Lawyer Mama

Explaining War to Our Children

I've been such a horrible blogger lately.  It's not that I haven't been writing, it's that I haven't been writing here.  Hopefully I can take some time over the next few weeks to catch up on everything happening in our crazy lives right now.

In the meantime, I had a little something in the New York Times last week about trying to explain war to my kids.  This has been, hands down, the hardest thing about being part of a military family for me.  My boys ask questions and I don't want to confuse them, but I feel dishonest covering complex issues like war and death with platitudes deoid of nuance and the political realities in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Anyway, this was a wonderful opportunity and I actually got some good suggestions in the comments (I just ignored the "baby killer" taunts).  Read on:

Explaining war to kids is always hard, but when you’re part of a military family, the task is even more difficult because it’s so personal. When my sons were little, their father was in the Navy Reserve as an intelligence officer with the Seabees, the Navy’s construction division. The boys understood what the military was in a very hazy “It must involve a ship, Daddy going away, and a large yellow bee” kind of way. But because their father wasn’t directly in harm’s way, I was able to gloss over hard questions about war and just concentrate on the fun parts of having a dad in the military from a toddler’s perspective — serving the country and wearing really cool hats.

When my brother, a soldier in the Ohio National Guard, went off to Kuwait three years ago, that explanation no longer seemed sufficient.....  Read the rest of this post on the New York Times website....

Nooooooo!

I thought we had longer.

This evening Hollis, my six year old, asked me "How do I know that Santa's real? Because I think it might just be you and Daddy giving us stuff."

He asked this in front of his younger brother as well.

Knife. Heart. Ouch.

I remember the moment I discovered the truth about Santa well because it was such a shock to my young self. I was on the bus heading to school and reading Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing when Peter dropped that bombshell about no Santa into his narrative.

I was nine.

So maybe I've always been a bit clueless, but how did my kindergartner, who is an oldest child and the oldest kid in his Montessori school classroom, figure this one out?

And how can I rewind to December and enjoy that last moment of magic all over again?

Pardon me while I go weep quietly in the corner of my blog....

Maternal Pride

We were a little worried about Hollis going into the school year. We knew he was behind many Kindergarteners with language and reading. But we're not worried anymore:

I couldn't be more proud of my little guy!

 

Lego Generations

When I was 13, we took a family vacation to Denmark.  While we were there, we made the obligatory trip to Legoland. My thirteen year old self was completely underwhelmed by the visit.  I thought I was too old and too cool to get excited over Lego replicas of the Alps, Taj Mahal and White House.  (Although I'll admit the Lego traffic school was kind of neat!)

While we were there, my mom bought me a Lego key chain.  It was a little Lego girl, kind of nifty, and so I put it on my keychain.  Twenty Five years later, I still have a Lego girl on my key chain.  She isn't the original, I've replaced her twice.  (Those little Legos are pretty hardy.)  My current Lego girl's face has completely rubbed off, and she's missing her hands, but she's hanging in there.

I'm not quite sure why I've kept my Lego girls for so long. Once I was in high school it was kind of a "thing," but beyond that it was something more.  My Lego girl reminds me of who I was and who I am.  She's utilitarian, the anti-Barbie, and my own little feminist talisman.

A few years ago, about the time Hollis started to pay attention to Legos, he noticed my Lego girl. And he and Holden ask about her all the time.  They want to know how I got my first Lego girl, all about Legoland, and why I still have her on my key chain.  Oh, and why I won't let them have her to add to their personal Lego collections!

The week before Christmas, I went to New York for work.  While I was there, I decided to go check out the Lincoln Center tree and skating rink and take a few photos on my iPhone for the boys.  Walking along 5th Avenue, I saw the Lego store.  Like the mother of any boy of a certain age, I had to pop into the store and check it out.  Just so I could tell the boys about it, of course!  And near the check out counter, I found them.  The Lego keychains.  I wasn't able to find a family, but I got pretty close.  Now we all have Lego keychains.

Hollis is the kinght and Holden is the jester. And both boys are thrilled with their tiny avatars.

Jack Black, Blue Star Families & the Coolest Job Ever

Have you seen the previews out for the new movie Gulliver's Travels?  I know I can't miss them because every. single. time. one comes on my two little boys start asking me when the movie is coming out and when I'm taking them to see it!  The movie will definitely be part of our winter break, but the co-stars of the movie, Jack Black and Jason Segel, also have a wonderful new recording of The Little Drummer Boy out for the holidays.  The best part is that the two talented performers are donating all of their proceeds to Blue Star Families.  I can't think of a better demonstration of the holiday spirit then to help out military families.

Last night, Jack Black appeared on The Jay Leno show to promote his new movie, Gulliver's Travels.  While on the show, Jay Leno showed a clip from the animated video of The Little Drummer Boy and Jack Black talked about donating the proceeds to Blue Star Families.

(Start watching the video at about 2:45.)

