A Little Boy's Best Friend

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not an avid animal lover.  Unlike many of my friends, I've never considered a dog to be my best friend.  Yes, they're cute.  Yes, they're fun.  Yes, I love them more when they belong to someone else.  You know, just like many people feel about kids:  love 'em but don't want any.  So needless to say, I wasn't all too happy when I was out-voted 2 years ago and a dog was brought into our home.  We got Taz (an appropriate name, by the way) when he was 4 months old and already potty trained (that was a plus), but I still felt resentment over the fact that I was the one cleaning up after the dog.  I was the one feeding him and making sure he had water.  And I was the one always, always, always covered in dog hair because for some strange reason, his fur only attached itself to my clothes.  Enter frustration and resentment.  

All that changed about 2 months ago when Taz practically saved my little boy's life.

Luke is 3 1/2 and has Down Syndrome.  He's a wonderful boy, and we love him dearly, but as is the case with a lot of children with special needs, he doesn't always understand danger.  The hot stove looks inviting.  The dryer might be fun to crawl into and hang out for a while.  Those knives?  Wonder what they do?  And an open door to the outside world?  Well now you're just asking for trouble.  One Friday morning in March, my husband was taking our 4-year-old to preschool.  They walked out through the garage and climbed in my husband's Tahoe.  My husband cranked up the vehicle but then began to do something on his phone, so they didn't pull out of the driveway right away.  I didn't realize it, but our older son had left the back door wide open, and before I knew it, Taz had bolted out the door.  We've had this problem with him since he was a puppy---running out an open door and down the street, usually with me running behind him screaming for him to come back---and we had paid a lot of money for a trainer to work with him and get him to stop bolting.  So I was furious when I saw him run out the door.  I ran after him, thinking that I would beat him if I caught him, and then I noticed something strange.  He didn't run down the street like he would normally do.  Instead, he ran over behind my husband's truck and just sat down.  Still angry, I followed him, and when I got behind the truck, I saw Luke.  Just standing behind his daddy's vehicle, for whatever reason, just hanging out.  And Taz was right there with him.  

I never even saw Luke walk outside, and I shudder to think what may have happened if Taz had not gone out after him that day.  Maybe my husband would have put the car in reverse and checked the backup camera and seen our child.  Maybe not.  But I can tell you this--I think Taz saved his life.  I think Taz knew to follow Luke, knew that he shouldn't be outside unsupervised, knew to protect him.  

Now Taz is my best friend.  And all the dog hair on my clothes doesn't even bother me anymore.  

Just My Two Cents

I'm not a huge fan of social media, but I do have a Facebook account that I check and update regularly because, let's face it, sometimes online interaction is the only interaction I get with other adults and also because I have friends who are scattered across the entire globe, and I like keeping up with what they're doing and how life is going.  

But Twitter?  Twitter I just don't get.  I know, I run the risk of sounding like an old fart when I say that (I can vaguely remember doing my own eye-rolling when my dad would say, "I just don't get this music you young people listen to...."), but really I just. don't. get it.  Tweets and followers and TwitPics and hashtags and runningyourwordstogethersothatIcan'tpossiblyunderstandwhatyou'retryingtosay......

It's all Greek to me.

I had the opportunity to peruse a certain Twitter account a few weeks ago, and let's just say that the things teenagers are posting on social media left me laughing and shaking my head at the same time.  One tweet in particular was posted by a young lady who I know personally, and this tweet shall be the subject of tonight's blog.  Here is what she said:

"Every girl deserves to be treated like a princess."

And here is what I wanted to respond to her and what I would like to say to every young lady who is single and looking for someone to treat her like a princess:

Maybe you should try acting like one.

Seriously, girls....it's not rocket science.  Girls who act trashy will attract the boys who are trashy.  Period.  If you want to catch a guy who will respect you, try respecting yourself, and you can do that by:

• Putting on some clothes.  Real princes want a lady who exhibits modesty, not someone who dressed like a 3-dollar hooker.  When you wear revealing clothing, you send a very clear message:  I'm here for your sexual entertainment. Guys are visually stimulated, so if your breasts are exposed, or your shorts just barely cover your rear end, or you like showing off those sculpted abs, then be prepared to catch the attention of a guy who will objectify you and want you for sex only.  

