The Case of the World War II Monument and Me

So I have a story to tell...It all began rather innocently. No, really...I had good intentions. I always do.

I had planned to visit a friend who lives in Baltimore, Maryland. The plan was since I was homeschooling at the time, and so was she, we would use this wonderful time of being together to educate our children and take them into Washington D.C.

It was a beautiful plan. She had three children. I had four, we both felt that we could spend the day seeing some wonderful historic things, expounding as we went on the freedoms of this country, the bravery of the men, and the wonders of a country just being founded.

Their little minds would absorb and soak up all this information. They would ask intuitive, thoughtful questions. They would grasp the wonder of it all in just a few hours and praise us for bringing them to the nations capital to see those bits of history.

That was the plan. We were going to go to the Smithsonian to view the First Ladies Dresses (for the girls of the group) and also to the pop culture era display to see some of the thing in that just for fun.
Then it was off to view the Declaration of Independence. Once their minds had absorbed being in the presence of that document, it was off to the Washington Monument and then to the brand new World War II Monument.

It was a busy day...but we knew their excitement would rise to meet ours. Right? They were little vessel just aching to be filled with knowledge and here we were providing them with an abundance of it! It was the perfect plan.

It started at the train. We decided taking the train into town made sense since parking would have cost a fortune. Once there, buying passes for two adults, two pre-teens, and five small children proved to be more difficult than we had imagined. It was a simple kiosk. You insert your money choose you ticket and then it pops it out and your change and your leave. Simple. Well...until you factor in...do you want more than one stop? What are the ages of your children? Do you plan on returning? Before or after 5PM? What is your state of residence? Date of your last tetanus shot? Credit Score from three reporting agencies? Great-Grandmother's Uncle's Mother's Maiden name?
We turned around at one point and there was a line behind us of about twelve cranky people. Our kids were already running around and we were staring blankly at the kiosk. Yep...this was going to be a great day.
Finally, a nice lady who worked for the trains came over and helped us. Thank god. We would still be standing there.
Once we were finally on the train, it was just a quick 30 minute ride into town. Thirty minutes to an adult is quick. 30 minutes to a child is a television show. A recess. It was an eternity. It was like trapping kittens on lazy susan. They were everywhere. We would no sooner get one seated then we would be chasing down two more.

Yep..this was going to be the perfect day.

We finally arrived in D.C. Yeah! We had everyone and everything we needed. Off we went to walk the three blocks to the Smithsonian. Three blocks. It was at block two.

On the second block of our walk it began..."Are we there yet?" "How much farther?" "I'm hungry." "I gotta go pee."

When we finally made it to the Smithsonian I was beginning to think that maybe I had bit off more than I could chew. We herded the girls into see the dresses..forcing the boys to just walk along with us. Next thing we know the boys are standing around dancing "look at me...I am a silly girl...look at my dress" and then they would break down in fits of laughter.

The Declaration was next and we had to wait in line for at least 30 minutes. This is not a good combination when you are outnumber 2:7 by children. We were grasping for sanity when we finally made it up to view the Declaration. I will never forget as I stood there...just a bit misty eyed thinking of those men who signed that piece of paper and what it meant...to them..their families, their businesses....their way of life when my oldest son says, "It just a sheet of paper. We waited in line to see a sheet of paper?"

Yes..that's my boy. Bet you are wishing you had one just like him. Well...tough. He is all mine.

We began to move on. Next was the Washington Monument. Someone probably should have told me it was closed. That would have been good to know. So on we trekked to the World War II Monument that had just opened.

Did I mention that on a map these things look really close together but when you are walking, trailing 7 ducklings behind it is realllllllllly far. I mean like a 1.8 miles, but it seems longer when the kids are looking at taxis parked on the side of the road offering rides.

We finally make it...and the kids are hot and sweaty because the humidity is up around 3,000% and it is about 98 degrees. And we see the reflecting pool. Oh it is a thing of beauty. Fountains spraying water into the air force a light mist across our hot and sweaty faces. It was like an oasis waiting just for us.

