Good karma and other things

You know, I don't usually write about things that happened but today was just a strange day. I went to run errands. Go to the pharmacy and get my prescription, the post office to mail job applications and taxes.

Going to the pharmacy isn't all that convenient, it's on a corner where two pretty heavily traveled highways intersect. It involves lots of u-turns to get in and out of there in some reasonably safe way. So I go in and ask for my prescription which I had called to get refilled ahead. Lady goes away for a few minutes and then comes back to ask me for my id card. Lady goes away again, long time. I'm like ok, what. She comes back after five minutes and tells me I can't pick up my prescription because my insurance system is down. YAY I leave, on the way to the car, the sky opens up and down the rain comes. LOL

Then while I'm making u-turns to go back toward the post office, I see this suv with one of those Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes peeing on something stickers. You know the ones I'm talking about, usually on trucks, Calvin peeing on a Ford if the truck is a Chevy kind of thing. This one was Calvin peeing on:

Jose ______ (some last name)
Deadbeat Dad Since
1992

That's just harsh. Now I know about dead beat Dads. Nonetheless, I would never have put that on my car. Imagine how that must make the child feel!

Ok, so off I go up the road to the post office. I go in, do my thing, come back out, its still raining. There is a woman by my car doing something. I get closer and realize she's trying to figure out how to get her child in her car. Some asshat has parked like less than a foot from the side the child's car seat is on. I can't even figure out how the asshat has gotten out of the vehicle! Child is screaming, it's raining on him, I would scream too I bet. She's just upset, the little boy is not that little, probably 18 months or so, not that easy to wrangle into a car seat on the other side of the car, plus he's screaming. I just told her I would back out, block traffic and then she could back out far enough to get the little boy out of the stroller, into the seat and get the stroller put away. I said I would stay in the way until she was back in her car.

So I did that, blocked traffic in the parking lot and got out to watch the baby while she backed up til I told her to stop at the point she could open that car door, then I hopped back in my car while she got organized. Meanwhile pick up truck man is behind me and very annoyed at the whole thing. He's waving his arms and getting all red faced. I'm ignoring him completely. LA LA LA He's up high, he can SEE what is going on, it's RAINING. Please, just give the girl a BREAK, ok? I didn't yell at him, though the thought crossed my mind, I just decided to keep with the good karma I had going.

That led me to thinking about how we forget things. We forget labor, we forget sleeplessness, we forget not being able to take a shower that is more than five minutes and a long soaking bath? Not in your dreams. We forget how hard it is to just do a simple thing, like go to the post office, when you are alone and have a child. Yeah, pack up the stuff (for included with the title mother is also the title "pack mule"), load it, load the child into the car seat with the all buckles and stuff, make sure you have the stroller. Get to the post office, get the stroller set up, unbuckle all the buckles and stuff, get the kid in the stroller, rebuckle all those buckles. Go in to the post office. Now come out and do it all again. That's just ONE kid. Again, I don't know how you guys do it. I salute you and I'm proud of you and I hope no asshat ever parks so close to you that you have to depend on the kindness of strangers to get back into your car. *sigh*

While I was writing this the pharmacy called, system back up. Guess what, "patient not covered" Ummm what? Husband is still in the Army, we're still married, nothing has changed. God. YAY I get to play with Tri Care tomorrow. Ugh.

The Cost of War

I just, well, go read what Claire says. I'm tired. For me, for my family, this is the cost of war:


October 24, 2003, Baghdad, Sylvester and Zach on Zach's 21st birthday

that day again

Robert Fulghum:
"I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge -- myth is more potent than history -- dreams are more powerful than facts -- hope always triumphs over experience -- laughter is the cure for grief -- love is stronger than death."

My friend Claire left that quote for me last year, and I think it really is true.

I say it's that day again, and it is. But you know, it is that day every day. There isn't a day when I don't think of Zach, when I don't miss him. I don't believe there ever will be. Every day something reminds me of him, something makes me long for a different outcome. Its just the way it is.

