The one where he now belongs to the USMC

I don't even know what to call this post. That's how my whole week has rolled. Tuesday I couldn't even tell you what day of the week it was. First I thought it was Monday and then I thought it was Thursday. WTF, me? And then Tuesday night- the bomb dropped. I was making supper and Sean and Mike had just walked in.

Sean- I heard from the recruiter today. He called and said he had good news.

Me- Oh yeah? What?

Sean- I have to go to MEPS tomorrow, I'm swearing in on Thursday.

Me- *sputtering* But...what...all your waivers?*He had to get a waiver for his wrist tattoo because it wasn't an inch from his wrist. He had to get a waiver for his home school diploma. It's been nothing but a pain from the beginning.*

Sean- All went through. I'm in.

Me-*mouth hanging open, still stuttering* but...but...

Sean- No buts! All I need now is for my job assignment and ship out date to come down.

And then he went off to take a shower.

Lu- Why do you sound so surprised? You knew this was coming.

Me- Well, I mean, they kept jerking him around, and the Air Force tried to steal him, and he had a plan B and it was a good plan. And now he's leaving!

Lu- Again, you knew this was coming.

Me- You don't get it yet, but you will in eighteen years. *Pointing at baby Dylan* He's my baby. And now he's leaving home. And you should know that after you leave things are never the same. And he's joining the service, the Marines no less, and he could get sent to Afghanistan and die.

Let me first say that I have nothing against the Marines. Except that they are the first in. They lose more military personnel every year. Sean knows this. Sean doesn't care. And despite an IQ and test scores that qualify him for Intelligence jobs, Special Ops, or millions of other things, Sean wants to be Infantry. First in. He's wanted this since he was six. Seriously, six. And while I admire the determination and his fire, as a Mom, I'd like him to have a nice behind the scenes job. Like, stateside. But I know that isn't his dream and I have to support his dream, regardless of what my dreams for him might have been.

Also, I was raised in an Air Force family, so it's hard to switch loyalty. Which only military people will understand.

I'm not sure anyone in the family gets it. Sean thinks I'm not proud of him. And that is far from the truth. Sean is amazing. I couldn't be more proud of him. And I am proud that he wants to serve his country. And I'm proud that he's confident and independent and nothing I say would talk him out of this. I'm glad he's going for his dreams. But I can be proud and glad and happy for him and still be sad for me.

Don't get me wrong-- I'm totally looking forward to all of my chicks leaving the nest. I know that the house will be cleaner, quieter and easier to take care of. Mike and I will have some quality time together and I won't have so many distractions from writing. I'm not one of those people who are scared to death of what they'll do when they have an empty nest. Not anymore. I have a career and outside interests. I have friends and hobbies. Mike and I have plenty to talk about besides the kids. Our trip to New Orleans proved that we can still be "just Mike & Stacey" and enjoy it.

But I will miss my chicks like nobody's business. I will miss the loud chaotic craziness of five adults and a baby living in the same house. I will miss talking out a story line with the kids or insane dinner conversations. I will miss having partners in crime. I will miss sarcastic banter (Mike's not so big on the sarcasm). Who will explain quantum physics to me, for gosh sakes?

I'm excited for the kids to start their lives. I know, living at home, they both feel like they are kind of in limbo and waiting for "their real lives to begin". And I understand that. And I'm excited for "the rest of my life" to begin. I'm excited for the next stage in Mike & I's relationship to begin. I'm excited to lay on the couch, after a long day working, and not have to keep turning the TV up, in order to hear it.

But I'm sad too. I'll miss those chicks. They are my kids, my chicks, my spawn. But they are also some of my best friends. So sending them off is bittersweet. It's the culmination of my life's best work. Nothing I achieve from here on out, can ever compare to raising confident, intelligent, responsible adults. I devoted the last 21 years of my life to it and seeing it come to fruition is supremely gratifying. And terrifying. But mostly, gratifying.

So I'm going to have a glass of wine at dinner tonight. And I'm going to toast- Sean on the beginning of his journey, and to me- in the next phase of mine.

♥Spot

The one where we wrap up the year...

