When I was younger, I used to sit and listen to the radio, in particular, Dr. Demento and Jim Ladd and I'd tell my mom, "Mom, that's what I want to do when I grow up!  I want to be on the radio and talk about music and talk to bands!"   I also knew, within the deepest recesses of my brain, that I wanted to write. I've been writing since before I think I was even cognizant that that's what I was doing.   I would write about anything and everything.  I used to fall asleep when I was a teenager thinking about writing about my adventures on the radio and all the bands I'd meet. 

I'm ashamed to admit that at one point, when I was maybe 13 or 14, I sent the band Styx, several letters where I may or may not have mentioned wanting to have Tommy Shaw's babies and write a book about the band.  If I close my eyes I can still see the wide-ruled paper and bright pink ink and my flowery handwriting with the curly-ques and flourishes and the "I's" dotted with hearts.   I may or may not have given each one of those letters a healthy squirt of perfume too.  

Writing, music and archery were all I thought about when I was a kid.  However, I never really paid much attention to whether I was good at any of them...well, archery I knew I was.  It took work and dedication and practice.  Hours and hours of practice, but I was damned good at it.  I wouldn't call myself a natural talent though.  As far as writing, I just knew that I loved doing it and it never occurred to me to even wonder if I had any talent.  No one could say whether I would have been any good on the radio.  All I knew when it came to being on the radio; Jim Ladd had it goin' on and I wanted what he had...a sweet gig in the studio at KMET in Los Angeles; hanging out with bands.

In between my desire to be a DJ (now we call them "Air Talent"...of course in my case, sometimes "Air Head" was more apropos!), and my goal of quite literally shooting towards a gold medal in Archery in the Olympics (it's embarrassing to admit how close I got to being able to achieve that goal, had it not been for some very poor choices on my part.), somewhere along the line I managed to derail myself.  Oh, I kept writing through it all...my journals were as much a part of my life as anything else, as well as letters to friends and long time pen-pals.

I got pregnant almost immediately out of high school, had to get married and damned if I didn't keep getting pregnant.  All those school-girl fantasies of being on the radio and being uber-cool were little more than distant memories that made me giggle, and sometimes cringe in embarrassment when I'd recall the sappy love letters written to bands.  As far as archery I never gave picking up my bow, and strapping on my quiver, another thought.  

I was raised in the Mormon church and surrounded by wonderful examples of amazing mothers.  Our Bishop's wife, Sister Neeley was "everybody's mom!"  And she was talented.  The Relief Society President was the mom of one of my close friends, Kim, and she was as gifted and wonderful as Sister Neeley.  These women were musically inclined, could sing, could out-bake anyone and held college degrees.  My own mother can pick up any musical instrument and play it with ease.  She is a gifted vocalist and I can't even tell you how many times I recall someone asking her to sing at an event they were hosting.  Pretty much anything my mom sets her mind to, she masters.  She's a brilliant attorney and decided to take up Hebrew and was able to speak fluently on a recent trip to Israel. 

All of my siblings possess at least one particular talent...some innate gift that they seemed born with and have been able to take that gift and mold their lives into something positive and rewarding using those gifts.   All three of them can play a musical instrument.  Me?  Um...I tried back when I was in the 6th grade and lets just say it ended badly.  Don't ever give your child an expensive flute without first knowing whether they can read music or not and then send them off to school to join the band and be kicked out the same day.  To this day I still can't read music and I can't carry a tune to save my life.  Imagine growing up Mormon, where singing and musical gifts are highly prized, and not being able to do either. 

When I gave birth to Joshua my world became one with a singular purpose.  Be a good mother. It seemed that was my sole purpose.  I wanted to be sure to notice and foster any inborn talents my children had but I never gave any thought to whether they would ask me, or ever wonder if I had any special talents or gifts?  Until recently, I don't think I have ever questioned whether my own children would ever think less of me if I didn't exhibit a talent of my own.  However, lately, I've been thinking about it and wondering if, when they remember me, anything will stand out in their minds, as it does mine, about my own mother, or friends' mothers...