• Washing out your mouth.  I am appalled at the girls today who are dropping the f-bomb without even flinching.  And just because you "bleep" it out with an * here and there, or use it in an acronym like WTF, we still know what you're saying, and it is NOT attractive.  

• Laying off the booze.  Really, girls, bragging all over social media about being drunk or high is not only stupid (because you're underage and could go to jail...smart one), it's also NOT classy behavior.  Think about it:  you're drunk, you're stumbling around and acting like a moron, you're speech is slurred so you even sound stupid when you talk, and eventually you're going to puke all over everything.  Honestly, do you really think that's attractive?  It's not.  If you want a guy to like YOU, then stop hiding behind a bottle of beer.  

• For Heaven's sake, quit talking about SEX all the time.  We know, you're a teenager.  You're hormones are raging.  You think that sex is the ultimate act of adulthood and you can't wait to do it.  Blah, blah, blah.  But the more you talk about it (or engage in it), the more guys will see you as an object, and you'll end up with the boys who only care about how you can please THEM.  They won't care about treating you like a princess.  They won't put your well-being ahead of their own; they won't love you for who you are; and they definitely won't respect you.  Keep your clothes on and your standards high.  Otherwise, you don't have any room to complain about a guy who's treating you like a piece of meat.  

#JustMyTwoCents

UnPlugging Generation "Plugged In"

Friday was my daughter's 12th birthday.  It's hard to know what to buy a pre-teen girl these days.  I mean, she's too old for Barbies and too young for a car.  What's in between?  So I go to her and ask, point blank, what she wants for her birthday.  Her response:  an iPhone.  

Really?  You want me to buy YOU, a 12-year-old, a $300 phone that is smarter than you and me put together?  Why exactly?  Her response:  because all my friends have one.

(This is where I have to resist the urge to say, "If all your friends jumped off a cliff....."  You get the idea.)

I scoff at the notion that all of her friends have these phones.  I roll my eyes and say, Surely you are exaggerating.  Surely not ALL 12-year-olds are carrying expensive phones.  

And surely I was wrong.

So here we are, having a sleepover for her birthday, and what do all five girls show up to our house with?  Phones.  And what do they start doing the very minute they get together?  Texting.  Boys.  And taking pictures.  To text to boys.  And checking Facebook.  To see if there are any messages from--you guessed it--boys.

May I make a suggestion, parents?  

STOP BUYING THESE EXPENSIVE ELECTRONIC "TOYS" FOR YOUR NOT-OLD-ENOUGH-TO HANDLE-THEM KIDS.

Yes, I put that in all caps because I'm yelling it.  I'm shouting it from the rooftops.  Our children are too plugged in.  They do not know how to relate to one another because all they do is text and surf the web and play games on their phones and iPads and iPods and every other Apple product that is manufactured today.  And here's another thing--they are out of shape and overweight and unhealthy.  Why?  Because they'd rather bury their heads in video games and television than go outside and play.  Or participate in a sport.  Or hang out with friends and.....TALK (gasp!).  The proof's in the pudding, folks (bad pun, I know).  Just last week my daughter (the same one who's mad at me for not buying her a phone) had to take a physical fitness test.  One of the things she had to do was run a mile in 12 minutes.  TWELVE minutes.  I can walk a mile in 12 minutes, right?  That's 4 laps around the track.  I was shocked at the number of kids who couldn't even last one lap without stopping to walk.  Why?  Because the only exercise they get involves their fingers--texting, video games, and working the remote. 

So here's my plea to parents everywhere:  Stop with the expensive gadgets.  Stop with the electronics.  Buy your kid a bike.  Enroll your child in gymnastics.  Teach your children to have REAL conversations with other kids.  You know, that whole "relating" to other people thing.  It's so yesterday, isn't it?

#EndOfRant

October and a few more of my favorite things.......

I love October.  So many things about October.  Things like---

My birthday.

My anniversary.  (This is purely coincidence.  Trust me, I'm not trying to double-dip on gifts here.)

Leaves that change colors.

Pumpkins.

Pumpkin lattes, with extra whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles.

