Wyatt learned to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star! He sang it to me last night before bed and then said, "Sing, mommy!" and we sang it together again. It is so sweet! Here's a video of him singing it - he was a little camera shy at first but he warmed up at the end! I told him we had to record it so we could send it to Daddy!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Parent Trap
When Tommy and I were considering having a child, I knew that I needed to be prepared to be a single parent. Given the military lifestyle, I knew that separations – whether they were for training, deployments, or God-forbid, death – would be a given. I knew that I had to be prepared at times to be both Mom and Dad, to be everyone and everything to that child. I just didn’t know how hard it would be to do that. I don’t think you ever really can know how hard it is until you actually have a kid.
With Tommy being in California from mid-June to mid-September, I have self-proclaimed myself a (temporary) Single Parent. Admittedly, I do not have many of the daily stress and worries that most single parents have: we have a dual income and financial security, and this is not a long-term situation. Still, it is stressful to be solely responsible for Wyatt while working full-time and preparing for a move half-way across the world!
Overall, Wyatt and I are doing really well. We’ve found our groove and have our own little routine. But what I’ve found is the hardest to handle are the little moments - the moments where Wyatt wakes up at 3 a.m. asking about Daddy and I don’t know what to say. Or the moments where everything has built up and I just need a break, just 5 minutes to get it together, but there’s no one here to give me that break. The moment where I’m supposed to be at work, my kid needs to go to the doctor, my car needs repaired, and my cat just ran out the back door into the street and I would just like a little freakin’ help with it all!
Still, I am proud of myself for keeping it all together. My house might not be the cleanest, and I might have forgotten to stop by the housing office and pick up our extra keys. But my kid laughed hysterically at me last night when I pretended to eat the bubbles in the bathtub. He had a blast running the blender, helping me “cook ice cream shakies,” at his request. And sure, he might think that Daddy works inside the computer since he only sees him on the video camera, but at least he knows he’s still there. And he’ll be back someday, in the flesh.
It’s hard to listen to others when they tell me that their spouse will be gone for the whole weekend, leaving them with the kid(s). I tend to roll my eyes at that. At the same time, there are others out there in permanent single-parent situations who’ve got it much worse than me, so I try to count my blessings. I give mad props to single parents who do this every day with no end in sight, while I sit here and cross the days off the calendar. So, to the true single parents out there, my hat is off to you for keeping it all together long-term.
With Tommy being in California from mid-June to mid-September, I have self-proclaimed myself a (temporary) Single Parent. Admittedly, I do not have many of the daily stress and worries that most single parents have: we have a dual income and financial security, and this is not a long-term situation. Still, it is stressful to be solely responsible for Wyatt while working full-time and preparing for a move half-way across the world!
Overall, Wyatt and I are doing really well. We’ve found our groove and have our own little routine. But what I’ve found is the hardest to handle are the little moments - the moments where Wyatt wakes up at 3 a.m. asking about Daddy and I don’t know what to say. Or the moments where everything has built up and I just need a break, just 5 minutes to get it together, but there’s no one here to give me that break. The moment where I’m supposed to be at work, my kid needs to go to the doctor, my car needs repaired, and my cat just ran out the back door into the street and I would just like a little freakin’ help with it all!
Still, I am proud of myself for keeping it all together. My house might not be the cleanest, and I might have forgotten to stop by the housing office and pick up our extra keys. But my kid laughed hysterically at me last night when I pretended to eat the bubbles in the bathtub. He had a blast running the blender, helping me “cook ice cream shakies,” at his request. And sure, he might think that Daddy works inside the computer since he only sees him on the video camera, but at least he knows he’s still there. And he’ll be back someday, in the flesh.
