A Police Officer's Wife

Benefit for the FOP

2011-06-15T14:27:00.000-07:00

I'm doing my first fundraiser for our officers! Hooray!

Check out my POST and head over to Facebook and 'like' us!

Giveaway!

2010-07-21T08:21:00.000-07:00

In conjunction with my Getting out of Debt/Remember When Wednesdays posts I'm doing my first EVER giveaway!

Head on over to Being Gently Led for all the details!

What do you do??

2010-07-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

Momma Fargo just celebrated 22 years with her hubby. How cool is that? 22 years off her life sentence she said. Ha! I have this feeling (call me crazy) that she actually adores that man that's put up with her for so long (snicker snicker).

It seems marriage, or at least marriage long term and/or marriage done well, isn't such a common thing in police work. When Officer Hottie was in academy he was told that something like 80% of marriages don't survive the first five years after police academy. I don't know if that statistic is correct or not, but I know it sounds scary. I remember very clearly OH coming home, holding me and saying, "I will NOT let that happen to us." We're committed. We're in this for the long haul. Good or bad. Period. There's no escape plan, no exit route, no Plan B. It's us. Until death. That's it.

Honestly, I like it that way. OH and I come from a long line of committed marriages. All four sets of grandparents were only married to each other. Both of our parent's are still married to each other. Talk about stability.

I feel very strongly that marriage was created to be enjoyed; not tolerated. So I enjoy it. Very much. So far, it's my favorite. Even more than being a mom, or chocolate or sleeping in. Being a wife takes the cake. And although I would love to do an entire post on what Officer Hottie does to make sure that I enjoy being a wife so much, I will instead pose these questions:

How do you keep your marriage strong?
With all the failed marriages around, how do you keep it together?
With failure being an option for so many, how do you keep the temptation away?
What do YOU do to keep your husband coming home every night?
What does HE do to make sure you're home when he gets there?

(If you're missing me at all, or are just curious about our debt story, come check out Being Gently Led. It's where I'm at most the time now!)

So, here's the thing.

2010-06-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

I have this other blog I started a couple years ago - mostly as a creative outlet but also as a place to share what I was thinking about whatever. It was often neglected as I felt crazy busy with our four kids and rarely had time to go to the bathroom, let alone sit down and write an entire blog post.

At the end of October last year when Ofc. Brenton was killed, and then when the four Lakewood officers were gunned down I felt that the police wife part of me needed a place to go and write about what was going on in my head and in my heart. I had a few things I've posted that I feel have been relevant to living with a police officer, but the majority of what I write is about what I know the most about ...

Being a wife. Being a mom. Being a Christian.

And that's it.

I've realized, while reading other police wife blogs, that Officer Hottie has worked exceptionally hard, and done exceedingly well, at protecting me and our children from what living with a police officer could be like. Some of the credit can be given to the department he works for and the people he works with. His department encourages family and because they are a small department don't often encounter the big politics that disrupt other departments. His coworkers, as much as they get along, go home to their families after every shift. There is no "fraternity" or "blue wall" and I know I speak for many spouses at the department when I say that being police officers is what their spouses do - but it does not define who they are.

Most of the credit, however, I give to my husband. Even during our most trying times in law enforcement he has remained open, honest and kind. During academy when he was gone and stressed, he came home, rolled around with the boys and helped me with the dinner dishes. When his friend was killed on duty, he clung to me and our family, talking with his dad and our pastor to find comfort. When his schedule changed every month and he worked the most bizarre hours I'd ever heard of, he went without sleep so his children would know his face and his wife could have his support. When he left his first department and the treatment he received was less than fair, he never complained; he simply carried on with dignity, refusing to stoop to such a low level. He has, by all accounts, done everything within his power to maintain his integrity as a husband, father and Christian. I am proud that my husband prioritizes his family. I am thankful that I don't totally understand what other police wives seem to go through.

With that being said, I have decided that the place I know and fit in best is my old blog. I hope you will come by and visit the old/new blog - maybe even become a follower - but I honestly feel that it's misleading to have a blog titled "Confessions of Police Officer's Wife" when the reality is only 1 in 10 posts actually have anything to do with being married to a police officer. After all, Officer Hottie has always been a hero to me; the badge just made him a hero to everyone else.

I will blog here every once in awhile; when, on those rare occasions, I actually have something to say as a police wife. And I plan on continuing to read your blogs because they are something I truly enjoy reading. For the most part, however, I plan on being over at Being Gently Led. I hope you'll stop by for a visit sometime.

Before ... and ... After!

2010-06-14T13:34:00.000-07:00

My apologies to anyone reading this who doesn't know me and has never been to my house. Since you never knew/saw the "Before" you probably won't care much about the "After". I, however, am over the moon excited about the "After" and so ... I share.

Say, does this butt make me look fat?

(*Side note...this was taken at my surprise 30th birthday party...hence the pink wings. Although I would love to wear pink wings from the Dollar Tree every day of my life. Not.)

To all my friends and family who said I looked just fine - liars - thank you for being nice to me and sparing my feelings. Don't ever, never let me get that fat again.

I honestly don't feel like sharing an "after" picture of my butt. I will say that those jeans I'm wearing in the above picture, I gave to my friend who just had a baby. Either I was really fat or my friend is losing her baby weight at an incredible rate. Perhaps both? Regardless, 23 pounds later, two pants sizes smaller, and I'm feeling much healthier and less ... plumpish. Thank you Jillian Michaels and My Fitness Pal. You saved me from a lifetime of pictures that I am embarrassed to be a part of.

Now onto the really truly very exciting Before and After's. The kitchen!! Although we aren't quite finished, it's basically done. All that is left is some finish work (trim, cabinet knobs, etc.) and I am thrilled to have construction finally coming to a halt.

Again, more apologies as I over-share our journey.

S and B, helping Dad clean out the shed to make room for all our other junk...er, treasures.

The "Before" in the hallway.

The "Before" for the play room.

"Before" the demo, but "After" we cleaned up a bit!

My laundry room "Before". In the kitchen. And overcrowded. I am organizationally challenged.

This is my dear sweet Father in Law. I love this picture because it captures completely the confusion he and Officer Hottie felt every time they opened a wall. I believe a good caption would be ... "Wha....???"

Sadly, this is my refridgerator "Before". Ugh. Double ugg. UGG!

The wall. "Before" Have I mentioned that I am organizationally challenged?

With a little bit of help...

My hallway now looks like this.

Still a messy fridge but at least it's out of the way and I now have a pantry right next to it! (Sorry for the lighting issues...I was too excited to post these to take the time to edit.)

The view from the dining room.

The view from the hallway.

The view from the sink. Haha! My poor kids can't get away with anything now! I can see it ALL!! Mua-haha!

Some of my new favorite features are...

This prep table that OH put together for me. I love that handy man of mine.

This little spice rack. There are a few "S" hooks that we have and I am hanging my measuring cups and spoons from them. How handy!

Under cabinet lighting. Right above the prep table. LOVE IT.

So, that's it. My "Before" and "After" post. If you are still reading you should eat a bowl of ice cream. You've earned it.

Remember When Wednesdays : Or ... not.

2010-06-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

I wanted to sit down and write an entire post about the next chapter in our getting out of debt saga ... because I'm sure you've been waiting on pins and needles. Right? Right? Hello?

However ...

We are in the middle of a kitchen remodel. I am so proud of the work Officer Hottie is doing - he has made me a new laundry room (er...closet), a pantry, installed new countertops and removed a wall to name a few things. In six weeks. He's amazing. And completely stressed.

Considering his truck literally caught on fire when he left work on Sunday ...
"Honey, I'm stopping by Lowe's on my way home to pick up the rest of the stuff we need!"
(Five minutes later)
"Honey, I need you to come pick me up because my truck is on fire. The FD is putting it out right now."
... I'm cutting him some slack. The man is allowed to be stressed.

In my attempt to help with his stress level I told him I would paint the ceilings (which still have the paint splotches from when I painted the living room walls last year ) and finish the tile backsplash. I know as much about this kind of work as...well, most women, I guess. I am having fun though and it feels good to actually help my husband with a project instead of folding laundry and offering him another cookie every three minutes.

So, between the car and the kitchen I haven't found time to sit down and write about our debt story. But I will. Because even if no one reads it, it is good for me to remember where we've come from, especially now that we are back down to one car and the prospect of spending another summer without a way to get the kids to the park and play dates is a little discouraging. It's time to buck up and practice what we preach...save save save!!

For those of you wanting to "see what happens next" I promise to get it out there soon. As soon as the ceilings are painted, the backsplash is tiled, the counter tops are sealed, the cabinets are painted and the last load of laundry has been folded and put away. Or something like that.

See how stressed these poor children are? See?

Seriously though, thank God for carboard boxes. Can I get an amen?

Tidbits from a Day in the Life in the Hottie Household

2010-06-07T18:49:00.000-07:00

Because I canceled my Facebook and blogging is my last public outlet ...

1. B: I'm not a tattle tale. I don't even have a tail.
    Me: Being a tattle tale means telling stories, or tales, about people. Yes, you are a tattle tale.
    B: But I don't have a tail.

2. J: I just farted two times. (pauses) I mean three.
    Me: (Febreeze)

3. Me to S: Do you want to go potty in the toilet?
    S: No.
    Me: You don't want to be a big boy?
    S: No.
    Me: So, all those underwear I just bought? Nothing?
    S: (farts. poops in pants.)

4. Officer Hottie: I still can't believe my truck caught on fire.
    Me: (nervous laughter) (crying)

5. L: Mom, I know a way you and Dad can never pay for a baby sitter again.
    Me: Really? How?
    L: You. You and Dad. (runs away, proud of himself.)

6: Me: (glass of wine)

Remember When Wednesdays: The Debt Story Pt 2

2010-06-02T14:00:00.000-07:00

(To read Part One of the Debt Story go HERE.)

"I don't get it!" I exclaimed with frustration.
"What's wrong?" Officer Hottie asked as he sat down next to me on the bed.
"I can't seem to get this budget form to work for us. When I fill in all the blanks we come up short. Really short. It's just that we can't be that far off - there has to be something wrong with my math. There is just no way that we are coming up so negative every month."
"You're probably just missing something."
I sighed. "I don't think so. After our mortgage, car payment, credit card payment, car insurance, phone bill and utilities we hardly have anything left for groceries or gas, let alone tithing, gifts, oil changes or anything else."
"Don't worry so much," he tried to reassure me. "I'm sure Dawn will have some insight."
I sincerely hoped he was right. We were almost at the 30 day mark, and Dawn, the financial class instructor, had promised if we kept track of our expenses for 30 days she would sit down with us and come up with a working spending plan. The class had been good for me, although most of the information I already knew, I'd just never put it into practice.
Dawn had said to get $1000 put into an emergency savings account. I wondered where we'd come up with $1000 when we could barely come up with the $245 to make our credit card payment. She said never refinance your mortgage and tie up your credit cards and car payments into the mortgage payment; that within one year the credit card bill would be back up to where it had been. I wondered if she'd looked at our last refi. We'd rolled a $15,000 car loan and an $11,000 credit card into our mortgage...and 10 months later we had a new car with a new payment and our credit card balance was at the $11,000 mark again. Yikes. She said to pay cash for everything. I wondered how in the world it was possible. Never use a credit card?

The next week Officer Hottie and I headed over to our church to meet with Dawn. We were excited to finally get a plan for our money. I was hopeful that she would be able to find a way for us to not only make our payments, but maybe even have a little extra.
I handed over all our bills, our list of expenses we'd kept track of and our pile of one-time expenses (like our dentist bill we hadn't paid yet), smiled and asked her to work her magic. Dawn was so gracious; I'd liked her the minute I met her. She had worked her way out of a mountain of debt so I felt comfortable letting her look at our situation. She seemed to have it all together and I admired that about her. Her husband had been injured and unable to work so she bore the burden of getting the debt worked out on her own. She had inspired and encouraged me and I felt that having her on our side was going to be a huge help.
Quietly Dawn looked over our transactions. She paused when she got to the last one, a charge to the credit card at Claim Jumper the night before. She looked up at us. "This," she said, circling the charge with her finger, "can't happen anymore. You guys are in no position to be going out for dinner right now. You have a very tough road ahead of you."
There it was, plain as day. We were in trouble and she had called us out on it.
I laughed nervously as she looked back at our paperwork and began making columns. At the top of each column she had OH's take home pay. Underneath she began making lists; mortgage payment, food, auto, insurance, etc. She used a pencil and would write numbers under each column, often erasing and rearranging. She paused every so often to ask us questions: "Is this a recurring bill or a one time bill?" "Is it possible to spend less money on gasoline?" "Have you ever considered clipping coupons?" "Is this cable AND internet?" Each question, each erase, left me more and more worried. I wondered if I had been right, if we really were that far behind every month.
Finally, after lots of math, Dawn looked up at us.
"I think this budget can work. But it'll be tough and you have to be committed. You can do it though." She handed us the paper she had put together. Officer Hottie and I leaned in to read it.
The first thing that stuck out to me was tithing. She had left it blank.
"Wait, what about tithing?" I asked. "Where's the money for tithing?"
Dawn looked at me kindly, but somewhat sadly. "If you tithe, which you can do, you won't have money to pay your mortgage, or make your car payment, or feed your children. It's up to you, because you have to follow your convictions, but I'm telling you, if you tithe, you will not be able to make it."
"Can't the money come from anywhere else?" Officer Hottie asked. "I mean, I'm sure we can cut money somewhere."
Line by line Dawn showed us what we were up against.
A mortgage payment that was 51% of OH's take home pay. A car payment. A credit card payment that was almost as much as the car payment. Utilities. $321 a month to spend on groceries, diapers, toilet paper and shampoo. For our family of five. I kept trying to smile but reality was quickly sinking in. We had spent so long over-spending and it had finally caught up and over taken us. When everything was said and done, simply to pay our bills OH was going to have to work a minimum of one hour of overtime every pay period.
"Ok. Ok. Ok." I think I felt that if I kept saying 'ok' than everything really would be ok.
"You have to cancel your gym membership, reduce your cell phone plan, cancel cable, not drive around so much and get that overtime if you guys want to stay afloat. If you want to keep your home and your car," Dawn said matter-of-factly.
"Ok."
She sighed. "Here's what I want you to do. If OH gets more than one hour of overtime, you need to think of something you want to do with that money. What do you guys like to do?"
"Eat," we said at the same time.
She laughed. "Ok. So, if you get more than one hour of OT, you get to go out to dinner. Then anything extra you put towards your savings until you get $1000."
"What about Christmas?" I asked, fearful of the answer.
Before she could respond Officer Hottie spoke. "I work Veteran's Day and Thanksgiving," he reminded me. "We'll use that money for Christmas." I was relieved. I really didn't want our children to pay for our mistakes. "Plus," he added, "I get a CPI raise the first of the year, and my step raise soon after that."
"Excellent!" Dawn replied. "Use your tax refund to finish putting the $1000 you need in savings, put about $500 aside for clothes, because your kids will need new clothing, and then put the rest toward your debt. It will only be tough for a short time."
I felt slightly better, but it was only October and we wouldn't be seeing any raises for three months. On top of that, overtime was never guaranteed.
We packed up our things, left the church and got into our car. The car I had been so proud of, so excited to start driving. I now looked at it as a weight that was sinking our family. I plopped into the passenger seat and began crying. Sobbing. How did we let this happen?
Before we left the church's parking lot, Officer Hottie was on the phone. He canceled our cable, took text messaging, internet and the extra minutes off our phone plan. He canceled the gym membership.
"We can't do this," I said.
Officer Hottie grabbed my hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
"We can do this," he stated. "We can and we will."
"We can and we will," I repeated.
I was so thankful one of us had confidence and I tried to remember that three months really isn't a very long time.

To be continued...

Obsessed.

2010-06-01T15:56:00.000-07:00

I have had an epiphany. Actually, I had this particular epiphany awhile ago, but recently it has taken more of a front seat in my life.

I love baking. Love.

My recent baking obsession began during our trip to the Great Wolf Lodge in April. J asked if we would buy him a giant pretzel. I saw the $4 price tag and promptly stated that I could make better ones at home and he'd have to wait. He whined and begged and pleaded but I was not persuaded and when we arrived home I began my quest for making the perfect giant soft pretzel. I tried two recipes that came up lacking. The kids didn't complain, in fact, they really enjoyed them, but I knew deep in my heart of hearts, there had to be something better.

Then Melissa told me about these. And I was done. I have used every excuse to make them.

"Oh, you're pregnant! You probably want a pretzel."

"Oh, you're nursing? You probably need a pretzel."

"Oh, you're on a diet? You should try a pretzel."

"Oh my gosh! You blinked. Here's a pretzel."

Yes, it really is that bad. I tell myself they are healthy, you know, because I use a few cups of whole wheat. It's basically a health food. Basically.

My husband has only aided in my obession by turning these fabulously disgusting counter tops ...

Into these most gorgeous, flat, perfectly perfect counter tops.

Oh things I will use you to bake for me!! And my children. And husband. Of course.

Come to think of it, Officer Hottie hasn't done much complaining about my baking. It is possible that he is using the perfect counter tops to manipulate me into making more baked good.

Nah.

Since I like to share you can find the most fabulous recipe for the perfect pretzel HERE. The Pioneer Woman. Of course. And I realize this post should be on my very neglected food blog. Pshhh. Poor neglected food blog.

Remember When Wednesdays: The Debt Story Part I

2010-05-26T14:00:00.000-07:00

The light at the intersection was red. Thankfully. Laura's words had pierced my soul and I was hoping, praying that she hadn't noticed. When she spoke it was as if God Himself had spoken; I realized He'd been trying to speak to me for a long time, but it was the first time I'd actually listened.
"The light's green," Laura said. It brought me out of my haze and we continued chatting as I tried to ignore the lightning bolt that had just shot through my heart.
Everything was normal when we arrived back at the house. Our husband's were playing in the yard with the kids and we started on dinner.
Later, when Officer Hottie and I had a minute alone, he asked how the trip to Target went.
"Um...Laura said something that really hit me."
"Oh yeah?" he replied. "What was that?"
"Well, you know how she's really into homebirth but she had Kaleb at the hospital? I asked her why and she said their insurance hadn't covered home birth. She said they had a conviction from the Lord to never go into debt, and that the conviction He gave them was stronger than their own personal ideals, so they decided that instead of putting his birth on credit they would go to the hospital."
I could see the twinge across his face as the words "conviction from the Lord" slapped him as hard as they'd slapped me. I could see his shoulders slump a bit as he deflated. Laura and her husband, Julian, came out of our guest bedroom then (which was really just our son's room with an extra mattress thrown in) so I knew the conversation would have to be finished later.
A few days later I waved to Julian and Laura and their kids as they left to go back home and I nearly forgot about how God had spoken through her. When we went to put our son's room back together we found a pile of their clothing and pillows. I laughed as I packed it up to take the the UPS store. Laura said she'd send us money but I laughed her off. "Pshhh. Shut it."
The day after sending the package I sat down to balance our checkbook. After having friends here for a week I was happy to see we had some money left over. Sweet. Maybe we could go out for dinner one more time before payday? I do love to eat out.
The next morning I awoke in a panic. My heart was racing and it was like God was again talking to me..."Did you pay the credit card bill?"
Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. I forgot to pay the bill. I forgot...I forgot...
Officer Hottie was already at work so I ran out to the computer to check our ledger balance...sure enough...I hadn't paid the bill. My heart sank. The minimum payment was $250 and we only had $100 left in our checking account.
Wait? Where did all that extra money go? What happened to all that overtime?
I frantically looked through the list of transactions; they screamed to me as I passed each one.
The Old Spaghetti Factory. You didn't have enough money to eat here!
The Children's Museum. Why would you even go here if you don't have money?
The Woodland Park Zoo. You paid more for GAS than for admission. And the lions were sleeping!
Trader Joe's. Really? REALLY? Chocolate covered ORGANIC pretzels? Really?
I could feel the tears building up as each transaction left me feeling more panicked and angry. How did we do this to ourselves? Where were we going to find the money to pay our bill? We'd never not paid a bill before...the weight of responsibility and failure was heavy on me as I reached for the phone to call Officer Hottie.
Through tears I explained that we'd spent our money and had no way to pay our credit card bill. Or to tithe. All that money that we'd blown through that we were going to give to our church. I felt as if we'd not only let ourselves down and been completely irresponsible but that we were also letting down God; that we had misused His blessings and cheated on Him. OH was calm and practical, promising to call the Credit company and see what we could work out.
"How did we do this? How did we get here? How could we let this happen?"
I thought back to a few months earlier when I'd overpaid our internet bill by $30 and it took our account negative. Why hadn't that forced us to look at our finances? Or two years before when OH started with the police department and his first paycheck was $700; I remembered the terror of the realization that we had no moeny and barring a miracle we wouldn't be able to make our mortgage payment. Why hadn't we allowed that to put a freeze on our spending? I thought about when he transferred to his new city and got a pay raise of over $300 and the first thing we did was buy a new car and get into a car payment. What else could we have used that $300 for? Certainly we had bills we were obligated to; how did we forget that?
My heart was heavy and burdened as I mulled over the mess we had made for ourselves.
Oh God, what are we going to do?
Little voices lifted me from my fog of self-despair. I had to turn on Mom mode and go. Change the diapers, get out the cereal, get them dressed, take a shower, go to the park ... the day moved on, each hour taking us closer to the dreaded payment deadline. I tried not to think about it, to shove it away as had been my practice for years but it was different this time. I knew things had to change, I just didn't know how we could change them, and that frustrated me almost more than not being able to pay our bills did.
The next day I woke up with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. A knot. A pit. Butterflies. I'm not sure what to call it. I hated waking up and feeling dread. It was going to be a hard day. I got the kids ready for church and while they were eating sat down at the computer to check my email. Someone had responded to our ad on Craigslist for our bedroom set. The weight, the dread, lifted slightly.
As I packed the kiddos into the car I begged the Lord to have the people buy the set. If we sold it, I knew we could pay our bill - we would make it another month.
I sat through worship and when the pastor got up to give the weekly announcements I was hardly paying attention as I was sitting next to Mom and there's always something important for us to talk about. I heard the pastor saying something about financial classes and immediately grabbed the bulletin from my mom's hands. Sure enough there, was going to be a financial class offered for women. An answer. Hope. Help. The weight lifted a little bit more.
That afternoon a couple came over to look at our bedroom set. Officer Hottie was working and had given me explicit instructions on how to load the gun and answer the door. Having a gun on my person made me more nervous than strangers coming to our house. He's such a cop sometimes. When they arrived I saw they were an elderly couple and quickly tossed the gun on top of our fridge; it was making my pants fall down anyway. They walked into our house, took a quick look at the set, and gave me $350 in cash. I wanted to hug them, to cry, to jump up and down. I wish they knew how they saved me that day. I briefly thought of the $1700 we'd spent on this set that I just HAD to have when we first got married and the measly $350 I now held in my hands but the remorse was temporary as the burden of not being able to pay our bill that month lifted completely.
I carefully tucked the money into my purse to take to the bank the following morning. I was ecstatic that our bill would be paid on time. However, in the back of my mind I was already wondering how we would pay next month's bill and praying that the financial class would hold some answers for us.

