idea as we live in the South and the overly warm weather will rot it within days. Let them live in a dream and have pumpkin mush on their front steps next weekend. Some don't believe it until they experience it anyways.



Now, Self, go drink a few more cups of coffee. You got a long day ahead of you. There's the Fall Festival at Mak's school tonight. You then get to rush home so you can rush on over to your meeting where there will be no hubbies, no kids, and lots of good foods. Now THAT's what I'm talking about.

Busy Weekends Tend to Happen

Pardon the silence from the Edge the past few days. Fred's Dad came for a weekend visit and we've been busy since he got here around midnight Thursday night.

It had been exactly three years since we had seen Mr. C., and we were all excited about his arrival. Friday morning my son saw his "Poppies" for the first time in his memory. It wasn't love at first sight for my baby. Sure, he talked to Mr. C. on the phone all the time, but the real deal was sitting at his dining room table before he was even awake. The girls were a different story. Mak has always loved her Poppies and she's not afraid to let it be known. Paige gives her love a little more freely with her Pops, too. We sent the girls on to school and the boys went to bond over a round of golf. They came home mid-afternoon with my husband the day's champion.

We met that Carla and family out Friday evening to get some eating goodness. John was blown away when Mr. C. mentioned that his nephew was being scouted by Auburn. John is a HUGE Auburn fan and remembered seeing the name on the website as a potential. Cody (who is going to be our claim to the NFL one day) is being scouted by Vanderbilt, Harvard, Princeton.....and probably a few other names I can't remember right now. More on him at a later date.

Saturday found us heading to Saint Simon's Island to look around and eat some she-crab soup. The weather was beyond perfect and I took advantage by taking a lot of pictures. We hung out there for a long time before trekking back home to eat at Carla and John's. See, our lives on Saturday consist of this question: Which house will we be at? Hope and Fred's? Or Carla and John's? Our kids look forward to it and so do the adults. It's just our thing to do. Supper was amazing, as usual. Carla always comes through with her amazing cooking.

We relaxed for a while yesterday before Mr. C headed back home. Vitt showed off his bike riding skills and was tickled when Poppies borrowed Paige's bike. They raced around and laughed while I snapped pictures. Mr. C. said it had been around 15 years since he had last rode. Looked like he hasn't forgotten how to me.

Time came to head to the airport too quickly. Paige and I stayed behind while the younger ones tagged along. As Vitt watched Mr. C. through the plastic partition walk away, he told his Dad, "Awe. I miss Poppies."

I'm glad Fred got to see his Dad and spend some really good quality time with him. We had a good time and really enjoyed a weekend that went by entirely too fast. Hopefully, we'll see him sooner than three years!

P.S. I'm kinda braggy about the fact that I have a three year old who has been riding his bike without training wheels for a few months now. It blows me away when I see him whiz by on that tiny bike. He's not too good on stopping, but my neighbor has taught him how to "tuck and roll". He's a professional at that now.

Military Moment

Please pardon The Edge for a moment while we interrupt our regular programming to bring you a military moment.

I am pleased to announce that after months of nail biting and high anxiety and lots of instant message conversations (with a few phone calls thrown in) ...........


*drum roll, please*

The Domestic Diva and her divalicious family got orders to JAWJA! That means her handsome hubby will stationed on a boat out of my very own backyard!

Can I just say I'm excited beyond belief that I will get to spend time with this great family and see Sir Noah grow even cuter. (This might upset Mellie in Hawaii since she has always claimed dibs on him. You gotta share now, Mellie!)

I have already warned Em that she must allot herself at least ten pounds (or work out like crazy) since Carla cooks like a dream and is gracious enough to make a home made cheese cake at least once a month (give or take) that is guaranteed to knock your socks off. No lie. Her desserts give a person enough personal gratification (if you know what I mean), it ought to be illegal.

That being said, it may be a few months before Em and family get here, but we have so much to look forward to!

I can't wait.

Give Me a Spoon, Would Ya?

If you are blessed enough to have kids in your life, there are times when you would like to choke 'em....or beat 'em....or something like that. If you say you don't, then don't go telling people who do have kids because they will laugh in your face and call you a liar. ~shrugs~ I'm just saying.

But, there are moments when your child does something that just makes you want to hug 'em....kiss 'em...hold 'em close forever. You feel like you could literally eat them up.

My son wears me out more than he does anything. He's so busy and into every blessed thing he can find.

Today I needed a break and I let him take a bubble bath. Guaranteed to let me dry my hair and get one or two things done within a 10 ft. radius of the bathroom.

I heard him talking to himself and decided to listen in.

"Ho. Ho. Ho. I is Sant-ee Clause"

I peeked around the shower curtain to find this.

Give me a spoon, would ya?

To Adapt or Not to Adapt

My husband was in the military for 12 years when we first met. It was the pivotal point when an active duty member decides on making a career of the military, or getting out while the gettin' is good. We actually made the decision together as time progressed and we figured out we were gonna be together for the long haul. He wanted to do it and I supported his decision. Having a health plan for life seemed like a mighty fine idea at the time (and it still is!).

We've done a lot of talking about where he's been and the things he's seen. The things he has seen falls under places he's been....not any of that classified stuff. One thing he's always said is that no matter where you go, you need to adapt to the place where you are put. You are visiting, for the most part, on a long term basis (2-4 years). It's up to you to adapt to the part of the country you are in or the foreign place you've been assigned. I think this is good advice.

SO WHY DOESN'T EVERYONE ELSE DO THIS??

When he was stationed in Charleston, we would run into his students out in town. He would introduce me and they would have a small conversation. It almost never failed that whoever he was talking to would make the comment that they were ready to leave South Carolina. They hated South Carolina. South Carolina sucked.

Have you any idea how much that pissed me off? It took everything I had to NOT to tell these brats to go right then, pack their crap up and head on out. We don't want their yankee butts stinking up our beautiful state.

