Modern Day All-American Love Story

(names have been changed to protect the individuals in the story)



Modern Day All American Love Story



It all started on that horrifying day when time seemed to stand still for America. On September eleventh, 2001, two planes, hijacked by terrorists crashed into the World Trade Center in New York City. Two other planes were also hijacked, one crashing into the Pentagon, while the other crashed into an empty field in Pennsylvania. Thanks to the bravery of the heroes on board, the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania never made it to its ultimate destination; it never had the chance to kill more Americans.



Theirs was a meeting of chance, brought about by the tragic events of 9/11. Jeff was a military police enlisted in the Navy, stationed at that time in Guam. Kate, also stationed in Guam, was working in satellite communications. The terrorist attacks in the United States caused all military installations, worldwide, to heighten security. Kate was pulled from her duties and worked under Jeff in security.



After getting off duty that night, Kate told herself, “I am so in love with that guy!” A friendship ensued between the two during their time in Guam. Fortunately for them, when their tour of duty was over in Guam, they both were stationed in San Diego, where they soon started dating. Jeff soon expressed to Kate that he was interested in BUD/S training (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL Training). Kate was very supportive of Jeff’s interest in becoming a Navy SEAL. During our chat she giggled, and said, “I always thought SEAL’s were so hot!”



The next chapter of their budding romance was like a whirlwind. Jeff proposed to Kate in September of 2003. They were married on Saturday, January 4th, 2004, and Jeff started BUD/S training on Monday, January 6th, 2004. The average United States Navy SEAL spends over a year in a series of formal training environments before being awarded the Special Warfare Operator Naval Rating and the Navy Enlisted Classification (NEC) 5326 Combatant Swimmer (SEAL). According to the official website of the United States Navy, SEAL’s training is “widely considered to be the most physically and mentally demanding military training in existence.” Kate practically overflowed with pride during our conversation. She is so proud to have been with Jeff and supported him through his Navy SEAL career from the very beginning.



As with most military careers, deployment is always something that soldiers and their families have to deal with, especially during the tumultuous times since 9/11. Jeff was deployed to Iraq in October of 2006. By this time, Jeff and Kate had been blessed with their beautiful little girl Haley. At the time, Haley was two-and-a-half; in addition to Haley, Kate was pregnant with their second child. During the Thanksgiving holiday Kate and Haley were visiting Jeff’s family in Arkansas. With the technology available today, Jeff and Kate were able to have very regular contact. There was an eighteen hour lapse from the time of day that Jeff usually called Kate. She really didn’t think too much of the lack of phone call, but soon their world would be turned upside down.



The following excerpt is from a Facebook chat with Jeff detailing an attack that left him and a comrade severely injured: “On November 19, 2006 three groups of six SEALs each stepped out of their forward operating base in Ramadi, Iraq. Our mission was to set up snipers over watches to limit the freedom of movement of insurgents, allowing U.S. Marines to safely search a block of houses that were full of insurgent safe houses. We entered the house around one o’clock a.m. and set up sniper lookouts. At about noon an insurgent threw a hand grenade through an opening in our house and injured one of my guys. We fought for a little while; we then called for Bradley fighting vehicles to pick up our wounded. When the Bradleys got there, we fought our way out of the house, and two of us were injured when an improvised explosive device (IED) detonated just feet away. We were severely injured in the street, and unable to walk. Two SEALs came out and dragged us back into the house. After applying tourniquets and stopping the bleeding, we were picked up by more Bradley’s and taken to the first medical stop. Within the next few weeks I was transported to multiple hospitals, including Germany and Bethesda, MD, finally ending up at Balboa in San Diego where I was reunited with my family.”



When Jeff was finally able to call Kate to tell her he had been injured, he was very nonchalant about his injuries. He told her that he had been injured, that he was fine, and that he was coming home. Kate’s strength after hearing the news of his injury was phenomenal. “I didn’t want our daughter to feel that anything was wrong. I also needed to be strong for Jeff’s parents,” is what Kate relayed to me when I asked her if she completely broke down. In fact, she didn’t cry until she was on the phone with the ticket agent to change her flight plans to get home sooner.



After his injury in November, Jeff was walking and doing things for himself by April. However, it was one year before he was fully recovered. After his recovery, he took the Navy’s PRT (Physical Readiness Test), and passed with outstanding results. At this point in our conversation, Kayla felt the need to interject something about Navy SEAL’s in general. “That's something else about these guys; they will die trying to be the best of the best. Just like the PRT; Jeff had something to prove to everyone: his teammates, himself, and all the doctors that said he would never be back to full duty and ready to go back to war. So he was really excited about the PRT, because it was his way of saying, ‘I'm back!!’”



During Jeff’s time in the hospital, Kate and Haley were with him during all visiting hours. It was such an exhausting time for them all. The wives of the SEAL’s on Jeff’s team rallied around Kate providing endless support. They even set-up a meal schedule to supply all meals for Jeff’s wife and daughter. The Official Naval Special Warfare website states, “There are about 2,500 active duty Navy SEALs.” With such small numbers, one can understand just how close-knit the SEAL community is. Kate said, “There is a sense of obligation to everyone; these guys will save my husband’s life, and he will save theirs. The wives rally around each other in times of need. It is such a great thing!”



As mentioned above, two SEAL’s were injured during the attack. Elliott was even more severely injured than Jeff. His injuries were severe enough that he lost a leg and also has speech troubles. Jeff suffered quite a bit of grief and anguish over Elliott’s injuries. The bond that they shared as a result went far beyond their military service. In fact, Jeff and Kate named their second child Elliott. There is a beautiful addition to this part of their story. Elliott underwent physical therapy to help him with his injuries. He and his physical therapist fell in love, and later had a baby boy. Of course they named him Jeff!



