The gate is closed

We’ve changed our lives and our world so much. Thank you to everyone who went on our England adventure with us.

If you’d like to continue following our journey in this crazy, wonderful life, feel free to follow me at https://greenbeansandsuch.wordpress.com/.

Thank you for coming through the gate with me so many times.

The gate is closed.

Veterans Day

Tags

military wife, Veterans Day

I sat down this morning and actually tried to count all the veterans I know.  I stopped counting when I realized that I hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine to try to count that high this early in the morning.  I am a military wife…I spend my days surrounded by military members of every kind…active duty, retired, discharged, spouses, brats.  I know thousands of vets.

I remember sitting down and talking to my dad about becoming a military wife.  He said “It’s a hard row to hoe”.  At the time, naive and so in love with my soon-to-be husband, I thought he was being overdramatic.  What couldn’t be conquered and overcome with love?

I was so freaking adorable then.

Maybe I’m jaded and cynical now, maybe I’ve seen too much, maybe I’m just old.  Love does not overcome 5 children with salmonella while Husband is deployed.  Love does not help one bit when your grandmother’s china is shattered to bits during an overseas move.  Love doesn’t take care of the dog and the cat and the kids and the house while Husband is getting someone else to do his laundry and cook him steak and lobster.  That, my friends, is duty.  

Fortunately, most military people are good at both love AND duty, so we’ve got that all covered.  And for the most part, lots of people recognize that military members are good at love and duty, and Veterans Day is one of those times when people are quick to praise.

You know what people miss?  Do you know the secret, the thing most people don’t know?

I have superpowers.

That’s right.

I have military wife superpowers.

My dad was right, it is a hard row to hoe, being married to a military man.  But look at all the things I’ve learned, the things I’ve earned, the things that naive little me didn’t know all those years ago.

I can identify a B-1 bomber, an E-4, a KC-135, a C-130, and about half a dozen other airframes, simply by sound.

I know the difference between a chopper, a huey, and a helicopter, and I know that an Osprey is none of those things.

I can carry on a conversation entirely in acronyms, and I know what they all mean.  Even if I did spend 8 years thinking Husband was talking about his SCI instead of his SEI.

I know that you have to wake up early the morning of an air show so that you can remove every picture from the walls, especially if you live on a bomber base.  I can also identify people who have neglected to do this.  They are usually the people cursing the sky while holding a dustpan full of broken glass.

I can fix broken toilets, broken toys, broken furniture, broken houses, and broken hearts when a child realizes that Daddy won’t be home for his birthday AGAIN.

I know automatically when it is 2 minutes until 1630 (that’s 4:30pm for you civvies), and I can quickly decide if I have time to get into the commissary before the music starts, or if I need to stop my car and wait for the music to be over.

I know the difference between the BX and the PX and the NEX (there isn’t one), and I know what days they stock the shelves.  I have also learned the “if you see it, buy it because there is no guarantee you will ever see it again” rule.

I can deal with cattiness and politics and backstabbing.  Remember junior high?  Imagine never getting to leave, the bell never rings, the busses never take you home.  That is life on a military base.  I haven’t gotten really good at juggling it all.  Then I go home and shake my head and tell Husband I’m glad I’m old.

I can move to a different country, on a different continent, and within a very short amount of time I can build myself a support system and family just as strong as the one I was born to.

I can measure my life in duty stations.  My memories are filed by assignment.  The base where I was pregnant with Boy3.  The house where I met my best friend.  The TDY when the cat died.  The deployment when the kids all had chicken pox.

I can host a Thanksgiving for 60, a Christmas for 75, a 4th of July for 90, even the year I sliced my thumb open and had to get 10 stitches.  That was the year I really did make Thanksgiving with one hand tied behind my back

I can, with about 2 hours notice, make a dinner to take to a family tonight, one for them to put in the freezer, and lunches and snacks for a couple of days.  You want a military wife’s recipe book.  We know what freezes, what soups to make to best be individual, easy-to-reheat servings, we know exactly what to make when you have a baby, lose a baby, have surgery, wake up to the big black SUVs parked outside to turn your entire world upside down with the news that he’s not ever coming back home.  Military wives show their love in casseroles and cakes.  In times where we cannot do anything to make it better, we can make sure you don’t have to cook dinner.  

