Being Home Has Nothing to Do With Your House

Once again life has relocated us to another address. After four days of driving and close to 3000 miles covered we have settled into another new home. This time we sacrificed square footage for a beautiful lake front view.

As we left behind the Great Plains and the farm land we were both raised on, our drive was pleasant with a mix of breath taking views. Views like central Colorado where the canyons rose high and steep on each side of us and the tunnels through the Rockies made you feel like you were piloting a spacecraft, and northern Oregon with its majestic Columbia River winding along the border providing beautiful twists and turns speckled with bald eagles and big bridges. The drive also provided some of the most boring, barren land we have ever seen...Hello, eastern Utah!

Arriving back in Washington was a wonderful feeling. It amazes me how, no matter where we move, returning to a previous place again always feels like coming home. The evergreens stretched toward the sun and the clear blue skies welcomed us back with a fantastic view of Mount Rainier looming ever so close.  The air was fresh with the natural scent of pine and crisp enough to almost show your breath.

The best feeling of all was that we had not only made the trip together as a family, but we were going to get to stay together for a while now. It has been so very long since we have all been under one roof and with the holidays around the corner it feels so good to have our little family in one place.

Amidst unpacking and sorting we put up our Christmas tree and decorated the house. Cooking dinners together in our tiny kitchen is a joy beyond any other. Watching birds fish out of the lake in the morning as the sun rises over the trees across the water brings such a sense of peace while sipping a fresh cup of coffee. Tucking in under warm flannel sheets at night next to Hubster makes it all complete.

I've come to realize, home has nothing to do with what house I am in, what street my mail is delivered to, or even in what state and time zone I reside. It is a feeling that I take with me where ever I go. It is where my family is complete and I am at peace with the world.  Right now, it feels so good to finally be home!

What have your sacrificed since 9/11?

This morning I read the blog of a friend in which she asked, "How has your life changed since 9/11/01? What sacrifices have you made in the name of war?" We all know where we were that day, and vividly remember the events that unfolded before our eyes.  Her question though was how, specifically, had my life changed in relation to those events. So here's the list:

1. My husband has spent over 4 years time away from home, in the most horrendous environments, working 7 days a week, sustaining concussions, hearing loss, sleep deprivation, stress of survival, and the reality of kill or be killed.

2. This has left me with a husband, when he is home, that in no way resembles the man I married. He's jaded, hardened, closed off, quick to react, slow to engage, unable to communicate, and struggles to function in a family setting.

3. I have moved across the country and back multiple times, living in homes that are not mine, constantly uprooting, and starting over making friends, finding doctors, schools, mechanics, plumbers, vets, etc.

4. I have not only spent countless holidays alone and far from family, but have endured medical emergencies and death of family members on my own.

5. I have witnessed a government that allows military war strategies to be determined not my the knowledge and experience of our senior military leaders, but rather by political ambitions with no regard what so ever for the individual soldier.

6. I have stood at funerals and listened to TAPS and the 21 gun salute not for some random old guy that died, but for people we knew, that we loved, and that we have scars on our souls from losing.

7. I have held the hand of fellow military wives as their marriages disintegrated right before their eyes, due to their husbands returning from war damaged and unable to cope with the effects.

8. I have seen alcohol abuse, drug abuse, and suicide become the norm for so many struggling to deal with being sent into combat over and over and over.

9. I have watched as other soldiers have walked away from service to their country while my husband continues to re-enlist again and again knowing he has a purpose and a calling that our country needs. I sometimes envy those others and struggle to support my own.

10. I have come to live a very lonely life full of anger. My tolerance for petty complaints and self induced hardships is gone. I have little sympathy left to give. I don't care anymore about what reality TV show is on, or who won the super bowl, or that your husband missed Valentine's Day.

11. I am raising a child on my own without having failed at marriage. I hold her while she cries for her daddy. I try to be honest with her without exposing her to too much for her young age. She's only 7 and has not only been exposed to death but understands that it is "normal." To her it is no different that the first day of school each year. (Which for her has been 4 different schools in the last 5 years.)

So, no, I have not rationed my sugar or fuel. My father's company has not gone from making autos to planes, and I don't have to wait months for a letter from the war front like my grandparents did during WWII...but I think I have definitely make a few sacrifices since 9/11 and I know it sure has effected my day to day existence.

Amidst all of this though, it is the friends, like the one who asked, that I have made that get me through. It is them who understand and can relate. It is them who make the effort. It is them I share this life with and it is them I am forever thankful for.

http://www.standintheirboots.com/blog-posts/life-since-91101/

The "Married Single Parent"

It has never set well with me when people use the phrase, "Well, I'm a single parent." like that's some excuse for relying on the constant assistance of family. Now don't get me wrong, being a "single parent" is most assuredly one of the toughest jobs on earth. I know because by definition I am one too.

The definition of single parent (or solo parent) is a parent, not living with a spouse or partner, who has most of the day-to-day responsibilities in raising the child or children. A single parent is usually considered the primary caregiver, meaning the parent the children have residency with the majority of the time.

Given that Hubster's job has kept him from residing under the same roof as our family since around May of 2012, I believe I fully fall into the single parent category.  Despite this though I have managed to move 2800 miles across the country, set up and run a household, raise a child, care for myself, and cultivate relationships with others in my same situation. I have had no visits from either my or Hubster's parents. Not once have I had them pick up my child from school, offer free baby sitting, or even take Mini Me for just a few hours. You see, that isn't even an option for me as they all live 12 hours away. Every school meeting, every meal, every bath, every homework assignment, every temper tantrum, every decision, every late night filled with tears falls on me. If that's not single parenting I don't know what is.

I have, however, found some amazing friends who understand the hardships of being a married single parent and they have become the rock upon which I can lean when it all becomes too overwhelming for me to retain my sanity.

It hurts my heart a bit that those who are by definition family have made less of an impact and have not been able to provide the hands-on support like those who I have found the support from. However, that is the case for a lot of us living the military life. Rather than dwell on the unfairness of it, we carry each other and encourage the strength and abilities we know we all have in ourselves. People tell us all the time how we are so strong, and how they couldn't do it, and I'm sure they are right. However, being strong and independent is not a choice in our situation, it's a survival technique. Honestly, I cannot imagine what it would be like to rely on immediate family to get through the day to day at this point in my life.  I felt guilty when my parents took Mini Me just overnight when we were visiting a few summers ago!

