So here is one more video of a concert he put on last night.. this is just one of his performances from the show. This is a dance he learned just this summer from James Munsey of Bru Boru in Cashel, Co. Tipperary, Ireland.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Dude and his Dance
He once hated that I make him do this, but now at his ripe age (sigh) he's realizing the ladies love it.
Ireland
I spent this past weekend in Chicago with my kids. My eldest is very active in traditional Irish music and dance and competed in the Fleadh.
The Fleadh is where kids compete for a spot in the All-Ireland finals in Cavan, Ireland. Whoever wins the All-Ireland final is considered the best in the world.
Here is video of my kid leading his Ceili band (he's on drums).. oh, and they won first place!
Ireland in August. Woot woot.
The Fleadh is where kids compete for a spot in the All-Ireland finals in Cavan, Ireland. Whoever wins the All-Ireland final is considered the best in the world.
Here is video of my kid leading his Ceili band (he's on drums).. oh, and they won first place!
Ireland in August. Woot woot.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
It wasn't candy
Mr. Pants has been in rare form lately. I suppose it's all just par for the course, being 3 and all.. but oh.my.god. Handful is an understatement.
I was in the grocery store and he was acting really crazy and grabbing random stuff off the shelf and tossing it wildly into the cart and then zipping up and down the aisle nearly knocking over an elderly lady. So I corralled him in the cart seat. That turned out to the be the worst possible idea. Why? I shall tell you.
I did not realize the risk of having my purse sitting in the seat right next to him. I did this so I could have access to my coupons. Yeah, great idea. As I looked to my right at the shelf and glanced between it and the coupon wad in my hand, I failed to realize that Mr. Sir (name when in trouble) was curiously going through my purse.
After a few minutes I started to notice a couple of random women looking at me strangely. Hm, what's that all about? Oh, it was then I looked down and saw my kid with one end of an object in between his little teeth, pulling and pulling to try and get it open.
He was saying, "I want this candy" (repeat 57 times, crescendo louder and louder) and as I looked more closely, I realized what this "candy" was..... it was an unopened TAMPON.
I let out a gasp, pulled relentlessly on one end in an attempt to get it away from him whilst he continued to pull on the other end.
Then in a flash, the wrapper gave way and the tampon went flying through the air like some football headed for a Heisman candidate. It landed dead smack in the middle of the aisle where God and everyone could plainly see what it was (not that the women hadn't figured it out already)...
I froze. I wanted to die of embarrassment right there. Mr. Pants turned around in the cart and looked at it a little sideways and conceded that that, in fact, was NOT candy.
I was in the grocery store and he was acting really crazy and grabbing random stuff off the shelf and tossing it wildly into the cart and then zipping up and down the aisle nearly knocking over an elderly lady. So I corralled him in the cart seat. That turned out to the be the worst possible idea. Why? I shall tell you.
I did not realize the risk of having my purse sitting in the seat right next to him. I did this so I could have access to my coupons. Yeah, great idea. As I looked to my right at the shelf and glanced between it and the coupon wad in my hand, I failed to realize that Mr. Sir (name when in trouble) was curiously going through my purse.
After a few minutes I started to notice a couple of random women looking at me strangely. Hm, what's that all about? Oh, it was then I looked down and saw my kid with one end of an object in between his little teeth, pulling and pulling to try and get it open.
He was saying, "I want this candy" (repeat 57 times, crescendo louder and louder) and as I looked more closely, I realized what this "candy" was..... it was an unopened TAMPON.
I let out a gasp, pulled relentlessly on one end in an attempt to get it away from him whilst he continued to pull on the other end.
Then in a flash, the wrapper gave way and the tampon went flying through the air like some football headed for a Heisman candidate. It landed dead smack in the middle of the aisle where God and everyone could plainly see what it was (not that the women hadn't figured it out already)...
I froze. I wanted to die of embarrassment right there. Mr. Pants turned around in the cart and looked at it a little sideways and conceded that that, in fact, was NOT candy.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
What You're Made Of
Today... ahem,... Today...
Today is one of those days.
I think I have become well acquainted with the ugly side of being a police wife. I've babbled on about kids and work and all the daily grind. But you haven't heard me go on a tirade about the real struggles of my life.
While I don't believe in airing dirty laundry in any public forum, I'm going to dump like hell on my blog today.
I've seen my husband survive false accusations, a forced resignation, a criminal trial and all the starting over that comes with it.
I used to have these grand ideas about what it's like being a police officer. Now that I'm married to it, I hate it some days. I've seen how quickly one person can ruin someones career, their life, the lives of their families..
and without consequence.
