I Remember

I still find it hard to believe...
I'm still horrified...
I'm still in awe of the brave few...
I honor those that ran "in" instead of "away"...
I feel for those who lost loved ones...
I still cry...
I remember...

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Yes, I remember... I remember the tears I cried, the horror I felt watching the towers fall and thinking about so many lives lost to hatred and religious ideology... but most of all, I remember how personal I took this tragedy.  First the numbness and then the disbelief and finally the outrage!  How dare they... how dare anyone!  What kind of mind... what kind of evil incarnate could even think of such a thing and act on it???  I don't know.  I can't explain it, so I learned to accept the fact that it happened.  It happened and we must never let anything of this magnitude happen ANYWHERE again.

So, we took the fight to "them".  Nine long years my military brothers and sisters have been out there in the desert and mountainous regions, hunting down those responsible.  Many have died... on both sides, and sad to say, many more will.  The loss of life to this tragedy that happened nine years ago continues and this chills me to the bone.

So, yeah... I remember.  I honor all of those who have fought, who continue to fight and those that are going to fight.

Yes... I still cry... because... I remember... 

And now The Boy is a Marine.  I very good, gungo-ho, OOH-RAH, Semper Fi, field Marine.  He is getting ready to be deployed to Afghanistan.  So, this fight... just turned VERY personal.

My 65 year old Mother just sent me a text... How fricking cool is that!

Poem I Wrote of My Bus Riding Days

Silence disquiets him
So he fills the air
With nonsensical anecdotes
And his discomfort comes to bear.

His voice carries
Breaking our barriers
Of sanity,
And with a collective sigh
We all realize
His stop is next
And all shall be quiet
Up front once more.

The Dry Erase Board

There is a Dry Erase Board that hangs on the frig.  Most of the time we jot down groceries we need, something on TV we don't want to miss, or if LT wants to share something interesting with me when I get home.  On occasion, LT and I will hold conversations on said board, most of the time they stem from a comment she has heard or read.  Here's one of them:

Comment:  "Acting normal is just a game I play"

ME:  Me 2 I just suck at it!

LT:   1 game the "game player" can't play- Normal! LMAO

I'll be sharing more of these as they come up.

So, yeah...

A 70 yro tweeker kicks at empty air, teeth gnashing... a couple of homeless teens trying to keep warm... Just another typical early morning at Kent Station.

At Last...

Happiness is a leisurely stroll to the bus stop in a slight drizzle and a hint of cherry blossoms in the air... 

Spring has arrived in the PacNW...

So... Ah!

Cha-cha-cha-changes...

June 2009, I found myself at the Showare, watching The Boy graduate from high school.  In October of 2009, I find myself sitting in the reviewing stands amongst Officers and Honored Guests, at the Marine Corp Recruit Depot, San Diego. The Boy is graduating from boot camp and he's the Company Honorman, which in civilianese means he is the valedictorian of the graduating class.  Number 1 in a company of 400 plus young men.  

I was so overwhelmed with emotion that day...  I was so proud of his achievements, full of joy to see him, and scared to death of things to come.  Even now I get a bit teary-eyed thinking about that day.

His Grandparents, Sister, Dad and I had spent some time with him the day before and I remember saying to myself over and over again, "this is not my little boy anymore...".  It took me a while to get used to it... Hell, who am I kidding, I'm still trying to get used to it!

Now, I had not been to SoCal in ten years, and that in itself was an emotional trip.  I got to see cousins, uncles, aunts, and friends that I had not seen in a very long time.  It felt great to reconnect with them all, but I also longed to be back home with LT.  It was the first time since we have been together that we spent more than 12 hrs apart!  It was not easy for either one of us, hardest on her since she suffers from panic attacks.  I felt so duplicitous because I wanted to be back in SoCal and visit with friends and family, but I also wanted to hurry thru those 5 days and get back home.

The Boy came home for 2 weeks before he had to go back to Camp Pendelton, San Diego, for MCT (Marine Combat Training).  Watching him leave was not as bad, so LT and I thought, "Right on... getting the hang of this, no dig deal..."  The Boy did well and graduated as Company Honorman again, but this time he was going straight to his MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) School instead of coming home for a few days.  My heart constricted a bit, but such is the life of a Warrior's Mom, right? 