As I prepare to once again move 2800 miles in order to be reunited with Hubster, I am thankful for the friends I have here, the ones who have been here for me during this separation, the ones who have called just to see how I am doing, the ones who will take my child for a few hours so I can pack boxes, the ones who will break their backs and sweat it out as they help me load the moving truck. I know, for a fact, that it is because of them I am strong and I can do this. 

Common Thread Comfort

When I think of those people I choose to surround myself with on a regular basis, I find that there is usually an invisible thread that ties us together. It is not the places we live, or the schools our kids attend, or even the personal interests and hobbies we have. It is the circumstances we face and the journey we have endured that are the true ties that bind. It is the common roads we have traveled.

When I share my story or listen to another's I am most comfortable when I can relate. This is no doubt why most of my close friends are military spouses. Even more specific, ones who have dealt with hardships brought on by the last 10 years of surviving deployments and the aftermath of their soldier returning home. Don't get me wrong, deployments themselves are hard. We all know that. The extensive separation, the worry and the "having to do it alone" are tough and will test even the strongest of women.  However, it's when your soldier returns home, and the rest of the world celebrates, that some of our hardest challenges surface.

I don't know a single woman that will tell you war did not change their husband. I know no soldier that has deployed and not come home more jaded, hardened, and even damaged. The damage may not be physical, but it is almost surely their soul and spirit that suffer.  We live in a movie age where homecomings are celebrations and life is full of happy picnics and reading bedtime stories as a family. The reality is that even with our soldier home, this is not an automatic transition.

I remember after my Hubster's first combat deployment telling our family NOT to plan on being here upon his return. I told them we needed, well HE needed, time to transition back into family life. I was met with the statement, "Transition from what???"  At that point I had to walk away from the conversation before I blew a fuse and popped off at the mouth saying something I may later regret. I realized that even through all the cards and care packages they had sent, our family was clueless to what he had just lived through.

It's when in the company of others who understand what this life entails that I feel my strongest. It is when we can share a morning conversation and openly discuss tempers, reclusive behaviors, rigidness, intimate distance, and other realities that plague our fairy tale homecoming that I know I am not alone and my experience is valid. When I am building walls around me to avoid dealing with the ignorance of others it is these women that are there with me passing me the stones and mortar.

I am grateful for outside support. I appreciate family and "back home" friends' kind words. However, when it comes down to the nitty gritty and I am worn down to the bone that I will call on those on the same side of the wall. I know they will not only listen, but truly understand. They have lived it all too and that is a bond that can never be broken.

Celebrating Our Children's Milestones

During a conversation today about the milestones our children reach, my friend pointed out something I had never though of.  Everyone goes through the emotions of their "baby's" first step, first day of school, first day at camp, first date, first graduation, etc. As mothers we are expected to cry, feel a sense of loss, and even mourn our child's youth as it flies by faster than we can keep up with.

The point my friend made was that by allowing our children to see us sob our eyes out as we enroll them into school or as they walk toward the group they have been assigned at camp, we are making our child feel guilty for growing up and "leaving us."  No child likes to disappoint their mother.  Even at almost 33 years old, the sight of my own mother in tears is something that crushes my soul. Why do we do this? Why are we not celebrating these milestones rather than making our child feel like this is something that is traumatic for their parent?

I remember Mini Me's first day of school. I was so thrilled for her to be able to meet new friends, gain some independence from me, and learn so many new things! I tried very hard to convey how proud I was of her for being brave and getting on that bus without Mommy. She was 3. Now granted, once that bus turned the corner and was out of sight I did feel a pain of emptiness. Mini me, however, was none the wiser.Even this week as I drove away from dropping her off at her first day of gymnastics camp, I had that split second panic of, "oh, God, I hope she'll be alright."

It's during those times when we want to sob and cry we have to remember that we are not raising babies, or even children, we are raising adults. Empowering them to someday graduate not only from school, but also from the dependence of us parents. By giving them the sense of adventure, and bravery, and excitement they will be more confident when faced with new things. They will know we are always there cheering them on, and they can boldly go forward without having to worry about Mom's emotional state. The last thing I want Mini Me to think about before leaving the house this new school year, is "My big day is making my mommy sad."

Afterall, I can always cry after she's gone.

He's Not Your Best Friend!

It's been a while since I've posted and with Summer in full swing the days are flying by faster than I can keep up with. Between vacation and visitors my writing and inspiration for so have taken a hiatus. However, I became aware of something that has been weighing on my heart that I just can't seem to comprehend. So in true Me fashion, I'm doling out some tough live.

Girls, and when I say girls I am talking primarily about the 18-23 year olds, you seriously need to take a step back and learn the definition of friendship. If you are allowing some guy to text you things like "let's fuck" and have so little respect for yourself that you are running over to his house, dropping your panties, and letting him treat you like his personal whore...something is wrong. You are creating a generation of men who think they are entitled to sex without ever having to commit in any way to you.  If you do this enough times with enough different guys you are no more than a party favor being passed around. I'm sure you've heard the old saying "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?"

Mark my words, someday when you are in your mid twenties to early thirties you are going to start seeing these men get married. You're going to wonder why it is you are always in charge of the guest book or gift table rather than getting to be the bride. After all, in your twisted mind you were his  "best friend." Let me clue you in. By that point in time, if you keep doing what/who you are doing, to them you will be no more than a used up old rag that has let too many men wipe their d*ck on. No body marries that girl.

So do yourself, and the rest of the women of your generation a favor. Close your legs. Remember you are worth MORE than being anyone's booty call. Your body is a gift from God, don't treat it as any less than that. If some guy is using you for sex and not committed to YOU alone, do yourself a favor and get rid of his ass!

Because I Can and I Wanted to...