I have many struggles related to this topic, however I have a few which are controlling me right now and it's driving me mad.
During the non-incident that somebody decided to make into an incident, I was there and so were our kids. Our eldest has struggled with the following questions:
"But Mom, we told the truth and the other guy is lying. Why aren't the police helping us? Why are they saying Daddy did something wrong? I was there and that guy is lying. I thought Police are supposed to help you and you are supposed to trust them?".
I have tried repeatedly to encourage our son to always tell the truth and to always trust the police. Police officers will help you when you are in trouble and you can always tell them things when you need someone to trust, even if it's something you can't tell your parents or another grown up.
But the damage is done. It's evolving from our son trusting and respecting the police to him not liking them at all. He definitely doesn't trust them. He has said to me, "If you can't trust the police, who can you trust?".
I'm so resentful, not sure toward who, but I feel like a part of my ability to parent has been taken away by all this. I can't guide my son with words or even my own actions because his view of the police has now been tainted. I'm really trying and will continue to do so, but it's heartbreaking. This situation has taken away my ability to make my son feel protected and to help him have confidence in the police.
We've survived what could have been financial disaster, we've survived loss of insurance, pension and livelihood. We've survived a complete and total invasion of privacy, even having our address printed in local media. And worse than any of these is the damage to our pride.
These are the times when you find out what you're made of.
Now we are waiting to find out if hubs' license to be an officer is going to be subject to disciplinary action.
I have resigned myself to the fact that if he does lose his license, I will accept it. I have decided to tell myself it's the good Lord's way of keeping him out of harm's way.
God knows he has lived a life of public service. Those whose lives have been touched by him will never forget, and neither will he.
I will close today's post with a letter from one of those folks.
Dear XXXXXX,
I am writing you today because you hold the future of a young man in your hands. I was not there when the incident occurred between X and (hubs), so it is hard for me to render a view of what transpired. I certainly am in no position to contradict the testimony or the work of the prosecution for this case. What I can attest to is the character and demeanor of (hubs).
You see, I was there the day my adopted daughter attempted suicide. She was a minority child and a victim of years of physical, sexual and psychological abuse before my wife and I adopted her. There were many problems, but on that day, she attempted to break out a second story window and jump out of it onto a solid concrete slab. I was shattered and upset when I called XXXX police agency. The officer who arrived first on the scene was (hubs). I was trying to restrain this highly emotional teenager desparately trying to harm herself and me. The (hubs) I know is the one who calmly took control of the situation, quieted the young girl, and helped me with the most caring compassion and kindness I had ever experienced in my life. He did not know it at first, but then he realized who I was.
I have known (hubs) for over twenty years. After he grew up and became a policeman I rarely saw him, until the day he came to help my daughter and me. All his young years he was a quiet fellow with a great sense of humor and willingness to help others. He became a proud member of the police department, a husband and a father. I always knew him to be respectful and honest.
I understand the stresses of everyday life as we all do. I also realize mistakes are made, but conflict is not always bad. At times, we can learn from our indiscretions and grow from them. I know (hubs) will do the same. Whatever happened that day was not the norm for this young man. on the contrary, I have seen and want you to know, he is a good young man and very deserving of a chance to move on with his life, his children and his community. To take (hubs) from his family would be a grave injustice. I would implore you to consider not only my brief account of (hubs') compassion, but the years of service he gave to the community - the unsung and unreported deeds of kindness and care for others.
Sincerely,
MR. X
Today is one of those days.
I think I have become well acquainted with the ugly side of being a police wife. I've babbled on about kids and work and all the daily grind. But you haven't heard me go on a tirade about the real struggles of my life.
While I don't believe in airing dirty laundry in any public forum, I'm going to dump like hell on my blog today.
I've seen my husband survive false accusations, a forced resignation, a criminal trial and all the starting over that comes with it.
I used to have these grand ideas about what it's like being a police officer. Now that I'm married to it, I hate it some days. I've seen how quickly one person can ruin someones career, their life, the lives of their families..
and without consequence.
I have many struggles related to this topic, however I have a few which are controlling me right now and it's driving me mad.
During the non-incident that somebody decided to make into an incident, I was there and so were our kids. Our eldest has struggled with the following questions:
"But Mom, we told the truth and the other guy is lying. Why aren't the police helping us? Why are they saying Daddy did something wrong? I was there and that guy is lying. I thought Police are supposed to help you and you are supposed to trust them?".
I have tried repeatedly to encourage our son to always tell the truth and to always trust the police. Police officers will help you when you are in trouble and you can always tell them things when you need someone to trust, even if it's something you can't tell your parents or another grown up.
