By Crystal Laramore
Edited by Deborah Martin
Hope you guys had a great Thanksgiving holiday. I had the week off! And I was thankful. This year I have a lot to be thankful for. I am especially thankful I have a wonderful new family. And I’m most thankful they haven’t left me yet! It’s been an adjustment for me more so than them but they are both patient. My husband is 52. Sometimes he’s not really patient, he’s just tired but the end result is the same-I vent and he sits in the recliner watching HD football and pretends to listen/care. The 6 year old is patient cuz she has to be. I’m mainly in charge of her food, clothing and shelter and “puppy time”.
My husband came complete with two grown children, a daughter-in law, two grandsons and a 6 year old precious little girl that lives with us. And however precious she is, she IS SIX. She has made me laugh, cry and sing with joy. I fell in love with her father first, but I am falling in love with her more and more every day. My heart sometimes skips beats when she hugs me and tells me she loves me. And somewhere in the middle of all the chaos and adjustments-we’ve become a family. This new family has given me a whole different perspective in life and a whole new direction in writing. I could write all day about politics (you know I could) and relationships but for now you will have to endure some “kid” stories. Lord knows I’ve endured enough of them over the years!
Last week's article received a lot of attention for which I was quite surprised! Women from around the country responded with such encouraging words! “Girl, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! Just wait till she’s 13! Oh honey, it doesn’t get easier. It gets harder. Good luck. May the force be with you. Wait till she starts driving! Wait till she starts liking boys. You may be new to this but it’s the same with all moms! And my editor/former friend said I’m SOOOOOOOO glad my kids are grown!”
Mostly, I consider myself a worldly, empowered, intelligent woman with a wide range of ways to express myself. I just cried; and wrote some more - to free myself of the sinful thoughts in my heart. Amen.
One of my friends, Sophie, just called me to share one of her experiences raising a child for the first time-yeah, she’s old too! Sophie and her husband adopted an 8 year-old 5 years ago. Yes, 8+5 = 13.
Sophie considers herself a highly intelligent, well-rounded individual. She has a demanding, high-paying job. She calls on the best of the best in her industry. She is consistently wheeling, dealing, dining and drinking (H2O that is)…
So how can such an accomplished woman send her child off to school without lunch money? How can such a capable woman bring her child to the brink of dirty hallway "Coke & Cheetos" deals?
Just the other day she took her child to buy a pair of Fat Baby’s. Right! I had no idea either. Apparently they are all the craze in the child-fashion-apparel-boot dept. There they were! The cammo Fat Baby boots! Too bad they were 2 sizes too big. OR not too bad after all! Seems the child doesn’t CARE if they don’t fit. “I WANT THE BOOTS!" Okay, Okay, Okay….get the damn boots!
Then said child decided she wanted to wear them to a funeral. Mom said no (as well she should have). Seems the child doesn’t CARE if you shouldn’t wear cammo boots to a funeral. “I WANT TO WEAR MY BOOTS.” Okay, Okay, Okay….wear the damn boots.
As soon as they walked into the funeral home some red-neck said “Hey, I like your boots”. And mom got the head-spasm-eyes rolled in the back of the head-I told you so look. We are all sure he was being sarcastic but she’s 13-YOU explain to her…
Speaking of fashion statements, I decided to let our child discover her own form of fashion. So when she shows up with a pink print skirt and a solid orange shirt with monkeys on it-don’t judge me. The cream colored turtleneck and the white cotton skirt-that one you never had to see. Some fashion faux paus are even too devastating for ME to witness much less make my friends (while I still have them) at school suffer through them.
Sometimes her dad comes into her bedroom (after I’ve drunk 2 cups of coffee, wash/dried/folded/put away 2 loads of laundry, fed child a popsicle stick for breakfast-WHAT? Sophie said they’re made with REAL fruit juice from concentrate, fed puppies, painstakingly watched Shaggy and Scooby solve yet another unsolvable mystery, helped child brush teeth, done homework if we forgot the night b4, packed backpack and gotten her dressed) and says “WHY is she wearing THAT”? And I say “Because you were taking a long, hot shower” with the head-spasm-eyes rolled in the back of my head-I told you not to leave us alone look. Any MORE intelligent questions?
Why JUST last Friday I sent her to school wearing her pretty pink skirt, matching top (HUGE step) and pretty high-gloss-glittery-pink shoes. Two outta three ain’t bad! Ain’t bad at all. I did have to do a pre-emptive strike and forewarn her father “Don’t say a word. Just tell her she looks pretty”. Of course this weird behavior from her conservative father confused the child and she immediately pointed out the shoes “But, look at my SHOES Daddy...” He never waivered. He just stayed on track and repeated “I see them. You look pretty.” Confused but happy, she thanked him and skipped out of our bedroom in her magic shoes!
I asked my friends if that was considered bad parenting and one of them replied “No. She can just click her heels twice and say…
‘There’s no place like Neieman ’s!’”
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Your Glass Is Half What?
By Deborah K. Martin sitting in for Crystal Laramore Lutz
This is Thanksgiving week, the start of the long holiday season which will encompass Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, Ashura and I’m sure many others. Being a tried and true American I’m glad this season starts off in the United States with a celebration of abundance, cooperation and gratitude.
Getting together with family and friends over a very large, calorie laden, fragrant meal has always been one of my favorite things but it’s not the only thing I think about at this time in November. Each year I stop for some serious thought about what has happened in my life over the past 12 months. I think about how I could have made it better, about my own mistakes in judgment and wasted opportunities. It’s not a time for beating myself up, just doing an honest self-evaluation.