Today is five years and it still feels the same...

Kelly Rose Got Married

So right shortly after Lt Dan left the sunny place Lisa and I left the sunny place for Maine and Kelly's wedding. Now I guess I need to say who Kelly Rose is -- she's my Kelly girl, and she was my son Zach's girl and best friend for a very long time. I am reasonably sure, that Kelly was "the one." Zach told me she was, and I think that marriage is where they would have ended up had Zach's story not ended so abruptly. Kelly was the one who made Zach look "for the next right thing to do." She is a very special and charming young lady.

I wouldn't have missed the wedding for the world and I am so happy and glad for Kelly and her husband. Still, it was a milestone for me and a bittersweet one at that. Returning to Maine, to all the places and spaces that we had been with Zach, driving the same roads, seeing our old house. Phew. Then watching Kelly being escorted by her Dad, I am so proud of me for holding it together and not sobbing or anything awful. Lisa was a big help in keeping me focused on the joy.

Some observations...damn we drove a long way to just go to the grocery store or ANYTHING. LOL I guess when you live there you don't realize that you live on a mountaintop in the boonies until you return and see just how far it is! The other thing is -- when we moved our old neighbors kept in touch for a long while. They did not especially like the people who bought our house because they had chickens...chickens running around loose chickens. I don't know, chickens are ok with me, but anyway. So when we were at the wedding someone told us that the people who bought our house have alpacas. I didn't even know what an alpaca WAS. Yeah, I looked it up. We went by, and sure enough...alpacas. I guess the barn and pastures weren't enough so they fenced the beautiful front and side yards for the alpacas too. *blink* Ahhh well, to each his own I guess.

There was one funny Zach story from the wedding reception too. Kelly's Mom made sure we were sitting with people I knew and who knew Zach. There was a young man and his wife and his mother that were seated with us who knew Zach very well. I didn't really know this particular kid, he didn't hang out at our house. Anyway, when they figure out I am "Zach's Mom" (funny how that never really goes away even when Zach has, I am still and always Zach's Mom) his Mom says "OMG your son is the one who lent Andrew his ID so he could go get a tattoo when he wasn't 18!" I just had to laugh. That sounds exactly like Zach. Mostly harmless stuff...but still, always something. So apparently Andrew was going into the military as well and using Zach's ID he went and got himself a Marine Bulldog. I guess Kelly was furious with Zach for lending Andrew his ID. Andrew's Mom was none too thrilled either. It ends up Andrew didn't go into the Marines, rather he went into the Air Force...complete with his Marine Bulldog tattoo. Compliments of my child and unbeknownst to me. Yep...perfect Zach story.

A lot of the trip to Maine was an adventure. I drove more miles in severe thunderstorms than I do here at home in the land of thunderstorms. I actually had to pull off the 95 one time because it was hailing and blowing tree branches and I couldn't see...that is actually a first, never had to do that before. Then the radio goes into emergency broadcast mode and tells us we're pulled off the side of the road for a tornado. Of all things, in Maine, a tornado. Ok fine.

Lisa and I stayed at a couple of really great hotels and watched thunderstorms from our balcony on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic and that was just killer. Then she went off to Quebec for a month and here I am, at the sunny place again blabbing away.

Lego's

I don't know why, but I was just sitting here remembering Lego's, you know those wonderful little bits of plastic block. The same ones that once you grow up past the toddler huge size that you just trip over and get to the regular size become tiny weapons that hate your feet and the dog likes to chew.

