I knew she was smart . . .

and funny and fun to be around.

But I had no idea how observant and insightful she was.

You see my girl’s in middle school now and her Language Arts teacher required them to submit a piece for Reflections. Reflections is a national PTA contest to encourage children of all ages to explore their own creativity in a variety of methods and media. This year’s theme for Reflections was “Diversity means . . . “

Yesterday, she brought home her submission, which was a poem, and it had won Honorable Mention for her school. And I was amazed, not just about the poem but also about her author’s comments. I’m going to share both as I am blown away.

Just flat out amazed.

Midnight Sun

As the time goes by

And our mind grows up

The world will change with each step

We shall make to

Change the concept

The concept of diversity

Encompasses

Acceptance and

Change

But the world still spins and

Our minds do not understand

That it does not matter

What clothes you wear or

What color you are and

The color you will always be

There is no changing who you are

It is impossible to change who you are

Or who you will be

Just like a Midnight Sun will never shine or

An Eternal Moon will

Never stay for long enough.

You have amazing beauty but,

You will not let it shine for fear

Of being different, fear of being weird.

Thus your beauty will never show

Or your true self shall never shine

Only few will find that

“You can’t spell Beautiful without ‘Be You’.”

Even few find that “Diversity is beautiful.”

And her comments about the poem are “I wrote this poem because I felt that people in middle school do not really know what diversity is. This poem shows why diversity is affecting my peers and me. We really do not know who we are because we hide behind make-up, new clothes and different actions. I have not seen the true character of numerous of my new friends here. This needs to come to the attention of parents, teacher, and students alike so we can show that you do not need to hide from you are. The phenomenon is common among teens and preteens but most people do not know it’s happening.”

It’s a little rough but as this child’s parent, I am just so darn-tooting proud, I can’t even find the right words.

It’s never too late . . .

At least not in this house.

Last year for Christmas, I gave Sarge, who has become our family’s personal chef, a pre-seasoned cast iron pan.

It looks like this (just without the lid).

Now I realize this sounds like a pretty lame Christmas gift. Lest you think I’m one of those people (you know–the kind that only gives disappointingly useful gifts), this was actually requested by Sarge himself.

Over a year ago, I schlepped my way to a store in horrible holiday traffic and perused various types of cast iron cookware. After finally deciding on the item above, I had to then carry this tremendously heavy pan around for awhile as I had a friend with me who had more shopping to do.

Fast forward to last night and guess what?

Sarge used the pan for the first time.

Yes, you read that correctly. THE FIRST TIME!

And no, I don’t mean the first time in 2012–I mean the first time EVER!

Of course, after he cooked a mouth-wateringly delicious flank steak in it last night, I have to tell you that I was torn.

The positive was that the steak was so fabulous, I honestly couldn’t get enough of it.

The negative side of this whole situation was my disgruntlement that it took over a year for him to try it.

When I think of all the tantalizing meals that could have been cooked . . . well, it just doesn’t do to dwell on the past.

So I guess in our house, it really isn’t too late to redeem yourself.

Just being honest . . .

When I started this blog approximately 4 years ago, my husband was a sergeant working the evening shift (2:30 pm to 11:30 pm). And he had been on this shift for the majority of our marriage and our kids’ lives which meant we didn’t see him a lot. He then segued into the narcotics and vice unit so the combination of the working nights and the new assignment meant he came home with some pretty exciting stories.

Now, Sarge is actually a lieutenant and is working an extremely normal Monday through Friday, 8 to 4 schedule. He also is working out of his department’s headquarters in a support position so he doesn’t even wear the full uniform every day any more. This change has been absolutely miraculous for our family in terms of quality time and the kids and I enjoying having a husband and father around more than a couple of days here and there. But it has also meant a decidedly huge lack of exciting material for me to write about (part of the rationale behind my hiatus for 2011).

Little did I know how this “normal” life had impacted my boy. But I had a very hysterical example of this impact today during my boy’s scout meeting. The topic for the meeting was “America” and those who have served our country. And the leader expanded upon those who have served beyond the armed forces to include various occupations like firefighters and police officers.

