Regrets... I've had a few

Twenty years ago I came to the realization that I deserved to be happy. This was a turning point for me, because I was used to being miserable. Armed with my epiphany I packed up my things and walked out on a six year marriage. For those of you doing the math, that means I got married at 18. We were doomed from the start, completely unable to escape the statistics.

I have been asked many times in the last twenty years if I regret getting married so young. That's a tough question to answer. In the early years after the divorce I was so filled with anger and disappointment that I always answered quickly and forcibly, yes! Now, looking back on the person I have become, and the experiences I have had, I have to say, I'm not sure.

Life is all about the choices we make. Good and bad, right and wrong. Every choice has a consequence and every experience you have after that choice is meshed with that choice. There is no way to separate the two. I don't know where I would be today if I had called off the wedding, or chose to stay married. I know that those decisions have sparked countless other decisions so that I am a totally different person with a totally different life than I would be if I could go back and "undo" some of my mistakes.

I didn't enjoy my first marriage, and the break-up was painful and messy and filled with angry exchanges that can't be taken back. I didn't handle it well, but I was 24 and I was fed up. If I could do anything differently I think I would try to be nicer. Don't get me wrong, leaving was the right thing to do, but I did it the wrong way. That is the only regret I have. I don't know what has happened to Mr. Wrong. I have had no contact with him since the divorce papers were signed. I hope he is doing well, I hope he finally figured out what he wanted to do with his life. I hope he can look back on our six year mistake and realize ending it when we did was the right thing to do.

So I can't say I regret the choices I've made, I only regret how I have handled the consequences. Marrying at 18 was a mistake. However, were it not for that mistake I wouldn't be the person I am today. So finally, 26 years after the wedding and 20 years after the divorce I can embrace both of those decisions. No regrets.

The Break Up

I think I need to break up with Facebook. Things have been strained between us for quite some time. He's always changing and evolving, and while I realize we all change from time to time, his changes have been drastic. The last straw happened this week. I went to bed Tuesday night and everything seemed fine between us, but I awoke on Wednesday morning and I didn't recognize him anymore. When we started out together there were no lists, no subscriptions (I have no idea what that means and don't intend to find out). I wasn't constantly bombarded by ads for cupcakes, eye shadow, hooker shoes. It was just him, me and a few of my closest friends. Now he's recommending I friend people I've never heard of and seems I have nothing in common with. Who are all these people, and why would I want them to know what I'm making for dinner?

Facebook has caused a few problems in my life. I worry about hacking. At least once a week it happens to a friend. Will I be next? On more than one occasion I realized I was on the outside looking in as friends were getting together and I was not invited. I have realized I am a complete slacker because I don't run 20 miles every morning before I scrub the floors on my hands and knees and make a gourmet breakfast for my adoring family. I have come to realize that common sense isn't very common. I've also realized very few people seem to know when to use their, there or they're and your or you're. It bothers me. It shouldn't but it does.

Breaking up hard to do, and I don't know if I'm going to have the strength to do it. With every breakup there is collateral damage. People have to choose sides, and my friends will probably stay with Facebook. I don't blame them, Facebook has a lot to offer, he can sometimes be very exciting and there is a sense of belonging when you are with him. So I will leave my friends behind. There will be the inevitable twinge when I am with a group and they start talking about something they heard on Facebook and I will be tempted to go back to him. I know he would take me back, but if I should garner the strength to leave, I will leave for good. I can't move forward if I am looking behind.

Between you and me, I'm being courted by someone new, Google+ I think is his name. So far I haven't heard much about him and it will probably be the same thing all over again. No, I think I will go it alone for a while, scope out my options. I haven't told Facebook about my plans and I'm going to sleep on it for a couple days. Who knows, maybe he'll realize the change was too big, too soon and he'll take a step back. I don't think that is going to happen, but you never know.

If we are Facebook friends and you realize I am gone one day, don't be alarmed. I've just decided I've had enough. I've enjoyed hearing about your lives and living a little bit of it with you. I've enjoyed having someplace to vent. I'm going to keep doing my blog, so the venting will continue. I would love it if you would check on it from time to time and offer comments. I will still have email, so feel free to drop me a note, I promise I'll drop one right back at you. It's time Facebook and I had our own space. It isn't me, it's him.

