melissa caddell » deep (well, deep-er) thoughts

I wish it was still September 10th

melissa caddell — Fri, 10 Sep 2010 20:40:37 +0000

Sometimes, I wish I lived in a September 10^th world, where September 11^th was just the day before September 12^th.

A world where I didn’t wonder at a permanently altered Manhattan skyline.
Where an ‘I love NY’ shirt was a tourist item, not a symbol of solidarity.
A world where I still didn’t know where Shanksville, Pennsylvania was.

A world where TSA agents didn’t have so much power and the idea of Ziploc baggies and 3-1-1 didn’t exist.
A world where I didn’t keep an eye on planes flying overhead. Still.

A world where I didn’t have to think about our family disaster plan and plastic sheeting and duct tape.
A world where I didn’t see armed police and soldiers, seemingly everywhere.

A world where I wasn’t bound together in a brotherhood of horror. Where terrorist attacks in other parts of the world felt really far away.

A world where I didn’t know how much people hated me because I am an American—no other reason.

A world where terror hadn’t touched me.

A world where I felt safe. Ignorant, of course, but safe.

Lest we forget how it felt. (News reports from the morning of Sept 11th-open in new window)

Where were you when everything changed?

Is it far enough away from Mother’s Day to say this?

melissa caddell — Thu, 13 May 2010 05:49:44 +0000

I experience Mother’s Day like most mom’s–flowers, handmade cards, breakfast in bed (usually Cheerios). Lot’s of love and extra hugs and appreciation.

But here’s the problem: I kinda hate Mother’s Day. (I recognize that this is an anti-American sentiment and am prepared for the backlash against all things apple-pie, but hear me out on this.)

Before I was a mom
Before I was the mom, I would be sure to call the appropriate moms in my life and thank them for their year of service. I’ve had different mom-types in my life; from my mom, my stepmom, moms-in-law, and an older sister who functions very much like a mom to me. Even after my mother died, I still had plenty of people who filled that role in my life to thank.

And then I was a mom
My first Mother’s Day was, uh, underwhelming to say the least. I was due with our first child within a few weeks, and apparently, the 9 months of care and concern and research and concern and eliminating things from my life and concern…..well, it didn’t occur to my dear bemused husband that I was a mother yet. No one wished me a Happy Mother’s Day until an old lady at church did. To which Darling looked slightly surprised and muttered in passing, ‘Oh, yeah, Happy Mother’s Day”. Not that I’m bitter.

With all my kids now exterior, I’ve had various seasons of Mother’s Day. From the ‘I need a freakin’ day AWAY from you people!’ and ‘Can’t I PLEASE just sleep in ONE DAY A YEAR!’ to ‘Wow, uh, thanks for the non-existent effort to honor me….no, really, I’ll fix lunch.’ Not that my family doesn’t make an effort to make the day special (’cause they do), but there’s a lot of expectation built up around Mother’s Day. How much honor is enough? Do we have to honor all day or just until after brunch? Can we still have a playdate?

Part of my problem is that there are times when I feel like I am a horrible mother, and Mother’s Day just makes it worse. I hate those ‘World’s BEST Mom!’ cards. ‘Cause, ya know what? There are days I don’t like much about mothering and those stupid cards just make me want to hurt someone at Hallmark. Why don’t ya just pour some salt in there while you’re at it?

And then there is the part of me that is sad for woman I know who aren’t moms–either by choice or by circumstances. I feel a bit awkward about being honored as a mom when they aren’t honored in other ways that celebrate them. If you have a friend who has struggled to get pregnant or lost a baby, you know what I mean. I want to tell them all the ways I think they rock and I am sad that Mother’s Day feels a little…exclusive.

This year, I am especially thoughtful because my sister-in-law just passed away, leaving 4 grown children and her newborn grandbaby to face this day without her. I think of the mother of her grandchild and the bitter sweetness of her first Mother’s Day–as a mom and as mourning her mother.

I think that lots of moms feel the way I do–that in a good year, you don’t really want the praise Mother’s Day brings, and in a bad year, you feel like you don’t deserve it. And then there’s the sense that we are leaving some of our darling friends and family members out of the club.

Maybe we could just have Woman’s Day. And then I could go to the mountains with my girlfriends and sisters and we could celebrate all the women in our lives, no exceptions.

