Swept Away

I have a confession to make: I am enthralled in this whole Royal Wedding thing. Why? I can only speculate. I'm not usually one to care about this type of thing. I do remember waking up one morning as a little girl and finding my mother clutching her coffee mug while staring raptly at the television screen as Charles and Diana wed. Some of the details of that are a blur, except that I seem to remember that it was God-awful early in the morning, and Mom had been awake for hours. Watching the commentaries, the images of the processional route in her cloud of Vantage ultralight 100's carcinogens at a time when the idea of second-hand smoke being as harmful as active smoking was almost laughable. And so clad in my Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, I watched with her over my Pop-Tarts.

The history, the symbolism. The romanticism as a commoner became a princess in a sea of ivory dress that was so beautiful then. Now it looks like a monstrosity of a dress, but then? Then it was all about that dress and whether she would mess up Chuck's name during the vows. And I watched with the dream all little girls have of their fairytale wedding and what it would be like to be a princess.

So now I'm a grown woman with a career. And a husband. And 2 kids. I never had the fairytale wedding. I wore a pencil skirt and a white silk blouse when John and I wed ten years ago. I never became a princess. Things are so different for me now than they were in my childhood fantasies. But I am still watching the fairytales. That part never changed. But instead of dreaming of what can be, I'm reflecting on how things are. I married the love of my life. I have a career that, while not what I planned, is rewarding and fulfilling. And I have my boys. Would my life have been different if those dreams would have been fulfilled? Absolutely. Would it have been better? Nobody knows, but all I'm saying is that Diana died being chased by paparazzi.

So I will watch the wedding. I'll wish I had the roses and the dress and the carriages. But this time around, I will be grateful for this life I have right now.

The Irony of Free Speech

I have to do this because I married a veteran of the almighty United States Marine Corps.

My hubby is a Jarhead. And as a result, I've learned some things:

Once A Marine, Always a Marine. There is a pride there of which I will not begrudge him. He earned that. He didn't serve in Iraq, but he did hold a newborn Evan as he watched in sheer rage the footage from 9/11. He was still in the reserves then, as my selfish fear at his number being called up motivated me to learn exactly what IRR meant: Inactive Ready Reserves. Ready. Ready. My husband as a trained instrument of war.

From the day John and I first shared a residence, I have had his Corps uniforms hanging in our closet. He protects them as he does our children. They are a part of who he is. The ribbons. The blood stripe of the NCO rank he obtained. The almighty Eagle, Globe, and Anchor he earned the day he earned the right to the title.

In our ten years of marriage, my son and I both have learned the lyrics to The Marine Corps Hymn. "Oorah!" rolls off of our tongues now as easily as it does John's. His status as a veteran gives us membership to military family in a way. I've always thought military service was to be revered. I was raised that way as the daughter of an Army vet, the sister of an Army vet. Zach was named after his great grandfather, who passed shortly before his birth and was a WWII veteran.

The Veteran.

While I can go on record to say I don't believe the war in Iraq has anything more to do with our freedoms we enjoy than anything else, I know I am doing so because a long time ago, someone fought for the freedom to say so. Someone like John's grandfather Clifton, like my dad or my brother. Someone like John. These men and women who served in Iraq may not be fighting for our rights to life, liberty, and the almighty pursuit, but that is immaterial to me. Our country deemed it necessary to go to war, and therefore our American brothers and sisters had to go. And because they did, John didn't have to go. God bless the volunteers.

And so nothing sickens me more than the trampling on the grave done by the Westboro Baptist Church idiots. The morons who have nothing better to do than torment the familes of these fine men and women on the day they are to be honored and lain to rest. How horrifying for the young widow, robbed of her future with her young husband, to be handed the folded flag of our nation and look up to see a sign that says "Thank God for Dead Marines." Or Dead Soldiers. Or whatever hate these idiots are spewing.

I can say I was not shocked to hear of the Supreme Court's ruling that their right to protest military funerals is protected as free speech. It is indeed free speech. Just like the mosque near Ground Zero, it may be in completely poor taste to do so, but it is indeed one of the liberties we are granted in this country. And it sucks. It sucks because bastards like these should not enjoy these freedoms like the rest of us. Their protests go against exactly what being a decent human being is all about.

It angers me. It disgusts me. But this is nothing to the rage I see in John each and every time they mention it on the news. It is like someone just took a shit on his Honorable Discharge. And on the graves of his fallen comrades.

But the irony is what gets me.

Oh, the IRONY.

Don't you see? Marines, Soldiers, Airmen, and Sailors have died for these freedoms we enjoy in this country. Among them free speech. And these clowns hold up their signage saying, "Thank God for Dead ____". They go to Supreme Court over a lawsuit for such behavior, and free speech gets them off the $5M hook. They should be saying "Thank God for Dead Marines". Those dead Marines just saved them $5M.

(Excuse the blur, but at one point I shrank this scanned image down and it has never been the same. But this is John in 1998. Oorah, Devil Dog.

Here?

