Independence Day

His 10th birthday is looming on the horizon, beckoning me to confront the fact that I am indeed old enough to be his mother. I don’t know why the 10-year milestone is such a big deal for me, but it is. I feel like I’ve hit a landmark. I feel like by now, with 3 kids, I should know what I’m doing. Truth is, I don’t.

I spent all my life around kids. Babysitting turned into a career and I spent my teenage working years at the Y.M.C.A., in charge of kids. It didn’t end there; I was a nanny for the first two summers off from college.

So I should have a clue, right? Wrong.

For weeks, McRae has been bringing up the topic of riding his bike to our little downtown area without us.

For weeks, I’ve been casually dismissing this saying “we’ll see when the weather gets better”, and crossing my fingers behind my back that his interest in this will fade by then. All the while, watching the tv news tell the story of the Midwestern boy who was snatched and then found along with another missing boy, which only reaffirms my fear.

What is the big deal? The big deal is that he is my baby, and although we’ve navigated all the other rites of passage up to this point, I am just not ready. Thus is the tragedy of the first-born child, he will be forever paving the way for his siblings, breaking his parents in.

When I was his age, I was a seasoned pro at walking to our corner store. By myself. Without a crosswalk or passing a single police or fire station on the way. Without a cell phone or a long-winded lecture by my mother about not talking to strangers, walking (not riding) my bike across the street and only going there and back (no side trips to do a little off-road riding in the field, okay?). The only communication my mother and I had when I was off on these trips was the call of her police whistle to beckon me home. I have no doubt that she wasn’t nervously counting the minutes as they ticked away on her kitchen timer, estimating the time it would take me to get there and back. It was different back then.

Or was it?

I like to subscribe to the notion that it isn’t a different world, we just have different “stuff”.

We have technology that we didn’t have in the 70’s and 80’s which grants us access to information beyond our wildest dreams. This is good and bad because we are now more aware than ever before of the possibilities that exist when we send our children out into the world. We know and are reminded almost weekly of the pedophiles that try to snatch kids as they drive by in their vans. We know about the abductions of children from their homes or as they walk home from school. We know how many sex offenders live near us and how many are finding their mugs on the evening news because they “forgot” to register. We know a lot.

I am glad we live in the 21st century and have so much access to so many things, but I need to remind myself that it is still the same world. It is still a world full of good people, fresh air and fun experiences. It is still a world where a kid should be able to enjoy being a kid, without fear of the “known”. It is still a world where a kid (who shows that he’s old enough and ready) can ride his bike to the store without his parents because after all, it’s about time.

The weather was surprisingly warm and sunny during the day this past weekend, and I had a sinking feeling that the question of journeying out sans parents would be resurfacing. Sure enough Sunday morning McRae asked Brett if he could ride to the market on his bike, without us.

We had our speech perfected and our list of questions ready.

“What are you going to do at the market?”

“How are you going to ride your bike, no monkey business right?”

“What will you do if a stranger talks to you?”

“Where will you cross the street?”

“How will you cross the street?”

“You’ll call us when you get there, right?”

Armed with my cell phone and his brother, down the hill he rode (really a double whammy for us because we figured letting both boys go was safer than one, and Wyatt is our “safety boy” who, despite his mistakes at riding diagonal across the intersection, would keep his brother in check). We had to rely on the fact that they’ve done this thousands of times with us, and now it was time to see if they could handle it solo.

I glanced at the clock the minute they were out of my sight.

I pictured the entire trek in real time, so I would have a good idea of when they’d arrive downtown.

Time came and went and no call.

Brett came in from his Sunday rumblings in the garage (aka: organizing) saying, “Did they call yet? They should’ve called by now.”

“They’re just being extra safe.” I assured him.

Moments later the phone rang. They had arrived safely at the store. Five minutes later it rang again. They were on their way home, mission accomplished.

Bursting in the door with bags of goodies, the boys excitedly recalled every inch of the trip to the market. Past the police station, past the fire station, walking (not riding) their bikes across the street and parking them out of the way of the store entrance.

“Can we go again?” McRae asked.

“Next week, maybe.” I answered.

Until a few hours later while preparing dinner, I realized that I was out of green onions.

“Who wants to go to the store and get me some green onions?”

I am still afraid when they leave the safety of our home. I still imagine someone grabbing them and locking them away in a dungeon as they play with their friends at recess. I worry, worry, and worry all the time.