I also think a lot about the true blessings in my life and try to be consciously grateful for each one. Things like my wonderful children who really aren’t children anymore. My older son has 4 daughters of his own. My younger son has added a beautiful wife to his life this year. I’m grateful for my grandchildren and my siblings. My two brothers are especially precious to me. They are both great men with many talents. I love them dearly.
I’m grateful for wonderful friends who encourage me during the tough times and keep me grounded during the good ones. Especially Miss Crystal, who has been my buddy and soul-mate for many years. What a blessing she is. She makes me laugh, she encourages me, she curses the latest guy who has hurt me and she challenges me to be more. Thank you, honey.
All this thinking got me wondering about attitude. It is everything, isn’t it? Some bad things have happened in my life this year (and last year and the year before and the year before, you get the picture) but I still have the ability to be cheerful, happy and grateful. Now please, don’t think I’m patting myself on the back here. I’m just as human as the rest. There are days when I think my life just plain sucks. But that passes.
Why? Because I CHOOSE to let it pass. I CHOOSE to look on the bright side. I CHOOSE to learn from those sucky days. I think maybe I was born with this bent anyway, but I’ve had many opportunities over the years to keep making the choice to be happy and cheerful. You CAN make that a habit like any other habit.
This brings me to the “glass half full or empty” question. There are two men who, over the years, have been very dear to me, each for different reasons. One I have known for over 13 years. We became instant friends and over the years he has been a buddy, a mentor and spiritual guide for me. He is a very successful businessman who has built quite a nice life for himself and his family. Last week we found out he has a rare, incurable cancer. He may live a year. He may live ten. It’s devastating news for someone who was planning an early retirement in the hill country with his wife and his Harley. He said he has to find different dreams now, short term ones. He has his bad moments but all in all, he is handling this news with grace and dignity. His life will be full for however long he is here.
The other man I have known for about 5 years. He has been a friend, a playmate, a lover, a fiancé. We’re no longer together as a couple but he calls every once in awhile. He also has been diagnosed with cancer. Prostate cancer. It seems to have spread to his kidneys, which is never good news, but still and all there are treatments and cures for his disease.
Like the first man, he is smart. He is also successful in his work. He has a loving family. He can still make me laugh. But none of that matters. He says his life is over. He’s done. He’s thinking seriously of not getting any treatment for his cancer. (Seriously? Give up? I can’t fathom that kind of thinking.) He says he’ll just live until he dies because he hates his life anyway. But would that be living? It’s not the disease that will kill him, but his attitude.
My first friend doesn’t just have a glass half full mentality. His glass is always overflowing, now as much as ever, just in different ways. My former fiancé’s glass apparently has always been empty. (just one of the reasons we’re no longer together) Isn’t that an amazing difference? I draw a complete blank when trying to figure it out.
So what’s my point? It’s not to look at your life and say, “Oh thank God, I don’t have cancer so I’ll be extra grateful! Yippee! Aren’t I lucky?!” No. That doesn’t usually work with me. Sometimes I look at that other person’s life and still say, “Well, my life sucks anyway. What’s your point?!” My point is that even though I may feel that my life sucks in some temporary way, it’s my choice to stay stuck there or to adjust my mind and move on.
It’s a choice. Sometimes a pretty difficult one, I’ll grant you, but a choice nonetheless. Frankly, at my age I no longer dread those challenges because I’ve already been through enough of them to know I’ll not only survive them, I’ll learn something valuable I can pass along to others. Every challenge makes me more grateful. It gives me more hope. More faith. More strength. Not less.
Anyone reading this little article in this little paper is blessed beyond measure. You can read. You have enough income to buy a paper. You have enough brainpower to understand what you’re reading. You live in a country which allows someone like you to read the scribblings of someone like me. Likely you have someone who loves you. Maybe a lot of someones. You have friends. Perhaps you have a career which thrills you every day. Or maybe you’re facing challenges. Physical. Mental. Financial. Emotional.
This is a great week to count your blessings. I dare you. Write them out. One by one. Seriously. Don’t bother with the negative unless you just can’t help yourself. Write out everything you can think of. Not only your job or your health. How about being grateful for how sweet your child looks when he’s asleep. Or how about the smell of a pumpkin pie straight out of the oven? The fact that your dog wiggles all over whether you’ve been out of the room 5 minutes or 5 days? Hugs? Smiles? Double Stuff Oreos? Hearing someone says I love you. Or how about this one – automatic deposit of your paycheck. Cell phones so you’re never out of touch. Or maybe leaving the cell phone at home. Any golf course at 7:30 in the morning. And the perfect tee shot. Take nothing for granted.
Make your list. Then choose. Will you have an attitude of gratitude? Will your glass be half empty or half full?
This is Thanksgiving week, the start of the long holiday season which will encompass Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, Ashura and I’m sure many others. Being a tried and true American I’m glad this season starts off in the United States with a celebration of abundance, cooperation and gratitude.
Getting together with family and friends over a very large, calorie laden, fragrant meal has always been one of my favorite things but it’s not the only thing I think about at this time in November. Each year I stop for some serious thought about what has happened in my life over the past 12 months. I think about how I could have made it better, about my own mistakes in judgment and wasted opportunities. It’s not a time for beating myself up, just doing an honest self-evaluation.
I also think a lot about the true blessings in my life and try to be consciously grateful for each one. Things like my wonderful children who really aren’t children anymore. My older son has 4 daughters of his own. My younger son has added a beautiful wife to his life this year. I’m grateful for my grandchildren and my siblings. My two brothers are especially precious to me. They are both great men with many talents. I love them dearly.
