Barking Mad

Leaving on a Jet Plane...Part III - And She Takes to the Air!

Here we are...there she is.

We made it through Meg's departure for BMT (Basic Military Training) with the USAF.  The past couple of days have been more hectic than anything I can recall in recent months.  Even more so than last year when she left for college.

There was so much that went into this moment for her, but I'll start with the last 12-24 hours leading up to her getting on the airplane and flying off into the wild blue yonder.

Monday afternoon Meg had to report to her NCO's office for her last DEP (Delayed Entry Program, which she was part of) check in.  Sgt. Lebreck prepared her for the hell that the first few days of BMT were going to be like.  He also spoke directly to us and warned us to just sit tight because we wouldn't hear from her for the first week to 10 days.  She was going to have to earn the privilege to call home and with that phone call would come her address, where we could write to her.  

Sgt. Lebreck also told Meg that her first day there would be one in a string of about three weeks of solid hell, but would probably be the longest. 

 

From Sgt. Lebreck's office we had to take Meg to the hotel she was required to check into the night before her final processing and swearing in, at the Portland MEPS office.   We spent the evening with Meg, Matt, Meg's boyfriend Tyler and her best friend Chris.  She had to be back at the hotel by curfew, so after dinner we dropped her off and told her we'd meet her at the MEPS station early the next morning.

We texted for a while until she fell asleep. I didn't think she'd get too much sleep and either did she but she ended up being able to sleep from about 11PM until the MEPS guys came and woke her up at 4AM.  I got up at 4AM as well because I couldn't sleep for thinking about everything she was going through.

All of us (Gareth, me, Gaby, Matt, Tyler and Chris) showed up at the MEPS station around 8AM and were waiting for her to finish security processing and for her name to be called for her "official"  Oath of Enlistment.  It differed from when she swore in back in May because this time because back then, she was simply swearing into the DEP (Delayed Entry Program) and not signing her name in blood so to speak.  Technically, anytime between then and now she could have walked away from the USAF with no issues, however yesterday once she signed her final contract and then took her Oath, that was it.  She is now technically and literally property of the United States Government.

All through the day I would watch Meg's best friend's face, off and on.  He's next to go into the USAF.  His ship date is January 19th.  Chris is a very unique and special young man.  He's become like an older brother to Meg, although they are the same age.  Where one is, you'll often find the other.  He's been a constant around our house over the last few months.  Gaby refers to Chris as "My bruver from anuver muvver!"  He's got a younger sister who's just a year shy of Gaby and I really love listening to him talk about his little sister, Abigail, and watching his eyes light up as he talks about this or that - that she's done lately.  I can imagine how hard it's going to be for him to say goodbye to her, as it was for Meg to hug  Gaby goodbye...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The earlier part of yesterday at the MEPS station was pretty much nothing more than "hurry up and wait" as Meg's flight time got bumped back from 1:10PM to 4:10PM.  

Tyler and Meg, just hanging out and waiting at the MEPS visitor area...

 

They finally called Meg's name and asked for her and her guests to go to the Oath room where we were able to watch her be sworn in...

 

 

  

 

 

Once she was sworn in they let the parents of those who were shipping out take our airmen outside of the MEPS center to get some breakfast and just spend some time with them before they were due to go through their travel briefing at 11:45AM.  We took the kids down to the wharf along the Portland waterfront and had breakfast.  I'm so grateful for those extra few hours with our girl.  I know that her flight being pushed back made her day even longer, but for those of us who were there with her, we will always cherish those last few silly and precious hours before she took to the air.

After breakfast we dropped the kids off at the MEPS center and told them we'd meet them at the airport.  Meg forgot to pack a towel with her stuff and it was one of the items she was told to bring with her to BMT.  So we ran back to the house and grabbed a towel and by the time we were done she was already at the airport.

One of the benefits of having a child who is now referred to as on "Active Duty" (I will admit that just saying those words takes a little getting used to), is that we were given security passes at the airport to wait at the gate with Meg.

It was a little surreal, sitting up there with the families of other kids getting ready to ship out.  All of us were pretty subdued.  I sat back as Gaby played with her posse of Polly Pockets and watched the other families talk quietly with their own airmen, or new Naval trainees (I don't know what the rest of the branches of the military call their new recruits), Marines and Army recruits.  One Navy recruit in particular had about 10 family members with her.  I watched as she'd scoot in close to a family member and snap a picture with them on her Blackberry.  I'd watch the grandparents of another new recruit quietly tell stories of their own time during service to our wonderful country.  I sat and intently watched the father of one of Meg's fellow airmen, dab his eyes as he looked on with pride at his son as he followed in his footsteps.

I watched Meg closely.  I followed her gaze as she'd look at her twin brother, or I'd catch her eyes well up as she watched Gaby play with her toys.  She'd look up from time to time and catch Tyler watching her every move.  I watched Tyler try to reign in his emotions and be strong for his girl...this woman he loves with all this heart.  I scanned Matt's face and watched the tears flow anew as he'd look at his twin sister.  This has been particularly hard on Matt.  He's so proud of his sister but yet misses her with an intensity that's hard to describe. 

I captured a few moments of the "waiting" as we all sat and counted the minutes until her flight number was called to board. 

 

Most of us were on our cell phones, updating Facebook, or Twitter, or texting one another.  I was trying to write down some of the feelings I had as I watched this young woman before me morph from the little girl with long pony tails who loved to chase her brothers with frogs and bugs, into the headstrong teenager who claimed to be a tomboy but whose love of makeup and perfume and body lotion is legendary, to this young woman who now sat before me - this butterfly about to spread her wings for the first time and prepare to show the world her beautiful colors.  I found words hard to come by.  So I just captured moments here and here of these jewels in my crown...my children.

