IV's, the beach, and a diving pig
So last week (a mere two weeks prior to my departure) I find myself in CLS class. CLS stands for Combat Life Saver. This class is one that teaches soldiers techniques that can save lives on the battlefield. It is one that is mentally and technically challenging. It is one that I have avidly avoided for the last ten years.
"WHY?" you ask... For one very simple reason. You must administer an IV and have one administered to you by another student. The first part of this task is no problem...I don't mind causing pain to others, or even making them bleed a bit if necessary. No, the problem lies in having them return the favor.
SSG Newman (yours truly) stands at nearly six and a half feet tall. He weighs in at 230 pounds. His cleanly shaven head and steely gaze project an aura of "tough guy, nothing scares me, I'll step on your neck if you so much as look at me wrong" manliness...Until you pull out a tiny little needle and say you need to take some blood. It's at that point that all that macho crap goes right out the window and SSG Newman reverts to the awkward junior high kid who cried when he got tagged "out" in dodge ball.
SO...it is clear why I avoided CLS class for ten years...I have an image to maintain, afterall.
It turns out that I had a blast in the class. I used the tough guy persona (and a hefty bribe to the instructor) to keep anyone of the other students from giving me an IV....though I thoroughly enjoyed giving the "stick" to someone else. (And I was pretty good...if I do say so myself.) All in all, it was a class that I hope I never have to use, but will be very glad to have if the situation calls.
For the weekend following that class, the family and I went to the beach, to spend a bit of family time together before I take off. It was a nice way to celebrate mother's day as well. Saturday was absolutely beautiful. The whole weekend was great, actually. (Except the after prom party that raged until about two in the morning that took place on the floor above us Saturday night, the cold damp weather on Sunday, and the tantrums that are inevitable from the two [almost three!] year old when she gets too tired) seriously...I truly enjoyed the entire time.
One moment stands out in my mind, though. On Sunday, my daughter was taking a little nap, and my wife had just come back into the hotel room from a quick walk. I took my son out to burn off some of his ADHD on the boardwalk. (It is here that I feel I must admit, he does not have ADHD...but he is five...and I have a hard time keeping up with him...because I'm getting old...so it makes me feel better to say that he has ADHD...rather than admitting I just can't keep up with the five year old.) We raced and laughed and wrestled on the sidewalks all the way to the beach. When we got to the boardwalk, my son saw the water and said, "Daddy, let's watch the waves for a minute."
We sat on one of the benches facing the water and just watched the waves crash in. He sat on my lap and put his head back on my shoulder. For that minute or three, he was calm and it was just he and I...no one else existed, and nothing else mattered. I began to tear up...just before his ADHD kicked back in and he was off chasing seagulls again...calling them silly gooses. Ah, well...I'll take what I can get.
We have been going to the same beach for the last eight or so years. Every year, since the first, we have made it a point to go by one of the art galleries/stores there just to look at this one painting. My wife pointed it out (due to her unhealthy fascination with the subject matter) and I instantly fell in love with it. Well, several years ago, we bought our first house. It was then that I decided that the painting would have a home on one of our walls. The problem was that I could never get to the beach (about three hours from the house) and back without my wife around...
This is where the time chasing my son around the sidewalks and boardwalk proved to be more advantageous than I thought. During one of my sprints after the adrenaline fueled rocket that is my five year old, I tripped. After another moment of dusting off my knees, calling him back to me (wich usually requires a bull horn and/or a dog whistle) and picking up the shattered pieces of my pride, I realized that I was sitting in front of the painting.
Now, after eight years of "wouldn't that look great in the..." we have our very own painting of a pig...diving off a pier...into a lake. (what else did you think I meant by a diving pig?)
SSG Newman,
Out
"WHY?" you ask... For one very simple reason. You must administer an IV and have one administered to you by another student. The first part of this task is no problem...I don't mind causing pain to others, or even making them bleed a bit if necessary. No, the problem lies in having them return the favor.
SSG Newman (yours truly) stands at nearly six and a half feet tall. He weighs in at 230 pounds. His cleanly shaven head and steely gaze project an aura of "tough guy, nothing scares me, I'll step on your neck if you so much as look at me wrong" manliness...Until you pull out a tiny little needle and say you need to take some blood. It's at that point that all that macho crap goes right out the window and SSG Newman reverts to the awkward junior high kid who cried when he got tagged "out" in dodge ball.
SO...it is clear why I avoided CLS class for ten years...I have an image to maintain, afterall.
It turns out that I had a blast in the class. I used the tough guy persona (and a hefty bribe to the instructor) to keep anyone of the other students from giving me an IV....though I thoroughly enjoyed giving the "stick" to someone else. (And I was pretty good...if I do say so myself.) All in all, it was a class that I hope I never have to use, but will be very glad to have if the situation calls.
For the weekend following that class, the family and I went to the beach, to spend a bit of family time together before I take off. It was a nice way to celebrate mother's day as well. Saturday was absolutely beautiful. The whole weekend was great, actually. (Except the after prom party that raged until about two in the morning that took place on the floor above us Saturday night, the cold damp weather on Sunday, and the tantrums that are inevitable from the two [almost three!] year old when she gets too tired) seriously...I truly enjoyed the entire time.
One moment stands out in my mind, though. On Sunday, my daughter was taking a little nap, and my wife had just come back into the hotel room from a quick walk. I took my son out to burn off some of his ADHD on the boardwalk. (It is here that I feel I must admit, he does not have ADHD...but he is five...and I have a hard time keeping up with him...because I'm getting old...so it makes me feel better to say that he has ADHD...rather than admitting I just can't keep up with the five year old.) We raced and laughed and wrestled on the sidewalks all the way to the beach. When we got to the boardwalk, my son saw the water and said, "Daddy, let's watch the waves for a minute."
We sat on one of the benches facing the water and just watched the waves crash in. He sat on my lap and put his head back on my shoulder. For that minute or three, he was calm and it was just he and I...no one else existed, and nothing else mattered. I began to tear up...just before his ADHD kicked back in and he was off chasing seagulls again...calling them silly gooses. Ah, well...I'll take what I can get.
We have been going to the same beach for the last eight or so years. Every year, since the first, we have made it a point to go by one of the art galleries/stores there just to look at this one painting. My wife pointed it out (due to her unhealthy fascination with the subject matter) and I instantly fell in love with it. Well, several years ago, we bought our first house. It was then that I decided that the painting would have a home on one of our walls. The problem was that I could never get to the beach (about three hours from the house) and back without my wife around...
This is where the time chasing my son around the sidewalks and boardwalk proved to be more advantageous than I thought. During one of my sprints after the adrenaline fueled rocket that is my five year old, I tripped. After another moment of dusting off my knees, calling him back to me (wich usually requires a bull horn and/or a dog whistle) and picking up the shattered pieces of my pride, I realized that I was sitting in front of the painting.
Now, after eight years of "wouldn't that look great in the..." we have our very own painting of a pig...diving off a pier...into a lake. (what else did you think I meant by a diving pig?)
SSG Newman,
Out
posted by Unknown at 5:42 PM
1 Comments:
My family and I will miss you. I admit that I almost cried the last time I saw you. Make sure the wife has my number. Tell her that I will check in on her from time to time. I'll do everything I can for your family. I swear it! Be safe.
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