So last night my daugther and I cuddle up in her bed for some good night snuggles, and begin talking about good people vs. bad people and what makes someone good and what makes someone bad. She says, part of being a bad person is breaking God’s rules. I agree. So then she proceeds to ask me what God’s rules are.

Well, God’s rules are… the Ten commandments!

Ok, says my brilliant 7 year old, what are they?

umm… Ok, give me a second here – Oh my gosh, can I really not recite the ten commandments!?!? Sorry mom, dad and Mrs. Cole, Grey and Angstadt…. 3 years of a catholic education were wasted on me! I cant even recall my basic ten commandments.
“well” I say, racking my brain for anything, ” thou shall not kill, thou shall not steal, thou shall not worship idols…. er… wait. no, its thou shall have no other gods before me.”

“wait. you mean there are other gods?”

“huh? well, yeah, sure.”

“So there are more gods than our God?”

“Well, God says so, so most likely.”

“like who?”

“Well I dunno, I am catholic and I worship God, the Lord our father….The christian God that came from Judaism….  But… umm…. like the ancient egyptians! remember?”


Dream House

We found out our forwarding base was in Illinois… Illinois?!? What is in Illinois?
Apparently, its  the largest and coolest base housing ever, for which we were automatically entered in a drawing for AND we won!

So I flew out with the kids, while TMO and the DH packed out stuff, to see what this awesome new house was all about. Turns out, like all base housing, it had been privatized. Unlike all base housing, it was located in the center of the largest indoor shopping mall ever, on an island suspended over the indoor mall’s indoor pool.  So after going through mall security, we had to jump from the mall floor, over the chlorinated water that people were swimming in onto the glass ramp. From there, we followed the glass ramp up to glass stairs with stainless steel hand rails to level one, which led to the living room.

The living room was fully furnished, with a modern tan sofa that folds into a bed, square, angular book cases and shelves.  On one side was a TV, on the other the entry to the dining area, framed in stainless steel and dark walnut. The dining area (done in retro red chairs from the 60’s) and the living area were completely visible to the entire mall, with no actual walls, just waist high glass and stainless steel guard rails. The kids rooms were right off of the living area, but one room was HUGE, with two beds and two walls facing opposite eachother composed completely of glass with holes poked in it. I was not happy that the girls would have to share this room and felt it highly inappropriate. The other kid’s room was just about perfect, for one kid, and had one wall completely made of glass with squares in it. Next to the kids rooms was a small “study” room, which had one wall made of glasss and like the rest of the house, no ceiling. From its window like wall, you could view the very front of the mall and watch people come and go.

It was suggested to me that it would make a good photography room, since it also included a side balcony and set of stairs, allowing easy access for my clients so they wouldn’t need to leap over the pool. The master bedroom was much the same as all the other rooms and it included a sitting area/library area, completely open. The furniture was angular and modern, a tasteful mix of simple neutral with shocking color throw blankets, pillows, vases and other random accessories.

TMO arrived early, and the housing office representitive (a snarky college age student, with boxy black glasses, greasy hair, and skinny jeans) was extremely concerned that the speakers hooked up to our computer and stereo would be too loud, and drown out the sound of the mall. So he confiscated our stereo and gave everyone neon bright skull headphones that you could plug SD cards loaded with his favorite music into. He also informed me that our furniture was too big and bulky, except for, perhaps, just that one overlarge chair. He said it would make a “dramatic” statement about America and its gluttony.

They unpacked our clothes and hung them on stainless steal racks- even the panties and bras. They unpacked the children’s toys and games and things, setting them carefully in glass cubbies, nooks and shelves. Then they showed me the vivid purple comforter on our bed in the master bedroom. I protested slightly, and the housing representative went on and on about how lucky we were to be chosen of all the people in the Air Force, to live in such an extraordinary house. And when I mentioned the total and complete lack of walls as a concern for our living daily life, he laughed and said it was no big deal. I said I supposed we could just do things at night, when no one was at the mall to watch us. He pointed to several security cameras and smiled charmingly saying “Big brother is watchign!” When I pointed out that I could not even be intimate with my husband under such conditions without breaking laws he replied, who needs to be intimate to be married?

I left our household goods in our modern, exposed living room. I grabbed two children by the hand and slung one on my hip. I leapt over the jolly people swimming in the swimming pool, splashing slightly at my landing since I only barely made it to the top step. I rushed passed security, who smiled and said “have a nice day!”, b-lined through the parking lot to my eco masochist suburban, tossed all three kids into it and drove until I made it to Pensylvania, where I unloaded all three kids at the side of the road and informed everyone that we would be creating our own colony.