Then, the Holidays happened...

Thanksgiving was very weird.  Not having him here, just us three girls, it was a little numbing.  He called and sent me a picture of his Turkey Dinner... I'm sure it was a "see Ma... I'm okay..." kinda of thing.  He's such a good boy to his Momma.

For Christmas, he had called and we had made plans that he would get here on a Monday night.  LT and I were very excited and just couldn't wait to see The Boy.  Meanwhile, his sister was complaining of her brother not talking to her, and not answering texts, ect... I just thought, he's busy, he has a lot to do now, not knowing that all along those two cherubs turned monsters were hatching out a plan.  So the Friday before he's suppose to show, I get a phone call around 10:30pm.  I see it's The Boy and my heart drops.  He won't be able to make it.  So I pick up the phone and try not to show my disappointment as I say "Hello..."  

He responds with, "Why is my yard such a mess?"  

His words just didn't make sense to me... So I say "What?"

"Why is my lawn such a mess, why is there leafs on my lawn..."

Then it hits me...  He's talking about our lawn.  As I walk to the door, I say into the phone, "You better not be f%#*ing with me..." and there he stood... My Boy...  I felt like I was in a Folger's commercial!

When he left this last time, I was a mess, because I knew that he was one step closer to being deployed.  It was very hard to see him leave.

So now The Boy is getting ready to finish his MOS training, top of his class and will be the Class Honorman.  To top it off, he will be stationed in Camp Pendelton.  The Marines he will be serving with just got back from a deployment, so they will be state-side for a year before they go back out.  Another plus, he will have my parents about an hour away and a good friend stationed at the same base.

A Mothers, and Grandparents, Prayers answered...

So... AMEN!

Life After Children

Um, I have ignored my blog for a very long time... Memorial Day, 2009 was my last post. Bad Mommy!

So much has happened, and I will try my best to catch you up with what has been going on. Plus I also have a friend that is going to keep my honest. He's blogging too and will nag me if I don't keep up. A favor that I will most happily return if he doesn't keep his blog up.

So climb aboard, folks... Pull down the safety bar and get ready! It's gonna be a roller coaster of emotions. Welcome to the ride called Life-After-Children! You don't have to keep your hands and feet inside the car and scream your head off if you like, cause here we go...

CLACK, CLACK, CLACK...

So YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Title To Be Determined

Here's a story that i will occasionally sit down and add a few lines too. It's a great idea, has some interesting characters and i am going to try my best to keep up with it and bring it to fruition. I hope you enjoy it.

*************************************************************************************************

Part one

It's a typical summer night in the Puget Sound. The Moon is full and creates interesting shapes and shadows as it shines through the trees. Two of the shadows seem to have a life of their own as they move to and fro quietly. These shadows make their way to a clearing amongst the trees where a wooden skeleton, a promise of a house that is a dream come true, sits alone and unprotected.

"This is an abomination. Have I told you, that my Dad and I used to come here? We'd just sit and listen to the quiet of nature surround us. The only sound you could hear was the water lapping against the shore. Now look at it... the land has been marred by some idiot with money and no regard for the beauty of untouched land."

"Dude, you sure this is ok? I mean, it wasn't like, we asked if it was, you know... to do this one."

"Stop being such a pussy, Weed. Who cares if this was sanctioned or not. This is for the greater good. These rich assholes need to be taught a lesson, an expensive lesson. It's the only way they'll learn."

"I don't know, man... I just think we should have asked or something, ya know?"

"Look, since you don't have the balls to do the real work, why don't you go spray paint the calling card, ok? Just gimme the lighter fluid"

"Fuck you, Monk. At least I ain't no boot-lick, kiss-ass that is trying to make nice and get cozy with the Greenie Elite."

"Shut the Hell up, Dick-Weed. You wanna tell the whole world we're here." "Yeah, right, whatever", he says as he walks towards one of the bulldozers.

Monk walks toward the framework and starts soaking all the lumber. He works fast and meticulously, making sure that every piece of this would-be house burns to the ground hot and fast.

"You done?"