I would always smile sweetly and inform them in a "Scarlet O' Hara" sugared voice that I was born and raised in South Carolina and simply had no problem with it whatsoevah. Why, I just couldn't understand why on earth they would want to head up Nawth where people are just so rude and drive like loons. Anyone who knows me personally can vouch for the fact that when I get a pronounced accent going on...I'm usually pissed. It's not hard to tell. But, to the unknown, they get all confused looking at me trying to figure out why I'm smiling with my mouth and not my eyes. Then they get nervous a little bit. (This is my gift and I've honed it to perfection over the years.)

Now, this does not mean that I endorse the putting down of other parts of my great country. I know there are stereotypes and people have preconceived notions before they even arrive in a place. My point I was trying to make was this: It works both ways. If you put down my part of the country, I'm going to dig down a bit and find the stupidest thing to say about yours just so you realize how wrong you were to even open your mouth.

The wife of one of Fred's friends back in Charleston was the bane of my very existence. That girl drove me nuts. Her name was Kelly and I always referred to her as The Lovely Miss Kelly. Oh yeah, I was being very facetious because, 1. she wasn't lovely and 2. she thought very highly of herself. She proclaimed all the time how she hated the South. She needed skyscrapers! She needed hustle and bustle! And she simply HATED the word "ya'll". Her skin crawled every time she heard it. She was from Indiana. I finally looked at Fred one day and said..."Do not evah ask me to put my feet under her supper table. I will not do it. And does she not realize that had it not been for this town, that she hates, being one of the first cities in these United States, therefore establishing the start of this country that she lives in and her husband works for, then freaking Indiana would NOT be here today???"

*Clears throat and forces self to calm down*

I have been stewing for a couple of days over some of this. I called our base clinic the other day to make Makenna an appointment as she needed an immediate one due to her eye being irritated. We have all established that I am Southern by birth and the grace of the Lord above. I chose not to accompany my husband when he was stationed in Norfolk, Virginia because I was unsure of my abilities to adapt to a Northern like atmosphere. See? I knew I had limitations.

I was speaking with a nurse who was Lt. Somebody. She was okay. Not overly friendly, but I am used to that somewhat here as our base is a mixture of all races, places, and faces. She asked me something and I replied and somewhere in my reply I called her "honey". I don't even think about it. I AM SOUTHERN. We do stuff like that. It is not intended to degrade or insult. I do not approve of the word "babe". But Sugar? Honey? Sweetie? These words are staples of our language here.

She immediately said to me..."My name is not Honey. It is Lt. Somebody." And she kept right on going with whatever she was saying.

Oh, really. Is that right?

I promise on all that is Holy that if I hadn't needed to get my child in to see that doctor? I would have let loose on her.

So, I allowed the Inner Scarlet to emerge. I was cold, impersonal, and overly polite. With a pronounced Southern accent.

Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with Lt. Somebody having a problem with being called nice names. I really don't. But, realize where you are, Sugar. Realize that you are in These Southern United States. Realize that when you talk to someone on the phone and they have the Southern accent, that they have been raised differently from you. They are taught to say yes ma'am and might be inclined to call you a sweet name without thinking twice about it. They will talk to you as if they have known you for forevah. Realize they mean no harm or insult whatsoever. Go with the flow and ignore those things that irritate you because you understand that you are in a different land from your own.

It's like the fact that I do not expect sweet tea after I get past North Carolina. I know things are not as I am used to when venturing out of the Circle. And I've ventured out a few times. Why, I've even been as far as Chicago. Okay, I didn't leave O' Hare airport during the six hour layover, but I was there!!

I just had to put a thought or two out there because I'm sick and tired of stewing over it.

I guess I got some adapting to do my own self.

The Edge: South Carolina Edition

We headed home for a visit this past weekend. As always, it was too short. After sleeping a couple of nights on a pull out couch, it sometimes feels like too long, if you know what I mean.

Friday morning found me sitting on my parent's front porch shelling beans. I sat with my Mama and chatted about everything and nothing while the kids played all around the Plantation (that's what we call our piece of Southern property). This was actually a treat for me. I haven't shelled beans since I was a teen. We used to sit at my grandma's house and watch the traffic go by while going through bushels. I remember my Mama and Grandma's hands moving like lightening....shelling peas and beans so fast you could never keep up. I never got to that speed, but did my bowl or two. To me, it was like tasting a memory of something long ago that you didn't even realize you missed.

My husband was educated on picking off peanuts. My uncle brought a trailer full of peanuts still on the bushes. Let the record show that I hate picking off peanuts. I despise picking off peanuts. I remember being woke up early on Saturday mornings to go to a dew damp garden to pull up rows of bushes with peanuts dangling on the end. Nasty work. I would complain so much that finally my Dad would just bring them back and wake me up to help pick them off. Then the complaining would start again. I'm Miss Nice Nasty. I have never liked getting my hands dirty and peanut picking is dirty work. Once I got married and a home of my own, I informed them I would no longer pick off peanuts. Now, I've always been more than happy to eat them once they were all clean and boiled. I have stuck by this to this very day and have all intentions of continuing to until I die. My husband has never had the pleasure of picking off the peanuts, but he persevered because he has developed a fond taste for them. God Bless him because we brought home a small bucket for me to cook for our eating pleasure.

But, really and truly, all the excitement happened just as we were leaving to come back home to Jawja. We had everything packed up and was getting ready to load up the van when Fred decided to head to the back of the house to see if all was well before shutting up the place. I heard him say, "WHOA!" and come back into the living room.

I asked him what was wrong?

He replied, "There is a snake in our house."

Me: "Huh?"

Fred: "There is a snake in our HOUSE!!!"

Me: "Where?"

Fred: pointing down hallway "THERE! COME LOOK! HE'S RIGHT THERE!"