I can pack up all our belongings, move to a different house…a street away, a state away, an ocean away…and once I start unpacking, in about 3 days it will look like we have lived here forever.  I can build a home anywhere.  I have to, because as a military family, our home is everywhere.  And our home is nowhere.

I can recognize that I will never feel at home again, because that is the price I have to pay for loving people all over the world.  My family of origin is in the midwest.  My family of choice is everywhere.  40-some-odd states, 8 countries, 4 continents…that’s my one family.

I can handle the dog and the cat and the kids and the car and the house and the bills and I can do it all by myself.  I’ve never lived close enough to ask my dad to come mow my grass, or drop the kids off with my mom while I run to the grocery store.  I’ve spent more years as a geographically single parent than I have with a live-in co-parent.  I can do it all.  It’s pretty nice when Husband gets to come home and sleep next to me though.

I can enjoy the days when Husband comes home from work because I know they won’t last forever, and another deployment is always looming.  So I am extra grateful on the days he is here.  And when he’s not, I stand in my closet and smell him, and know that deployments don’t last forever either.

I can do so many things I never thought I would be capable of. I’ve learned so much.  I’ve gotten so much stronger.  That row is hard, Daddy, and I never really liked to garden anyway, but I’m building enough muscle to be good at it.

I’m a goddamn superhero.

But even superheroes must have heroes of their own.

That’s why there are veterans.

Happy Veterans Day.

Spanish Vacation

Since Husband has returned home from his deployment, I can make it public.  Husband spent about five months in Spain.  He enjoyed himself for the most part, and he certainly had better weather than we did here in jolly old England.

We were lucky enough to get a chance to go visit him a couple of weeks ago.  We had our first real family vacation that didn’t involve visiting out-of-town relatives!  The bonus was that we were in Spain for both our anniversary and for Girl’s 16th birthday!  We had a wonderful time exploring, relaxing, swimming in the ocean, and EATING!  And there was always time for sangria.

We visited Moron de la Frontera and Rota, both in Andalucia.  The weather was perfect…there was sun all day long!  The kids and I couldn’t remember the last time we’d experienced a full day of sun and heat.  Despite many liberal applications of sunblock, we all came home with red skin and happy hearts.

Without further ado, A Spanish Vacation in pictures…

We got to Moron, dropped our things off in the hotel, and then went out for dinner.  After a dinner of meat and Ibiza ham and quarts of olive oil and about a gallon of sangria, we had to walk off all the food.  We wandered the streets of Moron:

We saw lovely little shops, fabric stores and yarn stores, and more tile and iron work than I’ve ever seen in one place.

This is the front of the hotel where we stayed.  I didn’t realize that the children had never seen palm trees in person.

 

Standing in this spot, I turned around, and this is what was behind me…

Mountains!  There is a little mountain town over that way called Ronda, but we decided we wanted the beach more than we wanted the mountains!

We drove for about an hour to Rota, passing this hillside city on the way.

 

 

 

When we got to Rota, it was still siesta time, so we just walked on the beach until the restaurants opened again for dinner.  I was just so happy to finally get my feet into the warm sand again.

 

We walked along the “boardwalk” which is very much not made of boards in Spain!  As you would guess, it is made of Spanish tile work!  They have little tile benches built in so you can relax.  They even have permanent seaside ping pong tables!

 

 

I love the beach.  It is absolutely my home, where I get refreshed and relaxed and rejuvenated.  I need the beach, far more than I ever realized.  The sounds, the smells, the salt air, even the sand that you can never get rid of…that is my place.

 

That is a fisherman who waded to that rock in waste-deep water, probably trying to catch sardines.  The water there was FILLED with them!

 

We had a wonderful vacation, and the time together is something that I will always treasure.  We didn’t know at the time that Husband would be coming home just a short time later.  When we found out is deployment was ending, we were all a little sad…we had been looking forward to Spain, Round 2!

Here is a seaside goodbye from the Red Gate.  I wish you all the peace and beauty of an ocean vacation!

 

Where’s Waldo

So it’s been a minute since I’ve posted anything.  I’ve been a little bit busy.  I’ve been cooking and cleaning, finishing up the homeschool year, dealing with the five small people, training a new puppy, participating in a wonderful workout challenge program, wrangling squadron spouses, and my own full time school.

Oh yeah, and have I mentioned I’ve been doing it all while Husband is deployed?