"Yeah. Did ya' leave our tag?"

"Yeah, on one of the Honeybuckets. I also have rags hanging out of the gas tanks of the bobcats and the Deere."

"High five, brother! That's the spirit. Okay... here she goes..."

Monk takes the silver Zippo out of his pocket and touches it to a stack of 2x4's. A bright flash of orange and the fire starts to devour the framework like a greedy child eating his favorite sweets.

"Oohwee! Look at her go. Toss the spray cans into the fire... get rid of the finger prints. Here…", Monk tosses the Zippo to Weed, "Go take care of those 'dozers while I get the boat ready."

"Yeah... you got it, Monk."

Weed runs toward the equipment as Monk heads toward the dock. Monk jumps into the small Zodiac and starts up the outboard motor. Just as the first 'dozer goes up in a ball of flames, he hears Weeds footsteps on the dock.

"Monk.... Monk, help me out, man."

Monk jumps out of the boat and runs towards Weed.

"What the fuck? Is that blood? Shit! What you do?"

"I tripped over some tarps and landed in a pile full of broken glass and shit. Help me into the boat. I heard sirens... We has got to go, man!"

"Yeah, lets get the Hell out of here. I think we've made our point."

Monk helps the bleeding boy into the Zodiac and pushes off the dock. The sound of the outboard motor at full throttle is lost among the explosions and sirens in the distance as the boys flee into the night.

Somewhere across Lake Union a phone rings, waking a sleeper. His hand searches for the cause of his rude awakening. He grabs the phone and answers with a very sleepy, "Hello..."

"Turn the TV on. Dan has a story that might be of interest to you…"

The caller hangs up and he is left listening to the monotonous dial tone. He reaches for his remote control and turns the TV to KOMO 4 News.

"...and now to recap our breaking news. There is a house fire on Lake Union as we speak. The multi-million dollar complex that was to be a retreat is now burning out of control. Firefighters arrived on the scene moments after the fire started, and could do nothing but make sure that the fire did not spread into the surrounding trees. The spray painted logo of the Green Anarchists Invisible Army, also known as G.A.I.A., was found spray painted on a Honeybucket at the scene. ATF has been notified and is standing by to investigate the cause of the fire...”

"Dammit!"

He jumps out of bed and goes into his study, opens a drawer in his mahogany desk and grabs his phone with a secured line. He punches in some numbers and waits for someone to pick up on the other side.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Shut the Hell up, Wort, and listen. Who auth’ed a run tonight?"

"N-No one. There shouldn't be anything going on."

"Really... It so happens that while I was watching the News, I find out that a GAIA logo was found spray painted on a Honeybucket, a house is burning to the ground, and ATF is on the scene."

"Shit! No worries sir, I'll find out who did it."

"See that you do. Found the assholes and bring them here to me! Understand?" "Y-Yes, sir."

He hits the end call button and flings the phone at the rich cherry wood shelves that line the walls of his study, shelves of books that he has never bothered to read nor does he ever plan to. His study, like everything else in his life is about status. What looks good to the upper management and what he can flaunt to his underlings.

The phone rings and he stares at it in disbelief. No one has this number. It rings again and out of curiosity he picks it up and answers the phone with a tentative, "Hello..."

"Mr. Lyneaux, I thought we had an understanding."

"W-Who is this?"

"You offend me, Mr Lyneaux. First you go back on your word and now you do not remember me. You really disappoint me. If a business associate dropped a few million dollars in my lap, I would make special effort to remember who it was."

"Miss Xin-Lao, I'm so sorry... I was just surprised that the phone rang, no one has this number."

"Pay the right people enough money and you can have anything you desire, Mr Lyneaux. Now, please explain to me why it is that my project has burned to the ground."

"Your project?"

"Yes, Mr Lyneaux. Imagine my surprise while I am watching your news and I see my house burning, and what is even more interesting, there is a GAIA tag sprayed on a portable."

"I had no idea that was yours, but no one gave an ok to do a anything tonight. This was an independent job. Someone acting on there own..."

"Mr Lyneaux, a man who has no control over his servants is a mere servant himself. See to it that I am not disappointed again. It could end up being detrimental to your health."

