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By Alyssa, June 7, 2010 10:47 pm

-a perfectly placed hammock

-running, especially with great friends just before dawn

-watching Haus as a father

-the moment a toddler masters walking barefoot on grass

-the satisfaction of a cleaned out basement

-farmer’s markets

-running through fountains

-getting paid to jump out of airplanes

-the tiny buds of my first garden

-cutting fresh grilled steak as it falls off of a T-bone (grass-fed, of course)

-laughing as the boys complete their nightly “run around in our undies” routine

-surprise laptops

-explaining to Bubba why he’s still 4 and 1/2

-a random ride from a Vietnam vet… oh, and marking “riding in a side-car” off of my bucket list

Happy Monday, Friends!

Comments (4)

By Alyssa, March 24, 2010 11:43 pm

It started when Hubby worked this last Sunday so I took the boys to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese… by myself.  The boys and I perused the mini-rides and arcade section before we found one game we were really good at, the “punch-the-buttons-really-fast” game.  Even Zeke was getting into the action when, out of the blue, a nine year old girl (at least I think she was 9) pushed Bubba off of the game wedging herself between me and the console.  Did I mention I’m not an angry person?

“Uh, excuse me,” I said as I gently guided her to the side of us and continued to play with the boys.  Not five seconds later, she slammed her way in again.  I moved her over a little more forcefully this time while quickly searching in vain for a parental figure.  Then, what do you think happened?

Yep.  She did it again.  Right after muscling my four-year-old out of the way, she turned to me and barked, “Hey, let me play!”  At this point, I kinda, well, lost it.  I squared my shoulders to this four-foot kid, pushed her to the side of the arcade game, and bent down to her eye-level, before booming with my command voice, “You need to BACK OFF!”

Wow.  That’s a moment to be proud of.  Sure enough, little princess skidded away, clutching her “It’s my Birthday” crown.  Good times.  Did I mention that the boys and I still managed to win like twenty Chuck E. Cheese tickets from that game?  When I relayed the story to Hubby, I assured him this incident was a direct result of arcade sound effects combined with severe jet lag.  He almost bought it.

Tonight, I kinda lost it again.  Really, I’m not an angry person.  A group of teenagers refused to “make a hole and make it wide” for my friends and I as we were running the indoor track at my neighborhood recreation center.  Sure, we were running three abreast but I used my ninja-like vigilance to always move over if I heard someone coming up behind us.  These teens, oblivious to their road block on the four-lane track, slowed us down every lap.

I’m not proud of it, but about the third time around, I kinda bumped one of them.  I did it the next lap too.  Then, our third time around, I sort of put my shoulder into it.  I said I wasn’t proud of it!  By the next lap, I think they got the hint and started to move for us.  I’d almost convinced myself that my shouldering was somehow accidental when I noticed a teen recreation worker flagging our group down.  ”Umm, there is a policy, umm for single lane running, umm,” I heard in passing as I flashed him the thumbs up and kept running.  On our next lap, one of my girlfriends slowed down as he continued to wave at us, “Sorry, but you really need to run in a single file, because…”.  I didn’t stay for the speech, thinking, there is no way I’m getting schooled for running in a row when those teenie-boppers behind me are blocking the whole track.

“No worries, guys,” I huffed as we continued to run, “We’re not breaking any rules.”  Really we were breaking the rules, but come on, Lane-Nazi didn’t intimidate me.  He was, however, getting really annoying as he monitored and commented on our lane procedures every time we passed him.  I continued to flash him the thumbs-up sign, because I’m an awful person, until he got annoyed and raised his voice to say, “If I need to get my supervisor, I will gladly…”.  My girlfriends, the sweet ones that put up with me, got into a single file and we finished our last laps by the rules.

At home, I lamented to Hubby again.  ”Ridiculous,” I said, “we weren’t blocking the way and those teens were walking around the track.”  I forgot to include the shoulder tackling and thumbs-up gestures for obvious reasons and complained until Hubby started to laugh.  Not exactly the reaction I was looking for. “You’ve got issues” he said grinning, before heading up the stairs.