But we’ve given them the tools. We’ve had talk after talk about strangers. We’ve practiced riding our bikes to the market with them day after day. At some point, we have to trust that it is enough, they are ready and we need to be too. Because yes, there is bad stuff out there in the big world, there always has been and there probably always will be. But I am ready to let them go, just a little, and trust that the big bad wolf will not jump out of the bushes and ask them where they’re going. For if he does…

He will have one sassy little sister to contend with!

By the way, not a chance sweetie, not a chance.

One Year

One year ago, we were waiting nervously at the airport to meet our friends as they returned home with their new daughter.

Dear Lila,

It’s your new “Auntie Carrie” here introducing herself to you. Let me start in the beginning:

Your Mommy and I have been traveling in similar circles for almost all of our lives, but didn’t become friends until eight years ago. At that time, your big brother Braydon was just a little baby and McRae was only a little bigger. I was impressed with the way your Mom was so “put together” and she could actually put her baby down for a nap without loosing a good two hours of herself and have a pretty house all at the same time! She was superwoman and my first real grown-up mommy friend!

Over time, our friendship became stronger and stronger. We shared all of our joys and frustrations (lots of those since we were so new at the parent thing), bonded over walks, trips to the park and playtimes with the boys; who became three after Wyatt was born just before Braydon had his first birthday. We were busy moms attending preschool, helping at the preschool and going to meetings about the preschool. Let’s just say preschool was our life!

Time went on and eventually the boys all started “real” school. Yes, they were gone most of the day and we could join the land of the living, breathing, don’t forget shopping, coffee drinking mommies! That is when I became pregnant with Katie(although we didn’t know it was a Katie for a few more months).

I had always pictured myself having three children so I was pretty excited. Your Mommy and I always talked about having daughters together like it was a far-off dream, and now it was happening. And then I knew for sure, I was having a girl. I thought I’d won the lottery! But, I have to admit, I was a little worried because we had all of our boys (McRae, Braydon and Wyatt) so close together and they were older now, who would Katie have?

Your Mommy was such a good friend to me during my pregnancy (as if she had a choice!). I was a typical crazy pregnant person and not once did she make me think that I was being, well, difficult (and I know now that I was). She was always there for me. Katie was born on November 6, 2003. You were already 3 months old! She was a cranky little baby (I hope you were easier on your foster mother). We fell in love with her right away and even though she cried for most of the first four months, I knew that it would get better.

The year flew by and before I knew it, Katie was celebrating her first birthday! You turned one in August, right about the time summer turns on the heat around here. We were just getting back from our annual trip to Lake Chelan and counting the days until school starts.

The holidays came and went that year and Katie seemed overwhelmed and lost in all of it. I look back now at pictures of her, all alone, the only little one in a sea of big kids and I can’t wait for that to change.

In January, your Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Brett and I went on vacation in the Caribbean. We had so much fun and not long after we came home, your Mommy was “up” to something. There was a lot of conversation about adoption in general, and even a bunch of books and magazines casually left around to inspire more talk. I don’t remember the specific day, but I can’t explain how happy and excited I was when your Mommy told me that they were going to adopt a little girl from China. We had always talked about this, but never “for real” and now it was! And that’s when your Mommy’s “pregnancy” began.

I remember when I first saw your picture on the adoption website, how much you looked like Braydon. I thought your Mommy was moving too fast, but she knew better. She knew that you were hers and she had to move fast, really fast! It was amazing how organized she was (always is, that Superwoman thing again) and her whole world changed the day the agency told her that she, your Daddy and Braydon were chosen to be your family.

We watched the website picture change to read “I have a family” under your picture. It was like seeing an ultrasound of your baby’s beating heart for the first time. Then, your Mommy started to get more information about you and you grew in our hearts with every passing day. And through it all, your Mommy and Daddy kept right on track with the enormous amount of work that they had to do to prepare. They did it all. They were probably the most thorough and organized people the agency had ever seen. They had to get to China, and yesterday would not have been soon enough! They couldn’t wait to come and bring you home.

Now that time is almost upon us. Your Mommy and Daddy have everything ready to go and it is about a week from the time when I will say goodbye to them and your Brother Braydon at the airport. I hope the time goes by quickly. I will be thinking of you and your Mommy while you all are in China together. I will be so relieved when you are finally in her arms and you see how much she loves you. You are her daughter and she is coming to get you.