The connection is ended and Mr Lyneaux is left contemplating her last words.

Memorial Day

While you are tending the bar-b-que, sipping your cold drink, enjoying the three day weekend... Remember those that serve and have served, honor their sacrifice and say a prayer for those that are not home enjoying this weekend with their families and friends.

Ready... Salute!







Taps (author unknown)
Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

Mother's Conflict Addendum

After pondering this for a bit, I think I know what it is. I want my son to depend on me like he did when he was a little guy, just as my Mother wishes that we were home again under her wing...

Yeah...

A Mother's Conflict

This Morning, I was trying to confide to a friend of my conflicting emotions on being a Mother. I suddenly got all emotional and teary-eyed whilst writing and had to change the subject. You see, The Boy is seventeen, a Senior, very eager to go out into the World, leave his mark in it, and serve his country. I was telling her how proud, excited and scared this all made me feel. How it was very evident that my partner and I have raised him to be a responsible (somewhat... he still forgets to turn in his homework at times) and caring young man, but when I see him, all I can think of is how badly I want my little boy back. Now, getting all weepy and emotional at work just won't do, but now in the comfort of home I guess I can type this and hope my tears don't fall too close to the laptop and electrocute myself.

How does a Mother really deal with a child going off on their own?

As a young adult I left my parents house for the Navy. I did not have the benefit of watching my Mom deal with her first-born leave home, and now that I am going through the very same thing, I am having a hard time dealing with it. While I deal with this I feel like crap because I have not been very sympathetic towards my Mom when she says that she wishes her kids weren't so far away. So perhaps I should treat my Mom with more compassion... it just might help me deal with what I am going through now.

So maybe this isn't really about The Boy leaving home, but about taking an introspective look at the relationship I have with my parents. Perhaps by being more intimate and confiding with them, I will get a clue or cues on how to deal with my eldest leaving home.

Hmmm...

Rain

Rain, rain, rain. That’s all it does here… rain! Drive a person crazy, all this rain. First the mist that soaks everything, then the incessant sprinkling and finally raindrops so big it hurts when they hit you. Grey for days. Grey streets grey buildings, grey people, grey lives. No black, no white, just various shades of grey. What I wouldn’t do for some color! It messes with your head. People devoid of color become complacent, show no emotion, they no longer care.

Winters here are hard. Not hard on the body, but hard on the soul… the psyche… The local news is full of home invasions, assaults, suicides, murder… Death. It’s all one big obituary, just one big police ledger. You pick up the Journal, the Times, the Post and read with indifference the daily roll call of those that have passed on. The only emotion evoked for the day is when you timidly turn to the page showing the forecast, wishing for a ray of sunshine, praying for a break from the monotony, only to have your hopes dashed upon the grey, cold clouds full of rain. Dissolute, you resign yourself to the day, to the Grey.

You swallow the last of your coffee, don your armor against the elements and grab keys as you head out the door only to remember that you have no gas. There has been no gas for days. Old habits die hard. Hoping you can catch the Metro, you run to the bus stop only to see it pull away, and you swear the bus driver is laughing as he drives off. You flash him digits because it makes you feel less helpless, then quickly look up and down the street hoping no one has witnessed your lapse into crudeness. Opening your umbrella, you start walking.

The pace is slow and not because you want to take in the scenery. You’ve seen it before… grey. You don’t even care of you’re late for work. Why should you? The boss certainly doesn’t. Hell, he’s happy you show up.

Just for a change you try to make eye contact with the other wet pedestrians. You make a game of it, but soon quit. It’s no fun to play a game when you know you’re never going to score a point.

Something catches your eye, movement in an alley off to your right. Was that a muffled scream? You undo the strap on your holster and place your hand on the butt of your gun. You touch the button behind your left ear and hear the familiar click and whir of the video/audio camera begin to record and send a live feed to the station every move you make. Simultaneously you feel a rush of adrenaline infuse your system. Instinct and training take over. Every sense is hypersensitive. You are in combat mode.

You cautiously walk into the alley, your eyes focusing on every movement that may present a threat. More muffled screams, but now mixed with laughter, come from around the corner. Slowly you pull your gun out, and get into a half-Sabrina as you stand with your back to the wall, just as you were taught at the academy. Everything done by the numbers, never know when someone important is watching, someone with the key to your next promotion. One, two, and go on three.