But all our children see? Way at the end on the other side. Toddlers are wadding in the pool. They are up to their belly buttons wearing swimmies and splashing around. Feeding ducks and looking like healthy little sun soaked babies just as cool as they can be.

Our children...they look from the toddlers to us, back to the toddlers, back to us and they raise their little hands and point. "Please....Please can we wade?"

At this point we look around and see dozen of adults with their shoes off and their feet soaking in the pool. Soaking feet sounds really, pretty damn good right about now.

I should mention at this point, I think overall we typically are sensible adults who make good choices when it comes to how our children behave. We do not allow them to run around, we choose to try and make them into productive members of society.

But somehow, during this moment, I think we lost our minds. Because we said yes..."Yes, you may wade. BUT, only up to you knees."

Yep...that was when that crucial mistake happened. We said yes. It seemed harmless. Let the little tykes wade into the water, soak their little feet, have a little fun..what could possibly go wrong?

Now you know anytime a parent asks that question they are met with a cosmic chuckle. God, in his infinite wisdom has just been challenged to a throw down and it is on. Your brain housing group could not possibly conceive of what is about to come at you. Not in a million years. Yep...you're in for it now.

No sooner had our children stripped off shoes, rolled up pants and waded in, and we were just settled down to watch our children wade around for a few minutes when one of them..the middle child of my friend, went feet over head under the water.

You saw that coming, didn't you?

You're a better person than me...I was clueless. Now my friend and I both looked at each other...yes, my friends, fear entered our eyes at this point. As we looked back in that split second...every child froze, eyes riveted on the now soaking wet child who was standing there crying.

The eldest child turned to us...now taking the lead for all of the kids...it was now us against them and said, "Hey..that's not fair...she got to get totally wet!"

Yes, folks. This is that point where there is no winning. It is the parent's Kobayashi Maru. And we replied with, "Yes, but she fell. It was an accident."

Within 30 seconds every single child had had the same accident. It was like watching Whack-A-Mole as every one of them disappeared and then reappeared again.

We had lost all control.

Now as a parent I like to say you have two choices at this point and it marks what kind of parent you truly are. You can either scream and punish them....or you can take their picture.

We opted for the latter.

And soon we were laughing so hard we could hardly sit still. Kids were falling all over themselves. Laughing, jumping, splashing...it was pandemonium. And we were totally insane. We snapped away and laughed...it was about all we could do.

After a couple of minutes we heard an "ahem" and noticed we were now seated in the shadow of a very, very tall, very serious park ranger.

You know where this is headed don't you?

He quietly says to us, "Ladies, this is not a pubic pool."

We looked up at him and wanted to explain...No really we are homeschooling parents with very well behaved children...our kids excel at understanding history and are honored to be here....

All we said was, "Yes, sir...we will be gone in just a quick second."

Three minutes later we had pulled crying kids out of the reflecting pool and were headed back out of the monument.

It was at this moment when the heavens decided to open and pour down rain so hard that there was not one person at that monument who was not as wet as we were.

We made our way back to the suburbs and recounted our day over some wine and dry clothes.

Humiliation may just be good for the soul.

Turns out, my friend called me two weeks after I visited. Seems there were some signs that went up at the monument after we were there.

Shopping Nirvana

God knows I am not one of those girls who gets her fulfillment out of buying things. I am rather frugal when it comes to most things and will make do with a lot of stuff before just grabbing new. For example...I need a new food processor. I have been eyeballing one for the last year. I have a food processor. It is missing parts...shoots out food when I try to use it and is 22 years old...I know the age because it was a wedding present. My husband actually decided to get me one for my birthday. My birthday was back in February. He gave me the gift cards and told me to scoot along and to buy the food processor of my dreams. I have still not bought it. I am still waiting for the perfect time.