I called Stephen from my cell phone. He came out in his white jetta and we took Thing1 to her new school, in Pennsylvania, where everything was green and all the houses were brick.  The school was blue, the lunches were mediocre, and the other kids were the same size. The teacher was reassuringly normal and the house we moved into was small and cramped.

It had solid brick walls. And ceilings. And a roof. And there was a tree out back, in our tiny back yard. And the dog liked to jump through the tire swing. And none of the furniture was retro, modern or new. And the windows were double paned. And our neighbors made lime green jello molds. And we bought new stereo speakers, that we played at shockingly high volumes.

And then I woke up.

It was a strange fricking dream, thats for sure :-/

Time Flies

People always say :

Time flies.

It will be over before you know it.

It will go by so fast, you’ll wonder where it went.

In the blink of an eye it will be over.

You’ll look back at this and wonder how it happened so fast.

Someone, please, please PLEASE, explain this to me. Time is time. There is always 60 seconds in a minute and 60 minutes in an hour and 24 hours in a day and 7 days in a week and I have 25 weeks left of being a single mother, a long distance wife and a lonely woman. So how can that 25 weeks possibly go by faster?

If anyone knows the answer to that question, I would so appreciate having it. Because if I knew the secret of time, I could whisper it to God and maybe the Angels would take my prayer and give time flight… Then I could fly right by these lonely nights and pointless fights, and be a family again. That would be wonderful.

I know everything happens for a reason and in time that reason will be revealed. Such a mysterious substance, isn’t it? This time stuff, that flies and drags on and swoops in and steals your babies and gives you toddlers, that sneaks minutes off a clock and drags days across a calendar agonizingly pushing, creeping, shuffling and meandering along, until you dont know what Time is anymore. A minute, a second, a wrinkle, a photo, or a memory.

Thing3 last night wanted Daddy to carry him up the stairs. Of course, Daddy isn’t here, so Daddy couldn’t comply. Thing3 was not happy with this and let me know all about it by collapsing in that boneless manner of a toddler past the point of no return and sobbing his frustrations between yelling at me. When he finally grasped some form of control he shouted at me.

“Daddy carry me up stairs!”

“I can carry you upstairs, but only if you ask me nicely. You cant yell at mommy like that.” On some level, I know just doing it would be easier, but I do not want to raise my son thinking that yelling at me in a deep, guttural voice will make me comply to his demands.

“No! Carry up stairs!”

“I cant carry you upstairs unless you ask me nicely. Are you going to ask me nicely?” Silence and a stubbornly protruding bottom lip greeted my query.

“Ok then, I am going upstairs now.” as I took a step up the stairs, Thing3 scrambled one step in front of my slow moving feet and resolutely dropped his bottom directly in my path.

“Carry me! up stairs! Carry!”

“I can carry you if you ask me nicely. Say please carry me mom.”

“NO!Carry ME!”

“Ok, then I will have to go upstairs now.” and sure enough, as I sidestepped to the right, he scrambled up again, two steps ahead of me and plopped himself in my path.

“Carry me! up stairs! Carry!”

“I can carry you if you ask me nicely. Say please carry me mom.”

“NO!Carry ME!”

“I can’t carry you until you ask me nicely. Use your manners, say please, and I will carry you.”

“Carry me!”

“No. If you cant ask nicely, with manners, I will have to go upstairs now.” and sure enough, as I sidestepped to the right, he scrambled up again, two steps ahead of me and plopped himself in my path. And so it went, over again and again until we made it to the top of the stairs. He turned, looked at me, looked down at the stairs, looked at me again.

“Look, you did it all yourself. You didnt need me to carry you at all.”

“Yep. In my bead pease.”

“Ok then. Come on.” and I swept him up with snuggles and kisses and dropped him in his crib, where we sang the night night song and I turned off his light with a “goodly night”.

Because it was, after all  bed TIME and the time was right for snuggles and loveys… but after bedtime with the kids, it was time for me to go to bed, with visions of calendars dancing in my head. And all I could think about was time. Time that I had. Time I didn’t want. Time I cherished. Time I hated. Time I suffered. Time that would go on, and on and on. And Time that would never quit. And Time that was lost- Time I could never get back.