This happened here, in Northern Kentucky. I came out of work Sunday morning, where John was there to pick me up after my shift, and he immediately told me to be quiet as he was listening to the radio host talk about an incident that had occurred in my own area. Of course the interview on the radio was rather one-sided and I got the impression that the woman in the restaurant was actually topless. With that in mind, and even as a breastfeeding mother, I sided with the restaurant. I believe we should have the right to feed our babies in public, and the law is on our side, but there is no need to flaunt it, and I think discretion is called for. I personally am too self-conscious to nurse Zach in public without being hidden. Instead of fighting the sensibilities of others, I would just as soon go to my car. Of course my self-consciousness has led me on many occasions to give in and give Zach bottles of pumped milk while out on trips. Of course, this is bad. My pumped milk, in light of my supply issues, really is precious to us and should be saved for my long hours at work.
So all of this has me thinking about the whole ordeal. I think the views of the public keep me from just whipping out my boob whenever Zach is hungry, but my own misgivings would keep me covered even if my breastfeeding in public would solicit applause from a crowd.
So back to this woman...She was vilified, and now I am appalled at the restaurant. Of course they made it sound like she was topless, which is now obviously not the case. But what of the people who complained?
The restaurant owner was on the radio speaking of how there were 8 year old boys in the restaurant at the time. And I happened to think of my own 8-year-old boy and my breastfeeding. And sadly, I could relate. Evan understands that the way I have chosen to feed Zach really is what is best for Zach and I both. With that in mind, it is not something that should be hidden from Evan. But then there is the conservative part of me who cannot get past the idea of exposing myself to my son at a time when he is most impressionable and curious about the differences between male and female. So for my own comfort, we have elected for me to pump and nurse out of Evan's sight. He knows what I am doing. We tell him. He laughs when he holds Zach and Zach roots, looking to nurse against Evan's chest. He'll tell his baby brother that he doesn't make milk as he giggles. He understands the process. It is all about personal comfort for us. But I am not going to force that on anyone else, and if this woman was feeding her baby in front of Evan, I wouldn't care.
And the bathroom....Really? Does the manager eat in the bathroom? Especially a public restroom! What do you think of when you think of public restrooms? Germ-laden. Gross. Dirty. Not exactly appetizing, is it?
So overall, I am appalled that this happened here. I am aghast at the way they presented this woman to the media, in such a way that another breastfeeding mother was even siding with the restaurant and labeling her as a fight-picker. I really thought this area was more progressive than that.

Changing Colors

We were headed to the park the yesterday and needed drinks, since I left the little cooler on the kitchen table. Well, John started to pull into a random gas station. There is a collection of them at the end of our road. I just happened to look up and notice he was pulling into a BP station. After the horrific images we had just seen on the evening news.
"Not here", I said.
"Why?", he asked.
Why? Because I will not so much as purchase a piece of bubble gum from the company who cannot/ will not rectify what it has done to the Gulf region. I was just about to gear up to go into one of my infamous tirades when Evan covered it for me.
"Daddy, it isn't cool to not clean up your own mess!" There! My 8-year-old (well, almost 9) kid has it right. Apparenly he has learned a lesson that the BP people have not. I could ask why he doesn't apply that knowledge to his own room, but for now, I choose to focus on the fact that my dear boy has it right. He gets it.
So I have been thinking about that off and on today. Apparently Evan's school has done its part to teach these kids to be environmentally conscious. The other day, we ate something simple for lunch. I think it was hot dogs. Anyhow, I was about to toss Ev's paper plate in the trash when he snatched it from me. He wanted to use it for some type of craft. Of course I protested. I was grossed out that he wanted to keep a used paper plate when there are scads of them in the cabinet. I started to see his future appearance on the show Hoarders float in my mind.
"MOM! REDUCE, REUSE, RECYCLE!", he shouted.
Ahhhhh. Okay.
But I think we can do more than save a dirty paper plate (ewwwww!).
Evan is right. Our family does not do enough for the planet on which we live. We blatantly waste our resources. About the only "green" thing I do is use those canvas grocery bags that they sell at the stores instead of the plastic ones. And I do that not becaue it is the responsible thing to do, but because they are handier and hold more. So...am I any better than BP? Can I really bitch about wildlife and dirty beaches when I am so wasteful? Our family produces at least 2 huge outdoor garbage cans full of trash each and every week, all of which gets buried at a landfill. We have a toilet that runs and runs and needs to be fixed, wasting water like crazy. I could go on and on.
So I am thinking my family needs to go more to the green side. I'm not talking about a huge, radical swing. But I really do think we can start making choices that are more environmentally sound. We could definitely start recycling more, for starters. I already have a fuel efficient car, but we could certainly combine trips more. We could start conserving our water more and choose to do business with companies who do more for the environment.
There are tons of subtle changes I can make in our home that could make a difference. And we wouldn't even feel a thing. Of course there are some creature comforts I will not surrender. I could not, for example, ever see myself using anything other than disposable diapers. But I can ensure that the ones I buy are biodegradeable. So I think this is going to be the family's new little project for this summer--going green.