Currently, Jeff is deployed; he is doing a tour of duty in the Philippines. Kate is pretty excited because they have four months in on this tour, and only two months left. With Jeff at the seventeen year mark of his military career, their family only has three years left. For the remainder of his career he will do shore duty in Alaska as an instructor for one of the BUD/S training phases. It will be a great break for all five of them. Five? Yes five! In addition to Haley and Elliott, Jeff and Kate welcomed Emerson into their perfect family in August of 2010.



With all the hype in the news in recent months about Navy SEAL Team Six, I was very curious if being a member of that team was something Jeff had ever been interested in. The answer was a very emphatic, “No!” Kate said that SEAL Team Six is always on call. “If you are on Team Six, the Navy completely owns you,” she said. Jeff is a family man; the time he spends away from his family already fills them with loneliness. None of them are interested in being separated anymore than they already have been.



The pride that Kate has in Jeff is strong and fierce. She reiterated that communication is key in their relationship, and they have their communication down pat. We ended our conversation with Kate saying, “I ask myself all the time, ‘How did I score this amazing man to be my partner in life?’ He is great at everything he does. He is a great SEAL, husband, dad and friend. How did I get this lucky?”



All members of the United States Armed Forces have always had my utmost respect; they are heroes. They allow me to feel safe and sleep well at night. They offer my children a bright future of safety and independence. The sacrifices they make are amazing. However, after my conversation with Kate, I realized that not only the soldiers deserve our respect. The families that they leave behind on the homefront are just as heroic as they are. The sacrifices that the families also make for their country make them heroes as well.

Co-parenting - Not an easy job! Especially when you are the step parent!

I believe that children should have fun, but they also should be taught responsibility and independence. I believe that they should understand the value of a dollar. I believe that they should be held accountable for their actions, both good and bad. Co-parenting with someone who does not share the same ideals is difficult at best.





It angers me that someone is not willing/able to contribute to some of the school and extra-curricular activities that their children participate in. Don't get me wrong, I am MORE than happy to pay for anything and everything that my children need, whether their other parent contributes or not. However, when I am told that I have to pay for it all because they are broke, but they always have a cigarette in their hand, Nikes on their feet and Abercrombie on their clothes, I must admit, I get a little bit bent out of shape.



I struggle to teach my children to be happy and grateful with what they have, and for the most part I do a pretty darn good job at it. My children are not embarrassed to shop at Kmart and Walmart. However when one of the other parents insists on only name brand clothing and doesn't bat an eyelash at dropping $700 dollars at the mall, it makes my job difficult. A few weeks ago some sports clothes needed to be washed and I asked why his mom didn't wash them over the weekend like they are supposed to. The response: "We don't have enough money to do so much laundry." Said the kid who had on brand new Nikes, Abercrombie sweatshirt, $60 jeans and a $50 Phiten necklace. SERIOUSLY?!?!?!





I wonder if that same kid knows that I have loaned his other family hundreds of dollars over the past year. I wonder if he knows that I have made sure that BOTH of his houses had enough food in them to keep him fed. Probably not. He thinks I am mean because I don't believe in allowance for everyday things. I am not willing to pay him $20 per week for taking out the garbage. I am not willing to allow him to stay up as late as he wants on a school night. I am not willing to overlook when he doesn't do his required reading and homework for school.



I wonder if he realizes that I have never missed a sporting event of his, I have never missed a parent teacher conference, I wonder if he realizes that just about everything "extra" that he has gotten to participate in is because of me. I am sure that he has no idea that the reason I push him to be better is because I want him to have a fulfilled life. I want him to know how to take care of himself when I am not there. I want him to know how to operate a washing machine when he goes to college. I want him to know how to budget his money so that he never has to go without.



Being a step-parent is the hardest "job" I have ever had. I have all the emotions of a regular parent, all of the work of a regular parent, but none of the rewards. Sometimes I just want to give up, but I know that if I did, he would be floundering around with no sense of stability. I just hope that someday he will recognize how much I love him, how much I have sacrificed (just like with my "real" kids) to make a good life for him. Maybe someday when he has children of his own, it will dawn on him how great I really am, how much I really did.



Until then, I will continue to be the mean step-parent because it is the right thing to do.

Accepting life on life's terms

I got a couple of e-mails a little while ago that left me in tears. It is silly because either of them are really changing my life at all. Neither are causing my family any harm, but they are just disappointing me. When I was trying to relay the information to my husband, I just burst out in tears. He asked if I wanted a hug; I told him that I would take a hug, but that a Xanax would be much more effective!



For the past couple of weeks I have bee feeling the dark, strong fingers of depression trying to claw their way in, trying to bring me down to their deep, black hole of bitterness, and despair. Depression is a disease that I have struggled with for about 10 years now. Depression is something that I will face for my entire life. I take a strict regimen of medication to keep me balanced and functioning. Sometimes though, the depression is stronger than the medication and I have to fight to keep myself on an even keel. So, since I have bee fighting to keep my head above water for the past few weeks, when things happen that I let agitate me, it is not a good or healthy thing.



Accepting Life on Life's terms is a very hard thing for me to do. I tend to be a bit of a control freak. I like to be in control of everything and how everything happens. It has always been important to me that life happens when I want it to happen.



I found out today that the closing date on the home we are purchasing has to get extended out three weeks. One would think that I would take that for what it is because I use to be a Realtor. I know that this happens, and I know it can happen for a variety of reasons. However, it is making me crazy that it is happening to me! In the grand scheme of things, it is not going to be a big deal at all. In the short term, it still isn't a big deal. However, it changes my timeline, and I don't do well with that!



This set-back really isn't something that I can't handle. I simply need to make a few phone calls about moving dates. But still, it makes me want to pull my hair out!!



I want people to take what I say at face value; I hate to be questioned! I hate to be called out on something that I do, especially because I am a darn good person, and never do anything that would deliberately hurt or disappoint someone. Besides my husband, there are three other people that I co-parent with between my son and my step-son.