To be continued...

The Other Woman

2010-05-21T15:44:00.000-07:00

There is another woman in my husband's life.

She demands his love and affection.

She will settle for nothing less than his undivided love and attention.

She climbs into our bed and hogs the sheets.

She thinks she is a princess and the world is her oyester.

She is just over three feet tall and has such a pitch to her voice when she doesn't get what she wants when she wants it, the paint could peel right off the walls.

I've seen it happen.

Little stinker. Flirting gets her everywhere.

This is GG, the million dollar blanket. I wish they came in King size. Best. Blanket. Ever. (Most people call them the little giraffe blanket because of the giraffe on the tag. I call it the million dollar blanket because it costs nearly that. My cousin bought it for her. God bless you Melissa.)

She often says something like, "My finger isn't hungry so I CAN'T eat dinner."

Oh? Ok then.

And then she smiles, because she knows she got him, hook line and sinker.

Oh how she adores her daddy.

He's pretty fond of her too. By pretty fond I mean over the moon in love.

I can't blame him.

Cinnamon and sugar crumbs. Because Daddy ran out and bought donut holes. It's what his little girl wanted.

I would like to take this opportunity to say that my husband has lost 42 pounds and now has a jawline, which I find to be highly, highly attractive and sexy. Just sayin'.

I think she tolerates him. Just kidding. She eats this stuff up.

Oh, another one? Ok, if you must.

I think I'm framing this one.

Remember When Wednesdays

2010-05-19T16:00:00.000-07:00

Growing up, I was bossy. Really really bossy. Even still my brothers and sisters will let me boss them around, it's just that now my husband gets after me when I try to boss too much. But they didn't have my husband's protection when we were growing up and so I bossed and bossed and bossed a little more.

I made my brothers dress up in princess clothes. I made my sisters wash the dishes. I made lists of chores for them to carry out. I even tried to tell my parents what to do. My mom says that one time I came storming into the house and exclaimed, "MOTHER! Do you know how close the children are to the road?"
To which she replied that she was the mother and I could stop worrying.
To which I replied, "Then act like it."
I'm pretty sure I got a swat for that one. Thankfully I don't remember.

My whole point in pointing out how bossy I was, is that I am much less bossy now. Sort of.

There is this really great book I found, quite by accident, that I just had to buy my sisters for their birthday a few years ago.

It's about an older sister who is left in charge when her parent's go out. She bosses her little sisters and tells them to make dinner and not to wake up the baby. And then she falls into a pot and hilarity ensues when her little sisters refused to be bossed anymore.

One of my sisters laughed and laughed and said it was the best book ever that perfectly summed up their childhood with me. (Thank you Rach.)
The other sister blew me off and gave me a smirk and didn't thoroughly appreciate the novelty of the book. (Um...Boo. I'm talking about you.) I'm pretty sure that's because she always wanted to be the boss.

My kids still think I'm bossy. And my husband gets after me for bossing. And recently I had to apologize to my sister-in-law when I realized she asked about what time to be at a party and I laid out step-by-step exactly how they could arrive and be on time. She's gracious and laughed (thanks Tara). I would have told me to shut up.

On this Remember When Wednesday, I would like to remind you to love your older sister, because (as my therapist told me) she's just a little Mom trying to keep you on the straight and narrow.

At least, that's how I remember it.

My Debt Free Workshop

2010-05-18T13:39:00.000-07:00

I had a wonderful time at Camp Gilead. I got to stay in Cabin 0, which just so happens to the cabin I spent my first summer as a counselor in. It smells the same. I came home (after one night) and washed everything I took with me. I aired my hairbrush and mascara wand out on the porch. I saw an old friend, we worked together during the summer of '99, and she so very graciously included me in her little "group" that had come with her. (Thank you Faith!)
The theme for the retreat was "The Wisdom Behind the Apron" and the speakers were sharing about things they learned during transitional times of their lives.
The first speaker on Friday night was a gal named Hannah. She was pregnant and blonde and adorable and too young to have done much transitioning. Except that she became a widow at 23. Her husband was killed in Iraq, during his second tour of duty, when their son was six months old. Youch. Her story is incredible and her faith is inspiring! The Lord used it to speak directly to me as, I'm sure you remember, I have lived with a lot of fear as of late. She shared some great Bible verses, which were unfortunatley tossed into the recycle bin during Officer Hottie's Clean off the Kitchen Counter Frenzy of 2010. Oh well. I came away from that session with an immense feeling of peace and hope and the reiteration of the knowledge that Christ Jesus is stronger than death and my fears.
The second speakers were ok, although I wasn't as touched as I had been the night before. Sorry gals.
The third speaker on Saturday was a 70 year old great-grandma. She was hilarious. She talked about loving our husbands and forgiveness. She said sex and bitchy (in church!) without wincing or pausing and I fell in love with her.
As for my workshops...
I think they went well. The first one was really tough as it was in a teeny room and four of the gals were Russian and had someone interpretting for them. It was just confusing. Plus, one gal asked me a really challenging question about tithing, and not being a theology major, I was kind of at a loss for what to tell her. All in all though, I think people were able to understand my story, my heart and come away with some financial hope.
The second workshop went much better. The group was a little bit smaller and it was in a larger area...plus, no interpreter talking over me made for a higher comfort level.
I was able to share information about debt using lots of the ideas you gave me! Thank you, by the way. Your ideas were SUPER helpful. If I were more technology-savvy I would put the pages I shared with the gals on here so you could look over them...this is the best I can do. Click HERE for a reality check on debt and HERE for a sample budget if you seem to have a difficult time setting one up.
Thanks for your encouragement and prayers. It was a great time and I'm working on writing out our story so hopefully you will be inspired to see that if we could get out of $27,000 in debt in 14 months, anyone can!

I'm off!

2010-05-14T13:30:00.000-07:00

After a brief hiatus I am simply writing to say that I am heading out for my women's retreat where I will get to share about our journey to debt freedom. I know that story will make for a good post ... but it really is long and like most difficult things we go through in life, now that the journey is over I can only look back and remember the triumphs. Thankfully. Because if I only ever remembered the difficult stuff I sure wouldn't be willing to try many things that took any sort of effort.

I am nervous because I'll be speaking to a group of women (please don't fall asleep on me!) but I am so excited because I feel that if we could work our way out of a mound of debt, and go from not being able to make our minimum credit card payment, to being completely debt free (minus the mortgage) and able to pay for our Hawaiin vacation and home remodel with cash in just a few short years, anyone can do it. Anyone. I just want the women to walk away with hope!

So if you think about it, say a little prayer for me. I'll update when I'm home!

Oh, and how cool is this? The theme of the retreat is "The Wisdom Behind the Apron" and literally last week a friend (thank you dear Kathleen!) gave me a vintage apron since I've been spending so much time in the kitchen. I love it. And now I get to speak to the ladies wearing a super hot little apron that makes me feel all domestic goddess and such. Very very cool.

Yes, I'm wearing flip flops. I love flip flops. And I really love Locals flip flops. My fond affections for them will one day get it's own post.

Mother's Day

2010-05-08T14:10:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago my oldest son came up to me with a pad of paper and a pen. He proceeded to ask me a series of questions and dilgently wrote down my answers.

His questions were:

*What is your favorite cookie?

*What is your favorite chocolate?

*What is your favorite kind of cake?

*What kind of frosting do you want?

*What is your favorite dinner?

*What is your favorite mint?

*What is your favorite dessert?

*What is your favorite color? (Mom, how do you spell streamers?)

*What kind of gift do you want?

*Would you like to go to any special places?

I'm pretty sure I'll be the most spoiled mom on Mother's Day.

OR...

Officer Hottie is working on Mother's Day.

But seriously, how sweet is this kid?

Remember When Wednesdays

2010-05-05T15:08:00.000-07:00

I just reached 30 followers. On Remember When Wednesday no less. I have a hard time believing that there are 30 people in this world who care to read what I write, but thank you. When I started blogging I got giddy over 3, one of which was my husband who doesn't actually read this blog, so I don't think he really counts. However, as more people have found my blog, made comments and invited me into their (online) lives, I've been very blessed. So thanks for following.

I've been having a bit of writers block the last little bit. I thought having something to focus on to write about, like Remember When Wednesday, would force my creative juices to keep flowing but creativity seems to be a little elusive so I hope you'll bear with me as I struggle through this!

This morning Momma Fargo posted a link to Momma's Pixie Dreams. Their 16 month old daughter was just diagnosed with cancer. That shook me up. I hate cancer; I wish there were a stronger word to describe how much I hate it. Resent, abhor, repulse...none really seem to describe how much I really truly feel about cancer.

When I was 15 my best friend died from cancer. I hated it when they said he had it, I hated it when they said it had returned after they thought it went away, and I really hated it the night he was so doped up on medication he could hardly remember me and the following morning when he died. I hated what it did to his family, I hated how it ripped a hole in the world, I hated how life goes on no matter who dies. I hated drinking guava mango juice because it had been his favorite, I hated not knowing what to say to his parents, I hated feeling empty and helpless. I hated when his family took a long vacation after he passed, I hated that I didn't like his other best friend so I couldn't talk to him, I hated going to the zoo because we'd gone there for his birthday once and the whole place reminded me of him. I hated being a teenager and instead of enjoying being 15 I was dealing with real life, I hated that I was so messed up I had to miss school and go to work with my mom.

15 years later the only thing I don't hate is that his sister is one of my dearest friends and his parents are still a part of my life. I love that they all love my husband. I love that his sister's son is just a few months older than my youngest so we spend a lot of time together. I love that we have each other and we can remember together. I love that our husbands are both police officers so we understand each other on a level we never thought we would. I love that we go to the same church so we can pray together and focus on what is most important. I love that she laughs and has joy and that time, Love and the Lord have erased many of her hurts and her own hate. I love that losing her brother has made her a stronger mother and wife, more fierce than she would have been. I love that she is tender toward those who are going through their own loss and that she remains vulnerable to those around her.

All that hate I dealt with ... and now all this love.

On this Remember When Wednesday I want to remember that love and hope are stronger than hate. That God is stronger than cancer. That there will be a time when all pain will be erased; although the journey and the way it ends may not be the way we want, the result can always be Healing and Hope, especially for these little ones.

I will remember to pray for Momma Pixie's little Monkey and for all those who are struggling.

I hope you will too.

Love this family.

Have you ever???

2010-05-03T09:43:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been convinced that the conversation you just had with your husband will be the last time you ever hear his voice? Or that the last time he says "I love you" will be the last time you hear him say it to you? Have you ever been convinced that you will never see your husband alive again?

I'm sure that as police wives we all go through times of doubt and anxiety. I go through that on occasion, but usually only after something happens. I feel nervous about letting him go to work, I get worried when he doesn't call or text me, I cry and pray a lot. But it is often a reaction to an event that has already taken place.

Last week, my dad called Officer Hottie to tell him how much he loved him and how thankful he was that he was part of our family. It was very sweet. When OH and I were first engaged he and my dad didn't have the best relationship. My dad always liked him just fine, but as most young men, OH has his own way and idea of doing things and it didn't gel well with what my dad's plan was. That was long ago and any hurts or stresses from that period of time has long passed, but it still feels good to know that my love genuinly loves my husband.

When OH called to tell me my dad had called him he was very sweet. He said how nice it was of my dad to call and how he was glad they had a good relationship. And before he hung up he said he loved me so much, which he always says. When we hung up, I looked around my house, the home we've made together, and our four beautiful children and I started to cry. I just knew that was it. In a few seconds my mind was there. You know what I mean; how would I tell the kids, how would I sleep alone, who was going to notify me, who were going to be the pallbearers, how much music would they allow at the service, which pictures should we find, etc. On and on. Then I started to beg. I begged and begged and pleaded with God to protect him, to not leave me alone. I can't raise four children on my own. We're in the middle of remodeling. I can't finish that. Who will keep my feet warm at night? No one understands me like he does, no one puts up with me like he does, no one smells as good as he does ... our kids like him more than me. Then slowly I started asking for strength and help. For courage. For peace. And for sanity.

When OH called me later, hearing his voice was such relief. What he hadn't told me earlier was that a few minutes after my dad called him he was dispatched to a fairly scary call. He also had been convinced that he was being sent into certain death. It was really just the timing of everything - a seemingly random phone call from his father in law, and then getting dispatched to this particular call. He said he started driving and thought, "Ok Lord. This must be it." So he called me. He said he had wanted me to know that he and my dad really did love each other and that he loved me the most. I, of course, started crying again. I hadn't told him when he called the first time that it terrified me; that for a moment (a long long moment) I thought that just maybe my dad knew what the future held. What he hadn't said was that he felt the same way.

It was an interesting dynamic; both of us being convinced we would never see each other again. Him trying to keep his head on straight so he could do his job effectively, me trying to keep it together so my children didn't see me falling apart for no reason. When he came home that night we couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

I know death is inevitable. I know it's going to happen; one of us has to go first. I don't know if it will be today, or in a year, or in 80 years. I don't know if it will be a gunshot, a car accident, or cancer. I just don't know. And I'm thankful for that. After those few hours when I thought I knew, I realized I don't want to see it coming. I don't want to be waiting for it. I won't sit at home in fear of what I have no control over. Trust me, I've considered it. Every time I get in the car, every time he goes to work, every time he works on our house or climbs up on the roof, every time we leave our children to go on a date or a vacation, every time one of our children is gone from our family for some reason, every time my son gets on the school bus I wonder if that time will be the last time. I've got to stop. After our second son was born I went through a time of not even wanting to leave our house. The "what if's" got the best of me. It was short lived, thankfully but I realized I'm a fearful person, and fear gets me nowhere. Fear paralyzes me. It stops my life, it makes me incapable of enjoying the very life (lives) I'm afraid of losing.

I'm glad my dad doesn't see the future and I'm even more glad that he loves my husband. I'm glad my husband's first thought when he thinks he is headed to death's door is to call me and make sure I know he loves me. Mostly, I'm thankful for Peace. I am thankful for the Knowledge that death isn't the end. I am thankful for Hope.

I am thankful for one more chance to hold my husband's hand and to look into his eyes and to hear his voice.

I will let Thanks be more powerful than Fear.

In Honor of National Infertility Awareness Week

2010-04-29T15:59:00.000-07:00

Kate over at Busted Plumbing has been talking a lot about National Infertility Awareness Week. It has been a good read for me, with lots of tears. Last night I dreamed about Kate (if you're reading this, you were a cartoon); probably because I have been praying for her a LOT. I don't even know her. In my reality, she's literally a cartoon; a funny, sarcastic, witty cartoon. Yesterday she posted that she's pregnant, but after 5 years trying to conceive and four miscarriages she is naturally apprehensive. I've been praying for her ever since.

Her struggle is personal for me as conceiving of our first two children didn't come easy. All said and done it was only 17 months between the two of them, but those 17 months were filled with a lot of disappointments, questions and tears.
I watched my sister and her husband struggle with infertility for three years - before my sister finally conceived their daughter she was no longer eating wheat, dairy, sugar or red meats; all in an effort to get her body to do what it was supposed to do.
Currently I am watching one of my dearest friends struggle with secondary infertility. Her son just turned two and he is a joy. He was conceived immediately with only the fun kind of effort put into it. For over a year they have been waiting for the magic to happen again, but it has eluded them. Every milestone they celebrate with their son is shadowed with the knowledge that his "firsts" may be their "lasts".
Another dear friend and her husband adopted four children and suffered multiple miscarriages before she conceived and delivered her first biological child.
These stories are not unique. Unfortunately we all know someone who is currently infertile or who has struggled with infertility. Take a moment and head over to Busted Plumbing to see what Kate has to say on the issue. Then stop by resolve.org to see how you can get involved in helping to find a cure for infertility and how you can support those you love who are living through this struggle.

What gets me through.

2010-04-27T15:14:00.000-07:00

Today I weighed myself and was a little disheartened. I am proud to say that I am at my goal weight (woot!) but there's something about working so hard to lose weight and then not losing weight that just weirds me out. So my day just started in a funk and continued that way.

So, for dinner, I did what any good "wanna lose more weight" woman would do.

I took these very healthy four ounce chicken breasts

and dressed them up a bit.

Work it girls. Work it.

And then I gave them a nice hot bath.

Sizzle sizzle pop. Sounds of beauty and comfort.

Gotta get both sides. An even tan is a must, after all.

Oh, hello Pepper. Hello Thyme. I didn't see you there.

I didn't want them to be lonely, so I put them together with these.

My day started looking better.

So did his, apparently.

And then I went to my parent's house.

My mom had these ...

(Those are chocolate covered marshmallows, in case you couldn't tell. Milk AND white chocolate.)

So we did this.

And then magic happened.

And now, all is right with the world. And I'm throwing my scale away.

Learning some lessons

2010-04-25T13:43:00.000-07:00

For our son J's fifth birthday we decided to surpirse our three oldest kids with a trip to the Great Wolf Lodge. We had never been and thought it would be a nice little getaway - plus they offer a law enforcement discount so we couldn't say no! If you have one in your area and you haven't gone yet, GO! We all really enjoyed ourselves and will most certainly be going back.
While there I learned quite a few life lessons; such as 24 oz. of canned beer is 24 oz. too many; pay the extra 28 cents for the bottle. Or never buy food from a restaraunt at a resort unless I like the feeling of being totally taken advantage of. Or puppets that pop out of stumps are as creepy to adults as they are to children. I kept making a mental list of each lesson I was taught and really couldn't wait to get home and jot them all down. You, of course, will get to be the beneficiary's of my great wisdom, although I only am sharing a few, which is probably a greater benefit to you than if I shared them all.

Please to enjoy ...

Secrets of Life

as taught to me by my stay at the Great Wolf Lodge

by Mama Hen

Secret: My middle children are cautious.
Life Lesson Learned: Spend a little bit of money on a small trip before spending a lot of money on a larger trip. Thankfully we were able to take our children to this fabulous resort for not so much money. We learned that our middle two children are ~~weenies~~ ~~fearful~~ cautious and are perfectly content spending hour upon hour in six inches of water and avoiding any form of slide, even if it is only 18 inches off the ground. I'm glad we didn't spring for the $3000 Disneyland trip quite yet.

Secret: Not all tattoos are created equal.
Life Lesson Learned: Maybe tattos aren't as cool as I always thought they were.

Secret: White bathing suits are a not a good idea. Ever. The End.
Life Lesson Learned: I like when there's a little left to the imagination.

Secret: Apparently not everyone agrees with my definition of "bikini ready body".
Life Lesson: I guess not everyone feels the need to have a flat stomach when they put on a bikini. Or that they should shave their upper thighs ... or, um, other areas that are generally considered "bikini ready". But they should ... they really really should. Not everyone should wear a bikini. They really really shouldn't. And hey, I've had four kids. I don't live under any illusion that I should be excluded from this category.

Secret: Some women have beards. And moustaches.
Life Lesson: I will age gracefully. If that means electrolosis, waxing and shaving ... even my face ... then so be it. And if for some crazy reason I forget that women shouldn't have facial hair, I hope my friends (and husband) will remind me.

Secret: Teenagers are the same now as they were 10 (ok ... 15) years ago when I was one.
Life Lesson: Teenage lifeguards are really good at checking out other teenagers in bathing suits, checking the pool for dead bodies and saying 'go' when it is safe to take your turn down a waterslide. Teenage lifeguards are not so good at watching for children who are drowning but not quite dead yet, hiding their disgust over hairy chests and making sure children don't pummel each other in the kiddie pool. Therefore, I will play the over protective Mother part well and keep an eye on my own kids, thank you very much. Besides, it feels good to be the first face your daughter sees when you save her from certain drowning in a wave pool. (...and back to the kiddie pool we go...)

Secret: White wife beater tank tops don't cover very much. Ew.
Life Lesson: Ok, no life lesson here. Just a basic truth. Don't wear wife beaters. Especially if you plan on getting them wet. The end.

Not So Secret: My husband values his family.
Life Lesson: Don't take him for granted. My husband is proud of his children ... and he's proud of me. He's willing to sit on a stationary jet ski for six hours just so his little girl will be happy and his middle son can have someone to shoot water at. He's willing to let a bucket holding 1000 gallons water dump over his head so that his oldest son can see it really isn't "that bad". He's willing to drive to Dairy Queen and get his wife a peanut buster parfait because "it's needed." He gives me all sorts of warm fuzzies and it is so important that I let him know how much that means to me.

Normal kids. Right?

Remember When Wednesdays

2010-04-19T13:52:00.000-07:00

(I fully realize it is not Wednesday yet. However, I'm taking a blogging break for a few days to celebrate our son's fifth birthday so I felt the need to write this early.)