I’m grateful for wonderful friends who encourage me during the tough times and keep me grounded during the good ones. Especially Miss Crystal, who has been my buddy and soul-mate for many years. What a blessing she is. She makes me laugh, she encourages me, she curses the latest guy who has hurt me and she challenges me to be more. Thank you, honey.
All this thinking got me wondering about attitude. It is everything, isn’t it? Some bad things have happened in my life this year (and last year and the year before and the year before, you get the picture) but I still have the ability to be cheerful, happy and grateful. Now please, don’t think I’m patting myself on the back here. I’m just as human as the rest. There are days when I think my life just plain sucks. But that passes.
Why? Because I CHOOSE to let it pass. I CHOOSE to look on the bright side. I CHOOSE to learn from those sucky days. I think maybe I was born with this bent anyway, but I’ve had many opportunities over the years to keep making the choice to be happy and cheerful. You CAN make that a habit like any other habit.
This brings me to the “glass half full or empty” question. There are two men who, over the years, have been very dear to me, each for different reasons. One I have known for over 13 years. We became instant friends and over the years he has been a buddy, a mentor and spiritual guide for me. He is a very successful businessman who has built quite a nice life for himself and his family. Last week we found out he has a rare, incurable cancer. He may live a year. He may live ten. It’s devastating news for someone who was planning an early retirement in the hill country with his wife and his Harley. He said he has to find different dreams now, short term ones. He has his bad moments but all in all, he is handling this news with grace and dignity. His life will be full for however long he is here.
The other man I have known for about 5 years. He has been a friend, a playmate, a lover, a fiancé. We’re no longer together as a couple but he calls every once in awhile. He also has been diagnosed with cancer. Prostate cancer. It seems to have spread to his kidneys, which is never good news, but still and all there are treatments and cures for his disease.
Like the first man, he is smart. He is also successful in his work. He has a loving family. He can still make me laugh. But none of that matters. He says his life is over. He’s done. He’s thinking seriously of not getting any treatment for his cancer. (Seriously? Give up? I can’t fathom that kind of thinking.) He says he’ll just live until he dies because he hates his life anyway. But would that be living? It’s not the disease that will kill him, but his attitude.
My first friend doesn’t just have a glass half full mentality. His glass is always overflowing, now as much as ever, just in different ways. My former fiancé’s glass apparently has always been empty. (just one of the reasons we’re no longer together) Isn’t that an amazing difference? I draw a complete blank when trying to figure it out.
So what’s my point? It’s not to look at your life and say, “Oh thank God, I don’t have cancer so I’ll be extra grateful! Yippee! Aren’t I lucky?!” No. That doesn’t usually work with me. Sometimes I look at that other person’s life and still say, “Well, my life sucks anyway. What’s your point?!” My point is that even though I may feel that my life sucks in some temporary way, it’s my choice to stay stuck there or to adjust my mind and move on.
It’s a choice. Sometimes a pretty difficult one, I’ll grant you, but a choice nonetheless. Frankly, at my age I no longer dread those challenges because I’ve already been through enough of them to know I’ll not only survive them, I’ll learn something valuable I can pass along to others. Every challenge makes me more grateful. It gives me more hope. More faith. More strength. Not less.
Anyone reading this little article in this little paper is blessed beyond measure. You can read. You have enough income to buy a paper. You have enough brainpower to understand what you’re reading. You live in a country which allows someone like you to read the scribblings of someone like me. Likely you have someone who loves you. Maybe a lot of someones. You have friends. Perhaps you have a career which thrills you every day. Or maybe you’re facing challenges. Physical. Mental. Financial. Emotional.
This is a great week to count your blessings. I dare you. Write them out. One by one. Seriously. Don’t bother with the negative unless you just can’t help yourself. Write out everything you can think of. Not only your job or your health. How about being grateful for how sweet your child looks when he’s asleep. Or how about the smell of a pumpkin pie straight out of the oven? The fact that your dog wiggles all over whether you’ve been out of the room 5 minutes or 5 days? Hugs? Smiles? Double Stuff Oreos? Hearing someone says I love you. Or how about this one – automatic deposit of your paycheck. Cell phones so you’re never out of touch. Or maybe leaving the cell phone at home. Any golf course at 7:30 in the morning. And the perfect tee shot. Take nothing for granted.
Make your list. Then choose. Will you have an attitude of gratitude? Will your glass be half empty or half full?
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
“Mommy”! Who Said That?
By Crystal Laramore
Edited by Deborah K. Martin
This whole "Bam! you’re the proud new mother of a 6 year old at the age of 45" is taking it’s toll on me and my friends and the school system and last but not least the poor, poor 6 year-old. My husband seems to be taking it well; which should give us all reason to pause…
Does it mean you’re a bad parent if you drop your child off at school on a teacher In-Service day? What about if you get really mad at the “system” cuz the school called you last-minute to tell you that you have 70 lbs of cookie dough to pick up by 7 pm-“That’s it? No notice? No reminder?” and you’re in a business meeting in Houston; then you find the notice/reminder a few days later under your car seat with peanut butter on it? "Honey, can you cancel that appt. we had with LaTonya Goffney on Tuesday?"
How about if you send your child off to school with crooked pig tails? Socks that don’t match? Scratches under her eyes from the puppies-no, I swear!
Isn’t it great that children are resilient and bounce back from most things we do to screw them up as a child??? Maybe that’s why God makes our memory so crappy before the age of about 10. God knows.
Seriously, it’s a good thing that I KNOW the teachers and the administration at my stepdaughter's school. At least they know I don’t MEAN to be a horrible parent. At least they are willing to teach me that I have to help her with her homework when she first comes in from school while it’s still fresh in her mind and she has energy & an attention span farther than 22 seconds or until she hears the puppies barking; not at 6:55 in the morning right before we rush her to get ready and rush her out the door with crooked pig tails to have breakfast at school cuz we’re too crazed to make her breakfast soooo early in the morning and oh! Great Scott! Thank the good Lord they make it at school!