Don't get me wrong, I think being a good mother is wonderful.  It's one of the best things you can do for your children.  However, I can't even claim to be that because for a long time I wasn't there.  Granted, the past few years I've rebuilt bridges and mended fences and have made inroads when it comes to that sort of thing, but I still feel like there's this huge gap.   I have miles of road left to travel with Gaby before I'm ready to send her off into the world and sometimes I wonder if my lack of any natural talent won't leave her feeling like her childhood was rather flat and boring? (Having a mom who can step on her own feet and trip UP the stairs doesn't count!)  Hopefully one day she'll be able to say I was a good mom and she knows she is loved and valued more than anything, but will she also be left with a hollowness because there was no special talent that I could share with her? 

I have so many memories of my mom playing the piano, or singing along with whatever was on the radio, or putting on a record (yep, an actual album, way back in the day!), of the Pirates of Penzance - the version with Rex Smith and Linda Ronstadt - and her out-singing Ronstadt.  I can also recall her ability to sew and my sisters and I all wearing handmade dresses that she had carefully sewn for us.  My own adventures with needle and thread are best left unmentioned. 

More than two decades after graduating from high school, I've sat back and looked at the lives of my friends and how they were able to mold their lives based on their God-given talents and how they've used those gifts to shape their lives, contribute to the lives and well-being of others and to give back to society.   I often wonder if it was any easier for them, being naturally gifted at something? 

Did you grow up with certain talents or gifts and were you able to build your future around those gifts?  Or did you grow up wanting to be something specific and worked towards that goal?  Do you like where you are now?

Eventually I did end up on the air.  I had a very good run for nearly a decade and worked with some amazing people.  I was mentored by the best and the brightest air and voice talents and eventually broke into the voice-over business.   Like a lot of things in life, the honeymoon ended and I grew tired of moving from radio station to radio station.  The business itself became less about the music and more about the "brand" of the corporate owners.  I spent too much time working for one of America's largest media conglomerates and I outgrew my love affair with being on the air.  When it stopped being about the music and become all about the money, I got out.

If you went after your dreams, were they everything you thought they would be?  Is the honeymoon still hot and heavy? 

I'm 41 now and I'm actually OK with that.  What I'm not OK with is that finally I know what I want to be when I grow up, but...I think it's too late.  Not only do I think it's too late, but I wonder if I'd actually be any good at it especially when so much of what I want to do revolves around being able to motivate others and speak to others when I'm in the midst of a very scary period in our lives?

How do I avoid being like that rusty tractor and bike?  How do I keep my kids from looking back and saying, "Yeah, she could have been useful, had she only done something with her life! But instead, she sat around and rusted!"

Bottom line...I want to write and I want to motivate others who have been where I am, and show them it's possible to get through it.  But how do I do that when so much in my own life is so uncertain now and my own deepest darkest fears of having to live out of our car, may become a reality because I'm not doing anything useful to contribute to my family to help get us out of this dark scary place? 

I can scarcely believe I just gave voice to all of this.  It's out there now and while I suppose I don't have to hit the publish button, I will.

I know what I want to be when I grow up...I just wonder if I'm too grown up already to actually be that person?

 

Normally, I'm of the opinion that the age-old adage about fish and house-guests going bad around the same time, holds true...but there's just something different about 41.  I'm not sure what it is, but she looks like she'd be good company to have around.  Sure, she's a bit weathered around the eyes, deep furrows line her forehead, and there are a few very evident gray hairs, but something about her stands a little taller than 40 ever did and there's a look of determination in her eyes that tells me she isn't going anywhere, no matter what I throw at her.  I think she understands that this may be a tough year - tougher and leaner than some we've faced in decades, but she looks like she's ready to stand her ground and not let herself sink into the muddy depths that have lapped at her feet and threatened to pull her under in the past couple of years...when she was younger and weaker.  I think she also knows she's surrounded by a wonderful group of friends and loved ones who won't let her slip back under and into the abyss and that gleam in her eyes tells me that she'll ask for help from those people - and not fear reaching out to them, if she feels the funk settling in.  Friends defeat funk any day of the week!

Sure, it goes without saying that 41 knows she's got a long haul ahead of her.  She knows there is work to be done and it's going to be hard work.  She has fears - just like anyone else in her situation and faced with the same things she's faced with, but I think there is an air about her that is shouting at me - getting in my face and letting me know that she'll meet those challenges and difficulties head on and not be defeated by them!