So I recently brought my unemployed, living in his dad's basement, 21 year old nephew home with me from Kansas. After a few years and no steady schooling or jobs he had an interest in the US Army and asked if I could help him find out more.  Seeing as how Hubster is in year 14 of active duty service I was in a position to give him an inside look to the life and have him talk to the right people about what he would need/want to do.  After 3 weeks, I am proud to say that he has signed up for active duty service!

Now in this process I have been called names, thrown the f-bomb, had a mistaken age crisis, and been accused of feeling I deserve some recognition for his decision. While, yes, I did get him on the right path, it was my nephew who ultimately made the decision. It is his signature on that line, not mine. I'm sorry if there are those who feel I "took him away" or somehow coerced him into this. Those feelings are just not valid as neither took place. I did however influence him more positively in the last 3 weeks than some of his friends have been able to do in the last 10 years.  So for that...hell yes, I AM proud! *High five me!*

I look forward to what this journey has in store for him and I can't wait to see how it changes the company he's kept for so long. Hooah!

Home and Back in 9 Days Flat.

I've returned from a trip back "home." I always have such mixed emotions about these trips. On one hand they are so rewarding and I love spending time with family and friends. On the other hand, they are a LOT of effort and a good amount of money to make happen. This was our 1st time back to the in-laws in 2 years and I have to say it was so fulfilling to get to spend time laughing and hanging out with some of my favorite people. 

My brothers are always good fun and crack me up and keep me smiling daily. My sisters are some of the most inspiring strong women I know and I am proud to know each of them. The ever growing number of nieces and nephews is amazing, and even without any siblings of my own, I get to be Aunt Connie to a whole crew of awesome kids!

This trip we were able to celebrate Mini Me turning 7 with a huge pool party at Grammy and Papa's. She had a blast!  It's always a long road home and what seems like a longer road back, but it was worth it this time around. Life is good!

Memorial Day

Once a year everyone gets all excited about the rising temperatures, the longer days, and the thoughts of heading to the lake for time with friends around grilled burgers and cold beers. It's the unofficial 1st day of summer; Memorial Day weekend. However, for those of us who carry the pain and loss of what the holiday was created to honor, it is not about joys, and laughs, and kicking off a new season. It is about rememberance. It is about honoring those who have given everything so that we can enjoy the freedoms afforded us. It is about the blood shed for this country on the battlefields. We pause this day to feel the pain and loss of our loved one, and the countless others, all over again. We pray harder for those still in the midst of fighting for our country. We shed tears for those we know will never come home. It's difficult for someone who has not experienced this first hand to fully appreciate the true meaning of it all. They are lucky. I envy them. As I celebrate this weekend without my own soldier at home, I am thankful to be surrounded by family. His family. Those who, if he were to ever join those we honor this weekend, would feel the pain just as deep as I would. While they don't share the day to day reality of my life as a military spouse, they do share the love for my soldier. I am blessed to be here with them. I encourage anyone who is fortunate enough to have never lost a loved one in battle to take just moment this weekend, put down the burger, turn off the tunes, raise your cold drink and toast those who lay under our feet in eternal rest having given their life for you. Please remember those who are still fighting and still in harms way for your freedom. God bless all of them, and bring them home safe. Happy Memorial Day.

Help Another..and Hug Your Child! Today!

Yesterday a massive tornado ripped through Oklahoma leveling an entire town and killing over 50 people, 20 of which were just children. As I read through the stories and view the surreal images, that seem more like the set of a horror movie than of some one's home town, one thing constantly stands out; help from strangers and clinging to our children.

Last year a man entered a grade school in Connecticut and viciously murdered and entire classroom of 1st graders. Our country all gasped in horror as the reports of these young lives lost came out. The thought that someone, or something, could happen to one community causing such devastation is hard to wrap your mind around. I do remember though seeing those two things emerge; help pouring in from strangers and clinging to our children.

It saddens me that it takes a disaster, man made or natural, to bring this kind of behavior to the forefront of our minds. It shouldn't be when we have lost everything that we are touched by the kindness of another. It shouldn't be when we witness someone lose their child that we take the time to hug our own and appreciate just the fact that they are alive.  We should think of these acts naturally, daily, and without hesitation.

I suppose I can take comfort in knowing that in the times of crisis there are those out there who will come to the aid of others. I just wish it didn't take something so drastic for it to happen.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Toast of the day: Here's to classic movies that we never grow tired of.

On this day we celebrate the wonderful author, actor, and independent film maker, Frank L Baum.  As the "man behind the curtain" of The Wizard of Oz stories, Mr. Baum created a world so well known and well loved that it is still one of the most popular movies of all time.  Spin offs have sprouted from his original creation and everyone knows that famous line, "There's no place like home."

As Dorthy opens the front door of Auntie Em's house and steps into the world of Oz, she looks around bewildered and amazed. With only her dog Toto as something familiar she says, "...We're not in Kansas anymore."  During her time in Oz she is blessed with making wonderful friends, faces unimaginable fears, witnesses strange and beautiful sights, believes in the power of others, and eventually realizes that she has the ability in herself she's been searching for all along.

Having been born and raised in Kansas, I always felt the opening of the movie was unfair. While there is dust, and tornadoes, and farms in Kansas...there is also some great beauty in the land. Golden waves of wheat go on for miles in the early summer, and the sky is so big and blue you can actually see the curve of the horizon. Portraying it in black and white was important for the movie, but for those of us from the flat state, well, we knew better.

Like Dorthy, I left Kansas as a young woman. I journeyed to somewhere new, unknown, and unfamiliar. I didn't know it when I arrived, but I would face some of my greatest fears here. Thankfully, I would also find the blessing of great friends too.  As I look back on the last 15 years I do feel like there are times when my life was in a tornado. I had no idea where we would land and what condition we would be in once back on solid ground. I have learned that when your family is so far away that having friends by your side is important. I've learned that there is a strength inside me I never thought I would have. I have traveled and seen some of the most beautiful land and creatures God, the author of my life, has ever created. In the end though, just like Dorthy, I know that there really is no place like home.

Thank you, Mr Baum, for sharing your imagination with us. Happy Birthday!

Speak Up

 

 I did this for WAY too long. I do not recommend it. Never again.