 

 

 

 

Then it happened.  Her flight was called and it was time for hugs, kisses, promises to write, wishes of good luck, and final words or encouragement and support.  And tears.  Oh how the tears flowed and flowed.

I hugged her close and told her how proud I was to call myself her mother and that for every moment of struggle we'd had, those were eclipsed by the moments where I could burst at the seams with pride for my gorgeous girl. I kissed her cheek and told her to go and show the world who she was.

I cried as I watched Gareth's eyes fill with tears as he told Meg to g'on, make herself proud and do her best and he embraced her.  Despite being her step-father, he considers Meg his daughter.  He loves her as if she were his own and as I watched him hug her, I filled with an ever-deepening love for this man. Step-parenting is hard.  It's oh-so-very difficult at times.  He's done a keen job of perfecting the art of parent and friend to her at the times she's needed it the most.

Watching Meg say goodbye to Tyler was hard, but probably not as hard as it was for them to experience it. 

 

And then before I knew it, Meg was standing in line, ready to board the plane.  So many thoughts and emotions swirled around in my head. The tears flowed freely as I'd given up containing them and trying to hold them back.  I could hear Gaby softly crying behind me and calling out Meg's name.  I watched Tyler stick his hands in his pocket and pull his chin up...being strong for his girl. 

 

Meg turned around one last time, waved at us and then she was gone, down the jetway.

Matt held Gaby as they watched the plane through the window.  I could see his shoulders shake as he cried.  He pulled Gaby close and together they watched their sister prepare to head off into the blue skies overhead for adventures unknown.

 

Gaby stood up and walked towards the window and watched as her sister's plane pulled away and prepared for take off...

 

...And when she turned around, my heart broke for her, into a million tiny pieces...

 

I pulled Gaby close to me and told her that very soon, we'd see Meg again and we'd be so proud as she marched in front of us, at graduation from BMT in January. 

We stood and watched as Meg's plane ascended into the clouds until we couldn't see it any longer and then I hugged Chris and Tyler and told them to come by for dinner soon and then they left, with Matt in tow, to go and play some pool.

Gareth and I each took one of Gaby's hands, and left the airport. 

We came home, went about our evening, put Gaby to bed, talked to Matt when he came home, and then tucked in for the night.  The last thing we were expecting was to be awoken out of a dead sleep at 4:30AM by a call from  Meg.  Gareth picked up the call and the first thing I heard was Meg's voice as she said, "Hi Dad..." followed by an intense amount of yelling in the background by the TI (Training Instructor). 

For some reason she was allowed a phone call home, something that's not always the precedent on a new trainees first day of BMT, to give us her address.  We could scarcely hear her for the yelling by her TI in the background.  I wanted to reach through the phone and slap that woman and tell her to shut the hell up so I could hear my daughter.  Gareth got most of the address, or at least tried, amidst the non-stop yelling, and then that was it.  She was gone.  I doubt she'd been to sleep since landing in San Antonio, at Lackland Air Force Base. 

I miss her.  Oh how I miss my girl.  Despite the ache in my heart at her not being here, there is this swell of pride and love for her and for the woman she is going to become.  And for as much as I miss her, I love her so much more.

 

Leaving on a Jet Plane...Part II - Dinner with the Quads

Last night was Meg's last home-cooked meal before she leaves for basic with the USAF.  She heads down to Portland tonight to spend the night at a local hotel to prepare for another mini-MEPS before she ships out tomorrow morning after her official swearing in.  She asked me to make her favourite meal and I gladly obliged.  Parmesan Fried Chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and a crisp green tossed salad, followed by a molten chocolate cake a'la mode.  We also had her boyfriend, Tyler over, as well as Meg's best friend, Chris.

Tonight we head down to Portland to have dinner with Meg near the hotel she's going to be staying at, along with other recruits that ship out tomorrow morning.  Then early tomorrow we go back down to Portland again, this time into the main MEPS station and are present for her official swearing in and say our, goodbyes.

I wanted to get a good photo of Meg and Tyler - one that she can take to basic with her and put up in her locker, or whereever they're allowed to put stuff like this.  However, trying to get a decent shot of the four of these kids, the twins- Matt and Meg, along with Chris and Tyler, where they aren't grabbing each other's boobs, or generally acting like goobers, was easier said than done!

First, I tried to get Meg and Tyler...

After threatening to withhold dessert, I finally got a little cooperation!

 

 

 

Next up I tried, in vain to get a good shot of Meg, Tyler, and Meg's best friend, Chris, who I lovingly refer to as The Three Musketeers.

  

Come on guys!  Work with me!

 

Next up was The Quads, as a whole group.  Yeah, this one took a while seeing as how I had to review with Chris and Tyler, proper hand placement for a group shot!

 

I began to fear I'd never get even a half-way decent shot of the four of them!

 

Eventually, I managed to get a pretty good shot of The Quads...oh and Geronimo too.

 

Beautiful kids!  I love every one of them!  I'm so grateful for the friendship all of Meg's friends have shown to her and her brother Matt, over the past couple of years.  And I've loved having all the laugher, jokes, and conversation fill  my home!

  
   

Leaving on a Jet Plane...Part I

 

image credit  

In a little less than 48 hours, this beautiful girl of mine will be winging her way to San Antonio, TX for 9 weeks of basic training with the United States Airforce.  I've mentioned before what the impetus was for her decision to join the USAF so I won't go into that again.   