41 has had a wonderful day thus far and would love the chance to make someone else happy!  So, she’s giving away a $25 Borders gift card and a $25 Target gift card.  All you have to do is leave a comment on this post and for an extra entry, Tweet about the giveaway and be sure to include @Barking_Mad in your tweet as well as a link to this post.  I’ll leave comments open until Monday, November 16^th at 10PM EST.

   

THE FINE PRINT:  Void where prohibited...which really is just my fancy way of saying that if I've had sex with you,  you gave birth to me, if I gave birth to you,  if you are a sibling (rivalrous or not), or in any, way, shape, or form related to me, nanny nanny boo boo, you can't enter the contest. Dear FCC, no one paid me or compensated me for this post, or the gift cards. They were self-provided!

P.S. I have no stinkin' clue what happened to the formatting on this post.  I think I'm just gifted when it comes to messing things up...the same way that only I can step on my own feet, trip going UP the stairs, and manage to blow up my microwave by simply reheating left over roast beef!

The "Pink-Slip" party we started last Friday afternoon lasted well through late Saturday night, so Sunday morning I got up, not wanting to do much of anything strenuous (which included the act of hauling my big ass out of bed), and tossed dinner into the crock pot and by mid-day we were all suffering from a case of cabin fever.  So whilst the slow-cooker simmered away at supper, we packed up the camera and headed out to Ft. Popham for a mini-sunset-trek.

The light was generally pretty craptastic and I didn't get many shots I thought worthwhile, but I did get some shots of Gaby playing with her shadows along the walls of the old fort and some of them turned out pretty cute...

~Lech Walesa ~

**********

Yep, I'm all about the frustration this morning.  Oh and we can't forget to add in a heaping tablespoon of bitterness too!

I don't know what I did last night, but I spent a couple of hours working on a post filled with pictures (not anything earth-shattering mind you, just some pictures from the weekend), and was installing a new anti-virus suite...saved my post, backed out of my browser, shut everything down and restarted the computer and then POOF!  The post and all the photos were gone.  And I hit SAVE beforehand dammit and made sure it saved, yet when I came back and restarted everything back up, it was gone.  So I kicked the computer desk which just resulted in breaking a toenail and blood and got even angrier and took all my toys and went home. 

I can't see a connection between the anti-virus software and the post disappearing but it's a convenient outlet for blame right now so I'm taking it!  Plus, I'm using my "frustration and bitterness" as an excuse for not having a substantial post. 

In lieu of anything meaty or of substance (but then since when is there every anything of either out here?), here's a pretty picture from the weekend...I'll be back later with more...or not.  

Sunset at Ft. Popham, framed by lobster pots on the shore...

 

Originally, when Gareth called home last Friday, the 30th and let me know that the other shoe had dropped, I was many things but definitely not in a mood to party.  Losing his job - a good paying job in an industry that has been hit extremely hard in this recession, is terrifying to me.   I was in the car taking Matt to work when the phone rang.  I pulled over and let out a few choked sobs, wiped my eyes and listened to Gareth tell me he'd be home by early afternoon.  He had to clean out his office.  It actually took him longer than just a little while because men he'd worked with came in from field offices and various project sites around coastal Maine to say goodbye and wish him well.  I know how hard it was for him to say goodbye to so many people he'd worked so closely with.

I dropped Matt off at work and drove to the beach at Land's End.  Gaby was softly snoring in her car seat while "Whistle While You Work" from her Snow White DVD droned on in the background.  I dug my fingernails into the steering wheel and shook with uncontrollable quiet sobs.  I wanted nothing more than to punch Snow White and those fucking merry dwarves in the face!  No one in our family would be whistling while they worked because there wasn't going to be a job to go to! 

I lifted my head and looked out the windshield of the car, through watery eyes and just sat and let the tears fall down my face as the wind blew and the waves softly lapped at the shore.  I took a deep breath in and opened the center console searching for something to blow my nose into and wipe my eyes with.  All I could find were baby wipes.  Along with the tears and snot came mascara and the rest of my makeup that I'd haphazardly applied earlier that morning.  I was sure I looked scarily appropriate for Halloween Eve.

I played back Gareth's phone call in my mind, hearing his voice so broken and tearful.  I turned around and watched Gaby sleep, blissfully unaware of how her small world was changing, unbeknown to her.  A sharp pain in my chest made me wince.  I couldn't let her see me like this and I knew at that moment in time that my own attitude would go a long way towards determining how our family responded to and dealt with this crisis.