Stalking to the computer after he left, I formulated the title of my post, Kids that Don’t Deserve Birthday Parties, Teens Without Respect, Inconsiderate People.  As you can see, that’s not the title of this post.  Let’s just say, I better get my act together before my boys start picking up on this stuff.  Wait, maybe they already have.  Oh, brother.

Comments (48)

By Alyssa, February 19, 2010 8:46 pm

Step 1:
Order a new, unshaped beret from some Army website and forget that you can now order pre-shaped berets for only a few dollars more.  Argghh.
Step 2:
Purchase or dig out from under your bathroom sink several disposable razors to shave beret. With firm strokes starting in the center and circling toward the outside of the beret, shave beret until wool is smooth without fuzz.

Step 3:
Repeat Step 2 for at least 45 minutes as you think of one hundred and fifty-five more important things that you could be doing instead of shaving a wool cap. Discard your dull razor and dig out a new razor as you continue Step 2.  Wool fluff pile should be the size of a softball at this point.
Step 4:
Turn your beret inside out and use disposable razor #3 to shave the inside of your beret. You don’t want those little fuzzies in your hair after taking the beret off. Verbally chew yourself out loud for not purchasing pre-shaved and shaped beret while attempting not to wake napping toddlers.

Step 5:
Wet down beret with warm water in the kitchen sink.  WARNING: VERY HOT OR BOILING WATER WILL SHRINK BERET.  Do not soak, but moisten enough so that wool appears pliable.  If shaved correctly, a slight circular pattern should appear on the beret, like this:

Step 6:
Wear wet beret around the house while it forms to your huge noggin.  Explain to your four-year-old why you weren’t smart enough to purchase a pre-shaped beret as you make him lunch with wet beret on your head.

Oh, and take unattractive self-portrait documenting progress.
Step 7:
When beret feels only slightly damp, place on counter or area out of 18-month-old’s grasp and allow beret to dry completely.

Step 8:
Several weeks later, remember that you still haven’t finished beret for drill in the morning. Oops.  Quickly sew on unit flash (you know, the little patch that goes on the front of your beret?).  If sewing machine is unavailable, find someone that has one (takes a little less than 38 seconds to sew on), or get ripped off… ahem, pay an alteration shop to sew yours on for $5.

Flash stitching view from the inside of beret

Step 9:
Label your beret tag and cut off remainder of tag so your peers will never find out how fat your head actually is (7 and 1/2… seriously???).

Step 10:
Finally, tie beret headband string into a knot and cut off ends.  If you used really hot water and find that your beret is now a size smaller (Awww, MAN!), cut off knot and pull on headband praying the leather will give a little for your gargantuan cranium.

Now celebrate a good wasted four hours by impersonating that Sergeant Major who always tried to look tough by wearing his beret like this…

Or wear your beret like that almost worthless 2nd Lieutenant that you despised training…

But really, you know that you’re supposed to wear your beret like this (ignore the “not-in-regulation” hair and earrings)…

Hope you had as much fun as I did!  Now to bed.  Gotta earn this maroon airborne beret by jumping out of a plane in the morning!

Comments (8)

By Alyssa, January 13, 2010 8:02 pm

Number 2 of this List

If you shy away from potty-talk, be forewarned. Maybe you were blessed to always have a shiny porcelain seat nearby when you had to go, but I haven’t always been so lucky.  I have too many awkward stories to share, so I’ll try to keep this to my top five.

5.  Port-a-pee- I have to immediately pay my respect to the port-a-potty, the porta-john, the lean green-pee keeper, and those are the G-rated nicknames.  From the 130 degree port-a-potty sauna in Baghdad to my baby-wipe porta-john baths during ROTC training exercises, the pee-keeper had many uses.  Fond memories, me and that john.

