• ~Psalm 46:4-5~

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Thank You For The Taxes

Dear Countrymen-

Today many of you are gathering around the nation to protest the government’s spending of your hard earned dollars. The economy feels shaky and you want to keep your money. I can completely understand that. Money is tight for everyone.

While listening to the radio this morning, I was shocked to hear that the IRS believes that only 1% of cash transactions (mostly in tips) are not reported. Our society appears to be more honest than I would have guessed. Isn’t that a nice thought? Despite the economy, 99% of Americans are being honest about their earnings.

officer hubs

So I’d like to take a chance to thank you. Each of you who paid your taxes. Our family would not be able to put food on the table or diapers on our baby if it wasn’t for you. As a public school teacher, married to a police officer, I see your generosity first hand. While I agree that the government needs to be more fiscally responsible, I also hope that money is reserved for our schools and communities in the future. We’re experiencing unbelievable budget cuts in education. I’m often reminded of the Israelites who were expected to make bricks out of straw and water. Our funding seems to be dwindling while the standards for education increase.

writing on the board

So please forgive me if I don’t attend a tea party today. I hope you’ll understand that I do support the idea behind your cause. I’d like the government to stick to a realistic budget too. I just think that the realistic budget should include a raise for teachers and police officers. If that’s okay with you.

Sincerely,

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day 3/7: hypochondriac

Today began with intense pain. My right shoulder throbbed and my stomach ached so bad that I nearly fell out of bed at 3am trying to alleviate the pain. Over the course of the next four hours I rolled around and moaned. Then my alarm clock went off. By this time the pain had settled in my lower right abdomen. And it felt a lot like labor and a little bit like gas. So I called Officer Hubs, who was on duty and told him that I couldn’t walk. He told me to call in sick to work, which I did, and then he came to take the baby to daycare. When he got back and found me still in bed moaning, he insisted that we go to the emergency department. I dragged my feet, but in the end I let him take me. Did I mention that I was in labor for 27 hours on a Ptocin drip before I got an epidural? So I do at least have a reasonable knowledge of the ouchies and this was a 10 on my pain tolerance scale.my tummy

We were admitted very quickly, but had to wait f.o.r.e.v.e.r. Every time a health care person came into our room, they stopped with a deer in the headlights look and stared at me wide eyed. At one point a security guard stopped by and asked Hubs why he hadn’t signed in at the security desk. Each time Hubs had to explain that I was his wife and not under arrest. Something about being in the emergency department with a cop just gives people the wrong idea. Or it could have been my bedhead and lack of make-up. I must admit I did kind of look like a dangerous criminal.

officer hubs

In case you’re wondering, I did not have appendicitis or an ectopic pregnancy. After three hours of torture, including a GI cocktail (which sounds a lot yummier than it tastes) the final diagnosis was “abdominal pain.” Seriously. That’s what they put on my discharge papers. The doctor called it gastric spasms and acid reflux, but Hubs likes to say it was just “bad gas.” Sigh.

Who says dreams don’t come true?

There were five tiny houses across the street and each was painted a different color. Their little porches and upper balconies were so cute despite the lack of space between them. In front of each house there were exactly two apple trees, but each house had a different color of apple growing. The blue house had green apples. The yellow house had red apples and so on.

Our house was much bigger and the wrap around porch with ceiling fans gave off a plantation era feel, even though the house had just been constructed. We stood together, looking out our fat wooden blinds at the five houses taking up the same amount of space across the street. It was beautiful. Then we decided to go on a walk.

At this point, the dream morphed. Hubster became Officer Hubster and when I looked down, I was wearing a uniform too. Behind us there were a few other officers trudging along and we were listening intently to Hubs because he was our boss.

At this point in my retelling of the dream, you’d hear real live Hubs butt in to ask “Were we married?”

I pause to consider the question. “I’m not sure honey. We were together, but it was more like a sidekick kind of thing. You were like Batman and I was like Robin. I don’t know if we were married.”

So back to the dream. Hubster was explaining to us the importance of not using the apples as weapons against bad guys. Remember all of the apple trees across the street? Well, there was an abundance of apples all over the ground as a result. So Hubs wanted us to know that even if a bad guy should come racing past at that exact moment, we should not throw any apples at him. Or her.

“But what if the bad guy was about to get away?” My dream-self protested. He shook his head at me. We continued walking for a long way to the sub station and the whole way there we argued about the use of apples as weapons.