Yet, when the leader was trying to point out Sarge’s service in the police arena, my boy came back with this comment . . .

“My dad only arrests paperwork in his job.”

As if his current job doesn’t really count in the “service” arena.

Of course, my reaction was ever so mature as I started laughing uncontrollably.

And it certainly didn’t help that I was also the only mom in attendance at this scout meeting.

Then later tonight, when I was telling Sarge about this little incident, all he could say, in a very monotone voice, was “Thanks, son, thanks.”

Maybe it’s time for a transfer there, Sarge.

Back in the Saddle again

It has been almost a year since I have written anything. And I can honestly say I’ve missed it.

I’ve missed keeping track of all the crazy things that go on in life.

I’ve missed the challenge of working my brain in new and different ways after a long day at work–either through taking pictures or trying to find the right words to express my thoughts.

I’ve missed the overwhelming feeling of gratitude that I get from writing these entries. Because I am continually amazed at how blessed and lucky I am in my wonderfully crazy life.

But the ironic thing that has pushed me into starting again is that a friend from high school, with whom I am friends with on Facebook, added me to a group for spouses of Law Enforcement Officers. And after reading through the past posts from all these fabulous women who are going through or have gone through the same types of things I have, I have been fully re-inspired.

So here’s to a wonderful 2012 with fun and fulfilling documenting.

Doing whatever it takes . . .

Monday morning dawned this week with its usual set of obstacles to overcome. Sleepy self, demanding dogs, and complaining children. But ironically this Monday stood out a little bit from all of the others. It appeared that my son woke up with a mind-blowing injury. An injury the likes of which the human world has never seen before. Except maybe once.

Anyway, on Saturday, my boy played a little bit of Wii Sports. Apparently, since he hadn’t played these games in a while, he strained his arms. I personally like to call it “Wii Elbow.”

There we were, in the kitchen, my boy and me. He’s all dressed and ready to go to school, even with his backpack and jacket on. And he turns on the tears and the sad face.

“Mommy, my arms hurts so bad.”

“Mommy, it’s my writing arm. I can’t even bend it.”

“Mommy, I just can’t go.”

So I sent him up to his room and sent his sister on to school on the bus. I then went upstairs to discuss this predicament I had now gotten my boy and myself in. Because seriously, I could not let him stay at home because he hurt his arm playing too many video games.

As I am sitting on his bed, trying my hardest to cajole him into going and wondering exactly who is the adult in this situation, I am overcome by a brilliant light bulb moment.

A bribe.

But not just any bribe.

Nope, no candy or legos or some other completely useless item. I tell him I will take him up to the local drugstore and get him an elbow brace. He immediately jumps on this magnificent idea and agrees that he CAN go to school with a brace.

Twenty minutes later, he’s walking in the school and I was able to go to work on time.

So this may not be my proudest moment as a mom but hey, he went to school. I’m going to consider this small moment a success.

Just BE

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve posted here. About a month and a half. That was not my intention.

My intention was to live up to my new word of 2011–”BE.” As demonstrated in my little art project above. All created on the second day of this new year.

But on January 7, I received a call from a close friend. Her brother was killed while serving as a U.S. Marine in Afghanistan.

And instantaneously, things went topsy turvy. Good intentions went out the door.

Now, I cannot even imagine the pain and the grief that my friend, her family, her brother’s wife and all who knew him and loved him are going through, have gone through and will continue to go through.

I had met this young man when he was only 10 years old. I had watched him grow up. After he graduated high school, I really did not see him much. When he was killed, he had only been 24 years old for a few months. He had also been three weeks away from coming home.

But being part of their grieving and observing the funeral of a fallen hero affected me in ways I cannot begin to put into words.

Among the little things, it’s helped me to be more grateful. To try and remember what a very short time we really do have here on earth.

To work on just “BE”ing. I hope you have patience with me while I try to find my way back.

My siblings . . .