It’s hard to listen to others when they tell me that their spouse will be gone for the whole weekend, leaving them with the kid(s). I tend to roll my eyes at that. At the same time, there are others out there in permanent single-parent situations who’ve got it much worse than me, so I try to count my blessings. I give mad props to single parents who do this every day with no end in sight, while I sit here and cross the days off the calendar. So, to the true single parents out there, my hat is off to you for keeping it all together long-term.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
The 2-Year Old Pictures that Weren't
Wyatt turned two on July 11th, and I am so over the two-year old behavior, let me tell you. He got sent to his room again this morning. That's twice in three days. The first time was for biting me (among other things) and this morning it was just back-to-back-to-back temper tantrums. The straw that broke the camel's back was him repeatedly taking his automatic toothbrush and scrubbing the floor with it...and the mirrors...and then freaking out when I took it away. Ugh.
But I digress.
So the day after his birthday I had scheduled some time for his 2-year old birthday pictures at Walmart. Yes, I said Walmart. Please don't ask me what I was thinking. I knew it wasn't a good idea at the time, but I did it anyway. I could give you my rationale (unwilling to pay exhorbitant prices and no Target studio near here...) but I will save you the lengthy explanation.
Instead, I decided to give it a whirl. Well, whirl we did, but it was unsuccessful. My first clue should have been that when I showed up 5 minutes early the girl was still turning on lights and booting up the computers. Granted, I had purposely booked the first appoinment of the day, but I expected a little more professionalism than that.
My second clue should have been that she looked about 16. And not a cute 16.
Third clue? There are no doors on the studio. For a two-year old, that is a major problem.
Determined to make a go of it, we sit on Ronald McDonald for a few minutes until the 16-year old figured out how to work the cash register and photo equipment. Then she asks me which background would I like? And proceeds to recommend the fake "fall scene." You know the one - the same one that was used in my 2-year old pictures in 1980? Yeah, that one. I tell her I'm really more of a solid-color background person, and she ignores me and puts up the fake "dock by the water's edge" background circa 1982 and says, "Let's try this!"
Crap... and I forgot Wyatt's sailor's cap.
She puts Wyatt up on the big box thing and tries to tickle him with the feather. He actually humored her for about 3-4 minutes, but everytime he smiled, she just laughed at him instead of clicking the button! Then she would rearrange his hands so they were sitting on his lap, folded. Seriously? The hands? That's what you're worried about? The kid is sitting there, smiling, in your stupid posed position, with your dumb dock in the background, and you're worried about his hands? JUST SNAP THE PICTURE for Pete's sake!
Pretty soon I started saying things like, "Oh, that would have been a good one..." so she would GET A CLUE! After four minutes of this she has taken only TWO pictures. One, he wasn't even looking at the camera. The second was okay, but nothing spectacular.
Then Wyatt decided he was done. The end. He wanted down off the box.
The 16-year old says, "Oh, don't worry, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
Umm.... well, I sure as shoot hope so, because this kid is going to bolt.
Yep, he's gone. I have to go and retrieve him from the McDonald's next to the studio, where he's insisting on "Fries." Problem is, they don't make fries at 10:04 a.m.! I haul him back to the studio and she gets out a red ball.
Yes, my friends, a red ball. Which she proceeds to throw to him, engaging him in a game of catch.
So she plays catch with him and he is running all over chasing this ball. I have no idea on earth how she is going to get him to sit still at this point to take a picture, and apparently neither does she, because pretty soon Wyatt figures out he can throw the ball out into the store, and that is much more fun that playing catch with the 16-year old!
If this is one of the "tricks" up her sleeve, she better switch sleeves fast. Because my kid just pulled a disappearing act on her.
I haul him back in the studio and he's getting crabby at this point. I look at her point blank and say, "What now?" She is, after all, the professional here. She says, "I don't know. Usually after they get down off the box it's harder to get them to sit still."
Especially when you start throwing a ball at them!!!
I tell her, "Well, I don't know how to do this - this isn't my job. What do you usually do when this happens?"
"I just have the parents walk them around the store for awhile."
Umm.. okay... Well I was not in the mood for "walking around the store." Neither was Wyatt. So we left. Without pictures. She looked at me like I had just burst her 16-year old bubble, but I didn't care. I had seen all her tricks, and I could see where this was headed, so in an effort to avoid a full-blown temper tantrum in the middle of Walmart, we left.