 

Over the course of the next couple of days, if the posts are light, or little more than fluff, just know it's because this "letting go" thing is hard.  It's damned hard! My therapist warned me that this was going to be pretty hard, but I didn't listen.  She told me that the harder Meg tried to disentangle herself from the binds that tie (and sometimes gag!), the more fervently I'd try to reign her back in.  It's been so hard recently that the air of tension around here has been palpable.  She has been pushing away - unfurling her wings and testing them out and I have been pulling her back even harder.  Thursday night, we both sat down on her bathroom floor and hugged and cried and just got everything out.  

I think the hardest thing for her has not only been dealing with the incredible leap out of her comfort zone this is going to be, but the unfortunate fact that her paternal family on the west coast has not reached out once in the last several months to wish her well, or even say goodbye.  I can't imagine the ache in her heart.  I do know that this ache will only cause her determination to do her best to burn brighter and harder than anything.  It will only fuel the intensity with which she goes after everything she wants and proves to the world, and most importantly - herself - just who she is!

I'm so excited for her and nervous and anxious...but most of all, I am so intensely proud of this gorgeous girl of mine.

My dearest Meg, Meggo, Meggawatt, Mimi (remember that one?) Maggot, Beautiful Girl, Meaghan...

I remember when I found out that one of the twins I was carrying was going to be a girl, almost as if it were yesterday.  Your big brother Josh was such a rough and tumble kid and totally ALL BOY.  I was overjoyed that I'd get to overdose on pink and have a little girl to share all of the wonderful and sometimes painful things about being a woman, with.  I used to daydream about how you'd have this awesome big brother in Josh to pal around with, and he and Matt would be your protectors and that you'd date Josh's friends and how he'd threaten to kick their butts if they hurt you.   I'd envision scenes of you guys tossing a football around in the back garden, just the three of you, and then you primping for dates whilst your brothers gave whoever the poor boy was, a hard time. 

I'd spend hours writing in my journal as I would sit and feel the first few flutters of movement from you and your brother (and seriously, looking back, I'm really suprised you guys didn't come out with bruises when you were born, especially with your head at his feet and vice versa!  You two certainly were not "calm" in utero!), I'd think about sharing secrets with you, spending days having tea parties, watching you play dress up, letting you brush my hair (even when you took the round brush and um, tangled my hair so completely in that your dad had to cut it out of my hair...oh well, I was due for a trim anyhow!), and giggling as we talked about boys. 

I'm so sorry that your older brother's death took a lot of that away from you and turned me into someone unable to cope with life. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out how to be able to live life again, and deal with the gaping wound in my heart and soul.   

However, I'm grateful for these last two years and the bridges that have been rebuilt.  It hasn't always been easy, but we've made it.  I've been able to watch you grow into this amazing young woman who is so alike me at times, that it's frustrating.  Gareth is beyond proud at the strides you've made, despite the incredible hurt you suffered prior to coming to live with us. Being a step-parent is one of the hardest things in the world but I think you'd agree with me that he's done an outstanding job, even when he's had to referree some pretty intense arguments between you and I.

You and I...we don't always agree and I think that's a good thing.  It shows me that despite the years you spent away from me in the care of people who are so narrow-minded, that you can think for yourself and come to your own conclusions about life and the things around you and that there is more than one way to do something.  You have forged your own path in this world and you are determined to do things by your own terms, everyone else be damned!  I wish I had more of that sort of strength and determination when I was your age.

Over the past few years you've often asked me if I ever regretted the poor decisions I made when I was your age especially after Joshua's death.  I don't regret anything...especially when it comes to my children. I don't know the rhyme or reason behind Joshua's death, or if everything happens for a reason or if his death served a purpose...I know you've asked me these things because you wonder if my life wouldn't have turned out differently had I not hooked up with your dad.  I can't say.  No one can.  But I don't regret a minute of it.  You are all such amazing children....well young adults really.  Sure, I made some really poor choices when it came to how I acted which lead to getting pregnant and not wanting to get married but doing it anyhow.  I can't change any of that.  If I hadn't of had any of you, I wouldn't have experienced the boundless joy that you've each brought into my life and the countless memories - beautiful memories - you've each gifted me with.  So no, I don't regret a minute.

Thank you for being my constant cheerleader for the past two years, especially when things went really bad and I just wanted to die.  I know that you know how close it came.  What you don't know, was that as I sat in that tub of ice cold water, and sat there with the razor blades in my hands, that it was the thought of my kids being the ones to find me that ultimately shook me up enough to call my doctor and make him get me off the merry-go-round that was causing this.  After all was said and done, I sat in Dr. DCK's office and sobbed when I thought about you being the one to find me, especially after everything you'd already been through on the west coast, and how our home has been your safe place...I thought about what that would do to you emotionally and to this day it kills me that I was thinking about doing something which really is the very ultimate in selfish acts.  I know the medication had a lot to do with it, but it still doesn't negate the fact that in the end, I would have been the one making the decision and that I would have ruined several lives, including yours, had I actually gone through with it.

Pulling my huge body out of the tub that afternoon was one of the most difficult things I've ever done, but I did so with you, and your sister and your brothers in mind.  I didn't want to leave any of you with that sort of legacy.

