Friday, August 24, 2007

True Story

Be sure to read to the end!

Two Great Stories - BOTH TRUE - and worth reading!

STORY NUMBER ONE

Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago. Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.

Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie." He was his lawyer for a good reason. Eddie was very good! In fact, Eddie's skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.

To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big, but also, Eddie got special dividends. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block.

Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him. Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object. And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.

Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn't give his son; he couldn't pass on a good name or a good example.

One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done. He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al "Scarface" Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great!

So, he testified. Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay.

Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from a magazine. The poem read:

The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own.
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in time.
For the clock may soon be still.


STORY NUMBER TWO

World d War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific. One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission.

After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gage and realized
That someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship. His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.

As he was returning to the mother ship he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding their way toward the American fleet. The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn't reach his squadron on and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger.

There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet. Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent. Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible and rendering them unfit to fly.

Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft.

This took place on February 20, 1942, and for that action Butch became the Navy's first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Congressional Medal of Honor. A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29.

His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man. So, the next time you find yourself at O'Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch's memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor. It's located between Terminals 1 and 2.


SO WHAT DO THESE TWO STORIES HAVE TO DO WITH EACH OTHER?


Butch O'Hare was "Easy Eddie's" son.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Pokemon

This story was passed on to me by a friend at work: This woman took her six children to the store and by the end of the trip she had a box of Pokemon cards to sell on EBay... Her blog address is www.mom2my6pack.blogspot.com.


I'm selling a bunch of Pokemon cards. Why? Because my kids sneaked them into my shopping cart while at the grocery store and I ended up buying them because I didn't notice they were there until we got home. How could I have possibly not noticed they were in my cart, you ask? Let me explain.

You haven’t lived until you’ve gone grocery shopping with six kids in tow. I would rather swim, covered in bait, through the English Channel, be a contestant on Fear Factor when they’re having pig brains for lunch, or do fourth grade math than to take my six kids to the grocery store. Because I absolutely detest grocery shopping, I tend to put it off as long as possible. There comes a time, however, when you’re peering into your fridge and thinking, ‘Hmmm, what can I make with ketchup, Italian dressing, and half an onion,’ that you decide you cannot avoid going to the grocery store any longer. Before beginning this most treacherous mission, I gather all the kids together and give them “The Lecture“.

“The Lecture“ goes like this…

MOM: “We have to go to the grocery store.”

KIDS: “Whine whine whine whine whine.“

MOM: “Hey, I don’t want to go either, but it’s either that or we’re eating cream of onion-ketchup soup and drinking Italian dressing for dinner tonight.”

KIDS: “Whine whine whine whine whine.“

MOM: “Now here are the rules: do not ask me for anything, do not poke the packages of meat in the butcher section, do not test the laws of physics and try to take out the bottom can in the pyramid shaped display, do not play baseball with oranges in the produce section, and most importantly, do not try to leave your brother at the store. Again.”

OK, the kids have been briefed. Time to go.

Once at the store, we grab not one, but two shopping carts. I wear the baby in a sling and the two little children sit in the carts while I push one cart and my oldest son pushes the other one. My oldest daughter is not allowed to push a cart. Ever. Why? Because the last time I let her push the cart, she smashed into my ankles so many times, my feet had to be amputated by the end of our shopping trip. This is not a good thing. You try running after a toddler with no feet sometime.

At this point, a woman looks at our two carts and asks me, “Are they all yours?” I answer good naturedly, “Yep!

“Oh my, you have your hands full.”

“Yes, I do, but it‘s fun!” I say smiling. I’ve heard all this before. In fact, I hear it every time I go anywhere with my brood.

We begin in the produce section where all these wonderfully, artistically arranged pyramids of fruit stand. There is something so irresistibly appealing about the apple on the bottom of the pile, that a child cannot help but try to touch it. Much like a bug to a zapper, the child is drawn to this piece of fruit. I turn around to the sounds of apples cascading down the display and onto the floor. Like Indiana Jones, there stands my son holding the all-consuming treasure that he just HAD to get and gazing at me with this dumbfounded look as if to say, “Did you see that??? Wow! I never thought that would happen!”

I give the offending child an exasperated sigh and say, “Didn’t I tell you, before we left, that I didn’t want you taking stuff from the bottom of the pile???”

“No. You said that you didn’t want us to take a can from the bottom of the pile. You didn’t say anything about apples.”