Why Some Days I Wish I Was the One Deployed (Raw copy)

 Can I get a HELL YES?!?!?

 
#1 Guys could not care less about holidays and celebrations.

We all know most men moan at the thought of having to celebrate pretty much anything that requires any effort on their part. When they miss Mother's Day or an anniversary or Valentine's Day due to a deployment they don't give a crap. If nothing else, they are thankful they didn't have to make the effort to acknowledge the day in any way other than maybe a card. There's no need to plan for a sitter, put on a clean shirt, and take your wife out to eat. They don't have that feeling of loneliness and emptiness sitting at home alone like us women do.

#2 Their time is their own to do with as they please.

They don't have to make sure laundry is done, dishes are washed, oil in the car gets changed, the toilets are cleaned, or the lawn is mowed. They can sleep in as late as they like, go to bed as late as they want, and spend their free time sitting in front of the TV or computer without interruption all weekend!

#3 The concept of parenting is lost.

The responsibility for making sure another human being is cared for is completely non-existent. They don't have to worry about homework, or tantrums, or field trips, or making and keeping doctor and dental appointments, or making meals that are going to provide some sort of nutritional value.  They get a break from the constant need for attention from a little human that demands games, and snacks, and "I don't want my hair brushed that way!"

#4 There's little to no repercussions for being a jerk to their spouse.

What's she going to do about it anyway? It's not like she can withhold sex or not talk to you.  HA!  Oh well. When you're already in different countries who cares if she stomps around the house or cries for an hour?  It's not like you have to actually deal with it.

#5 Everyone always asks how THEY are doing!

The spouse who is not at home is always the one everyone asks about. "Do they need anything? How are they holding up? Poor them, it must suck being away from home."  Um..yeah...no shit.  Guess what...IT SUCKS BEING LEFT BEHIND TOO!  God forbid if the stateside spouse complains about anything being hard to anyone, including the deployed soldier.  After all, THEY are the ones away from home and you can't make them feel guilty or bad for leaving you.  Geez, what a bitch.

I can relate to some of these some days and others on other days. They all feel to be the case at some point. 

My Name is Not Isabella

"Good morning, Isabella," says a mother to her daughter. "My name is not Isabella!" says the child.

She is Sally, the "greatest, toughest astronaut who ever was!" At breakfast she becomes Annie the sharpshooter, and then Rosa on the bus ride to school. When she gets home that afternoon, she is Marie, the scientist; then Elizabeth, the doctor; Mommy, the greatest mother; and, finally, Isabella again. She falls asleep thinking about who she will become tomorrow. Throughout the day, the mother good-humoredly encourages her daughter's flights of imagination.

The repetitive text, while somewhat contrived, serves to drive home the message that girls can do and be anything they want. The inclusion of motherhood in the list of worthwhile occupations is refreshing. The colorful mixed-media artwork reinforces the fanciful, upbeat tone of the book. An appendix gives more information on the lives and careers of all the women alluded to, and a list of works consulted presents opportunities for further research. Use this story to ignite young readers' interest in women's history.—Rachael Vilmar, Eastern Shore Regional Library, Salisbury, MD

This is, without a doubt, one of the best books Mini Me and I have read together. It shows that girls are more than just fairytale, make believe, beauty queen, princesses. It shows they can be amazing, strong, influential women.  REAL women; who write history and make huge contributions to the world!  If you have a daughter between the ages of 4 and 9, I HIGHLY recommend adding this book to your library.

Get your copy HERE

Bear With Me...or is it "Bare" With Me? Either Way...

I have spent the last week really looking into what it takes to write a quality blog. Man, oh man, is it more than just sitting down and typing out your thoughts!  There are people that actually do this for a living!  They have sponsors, and advertisers, and it is crazy!

I have no intent of ever taking this to that level, but I would like to know from you what it is you would like to read about.  After all, if you are a loyal follower and regular reader I need to know what it is that keeps you coming back.

So please comment below and help me take this to the next level. I will keep educating myself on how to write the best material for you and you keep checking in and SHARING what I post.

Thanks for the love!

Planning a Birthday Party...."Me" Style!

 Every year right around tax time I start thinking about what to do for Mini Me's birthday party. I am fortunate enough to have a child that chooses a theme usually about 8 months ahead of the date so I am able to scour the clearance bins and pick up stuff in an off season. For instance, this year she has picked an ocean theme. It's easy to find ocean party stuff in the closeout section when you are shopping for it in October! So my advice is to plan early and prep early.  The old saying goes, "The devil is in the details." If this is true, then I am going to burn for sure!  The details are my favorite part of any party. I love that anywhere you look there is a glimpse of the theme. I figure your birthday is the only day of the entire year that is just about YOU. So celebrate big and make it a memory that will last. Here is the planning schedule I have used:

  
3-4 weeks before your birthday party
1. Choose a party theme.
2. Create the guest list. Friends and relatives if you want a mixed party.
3. Pick the party date and time. Parties are generally 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 hours long.
4. Order or buy party supplies, decorations, party favors, activities and prizes for games. Be sure to order enough tableware for the adults that will attend, as well.


2-3 weeks before your birthday party
1.Send the invitations with an RSVP.
2.Decide on activities and games to play. Plan more games than you expect to use in case you run out of activities before the party is over.
3. Plan your menu.
4. Arrange for extra help on the party day from friends or relatives.


1 week before the party
1. Order cake from a bakery if you are not baking your own. Bake cake and freeze it, if making your own.
2. Make any other foods that can be made ahead of time and store foods in the freezer.
3.Write out a final schedule of activities for the party.
4.Let siblings invite a special friend over for the day so they won't feel left out. They can either play apart from the party or they can be helpers.


2-3 days before the birthday party
1. Buy remaining food for the party. Buy film and/or videotape. Check batteries for the camera and/or camcorder.
2. Get an exact guest count. Call those who haven't responded.


1 day before the birthday party
1.Finish decorating the cake, or pick up the cake from the bakery.
2.Make sure you have plenty of candles and matches.
3.Child-proof the party area.
4.Decorate any indoor areas (save outdoor decorating for the day of the party).
5.Prepare food that can be made ahead of time.