I made you a few promises recently...I won't send Matt back to Seattle, regardless.  He stays with us.  We'll get through the recent turn of events, and we'll do it, intact, as a family.   I won't break that promise.  I also promised you that I'd work harder toward getting healthy and surviving.  If you can survive basic (which you can!) then I can deal with the shit that's been eating away at me and chewing away my core, slowly, for decades.  I promised you that you'd be every bit as proud of me as I am of you...I don't intend on breaking that promise or any of the others.

My beautiful girl, know that we'll be cheering you on, and waiting, oh how I'll be waiting, for that first phone call home.  I'm so damned excited for you.  And nervous.  And scared. And anxious...and maybe just a wee bit envious of all the adventures that lay before you. 

Know that above all else, we love and cherish the woman you are.

You are an American Airman

and

You are my daughter!

I love you!

Mom
  

I'm Not Angry...I'm Just a Bitch

 

The last several days have been a monumental clusterfuck of attitude, ignorance, lack of respect, lack of internet (thanks Comcast! You are on my SUCKIT list too!), shit (both literal and figurative - Geronimo had a rotten tummy - crapped all over himself and got a bath; as a result of said bath, I am now sporting some nifty slices and dices along my arms.), and yelling and screaming with a few threats to kick a certain teenager out of the asylum...it all adds up to one big heaping plate of stress. All of this with only 6 days left until Meg leaves for boot camp.

I'd really love nothing more than to just flush the last six or seven days down the toilet!

Oh and did I mention that I stopped taking my anti-depressant?  No? Well, guess what, I did.  I was beginning to feel better, emotionally anyhow, and I thought to myself, "Self, lets stop taking this expensive little pill, because you're feeling better and we don't need it any more!"  My head-shrinker was on holiday and I'd mention it to her when she got back...surely it wouldn't be that big a deal?  So, voila, just like that I stopped taking them and away went my feelings of well being and with it, the last remaining shards of my sanity.  Oh wait, one of the resident teenagers ran off with some of that as well.

Then we come to The Pumpkin.  How can a pumpkin possibly be construed as something stressful?  It is, after all, just a pumpkin.

After you read this, you're going to think I've completely lost it.  Maybe.

So, when is a pumpkin, carved into a Jack O' Lantern and given to a three-year-old, much more than just a nice gesture?  When it's given to said three year old by a person whom the three year old's mother wants nothing to do with and wants her influence clearly out of reach of the three year old.   Did that make any sense?

Remember this post?  Yeah the same one that's now made me one of the most hated mom's in Maine? The one that's gotten one of our cars vandalized, been the impetus for numerous threatening and harassing phone calls as well as emails (some of you imbeciles out there need to learn how to use an onion router and not try and cover your IP with hidemyass.com!), and caused me to laugh hysterically as teenagers drive by my house and flip me off...Well, the "Young Lady" I referred to in that post, carved a Jack O' Lantern for Gaby yesterday and Meg brought it home with her when "Young Lady" dropped her off after spending some time with her in order to say goodbye before Meg leaves for boot camp.  Before I had a chance to protest, Meg had whisked Gaby outside to show it to her and make sure she knew exactly who it was from. 

Needless to say, Gareth was pissed.   He expressed his displeasure with Meg who, in reply told him that the Young Lady was probably pulled over crying somewhere because she couldn't say hello to Gaby and give it to her personally.  My own reply to that is something along the lines of, "Because your mother is a big fat bitch and wants to limit your little sister's exposure to people she has issues with, a fact you are well aware of, I really don't care if the Young Lady was parked at the end of our street crying her eyes out!"  Yes gentle readers, I am as heartless and cruel as it appears and ya know what, I don't give a shit what anyone thinks.  The gesture was completely inappropriate and Gareth and I will not have Gaby used as a pawn in anyone's game. 

If you are sitting there with your mouth agape and in shock that I could be pissed off over something as innocent as a Jack O'Lantern, well, that's OK.  You might be cool with a gesture like that, to your toddler, from someone who you want your child to have absolutely nothing to do with.  Me?  Not so much.  If the shoes were switched, I'd have steered clear of doing anything like that, especially knowing how the toddler's mother feels.  What's the point in doing it, other than to play games and try and ingratiate yourself in the eyes of a three year old? Whilst I don't begrudge Meg her friends, especially those she is very close to, as she is to the Young Lady; Meg is an adult and will do what she will do. However I still have say in who comes and goes, in any manner, in the life of my three year old.

Of course, Meg made it painfully clear to Gaby who the pumpkin was from and now I've got a three year old who is upset with me that she can't see the Young Lady and say thank you.

Now, this little issue of not acknowledging a gift has, I admit, rankled me since last night.  I have always impressed upon my kids that you say thank you...period.  Despite the intent behind the pumpkin, it was still, in the end, a gift, and should be acknowledged.  Gareth and I disagree on this one point. He believes that the intent negates acknowledgment.   We've discussed the issue back and forth and whilst there is still some residual anger over the gesture and aforementioned intent, we have come to an agreement of sorts.  It's more important for us to encourage Gaby to express gratitude over any gift, large or small and to attempt to let go of the anger at the purpose surrounding it.  And, Gaby genuinely loves the pumpkin.  She knows that her mumma hates to gut the damn things and had been planning on bedazzling one this year and calling it good.  Oh yes I was!

So this is our compromise. 

Given that Gaby is learning French in Montessori, we have been asked by her teachers at school to encourage her to use it here at home...so we did.

P.S.  Gareth says this comes across as very angry.  Whilst I'm not as angry as I was last night, I'm still fairly perturbed.  It will pass though.  If I had still been well and truly angry at this point?  Monsieur Pumpkin would have been so much meat for the pumpkin cookies I'm baking tonight.  But now that would have been childish and immature (like a certain segment of you are no doubt thinking this post is...), non?