We do allow her to have coffee with us though. What?
Oh good gosh not really, we give her chocolate milk. I swear! Everyone knows sugar is totally better for a child than caffeine"??!!
And about the whole helping her with her homework thing Mrs. Rouswald, we didn't even know she HAD homework for several weeks. We thought kindergartners finger-painted. We didn't realize they were beginning to READ at that age! It's been such a long time since we were in grade K we forgot how to spell it. So, if our child is ever failing, please inform us because it's probably OUR fault! She’s probably told us to do something and we’ve ignored the silly 6 year old.
Like the first 3 times she brought home the copy of the lunch menu for the month I threw it away b/c it wasn’t pretty enough to go on the fridge - like the 6 year old said it should. Well, the 6 year old should have told the 45 year old it had the in-service days on it and the ice cream and slushy days on it and when the cookie dough will be in day marked, and when award day is-we missed award day! But nooooo, we’ve taught her to not argue with our authority. Tsk. We were soooo surprised when she came home with an award. I thought the “Food” calendar just had who was eating what & when on it. New parents don’t realize the global importance of the monthly food menu! To NOT look at one is to NOT want your child to succeed!
Look people, before I met/married my wonderful husband I was a night owl. I stayed up till 2 or 3 am and woke up around 10 or 11 am. I read period pieces, not "I said I see Sam". I may or may not get dressed for work during the week cuz no one can see me doing computer work. I lived on-site and only had to walk 10 paces to work. Now, I’m up between 5:30 & 6:00 and have made and drank 2 cups of coffee by 6:30. By 7:15 I have a lot of chores finished including getting a 6 year old ready for school (did she brush her teeth this morning?) and a 45 year-old (me) ready for work. Each takes the same amount of energy. By the time I get to work, which is 7 miles away now and I do indeed drive, I need a nap.
And is it so bad that we get Spirit day and the other day (see, I don’t even know the names of all the days) mixed up? Wednesdays we know its green t-shirt day and Friday is red-t-shirt day and most of the time we get it right; isn’t that enough? And I think the school system has dealt with parents like us before and that is why they pick our child’s clothes 2 days out of the week FOR US!
Speaking of colors, why didn't someone tell me a blue smiley face was worse than a green one? I thought a smiley face was universally good and all the different colors were pretty.
Here's another thing - why does a 6 year old get “projects” WE have to do??? Don’t WE pay THEM to teach our child? Our child’s parents are old. WE don’t have energy or an attention span after 4:30 pm either. It takes all the energy my husband has to turn off the football game every Monday night.
And if bed-time is 8:30 and the Wizard of Oz doesn't come on until 7:00 and Dorothy hasn’t clicked her freaking heels yet-what then???? Shouldn’t Disney have a policy about what time kids’ shows start? We could barely get her out of bed this morning and she was mad at US! Like we own Disney or something…wait, are they publicly traded?
Sophie’s story: It's not a "good parent" story; it's a "good child" story. Sometimes these things DO happen. It'll give you hope. When her baby boy was about 10 (btw, he's teaches pre-calculus and statistics in high school now so that should give you some clue as to how many cheery brain cells HE has), she and her husband were at a gathering of parents in the home of one of his classmates. The classmate in question wandered through the living room and his dad said something like, "Johnny, don't take too long. You know you've got to finish that big project. It's due tomorrow!"
Sophia and her then husband looked at each other & said “What project”? Their over-achieving child looked quizzically at them and said, "Oh yeah. I turned that in days ago." And so went HIS school years. We should all be so lucky as to get a kid like that. Miracles DO happen in the parenting world.
In the mean-time, this parent will try to remember (after 3 mos of school) to give her child a dollar on Wednesdays and Fridays for a slushy and/or ice cream and be grateful that she has better manners than Kanye and doesn't interrupt when someone is getting an award, even if her parents aren’t there!
p.s. I just found out that slushy day is Tuesday...NOT Wednesday…
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Edited by Deborah K. Martin
This whole "Bam! you’re the proud new mother of a 6 year old at the age of 45" is taking it’s toll on me and my friends and the school system and last but not least the poor, poor 6 year-old. My husband seems to be taking it well; which should give us all reason to pause…
Does it mean you’re a bad parent if you drop your child off at school on a teacher In-Service day? What about if you get really mad at the “system” cuz the school called you last-minute to tell you that you have 70 lbs of cookie dough to pick up by 7 pm-“That’s it? No notice? No reminder?” and you’re in a business meeting in Houston; then you find the notice/reminder a few days later under your car seat with peanut butter on it? "Honey, can you cancel that appt. we had with LaTonya Goffney on Tuesday?"
How about if you send your child off to school with crooked pig tails? Socks that don’t match? Scratches under her eyes from the puppies-no, I swear!
Isn’t it great that children are resilient and bounce back from most things we do to screw them up as a child??? Maybe that’s why God makes our memory so crappy before the age of about 10. God knows.
Seriously, it’s a good thing that I KNOW the teachers and the administration at my stepdaughter's school. At least they know I don’t MEAN to be a horrible parent. At least they are willing to teach me that I have to help her with her homework when she first comes in from school while it’s still fresh in her mind and she has energy & an attention span farther than 22 seconds or until she hears the puppies barking; not at 6:55 in the morning right before we rush her to get ready and rush her out the door with crooked pig tails to have breakfast at school cuz we’re too crazed to make her breakfast soooo early in the morning and oh! Great Scott! Thank the good Lord they make it at school!