Party Day!
1. Prepare foods and beverages that could not be made ahead of time.
2. Take plenty of pictures and videos to commemorate this special day.

Take time to scour the Internet for ideas and tips.  There are websites dedicated just to party planning that have wonderful ideas, and with sites like Pinterest the possibilities are endless!

TBI and Looking for Answers

For those who truly suffer from this type of injury, the information and validity provided by this facility is invaluable.  As a spouse of a soldier living with TBI you can't even begin to explain the toll it takes on your loved one. It changes who they are. It takes away pieces of them. It causes countless challenges both mentally and physically. Whether unable to be recognized by the army, denied by them, or just ignored all together, this is a true injury our generation and our children will know all too well.

I am thankful that Mini Me's Godfather has the opportunity to been seen at NICoE. I pray it will help him with his situation, provide some answers, and maybe give him a little peace of mind too.  Watching this video was very emotional for me. Tears ran down my cheeks as I  recognized not only so much of what others have shared with me, but also things I see in my own soldier.

God bless men like Mr Arnold Fisher! "This is something the government should be doing. Yes, but they're not. So we will do it."

I paint my nails for ME.

Once upon a time I was a young full time working woman who got dressed in professional clothes each morning. I had perfected completing my hair and make up in a set 17 minute routine and proudly walked out the door at 8:43am on the dot ready to represent the company I worked for. 

Then at 26 years old I had a baby girl and became a stay home mother leaving the career in the dust and trying to embrace this new job that seemed to more than double my work with none of the pay.  Over time I lost interest in heals, skirts, the curling iron, and anything not made of 100% cotton.  My signature outfit became either jeans and a hoodie or yoga pants and a tank top.  I feel the need to interject here that I have owned probably 25 pair of yoga pants in the last 7 years and not once ever taken a yoga class. So if you think getting a pair will motivate you to actually do the activity...it won't. I also own 9 pair of Nike running shorts and never run further than to the mailbox.

Each morning I changed out of the sweats I had slept in into one of my 2 signature looks, tossed my ever growing, more and more root showing, hair into a ponytail and called it all good.  Even the simple act of painting my nails had become a lost art.  I knew when I put on jeans and a nice sweater and Hubster would ask, "What are you all dressed up for?" that things had taken a turn for sure!  Just the fact that I was not in tennis shoes was enough for him to notice!

So, I made the decision to find a balance. Hell, I am only 32 years old! I deserve to look good while the wrinkles are minimal and my boobs are still pointing somewhat north! So I started simple. I painted my nails....bright coral. I jumped into the deep end and avoided the past regulars of soft pink and tan. Then I went tanning.  2 years in the Pacific NW had turned my complexion grey and milky.  I began devoting 15 min a day to stretching and light weight resistance. I bought a new shirt. It was NOT from the athletic department!  I got my hair trimmed for the 1st time in 2 years.  It felt great to walk out of that salon!

The point is I made a decision to make an effort on myself. Waking up each morning and walking out the door after having showered and taken the time to care about how I look makes ME feel better. I couldn't care less if anyone else notices. I don't have it down to my 17 minute record yet, but that's OK because now I don't have to be out the door at 8:43 am. Just a small change like this has changed my whole perception of leaving the career field to stay home with my mini me. I no longer feel like I gave up being pretty and girly to be a mom. I feel like I am showing my daughter that taking pride in yourself and how you present yourself to the world is important. My example of self esteem and self confidence is strong for her now. That I can be proud of.

So if you don't have any...get yourself a bottle of neon nail polish; even if you only wear it once for fun!

Understanding the Call

When trying to understand the desire to serve our country for years on years on end with such difficulties it brings to a person's family life, I take to reading. I have read books on killing, the psychological effects of war on a person's mind, poetry, history books, and memoirs. It is in the reading of these things I am able to better understand the mindset behind these men. I can appreciate their love for both wife and war. I can respect their drive to fight for what they love. This morning I just wanted to share one of my very favorite pieces that pertains to the subject. I hope it speaks to you too.

To Lucasta, Going to War 

Tell me not, Sweet I am unkind, 

    That from the nunnery, 

Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind 

    To war and arms I fly. 

True, a new mistress I now chase, 

    The first foe in the field; 

And with a stronger faith embrace 

    A sword, a horse, a shield. 

Yet this inconsistency is such 

    As thou too shalt adore;

I could not love thee, Dear, so much,

    Loved I not Honour more.

 -Richard Lovelace

      (1618-1658)

The Seasons of Emotions

I read a book a few years ago about the 4 seasons of a marriage. It talked about how we go through the seasons over and over, though not always in the same order. Summers are a time of bliss, cohesion, and togetherness. Autumn is the oncoming of frustrations and challenges. Winter may be the midst of struggles and resentment, but with work and prayer you can again move into the Spring of rebuilding the relationship and transforming again into the Summer of it all. After 14 years of marriage I am able to look back and clearly see when we were in which season and how we came through the "Winters" to find ourselves once again in the "Summers."

I think this notion of a constant change, cycle, ebb and flow is also true of ourselves.  There are times when we are motivated, driven, productive, and riding high in the Summer sun. Recently I have had to endure a long, dark, depressing Winter of internal anger and frustration. Loneliness was felt constantly.  However, I feel like I am turning a new leaf. My buds are again starting to sprout and I can see the end of this cold season cycle. The more positive I get about the oncoming Spring, and eventually Summer, of my emotional state the faster it seems to be arriving.

It's healthy for the earth to give in to the cold and, on the surface, die from time to time. We can see this not as the end as long as the roots underneath are still there thriving to come up and bloom in all their glory and give the fruits of their labor again. So is true for each of us.

When we get to the end of our rope and feel like all we have to offer is withered and cold it's important to remember the cycle of the seasons. Don't forget that deep down there is still the strong roots that started from the smallest seed of ambition and, if you let it, it will return and bloom again.

Not Alone...

Today I had the opportunity to meet up with 2 gals I have had the pleasure of getting to know better over the last 6 months. I met them through a local support group for military wives. I normally steer clear of these types of groups but, for whatever reason, this one has drawn me in and I am so blessed that it has.