I have enjoyed every second of this journey with your family. I have learned so much about so many things by experiencing as much of this as I can with your Mommy (without getting in the way I hope!) I have a lot more to learn, but hopefully you will put up with me. I have been looking at your sweet face in the picture on my refrigerator since June, only moving it when a new one came to take its place.

Katie and the boys consider you a part of our family already and can’t wait to meet you “for real”. We are trying to learn a little of your language, but don’t want to confuse you with our jumbled version of it when we finally can meet you. We are filled with hope, happiness and excitement for your arrival and are counting the days (22 until we see you). I hope you will be excited to see us too, but I understand if you are not. We will be patient.

I am most excited for Katie and you to meet. She and I spend a lot of time talking about you and how she is going to share her toys with you. She tells me “I hold her”, meaning that she is going to hold you! She always tells me that you are “night-night” and “Shhhh”, and you probably are sleeping when we are having these conversations due to the time difference. She tries to talk to the waitress at the Chinese restaurant in Mandarin for you too. You can help her with this soon, as I fear that she isn’t getting it right either! She can’t wait to see you. And, silly as this sounds, it is as if she has been waiting for you all of her life.

Lila, my wish for you (just like one of the good fairies in the Sleeping Beauty fairytale which I will read to you someday) is Happiness. No one can imagine what the future holds for any of their children, but all anyone wants is for them to be happy. You are so beautiful already and have a wonderful twinkle in your eye; I know that your life will be full. It will be full of everything that makes a life good. I can’t wait to see what it will be . . .

With all of My Love,
Auntie Carrie

*Written last year and given to Linda on their departure to China.

Here we are with our girls (finally!) and no, like Linda said on her blog, the girls were wearing matching outfits on purpose, we were not!

Big brother Braydon showing Lila how to give the "peace" sign.

Their first hug!

Little Princess!

The best of friends!

me

Brother Of Mine

Thirty years ago today, I became a big sister.

Although without pictures, I fear that I wouldn't remember the days when Ryan was "my baby", the days of his toothless smiles, crawling and never-ending comfort of his two favorite stuffed animals "Pooh" and "Pima", but I cannot remember a world without him in it.

For thirty years, three decades of changes, he has been my "little" brother, even when he stopped being so little (around ages 8 and 12 for us).

He has put up with a bossy, emotional, teasing and demanding big sister for his entire life. He has never had our parents all to himself, he never knew a life without his sister in it, and I'm sure there were times when he wished he would have. Believe me, I put him through the ringer when we were little, and I'm surprised that he still speaks to me. Surprised, and lucky.

You see, big sisters don't often realize the turmoil and nastiness they inflict upon their younger sibling until much later, and only then do they realize just how lucky they are to have a younger sibling who, even if it isn't obvious, looks up to them.

Despite the fact that I told Ryan there were monsters in his closet, turned the lights off in the basement and barricaded him in so he couldn't escape, called him names, hid his toys and forced him to play Barbies with me, he still hung aroud. It wasn't until a very memorable day when I'd finally pushed his buttons one too many times that he finally fought back, and when he did, that was the end of it. After his uprising, we established a new order in our house. I didn't mess with him ever again.

I started college when Ryan entered high school (brilliant planning on my parents part so that we wouldn't have to attend high school together, I thought) and we discovered that with this new space and understanding between us, we really liked each other. I kept up on his "goings on" and he seemed somewhat interested in my life away at school. When it was his turn, four years later, I had tears in my eyes visiting him at his dorm room, his "home away from home", his life, beginning.

He was so much better at it than I was. He was stronger, confident and definitely in his element. He didn't have to call home every week just to hear our mother's voice, he wasn't needy like I was. Here was my baby brother carving a life for himself that didn't have anything to do with me, and a piece of my heart went with him.

My meticulous, detail-oriented, lego masterpiece building and whiz kid brother graduated with a degree in Fine Arts. He is an artist, a painter and always a thinker. My mom used to call him "Little Buddah" when he was a baby because he just liked to sit back and observe all that was going on. Now I know that he was probably thinking "how did I get stuck with such a weird big sister?" as I stacked his blocks in a pyramid for him to knock down. He was probably thinking I should arrange them in a much more complex shape.

He is intelligent beyond his years, and mine. He is driven and talented in a way that shocks me at times. He is focused and sensitive, and is the best Uncle in the world to my kids.