I am looking for that Shopping Nirvana moment. When buying it matches my mood and I want to race home and make bread crumbs and pie crust and pureed soups till my heart's content. And I want it to be on sale.

See...those are words that will spark a flame in my heart...cause my breath to quicken...and my pupils to dialate. It is all about getting exactly what you want...and getting it cheaper than everyone else did.

Case in point. About two years ago I began a search. I was looking for a pair of "wide legged trouser jeans". I knew exactly what I wanted. EXACTLY. They had to be true wide legged jeans...not flared or boot cut. They had to be trouser jeans...meaning lighter weight material...but not flimsy.

The hunt was on. About once a month I would stroll through a few stores and look on a few racks...look on sales racks...just keeping my eyes open and my options even wider still.

It took a year...but it was incredible...I was in a store...I needed a pair of jeans for work on Fridays...so I hunted around for something that was somewhat flattering....finally finding something that would suffice and was not gruesome in my opinion, I was getting ready to check out. They were about $40, and I would still have to go to a tailor to have them taken in to fit correctly. When as I was getting ready to check out I spy the clearance rack.

I ALWAYS look at the clearance rack...you would not believe some of the great finds I have gotten from the clerance rack...so off I go and I am thumbing through some pretty ugly stuff...when...there it is. In its perfect state. I dare not breath...it must be in the wrong spot or something.

I pull them out and check the leg...as wide at the knee as they are at the hem...true "wide legged" pants. Oh my....Nice material...with a pinstripe. Oh...my.

So I dump everything I have in my arms and I run back to the dressing room to try them on. All the clerk heard from me was a small stiffled squeek.

"Are you all right in there, dear?" she asked.

Oh.

My.

God.

They are perfect...They fit in the waist...they are long enough....They look good from the front.....
I ran out of the dressing room to the three-way mirror and turn around to view my backside.

ohmygod.

It is like they were made for me. I am in heaven...I could care less at this point how much they cost...I would pay a hundred...a thousand...a million!

Ok...probably not more than $70...but for me that is a lot. I look down at the tag to see the price and...

OHMYGOD!

They are $8.00. Yes, folks, eight...onetwothreefourfivesixsevenEIGHT dollars.

I grabbed my purse and literally ran for the check out counter. I did NOT take off those jeans. I got up to the counter and had them cut the tag off for me. I paid in cash. I walked out wearing the BEST jeans I have ever bought in my life.

That my friends is shopping nirvana....a place where not only do you find exactly what you want...exactly what you want...but you find it for an unbelievable price.

I walked on cloud nine for at least a week after that. I would wash those jeans and wear them...I wore them 4 times that week.....I considered sleeping in them. I still love them so much.

What I have learned from that experience...and other "shopping nirvana" moments are that buying something does not make us feel better, what makes us feel good is finding something that meets a criteria of making us look ridiculously good at a reasonable price. I will pay a lot of money for something if I think a) it is going to get a lot of wear or b) it is for more formal wear and I think that I can get enough wears out of it to bring the cost to under $10 a wear (the math work like this: cost/number of wears. So if something costs $100 and I wear it twice that makes the cost per wear $50. But if I wear it 20 times the cost per wear is $5)

I can say this much about those jeans...they are down the the less than pocket change per wear status.

There is also that willingness for the right moment. I have friends who do what they call "Catch and Release" shopping. I love this. They will pick up something, walk around with it, think about, touch it...and then put it back. They walk out without the item...with full intent of coming back to get it when, A) they have saved the money, B) the item goes on sale or C) they reach a point where the cost of the item(s) meets the desired need for it.

Since learning of their "Catch and Release" shopping, I have been known to walk around with a lot of things in my cart or arms that I have no intent of purchasing...but it gives me ownership for a little while...and that ownership period gives me time to digest the idea of how much money it costs, and how badly I want the item.