Apparently, I am a fair-weather wife when it comes to submitting

melissa caddell — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 21:41:47 +0000

Interestingly, I thought I had conquered most of my issues with being, well, uh, ’submissive’ (*shudder*). Clearly, not so.

When we got married, I actually changed our vows so that I wouldn’t have to say ‘love, honor, and obey’ to ‘love, honor and cherish’. Cherish, I could do. Obey? Hello? What century are we in?

Yes, I get that even businesses need the one person to lead, to take the authority, to be the final answer. Really. I get it. Kinda.

It was just that being raised in the 70’s and 80’s…well, I just didn’t get why my husband got to be the leader.

God worked on me (as he tends to do when I am wildly wrong about something), and over the years, I started to figure out what being submissive meant, more or less. It kinda grated on me, though, the whole idea of being under Casey’s authority. I mean, who made him the leader? (I can hear the more spiritually mature wives either chuckle at this or shake their heads at me.)

I liked the part about it where Casey was going to have to answer to God about stuff, and I liked that he was responsible for decisions and the outcome of those. And I guess I mostly worked with it because I didn’t disagree with him on big decisions much.

Until now. I had a moment yesterday when I flat out told him I wasn’t going to do something he thought we should do (in regards to our kids’ schooling). It felt awful and selfish and, well, awful. I can’t ever remember openly defying him like that in 15 years of marriage. And I know he’s right, I just don’t like it. His choice requires personal growth on my part and I am not a fan of personal growth cause it’s painful and has no guaranteed outcome (unlike birth, where you at least get a cute baby at the end).

I thought I had come so far on the submitting thing, but it turns out I haven’t. I still cringe when I hear sermons about it in church, and even just hearing the word ’submit’ gives me a bugs-crawling-all-over-my-skin feeling. So, it seems that I may have a grasp on it mentally, but it hasn’t fully made it’s way into my heart. Ugh.

Ditching the stroller–the end of an era

melissa caddell — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 21:40:00 +0000

We took our first trip in almost 11 years that didn’t involve a stroller.

I just don’t know what to think about that. For the first time since child rearing began for us in 1999, everyone in our group could feed, dress, wipe, and cart themselves around.

Our littlest daughter, Lady Bug, age 3 ½ , has gone from being a toddler to being a kid. In a blur, of course. Over the past year or so, each trip has seen the loss of a ‘baby item’ off her packing list. No more diapers, baby monitor, binky, potty seat, toddler utensils, sippy cups. We’ve even stopped worrying about a change of clothes. And now, the stroller.

Oh, the places we’ve gone with a stroller in the last 11 years—walks around the neighborhood, vacations to see family, the beach, the mountains, all things Disney, the museum, the zoo. Even trips just to the grocery store were made easier (for our kids and us) by having a familiar place to contain and transport babies. And then there are the other millions of things our strollers have held besides little kids—shopping bags, diaper bags, all the family’s coats shoved into the little basket or draped over the top. Oftentimes, little ones have used it much less on an outing than our family’s paraphernalia has.

As I packed the car this last time, I pulled the stroller out and thought, `I don’t think we’ll need the stroller.’ At first, it was just a space necessity. But as I tucked it into a spot in the garage I thought, `Huh, we haven’t used it in a long time. Maybe we’re done with it.’

What a sad thought that was, in a way, to not need a stroller any more. ‘Cause that means that there aren’t any babies or toddlers at our house. It means the tiny sweet humans who have occupied those stroller seats for so many years are, well, growing up.

It’s the end of an era. We’re putting babyish things behind us. Oh, I’m not quite ready to give that stroller away yet, but it’s not because anyone here needs it. Well, maybe I need to see it—not to mourn the loss of babyhood so much, but as a monument to what has transpired in our lives. Eleven years is a long time to need one piece of gear. And, really, negotiating any outing without a stroller is much easier. I think of all the doors, stairs, small spaces, and crowds that have been frustrating with a stroller.

But, oh, what stories our strollers could tell.

A car accident and what might’ve been

melissa caddell — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 20:00:00 +0000

I wrote this on the 1 year anniversary of a car accident Darling and the two older girls were in. In retrospect, it was a fairly minor accident. Sunshine was the only one who ended up with injuries–getting 12 stitches. It was such a significant event for us as a family, though, so I am posting it here.

