So I was pretty excited to finish a book worth reviewing to review on here.
But it hasn't happened yet.
I finished The Sisterhood by Helen Bryan a few weeks ago and though it was good (despite the fact I never was able to keep the 657 characters straight), it wasn't sing-it-from-the-rooftops, or even recommend to a friend good. But seriously - what is, anymore? I feel like there are thousands of books out there with the very same story lines. Same as with movies now days - it's like people are just out of things to write about. And yes, I know, I sound like I'm 100.
I'm in a book drought. And I'd better snap back in soon, because I'm going to have a lot of time spent under a sleeping/nursing baby, and I'm wayyy too overstimulated by technology to be able to just sit and enjoy the moment. Must.Have.Something.To.Do.
So now I have 3 books on my nightstand. One on parenting (Scream Free Parenting - though I can't seem to get more than 3 pages in before falling asleep), one on marriage (The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work - came SUPER highly recommended by a friend as something ALL married folks should read -- I'll let you know) and one novel (Wicked. Yes, I know, I'm late to the party). I like to have fluffy and serious reading at once - depending on my mood. But I'm totally in a slump because none of them are singing to me.
Hopefully soon I'll have an enthusiastic post about a great book. Sadly, that day is not today.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
June 21st.
June 21 rolls around every year, and every year I get feelings of guilt as I grieve a man I've never known.
SFC Jared Monti died on June 21, 2006 in the mountains of Afghanistan from wounds sustained while trying to save the life of Brian Bradbury. As I said, I didn't know him, but during his short life, he changed the lives of at least two men who are near and dear to my heart. One of them being my own husband.
I remember specifically the day I read that he had died, I knew immediately who Jared was (from having heard everyone speak so glowingly about him), and knew what a toll his death was going to take on those that I loved - those that I knew loved him. And I wept.
Shortly after their brigade returned home from Afghanistan about a year later, Erik and I were married in Westfield, Massachusetts - not a far drive from where Jared had grown up in Raynham, and we were moved beyond measure that Paul, Jared's father, chose to attend our service in his sons honor.
I'm afraid I didn't handle our initial meeting very well. I cried the second I spoke to him, and he began crying too. I was called away just a few seconds later and I hate to admit that I don't think I could have possibly moved away any faster. I'm ashamed to say that in that moment I was grateful for the reprieve. I didn't know what to say; I felt awful for his loss. I felt awful for my joy. I still don't know how he managed to muster the grace to even attend - knowing he'd never get to go the wedding of his own son. But I hope he knows how moved so many of us were that he did. There were 4 Soldiers there who had served with his son, and I hope he knows how humbling it was, and how meaningful it was for them. And for all of us.
Last June 21, Erik was able to make the drive from where we were in New Hampshire to Jared's grave on Cape Cod to pay his respects, it was his second trip out there. He and I had gone once before, about 3 months after Jared's death, and it wasn't a feeling I'll ever forget. I never knew that grief was palpable - but God, it is. I cried for Jared then, and I've cried for him countless other times. And I feel badly in a way. I didn't know him - his death really isn't mine to mourn. But I just... I do. And now that a child of my own, I grieve still, but a little differently. Every June 21, I cry for his family. I look at my little boy and I can't bear to think that the world will be unkind to him for even a second, never mind subject him to a violent death in a country too far away from his parents protection.
Since that day in 2006, Paul has done TREMENDOUS things in Jared's honor. There is a scholarship fund, a golf tournament, a bridge and an intersection in his home town. Not to mention a training facility on Ft. Sill bearing his sons name, the gym at Ft. Drum having been renamed in Jared's honor and most recently, inspired by an interview Paul did on NPR, a song was written about Paul's experience called "I Drive Your Truck." And of course, his receipt of Jared's Congressional Medal of Honor in 2009. His strength really does astound me.
You can read a post I wrote several years ago about the Medal of Honor ceremony here.
SFC Jared Monti died on June 21, 2006 in the mountains of Afghanistan from wounds sustained while trying to save the life of Brian Bradbury. As I said, I didn't know him, but during his short life, he changed the lives of at least two men who are near and dear to my heart. One of them being my own husband.
I remember specifically the day I read that he had died, I knew immediately who Jared was (from having heard everyone speak so glowingly about him), and knew what a toll his death was going to take on those that I loved - those that I knew loved him. And I wept.
Shortly after their brigade returned home from Afghanistan about a year later, Erik and I were married in Westfield, Massachusetts - not a far drive from where Jared had grown up in Raynham, and we were moved beyond measure that Paul, Jared's father, chose to attend our service in his sons honor.
I'm afraid I didn't handle our initial meeting very well. I cried the second I spoke to him, and he began crying too. I was called away just a few seconds later and I hate to admit that I don't think I could have possibly moved away any faster. I'm ashamed to say that in that moment I was grateful for the reprieve. I didn't know what to say; I felt awful for his loss. I felt awful for my joy. I still don't know how he managed to muster the grace to even attend - knowing he'd never get to go the wedding of his own son. But I hope he knows how moved so many of us were that he did. There were 4 Soldiers there who had served with his son, and I hope he knows how humbling it was, and how meaningful it was for them. And for all of us.