Basically, I am one of those people who does love to shop....however, perhaps I need more than just the "buy" to make me feel great about what I have found. There is a bit of the hunter and gatherer in me. I feel like I must find the best deal, it has to be perfect before I will want to just take the bait.

So show me a clearance rack...and I am yours for a song.

The Strength of a Woman.....

I am a woman...least I was the last time I checked. I gave birth five time, think pedicures can be better than sex, and my eyes roll back in my head and I groan when I eat dark chocolate. I qualify.

So ladies, you will pardon me if I say this bluntly; what the hell is wrong with you?

Let me give a little detail to why I ask this question...and really why I want an answer. A little movement began back in the late 1890s to give women some amount of equality. We got the right to vote. That was huge. To own property. Another biggy. Then we entered the work force as more than servants, teachers, nurses and nuns.

Since that time we have gained ground. Then we even found we had the right to say to male bosses..."Hey you don't have a right to touch my ass" or to force us to sleep with them for promotions or just to keep our jobs.

And that was a huge step forward.

Then something awful happened. That guy..you know the one...who leered at us...and our breasts as he said, "Don't you look pretty today" and would lick his lips? That guy? Yeah, we sidelined him, and basically shot the nice guy in friendly fire.

Remember him? The guy who has a wife. Or a girlfriend. Or "life partner" or maybe is just single. It doesn't matter. Ladies, you know that guy. He is nice. And when he says, "You look nice today." It means nothing more than, Hey-you-look-well-groomed-and-put-together. And you know it doesn't mean, "I'd like to tap that."

He may be the guy who hugs people. I know this guy. I actually like this guy. He is just friendly. Affectionate in the same way my dad, eleven year old son and dog are affectionate. Not to grab ass, but just because they are joyful people who emote through touch.

And I know you know the difference ladies. I know you know....because I know. In the same way you don't freak out when your grandfather hugs you, but you know the feeling when someone else hugs you and is looking for more. We know. AND the only time we get confused is when we are emotionally invested and would like there to be more. That is usually the only time our radar is off.

Then I hear of someone, somewhere decides that, for whatever reason, they are going to file a case of sexual harassment. They do it to get back at a company. At not getting that promotion, because they feel like maybe they have been slighted: that is why these women do it. Because all of a sudden they think that some little inkling that has struck them in the last fifteen minutes is worth destroying what generations of women have worked for.

In this particular case that I just recently heard of, someone was slighted, and not by the nice guy. They thought they were going to advance in their career, and when they did not, they decided to take a different path. A vindictive path. One that, rather than being based in truth, is based in resentment, anger and retaliation.

Because we know that will move us forward in our careers, now don't we ladies?

I am angry with my sex right now. Because when one woman does this sort of crap, it sets us all back. It makes us all look like idiots.

Think of it this way, ladies...what if the shoe was on the other foot? What if the manager was female, mothering? What if the complainer was younger and male? Now, I am sure there are people who will come back and want to argue about that "Cougar" in the office. But that is the exception and not the norm. What we are talking about is women who have cried wolf far too many times to get someone in trouble for one reason or another.

And here is the thing...if you ever have a sexual harassment suit filed against you, it sticks with you. Every time you apply for another job. Every time you go for a promotion. Every. Single. Time. Even if you are cleared of the charge, it still shows that there was a filing.

So think long and hard ladies...because when you do that filing you may feel self satisfied, like you have gotten your vengeance, you are costing all of us. You are costing that man a portion of his career. You are costing women what they have worked so hard for.

This is not to say that women should never file a case. I realize there are still times when such cases needed to be filed. But one needs to make sure they have documented, spoken up, covered their bases and that the issue still exists.


In my own life I have had several times when a boss has made advances. But in each case I chose not to file as it happened one time. It was isolated and I made my feelings known.

In the end women will continue to do stupid things like these and most men and a good sum of the women will despise them for not understanding what is at risk every time they gamble with our rights.

We are women, not pawns. We need to stop acting like them.