After the last few weeks of dealing with an intense internal anger spell, I desperately needed a day out of this house in the company of those who lift my spirit, share my feelings and frustrations, and understand what it is that I am going through. It takes a special kind of person to fill this role. To have found a group of ladies that help me through these rough times is a blessing beyond all expectations. I love that I can be totally open and honest about my life and my feelings and they don't judge me in the least and even offer words of encouragement and support. 

It felt so good to laugh and share and wander through stores aimlessly as we just enjoyed being together. As we sat down to lunch I thought to myself how very different each of us are as individuals; raised in different areas, different home lives, different educational backgrounds, beliefs, and so much more. Yet, we share a common thread that runs through each of us and ties us together in a way that is almost beyond explanation. That thread is so strong that it binds our spirits to each other in a way that we can't even bond with our own family members.  The shared struggle, the feeling of being tired and worn down, and the constant weight of what this life has given us is not erased by each other but the burden is lessened as we carry it together.  Honestly, it's more calming to know there are these amazing, genuine women in my life than the feeling I get from any of the prescribed remedies I have on hand.  I am still tired, and I am still worn down....they are too. However, we are Not Alone.

Oh, How the View Differs...

While journal writing a few weeks ago I somehow managed to use a baseball stadium as a metaphor for my life. I don't recall the exact words I wrote but the message was clear.

View from the cheap seats...

Picture yourself at a baseball game. You are sitting high up in the stadium. Look around you. The grass is green, clean cut, perfectly manicured. The players uniforms are crisp, white, and they all move on the field gracefully. The view is wide, big picture, seen from up high.

Stress of the game...

Now, imagine you are one of the players. Your seat is in the dugout, in the midst of the game. It's where the action is.  From that seat above you can imagine how exciting it is to be that player. However, as that player ,the view is very different. That grass is now slick from the moisture of the rain, it's unsure under your feet and dangerous. Your uniform is dusty, stained, and worn from wearing it game after game. Your teammates work together but not always in unison and just one of them making a mistake can cost you dearly.

How the world sees it...

This is kind of how I feel about the life of the military wife. In general we are viewed as the young woman hugging her husband as he returns home from war with our small child clinging to his leg. TV shows and movies have glorified our role and made it this twisted fairy tale. Shows like Army Wives and even the news spots of welcome home ceremonies have all played into this image. The view from afar has almost been romanticized.


 As you can tell from my previous posts this is not the case. So someday....I hope I get to just enjoy the view from the cheap seats. The reality of where the action is...not so fun.

Countless nights...

Endless days...

This time...it's not on me.

When talking about the hardships of military life it is inevitable that someone will at some point say, "Well, you did sign up for this." or my other favorite, "You knew what you were getting into."

For me, yes the first 13 years of Hubster's military career, I did "sign up for it." We talked about re-enlisting each time it came up as an option and together made the decision to continue on the path  towards retirement.

However, after 13 years of constant separation, several surgeries on a young man's broken down body, hearing aids at 27 years old, and countless times of being passed over for opportunities to advance his career, I had had enough. So, he claimed, had he.  No longer was it worth seeing my hubs come home mentally, physically, and emotionally beaten down.

So when the conversation of staying in or getting out came 'round I was all for hanging up the uniform. At the time, so was he. It was a scary thought, but it was a bigger relief.  I began to breathe again, knowing I wouldn't ever have to miss him for months on end or sleep alone night after night after night. I wouldn't have to worry about my daughter being my sole responsibility. FINALLY we were going to get to be a "normal" family. Plans were made to relocate back to Tennessee and settle down together. The end was in sight, it was just a few months away.

Ha!

As always, and I should have known better, the army had other plans. They last minute promoted Hubster not only taking him across country for our daughter's entire summer break from school, but ensuring his indefinite re-enlistment and within 12 weeks he was on yet another plane headed for another foreign land to spend ANOTHER year away from us. Awesome.

Now up to this point I had done my very best to play the role of supportive wife. I strive to be the one "holding down the fort" here stateside until his return.  After all, up to this point, I had "signed up for this" and "knew what I was getting into."  Not the case now.

Now the dream of this decade plus long nightmare being over had been dangled in front of me then without, what seemed like, much consideration it was ripped away.  Hum...no wonder I feel so very angry, resentful, and bitter.

I still love Hubs very much. He is still a good man who works his ass off for this family. Leaving him would make no more sense than a wife divorcing her husband for being a postman or school teacher or electrician.  This is his job. Besides, I don't WANT to leave him, I want to BE with him!  So yes, I am angry, and I do make snide comments about him still being in. I don't do it to hurt feelings, but damn it, I am dealing with this all the best I know how. That end to it all that was in sight has now been moved at least another 6 years down the road. That's six years of more time apart and more holidays alone, and more raising a child who is also so angry and doesn't even understand why. Taking the brunt of her frustrations is really NOT the highlight of any day.

Maybe, and I hope, I will come to terms with all of this and find a way to just accept my lot in life as it is. Today though, I wouldn't count on it.

I Wish I May....I Wish I Might

I asked Mini Me if she could have any 3 wishes what would she wish for. I fully expected to hear things like a pool, a kitten, and ice cream everyday. While I am sure those are all things she would not scoff at, her answers really took me by surprise. Wish 1. To live at the beach in Washington so we could see the waves, whales, and boats everyday. Wish 2. That Daddy lived with us and not always somewhere far away. Wish 3. To always be able to go to school and learn new things because some girls in the world are not allowed to learn at a school. Now the purpose of me asking her this question was to get ideas for her upcoming birthday. While her reply didn't help me any in that department, it sure made me realize that her heart holds room for a lot more than the things you get when you blow out the candles each year.

Today, I F*cking Hate the Army Life

I'm going to lay this out there and then put it in a imaginary balloon and let it float away from me so as to no longer have it weighing on my heart. I hate the army life.  I love Hubster, I am uber proud of him and what he does, and yes I have been very blessed in many ways thanks to this life.  However, today, in this moment, I hate the army life.