Next time I'll remember the sailor's hat.
But I digress.
So the day after his birthday I had scheduled some time for his 2-year old birthday pictures at Walmart. Yes, I said Walmart. Please don't ask me what I was thinking. I knew it wasn't a good idea at the time, but I did it anyway. I could give you my rationale (unwilling to pay exhorbitant prices and no Target studio near here...) but I will save you the lengthy explanation.
Instead, I decided to give it a whirl. Well, whirl we did, but it was unsuccessful. My first clue should have been that when I showed up 5 minutes early the girl was still turning on lights and booting up the computers. Granted, I had purposely booked the first appoinment of the day, but I expected a little more professionalism than that.
My second clue should have been that she looked about 16. And not a cute 16.
Third clue? There are no doors on the studio. For a two-year old, that is a major problem.
Determined to make a go of it, we sit on Ronald McDonald for a few minutes until the 16-year old figured out how to work the cash register and photo equipment. Then she asks me which background would I like? And proceeds to recommend the fake "fall scene." You know the one - the same one that was used in my 2-year old pictures in 1980? Yeah, that one. I tell her I'm really more of a solid-color background person, and she ignores me and puts up the fake "dock by the water's edge" background circa 1982 and says, "Let's try this!"
Crap... and I forgot Wyatt's sailor's cap.
She puts Wyatt up on the big box thing and tries to tickle him with the feather. He actually humored her for about 3-4 minutes, but everytime he smiled, she just laughed at him instead of clicking the button! Then she would rearrange his hands so they were sitting on his lap, folded. Seriously? The hands? That's what you're worried about? The kid is sitting there, smiling, in your stupid posed position, with your dumb dock in the background, and you're worried about his hands? JUST SNAP THE PICTURE for Pete's sake!
Pretty soon I started saying things like, "Oh, that would have been a good one..." so she would GET A CLUE! After four minutes of this she has taken only TWO pictures. One, he wasn't even looking at the camera. The second was okay, but nothing spectacular.
Then Wyatt decided he was done. The end. He wanted down off the box.
The 16-year old says, "Oh, don't worry, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."
Umm.... well, I sure as shoot hope so, because this kid is going to bolt.
Yep, he's gone. I have to go and retrieve him from the McDonald's next to the studio, where he's insisting on "Fries." Problem is, they don't make fries at 10:04 a.m.! I haul him back to the studio and she gets out a red ball.
Yes, my friends, a red ball. Which she proceeds to throw to him, engaging him in a game of catch.
So she plays catch with him and he is running all over chasing this ball. I have no idea on earth how she is going to get him to sit still at this point to take a picture, and apparently neither does she, because pretty soon Wyatt figures out he can throw the ball out into the store, and that is much more fun that playing catch with the 16-year old!
If this is one of the "tricks" up her sleeve, she better switch sleeves fast. Because my kid just pulled a disappearing act on her.
I haul him back in the studio and he's getting crabby at this point. I look at her point blank and say, "What now?" She is, after all, the professional here. She says, "I don't know. Usually after they get down off the box it's harder to get them to sit still."
Especially when you start throwing a ball at them!!!
I tell her, "Well, I don't know how to do this - this isn't my job. What do you usually do when this happens?"
"I just have the parents walk them around the store for awhile."
Umm.. okay... Well I was not in the mood for "walking around the store." Neither was Wyatt. So we left. Without pictures. She looked at me like I had just burst her 16-year old bubble, but I didn't care. I had seen all her tricks, and I could see where this was headed, so in an effort to avoid a full-blown temper tantrum in the middle of Walmart, we left.
Next time I'll remember the sailor's hat.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Leaving a Legacy
My father-in-law passed away last week after a long, hard-fought battle with Leukemia. An ugly, horrible disease that he likely obtained while coming into contact with various chemicals in Desert Storm. A disease I would not wish on my worst enemy.