7:00 a.m. I looked at the clock. Huh.
I laid there for a second wondering what had woken me up when I felt it. A contraction. A real live oh-right-this-is-what-labor-feels-like contraction.
Dang. I better call Officer Hottie. I'll wait for another just to make sure.
I got up to use the bathroom. Another hit. Time to call the hubby and tell him to come home from work.
"Honey, I'm in labor."
"You sure?"
"Yup. I've only had two contractions, but this is it." I heard him begin to run.
"I've got to get back to the shop then I'll be on my way."
7:08 a.m. Traffic is not going to be fun.
"Mom? I think I'm having this baby. Can you come over and watch L?"
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"Be right over."
L woke up. I got him out of his crib and sat down on the exercise ball as I snuggled him during my next contraction.
Wow. Where is my mom?
As I popped a waffle in the toaster, got a sippy cup full of milk, and put L in the high chair I began to think about what the day would bring. Soon I would be holding another baby. I sat back down on the ball when another contraction began.
This is different than last time. Where is everyone?
When Mom arrived I was mid-contraction. I couldn't talk to her.
"Honey, how long have you been having contractions?"
"What time is it?"
"7:18"
Where is Hottie??
"Um ... for 18 minutes."
She gave me a look - I can't describe it but I think it was a mixture of excitement and total terror. 18 minutes is a fairly short time to be laboring - and to be sure the labor is going somewhere.
Another contraction hit and I rocked back and forth on the ball. I tried having conversation with my mom, telling her where all of L's things were, who he was supposed to stay with, when to bring him to see us. I was pausing every few minutes to rock my hips back and forth on the exercise ball. A wave of relief washed over me as I heard OH pull into the driveway. The moment he walked in I stood up to go. My mom and he got the car loaded up with our overnight bag. I kissed L good-bye.
"We're going to have the baby!" I said. I wondered if he even knew what I was talking about, or how much his little life was going to change.
Why is Hottie talking to my mom so long? SHUT UP!
I started to walk to the car. I had to lean against the house since I couldn't walk through my next contraction. Thoughts of getting to the hospital and only being 3 centimeters dilated were running through my mind.
Like last time. But it feels so different this time.
"I think you should get in the car," I heard my mom say to my husband.
Ya think?
Officer Hottie lifted me into our car and hopped into the driver's seat.
7:45 a.m.
"Did you call the doctor yet?"
"No."
He dialed the phone. I was having another contraction and only heard him say, "Yeah, this is it. We'll see you at the hospital." Followed by, "Honey, traffic is bad."
Of course it is.
"Can you also call Summer? I want to make sure she meets us there." I was determined to have a natural childbirth with my second baby and my friend had offered to be our doula. I knew I was going to need her encouragment if I was going to make it.
But this hurts. More than I remember. I wonder if Summer will be mad if I get drugs. Maybe she won't care.
Contraction after contraction. OH decided SR-9 would be faster than I-5 and I hoped he was right. He was making phone calls while I labored. Melissa first. My cousin and best friend. I wanted her there. He told her he'd call back once we'd checked in. Then his sister-in-law who heard me moaning and started to cry. And finally my sister. He put her off until the end knowing she had made me promise to not go into labor on Wednesday. Any day but Wednesday. She answered the phone with, "You have to be kidding me. If you are in labor I'm going to cry." She started to cry. So did I. She missed L's birth because of work ... and now this one too. I really wanted her there. I cried until the next contraction hit and I had to concentrate.
"We don't have a name if it's a boy," I said when the contraction was over.
Maybe we should have found out what we were having. Maybe we'd have settled on a name by now.
"I know. I still like J."
"Me too. What if it doesn't fit?"
"We'll see when he gets here I guess." Good enough for now.
I turned sideways to see if that would be more comfortable. I gripped the seat and the center console. I leaned forward and lay my head on the dashboard. I considered turning around and hugging the back of my seat. The only thing that seemed to help was making noise.
Why does this hurt so bad?
I glared at the cars around us.
They really should get out of our way. Don't they know what I'm going through? Why did we choose to deliver so far from home? Seriously.
8:05 ... 8:25 ... 8:37 ... 8: 50 ...
"Honey, close your eyes."
My eyes had been shut tight until he said that.
"Why?" I looked around and realized traffic was at a stand still but we were racing along in the carpool lane at 40 miles per hour, passing car after car. Our exit was less than 1/2 mile away.
We're going to miss the exit. WE'RE GOING TO MISS THE EXIT!
"OH MY GOD WE'RE GOING TO MISS THE EXIT!" I screamed as another contraction hit.
"I told you to close your eyes!"
I watched him yank the steering wheel off to the right and somehow, miraculously, we missed every car while crossing four lanes of traffic to make our exit.
I could hear him muttering under his breath, "Thank you Lord. Thank you Lord."
The light at the exit was red. 8:54.
The next two lights were red. The people in the car next to us were laughing.
Stupid idiots. Stupid stupid idiots. They are so stupid. Stup--- it's too hard to hate and have contractions at the same time.
"Honey, just think, you're probably at 5 centimeters by now! Halfway there!"
I hope you're right.
We arrived. They saw OH helping me out of the car and brought a wheelchair.
"Your doctor called and your room is ready."
"Good, because I think this baby might fall out."
"Honey, that's a good sign!"
Stupid nurse. Nothing is good.
They handed me a robe to change into as soon as I was wheeled into my room. I had four contractions while changing. They put a blood pressure cuff on me. I was hot. Really really hot. I took the blood pressure cuff off. And then my robe. I didn't care. I was hot.
"You're at 7."
Further along than I had hoped! That's good! No one is here yet ... where is my mom? Where is Summer? Where is Melissa? Where is our camera?
They put the cuff back on me. I took it off. It went back on. I ripped it off. They demanded I keep it on. I refused.
Officer Hottie was trying to talk me through contractions. I just made noise.
A nurse said, "Stop pushing." When I told her I wasn't she said, "Every time you scream you push. You need to stop screaming." She blew on my face to help me calm down. I think she had just had her coffee and cigarette break. I screamed in her face then told Hottie to go brush his teeth.
"Your dad is here." I was so glad to hear it but I couldn't open my eyes. "Can you at least put a sheet on me?" I managed to squeek out. The nurse took advantage of the moment and put the blood pressure cuff back on.
That nurse should be happy I don't have enough energy to kick her.
I felt someone grab my toe.
"Hi honey." Daddy. I could only moan. "I'm in the hallway," he said. I moaned some more and ripped the sheet and cuff off as soon as my dad cleared the room.
I can't do this. I want an epidural.
"I want an epidural."
"You can do this! You're at a seven, probaby an 8 by now." I said a few things. I screamed a little bit more. Poor OH. "She wants an epidural."
They paged the anesthesiolgist. The nursed checked me again. I saw my savior, the anesthiologist, walk into the room as the nurse said, "You're at a 9." My hope faded as the doctor shrugged his shoulders, turned and walked back out the door. I realized I was getting what I wanted. And it sucked. Yet somehow, amidst the pain I felt excitement and a new determination. I was really going to do this - even if only because I didn't have a choice. I was so exhausted between contractions I almost fell asleep. More and more contractions with hardly a rest in between. Until all of a sudden I felt like I had to use the bathroom. I knew what that meant.
"I think I need to push."
"You can try."
The urge completely took over. Officer Hottie stroked my arm, counting quietly to ten as I pushed. A nurse came over to check. "Where is your doctor?" she asked no one in particular, sounding a little worried. She walked over to the intercom and I heard over the speakers, "We need any OB to room 203. ANY available OB."
Oh boy.
"Can you hold your legs while you're pushing?"
Lady, I can't even open my eyes. If you want my legs somewhere ... "Move them yourself."
Officer Hottie grabbed a leg, kissed me, and glared at the nurse. He's always been on my side. I love that man.
At that moment my doctor walked into the room. He greeted Officer Hottie, he smiled at me, he walked over and said, "How are we do - oh boy! We're having a baby!"
"I told you to hurry," retorted the nurse. She canceled the call for any OB and quickly helped the doctor put his scrubs on. I kept pushing. "Can you stop?" the doctor asked. I responded with another push.
"I'm going to break your water," he said. "The baby is crowning and I don't want it to break while you're pushing."
I don't really care if the water breaks on the you. Just get my baby out.
I felt the warm fluid pooling around my waist and then a feeling like I was going to explode; like I was going to be torn arpart right down the middle, but I couldn't stop pushing.
Then relief as the baby's head came out. And a cry. My baby. Another push and I heard my husband say, "It's a boy!" A boy. I knew it. Even though I didn't know, I knew. I was too exhausted to cry and so relieved he was there.
What just happened? Did that just happen?
"Look at this umbilical cord!" the doctor exclaimed. I opened my eyes to see him holding up the cord and giving me a thumbs up. It's funny the moments of clarity one can have when there is such choas and craziness going on.
I so wish I had a camera. You have got to be kidding me; that is one of the funniest most dorky things I have ever seen. Is he really giving my son's umbilical cord a thumb's up?
It is forever engraved in my mind.
"HE'S ALREADY HERE?" I heard from the hall. Summer. The doula. "I missed it? I had to stop for coffee! I left as soon as you called!"
I heard my dad talking on the phone with my mom. I could tell he was trying to calm her down. She wasn't happy to have missed the birth.
"Why didn't you call me? I was sitting in the parking garage waiting for you to call!" Melissa. She had been there! And still she missed it.
"That was fast!" Over and over I kept hearing how fast everything was; how fast they had driven, how fast they had gotten dressed, how fast, fast, fast. It wasn't registering.
I just wanted to hold my baby. The cigarette nurse refused to let me hold him until she swaddled and weighed him. 8 pounds 12 ounces. She finally gave him to me and I unswaddled him quickly to check his entire body. He was perfect. His cheeks were chubby. He looked just like his brother. And Daddy. He had red hair. The nurses told me I had to try using the bathroom. I reluctanly handed the baby to my husband so I could use the restroom. It had only been twenty minutes since I'd delivered but it felt so good to get up and move. Then I emptied my bladder; fully and completely for the first time in months. The only thing that felt better was not having nearly nine pounds of baby kicking my ribs.
I hobbled back to the bed where my son was once again placed in my arms. Everyone wanted to come in and see the him. My mom and dad, my mother and father-in-law, my brothers, my cousin, my friends. Our oldest son. That felt weird to say. We had an oldest.
"What time was he born?" I heard someone ask. I realized I was dying to know the answer.
"9:22" was the response. Officer Hottie and I looked at each other and began to laugh. Our little rocket. Two hours and twenty-two minutes of labor. Not too shabby. Officer Hottie still says the baby used my ribs as his launching pad.
No wonder it felt so different this time around.
Summer kept calling me a rock star. I didn't feel like one; I tried to get drugs and it was too late. She encouraged me, "No matter! You didn't get the drugs - regardless of the reason you did it! In less than two and a half hours! Rock star!" I still embarrassed me, but if I was being honest I had to admit I felt like a badass. Summer was my only friend who had delivered drug-free at that point in my life.
I want to nurse my baby.
Almost as if on cue our loved ones started to filter out of the room. My mom, mother in law and L stayed behind. L didn't want OH to put him down. He clung to his dad for dear life.
I bet he's starting to get that his life is changing. Does he know how much I still love him? I didn't know I could love two children with such intensity. Does he know that hasn't changed?
I unwrapped my newborn son and put him to my breast. He looked at me with gorgeous dark eyes and began to suckle immediately.
Baby, I love you. I waited for you. I prayed for you. I begged God to give you to me. He made us wait seven months to conceive you and another nine months to hold you. Here you are. Completely worth the wait. Praise the Lord.
My very pregnant cousin, Melissa, asked, "Would you do it again? Should I go for natural?"
Hell no. "It sucks ... but it feels good too. Don't really know how to explain it."
"Do you have a name yet?" our mothers asked.
"No. We're thinking J but aren't totally sure yet."
We decided Officer Hottie should call his cousin to look up the meaning of the name J.
"Let God Be Praised."
J was the perfect name for our new addition. Looking into his face I could feel praises welling up inside of me. Looking at a perfect miracle, touching his tiny fingers, hearing his quiet breathing, watching him nurse, I was overwhelmed with thanks and gratitude to God for giving me such a blessing.

My praises haven't stopped even though he is five now. I love him. I praise God for him. He has changed my life and brought our family so much joy. He was worth every month of heartache trying to conceive and every month of anticipation while he was growing in my womb. He was, and still is, the perfect son for us.

Let God be praised.

April 20, 2005

8 lb 12 oz; 21.5 in

9:22 a.m.

April 20, 2010

Spring

2010-04-15T15:14:00.000-07:00

Welcome Spring!

Anyone see the resemblance to Benjamin Franklin??

**Hint: It's in the hair**

Seriously. No wonder this girl gets away with so much.

He wants to be Indiana Jones when he grows up. I just want to kiss him right now.

This boy ...

Once he didn't want me to kiss him at school. It broke my heart. Moments like this more than make up for moments like that.

It's so nice when they play together so well! And no, this didn't end too badly. Just a few tears after the tumble...and then he was right back on!

What the sunshine is really all about.

I cannot come up with a good enough caption. This captures all the fun and misery of being 20 months old, don't you think?

I love me so dirty summertime (er...springtime) feet.

Remember When Wednesdays

2010-04-14T07:39:00.000-07:00

Remember when the mullet was the "it" haircut?

Yeah. My family totally embraced that.

If you'd like to share something for Remember When Wednesday make sure and leave a note in comments so I can check it out!

Sistas

2010-04-13T16:09:00.000-07:00

This is my sister. R1. Or Rebekah to the rest of the world. Or Boo to me. She's teeny; about five feet tall on a tall day.

I love her. Growing up we fought all the time. We are really alike. Except I'm tall. A whopping five feet four inches. In my family, that's practically gigantic. We're both bossy. Really really bossy. So we used to butt heads. A lot. Nobody likes to get bossed around; especially the boss. Now we get along really well because we have our own families to boss around. We can just call each other and complain about how everyone should pay better attention to the boss. In December she gave birth to this little chunk.

EV. One of the cutest little girls I know. You can be jealous.

This is my other sister, R2. Or Rachel to the rest of the world. Or Rachie Babe to me. She and I are less alike, but she and R1 are basically samesies. See the resemblance?

No? Here, try these.

Back to R2. She used to have a mole on her chin and she called it a Cheerio. How cute is that? She lives far away in a place I affectionately refer to as Hell. Or Phoenix. She seems to like it. She smiles. I hate it there. It's too hot. Kind of like ... hell. I digress. She and I didn't fight a lot growing up. She's easy going and pretty much did whatever I told her to do. She calls me Hen hen. I miss her and want her to move home. And when she comes home I want her to bring this little girl with her.

Lil. Love her. Her voice sounds like she's been sucking in helium all day. So when she's mad, it's really cute. Plus, her middle name is Darling. Seriously. You can't be mad at her.

This lovely lady

is Tara. She married my brother, Spud. Or Isaac to the rest of the world. Or Spud to me and my sisters. He lucked out. Tara is taller than all of us. She is also gorgeous, makes a killer loaf of bread, is fluent in French and has managed to put up with our family for nearly 7 years. When Spud farts, she laughs. They never fight. At least, to my knowledge. Spud and Tara are basically the nicest most easy going people this world has to offer. I think they really like each other. I know we really like her. She is pregnant with their fourth baby. I kind of hope she has a girl, because they have three boys, but they really make cute boys so I'll be happy if they have another. I don't feel too bad saying I hope they have a girl, though. Because we all need more drama, right?

Speaking of drama

This is LadyBug. My daughter, my daily dose of drama. She's enough girl for all of us.

This is my soon to be sister in law Sarah Jane.

She lives far far away in a place known as the Mother Country. Or England. She is originally from South Africa. Her parents have an amazing love story. They fell in love during apartheid, which wouldn't matter to anyone except that Sarah's dad is white and her mother is Indian. Falling in love was illegal. They are still married. And they are fabulous.

Sarah is hilarious and everything she says sounds super cute because she has an accent. She says "lovely" all the time and "done and dusted". She could probably say "poop" and we would still think it's cute.

These are the women in my family; my sisters and our daughters. I love them and I am blessed to have them.

Up on the Soap Box

2010-04-11T12:46:00.000-07:00

Excuse me today as I step up onto my soapbox.

Ahem...

For the past few days I have seen a few things on Facebook that have made me burn with rage.
It all started because of this:

Families of slain Lakewood officers to sue for $182 million KOMO News - Breaking News, Sports, Traffic and Weather - Seattle, Washington Local & Regional

But what really got me fired up and not able to sleep well was this follow-up article. I should clarify by saying it wasn't the article itself that made me mad, although the overall tone of it did upset me somewhat. It was the comments that readers left that got me so hopping mad. In fairness, I could only read two or three before I had to close the webpage so maybe there were some nice ones on there, but I doubt it. Maybe it's petty and I'm being emotional but it ticked me off. The gyst of the article is that the four families of the fallen Lakewood Officers are suing the county for policy change. I would too, if I were in there shoes. Honestly, a third time felon was let out on bail and then he massacred their spouses. It was preventable and yet "the system" failed. Then the community is outraged. How dare these families sue for money! They are so selfish! Their spouses would be embarrassed! I went to two fund-raisers, don't they have enough money?! Are you KIDDING me Seattle? Seriously?

It makes me crazy when we judge each other. Not the kind of judging where "this is right and this is wrong" but the "you let your son have a pacifier?" kind. The kind of judging that doesn't do any good. The kind that only makes people feel horrible and belittled. The kind of judging where you really have no idea what someone is going through but feel the need to tell them they are wrong in what their decisions are. You know the kind of judgement. Unfortunately, we're all guilty of it . Passing that kind of judgement onto four families who are in a whirlwind of loss and tragedy is subhuman behavior. To tell a widow, who's husband was murdered while having coffee, simply because he wore a badge, that community support should be enough, to question her motives when you haven't talked to her, to say that her husband would be ashamed of her, to question her character and integrity and her support of the law enforcement community is completely out of line. And what good does it accomplish? Not one thing. Except that these poor widows, the victims, have been so bullied by the community that they decided to drop their lawsuit. This is what it's boiled down to Seattle? Bullying a grieving widow? Really? Are we happy now?

As a woman who sends her husband off to work everyday and prays prays prays that he will come home and kiss me and read our kids a chapter from The Magic Treehouse series, I cannot even begin to fathom what the families of these officers must be experiencing. To lose a spouse in such a horrific manner is unspeakable. Even if I didn't agree with what the families decided to to, who am I to judge them so harshly? I haven't gone through what they've gone through. My kids want their dad to come home every night ... to have to tell them again, every single day, that he won't be coming home? I can't even go there.

I'm just so ashamed of the backlash these poor families have had to endure. I wish I did know them so I could take over a coffee cake and let them know we don't all feel that way. That they have my support, whether they sue or not. I did find it interesting that three of the families dropped the suit while the fourth chose to wait and think about the options. That fourth spouse? A man. God love men. They aren't swayed by emotions or worrying about hurting someones feelings. Good for him.

I'm getting down now. And if by some crazy chance any one of the Lakewood families reads this, you have support. A lot of it. We need policy change. We need to know our husbands are protected. If the only way to get the attention of our law makers is by making them pay out some money, so be it.

Ok, I'm really getting down now. I'm off.

Since it's Debt Free Friday ...

2010-04-09T08:37:00.000-07:00

Next month I will be doing a workshop at a women's retreat on how we became debt free. I am super excited as I am passionate (to a fault) about getting out of, and remaining out of, debt. I have had a few friends ask me to sit down with them and iron out their spending plans, figure out how to pay all their bills and to start becoming debt free. I have loved that. There is something so fun in the challenge of trying to make someone else's finances work for them! This will be my first opportunity to speak to a group of people and I'm unsure how to approach it.

My question for you is ...

If you were going to go to a 40 minute workshop on becoming debt free, what sort of information would you want to hear? Would you want someone to show you how to make a budget?
Would you want to hear why you even should get out of debt?
Would you want to hear how other people got out of debt?
Would you want to hear about how to deal with credit companies? Or how to save money? Or how to remain out of debt?

Is there any information you wouldn't want to hear?

(Oh, and Debt Free Fridays are a Dave Ramsey thing. Listen to his radio program today to hear callers call in with their debt free stories. It will inspire you!)

Remember When Wednesday

2010-04-07T16:36:00.000-07:00

Figuring out how to make a button is 100% beyond my skill level. I am trying though. If Officer Hottie weren't so irritated with me for having him reinstall Microsoft Money on the computer after I promised I'd try something else, and for spending a little bit too much money, and for letting him believe we had the money to spend, I'd ask for his help. But, for now, I'm ashamed and on my own, which means ... no button. I'm sure I'll get it eventually.

Anyway, that was a way too long way for me to say that I've decided on Remember When Wednesdays. I really have been having a great time writing about stuff from my childhood; my memories of Grandma, Mom, Dad, my brothers and sisters, and even the geese. It just gets me excited and gets my creative juices moving so I'm setting Wednesdays aside as an official day for me to reminisce. It won't all be old memories either; I may not dig very far back. I'm just going to write about whatever suits my fancy that day. It's my blog and I can do what I want. Right??

Dear Spud, remember when I told you I was going to run away? And you snitched. I was lying anyway.

In third grade we read the book, The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

I loved that book. It was full of adventure and naughtiness. If you haven't read it, it's about a brother and sister who run away from home (a perfectly functional home if I remember correctly) and go to New York city and live in a museum. They get money out of a fountain and live in the displays and try to find out if a statue the museum purchased is real or a fake. It was thrilling for me. I should read it again.

The part that really stuck out to me was not the fact that they ran away from home, but how they did it. They were super sneaky and that appealed to me so so much. They sat in the back seat of the school bus and when the bus parked in the bus barn, got off and headed out to New York. For days I pondered if I'd be able to do it. Not get off the bus, not get caught ... go live somewhere fancy. I knew there were plenty of fountains out there with enough cash to supply all my needs.

I decided I didn't have enough guts to actually run away from home. My parent's still ate pasta at the time and I wasn't willing to give that up. Still, I liked the idea of running away. So, I wrote my brother, Spud, a sweet little note and left it on his bed. It said something like,

"Dear Spud,
Tomorrow I am running away from home. I will get on the school bus and hide and not get off. Don't tell Mom and Dad. And if I die, tell Kory Hanson how much I liked him."

Or something like that.

Then I snickered and went into my room to listen to Milli Vanilli on the tape player.

And then my dad came in and asked me if I had something to tell him.

