A Field Trip...Literally a trip to a field

The older children are testing this week and the school has decided, from past experience, to try to get the younger children out of the school completely. Why? Well, because they are noisy. Noisy on the level of a Justin Beiber concert. I don't know this from experience but I can imagine a Justin Beiber concert would be full of screaming, obsessed little girls who think if they scream REALLY REALLY loud he will see them and fall instantly in love. Then they will get married and have babies and live happily ever after. Oh and they might become prince and princess of a far away land that is full of unicorns. Yeah, that kind of loud.

Normally, I do not acquaint myself with other people's children. This does not include close friends and their offspring because they are more like family and are automatically loved. I just don't have the personality which is really funny because literally 80% of my friends are school teachers. Heck, even my mother was a school teacher. I don't see this as a fault, though. It takes a @#$% to deal with some of the clients I have. Not everyone has the patience of a nun like my son's teacher, Ms. Glover does. Or, for that matter, most teachers I know.

I have enormous respect for the profession, though, and I like to volunteer when I can because she has so much on her plate all the time. So when she came up to me on Monday and asked ME (whom she knows is not the most happy-go-lucky person) if I could help her, I knew she was desperate so I said yes. What's the point in doing what I do if I can't rearrange my schedule to help someone? So I said yes. If I had known what the temperature would be today I would have paused a moment....but I think I would have still said yes.

The trip was walking trip to Bryant Park which is less than a mile away from the school. The idea was to walk there around 10 am, spend all day there and then walk back before school ended. It pretty much went exactly like that. Except for the heat. The heat is AWFUL. The heat makes Jessica start talking in the third person. The heat makes Jessica hulk-smash angry. I have always hated the heat but when I was pregnant with George, in the eighth month of my pregnancy the AC went out in both the car and the apartment. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, like a hot and miserable pregnant woman. It seriously should be considered as grounds for insanity in a murder trial.

The heat doesn't bother the children in any way. Not at all.

The morning started out with an unexpected social lesson. As we were walking to the park, several children spotted a homeless man sleeping in an underpass and started to point.

Me: "Why are you pointing at him? It's not polite to point at someone."
Them: "Because he is homeless. Why is he homeless?"



Me: "I don't know why he is homeless but it's not polite to point at someone. You need to worry about yourself and how you are behaving and not worry about what other people are doing."

This was in the first 30 minutes of the field trip. Great Jessica, way to show off the bitchy side right away. Too bad, it was effing hot. Apparently that was the right thing to do, though, because they listened to every single word I said from that moment on. They wanted to hold my hand, they wanted me to hug them, they wanted to sit on my lap. George was so happy to have the coolest mom ever that he kept bragging about me. It made me strangely happy. It even broke through my I-don't-like-to-touch-other-people thing. 5 kids all trying to hug you and hold your hand all day long does that, I guess.

I got to watch as my son played and had a good time. I saw him in his own element and he was beautiful. He was wonderfully caring and he stood up for himself. He has lots of friends and is loved by almost everyone. At one point he even said, "Don't step on mother nature, it's not nice!" It fills my heart. He is just....the best thing that ever happened to me (short of his father and brother, of course).

The walk back. That was the worst. In the heat of the day when everyone was already tired it was almost too much. They were lagging behind, complaining about how much they hurt. I had had enough. My drill sergeant routine kicked in.

"LET US WALK WITH A SENSE OF PURPOSE."
"THE FASTER WE WALK, THE FASTER WE GET THERE."
"I SEE GAPS IN THE LINE. FILL IN THE GAPS NOW!!!"
"LET'S GO LET'S GO LET'S GO"

We got back to the school and we were all drenched. It was 2:50pm and school doesn't let out until 3:35. I simply walked up to Ms. Glover and said, "if there is nothing else you need me to do, I think I might take my child and go home now." As I was leaving with George she says, "I wanted to thank you Mrs. Starkey. If it weren't for you, we would still be walking back to the school in 92 degree weather."

...and I didn't even say one bad word all day long.

Coupon Freak

The Trump women (my mother's side of the family) have always been coupon freaks. My grandmother, Kathleen, grew up during the depression. She raised 4 children on my grandfather's salary. Nothing, and I mean nothing, ever went to waste. Plastic bags were rinsed out to be used again. Clothing that could not be mended, was cut up to be used in quilts. I have two quilts made of lovely seventies clothing (which I love and could not be parted with).  She lived in a community that shared everything. No one ever needed anything. If someone needed something, another person was always there to help out even when times were tough and money was tight.

I go on when I shouldn't because Kathleen (Grandma Trump) deserves, and will get, a post to herself. My children never had a chance to meet her, which is upsetting. 

Moving on. Coupons are a Trump family tradition. Every family get together involved a coupon exchange. What one Trump sister couldn't use they would exchange with another sister. This evolved gradually into each Trump knowing what the other Trumps shopped for on a daily basis. They knew each store in their sibling's respective zip codes. They knew every store's coupon policy. Calls were made during the week. "Chicken is .26 cents a pound, how much do you want." No one ever paid retail for anything, EVER. My mother supported a family of three on a bank teller's salary while my father was in school by couponing. 