Hello? *peers anxiously out at the audience* Anyone out there? *taps microphone* Is this thing on? Oh! Wait, there you are! Shout out to my stalker, Michigan. Didn't think I knew your name, did you? Yeah, I have mad stalker skills of my own. Or, well, ok, Sean told me. Anywho, for anyone still out there reading my rambling, few and far between posts, Happy New Year (a few days late).

I know I don't post as often as I should, but I've got my reasons.  Mostly, I'm super busy and distracted. And it's not that funny shit doesn't still happen all the time at my house, I just forget it before I can blog it. Sad, but true. And then there's the fact that so many people that know me (in real life) read my blog that it's kind of awkward to put some stuff on here. And mostly, they're pretty awesome peeps but some just look for gossip. (You know who you are and you should probably get a more interesting life of your own so you don't have to try to ruin mine). Whew, I've been wanting to get that off my chest.

So, a whole 'nother year flew by. Seriously, it feels like it was whoosh and there went 2011. Why does time seem to go so much faster as you get older. Does it really speed up or is our perception skewed? The answer probably has something to do with quantum physics and the space time continuum. I'd ask Sean, but you know my eyes would glaze over and all I'd hear was "blah blah blah". I'm going to go with it actually does go faster, because to admit that it was my perception would be like admitting these lovely "silver" highlights in my hair were actually greys and that I'm aging. Which I think is totally unfair because most days I don't feel a day over 21. Well, mentally. Physically, some days I feel 100. Wait? Where was I?

Oh yeah, a new year. 2011 was eventful. I mean, like ginormously eventful. My oldest, CJ, graduated from his school and turned 21. Lu had a baby and got married!! And my baby, Sean, turned 18, travelled across the continent twice and joined the Marines. I don't have children anymore, I have adults. How weird is that? Mike was hospitalized, twice. I had gallbladder surgery (good riddance!), a skin cancer scare and started a whole new career. And Mike & I finally took a trip, all by ourselves. See what I mean? Last year was HUGE. And this year the world ends. I mean, if you believe all that "end of the world" stuff. Personally, I lean either way, depending on my level of optimism or pessimism. Although, if a cataclysmic apocalyptic event should happen, you know we're prepared out here. Sean even learned this year that I happen to be a pretty decent shot and won't be totally useless in the zombie apocalypse.

But I digress, the year in review: Wow. That's all I can say. I'm so grateful for last year. Don't get me wrong, there were some bad things. Mike's paternal grandmother lost her battle with cancer in November. She was an awesome lady and will be missed by our family. Mike's hospital ordeals were nerve wracking and not fun. My mother received a very grim medical diagnosis, although the second opinion is, so far, inconclusive. That will be a whole other post. But in the end, we came out stronger. My Mother's illness prompted my sister and I to take a weekend, just us and Mom & Dad. It was a weekend for healing old hurts and forgiveness. Watching my daughter give birth was one of the hardest, but most joyous, things I've ever witnessed. She was a champ. Her being a mother and wife has brought us even closer in fabulous ways. Mike's illnesses and our trip reminded us, again, to cherish each other while we can. (Sappy, right?)

And, as always, I am constantly reminded that we have met and continue to meet the most amazing people, both in person and online. Shout out to Peg at Square Peg in a Round Hole for the awesome white trash chex mix she sent me. It was delicious! Thanks to everyone who has sent notes, cards, emails, ect, whenever we've needed a "pick me up". And thanks, most, for continuing to share my life through this blog. I ♥ you, one and all.

And here's some highlights:

Our trip to Gulf Shores, Al in March with a pregnant Lu

CJ's prom in May

CJ's Graduation in late May

Counting down the weeks til Dylan's birth

The big day arrived, 07-18-11 Dylan James Flanagan, 7 lbs 10 oz

She's a beautiful Mama

Mike's Grandma Vera got to see the baby

The wedding: small but wonderful, in the place they met

Cutest family ever, Halloween

Mike in a New Orlean's coffee shop before the cemetery tour. How could you not love this guy?

May you all have a very blessed 2012!