"Me?"
"Yes. You."
"Umm..."
"Are you unhappy here? Is everything OK at school? Has someone hurt you?"
"What?"
"Did Kory Hanson hurt your feelings?"
"What?"
"Why are you running away from home?"
"What?"
"G Ann (only giving you first initial and middle name. Sorry. Gotta protect the guilty and all) ... you wrote your brother a note telling him you were running away from home. WHY are you running away from home?"
"That? That's a joke."
"No, it isn't."
"Yeah, it is. I was reading this book, The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, and that's part of the book. I thought it was funny. So I wanted to trick Spud."
Sigh. "That's not a nice trick. Your brother is very worried about you."
"Oh."

I'm pretty sure my parent's thought I needed therapy at that point. I can only imagine the conversation they had while psycho-analyzing the world in bed that night. Crazy daughter and her crazy ideas. That book learnin' ain't no good for her. Or something like that.
Thus ended my escapade as an elementary school escape artist. I don't know if Spud has forgiven me though. Actually, I'm sure if Spud remembered this incident, he would forgive me. He is a man now, after all. With three young boys and one child on the way. He has more important things to remember. Like keeping his own children from escaping his own home. I like to think that I just helped to prepare him for fatherhood. Right?

Anyone else have any running away/escape stories they feel like sharing??

The Life of a Police Wife

2010-04-06T12:30:00.000-07:00

Last night I discovered that my new washer has a cool little "Delay Start" button. I was very excited. It's the little things, you know? So I set the washer to start around 6 a.m. I figured I would be awake and that it would give me a jump start on my chores for the day.

I woke up before 6 a.m. (Unhappy sigh) Having children has ruined my sleep habits forever. So I got up and started a pot of coffee. And my washer clicked on. And then I sighed a happy sigh. Because it's the little things, remember? But then I heard a racket in the washer. Clink clink CLANK. Ugh. My first thought was that Officer Hottie hadn't removed his belt buckle, or belt for that matter, from his jeans. I paused the cycle (another feature I love) opened the door and began sorting the sopping wet mess of clothing. I realized I was washing a shirt that had a little metal clasp thing-y. It was, of course, my shirt. Oh well. I shoved everything back into the washer, unpaused it, and settled back into bed with my coffee and Bible.

That shirt is so loud. It's going to wake the kids up. Ugh. I wish it were a belt buckle. Then it wouldn't be my own danged fault. Double ugh.

The racket woke the kids up. To their credit they stayed in bed until the first number on the clock was a seven. So it was quiet-ish for me, minus the noisy clothing in the washer, so I decided it was a good start to the morning after all. We had leftover waffles (thanks Baby!) so I started popping them in the toaster.

"MOM!" screams Snuggles. "LOOK!"

Oh. Well. Ok, then. That explains it. At least my guilt over wearing shirts with metal clasp thing-y's was erased.

The life of a police wife. Bet you didn't expect this much excitement, did ya?

I can scribble

2010-04-05T13:44:00.000-07:00

Momma Fargo gave me this award today. Which made my day. Because honestly, Momma Fargo is awesome. Her blog has made me cry and pee my pants from laughing, all in the same minute. Sometimes it makes me cringe and sometimes I put her posts on my Facebook page. She's a police officer and I guess I just get her humor, you know, seeing how I live with the popo myself and all. If you haven't, or don't on a regular basis, you must, must read what she has to say. You will cry and pee your pants and cringe too.

These awards come with rules; rules that I don't follow very well. But I guess I'll do my version if you don't mind.

A few things about me that you probably don't know yet:

* Peppermint tea is my nightcap of choice. It calms my nerves, helps me to relax, and doesn't leave me with a headache in the morning.

* Officer Hottie and I paid off $27,000 in 14 months following Dave Ramsey's plan for getting out of debt. I am really proud of that; it just seemed that it wouldn't be possible living on one income. Being so in debt seemed more impossible though. We were drowning and barely making ends meet. But it was possible ... we did it. I will blog the details later. I hate debt. I am glad to be rid of it. Also, when we say "Dave Ramsey" people roll their eyes and leave the room. They hate him because of us. Whatever. We're debt freeeeeeee!

* I had an affair with Lindt Dark Chocoloate with Chili. I was never satisfied with Dove Dark Chocolate again. Don't judge me until you've walked in my shoes.

* My house is 1300 square feet. We have three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Our family has four boys and two girls. Our house is too small. And much too messy. Instead of making it larger we're going to Hawaii (in awhile). Instead of cleaning it I am blogging. (I said, don't judge me.)

* I have one single (as in, not a twin) brother, two twin brothers and two twin sisters. Yes, I can tell them all apart. No, I don't know how. I just do. I was supposed to be a triplet. My mom had an ultrasound that said there were three babies. When she went in the next time there was only me. My dad told everyone I ate them. He thought he was hilarious. My dad still thinks he's hilarious. So does the rest of my family. I'm feeling the need to call my therapist right about now ... and send the bill to Dad.

I would like to pass the Superior Scribbler Award along to OllieMom at I am Mama; Hear Me Roar. I went to high school with OllieMom so when she started her blog I thought I'd read it to be polite. Except now I check every day to see if there is a new post. If there is a new one, I grab some kleenex because I know I'm in for it. Her writing skills are beyond and her content ... well, you just have to read it to understand.

Thanks for the award Momma Fargo!

Joy ... pure joy

2010-04-01T08:27:00.000-07:00

This morning while checking my email I stopped by The Pioneer Woman's page. Then I screamed, wet myself, and did a happy dance while my children sat huddled in the corner terrified of the crazy woman they once called Mother.

This is what I saw ...

SEATTLE!
Saturday, April 17, 2010
5:00 pm
THIRD PLACE BOOKS
17171 Bothell Way N.E.
Lake Forest Park, WA 98155

Oh happy life. She'll be here the same day as Cop's Wives Club. Two wonderful things in one day. Not only that, but I know where that book store is. I could probably even know enough back roads to be able to avoid traffic. Maybe. But I'm making Officer Hottie drive just in case. I'm most excited by the fact that she won't be in actual downtown Seattle. Because I NEVER ever drive in Seattle. Not even near Seattle. It's busy. The roads are confusing. The hills are steep. It smells a little like salt, fish and urine. I can't even think about driving down there unless I have a passenger who can tell me when and where to turn. I prefer having a driver who will just do all the work for me. Thank you PW. I'm sure you had me in mind when you planned this.

Alison, please don't go into labor this day. Please don't make me choose. Did you hear me Baby K9? Come before or after. But not during.

I think it's settled. Now I'm off to daydream about my new BFF.

Call in Sick Today

2010-03-31T17:38:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by Mrs. Fuzz to list 3 joys, fears, goals, and obsessions. Here goes:

Joys
1. Hearing my children sing songs about Jesus. Ain't nothing sweeter!
2. Seeing my husband walk in the door at the end of the day. Sweet relief.
3. A new cut and color. I'm basking in the glow of newness. Love it.

Fears
1. Spiders. {{shiver}}
2. Traffic. I'm always worried we'll be stuck and one of the kids will have to use the bathroom. I avoid traffic at all costs.
3. Heights ... mostly just since having kids.

Goals
1. Surviving the "young motherhood" years intact.
2. Actually cleaning my house this spring and finishing painting my living room. It's a few years in the making.
3. To never use credit to pay for anything ever again. Ever ever.

Obsessions
1. Getting alone time with Officer Hottie.
2. Making lists.
3. Dave Ramsey and financial freedom. We're debt freeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!

I'm supposed to tag SIX people:

Ain't gonna happen. BUT I would love to read what yours are ... so comment away!

Please enjoy this song that Officer Hottie shared with me yesterday.
"This is YOU!" he said. He's so right. Goes right along with Joy #2 and Obsession #1. Enjoy!

Hero Worship

2010-03-28T15:51:00.000-07:00

My husband was a hero yesterday. In our home, he is a hero everyday. For all I care, he can sit in his car all day and never do anything and he is still the reason his city stays safe. So I'm biased.
But yesterday, he was a hero for someone else. He found a missing person; a 77 year old man who suffers from dementia. You know where he found him? In the woods. Stuck in mud. The poor man must have been terrified.
I know this falls under the "All in a day's work" category, but seriously. I'm so proud of him.
I just needed to brag a bit.

Those Stupid Stupid Geese

2010-03-27T16:28:00.000-07:00

In writing 25 things to my mother I was remembering all sorts of odds and ends from my childhood.

#16. Thanks for not being mad when I hit the goose over the head with the frying pan. That stupid goose.

Did you read that one? After reading Momma Fargo's story about her own geese this morning, I felt like elaborating.

When my mom was pregnant with my baby brothers, and they found dog sized rats in their rental, they decided it was time to buy their own home. After the rat incident (I'm told the last straw was when my mom thought the German shepard we had was playing in the bathtub, only to find it was actually a rat) they moved all of us into my grandparent's home until they could find a place to live. I think they would have taken another rental, but my parent's were young (only 23 or so) and already had four children with one more (they thought) on the way and I'm sure potential landlords saw them coming and locked their doors. So, purchasing it was. My mom stayed at home with us and my dad worked for a large newspaper during the night shift. While it provided for our families needs, it didn't make them rich. So they bought a home with lots of potential out in the middle of nowhere. And I mean nowhere. At the time it was a good 30 minutes from any sort of civilization. It was on acreage, which was appealing since they had a bunch of kids. A beautiful double wide trailer with a broken down well, but it was theirs. And, as the shock of all shocks came three weeks before my mom delivered (it's twins! AGAIN!) I'm sure the thought of having space was more important than anything else.

So, the double wide. I loved that place as a kid. Now, as a mother, I wonder how my mom didn't lose it and murder us all. I have a ton of stories about that place but this one is about the geese.

I don't know why my parent's got the geese. Maybe it was because we lived so far out and they had dreams of owning a farm? (By they I mean my dad.) Whatever the reason was we had two geese and they were terrible. Awful. Mean. Evil. One of my chores was to feed the chickens (yet another farm dream, I guess). The chickens were great; the problem was between our house and the chicken coop were the geese. They terrified me. I tried not to be afraid but I would cry and cry and beg my dad to come with me. He would send me with my little brother, who was more terrified than I. Not much help as I recall.
I clearly remember walking down to that pen. It was an ominous walk, the sky overcast and light rain running down my face. I wore pink sweats and moon boots; standard issue if you live in a double wide. As I walked down to the coop, one of those geese, those stupid stupid geese, charged me and grabbed ahold of my pant leg. I started screaming and kicking and the danged thing wouldn't let go. My brother ran back to the house, crying (thanks Spud). I'm pretty sure my dad was yelling from the house, "It's ok! Just kick it away!" and laughing. (Dad, I'm so sending you my next therapy bill.) It didn't work. When I swung my leg one way the goose just hung on and bounced back still firmly attached to my pants. I could feel the other goose ready to attack, fear and panic slowly taking over my little body and mind. And then, with a light shining from heaven and angels singing in the background, I saw it. A skillet just sitting in the mud at my feet. Without hesitation, I picked it up and I smacked that goose over the head. Not once, or twice, but probably 15 times. Until it let go. And then I'm pretty sure I chased it swinging away like a wild woman. I was victorious. I had won. The other goose started to come toward me and I swung at that one too. And it left me alone. I quietly inched toward the chicken coop, my skillet firmly in hand. Once I was in the coop I knew I was safe. I fed the chickens, processing what had just happened. I was pretty sure my parents were going to be mad at me. I just knew I'd be getting in trouble. After feeding the chickens I picked up the skillet, peeked out the door and headed back up to the house. I saw those geese waiting for me, conspiring. I took off running, my moon boots squishing the mud and my pink sweatpants pulled up high with pride. As I walked into the house I could hear my dad laughing. I entered to applause. The little brother thought I was brave. My parents were proud of me. My mother said she hoped the goose would die. I wasn't in trouble at all.

A few days later the goose I'd pummeled disappeared. My dad said a coyote got to it. Maybe it did, I know I wasn't the only thing who hated those stupid geese. Maybe it had serious brain damage and succumbed to his injuries. That's the story I like to believe. A few weeks later, to much cheering and celebration, my dad took the other goose to the Lake and set it "free".

Good riddance.

No more fear. Stupid goose.

("Oh, you loved it!" my dad says. "Look at that smile." Whatever. He's still getting my therapy bill.)

For My Mom on her Birthday

2010-03-23T14:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Mom,

Today you are 50. You are officially old. I will forever torment you with the fact that you are such a geezer. I jest. I'm only 19 1/2 years behind you. I know my day is coming.

I wanted to write 50 things I like about you or memories I have of you. Please take your ADD medication before you begin. This may require some concentration. You can do it. 50 year old's are supposed to have a decent attention span. Ok, I'm just kidding. Not even I have the fortitude to write 50 things all at once. But I came up with 25.
(My apologies to anyone who doesn't feel like reading 25 things about my mom ... this is for her. Not you.)

1. Remember when R1 and R2 were little and I wanted you to dress one in purple and one in pink? But then you reversed it? I was really mad at you. I called them by the wrong name all day just to show you how mad I was. Do you remember? I'm sorry. That was really juvenile of me. I should have known better. I hate to admit that I think this is my first memory. Can you forgive a three year old?

2. I like that you married Dad.

3. I like that you made Dad cut his hair when he turned 30. I'm glad you finally got rid of it. I wonder if you could have given it to Locks of Love?

4. I like that you make Dad wear the "good" sweatpants in public.

5. Thank you for not listening when your friends told you I would be ruined forever if you had more children. I am thankful for all the built-in friends you and Dad gave me.

6. I have never worried about loving another child. Because you once told me that love always multiplies. It never divides. You are right.

7. Thank you for being as excited with my fourth pregnancy as you were with my first.

8. Thank you for praying for our marriage when you thought it was falling apart. Remember that day? You came to pick me up for lunch and I was a blubbering mess and kept saying I had to get a hold of Officer Hottie? You know, the day I found out I was pregnant with Snuggles. Thanks for caring enough to pray.

9. Thank you for the $30 you gave me on my 21st birthday and telling me not to spend it on bills. Even though I was so broke it wasn't even funny. And then Officer Hottie lost it in the Albertson's parking lot. Now I'll never mention it again. (Maybe once or twice more. Then I'll be done.)

10. Remember when that stupid car broke down on me on my way to stupid college on the side of stupid I-5? And then the stupid towing company towed it? And we had to drive all over trying to figure out what stupid idiot towed it? And where it was and how I was supposed to get my stupid stuff out? Thank you for giving me the money to get my stuff out. And for picking me up. And for letting me have a bad day.

11. Thank you for letting me take "Mental Health Days" while in school.

12. Thanks for only making me mow the lawn that time you caught me in the Taco Bell parking lot when I should have been in school. And then signing the form so I could write my own notes my senior year. And then letting me "go to the dentist" to watch Mariners play-off games. And sleep in.

13. Remember when I asked you if you'd ever smoked pot? And you freaked out and asked me if I was smoking pot? And then I said no? And you believed me. Thanks for believing me. I was telling the truth.

14. I can't believe you let us play under a double wide trailer when we were young. What I can't believe even more is that you encouraged it. Ok, I can believe it. In fact, now that I'm a mother with four young children, I'm thinking having four of your six kids under the trailer, where you knew we were safe and contained, and the house was quiet, probably kept you on the "more sane than not" side of things.

15. Treasure hunting under that trailer is one of the highlights of my life.

16. Thanks for not being mad when I hit the goose over the head with the frying pan. That stupid goose.

17. When my boys spit their gum on the car floor today, I was remembering that time in Mexico when someone squeezed the tube of toothpaste in the middle (you know where I'm going with this...) and you asked us all if we "had a mental block in (our) brain?" And then we couldn't stop laughing, even though you were ticked, because it was one of the funniest things you'd ever asked us. And then you laughed too. That's a good memory Mom.

18. Remember Mexico? And living in a trailer for six months? I remember getting married and then wondering how you and Dad spent "alone" time and then realizing ... oh, never mind.

19. You are brave. You allowed your son, and then your son and daughter, to live in a foreign country before we hit puberty because we "wanted to". You are brave.

20. Remember the week before I got married? And you called me while I was on my way to work and you were crying? And you said, "Remember when you used to call your bedroom the gebroom? And the kitchen the chicken? And now you're getting married!" And then I cried and had to pull the car over because I couldn't stop crying and laughing. You are the best mother.

21. I love that when I said, "I want my reception to be pretty" and then never thought of it again, you made it perfect and exactly how I dreamed about. It was actually better than I dreamed. Even on my wedding day I remember thinking, "Oh wow. I did not help with this at all. My mom is amazing."

22. Thanks for being at every child's birth. Except Little J. But even I would have missed it if you hadn't come to watch Snuggles. So thank you for that.

23. I'm sorry I'm not "IN". But Verizon sucks.

24. This memory is more about Spud ... but remember in Safeway, years and years ago, and he went running down the aisle, farting the whole way? And jumping and trying to hit the signs? And he kept farting? And we were mortified and laughing.

25. Remember when R1 and I took you out to lunch for your 50th birthday? And we had our children there and it was nap time and you were giving Evie her bottle and playing tic-tac-toe with Little J (even though he's a cheater) and all of my kids had to go to the bathroom all at once. Do you remember how I looked at you and thought, "I am thankful for my mom. I am thankful she is here. I love her. I love her. I love her." Maybe you don't remember that, but I do.

Mom, happy birthday. When I grow up, I want to be like you.

Sarah's Hope

2010-03-23T07:37:00.000-07:00

I wanted to share a new (non police wife) blog. It is called Sarah's Hope and it covers the journey of Sarah Lien as she battles breast cancer. Sarah's parents go to church with me. Her mother, Barb, is a two time breast cancer survivor. Barb has been through the ringer and I'm sure the news that her young daughter, only 24, is going to have to fight this battle is horrifying. Sarah was told her treatments would be 10 times worse than what her mother went through. Her cancer has not spread, but it is a level 3, and it is a rare form, so she has a long and grueling battle ahead.
Today we are praying that Sarah's eggs are able to be harvested as treatment will wipe out her future chances of having children.
Although there is so much unknown and such a scary path ahead Sarah, her husband Kirk, and their families are so full of Hope.
It's a good read ... and since she's only seven days into her journey it will be providing much to pray about and much to hope for.

Behind the Badge Foundation

2010-03-22T20:05:00.000-07:00

My sweet wonderful sister-in-law sent me a link today. She is so thoughtful.

You can read what she sent me HERE. I love that she was thinking about me and she knows what I'm passionate about. I wonder if she knows that I've totally not been doing the research I promised myself I would do. Well, now she does.

After reading that article I just kept clicking away until I found THIS! And now I'm just about giddy as I finally finally finally have not only an organization, but also something that is already planned that I can participate in. After reading about this foundation I am so thankful for them. The Behind the Badge foundation provides funding for funerals of fallen officers. Hard to believe we lost so many officers in Washington state last year. I still can't stomach the violence that was poured out on our law enforcement family.

I am excited to take part in the 5K that is happening in June. I am hopeful that our Cop's Wives Club will be able to raise funds so we can make a donation to Behind the Badge in honor of our husbands and all the men and women who are out there every day.

I'm sure I'll have more to share as we get closer to the actual date. Until then, on top of letting Jillian Michael's yell at me everyday I'm going to have to start running. Hear that Alison? Have that baby so we can start getting ready for this thing!!

Mama Guilt Monday

2010-03-22T08:07:00.000-07:00

My mama guilt today ...

Fuzzy has been sick for three weeks. Runny nose, cough, slight congestion, slight fever. Nothing to get us overly worried. He's cutting four teeth, his canines, so I thought a lot of the crankiness and drooling was due in part to that.

I wanted to take him in a week ago. I decided to wait. "It isn't that bad. And, they'll send me home to 'wait it out' anyway." I finally decided to take him to the doctor when his coughing fits were waking him up from sleep and naps.

His fever was 104. Both his ears had "raging" infections. His lungs had pneumonia.

I started to cry. The doctor said, "You either get here too early for us to know what it is, or too late and they're super sick. You'll never make it on time. Don't worry about it."

I'm not so much worried as ... the guilt is eating me alive.

Keeping up with the Resolutions

2010-03-16T11:40:00.000-07:00

At the start of the year I made two resolutions. The first was to lose weight and get into shape. Currently I have lost 14 pounds and am letting Jillian Michael's kick my sad saggy butt into shape at least three days a week, usually more. Two months ago I wore my sweat pants all the time because all my other clothes were too tight. Look ... having four children in five years will do that to a tummy. I'm just saying. Today, I'm wearing my sweat pants because most of my clothing is too big. And although I'm dying to go shopping, I need to wait a bit more because I'm determined to lost a bit more. We shall see. I feel like I've done well with my first resolution. I actually feel like this is my new life ... not just a resolution but something I plan to continue. I have enjoyed getting into shape and being able to run around with the kids without sucking air 30 seconds in. And I must admit, I like the looks I'm getting from Hottie. He's always given me looks and grabbed me at totally inappropriate times (which I ~~secretly~~ love) but lately he's been a little more grabby and the looks are lingering slightly longer. It has been nice that he's been losing weight with me ... 27 lbs so far. I just bought him a new pair of shorts, to celebrate his weight loss, and they are so big on him now he has to wear his gun inside his pants just to keep them from falling off. At least, that's what he tells me. So ... YEAH! Resolution one holding strong.

The second resolution was to read my Bible everyday. My faith is so important to me and yet it remains a struggle to make it a priority. Somehow I can manage to find time to update my Facebook status or to catch up on my favorite blogs, or even to work out, but taking the time to read my Bible seems elusive. So, at the beginning of the year I resolved to read my Bible every day ... while in the bathroom. Ok, I know, gross, ew, too much information, yadda yadda yadda. Anyone with kids out there knows that there is little to no alone time. Not even the bathroom is sacred. The other day LadyBug decided she'd rather forgo Sid the Science Kid and sit on the bathroom floor and watch me. Really? Really? Yes, really. I comforted myself with the fact that she saw me reading the Bible. A year or so ago my dear friend Laura told me, "Just grab what you can get from the Lord. Even if you have to leave a Bible on the back of the toilet at least you're getting something." She was right. I need something, even if it is just a few lines. In just over two months I have actually read my Bible nearly every day. And I have been blessed because of it.
Years ago for Christmas my parent's gave all of us a One Year Study Bible.