Sometimes, it is important to remember the things that could’ve happened, but didn’t.

Written October 2007.

It’s been a year. A year filled with wonderful memories, and significant family events. A year of watching you grow and laugh and smile and turn from 7 to 8.

It could have been so different. I look at the pictures of the car and your stitches and my heart stops. It all happened in a flash and it could’ve been so different.

Daddy was taking you, your best friend Zoe, and Pixie to your karate show. I’m sure the car was filled with the excited chatter of 3 girls. Daddy didn’t see the on-coming car as he turned and your side of the car was hit. The window shattered and you were hit with flying glass.

But, it could’ve been so different. You had your head turned to Zoe, so you didn’t get any glass in your eyes. You didn’t hit your head on the steel beam of the door frame and end up with brain damage. Zoe and Pixie only had a few scratches from the glass and a bit of soreness from their seatbelts, as did Daddy.

Getting the call from Daddy was one of the worst moments of my life. “Everyone is okay,” he said, “but we’ve been in a car accident and I need you to come help me with the girls.” I could hear the sirens of the arriving fire trucks in the back ground.

I don’t know how I drove the few blocks to the intersection where the accident happened. I remember seeing the ambulance and fire truck and the feeling of not being able to get to you fast enough. I somehow parked the car, grabbed Reece in her car seat and ran to you. You were outside of the car with your head wrapped in an enormous bandage. Thankfully, your karate outfit was black and I didn’t see any blood. The first thing you said was, “Mom, I’m okay, I’m okay” as we both cried and held each other.

You were so brave as they stitched up the laceration on your temple. You ended up with 12 stitches and a bunch of smaller cuts in your scalp. Your daddy said that watching you get stiches was the hardest thing he has ever done. I remember his eyes filling with tears as our gazes met while the doctor worked on you.

But it could’ve been so different. As Daddy and I held each other that night when you and your sisters were in bed, we cried in gratitude that we still had 3 little girls to tuck in.

The trauma of that event has passed, but it has marked our family. I know we all think of it every time we pass that spot on the road, and sometimes I will reach back and give your knee a little squeeze. I am so grateful to have you, especially when I know what a different ending this story could’ve had.

What are these parents thinking?

melissa caddell — Sat, 18 Oct 2008 01:37:00 +0000

There was a 6 year-old little boy abducted from his home in Las Vegas. Allegedly by members of the Mexican Mafia, who they had some connection with. The abductors demanded money and drugs from the mom and her boyfriend and then took the child when they didn’t pay up.

I have to ask: are the parents INSANE?? I am thoroughly TIRED of parents doing completely IDIOTIC things in their lives, and the children be damned (literally).

As a grownup, yes, yes, you can make your own choices, suffer the consequences, yada yada yada. But do parents ever consider what will happen to THEIR CHILDREN? Who didn’t make the choice but are a victim, nonetheless? Parents have affairs, steal money from their company, don’t pay their taxes, drive when they know they shouldn’t, and generally make choices without considering the damage potential to their children.

The littlest victims have no voice, so I am telling all those parents to THINK!! It is not just about YOU!

ARGHHHHHH!!!!!

(well, consider this a little vent. it just breaks my heart. what a horrific experience for this little boy who is 6! 6! and all the children who look with wide, innocent eyes at the people who are supposed to keep them safe in all ways…) :(

Where were you when everything changed? (Sept 11th)

melissa caddell — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 12:19:00 +0000

Even 7 years later, September 11th is a significant day for me. Though I don’t know anyone who was personally impacted by a death on that day, I always feel a sense of national loss. I think many of us felt that our sense of security and innocence were traumatized. I still glance up at airplanes, I loathe the personal freedoms that have been infringed on in the name of security, and I cannot ever go back to being so ignorant of the amount of hatred some people have for Americans, just because we exist.

Where were you when you first heard about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center? I was up early that morning, studying biochemistry. About 7:30, my sister-in-law called me. It was early for her to call and she had a weird tone to her voice.

“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Studying. What are you doing?”
“Turn on the news.” she said.