Zach used to disappear into his room for hours on end playing with Ninja Turtles and He-Man, cars, and Lego's. My closet was in Zach's room so one winter Saturday I went up to put away laundry and Zach had been in his room for a very long time. The door was closed. I knocked, he responded with "wait a minute Mom" and I hear all this shuffling. "Ok, I think you can open the door now." Hmmm so I gingerly open the door and thunk, run into something. I can get my head in there now so I peek around the door. The child has made an entire lego interstate system in his room. Big lego's, little lego's, ALL the lego's and the wooden blocks too. There are bridges, and overpasses, ramps up to his bed. I can't get in. He was playing with his cars all over this highway system. He was seven, not quite eight years old. I wish I had a picture of that.

Many years later while Zach was in Iraq, I sent him a couple of Star Wars Lego sets for his 21st birthday and then Christmas. He assembled them all too! Not exactly what you would WANT to be doing on your 21st birthday but it was something to do and different.

Boys are fun.

Five Years, the first year

I've been pondering this topic for a long while now. While I want to say something, I am afraid if I start it will all come rushing out in a huge gush and make utterly no sense. So, I'll start, and we'll see. As I sit here pondering I think it better to go year by year. So this is my year one. 2003

Zach came home from Germany for my Uncle Bud's funeral at the first of the year. I hadn't seen him in two years and it was oh so good to pick him up in Chicago. I went by myself and so I had him all to myself on the two hour drive home. How I cherish that time we had to talk.

One of the things that stands out in my memory most was a precursor of things to come. As the family was gathered with the officiating pastor to remember Uncle Bud so that she could write her talk at his service the talk turned to Afghanistan and Iraq. Knowing that my son had already received his orders (this was a secret) and was returning to immediately deploy to (also a secret) didn't help me as the pastor began to expound in great detail about how Afghanistan and potentially Iraq were for no reason other than oil and money and she was so glad her son would not have to fight in these worthless endeavors because he was serving in the Army Band.

I opened my mouth, my son gave me a look I had never before seen and I closed my mouth. In that look, that hand held up flat facing me at his knee, I saw my adult son, the one that had grown completely up while he was away and I was not able to see it. I saw so much, I loved and respected him so much more in that instant. I wish I could remember what words he said exactly, sadly I can't. It was something along the lines of Ma'am, we do what we must to protect our country and our loved ones, we serve at the will of the Commander In Chief, we will go where we must and we provide you with the opportunity to have and voice your opinion. Now, let's talk about Uncle Bud. All this in a very quiet, calm and commanding voice. All this from my son.

I wish I could say that I would have handled that with the dignity he did. I know I would not have, I wanted to slap the woman. Seriously. I tried to carry the lesson forward with me through that first year and behave in a way that was respectful to my son and his service and to the rest of our family and their service. I come from a very long line of military service and I am proud of that but I have also learned not to take sides and get into dramatic battles -- carry your opinion, that is your right.

That first year I wrote this to my Army Moms group, in answer to the question "What have you learned?"


...to acknowledge the nightmare voices in the back of my head and then return to focus on what is, not on what could be. If I stayed with what I knew, that the last time I talked to my son he was ok, then I could remain ok.

...to read every single thing I could find about the conflict my son was involved in, including the cultural history of the country he was fighting in. It made me feel better to be armed with knowledge and the best understanding I could get of the situation he was facing.

...to use and continually check every news source known to Armymoms in the universe, especially those available at 3am when I woke up with "the horrors"

...to find several complicated, highly detailed cross stitch projects that I could work on while watching carefully chosen mindless television shows designed to keep me from thinking (this works very well as an Armymoms mini-mind vacation)

...to depend on the counsel of some very wise women all over the world, and to reach out when I felt alone and just say that--I feel alone, please tell me I'm not. Oh how good is the love of other women who know what it is to be the mother of a soldier.

...to write, each day, just a little bit in a letter to my son, and then send it every three days. Very much like a journal, but for the benefit of my son. Little things. The buds on the trees, something silly the dog did, whatever small ray of sunshine struck me that day I would write. He told me that was a wonderful thing, to let his mind rest with thoughts of home as I was seeing it.