Halloween......and all the chocolate candy that I take from my kids only because I love them and want to protect them and as we all know, there might be some wicked person who stuck razor blades in teh Kit Kats and well, I just can't let my kids eat razor blades.

Cooler weather.  This one is "iffy" because I live in Florida and sometimes those cool fronts that blow in from the north will just blow right past us.  Darn it.

And ever since November 2010, there's one more thing I love about October:  National Down Syndrome Awareness Month.

It was almost 2 years ago that our fifth--and last--child was born.  An adorable little boy we named Luke.  An adorable little boy who just happens to have an adorable extra 21st chromosome, which means he has Down Syndrome.  We weren't caught off guard at birth.  In fact, we had some time to prepare for the possibility that he would have DS, although I never had an amniocentesis to give us a definite answer.  I knew the minute they put him in my arms.  I could see the characteristics of DS in spite of his puffy face!  And I did. not. care.  Not then, not now.  To me, he's just this sweet, run-of-the-mill kid who loves his brothers and sisters, loves to eat chocolate candy (that's my gene), hates having his hair washed or his teeth brushed, and knows---I mean really knows---how to throw a temper tantrum.  (Hello, terrible two's.  Good to see you again, for the fifth time).

I love this little boy.  He has brought so much joy into our home.  Even if I had known in the early weeks of my pregnancy that he was going to have DS, I wouldn't have done anything differently.  I'm really not sure how we've gotten to the point in our society where WE get to choose whose life is worth living.  Whose life is perfect enough to warrant being born.  Since when do we get to play god?  I believe that every life is created by God Himself, designed and planned and purposed by the very same hands that created the heavens and the earth.  Who are we to question His authority??  I shudder to think of the judgement our nation has brought upon itself by choosing to murder hundreds of millions of unborn babies, all in the name of "convenience."

Recently, Fox News conducted an interview with famed actor/director/producer Penny Marshall.  Here's what she had to say about an unplanned pregnancy in her own life:

"In 1963 I got pregnant.  I had a kid.  Abortion wasn't illegal.  I was 40 something years old.  I had a kid already, my womb wasn't crying out.  I talked to my brother (Garry Marshall).  We made the pros and cons.  Joe Pesci offered to be the father.  I didn't want to do that to him.  It was more do I want this other person in my life, for the rest of my life."

Did you catch that last sentence?  Go ahead, re-read it.  She didn't want "this other person" in her life.  Not that she was an unwed, confused, scared teenager.  Not that she was flat broke and couldn't afford a child (later on in the interview she talks about throwing yearly birthday parties for herself that cost about $30,000).  Nope, this woman murdered her unborn child because she already had a child and didn't want another one.  Just tossed away a baby like one would toss out the trash.  She selfishly didn't want another person in her life, and so abortion was her option.  Absolutely makes me cringe how we no longer value life as a society.  Shame. On. Us.

Which takes me back to my original point:  Down Syndrome awareness.  If I weren't passionately pro-life before Luke's birth, I most certainly am now.  I believe every child has a right to life, even the children with so-called "defects."  Those children were also planned with a purpose.  They bring joy and laughter and love into this world.  So many parents like me want the world to know this.  We want to spread awareness that just because our children are different, they aren't any less worth or less important.  They are typical, everyday children who just want to love and be loved.  And for the record, who could look at this little boy and NOT love him??  He's the cutest child ever (my genes, of course), and we are blessed to have him in our family......

                               Luke and his big sister, Grace!

                                     
                                                     I just can't resist that smile......

                                           Luke learning to feed himself with a spoon!

                                Luke and big sister, Rachel! 

An Independence Day Tribute

Today is July 4, 2012, and here I am at home, cleaning the house and watching television and checking Facebook.....every. five. minutes.....because for the first time in I-don't-know how many years, we are not celebrating the 4th with lots of friends, food, and fireworks.  Part of me is somewhat disappointed; the other part is enjoying a day of rest at home with the kids and NO AGENDA.  It's almost.....um, refreshing!