The things he did in life were important. He was a Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps and retired after 30 years. He served as a Henrico County Policeman for more than 34. And he had three beautiful children and a wonderful family. Yet this is not his legacy. His legacy is what he taught others, how he made them feel, and what he contributed to our Nation.
His colleagues from the police department stood watch 24/7 outside his hospital room during his final week on this Earth, and felt it was their duty to do so. They would not leave, even when asked or told to. When the time came, they escorted him from the hospital to the funeral home and every step in between, without leaving his side.
A simple obituary would not do; a reporter wrote a story in the Richmond Times on his life. The doctors and nurses cried with us, somehow having broken the cardinal rule of not becoming “emotionally involved” with their patients.
A stream of Marines paid their respects to us at the visitation, each telling us in their own way how the Sergeant Major had saved their life – both literally, in the War, and figuratively, having set them on a better path in life or turned their life around. My husband listened to one woman relay her story of how Tom had saved her husband and their marriage.
Friends and co-workers talked at length about his “booming” voice, his bear hugs, his gentle yet sometimes forceful guidance. They spoke of his love for Country, the importance he placed on respecting the Uniform, and how he commanded – and absolutely deserved – your respect. How he would do anything for anyone, and how he was the one you wanted to have your back more than anyone else in the world.
His Memorial Service was amazing and humbling. The bridges and interstate on-ramps en route to the service were closed by police and firefighters, saluting the procession as we drove. A formal flag ceremony, a 21-gun salute, a fly-over complete with aerial photos, letters from Congressmen, bagpipes playing Amazing Grace and a Marine playing Taps on the trumpet. They pulled out all the stops and honored him how he deserved to be honored.
However, for all the pomp and circumstance that surrounded the celebration of his life, the ironic and most amazing part of it all is that my father-in-law led his life in a fashion that was anything but. It was a touching tribute to his life and the legacy he left, a true testament to the person he was. A person who dedicated his life to Service. A person we are all better off for having known.
What will your legacy be?
The things he did in life were important. He was a Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps and retired after 30 years. He served as a Henrico County Policeman for more than 34. And he had three beautiful children and a wonderful family. Yet this is not his legacy. His legacy is what he taught others, how he made them feel, and what he contributed to our Nation.
His colleagues from the police department stood watch 24/7 outside his hospital room during his final week on this Earth, and felt it was their duty to do so. They would not leave, even when asked or told to. When the time came, they escorted him from the hospital to the funeral home and every step in between, without leaving his side.
A simple obituary would not do; a reporter wrote a story in the Richmond Times on his life. The doctors and nurses cried with us, somehow having broken the cardinal rule of not becoming “emotionally involved” with their patients.
A stream of Marines paid their respects to us at the visitation, each telling us in their own way how the Sergeant Major had saved their life – both literally, in the War, and figuratively, having set them on a better path in life or turned their life around. My husband listened to one woman relay her story of how Tom had saved her husband and their marriage.
Friends and co-workers talked at length about his “booming” voice, his bear hugs, his gentle yet sometimes forceful guidance. They spoke of his love for Country, the importance he placed on respecting the Uniform, and how he commanded – and absolutely deserved – your respect. How he would do anything for anyone, and how he was the one you wanted to have your back more than anyone else in the world.
His Memorial Service was amazing and humbling. The bridges and interstate on-ramps en route to the service were closed by police and firefighters, saluting the procession as we drove. A formal flag ceremony, a 21-gun salute, a fly-over complete with aerial photos, letters from Congressmen, bagpipes playing Amazing Grace and a Marine playing Taps on the trumpet. They pulled out all the stops and honored him how he deserved to be honored.
However, for all the pomp and circumstance that surrounded the celebration of his life, the ironic and most amazing part of it all is that my father-in-law led his life in a fashion that was anything but. It was a touching tribute to his life and the legacy he left, a true testament to the person he was. A person who dedicated his life to Service. A person we are all better off for having known.
What will your legacy be?
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