When we reached the sub station, it was the size of a closet. Hubs sat at a desk and we scrunched together on the floor at his feet. It was night shift, so we were all going to have to stay awake for the night. Hubs asked if anyone wanted a Coke. I offered to go back to the house to get drinks for everyone. Hubster said to make sure I got myself a Coke too, because I’d need the caffeine to stay up. I disagreed. I told him that I could stay up just fine without any caffeine.

At this point, Hubster butts in again, “So we were married then.”

“What do you mean?” I said while pulling my mussed up hair back in a rubber band.

“We were arguing. So we must’ve been married.”

Both of us laughed. “I guess so.” I mused. “But seriously, you could use an apple as a weapon, couldn’t you?”

“No,” Hubs replied. “I was right in your dream. You wouldn’t throw an apple at a bad guy.”

I stared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding with me? Because surely you could throw an apple at a bad guy!”

Hubster countered with a fine argument on the intricacies of level of force and training. He finally convinced me that an apple would indeed be a poor choice for a weapon.

And there you have it. I dreamed about arguing with my Hubs and then I woke up and continued the argument. It was the BEST dream ever! And I’m very weird. Unless you haven’t figured that out by now.

The Green-Light Button

Somewhere along the journey that was my girlhood, someone … and not just any someone, but someone that I trusted told me that all police officers have a green-light button. This fine piece of equipment located in their vehicles interferes with traffic lights and produces a green light as needed. The button keeps them from having to wait at red lights for as long as normal flashy lightspeople. Whoever told me this must have used a serious tone of voice and told me it as a straight out fact, because I never questioned it. Not once. Even as a college student I got excited when I pulled up behind a cop at a redlight because I knew I’d get to go through it next.  I grew up always believing that police officers had lots of buttons in their patrol cars but none of them compared to the green-light button.

About a year ago Hubster received his first patrol car. I went with him to pick it up and let me tell you, he was thrilled to pieces. He loved that car! Later that evening, after we’d put the baby to bed I got the full tour. He showed me the lights and the buttons for the sirens. I got to sit in the front and peek in the back. There was a vast array of switches and scanners. The video camera on the dash had both sound and color technology! He had a sweet ride!

So after he showed me all of the cool gadgets, I naively asked, “Where’s the green-light button?”

“Huh?” He turned to me and scratched his head. “The what?”

“The green-light button. So that you don’t have to wait at red lights.” I was starting to think that maybe they didn’t give one to rookies.

That’s about the point that he started laughing at me. A nice long laugh. Because, contrary to my beliefs at the time, there truly is no such thing as a green-light button.  At least, if there is one, my Hubs isn’t telling. Maybe it’s top secret, classified information. Or maybe I should just patent the idea!

Thievery

Over the weekend, Officer Hubster and a few of the guys on his shift volunteered to be the police escort at the funeral for their sargeant’s grandmother. The guys did an excellent job. As a way of saying thank you, Sarge invited them to breakfast this morning at a local pancake shoppe. The three men were in uniform, and after the waitress laid the check on the table, they spent a few minutes chatting before heading back out for their shift.

While they were shooting the breeze, a gray haired man walked up to their table, grabbed their bill and proclaimed, “Thi-yes is what ya call THIEVERY gentlemen!” Then he trotted up to the counter and paid for their breakfast.

we love u daddy

A few nights ago, while Officer Hubster was working an all-night shift, Bridoodle and I pieced together this note during her bath. Bathtime is a hoot these days. She loves to canon ball by standing up and sitting down hard and fast. It sends water everywhere. Then she gets so excited that she splashes even more water and squeals with glee. Lather, rinse, repeat.

we love u daddy

The foam letters are perfect for this nightly ritual because they don’t hurt when she slams her little bottom on top of them. She also loves to stick the letters to her arms and my forehead. She stands up in the tub and bangs on the wall as hard as she can so that the letters fall down. That makes her laugh. Then she does another cannon ball. I always get soaked.

Anyways, after this particular bath, I fished out all of the other letters so that I could put them back in the bath-time basket and Bri played with a couple of the leftovers while I worked. Then, right before I pulled her out of the tub, I checked our message to make sure it looked alright. I knew Hubs would be heading to the shower first thing in the morning after his shift.

I pulled Bri out of the tub and took the letters out of her clenched fists. What I found made me laugh so hard that I nearly toppled into the bath tub. She had been holding two letters: BS. Maybe she was going to add them to the end of our note when I wasn’t looking!

An Officer and A Daddy

playing with Daddy

Officer Bri

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