He is beginning to apply to grad school in places like New York and Rhode Island...far, far away. I could never do that and I admire the fact that he can.

He is brave and determined, and although I will ache to see him go when he does, I will be happy that he is following his dream, my little brother.

Thank you for making me the proudest big sister in the world. And thank you for not hating me for all that I put you through.

Happy 30th Birthday, nerd.

Taking Turns

My kids go through phases where they are especially affectionate to either my husband or myself, leaving the other parent standing there wondering when they will be scooped up off the floor of proverbial "chopped liver".

It seems to be my husband's turn in the limelight.

Wyatt is "star student" this week at school. This means he has extra privileges and attention from his classmates. He and I made a poster of him, that is displayed in the hall for all to admire, he gets all the good jobs in the classroom and his parents get to bring him a "special" lunch to share with him.

I thought it would be fun to bring pizza (as it is one of his favorite food groups) and since Brett was home, I thought he could come too. After much (and I mean MUCH) coaxing, he agreed.

What happens when the boys return from school?

"Dad, thanks for bringing me lunch today, that was so cool."

Hello? I was there too. Did you notice? I guess not. It is pretty hard to compete in a 2nd grade classroom when you're sitting next to a firefighter.

More evidence that I am definitely chopped liver these days:

Oh well, I know I'll get my turn soon -- hopefully, or my crushed ego will need emergency intervention. Hey, know any qualified firemen?

Time is on My Side

Punctuality. Punctuality used to stick by me more often than it does since I've become "keeper of all things and knower of all things", or more simply, mom.

I was never as late as often as I am now when it was just me. Aaaaaaah...just uttering those words "just me" makes me think of a day when I could grab my keys and get in the car and go, anywhere, without beverages, entertainment and snacks. The only time I needed accoutrements such as that, I would've been travelling a very long distance, or boarding a flight somewhere exotic (you know, because I did that soooo often before life with children).

Anyway, I've become one of those people, always running a few minutes behind, always hurried to make it out the door, yelling words of "have you got your coat?" and "where are your shoes?" at my kids as they hang precariously to the door handle while I'm backing out of the driveway.

Okay, it isn't THAT bad. Only some of the time. I have gotten better, in my old age, with my time management skills.

I no longer give specific times to be somewhere, I now say I'll be there at "whatever-ISH" so that I will not be late. It is a running joke amungst my friends to tell me to be somewhere sooner than everyone else because that way, we'll all get to where we are going ON TIME.

That being said, my kids have never been late to school, I have never missed a doctor's appointment or teacher conference. I leave early to get to scheduled activities and sometimes we even have to hang out in the car before a soccer game and wait for the coach. I have come a long way since the days of "tell Carrie to arrive 30 minutes before everyone else". But it has not been a journey free of consequences.

In my wake, I have created a time conscious (obsessed), clock-staring, "hurry up let's go" child. He is nine. He likes to ask me what time everything is. When times change, like his taekwondo schedule did come the first of the year, he comes unglued.

It was the first night of class after the schedule change in January. Instead of rushing like crazy people immediately after school to make it to a 4:00 class, our time had been moved to 6:00; just enought time to wolf down a meal beforehand. On the days Brett is on shift, we all go to watch McRae practice, this was one of those days. It was 5:11, it takes no more than 15 minutes to get to taekwondo, but we give ourselves 20, just in case. McRae starts jumping around the kitchen as his brother and sister are finishing their meal and I am loading what I can into the dishwasher.

"Come on mom, we have to be going", he says.

"Don't worry, it isn't time yet", I answer.

"We're going to be late."

"No we aren't, relax, will ya?"

"I don't want to be late."

"You won't be late, calm down."

I finish the dishes and begin to help Katie into her coat.

"Hurry up", McRae yells from the garage (because he's already gotten in the car and is convinced we are going to be late). I look at the clock, it isn't even 5:30, we have more than enough time, unless there is a parade of elephants in town that I don't know about.

After a few minutes, we all gather in our respective spots in the car. McRae won't even look at me. It is 5:41 and we are already out on the highway, well on our way to class. I tell him "Honey, you dont' need to worry so much about being places on time, that's my job and we've never been late to taekwondo, so I don't know what you're so mad about".

He just stares out the window.

I turn on the radio, because if anything drives me crazy, it's a silent car with a pouting 4th grader.