I walked over to where he was standing and sure enough there was a thin snake around three feet long at the end of the hallway. I immediately told my niece who was sitting on the couch with Mak to run get her Dad to help us with this problem.

Why did I do that?

In my momentary panic, I forgot that my brother is deathly afraid of snakes. Not too long ago, there was small snake that found it's way into his home. It peeked at my sister in law out of the hall closet when she opened it. She called my brother who then proceeded to get his pistol. Yes, his pistol. Real gun. Real bullets. He then shot at the snake. In his home. Missed the snake but hit a water pipe since hall closet was beside bathroom. Made quite a mess. They finally got the snake. It decided to come out of a drawer in the bathroom where Des was going to reach in for a comb or brush. Needless to say, every single hole was plugged in their home after that and they've had no more problems.

My brother comes into my home with a shovel and a pvc pipe. I'm still not clear on why he brought the pipe in. In the meantime, my husband had chased this creature into the bedroom behind a headboard. My brother was all for killing it right there. Bash it to death and all that rot. My husband said, "No! Not in the house! Give me one of those clothing containers out of the other bedroom." In the meantime, you've got three kids ages 8, 7, and 5 hanging out in the hallway wanting a piece of the action. The menfolk decided they did not need their supervision and sent them outside. Finally, the snake was caught in the container. My father met them outside and deemed it non poisonous and a common corn snake. They had recently cut a field near our home and the poor creature was evicted and was looking for his winter condo home. The Edge: South Carolina Edition was not to be his for the taking.

I gotta admit, I was ready to go then. Something about a snake in your home is enough to make you want to move or leave or fumigate or something! Our next mission when we can find an extra day is to go through and make sure we also plug up all the holes we can find. I can't say I'm looking forward to it. It'll probably take me a year or two not to jump at every shadow when I walk in my home there. And I'm old now. I don't need to be doing no unnecessary jumping.

That was our weekend. Exciting, huh?

Oh, and no offense to anyone, but coming home on the interstate? Makes me wonder how some people were able to get a driver's license. And just because you own a Mercedes or BMW does not entitle you to own the road and disregard all speeding laws. It only means you have no better way to spend your money and you have a high insurance payment. Personally? I'd rather own my pitiful mini-van, have decently priced insurance and spend my money elsewhere. But, that's just me.

Give Me What I Need

I've been sick for about three weeks now. It's only one of my twice yearly cases of bronchitis. I really thought I had it beat until I used some scented hand sanitizer this past Sunday and it messed my breathing all up again. I finally decided Monday afternoon that a visit to the doctor was in order.

Anyone who deals with our lovely military health plan down here knows it's a royal pain to get in to be seen sometimes. Thanks to my husband, I got to see someone yesterday. I don't what he said, but it worked and I'm not complaining.

I get to the exam room and in walks a new doctor. He sits down and asks me what's wrong.

I look him in the eye:

Me: I have been fighting bronchitis for about three weeks. I do believe I am now entertaining a sinus/respiratory infection. I need three things. I need asthma medication for my nebulizer, a Z-pack*, and some hycodan cough medicine so as to get sleep at night.

Doctor Dude: Uh, really? What leads you to think this?

Me: I have dealt with this problem for around five years and this combo is what works for me.

Doctor Dude: I see. What kind of cough medicine do you need again?

Me: Hycodan.

Doctor Dude: That's a narcotic! I can't write prescriptions for a narcotic! (This let me to believe he was a P.A. instead of a doctor- the uniforms can throw you off)

Me: Are you friends with someone who can?

That sealed the deal right there. He laughed and left to go write my prescriptions. He listened to my lungs and the wheezing therein and was surprised to see a pulse O2 of 97%.

Doctor Dude: You must be working like a train to get that much oxygen in. That's an awesome level for your lungs to sound like that.

Me: I am a Mother. I am a locomotive.

I ended up getting every thing I asked for. I shook his hand and told him it was great doing business with him and to have a wonderful day.

He told me I was the easiest patient he'd had all day and because of it, he even had time (at 3 p.m.) to finally eat some lunch.

I told him to appreciate older women who knew what they were talking about.

I am looking forward to feeling better by the end of the weekend. Which is good because we are heading to South Carolina for a small visit Thursday through Saturday. It's time to check on my Mama.

*Z-pack- the most wonderful 5 day antibiotic plan in the world. I love me some Z-pack.

Did I mention?

Did I mention that I passed Mentor Training for Compass Class? I sure did.

Did I mention that I participated as a Mentor last week for the first time?

Did I mention that the day I was to present, I was supposed to be the second presenter and due to conflict and miscommunication, I ended up being first? That meant I had no time to last minute study or get nervous.

Did I mention that when I got behind the podium, I started talking and realized I might do a better job if I had no shoes on my feet? (It worked, too!)

Did I mention that my part was to be approximately 60 minutes long and I went over only by four minutes?

Did I mention that five minutes into talking, I realized that studying does pay off and since I was comfortable with my information, I was no longer nervous?

Did I mention that I'm glad this only happens once a quarter because it can be time consuming and that's not all that cool to someone who is volunteering and has three kids?

Did I mention that Carla and I took a celebration trip to Tar*et Friday night (I had to get a birthday gift) and we freaked two kids out because Material Girl came on the radio and we blasted it and sang at the top of our lungs?

Did I mention that I will no longer ride at night with Carla because as we were driving down the interstate she happened to mention she has night blindness? That, and she can't talk while driving? This was confirmed when she jerked across three lanes of traffic so as not to miss our exit.

Did I mention I drove home because ...well, need you ask?

Did I mention that I now want a gas guzzling Chevy S.U.V. to drive of my very own?

Did I mention that because of all my volunteer goodness last week, I now have another obstacle course of mounds of laundry to get done?