The Gift of Gratitude

  

image credit - me

I'm not too sure where I'm going with this, so just roll with me, OK?

Today has been bad.  Really bad.  However, as I sit here in a comfortable chair, surrounded by a husband who loves me and would do anything for me, children who are gifts beyond measure and their laughter like a symphony from heaven - laughter that drifts down around my ears like the softest of downy feathers, I am reminded that all is not lost.  This is a great comfort to me as I slog through my valley of shadows...shadows that today have loomed dark and frightening.

In order to beat back the shadows and stave off the abyss that beckons me from the muddy hole below, I will count my blessings.

I will remind myself and be grateful for...

...The two other toilets in my home which aren't currently blocked by a  Polly Pocket, small bottle of body spray or something less appealing and a husband with nerves of steel, willing to stick his hand down the loo in order to see if he couldn't fish out whatever was blocking the pipe.  No need for hands when there are coat hangers.  Despite the superficial inconvenience, the toilet can wait until we can afford to have a plumber come to the house to repair it so that we don't make matters worse by trying to DIY it. 

...My husband who pulls me up when I refuse to get off the floor and reminds me that it's just a house and there will be others and that the important things are my health and our family's well being.

...My daughter Meaghan who will be leaving in 26 days and heading to Texas for boot camp with the United States Air Force.  She has been and continues to be a powerful force in my life which moves me and touches me like no other.  This beautiful child is excitedly and proudly about to take on a roll, serving her country so that we might all sleep better at night.   She's postponed the rest of her college education in order to take on this new adventure, and in doing so may very well be called to do things, in the name of not only our country, but of our children and grandchildren, that most young women of 19 never dream of doing.  Meaghan, despite our mighty tussles from time to time, you amaze me.  I don't know how I am going to get through the holidays without you, but I will because you wouldn't have it any other way.

...The wind and the rain which wash away the sorrows of yesterday and usher in the promises of tomorrow. 

...The vibrant orange and yellow trees outside my window; such a contradiction to the dark purplish-gray clouds overhead.  They remind me that color and light can still be found in even the darkest of places.

...The company that keeps my husband employed despite the bleak economic outlook, especially here in Maine. I'm grateful for their continued faith in him and for the help of the people who coordinate the health care benefits who have bent over backwards for me - trying to find a way to relieve some of the sting of our medical bills.

...The fact that I live in country where I have the right to voice my opinion and my beliefs and not be jailed for them, regardless of those who might disagree with me, or cry foul.

...Finally standing up for myself and taking some of my own power back and standing my ground.  I did the right thing for my family and for me and refuse to be bullied or swayed by the words of anyone else.

...The little hands that find my heart and without fail every night, cling tight to me and remind me that I might be just one person in this big huge world, but to one person I am the big huge world...Gaby's world.

...Curly hair. It is, in a word, perfect.  And so is the bearer of the curly hair!

...My son Matthew who never fails to ask if there is anything he can to help me out and never hesitates when I say, "Yes Matthew, there is."  He is becoming a wonderful man and I am glad he is here with us.

...This community.  Yes, this one right here, the same one that brought me to you, or you to me. I often tell myself that I everyone out there would never notice if I stopped contributing to this community and it wouldn't make that much of a difference and that you don't need my continued presence to make a difference in your lives.  But...I need you and you all make a difference in my life.  You matter to me and I am grateful for you.  I know I don't hardly come around and comment any more, but please know that I'm there, reading and absorbing your words.  Whether they are profound, humorous, melancholy, or said in the throws of frustration...I am there and listening and so very thankful for your voices.  Through your voices I am able to feel along in the darkness for my own. 

...My voice and the power it gives me when I choose to use it, when I give myself permission to use it. I promise to remind myself each and every day, no matter how hard or impossible it seems, to be grateful for the gift of my voice and to use it...to stand up for myself and use my voice to reclaim the power that was taken from me in the most foul and repugnant manner and to use my voice to regain my footing amongst the rest of humanity. 

...Every day that I open my eyes because it's a day that I haven't let the darkness steal from me.  I won that day and I am blessed with the gift of another day.

  

Don't forget, during the entire month of October, to support the fight against breast cancer, Barking Mad is in the pink!  For every comment left on each post, we'll donate a certain amount to Susan G. Komen for the Cure®.  Read more about it here!

When Sisters Bond

Leave it to my two girls, despite being separated by 16 years, to find common ground in none other than...their hair!

Most of you recognize Gaby with these wild curls...

Here's what happens when the 3 year old decides she wants to hang out with her 19 year old sister. 

Curls, meet flat iron...







And this is what happens when I told her that this little bonding session was NOT going to include make-up! 

Her trademark scowl!

It wasn't even 30 minutes later in nearly 70% humidity that her hair was every bit as curly as it has been before the flat iron even hit her hair.  And for that I'm grateful.  She looks entirely too grown-up with straight hair.

To Interfere or Not to Interfere?

I think the title of this post might be a little misleading, or maybe not.  Judge for yourself once it's all said and done.  Oh and in the interest of full disclosure, Meg knew I was going to write about this as she is well aware of how much this 'issue' is bothering me.