I sat up straight, undid my seat belt and slid quietly from my seat so as not to wake Gaby.  As silently as possible, I shut my door and walked to the front of the car.  I slid my arm carelessly over my face in an attempt to brush away the tears and then looked up at the sky. I don't know if I was praying, or talking to the Universe or just verbalizing my fears out of earshot of Gaby...but I do know that I gave myself 5 solid minutes to freak out, to worry, to panic, to give the fears that were rolling around in my head and sitting on the tip of my tongue an escape route because I knew that airing them around those I needed to be strong for wouldn't do anyone a damn bit of good.  One of my biggest fears is not being able to go to Texas in January and see Meg graduate from BMT.  But we'll deal with it. 

I stood for a moment longer and let the wind dry my face and inhaled deeply - the perfume of the ocean which is always so calming to me.  I closed my eyes and just listened to the sounds around me...the wind in the trees, the shore birds calling to one another and the waves breaking on the rocks.  I let these sounds sink deep into my soul and center me.  I took strength from my surroundings and thanked God and the Universe for leading me to a place where I could find my footing and regain some composure.  I said a silent prayer for the other men and women who had lost their jobs along with Gareth that day, including Gareth's boss, the Vice President of the company.  I hope that favorable winds are blowing their way.

I got back into the car and grabbed my cell phone and opened up the Note Pad application and started making a list of things that would need to be done immediately.  Phone calls that would have to be made, a list of people to email, and then I sent a brief text to family letting them know what had happened.   I hadn't intended on letting Meg know that Gareth had lost his job.  She knew that his company had already been through two severe rounds of layoffs, but as far as she was concerned, we had been told his job was secure...as secure as it could be in this economy.   In the end, because Matt was with me when the call came in from Gareth, I decided it was best not to hide it from her.  I just didn't want to worry her when she was so close to leaving for BMT.  In the end, it only drew her nearer to us in ways which are hard to describe.

Since Friday so many unexpected things have happened. We've discovered that the professional community which Gareth is a part of reaches out to those in need and has helped connect Gareth with others in positions to either network him with companies looking for professionals like him, or with headhunters who are familiar with his specialty and certifications.  We've realized that as individuals in our family we are capable of a lot, but when we pull together even tighter, there isn't anything we aren't capable of.

Yes, things may get tough for us for a while.  Yes, we are going to have to make some major changes in our lives, one of which is probably going to mean moving out of Maine.  Interestingly enough the areas where jobs in Gareth's field are plentiful are in places like Alaska, Hawaii and Texas.   We'll go where the work is, no questions asked.  We know that when all is said and done we may have to up sticks and start over somewhere else.  But ya know what?  We'll do that!  And we'll be OK doing that...so long as we're together as a family and facing whatever challenges lie ahead of us, as a family, we can, and will, get through this. 

So tomorrow, in light of recent events here at the asylum, we're going to be throwing a Pink-Slip party and ya'll are invited to come, even if it's only in spirit.  There will be much baking and merry-making and I promise to not punch any Disney characters in the face! We're also going to be drowning our sorrows in buckets of Pink Slip Lemonade!

In the end, we are stronger than this and whilst we haven't landed on our feet yet, we will land.  It might not be a soft landing, but however we land, we'll pick ourselves up, brush ourselves off and move forward.  Things may indeed get worse before they get better...but the point is, they will get better and we will come through this intact, stronger as individuals and much stronger as a family!

We made it through Meg's departure for BMT (Basic Military Training) with the USAF.  The past couple of days have been more hectic than anything I can recall in recent months.  Even more so than last year when she left for college.

There was so much that went into this moment for her, but I'll start with the last 12-24 hours leading up to her getting on the airplane and flying off into the wild blue yonder.

Monday afternoon Meg had to report to her NCO's office for her last DEP (Delayed Entry Program, which she was part of) check in.  Sgt. Lebreck prepared her for the hell that the first few days of BMT were going to be like.  He also spoke directly to us and warned us to just sit tight because we wouldn't hear from her for the first week to 10 days.  She was going to have to earn the privilege to call home and with that phone call would come her address, where we could write to her.  

Sgt. Lebreck also told Meg that her first day there would be one in a string of about three weeks of solid hell, but would probably be the longest. 