But the damage is done. It's evolving from our son trusting and respecting the police to him not liking them at all. He definitely doesn't trust them. He has said to me, "If you can't trust the police, who can you trust?".
I'm so resentful, not sure toward who, but I feel like a part of my ability to parent has been taken away by all this. I can't guide my son with words or even my own actions because his view of the police has now been tainted. I'm really trying and will continue to do so, but it's heartbreaking. This situation has taken away my ability to make my son feel protected and to help him have confidence in the police.
We've survived what could have been financial disaster, we've survived loss of insurance, pension and livelihood. We've survived a complete and total invasion of privacy, even having our address printed in local media. And worse than any of these is the damage to our pride.
These are the times when you find out what you're made of.
Now we are waiting to find out if hubs' license to be an officer is going to be subject to disciplinary action.
I have resigned myself to the fact that if he does lose his license, I will accept it. I have decided to tell myself it's the good Lord's way of keeping him out of harm's way.
God knows he has lived a life of public service. Those whose lives have been touched by him will never forget, and neither will he.
I will close today's post with a letter from one of those folks.
Dear XXXXXX,
I am writing you today because you hold the future of a young man in your hands. I was not there when the incident occurred between X and (hubs), so it is hard for me to render a view of what transpired. I certainly am in no position to contradict the testimony or the work of the prosecution for this case. What I can attest to is the character and demeanor of (hubs).
You see, I was there the day my adopted daughter attempted suicide. She was a minority child and a victim of years of physical, sexual and psychological abuse before my wife and I adopted her. There were many problems, but on that day, she attempted to break out a second story window and jump out of it onto a solid concrete slab. I was shattered and upset when I called XXXX police agency. The officer who arrived first on the scene was (hubs). I was trying to restrain this highly emotional teenager desparately trying to harm herself and me. The (hubs) I know is the one who calmly took control of the situation, quieted the young girl, and helped me with the most caring compassion and kindness I had ever experienced in my life. He did not know it at first, but then he realized who I was.
I have known (hubs) for over twenty years. After he grew up and became a policeman I rarely saw him, until the day he came to help my daughter and me. All his young years he was a quiet fellow with a great sense of humor and willingness to help others. He became a proud member of the police department, a husband and a father. I always knew him to be respectful and honest.
I understand the stresses of everyday life as we all do. I also realize mistakes are made, but conflict is not always bad. At times, we can learn from our indiscretions and grow from them. I know (hubs) will do the same. Whatever happened that day was not the norm for this young man. on the contrary, I have seen and want you to know, he is a good young man and very deserving of a chance to move on with his life, his children and his community. To take (hubs) from his family would be a grave injustice. I would implore you to consider not only my brief account of (hubs') compassion, but the years of service he gave to the community - the unsung and unreported deeds of kindness and care for others.
Sincerely,
MR. X
Saturday, May 29, 2010
I am such a ...
dork. It's super early where I live and I'm up becuase I can't sleep. Wish I could... I had three wisdom teeth surgically extracted mid-day. One would think I'm awake because I'm writhing in pain. Nope. I think I can't sleep because of the twilight sedation they gave me. I "slept" so hard it took away my need for sleep during sleeping hours tonight. Bleh.
I put off having this done for a couple of years because I've been having some other mysterious health stuff. I finally "womaned up" (is that a term?) and I got it over with. Awesome surgeon, real cool.. and turns out my nurse is also married to a LEO. Bonus! She was extra nice to me.
So, I get there, they do a panorex, they tell me I have three horrible wisdom teeth that are "sidewinders" and that behind one of them I have a cyst which luckily was only fluid and not very big. They did all the scaring the hell out of me by telling me my two lowers were literally sitting right on the nerve and the bone, etc. etc.
Doc has me sign my life away and leans my chair back. He puts the nitrous over my nose and swabs my arm. We had moments before discussed how we were going to avoid using fentanyl on me as it gets into my marrow space in certain uses and it causes my blood pressure to crash. Where was I? Oh swabbing the arm.. IV needle goes in. I hear him ask for the Versed from the nurse. Then I hear him ask for the fentanyl. To his shock and amazement, I opened my eyes about half way and said, "No fentanyl, remember what you said?". Luckily the nurse hadn't handed it over and they ended up giving me something else. I was still not out of it at this point and even mentioned perhaps my vein rolled on him or something. He took a look and sure enough, there was a problem with the line and he had to fidget with it to get the meds in. He looked a little shocked but I was totally calm and relaxed (thank GOD) and then he plunged the propofol and I smiled and said, "Ok now I feel that". Off to sleep I went while he cut away.