Did I mention I need to go now because last I checked? The Magic Laundry Fairies don't work on Mondays.

Paige-isms....the next volume

The night my husband was out all night ....uh....working, Paige and I were having a pretty normal conversation. We were talking about school and whatnot. She has a technology class in the morning time and when all school work is done, the students are allowed to surf the Internet. Of course, it's monitored and a lot of the sites are barred by the higher ups. I dig the thought that the teacher can access any student's screen at any given moment to see what they are doing. Apparently, this teacher is pretty good at catching wrong doers.

Paige made mention that she uses my side bar to visit other blogs I have listed there. She also mentioned that she can't access my comments because it's barred for some unknown reason.

Then we get to this part of the conversation I thought I would share with you.

She informed me that she could access every one's blog but Get Off My Lawn's. She then went on to say that she assumed this was because he was Canadian.

Pause for that perfect thought to enter her head................


She then said..."OMG. That is so wrong. What is this school? Country-ist? Jeeze. You got racists, weightists, and now we got countryists. Will it never end???"

It literally took me a minute and when I caught it, I died laughing.

Lawn? My girl is on your side, man. She's gonna fight for the Canadian bloggers of this Internet World.

Just thought you'd like to know.



Another quick note for you, Internets. I added a couple more sites that I like to visit on a regular basis. A good number of bloggers I have listed are fellow Navy Wives. We all live this crazy life with views that differ from person to person. I support my sisters and hope that you, too, enjoy visiting their lives from time to time. If you are a visitor and would like to have your name on my list, just let me know! Of course this will mean a visit to your blog where I leave random comments at will. Are you willing to take this chance?

Oooo Ya, Chiefs!

What a ball was had at the Khaki Ball this past weekend. I think out of all the Balls, this is going to be my favorite. The Submarine Ball is too starchy and formal. The Navy Birthday Ball simply has too many people since both surface and submarine personnel get to go. The Khaki Ball? Just right.

I had no clue what to expect. I take that back. I knew to expect some tipsy people and alot of hollering on occasion. These boys...uh, men....tend to live hard their one night of the year and let it all hang loose. There are a few things I felt it okay to mention to the general public.

First, to see all the new Chiefs come in together was just the coolest. To watch them march in formation and recite things they had learned made me so proud of each of them. To hear a new Chief sing our anthem with a shaky voice brought tears to my eyes. To hear around 80 men sing "Anchors Aweigh" was the best. Even better? To hear my husband singing it under his breath beside me.

Secondly, I have to mention that the dining room was set with each command/boat having their own group of tables. Apparently, my husband's command requested to sit in the back. I'm thinking that is because some genius from this command decided to make a submarine that dispensed liquor shots out of it's torpedo holes. You read that right. It even had sound effects when the button was pushed to deliver tequila into little shot glasses that sat on top. You had the big wig guys giving their speeches up front and you could faintly hear the sound of a submarine. People who did not know of this marvel would look around trying to see where the sound was coming from. Of course, this made our command very popular with lots of visitors between courses to see this amazing machine and partake in a shot...or two...or three.....

Third. I think I cramped my husband's style. He cringed alot when the rowdy group behind us would break into a very salty song, filled with lots of adjectives that shouldn't be shouted in a public place. I just grinned because that dog of mine has had his day long before I came into the picture. I'm not kidding you. I heard more curse words in one line of a more salty song than should be legal.

Fourth. Totally claim that is your neighbor up at the deejay booth singing karaoke with his boys, but refrain from taking a picture because someone having a time that good should NOT have it held against him. Hey, he just got back in a little over a week ago. Call it a freebie that I'm going to wait a few more days before I give him grief over it. Oh, did I mention that it wasn't a true karaoke song? They just wanted to sing along with Bon Jovi cause they're cool like that?

Fifth. Be proud that your husband is part of this fraternity of men and women. They work hard to ensure our country is taken care of. They deal with a lot of crap that would amaze the average person.

Miss Hope had her a truly good time. Who wouldn't with a starb*cks coffee bar set up for her drinking pleasure? Our guys deserved this party in their honor.

All that's left to say is...


OOO YA, CHIEFS! JOB WELL DONE!

Another Year Has Passed

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. Four complete years. My, how time flies.

It wasn't spectacular and filled with flowers and romance because..well, that's not how I am. That, and the fact that my husband was gone all night Wednesday night due to work. It was a fun part of work, but it meant no sleep for him. I did wake up around 3 a.m. to send him a text message, to which he replied promptly.

At 6:45 a.m. he came home to the chaos that is our home in the mornings before school. We drank a cup of coffee and talked a little about his long night. He was kind enough in his sleepy state to volunteer to take the boy to school.

We decided to go to the Khaki Ball this weekend. This is a Navy related event that happens once a year (around our anniversary). You get to dress up and enjoy pomp and circumstance of a sort. You also get to see a bunch of people get toasty. If you're smart? You take your camera. Pictures come in handy later. Trust me.

Because of this event, I deemed it necessary to get a pedicure and manicure. I have to blame Lu about that as she gave me this for a birthday present back in May and started a new love and appreciation for such a luxury. I got dressed, and left my husband to sleep his night off. Carla went with me because she's that kind of friend. She'd never let me go alone to get the foot and hand goodness without sharing in the joy.

Beauty takes time, Internets. I discovered that the Man would have to go get The Boy so I could finish up. He obliged because he's that kind of guy. I think he might have gotten a little ticked at me because I called him at least three times to make sure he was awake and lucid enough to understand he needed to go. He didn't answer by the third call.

Our base was conducting a security drill of sorts yesterday. I don't know the particulars about it, except it makes it a pain in the butt to get on and off base. God help you if your vehicle is chosen for random inspection. I picked up the kids (Mak and the neighbors kids) from school and sat in line to get back to our home. Word of advice? If you are in the military...don't tint the windows of your vehicle. That just makes a gung-ho security guard all suspicious about you and your life and you are more than likely gonna get your vehicle inspected. Tough if you're running late for an appointment.