♥Spot

The one where we adopt a code word...

So Sean's ex-girlfriend (and yet, still my favorite future daughter-in-law) fussed at me about not blogging the other day. So you can pretend that you all gave me a lecture. And here I am, trying to appease you, my faithful audience. It's my birthday and I really want to do one of those sappy "another year older, yet wiser" birthday posts. But I don't have time for that today. So today, you get another funny (hopefully) glimpse into our ridiculous household.

We all know how this Christmas thing goes: we shop, we decorate, we bake (well, some people do anyway), we hand make beautiful gift baskets (or at least I used to, now I have no time), we spend time with people we love and we make merry. That about sums it up in a nutshell. But what about those odd Christmas occasions, here and there, that we have absolutely no desire to attend, yet, feel obligated to? We have a few of those~

Me: Do we have to go?

Mike: I think it's expected.

Me: But I don't wanna...

Mike: Me either.

Me: Okay, so how about that day I'll stand on the porch steps and you push me off, necessitating a trip to the ER, thus giving us the perfect excuse for not being there?

Mike: You're kidding, right?

Me: Um, yes. No. Not really. But don't make me land on my head, because I don't have time for a concussion. And not my arms or wrists or anything, because I have to be able to work...

Mike: I'm pretty sure that's not a good idea.

Me: Um. Fine. But I'm going to start drinking before we go.

Mike: That's probably not a good idea, either. You have a tendency to tell people what you think of them when you drink very much.

Me: Don't be silly. I always tell people what I think of them.

Mike: True. But sober Spot does it with a sweet smile, the hint of an accent and in words so big, that most people don't realize you've insulted them until hours later. Tipsy Spot just tells them, "I don't like you."

Me: Fine. Well how about I still have a drink or two and we develop a code word? Something that you can say that will let me know I'm saying too much.

Mike: Like what?

Me: How about "ur mom"?

Mike: My mom?

Me: No! "Ur mom", kind of as in my mom.

Mike: You want me to say "your mom"?

Me: No. I want you to say "ur mom". It sounds totally different.

Mike: "Ur mom"?

Me: Exactly!

Mike: That's not going to work.

Me: Why not?

Mike: Because I'm pretty sure that no one over the age of 15 actually says "ur mom" and I don't know how I'd work that into a conversation.

Me: I don't know what you're talking about. Me and the kids say it all the time.

Mike: Yeah...

Me: So does my sister.

Mike: Again, yeah...

Me: Whatevs...

Mike: I don't think adults say that either.


Later that day~

Me: So I tried to get your dad to push me off the porch so we wouldn't have to go to "x".

Lu: That might be a bit drastic.

Me: Yeah, my luck I'd break a wrist or something. So I tried to get him to say a code phrase when I was getting too honest. But he wouldn't play along.

Lu: What phrase?

Me: "ur mom". I thought it was perfect. He said he couldn't work it into conversation.

Lu: What? He could totally say "that's what ur mom says!"

Me: Exactly. He's such a killjoy.

So, long story short, Mike did not push me off the porch. Nor did I imbibe heavily before I left the house. And I behaved. And not a single solitary person said "ur mom" all night long...(which might be why I didn't want to go in the first place.)

I hope that everyone is having a fabulous holiday season! May all your occasions be merry!

♥Spot

PS- I'm participating in a blog hop called the "Twelve days of Creepfest" on my other blogs. I'm having contests, so you could win prizes, so stop by either See Spot Read or The Author Spot and enter the contests. Did I mention there were prizes??

The one where charity begins at home...

Right. I know. You're all mad at me and probably no one even reads this blog anymore because I can't be bothered to write it. I'm sorry. *hangs head in shame* But honestly, I'm so busy living...that I don't always have time to write about it. And I don't know whether I can apologize about that.

Anywho, I do owe you guys a blog post about Mike & I's trip to New Orleans, complete with pictures, and I promise that one is coming. But this one is slightly more important.