Last June 21, Erik was able to make the drive from where we were in New Hampshire to Jared's grave on Cape Cod to pay his respects, it was his second trip out there. He and I had gone once before, about 3 months after Jared's death, and it wasn't a feeling I'll ever forget. I never knew that grief was palpable - but God, it is. I cried for Jared then, and I've cried for him countless other times. And I feel badly in a way. I didn't know him - his death really isn't mine to mourn. But I just... I do. And now that a child of my own, I grieve still, but a little differently. Every June 21, I cry for his family. I look at my little boy and I can't bear to think that the world will be unkind to him for even a second, never mind subject him to a violent death in a country too far away from his parents protection.
Since that day in 2006, Paul has done TREMENDOUS things in Jared's honor. There is a scholarship fund, a golf tournament, a bridge and an intersection in his home town. Not to mention a training facility on Ft. Sill bearing his sons name, the gym at Ft. Drum having been renamed in Jared's honor and most recently, inspired by an interview Paul did on NPR, a song was written about Paul's experience called "I Drive Your Truck." And of course, his receipt of Jared's Congressional Medal of Honor in 2009. His strength really does astound me.
You can read a post I wrote several years ago about the Medal of Honor ceremony here.
"I Drive Your Truck"
Eighty-Nine Cents in the ash tray
Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard
That dirty Braves cap on the dash
Dog tags hangin’ from the rear view
Old Skoal can, and cowboy boots and a Go Army Shirt folded in the back
This thing burns gas like crazy, but that’s alright
People got their ways of coping
Oh, and I’ve got mine
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck
I leave that radio playing
That same ole country station where ya left it
Yeah, man I crank it up
And you’d probably punch my arm right now
If you saw this tear rollin’ down on my face
Hey, man I’m tryin’ to be tough
And momma asked me this morning
If I’d been by your grave
But that flag and stone ain’t where I feel you anyway
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck
I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I’m missing you this much
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes, brother sometimes
I drive your truck
I drive your truck
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
I drive your truck
Half empty bottle of Gatorade rolling in the floorboard
That dirty Braves cap on the dash
Dog tags hangin’ from the rear view
Old Skoal can, and cowboy boots and a Go Army Shirt folded in the back
This thing burns gas like crazy, but that’s alright
People got their ways of coping
Oh, and I’ve got mine
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck
I leave that radio playing
That same ole country station where ya left it
Yeah, man I crank it up
And you’d probably punch my arm right now
If you saw this tear rollin’ down on my face
Hey, man I’m tryin’ to be tough
And momma asked me this morning
If I’d been by your grave
But that flag and stone ain’t where I feel you anyway
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes I drive your truck
I’ve cussed, I’ve prayed, I’ve said goodbye
Shook my fist and asked God why
These days when I’m missing you this much
I drive your truck
I roll every window down
And I burn up
Every back road in this town
I find a field, I tear it up
Til all the pain’s a cloud of dust
Yeah, sometimes, brother sometimes
I drive your truck
I drive your truck
I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind
I drive your truck
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Seriously, PBS?!
For more than a year (nearly two, I'd say), I wouldn't let Grant watch a lick of TV (barring the occasional PBS show on my Kindle while traveling). And I'm here to tell you: It's not an easy task with television literally everywhere you go. But the end result was a kid who is able to play independently with his trucks or books and be perfectly happy for quite awhile (like QUITE awhile people - it's amazing!) - not to mention the benefits set forth by the American Academy of Pediatrics... And seriously, what is gained from having to shove the iPad in your kids face at a restaurant? Man, nothing is more irritating than seeing that. How about you just don't go? Or do like we do, and only go out to lunch if you're bringing the kid. I understand and agree that nobody at that restaurant wants to hear your kid screaming, but it's pretty sad to see them shoveling food absentmindedly in their face as they watch yet another epoisode of whatever the heck is playing. I digress... (Feel free to light up my email, friends, but you won't change my mind.)
Anyway, about 8 months ago we started letting G watch TV. Mostly because we had no other way to corral him any more while I showered and he'd sit on our bed and watch a PBS show while I got ready for the day. Worked like a charm! And bonus, his vocabulary skyrocketed (not convinced that the two are connected, but it happened, so I'll offer credit where it may be due).
So, he developed an affinity for Caillou, a bald Canadian 4-year old with the whiniest voice on the planet. Whatever, he liked it, it was pseudo-educational, fine. Until the day we saw the episode about the monster. I mean seriously, it's a kids show! Why on Gods green acres would it be necessary to make an episode about a thunderstorm, a monster (presumably in a tree) and Caillou needing to be so scared he hid in the closet? The point of the show was that monsters weren't outside, but that didn't stop my kid from latching on to the word, talking about monsters constantly and suddenly becoming afraid of the dark. I've spent WEEKS trying to explain that monsters aren't scary, that they're pretend and whatnot - to NO avail.