And in that moment, I was happy it was him who was gone and not me. And then I realized that during this time, he is still experiencing time, just not the same way I will. Maybe its better the Angels leave those prayers right here. Because if they took it and made time fly, then I wouldn’t have time with my babies. But then, if they wanted to bring me him instead, that would be just fine by me.

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Dear Mother Nature,

Dear Mother Nature,

I think you might have missed the memo- but its officially autumn now. I know its easy to get caught up in the season and forget to check the calander and of course, you are so dilgent in your job that I know you would never take word of mouth and rumors for fact, but I want you to know that  I double checked my calendar, just to be sure. It is official, as of 12:01 am this morning, September 23, 2011, it is Autumn.

Its the season of pumpkins and $.29 squash. With Zucchini breads baking, and pies cooling. Its the season of soup and stew, with fresh baked breads. The smells of nutmeg, all spice, ginger and apples should fill the house and the windows should be open wide to admit the crisp autumn air, with just a hint of winter to help us prepare for the next season.

Harvest is here, with fresh, cool cider during the day and hot, cinamon cider at night. Its time to pick pumpkins and corn, for the earth to turn over again and be tucked in for a long winter. Pears are in season, squash is the main course and leaves should be burning in the back yard.

Please turn the temperature back down to something appropriate for Autumn. 92 degrees is just too hot. I would never ream of doing your job for you, but a balmy 68, with a gentle breeze swirling the leavs in eddies would be just perfect weather for Autumn.

I am ready for the change of seasons. My entire being has been waiting for leaves to turn and float to the ground, for the air to be crisp and fresh with that autumn snap,  and for a hint of frost to kiss the ground.

So please Mother Nature, I am begging you…. Fall into Autumn this year, gracefully and quickly, with reds and golds, browns and bronze, orange and topaz… We are waiting, armed with our scarves, boots and rakes, for the leaves to let down and the rainbow of harvest colors to burst from the fields.

Eagerly Awaiting your response,


Not Aristotle… just a housewife.

Some people give me a lot of credit for some deep thinking, or just a lot of extra light thinking.  My mom is one of those people. I have friends who are like that too though. And strangers, or friendly acquaintances – those who know you least- seem to do it the most.

Sometimes I will have a conversation with my mom about something kind of abstract- the way people are, why they do what they do- and she will make a comment of “well I know you thought about this but didn’t want to tell me” or she will ask a question about something really deep that just stumps me and she says, “well its ok, you can share with me”. And I almost want to laugh, but that would be bad. Because I know she thinks I just dont want to share, but the honest to goodness truth is, its not even something I have contemplated. It never even crossed my mind.

Like this one time, a friend called and explained in great detail, why she did something, because I had made a comment and she just knew that I was thinking hinting about it, but she didn’t want to tell me in front of that other person we were with at the time, but now that its just us she doesn’t mind talking about that thing that I was hinting at. She just didn’t want be believing she was rude, because she had acted rude.

And I sit there, thinking wow, you are giving me a lot of credit for a lot of thinking that, frankly, I think isn’t really worth the energy it takes to think of it, or that thinking that never even blipped on my thinking radar. I had made a comment in passing that I couldn’t even remember six hours later and it was never supposed to be a subtle hint or secret code. It was… well, just a thought that had popped into my mind and my mouth blurted out and once it was gone, then it was gone.

Or other times, people say things like ” I am sure you have already figured out that the reason I did (fill in the blank) is because of bla bla bla” or “I am sure you already thought of this, but I am really excited about (fill in with some crafty or fun thing to do) later this weekend!”

No. Actually I hadn’t thought about it. But hey, thanks for the idea!  That sounds like a lot of fun and something I would like to do.

Whats my point… my point is, you would be amazed at how little thinking I often do, and maybe, if more people assumed that, less people would assume what you are thinking.

Because lets face it, usually we are thinking about our kids, or money problems, or what to make for dinner that night, or work problems or our doctors appt. tomorrow or the girl scout meeting or pta. We really dont spend that much time agonizing or thinking abstractedly. Because it takes so much time and we have so much real life crashing our thinking pads, that there really isn’t much room for all this deep thinking and speculation that I find myself so often receiving credit for doing when frankly… I am just working on my weekly menu ,or budgeting my checking account or trying to figure out the logistics of being two people to three kids and being in 3 places at one time. Dont you know that I am just a house wife and not aristotle? good grief… give me a break…. 😛

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