So I did, and that’s when I heard Katie Couric speculating that a small plane had somehow struck one of the towers. I watched in horror a few minutes later as the second plane hit. I was stunned and felt immediately that there was something terribly, terribly wrong.

As the events of the day unfolded, it all seemed very surreal. I remember calling Darling and asking him to come home. I remember debating dressing my then 2 year-old Sunshine in her flag t-shirt. While I wanted to demonstrate my solidarity with America, the university childcare where she went for half-days while I took graduate classes had a very diverse population and I didn’t want her to be a target if somehow, some of the terror touched our part of the nation (highly unlikely, but everything felt wrong that day).

I remember sitting and watching the images over and over and over again, Sunshine wiping my tears away as she just couldn’t comprehend Mommy sitting there and crying. I remember trying to explain “the bad people” who had committed such atrocities and re-assuring her that we were safe (though I had absolutely no guarantee of that).

Many classes were cancelled at the university and I tried to go study at the library, but someone had rolled a t.v. into the foyer and I had no will to pull away from the breaking news any more than the cluster of staff and other students did.

The politics of the day and since then have left the story a bit muddled, I think. But what I know is this: I will never be the same. I take cookies to the nearest fire station on this anniversary, and thank them for the job they do. America will never be the same. While fear was created in many places, so was a greater sense of community. The world will never be the same. Terror and evil touch almost every corner of the globe, but now, there is a microscope on it.

Heroes were born and heroes died that day. America woke up, and the whole world was paying attention.

Where were you?

Um, no Higglytown, not every one is a hero

melissa caddell — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 04:05:00 +0000

If you have never watched the Disney Channel (even when the children have left the room), let me catch you up.

There is a show (where all the people are a cross between Weeble-Wobbles and those nesting babushka dolls, I don’t know why) called Higglytown Heroes. In this show, the kids encounter various problems (like cats stuck in a tree, a hole in a roof, etc) where they need a grown up to help them. Well, in Higglytown, everyone is a hero, and the helping grownup does a little song and dance about how the kids can “work real hard, and then they’ll be a hero just like me”.

As a refresher, the definition of “hero” is: “a person of distinguished courage or ability, admired for their brave deeds and noble qualities.” (thank you dictionary.com, the neutral gender was my addition.)

With that definition, a roofer does not generally fulfill this description as they go about their normal job. Or a grocery store clerk, or a doctor, or a postal worker…you get the idea.

What bugs me is the degradation of the idea of a hero. A hero is generally not someone who is doing the job they are paid to do, unless their chosen job puts them into a situation the requires significant personal sacrifice (police, firefighters, Mother Theresa, teachers working in dangerous conditions, et cetra). To be a hero, you generally have to do MORE then what is asked of you. Like the HEROS on United 93, or the person who jumps into a pool to save a drowning person (including if they are the lifeguard).

So, every time I hear the Higgly’s sing their little song, it makes me irritated. You don’t make everyone a hero to describe the importance of the work they do. Sometimes a person’s work just makes them a good citizen.

Being a good citizen and taking pride in your work is a very fine thing to aspire to, and that is a good message for our children. But let’s reserve the word hero for those who truly deserve the distinction.

Our neighborhood turns less idyllic

melissa caddell — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 23:33:00 +0000

Our neighbors were robbed. Someone broke into their home while they were gone on vacation and stole computers, jewelry, electronics, etc.

They live across the street from us. We aren’t particularly close, but just recently we had coffee together at another neighbor’s home, getting to know them a bit.

I noticed them outside their home today, but I didn’t think much of it. In fact, it was just this morning that I thought, “Hm, haven’t seen them in several days, I wonder if they are on vacation?” Then, I noticed the police car. It was like someone took a sledgehammer to all my neighborhood peace.

The thieves had been watching the house and knew they were gone. There were people in their home, steps from our sleeping household, wreaking havoc in the middle of the night. The Mrs. Neighbor apparently stepped into the house, arms loaded with luggage from their trip, noticed something wrong immediately and walked straight back out. It took them hours after the police had been through the house before they could muster up the courage to go inside. They didn’t sleep there, either. I know I couldn’t have.

I walked over to offer whatever support and hugs I could and they just looked stunned.