Usually things run very smoothly between my ex-husband and his wife and I. We are all very mature about co-parenting, have gotten over our differences, and put our son first in everything we do. I felt like I got verbally attacked today by one of the people I co-parent with via e-mail. I responded in the same way that I felt like she wrote to me. Right ow I am feeling a bit guilty, because when I went back and reread the e-mail, she really wasn't attacking me. She was simply letting me know something that was bothering her in a very tactful and respectful way. And me being the person that I am right now, totally took it wrong. Even her follow-up e-mail to my snide response was very nice and respectful. Grrr! I hate myself at times like this. So, I will be taking my big huge foot out of my big huge mouth and apologizing to her momentarily.

Recent recipes I have tried

For the past few weeks I have been in a baking and cooking mood. Very Susie Homemaker if you ask me. Some of the recipes I have tried have been absolutely magnificent! I thought I would share them here with those of you who might be feeling a little domestic like I was. I got all of these off of Pinterest! You will be able to tell from the recipes that I love dessert!


Cheesy Chicken roll-ups were AAAAHHHH-mazing!

1 pkg cream cheese (8oz)
1 pkg crescent rolls (6 ct)
2 shredded cooked chicken breasts
1.5 C grated chedder cheese
1 C grated Monterey Jack
1/4 t salt
1/4 t pepper
bread crumbs
1/4 stick melted butter

Combine chicken, cheeses, salt and pepper.

Spoon onto crescents.

Roll them up making sure they are sealed around the chicken mixture. Brush tops with butter and sprinkle with bread crumbs.

Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes. To reheat, just place in a 325 degree oven for 15 minutes.

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Chocolate Peanut Butter Squares. These went fast!

1 pound white chocolate
1 cup peanut butter
1 1/2 cups chocolate chips or 12 ounces of chocolate
1/2 cup heavy cream


Line your pan (I used and 8 x 8 pan) with parchment or waxed paper, leaving an overhang. (you can also use foil however you will need to spray it with cooking spray).

Melt your white chocolate in your microwave for about a minute, stir until the chocolate is melted and creamy. Add in the peanut butter and stir until blended and smooth.

Spread mixture into your pan. Refrigerate for 15 minutes or until a bit firm.

In a saucepan, combine your milk chocolate and your cream and heat over medium high heat until melted and smooth, stirring constantly. Pour/smooth over peanut butter mixture.

Chill for at least 3 hours or overnight. Later, lift out the candy and cut into small squares.

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Lemon Crinkle Cookies. These were delightful!

Lemon Crinkle Cookies
Makes 2-3 dozen

Ingredients:
½ cups butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoons vanilla extract
1 whole egg
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 Tablespoon fresh lemon juice
¼ teaspoons salt
¼ teaspoons baking powder
⅛ teaspoons baking soda
1-½ cup all-purpose flour
½ cups powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease light colored baking sheets with non-stick cooking spray and set aside.

In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Whip in vanilla, egg, lemon zest, and juice. Scrape sides and mix again. Stir in all dry ingredients slowly until just combined, excluding the powdered sugar. Scrape sides of bowl and mix again briefly. Pour powdered sugar onto a large plate. Roll a heaping teaspoon of dough into a ball and roll in powdered sugar. Place on baking sheet and repeat with remaining dough.

Bake for 9-11 minutes or until bottoms begin to barely brown and cookies look matte {not melty or shiny}. Remove from oven and cool cookies about 3 minutes before transferring to cooling rack.

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Smashed Potatoes. Even my picky eater who hates potatoes liked these!

12 whole New Potatoes (or Other Small Round Potatoes)
3 Tablespoons Olive Oil
Kosher Salt To Taste
Black Pepper To Taste
Rosemary (or Other Herbs Of Choice) To Taste (I used Italian Seasoning)

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add in as many potatoes as you wish to make and cook them until they are fork-tender.

On a sheet pan, generously drizzle olive oil. Place tender potatoes on the cookie sheet leaving plenty of room between each potato.

With a potato masher, gently press down each potato until it slightly mashes, rotate the potato masher 90 degrees and mash again. Brush the tops of each crushed potato generously with more olive oil.

Sprinkle potatoes with kosher salt, fresh ground black pepper and fresh chopped rosemary (or chives or thyme or whatever herb you have available.)

Bake in a 450 degree oven for 20-25 minutes until golden brown.

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Fruit Salsa with Baked Cinnamon Chips. This is absolutely the perfect recipe to welcome Spring!!

2 kiwis, peeled and diced
2 Golden Delicious apples - peeled, cored and diced
8 ounces raspberries
1 (16 oz) carton of strawberries, diced
2 tablespoons white sugar (more or less to taste)
1 tablespoon brown sugar (more or less to taste)
3 tablespoons fruit preserves, any flavor (I used strawberry)

10 (10 inch) flour tortillas
melted butter or butter flavored cooking spray

Cinnamon sugar:
1 cup white sugar
2 Tablespoons cinnamon

1. In a large bowl, thoroughly mix kiwis, apples, raspberries, strawberries, white sugar, brown sugar and fruit preserves. Cover and chill in the refrigerator at least 15 minutes.

2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

3.Coat one side of each flour tortilla with melted butter or butter flavored cooking spray. Sprinkle tortillas with desired amount of cinnamon sugar. Cut into wedges and arrange in a single layer on a large baking sheet. Spray again with cooking spray (not necessary if using melted butter).

4.Bake in the preheated oven 8 to 10 minutes. Repeat with any remaining tortilla wedges. Allow to cool approximately 15 minutes. Serve with chilled fruit mixture.

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White Trash Bars All I can say about these is OH EM GEE!!!!!!

