Memorial Day
I'll be the first to admit that sometimes my judgement is questionable. And sometimes I do things spontaneously that in hindsight seem, well, ridiculous. Last week I bought a scrapbook kit because it matched a piece of material that I have to make the girls dresses. Yep, I bought stuff to scrap a page of pictures that I haven't taken yet of my kids in clothes that I haven't made yet. Talk about putting the cart before horse. Which leads me to yesterday.
Yesterday didn't really start off great. Sunday afternoon, Belle Belle, my ten-year-old Sheltie, died. She went peacefully and I was, honestly, more than anything, relieved. Sad, absolutely. Guilt-ridden for a lot of reasons - yep, that, too. But relieved mostly that she didn't seem to suffer any pain - she had a multitude of problems, any one of which could have caused her agony. So, I was feeling pretty blue to start with. And my get up and go still hasn't exactly gotten up and come back since my strep throat/pneumonia/viral whatever throat thing I have now adventure. And Steve had to work yesterday and we don't have a nice big pool in our back yard that the girls and I could just float around in - don't you feel sorry for me? But about 11:00, the TV was off and Gracie was splayed out on the couch whining about her missing string, Abbie was sitting in her jumperoo in nothing but her diaper, which I probably should have changed an hour earlier, and I was sitting at the computer lamenting the fact that the work I should have done on Saturday was still sitting in an unopened email. And rather than actually opening said email, I went to the local newspaper site, and the cover story was about a Memorial Day event from Sunday where a statue was dedicated to a soldier whose family lives here in town. The soldier was killed in Iraq in March. There was a picture of his wife, son, and twin daughters looking on as the statue was dedicated. And something struck me. That soldier and all the other soldiers and sailors in all the other wars in the hundreds of years of this country's history did not die so that my three year old could sob over a pink piece of thread and I could mentally beat myself up because I didn't get done everything I was supposed to. Well, perhaps in a way they did - we have so much freedom in this country because of their sacrifice, and sometimes that much freedom leads to really losing sight of the important things. But, I am reasonably certain, that if they could, those soldiers would not want me or Gracie to spend a day that was meant to honor them by moping around in our pajamas all day.
So, 45 minutes later the girls were dressed, and we had the necessary diapers, blankies, pappies, sippy cups, and camera bag loaded into the van. It only took one meltdown for each of us, which is probably some kind of record. So, we backed out of the driveway, made a quick run through the Burger King drive-thru and headed off to the Naval Air Station to go to the................................national cemetery. Now I can just see you rolling your eyes here - the woman has lost her ever-loving mind. Who takes an extremely temperamental preschooler and an extremely vocal infant to a place that should be blanketed in reverence and peacefulness? Ummm, that would be me, the one whose judgement is not always stellar. And I have to tell you that as far as decisions go, the decision to take them there was one of the best of my life. As we drove on base, I explained as best as its possible to explain to a 3-year-old about the significance of where we were going. I still had my doubts, but I figured that if we got there and Gracie started throwing a tantrum or Abbie started disturbing people who had come to pay their respects, we would just leave. But, once we got there and unloaded the stroller, it was as if the peacefulness of the place descended over all three of us. The girls were as well behaved as they have ever been. The sunshine was warm and if you've never been to one of our national cemeteries, well let me tell you, it's incredibly difficult to feel sorry for yourself standing in one, particularly on Memorial Day, surrounded by red and blue stripes and fields of white stars. Incredibly difficult indeed. There were a handful of people there yesterday, most probably visiting a family member, but everyone had a camera, so I felt comfortable pulling mine out. Here's a picture of Abbie - doing the most destructive thing either of them did - picking up a leaf and eating it:
Needless to say, our little trip did a whole lot to lift my funk and Gracie's too, I think.
And here are the girls together. I hope you all had a wonderful, happy Memorial Day.
Credits: Papers from the Alexander Kit as Pink Poodle Studios. The star templates are from Andrea Gold's Template Variety Pack #7 at GoDigitalScrapbooking.
Yesterday didn't really start off great. Sunday afternoon, Belle Belle, my ten-year-old Sheltie, died. She went peacefully and I was, honestly, more than anything, relieved. Sad, absolutely. Guilt-ridden for a lot of reasons - yep, that, too. But relieved mostly that she didn't seem to suffer any pain - she had a multitude of problems, any one of which could have caused her agony. So, I was feeling pretty blue to start with. And my get up and go still hasn't exactly gotten up and come back since my strep throat/pneumonia/viral whatever throat thing I have now adventure. And Steve had to work yesterday and we don't have a nice big pool in our back yard that the girls and I could just float around in - don't you feel sorry for me? But about 11:00, the TV was off and Gracie was splayed out on the couch whining about her missing string, Abbie was sitting in her jumperoo in nothing but her diaper, which I probably should have changed an hour earlier, and I was sitting at the computer lamenting the fact that the work I should have done on Saturday was still sitting in an unopened email. And rather than actually opening said email, I went to the local newspaper site, and the cover story was about a Memorial Day event from Sunday where a statue was dedicated to a soldier whose family lives here in town. The soldier was killed in Iraq in March. There was a picture of his wife, son, and twin daughters looking on as the statue was dedicated. And something struck me. That soldier and all the other soldiers and sailors in all the other wars in the hundreds of years of this country's history did not die so that my three year old could sob over a pink piece of thread and I could mentally beat myself up because I didn't get done everything I was supposed to. Well, perhaps in a way they did - we have so much freedom in this country because of their sacrifice, and sometimes that much freedom leads to really losing sight of the important things. But, I am reasonably certain, that if they could, those soldiers would not want me or Gracie to spend a day that was meant to honor them by moping around in our pajamas all day.
So, 45 minutes later the girls were dressed, and we had the necessary diapers, blankies, pappies, sippy cups, and camera bag loaded into the van. It only took one meltdown for each of us, which is probably some kind of record. So, we backed out of the driveway, made a quick run through the Burger King drive-thru and headed off to the Naval Air Station to go to the................................national cemetery. Now I can just see you rolling your eyes here - the woman has lost her ever-loving mind. Who takes an extremely temperamental preschooler and an extremely vocal infant to a place that should be blanketed in reverence and peacefulness? Ummm, that would be me, the one whose judgement is not always stellar. And I have to tell you that as far as decisions go, the decision to take them there was one of the best of my life. As we drove on base, I explained as best as its possible to explain to a 3-year-old about the significance of where we were going. I still had my doubts, but I figured that if we got there and Gracie started throwing a tantrum or Abbie started disturbing people who had come to pay their respects, we would just leave. But, once we got there and unloaded the stroller, it was as if the peacefulness of the place descended over all three of us. The girls were as well behaved as they have ever been. The sunshine was warm and if you've never been to one of our national cemeteries, well let me tell you, it's incredibly difficult to feel sorry for yourself standing in one, particularly on Memorial Day, surrounded by red and blue stripes and fields of white stars. Incredibly difficult indeed. There were a handful of people there yesterday, most probably visiting a family member, but everyone had a camera, so I felt comfortable pulling mine out. Here's a picture of Abbie - doing the most destructive thing either of them did - picking up a leaf and eating it:
Needless to say, our little trip did a whole lot to lift my funk and Gracie's too, I think.
And here are the girls together. I hope you all had a wonderful, happy Memorial Day.
Credits: Papers from the Alexander Kit as Pink Poodle Studios. The star templates are from Andrea Gold's Template Variety Pack #7 at GoDigitalScrapbooking.
I repeat -- you are amazing!
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What a beautiful memory. This is a wonderful example of the best about our country.
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