At Least They're Responsive?

I remember when I was pregnant with my first daughter, Anaya. I was so paranoid about raising her properly, bringing her up to be a "good citizen" and a "strong woman." I was also single at the time, so I was hoping she'd also turn out to be a super awesome feminist, maybe turn into a doctor or a movie star, and then she'd take care of her mother forever and ever. Because we would be the best of friends.

Even while she was still in my belly, I worried about communication with this tiny little person inside me. Would she even want to talk to me when she got older? How would I talk to her about the difficult issues in life? Would I even be able to talk to her without stumbling over my words or distancing her through lame attempts to be cool and appeal to her obviously better tastes than mine? Anaya hadn't even been born yet and already I was worrying my head off about choices she'd be making that wouldn't even happen for another (hopefully) thirteen to sixteen years.

There's so much time there to consider. She was born three days early and I eventually lost my worries about communication. I was caught up in returning to work, balancing breastfeeding and work (note: in the military, this does not go so well), finding the appropriate daycare situation, reconciling with her father, our eventual marriage and his deployment... I could go on for an entire blog post about Anaya's first year of life and all the tumult and upheaval that occurred therein.

Fast forward a few years and Anaya now has a little sister, Breanne, and I'm a work at home mother instead of working full/over/insane time in the Navy. I've been enjoying the time I'm able to watch them grow older. Anaya and Breanne are now 4 and almost 2, respectively. It's mind boggling to think about all the time that has gone by and everything that has changed in what sometimes seems like a short amount of time. And now, of course, that I have just a fraction more time on my hands, I've been circling back to thoughts of communicating with this two wonderful girls as they continue to grow.

Those thoughts, though, are often thwarted by the response I get whenever I do attempt communication. I'm often met with whining, huffing, and other diva-esque tantrums by Anaya. She's convinced she's a princess of the highest sort. Breanne, on the other hand... well, let's just say she's got a set of lungs and a tendency to scream and squeal incoherently. All this was frustrating at first.

And then I realized something - if they're responding, at least they heard what I said. So I'll let them huff and whine and squeal. It means they at least heard what I said.

What the Crap, Yo?

Was the title lame enough for you? Because only people who truly care will dare to read on beyond this. I'm kidding. Perhaps if you're extremely bored you will. But my hoards of minions (read: the four or five people who frequent this place) will certainly be interested.

Most of you know all this, so feel free to skim if you're already up to date. For the rest of you, I'll explain my lengthy absences as best I can. No, there is no note from my doctor. I'm sorry, I promise I'll make up the extra homework I'm sure I missed. And can I get an extension on that research paper?

Things have been tumultuous, to say the extreme least. There was the trip to South Dakota, which was approximately three weeks long. Three weeks of enough internet connection to get college work done, and that was it. I think I was able to upload some photos and whatnot to Facebook, but that was during extremely lucky times. I did enjoy the tech break, though. It was nice to get back to normal, non-text life for awhile.

Fast forward to our grand arrival back here in the middle-of-nowhere, Nevada. After a couple days' worth of a breather, we're back into full swing. Somewhere in between then and now, we acquired the following:

A new truck:

And a new dog:
Thing is, the new dog was acquired barely a week before MarvMan's departure to Virginia for some more technical training. And so... I've been cleaning up puppy accidents since he's been gone. In addition to finishing up ENG121 and just this week getting into ENG122. And taking care of the girls. The house. Both dogs. Somewhere in there, myself.

So my deepest apologies to my followers on here. I promise I'll do my best to keep up more often. I've got a few drafts saved, so trust me that there's material up my sleeve. It's just a matter of finding the time to breathe long enough to post new blogs. But I promise, promise, promise I'll do what I can. I've missed you all on here. xoxo

Celebrating A Life

Sometimes the smallest footprints make the biggest impressions on our souls.



Jacob is no exception. Today those footprints belong to Jacob, the son of a woman, Erin, who I am so honored to call my friend. He has touched the lives of so many people already, and he left this earth almost six years ago. Today is his birthday, and he would have been seven.