Then the most hilarious thing happened. I woke up in this really narrow room on a little cot with a small, almost inappropriately tiny blanket over me. Just so happens when I came to, the nurse had literally just stepped out and I had NO CLUE where the hell I was. I started crying (not hysterics or anything) but it was so funny. I thought I was in JAIL. HA HA HA.
The hubs and my mom came in with the nurse (turns out she was going to get them when I came to). Although I don't remember crying at all, I specifically remember thinking I was in a jail cell. Yikes!
The doc had given me a prescription for Vicodin and told me how with it being a holiday weekend he wanted me to have the "strong stuff" because I'd likely be in a lot of pain since I'm OLDER than most of his wisdom teeth patients. I told him the last pain pill I took was in 1996. He was surprised. After my neck surgery in December I only took straight liquid Tylenol. I'm really thankful for whatever freakish powers I possess that let me have a grip on painful procedures.
I'm rambling I know.. but I'm bored to tears. I took one Vicodin on the way home yesterday and my mom and the hubs were expecting me to be all goofy. I don't know if I lack the enzyme to convert it morphine or what, but it has zero effect on me....
UNTIL this morning. I was laying on the couch about 4am and I started itching like some street corner junkie. Yuck. So, needless to say I'm throwing this crap out and sticking to my Tylenol alternated with Ibuprofen.
Wish me luck that between the ice packs for the rest of today and the OTC meds I'll push through without any problems!
Thanks all for letting me ramble. Hubs is at work and I'm all alone (but don't tell the oral surgeon, ok?!)
I put off having this done for a couple of years because I've been having some other mysterious health stuff. I finally "womaned up" (is that a term?) and I got it over with. Awesome surgeon, real cool.. and turns out my nurse is also married to a LEO. Bonus! She was extra nice to me.
So, I get there, they do a panorex, they tell me I have three horrible wisdom teeth that are "sidewinders" and that behind one of them I have a cyst which luckily was only fluid and not very big. They did all the scaring the hell out of me by telling me my two lowers were literally sitting right on the nerve and the bone, etc. etc.
Doc has me sign my life away and leans my chair back. He puts the nitrous over my nose and swabs my arm. We had moments before discussed how we were going to avoid using fentanyl on me as it gets into my marrow space in certain uses and it causes my blood pressure to crash. Where was I? Oh swabbing the arm.. IV needle goes in. I hear him ask for the Versed from the nurse. Then I hear him ask for the fentanyl. To his shock and amazement, I opened my eyes about half way and said, "No fentanyl, remember what you said?". Luckily the nurse hadn't handed it over and they ended up giving me something else. I was still not out of it at this point and even mentioned perhaps my vein rolled on him or something. He took a look and sure enough, there was a problem with the line and he had to fidget with it to get the meds in. He looked a little shocked but I was totally calm and relaxed (thank GOD) and then he plunged the propofol and I smiled and said, "Ok now I feel that". Off to sleep I went while he cut away.
Then the most hilarious thing happened. I woke up in this really narrow room on a little cot with a small, almost inappropriately tiny blanket over me. Just so happens when I came to, the nurse had literally just stepped out and I had NO CLUE where the hell I was. I started crying (not hysterics or anything) but it was so funny. I thought I was in JAIL. HA HA HA.
The hubs and my mom came in with the nurse (turns out she was going to get them when I came to). Although I don't remember crying at all, I specifically remember thinking I was in a jail cell. Yikes!
The doc had given me a prescription for Vicodin and told me how with it being a holiday weekend he wanted me to have the "strong stuff" because I'd likely be in a lot of pain since I'm OLDER than most of his wisdom teeth patients. I told him the last pain pill I took was in 1996. He was surprised. After my neck surgery in December I only took straight liquid Tylenol. I'm really thankful for whatever freakish powers I possess that let me have a grip on painful procedures.
I'm rambling I know.. but I'm bored to tears. I took one Vicodin on the way home yesterday and my mom and the hubs were expecting me to be all goofy. I don't know if I lack the enzyme to convert it morphine or what, but it has zero effect on me....
UNTIL this morning. I was laying on the couch about 4am and I started itching like some street corner junkie. Yuck. So, needless to say I'm throwing this crap out and sticking to my Tylenol alternated with Ibuprofen.
Wish me luck that between the ice packs for the rest of today and the OTC meds I'll push through without any problems!
Thanks all for letting me ramble. Hubs is at work and I'm all alone (but don't tell the oral surgeon, ok?!)