In the last 14 years I have seen families torn apart by death, war, dysfunction, mental instabilities, separation, abandonment, and the list goes on. None of us spouses live near family for consistent support and guidance so we find it in each other. We find ways to make it work even when we move thousands of miles away from each other. We pick up the phone to listen to tears and frustrations from a friend we have not seen in years or spoke to in months.

We raise our children on our own. Don't you dare compare us to single parents. We are NOT single, we are NOT able to date and find companionship in another adult. Our companion, our other half, is just not available for those things. The vows are still there and the rings are still worn. 

The time spent apart is grueling on a relationship to say the very least. Apart for months and months and MONTHS at a time. No one outside the military life can even fathom what that is like. That is why we rely on our military friends more than our own families sometimes.  They can relate.  We can be angry in front of them about our situation. They don't say things like, "It could be worse" or "You are so strong."  I know in my heart those things are said out of love, but on the inside, it just feels patronizing.  The only response my head has to those things are "Fuck you. You don't know a thing about my strength or how much worse it could be."

I am tired, I am worn out, and I am pissed every time I see a messed up soldier leave the pieces of a broken family in his wake after returning from war.  There is no comparison for the damage done to these men being deployed time after time. Our children will be in therapy for years, and most of us are medicated into a state of synthetic euphoria just to deal with the stress of it all. It's sickening, it's for real, and it is NOT the life I would wish on anyone.

For those of you who share this with me, I have a love for you like none other. I am every day thankful to God for your friendship. When I look back at the major moments of my adult life and the people who were there for me, it will be your faces I see. It will be your voices ringing in my memory. You are the blessings I have received, and I love you, even though I know you also will leave someday and I will have to say goodbye to you too.

So when you see a military spouse, don't bring up deployments, or the war, or ask how their child is handling their father being gone... again.  If you do, odds are we will smile, provide a neutral response, and say all is well. For if we have learned nothing else from our PTSD afflicted husbands, we've at least learned how to put on the brave face and just keep marching on.

Taking the night off.

I desperately wanted to post tonight. There's so much running though my mind right now that I want to say.  However, my thoughts are completely unorganized and together as I process them I just feel sick to my stomach. So I'm taking the night off and will post tomorrow when I have had a chance to get it together. Peace!

Lessons I've learned from my big brother...Happy 40th Birthday, Tito!!!

Christ is behind it all!

Family is important. Even the little turd who photo bombs a nice family moment at the beach. ;)

It's good to have someone you admire and look up to.

Grandpa usually knows what he's talking about.

Bud Light is the beer to drink.

Kitchen safety is priority.

Loud music is awesome!

Never stop being young at heart.

Hard work and effort are key to finding your calling.

Last but not least...No matter how many times your dog sh*ts in the house, you love him anyway.

The Beynon Migratorius

A writing exercise I did a few months ago required me to create myself as a bird. Describe it, name it, etc. I thought today I would share the outcome of that exercise:

The Beynon Migratorius

This rare species of flightless bird is one that migrates on foot rather than by flight, just because it is NOT the easier of the two options. This green hued bird is known for its beautiful, well kept nest. In fact, it has been known to maintain more than one nest at a time, each thousands of miles away from the other.

This resilient bird survives on a steady diet of the challenges of life. She chokes down loneliness, frustration and exhaustion. She dines on diversions, detours, and dumb protocols. Truly one of the most well fed creatures of all time.

This bird is smart and her best line of defense against predators is her wit, determination, adaptability and resourcefulness. She's not the most beautiful bird, and in fact, tends to appear frazzled most of the time. However she is damn near impossible to kill. No one has succeeded yet anyway.

My Little Brainiac

So when Mini Me was only about 5 1/2 she announced she wanted to be a doctor. I figured, like most kids, this would change a hundred times between then and when she actually had to choose a career. Hell, I figured it would change a hundred times over the following 6 months. However, then at about 6 years old she asked me what a heart doctor was called. I told her a cardiologist. She replied, "That's the kind of doctor I want to be mom, a cardiologist."

I guess I should not be too surprised considering that at the young age of 3, while driving down the road one day, she asked me how to spell "catalyst." A few weeks ago she asked me for an empty soda bottle and a pompom so she could make an air cannon. When I asked her how she knew what an air cannon is she very plainly replied, "I just do. It's physics."

Today she comes home from school and she tells me they read about Alexander Graham Bell.  She wanted to "google" him and learn more. While doing her research she read that his mother had been deaf. She said to me, "Why did he make a phone to call people if his mom can't hear?" I told her that I was sure the intent was to talk to people other than his mom. She snaps back with, "Well I hope he still wrote her letters!"  I just love that not only is she curious to learn facts, but forms conclusions and opinions on what new knowledge she gains.

I'd Choose Grief

William Faulkner said, "Given a choice between grief and nothing, I'd choose grief."

Yesterday my great aunt left this life and joined the countless others who have passed before her.  This has sparked the thoughts of life after death, not only for those who have passed, but for those of us who are left here.

I remember when Hubster's Granny passed away. We were all prepared, we knew she was at rest and we knew she was at peace. It didn't lessen the pain of losing her any though.  Every family event since then there always seems to be something missing. Granny is not there. It's still fun and we still have laughter, smiles, jokes, and love. However, there's always that feeling that you might just look over your shoulder and see her there.

When my grandfather died almost 4 years ago it was not so painful for me to lose him as it was to watch my father lose his dad. They were so close, two peas in a humorous pod, and my own father had endured watching the man who raised him with such love and guidance wither away mentally until he no longer knew who any of us were.  His services were simple, small, and he was laid to rest in our family cemetery out in the country. It was just as he would have wanted.

The loss of our best friend in 2010 though was one I was hit very hard by. He was just 32 and was killed in Afghanistan by a sniper. It was sudden, unexpected, and the nightmare every army family fears will come true.  I entered a state of denial, shock, anger, and lived months with that feeling of a gaping hole in my chest that leaves you unable to ever fully catch your breath. I watched my husband, one of the strongest men I know, escort is best friend home to his mother and be laid to rest. It tore him apart, and it damaged us all. It is still hard to watch a video of him and hear his voice. Unlike my great aunt, my grandfather and Hub's Granny...he was so young. Not even old enough to really have lived life to the fullest yet.