We do allow her to have coffee with us though. What?
Oh good gosh not really, we give her chocolate milk. I swear! Everyone knows sugar is totally better for a child than caffeine"??!!
And about the whole helping her with her homework thing Mrs. Rouswald, we didn't even know she HAD homework for several weeks. We thought kindergartners finger-painted. We didn't realize they were beginning to READ at that age! It's been such a long time since we were in grade K we forgot how to spell it. So, if our child is ever failing, please inform us because it's probably OUR fault! She’s probably told us to do something and we’ve ignored the silly 6 year old.
Like the first 3 times she brought home the copy of the lunch menu for the month I threw it away b/c it wasn’t pretty enough to go on the fridge - like the 6 year old said it should. Well, the 6 year old should have told the 45 year old it had the in-service days on it and the ice cream and slushy days on it and when the cookie dough will be in day marked, and when award day is-we missed award day! But nooooo, we’ve taught her to not argue with our authority. Tsk. We were soooo surprised when she came home with an award. I thought the “Food” calendar just had who was eating what & when on it. New parents don’t realize the global importance of the monthly food menu! To NOT look at one is to NOT want your child to succeed!
Look people, before I met/married my wonderful husband I was a night owl. I stayed up till 2 or 3 am and woke up around 10 or 11 am. I read period pieces, not "I said I see Sam". I may or may not get dressed for work during the week cuz no one can see me doing computer work. I lived on-site and only had to walk 10 paces to work. Now, I’m up between 5:30 & 6:00 and have made and drank 2 cups of coffee by 6:30. By 7:15 I have a lot of chores finished including getting a 6 year old ready for school (did she brush her teeth this morning?) and a 45 year-old (me) ready for work. Each takes the same amount of energy. By the time I get to work, which is 7 miles away now and I do indeed drive, I need a nap.
And is it so bad that we get Spirit day and the other day (see, I don’t even know the names of all the days) mixed up? Wednesdays we know its green t-shirt day and Friday is red-t-shirt day and most of the time we get it right; isn’t that enough? And I think the school system has dealt with parents like us before and that is why they pick our child’s clothes 2 days out of the week FOR US!
Speaking of colors, why didn't someone tell me a blue smiley face was worse than a green one? I thought a smiley face was universally good and all the different colors were pretty.
Here's another thing - why does a 6 year old get “projects” WE have to do??? Don’t WE pay THEM to teach our child? Our child’s parents are old. WE don’t have energy or an attention span after 4:30 pm either. It takes all the energy my husband has to turn off the football game every Monday night.
And if bed-time is 8:30 and the Wizard of Oz doesn't come on until 7:00 and Dorothy hasn’t clicked her freaking heels yet-what then???? Shouldn’t Disney have a policy about what time kids’ shows start? We could barely get her out of bed this morning and she was mad at US! Like we own Disney or something…wait, are they publicly traded?
Sophie’s story: It's not a "good parent" story; it's a "good child" story. Sometimes these things DO happen. It'll give you hope. When her baby boy was about 10 (btw, he's teaches pre-calculus and statistics in high school now so that should give you some clue as to how many cheery brain cells HE has), she and her husband were at a gathering of parents in the home of one of his classmates. The classmate in question wandered through the living room and his dad said something like, "Johnny, don't take too long. You know you've got to finish that big project. It's due tomorrow!"
Sophia and her then husband looked at each other & said “What project”? Their over-achieving child looked quizzically at them and said, "Oh yeah. I turned that in days ago." And so went HIS school years. We should all be so lucky as to get a kid like that. Miracles DO happen in the parenting world.
In the mean-time, this parent will try to remember (after 3 mos of school) to give her child a dollar on Wednesdays and Fridays for a slushy and/or ice cream and be grateful that she has better manners than Kanye and doesn't interrupt when someone is getting an award, even if her parents aren’t there!
p.s. I just found out that slushy day is Tuesday...NOT Wednesday…
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Become a follower!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Honoring Veterans – Old & Young/Past & Present
by Crystal Laramore
Veteran’s day; a time for reflection and gratitude for many. And boy, do we have a lot to be grateful for! Just in my family and circle of friends alone I spent a few hours today (Tuesday) making phone calls and sending emails, thanking them for serving our country. I even received a few “thank-you’s” myself, which humbled my heart beyond measure.
One of my friends, CW 4 Luke Sweeney, flew an apache helicopter in the downtown parade in Houston on Veterans Day last year. His co-pilot was CW2 Darrick McGill. The lead Apache was expertly piloted by CW3 Roka (Rock) Wolgamott and co-piloted by CW2 Dusty Davis and they were followed by CW2 Ross Hovey and his front-seater was CW2 Jonathan Johnson.
Apparently this was a death-defying act! We were in Baghdad together and he said the flight that day was more frightening than most of the flying he did over there! The buildings downtown were only 75 feet apart and his span on the helo is about 50 feet! Warrant Officer Sweeney, aka Coco, lives here in Coldspring with his children, Brooke & Lucas Sweeney and his sister Sue Sweeney. If you live in Conroe, you may see him flying overhead a lot. He is based out of Lone Star Executive Airport. He belongs to the 7/6 Calvary Regiment. So, those guys you see practicing are doing it for a reason. And when you do see them, take a moment to say a silent “thank you” or heck, yell it till your throat hurts!
