29 May, 2006

Home Alone-ish; Memorial Day

Home Alone-ish
So B had to go away on business this past week, and we girls were home alone. I was very proud of us - we were on time everywhere we went (proving my theory about who, exactly, slows us down!), although we ate almost every meal out and we did the bare minimum laundry and cleaning to get by. I really wanted to have the house perfect...everything fabulous...when B got home but instead, DRAMA.

We made it all the way from Wednesday to Sunday with nothing more difficult to deal with than an unexpected trip to the grocery store, then, as we were cleaning up and deciding if we should bake B a cake or go to the pool, Meghan came crawling in from the living room. "Baby, why are you crawling?" I asked, and stood her up.

She cried and sat down. My mad mothering skillz kicked in and I realized Something Must Be Wrong. So I started poking around on her legs and feet and trying to elicit a response (i.e. make her cry harder so I could figure out just what the hell we were dealing with here.) I cleaned her little feet and I thought saw it - a splinter. But I wasn't sure if it was a splinter or some crap stuck to her foot, so I gave her the wipes and asked her if she'd throw them away. She took two steps and sat down crying. OK, something was definitely going on and I was pretty sure that it was a splinter and that it had to come out.

So I ran upstairs and got first aid supplies. No really, I have those.

And I went back down and laid Megs on the couch and started digging in her foot with my tweezers. Yeah, no. She was not quite as thrilled with all that as one might expect.

I struggled and tried and finally decided that I can't do this and packed the kids up and headed for the Urgent Care. I know. I was horrified too. On one hand, seriously, the Urgent Care? For a splinter? Come on now. City girl sissy. Spoiled princess with spoiled princess children. Walk it off! That little ol' splinter work itself out eventually.

On the other hand, my baby was not walking, she was crying and miserable, and I could not fix it but, due to my aforementioned mad mothering skillz, I was well aware of who could fix it and where they were and, yippee, how much it would cost me.

So off we went.

Long story short, dude, (hey Jeff!) they numbed her foot, she fell asleep with me holding her in the procedure chair, they dug around in her foot and got out a nice sized, jagged piece of glass. Glass, people!

And she got herself a big orange band-aid and some chocolate donuts and bananas at the grocery store and Mommy got to vaccuum! I can not imagine where that glass came from - I know it doesn't really matter, but I need the Urgent Care people to know that I did not shove this glass into her foot and nor did I set up a crushed glass obstacle course between the stairs and the cheese (because you know Miss Megs loves her some cheese!).

You know us, it's always something!

Unplanned Aside
I bought the Megan Mullally CD because when she and Sean Hayes sang on the last Will and Grace they were fantastic and, thanks to the internet and overstock.com, you can get pretty much anything anytime without thinking it all the way through and I thought, damn, I could hear more of that, well, let me say.

Randy Jackson is right.

Song choice is everything.

Where did she come up with this crap?

Now back to our regularly scheduled crap!

Memorial Day
First off, shout out to Jeff who is working today! Seriously!

I am reading the Jessica Lynch story in honor of Memorial Day. It's OK, not great, but it does put you smack dab in the reality of war from a woman's (well, a girl's) point of view, and I think that must be far different from a man's. She was ill-prepared, emotionally, for what happened to her and her company. They thought that as a supply operation they would be safe. But all it took was one wrong turn, one seemingly stubborn commanding officer, and one city full of pissed off Iraqis to make the meaning of doing one's duty; of serving one's country; of the notion that the very soil we walk on and the very freedoms we treasure by taking for granted being paid for with the blood of our soldiers to go from maudlin, overly-dramatic cliche to reality. And that is what happened to her and her company.

It's a good story and it reminds me, especially on Memorial Day, that someone has had to fight for the way of life we enjoy, for the right to cook on grills in our own backyards, for the freedoms to worship, to work, to have children and raise them however we want, to love who we want to love (I mean, unless you are gay), to say what you think and to vote. People have died for these things, and people have given their whole careers, their whole lives, to ensure that America stood for something.

People like Nick Richardson, people like my grandfather, Jerry, people like Brian Shaver, people like the thousands** of soldiers, sailors, marines, airmen, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, lovers and friends that have died in Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait, the USS Cole, Somolia, Vietnam, Korea, WWI and WWII, even the Civil War, the War of 1812, the Revolutionary War...the list goes on and we are a young nation. Each of those men and women who have died mean something to someone. They had dreams, and goals, and things to live for. Yet, for us, for a paycheck, for the promise of money for college or an easy home loan, they gave their all.

And Thank You just doesn't seem like enough. But it is all I have.

Thank you.

sfw

**And why is it that I can not find an exact number of military deaths in Iraq? INFURIATING because this is the INTERNET for God's sake and seriously, can someone not post it please?