Jay Leno: I thought this was pretty cool. You and your co-star in Gulliver's Travels, Jason Segel, you did something very nice. Tell people what you did.

Jack Black: We rocked an old chestnut, holiday song you may know.  The Little Drummer Boy. Beautiful jam. We rockified it, because it was dying to be rockified. You remember back in the 70's when David Bowie and Bing Crosby did their version of it? We did that version, but with an extra zing. And we're giving all the money to charity. Blue Star Families.

Jay Leno: That's the troops?

Jack Black: Yes, yes, well military families started this organization for other military families, supporting.

Jack Black: You can get that on iTunes by the way, if you don't mind my plug.

On a personal note, I have to share what happened when I was watching this clip in my home office this evening.  My 6 year old, Hollis, knows so much about Blue Star Families.  He's so proud of his Navy dad and his Army uncle and his Air Force Grandpa.  Don't worry. Hollis has his priorities straight.  He'll yell out "Go Navy, beat Army!" whenever it's needed.  Same for the Air Force.  Heck, he loves this Navy versus Air Force video set to Dynamite and tries to do all the dance moves.  But I digress. 

The point is, Hollis is all about the military and he understands just how important it is to support military families, even at the age of 6.  He loves to help out at Blue Star Families events and likes to talk about Mommy's job "helping military families" to anyone who will listen.

So tonight, Hollis walked into my office and stopped to watch the clip saying, "Mommy, that's Jack Black! He's Kung Fu Panda!"  He listened to Jack Black talk about The Little Drummer Boy (a recent iTunes download Hollis has already heard many times in this house) and when he heard him talk about Blue Star Families his eyes got huge!  "Mommy! He knows all about you!" Hollis exclaimed.  Then he wanted to know if Blue Star Families, a nonprofit, would now be rich!  I laughed, but I think Jack Black and Jason Segel would be happy to hear just how much faith my little guy has in them and their ability to raise money for a good cause.  I think they'd also be thrilled to know that even my 6 year old son understand just how wonderful their donation to BSF really is.

I have to thank Jack Black and Jason Segel.  Not just for their donation to help military families, but because my 6 year old now thinks I'm the coolest mom with the best job ever.  At least on the job front, I think I have to agree.

Cross posted on Blue Star Families.

Becoming a Real MOMocrat: 2010 Election Night

My husband and I have taken our sons to vote every year since they were born.  It's important to both of us that our boys know and understand that voting isn't just a privilege, but a responsibility of citizenship.  We want them to pay attention to politics and what is happening in their country and seeing us vote was a good way to start out.

Of course, Hollis and Holden are incredibly lucky little boys. There have been no shortage of politicians in their short lives. Hollis still talks about seeing Barack Obama and the time he met Vice President Biden.  With our close proximity to DC, they've visited the White House several times and love to visit the "Capitol City," singing "I'm Just a Bill" from School House Rock all the way.  With the parents they have, it will also be difficult for them to miss the political screaming matches vigorous political disucssions that take place in our home.

But I think we took it to the next level today.

A good friend and I took our 6 year olds to a local watering hole for dinner with the intention of watching the election returns.  They very nicely turned one of the 50 or so TV's to MSNBC for us and we settled in to watch.  Unfortunately, we were getting frustrated with the lack of local coverage of Virginia's 2nd Congressional District race.  We both campaigned for Congressman Glenn Nye and I even appeared in a commercial for him.  We asked the eatery to change another tv to a local station and they said no.  "No more politics."  (Buffalo Wild Wings in Chesapeake, Virginia, I'm talking to you!)

Read the rest of this post on MOMocrats.com....

Christmas Card Outtakes

Because life isn't always a perfect picture and we wouldn't want it to be. Sometimes the outtakes are the best part!

This is what 6 looks like

Hollis, my little man big boy,

I should be resting right now, preparing for the early hour tomorrow when you will rush in to my room and demand I take your first photo as a 6 year old.  I can't sleep.  I can't sleep because my heart is too full of you.

This year has been full of first for you and, because you're my first child, they're my firsts too. 

You rode your bike without training wheels.

You were in your first wedding.

You lost your first tooth.

You made your first snowman.

You learned how to swim.

You started Kindergarten.

You visited the White House. Twice!

You learned to hit a ball without the tee and how to dribble a soccer ball.

You've learned to be a real friend, even to your "annoying" little brother.

I blink and you're an inch taller. You tower above the kids your age, but you keep growing, growing into your lanky boy frame.

I get choked up when I write that you are a boy, but you are.  Boy.  And in my boy, I see the man you will one day be.  It fills me with equal parts awe and terror.

And, oh, there's so much more I could say. So much more about your generous heart and your kind thoughts and your little idiosyncratic habits that all add up to ... Hollis.

Happy birthday, my little not so little man.

Love,

Mommy

 

 

Forever Friends

I have a hard time making friends.