Until you’ve been in a war or a war zone you cannot begin to understand the level of commitment the men and women serving your country have embraced. Almost every day people ask me what it was like “over there”. Being Veteran’s Day today and having a chopper fly over my restaurant today made me remember this article and want to re-run it…
The military hospital is called the CASH (combat support hospital; incidentally, they used to be called M*A*S*H hospitals so says Col. Uncle Bill). When I first arrived I was sick with flu-like symptoms for the first three months. The doctors and civilians called it the Baghdad bug and many people were sick with it. So, I was in the CASH a lot. Then my neck stiffened up on me and I could not turn my head so I was in physical therapy for about six-8 weeks every day.
While I was hanging out at the hospital I would visit soldiers who were wounded and find out about their injuries and their lives at home and where they came from. Most of the soldiers had their purple hearts or their silver stars sitting right by their bedside. I caught a few of them watching Oprah, but as soon as I’d walk in and said “Hey, how’s it going?” they’d change the channel to WWF or something. (Not really WWF since we didn’t get that channel, but you get the idea!) And I never once called ‘em out on it. It was a secret among friends.
Other times, when I was coming in for treatment, I’d see a Chinook in the parking lot with a big red cross on it or a Blackhawk with blades running. Sometimes the medics would be taking soldiers off and carrying them in the CASH right in front of me. People screaming, men running, blood dripping. ER in a war zone. No commercials. No actors. No do-overs. Other times the only noise in all the area would be the deep, heavy thudding of the chopper blades. Either scenario was a grave situation. Those young men were in that chopper, on that gurney, in those bandages, bleeding red-for me. (And not all of them were Americans. This is a coalition of forces.) And I would always say a little prayer before walking through those ominous glass sliding doors, because of what awaited me on the other side; a soldier or a marine would often be lying on a gurney with his buddies standing around him in prayer. And I always knew (or thought I did) if the young man would make it or not. Sometimes I couldn’t even get through my physical therapy session b/c I was crying so hard. Probably what pulled at my heart more than anything is that I always expected to see a man; a grown man; an older man; a man who had lived most of his life; a man ready to die;. What I saw were men all right; it’s just that they were men at young boy’s ages; they hadn’t lived their lives; they just graduated from high school; they weren’t ready to die. But they were ready to fight for their country. Their faces were so young and so innocent, and yet so very brave.
At night, when we would all be sitting around winding down, we’d hear the choppers coming in; always, two-by-two. First one, then the other. If I was on the phone with a family member or friend I’d have to say, “Hold on, a chopper’s coming in” and after the chopper passed the person would start talking again and I’d have to say “Hold on, there’s another one coming in about 30 seconds”.
After being over there for a few months you could determine if an Apache, a Blackhawk or a Chinook was coming in. If it was a Chinook, chances were, the second one always had a big red cross painted on the side indicating there were wounded or fallen soldiers on board. The mood always fell to a heavy silence. Sometimes people would cry. It makes my heart beat fast just writing about it. We could hear the war in the background and we could always drown it out with laughter and chit chat and a few Coronas-naked not dressed-who had limes and salt? But, we could not drown out the sound of Chinooks coming in; two-by-two; first one, then the other. It was a heavy, thudding noise that cut through and drowned out our laughter as if demanding attention and prayer; respect and thought. It was ominous, surreal and sad.
And sometimes hearing the choppers coming in, feeling them come in, well, it felt patriotic, brave and warrior-like. I miss the sounds of the choppers flying over-head at night, rocking my hooch (where we lived-term brought back from the Vietnam War). I miss the feeling that I am well protected and loved by those who know me not. I miss feeling protected by the best armed forces in the world simply because I was blessed enough, by God, to be born an American.
So this veteran’s day, when I flew my flag I flew it out of respect for veterans of wars past, but especially for the young men and women who are fighting now. The one’s I’ve met and the one’s I know not. God bless them and God bless America!
Check out my new Blogs:
http://randomthoughtsonpaper-crystal.blogspot.com
http://sexinthewoods.blogspot.com
Veteran’s day; a time for reflection and gratitude for many. And boy, do we have a lot to be grateful for! Just in my family and circle of friends alone I spent a few hours today (Tuesday) making phone calls and sending emails, thanking them for serving our country. I even received a few “thank-you’s” myself, which humbled my heart beyond measure.
One of my friends, CW 4 Luke Sweeney, flew an apache helicopter in the downtown parade in Houston on Veterans Day last year. His co-pilot was CW2 Darrick McGill. The lead Apache was expertly piloted by CW3 Roka (Rock) Wolgamott and co-piloted by CW2 Dusty Davis and they were followed by CW2 Ross Hovey and his front-seater was CW2 Jonathan Johnson.
Apparently this was a death-defying act! We were in Baghdad together and he said the flight that day was more frightening than most of the flying he did over there! The buildings downtown were only 75 feet apart and his span on the helo is about 50 feet! Warrant Officer Sweeney, aka Coco, lives here in Coldspring with his children, Brooke & Lucas Sweeney and his sister Sue Sweeney. If you live in Conroe, you may see him flying overhead a lot. He is based out of Lone Star Executive Airport. He belongs to the 7/6 Calvary Regiment. So, those guys you see practicing are doing it for a reason. And when you do see them, take a moment to say a silent “thank you” or heck, yell it till your throat hurts!
Until you’ve been in a war or a war zone you cannot begin to understand the level of commitment the men and women serving your country have embraced. Almost every day people ask me what it was like “over there”. Being Veteran’s Day today and having a chopper fly over my restaurant today made me remember this article and want to re-run it…
The military hospital is called the CASH (combat support hospital; incidentally, they used to be called M*A*S*H hospitals so says Col. Uncle Bill). When I first arrived I was sick with flu-like symptoms for the first three months. The doctors and civilians called it the Baghdad bug and many people were sick with it. So, I was in the CASH a lot. Then my neck stiffened up on me and I could not turn my head so I was in physical therapy for about six-8 weeks every day.