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Brochacho
Last night I had a fantastic time watching my brother and some other family members from one district play a softball game against another district in the metropolitan area where they work. My bro is one of those guys who had the potential to play professional baseball but just didn't want to. Anyway, it was a great time, but had a scary few minutes. Bro was running to third base and knew he was going to mow over the third baseman, so he jumped to go over him. As bro jumped, the guy started to stand up which then launched my bro about five feet in the air. He promptly landed on his right side and I watched in horror as the side of his head literally bounced off the dirt. He lay there writhing for a minute and all the police there started to gather around him.
I am a very overprotective LITTLE sister. It took everything in me to NOT run out to the field and lift him up like Shera and take him back to the dugout. It was rough watching, but then all the guys scooped him up and put him back on his feet. My bro, the nice guy he is, just laughed and waved to everyone and said he was fine, only his pride was hurt.
It made me think back to September 30, 1999. He was then 23 years old. One night at 3am my phone rang. And yes, this is back in the day before I had a cell phone or caller id. This is back when, if the phone rang that time of night, you knew something was wrong.
Bro called and sounded concerned because he woke up to some really bad chest pain. I asked him for the details (I was in nursing school at the time) and decided I should come pick him up and take him to get checked out. I drove like an idiot to get to him, scooped him up curbside and drove 90+ to the hospital while trying to watch him but not crash at the same time.
I squealed up the ER doors, practically carried him over my shoulder into the ER and they hooked him up and did an EKG and some labs immediately. He was awake and talking to me, actually laughing about how the ER Doc had the same last name as one of the Simspons characters.. (go figure).
The Doc came in a minute or two later and as we were giggling about how this would probably turn out to be bad gas, the Doc said very abruptly, "You're having a heart attack right NOW".
The giggling stopped. NO.FREAKING.WAY. He was 23 years old and the poster child for healthy living. Worked out 5 days a week, ate healthy, etc.
Doc said the things he had going against him were being male and smoking cigarettes. Anyway, long story short, I vaguely remember walking next to him as they wheeled him up to the coronary care unit and the next day they did a cardiac cath on him. I was so terrified for him.
Turned out there was about 5-6% damage to his heart and the Doc said if he quit smoking and maintained a healthy lifestyle that it would probably never effect him. I breathed the hugest sigh of relief. I couldn't leave his side until he was released a week or so later.
That was eleven years ago. Even though he is a big tough Policeman now, I still can't help but worry like crazy about him whenever something happens. When he made it back to the dugout I gave him two ibuprofen, a bottle of water and a towel to wipe off the dirt with.
I am SO thankful he was ok. I watched him like a hawk for the rest of the game and then called him later on to make sure he was ok.
He's my Brochacho. I love him. (sigh)
I am a very overprotective LITTLE sister. It took everything in me to NOT run out to the field and lift him up like Shera and take him back to the dugout. It was rough watching, but then all the guys scooped him up and put him back on his feet. My bro, the nice guy he is, just laughed and waved to everyone and said he was fine, only his pride was hurt.
It made me think back to September 30, 1999. He was then 23 years old. One night at 3am my phone rang. And yes, this is back in the day before I had a cell phone or caller id. This is back when, if the phone rang that time of night, you knew something was wrong.
Bro called and sounded concerned because he woke up to some really bad chest pain. I asked him for the details (I was in nursing school at the time) and decided I should come pick him up and take him to get checked out. I drove like an idiot to get to him, scooped him up curbside and drove 90+ to the hospital while trying to watch him but not crash at the same time.
I squealed up the ER doors, practically carried him over my shoulder into the ER and they hooked him up and did an EKG and some labs immediately. He was awake and talking to me, actually laughing about how the ER Doc had the same last name as one of the Simspons characters.. (go figure).
The Doc came in a minute or two later and as we were giggling about how this would probably turn out to be bad gas, the Doc said very abruptly, "You're having a heart attack right NOW".
The giggling stopped. NO.FREAKING.WAY. He was 23 years old and the poster child for healthy living. Worked out 5 days a week, ate healthy, etc.
Doc said the things he had going against him were being male and smoking cigarettes. Anyway, long story short, I vaguely remember walking next to him as they wheeled him up to the coronary care unit and the next day they did a cardiac cath on him. I was so terrified for him.
Turned out there was about 5-6% damage to his heart and the Doc said if he quit smoking and maintained a healthy lifestyle that it would probably never effect him. I breathed the hugest sigh of relief. I couldn't leave his side until he was released a week or so later.
That was eleven years ago. Even though he is a big tough Policeman now, I still can't help but worry like crazy about him whenever something happens. When he made it back to the dugout I gave him two ibuprofen, a bottle of water and a towel to wipe off the dirt with.
I am SO thankful he was ok. I watched him like a hawk for the rest of the game and then called him later on to make sure he was ok.
He's my Brochacho. I love him. (sigh)
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