It takes the Bible and breaks it up into 365 daily readings. It is so easy to use and it is embarrassing that it has gone neglected for so long in our home. If you want to read the entire Bible in a year, here's your tool. It isn't good, however, if you are trying to find a particular book or verse in the Bible since it is organized differently. I find that reading just the New Testament portion has been good, and if time allows (i.e, no one is bleeding or hanging from their toes) I will read the Psalm and Proverbs that are for that day as well. Most days I can find something that I've never paid attention to. I think that is so great. It feels like God has been saving something special just for me to take notice of. I have loved this time "alone" with God ... even if it is in the bathroom and my kids are on the other side of the door screaming or sitting on the floor staring at me. Either way, the Lord is blessing me.

All in all I feel pretty good about sticking to my resolutions so far. One for my body, one for my soul. Amazing how both of them impact my life.

What were your resolutions? Have you stuck to them?

Firemen

2010-03-12T08:47:00.000-08:00

Have you guys seen this? Love it.

Grandma

2010-03-09T15:21:00.000-08:00

Today marks the third anniversary since my grandmother's passing. I miss her. A lot.
I lived in Mexico when I was younger. She and Grandpa, along with my mom and cousin, came to visit me and my brother. That was the highlight of my entire time down there. While sitting around the living room one night with everyone talking my poor grandma stood up and exclaimed, "Oh shut up. This is ridiculous. No one speaks in Spanish this much." I was mortified but totally understood what she meant. When I first moved there my brain was so overloaded that I would see people whispering and think that they had to be speaking in English. I just couldn't comprehend not speaking in English. I got what she was saying.
When I went to college I would spend the night at her house when I had to work. They lived closer to work and school and I didn't want to commute. She would make me a lunch every day. One day my coworker told me I should quit eating so much. I couldn't bear the thought of not eating the lunch my grandma made for me. I was 19 years old after all, and perfectly capable of packing my own. I wasn't going to give up a good thing. I started exercising to counteract the massive amounts of calories my grandma was putting into my stomach.
When Officer Hottie and I got engaged my parents were upset with us. They were not happy about the timing of the engagement (I'll leave that story for another post). My grandma is the one who took pictures of us. She said my parents would want pictures to look at one day. I didn't believe her then, but she proved to be right. The picture she took went on the front of our wedding invitation.
She and my grandpa eloped. She said it was the best worst thing they ever did. They moved away from their families so their marriage wouldn't be annulled by her parents. She loved my grandpa completely. She missed her family completely. I think her heart was always torn.
When OH and I went to a wedding, after we were engaged but before we were married, I ironed his shirt for him. He walked into the room my grandma was in and she promptly made him take it off so she could re-iron it. My ironing skills are still lacking.
She made my wedding veil for me. She had my dress pressed and dry cleaned before the wedding. She bought me a tea set that I thought was silly. After Snuggles was born she visited in the hospital and held him. When I asked for him back she laughed and said no. She made the best spaghetti and meatballs. She told us all we were fat. And then she laughed like it was ok to say that to someone. She told me to have more than three children. She said odd numbers made for odd children. So we had four. They are still odd (as I type this my daughter is pretending her foot is a phone.)
She remembered everyone's birthday. She had the softest cheeks and I loved to kiss them. She also had random whiskers and didn't seem to care. She loved to go thrift store shopping. She knew how to love and she loved very very well.
She died when my daughter was three months old. I wish she could have seen her grow. She would have loved her curls and her personality. She was so surprised when LadyBug was born. "I really thought Officer Hottie was so big he'd only be able to make boys." I loved her reasoning. I wish she could have met Fuzzy. She would have loved his blond hair.
On my mom's birthday she always bought my grandma a new rose bush. My grandma told me, "I hope you treat your mother as well as she treats me." I started buying my mom flowers on my birthday. I am very thankful she gave birth to me.
Grandma lived through the depression. One time her dad gave her a nickel to go buy an ice cream. She dropped it while walking over a bridge. She watched the nickel the entire way down, then climbed down to where the nickel landed. She understood the value of money. I admired that about her.
She loved Jesus. Utterly and totally. He was her everything. And she told everyone about him. And she passed her faith onto her family.
She gave birth to seven children and miscarried two. She had 26 grandchildren and as of today has 31 great-grandchildren, including those in the womb and those in heaven.
Now I drink tea from the tea set she gave me. It doesn't seem so silly anymore.

R2, Grandma, Me (pregnant with Snuggles), Mom, R1

A favorite memory

Random

2010-03-08T15:11:00.000-08:00

I don't have much to write about but I do have some random things going around my mind. Maybe this will make sense, probably not, but here I go ... (I apologize for all the picture montages lately. It might be my new thing. I think it's just my way to get around writing when I don't have much to write about. I guess we'll see.)

I want a vacation. I want a vacation here.

I would also be ok if I were forced to vacation here. I'm a little bit disappointed I have to wait 11 months for this vacation. But I am very happy to know there is a vacation coming.

I would like to meet Alyssa for margaritas. Alyssa, do you read my blog? Now you know we need to get together for margaritas. I promise not to tell your personal trainer.

I wore something similar to this on our honeymoon. I've said my good-byes and gone through all the stages of grief. But, sometimes (like today) I wonder if maybe, someday, somewhere (far, far from where anyone knows me) I might wear one again. And if it wouldn't send the people of said far off location running for the hills.

That's quite a new baby. Just over one hour old.

Now he is 18 months old. And he has crazy that makes him look a little like Benjamin Franklin.

I never knew having a last baby would be so bitter sweet.

It's the most wonderful terrible decision we ever made.

Today my husband issued a citation to a senior citizen for speeding. He was then chastised for having the audacity to write a senior citizen a ticket. I asked if he, in turn, chastised the senior citizen for having the audacity to break the law. He said he didn't. He's much nicer than I am.

The End.

My newest Love

2010-03-04T14:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I met the newest love of my life.

The kids welcomed her with open arms. They even fought over who could cuddle with her.

She will take care of this for me ...

And this ...

I'm starting to see a pattern here ... someone get that kid a bib.

And so the world may know how fashion forward we are, she'll help with this ...

I love you new GE Front Loading miracle. I missed you while you were gone. Please please never ever leave me again.

Guns and such

2010-03-03T13:34:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Fuzz is hosting a poll right now about what kind of duty weapon you, or your spouse, carries at work. Of course I had to call Officer Hottie and ask him what he uses because I have no clue except that it is black and will ~~kill~~ stop someone that may be trying to hurt my husband.
It got me to thinking about guns and the guns he carries. He has his duty weapon that is given to him by his employer and he has his back up weapon that was given to him by my grandpa. I hope you can put up with me and a minute of reminiscing ...

My great-grandpa worked for the Youngstown, Ohio police department. I honestly don't know very much about him or his time there; my grandparents eloped and moved out West and my understanding is that my great-grandpa was a fairly angry and abusive sort of man. We never saw him much; I only remember him coming out to visit us one time (although I'm sure he did more than that) and my mom, although she loved, didn't like him very much. She told me when they would visit him he would spank them. "Not something that grandpa's are supposed to do." Great-grandpa was a police officer first and then was promoted to detective. I'm pretty sure when he retired he was still a detective. I've also been told he was a crooked cop, although that isn't a question I'm willing to ask my grandpa about and a story I'd rather believe was fabricated but I don't know if anyone except my great-grandpa would know the true answer to that one.

Officer Hottie graduated from police academy in February of 2006. Shortly after his graduation we were visiting my grandparents when my grandpa said he had something he wanted to give OH and left the room. He returned with a Smith & Wesson 38 Chief's special. My grandma's eyes just about popped out of her head. "Put that thing away Frank! You're going to hurt somebody!" She was genuinely shaking at the sight of it. OH, on the other hand, had wide eyes for another reason. On the handle of the gun there is a little plaque inscribed with my great-grandpa's name and his position in the department, and his years of service.
Grandpa said, "I want you to have this. You need it more than I do."
OH replied, with tears in his eyes, "Are you serious? Isn't there someone else you should give this to?"
Grandpa "My son-in-laws have been trying to get that from me for years. You're the only one who needs it."
Hottie quickly put it away since my grandma was near hysterics (he's respectful like that) but when we got home he couldn't stop looking at it. I was so amazed too ... my grandpa giving his granddaughter's husband something that carries so much emotional weight ... it was a pretty cool thing.
My grandpa told me that that gun had saved his father's life more than once. The one story that really sticks out is that my great-grandpa was fighting with a suspect and somehow the suspect got a hold of his gun and put it to his head. My great-grandpa managed to put his finger behind the trigger so it couldn't be fired. Maybe that story is elaborated a little bit. Maybe not. Either way it's a good story and one OH tells when people ask about the gun.

With all the stuff I don't know about my grandparents families I am thankful for the gift my great-grandpa left for my husband. I am hopeful that one day it can be passed onto one of our son's.
And now that we're out of debt, thank you Dave Ramsey, we can finally afford to get OH an off-duty weapon that he will really enjoy and put the heirloom in a glass case and put it on display. I wonder how it would look next to the box of diapers? Hmm...maybe Veggie Tales DVD's? ... guess I'll have to put a little more thought into that.

In trying to find a picture of my great grandpa I came across these pictures that my grandpa had put on his blog. Yes, my grandpa blogs. It is actually a memorial site for my grandma, and he posts in the "guest comments" quite a bit. It's been a great way to learn stories and a good way for him to process. Anyway, here you go ...

My grandpa and grandma.

I'm pretty sure this is a picture of my grandpa's side of the family. I know my grandma is the one holding a baby and my grandpa is the one next to her, on the left. My great-grandpa is the one to the right of my grandma and my great-grandma is the one kneeling behind the children.

Great grandpa with his great grand children. My baby brothers look about 2-ish in this picture so it was taken a good 23 years ago. There's a lot of great grandkids missing!

I couldn't help but include this picture of my grandma and Snuggles when he was about 2 years old. How sweet is this?

Wonderful and Not So Wonderful

2010-02-28T21:09:00.000-08:00

Today was a wonderful and not so wonderful sort of day day.

Going to church: Wonderful.

Going alone: Not so much.

Finding a dress I've been eyeballing at Target on the 50% off clearance rack: Wonderful

Officer Hottie thinking it makes me look "not as skinny" as I really am: Ugh.

Having a Mexican themed baby shower for two of my cousins: Wonderful.

Having three glasses of sangria: Wonderful.

Having home made flan and fried ice cream: Wonderful. And more wonderful.

My children (mostly) behaving during a baby shower: Wonderful.

My eldest son spiking a 106.2° fever during the baby shower: Not the highlight of my day.

Having three glasses of sangria: Now, with the prospect of needing to take my son to the ER, not so wonderful.

Hottie being able to leave work as soon as I talked to him: Wonderful.

Hottie not answering his cell phone or work phone for 40 minutes: Grrrr.

Knowing that if I really need to get ahold of him I just have to dial 9-1-1: Wonderful.

Being at a family baby shower and surrounded by other mothers and my loved ones: Wonderful.

Snuggle's fever coming down quickly with the help of ibuprofen: Wonderful.

The pediatrician taking two hours to call me back: Not so wonderful.

The pediatrician getting back to me at all: Wonderful.

So, if I'm keeping count correctly, I have 12 Wonderful's and only 5 Not So Wonderful's, so the Wonderful's will win this one.

My baby is going to be ok, although I'm taking him in tomorrow since a fever that high is not ok. At all. He smiled when I told him he would have to miss school. Little stinker.

Oh, and if you've never been to a Mexican themed baby shower, you should. It all started because the preggies wanted Mexican food and it evolved from there. Enchiladas, crispy burritos, guacamole, pico de gallo, Sangria (I think I mentioned that before), virgin margaritas, flan and fried ice cream ... and of course, a piñata. Other than my panic at my son's fever, it was a great party. I've got a pretty awesome family.

Favorites

2010-02-27T08:57:00.000-08:00

These are my favorites.

And this is also my favorite.

And on this kind of day ...

And this kind of day ...

I remember this kind of day.

And this kind of night.

And this.

And especially this.

And they are still my favorites.

A Note about Cop's Wives Clubs

2010-02-25T14:37:00.000-08:00

I'm trying to come up with another tag line for my blog. I have so much more to write about than just being a police wife. Sometimes Hottie tells me that I'm more into the police life than he is! Ha! But honestly, when I write about our kids or other random stuff going on, that has nothing to do with being a police wife, I feel a little like I've tricked y'all into reading. So I'm mulling that over ... any suggestions?

A few of you responded to a post of mine and said you wished you had Police Wife clubs in your area. We just started ours in November and it has grown tremendously. You can read here about my crazy process for getting the thing started.
If you don't have a group in your area, here are some of my suggestions for starting one. Please note these have worked for us and may not work for everyone but I think it's a pretty good formula.

I go to church with a few other police wives, and I feel very fortunate to do so. A couple of years ago, two girlfriends and I tried to meet together so we could encourage each other and pray for our hubbies. One husband was in the academy and one worked for a very large department in our area. Because of scheduling conflicts (sleep, work, etc.) we were only able to meet twice. Our time together was sweet but it was disappointing that we couldn't do it more often. However, after Officer Brenton was killed we knew we needed each other's support more than ever. So I talked to my mom and asked if we could meet at her house. I knew they had the room and no one would be sleeping during the day so the kids could run around and we wouldn't have to worry about making too much noise. I picked a Saturday and sent out an email and invited the gals I could think of who were married to police officers. There were five of us during the first meeting. Four of us go to church together and the fifth used to but they had since moved to another congregation. We had kept in touch though and everyone was excited to meet.

*First, if at all possible, find a place to meet where a police officer does not live. If you go to a church, ask the leadership there if there is someone who would be willing to open their home to some women and their kids once a month. This way you don't have to worry about childcare or waking up someone's hubby who was working all night long. It would be ideal to find someone who is a grandparent as they probably are a little bit child proofed and you won't need to worry as much about keeping an eye on your kids. Admit it...you like to visit and not have to pay too close attention to what your kids are doing. You're more like me than you want to admit!

*Second, choose a date and be consistent. We chose the third Saturday of every month so everyone could schedule it in advance. We don't have to try to figure out who's husband is off or who has what planned ... it's just a standing date and if you make it you make it. This has also made it easier on my mom since she knows we'll be invading her house and has been really great about making sure she hasn't planned something else to be going on there!

*Third, choose a purpose. The purpose of our Cop's Wives Club (we've been talking about changing the name to Christian Cop's Wives Club) is to encourage each other and to pray for our husbands. There is another group that just started meeting that focuses on fundraising. Pick a purpose. We chose prayer because really, we can visit and hang out anytime, but getting together with the purpose of praying is powerful and keeps us focused. That is to say, it keeps us from digressing. You know how it can get when we all get together. We can start to whine and complain and fall into that cycle of self-pity. Knowing that we're going to be praying keeps us from taking that road. And knowing that we're going to pray and that Someone is actually listening and able to help, also keeps us focused. We just choose a short period of time for prayer, 30 minutes, sometimes less, and go from there. God has been merciful to us too because our kids have been super good during those 30 minute periods. Last month there were 13 children and I swear we actually got through praying without someone screaming. God is good!

*Fourth, be honest with people about why you are meeting. You are meeting because you need to be with like-minded women who get you and get your husband. You need to be with people who, when you say, "My husband called yesterday and was trying to find a prostitute," don't look at you like you're in an abusive relationship. You need to be with people who, when an officer is killed while on duty, understand that in your mind it could have been your husband and that you're emotionally exhausted from planning his funeral. You need to be with women who understand what it's like to go to your in-laws on Thanksgiving without your husband, to keep your kids quiet during the summer because their dad is sleeping, to wake up with a sick child all night and then still have to get up and take care of that child the next day because Daddy was working all night. You just need to be with someone who says, "Hey! That happened to me TOO!" And you need to be with women who don't ask "Hey ... is it legal to ..." (a personal fav).

Those our just my top ideas. Our group has grown ... we have anywhere between 5-15 women who have come/been invited. We have a core group who is always there and then we have other women who come when they can. This group has been a lifeline for me. I know I've said it before but my experience with the law enforcement life has been pretty posh and even so I find that I need this group of women around me.

Go get those groups started! And ... if you meet the third Saturday of every month we can know that we are all meeting together. How cool is that?

Big Fat Denial. I like it here.

2010-02-24T16:49:00.000-08:00

I had one of those mothering moments today. Snuggles missed the bus. It actually showed up a few minutes early and I'm pretty sure it was a sub driver since she never once looked at our house to see if I was frantically waving from the front door for her to wait. Had she looked she would have seen me jumping up and down and telling her to wait. Usually the driver looks at our house and waves good-bye. Not today. I'm going with a sub. Anyway, Hottie was home today so Snuggles and I jumped into the car and I raced to get him to school. When we got there I said, "Have a good day! I love you!" and puckered my lips for my usual goodbye kiss. I got something that was a mixture of a smirk and a kiss and a whisper all at the same time before he bolted for the door. WHAT? "Wait I second," I yelled. "What was that?"
"Um...mom."
"Give me a kiss you little stink."
Then he smirked again, looked around, and gave me a kiss.
WHAT IS HAPPENING?! I'm not ready for this. Not even close. Not my Snuggles.
I'm going to live in denial and pretend it was a fluke and that for once in his life he was worried about his breath. I can do that, right? Live in denial?
I'm just not ready to face the fact that my dear sweet first child may be embarrassed to kiss me.
I'm not ready for this.
This is what he looks like to the rest of the world. Look at that dirty happy face. His cheesy little grin. His missing tooth.

When I look at him, this is what I see. I think I will forever see him this way. I love you my Snuggles.

Beautiful Blogger Award

2010-02-23T09:39:00.000-08:00

Ok, can I just say that I feel super cool and popular right now? I just got a blogger award from April and I feel a little bit awesome. I've never received one before so now I'm going to spend the day chanting "They like me! They really really like me!". Yes, it's a little pathetic ... Thank you so much!

The rules of this award are:

Thank the person who nominated you for this award
Copy the award and place it in your blog
Link the person who nominated you for this award
Tell us 7 interesting things about you
Nominate 7 bloggers and link to their blogs

Seven interesting things about me ... Ready?

1. I am the oldest of six children and my brother's and sisters literally call me Hen. (Hence, the Mama Hen). I always thought it was because my nickname is Gen and when we lived in Mexico when I was younger they realized /G/ is pronounced /H/ in Spanish ... I thought this until finally one year (like last year) my brother, Spud, finally laughed at me at and said, "Yeah, that isn't it at all. We call you Hen because you are constantly trying to mother all of us and boss us around." Oh, oops. Well, whatever. I can't run from who I really am man.

2. I always wanted to be a mom when I grew up. When people ask me what I'm going to do when all my kids are in school full time I say, "Be a mom. And sleep in. And have morning sex again." I have no desire to ever reenter the workforce. Maybe I'll take some college classes ... but only if they sound like fun.

3. Just like April, I'm a list maker. Everything has a list. This morning, Snuggles wasn't eating his unfinished dinner for breakfast (yes, I'm that kind of mom) and I told him he would have to stay home from school until that hamburger was gone. When he seemed to like the idea I began making a list of things he would do as soon as it was actually finished ... folding the laundry, dusting the living room, cleaning the toilets. Needless to say, my list making set him straight and he gobbled that burger up. I make lists for budgets, I make honey-do lists, I make my own chore lists, I make grocery lists, I make vacation lists ... I find a strange comfort in having a list lying around.

4. I love birth. Everything about it. Placentas, contractions, vernix, dilating, effacement, pushing ... and most especially the little squeaky baby at the end of it all. I especially love, and am an advocate for, natural childbirth. I had my fourth baby at home, attended by a midwife, and it was the best birthing experience I ever had. A friend told me the only down side to having a home birth was that I would love it so much I would want to have another baby so I could do it again. I'm done having babies, but she was right. I wish I would have been brave enough to have all my babies that way.

5. I'm addicted to sugar. Seriously. A naturopath once told me that I was addicted to sugar the same way a crack addict is addicted to crack. That's pretty sad. Sugar gives me migraines. Sugar and me ... it's a bad relationship. But I keep going back for more. I just can't say no.

6. I don't want to come across as preachy, but I love Jesus. I love what He did for me. I love who He is to me. I love what He does in me. I love how He speaks to me. I love that I have Hope because of Him.

7. I heart a cop. And a cop hearts me. And I love that people care enough to read about that.

Here are 7 blogs that I frequent and I think you should check out ... oh, and I'm giving them the beautiful blogging award too!

Ok, I couldn't come up with seven. I actually frequent quite a few police wife blogs but most of them have received the blogging award already. The blogs I've mentioned here have some great stuff to say and definitely deserved to be checked out.

Mushy gushy

2010-02-22T14:36:00.000-08:00

I really don't like going so many days between blog posts. I feel so out of the loop and out of practice. This was a busy weekend for us though so I hope you can put up with my musings for just a moment ...
I'll begin with Cop's Wives Club on Saturday. We had five people, including myself, which was a small group but it was perfect. We all were able to be part of the same conversation and share some more intimate prayer requests than we would have been able to had everyone made it. I actually felt a little dumb as I started crying when talking about mine but since the group was small I only felt loved and encouraged. I am so thankful for our group of wives that meet once a month. I wish that every police wife were able to feel as encouraged and I am every month. I am so thankful for where Hottie works; he gets along with his entire crew, he has a great schedule, his pay is great, his benefits are great, his stress level is minimal. I know life isn't this way for many police officers and by default, for their wives either. My fears and worries are based on what happens at other departments and from what I hear other wives go through. They aren't based in my own reality. And yet I need my group. I need a place where I can be real and be loved and be encouraged and where I know everyone gets me. And then on top of it all we can all come together and pray. And I know the God who created all of us, the God who protects our husbands and our marriages, hears us and is with us. That is a comfort I pray all spouses of law enforcement can experience. I know that's kind of whimsical and flowery ... but it's true.
I had to miss the first meeting of the other Police Wives Club I was invited to as my baby brother, M2, proposed to fabulous English Sarah on Saturday and so Sunday was spent with friends and family celebrating. On Saturday night the happy couple came by our house to show off the ring and chat. They were so cute. Remember when you were first engaged? I remember I couldn't stop staring at my ring, or Hottie's face, and the smile that made my cheeks hurt. I imagine we looked a little something like this ...