As I may have mentioned before, I hate commercials and talking on the radio, so I will scan the stations until I find an acceptable song, no matter what it is. "Low Rider" by War was on one of the stations, I left it there and turned it up a little so I could sing along. I could see a little blonde head-bobbing happening in my peripheral vision, belonging to my oldest. I glanced in his direction and he immediately stopped, as if caught committing a felony. I started whistling to the parts of the song we all know are whistle-able, I was joined by a faint, yet audible, whistle coming from the passenger seat next to me.

The light was red, it was 5:50. A smile spread across his face as he realized that he would not be late after all and the song was over...but wait! A new song began and lo and behold, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" became the soundtrack for the remaining 3 miles to get to taekwondo class, complete with head jerking (by all three kids and myself - yes, I was being a safe driver of course), shoulder wiggling and clapping (like in the video).

If we could dance in the car we would have. If there was a hidden camera in our car, we surely would've won some kind of prize (like a years' supply of toilet paper), but that doesn't matter. What matters is that my son got over his obesssion with the clock, and being the time manager for our family, laughed at his crazy mom and loosened up a bit before running into the taekwondo studio (5 minutes early) to claim his spot on the mat in the front row, as he watched all the "late" kids file in behind him.

Brrrrrr...

We went in search of snow on New Year's Day...

We drove higher and higher until we finally found some, and it was wet!!

But, it was snow, and we were happy! We put on our snowshoes, hats, mittens and gloves and played for as long as our bodies could handle it - even though technically, it was raining.

Maybe we should've been more patient...

Because look what happened, in our own backyard.

There is no sign of it going away anytime soon, so we'll enjoy it as much as we can!

Little Sisters Rock

That face, see that face that cropped up on my easy middle-child's cherubic mug?

That's the face I see every morning when I ask him to change out of the wind pants with the fraying edges (aka, playclothes) and into a decent pair of pants for school. As if!!! How dare I overstep his fashion sense, even if we are in the middle of a pretty severe cold snap and wearing paper thin track pants just isn't very smart, even for him.

And so, see what happens when you mess with mama before her morning caffeine intake?

You get pictures of yourself dancing with your sister (aka Princess Cinderella Katie Bug) posted on your mother's blog!

Sidenote: My oldest protested in much the same way when his choice of wind pants was also rejected by me as being appropriate school attire with an "Aaaaaaaw mom, can't I wear the clothes that I want to wear?".

To which I said "No".

Let me add that as I dropped my male offspring off at school a few hours (yes, hours, due to our snow-induced late start) later, I noticed that neither one of them had remembered to brush their own teeth.

Can boys who don't remember to brush their own teeth be trusted with choosing the right clothes to wear to school?

Okay, pass the caffeine...and the Midol.

The Stalker

Living in a small town has it's obvious ups and downs.

The obvious ups are having a sense of familiarity and comfort in your surroundings. Witnessing the changes that occur firsthand at a glacial pace compared to a larger city and having time to absorb them. And, knowing people everywhere you go.

Now, this can be perceived as a "down" depending upon the circumstance (say...you run into your 4th grade crush while grocery shopping with a tantrum-having toddler and you threw on a ballcap, postponing your shower until a later time in the day) in which case, I say run for the hills.

But usually, seeing familiar faces is a good thing.

It's a good thing if you have car trouble.

Or if you need your cable hooked up in a new home at lightening speed.

It's a good thing if you need someone to feed your fish while you're gone.

Or pick up your kids after school because you got lost in Costco.

It's nice to know the kids in your children's classrooms year after year.

But sometimes, it isn't.

Like when they call for a playdate on Christmas Day.

Seriously.

Or when you have to get caller id to avoid being ambushed by their mother without an excuse for why your son doesn't want to have a sleepover with her son, at the last minute, the very last minute, like 8:30 on a Saturday. "He's already in his jammies and we've had a VERY busy weekend already. So, I don't think so". I've actually said that.

I make it sound as if I am an unflexible stick in the mud.

That is not the case.

I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants" kind of mom, when it's the right time. More importantly, the right people.

This child, the stalker, who rings my cell phone and home phone more often than telemarketers do, has been in Wyatt's class since kindergarten. He has been on his soccer team for 2 seasons. He's come a long way, behaviorally. And that's great, for him. But just because we've been unfortunate enough to be paired with him in all these places, does not make him an instant friend. And just because his own parents (called "rock star mom and dad" by another mom and myself due to their love of spandex, feathered hair and all things Van Halen) don't want to entertain him, does not mean that it is my son's job.