Yep.  He left the morning after my birthday, and he is going to be gone for, um, well.  He’s going to be gone until he is no longer gone.  That’s all I know.  Fortunately, he’s in a safe place, and he’s even in a place where we could go visit him (if Boy 3’s visa paperwork ever comes back).  But gone is gone, and gone is a lot harder when there is no end in sight.

I have to tell you though, this is his fifth? sixth? deployment.  I’ve already lost count, and I’m not even including the multi-week temporary duty trips he has taken.  Last year was the first time since Boy 3 turned 2 that Husband was home for his birthday.  Boy 3 turned 8.  It doesn’t look good for this birthday, either.

But no matter how many times I’ve done it, it never gets easier.  Ok, that’s a lie.  There are things that do get easier.  I know exactly how I’m going to react, I know how long it’s going to take me to get into a new, Husband-free routine, I know what pains in the ass the kids will turn into the week before he leaves, the week after he leaves, and the week after he gets home.  I know how loud the silence will be when I’m trying to fall asleep without his snores.  I know that I will stand in his closet just to smell him.  I know that I will enjoy being in charge of the television and the radio and the menu.  I also know that I’ll forget to pay the cell phone bill and he’ll have to call and remind me that it is due.  I always forget about the cell phone bill.

But the day-to-day goneness of him?  That doesn’t get easier.  This deployment is especially hard, it feels like the hardest of all.  I don’t know if it’s because we’re in a different country, or because I don’t know when it will end, or what it is.  I just know that it feels harder.

I am, as with every deployment, eternally grateful for modern technology.  Skype has saved my sanity more than once, and it’s nice to have instant messaging so I can let Husband know that I have returned safely home from the village pub.  Of course, Skype also has the pesky picture that allows Husband to see yet another antique I’ve bought.  Fortunately, he just sighs at me and then laughs.  He knows that I really, really needed that 1925 Singer sewing machine with its perfect working condition and its treadle.  He knows that I drive a mean bargain, and that I could sell the machine for 10 times what I paid for it.  He also knows that I would never sell.  He gets me.

And so we muddle through.  We plan birthdays without him (Girl will be 16 this month) and we take trips without him (we can do the train to Cambridge blindfolded) and we do the laundry without him.  Wait.  That last part was one of the bonuses.  Laundry is much faster without uniforms to wash.  We miss him, but we don’t put our lives on hold for him.  That’s a one-way, first class ticket to Crazytown.

But I still stand in his closet, just to smell him.

 

 

Civic Duty

 

Tomorrow is Election Day.

 

Did you vote early?  Did you mail in an absentee ballot?  Do you know where your polling place is tomorrow?  What time are you going to go vote?  Because you are going to vote, right?  You must.  It is your civic duty, it is your largest responsibility as an American citizen, and if you are a woman, it is your most hard-won right.  So you will be voting.

 

We vote absentee.  Our state allows military stationed overseas and their dependents to send their vote in via email, which is convenient and simple.  But I miss going into the little booth and pulling the little levers.  I miss the smell of the blue fabric and the nice ladies sitting with their giant book of voters.  I miss the little oval “I voted!” sticker.  I miss voting in person.

 

The moment I cast my vote is the moment I am proudest to be an American.  Proudest to be a military wife.  That doesn’t go away just because I’m not voting in person.  I still get a little choked up as I make my choice for the next President of the United States, just like I did the very first time (1996, Clinton vs. Dole).

 

 

 

The problem now is that I’m raising 5 future voters.  Five little people who need to understand the importance of voting, to understand the responsibility, to think of voting as normal and expected and just something you do.  They need to know the importance of researching your vote, and to know the sometimes necessary difference between voting for something or someone and voting against something or someone.  Political party does not matter to me.  I don’t care if they are social voters or economic voters.  Of course I have my preferences (doesn’t every parent?), but I cannot choose for them. I only care that they are educated, responsible voters.  And bringing that out in them is my responsibility.

 

 

I can’t take them into the voting booth with me, but I can certainly make voting a family affair.  A regular, serious, celebrated part of life…that’s what voting is in our house.