 

From Sgt. Lebreck's office we had to take Meg to the hotel she was required to check into the night before her final processing and swearing in, at the Portland MEPS office.   We spent the evening with Meg, Matt, Meg's boyfriend Tyler and her best friend Chris.  She had to be back at the hotel by curfew, so after dinner we dropped her off and told her we'd meet her at the MEPS station early the next morning.

We texted for a while until she fell asleep. I didn't think she'd get too much sleep and either did she but she ended up being able to sleep from about 11PM until the MEPS guys came and woke her up at 4AM.  I got up at 4AM as well because I couldn't sleep for thinking about everything she was going through.

All of us (Gareth, me, Gaby, Matt, Tyler and Chris) showed up at the MEPS station around 8AM and were waiting for her to finish security processing and for her name to be called for her "official"  Oath of Enlistment.  It differed from when she swore in back in May because this time because back then, she was simply swearing into the DEP (Delayed Entry Program) and not signing her name in blood so to speak.  Technically, anytime between then and now she could have walked away from the USAF with no issues, however yesterday once she signed her final contract and then took her Oath, that was it.  She is now technically and literally property of the United States Government.

All through the day I would watch Meg's best friend's face, off and on.  He's next to go into the USAF.  His ship date is January 19th.  Chris is a very unique and special young man.  He's become like an older brother to Meg, although they are the same age.  Where one is, you'll often find the other.  He's been a constant around our house over the last few months.  Gaby refers to Chris as "My bruver from anuver muvver!"  He's got a younger sister who's just a year shy of Gaby and I really love listening to him talk about his little sister, Abigail, and watching his eyes light up as he talks about this or that - that she's done lately.  I can imagine how hard it's going to be for him to say goodbye to her, as it was for Meg to hug  Gaby goodbye...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The earlier part of yesterday at the MEPS station was pretty much nothing more than "hurry up and wait" as Meg's flight time got bumped back from 1:10PM to 4:10PM.  

Tyler and Meg, just hanging out and waiting at the MEPS visitor area...

 

They finally called Meg's name and asked for her and her guests to go to the Oath room where we were able to watch her be sworn in...

 

 

  

 

 

Once she was sworn in they let the parents of those who were shipping out take our airmen outside of the MEPS center to get some breakfast and just spend some time with them before they were due to go through their travel briefing at 11:45AM.  We took the kids down to the wharf along the Portland waterfront and had breakfast.  I'm so grateful for those extra few hours with our girl.  I know that her flight being pushed back made her day even longer, but for those of us who were there with her, we will always cherish those last few silly and precious hours before she took to the air.

After breakfast we dropped the kids off at the MEPS center and told them we'd meet them at the airport.  Meg forgot to pack a towel with her stuff and it was one of the items she was told to bring with her to BMT.  So we ran back to the house and grabbed a towel and by the time we were done she was already at the airport.

One of the benefits of having a child who is now referred to as on "Active Duty" (I will admit that just saying those words takes a little getting used to), is that we were given security passes at the airport to wait at the gate with Meg.

It was a little surreal, sitting up there with the families of other kids getting ready to ship out.  All of us were pretty subdued.  I sat back as Gaby played with her posse of Polly Pockets and watched the other families talk quietly with their own airmen, or new Naval trainees (I don't know what the rest of the branches of the military call their new recruits), Marines and Army recruits.  One Navy recruit in particular had about 10 family members with her.  I watched as she'd scoot in close to a family member and snap a picture with them on her Blackberry.  I'd watch the grandparents of another new recruit quietly tell stories of their own time during service to our wonderful country.  I sat and intently watched the father of one of Meg's fellow airmen, dab his eyes as he looked on with pride at his son as he followed in his footsteps.

I watched Meg closely.  I followed her gaze as she'd look at her twin brother, or I'd catch her eyes well up as she watched Gaby play with her toys.  She'd look up from time to time and catch Tyler watching her every move.  I watched Tyler try to reign in his emotions and be strong for his girl...this woman he loves with all this heart.  I scanned Matt's face and watched the tears flow anew as he'd look at his twin sister.  This has been particularly hard on Matt.  He's so proud of his sister but yet misses her with an intensity that's hard to describe. 

I captured a few moments of the "waiting" as we all sat and counted the minutes until her flight number was called to board. 

