Thursday, March 25, 2010

RIP Dave

So the way I'll remember Dave is this:

One night a couple of months back, my bro and I were going to a shindig at a bar in the district where he typically works secondary. There was a guy in plainclothes near the corner, wearing a ski mask. I remember these piercing blue eyes looking at us.

As we got about ten feet away, my bro looked closely and asked, "Haynes??".

Dave lifted up his ski mask and with a huge grin asked, "How'd you know it was me?". We all busted out laughing together. And that's how I'll remember him. Smiling from ear to ear.

Prior to becoming an officer Dave served as a Marine in Iraq. The text below is something I thought was pretty profound. I'm unsure of the author, but wanted to share it as it sent chills down my spine and brought tears to my eyes. Please feel free to copy it and pass it on.


There are some things you just can’t do without suffering casualties… very literally and profoundly, and our job is one of them. You can’t race cars without crashes. You can’t dig mines without cave-ins, and you sure as hell can’t send cops out into the streets of a violent society without violent deaths.

Our fallen brothers and sisters knew that and did it anyway… as we all do or have done.

Their friends will tell you they did the job because they loved it, and any of us who can’t say that should envy them for it. At least they died as rare and precious people, doing what they loved to do, and doing it for the noblest of reasons. That is something we can never explain outside our profession.

You see you can’t be a good cop simply because you couldn’t find another job. You can only be a good cop because you want it. And there is an answer to why they died, something I learned a half world away many years ago as a young Marine, preparing to face an enemy in combat for the first time. It was then that my Sergeant explained that, like it or not, there are only three rules in war:




You see when soldiers advance, knowing the enemy is near, there is always one man way out in front of everyone else. His duty is to look and listen and sense that first contact, to spot the enemy, pinpoint the ambush, fire that first shot, and as a consequence, take those first shots.

It offends the logical mind and denies the instinct for survival. It ages and saddens and wizens, and frequently kills those who take their turn “WALKING THE POINT." But it must be done, or there will be no protection for the rest, just more bloodshed and more grief…for the "POINT MAN" is there to save lives, even if he gives his own in the process.

Society might not be a company of soldiers, but it certainly has and needs someone walking the point. Every time you go out the station door. Every time you answer a radio call, every time you stop to check out something suspicious, you are "WALKING THE POINT"...And you can’t change rule number one.

If I could say something directly to the people of our society, it would be this. I know some of you will remember our fallen brothers and sisters, but that’s not good enough. I want you to honor them for what they did for you... that which they needn’t have done.

I’m not just talking about that day or night that a "ROUTINE" call or traffic stop went horribly bad. I mean what they did for you day after day, in darkness and light, rain or shine, on holidays and on their loved one’s birthdays. Without even expecting a "THANK YOU" in return.

They volunteered to "WALK THE POINT."

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Officer Down

I am saddened by the news of my brother's co-worker. He was going code this morning with lights & sirens in pursuit of a robbery suspect and was t-boned first in the driver's side and then again on the passenger side.

He was dead on arrival at the hospital.

He just learned last week his wife is expecting their first child.

He was only in his twenties.

Please pray for his wife, his unborn child and all the rest of his family, including his family in blue.


Thursday, March 18, 2010


Can I just tell you how much I hate afternoon watch? It's been a looonng time since the hubs has worked any (I know, clearly I've been spoiled).

Here is what I've learned so far today, 7 hours into his shift:

Three year olds can re-program a Wii. Not break it, just do something funky to it that I can't figure out.

Chewing gum does indeed stick to a soaking wet toddler - IN THE BATHTUB (including little butt cheeks).

As I got Mr. Pants out of the tub (after removing the chewing gum from various orifices), he looked at me and asked, "Mommy are you upset?" To which I replied, "No, I just don't like it when you get into the chewing gum without permission." He quickly said, "I'm sorry." What a sweet little devil.