I mean, how cute is this? How cute are they? They do have a tough road ahead as fabulous English Sarah must return to fabulous England and my cute American brother must start applying for visas and getting all of that sorted out. However, I am very much looking forward to having her as part of my family. When they left our house OH grabbed me and said, "I felt like you were so far away! I just wanted to grab you the whole time they were here!!" And THAT made my heart pitter patter. A lot. That man still wants me and looks at me the same way he did when he proposed. How cool is that?!

So all my random musings from the missed days of blogging basically point to Jesus loves me and Officer Hottie loves me. I just think that makes for a winning combo.

Excitement

2010-02-17T14:52:00.000-08:00

Do you ever get excited when you're on the phone with your husband and he gets all police man with someone? Not excited like adrenaline worried excited, but excited like hot and bothered excited? Before you write this off as my trashy post of the week, bare with me ...
The other day, for example, Officer Hottie and I were chatting when all of a sudden I could feel him drifting. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about; it's like talking to him and then all of sudden I'm talking to ... myself. Usually when this happens I just pause and wait until he says, "Why aren't you talking anymore?" and then I know it's ok to continue. This time though I pause and I hear his phone shuffling around and then I hear him say, rather aggressively, "MOVE YOUR VEHICLE." And then I hear someone saying something back that I couldn't understand and Hottie says, "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE DOING, I TOLD YOU TO MOVE ... " And the rest I'll leave to your imagination. He actually ended up hanging up on me (that was the first time if you can believe it) and I found myself feeling strangely teenager-ish about the whole incident. It was a mixture of, "Gee, I'm so glad he never talks to me that way" and "Oh my gosh. That is so hot."
In real life, at home, Hottie is laid back. He's kind of the big teddy bear type. When he first started academy one of my friends said, "Oh my gosh. I can't imagine having him pull me over. I'd want to pinch his cheeks or something." I guess what I'm getting at is that he's not a "cop" in real life. I get to see him be the authority with our children, but even discipline is shrouded in kindness and love. Hearing him take charge, hearing him make someone listen to him, hearing him be the boss ... well, it just did something for me.
That's all I'm saying. There's just something about a man being a man. There's something about watching (or hearing) my man take charge. I can see why women are drawn to powerful men. I can also see why I am so thankful OH keeps "Work Hottie" and "Family Hottie" separate.
What about you? Have you witnessed your husband in action? Did it scare you or thrill you? Or both?

New Blog

2010-02-16T10:06:00.000-08:00

I've taken a little bit of inspiration from my dear friend Alison and have decided to start blogging about some of the things I cook for my family. I am not an organic, low fat, low carb, no sugar, healthy and nutritious kind of woman. Although I do try to serve at least once veggie or fruit with dinner. That must count for something. I do love to cook and I really love baking. So I'm going to share my recipes, or at least how I've modified or adapted a recipe, that meet my families needs. Those needs being 1) That children will eat it and 2) That it can be reheated and still taste great so Officer Hottie can, and will, take it to work the next day.

I hope you enjoy it! Check out my first post ... Turkey Meatballs!

When Daddy gets home...

2010-02-14T13:16:00.000-08:00

A typical evening after Daddy gets home...

It starts off innocently enough with Fuzzy nuzzling in to make himself comfortable. Notice the runny nose? Officer Hottie doesn't.

Snuggles wants some time with Daddy as well. So Fuzzy scoots over to share.

No need to leave anyone out now. Lady Bug and Little J need attention too. Those poor middle children. Notice that Fuzzy is taking care of the runny nose.

And then things start to get crazy.

This never happens when Mom is the only adult at home. Mom does not like being jumped on.

I repeat, Mom does not like being jumped on.

And still they smile. And still Hottie is smiling. That man of steel. He was sore an hour later.

Happy Valentine's Day. I hope your home is filled with as much love as ours!

Rainbows are awesome like that

2010-02-12T17:42:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have one of those kinds of days? You know, those days where nothing really terrible happens but you just want to cry and you aren't really sure why? Today is one of those days for me. I really don't know why. It was embarrassing too because my brother's girlfriend arrived from England last night and I drove to my parent's house this morning to meet her and had to apologize..."I'm so sorry. I'm on the verge of tears." She, being the fabulous darling that she is, gave me a huge hug which set me that much closer to losing it. And as soon as my phone rang and I saw that it was Officer Hottie I did, in fact, lose it. A slobbery blubbery mess. And when he worriedly asked me what had happened my answer was, "I have no clue." To which he reminded me that I am a girl and he loves me in spite of that. Or maybe that's why he loves me? Regardless, most of my day has been spent on the verge of tears for no apparent reason.

Sarah (fabulous English girlfriend) was talking about how she loves chocolate and how Lindt Milk Chocolate with Milk is her favorite. I'd never heard of it but thought that it sure sounded interesting. (*Side note: My brother, we'll call him M2 since he is the second of the boy twins and their names start with M, bought Sarah a Costco bag of Mars mini candy bars. It was all I could do to keep my hands off) After the conversation I began thinking about how much I wanted chocolate. And pizza. And a burger. And wine. And mac 'n cheese...with bacon. (It is possible that perhaps the emotions could be triggered by something cyclical. I don't want to make any crazy assumptions or anything, but...) So after I left my folks I decided a trip to Target was in order where I found Lindt dark chocolate with chili AND Sarah's "best chocolate". I also grabbed a bar of Dove dark chocolate, in case the chili chocolate didn't quite hit the spot. It did. So yum. As soon as we left the parking lot I saw a huge giant rainbow. Two rainbows in fact. They were gorgeous. I started crying. And then I felt like God was telling me, "Hey, I love you. I'm thinking about you. You're an emotional mess and I still love you. See? See how much I love you?" And then I felt a lot better. The two squares of chili chocolate helped quite a bit too.

The rainbow ended over a local drug house ... or I assume it's a drug house. The people that live there always sit on the porch with their cans of Coors light and cigarettes and no shirts on. With a giant pit bull sitting next to them. I suppose I'm jumping to a conclusion ... the rainbow reminded me God loves everyone as much as He loves me. He's awesome like that.

A Goodbye

2010-02-11T08:39:00.000-08:00

The other night Officer Hottie attended the wake of one of his coworkers wives. She was young, they have two teenage children, it was sudden (although not unexpected) ... all of those horrible things that eat away at me when someone passes away. There is little comfort in death, except the Hope we have in Heaven, and I truly am hopeful that Pam* is there.
I only met her once, and based on that one meeting I really really liked her. It was just weeks after OH started with the department and one of the officers was transferring to another city so his sergeant, Pete*, was throwing a goodbye bbq. Since OH had only been there a short time, and since the officer leaving was the one who had encouraged OH to apply there, we really wanted to go. We showed up to this gorgeous immaculate home with our three children and a six pack. We were the only ones who came with children. Not even Pete and Pam's children were there. Our piddly little six pack was added to the cases everyone else had brought. I was mortified and felt totally out of place. And Pam gushed over our children. She held our daughter, who was only 5 months or so at the time, she got me a towel so I could wipe up spit up, she sent Pete to the attic to retrieve boxes of toys their children had long forgotten about, she turned on Nickelodeon, she dug through the fridge to find hot dogs ... she was so gracious and made me feel comfortable and right at home. When we had to leave because our children were melting down (which she insisted was OK and didn't bother anyone), she helped us find shoes and invited us to come back. Pam was the kind of hostess that I hope I am.
When Hottie called me on his way home from the wake he said, with great affection, "I treasure you." When he arrived home he kissed me a little bit more and a little bit longer than usual. When we finally climbed into bed he said to me, "Don't leave me." I realized he was feeling the same feelings I've been having since Officer Brenton was killed. He was experiencing that mixture of terror, sorrow and pride. No one likes to have death hit so close to home, and watching his friend grieve his beloved was a difficult experience.
I wish Pam were still here and Pete and his children did not have to walk through this terrible time. I am thankful I was given the opportunity to meet her, if only once, and experience her kindness. I don't think she could ever have understood how opening her home to my family the way she did could instill such gratitude and thankfulness in a young insecure mom. She will most definitely be missed.

*Not their real names

2010-02-10T19:10:00.000-08:00

I am getting into photography and for Christmas Officer Hottie bought me a new camera. I love it. Just recently (very very recently) I got brave enough to take it off the automatic setting and try being a little creative. I have a long way to go but I'm having fun.

My attempt at shallow depth of field. Don't ask me what that means.

Another attempt at shallow depth of field. This is in our neighbors yard. I saw it while dealing with this...

They found a worm and were watching it try to escape. I don't know why the worm was freaking out...I mean, really. What is so terrifying about forty fingers trying to help you get home? Chill out dude.

My apologies that this post has nothing to do with being married to a police officer. Except OH knew what kind of camera to get me because of the cameras they use at crime scenes. I totally just tied it all together.

2010-02-08T09:44:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday! Thanks for all the well wishes for our anniversary time away. It was fabulously wonderful. Our children were well taken care of, I was well taken care of and the house stayed clean for more than 15 minutes. I really couldn't ask for more. To top it all off the message at church yesterday had to do with marriage so Officer Hottie and I sat in church and giggled and smooched like honeymooners. Sorry to all of you sitting behind us.

Last night after the kids had gone to bed I was catching up on my blogs and I came across a new blog, Requesting Backup which I found to be utterly hilarious. She only has a few posts so I read through them quickly before checking out her blog roll where I found Wives Behind the Badge. (Ok, now that I've given her the credit I can't find it on her blog...hmmm...oh well.) At any rate this is exactly what I've been looking for, as far as a non-profit for law enforcement go! They are based in S. California, so they aren't super close, however I feel like they can offer a lot of guidance. I have to collect all my thoughts and questions before I actually contact them as, yet again, my imagination has gotten far ahead of where I am actually at. I am hopeful though that we can have some fundraising underway by the summer. I meet with a new Police Wives Club on the 21st and my understanding is that their primary focus is fundraising and I know that most of the gals from Cop's Wives Club will be on board with doing some sort of fundraiser, or at least supporting a cause. Speaking of CWC, it is less than two weeks away and I can't wait. I miss those gals. I really wish it were more feasible to meet more than once a month. I find that I am so encouraged and ready for life after our time together is over. So in one weekend I have my much loved CWC and the meeting with the new group. Of course both meetings are on Hottie's weekend off...so goes life, right?

On another note...

The other week while we were sitting at the dinner table Little J says, "Mom, I want to be a firefighter when I grow up."
I say, "You do?"
And he replies, "Yeah, because then I can take naps and play video games and stuff."
Oh my...Daddy has taught him well!

Nine.

2010-02-03T09:52:00.000-08:00

Today is our 9th anniversary. I was sitting at home, alone, having done half my workout before I realized, "Hey! I'm alone!" Officer Hottie is at work. I'm pretty sure this is our first anniversary he hasn't taken the day off. He did want to take it off but he waited too long and one of the gals from his crew is at refresher training so he couldn't. But his sergeant let him take tomorrow off so we'll still get lots of celebrating in. Although I want him home with me today I have lots of plans. Mostly they include turning up the music really loud and cleaning my house from top to bottom. It's just that with four kids this place gets turned upside down and I get so behind and it is rare that I am the only one home so I plan on taking full advantage...after I finish this post of course.

Since I'm thinking about the nine wonderful years I've spent married to Officer Hottie, I thought I would share a little bit about how our relationship began (because I'm sure you've just been dying to know...right? Right? Hello?)

The first time I ever saw OH I was working in a Bible bookstore. He had just returned from a stint in Hawaii with YWAM and was with his little sister. I only knew she was his little sister because he said to me, as I was ringing up his items, "I hate it when my mom makes me drag my sister with me." It was the first time in all my life that I remember realizing a guy wanted me to know he was single and that the girl with him wasn't an issue! He had a humongous beard and was wearing flip flops, in November, and a yellow beanie with braids. And when he walked away from my counter, I am not lying when I say I thought, "Wow, I could marry that man." And then I thought, "Weren't you paying attention to what he was wearing?! His hat had BRAIDS!" I tried to brush it off since I had no idea who he was. I'd never seen him before so I didn't know if I'd ever see him again. Soon after that, while attending classes at the local community college, I began talking with Kev, a frequent bookstore customer, and it just so happened that he and OH were good friends. Kev started bringing OH in to the bookstore with him on his almost daily visits, I realized later because he had a crush on the girl I worked with and didn't want to look like a stalker. OH would come in and look at CD's, or books; every once in awhile he'd chat with me. During a break at college one day, Kev started asking me questions about what kind of music I liked, what kind of movies I wanted to see and when I told him he would respond with "Oh! Officer Hottie really likes that band too!" or "Wow...OH has been talking about seeing that movie." (I should note that Kev would hate people thinking he actually referred to OH as 'Officer Hottie'. Sorry Kev...but not really.) One day I told him I'd been given tickets to see Audio Adrenaline (pretty sure I just aged myself there) and Kev told me I should ask OH to go with me. My response? "I don't ask guys out. Ever."
Funny thing...next time OH and Kev happened by the bookstore I was asked to see a movie. The conversation went something like this...

OH: You know what movie I've really been wanting to see?
Me: Which? (giggle giggle, hair flip)
OH: Scream 3 (I just aged myself again)
Me: Are you serious? I totally want to see that movie. I just told Kev that at school today! (clueless grin)
OH: Really? (Not so clueless grin.) Well...would you like to go see it? With me?
Me: Oh my gosh! Yes! (dang...too eager) I mean, yeah, sure, that would be fun.
OH: Cool.

And then no asking for my phone number. (More on that in a later post) So a week later when he came back into the bookstore and said, "Hey, we were supposed to see a movie, weren't we?" I decided I should just give him my phone number. Home and cell. Our first date was February 11, 2000. We went and had fried rice for lunch and then went to see Scream 3. Later OH told me he'd never seen any of the Scream movies and really could care less about seeing them ... And yes, I did take him to the Audio Adrenaline concert. It was awesome.

Less than a year later, February 3, 2001 we had a blip at the bottom of our wedding program ... I think Kev worked pretty hard to get that first date to happen.

So here we are, nine years of marriage later, and this is what I would like to say to my husband...

Thank you for nine wonderful years of marriage. Thank you for putting me first; above work, above life, even above the kids. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for being faithful to me. Thank you for working so hard to provide for me. Thank you for letting me stay home to raise our children. Thank you for turning on the fan every night. Thank you for loving the Lord; for serving Him and being faithful to being the man He has called you to be. You are the one I want. You make my heart race. You take my breath away. My stomach does flip flops when you walk in the door. It is an honor to be your wife, to stand by your side, to be the one you come home to. It is a pleasure to raise your children. I am proud of you, of your accomplishments, of the man you are. I want to be alone with you. I like you. I want to grow old with you. You still my favorite flavor...I cannot get enough.

Mama Guilt Monday : No field trip for this Momma!

2010-02-01T09:16:00.000-08:00

Thank you to Cop Mama for Mama Guilt Monday...

Snuggles has his first ever first grade field trip on Friday. He cannot wait. And I'm not going. And neither is OH. Because we've farmed the kids out for the week so we can have some alone time to celebrate our anniversary. Alone. In the quiet. Without kids.

"Why aren't you coming? Can't you just come for a little bit? It's just for a few hours...Mimi can take me to school and pick me up. You can just come for the field trip. You aren't even going anywhere! Why aren't you coming?"

My mama guilt-o-meter is dangerously in the red zone. We aren't going anywhere. We are sending the kids away and coming home without them. And we're staying here. But I'm not giving into the guilt. Because I'm dreaming of sleeping in past 6:00 a.m. And breakfast in bed. And not rushing to put my t-shirt back on because someone is crawling into bed with us. And not having to pick any Cheerios off the floor. And not changing any poopy diapers. And sleeping through the night. And listening to the quiet. And not sharing my dessert. And not having to take someone to the bathroom as soon as the food arrives at our table. To name a few.

I hope his teacher takes pictures.

What kind of police officer...

2010-01-31T21:24:00.000-08:00

...stays in bed all day?

An undercover cop! Hyuk-hyuk.

Courtesy of Laffy Taffy.

We had a birthday party for my nephew today. Officer Hottie was working, of course, so he missed out on the "balloon room", piñata and birthday cake. As usual. He also missed my cousin's son's birthday party Saturday night. I really hate that he misses out on family functions. I know he hates missing out too. When I ran (literally...I was running) into church this morning, late (as usual) my friend Alison told me she'd been worrying about how she was going to make it to church by herself with one baby (due in April. Can't wait to meet you Samuel!) when I plopped my stuff down next to her before running back out to get the two I hadn't put in Sunday School yet, where they belonged. (Is that a run-on sentence? Sorry. Taking a breath now.) Alison is amazing and is going to do fine - you're going to do fine! - but I do hear that a lot. "How do you do it?" I do not know. I just do. That's how. I don't know any better? Is there another way to do it? Is there a secret someone hasn't shared with me? Is there a way to get around doing this? And while we're on secrets, does anyone want to tell me how to get anywhere, ever, on time with four children?
The truth is, I miss when OH isn't there. Life is so much easier when he is there to hold the baby and I can drink my coffee without having to figure out how to maneuver it into the diaper bag so it won't spill. It is nice to walk into church together and listen while teases me about how long it took me to pick out my outfit. That is not an admission of guilt in the whole 'getting there on time' dilemma. It sure is easier when he is at the birthday party to help get the kids' food on their plates and to help make sure they don't grab the new presents from the birthday boy. And to make sure the baby doesn't go into the balloon room and eat balloons.
I don't think I thought of these things when I signed up to be a police wife. I don't think I really put much thought into having to attend Thanksgiving on my own, not getting to sleep in on Mother's Day, not being able to celebrate Christmas on Christmas, having to get four kids ready (who decided we should have four kids anyway?) for church by myself on Sunday...
So what is it that bothers me? It's not really that he misses things, but it's that I miss him! I really like my husband and I want him to be there with me! All the time! I'm as bad as the kids. He worked a whopping three days in a row and I find that I am so eager to spend the next two with him by my side. A good sign I think as we're headed into our ninth year of wedded bliss.
And apparently I need him too. Because heaven forbid I make sure the baby isn't eating balloons in the balloon room.
I guess doing all the things I have to do by myself because Officer Hottie is working is good for me...it reminds me of how much I like him and need him. And now he's home...so I think I'm going to go tell him.

Blogs and more blogs

2010-01-29T10:45:00.000-08:00

I found more police wife blogs. Lots and lots of blogs. And I decided to "follow" a bunch of them, a decision I may regret. I guess we'll see once I sit down and actually read through them. I have to admit I'm feeling pretty technologically challenged while searching for and reading through them. I kept thinking, "Wow! How did she do that?" I mean, over the simple stuff. Like putting a link to a video in. Or a picture. Ech. I'm sure I'll figure it out. If only I didn't have to feed my kids or take a shower. Or clean my house. Or go to the bathroom.
The last time I peeled my eyes away from the computer monitor I noticed the kids had pulled apart the bookshelf. We now have Mt. Library in the middle of our living room. It is surrounded by Sheets-Off-Our-Bed Creek and the raging Turned-Over-Hamper River. I feel a little bit better though, since Fuzzy is trying to sweep it all up with the broom that is four times his size. Such a helper.

Feeling the love, and other sorts of things

2010-01-28T15:47:00.000-08:00

I have been blogging for all of a month or so and I've found that I love it. I really really love it. I enjoy having something to write about and the feeling (because it is really only a feeling and not a fact) that people actually want to read what I have to write. And I'm having fun. I have also found that other people really like to blog too, and that I enjoy reading what they have to write about. Not everyone. Some people are dumb (sorry...but they are). I have found some really fantastic blogs that have been really super great and have made me even more excited about blogging. I've run into some trouble finding blogs specific to the LE life but I've found a few and I'm thankful for them. They sure make me feel less freakish for wanting to talk about what Mike does and how it affects me and our kids.
One of the most fun blogs I've found, and it has absolutely nothing to do with law enforcement, is The Pioneer Woman. She loves to cook (so do I...when I'm not in weight loss mode), she loves photography (so do I! I just have no clue what I'm doing), she loves her husband (um...me too!) and she loves her four children (wait! So. Do. I.). Oh, and she is hilarious. I want to be her BFF ... and so does the rest of the world. If you haven't seen her site yet, you should check it out.
I've also found that some people I know have something that makes them super passionate...some are into saving money, some are into living green, some are into natural childbirth, some are just passionate about sharing their day. I didn't realize most of these folks had a "cause" or something that got them all fired up. It's cool to see that side of them! I feel like finding blogs is a really cool way to see the world and what is going on through other people eyes and I'm having a lot of fun doing it. I think I mentioned that more than once. Sorry.

On a totally random and separate note, it's been nice that we have had a reprieve from law enforcement deaths for the last few weeks. I know that nationally crimes against officers are still on the rise and just because nothing has happened locally doesn't mean it isn't going on, but it has been a very welcome and needed break for my heart and mind while Officer Hottie goes to work everyday. I feel less anxiety everyday when he kisses me goodbye. He, on the other hand, hasn't let his guard down at all. This morning we were on our way home from Home Depot when we passed a trooper who had pulled someone over. She was standing right in front of the driver's side window. It bothered OH; he told me he usually stands behind the driver's window so the driver has to turn to see him. It's less easy for them to shoot at him is what he told me. I tried to quiet the thought that are still people out there who may want to shoot him and just be thankful that he isn't taking any risks. I'm still proud of him ... even something small like him mentioning how he tries to be safe while issuing a citation makes me proud. I sure do love him.

Working on it

2010-01-28T08:54:00.000-08:00

We've almost completed week four in our journey of weight loss. Tomorrow is our official "weigh in" day but we've been spending Thursday nights with some friends while the kids are at AWANA and you never know what kind of food may pop up...and we all need a little wiggle room, right?
Officer Hottie has lost 15 pounds and he looks great. I've lost 9 pounds and I feel great. My pants are getting loose and looking like I may need to go down a size. OH's shirts are looser around the belly. He won't get to go down a size since he is so tall and feels fairly strongly about exposing the lower part of his abdomen to the public. Also, a smaller size won't help the "Can you tell I'm wearing a gun?" issue, so he'll be sticking with the current t's. It's been good for him at work too since a few of his colleagues are also trying to lose a few. I'm proud of him, of us, for sticking with this. And after just one month's results I'm excited to see what happens during the next month. Maybe I'll be ready to try that 5k after all!