That sweet little boy is playing with the angels and watching over his mommy now, who shares his story so that others are aware - window blinds can kill children. Special, precious children like Jacob.

I had just moved in to a new apartment. I had been putting things away in my children’s room, and had put together the crib. To keep it out of the way, I pushed it against the closest wall. Which was also next to the window. As my son and daughter slept, I put their clothes away, kissed them good night, and then went to bed myself.

The next morning, I went in to check on them. Kylie met me at the door. I thought Jacob was still sound asleep. But when I took a closer look, I realized his head was cocked at a funny angle and the strings to the blinds were around his throat. I panicked.

From Jacob's Memorial Page.

Please visit Jacob's online memorial to read the full story. And then go to this website to learn more about blind cord safety and how to get your free kit to make your own blinds safer.

I love you, Erin. Thinking about you today and celebrating precious Jacob's life.

Just a Bit of Clarification

Those of you who read my post prior to this know that I've uh... broadcast my dislike of Twilight. And I think maybe some people deserve a bit of clarification.

Those of you who may have taken my posts personally - I'm very sorry. For as much as there are people who are going to run around and shout from the rooftops how much they love it, there needs to be room for those who don't like it to air their side. (FYI, Stephen King doesn't think Meyer is very good either.)

One thing that I do want to emphasize, that is continually being missed, is that these books weren't originally intended for adults. They were, and still are, YA novels. (YA = young adult) The YA genre is marketed for the 12-18 year old age range. So let me ask you this. If your daughter (or your hypothetical daughter; c'mon, play with me here) were to read this and take it to heart, how would you feel?

Edward is a mentally, verbally, and emotionally abusive character purported to be a protagonist. Now your daughter wants to find a man like this. Or perhaps she simply wants to find a boyfriend who's going to bite her neck. A lot. Even worse, she might want to find a boyfriend who sparkles. Does that dazzle you?

Bella does practically nothing throughout the series except get herself into dangerous situations (occasionally on purpose so she can see Edward when he comes to "rescue her"), get pregnant and then allow someone to perform an oral c-section on her to remove said hellspawn. Is this the kind of role model you want for your daughter? Never mind that her character had me wanting to slap people by the third chapter. Do you want to be a mother to the next Bella Swan? Really?

The books, through their plot line, put teen pregnancy in a positive light. You know, as long as it's true love. Now, I can't say much for premarital sex seeing as I had my first daughter seven months prior to actually getting married, but can you see where this is probably not a good thing? Bella drops any and all future plans (hello, college? Bella's not coming, kthnx.) because she's in "love" with Edward and wants to have his hellspawn babies despite knowing that it will most likely kill her. How many of you were in real love at the age of 17? Come on.

I'm not even going to cover the strangeness of Edward gnawing Bella's uterus open in order to deliver the LochNessie CullenMonster. Or Jacob "imprinting" himself on the wee one. Really? I mean... Wow. It all comes across as though Meyer was grasping at straws seeing as she made her vampires fangless, "vegetarian," and sparkly. It contradicts everything we've ever been taught about vampire legends in folklore the world over. And yet there are millions who swallow it down for whatever reason. But what worries me the most are the young girls who practically idolize Meyer and emulate Bella and are searching for their Edward Cullen.

Doesn't this concern anyone? At all? Is no one worried about their kids desperately trying to follow these examples?

What it comes down to - what it always comes down to with books like these - is parental supervision and interaction when reading the books. It could be a fabulous model for how not to write and what not to do when confronted with a sparkly dude who watches you sleep and whose biggest attraction to you is that he wants to kill you. (Hint: Call the friggin cops is a good idea. Getting yourself impregnated is a bad idea.) Unfortunately, parental supervision and involvement these days is few and far between.

Anyway, I just wanted to clear the air. I promise I'll get back to my regularly semi-scheduled blogging as soon as I come up for air underneath the mounds of school work I've got to do. Smooches.