Playgroup

Robert will be 13 years old tomorrow. I can’t believe that tiny little bundle of joy I brought home from the hospital is going to be a teenager. As we hit this milestone I fondly remember those days, so long ago when I hovered over his bassinet and watched him breathe .I loved being a stay at home mom. I reveled in my new role as a mommy, but I never imagined how isolating it would be. I had a wonderful mother-in-law who would come over at the drop of a hat, and my mom came out to visit for a few days after Robert was born. Glenn took a couple weeks off of work and that was fantastic, but then everyone got back to their lives and I was left alone for long periods of time with a newborn. Let’s face it; newborns can be a little boring. They sleep a lot and they aren’t very interactive. It didn’t take long for me to start to go a little stir crazy.

By chance, I saw a flyer for the MOMS Club. I wasted no time calling the number and within a day or two the application showed up in my mailbox. I filled out the application, sent it back and waited. I was a little nervous while I waited to hear about my “playgroup placement”. Then it happened, I got the call. I was placed in a playgroup. The only thing I knew about this group was that the women all lived within my geographic area. That’s it. No other information.

As luck would have it, the group was meeting in a house in my neighborhood that week. I put my little man in a cute outfit, strapped him into a stroller and walked around the corner to Teresa’s house. I was the first one there and introduced myself to Teresa and met her little girl Sarah. Soon we were joined by Elizabeth and her daughter Micaela, Karen and her daughter Leah, Lori and her twins Spencer and McKayla, and Paulette and her son Connor. I was the newbie to the group that had already been meeting for a couple months. It could have been awkward and I could have been made to feel like an interloper, but instead the ladies were warm and welcoming. I felt like a full-fledged member in a very short period of time.

A few weeks after I joined we got a new newbie, Jolene and her daughter Rachel. She made our group complete. We put in word with the MOMS Club that we were a closed playgroup and would not be accepting new members. I cannot believe for one second that we were put together as a group simply because of when we joined the MOMS Club. I have to believe God had a hand in our meeting. To this day I thank God for those ladies.

We’ve had a few changes, but never any real issues. Paulette left the group after about a year because she lived too far away and it was hard for her to come to us, and frankly, none of us wanted to drive to West Virginia to meet at her house. No hard feelings. We all really liked Paulette and Connor, but we had babies, and babies don’t necessarily love long car rides to remote areas of West Virginia.

It didn’t take long to test our bonds. In that first year one of my friends lost a baby late in her pregnancy. We rallied around her and tried to love her through it. My mother-in-law died and my girls were there for me to watch Robert and to cook a meal or two. We also had many blessings. Elizabeth and her husband Michael welcome a new baby, Cosette, and a few months after that Karen and her husband Scott welcomed their new baby, Emma. Glenn and I welcomed Reid and then finally Teresa and her husband Steve welcomed their new baby, Connor. The meals were flying, babysitting commenced. We were a well oiled support group.

Things settled down for a few years and our playgroup was the highlight of my week. The kids became more self-sufficient and our weekly meetings became much less about them and more about us moms. We loved our weekly chat fests eating quick breads and drinking copious amounts of coffee. When the first generation of kids headed off to preschool we changed our meeting day from Thursday to Wednesday. The next year we changed it back to reflect their 4 year old preschool schedules. We were dreading kindergarten. How were we going to manage to meet with the kids on different kindergarten schedules? I wish I could tell you what we did, but I don’t remember. I know we still got together, whenever we could. By that time the second generation was getting bigger and enjoyed spending time together.

We lost a group member around that time. Lori and her family moved to Connecticut. It was sad to say good-bye to Lori, McKayla, Spencer and Lori’s husband Patrick. Robert was especially saddened because Spencer was the only boy in the first generation group. The kids were all in school full time by then and we were meeting more and more sporadically. It seemed as though our little group had served its purpose and we were all heading in different directions. They all made a point to come see me and entertain me while I was on bed rest over the summer of2004, but we didn’t have any concrete plans to continue meeting as a playgroup. I was afraid our group would fracture and was very saddened by the thought.