With superhuman effort, I resist the urge to send my child to the moon and instead focus on the positive - my child actually listened to me and remembered what I said!!! I make a mental note to be a little more specific the next time I give the kids The Grocery Store Lecture.
A little old man looks at all of us and says, “Are all of those your kids?”

Thinking about the apple incident, I reply, “Nope. They just started following me. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

OK, now onto the bakery section where everything smells so good, I’m tempted to fill my cart with cookies and call it a day. Being on a perpetual diet, I try to hurry past the assortment of pies, cakes, breads, and pastries that have my children drooling. At this point the chorus of “Can we gets” begins.

“Can we get donuts?”

“No.”

“Can we get cupcakes?”

“No.”

“Can we get muffins?”

“No.”

“Can we get pie?”

“No.”

You’d think they’d catch on by this point, but no, they’re just getting started.
In the bakery, they’re giving away free samples of coffee cake and of course, my kids all take one. The toddler decides he doesn’t like it and proceeds to spit it out in my hand. (That’s what moms do. We put our hands in front of our children’s mouths so they can spit stuff into them. We’d rather carry around a handful of chewed up coffee cake, than to have the child spit it out onto the floor. I’m not sure why this is, but ask any mom and she’ll tell you the same.) Of course, there’s no garbage can around, so I continue shopping one-handed while searching for someplace to dispose of the regurgitated mess in my hand.

In the meat department, a mother with one small baby asks me, “Wow! Are all six yours?”
I answer her, “Yes, but I’m thinking of selling a couple of them.”

(Still searching for a garbage can at this point.)

Ok, after the meat department, my kids’ attention spans are spent. They’re done shopping at this point, but we aren’t even halfway through the store. This is about the time they like to start having shopping cart races. And who may I thank for teaching them this fun pastime? My seventh “child”, also known as my husband. While I’m picking out loaves of bread, the kids are running down the aisle behind the carts in an effort to get us kicked out of the store. I put to stop to that just as my son is about to crash head on into a giant cardboard cut-out of a Keebler elf stacked with packages of cookies.

Ah! Yes! I find a small trash can by the coffee machine in the cereal aisle and finally dump out the squishy contents of my hand. After standing in the cereal aisle for an hour and a half while the kids perused the various cereals, comparing the marshmallow and cheap, plastic toy content of each box, I broke down and let them each pick out a box. At any given time, we have twenty open boxes of cereal in my house.

As this is going on, my toddler is playing Houdini and maneuvering his little body out of the seat belt in an attempt to stand up in the cart. I’m amazed the kid made it to his second birthday without suffering a brain damaging head injury. In between trying to flip himself out of the cart, he sucks on the metal bars of the shopping cart. Mmmm, can you say “influenza”?

The shopping trip continues much like this. I break up fights between the kids now and then and stoop down to pick up items that the toddler has flung out of the cart. I desperately try to get everything on my list without adding too many other goodies to the carts.

Somehow I manage to complete my shopping in under four hours and head for the check-outs where my kids start in on a chorus of, “Can we have candy?” What evil minded person decided it would be a good idea to put a display of candy in the check-out lanes, right at a child’s eye level? Obviously someone who has never been shopping with children.

As I unload the carts, I notice many extra items that my kids have sneaked in the carts unbeknownst to me. I remove a box of Twinkies, a package of cupcakes, a bag of candy, and a can of cat food (we don’t even have a cat!). I somehow missed the box of Pokemon cards however and ended up purchasing them unbeknownst to me. As I pay for my purchases, the clerk looks at me, indicates my kids, and asks, “Are they all yours?”

Frustrated, exhausted from my trip, sick to my stomach from writing out a check for $289.53, dreading unloading all the groceries and putting them away and tired of hearing that question, I look at the clerk and answer her in my most sarcastic voice, “No. They’re not mine. I just go around the neighborhood gathering up kids to take to the grocery store because it’s so much more fun that way.”

So, up for auction is an opened (they ripped open the box on the way home from the store) package of Pokemon cards. There are 44 cards total. They're in perfect condition, as I took them away from the kiddos as soon as we got home from the store. Many of them say "Energy". I tried carrying them around with me, but they didn't work. I definitely didn't have any more energy than usual. One of them is shiny. There are a few creature-like things on many of them. One is called Pupitar. Hee hee hee Pupitar! (Oh no! My kids' sense of humor is rubbing off on me!) Anyway, I don't there's anything special about any of these cards, but I'm very much not an authority on Pokemon cards. I just know that I'm not letting my kids keep these as a reward for their sneakiness.