We were going to have to pick Paige up from school, so I decided we would all go together in case the base got all crazy and locked every gate for a while. As we were waiting outside the school for her, Fred and I were chatting some. I made the comment that four years ago, I would have never thought I would be sitting in front of a school in Georgia four years later. Fred laughed and said the thought was WAY outrageous. (paraphrasing there) But, in Georgia we are. Together. As a family should be.

Fred informed me that he had high aspirations for our anniversary. Flowers. A nice supper out for the both of us. I told him that I knew he was officially an old man and being up all night was hard on him now.:) I enjoyed my pedicure and manicure with Carla and the Chinese buffet hit the spot where we ate for supper.

I am so glad I still like my husband. Love him? Absolutely. With all my heart. I must...I moved 300 miles away from my family to be with him. I just can't believe that we've been together for six years total and I like him as a person. I didn't have that at all with my first husband and this is a novelty that I hope never goes away. (At this point, I'm sure that's not going to happen.) I talk with other women...some who have been married a short time and others who've been married for many years. Too many of them say they aren't "friends" with their husbands. I find that sad. If you can't have fun hanging out with the person who shares your life and your bed.....then what's the point? Just my thoughts and observations on the subject.

Oh, and please don't be fooled by the title of our party tomorrow night. Khaki Ball? A Ball? Cinderella, I am not. No glass slippers to be found on my feet (although they DO look amazing at the moment)(my feet, that is) I'm not clear on why the Navy insists on calling such things "Balls". I guess they get their kicks where they can. Last I heard, though, beer can be served anywhere.

Today I'm off to find the perfect black shoes to match my outfit. These tootsies of mine should be showcased. That, and the fact that I already had an outfit, so I NEED to buy something new. It's only fair, you understand.

Have a wonderfully Edgy weekend, Internets!

Life Moments.....

So, I talk on a popular messenger with Carla all the time. She lives less than five minutes away, but we talk more on IM (instant messenger) than we do on the phone. We're just weird that way, I guess.



I got a good laugh out of our conversation today and just felt deep down I needed to share it just to show you how boring my life can be at moments. After receiving permission from Miss C, I did a little copy and paste. Just ignore any typos or grammatical errors because we really don't care.







Hope Tee: and i'm sitting here wondering what to eat because if fred isn't here...i don't want to cook a meat, complex carb, and green just for me.



Carla Girl: i'm just eating some white rice.

Carla Girl: i put a dab of butter on it...and some no salt

Carla Girl: its not bad.



Hope Tee: girl.i just can't eat rice like that

Hope Tee: it goes against my southern blood



Carla Girl: lol

Carla Girl: have a can of tuna



Hope Tee: without salad dressing and pasta?



Carla Girl: yeah, you can do it...

Carla Girl: lol

Carla Girl: bake a small potato in the microwave for 8 minutes



Hope Tee: hadn't thought of that

Hope Tee: have never cooked 'em in microwave either



Carla Girl: i believe its for 8 mins

Carla Girl: poke a fork in it to create some air holes



Hope Tee: will it explode if i don't? because that would be really cool if it did.



Carla Girl: omg, i don't know i've never tried it

Carla Girl: it wouldn't be any cool to have to clean it up



Hope Tee: that's why i got paige.



Carla Girl: i need to be out there mowing the front yard

Carla Girl: but i'm so lazy



Hope Tee: it's looking like rain...so really? There's no need because if you cut it then after the rain you'll have those weedy shooty up thingys and that would piss you off because you would have just cut it.



Carla Girl: yeah i guess so

Carla Girl: i just hate unkept grass

Carla Girl: its my pet peeve man



Hope Tee: it's not a favorite thing of mine either but that grass is gotta be dang tall for me to justify sweating



Carla Girl: i hear ya



Yeah, we're a laugh a minute, that Carla and I. Another moment to share, if you will. Last night my husband and I were discussing this season of Big Brother. If you have watched it, it's been enough to make your nerves seriously bad. It's down to a father-daughter team that really are dysfunctional.

So here went the conversation betwixt Fred and myself:

Fred: You know, I get the impression that Dick is the type of guy that would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed.

Miss Hope: Yeah, I think he would, too. But, I think he would slap you with it a few times for good measure before he handed it over.


And, we have one more moment to share........

Last night there was a commercial on television about losing weight. Paige is a beautiful gal that is curvaceous. She's not a stick like most her age and I just want her to see how feminine she is sometimes. (Sometimes, I'd rather her not, you know.)

Commercial: Take this drug and go from a size 12 to a size 2 !!!!!!

Me: That's crazy. A size 12 can be perfect for someone. Why be crazy about it? I'd kill to be a nice sized 12.

Paige: Me, too.

Pause a moment for new thought to enter Paige's head.

Paige: Yep, I sure would. Both hands around the throat.........


I laughed so hard because my child just comes up with stuff off the cuff sometimes that catches you off guard and can tickle you to no end.


Now, I'm off to get The Boy dressed for school and enjoy my time alone. Have I mentioned how much I LOVE school?

Make or Break Deal

Having children is something I always wanted. I've loved working with children from the time I was twelve years old. It was my calling..my passion, if you will.

When I had Paige at the sweet age of 22 (one month away from my 23rd birthday), I thought everything I was became complete. I discovered a hidden well of love hidden within me that threatened to overwhelm me on a regular basis.

Fast forward to the third child.

It takes all I got sometimes not to knock a head off around here.

I completely agree with the old saying: "You have to teach a child to be good; you don't have to teach them to be bad."

Lawd, how true is that one? I feel like I work nonstop from sunup to sundown trying to teach these kids of mine to go to the Good Side...to stay awake from the Dark Side. And I gotta wonder if I'm succeeding sometimes. I really do.