You step around the corner. There he is. One perp, one victim. Time slows almost to a stand still. There is no need to shout out "freeze", "halt", or any other cliché command that Enforcers of old used to say. He sees you, you see him, simple as that. You see a twitch in the muscle that is connected to his finger on the trigger. You react. A gunshot echoes through out the alley. He falls, the victim cries out in fear and surprise. You hear sirens in the distance and that familiar, "Well done Enforcer 0426 one more victim rescued, one shot, one kill". Yet all your eyes can focus on is the vibrant red slowly turning to a dull pink against the grey pavement. A smile begins to form on your lips. Finally… some color…

Home-Bound

I was cleaning house (my docs folder) and ran across a few short stories that I had written a while back. I am planning to post a few stories and poems so I hope you like what you read and please feel free to leave a comment...

So... Read...

Home-Bound

I take a seat by a window. Cars speed by and I wonder where is that person off to. What errand must be done today? Are they speeding off to work, or are they hurrying home?

Home... what a beautiful word. A word that can conjure feelings of safety and comfort, fear and anxiety, longing and excitement. I sit back and let the constant mechanical hum lull me.

I'm home bound...

I close my eyes and recall the faint perfume of jasmine welcoming me as I walked home in the evenings. The oak trees whispering, urging me on, "hurry... hurry... head home... head home...". I pull a worn photo from out of my wallet. It's old and the colors are fading, but I can still see my friends and I, we're going out... to dinner perhaps? Look at us, smiling, laughing, enjoying each others company. It's been so long. I can sympathize with the dog-earred photo. I too feel the effect of time on my body. My skin is wrinkled, my eyes aren't as bright, and I feel like I've been wrung out and hung to dry, but soon... soon all this won't matter.

I'm home bound...

A flyer appears out of nowhere and sticks to the window. A two movies for the price of one night at the Tower. I can't help but smile when I think of the Tower... My first kiss happened in the balcony. Being kissed and having your breast fondled doesn't seem so bad in the dark. As suddenly as it appeared, the flyer blew away, continuing it's journey, crying out to the town, "two movies for the price of one... two movies for the price of one..." "I must make it a point to go to the Tower," I say out loud. soon... not yet...

I'm home bound.

I get up from my seat, and walk up to the door. My heart is racing, I'm breathing fast and hard, I start to sweat. I can feel the excitement, or is it anxiety (I have never known the difference between the two) welling up inside. I timidly place my hand on the door knob and slowly open the door... Nausea rises from my belly and I can feel the burn of acidic bile on my throat. I see black spots before my eyes, my legs turn to wet noodles, almost giving away underneath me... I slam the door shut and brace my back against it, fighting to stay conscious and trying my darnest to keep my lunch down. I look at these walls, my prison and sanctuary, and I start to cry. I stumble back to my seat by the window and let the comforting mechanical hum of the refrigerator lull me...

Cars speed by and I wonder... Where could that person be off to?

You see, I'm homebound...

Hurray for the "B" Movie!

Admit it... You love "B" Movies. What other time can you sit and watch a horrid movie and just have to see it all the way thru hoping that just maybe... just maybe, the plot will actually make itself apparent. It's the safest kind of morbid curiosity that any moviegoer can pratice.

For instance...

The family had been invited to eat out with our neighbors. The gals (my Daughter and LT) decided to stay home, so the Boy and I went. When we returned, I found both of the Gals mesmerized, watching a movie. I asked what was on, "Snakes on a Plane", one of them said without taking their eyes off the TV. See... Morbid Curiosity...

This evening, we (my Daughter, LT and I) sat down to watch a movie. I was under the impression that we were going to watch Pulse. Instead the movie was Pulse, a 1988 movie about "... our wireless technologies controlled from a world beyond..." So I look over to LT and say, "Wireless Technologies? What did we have in 1988 that was wireless? Except for the phones that you had to carry a backpack to make it work..." Too bad she didn't spit out the water she was drinking at the time while laughing, it would have made a better ending for this anecdote...

