Call in Sick Today

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.