I NEVER got this. I NEVER understood this fascination with saving money. I grew up needing nothing. Wanting for nothing. Until now. 

Now I have a family. I have a business in a real estate market that, to put it mildly, sucks giant donkey @#$!s. Mark and I were watching TV one day and the show "Extreme Couponing" came on.We watched as a women's grocery bill rang up to about $700 and, through coupons, she spent absolutely nothing. NOTHING!!! We looked at each other wide-eyed. I could totally do that!!!! I mean, not on their level, but paying full price for anything is totally effing stupid so why not try, right?

The promos for the show are right. One transaction is all that it takes for you to be completely hooked. So get used to the coupon blog updates because that's all it takes for me to get excited. Don't judge. 

You know the deal is really good when you just have to tell someone about it. The first person I call is my husband who does the mandatory "ooohhhh that is awesome, baby!" Then I call Glee Girl who oohhh's and aaahh's with me and then tells me her deals which I probably have missed. I have no siblings so Glee girl is the closest thing I will have to a sister (sorry, don't mean to get mushy). I know what she looks for and save coupons for her and vise versa. It's ridiculously fun and a total thrill. It really does feel like you are cheating the store out of money but you are just beating them at their own game. It is freaking awesome.....

I may need a vacation soon. 

So Glee girl informed me that today's buys were especially awesome and that I should probably blog it as I have not blogged in a while and I needed to get my @#$$ together. My words, not hers :)

Take a look at this picture...

I got all five purex detergents for a total of......$1.39. HOLY CRAP CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT???

The axe deodorants are normally $5.50. I bought all six of them for a grand total of....$8.39. My husband is going to be smelling awesome for a long time. 

The four baby wipes packets were purchased for a total of $8.00 when they are usually about $4.00 a piece. 

The conversation with the cashier (who knows me by name now) goes like this:

Her: "I just don't have time to do all that couponing. I got better things to do."

Me: "I understand that. I just need to save money as much as I can."

She rings up the five laundry detergents for a total of $1.39 and goes:

"I guess I have time for that." 

Yes, yes you do. 

The Death of Osama Bin Laden, part 3. Fin

I know it's weird to be posting this on Mother's Day but if I don't do it now then I will never do it. The three readers who look at this blog would be disappointed and their lives wouldn't be complete. We can't let that happen. I am going to write this last entry as a letter to our boys directly.

My sweet love bugs 


My little lovie poos


Dearest boys,

I wonder what you look like. I wonder if you have another sibling when you read this in the future.
I hope you don't think your father and I are embarrassing. I hope I am not wearing leopard print stretch pants to pick you up at school. I wonder how you feel about 9/11 and Osama Bin Laden. I wonder if these events will matter to you more than just a topic on a history test.

As I watch you right now, Henry, you are toddling around with no shirt on. Your huge belly and cheeks are jiggling as you walk to the dog crate to sit with the dog.

George, you are reading "The Gardner" with Daddy wearing your Dr. Seuss pajamas. You giggle as Henry claps for you when you get a word right in your book.

Do you know how Mommy and Daddy felt the day we were told Osama Bin Laden had been brought to justice?

More than ten years later, the world hasn't changed much but our opinions have. We are focused on other things now and not so much the hatred and fear that once consumed many.  I know I had given up the hope that we would ever find Osama Bin Laden. For so long, he has been the face of terrorism. For so long, we have waited to hear that he had been brought to justice.  Nothing happened. Wars raged on, seemingly never ending. Presidents changed and we focused on who was born where.

Then we were told that Osama Bin Laden had been killed by Seal Team 6 in a compound in Pakistan. We were stunned. Wow. I mean, really? Is this a joke? Did it really happen? It did and how did we feel?

Your mother and father felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not because we don't care or that we thought he didn't need to be brought to justice because we do. We felt nothing because the idea of terrorism doesn't die with one individual. One dies and another rises up to take his/her place.

My sweet boys. We have brought you into a complicated world. There are so many things wrong with our world. There are groups still fighting for equal protection under our law. There are still babies dying of starvation. There is so much beauty, though. If there were ever a time and place that I would want to bring you into this world, it would be here and now.

So when I say we felt nothing at Osama Bin Laden's death, I mean we didn't feel the joy that others did. We will not rejoice in another human being's death. We will not respond to hate, with hate. We are glad the world is rid of this man as he deserved what was brought upon him. We move on. We stand up for what's right and we don't let the chance to do good pass us by.

I will leave it at that, my lovies. Your Mommy and Daddy will work hard to make the world a better place for you. We hope to raise you to see the injustices pf the world and to try to do something about them.

More than anything, my loves, we love you with all of our hearts. We could not have asked for two better little boys. We will work hard everyday to deserve your love.

With all the love in our hearts,
Mommy and Daddy



"I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that."
--Martin Luther King, Jr.

The Death of Osama Bin Laden, part 2

I don't know how many parts this thing is going to have. We will see how much steam I have left.