 

Most of us were on our cell phones, updating Facebook, or Twitter, or texting one another.  I was trying to write down some of the feelings I had as I watched this young woman before me morph from the little girl with long pony tails who loved to chase her brothers with frogs and bugs, into the headstrong teenager who claimed to be a tomboy but whose love of makeup and perfume and body lotion is legendary, to this young woman who now sat before me - this butterfly about to spread her wings for the first time and prepare to show the world her beautiful colors.  I found words hard to come by.  So I just captured moments here and here of these jewels in my crown...my children.

 

 

 

 

Then it happened.  Her flight was called and it was time for hugs, kisses, promises to write, wishes of good luck, and final words or encouragement and support.  And tears.  Oh how the tears flowed and flowed.

I hugged her close and told her how proud I was to call myself her mother and that for every moment of struggle we'd had, those were eclipsed by the moments where I could burst at the seams with pride for my gorgeous girl. I kissed her cheek and told her to go and show the world who she was.

I cried as I watched Gareth's eyes fill with tears as he told Meg to g'on, make herself proud and do her best and he embraced her.  Despite being her step-father, he considers Meg his daughter.  He loves her as if she were his own and as I watched him hug her, I filled with an ever-deepening love for this man. Step-parenting is hard.  It's oh-so-very difficult at times.  He's done a keen job of perfecting the art of parent and friend to her at the times she's needed it the most.

Watching Meg say goodbye to Tyler was hard, but probably not as hard as it was for them to experience it. 

 

And then before I knew it, Meg was standing in line, ready to board the plane.  So many thoughts and emotions swirled around in my head. The tears flowed freely as I'd given up containing them and trying to hold them back.  I could hear Gaby softly crying behind me and calling out Meg's name.  I watched Tyler stick his hands in his pocket and pull his chin up...being strong for his girl. 

 

Meg turned around one last time, waved at us and then she was gone, down the jetway.

Matt held Gaby as they watched the plane through the window.  I could see his shoulders shake as he cried.  He pulled Gaby close and together they watched their sister prepare to head off into the blue skies overhead for adventures unknown.

 

Gaby stood up and walked towards the window and watched as her sister's plane pulled away and prepared for take off...

 

...And when she turned around, my heart broke for her, into a million tiny pieces...

 

I pulled Gaby close to me and told her that very soon, we'd see Meg again and we'd be so proud as she marched in front of us, at graduation from BMT in January. 

We stood and watched as Meg's plane ascended into the clouds until we couldn't see it any longer and then I hugged Chris and Tyler and told them to come by for dinner soon and then they left, with Matt in tow, to go and play some pool.

Gareth and I each took one of Gaby's hands, and left the airport. 

We came home, went about our evening, put Gaby to bed, talked to Matt when he came home, and then tucked in for the night.  The last thing we were expecting was to be awoken out of a dead sleep at 4:30AM by a call from  Meg.  Gareth picked up the call and the first thing I heard was Meg's voice as she said, "Hi Dad..." followed by an intense amount of yelling in the background by the TI (Training Instructor). 

For some reason she was allowed a phone call home, something that's not always the precedent on a new trainees first day of BMT, to give us her address.  We could scarcely hear her for the yelling by her TI in the background.  I wanted to reach through the phone and slap that woman and tell her to shut the hell up so I could hear my daughter.  Gareth got most of the address, or at least tried, amidst the non-stop yelling, and then that was it.  She was gone.  I doubt she'd been to sleep since landing in San Antonio, at Lackland Air Force Base. 

I miss her.  Oh how I miss my girl.  Despite the ache in my heart at her not being here, there is this swell of pride and love for her and for the woman she is going to become.  And for as much as I miss her, I love her so much more.

 

Meg boarding the plane bound for Lackland Airforce Base in San Antonio, TX.

"Letting go doesn't mean we don't care.  Letting go doesn't mean we shut down.
Letting go means we stop trying to force outcomes and make people behave.
It means we give up resistance to the way things are, for the moment.
It means we stop trying to do the impossible--controlling that which
we cannot--and instead, focus on what is possible--which usually means
taking care of ourselves.  And we do this in gentleness, kindness,
and love, as much as possible."
  