Anyway-

So we watch the movie. It was the basic man versus machine plot. The technology we created to aid and entertain us, turns against mankind and wrecks havoc! Again, with morbid curiosity we sat and watched the whole movie. It had Joey Lawrence and his little brother Matthew. Come on... how much more "B" can you get, right?

I love "B" movies! We Gen-Xer's grew up on these films. Movies like Night of the Living Dead, Part II, The Toxic Avenger, Nuke 'Em High... AWESOME!!!

You know... Baby Boomers can talk all they want about how they changed this world and how great their generation is, but are they willing to admit that with burning bras and creating an evironmental awareness, they also perfected the "B" movie? Probably not... but thanks anyway, Boomers.

So, go find yourself a "B" movie already... and don't forget to give a Boomer a hug and a hardy "Thank You".

So... Yeah...

Summer in the Pacific NW Addendum

Just goes to show ya... I complain about the weather around here and we get two beautiful days in a row...

I should squeek more often...

Oh, by-the-by...

Just in case you don't believe how Gorgeous Green it is here, I posted some pictures I took on a day trip to Mt Rainier, Memorial Day Weekend.

Enjoy...

If you would like to see the rest, you are more than welcome to go check out my flickr posts.

So... yeah...

Summer in the Pacific NW

Downey, CA (where I grew up) 11:12 pm, 0'' of rain, 71 degrees F.

Salt Lake City, UT (where I grew up emotionally) 12:12 am, 0'' of rain, 80 degrees F.

El Salvador C.A. (where I was born) 1:12 am, 0'' of rain, 78 degrees F.

Seattle, WA (close to where I live now) 11:12 pm, .3" of rain, 55 degrees F. Rain tapering off after midnight. Chance of thunderstorms. Lows in the upper 40s to mid 50s.

Now, this just might be me, but does the weather here in the Pac NW sound like Summer never arrived?

Oh, and get this... I am very excited about July 4th... For the first time in the seven years that I have lived here, firework enthusiast may not have to take their rain slickers to watch the show!


I like to think that I don't live in a city that has about 36 inches of rainfall annually ("which is, by the way, less rain than New York City gets a year...", natives like to point out) and an average of 200 cloudy days (I really don't know if this is true... I just made that fact up). I like to think that I live an a city that is Sunshine Challenged.


When we do have Sunny Days, everyone frantically looks for the cool sunglasses they bought last year. Then we all stand around outside, with our heads looking up expectantly, as if some obscure knowledge will be revealed to all, while we bask in the glow of that weird Yellow thing in the Sky.

Well at least I do...

Seriously, the Pacific NW is a beautiful place to live. It may have more cloudy days than I would like, and not as many hot days as I would want (my parents bring their down jackets when they visit), but it is Gorgeous Green here. It's the first thing that I noticed when I first arrived... JUST BEAUTIFUL!

All Hail Dorothy and the Emerald City!

So YEAH!

My Baby got Mac!

So my better-half went and got herself a Mac. "No big...", some of you may say. Ah... but you have no idea of the process it took to get her there. She spent a couple of weeks reading magazines, checking out websites, looking up pros and cons, reading configurations, comparisons... If it dealt with a Mac, I'm sure she had read it, memorized it or at least skimmed through it.


If you're a Gen-X'er (and were a anime nerd) you'll remember watching Battle of the Planets. There was an episode where one of the G-Force members was just flooded in paper work, practically swimming in it doing some research on something Spectra... Pee Wee had a clip board in his hand and a pencil behind his ear, the lab coat on... the whole works. I can picture LT in midst of the same mess doing her research, clipboard, pencil behind the ear, lab coat and all...

You see... my Sweet is what I call a Research Junkie. She obsesses on getting all the info she can on a particular subject/object and just digs and digs and digs! Sometimes I don't know if she is trying to talk herself out of getting something, or just trying convince herself she needs it. By the time she's done, LT is very knowledgeable on the subject/object of her obsession. I admire her very much for this.


Must be genetics. Her Dad used to be the same way. He would read about a subject for a while, then one day he's tying flys, all self-taught. Again some may say, "So... nothing new, hundreds of people do it everyday". True, but the fact that someone will dedicate time to anything, trying to better themselves... this is where the admiration begins for me.


