It seems to me, that things only go wrong when Tim is no where in sight. He leaves, and it happens. This time, we are trying to make the trip from Prescott Valley, AZ to Podunk, NE. It's about 1100 miles. The first 200 miles were fairly uneventful. I babied the hell out of that truck, thinking that the load in the Uhaul might be a little too much. The first time, my sister was passing a semi, with a truck pulling a RV hot on our tail, and the damn thing just kinda petered out. The rpm's flatlined at 0 and a few seconds later it completely shut down. She managed to get us off the road, with Thinking it was the tranny, we sat to let it cool. Then it happened again 80 miles later. We limped it in to Albuquerque, where a friend of a friend of my mom's (yeah figure that out) was going to help us. They found a mechanic, so at the moment, we're stuck in Albuquerque. We are sitting in a dealership, waiting to hear the verdict on the burb.
So here we are. We're stranded with three kids and two dogs. My sister and I are trying to tag team them. They were nice enough to let us keep the dogs in the service bay. A perfectly good stranger offered to let us stay with her, to let us hang out at her place until we were able to get back on the road.
So I just got the news, it needs a new fuel pump. $837 dollars I just don't have. Daddy to the rescue again. I feel kind of bad for the poor guy who had to witness my meltdown in his shop. I don't do well with this kind of thing. Anyway... hopefully we'll be back on the road in about 4 hours. After they drop the fuel tank and fix it.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Long Time Coming
So I've been lazy about this whole blogging thing for the past month. Or maybe just busy with life. We made it to Arizona. Settled into the outlaws, or as settled as we can be here. It's been crazy. Crazy. Crazy.
Big J spent a good deal of time with us for the 2 1/2 weeks Tim was here. So that made for 5 kids at any given time. I've also had H all summer. We had only been here for about a week when we made our very first ever 'accident' trip to the ER. Tim and I were putting together a trampoline and left my mother-in-law to watch the kids. Big huge colossal effing mistake. From the backyard, Tim and I could hear I screaming. Bloody murder, somebody is injured, screaming. We were kinda at a point where we couldn't very well stop, so Tim calls HIS mom and tells her to bring I outside to us. She brings I out, and Tim notices right away she has blood on her shirt. So we wrestle her down (at this point she forgot about her booboo and wanted to bounce-bounce) and try to locate the source. She had a small, but deep, cut to the underside of her chin. It was deep enough that the fatty tissue was poking out. I was freaking livid. I was even more freaking livid when TIM'S mother had no clue she was hurt, even though she had I's blood on her own damn shirt. Real freaking observant. Anyway, I refused to let her watch J while we went to the ER. Dropped J off with my Dad's wife, and took I to the ER. My little girl is a trooper. She did so good while they were checking her out. It took two stitches to close her chin. She cried. Tim cried. I cried. I'm pretty sure the male nurse holding her head cried. At least he was doing an awful lot of sniffling. Anyway, she cried, but she held perfectly still. Such a sweet girl. We took her back 5 days later to get the stitches out, and that was worse than getting them put in. Both times she got little bears to keep. The second time she refused to take the bear home with us. The first bear is sitting abandoned on the floor. It's the owie bear. She doesn't care for him much.
Ahhhh so much is going on. Tim left on June 16 and it's just been madness since then. 4 kids, 2 inlaws, and me. I've barely had time to think, let alone sit down and think out loud. I'm buried in mounds of dirty laundry, dirty dishes, and just dirty house it seems like. It's been a huge adjustment. A difficult adjustment. I hate it here.
Big J spent a good deal of time with us for the 2 1/2 weeks Tim was here. So that made for 5 kids at any given time. I've also had H all summer. We had only been here for about a week when we made our very first ever 'accident' trip to the ER. Tim and I were putting together a trampoline and left my mother-in-law to watch the kids. Big huge colossal effing mistake. From the backyard, Tim and I could hear I screaming. Bloody murder, somebody is injured, screaming. We were kinda at a point where we couldn't very well stop, so Tim calls HIS mom and tells her to bring I outside to us. She brings I out, and Tim notices right away she has blood on her shirt. So we wrestle her down (at this point she forgot about her booboo and wanted to bounce-bounce) and try to locate the source. She had a small, but deep, cut to the underside of her chin. It was deep enough that the fatty tissue was poking out. I was freaking livid. I was even more freaking livid when TIM'S mother had no clue she was hurt, even though she had I's blood on her own damn shirt. Real freaking observant. Anyway, I refused to let her watch J while we went to the ER. Dropped J off with my Dad's wife, and took I to the ER. My little girl is a trooper. She did so good while they were checking her out. It took two stitches to close her chin. She cried. Tim cried. I cried. I'm pretty sure the male nurse holding her head cried. At least he was doing an awful lot of sniffling. Anyway, she cried, but she held perfectly still. Such a sweet girl. We took her back 5 days later to get the stitches out, and that was worse than getting them put in. Both times she got little bears to keep. The second time she refused to take the bear home with us. The first bear is sitting abandoned on the floor. It's the owie bear. She doesn't care for him much.