Shipping is FREE on this item. Insurance is optional, but once I drop the package at the post office, it is no longer my responsibility. For example, if my son decides to pour a bottle of glue into the envelope, or my daughter spills a glass of juice on the package, that’s my responsibility and I will fully refund your money. If, however, I take the envelope to the post office and a disgruntled mail carrier sets fire to it, a pack of wild dogs rip into it, or a mail sorting machine shreds it, it’s out of my hands, so you may want to add insurance. I will leave feedback for you as soon as I’ve received your payment. I will be happy to combine shipping on multiple items won within three days. This comes from a smoke-free, pet-free, child-filled home. Please ask me any questions before placing your bid. Happy bidding! :)

Friday, August 17, 2007

School's In (for some)

This has been a pretty busy week. The kids went back to school this week, my baby started kindergarten… It sucks to let them grow up, my husband has had serious issues this week knowing that Ricky is our last child, and now he is off and running. Ricky barley has time for us now; it’s all about his friends when he comes home. I guess it’s inevitable, it was bound to happen sooner or later. I’ve included a few pictures of his first day of school…



Here he is getting on the bus...

Telling his dad about his day...


Daddy is the one who needed the hug:)


Not even five minutes in the door, and he's out!!

My nephew on his first day of school got expelled…

How’d he manage to do that you might ask?

Well he has a severe learning disability (he had seizures for years, before they got him on the right medication) so he has been held back several times and of course he gets picked on I’m sure. He apparently did not want to go back to this school so during first period he drew a picture of himself shooting the teacher and then passed it around, and of course someone showed the teacher (as they well should have) and she called security and they called my sister to come pick him up. They let her know that he was never allowed to come back to that school, and they are looking into wither or not they are going to press criminal charges against him. Long story short my sister and her husband are looking into getting him psychiatric help now.

(I personally would beat his butt for that little stint…) because now he has what he has wanted all along, not to have to go to school. He is only 15 years old. I would be looking into an alternative school for him, because I definitely would not let him off of the hook that easily.

I took the kids to the Zoo a few weeks ago, and of course it was hot. So I let the two youngest ones bring their swim suits, because our zoo has a small water park for the kids to cool off in. It is just quick bursts of water coming up out of the ground. Right when we were getting ready to leave Breanna bent down to pick up a leaf and a shot of water got her right in the eye, so I brought her over to where I was (because she was crying of course) and when she tried to open up her eye blood started coming out of it. I made her shut it really quick, and took off to the first aid station. By the time we got there and the person in the office called for assistance it had stopped bleeding of course. But man talk about a parent being sacred…..


A Picture from that ill fated day.

I’m planning on going back to the cancer retreat this fall. I’m going to try to be a little more open minded about it, because it is nice to be around other people with similar experiences. So that’s on the calendar for the end of September. Now I just have to break the news to Rick. Last year I ended up going home early because he was so miserable, but then again his mother had just died. So I understand.

I also have my bi-monthly cancer check up on Monday, hopefully still good news.


Saturday, August 11, 2007

LOSER

Knock… Knock… Knock…

I open the bedroom door slowly, after all its 6:00 in the morning.

Khrystyne: You need to come to my room right now!

As soon as she turns her back to me I already know that something has happened. Upon arriving in her room there is black smudging all over her bed sheets and her pillow. As she reaches down to the floor to pick up a letter.

Khrystyne: I don’t know what that is, but read this letter.

Myself: Well I can tell you what it is, it’s permanent marker they wrote something on your back, turn around and let me see.

She turns around and there is a big smiley face and the word LOSER!! On her back, so I relay that to her and as she turns around I see a big L on her cheek. At this point Khrystyne is livid… As I read the letter:

Fatty,

That’s wat you get 4 eating Courtney’s hamburger!

Love,
The Kitty

The night before Khrystyne ate the last hamburger and it pissed Courtney and her friend Angel off. So of course me and the girls had it out before I left for work and when we got home last night here is a list of things that they had to do:

Pull all of the river rocks out of two small flower beds.

Pull all of the weeds out of all of the flower beds.

Clean the kitchen.

And write a letter of apology to Khrystyne.