Ever since Meg moved in with us in the summer of '07 she has literally been a magnet for friends.  Our house, despite my reclusive tendencies, has always been the hang-out spot.  Well, let me qualify that last statement.  It was the hang-out spot until very recently when I made it pretty clear that I don't want anyone boozing it up or blazing (weed) anywhere on our property, or around my kids.  This was never an issue when Meg was in high school.  Don't get me wrong, I know it happened [elsewhere] and I am well aware that the tri-city area we are in is infamous for potheads (And to think people wonder why I want to sell the house and go back to Cape Elizabeth?).   I know kids are going to experiment...so long as those kids aren't mine - or aren't living under my roof when it happens.  I would hope that they'd never get involved in things that could be detrimental to their health but I don't live with my head in the sand.   Again, I just don't want it going on in my home.  Yes, I am a hard-ass when it comes to drugs and alcohol.  I don't care if you're an adult and can drink responsibly but you're on crack if you think I'm going to let underage drinking go on anywhere around me. 

Meg has been understanding about the whole thing and is the first to tell her friends, in her own unique way, that it's not cool around here.  Period.

Anyhow, it doesn't bother me that I'm no longer the cool mom in the neighborhood.  What does bother me is the change I'm seeing in some of Meg's close friends because of this and their relationships with her.  It's upsetting because a few of them have pretty much blown her off and in doing so, have made the Little Imp question whether these kids still "like" her or not.  It's bad enough to see the hurt in Meg's face, but it's damned heartbreaking to have my three year old ask me; "Mumma, does XXXXXX not like me no more? How come dey never comes over to our house?"   One friend of Meg's in particular has grown close to the Little Imp lately and she adores this person...literally adores them.  It's very hard to try and explain to her that weed has replaced what was a very close friendship with her older sister and that's why she no longer sees this person.

So I didn't.  I simply told her that so and so has been very busy and hasn't had any time to come by.  It's going to be hard come September when everyone leaves to go back to college and excruciating for the Little Imp in November when Meg leaves for basic for the USAF.  It's difficult enough as the mother of a young adult who is joining the military to watch that young woman go, but as the mother of a toddler who also has to say goodbye...hell, just sitting here and typing the words has me in tears.

Here's my dilemma...I want to throw the mother of all going away parties for Meg.  We've all talked about it and with her twin brother moving to Maine and in with us a week from today, the timing will be perfect.  I want to have it before all of her friends head back to college in the fall or off on adventures of their own.  Coincidentally, the economy has done such a number on a lot of her friend's families that at least three of Meg's close friends are also thinking of joining the USAF.   If they actually end up swearing in, they'll most likely leave in November when she does. 

I digress.  I want to throw this party and I want to invite everyone that Meg would want here and those who mean the most to her.  We've talked about a couple of her friends that have shut her out lately, because partying is more important, and despite the fact that they may show up either wasted or drunk, she still wants to invite them.  I don't blame her.  A few of these individuals have become like foster kids to me and to some extent, it really hurts me as well that they are headed in a direction that isn't altogether positive.  So, the one person Meg really wants to reconnect with won't return her calls or texts and in the recent past when they've had plans to do something he's bailed on her at the last minute claiming that he's too high to hang out.   When we were talking about it I casually blurted out that I felt like sending this person an email and ripping him a new one. 

Here I sit, hours later after originally making that remark and I'm tempted, more now than ever, to write and let this person know, well, I don't know what.  Maybe just an email that says:

"Hey, I don't know what's going on with you right now, and my point isn't to try and interfere in your friendship with Meg, but I thought you might want to know that the Little Imp misses you a lot and is wondering why you never come around anymore?   Even though I said I wasn't going to interfere in your friendship with my oldest daughter, I want you to know that your actions are hurting her and as her mother, it really upsets me to see her like this.  We miss you around here and feel like part of our family has just disappeared. We care about you and miss you..."

Something to that effect anyhow.  The thing is, I know I don't truly have any place doing it, yet I want to. Having both of my girls feel the pain of the absence and especially Meg feeling totally thrown overboard for pot, well it stinks!  Yes, it does!  It stinks and it's a shitty thing!

I feel completely torn between wanting to keep my nose out of it and wanting to jump in with both feet.

What would you do?

Peenut Butter and Jellyfish

It's my sincere hope that this post doesn't turn any visitors to the beautiful shores of the Chesapeake Bay, off, of wanting to take a dip into the tepid waters of this gorgeous part of the country. 

Now, having said that, there ain't no way in hell I'm ever getting more than knee deep in the water the next time I go back.   As big as I am, I make an awfully tempting target for whatever might be floating around in the water.   Well, find me a floatie big enough, one in which I can tuck my legs into so that they aren't dangling in the water acting like so much bait (It's kinda like that same way I have to sleep at night - completely tucked in with no visible bits hanging over the edge of the bed or peering out from under the covers.  I just can't risk anything tempting the Under the Bed Monster. Just sayin'!), then I might be persuaded.  And I reckon if you ply me with enough booze beforehand, I probably won't care.

That was not the case last weekend down at BlogFest for Megawatt.  Number 1, she's underage and Number 2, she's young and will do just about anything once which includes tempting fate.  Keep in mind though, we're from Maine.  Jellyfish don't much enjoy our arctic waters.  If we can survive taking a dip in the ocean (I reckon it's usually warm enough by the last week in August.), 'round these parts; jellyfish are the least of our concerns.  We're more likely to encounter a wayward lobster than we are anything remotely poisonous.  Of course, now that I've said that, someone is going to come along and leave me a comment about all the nasties that lurk in our local waters.  Just don't.  OK?  I have enough phobias and issues as it is.  Just let me live in my blissful little bubble of ignorance.