As you might have guessed, we broke up with Caillou.
Then Daniel Tiger, the cutest little cartoon spin-off of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood had to go and do an episode in which Daniel is afraid of a shadow. So then I had to spend another 2 weeks explaining why shadows are actually super awesome. He bit, at least, but seriously PBS?! You know little kids are watching. And while I've got you here, thanks for the goblin on SuperWhy the other day - which at least was mentioned in synopsis of the show.
So now we've broken up with TV almost completely, again. Which is fine, because G had another thing coming if he thought he was going to get to watch TV with the new baby in the room anyway. I've decided though that we'll do a family movie night on Saturdays, and even though Erik is away, G and I started this a few weeks ago with the Rugrats Movie. Not so surprisingly at this point, there were a few scary parts, but if G noticed them he didn't let on.
And my mom volunteered to send me all our old VHS movies from when we were kids, which I 'spose I'm going to have to preview for God-knows-what might send G into a tizzy. But even Nemo has a scary part (not that I was a kid when that came out...) and it's impossible to say what is going to alarm Little G.
Maybe I'm being overprotective, but it's not like TV brings much to the table anyway, so why should I spend 45 minutes each night discussing shadows and why monsters are only at Caillou's house? But honestly, PBS, lets reign ourseles in a little, shall we?
And if you have any movie recommendations, I'd love to hear them!
Anyway, about 8 months ago we started letting G watch TV. Mostly because we had no other way to corral him any more while I showered and he'd sit on our bed and watch a PBS show while I got ready for the day. Worked like a charm! And bonus, his vocabulary skyrocketed (not convinced that the two are connected, but it happened, so I'll offer credit where it may be due).
So, he developed an affinity for Caillou, a bald Canadian 4-year old with the whiniest voice on the planet. Whatever, he liked it, it was pseudo-educational, fine. Until the day we saw the episode about the monster. I mean seriously, it's a kids show! Why on Gods green acres would it be necessary to make an episode about a thunderstorm, a monster (presumably in a tree) and Caillou needing to be so scared he hid in the closet? The point of the show was that monsters weren't outside, but that didn't stop my kid from latching on to the word, talking about monsters constantly and suddenly becoming afraid of the dark. I've spent WEEKS trying to explain that monsters aren't scary, that they're pretend and whatnot - to NO avail.
As you might have guessed, we broke up with Caillou.
Then Daniel Tiger, the cutest little cartoon spin-off of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood had to go and do an episode in which Daniel is afraid of a shadow. So then I had to spend another 2 weeks explaining why shadows are actually super awesome. He bit, at least, but seriously PBS?! You know little kids are watching. And while I've got you here, thanks for the goblin on SuperWhy the other day - which at least was mentioned in synopsis of the show.
So now we've broken up with TV almost completely, again. Which is fine, because G had another thing coming if he thought he was going to get to watch TV with the new baby in the room anyway. I've decided though that we'll do a family movie night on Saturdays, and even though Erik is away, G and I started this a few weeks ago with the Rugrats Movie. Not so surprisingly at this point, there were a few scary parts, but if G noticed them he didn't let on.
And my mom volunteered to send me all our old VHS movies from when we were kids, which I 'spose I'm going to have to preview for God-knows-what might send G into a tizzy. But even Nemo has a scary part (not that I was a kid when that came out...) and it's impossible to say what is going to alarm Little G.
Maybe I'm being overprotective, but it's not like TV brings much to the table anyway, so why should I spend 45 minutes each night discussing shadows and why monsters are only at Caillou's house? But honestly, PBS, lets reign ourseles in a little, shall we?
And if you have any movie recommendations, I'd love to hear them!
Monday, June 10, 2013
Delinquent Poster
I can't even think of an excuse.
Have I been creatively empty? No... Because I'm not that creative to begin with and somehow I've managed to post on a sort-of regular basis (okay, that's a stretch).
Have I been too busy to post? No... Well, maybe a little bit, but you'd think that would just add fuel to the blogging fire.
Have I been to busy hanging out with my husband in the evenings to post? No... He's in Thailand.
Oh, here's the answer. I'm at Pat and Ken's house. Land of sitting back and relaxing while "Grohma Pat" prepares meals, plays trucks and cleans up messy hands.
Seriously, do you know how much time a stay at home mom spends planning meals, cooking meals and cleaning up from said meals? Apparently it's all day because I'm swimming with free time now that none of those are on my to-do list. Not G though - he got oodles of new toys (to include a golf set - for which I immediately and publicly proclaimed no responsibly for broken windows), runs errands with Grandma, reads books with Papa and sometimes, if I'm lucky, he'll let me color with him in the evenings.
So here I lounge. I've shopped, I've dined, but I haven't cooked a thing. I hope that doesn't bother Pat... At least I started making my own coffee in the morning (she really used to do this for me until they got a Keurig!). ;)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)