It takes self-discipline, patience - with yourself and those around you - intelligence and wisdom to learn something on your own. Many of us may have the intelligence, but not the patience or the wisdom to see it through. I start off OK, but then get impatient and just try to do it MY way. I'm a Gen-X'er, a member of the MY-WAY Generation... so it makes perfect sense to me, until I get stuck and have no idea how I arrived to where I am, let alone where to go next.


Luckily, the boy has acquired a little of both of us. He'll start off all teen-like, "I know everything and this will be a cinch to master, so you older feeble-minded ones stand aside", then when he realizes that he is way over his head (takes a while, but eventually he does get there), he starts being a little more methodological about his quest to learn how to master his subject/object of obsession. I'm hoping in time he will mature and see that the "tried and true" way is a heck of a lot easier then the "my-way"method...


Do you still battle with that notion? I know I still do... Maybe one of these days I'll finally be mature enough, then again, maybe not, 'cause the "tried and true" may be all fine and good, but MY WAY is better... Just another one of those "Do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do" things that used to irritate the living *%#$ out of me when I was a child, and now, I get to do it to my kids. And so the Cycle of Life goes on, young Simba...

So... yeah ;Þ

Rituals

Monday night. "Hey Ma, I need my haircut... Future Weapons is on tonight..."

Tuesday night. "Dirty Jobs is on tonight, Ma..."

Wednesday night. "Channel Eight please... Mythbusters is on."

Thursday night. "A new My Name is Earl and Office tonight, Ma..."

Friday night. "Nothing's on. Let's watch a Star Wars movie... Mind if I get on the Box (XBox 360)?"

Our nightly rituals. This is how my son and I spend time during the week. Some might think, "how sad... they spend time in front of the TV to spend time together." Yeah, but we spend that time laughing, sharing funny stories, developing our hand-eye coordination and teamwork skills as we kill three enemy soldiers in a row (a skill we might need just incase Evil Alien Monkeys from Alpha Centuri decide to invade the Pacific Northwest) but most important, we also spend that time learning. Learning more about each other, learning about our world, past, present and future.

My better half and I are of the mind that you can never stop learning, and these kids have been raised on that thought. The boy hears it every morning as I leave for work. "Learn something new today, boy..."

Brain wrinkles are wrinkles that we should all strive for...

Take on the personal challenge to learn something new tomorrow.

I dare ya... I double dare ya... I triple dog dare ya...

So... yeah!

Hello - I'm the boy's Mom.

I have been knocking around the idea of having a blog for some time now. My Partner has one, and I didn’t want to seem like a copycat (yes, I play in the sandbox and still have a hard time sharing), but I have a few things that are weighing on my mind and like any self-respecting Cancer, I want to be heard (be the center of attention).

So, I’m the Mom of a 16 year old boy. Thank you for your condolences…
He’s a good kid, never been brought home in a squad car. Athletic, good grades, does community service because he wants to, and not because of a court order mandate. Tall, handsome (biased opinion, I’m his Mom), amazes me how adult and mature he can be, and then dashes it all by telling me “I just ate a bug... hehehe.”
Like every 16 year old boy, he wants to drive, has his own computer and cel phone, he wants to be independent, but still be able to come to Mom if things get too rough.

I also have a beautiful 14 year old daughter that looks like she’s 17 (never mind taking an anti-anxiety pill once a day, just hand me the whole bottle). Musically talented, great grades, and a Mohawk (Mom's idea) that seems to change color every month. She's my Mini Me, which is frightening considering the things I've done.
This one has never been brought home in a squad car either (that I know of), but has had a few experiences that I pray she has learned from.
She has recently moved to live with her Father and his wife two hours north of here and blesses our home one weekend every other month.

I'll probably just chronicle my rants, raves, joys, annoyances and fears that come with being a Gen-X Mom trying to raise two teenagers with the help of a Baby-Boomer. She did/still does most of the hard work because she is at home while I slack off at work. I am eternally grateful, and I do hope the kids are too, that they had someone at home when they got back from school.

Anyway... I do hope you stay tuned...

So… yeah.