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.
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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.
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 LakeUnion 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 LakeUnion 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.
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.
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...
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...
3/03/2008
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.