I try to incorporate my schooling into raising my children. I try to reward them with correct and moral ways instead of the easy time saving ways.

I always try to start discipline in a calm, smooth voice. Then when no one listens (which is every SINGLE time), I move to a slightly louder firmer voice. Again, no one listens. I go to the next level of a LOUDER more threatening tone. THEN, when that doesn't work? I usually end up saying, "IF YOU DON'T LEAVE YOUR BROTHER/SISTER ALONE, IMMA CUT YOUR BUTT NINE WAYS FROM SUNDAY. DO YOU HEAR ME? HERE I COME!!!!" That usually gets their attention...for a minute.

Having and raising children can feel like a make or break deal sometimes. I said it can feel that way. Any parent worth their salt will tell you there are times you want to run screaming naked in the woods never to be seen again. (That totally would not work for me here living on a military base. Sure, there are woods...that are patrolled and I don't feel like a bunch of Marines finding me in a naked state and foaming at the mouth.....) We get worn out and tired. We need breaks from our wonderful home life in order to re-charge the batteries so to speak. It doesn't mean we don't love our kids...it just means we gotta find some lost sanity before we are committed to the nearest asylum.

We are a lovey bunch here at the Edge. We tell each other we love each other. My favorite thing lately is that when Vitt goes to bed at night, he doesn't kiss you on the cheek or lips. He has to grab hold of your cheeks, pull your head down to his level, and then kiss you on the forehead. It is precious and I hold that warm fuzzy feeling close every time he does it. He counteracts this sweet act by finding my magic cough medicine and pouring it all over the floor. Checks and balances, people.

I have despaired of all three of my children ever getting along. I know they are far apart in age, but they really need to get along. I mean, they are the ones who will be making decisions for me when I am old and decrepit. I NEED them to get along. Yet, they fight still. Pull hair, tease, hit, etc etc. I know this is normal for siblings...but I yearn for the Nirvana of a peaceful home. I can't help it.

Then, one day, you turn on the television to find that there is a new Japanimation cartoon on. It is full of color and action to the highest degree. You notice that all three of your babies gravitate to the couch in one accord to watch this animated marvel. You sit there and watch them watching the show with this goofy grin on your face. Because the sight gives you hope. It gives you a good bona fide reason to keep trying every day to raise and love these kids who grew under your heart.

And this is where I say......Thank you, Lord, for Japanimation. You have the power to bring my children together, if only for 30 blessed minutes.

A Glimpse of Our Town....

I am so determined that this family of mine sticks together. I try to find things for us to do so that when the kids are grown and gone....when they get together, they'll be able to say, "Remember when we used to....."

We have a sort of tradition or habit that we tend to do a semi-regular basis. I get to the point sometimes that I just get tired of planning and cooking meals. I need a break from it and my husband is good enough to understand this need. Last night was one of those times. We decided to head out and get some Son*c goodness. This diet is wearing on us and the thought of some illegal bread made our mouths water. (I gotta tell you, that was the BEST dang burger I have EVER eaten.)

We loaded up the van and headed out in town. It had rained a little earlier and everything had that just washed look and feeling. You could smell the ocean on the breeze as the marshes filled up from the high tide. It wasn't hot outside and we could sit with our windows down and actually enjoy a September evening.

As is our tradition/habit we headed to the waterfront after eating. We rarely get out of the van when we do this. There's really no need since everything is right there in front of us. (That, and we don't feel like chasing the boy when his feet hit the pavement and he tastes freedom.) Vitt loves to see the huge shrimping boats that have come in after a long day's work. Evening time is the best time to see all the yachts moored in for the night, sailboats minus the sails, and the fishing boats with nets rolled up on the side. To me it's like seeing the same play over and over again with different players. I never get tired of it.

We decided to park just a minute and sit and look. Paige and I both noticed the sun setting to our right. She was asking for my cell phone while I was already setting it up to take a picture.

I'd like to share with you a few pictures of the water front in our town. I am amazed I live so close to ocean water every single time I think about it. (Back home we live about 30 miles from the ocean. Not a bad deal at all, but I do love living even closer!)

I hope you enjoy........

I took this one and Paige deemed it not worthy because I got the street lamp in it. I beg to differ because even the street lamps here are cool looking.

This is what Paige took of the sun setting through the tree. I gotta admit..the girl did a good job. I'm considering framing this one....

This a view of the smaller sail boats located where we parked. My son can sit and look at them forever. I wish I could see through his eyes and know what he's thinking when he gazes at them.

I thought I'd throw this one in. I took it back in May when we got out and walked around some. If you look in the background, you can see the boats from the previous picture. Well, probably not the same boats, but you can see how close they are. This has got to be the most beautiful park I've ever seen. We even had family pictures taken here.

So, there you have a glimpse of our town. She's hidden off the beaten path and so very beautiful. How could I not love it here?

Small Edge Update

I'm on the better side of a kind of bad case of bronchitis this morning. I've been fighting this crap since last Thursday and I'm finally to the point I'm tired of feeling bad and I simply have too much to do to be sick anymore. (IF only it were that easy, huh?) I'm still stoved up somewhat, but I'll push through.

Stoved up. What exactly does that mean? I dunno. It's a Southern saying that I've grown up with and every time someone is sick, you hear an older person say, "Bless your heart! You're all stoved up!" All I know is that I am. Stoved up, that is.

Our "Your Grades Suck Intervention" went well the other night. I was firm, but put it all out there. I believe Paige understood completely that the line in the sand had been crossed and my demeanor told her to just deal with it because my mind wasn't changing anytime soon.