A couple of weeks ago I had a "falling out" of sorts with someone I considered a very good friend.  Actually, she was one of my best friends here in Nowhere, Florida, a town that I have had a very hard time adjusting to since our move in 2010.  I think in part that difficulty comes from the fact that although there is a Navy base nearby, ours isn't really your typical "military" town.  Add to that the fact that hubby's base of station is 50 miles from our house, which means I am not involved in anything military around here.  Kind of hard for a woman who has spent the past 15 years attached to the Department of Defense in various ways.  It's like all of the sudden I'm a civilian.  But not.  And all of my friends are civilian, and to be honest, as much as I love and adore and appreciate my friends, they just don't get military life.  They haven't experienced it, they don't understand it.  Period.


So back to my story about this friend.  She betrayed me in what I consider the worst way possible, by sharing something with another person that I had shared with her in confidence.  I was hurt and angered, and the whole situation (which involved a fourth party who was also hurt) set off a firestorm of emotions that left me tossing in the wind.  I called this friend to confront her and tell her how she hurt me.  Maybe she didn't mean to do it.  Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.  But it only took about 3 minutes for me to realize that she was NOT sorry for what she had done.  In fact, she justified her behavior and her betrayal and offered no apology whatsoever.  So I hung up the phone completely unsatisfied with our conversation which was nowhere near resolved.  Then I did what any right-minded person would do in this situation---I e-mailed her via Facebook.  


*(On a sidenote, Blake says that Facebook is evil.  From the devil himself.  Destroyer of friendships and relationships and marriages.  I'm beginning to think he is very astute in his observations).


I let her know in this e-mail how much she had hurt me.  How much I had valued our friendship and how betrayed I felt.  Her response to me?  She told me that I had become so very negative over the past year, and that I needed to "surround myself with positive people" and just "be happy."  She then went on to wish me the best of luck in the future.  What the.....?  What kind of response is that?  Is this the new Christian mantra among women who don't want to accept responsibility for offending another sister in Christ?  "Well, I'm sorry you were offended.  I'm sorry that you feel that way.  But I do wish you the best in the future."  How incredibly lame.  How thoughtless.  How RUDE.


I'll admit that her words stung, and although it's been more than 2 weeks since the incident, I still feel the pain of what she said, so much so that there are nights I can't even sleep because I replay her words.....over, and over, and over, doubting who I am and doubting whether or not anyone would ever want to be my friend.  She was kind enough to say that I hadn't always been negative, just in the last year.  So I began to think about everything that has happened in the last year (or 2 years even).


1.  I was diagnosed with a high-risk pregnancy at 32 weeks and stood a chance of losing our 5th child.


2.  I gave birth to a child with special needs (a little boy with Down Syndrome, who, as it turns out, is probably the most popular member of our family.  Oh, those sweet special needs kids!)


3.  Our "special" baby needed surgery immediately after birth and was hospitalized in the NICU for 3 weeks. 


4.  When our "special" baby was only 3 months old, my husband began a deployment cycle from...well, you-know-where....which left him gone for a total of SEVEN months out of the year.


5.  Two days after he left for the first deployment, our baby was hospitalized again.  This time, I had to do it alone.


6.  I also spent an entire year dealing with another child who has had some serious behavioral issues, partly due to an absent father, partly due to....well, I don't know what.  We're still trying to figure that one out.  ;)


7.  We spent Christmas alone, without husband and father.  Wouldn't it be nice if I could be like my friend and have a husband who never traveled and was home from work by 4 everyday.  Yes, very nice indeed.


Yes, her words hurt, and maybe she was right.  Maybe I have become negative and withdrawn and bitter (although I do think she's exaggerating just a tad).  But maybe I could have used a little more support.  Real, genuine support, as opposed to the casual "Call me if you need anything" that gets tossed about so frequently by civilians.  So, to honor all military families on this Independence Day, I'm sharing a post that one of my friends put on Facebook this morning.  A letter from one military spouse to a civilian spouse.  Heartfelt words that share more eloquently than I ever could what we military wives would like those in the civilian world to know.  That our lives are stressful, emotional, difficult.  That our husbands are in foreign lands for months on end, fighting this unseen enemy and putting their own lives in danger.  That we know and live with the fear of that black car in our driveway and a knock at the door.  That we live in front of Fox News, watching for any news of a plane crash, or a bombing, or an attack on our loved ones.  And we might lose our way.  We might have times of darkness, or sadness, or overwhelming fear.  And what we need, more than anything, is a true friend who can stand by us in those times and love us and encourage us, even if we're a little more "negative" than one would like.  I am very thankful for those friends who are ever so faithful.  And for those who aren't?  Well, I won't lose another minute's sleep over them. 