So back to William's quote, the choice of feeling nothing or feeling grief. That's a hard call. I supposed if you felt nothing it is because the loss meant nothing. The stronger the grief, the more it hurts, the more they mattered to you. So I suppose, I too, would choose grief. Just as I hope that one day someone grieves for me. After all, no one wants to leave this world and have meant nothing to anyone.

Poor Pluto

You say goodbye, and I say hello...

Part of the Army life that never fails to continuously get to me is the revolving door of friends that it provides. Through friends you meet new people, then your friends move away and the people you met through them become your new current circle. Eventually they too will move away and once again the circle evolves. It forms a kind of 6 degrees of separation existence, although I have found usually 3 degrees are all you need to connect yourself to anyone else in the army life. It almost makes me think of the old Spirograph I had as a kid; each circle is its own but each is interwoven with the others.

In 1999 we met a couple that in 2001 moved away. Little did we know then, that 14 years later we would still be close friends with this couple, twice more share living in the same town, and they would be the chosen Godparents of our mini me! As they again prepare to move this fall, for the final time, it is hard to say goodbye knowing I will not see them weekly and mini me will lose a regular interaction with their 2 boys.  However, I am in no way worried that our friendship will suffer from the distance between us.

Like family, who has never been closer than 600 miles away, the friends you make in this military life are the family you didn't know you were missing.  Some of these bonds are stronger than others, and there are always going to be those select few you pray get orders out of here because they are a drain on you. For the most part though, I know I can travel pretty much anywhere in this nation and have at least one contact in any given state I am in. 

Today we gather again to throw some burgers on the grill, drink a beer, watch the kids run and play, and share stories as we say farewell to friends leaving next week. Those who have already been where they are headed will share tips and advice. After all, you never send one of your army sisters off into the world without some insider information! ;)  It's sad to see them go, but you just never know when one day you may again be stationed in the same location.  What a blessed life!

The Image We See

While visiting with the hubster today we were talking about the recent video circulating where women go in and describe themselves to a sketch artist behind a screen and he draws them. Then someone else comes in a describes the same woman, and again, the artist creates an image. Then both images are revealed to each woman. In this it showed that their self description was much more critical and "ugly" than the way someone else saw them. The end message being that we are more beautiful than we think. Hubster made the comment that he wished that even for just 5 minutes that us women could see ourselves through our mate's eyes. He doesn't understand why we are so hard on ourselves when it comes to weight, wrinkles, and "imperfections."

For me it started after I got married. As a young woman I was very athletic, in great physical shape, got lots of attention (although not always the best kind) and had a lot of self confidence. Then I married, stayed home for a year, moved somewhere where I did not know anyone, and gained about 25-30 lbs. I still remember the 1st time I bought a pair of size 10 jeans. I was so devastated that I was in "double digits!" HA!!! I'd pay good damn money to be back in those size 10 jeans today! With age, and time, and a changing life style I have fluctuated between 132 and 218. Up and down and up and down again. I always hated myself when I would gain, like most women, but never payed attention to what helped me when I lost. I began to lose that confidence and feel like I was ugly and fat and not worth even trying to look pretty anymore. Not very healthy thoughts for someone not even in her 30s yet!

As I approached 30 I began to panic. Hubster even claims I had a full blown mid-life crisis. What I had failed to realize is that through all of this self loathing, my husband's view of me had not changed at all! He still thought I was hot, he still loved being intimate with me, and in his eyes I was still that 121 lb 18 year old girl that walked down the aisle all those years ago. It took that "mid-life crisis" to make me realize that I am beautiful. I am 30 years of beautiful and I am going to be 40 years of beautiful too! If I am as blessed as my grandmother, I will get to live to be 85 years of beautiful.

When I first saw this quote I felt a pull to begin sharing my day to day again, however, I instantly doubted my writing abilities or that anyone would want to read what I have to write anyway. I'm glad that God sent two little birdies to tell me otherwise. It feels good to hear the constant click of the keys under my fast moving fingers as the coffee kicks in and the sun shines through the window. There's a real peace I get from telling my story, and if it changes the world, great! If not a single person ever reads it, that's OK too.

Getting up to speed...

So let's catch up a little bit. If you go back to the beginning you will see all of the past posts have been about my daughter and her diagnosis of ASD. That is how this blog originated. However, after a break, and a lot of living, I have opted to take this in a different direction.  I've revamped , renamed, and relaunched.

We are currently residents of Tennessee, and while not raised here, this feels most like home for us. Hubster is in his 14th year of active duty army and Mini Me is a big time 1st grader!

I am spending my time between a close group of friends, coffee and lunch dates, an unreal addiction to Hobby Lobby, selling Uppercase Living and Scentsy, and caring for the day to day runnings of our home.

I love to write, journal, talk, and create. I wrote a self description recently and will share that in the future. Right now I am just trying to get my sea legs again.

Shel, oh how you inspire me!

The Re-introduction

I'm beginning an overhaul of this blog in hopes to regain some of my motivation, my creative outlet, my voice, and maybe even spend a bit of time on my soapbox. I appreciate the support of my friends over the years and it is with their encouragement that I am re-launching this. So let's get started...

Mini Me; a beautiful spirit who has been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder.  I am her voice, her caregiver, her shuttle between services and therapies...her "mom mom".  This is her story too.  Here I will share the journey, the struggles and the triumphs, and the tough road ahead.

Hubster; a hard working, God loving, man who gives all of his time to providing for our small family while simultaneously serving his country. I am his love, his wife, his household commander, his financial adviser, his partner in crime, and (once upon a time) his high school sweetheart.

Me; I'm like the rice in a roll of sushi, the glue that holds it all together, the engine that runs this machine, the ringmaster of our circus!  Somehow, I have to find a way to support my Army career hubster, single-handedly raise and advocate for my autistic child, and NOT lose all of my marbles or who I am in the meantime.

I hope you don't have a weak stomach or loose change in your pockets, because this life is a roller coaster ride!  Hold on tight, here we go!