Remember I had the bright idea (did I put it here?) that she would do her homework at the dining room table after supper? That way, she would be behind Fred and me while we watched television and we would be there to help her if need be. Well, GAWD, that sister can run her mouth. She never shuts up! She talks the entire time she's sitting there working and we have yet to watch a full show with all our attention. She takes breaks every 10-15 minutes because "her brain hurts". That means we get to see every new dance out there right now and hear all about the soap opera that is her life at middle school. I'm to the point that I'm wondering if it will be better for her health to stay at the dining room table to work or go to the other side and leave us in peace!

Got another good snippet to share. Her math teacher called the other night! He wanted to make sure that we (Mr. Teacher, Fred, and myself) were all on the same page on helping Paige. He assured us that she can do the work required of her, she just needs to get motivated. We were thanking each other profusely the whole conversation. He was thanking us for being involved parents that didn't believe that "teachers are there to make the child learn with no help from home" and we were thanking him for taking his personal time to contact us and that he is willing to work with us. He said he was thinking about moving her around the class until he found a place that works for her concentration and focus. I told him that it was his decision to make and that we would abide by it. We got some good communication going on here, Internets! Our goodbyes ended with me making sure he understood that he could pick up the phone anytime there was a concern or issue and we would be right on top of things.

Speaking of class. Miss Hope is taking mentor training today. Yee-haw. I'm sorry. I'm really looking forward to it, I just don't feel a 100% and I hope I can make it through without coughing my toenails up. This will mean my volunteer career has officially began. Friday, in order to graduate, we have to do a presentation. ~snort~ Some of the gals have said they just hate getting up in front of people to speak. Not me. Anyone who knows me will tell you I got noooooo problem in front of people. Thing is? I gotta make myself focus and stay on the task at hand. I'll get ten kinds of sidetracked and start running my mouth and the next thing you know? It'll be like the Opr*h show or something.

I'll do my best to check back in before too long. The Edge never slows down enough lately for me to really take my time and check in like I'd like to.

~sigh~ Let me go. The Boy is on the other side banging on something like a drum and that means my pregnant neighbor is going to go postal and I might end up having to slap some sense into her and end up in the base brig until my embarrassed husband comes to get me.

Parenting Blues

If you ask my oldest child right now what she thinks of my parenting skills, you better be prepared. I'm pretty sure Fred and I wouldn't score very high at all.

Interim reports came out last week. That means the girls are halfway through the first nine weeks of school. I pay attention to grades. A LOT of attention. I know what these kids of mine are capable of and I expect that level of effort and achievement.

Paige has determined that she is no good at math. I can understand that. I'm not too swift in the math department, either. I was the type person who would fail a math class first go round, then pass it with an A the next time I took it. Don't ask me why it was this way. It just took an extra click in my brain, I suppose. Back in the day, tutors weren't readily available and if they were? They might've interfered with my social life. ( I am rolling my eyes at my own self here.)

I believe the problem lies with the fact that girlfriend has never had to work to make good grades. They just happen for her. She retains knowledge easily and can take a test with no problem. Paige doesn't want to hear that...uh maybe math ISN'T going to be easy. It doesn't mean she can't do it. It just means she's going to have work a little bit to make it happen. Instead of being grateful that everything else is like pie, she wants to bemoan the fact that "math is hooooorrrrrriiiibbbllleeeee. I'm soooooo retarrrrded in maaaaaath." (See what I'm dealing with here?)

Let's say Paige has a bad grade for her math interim report. Oh, yeah, really bad. Last night she brought the paper to me to sign. I told I didn't sign bad grades. (Crank up the dramatics about now...) She said she would get in trouble if I didn't sign the paper. I shrugged and said..."I guess you better not bring another grade like that home again." She then turned to Fred and asked him to step in and sign the paper. He almost did it. Then, he too, decided not to sign it. (Imagine the grumbling and complaining under her breath as she walks away now...)

I know signing the paper doesn't indicate that I approved of the grade. I'm just not going to put my name on the same piece of paper showing that my child didn't do her best. I'm not gonna do it. Call me a hard case if you will. Doesn't bother me in the least.

This morning I received an email from her math teacher. Here's a snippet of what I read when I opened it.....


Mrs. T,

Paige told Ms. M. that you wouldn’t sign her report card because of her math grade, so I wanted to make sure you understood why her grade is currently a XX. This is primarily because of the poor Unit 1 test; she should have reworked that this weekend and should turn it in today for extra credit.

The bottom line is that she is definitely able to recover and bring her grade up. Please let me know if you have additional questions.

Thanks,
Mr. T

How about that? I love communication between teachers. I love teachers who take initiative even more to let the parent know what's going on. Of course, my goal is not to humiliate my child with this post. I love her too much to do that. A huge portion of the email was deleted to protect the innocent.

So, now we (we=Fred and myself) get to be the Horrible Parental Unit this evening.

It's almost gotta be like a car accident. You don't know it's happening until you are smack dab in the middle of it.

This means that I gotta crack down and wreck Paige's day. I hate doing that.

This means I (and I decided I would be the Enforcer this go round and give Fred a break) get to tell her that herspace thingy is, at the moment, a thing of her past. I'm going to give her two minutes this evening on the phone to inform her posse that evening chat times are no longer an option in her life. As soon as the grades come up? We'll renegotiate. Wait until I tell her the computer is no longer hers to enjoy.

This has potential to get ugly.

My parents think I'm too hard on her. ~shrugs~ Maybe they weren't hard enough on me? Who knows?

My gut feeling tells me that if I don't put her on the right road now? Success will always be out of her reach. I have to teach her to work to achieve goals. Because all these friends who make her world go round? My money is on the fact they won't be around in ten years when she has to pay her own bills.

Oh, the joys of parenting a teenager.

Making Amends

I'm gonna have to do some talking to a friend of mine now, so all you others being nosy? Just bear with me.