~Melody Beattie~

********

The past couple of days have been non-stop movement in preparation for Meg's departure for BMT (Basic Military Training) down at Lackland Air Force Base in san Antonio, TX- with the USAF.  Today was the culmination of more than six months preparation and waiting.  It's been a long day.  Meg's started at 4:30AM this morning and probably won't end until well after 12AM Texas time. I can never remember which time zone Texas is in, despite having lived there!

I got up at 4AM this morning because I couldn't sleep for being excited, and anxious and nervous for my girl.  The rest of the  family has been up and going since about 6AM and we're all completely spent...emotionally and physically. 

I'll post Part III of "Leaving on a Jet Plane" tomorrow when my eyes aren't so puffy and I've had a chance to sort through all the photographs and decide which ones I want to share and which I want to hold close to the vest. 

Hard to believe today is here and just about gone already.  Letting go and letting Meg fly was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.  However, there's no looking back, only looking forward to all the wonderful things this amazing young woman is going to do with her life.  I've never been more proud to be a mother...her mother!

Tonight we head down to Portland to have dinner with Meg near the hotel she's going to be staying at, along with other recruits that ship out tomorrow morning.  Then early tomorrow we go back down to Portland again, this time into the main MEPS station and are present for her official swearing in and say our, goodbyes.

I wanted to get a good photo of Meg and Tyler - one that she can take to basic with her and put up in her locker, or whereever they're allowed to put stuff like this.  However, trying to get a decent shot of the four of these kids, the twins- Matt and Meg, along with Chris and Tyler, where they aren't grabbing each other's boobs, or generally acting like goobers, was easier said than done!

First, I tried to get Meg and Tyler...

After threatening to withhold dessert, I finally got a little cooperation!

Next up I tried, in vain to get a good shot of Meg, Tyler, and Meg's best friend, Chris, who I lovingly refer to as The Three Musketeers.

Come on guys!  Work with me!

Next up was The Quads, as a whole group.  Yeah, this one took a while seeing as how I had to review with Chris and Tyler, proper hand placement for a group shot!

I began to fear I'd never get even a half-way decent shot of the four of them!

Eventually, I managed to get a pretty good shot of The Quads...oh and Geronimo too.

Beautiful kids!  I love every one of them!  I'm so grateful for the friendship all of Meg's friends have shown to her and her brother Matt, over the past couple of years.  And I've loved having all the laugher, jokes, and conversation fill  my home!

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In a little less than 48 hours, this beautiful girl of mine will be winging her way to San Antonio, TX for 9 weeks of basic training with the United States Airforce.  I've mentioned before what the impetus was for her decision to join the USAF so I won't go into that again.   

Over the course of the next couple of days, if the posts are light, or little more than fluff, just know it's because this "letting go" thing is hard.  It's damned hard! My therapist warned me that this was going to be pretty hard, but I didn't listen.  She told me that the harder Meg tried to disentangle herself from the binds that tie (and sometimes gag!), the more fervently I'd try to reign her back in.  It's been so hard recently that the air of tension around here has been palpable.  She has been pushing away - unfurling her wings and testing them out and I have been pulling her back even harder.  Thursday night, we both sat down on her bathroom floor and hugged and cried and just got everything out.  

I think the hardest thing for her has not only been dealing with the incredible leap out of her comfort zone this is going to be, but the unfortunate fact that her paternal family on the west coast has not reached out once in the last several months to wish her well, or even say goodbye.  I can't imagine the ache in her heart.  I do know that this ache will only cause her determination to do her best to burn brighter and harder than anything.  It will only fuel the intensity with which she goes after everything she wants and proves to the world, and most importantly - herself - just who she is!

I'm so excited for her and nervous and anxious...but most of all, I am so intensely proud of this gorgeous girl of mine.

My dearest Meg, Meggo, Meggawatt, Mimi (remember that one?) Maggot, Beautiful Girl, Meaghan...

I remember when I found out that one of the twins I was carrying was going to be a girl, almost as if it were yesterday.  Your big brother Josh was such a rough and tumble kid and totally ALL BOY.  I was overjoyed that I'd get to overdose on pink and have a little girl to share all of the wonderful and sometimes painful things about being a woman, with.  I used to daydream about how you'd have this awesome big brother in Josh to pal around with, and he and Matt would be your protectors and that you'd date Josh's friends and how he'd threaten to kick their butts if they hurt you.   I'd envision scenes of you guys tossing a football around in the back garden, just the three of you, and then you primping for dates whilst your brothers gave whoever the poor boy was, a hard time. 