 

When Husband and I got our ballots, we made Family Ballots for the children.  We sat down to dinner and discussed the importance of voting.  We discussed some issues important to our family and friends, we talked about the differences of the candidates.  We touched on third-party candidates, we had a long talk about the women who fought and were dismissed and bullied and beaten so that women would have the right to vote.  We debated some major issues in the media today, and as parents we got the opportunity to not only explain our stance on those issues, but also to solidify some of our own family values with our children.  And we took a moment to thank Daddy for defending, among other things, our right to vote.

 

Then we voted.  Husband and I filled out our official ballots, the children completed their Family Ballots.  As we handed out the ballots, we discussed secret ballots, and how they never, ever have to tell anyone who they voted for if they don’t want to.  Boy 2 took this very seriously and crouched down on the floor to complete his own ballot.  As we folded our papers, we discussed the fact that, as email voters, we waive our right to a secret ballot, but that it is worth it for the convenience of voting by email and not having to worry about a military mail system that, in the past, has caused thousands of military votes to not be counted.

 

Our votes were tallied, a President was unanimously elected at our dining room table, and then we ate ice cream.  Ice cream is the official voting celebratory dessert, and has been my tradition since my very first Presidential election.  Alas, as we have no access to Dairy Queen here, Blizzards were out of the question, and we had to make do with large bowls of cookies and cream.

 

I like to look forward 20 or 30 years, to my grown children marching to their polling places with their own children, explaining the privilege of voting, talking about the importance of women voters, and then going out for ice cream.  It’s a small part of my own impact on the future…raising my children to be responsible, educated, civic-minded adults who understand that the small process of coloring in a circle or clicking a button or pulling a lever can have an impact on the entire world.

 

That’s what my vote can do.  That’s what your vote can do.  So go vote.  You owe it to yourself, to your children, and to your country.  It is the largest civic responsibility you have.  No matter which side of the aisle you’re on, go vote.

I did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Full Circle

 

 

 

The last time I opened the gate for visitors, it was to share the saddest of news.  I’ve been avoiding opening the gate again, because every time I log in, that sad news stares me in the face.  I needed to wait until I had happier news to share.

 

But as these things do, heartbreak turns to joy, sadness is lessened by happiness, cracks in your heart get filled in slowly, and life comes full circle.

 

My brother N, who is strong and brave and loyal and wonderful, found the perfect woman to be his partner.  He could not have walked into a wife factory with a list of requirements and suggestions and impossible requests and out-of-the-world wishes and made himself a better match.

 

 

 

 

She has supported him, stood by him, fought with him, and loved him for a very long time now.  She stands up to him and puts up with him.  Even when he’s at his most obnoxious.  That’s how we knew she was a keeper.

 

 

 

 

He has grown so much since they’ve been together, from a little boy with only the promise of a man in him into a man who will always be part little boy.  There are no words to tell you how much I respect, admire, and love him.

He kept saying that he wasn’t nervous, that he was the most excited groom in the world.  Of course, big sisters often know better, but not a single “I told you so” came out of my mouth when his nerves finally got the better of him.  I kept quiet when his tears got the better of him, too.

 

 

 

From front to back are my brother N, my cousin N, and my brother C.  Our third and youngest brother, J, is hiding behind cousin N.  As they have throughout our whole lives, these men had N’s back that day.  And as I have done our whole lives, I just led the younger boys toward the fun.

 

 

I cannot describe to you the honor of officiating the wedding of my brother and my brand new sister-in-law.  It is a privilege that is unparalleled.  They won’t remember a single thing I said beyond “I now pronounce you husband and wife”, but I always will.  It is a rare opportunity to tell someone exactly how we feel about them, and exactly what we wish for them, and I wouldn’t have missed that opportunity for the world.

The day was dry, as the bride requested (she forgot to mention that cold and windy wasn’t on her list of preferences).  The ceremony itself was beautiful and funny and so full of love.  K is beautiful and lovely and kind and funny and, well, there really aren’t enough words to tell you how much I adore her.  As happy as I am that N got such a perfect wife, I’m excited to say that I got a pretty incredible sister-in-law in the bargain.

 

 

 

 

My favorite thing about N and K together?  How much they obviously love each other.  All you have to do is look at them and you know that they were meant to be.

 

 

 

After the ceremony, we had a hell of a party.  The wedding party started out being all reserved and shy and appropriate (well, as reserved as you can be in velvet fedoras):

 

 

 

But anyone who has met us knows that reserved and appropriate doesn’t last very long.    We learned from the best though.  Our parents still get down when given the opportunity (look at how much they still love each other…we should all be so lucky).