From September 11th, 2001 until now these things have happened to me personally (not in any kind of order):

1) Meet Mark, fall deeply in love and get married.
2) We moved to Richmond, VA to get away from the horrible DC housing prices.
3) We have two beautiful children for whom I am writing this for.
4) We start our own business in real estate.
5) The Real Estate market crashes.
6) Mark goes to work for Comcast.
7) We move three times.
8) My father retires.
9) My grandmother dies.
10) Mark's grandfather dies.
11) Our dog, Kaiser dies.
12) Best friend has baby.
13) My views on religion change drastically.

Here's what happens in the world:

The entire nation goes into mourning over 9/11. My emotions are mixed with anger. "How could they do this?" "What gives them the right?" "How DARE they?" This grief, this anger develops differently in different people. Some fly flags and volunteer to help. Others, well others let their anger develop into a kind of cancer of hate. They spread their hate to innocent Muslims living freely and legally in this country. Their hatred spreads to blindly hating all Muslims as a whole who's leader must be Osama Bin Laden. I mean, all Muslims must feel the same way that terrorists do, right? Why else would they be a different religion? Why else would they believe in what they do? They all must hate America. (serious sarcasm here, in case you're new to my sense of humor)

And the cancer spreads.

It spreads so fast and violently that we forget what this country stands for. What it was built upon. Well educated, civil people find themselves being washed away in the hatred. We start to assume that all people of Middle Eastern descent are Muslim. Sikhs are being stoned and property is being vandalized. No one bothers to research what they are hating. It prompts our favorite local Indian restaurant to print a hand out saying "Sikhs aren't Muslims. Here is what we believe in."  Most people don't bother to read the Qur'an (I have, some of it, and it's beautiful). They just assume that a few people stand for Muslims as a whole.

You see, my dear boys, someone did something so horrible to us that the fear just took over. Before 9/11 we were safe at home. We didn't live in places like Israel that have to deal with bombings and death. Terrorism was something we knew existed but it just didn't hit so close. When it did, the fear was palpable. You could taste it everywhere.

"Close the borders! Don't let anyone else in! America is for Americans!"

"If you don't like it, you can leave!"

So many forgot what free speech meant. So many things were done to ensure our safety all the while stealing our liberties. Liberty isn't safe or free. Determined bad guys will always succeed at killing someone and there is nothing anyone can do about it.  Absolutely nothing.

To be continued....

The Death of Osama Bin Laden, part 1

Since this blog is a history of our family, I felt the urge to write our feelings down on the death of Osama Bin Laden so our children will know exactly how we felt when it happened.

Mark and I had not met when the first plane crashed into the World Trade Center. I was working in Annapolis, MD, only 30 minutes from DC, when someone came running in to the record room of the courthouse yelling "A PLANE JUST FLEW INTO THE WORLD TRADE CENTER." Now being the young 22 year old that I was, I thought he was referring to the World Trade Center in Baltimore. I thought a small plane had lost control and hit a building. My innocent mind never took into account that someone would actually do this on purpose. I had no idea of the enormity of the situation. Never again would I think the best of any situation. From that day on, I was a "the glass is half empty" kind of girl.

We all decided to meander down to the common room and turn on the news...you know, just in case they felt the need to report the story. And that's when I saw the second plane fly into the World Trade Center. I saw it live on television. Not a rerun, not a playback. I thought it was a joke.

The work day ended that morning, then and there. We all just kind of sat down, with opened mouths and starred at the television for what seemed like hours. I saw people jumping out of skyscrapers to escape the fire only to meet immediate death from the fall. I saw people, heroes, rush in to try and save as many as they could. I saw as each building fell down on itself. I watched in horror until they said another plan had flown into the Pentagon. And then another crashed in Pennsylvania. The newscaster said, "We don't know how many plans they have taken over, we don't know when this will end." That's when I ran.

You see, my father was flying that day. From Washington to Baltimore. He was in the air. I called my father's cell phone over and over and over again. No answer. I called his secretary and asked her if she had heard anything. She started to cry and said that my mother had called too and she didn't know anything. She would later say that this was the worst part of that day for her. When Jeff Starkey's daughter called to see if her father was still living.

I called the school where my mother taught at the time. The line was busy. I called over and over again. No answer. Busy. So I said to my boss, "I am leaving. I have to find out if my father is ok." I drove to the school and ran inside where the school and assembled all the children in the gymnasium. My mother saw me and immediately started to cry. She actually thought I knew something she didn't know. She thought I was coming to tell her something she didn't want to hear.

She knew nothing and I knew nothing so I just went home where I sat in front of the television for 24 hours straight with a box of tissues and a phone. I flipped from one channel to another, over and over again, hoping that the next station would have a tiny piece of information that I had not already heard. The daylight was fading and it seemed that the attacks had stopped but I still hadn't heard from my father. It turns out he had flown to Virginia Beach that morning and was on the naval base in Norfolk when the attacks happened. He was standing in the ship yard when the air raid siren started to scream and the ship's radar dishes started to whirl in preparation for war. He was then asked to leave the base. He rented a car and drove home. Apparently he had tried to call us but the lines were jammed.

Man, did he get it when he got home.

to be continued....