We had been warned that chances were about 50/50 if we were going to be lollygagging about in the water down there, that we'd get stung by one of those suckers.  So of course, being the Nervous Nancy that I am, when Foolery nudged me out of my comfy beach chair and told me we were getting in the water, I tried to make excuses.  Alas, it didn't work with Foolery.  I was going into the water.  Period.

So I went in as far as my thighs and then stepped on something and that was the end of my excursion into the water.  I told you, I am a Nervous Nancy.  All someone had to do was merely whisper "jellyfish" and little else would have been on my mind.

Megawatt on the other hand...? Yeah, not a care in the world!

click to enlarge all images

She happily bobbed away on her floatie for the longest time and then when she got bored with that she waded out the farthest of anyone in our group.  I was rapidly succumbing to the warmth of the sun, something we haven't seen much of here in Maine, and the alcohol, so I was, to say the least, pretty hammered by that point.  For someone who rarely drinks, it really doesn't take me much to begin with.  I know that I was "live tweeting" the experience and I'll apologize now for the pictures that were sent along with some of those tweets.  Good Lord, my arms are white enough to blind an albino!

After a while, Megawatt ambled back up to the shore with 3 swim noodles she'd "rescued" from the Chesapeake Bay.  OK so maybe we were egging her on a bit.   They weren't our noodles, but they were out there and we dared her.  Of course she couldn't resist a dare. 

So far so good.  No one's been stung by this point. 

A while later as the tide starts to come back in Megawatt decides to go back into the water.

*cue the music from Jaws*

Not 5 minutes later she's sprinting out of the water, running for the condiment table where the fixins' were being set out for burgers and dogs and she's yelling, "Oh hey, I've been stung, I need some pickle juice!"  Someone had mentioned earlier to us that pickle juice helped take the sting out, should we end up getting stung by a jellyfish.

Dammit dammit dammit I just knew this was going to happen!  Megawatt comes running back down the hill, legs shaking, face red, and in obvious pain.  Noe Noe Girl is the first on the scene and sits her back down along the shore and starts rubbing sand on her legs.  Megawatt's legs are shaking violently and it looks like she's been whipped with an electrical cord. Country Girl Kate and Meg were standing nearby and helping out as well when Noe Noe Girl turns to me and says that she needs me to...are ya'll ready for this?

She needs me to pee.

Pardon me?  You need me to do what?  I don't think I can pee on my daughter.  Don't get me wrong, I'd take a bullet in my bum for this kid, walk through fire for her and give her my last breath.  But pee on her?  Nuh uh...it's not gonna happen. 

Meg grabs a cup and tells me I can pee in the cup.  Noe Noe Girl says that would work but to just be quick about it.

I'd sobered up by this point and truth be told, had to pee wicked-bad.  But just where the hell was I going to pee, with no loo in sight, and surrounded by a few dudes and lots of women?  Oiy vey!

Long story short, Meg provided a make-shift loo (a large blanket which I hid my ginormous squatted ass behind), and after having to be my "cheeleader" of sorts, I finally managed to (as someone who shall remain nameless later said), "make some magic happen."  What can I say, I had performance anxiety.  To any of the residents of the homes which were behind me... I am so very sorry you had to see that.  Seriously.  Just know that I was doing what any other mother would have done. 

Cup in hand we rushed over to where Noe Noe Girl and Megawatt were and handed it to her.  Holding an almost full cup of urine didn't phase Noe Noe Girl one little bit.  I can't say the same for Megawatt...

I can't blame Megawatt one little bit.  I might have been hurling my guts out if someone were rubbing pee all over me.  Although I sure as hell hope I never have to find out, first hand.

Once it was all said and done, "the cure" seemed to do the trick.  She had some residual pain, redness and swelling, but she was no worse for the wear.   At one point, Megawatt turned around and said to me, "Yo mom, it's cool, I'm in the Air Force now.  I can take it!"   That's my girl.

Moral of the story?  If you are going to be romping around in jellyfish-infested waters, make sure to take your mama with you and be sure she's good and liquored up because you never know when you might need her to accept the call of duty!

Joining a New Rank of Motherhood

"I am an American Airman.
I am a warrior.
I have answered my nation's call.

I am an American Airman.
My mission is to fly, fight, and win.
I am faithful to a proud heritage,
A tradition of honor,
And a legacy of valor.

I am an American Airman,
Guardian of freedom and justice,
My nation's sword and shield,
Its sentry and avenger.
I defend my country with my life.

I am an American Airman:
Wingman, leader, warrior.
I will never leave an airman behind,
I will never falter,

And I will not fail."

I am now the exuberantly proud mother of a United States Air Force Airman.

Megawatt is now a fully enlisted member of the military.

*deep breath*

I'm still letting this sink in...into every pore of my being.   My eldest daughter is now in the military.  I've been saying this over and over in my head all morning.  Saying it aloud in the car; getting the feel of it rolling off my tongue.  I'm letting the gravity of her decision fully sit upon my shoulders.  Despite all it entails I am flooded with an overwhelming sense of pride for this beautiful child of my womb; fully a woman now, who is about to stand tall and proud for her country.

I have a few months yet before she leaves for basic as she went in under the Delayed Entry Program... for that I am very glad as I'm not yet ready to see her fly off on her own.