 

 

 

 

 

In the end, it was an amazing celebration of love and life and happiness and courage and the ability to trust that love will last a lifetime.  I wish N and K nothing but the best.   A life filled with love and happiness and adventure and trust and laughter and a whole lot of fun.

 

They’re already well on their way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today

Sleep well, you’ve earned the rest.  You were the best grandmother anyone could ever ask for, and I will always love you.  Thank you for everything you taught me, all the love you showed me, and all the gifts you gave me.

You were the gift.

 

Rolling Stone’s 100 Greatest Songs of All Time

So one of my goals for the next three years was to listen to Rolling Stone magazine’s 100 greatest songs of all time.  It was to be a labor of love.  I love music, all music.  There isn’t a genre of music that isn’t represented in my house.  Music has been a part of my daily life for my entire life.  I had musical parents (my mother has a beautiful soprano voice and my dad played the bass in a band).  We may tease each other about our music preferences (don’t get my dad started on Barry Manilow, or my mother on Ozzy Osbourne), but the point is that we listen.  We sing, we dance.  To this day I find it impossible to clean my house without music playing.  I’ve sung more lullabyes than I can count.  Some of my favorite childhood memories are of riding in the car with my mom and singing duets, or sitting around the piano with my aunt doing song after song after song.

So 100 greatest songs of all time…that should be fun.  I was surprised at how many of them I started singing as soon as I read the title.  There are songs that have become part of our cultural tapestry.  Everyone knows the words to John Lennon’s “Imagine”, and I dare you to not start belting “Respect” just like Aretha.  I was surprised at all the songs I didn’t know.  I’ve never been a Clash fan, for example, and listening to Husband blast David Bowie songs during all 11 hours of a road trip makes my ears bleed. 

But mostly, I was surprised at all the songs that I didn’t know I knew.  The title and artist didn’t ring any bells, but once the song started playing I knew every word.  I was quite certain I didn’t know anything by The Ramones until “Blitzkreig Bop” started playing.  I heard about five notes of the Beatles song “A Day in the Life”, and I started to sing along with every word. 

So maybe you’ll find your all-time favorites on this list, those songs that you sing while you’re cleaning the house or rocking the babies to sleep (Husband has found that “Purple Haze” knocks babies right out).  Maybe you’ll hear some of these songs for the very first time.  Maybe you’ll realize that you’ve known these songs all along, you just didn’t know the name.  But listen.  Music is the universal language.  It expresses (and helps you to express) every possible emotion.  It makes you feel, even when you’re so bottled up that you’re not feeling anything.

Just listen.

Blogger’s Note:  I would love to be in my parents’ family room as they read this, because I guarantee they’ll be singing tonight.