I'd spend hours writing in my journal as I would sit and feel the first few flutters of movement from you and your brother (and seriously, looking back, I'm really suprised you guys didn't come out with bruises when you were born, especially with your head at his feet and vice versa!  You two certainly were not "calm" in utero!), I'd think about sharing secrets with you, spending days having tea parties, watching you play dress up, letting you brush my hair (even when you took the round brush and um, tangled my hair so completely in that your dad had to cut it out of my hair...oh well, I was due for a trim anyhow!), and giggling as we talked about boys. 

I'm so sorry that your older brother's death took a lot of that away from you and turned me into someone unable to cope with life. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out how to be able to live life again, and deal with the gaping wound in my heart and soul.   

However, I'm grateful for these last two years and the bridges that have been rebuilt.  It hasn't always been easy, but we've made it.  I've been able to watch you grow into this amazing young woman who is so alike me at times, that it's frustrating.  Gareth is beyond proud at the strides you've made, despite the incredible hurt you suffered prior to coming to live with us. Being a step-parent is one of the hardest things in the world but I think you'd agree with me that he's done an outstanding job, even when he's had to referree some pretty intense arguments between you and I.

You and I...we don't always agree and I think that's a good thing.  It shows me that despite the years you spent away from me in the care of people who are so narrow-minded, that you can think for yourself and come to your own conclusions about life and the things around you and that there is more than one way to do something.  You have forged your own path in this world and you are determined to do things by your own terms, everyone else be damned!  I wish I had more of that sort of strength and determination when I was your age.

Over the past few years you've often asked me if I ever regretted the poor decisions I made when I was your age especially after Joshua's death.  I don't regret anything...especially when it comes to my children. I don't know the rhyme or reason behind Joshua's death, or if everything happens for a reason or if his death served a purpose...I know you've asked me these things because you wonder if my life wouldn't have turned out differently had I not hooked up with your dad.  I can't say.  No one can.  But I don't regret a minute of it.  You are all such amazing children....well young adults really.  Sure, I made some really poor choices when it came to how I acted which lead to getting pregnant and not wanting to get married but doing it anyhow.  I can't change any of that.  If I hadn't of had any of you, I wouldn't have experienced the boundless joy that you've each brought into my life and the countless memories - beautiful memories - you've each gifted me with.  So no, I don't regret a minute.

Thank you for being my constant cheerleader for the past two years, especially when things went really bad and I just wanted to die.  I know that you know how close it came.  What you don't know, was that as I sat in that tub of ice cold water, and sat there with the razor blades in my hands, that it was the thought of my kids being the ones to find me that ultimately shook me up enough to call my doctor and make him get me off the merry-go-round that was causing this.  After all was said and done, I sat in Dr. DCK's office and sobbed when I thought about you being the one to find me, especially after everything you'd already been through on the west coast, and how our home has been your safe place...I thought about what that would do to you emotionally and to this day it kills me that I was thinking about doing something which really is the very ultimate in selfish acts.  I know the medication had a lot to do with it, but it still doesn't negate the fact that in the end, I would have been the one making the decision and that I would have ruined several lives, including yours, had I actually gone through with it.

Pulling my huge body out of the tub that afternoon was one of the most difficult things I've ever done, but I did so with you, and your sister and your brothers in mind.  I didn't want to leave any of you with that sort of legacy.

I made you a few promises recently...I won't send Matt back to Seattle, regardless.  He stays with us.  We'll get through the recent turn of events, and we'll do it, intact, as a family.   I won't break that promise.  I also promised you that I'd work harder toward getting healthy and surviving.  If you can survive basic (which you can!) then I can deal with the shit that's been eating away at me and chewing away my core, slowly, for decades.  I promised you that you'd be every bit as proud of me as I am of you...I don't intend on breaking that promise or any of the others.

My beautiful girl, know that we'll be cheering you on, and waiting, oh how I'll be waiting, for that first phone call home.  I'm so damned excited for you.  And nervous.  And scared. And anxious...and maybe just a wee bit envious of all the adventures that lay before you. 

Know that above all else, we love and cherish the woman you are.

You are an American Airman

and

You are my daughter!

I love you!

Mom
  

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