Here’s a copy of Angel’s letter:

Dear Khrys,

Sorry for putting marker on your face. It should come off easy. We just were being stupid and Courtney wanted to do it so we die becuz you ate her hamburger. Hey we didn’t know that you were gonna sweat at night so much! But yeah were truleyy sorry please please forgive me. We wont mess with you again… KK… Sorry…..lly!

Angel
Sorry…


And here is the copy of Courtney’s letter:

Dear Khrystyne,

Sorry about last night…
It was very mean, and we should not have done it!
But I told you not to eat my hamburger!
But Sorry! And why do you sweat so much in your sleep?
And it was washable marker so it should come off!
So Sorry,
Courtney


Now does it truly sound like those girls are sorry to you??? Me either…

I called Angel’s mother in Florida to let her know what our darling daughters did, and she is going to be in some hot water when she gets home, as a matter of fact so is Courtney. Until she offers a real apology to her sister.

I brought both girls to work with me this morning so that they could clean my office, since I thought that the letters sucked.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

What would you do?

I’m not going to mention real names today, but I know a woman we'll call her Joann who has been with her husband Asshole for the better part of 10 years. In the past his fidelity has come into question (we all know that he has cheated on her, but unless she sees it for herself she won’t believe it.) Anyways this past week her 17 year old niece Ashley told her mother and step-father that she has had an ongoing affair with Joann's husband for the past year and a half (which if you are doing the math that would put her at 15 years old when it started) she told them that she has slept with him numerous times in Joann & Assholes house, even in their bed, and once Joann was even there herself but was asleep in the other room. Ashley has been babysitting for them and apparently has been doing more than just watching the children all this time. Of course Joann does not believe Ashley, she thinks that Ashley is just trying to start trouble, but Ashley’s parents and other aunts all think it’s very true. Now here is the question… If this was your child what would you do? Her parents have only mentioned it to the aunt, as of yet they have not called the police, and they are not sure what they are going to do.

Here is what would happen if one of my children came home and told that they had had an affair with my sister’s husband since the age of 15.

1. I would call my husband home immediately.
2. We would go over to my sister’s house to confront her and her husband.
3. I would turn my husband loose on the ass hole and let him beat him to a bloody pulp.
4. We would call the police to prosecute.
5. I would go downtown to bail my husband out of jail. (because you know he’d be going too)
6. I would call my sister to see if she needed help packing, because if she did not leave him immediately I would go over there and beat her ass as well.

Now, What would you do?

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

The week in review...

Well I have the whole afternoon to myself, the CSR had to go register her daughter for school, and all of the managers have decided to call it a day and go home. So it’s just me at work.

The kid’s text book rental went up again this year for a grand total of $622.08, for four children. Whew… if they don’t stop that I’m going to move back to Oklahoma where they don’t charge text book rental. Because once you lump that total up on top of clothes, shoes, hair cuts, and school supplies for four kids you are talking a major hunk of change.

My mother and step-father are already starting to mourn over the fact that they are not going to have the kids anymore. You can see it in their eyes that they are already counting down the days (and not in a good way). They have had my kids at their house every work day for the past seven years. But yeah for me in a way, because now I won’t have to pay for babysitting any longer.

My best friend is toying with the idea of moving to Florida this year; her husband has three interviews at hospitals there this week. I hope everything works out for her, I know that she has wanted to move there practically her whole life. And let’s be honest the weather here in Indiana sucks!! I always tell the kids, if you don’t like the weather wait five minutes it’ll change. The weathermen up here defiantly have to play the guessing game, and none of the local channels ever get the weather right, it just changes too often.

We went to Rick’s grandmothers’ house for her birthday on Saturday, she turned 91. We were all a little nervous about Barb showing up, but in the end she never even came. (Thank God) Rick got to hang out with his cousins, and the kids all played together, Shannon (Rick’s sister) even showed up.

We ran into Shannon at the store the next day, she was just hanging out. Apparently she got into it again with her ex-husbands new wife, she told them that she was coming to pick up her kids and by the time she got there Jeff had took off with the kids (again) and the new wife (Christy) told Shannon that she had better get a good attorney because they were going to take her kids away. Shannon said that she has let comments like this go in the past, but that she wasn’t putting up with it anymore and so she followed Christy into the house (Christy was on her way in to call the police), Shannon said she beat her ass all the way to the phone. So she was hanging out at the local Wal-Mart, because she was afraid to go home in case the police were at her house. Rick said, now do you see why I don’t hang out with my sister? Drama 24/7…