The four ingredients are:
one box of Ritz crackers {255g}
one bag of Skor bits {270g}
one can of sweetened condensed milk {300ml}
one tub of french vanilla icing {450g}

Crush up the Ritz crackers.
Place in a greased 8"x8" pan and pour the sweetened condensed milk over top.
Mix in the bag of Skor bits.
Give the mixture a good stir and pat down into the pan.
Place in the oven at 350 degrees F for 15-20 minutes or until the edges start to bubble and caramelize.
Allow to cool then slather on the icing and cut into bars.
It's even better the next day.

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Cookie Dough Dip. Yum-O!

1 8-ounce package cream cheese
1/2 cup butter
1 cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup toffee bits

Cream together cream cheese and butter.
Add all remaining ingredients and mix until well-combined.
Serve with graham crackers or apple wedges. We also used Teddy Grahams and Nilla Wafers.

Do NOT use reduced fat cream cheese as it may cause your dip to have the wrong consistency.

Unions Are Bad for Present Day America

At one time in this country, there were few workplace safety laws, few restraints on employers, and horrible working conditions that ranged from slavery, to share cropping, to putting children in dangerous working conditions. Unions deserve huge amounts of credit in their efforts of creating a level playing field for American workers. However, as the laws changed, there was less and less need for unions. Because of that, union membership shrank. In response, the unions became more explicitly involved in politics. Over time, they managed to virtually take over the Democratic Party, pull their strings, and rewrite our labor laws in their favor. "Power tends to corrupt" is a pretty common phrase, and one that has certainly been true for the unions. Unions have become selfish, extremely greedy, and even thuggish in their never-ending quest to take in as much as they can for themselves, at the expense of everyone who crosses their path. This essay will discuss some of the reasons why unions are bad for America.

Unions are severely damaging to whole industries. An example to prove this point took place not that long ago in the automobile industry. Prior to their bailout by the American taxpayers, GM paid all of the health insurance premiums of its employees, their survivors and GM retirees (Sloan). With most of these plans highly underfunded, the companies tried to provide retirement packages to older workers, and made agreements with the UAW to transfer pension obligations to an independent trust. The UAW sets the standards for their members so high in regards to wages and benefits that it was inevitable that GM would not be able to meet their obligations. Hence, the bailouts of the automobile industry, costing American taxpayers more than seventeen billion dollars (Skeel).

Unions, teachers’ unions in specific, are ruining public education. These unions continuously block the reforms needed to improve our nation’s schools; their focus seems to be on teachers rather than on the students they teach. A great example of this can be found in New York City. According to the Wall Street Journal, “there are a little more than 1,000 teachers who have lost their permanent assignments since 2006 but remain on the Department of Education payroll.” The teachers noted above are known as the Absent Teacher Reserve pool, or ATRs. The Wall Street Journal notes that “twenty-six of the ATRs who lost their jobs in 2006 earn more than $100,000 a year in salary, not counting about $30,000 in benefits. Seventy have been working in the school system for 26 or more years. Some could retire, but haven't.” The Department of Education spent $100 million on these teachers this school year, just in New York City. This is an incredible waste, and a gross misuse of money that could be used for our American schoolchildren.

Public sector unions are costing the American taxpayers billions of dollars. Government workers should not be allowed to unionize. Unionized government is a total and complete conflict of interest. The taxpayers pay their salaries. The taxpayers pay the majority of their health insurance. The taxpayers pay their retirement benefits. Therefore, the taxpayers should dictate how much, how many, and to whom. However, because of unions being so close with the Democratic Party, the entire process has been turned on its ear. Instead of looking out for the taxpayer’s interests, Democrats try to hire as many government workers as possible, pay them as much as possible, and give them benefits that are as generous as possible. All this, so that union workers will do more to get them re-elected. This is disgusting, immoral and unethical!

Public sector unions, or government unions, are bankrupting cities and states. Nationally, they have cost the taxpayers billions, but the damage they’re doing on the local level is even worse. We have cities and states all across the country so behind on their financial obligations, that there have been genuine discussions about bankruptcy. There are a lot of irresponsible financial policies that have helped contribute to that sorry state-of-affairs, but unquestionably, the biggest backbreakers can be directly traced back to the unions. As the Washington Times has reported, “Union pensions are crushing budgets all across the country. By 2013, the amount of retirement money promised to employees of these public entities will exceed cash on hand by more than a trillion dollars.”

Many union tactics can be labeled as bullying. During the fierce opposition against Governor Scott Walker’s plans to take away most collective bargaining rights from the government union employees, owner of Village Dollar in Union Grove, refused to put up a sign supporting AFSCME. From a business perspective, she wanted to remain neutral on the topic, so as not to alienate any of her customers. That wasn't good enough for AFSCME Union Rep. Jim Parrett, who sent her a letter that read in part, "We'd ask that you reconsider taking a sign and stance to support public employees in this community. Failure to do so will leave us no choice but to do a public boycott of your business." Unions do not necessarily represent the views of their local members. "The statements and threats made by Jim Parrett do not represent everyone in the local, we didn't support it," said Paul Baumester, a member of AFSCME, Local 3777. He and several other union members shook hands with the shop owner, and apologized to her and other businesses for the threats. They claim they were never consulted about the letters (Burke).

Unions really have done a great deal to help shape the American workforce. Early union leaders worked hard and fought hard for employee rights, safe workplace regulations, and fair hours for American workers. Unions played a significant role in shaping “work” as Americans know it. That being said, the role of unions has run its course. Abolishing unions, or at the very least, their collective bargaining rights can only benefit America and the dire straits of the present American economy. Americans should be paid based upon merit and qualifications rather than seniority and tenure. It is time to weed out the old way of doing things and bring America back to what she should be.

Education in America

My son's dad and I got a divorce when my son was about one and a half. At that point in time we did not have to take school arrangements into consideration concerning our placement arrangements. However, I always had that in the back of my mind.