Getting Swept Away

2010-01-26T13:58:00.000-08:00

Officer Hottie and I are celebrating our ninth anniversary in a week. So, naturally, I've been thinking about our past and wondering how in the world we even got here? How did we go from flirting in the bookstore to raising four children together? What just happened?
He swept me off my feet. In every disgusting, romantic, gushy, over-the-top sense of word. He was such a gentleman. He didn't hold my hand or kiss me. He didn't even put his arm around me. He was very careful. It drove me almost to the edge of insanity. After we'd been dating a month or so he put a stereo into my truck. I'd been driving around with a boombox and a case full of DD batteries for a year. My cousin, Melissa, was so excited for me she jumped up and down, told him thank you and threw her arms around his neck. "You are so incredible!" she gushed. I was ticked. "Get your grubby little hands off my man! He hasn't even hugged me yet!" I didn't actually say that...not in front of Officer Hottie. But I'm pretty sure something like that came out later when she and I were alone. She apologized..."I thought for sure you guys had at least hugged by now. I never would have hugged him if I'd known." I knew that but I was jealous, not quite sure why I couldn't just get up the nerve to just give him a hug myself. I mean really...it was just a hug! His friend Kevin would tease us..."Oh, the looong fist." OH would give me a fist bump. Only it was more of a fist glue because his fist would touch mine and linger there for awhile. He told me on one of our dates that he didn't usually kiss a girl for a couple of months. I cursed him (quietly). Whatever. He was worth waiting for. Only, he teased me. A lot. He would put his nose to mine and close his eyes and just stay that way for a long time. I was NOT going to kiss him first so I put up with it. But I hated it. Actually I loved it. No, hated it. I think I loved/hated it.
One night we went to go visit a friend who was house sitting. We only stayed a few minutes before we left. As is customary I was talking. And talking. And not paying very close attention to where I was going. "Where are you going?!" OH asked as I walked right into some rose bushes. They were at knee height so I tripped, of course, and ripped my pants, of course, and looked like a total idiot. Of course. He picked me up off the ground, put his arms around me and asked if I was okay. I was better than okay. He had his arms around me. I put my arms around his waist and my face into his chest. My knees were killing me, and I was pretty sure I'd need to see a doctor about whatever had happened to my ankle but he needed to know how much I wanted that hug! When we finally started walking again he kept his arm around my waist, "Just in case" I fell again. So maybe he didn't sweep me off my feet, but he kept me on them, and sometimes I think that's better.

I kept the pants as a reminder of that first hug. My dear grandmother sewed them up for me. Also, I consider them "skinny" pants, so I keep them for motivation. But mostly for nostalgia.

The first kiss wasn't too far behind and I readily admit how thankful I am he threw his "two months" rule out the window. We were at my parent's house sitting at the dining room table. I'm the oldest of six and the only one, at the time, who wasn't living at home full time. My parent's house was small, much too small for eight people and in constant chaos. We had finished eating and my family was running around...finishing homework, cleaning the living room, going to the bathroom. For one brief second we were alone in the kitchen and he leaned over, grabbed me by my elbows, and pulled me in for the best first kiss I have ever experienced. I'm pretty sure there were fireworks going on. Or someone had flushed the toilet while someone else was in the shower...the power and passion of that kiss knocked my chair out from underneath me. That or I had a spastic, "OH MY GOD HE'S KISSING ME" moment and kicked it. I just about sat back down on nothing. Thankfully Officer Hottie had the foresight to be holding me by my arms. Protecting me from myself. Again. I wonder if he understood this was going to be a lifelong chore for him? If the hug had left me with any doubts as to my feelings for OH (which it didn't) the kiss blew them all away. It must have been all of five seconds because all of a sudden the kitchen was busy again and we were no longer alone. But my mom took one look at me and said, "He must have kissed you." Am I that transparent?
After nine years of marriage I often think of those two firsts...and how glad I am they were the last firsts I had to experience. Because nothing or no one could have topped them. And nine years later he's still sweeping me off my feet...or, more accurately, keeping me on them.

Why Daddy is NEVER home

2010-01-25T15:18:00.000-08:00

I think my children are extremely spoiled. Let me rephrase...I know my children are extremely spoiled. Officer Hottie has an awesome schedule. And he is home all the time. Apart from a few weeks of FTO he has been on day shift since he started with his current employer. He works 12 hour shifts, 6 a.m.-6 p.m., so they are long days, but the great thing is he is off just as much as he works. A typical two week block looks something like this:
Mon., Tues - OH works
Wed., Thurs - OH is off
Fri-Sunday - OH works
Mon, Tues - OH is off
Wed, Thurs - OH works
Fri-Sunday - OH is off
And then it just starts all over again. It really is ideal. He is home every other weekend and at least two days during each week. It is nice that he has weekdays off too - we get to do fun things like get Costco hot dogs and go grocery shopping in the middle of the week.
According to my children, however, OH is not home enough. "Where's Dad?" "When is Dad off again?" "Why isn't Daddy home?" "Will Dada be home after this day?" The thing is, Daddy never works more than three days in a row. Ever. (Ok, once a year when he has to go to refresher training, he works four whole days in a row. My poor children.) The way they talk about it you would think he's never home. Our daughter, quite literally, asks if men in the store are her daddy. Really? Does that man look like the guy who put you in bed last night? Who gave you three kisses. And a glass of water. And another kiss. Are you seriously asking me who your father is?
Daddy makes pancakes. Mommy does not. I only make boring ol' French toast. And lunch. Everyday. And dinner. So I understand why they want him to be home more often. I'm not complaining that my kids like to have their dad around. I really like having their dad around. I just think it's funny that they think he's never here...and I think it's funny they are so spoiled and they don't even know it. Childhood really is wonderful, isn't it?

This was taken on a Thursday. Because OH was off. So we went to the ocean to escape the heat of the summer. On a Thursday. When normal people are working. The kids just don't get it.

Life Changing Discoveries

2010-01-25T08:19:00.000-08:00

I made two discoveries last night...
1) Sweeping and mopping after the kids go to bed is much more productive than sweeping and mopping when the kids awake or only napping. Why I've been a mother for 6 1/2 years and just now figured this out, I'm not sure...but I'm glad it finally clicked.
2) I have things I want to write about that have pretty much nothing to do with my husband's profession. But almost everything in my life revolves around the fact that I "heart" him so I'll still be staying true to what this blog is about...loving the man in blue. But I should probably add, loving his children, taking care of his home, folding his laundry, waiting for the UPS man to deliver his (ok...my) new TV, etc. I realized there is only so much I can write about his work life while protecting his and his colleagues' anonymity. There are also things that happen on the job or with other police officers that would get me into trouble if I chose to write about them. So with those things in mind, there may be a few changes to my future posts. I'm pretty sure you can handle it.

When I grow up ...

2010-01-21T14:49:00.000-08:00

Do you remember why your husband became a police officer? There are many reasons people choose law enforcement as a profession; I think the big draw for Officer Hottie was the ability he would have to impact lives. I think in his ideal situation he would get to work with children, more specifically teens. His department does not currently have a school resource position, but if they did, he'd be the one to take it. He told me at the very beginning of his career that he felt like the best time to get a hold of kids was in their early teen years, before they make huge mistakes and can still make things right and turn their lives around.
I was reminded of this last night when a good friend, Kimberly, called and told me to look up Power Mentor and watch Lalo Gunther's story. She said she had recently connected with an old friend of ours via Facebook, and as the friend was filling her in on her life, told Kimberly she could watch her husband's story online. Her husband had been in a gang, in and out of jail, his last time for attempted murder. He was pursued relentlessly by a Christian police officer who ended up showing him true Love. The story is amazing; get your kleenex. First of all, what a great testimony to God and His ability to reach people no matter where they are or what they've done. Secondly, what a great testimony to the witness our husband's have in the workplace! This officer showed a kid what tough unconditional love looked like and ending up saving not only his life, but his soul. It really is such a cool story.
Lalo's story made me feel proud of OH all over again not only for what he does, but for who he is and for Who lives in him. A few years ago a friend told me that she felt like our husbands were lighthouses...shining a bright light into a very dark world. I love that word picture. I have often though of OH as a lighthouse in his work place but as I've said before, most of his colleagues are a lighthouse in their own right. After watching Lalo's story I am reminded that OH truly is a lighthouse to the entire world. The people he interacts with on a daily basis are being exposed to the Light that shines from him, whether he's talking about it or not, whether they want to be or not. And that Light has life changing effects. That Light takes murderers and makes them successful businessmen and husbands. That Light takes High School dropouts and makes them High School principals. That Light changes everything. So even if OH doesn't feel like he is impacting the world around him while he's writing speeding tickets or enforcing restraining orders, the Light he has in him is. And that, to me, is totally awesome.

I'll do it...wait, what?

2010-01-20T08:28:00.000-08:00

It happened so quickly...one minute I'm thinking about how I can start something that will help police officers and the next a cause is dropped right into my lap. You can read the whole story here but the gyst of it is that last year a police officer tried to break up a fight and the men turned on him. He was injured to the point that he can never be a cop again, let alone hold down any job. Since he is no longer working his medical benefits are running out and to maintain his same level of coverage it is going to cost him roughly $1300/month, which is impossible to maintain on a disability income. I consider myself fairly conservative, and also against government run healthcare, so I think it surprised Officer Hottie that I felt so strongly that this officer should continue to get medical coverage. I guess when I think about this situation, it bothers me that this officer did what he was supposed to do and because of that he no longer qualifies for medical benefits. I thought of all the reasons he could have avoided being injured and what the repercussions would have been. If he wouldn't have tried to break up the fight, someone else probably would have died or been permanently disabled and then he would have lost his job for "failure to act" or been sued or something ridiculous like that. But because he did what he was supposed to do, because he tried to do what was right, his life has been forever altered and he is not being taken care of. It is impossible for me to not put myself in his wife's shoes. How would we take care of our kids? How would I take care of my husband? If he were disabled, and I had to go back to work for income and medical insurance, who would take care of our children?
So here I am, totally desperate to help this family and in way over my head. I have no idea what I'm going to do, and I'm afraid that by the time I've got it figured out, it will be too late to help them. My prayer is that I can get a few people who know what they are doing to come alongside me; thanks to Facebook I've already had a few people offer. I prayed all night that the Lord would open doors for me if this is the direction he is taking me in and if it is Him leading me to get this thing started. I know if this is what He wants we'll be able to come up with something in enough time to help them so I just have trust that. Hopefully by the next time I post I'll have made a little progress...we shall see!!

Combining Passions

2010-01-19T13:52:00.000-08:00

There are a few things in life I'm crazy passionate about. First is my family. I am a homemaker and I love raising my family. People ask me often, "Will you go back to work when the baby is in school full time?" NO WAY! I love this job I have and just because the kids won't be here all day doesn't mean there isn't stuff to do! So, family, passion #1.
Secondly, I am passionate about finances. I know that sounds weird, but my husband and I just recently worked our way out of $27,000 in debt. We went from barely making ends meet every month to working our tails off and getting rid of the debt burden in 14 months. I am passionate about staying out of debt and never owing anything to anyone. I may write our story sometime in the future...we'll see. Our experience has made us fairly obnoxious when it comes to debt. I get a thrill from helping people make budgets and figuring out what they can sell in order to pay off a credit card. So, as bizarre as it is, I am totally passionate about finances.
Thirdly, I am passionate about law enforcement. Also kind of weird, because really it's just my husband's job, but I think it goes hand in hand with my first passion...family. Law enforcement is a family and although Officer Hottie's colleagues don't get the same kind of care from me as our own family, I still feel passionately about respecting, protecting and taking care of them.
Which leads me to how I combine all of these things. So far, I haven't. This morning though, I was thinking about how great it is that Officer Hottie and I have been so committed to working out and losing weight. Which led me to wondering if I would be able to do a triathlon. My answer was no. But that led me to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I could do a 5 or 10k this summer...which made me wonder if there is a charity out there that I would like to support...which made me think that we really need a charity out there for law enforcement. So, I started thinking about how can I combine my passion for finances and my passion for law enforcement? I guess the answer is that I'm not totally sure. I just know that I want to. I'd like to help law enforcement families who are struggling financially, either because of poor choices (in which case I'd like to have the education to help them) or circumstances (medical bills, etc.). I'm not really sure where to begin but I should probably start with prayer! Just like with the Cop's Wives Club I know I am getting ahead of myself, putting the cart before the horse so to speak. I haven't even tried to run a 1k yet, let alone a 5/10k! But I am excited about these passions that seem to be springing up in me and I can't wait to see where they take me.

Matt. 10:28-29, 31

2010-01-18T15:21:00.000-08:00

Matthew 10:28-29, 31
"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father...So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

This was part of what I read in my Bible a few days ago. I have read or heard this passage countless times in my life, usually in reference to how God will provide for us. Today it seemed to hit me in a different way though, probably because of all the fears I have while Officer Hottie is at work. The part that really struck me was Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. It reminded me that God does indeed have a plan and nothing happens outside of that plan. It is hard to think that God's plan includes heartache and pain. I don't understand that and I don't expect to. I just fine extreme comfort in knowing that God already knows; He's never surprised by any of it. There is even more comfort in knowing that we are "worth more than many sparrows" to Christ. Even if heartache and disaster strike, He's got a plan to take care of us.

Just over five years ago my sister and her husband lost their first child to stillbirth. What a devastating time. Losing a child at any point is unthinkable, there is so much of your future that dies. It was difficult for all of our family but one thing God showed me over and over during that time was that He is good and that He does not change based on what my circumstances are. I don't think God wants bad things to happen to those He loves, I just know that they do, and knowing that God is aware of my hurt and knowing that I am so valued by Him brings me so much peace. I can't really explain it except to say that no matter what is going on in my life, no matter what heartache or hurt I am experiencing, God cares and values me. I find such peace in that knowledge, and I pray you do too.

Police vs. Cops

2010-01-16T19:57:00.000-08:00

Last night while looking at a Police Wives group on Facebook I noticed that some of the women said they were bothered by the term 'cop'. And I was recently invited to a Police Wives Club, which I am very excited about, and also jealous of because I never thought of just using the term 'police' with 'wife' after it. When trying to come up with a name for our group it went something like, "Do we call ourselves Police Officer's Wives Club? Law Enforcement Wives Club? Wives of Police and Deputies Club?" No matter what we called it we continued to become tongue tied and ended up with Cop's Wives Club. So much easier to say, plus, we can call it CWC for short and it sounds neat.

This morning at our monthly Cop's Wives Club I posed the questions, "Are you offended by the term 'cop'? Is your husband?" The discussion was really short lived and we all laughed at how easily we fell into naming our group Cop's Wives, but I wondered why the term was offensive to some. One of the gals said her husband told her he preferred police officer, but considering some of the things people call him, he'll take cop. Ha!

I decided to Google what the origins of the word "cop" were and found some interesting stuff. I guess years ago in New York sergeants had copper badges and that could be where the term comes from. Or it could be an acronym for "constable on patrol". Interesting, right? It seems the real reason the term cop came about isn't either of those reasons but instead cop comes from the slang verb 'cop' meaning 'to seize or take hold'. So, our police officer's 'cop' the bad guy. You can read someone's else's way more educational explanation here.

I never really thought of 'cop' being a derogatory term because really there are so many disrespectful things my husband and his colleagues have been called. During Officer Hottie's first few months on patrol he went to a call, and the teenager who answered the door was on her phone and said, "I gotta go. The popo are here." Seriously? This is young America? Obviously we need to teach our children to be more respectful (I could totally tangent here!) but I decided I'm going to be ok with the term 'cop'. Plus, I feel it is all encompassing. In our area we have Police officers, State patrolmen and Sheriff's Deputies and it is just easier to say cop and avoid the risk of calling one of them the wrong thing.

All that said, I love the Cop's Wives Club. What a blessing today was for me. We had three new women which was so wonderful. And we took the time to pray for our husbands, which was incredible. I love how open and honest our group is and I love that we all feel so safe together. The fellowship was sweet, the food was fantastic and I feel like we all went away feeling uplifted and even more supportive of our husband's role in the world. These cops of ours sure do have some fantastic women to come home to!

You know you're a Police Wife when...

2010-01-15T19:33:00.000-08:00

I recently joined a Christian Police Wives group on Facebook. While looking through their page I found a discussion on "You know you're a Police Wife when..." I was cracking up. I thought I'd share a few that I can especially relate to...

* You always have to answer the question "Can you tell I'm wearing a gun?"
* When you're in the car with a friend and she runs a red light, you hear yourself saying, "That would have been a $124 ticket"
* Your kids wave at every police officer they see and say "daddy!" even though it looks nothing like him (other than the uniform)
* You ask to go to a certain restaurant and his reply is "we can't eat there anymore, I arrested the cook last night."
* You let your husband sit down first in a restaurant or public place so he can see all exits.
* You know the phonetic alphabet and spell your name that way when talking to customer service
* You know what nystagmus is...
* On a holiday, you send food to the station for the rest of the crew

* You hear a noise in the middle of the night and your husband does a complete "building search" of your house, "slicing the pie" through every doorway as he goes

* Holidays are never celebrated on the actual day. Neither are birthdays.

* You encourage him to go to court (overtime!!)

Those are just a few that I could relate to. Do you have any you want to share?

Academy Sweatpants

2010-01-13T13:21:00.000-08:00

I am taking a huge step this week. It is painful and difficult but it is something Officer Hottie has been asking me to do for years and I haven't been able to. He has been patient, kind and loving but I know he has been getting more and more anxious as I refuse to do what he has asked of me. This week I am finally able to find the courage to put OH's academy sweats in the Goodwill bag. OH hates those sweats and he especially hates those sweats on me. They were big and unattractive on him so he wanted to toss them the minute he graduated. I adopted them. When I had them on I had to roll the waist band three or four times and even then the crotch hung almost to my knees. But oh! the comfort!! I always felt super skinny while wearing those things. For my birthday last year my dear friend bought me a new pair of sweats, from Target, that she insisted were way better. She said I wouldn't have to pull them up all the time and I wouldn't look like I'd just loaded up my pants. She was right. They fit me perfectly. Last month while shopping at Target I saw they had gone on clearance so I was able to buy another pair. The two new pair of sweats, that actually fit, coupled with the fact that I'm losing weight and that OH loathes the old ones on me, spurred me onto actually getting rid of them. I wonder how long it will take him to notice I'm not wearing them?
Honestly I'm surprised I've kept them for so long. I hated Officer Hottie's time in academy. It was the most difficult time I've had in our marriage to date; that includes four pregnancies, four sets of post-partum issues, 17 months of trying to get pregnant, threats of a lawsuit, career changes, deaths in the family and major financial stresses. Academy trumps them all. I know every family's experience with the academy is different. For me, OH's time there represents a season on loneliness and insecurity on my part that has been unrivaled by any other point in our marriage. I do not blame OH for this; I think a lot of that was my own fault for my refusal to "burden" him with what I was thinking and feeling. Officer Hottie was very occupied and he tried his best to not bring the stresses of the academy home. But in his attempt to keep his stress from bothering me he was a bit distant, he was definitely occupied, and the fact that he had friends I didn't know and was doing something that didn't include me, led to a lot of insecurity for me. It took me a long time to finally get the courage to tell OH what I was feeling. In my mind we had grown so far apart that we were on the verge on divorce. This took him by total surprise. Looking back I know I was being dramatic but unfortunately that is a routine I fall into rather easily. Even though this was a difficult time for me I learned so much from it. I learned the importance of communication, which I know sounds cliché, but I realized there are things that happen between us, and I say it's fine, and it isn't (I'm not really helping the typical female stereotype, am I?). OH was very gracious to me; when I finally opened up to him he didn't get angry or defensive or accuse me of insanity (all of which I feared). He simply asked me, "What do we do to fix it?" It really was the perfect response. I felt safe talking with him and it was a turning point in our relationship. It was the first time our marriage required real work and the first time I really understood what it meant to not give up. I don't know... maybe I kept those sweats as a subconscious reminder of what life had been like then, a reminder to never let my thoughts get the best of me?
Officer Hottie accomplished so much in academy and I am ashamed that I wasted so much time dwelling on myself. I cannot describe the feeling of pride that washed over me when I pinned his badge on him during his graduation ceremony. Although I was very supportive of OH during this time I just didn't know how to handle the different circumstances and changes going on. I'm sure it prepared me for what life with a police officer can be like and because of that time when things at work cause him to become distant or distracted I know how to approach it with him. God was, and continues to be, gracious to me and I am thankful, nearly five years later, for how He has blessed OH's career and our marriage. It's pretty cool to think back on.
So, goodbye dear old sweatpants. I will hold onto the lessons you brought with you, but I will gladly exchange your saggy butt baggage for something a little more attractive. I know Officer Hottie will like that!

Finding some support

2010-01-11T08:42:00.000-08:00

Last week on one of Officer Hottie's days off we went to Home Depot. Last summer we repainted the living room and dining room. It's embarrassing to admit we still aren't finished. I haven't hung any pictures back on the walls, the ceiling hasn't been touched yet and our front window still has no window coverings. It's a long window that almost goes to the floor and our kids love to sit there and watch the street in front of our house. It's really a fun window and before we painted we had a curtain covering it, but we redid the trim and the curtain rod didn't look good anymore so we've been planning on buying blinds and have never got around to it. So there we are, at our local Home Depot, looking at blinds (which we did not buy.) As we were walking around the store we saw this huge display of blue lights with a sign that read "Support your local Law Enforcement". It was SO cool! Around Christmas there was a Facebook campaign that asked people to either put a blue light on their front porch, or a string of blue lights up, to show support for law enforcement. It was neat to see single strands of blue lights up everywhere. These are the lights that were up at our house.