Lately, I've been feeling ultra-charitable. Don't get me wrong, we've always tried to be charitable, I've tried to raise the kids to appreciate their blessings and give to those less fortunate. I think it worked pretty well, both of them will donate their time to a good cause. Lu cannot pass a Salvation Army bell-ringer without emptying her (and whoever happens to be with her's) pockets of change. We donate old clothes and shoes to the Salvation Army store. We've given away furniture and unused TVs. I recently redecorated the living room and donated all the old decorations.

And in New Orleans? Well, Mike wouldn't let me carry cash because I kept giving it to homeless people. Especially those with dogs. Something about those homeless dogs really got to me. When we got home I started feeling a tug every time a commercial for a non-profit would come on. I started debating the relative merits of donating to UNICEF, ASPCA and the WWF. You've seen the commercials, who can resist those sad eyed children or kittens? And don't even get me started on the tigers... I figured I could spare a little, and there were so many organizations who need help. But then I found a charity closer to home.

I noticed last time that I picked CJ up from his group home that he had some flaky patches on his scalp. We used some head and shoulders shampoo and I bought him a bottle to take back to his house. When I dropped it off, they told me that all the kids had been switched to a body wash/shampoo combo soap. Obviously, it wasn't working for CJ, but I'd bought him new shampoo. When I picked him up this time, I told them I'd bring special shampoo, soap and lotion back for him. We discussed how the new soap wasn't really working for any of them. I couldn't get that out of my head. Some of the boys in CJ's house have toileting issues still. That can't be good for their skin.

When we were driving CJ back to his house after Thanksgiving, I reminded Sean that I had to stop and get CJ some hygiene products. And that while I understood that smaller budgets and dwindling money sources had forced his school into trying to save money where they could, switches like these really bothered me.


"Why don't you buy enough good body wash for all the boys?" Sean asked.

Why didn't I? I talked to one of his aides and asked if that would be a problem or if we'd need special permission for them to use it. She said not as long as it was on the approved list. Whaddya know? Suave body wash for men was on the approved list. And since that's what I buy my guys at home, I figured it's what I'd buy these guys too. She said they'd go through 8-10 bottles a month. I bought one for each boy and got them started. But I'll be sending more their way. Everyone deserves decent soap, shampoo and lotion. Especially those who can't buy it for themselves.

Take a look around you this season and find someone who really needs your help. Pay it forward. I dare you.

♥Spot

PS- Many of the children with disabilities who attend CJ's school have families of their own. Some of those families struggle to send their children to a place where they can receive the special instruction and care that they need. Some of them live far away and don't get to visit often. And some of the children are wards of the state, with no parents. They can always use donations of clothing (all sizes), games, books, dvds, ect for the residential dorms and group houses. We have donated many items over the years and they are always very grateful.

**Update- here is the link to The Hope Institute's Webpage for those of you who would like to donate. http://www.thehopeinstitute.us/ They and I thank you.**

The one with the zombie giraffes...

As you all know, we have some wicked outlandish conversations at my house. Its pretty much the norm, as a matter of fact. Well, while Mike was in the hospital, Sean came to visit every day. As Mike slept a lot, I was glad of the company. While we were watching what passes for TV there, an advertisement for a documentary on the zombie phenomenon in pop culture came on. And this conversation ensued~

Me: I hope we're home by then, because I totally want to watch that.

Sean: Me too. Just to laugh at your generation's ideas about zombies.

Me: 'Scuse me?

Sean: You know, now that my generation has actual fact to support zombies. We were raised with enough knowledge of DNA, genomes and molecular mutation (I must admit that at this point all I heard was blah, blah, blah) that we understand how zombies could happen and why they aren't really dead.

Me: I'm not really sure what you just said, but I think you're full of sh*t.

Sean: I'm not full of sh*t. I'm just smarter than you.

Me: I'll give you that you have a higher IQ, but that means nothing when it comes to zombies, because I'm like a freakin expert here. And zombies are too dead. They're the walking dead. Duh. Everyone knows that. They travel in hordes.

Sean: No they aren't. Zombies are live people who blah blah blah.

Me: (Somehow, my brain has jumped the track and I'm off course) OMG. Do you think sharks could become zombies? I mean if dogs and cats can become zombies, then sharks could right? That's freakin scary. Or alligators! What's scarier than a freakin zombie alligator?!