A few years later we both had significant others in our lives who would play a role in our decision making process. My ex husband had someone in his life who was very involved in education, and who would ultimately work in the education system. She had very strong opinions about which schools would be best for T. As his "step-parent" one might think that her opinions might be selfish one's, but that definitely was not the case. Her opinions seemed to be based around class sizes, and programs offered at that school.

I also had very strong opinions about which school would be best for T. My opinions were based on research I had done on the three school districts we were considering enrolling T in. (We lived in different cities so we were considering my city, their city, and the city in between.) My research included district and school "report cards", graduation rates, and I am a little bit embarrassed to admit, minority levels.

My ex-husband and his now wife grew up in Wisconsin in areas that had little to no minorities.I grew up in Southern California, so our concerns and visions were different.

Let me start by saying that I went to school with a lot of Asians, Mexicans, and African Americans. One might even be able to argue that Caucasians were more of a minority than the rest listed, but it was probably pretty equal. I have some great friends that are from each of the races above. They are compassionate, smart, amazing people ad I would not be the same person I am today having not had their friendships.

Looking back on my education, I feel that it was lacking. My observations were that so much time was spent with the ESL (English as a 2nd Language) kids that those of us who spoke English were often swept under the rug. So much attention was spent on getting ESL kids to the point they needed to be, that those of us who were at the correct level, or even gifted, were not being challenged.

Also, many minorities, statistically, live in the poorer areas of cities, which is definitely the case in the town that I currently live in. The percentage of Mexicans and African Americans in our district, I would guesstimate at 2% combined. However we have a very high Hmong population. (Hmong people, an ethnic group originally from China, Laos, Thailand.)

Completely separate from the minority factor, the poorer areas of the city also house people on welfare. I am stereo-typing a bit here, but the stereo-typical welfare parent doesn't seem to care as much about their children's social behaviors because they seem to have a lot of other worries on their minds. Therefore, schools in the poorer areas tend to have more children who are acting out in class.

The schools that I mentioned above tend to have more funding for programs like SAGE, which is a wonderful program, and they tend to have lower class sizes as well. While that is wonderful, it seems to me that the reason behind SAGE and lower class sizes is because 1) these schools tend to have more ESL students, and 2) these schools tend to have more children who are acting out.

So at the time of our decision making I fought for my son's educational future. I wanted him to have every opportunity, and I did not want him held back because his teachers couldn't focus entirely on education. I knew that once in middle school and high school he would be in school with all members of our community, but for his elementary school education, I wanted him to have a great start with little distractions.

Ultimately, my ex-husband and his now wife made the self-less decision to move to the same city as me so that T could have healthy relationships with both of his parents and could get a great education.

I am currently in the house hunting process, and one of the things I am taking into consideration before making any offers, is which elementary school my daughter B will go to. T is now 11, and B is 2, so I am starting this whole process all over again!

So far so good!

Saturday will be a day for celebrating! It will mark my husband's 30 day mark of sobriety. I think he is pretty excited about it.

He is planning on going to an AA meeting that is supposed to be wonderful. There will be anywhere from 100-150 people there, and the speakers are supposed to be very inspiring. If it is similar to other AA meetings, he will get a 30 day coin. He said something last night that gave me more hope than almost anything he has said so far. "I will get my 30 day coin on Saturday at that meeting. I am going to have to get a piggy bank."

In the past when he has tried to quit drinking or slow down his drinking, he has always looked forward to his next celebration: Football, a raise, a picnic. And very quickly it would turn into a daily thing again. "I like the taste of beer." "I slept horrible last night, I need a 'few' beers to help me sleep tonight." Then he didn't offer excuses anymore. It was just who he was.

I didn't understand at the time that addiction is a disease. I would retreat into myself and wonder what was so bad about the kids and me that made him want to mentally take a vacation from us every night. I would try to make sure the house was spotless each night when he got home from work. Then I went in the other direction; I started to do nothing around the house in hopes that I might get a reaction out of him. That didn't work either. I am excited that he has finally gotten help for his disease.

I read a quote today that I thought was very fitting: "It's not your FAULT that you have developed depression or addiction or whatever else is trying to steal your life away. But it is your RESPONSIBILITY to save yourself. And you CAN!" Blaming him for his addiction or calling him weak because of it is the same as blaming someone for getting cancer. I feel terrible for degrading him and blaming him all of these years. I recently learned that when you get mad, it is really because you are scared. I thought about that for awhile and cannot think of a single example that disproves that. I have been scared that his addiction would take his life, I have been scared that his addiction would scar our children, I have been scared that his addiction would be forever.

We are reading a book called "You Can't Make Me Angry" by Dr. Paul O. I would suggest this book for anyone in recovery, anyone thinking about going into recovery and the spouses of these people. I got it off of Amazon.com for $10. This book will help you to own your feelings and not blame others.

Anyway, while I am excited for my husband to hit his 30 days, I am excited for day 28 and 29 also. I need to stop looking into the future and remember to take it "one day at a time."

Losing a baby

A friend of mine very recently lost her baby girl and it has brought memories flooding back to me of when I lost my baby son Teagan.

I have been thinking of the hours and days spent in bed praying for sleep to give me a few hours to forget. I remember wanting to drown out the pain by stuffing myself full of Xanax but being scared to death that if i did that, I would need the pills forever. I constantly laid there thinking that this whole mess couldn't possibly be real. I said over and over, "I am not even 30 years old and I am planning a funeral for my baby." I sobbed and sobbed until there literally were no more tears. I then lay there cursing God for my loss then the next breath begging for forgiveness fearful that I wouldn't get to heaven to meet up with my baby boy again. How do you face the rest of your life when you can't bear to face the next hour?