I've let him come over a few times in the last 3 years, mostly because I wanted to observe him. I wanted to check him out to see if he was okay. I also watched him over Spring Break last year to help his family out with a childcare crisis. So what? Wyatt can take him or leave him, and does not want to go over to his house. Therefore, reversing the invitation works well, because I can always send McRae in to mix things up if Wyatt isn't having fun. But I am sick of doing this. I can't do this forever, and I feel like I need to teach my kids that it's okay to let go if the "relationship" just isn't working out.

I want to tell this little boy "He just isn't that into you", but then again, I feel so bad.

I feel bad because his parents are such social morons, and sooner or later they are going to ruin him. I feel bad because even though he's a handful, deep down he's a nice kid. I feel bad because he craves attention so much, and it is apparent that his parents like to keep him going like an Energizer bunny so that he won't slow down and ask them to actually play with him.

Maybe he'll loose our number.

Maybe I'll tell him I changed it to 867-5309, because chances are, being the head bangers that they are, his parents wouldn't catch on.

Maybe Wyatt should start to wear a disguise.

Maybe I'll bribe the school next year, to place them in seperate classes.

Breathe In...Breathe Out

They say not to look at the clock if you can't fall asleep.

Does it count if it is through a water bottle?

Does it count if it is with only one eye open?

They say not to let kids into your bed.

Does it count if it's after midnight?

Does it count if she promised me she'd sleep in her own bed tomorrow?

They say not to wake up your kid too much when he's had a bad dream.

Does it count if he wants to talk it out?

Does it count if it was about Dracula yanking me around by my teeth?

They say not to let kids into your bed.

Does it count if he's on the floor, in a sleeping bag, there's no room in the bed!

Does it count if he's scared?

They say not to resent your spouse.

Does it count if he's been snoring all, and I do mean all, night?

Does it count if it's 3:40 a.m.?

Oh, I wasn't supposed to look at the clock, but I was checking on the sleeping boy on the floor next to me, while escaping the toddler toes poking me in the nostril, I couldn't help it.

Dear 2006

Dear 2006,

Sometimes we don't realize how busy a certain part of our lives has been until we reflect upon it in terms of a day, week, month or year.

When I was writing Christmas cards this year, after looking over all the cards and letters I'd received the year before, it dawned on me that although I may remember a particularly busy week here and there, the entire year was full. Full of memories, milestones and growth. You would think that I would be able to recall all the important highlights of 2006 more easily, being such an obsessive scrapbooker, but then again, I'm 3 years behind.

Among those events not captured on film, a few of my most notable memories for the year include:

*Visiting the E.R. to have a hair clip removed from Katie's nostril (we narrowly avoided surgery).
*Visiting the E.R. to have stiches given to McRae's elbow after tearing it open on Grandpa's dock (watch out for spinning levers).
*Visiting the Walk-In Clinic to have dermabond affixed to Wyatt's head after one of Brett's "Firefighter of the Year" trophies fell on his head during a fort building session.

As you can see, the medical emergencies took the cake.

On we go...

*Waiting for our new "niece" to get home from China!
*Getting to know Lila.
*Getting to know Sage.
*Brett completed his Officer's Development class, thus adding yet another credential to his bursting resume.
*Scrapbook camp (twice!).
*The bear running down my street (I am not kidding).
*Volunteering in the boy's classroom and correcting tons of 3rd grade homework (I needed a cheat sheet).
*Library story time and lunches with the girls.
*Celebrating Grandma Carol's Birthday (always a highlight of the year).

I have a lot to be thankful for. I wish that I could add to the list:

*More people taking care of people.
*Less importance placed on celebrity weddings and more attention given to issues that really matter.
*An end to our reliance upon foreign oil.
*Seeing the violence in Darfur and other impoverished regions come to an end.
*Having our troops withdraw from the "occupation" in Iraq.
*Peace

That doesn't mean that I don't love you, 2006, but you could've done better. I'm just looking out for my kids, after all,

and my "Grandbaby",

and my extended brood,

and my parents,

and the loves of my life.

"You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll join us
And the world will be as one"

-John Lennon

Sincerely,
Carrie