Sean: Um. Sharks and alligators already attack people so I'm not sure they'd be any scarier as zombies than they already are.

Me: Oh. Well then let's pick something that doesn't already eat people. What about Giraffes? Pretty non-scary to begin with but all of a sudden, wham!! Scary!!

Sean: Giraffes are herbivores, they eat leaves and grass. So they'd just go around attacking trees. Not scary. Extremely goofy.

Me: It doesn't matter what you eat before you become a zombie. The mutation that causes zombiefication would cause a craving for flesh. Therefore, anything that became a zombie would eat flesh.

Sean: Their digestive systems couldn't handle flesh. They'd still eat leaves.

Me: They're dead! Do you think vegan zombies are going to go around eating beans? No! They're going to eat people.

Sean: But human digestive systems are equipped to eat meat. It's not a matter of evolution, its a matter of preference. Giraffes don't prefer leaves, they're genetically programmed to eat them.

Me: (jumping the track once more because its how I roll, peeps) Wait! Do you think if Giraffes "accidentally" ate flesh, they'd develop a craving for it? (I did do air quotes on the "accidentally")

Sean: Zombie giraffes or regular giraffes?

Me: Oh regular. Not zombie, live giraffes.

Sean: How is a giraffe going to "accidentally" ingest flesh?! I think you'd have to practically force feed it to them.

Me: Okay, so say a serial killer works at a zoo and he wants to dispose of a body so he cuts it up and mixes it with the giraffe's food.

Sean: I think if a serial killer worked at the zoo, there are far more likely animals to feed a body to. You know, like Lions or Tigers.

Me: Okay okay, so say he just accidentally gets some in the giraffe's food. Taste for flesh, or no?

Sean: I think it would get very sick, so no.

Me: Whatever. Man eating Giraffes. I think they're scary.

Sean: Nope. Just goofy.

Me: I hope it eats you while you're busy laughing at it.

I'm pretty sure there's a story in there somewhere. And you all might want to look a little closer next time you go to the zoo. Giraffes have really big teeth.

Happy Sunday,
♥Spot

The one where I get angry...

Yep. I'm angry today. I'm angry at my husband. Why? Because I love him, that's why. But he doesn't listen very well, so I'm writing him this letter. And I know he'll see it because he reads my blog.

Dear Mike,

I love you. Do you know that? You should after what we've been through the last year and a half,  the good, the bad and the hideously ugly. I've been right by your side, through it all. Sometimes for days on end.

I can't possibly let you know exactly what it was like to sit by your bedside in the ICU after the accident and wait and worry and make deals with the Universe in my head for your survival. I can't tell you what it was like to try to stay awake, convinced that something bad would happen if I closed my eyes, if for a second, I lost my focus.

I can't tell you what it was like, even after you were doing better, to be afraid to leave the hospital, to leave your side. No one told you how I'd begin to shake if I was gone longer than a half an hour. How great the need to keep you in my sight was.

I can't tell you how hard it was for me to let you out of my sight once we were back home. How scared I was to let you drive anywhere by yourself. How I sat there, staring at my phone, waiting for the text saying that you made it safely.

But I did it. You pulled through and so did I. And gradually, I learned to let it go, that I didn't have to be constantly vigilant, that it was going to be OK.

Then you got really sick in February and we did the hospital thing again. Luckily, it was over quickly and you were better, nearly overnight. And you were cranky. But I stayed there with you and I put up with your crankiness, because I was still so grateful that you were alive. Ok. Little speed bump. No big deal.

Then last weekend you got sick again. At first, I wasn't really that worried. I hated that you were feeling so bad, but I figured a night in the hospital, IV fluids and antibiotics and you'd perk up. Just like February. But it didn't happen that way. You ran a high temp for 3 days. Your white count shot up. The doctor was stumped. I was petrified.

I can't tell you what it was like to be there, again. Doing the bedside vigil and wondering if you were going to kick this thing or if it was something much more serious. You were asleep more than you were awake and you weren't real clear when you were awake. But you never knew how scared I was, because I didn't show it. And when you began to worry, I'm the one who curled up in the bed beside you and gave you a pep talk.