Happy 4th to all those military spouses who keep the world running in the midst of it all.  I salute you.

What I Wish my Civilian Friends Knew: A Letter from a Military Wife
by JOCELYN on JULY 2, 2012
by Catherine Fitzgerald

Dear Civilian Friend,
The other day you said to me, “I always want to minister to you, but I don’t know how.” I know I haven’t made it easy on you to figure out the “how.” Blame it on Rosie the Riveter and her “I can do it all” attitude or perhaps Lifetime’s Army Wives and their ability to solve all the drama of military life in 60 minutes or less. Blame it on the pride that comes with this lifestyle, constantly whispering in my ear, asking for help is showing weakness. It’s not fair to you. Or me. Because you want to help and I need it. So here it is. Everything I wished you knew but I can’t seem to tell you.

First and foremost, I need your prayers. Pray for strength and endurance during yet another separation from the love of my life. Pray for my kids because they are struggling without daddy right now. No matter how old they are, no matter how many deployments they’ve been through, every separation is hard on them. And nothing hurts a momma more than to see her kiddos hurting and knowing there is nothing I can do. Pray for my husband. Pray for his safety. Pray for his mind to be able to process the ugliness of war. Pray for our marriage, that it can endure the trials and temptations that come with every departure. Pray for our country and the leaders in charge of putting our husband and father in harm’s way. Just above all else, pray for me, friend.

You should know that I probably won’t ask for much. In fact, you should probably just adopt a “don’t ask, just tell” policy with me. I am coming to watch your kids Monday night. I am coming to mow your lawn next Tuesday. This will be much more effective with me than a blanket “Let me know if you need anything.” Like I said, blame it on Rosie the Riveter or this stubborn pride of mine, but I probably won’t ask you for the help I so desperately need. And if I do, know that it took A LOT for me to get to that point so never make me feel bad about it because I may not ask again. I know the air filter was really dirty and should have been cleaned months ago, but I’m just doing the best that I can, a day at a time.

I need you to walk with me through this deployment. How this translates in real, practical terms is different for each one of us but try and figure it out. Many days I am treading water and can feel like I am about to go under. It may be a break from the kids. Sometimes a trip to the grocery store alone can feel like a day at the spa. Come give my kids a bath and help me get them to bed and I will feel like a new woman. Carry the baby asleep in the carseat to my car and the burden will literally feel lighter. Take my trash can to the curb every Wednesday night so I don’t awake in a panic at midnight and have to run outside to do it. Invite me for dinner so the nights don’t feel so lonely. Ask me to spend the holidays with you because I am so far from my family. Drop off dinner so I don’t have to cook one night. Help fix that leaky faucet so I don’t have to figure out which plumber won’t rip me off in this town I am new in. Come clean my bathrooms because I can never get to them. Mow my yard without even asking. Change the oil in my car, something my husband usually does, so that I don’t have to lug the babies to Jiffy Lube. Watch my kids while I go to the doctor so I don’t have to pay for another babysitter. Offer to come stay the night so I can sleep soundly and not jump at every creak I hear. Just come over and chat, I missing having someone to talk to. Listen to me and you will probably figure out quickly some ways you can show me you care.

Keep encouraging me. Bear with me through this whole deployment. It is like a death. At the beginning, the offers of help and words of encouragement are plentiful, but as I near the end, weary and tired, when I need it the most, they trail off. Remind me of God’s word and His promises. I can become consumed in missing my man and I need to constantly be told that God has a purpose and plan for me in this life just as much as he has one for my husband. Help me find it because sometimes my vision gets so clouded with tears.

I know you don’t every understand everything about my life. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. It’s taken years for me to learn this many acronyms. I want you to understand more and I don’t mind explaining. You don’t have to pity me, but I want your empathy. If you see me huddling with my fellow military wives, don’t think I don’t want to let you in. It’s just that we speak the same language and we have seen each other at the lowest points so we are bonded in an incredible way. That doesn’t mean I don’t desire to have a close bond with you too. But, they are just my default. You can offer me a perspective outside of this life. I need that.