I remember feeling guilty because I didn't have the energy to get out of bed to care for my two living children who still needed me. I loved my husband more than anything because he was the only other person in the world who loved that child as much as I did, but hated him if he didn't cry enough or if he cried too much, or if he didn't have the energy to console me.

As my breasts filled with milk that was made especially for Teagan, I got no relief as he lay in the NICU while everyone prayed for a miracle. My stomach no longer protruded with an active baby boy who kept me awake half the night with his kicking and rolling. Instead, my baby boy lay there lifeless while I laid in my hospital bed feeling empty and hollow.

I still feel angry that my husband can't/won't go to the cemetery to visit our son because the pain is still too much for him to bear. I resent that I have to go alone but then am happy to be alone when I am there. It is my special spot to tend to, nurture, decorate and feel peace. I think now that if he decided to go I would feel like he was intruding on my special place with my son. Then I feel selfish for thinking that. After all, Teagan is his son too!

I absolutely loved every single person who sent cards, attended his funeral and was there for my family and me during that time. My son's step-mom sent me the most beautifully worded card that said something to the effect of, "As the phone calls and cards have slowly started to dwindle, know that you are still thought of daily and prayed for." That was music to my ears because as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, I realized that the world kept turning, people went about their lives and seemed to forget Teagan.

It still bothers me that he is not a part of our families everyday conversation because not an hour goes by that I don't think about him. It warms my heart that the person who talks about him most or brings him up the most is my son Taylor. Children are supposed to be selfish and self-centered and for the most part Taylor is, but he loved that baby that he never got to know. When he counts out or lists all his brothers and sisters, Teagan is never forgotten. Sometimes as he counts them, I count in my head and am confused at his number, until I realize that he didn't forget Teagan.

People never know what to say to people when they lose someone, especially when that someone is their baby. I found myself struggling with that when I heard of my friends loss. A few things stick out to me that people said.

"You can always try again"

"I know what you're going thru."

"You can have another baby"

"He is in a better place."

While all of those things may be true they are the absolute last thing a grieving parent wants to hear. I have had another baby, and she is beautiful and amazing, I wouldn't trade her for the world. But I still yearn for Teagan. As she reaches her milestones I wonder what Teagan would have been like. Would he prefer chocolate or strawberry milk? Would he have stayed chunky like when he was born or would he have gotten skinny? Would he love coloring or hot wheels? What would he have wanted to be when he grew up?

He definitely is in a better place, nothing is better than heaven, but he never got to experience this life! He never sneezed, he will never get butterfiles in his stomach when he kisses his first girlfriend. He will never experience the smell of the ocean, the thrill of a rollercoaster or the joy of watching his babies be born.

What will he be like when I get to heaven? Will he still be a baby? Will I get to hear his toddler giggles? Will he be a little boy full of wonder? Will he be a man full of wisdom? Will he recognize me?

I know that each person deals with loss and grief differently. Me? I love talking about Teagan. I live for people asking me questions about him. Is it painful? YES! But it keeps his memory alive. It helps me heal. Hopefully, my talking about my loss will help someone else in a similar situation.

Thunderstorm

If you have ever spent a summer in Wisconsin, you know that we have some amazing thunderstorms. This particular thunderstorm wasn’t over-the-top; it didn’t make national news. While this thunderstorm was pretty average as far as thunderstorms go, it will be forever etched in my memory; it left a permanent imprint on my heart.

It started out as a typical day. Well, maybe not typical, but as typical as typical could be just a few short months after losing your infant son. I stayed in bed as long as I possibly could. I guilted myself into getting out of bed by telling myself, “Just because you have a dead child doesn’t mean that you can stay in bed all the time. You have two children who are very much alive and need their mom.” I decided that two seven-year-olds fending for themselves for breakfast every morning wasn’t going to earn me any Mother-of-the-Year awards. I got up, got dressed and trudged down the hall to the kitchen and said a semi-cheerful “good morning” to my sons.

The day was hot, as many summer days in Wisconsin are. Even at ten o’clock in the morning, the sun, still fairly low in the eastern sky, made it too unbearable not to run the central air. The dogs, two disobedient beagles named Howard and Stella, lay on the ceramic tile to try to keep cool. The boys were alternating between video games and cartoons for most of the hot, humid day. I spent my day staring out the window watching the field corn grow that surrounded our home, alternating between trying to hide my anguish from my sons and crying freely, my face drenched from my tears. I couldn’t see our neighbor’s homes once the corn got high enough. That feeling of isolation was both welcome and irritating at the same time.

The plethora of emotions I felt over the previous months since losing my son ranged from one end of the spectrum to the other. Early on, I felt empty, hollow. Where my belly used to protrude, stretched to the limit with a healthy baby boy, it now was flat. The only reminder that a baby used to call my stomach home, were the purplish gray stretch marks that marred my skin. A few days after Teagan’s birth and subsequent death, my breasts filled with special milk that was meant specifically for him, to nourish him and help him fight disease for the first few years of his life. While my breasts ached with unshed milk, a deeper ache in my chest took hold. Heartbreak truly is a physical pain.

Some days I would curse God; I would scream at him for putting me thru what I have now labeled as the worst thing that has ever happened to me. “Haven’t I been thru enough in my life? Haven’t I been a good enough Christian? I don’t deserve this! Why me? Lord, I HATE you for doing this to me!” Other days I would beg him for forgiveness, petrified that I wouldn’t get to Heaven and be reunited with my son.

That August day I felt a dull ache somewhere deep inside me that I had grown quite accustomed to. As I sat there, staring out the window, I decided that I would drive out to the cemetery to visit my Teagan. Lower Weston Cemetery is fairly small compared to some cemeteries I have seen. It is located in the lush, green hills of Weston, southwest of Menomonie. The cemetery is surrounded by rolling farm fields, this particular year, soy beans were planted creating a picturesque green landscape. As I turned onto the dead-end road that the cemetery is located on, I noticed the large herd of cows along the fence that are always there to greet the mourners going to visit the graves of their loved ones. It is almost like they can feel your grief as they look at you with their big, sad, black eyes. There are many generations of Teagan’s family buried in the Lower Weston Cemetery dating back as early as the late 1700’s.