To the outside world we all grow old.  But not to brothers and sisters.  We know each other as we always were.  We know each other’s hearts.  We share private family jokes.  We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys.  We live outside the touch of time.  ~Clara Ortega

These are my siblings. And, thanks to my mother, we’re all stair-stepped in age. We’re two years apart from each other so there is only six years separating the youngest from the oldest.

Sibling relationships – and 80 percent of Americans have at least one – outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship.  They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.  ~Erica E. Goode, “The Secret World of Siblings,” U.S. News & World Report, 10 January 1994

And even though we only get together as a full group (as in all four at once) a few times a year, things really haven’t changed so much from when we were much younger. We laugh at each other and with each other and basically, just enjoy being together. Thankfully though, we have matured (only somewhat) so there’s not a lot of pushing, hitting, shoving, and what not.

Siblings-the definition that comprises love, strife, competition and forever friends. ~Byron Pulsifer

This history one shares with their siblings was brought home even more so tonight when I’m talking with my minions about the whole concept of “Nature vs. Nurture.” My kids were comparing themselves and how they are totally different from each other. The same could be said about my siblings and myself.

I think I’m funny because my family, my siblings were funny. ~Martin Short

But thankfully, differences aside, I can honestly say I like my siblings. I just hope and hope that my kids grow into this kind of a relationship.

All in a Day’s Work

Sarge had to work this past weekend as he was the on-duty lieutenant for day watch.

And he had an very interesting day at work on Saturday.

To keep himself busy, he was driving around aimlessly. Or as Sarge likes to phrase it, “actively patrolling.” Then, in a very odd coincidence, a panic alarm went off in a residence down a street that Sarge was just driving by. Since he was right there, he let the radio operator know he would respond to this call.

He approached the house in question and as he pulled up to the driveway, he noticed a car backing out of the carport. He was walking up toward the house as the people in the car got out. It was two older women who immediately began apologizing for setting off the alarm.

So Sarge said to them “I guess you’re not getting robbed.”

One of these lovely ladies (both of whom were in their sixties) said back to Sarge “You can rob us anytime.”

Now, I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned before that I am three years older than Sarge.

But who knew he was universally attractive to all older women?

It must have been that magnificently sexy, zipper-front, polyester uniform shirt.

The Wow Factor!

My boy had a major project due this week at school. He had to write his own biography and include visuals. Another thing he was to include in this project was something his teacher called “The Wow Factor.” So I jokingly said to him he ought to recreate his little brush with a brick wall on our snow day a couple of years ago.

In LEGOs!

Well, this seemingly innocent suggestion of mine resulted in sculpting the whole of my boy’s biography. When he sat down to write it, he focused on the plethora of head injuries he has suffered in his short seven years of life. There were lovely descriptions of “redder than red blood” and a thankfully brief story of when Sarge let him fall off the changing table.

But the creme de la creme was that he actually created a LEGO vignette of our family’s historical snow day.

And here it is, all its glory. One of my most memorable days. Yet one of the days I would most like to forget.

Notice the sloping hill and the brick wall at the bottom of the slope.

You have to appreciate the extreme focus on the details.

Like the facial expressions.

Yep, this is an imitation of me and how I appeared on that fateful day. Or at least, how my kids viewed me and then expressed in LEGO form.

I only wish I had looked this good on that day.

But you do have to admit, this was a pretty impressive “wow factor,” if I say so myself.

OUCH!

Both of my minions are big fans of “Phineas and Ferb.”

So much so, that my boy has taken this song and made his own little version. He usually sings something along the lines of “You’re not so bad a dad, but Mommy’s always better . . . ”

Now, this should warm the cockles of my heart, this verbal validation of how I am a much superior parent compared to Sarge.

But no, when it comes to compliments from my boy, there is always a catch. And yes, that is a very deliberate use of the word “always.”

Because the other day, he is singing this little ditty and he stops mid-song to stare at me.

Then he says, “Well, Daddy does have a cool job and you just see kids all day. Maybe he is alot better.”

Not much can be said to that so on that note, I’m out of here.