While I was hanging out at the hospital I would visit soldiers who were wounded and find out about their injuries and their lives at home and where they came from. Most of the soldiers had their purple hearts or their silver stars sitting right by their bedside. I caught a few of them watching Oprah, but as soon as I’d walk in and said “Hey, how’s it going?” they’d change the channel to WWF or something. (Not really WWF since we didn’t get that channel, but you get the idea!) And I never once called ‘em out on it. It was a secret among friends.
Other times, when I was coming in for treatment, I’d see a Chinook in the parking lot with a big red cross on it or a Blackhawk with blades running. Sometimes the medics would be taking soldiers off and carrying them in the CASH right in front of me. People screaming, men running, blood dripping. ER in a war zone. No commercials. No actors. No do-overs. Other times the only noise in all the area would be the deep, heavy thudding of the chopper blades. Either scenario was a grave situation. Those young men were in that chopper, on that gurney, in those bandages, bleeding red-for me. (And not all of them were Americans. This is a coalition of forces.) And I would always say a little prayer before walking through those ominous glass sliding doors, because of what awaited me on the other side; a soldier or a marine would often be lying on a gurney with his buddies standing around him in prayer. And I always knew (or thought I did) if the young man would make it or not. Sometimes I couldn’t even get through my physical therapy session b/c I was crying so hard. Probably what pulled at my heart more than anything is that I always expected to see a man; a grown man; an older man; a man who had lived most of his life; a man ready to die;. What I saw were men all right; it’s just that they were men at young boy’s ages; they hadn’t lived their lives; they just graduated from high school; they weren’t ready to die. But they were ready to fight for their country. Their faces were so young and so innocent, and yet so very brave.
At night, when we would all be sitting around winding down, we’d hear the choppers coming in; always, two-by-two. First one, then the other. If I was on the phone with a family member or friend I’d have to say, “Hold on, a chopper’s coming in” and after the chopper passed the person would start talking again and I’d have to say “Hold on, there’s another one coming in about 30 seconds”.
After being over there for a few months you could determine if an Apache, a Blackhawk or a Chinook was coming in. If it was a Chinook, chances were, the second one always had a big red cross painted on the side indicating there were wounded or fallen soldiers on board. The mood always fell to a heavy silence. Sometimes people would cry. It makes my heart beat fast just writing about it. We could hear the war in the background and we could always drown it out with laughter and chit chat and a few Coronas-naked not dressed-who had limes and salt? But, we could not drown out the sound of Chinooks coming in; two-by-two; first one, then the other. It was a heavy, thudding noise that cut through and drowned out our laughter as if demanding attention and prayer; respect and thought. It was ominous, surreal and sad.
And sometimes hearing the choppers coming in, feeling them come in, well, it felt patriotic, brave and warrior-like. I miss the sounds of the choppers flying over-head at night, rocking my hooch (where we lived-term brought back from the Vietnam War). I miss the feeling that I am well protected and loved by those who know me not. I miss feeling protected by the best armed forces in the world simply because I was blessed enough, by God, to be born an American.
So this veteran’s day, when I flew my flag I flew it out of respect for veterans of wars past, but especially for the young men and women who are fighting now. The one’s I’ve met and the one’s I know not. God bless them and God bless America!
Check out my new Blogs:
http://randomthoughtsonpaper-crystal.blogspot.com
http://sexinthewoods.blogspot.com
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Change We Can ALL Believe In
by Crystal Laramore Lutz
Edited by Deborah K. Martin
As you all know I’ve been out of commission for a couple of weeks with the very competent Deborah K. Martin filling in for me as I avoid getting older.
Yes, I’m approaching my 45th birthday. I know, I KNOW, I don’t LOOK 45, but as my plastic surgeon says, “How old you are is your business; how old you LOOK is ours". Anyway, I've had a lot more than usual random thoughts roaming round in my head lately.
Just the other day we were all sitting at the new and improved Crystal’s Patio & Grille’s new bar watching the 52” LCD HD while Fox News (is there any other?) informed the world about some pirates who had kidnapped a couple and were holding them for ransom! Pirates?! Really? They’re back?
Well, yes they are back but unlike the bell-bottomed, corduroyed scoundrels we all knew and loved, these pirates have changed and not in a good way. Gone are the dreadlocks and man-liner along with eye patches, sheathed swords, three point hats, fancy belts with HUGE buckles and hairy chests. Pardon me, but I’d be less offended about the whole “the pirates are back” thing if we could just have our swashbucklers back instead of these metro-sexual, plain clothed pirate wannabe’s. And really, you’re not supposed to kidnap people – that’s a sin against the pirate rules. You are supposed to hunt down the treasure yourself and steal it from the first people who found it! Not only are the new pirates inadequate, unsexy and unappealing but they are impostors!
Come to think of it, we miss the real pirates so much the theme of this year’s Halloween party at the restaurant was pirates, wenches and gypsies. My husband was the Johnny Depp, swashbuckling kind of pirate and I was a gypsy. No fair asking how long the costumes stayed on but we DID have that extra hour Saturday night!
Speaking of Halloween, it was a full moon all weekend and I felt like I was in an “Eastwick” episode most of the time. Change was in the hair, ahem air – bwah hahaha!! It all started on Friday night when an enchanting young (-er than most of us) couple came into the restaurant for the first time. They were from Arizona, land of dry air, great hair and pretty people.