Ahhhh so much is going on. Tim left on June 16 and it's just been madness since then. 4 kids, 2 inlaws, and me. I've barely had time to think, let alone sit down and think out loud. I'm buried in mounds of dirty laundry, dirty dishes, and just dirty house it seems like. It's been a huge adjustment. A difficult adjustment. I hate it here.
Monday, April 27, 2009
What Is The Price of Freedom
Really. What does our freedom cost us? I just received a pretty depressing email. With pictures that would imply exactly what the price is for the freedom that we enjoy. Pictures of flag draped coffins. Pictures of soldiers in desert ABUs with their heads bowed, or kneeling around a fallen comrade. Pictures of a horse drawn hearse, taking a flagged drape coffin and the soldier that lays within to his final resting place.
These pictures really strike a raw nerve with me. After living at Dover for 4 years, I don't need to be reminded what the price is. Dover is the home of the Department of Defense mortuary, so all fallen heroes go to Dover first, before they go home. After seeing the processions from the flight line to the mortuary, time and time again, I know. After seeing hearses leaving the base or going back to the flight line to send these heroes on their way home, I know. After wondering every time a C5 landed, if it was bringing someone home, I know. After listening to Tim's accounts of missions that would ultimately bring these soldiers home, I know.
The reality of it is, when these soldiers leave to defend our country, they all walk on the airplane. The shitty side of it is, some of them come home in a transfer case. Some of them come home alive, but on a medical transport. Some come home on gurneys or in wheelchairs. But our military busts their butts to make sure they all come home, one way or another.
Along with the sadness and heartache that those pictures invoked, is anger. It pisses me off to no end, to know that these men and women are so bravely defending the values we hold near, yet back home they get little support or encouragement. So many people in this country take for granted their rights and they forget about those who protect and defend them. So many people have forgotten that it takes effort and sometimes life to protect our values, our freedoms. Yet they don't hesitate to scream if someone steps on those rights. It angers me that so many people expect their rights to be free. They expect it to just 'be'. And then in a time of war, they turn their backs on our troops and criticize them. Our troops are following orders and upholding the commitments that they made. Some of them may not like it or agree with it, but they are following the orders given.
As the military spouse, it's evident every day. From the African American in Walmart who said, 'Yo, look what white boy is wearing' to the people who protest and try to verbally attack him for doing what he believes in. But for those very few people who go out of their way to thank him and acknowledge the sacrifices that he has made, that our entire family has made.... Thank you. It is nice to know that some people remember (without reminder) what the price of freedom is. It is nice to know that some people still believe in and support the values that our military is fighting so hard to protect. It is nice to know that some people are still willing to stand behind our military and be proud of them. And it is nice to know, that there are still people in this world who remember what freedom is all about and what it takes to maintain and protect it.
These pictures really strike a raw nerve with me. After living at Dover for 4 years, I don't need to be reminded what the price is. Dover is the home of the Department of Defense mortuary, so all fallen heroes go to Dover first, before they go home. After seeing the processions from the flight line to the mortuary, time and time again, I know. After seeing hearses leaving the base or going back to the flight line to send these heroes on their way home, I know. After wondering every time a C5 landed, if it was bringing someone home, I know. After listening to Tim's accounts of missions that would ultimately bring these soldiers home, I know.
The reality of it is, when these soldiers leave to defend our country, they all walk on the airplane. The shitty side of it is, some of them come home in a transfer case. Some of them come home alive, but on a medical transport. Some come home on gurneys or in wheelchairs. But our military busts their butts to make sure they all come home, one way or another.
Along with the sadness and heartache that those pictures invoked, is anger. It pisses me off to no end, to know that these men and women are so bravely defending the values we hold near, yet back home they get little support or encouragement. So many people in this country take for granted their rights and they forget about those who protect and defend them. So many people have forgotten that it takes effort and sometimes life to protect our values, our freedoms. Yet they don't hesitate to scream if someone steps on those rights. It angers me that so many people expect their rights to be free. They expect it to just 'be'. And then in a time of war, they turn their backs on our troops and criticize them. Our troops are following orders and upholding the commitments that they made. Some of them may not like it or agree with it, but they are following the orders given.
As the military spouse, it's evident every day. From the African American in Walmart who said, 'Yo, look what white boy is wearing' to the people who protest and try to verbally attack him for doing what he believes in. But for those very few people who go out of their way to thank him and acknowledge the sacrifices that he has made, that our entire family has made.... Thank you. It is nice to know that some people remember (without reminder) what the price of freedom is. It is nice to know that some people still believe in and support the values that our military is fighting so hard to protect. It is nice to know that some people are still willing to stand behind our military and be proud of them. And it is nice to know, that there are still people in this world who remember what freedom is all about and what it takes to maintain and protect it.
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