1.  Like A Rolling Stone-Bob Dylan

2.  Satisfaction-Rolling Stones

3.  Imagine-John Lennon

4.  What’s Going On-Marvin Gaye

5.  Respect-Aretha Franklin

6.  Good Vibrations-Beach Boys

7.  Johnny B. Goode-Chuck Berry

8.  Hey Jude-The Beatles

9.  Smells Like Teen Spirit-Nirvana

10.  What’d I Say (Live Berlin) 1962-Ray Charles

11.  My Generation-The Who

12.  A Change Is Gonna Come-Same Cooke

13.  Yesterday-The Beatles

14.  Blowin’ In The Wind-Bob Dylan

15.  London Calling-The Clash

16.  I Want To Hold Your Hand-The Beatles

17.  Purple Haze-Jimi Hendrix

18.  Maybelline-Chuck Berry

19.  Hound Dog-Elvis Presley

20.  Let It Be-The Beatles

21.  Born To Run-Bruce Springsteen

22.  Be My Baby-The Ronettes

23.  In My Life-The Beatles

24.  People Get Ready-The Impressions

25.  God Only Knows-The Beach Boys

26.  A Day In The Life-The Beatles

27.  Layla-Derek and the Dominos

28.  (Sitting On) The Dock of the Bay-Otis Redding

29.  Help-The Beatles

30.  I Walk The Line-Johnny Cash

31.  Stairway to Heaven-Led Zepplin

32.  Sympathy for the Devil-Rolling Stones

33.  River Deep, Mountain High-Tina Turner

34.  You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling-The Righteous Brothers

35.  Light My Fire-The Doors

36.  One-U2

37.  No Woman No Cry-Bob Marley

38.  Gimme Shelter-Rolling Stones

39.  That’ll Be The Day-Buddy Holly

40.  Dancing in the Streets-Martha and the Vandellas

41.  The Weight-The Band

42.  Waterloo Sunset-The Kinks

43.  Tutti Frutti-Little Richard

44.  Georgia On My Mind-Ray Charles

45.  Heartbreak Hotel-Elvis Presley

46.  Heroes-David Bowie

47.  Bridge Over Troubled Water-Simon and Garfunkel

48.  All Along The Watchtower-Jimi Hendrix

49.  Hotel California-The Eagles

50.  The Tracks of my Tears-Smokey Robinson

51.  The Message-Grandmaster Flash

52.  When Doves Cry-Prince

53.  Anarchy In The UK-Sex Pistols

54.  When A Man Loves A Woman-Percy Sledge

55.  Louie, Louie-The Kingsmen

56.  Long Tall Sally-Little Richard

57.  A Whiter Shade of Pale-Procol Harum

58.  Billie Jean-Michael Jackson

59.  The Times They Are A Changin’-Bob Dylan

60.  Let’s Stay Together-Al Green

61.  Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On-Jerry Lee Lewis

62.  Bo Diddley-Bo Diddley

63.  For What It’s Worth-Buffalo Springfield

64.  She Loves You-The Beatles

65.  Sunshine of Your Love-Cream

66.  Redemption Song-Bob Marley

67.  Jailhouse Rock-Elvis Presley

68.  Tangled Up In Blue-Bob Dylan

69.  Crying-Roy Orbison

70.  Walk On By-Dionne Warwick

71.  California Girls-The Beach Boys

72.  Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag, Pt. 1-James Brown

73.  Summertime Blues-Eddie Cochran

74.  Superstition-Stevie Wonder

75.  Whole Lotta Love-Led Zeppelin

76.  Strawberry Fields Forever-The Beatles

77.  Mystery Train-Elvis Presley

78.  I Feel Good-James Brown

79.  Mr. Tambourine Man-The Byrds

80.  I Heard It Through The Grapevine-Marvin Gaye

81.  Blueberry Hill-Fats Domino

82.  You Really Got Me-The Kinks

83.  Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)-The Beatles

84.  Every Breath You Take-The Police

85.  Crazy-Patsy Cline

86.  Thunder Road-Bruce Springsteen

87.  Ring of Fire-Johnny Cash

88.  My Girl-Temptations

89.  California Dreamin’-The Mamas and the Papas

90.  In The Still of the Night-The Five Satins

91.  Suspicious Minds-Elvis Presley

92.  Blitzkrieg Bop-The Ramones

93.  I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For-U2

94.  Good Golly Miss Molly-Little Richard

95.  Blue Suede Shoes-Carl Perkins

96.  Great Balls of Fire-Jerry Lee Lewis

97.  Roll Over Beethoven-Chuck Berry

98.  Love and Happiness-Al Green

99.  Fortunate Son-Creedence Clearwater Revival

100.  You Can’t Always Get What You Want-Rolling Stones

The End of Winter

One of my favorite things about living in this part of England is that winter only lasts for about two months.  January and February are cold, and this year there was even some snow, but towards the end of February and the beginning of March, spring has started.  We’ve spent the last two days playing outside in just shirtsleeves, and it’s been wonderful. 

All the children got hair cuts last weekend.  Girl ended up cutting off about 6 inches of hair.  Her stylist was amazed at our (evidently rare) hair type, and spent about 20 extra minutes just fondling Girl’s hair.  All the boys got their hair cut too, and most of them went for short and spiky.  Poor Boy #2, however, is still very sad that we wouldn’t just shave his head.  He just wants to be bald!  But it is still a bit too chilly for his skinny self to have a bald head.

We spent Sunday in York.  The Jorvik Viking Festival was just finishing up, and we had a wonderful time.  Husband surprised me with an iron shaft drop spindle that made me drool.  We toured the Jorvik Viking Center and walked around York’s city center.  York is full of little walkways and brick paths that either come to a stop at a building or come out where you’d least expect.  We kept laughing that it felt just like walking through a Dickens novel.