This has been a decision we've been discussing with her for some time and something she has turned over in her mind for quite a while. She came to us shortly after 2nd semester began, this past year, and let us know she was considering the military as a means to help pay for school, in addition to the personal growth opportunities it offered.  Megawatt was faced with looking at almost $125K in student loan debt (and this is in addition to very generous scholarships and grants) after graduation, and she didn't want us to foot the bill for yet another year either.  Her bottom line was that she feels this is the right decision for her at this time in her life.

Megawatt's close friend Paul, and her boyfriend Kevin, accompanied me down to the MEP's (Military Entrance Processing) Station for her swearing in.

My gorgeous girl, words can not describe how full my heart is when I think of how much you've grown in this last year and how much you are about to grow and take on, in this new chapter of your life.

When the time comes, I'll embrace you and then watch you spread your wings and fly off, on behalf of your country.  Fly strong, fast, and with the knowledge that we love you. 

Be proud of yourself, Meaghan...you've already made me proud!

I love you!

 

The Inmates Have Taken Over the Asylum

Champion Chowder...or, as the inmates are from New England, "Chowdah."

This is Megawatt and Paul coming at you live from the asylum. We just wanted to take this opportunity to share with you, the lovely readers, our delicious invention that is Champion Chowdah.

• Grill three onions and four potatoes (kick one potato into hallway for mom to find...see image below)
• Boil grilled veggies for approximately seven minutes 
• Throw in 10 pieces of already cooked bacon
• A whole stick of butter
• A decent amount pepper WITH whole pepper corns,
• A lot of Oregano
• Enough salt to cancel out the pepper
• Two cups of 1% milk,
• Three bags of three different cheeses
• And a dash of Mountain Dew.

Those are the makings of what we like to call Champion Chowdah. Oh yeah, none of this can be made on a kitchen stove, you have to *pioneer it like a champ…that’s why it’s called Champion Chowdah.

*That means you either have to cook it on your grill/BBQ or over a roaring bonfire if that's what it takes.

 ***Disclaimer***: If you are ready to gain 10 pounds of pure muscle instantly, Champion Chowdah is not for you. Also if you don’t want your ass to explode I highly recommend you NOT digest any Champion Chowdah. Basically if you’re not a champ/have no desire to become a champ, this is not for you.

Now I’m sure you’re asking yourselves, “How did these kids come up with something like that?”  To be honest we’re not sure…All we can tell you is to leave two 19 year olds home alone with a barbecue and I’m sure they’ll come up with a nice little treat of their own.

Megawatt and I thought we would share this life changing experience with you from two perspectives, the head chef (Megawatt) and the spectator/facilitator (Paul).  The spectator job was harder than it sounds. I had to make sure no harm befell the house…or us, as a result of harm befalling the house.  Megawatt's mom would have busted an entire can of "harm" on us had anything happened to her house, or her kitchen, which is why *pioneering the chowdah was important!

The head chef, me Megawatt, was out on a lovely day, sitting in a lawn chair looking at the BBQ. I mean it was a beautiful day so I decided I would pioneer the hell out of some onions. I then got the brilliant idea to boil them on the side burner. Then I remembered that onion soup was better out of a Lipton soup packet. I thought for a moment and looked at Paul and the idea came to my mind, potato soup! I grilled away because I needed to prove to Paul, the male figure here, that I, a woman, can grill. What better way to do it than with potatoes?

 

 I realized then that we had a great invention. Champion Chowdah.  After putting a stick of butter in the pot, Paul told me he would no longer “eat the effing onion soup”. Oh but he eventually did. He was a champion! I proceeded to add the rest of my ingredients in and let it bubble away on the grill. 

I dished up Paul, my mom, and me a huge bowl of chowdah each. My mom didn’t like it at all and I think there might even have been some gagging on her part, but Paul and I ate it and are therefore complete champions. My mom? Not so much.

There were only two things that came to mind for me, Paul the spectator, during the creation of this lovely dish. “I fucking HATE onions!” and “seriously Meg? A whole stick of butter?”

 

Paul trying to choke down some chowdah...

To conclude this post, we'd just like to say that the Champion Chowdah did not taste as good as it smelled.

Megawatt and Paul

Post Script: A Mother's Observations

Oh.My.God. 

So this is what they get up to when I'm not around. 

I walk into the house after a doctor's appointment to find a lone potato in the hallway (see above photo) and both kids out on the back deck (Paul is here so much that we are claiming him as a dependent on next years taxes...not that I mind or anything!), cooking a pot of "something" on the side burner of the grill.  Megawatt notices the perplexed expression on my face and says, "Oh hey mom!  We're cooking some chowdah out here and we're totally pioneering the shit out of it!"  To which I reply, "Yeah well, you know, we have a stove, electricity, hot and cold running water INSIDE the house?" 

Megawatt brushed off my questions and continued in her attempt to prove to Paul that Girls Can Grill.

Long story short...I give them both 5 stars for the effort and a big fat 0 for taste.  The only way I can describe it is to tell you that the potatoes were dreadfully undercooked and that the onions overpowered EVERYTHING.  Well OK, the taste of bonfire smoke overwhelmed everything, because that's exactly what their concoction tasted like...a bonfire!

Oddly enough, feeling the need to one-up each other again, the two of them set out to out "push up" the other. 

Geronimo coached each kiddo along...well OK, he annoyed the crap out of them, batting at their heads and trying to grab a nose here or there.

 

 

My arms hurt just watching all of this...

 

Resting afterward, Paul telling Megawatt that he was sure he out pushed her by 2...

 

I have no clue how many push ups each of them actually ended up doing.  I had dry heaves just watching them try to one-up each other.

A word to Paul and Megawatt...next time use one of the damn cookbooks!