Then the unthinkable happened. Teresa’s husband, Steve was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of Leukemia. To make matters worse, they had just moved into a new home in Northern Virginia, a little bit of a drive from our homes in Maryland. But the miles didn’t matter. Teresa and the kids needed us, and we were going to do everything we could for the family. Elizabeth was able to find a house for them to stay in while Steve was receiving treatment. Their home in Northern Virginia was too far from Johns Hopkins Hospital and they were panicked about where they were going to stay. Elizabeth’s in-laws spend their winters in Florida, so their home was sitting empty. The best part was that it was only a couple miles from all of us. We were able to provide meals and babysitting whenever it was needed. By late spring, Steve’s treatments were over and he seemed to be getting better. The family moved out of their temporary housing back to Northern Virginia and we all breathed a collective sigh of relief. To honor Steve and Teresa and all they had been through, our playgroup formed a team for the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life. Steve was able to walk the survivor lap. It was a shining moment for Steve, Teresa and all those who loved them. Unfortunately, our joy was short lived. In a matter of weeks Steve’s disease returned and we said our final good-byes to him in July 2005. We rallied around Teresa during the bleak weeks ahead. She didn’t have to give childcare a second thought because our doors were open wide for her children. She didn’t have to wonder who to turn to when she needed to cry, she had five shoulders at the ready. We helped her with a yard sale; we helped her move, then move again. Whatever she needed, we tried to be there for her.

Many playgroups formed and crashed in flames during our active years with the MOMS Club. Occasionally we would meet someone who would ask us to let them in to our group. I suppose we could have, but I think we knew instinctively that adding new members would change the very essence of what made us work. Flash forward six years and our group is still intact, sort of. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like, and though not officially, we have let a few others into our circle. Just like any long-term relationship, we’ve had our ups and downs, misunderstanding and frustrations, but in the end, we have an unspoken bond to one another.

So as I reflect on my 13 years of motherhood, I have to reflect on the 13 years in the playgroup and all that it has meant to me. I don’t know what I would have done without this wonderful group of ladies in my life. Because of them I had somewhere to go when I felt the walls closing in on me, because of them I am a scrapbooker, because of them I am a better mother, wife, friend. Thank you my friends for 13 unforgettable years. Can’t wait to see what the future holds.

Don't Mess With The Military

I am steamed and I have to vent or will explode. I just read that the powers that be are looking at Military Retiree Benefits as a way to cut a few bucks from the budget. That’s right, let’s not look at cutting the salaries or benefits of the do nothings in Congress, let’s cut the benefits of people who have served our country in times of peace and war.

Let me give you a few statistics so that you know where I am coming from. Less than one percent of our population willingly serves in our Armed Services. I will say that again in case you missed it, less than one percent. Service people do not receive a pension unless they serve 20 years or more in the military. Of the less than one percent of people that serve in the military, only 17 percent stay in long enough to actually receive retirement benefits. Fifteen years doesn’t cut it, you must serve a full 20 years in order to receive benefits from our grateful nation. Once the 20 year mark has been reached you can retire at 50 percent of your salary for the rest of your life. That’s the deal we made with our service people when they voluntarily agreed to be on the front line.

In contrast, let’s talk about a typical member of Congress. Five years, that’s right, they only have to serve five years in order to receive pension benefits. So they can sit around and keep their head low, try to stay scandal free for five years and they can receive their full pension at age 62. Sound fair to you?

This absolutely makes my blood boil. I am a firm believer in term limits. It seems the only people who don’t believe in term limits are the politicians themselves. If we take the monetary incentive out of serving and institute term limits, we might actually get a Congress that does something instead of wasting time forming committees and campaigning for re-election. This cannot be the system our forefathers dreamed of when they started this great nation of ours. It is so corrupt and ugly and disgusting that the average American has no faith in the system at all. Like most people, I have voiced my disgust from time to time, but I am usually mum because I don’t like conflict. Let me state this loud and clear… if this do nothing group of corrupt individuals decides they can cut the pensions of the people who voluntarily put their lives in harms way, then I will become a very loud voice. This isn’t right, I won’t stand for it and I encourage those who care to make their voices heard.

Yee Haw, We're Going to the Rodeo

I grew up going to the rodeo. My dad loved the rodeo and as a result he took his children whenever possible. Though I loved riding horses, I was never adventurous enough to try my hand at riding in the rodeo myself. My sister, Laurie, did dabble in barrel racing ever so briefly, but I have never had the drive for competition. I may have gone to a rodeo or two after my father died, but I never enjoyed it as much.

Flash-forward 30 years and it dawned on me that my children had never been to a rodeo. I was determined to change that. My boys were not going to go another year without see and experiencing the wonderful spectacle that is “The Rodeo”. We planned a long stop-over in Cody, Wyoming to right this wrong. In my exhaustive research, I learned that Cody, Wyoming is the rodeo capital of the world. They have a real live rodeo every night June through August. This is the real thing. The kids competing have to pay an entry fee and no doubt many have dreams of going to the National Finals Rodeo. Hot dang, my boys are going to the rodeo.