Speaking of great hair, all the charm seemed to be coming from the woman’s long black hair which I decided I just MUST have! Black hair that is, not HER hair…anyway, my hairdresser and FORMER friend (snicker) Kay Lynn was sitting at the bar and she concurred about me doing the black hair thing. Then Leah McCarty and Paula Harper followed suit; and did I mention it was a full moon and...?? So the witches of Coldspring danced across the street under a full moon, protected by a cloud of pixie dust sprinkled by the enchanting couple, after midnight for some...change.
It’s really been more like a “shock and awe” campaign than change but I’m rolling with it. The Rasmussen poll is 95% FOR the enchanting black hair aka “change” and 5% in favor of the blonde with one inch roots…so with the new black hair, the Dr. Mark Barlow special and the new weather in the air, I’m feeling like I’m likin’ change, baby. But remember, things are cyclical and in another 10 years…..blonde could be back.
Anyway, the real thing always shows up every ten years or so in some fashion or song or piece of furniture, etc. The very first time I can remember a fashion coming back around I was a youngster at my grandmother’s house in Austin. Dresses with wide bands around the hips were all the craze and my mother had bought my grandmother one for Mother’s Day. She was having NO part of that! “I didn’t wear ‘em back then and I don’t know what makes you think I’m gonna wear ‘em now!”
Since then many things have come back around that I remember, which means we’re all getting old. Whenever a new song like “My Boyfriend’s Back” by the Ravonette’s comes on the radio it’s always funny to see the “Man, you are so hip and cool” (except, Deb adds, young people don’t use those words, only us older folks do - snicker) expression on a teenager’s face when we know ALL the words! I LOVE that!
I’ve said all that to say this – life is short, embrace change. And for change YOU can believe in call
Mark Barlow, MD, Board Certified Plastic Surgeon (281-333-8999)
Kay Lynn Arrendell, Professional Hair Stylist (281-659-5250)
(Personal references available at Crystal’s Patio & Grille!)
Edited by Deborah K. Martin
As you all know I’ve been out of commission for a couple of weeks with the very competent Deborah K. Martin filling in for me as I avoid getting older.
Yes, I’m approaching my 45th birthday. I know, I KNOW, I don’t LOOK 45, but as my plastic surgeon says, “How old you are is your business; how old you LOOK is ours". Anyway, I've had a lot more than usual random thoughts roaming round in my head lately.
Just the other day we were all sitting at the new and improved Crystal’s Patio & Grille’s new bar watching the 52” LCD HD while Fox News (is there any other?) informed the world about some pirates who had kidnapped a couple and were holding them for ransom! Pirates?! Really? They’re back?
Well, yes they are back but unlike the bell-bottomed, corduroyed scoundrels we all knew and loved, these pirates have changed and not in a good way. Gone are the dreadlocks and man-liner along with eye patches, sheathed swords, three point hats, fancy belts with HUGE buckles and hairy chests. Pardon me, but I’d be less offended about the whole “the pirates are back” thing if we could just have our swashbucklers back instead of these metro-sexual, plain clothed pirate wannabe’s. And really, you’re not supposed to kidnap people – that’s a sin against the pirate rules. You are supposed to hunt down the treasure yourself and steal it from the first people who found it! Not only are the new pirates inadequate, unsexy and unappealing but they are impostors!
Come to think of it, we miss the real pirates so much the theme of this year’s Halloween party at the restaurant was pirates, wenches and gypsies. My husband was the Johnny Depp, swashbuckling kind of pirate and I was a gypsy. No fair asking how long the costumes stayed on but we DID have that extra hour Saturday night!
Speaking of Halloween, it was a full moon all weekend and I felt like I was in an “Eastwick” episode most of the time. Change was in the hair, ahem air – bwah hahaha!! It all started on Friday night when an enchanting young (-er than most of us) couple came into the restaurant for the first time. They were from Arizona, land of dry air, great hair and pretty people.
Speaking of great hair, all the charm seemed to be coming from the woman’s long black hair which I decided I just MUST have! Black hair that is, not HER hair…anyway, my hairdresser and FORMER friend (snicker) Kay Lynn was sitting at the bar and she concurred about me doing the black hair thing. Then Leah McCarty and Paula Harper followed suit; and did I mention it was a full moon and...?? So the witches of Coldspring danced across the street under a full moon, protected by a cloud of pixie dust sprinkled by the enchanting couple, after midnight for some...change.
It’s really been more like a “shock and awe” campaign than change but I’m rolling with it. The Rasmussen poll is 95% FOR the enchanting black hair aka “change” and 5% in favor of the blonde with one inch roots…so with the new black hair, the Dr. Mark Barlow special and the new weather in the air, I’m feeling like I’m likin’ change, baby. But remember, things are cyclical and in another 10 years…..blonde could be back.
Anyway, the real thing always shows up every ten years or so in some fashion or song or piece of furniture, etc. The very first time I can remember a fashion coming back around I was a youngster at my grandmother’s house in Austin. Dresses with wide bands around the hips were all the craze and my mother had bought my grandmother one for Mother’s Day. She was having NO part of that! “I didn’t wear ‘em back then and I don’t know what makes you think I’m gonna wear ‘em now!”
Since then many things have come back around that I remember, which means we’re all getting old. Whenever a new song like “My Boyfriend’s Back” by the Ravonette’s comes on the radio it’s always funny to see the “Man, you are so hip and cool” (except, Deb adds, young people don’t use those words, only us older folks do - snicker) expression on a teenager’s face when we know ALL the words! I LOVE that!
I’ve said all that to say this – life is short, embrace change. And for change YOU can believe in call
Mark Barlow, MD, Board Certified Plastic Surgeon (281-333-8999)
Kay Lynn Arrendell, Professional Hair Stylist (281-659-5250)
(Personal references available at Crystal’s Patio & Grille!)
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