Please know I am grateful for all your help. Though I may not write you a thank you card for each and every act, know I so appreciate it. I know I can get wrapped up in my own hardships and sometimes I forget to ask how I can pray for you. I am sorry. I know God’s comfort so I should be comforting you in your difficulties with the same comfort I have received. I need to work on that. And I need to help you with your needs as well and use the gifts and talents He has given me in ministering to you. Just because my husband is gone, doesn’t mean I can’t serve you. I know it is better to give than to receive.

We are not that different. My husband just took a job where the uncertainty of life is simply in our faces all the time. You sometimes can pretend you are in control of your life. I know I am not. God can use that as a launching pad for an incredible faith and trust in Him. Or Satan can use that to send me into a whirlwind of fear. Help me out of the spiral of anxiety if you see me spinning in it.

I’m glad I was able to tell you all the things I never did before. I hope this helps you figure out how to minister to me. I should have told you sooner, but I just didn’t know how. I need you more than ever these days as the deployments keep coming and the challenges get harder and harder with each moment. Our family can’t do this calling without you so thank you for noticing us and caring enough to show us we aren’t alone in this.

Thank you, friend.
Love,
A Military Wife

2009-2010: YEAR IN REVIEW....sort of.

It's been 18 months since my last post, so let me sum up some of the bigger events that have taken place in the Smith family during this time....

1. We had another baby. Yep, call us crazy, but we decided to have another baby so that Rachel would have a playmate and not feel like an only child! Our precious little boy, Aaron James, was born on June 10, 2009, and let me tell you, they ADORE one another. It was definitely one of our best decisions yet (those are rare, you know....smart decisions, so we revel in them when they happen).

2. We got our European adventure cut short, courtesy of the US Air Force, and in November 2009, received orders to Hurlbert Field, Florida. I could start a whole other blog on my experiences in the last six months here in northwest Florida....but I won't. I think I've reached my complaining quota for the year, and it's only August. More on that later....

3. Troy made Eagle Scout. Yahoo! He worked hard during his scouting years, and in December 2009, just before we left Germany, our first-born was awarded the highest rank that a scout can achieve. This was a major accomplishment for him, and yes, we've all earned bragging rights.

4. We finally did some serious traveling in Europe, with our last-minute/pre-PCS trips including Munich for Oktoberfest; Pisa and Rome, Italy for Thanksgiving (by the way, we have officially been added to the Pope's "Most Wanted" list and are banned from Vatican City until 2021); and Edinburgh, Scotland for Christmas 2009. All three trips were amazing, and reminiscing about them just makes me miss Germany even more.

5. We moved to Florida. As for whether or not we like it here, the jury is still out.

6. We got pregnant again. And in case you're wondering, YES, we do know what causes it. Baby (boy) #5 is due in November, so at this point, I have approximately 14 weeks of pregnancy left. God help me. Three babies in 3 1/2 years is just plain insane. What was I saying about "smart decisions?" Nevertheless, we are anxiously awaiting this little blessing's arrival. I just pray we have a name for him before he starts Kindergarten.

7. Troy got his learner's permit. It was about this time that I started taking Xanax. Coincidence? Nope.

This about covers all the big news over the past year or so. I could tell you countless humorous stories about our "adventures," and you probably wouldn't believe half of them.....my life is incredibly interesting. Sometimes stressful, always tiring, but never without a dull moment. And I wouldn't have it any other way, let me assure you. My goal for the school year is to start writing again, but please don't hold me to it. After all, with four kids and another on the way, I barely have time to brush my teeth. I know, I know....TMI.

RACHEL'S FIRST BIRTHDAY!

It's hard to believe that a whole year has gone by since the birth of our precious baby girl, Rachel! It seems like only yesterday that I was peeing on a stick and then crying because there were two lines instead of one! What a shock, what a surprise, what a big adjustment....and what a major blessing to the Smith family!! Rachel is her own unique little person, and she is so much fun to have in our house! She looks like Daddy but acts like Mommy, in a good way, of course! She is smart, funny, beautiful, charming, and loving...everything you'd expect in a good Southern girl! So hats off to baby Rachel---HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEET RAY!