I got a friend named Chelle back in South Carolina. We've been through many things in our 14 years (has it been that long??) of friendship. Weight loss, marriage, divorce, marriage, the birth of 5 kids, weight gain, crazy relatives, and me moving away. This woman even put her wedding date a month away from my due date (with Makenna) in order for me to be there for the big day. And I was. In all my breast engorged glory. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

We kept in good contact after I moved. She had to give birth to her baby girl after I was gone and that was just so upsetting to me that I couldn't be there for her. When she had to go back in the hospital from some complications.....we had the best late night conversation that lasted for hours. I have missed that girl like my left arm (being as I'm left handed and all that).

Well, I went home back around May and was supposed to meet her out for lunch along with Lu. Things didn't work out. The birthday gift of a pedicure and manicure lasted way longer than I anticipated and her baby fell asleep and nixed her plans to join us. I was so disappointed when she couldn't come.

I hate this part about being so far away the most. When you do get to go home, you're so busy seeing family that have ownership in your time. I just can't find that extra 10 hours I need in a day when I go. Not a wonderful excuse....but I always feel like I drive up in Mama's yard and literally turn around to come back to Jawja.

One thing those of you who are young will find out soon enough? The older you get...the faster time flies on you. One day my kids were out for summer...the next we were starting back another year. This year the whole month of June was dedicated to getting Mak recovered from surgery. I feel like my whole being was devoted to getting that girl to eat.

I have no clue where July went. I might have to go back in my archives and see what it was all about.

I got a letter today.

With lovely pictures of a baby girl I haven't seen but a couple of times. She's so beautiful and I'm missing out on her in a big way. That is just unacceptable. How is she supposed to know her Aunt Hope if she never gets any time with me???

About the letter. Girlfriend thought we were in a tiff or something?????

Nooooooooooo. It was just life and time flying by too quickly for my liking. I don't have a good bona fide excuse except that...dang, man, 300 miles makes ya work extra hard to preserve a friendship. Looks like I gotta make some changes. Send a little more focus back towards home.

I'm doing this public post to my friend because I tried to call her dang house and her cell phone and couldn't get in touch with her. She admitted to reading my blog, so I'm making sure she knows!!!!!

Chelle? I love you, girl! That screaming voice on your answering machine is me and I would appreciate it if you would erase it. Soon.



p.s. Dude. I am totally holding the strawberries over your head for the rest of our lives.


p.p.s.s. We are NOT gonna turn into Dawg fans. Are you kidding me? I know you would kill me dead. Vitt proudly wears his Clemson outfit every chance he can. Best hand me down EVER.

A Happy Edge

I apologize for my silence the past few days. We took advantage of the long weekend and headed back to South Carolina to see the family. We left nasty stormy weather and went into glorious sunny skies and more bearable temps. The girls were able to stay with us all weekend since their dad had made plans. No one complained because we all wanted them with us anyways. (Sneaking a peek at the ex's schedule through the end of the year shows me he's working Thanksgiving AND Christmas Day this go round...color me happy over this)

My brother informed me while I was there that I never call him. I got all blustery and told him that he never called me either. We bickered back and forth with me telling him that I didn't know his work schedule. Next thing I knew...he had me a copy of his schedule. Oh, the fun I shall have now. I intend on utilizing my knowledge of his work habits to the fullest.

I got a little bit of news to share with all my nearest and dearest friends out there in Internet Land. Last year my husband was injured while out at sea. I've made no secret about this and how when the military put him on limited duty, he lost a few pays that really put a hurt on the Edge financial-wise.

Just a little explanation for those who don't live this life I lead. You can get different pays for different jobs in the military. Hazard duty pay for being in a place of war (which is tax free) is one common example. My husband, at the time, was getting sea pay (for going out to sea, obviously), sub pay (for being assigned to a submarine), and pro-pay (my understanding is that he is a Nuke Electrician and when he works in a Nuke billet, he receives a pay for it). Well, within six months of limited duty...we lost all three of those: sea, sub, and pro-pay. To the tune of around $1500.00 a month, my friends. Oh, yeah, the Edge was not happy about that.

Tuesday of this week, I got a call from my husband. Apparently, he had a doctor's appointment. And not just any doctor's appointment. He was told at the very last minute he had to see the doctor who put him on limited duty. This doctor had the power to make my husband disqualify subs (which means he would not be allowed to work on one). I immediately felt anxiety crawl over my spine. Of course, he remained smooth as always.

Carla and John were over for lunch and my husband scarfed his food down and headed out. Well, we had us a little prayer meeting after he left. And I really didn't know what to ask for. Finally, I just asked God to show His will for us and to let me be happy with whatever went down.

A few hours later I got the call I was waiting for.

The doctor cleared my husband to go back to submarines.

I could hear the happiness and relief in his voice.

This is where I have to tell you. When it comes down to it? It's not about the money for my husband. (It might be a little bit with me because Miss Hope loves having a little extra in the bank). It's about finishing up his career doing what he's been trained to do for the last 18 years. It means leaving our United States Navy on HIS terms...not theirs. Being medically disqualified is not a bad thing. Stuff like that happens. It's a fact of life when you do the jobs our men and women do for our country. I just know that my husband is ready to serve his country doing what he knows best. Being in a metal tube working his butt off instead of stuck behind a desk.

Now, while I'm sitting here basking in the glow...some things have yet to get past that glow. Like.....here come duty days......here comes my husband going out to sea while I'm here with all the kids by myself......

Yeah. Expect a few tears on that score eventually.


I have a few more things I want to chat with you about, but I have to go get The Boy up and ready for school. Have I mentioned I love school? I try to at least ten times a day for those who know me personally.

Be happy for us, please. It's been a long year. A wonderful year for our family being able to bond and depend on each other....but, a truly sucky one dealing with not so good finances.



p.s. Fellow Sub Wives who read this? Please feel free to correct me if I have any information wrong. It won't hurt my feelings a bit. I've already established that I'm half way ignorant about these things that go on with the Navy.