4. Command-directed Urinalysis-  Sounds harmless, right?  On the contrary, it was never fun having someone stand right over the top of me watching as I tried to hover over a toilet seat, Army shorts around my ankles, attempting to pee into a tiny plastic cup.  Whose idea was it to require the drug test include a raised seat for females, and then, to add to the humiliation, require carrying that cup-o-pee above my head down a hallway of onlookers to the turn-in point?  Not fun.

3.  Using the landscape-  The Army allowed me to perfect peeing behind trees, small shrubs, and sand dunes. I always tried to be discreet, but at some point gave up being embarrassed about someone seeing my butt cheeks.  When you gotta go, you gotta go.  I recently found out there is an actual device, I think it’s called a “Female Funnel,” that allows women to pee standing up.  Where was that 10 years ago??

2.  The Iraqi Toilet- I used this toilet during my first deployment.  Luckily, one of our soldiers hand made stalls for privacy, but he couldn’t find a solution for the flies.  This five-gallon oil can was the worst toilet I’ve used to date and I will spare you the gritty details.  Let’s just say, the remains were burnt every morning and that smell will stick with me forever.

1.  The Creeping Pee Puddle.  So there I was, on the side of the Kuwaiti highway trying to find a place to pee. I had been holding it for hours during our convoy… no, F.O.R.E.V.E.R., and it was the first safe stop in the middle of nowhere.  Without vegetation to squat behind and getting a little desperate, the missile launcher in front of my vehicle looked like a possibility. So I, uhhh, grabbed some hand holds, lodged my feet on a cross bar and… sweet relief.  Hard to describe balancing five feet off of the ground on the back of a PATRIOT missile launcher to pee, but I bet it’s a little like peeing off the end of a fire truck ladder.  I thought I was pretty innovative until I noticed the creeping puddle that spread from under my feet heading directly for a group of my soldiers and, of course, my crusty platoon sergeant.  I’m pretty sure they all knew what it was seeping under their boots, but to this day, not a single one of them has said a word.

So last bit of advice, peeing in weird places makes for funny stories, but please…  watch out for inclines.

Our Convoy

Comments (7)

By Alyssa, December 15, 2009 9:05 pm

Have you ever had one of those nights?  It started out pretty good, actually.  In the calm before the storm, I decided, why not, let’s try out that new recipe.  The boys woke up from their nap and it looked like it was going to be a pretty quiet evening.  Then, right after Hubby informed me over the phone he wouldn’t be home for another hour, disaster struck in less than 30 seconds.  The potatoes boiled over, Bubba asked me for the tenth time to tie his superhero cape, the dog refused to get away from my leg as her eyes screamed “I NEED TO PEE,” and I turned my head to see this:

And this:

And this:

I’ll never know how my one-year-old managed to get a bowl out of the fridge, take off the lid, and thoroughly coat himself in homemade frosting with me less than five feet away.  I’m sure you are all much more vigilent parents and have never had something like this happen before.

After cleaning the frosting mayhem off of said one-year-old and our wood floors and ensuring the four-year-old wasn’t into his own mischief, I realized my kitchen now looked like this (Yes, those are grocery bags on the counter from our morning trip):

(Sigh) I surveying the overflowing recycling bin, the dishes, and the result of burnt potato goo on the stovetop and did what anyone would do in this situation.  I handed Bubba some yogurt, Zeke a bowl of cottage cheese and a spoon, and grabbed an opened bag of Nestle chocolate chips.  After eating a small medium healthy portion of milk chocolate chips, I found the sink, wiped off some counters, and pulled dinner from the oven.  Hubby came home a little later and was greeted with this (Have to add that this little angel screamed bloody murder up until I got the camera out):

Oh, sure, now you smile

There were times in the Army it only took me a few minutes to ruin things.  Not sure that even compares to giving a toddler an unsupervised thirty seconds.  Hope your evening turned out a little better than mine.  I’ve got a glass of wine and bubble bath calling my name.