Recently there was an interview done with some of the families of the four murdered Lakewood officers. One of the wives asked people to put a blue bulb in their porch light to continue showing support. It seems like the community listened! I think it is so great that even our businesses are showing support for our law enforcement and it helps to ease my fear a little, knowing that, generally speaking, my husband and his colleagues are loved and respected by the community. If you would like to to purchase your own blue light bulb to show your support for law enforcement click here.

Click here for the article on the amazing Lakewood spouses.

The Weight is Over

2010-01-10T20:55:00.000-08:00

Mike and I are overweight. Not morbidly obese overweight but we definitely need to lose a few.
We have struggled with our weight since right after we got married. We were so thrilled to finally be living together and to be together all the time that we literally laid on the couch after work, made out and ate food. It was a really fun time. And when I had to buy a size 14 pair of pants I knew we had to do something. Maybe size 14 doesn't seem that big to some of you, but when I was used to wearing a size 8, it felt pretty giant. We had a trip to Mexico planned with some friends so I stuck a picture of an impossibly thin model on our bathroom mirror, joined Weight Watchers and got to it. I lost about 40 lbs. I did not look like the impossibly thin model, but I had to buy new size 6 pants, so I felt pretty good. That took me about three or four months to accomplish. Mike started the Atkins diet three weeks before we left for Mexico, dropped 30 lbs. and managed to keep it off for years. Are you kidding me?
So then four babies and eight years later, here we are. After each baby I lost most, or all, of the weight, and even after our third I was down to a size I was very happy with, a weight that didn't bother me and I felt pretty cute in my clothes. After our fourth was born though, something changed. My motivation was gone! I did lose almost all of the weight, but after I stopped nursing the baby I gained 10 of it back. And now I'm in my 30's and I don't like what size I'm wearing and I look like I've had four kids. The biggest obstacle for me is that Mike and I are in a happy place. We are enjoying each other's company, our kids are a little more independent, Mike's job is great...there's nothing motivating us to get our act together. Since we have four young kids we don't have any major bathing-suit-wearing trips planned so my fear of being seen in one is sitting somewhere in my brain next to spring cleaning. It's a very dark dusty part of my mind that rarely gets a visit.
Mike has gained back the 30 pounds and then some. Where I need to lose 20ish pounds, Mike needs to lose around 40-50ish. On January 1 we started Weight Watchers again. I've been getting up early and letting Jillian Michaels kick my butt. It's been great. It has only been one week but I lost four pounds and Mike lost five. It was a very encouraging start and I truly hope we can keep our momentum up.
Mike's biggest challenge will be being at work. They are all friends and they eat lunch together everyday ("Like a family," he says.). If they aren't busy they can grab something at Starbucks. The wives like to make goodies to send in. (*side note...none of you will be getting cookies or cinnamon rolls from me until after I'm fitting back into my "skinny" pants so don't even ask!) During the summer they bbq and potluck. Not to mention the treats the public sometimes will drop by or when someone decides to "treat the office" to bagels or donuts. His sergeant makes this ah-maaazing pound cake. I have blocked from memory how many sticks of butter he says he uses. It makes my arteries clog just thinking of it. It is going to require a huge amount of will power on his part to stick with the plan. It's easier for me. I just have to avoid the fruit snacks, corn dogs, tater tots and gummy worms we have for the kids.
Hopefully the weight really will be over for us soon. I know we're both sick of it. Mostly I want us both to be healthy and to be around for our grandkids since I've been told they are the reward for having children. That's worth sticking around for!
(In case you're worried this blog will become our weight loss journal, don't be. I seriously don't want to share all our fatty struggles with you. I just thought it was cute that Mike was working out while I was writing so it was on my mind tonight!)

"Be safe!"

2010-01-07T08:48:00.000-08:00

Every morning when Officer Hottie kisses me good-bye I tell him to "be safe". I'm not sure when I started this, probably sometime around the time that Ed passed away, but it has become a normal part of our goodbye routine. This morning he crawled over the bed and kissed me, said goodbye, have a good day...all the usual. As he was walking out our bedroom door he turned around and said, "Tell me to be safe!" I hadn't realized how much this had become part of our routine until I forgot to say it. I always thought he must find me a little silly for saying it because of course he's going to be safe! He's not a kid after all, and I'm not his mother, so why the reminder? It must be because I want him to know how much I want him to come home. This morning I realized it must be accomplishing what I want it to; he likes the reminder. Isn't it funny how those little things can come to mean so much? My friend Becky said she started telling her husband "Don't be a hero". I like that one too, although I feel if someone heard me say that to him they'd think I'm rather selfish. I am selfish, I can admit it. I want my husband coming home; I don't want to be a single mom and I want my children to know their father and I hope someday we'll be old enough to have matching tennis balls for the backs of our walkers. Let the firemen be the heroes, everyone likes them anyway! Since I'm too chicken to actually ask my husband to not be a hero, I'll just remind him to be safe. And now that I know he likes the reminder, I'll never forget to say it again.

Remembering

2010-01-06T16:44:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching a video montage of Deputy Mundell's funeral. There was one picture in particular that made me cry; he's putting ornaments on the Christmas tree with his son and he's wearing a t-shirt and boxers. That picture could have come out of my living room. It is rare that Officer Hottie is wearing pants when he's at home. If he's got his boxers on, it's good enough. Just a random t.m.i. tidbit I thought I'd share.
Watching the pictures takes me straight back to 3 1/2 years ago when Officer Hottie's co-worker, Ed Thomas, was killed while on duty. Although they say he died of natural causes, his death was preceded by a five minute fight with the ex-mayor of the city they worked in, so it has always been difficult for us to accept that it was "just his time". I didn't know Ed very well, but he and OH were pretty close. Hottie was on night shifts, and Ed was on day shift, so when OH was checking out and Ed was checking in they had time to visit. On the day Ed died Hottie had spent a good 30 minutes after his shift to visit with Ed, and I'm glad he did. His death was so sudden and unexpected and there are days that I think Hottie still gets caught up in the "what if's" and "if only's" of it all. Watching Deputy Mundell's funeral is ripping that scab off my heart and bringing back such raw memories of watching my husband's pain and heartache. That was so difficult for me. I didn't know how to help him, I didn't know what to say. I felt so helpless. I honestly don't remember how we got through it. He talked with our pastor and that lifted a huge weight off his shoulders and he has become close with some of Ed's other friends, and that has given him a place to remember Ed. There are a few things about Ed's memorial that I remember so clearly; the most impacting was when we first arrived at the funeral home to wait for the hearse. We were there waiting for a bit but all of sudden it sounded like an airplane taking off. I kept looking at the sky until I realized it wasn't an airplane but the motorcycles from the motorcade beginning to leave. At the same moment this was happening I noticed a building across the street from us that was under construction. On the roof were all the construction workers, standing still, with their hard hats covering their hearts. I can't even describe the emotions that brought up in me, but there was something about seeing those very masculine manly men saluting Ed and the rest of the officers, and the rumble of the motorcycles that still gets me.

These last eight weeks of loss have made me revisit those weeks following Ed's death quite often. Hottie's loss has helped me to better know how to pray for the officer's families and friends. I also pray that the Lord will use these tragedies to bring salvation to many. In the wake of Ed's death Hottie was left wondering if he had been bold and open about his faith. I wonder, in the aftermath of all this recent death, if we all will be more bold about our faith. I truly hope we will. The only thing that can get us through tragedy is the Hope we have for heaven and the only true comfort can be found in Jesus. As another hero is laid to rest I pray that the Lord will work in me so that I may be more bold in sharing the story of the one true Hero who made a sacrifice that would save us all.

If you would like to read a little about Ed, go here...

Dwelling in Safety

2010-01-04T14:35:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the memorial service for Deputy Mundell. It is so difficult for me to even fathom that there is going to be another funeral for an officer killed in the line of duty. Six officers in eight weeks; unheard of, at least locally. As sick as it sounds I was able to find two things about his death that comforted me; first, the fact that he was able to kill the man who murdered him. I am thankful there was no week long manhunt as in the previous deaths. Second, it comforted me that he was actually doing something when he died. Although he was taken by surprise he was not ambushed as Officer Brenton and the Lakewood officers had been. He was actually on a call and doing his job, not just filling out paperwork or having a coffee break. I'm sure these facts bring no comfort to his family or co-workers, I wouldn't expect them to. I just know that I always have felt that if something were to happen to Mike at work, it would be while he was doing something. That illusion was shattered as soon as Officer Brenton was murdered, and then my fears confirmed as soon as the Lakewood officers were gunned down. As I was reading in my Bible this morning I came across this verse, Psalm 4:8 "I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, Oh Lord, make me dwell in safety." I guess that brings me the most comfort of all. I don't think that's a promise, necessarily, but I love how the author is so confident that the Lord alone protects him. If you know anything about King David, who authored most of the Psalms, you know that most of his life was spent running and hiding from people trying to murder him. Literally hiding in caves and running from place to place and yet he was able to "lie down and sleep in peace" knowing that the Lord would protect him. It got me to thinking about how I can apply this in my own life.
Do I trust the Lord or not. Do I trust His plan? Do I trust His love? Do I trust His power? If something happens to Mike, or one of the kids, or my parents, or my brothers or sisters or their families, do I still trust Him? What if they aren't kept safe, has He let me down? My mind keeps spewing out questions like these, questions I don't know if I can answer, some I pray I'll never have to answer and somewhere in the jumble of thoughts screaming around my mind I hear this Voice say, "Shhhh...". When I quiet myself, and focus, I can hear the Lord telling me, it isn't always about the physical safety. It's about the emotional and spiritual safety too. That is a safety I understand, and a safety I need. With everything that has happened during the last two months, my mind and emotions seem to be a dangerous place. I am angry, doubtful and cynical to name a few. Letting go of those and letting the Lord keep my heart and mind safe, even from myself, I need that. It makes me so hopeful that I can quit spending so much time obsessing over my husband's physical safety (which I will of course still pray for) but start to focus on the more important things that God is protecting and keeping safe all the time. I know that's a little wishy-washy but God is meeting me where I'm at!
Tomorrow as the procession begins my prayers will be with the Mundell family, their friends and family, and all law enforcement as we are forced to, yet again, go through the process of saying goodbye to and honoring our fallen heroes. I will never get used to loss and when an officer dies I will never be able to think, "that won't ever happen to Mike." Perhaps as I grow in my faith I will be able to do what King David seemed capable of doing and quiet my questions and concerns and and remember to "lie down and sleep in peace" and let the Lord "make me dwell in safety."

The Need

2010-01-03T12:39:00.000-08:00

This morning before church I was checking up on Facebook and looked at a group for spouses of Washington law enforcement. I was amazed, again, at the need these women have to find a place to get connected and to belong. It reignited the passion, which was never really dying, about our Cops Wives Club. It also has made me consider making this a public blog, although I honestly don't know how much wisdom or insight anyone can gleam from me, but at least there would be a place they could go to know that someone else out there understands them. I could hardly pay attention in church I was getting so excited about the potential aspects of where God could be taking our little group that I finally had to grab a pen and start jotting them down. Alison had said she felt bad for missing church; I honestly thought it was God's mercy on the people who sat around me because I would have been talking her ear off. Andrea was sitting one row away and I seriously considered, very briefly, trying to throw something at her to get her attention. Since she was sitting between her parents, her father being the head pastor of our church, and I was sitting next to mine, the thought was only fleeting, but it made me realize that yes, I am that excited about our little group.
I did nail down two things I would like to see happen. First, I want to talk to my friend Janice. She is the women's ministry leader at our church and has great ideas and will be a wonderful resource for helping me to focus and stay on topic. It's so easy for me to get ahead of myself...I'm already thinking about conventions for law enforcement wives when we haven't even taken the time to pray together yet. She'll be good for me. Secondly, and this still may be getting ahead of myself a little, I want to start feeling out women who are well established in other church's. Maybe any church, but I'll start with Calvary since that's what I know. I am feeling like we need to find women, who are well established and "safe", who can open up their home to a group of women and their kids once a month. Another area where having Jan's expertise will come in handy. I'm thinking that if we can at least have women who are willing, then when our group gets too big for my parent's house, and it really looks like it won't take that long, then we'll have a place where we can branch out and then start including more and more women. I am very excited about that prospect. So watch out...there may be a Cops Wives Club arriving in your area soon!!

So it begins Pt 2

2009-12-31T19:47:00.000-08:00

Once Officer Hottie got the call to do backgrounds he had a ton of paperwork to fill out. He had to come up with references and give the names, addresses and phone numbers for just about everyone he knew. When I would see someone at church or run into them while shopping it seemed almost inevitable they would say something to the effect of, "Oh, so I got a call from the City asking about OH!" It was exciting but really nervewrecking too. I was concerned something would come up from someone who didn't like him or his family and that would be it. His parent's had recently gone through a trial at their church with nasty accusations thrown at them and I was worried those accusations, although false, would somehow sway the City's view of him. On my way to the zoo with our kids one day, they finally called me. The call went differently than I had thought it would; the gal seemed a little scattered and unorganized. But, I had two kids, so I usually was too and it didn't concern me at all. The two most difficult questions she asked me were "What are OH's three best qualities?" and "What are his three worst?" It may sound cheesy, but narrowing down what I loved about Officer Hottie was really tough. I don't even know for sure what I said, but I do know I mentioned how important maintaining his integrity and character were. He just doesn't compromise, which is one of many things I adore about him. Coming up with something negative was even more difficult. In the whole time we'd know each other I had made a conscious effort to overlook those things I didn't like about him, and things I couldn't overlook I certainly didn't broadcast. Officer Hottie is aware of his weaknesses; I don't need to nit pick and broadcast what they are. I also have a strong sense of loyalty to him and a fierce sense of protection, so digging around to come up with something negative was totally against my own character. I think I finally said I didn't like that he played video games. How lame. I truly hope they saw how I really could find no wrong in him.
Whether they liked what I had to say or not, I don't know. But I do know he was then made a conditional offer of employment, dependent upon him passing a medical and psychological exam, which he did. Then he was in. He had the job. All we had to do now was wait until there was an opening in the academy. It was another three months before the City was able to find a spot for him. Those were a difficult three months; he was anxious to be done pushing mowers and changing light bulbs. Since we worked in the same building as the police department he would find every excuse he could to be over there chatting with the officers. He was getting tips and advice and everyday he grew more and more restless. I think he knew the finish line was just around the bend, but he couldn't see around the corner so it was hard for him to truly believe the end was close. He finally received an academy start date of October 5, 2005. We didn't know it then, but the real challenge lay ahead. But for the moment, we enjoyed the thrill of the accomplishment.

Character and Integrity

2009-12-28T10:10:00.000-08:00

Last night Mike and I had a fight. We don't fight very often and when we do it usually isn't one of those knock down kind of things, and last night wasn't any exception. In fact, I don't even know if you can really call it a fight, but it did include crying (on my part) and us falling asleep without kissing each other goodnight so fight is really the only word I can think of. Here's what's going on...My sister is due any minute with her first child. And I mean literally, any minute. She was due on Dec. 18 so today makes her officially nine days overdue. That baby is coming out sometime very soon! I am so honored that she asked me to be her assistant labor coach. I am thrilled beyond thrilled. She and her husband have decided on a home birth, which I am also thrilled about. They have an excellent set of mid-wives and they have spent a lot of time preparing, even taking a 12 week Bradly method birthing class. Mike and I are done having kids, barring some sort of miraculous intervention, and so I have to get all my baby fixes where I can and I am thrilled (have I mentioned that yet?) that my sister has asked me to be a part of her child's birth. I can hardly sleep through the night for fear that I won't hear my phone, which lays about three inches from my head. I am almost as excited for this baby to come as I was for my own kids. Mike has told me, over and over, that if he is at work he won't be able to come home. And that if he is supposed to be going to work, he has to go to work. The whole "he's already at work and has to stay there" thing, I get. I totally totally get it. I've have a plan(s) for if she goes into labor while he's working. But I thought, really truly, that he had to be kidding about having to go into work if he's scheduled. I just knew that he would call his sergeant and let him know that he couldn't make it in because I was gone and there was no one watching the kids. He would look at me and shake his head when I said this, but I knew that's what he would do. And so, last night while I was setting out my clothes, yet again, in preparation for when my sister would call to tell me she was in labor Mike said to me, "Honey, if she goes into labor you can't go. I have to work tomorrow." To which I responded that he must be joking to which he responded he most certainly was not. And there began our fight. I realize now, looking back, that I was asking him to do something that bothered his conscience; to call in sick when he isn't actually sick and neither am I or any of our kids. I realize how much character and integrity he has for not wanting to take advantage of his sergeant's kindness and flexibility. I admire how committed he is to his coworkers for not wanting to leave them in a position to be short staffed. I understand that my needs and wants, most of the time, come before everything else in his life and he will rearrange, to the best of his ability, his life, his needs and his wants in order to accomodate me. But in that moment, in that fight, all I could think was, "Is this IT?" I kept wondering if this would be the fight that would ruin us. Would I disregard him and go to my sister? Would he forgive me if I did? Would I forgive him if I had to miss her birth? Could our relationship survive the potential fall-out from something like this? Was I really going to have to make a decision? For me this was the impossible choice. I think that was what upset me most...that I knew, in my heart, what I had to decide and it hurt me. It still kind of hurts me. And if I talked to my sister and told her my decision it would hurt her. But when I really had to think about it, when I really allowed the Lord to speak to me (which I recognize He was doing the whole time) I know that I would rather hurt myself and my sister than disregard my husband and force him to do something that would hurt him. That I would choose peace between the two of us over all else. That I can be at war with the world, with my family, and even with myself, before I would go to war with him. And he, being in the industry that he is, can know that he does not have to compromise his integrity or character just to please his wife.
To end, I know this story isn't finished. I know Mike is going to do everything he can to make sure I am at the birth of my newest niece. I knew that last night, even if I doubted it for a bit, and I know it today. I know that the Lord knows my desires, and that He knows what I choose, and that He will bless my decision. I'm not saying things are going to go exactly how I want, that would be foolish, but I am saying, there is a blessing in the obedience. And I won't forfeit the blessing.

(As a follow up...Dec. 30 at 5:04 am my niece was born. Mike did not have to work so I was there from beginning to end. God is so good to me...taking care of my desire even when the moment doesn't belong to me. Welcome to this world little girl! And thank you Jesus for giving me the wisdom to make the right decision, even though it was tough. Thank you for the blessing.)

Fear

2009-12-24T09:34:00.000-08:00

This morning, as is usual, I sent Mike a text before I got out of bed. Most days he won't be able to get back to me right away, he's in briefing or doing school zones, but I like to send one anyway so he knows I'm up and that he can call when he gets the chance. This morning he called back about an hour later. It is always so good to hear his voice. We made the usual chit-chat; "how are the kids?" "how did you sleep?" "what are you having for breakfast?"...boring really! When I asked him what he planned on doing today he said, "Well, right now I'm on my way to meet my dad for coffee." Wow. One small little thing and my heart started racing. Coffee. I'm pretty sure every spouse of a police officer has had a near panic attack during the last month when having coffee has been mentioned. (google Lakewood police shooting if you are unaware of what I'm referring to.) But what good does worrying do for me? None. I have cried, I have whined, I have worried, I have prayed...Mike has told me that God has a plan and nothing we do will change that. He also said he believes that God's plan for him is to come home every night. I like to believe that, but I don't want to be naive and think that God's plan is always what we want His plan to be. Regardless, whatever God's plan is for my husband, for our family, I need to just trust Him. Rest in Him. Give my worries and fears and concerns over to him. And then let my husband have coffee with his dad.

So it begins Pt 1

2009-12-23T14:30:00.000-08:00

When Officer Hottie and I first started dating he told me he thought about being a police officer. That made me nervous. A little queasy actually. Then he said something I will never forget. He said, "I changed my mind though. Once I am married and have a family I feel that I have an obligation, a duty, to go home to them every night." A huge sense of relief filled me. At that point in our relationship I knew we were serious and would probably be getting married; from my perspective I had just been reassured that my husband would return home every night.
Fast forward a few years and we're married with one son and one child on the way. Hottie is frustrated. A lot. He doesn't take it out on me or our son, but I can tell something is off. One night, while he was bathing the dog, she pooped on him and something in him broke and he reacted by punching a wall. This was so out of character for him I could hardly believe what happened. Looking back I probably should have been frightened or worried, but my only concern was to understand what was going on. There was turmoil going on in the man that I loved and my heart was breaking for him. While we're laying in bed that night I asked him what the real issue was. He told me he hated our dog. I continued to pry, gently, and finally he told me what was happening to him; He felt worthless. He worked in Public Works. He pushed a lawnmower for a living. He was embarrassed by his profession. It was difficult for me to empathize and not be hurt. I wondered, did he not see the value in our marriage? In our son? In our home or cars or the fact his "meanial" job had provided for our family, enough so that I could stay at home and raise our kids? I prayed for the Lord to help me let go of these questions. This wasn't about me and my insecurities...it was about my husband and his. What I asked him next kind of surprised me, "Let's get you a job as a police officer." He looked at me with so much love and tenderness, and I knew the Lord had spoken through me and given my husband what he needed. Value. Worth. A sense of doing something. And God gave me peace. I not only wanted my husband to find what he needed in his profession, I wanted to be the one to support him, to be his cheerleader, to let him know he had my permission and my ok. It wasn't even difficult for me. It seemed to be the only decision and I have never looked back.
Officer Hottie applied to what seemed an infinite number of agencies after he did his testing. He received many letters telling him he was on their "list" and they would call him when his number was reached. He did get to interview a few places. His first oral board he had tennis shoes on. He wore his nicest slacks and shirt but had no dress shoes. I took a picture of him I thought he looked so cute. Once he was late for an oral board. He had written down the wrong location and couldn't find where he was supposed to go. He was mortified. I told him it wasn't meant to be. It was too far to commute anyway. He would place #5 among the applicants when they only had one spot open. It took months before we finally got the call we'd been praying for...one of the cities wanted to start doing backgrounds. We were over the moon. OH didn't want to get too excited, but I knew this was IT. I knew he was going to be starting his new career, his new profession and he was going to be the man he always wanted to be, the man I always saw him as. He was going to serve and protect and he was going to be a man in blue.