The drive from our teeny tiny village to York was beautiful, though I’d be willing to bet it’s even more lovely farther into the year.  It’s a little overwhelming to drive past Roman stone walls on the side of the carriageway, though.  (Hell, it’s a little overwhelming to drive on something called a “carriageway”.)

The Viking Center had a number of archeological finds from in and around York.  Most of the best pieces are at the National Museum in London, but a few amazing things are still in York.

A full skeleton of a Viking woman, circa 650BCE which had labels and descriptions of her injuries and illnesses:

There were some amazing pieces of amber and war stuffs, too:

After exploring the Viking Center and their gift shop (Husband is still has that I said no to the 100GBP bearded axe), we continued exploring downtown York.

St. Mary’s Church, York:

The York Castle Museum:

And Clifford’s Tower:

We went past The Golden Fleece, the most haunted pub in York.  I really just wanted the big bronze sheep hanging outside.

It was a wonderful day, and we’re looking forward to a return trip when the weather is a little warmer.  There’s an archeological dig up there…

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Valentine’s Day.  It’s a hokey, made up holiday.  It’s a day dedicated to encouraging flower and card sales.  Disclaimer:  I secretly adore it.

Now, let me make something perfectly clear:  If Husband ever came home with a dozen roses and a box of chocolates and a Hallmark card, I would take that as a sign that Husband wasn’t interested in continuing our marriage.  Husband knows that, Husband agrees with that sentiment, and Husband would never think that those things would be an appropriate gift for me.  I hate roses.  I think they stink.  They’re pretty and all, for about five minutes, and then I remember that I don’t like them.  I’m not really a chocolate kind of person, either.  Now, if Husband were to come home with some daisies or tulips and a thing of chewy Sweet Tarts, that would be perfectly fine with me.

I understand the Valentine Critics.  I even agree with them.  I don’t need a gift and I certainly don’t need flowers that cost $20 yesterday and $75 today.  Don’t even get me started on stuffed animals for grown adults.  But I do appreciate the reminder to tell the people we love that we love them.

So many times we assume that they know.  We fear we’ve said the words so many times they’ve lost their meaning.  We feel like we’ve shown our love and proven our love enough that there shouldn’t be any question of our feelings.  We forget that sometimes people just need to hear the words.

I tell my kids a million times a day that I love them.  That I adore them.  Tat I think they’re the most amazing children in the universe.  That I am proud of their intelligence, their kindness, their empathy.  That they make me laugh every single day of my life.  That my love for them runs so deep into my soul that my heart hurts with the beauty of it.  That looking into their faces or watching them play together and love each other or seeing them sleeping brings tears to my eyes.  How grateful I am that they are my children, how lucky I am to get to be their mother.  I never want my children to doubt my love because I haven’t said the words recently. 

We go out into the world and we hear negativity everywhere we go.  There will always be people who think that we are less than, unworthy, not good enough.  Haters are always gonna hate.  It is my responsibility to give my children an escape from that.  A place of safety and encouragement and acceptance.  I truly believe that it is every child’s right to know that their parents believe that they hung the moon.  They deserve that.  If your own mother doesn’t think you’re spectacular, who will? 

For every negative thing I say, for every time I criticize, I have to make sure that I counter that with something positive, with praise.  I don’t want an even balance.  I want my comments to be weighted so far on the side of love.  Always.  I don’t want it to even be a contest.  I know that I have to be negative sometimes.  There are times I even have to be mean.  I never, ever have to be cruel.  I am never allowed to make my children feel unworthy.  There is never an excuse for breaking my children.

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can make the deepest wounds of all.  Especially words from the people who are supposed to accept and love you unconditionally.  Those are the wounds that take decades to heal, if they ever heal at all.

These same rules apply to my Husband.  He needs to know that nobody supports him or loves him or believes in him like I do.  I am proud to be his wife, I am proud of the man he is, the father he has become, and the friend he has always been.  I don’t tell him those things as often as I should.  I need to be better about that. 

For many years, we had a sign in our entry over our front door.  It read “Beyond this place, there be dragons”.  There are dragons outside.  There are hurts and pains and cruelty and war and danger.  We’re safe from the dragons in our home, though.  Our home is a harbor in the storm, a soft place to land.  Always.