Acquaintances are easy to make. They come and go. Hell, so do friends sometimes, but those aren't the lasting relationships I'm talking about. A Facebook friend used the term “forever friends” the other day and it so perfectly describes what I mean that I had to lift it. Forever friends are those special people that aren't related to you but that you know will be there for you, even if it's been 2 months, or 2 years since your last call. If you live close by, you can call your Forever Friend anytime, for anything and she'll be at your door in 30 minutes. With vodka. And ice cream.

Forever friends. Those are the hard ones to find.

When I was a teenager, my 11^th grade English teacher told me that at the end of your life you will be able to count the true friends you've had on one hand. If you're extremely lucky, you'll move on to the second hand. I scoffed and looked around at my circle of high school friends and actually felt sorry for the guy. How sad was that? Only 5 real friends in all his ancient years? (In actuality, I think he was in his late 30's at the time, an irony that is not lost on me now.)

Although I've spent my entire life moving – the curse of the Air Force brat – and making friends, I am an introvert. People laugh at me when I say this, but let me be clear; I'm not shy. I'm not shy at all. I am reserved, but I have no problems talking to strangers, networking or making … acquaintances. Of those many acquaintances, some with shared backgrounds or interests or children or ideas do become friends. Of course. But those friendships often fade away through time or distance or because what once brought us together, whether it be children of the same age, a job or a photography class, isn't as important or immediate. I call them situational or superficial friends. Yes, they are still my friends. They riddle my Facebook page and we exchange cards and, on rare occasion, visits.

Forever friends. Those friends are very rare.

My forever friends, women and men alike, they get me. I get them. And it doesn't matter if we have completely different political ideologies or careers. It doesn't matter who has children or if they're even close to the same age. Geography is irrelevant. These are the friends I will keep my entire life. I will watch their children grow up. I will cheer on their careers and love lives. I will wipe their tears, even if I need to have the ice cream and Grey Goose delivered via Fed Ex on dry ice. I will go to their weddings. I will mourn them when they die or they will mourn me. Because, you see, we will be friends forever.

I can count these people on one hand. On less than one hand.

A few times in my life I've met someone that I thought would become a forever friend only to discover that I was … wrong.

We've all had friends like this. You talk and talk for hours and hours. You have so much in common. You really seem to click. But after the initial charming rush of doing many things together, you slowly begin to realize that you are the one who is usually making the calls, doing the inviting, suggesting the outings or waiting for the phone to ring. It's not deliberate or vengeful or malicious. You just aren't … the first friend who comes to mind.

It hurts. We've all been there.

For the introvert, however, I think it hurts more. You see, we introverts, we live very much inside ourselves. We keep the best parts of ourselves inside; the funny; the snark; the big ideas. Not many people ever get in there. Not really. So when we let someone in, when I let someone in, it's kind of a big deal. A really big deal. And I don't think that most people realize this about me; that I'm not really a thick skinned extrovert with tons of friends. I'm actually a quivering mass of goo who will sometimes even cry if someone forgets to call.

I'd much rather keep myself closed off until I know someone is a forever friend. But that's not possible. Because every forever friendship develops precisely because we get to see that quivering mass of goo inside another. And we manage to keep from running away screaming. Forever friends always start out as superficial or situational friends, but it would be so much easier for ME if they could just come stamped with a nice big F on the forehead. So I'd know.

Superficial friendships drain me. They're exhausting for an introvert. They're exhausting for me. I never know if that offer to have dinner, or get the kids together, or have an outing is a real one or if a superficial friend will just forget about it. I struggle with whether to tell Hollis that he's going to do X with his friend Y because I have no idea if Y's mommy will actually follow through. And that's where this whole friendship thing gets even more troublesome.

Because, you see, the kids are involved now.  And Hollis is just. like. me.

If Y's mom doesn't call or follow through, then I'm the one left picking up the pieces when Hollis's heart is broken. Because I can't tell him that I'm sure Y's mom just forgot or lost track of time or was really busy. No matter what lies I tell him or how many times I tell him that things just didn't work out, or we couldn't get schedules to mesh or even take the blame all on myself, Hollis will take it personally. No matter what I do, he will have his little heart smooshed because some thoughtless person didn't realize that the offhand comment she made was taken to heart by a little boy who was listening.

When this happens, I sometimes feel like I don't have any real friends here at all, although that certainly isn't true. It makes me want to move. Somewhere where I have ties, and roots and all my friends and family. Somewhere where I know that my children will always have friends and family they can count on.

But that somewhere doesn't really exist. My forever friends and my family are flung all over the country. I'm a military brat. I don't have a home. Well, this is home now.

Usually, it's all fine. Ninety-eight percent of the time, it's fine. But when my heart hurts and it's all caught up in the pain my little guy will feel and in figuring out how to make the blow as soft as possible for Hollis, it's not fine. No matter how small or insignificant this all may really be it's not fine today. And I find myself cursing my high school English teacher because he was right.

I need to call one of my forever friends. Send vodka. Don't forget the Chunky Monkey.

How Things Change in Five Years