I am very angry for them. I cannot imagine the sense of violation, knowing strangers had been touching things, looking at things. I am very angry for all of us, because these evil people have come in and touched our neighborhood with fear.

It also made me suddenly feel very vulnerable in my home. I think of all the times we’ve been gone on vacation, or when Darling is out-of-town. Do we need an alarm system? A dog? (shudder) Better deadbolts on the door? I guess I just don’t want to be an “easy” home to break in to, knowing that locks only keep the honest honest.

Sunshine did what any 9 year-old would do–she grabbed her Nancy Drew Sleuth book and started to dash over to help the police. Saying, “They need to find clues to catch the robbers. Did they look for fingerprints? I think I should go help.”

I brought their 11 year-old daughter to our house from where she was huddled in their car. I sent her back home later on, armed with fresh chocolate chip cookies. I didn’t know what else to do. I felt horrible that I had somehow missed thieves dragging things through their front yard in the dead of night.

As I tucked Sunshine into bed, she was very concerned about the robbers coming back to our neighborhood. We did the parental thing to assure her that our home is safe, no one will break in here. But I have absolutely no security in that statement. We are all vulnerable to the evil choices other people make against us. She asked me, “Why would someone do that?” I had no answer. ‘Cause their mean? Selfish? Greedy? Desperate?

Mrs. Neighbor assured me that it was just “stuff”. No one was hurt. Honestly, replacing the stuff (as annoying and time-consuming as it will be) is not the part that makes me the angriest. It is the fact that every time Mrs. Neighbor wears the pearl necklace the thieves somehow missed, she will remember. That their daughter and son would feel fear in their own home. That somewhere, someone would cast aside all inhibitions on human decency and would declare that our neighbors property and peace of mind were somehow less valuable then what the thieves wanted.

It makes me angry and scared. Angry at being scared.

I hope those nice folks at Humor-Blogs.com have never been robbed….. :(

Common courtesy, pt 2–the bad and the ugly

melissa caddell — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 17:11:00 +0000

An open letter to my fellow citizens:

To the mom in the car loop who INSISTS that she (and she alone) can park her car in the DRIVING LANE of the loop, thus making EVERYONE wait as she blocks traffic. Because, apparently, she and her child are so special that the rest of us should ALL WAIT. Honestly, woman. If you need to supervise your kid that closely; park, get your butt out of the car, and walk them to the line. ARGH!

To the man who gave me the evil eye at the grocery store. Yes, Toddlers have meltdowns. In the most inconvenient places. Like the dairy section. I wish I had a nanny, too. Instead of huffing USELESSLY maybe you could help me out by grabbing that gallon of milk I am struggling to get while I keep my kid from launching herself out of the cart? Be a pal?

To that teen who is SMOKING while she DRIVES and TEXTS! Girlfriend, I am a big fan of multitasking, but for crying out loud–pick ONE (I advise against the smoking, it makes you look icky–just as a helpful tip). You are freaking us all out as you weave.

Oh, and speaking of smoking–to that gross man who flicked his cigarette butt out the window–why? You think the rest of us want to pick it up? ‘Cause you are so much more special then us? Ever heard of a brush fire? As if you sharing your carcinogenic smoke with my children were not bad enough…

To the lady at the post office–yeah, thanks for holding the door for me. Nope, you opted to sprint ahead of me, rushing to get your little package sent off. Did it make you feel better to beat me in the door? I hope the victory was sour all day long–it’s not hard to win when your opponent is herding small children and balancing a few large packages. Good for you, sweetie.

To the women who INSIST on talking on their cell phones in every public bathroom I’m in (which is alot of them, with 3 little girls). HONESTLY–ya can’t wait a few minutes? Do you REALLY think people want to talk to you that badly? Or hear all those flushing and other sounds? Jeepers, get some perspective. Even if the information was that important–what are you going to do about it for the next 2-3 minutes? Let the call go to voicemail, for heaven’s sake. And wash your hands. Ick.

And finally, to the people who bring their small children to adult movies. Your kids DO NOT need to see the movie. It is scaring them. You are mean and TOTALLY selfish to subject your little kids to such frightening things. GET A SITTER! or WAIT for it to come out on DVD.

Sincerely,
Someone who has to live on this small planet with you

Whew. Well. I feel better.