And you pulled through again. And you began to get sarcastic and I knew you were getting better. We came home yesterday and you slept mostly. The kids remarked that when you were awake, you were grumpy. Tell me about it. And yet, I didn't hold it against you.

So why am I angry? Because after all of this, you still refuse to take care of yourself. The doctor said that you still have the pneumonia and you were supposed to go home and rest. I'm pretty sure that didn't mean going immediately back to work this morning. Remember last night when you got up, walked from the living room to the kitchen and had a coughing fit so bad, you doubled over? Remember how you had to sleep sitting up in the chair last night, because you couldn't breathe?

And yet, this morning, you were gone before I got up and didnt' come back in to take a break for four hours. Does that sound like resting to you? Really? And so I fussed at you. And you said you hadn't done anything physical except drive around in your truck and talk to people.

Well, driving isn't resting. And talking to people is what got you into this in the first place. People have a million germs and I know for a fact that you weren't wearing a mask like you should have been. I'm pretty sure you didn't have any hand sanitizer either. You're immune system is already in a seriously weakened state and yet you insist on pushing your luck. So we had words. And I told you that next week when you're in the hospital again, I'm not going to be there. Because its not fair. Its not fair to put me in that position when you can avoid it. I told you I'd hire a babysitter to sit with you. Its an idle threat because you know I wouldn't do that. You know I'll be there.

You insisted that you'd be fine. I wondered when you developed psychic powers and the ability to know the future and why you hadn't shared that with me before. Maybe you will be fine. I hope so.

But for now, as I sit in my office, listening to you cough up a lung in the living room, I'm a tad on the skeptical side. So I'm not speaking to you. Because its not fair to yourself, its not fair to your job, and its damn sure not fair to the people who love you, to take risks with your health. But you don't listen. So I'm saving my breath.

Love,
Me

Sorry for the rant peeps, but sometimes people need to know what you're really thinking.
♥Spot

The one where things look up...

Thought I'd blog for those of you who aren't my Facebook friends. Mike has finally rounded the corner and is feeling better. His temp hasn't gone above 100 all day. He's still got a headache and he's still wiped out, but he's feeling better. The doctor has decided to switch him to oral antibiotics and let us go home tomorrow, provided the fever stays down tonight. Fingers crossed. We're both ready to head home.

The doctors still aren't sure exactly what Mike has, but they do know what it's not. It's not cancer. (whew!) His heart is good, no infection, no leaky valves, looks strong. It's not Lyme disease, Lupus, West Nile Virus, or meningitis. *sigh of relief* The best guess? He caught a virus sometime last week, then he was exposed to strep (most likely) last weekend. The two together were too much for his almost non-existent immune system, and quickly ran rampant through his body. While in the hospital, he also developed pneumonia. But after all of the antibiotics and antivirals, he's finally recovering. He won't be up to speed for another several days, (and if he tries to be- I will duct tape him to the couch- for real- I'm not playing around here) but at least he'll be home.

So here are a few funny episodes from our hospital stay:

After we finally get to our room, at 11pm Saturday night~

Me: Boy, the coyotes sure are...*trails off*

Mike: *stares at me*

Me: That's a siren, isn't it?

Mike: Yep.

The nurse asking Mike questions during admin~

Nurse: So how did all this start?

Mike: *mumbles*

Nurse: *looks at me*

Me: *translates* It's cool, I speak mumble.

And after too many days trapped in a tiny room together~

Mike: I'm just going to warn you, I'm feeling really grumpy and whiny today.

Me: And I'm just going to warn you, that if get too bad, they'll be picking linen fibers out of your nose at your autopsy.

Nurse: (who happened to walk in during conversation) *gasps*

Me: Just kidding. I don't get to collect the insurance money if I kill him.

Nurse: *still looking at me like I've lost my mind*

Please keep your collective fingers crossed that all goes well and we are home tomorrow! And thank you for the many good wishes and positive thoughts and prayers. I love you guys.

♥Spot