I was in heaven when we pulled into the parking lot. It was dusty, it was smelly and you could hear the bulls snorting and the cows mooing. We walked in and there stood a giant bull. For $10 you could sit on the beast. I thought about it. Figured the boys would love it, but didn’t want to spend $30 for the privilege. I’m cheap. We found great seats, a few rows up and dead center. The bull chutes were below us and we could see the animals as they were penned and prepped for riding. We could see the young men wrapping their hands and psyching themselves out to take on their formidable opponents.

The rodeo started like any good rodeo. Two golden haired girls wearing red sequenced western blouses rode into the ring holding the American flag high. They rode around in circles a couple times before coming to a stop in the center of the ring as we said the Pledge of Allegiance. They rode out and a raven haired beauty, slightly older, came riding into the ring holding a much larger flag and we sang the National Anthem. I always get chocked up at events like this. I love standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers, united in love of our great nation.

Time to rodeo. Our MC/clown came out to introduce the events and to tell a few jokes. He was really funny and the kids got a kick out of him. Then the bull riding started. The first kid was fantastic. He held on to the bucking bull for the required eight seconds before being tossed off like a rag doll. The bull came frighteningly close to stomping on the kid, but he was able to scramble out of the way, just in time. What a sight. As the event continued, most of the cowboys were thrown off well before the eight seconds were up, but they all went down in style.

After the bull riding there was calf roping, bronc riding, team roping and a few other events, but my all time favorite event is Barrel Racing. I love watching barrel racing. There is just something so very exciting about seeing those kids race around the barrels at break neck speeds. I have always loved barrel racing and I’m sure I always will. The barrel racing at the Cody rodeo did not disappoint. There were two categories, 12 and up, and under 12. Most of the 12 and up crowd were kids in their late teens, early 20’s and they were fast. You could tell they had been racing for a long time and they were comfortable in the saddle. There was one little girl, who just turned 12 who quickly became the crowd favorite. She flew around the barrels with her little braids flapping in the wind. She didn’t win in her category, but she came awfully close. The 12 and under competition was cut-throat. These little kids were amazing. Fast as lighting and not a single disqualification in the group. One little girl stood out. She was six. Long blond braids under her pink cowboy hat and the biggest horse I have ever seen. She was so tiny that her little legs just stuck straight out. The crowd was on their feet, cheering this tiny little wisp of a girl. She blazed through the barrels, her little legs flapping, her braids flying behind her, bobbing up and down on the saddle like it was nothing. Honestly, I don’t know if she won or not. I think she did, but I was so stunned by her talent and fearless attitude that I proclaimed her the winner in my mind. Fortunately for the other competitors, she was last on. I couldn’t imagine having to follow that act.

The highlight of the rodeo for the boys was when they were allowed to run into the ring with all the other children and attempt to pull a bandana off the tails of three calves. The MC/clown called the kids down got them all lined up in a straightish line and proceeded to explain the event. In the course of explaining the event he told the kids to reach down, pick up a handful of dirt and put it in their pocket. Most of the kids realized the clown was joking, but I saw Reid and Sean reach down and pick up the dirt. I’m yelling from up in the stands “NO! NO!”, but it was no use, they couldn’t hear me. They both put a handful of rodeo dirt into their pockets. There were about 75 kids in the ring, and Sean came very close to getting a bandana, but no, victory was not meant to be. He was disappointed, and I was afraid he wouldn’t snap out of it, but by the time the rodeo ramped back up the disappointment was forgotten.

The rodeo ended with a second round of bull riding. The second round was much more exciting than the first. One of the bulls kept trying to jump out of the chute and the rider was never able to get on him. Another rider got banged into the gate as soon as it was opened and granted another try. One of the bulls quickly dispensed with his rider and went after the clown in the barrel and the brightly dressed dummy in the middle of the field. Dummy parts went flying much to the delight of the boys.

Much too soon it was over. We got back in our car and drove back to the RV. Not quite ready to end the perfect night we sat outside for a few minutes and looked for constellations. The Wyoming sky is almost free from light pollution and the stars seem to sparkle a little brighter there. Sean was delighted to be able to find the North Star on his own and then it happened… a shooting star. The perfect ending to the perfect night.