I parked along the back side of the cemetery along the road that encircles it. I walked past my husband’s grandfathers grave, blew him a kiss and whispered, “Hello Papa.” Papa passed away one month to the day after Teagan died. He took Teagan’s death very hard and I suspect he died of heartache. As I kneeled down in front of Teagan’s grave, I started my labor of love washing his tombstone, rearranging the many small statues I had previously placed there and pulling the grass that had grown too long.

Just as I started to talk to him, the sky above us opened up into a torrential downpour. The wind started to howl blowing the leaves on the trees in every direction. The tall evergreen bushes that dotted the cemetery were bending in half from the force of the wind. A huge branch from a tall oak tree snapped off the tree and fell to the earth below about 20 feet from where I stood, dumbfounded. I ran to my car as I saw a bright flash of lightening and heard the loud clap of thunder followed by a deep rumble. The sky had a greenish hue to it that I always relate to tornadoes.

Safe in my car, I surveyed the scene as it played out around me. I decided the conditions were not safe enough for me to start the twenty minute drive home. As I sat there soaking wet in my car, a seething anger overtook me. I felt hot and cold at the same time; cold from the cool rain that had soaked my clothes and hair, hot from the anger inside of me. I started sobbing; uncontrollable, deep sobs wracked my body. Large, hot tears rolled down my face dripping onto my shirt that was already drenched from the rain. I started screaming at God, cursing his name for putting me thru so much pain in my life. He knew how it felt to watch his son die, only unlike me, he was able to hold him afterwards, stroke his face and know that they would never be separated again. How could he be so cruel to me, his loving servant who had shared his word with so many?

I was eventually able to get myself under control. At about the same time the storm started to dwindle, turning the rain into a light mist. By this time, I did not have the energy to get back out of the car and return to my son’s grave; I was spent. I turned the key in the ignition, put the car into drive and slowly made my way down the wet, muddy cemetery road. Exhaustion! I could feel it in every muscle of my body. I turned off of the dead-end road onto the farm road that marked the first part of my trek back home. As I crested the first hill, the sight before me took my breath away. I pulled over to the side of the road.

The skies had turned into a beautiful blue; there were white, puffy clouds off in the distance. The most beautiful, vibrant rainbow I had ever seen stretched across the sky, its arc perfectly laid out before me. It looked like I would be driving right thru the center of the rainbow. I thought back to the story of Noah in the Bible. The rainbow signified God’s covenant to Noah that he would never flood the earth again, killing all of mankind. The rainbow took on a different meaning to me that day. I felt as if that particular rainbow signified that God had heard my cries; he both felt and understood my anguish.

I also like to think that Teagan played a special part in putting that rainbow in front of me. It was his way of letting me know that he is happy in heaven, watching over his family back on earth. He knew I went to the cemetery that day to visit him and the rainbow was his way of acknowledging my presence and thanking me for my devotion to him.

I don’t know why my son was taken from me in such a tragic way. Is my purpose in life to help others deal with such a horrendous loss? Is my purpose to become a Midwife to help be an advocate for expectant parents during their prenatal care? Is my purpose in life even related at all to the death of my special baby Teagan? At this point in my life, I don’t know the answers to those questions; I may never know the answers! However, the storm that ranged around me that hot August day reminded me that I am a child of God. He hears our prayers and feels our pain. If I stay a faithful servant to my Lord and Savior, I will be rewarded with the gift of eternal life. I will be reunited with my perfect beautiful son. What more could I possibly ask for?

Dora the Explorer

As a mom to a two year old, unless a television show plays on Nickelodeon or the Disney Channel, there is a pretty good chance I have not seen it. Cartoons have definitely evolved a great deal since I was a child. Toddler geared cartoons have even evolved in the eleven years since my son was a toddler. From what I can remember, cartoons during my time seemed to be for entertainment purposes only; there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of educational value in them. During my son’s toddlerhood, most of the cartoons had a real musical concentration. Today, most of the cartoons streaming across my television are educational, offering excellent curriculum on a wide variety of subjects.

My daughter’s all-time favorite show is Dora the Explorer which plays several times a day on the various Nickelodeon channels. Dora is a bilingual, Mexican girl who goes on many adventures with her various talking animal friends. She is never without her talking, purple backpack, which is always filled with anything she could possibly need during her explorations. Ironically, her backpack’s name is Backpack. When Dora travels from Summer to Winter, Backpack instantaneously supplies snow gear to Dora and all of her friends. Backpack’s bosom buddy is known as Map. Map always knows which way to go; if an item is missing, map even knows the location of the missing item.

Educationally, Dora the Explorer is a great resource for a toddler to learn some basic Spanish words. Even as an adult, I have learned a few words! The process used to teach Spanish words is a repetitive process, asking the child to repeat the word several times to get the intended result. For instance, if there is a treasure in a talking chest that needs opening, Dora will say something to the effect of, “We need to ask the treasure chest to open, but the treasure chest only speaks Spanish. Say ‘abierto’ with me. Let’s say it louder, ‘abierto!’” My daughter has put some of her newfound Spanish words to use in her everyday life. Recently, she was trying to open a snack, and she was asking me to help her open it by alternating between Spanish and English. Also, when her brother is aggravating her, she has taken to screaming, “Parir,” in order to make him stop.

