Taking Care Of Those Who Serve

It's funny, how we Americans argue back and forth about the merits of government v private enterprise. Do we ever consider that either way, things are being run by flawed human beings? Could it perhaps be true that the human race is terminally incompetent? A sobering thought indeed...

Take, for instance, Mary Alice's dilemma - a military wife, in quasi-military housing. You see, a number of years ago, some people decided that military housing might be more efficiently managed if it were privately run. This made sense to many of us who have resided in military housing, in a system that could be, let's say, unresponsive - dilatory - inefficient. "Hey," we thought, "it couldn't be worse! Let's give that profit motive idea a try!"

As a result, many housing areas were essentially auctioned off to the highest bidder who agreed to maintain the houses to a certain standard. In turn, that bidder would receive the occupant's housing allowance as rent. So long, Soviet-style bureaucrats managing repairs! Hello, profit-oriented efficient businessmen!

Only, not. Check out this post of Mary Alice's. Things are the same (if not worse) for military members residing in these domiciles - poor customer service, lackluster repairs, no cosmetic upkeep. And, worst of all, when she complained about the situation on her blog, her husband's commander asked her to please be quiet.

(Actually, he told her husband to tell her to please pipe down. Those of us who know Mary Alice can only imagine with what trepidation her poor husband passed on this message to his beloved. Poor guy...)

In my view, the military should be outraged about this situation and should be yanking the housing contract from whoever currently holds it. What could be worse for a deployed soldier/airman/etc than to have to worry (while in a war zone) that his family is without a fridge? Or that his pregnant wife is having to mow the lawn? Or that an unrepaired leak is now causing mold to grow within the walls of his home?

Talk about a morale-buster, eh?

Yo! Military! You want the rest of America to treat our soldiers right - how's about setting a good example?

Don't Forget To Buckle In

Shannon, of Rocks in My Dryer, is talking about parenting advice at (where else?) Parenting.com today. So I started thinking, what was the best parenting advice I received? There were all the nitty-gritty details, of course: sleep when the new baby sleeps, freeze extra dinners on the weekend, don't neglect your spouse....the list goes on and on.

But, really, the best advice was one sentence spoken to me (by an experienced dad of 4, of course) when I was only 3 months pregnant with my first child. "Don't expect everything to be perfect," he said.

Don't expect everything to be perfect? Well, of course I wouldn't do that! What a nonsensical thing to say. I filed his advice in that section of my brain where I store other useless info and forgot about it.

It took 4 kids and 10 years for that valuable piece of advice to resurface. It took a decade of dealing with fussy babies and dirty diapers and screaming tantrums; a decade of watching, helplessly, as laundry and dishes piled up, and up, and up, despite my best efforts; a decade of Larry and I running ourselves ragged in an attempt to make everything run smoothly...and suddenly I heard, "Don't expect everything to be perfect."


Oh.

It turns out that life with a bunch of small children is way less stressful if you expect the clean clothes to be found in the laundry baskets, and the clean dishes to be found (if you are lucky) in the dishwasher; it's much less nerve wracking if you expect that at any point of the day there will be one child whining or two children bickering or one toilet overflowing....

Some may accuse me of lowering the bar. I just call it being realistic. And if I should stumble on one "perfect" day, I will have the opportunity of being pleasantly surprised.

Hey, do any of us get on a roller coaster expecting a smooth ride? No! The whole point of the ride are the ups and the downs and the loop-de-loops. So next time things in your house start reaching your breaking level of chaos, just raise your arms in the air and yell, "Whooo-eeeee!"

I guarantee, you'll feel better. And it will definitely freak out the children.

Parenting Ain't A Cakewalk

What? You don't recognize it? I'll give you a hint - it was David's birthday. Now do you see it? No?

Yeah, well I don't either. David was attempting to create (in the admittedly difficult medium of cupcakes) a replica of a Saturn 5 rocket atop his cake. He apparently takes after me in decorating skills, poor dear.

And if you knew how long it took me to get that picture on here, you'd be disgusted. Almost as long as it took to make the cake, all right?

It tasted good though. Totally wrecked my diet.

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Job? What job? Am I supposed to be working right now? Bummer.

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I received my annual parenting shot in the arm today at our local homeschool conference. That's right, Dr. Ray Guarendi was once more on hand to remind me that

I am the parent.
It is MY house.
It is MY computer.
It is MY television.
It is MY cellphone.

Sometimes I just forget the basics, you know? You can click on that link if you need a refresher. Or go to his website - Dr. Ray has a great sense of humor (let's face it, he needs it - he and his wife are raising 10 children).

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My font keeps changing. I don't know why and I can't fix it. That must mean it is time to go to bed....

SOS

Gosh, I would love to post something right now; but I'm too busy having a nervous breakdown. I don't understand what my new supervisor at my new wonderful job is asking me to do. Picture that Far Side cartoon where all the dog can understand his owner saying is his name (I'm the dog); I am expecting her to tell me to please go away any time now.

My little girls are bored and I can't fix that. So they spend their time irritating each other (and me): "Stop humming! Stop humming that! Stop it!" yells Rachel. "Hmmmmmmmm," says Susie. On and on and on and on...

I was supposed to do a fridge clean-out post, but Larry went and emptied out all the containers I had neatly stacked by the sink and washed them and dried them and put them away. How dare he?

Now Susie doesn't like what we are having for lunch. Any of it. She is rolling around on the floor by my computer chair and moaning, "I'm hungry." On and on and on and on...

We are still waiting for the appliance man to install our apparently hard-to-get dishwasher motor. I have been washing the dishes by hand for at least 6 weeks now, with the kids drying them. Folks, prior to this dishwasherless experience, I thought that I had experienced the worst these children could throw at me in the way of bickering with each other. I was a battle-hardened mom who had heard it all.

I was wrong. The little darlings have ramped up to the point where they are arguing over each spoon, each little plastic IKEA bowl, each you-name-it - if it exists, it can be fought over. "You dry it!" "No, you dry it!" they spar. Lord help me, I fantasize about using their dishtowels to tie gags over their mouths.

So that is why I haven't been able to write a decent post. I'm sorry. I miss you all. Please visit anyway and tell me this is just a bad day and not the rest of my life. Thank you.

She's Leaving, On A Jet Plane...

Anna left on her excellent European vacation today.

Take that, any readers who think we are just so mean to our daughter, by the way...

Yesterday Anna and I managed to get through the suitcase purchase and the shoes-suitable-for-walking-through-European-cities purchase without any blood spilled whatsoever. It was amazing. I began to fantasize that maybe things were getting better between us; maybe, just maybe, she could actually stand being around me. What brought me back to reality was watching her put her packed suitcases in our friend's car (aka the escape vehicle). I swear, I never saw her move so fast.

I made her come back for a good-bye hug, though.

Oh, and you want to hear something amazing? Unlike every other grown person alive, Anna doesn't need to floss her teeth. Ever. Really! She told me so. Isn't that great?

I made her pack the floss anyway. Because I'm an annoying old lady with nothing better to do than harass my teen daughter. It's sad, really. Why don't I get a life?