...to always say how much I loved my soldier and how proud I was of him and the duty he was doing, and to always send him things about those here at home who were also proud of him and his fellow soldiers.

...to accept that we are a diverse people, we do not always agree, and while I may not agree I must give my best effort to just accept others at face value and without judgment.

...to accept that I am not made of steel, I will cry, at the slightest provocation--at a news story, an Army recruiting ad, at the sight of a mother with her young boy in the grocery store, and it's ok for me to do that.

lastly, to appreciate the freedom I have in the country my soldier represented and fought for, every single little freedom, there are SO many.


As I wrote this post, I heard a blurb...a recent survey shows that only one in three people knows how many lives were lost in Afghanistan and Iraq...I simply can't imagine. I don't much appreciate the press either, any of them. They focus on bad news, numbers, or they fail to report at all (especially good news). Each soldier is very personal to me. They are ALL my soldiers.

Good News From Iraq

You know, I don't talk about Zach the Warrior too much, sometimes. As I go along I'm sure I will. Follows is a story that reminds me of Zach, how he would do things if he could, and in part, he's still around at least in spirit and ideals, with people like Mike.

Over at the Hooah family's place Claire tells a story about her Mike and the Strykers and lots of other folks that made good things happen. So today, Good News From Iraq. Go see.

Binkys and Blankys and such

I was reading over at Trying's place about Pacifier Rehab and it got me to remembering so I thought I'd tell what I was remembering.

I was the kind of parent who always wanted the truth. You could get in a whole lot less trouble if you just told me the truth as opposed to trying to cover up whatever it was you did with a web of (badly told) lies. So every once in a while Zach would get in my face and tease me about how I LIED TO HIM, about how I damaged him FOREVER with these LIES. *chuckle* Add to that the blame I took for the fact that Zach always got sleepy in cars--he had colic and for a couple of months driving in the car was the only peace I got from screaming between the hours of 4pm and 4am. But I digress. This teasing was always done with huge amounts of humor and love, it was fun and of course I had NO defense, I did lie.

I lied when I said we left his binky (pacifier) at Aunty's house far away and we would just have to get used to going to sleep without binky because we couldn't get another one. Rinse, repeat -- we're talking to a toddler remember. This made for a difficult week or so, but eventually with extra story time and hugs in the rocker from Mom we got through it. I still have that damn binky, stashed away in two footlockers of Zach stuff, along with blanky (there are some things one just must KEEP.) Of course we still had blanky...

I also lied when we "accidentally" left blanky at Aunty's as well three years later. Zach had this blanky, he'd had it since he was born. White, soft, wide ribbon trimmed blanket. Yeah. The healer of all hurts, the car quieter, the nap partner, the I'm sick buddy, and there was no having a story and going to bed without this blanket. Blanky traveled everywhere and trips would be halted and returns to home made if blanky was somehow *gasp* forgotten. Well blanky went to pre-school where Zach went while I was in college full time, but when it came time to go to kindergarten blanky couldn't go and needed to ummm "disappear." By this time, poor blanky was just a shred of his former self. Mostly small swatches of the original soft material and just a bit of ribbon trim left and so he stays now with binky, full of memories.

The third lie was about peas. I hate peas. I really hate peas. Well, ok maybe fresh peas like in Chinese food I will eat (plus there's just some peas, not a whole pile and other things are there to disguise them), but not canned peas. No. Never. I can't even OPEN a can of peas without holding my breath, the smell is nauseating. I was trying to be a good mother. I didn't want to pass my prejudice about peas on to my child. Sooo....I always loved my peas so much I ate them in the kitchen while I was cooking them. I just couldn't WAIT until dinner to eat my peas. I lied. Zach believed me too, and he thought peas were great. Ugh.

Ahhh the things we do to be good parents. Hang in there Mom's, they will turn out just fine because you are paying attention. I promise.

Sometimes I wonder who you'd be today...

Always look at the bright side of life.

I love and miss you Zach.