Swiper the Fox is the resident villain on the show. He is always swiping things from the other characters. During one particular Christmas episode, Swiper ended up on Santa’s “naughty” list for his long list of capers. Swiper was doomed to receive no presents for Christmas. The show sought to teach children to show mercy on people who have done wrong; Dora rallies her friends to help her teach Swiper the true meaning of Christmas. They take Swiper on a journey through time, of course using Map for directions, and Backpack for supplies, in hopes of helping him reverse the wrongs of his past. In the end, Swiper learns that it is better to give than to receive, or “swipe” in his case.

As a parent, there are a few aspects of the show that cause me some alarm. Dora and her best friend, Boots the Talking Monkey, are almost always unsupervised by adults. All of their adventures from the mountains to the beach, and the desert to the jungle are always done alone. I hope that no young child would take it upon themselves, to help save a lost puppy or go “exploring” without letting an adult know first. Along those same lines, in almost every episode, Dora takes a ride from her friend, Tico the Squirrel, to get to her destination faster. She will hop into Tico’s car, plane, or submarine without ever taking the time to ask her mom first. However, as soon as she is in the vehicle she always buckles her seatbelt and says, “Seatbelts, so we can be safe!” I have peace of mind knowing that if my daughter ever takes a ride from a stranger, she will definitely be insistent upon wearing her safety belt.

For my daughter, Dora the Explorer has been a great resource for reinforcing many of the things I try to teach her. Sharing, being kind and merciful, and problem solving are some of the key elements the show offers that I like the best. The color recognition, counting, and teaching of the Spanish language are definite bonuses as well. Like most cartoons, as a parent I just take it for what it is. I make sure to talk with my daughter about each episode and remind her that no matter what she does, checking with mom first is always the best choice!

Hi, my name is Danielle and my husband is an alcoholic. He has been drinking heavily for about the last 6 years. By heavy, I mean that he has been drinking 12-18 beers on a daily basis. I have made excushttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifes to make it seem okay: "At least he drinks at home and isn't at the bar." "He gets up and goes to work everyday." "He doesn't get physical with me or the kids." When the kids would ask why he wasn't at one of their functions, I would lie and say he wasn't feeling well.

Over the past year, I stopped making excuses. If the kids asked, I was honest. I was tired of covering up. I still loved him, but I wasn't "in love" anymore. The way he looked when he was passed out drunk made me want to vomit. The thought of having sex with him, disgusted me to the core. We had an incident in our home on Christmas and that was the last straw. I had threatened before, but I never really meant it. This time I did. The next morning when he was sober enough to listen to me I said, "You will check yourself into treatment by Friday or you will find a new place to live by Friday." For once, I didn't yell, I didn't cry, I didn't try to degrade him. I said it in a very calm, controlled voice, and I walked away.

Apparently he knew I meant it! He called me later that day and asked for the phone number to a local business that runs and i-patient program. He was signed up and living there by my deadline. He originally planned on doing a 10-day treatment, but 3 days in he decided to extend to the 21-day plan. At about day 18 he decided he wanted to continue after his in-patient program with day treatment. I don't think I have ever been so proud of him than I am at this moment. He is truly working his program. He is following the twelve step model and is eve interesting in going to church.

He is supposed to graduate from the in-patient portion of his program tomorrow. This event fills me with mixed emotions. I am so super excited that he will be home. I am excited to start our life fresh. I am excited to build our relationship, because we have started to flirt again. I am excited to watch his relationship with the kids bloom. I am scared that once the safety net of his in-patient program is gone, he will drink again. I am worried that his tools to stay sober won't be strong enough when something triggers him.

I have learned that I am not the one who made him drink and I cannot keep him from drinking in the future. I have learned that I need to own my emotions and that nothing he does ca make me mad; I choose that feeling. I will start attending Alanon meetings, and read ay literature I can get my hands on about Codependency and how to break the cycle. His disease has become my disease; we both have lots of healing to do and we will take it one day at a time.

As I sit here thinking about the Republican GOP Primary debates, some things come to mind. I vote based on issues that are close to my heart.

I would never vote for someone who was not against abortion. I don't understand abortion, and I don't want to. I hear arguments that it is a woman's body, it is her choice. That is a load of crap! If it was her body she should be classified as mutated because she would have two heads, two sets of lungs, and two hearts. Not to mention four eyes, four arms and four legs. It is not herself she would be killing, it is somebody else, and in my book that means murder.

America is the land of opportunity. All people should be treated equal. If one person works hard and becomes financially successful, there is no reason whatsoever that he should be held to different tax standards than the next guy. Our rich should not have to pay for our poor!

Speaking of the poor brings me to my next point of the welfare system. Having been in dire straits before, I have been the recipient of WIC, Food Stamps, and state funded health care. That being said, I have worked hard to get out of that situation and be self supportive. I will admit that my family still receive state funded healthcare, but we do pay a premium. My husbands employer does not offer it at his current status. I know a lady who is receiving $682 in W-2 money. In addition to that, she receives food-stamps, WIC, FREE healthcare, her rent is paid by Westcap for a minimum of the next one year, she gets free electricity. Did I mention that she is pregnant with her 3rd child, and I know of at least two abortions that she has had. She is refusing to work because she has a bad ankle; however, I have personally witnessed her running while playing with her children, pushing a heaping cart full of groceries around the grocery store, and biking three miles with her children to take them trick-or-treating to a neighborhood that "gives better candy." In addition, she lives in a 2nd story apartment, and seems to have no issues walking up and down a full flight of stairs. I think that our social service systems are abused in this country and need to be reformed. They need to have checks and balances in place that will protect our children and weed out abusers. First and foremost, drug testing should be mandatory for all recipients of any welfare program! You have enough money for tobacco and booze, but not enough for food, clothing and housing for your kids? You need to take a look at your priorities and the monies you receive from the government should be adjusted accordingly.

I have so many more political issues that I believe in, maybe I shall comment on some of those again soon. Until then, please get to know your political candidates and make the right choices when voting!