I don't know what it is with these two lately but as soon as Daddy leaves for work in the afternoon I find myself asking, "Who are these kids?"

When they are finally in bed, asleep after lots of wrangling and threats of discipline, I settle onto the couch watching tv and waiting for hubs.. only to fall asleep ten minutes before he walks through the door.


Thursday, March 11, 2010

Moment of clarity

I recently realized that Mr. Pants is going to start Kindergarten next year. Exciting? Yes. Depressing? Yes.

I'm at a crossroad right now. Seriously considering quitting my job. I make a ridiculous salary (a good ridiculous) but I just miss my kids so much.

The Dude is in fourth grade so I've had time to adjust to the fact that he is half way to graduation. But Mr. Pants? I'm just not ready for him to be at that age where he spends the majority of his day in a schoolroom. I suppose he already is if you consider daycare, but I really think I want to quit work and spend this next year with him and all summer with both kids.

I can always go back to work next year after he starts Kindergarten... unless I decide to have another baby.

Maybe I'm a little too aware of the passage of time. I lost my dad when I was 14 and for some reason I've always held on to the fact that life is really short. Kind of a morbid way to look at it, but hey, now I'm married to a LEO.. which makes things all the more morbid.

When it comes to parenting, I know I will have regrets. I know I can't do everything perfectly. I want to feel fulfilled and I'm just not feeling that right now. I feel out of place. I don't belong in Corporate America.

We are very smart about living on one income even though we have two. We've got money in the bank and no debt except our mortgage. The hubs is all about me going back to a full-time domestic queen.

Peeps- weigh in for me, would ya? Is this a bad idea? What would you do?

Looking forward to your comments. And I'm not a sissy, so give it to me straight.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Ahh.. Kids and Cops

So this one is courtesy of my bro. He's a copper in a large metropolitan area and he was kind enough to call me over the weekend and share this funny story with me.

Friday night at a local family fun attraction, two juveniles were "hanging out" (a.k.a. acting like a couple of young punks).

The two officers working secondary at this establishment noticed the smell of weed. They followed the smell, which led them to the juveniles. Yep. Two fifteen year olds smoking weed in a family fun place.

The officers called for patrol. In the meantime, they phoned the families of the juveniles and explained what they were caught doing. They also explained that because they are juveniles they would be brought home to their families instead of hauled in. It was a busy weekend night and nothing would really come of it anyway.

My bro arrived and gathered up the two juveniles and put them into his car. The one kid was a real punk and wanted to smart off. My bro said, "Pal, you can mouth off all you want. Just wait til you get home."

The other kid just sat silently. As my bro put it: "I think he sensed the ass-whoopin he had coming".

Bro arrived at the first house and brought the smart mouth kid to the door who for some odd reason had finally shut up. Big Mama who stood well over six feet tall answered the door and said, "Evenin officer." And without flinching she rared back and slapped the kid pimp style with a wicked backhand, so fast and hard that my bro had to jump backwards into the bushes to avoid being hit, too!

Big Mama looked up, smiled and said, "Thank you officer."... Bro said he could hear her verbally ripping the kid up one side and down the other as he walked back to his car.

He got in and looked back at the kid sitting silently with his head held low in the backseat. Bro said, "Son, you better hope you're Grandma ain't half as pissed as that lady was."

The kid said solemnly, without looking up, "Yes sir".

He drove the remaining juvenile home to Grandma who also answered the door with a swift kick to the kid's butt. She grabbed the kid by the ear and made him apologize to my Bro for causing trouble. Bro said Grandma promised to "stomp the sh*t" out of her grandson and thanked him for all his trouble.

She then dragged the kid into the house by his ear and right about then is when his whoopin began.

Ahh.. kids.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

He's So Mushy

I woke up to this text message this morning:

"I love you Bunny and am thankful for all you've done and still do for me and for our family."

He's such a sweet guy. He makes me so happy. ...It's the little things.