The problem with not being frantically busy/ asleep/ inebriated is that I can hear that stupid voice inside my head. Don't worry. It isn't that kind of voice. This voice nags me. It makes me doubt decisions that I made months ago that I cannot change at this point. Decisions that seemed right at the time. Decisions that, for some reason, I feel compelled to revisit and second guess.
This particular time the voice was set off (unintentionally) by my husband. He mentioned one day that perhaps we should have only put NoVA assignments on our list, since (for reasons not fully understood by me) he thinks we are liable to move in two more years. GAAAAAHHHHH!
I almost put my hands over my ears and chanted "LALALALALA....I can't HEAR yooooouuuuu!" But that might have freaked out the kids, who were innocently watching Scooby Doo in the van while we drove. Good thing I fought off that urge.
But that freaking voice kicked right in. (Maybe she needs a name. My GPS has a name. That way I can yell at the GPS by name when she gets me lost or fails to predict traffic. Nah. I don't like the voice- no name for her.)
All the anxiety I had quashed (I thought) when we were selecting assignments came flooding back. Am I making the kids move for no good reason? Is moving for the Army every really a good reason? Maybe he's right! Why the hell am I letting the movers have another chance to break the few nice things they haven't broken yet? #6 knows the names of her relatives. Why am I ripping her away from them? The kids tolerate their school well. I like the people. I have great friends. Why are we moving? ARGHHH!
Deep breaths. Okay. That's better.
I had to recreate my list of "why I want to live somewhere else". Traffic. Crowds. Cost of living. Traffic. Moving now might mean #1 gets to go to one high school. And, of course, the traffic.
Being responsible for my kids' happiness and well-being can really stress me out. I can't wait for the move to just happen so I can see the other side. That it is going to be FINE. My kids will be happy there and we will make friends there (and there won't be I-95 traffic there). They will miss their relatives, but we will bond with all the other military families that aren't near their relatives either. I guess it is possible that we could move in two years. But we also might not. And I really wouldn't want to be here more than two more years. So the whole moving thing would just hang over my head then. And I'd have to deal with that little voice then.
Packers are here in two weeks. Thank God, because the sooner my stuff gets to our next house, the sooner I can set up our new life and stop worrying about what I am leaving behind here. Moving gets both harder and easier each time. I can prep for a move in my sleep, but I am getting tired of pulling up roots and recreating our life. I think I only have one or two more moves left in me, so it's good this Army road is nearing the end.
20 May 2012
"Chopped"? More like Candid Camera.
I am officially less than 30 days until packers. Just writing that makes my heartrate speed up. Some how the to-do list grows longer and the kids grow more manic as the end of school races toward me (kind of like a brick wall). So I have dusted off my mental "things to do when moving" list. At least I have moved nine times, so I can pretty much do this in my sleep (if the people would just go do something besides follow me around or argue with each other, that is).
#1 on the "ready to move" list- NO MORE LIQUIDS. Or condiments. Or stuff like flour. Or lightbulbs. Or any of that stuff the movers won't take. If I lived on post, I would just carry a box outside marked "Free to good home" and let my neighbors take the furniture spray and vinegar. But the civilians might find that, um, odd. I may drop off a box of randomness at a friend's house. Or maybe the food pantry. We'll see.
Until then, every meal is like that reality show on Food Network- "Chopped". Except the game is fixed. Tails they win, heads I lose.
It goes something like this:
Given 2 cans of tuna, 3 types of mustard, some noodles, canned green beans and diced tomatoes, make something delish. You have 10 minutes and a there is a screaming toddler on your leg. GO!
It is just nuts. My civilian friends need to take a quick look around the house and look at just how many things are liquid, meltable, perishable or flammable. Now imagine having to magically make all those things last until precisely the right date without acquiring any excess stuff that you will have to drive to your next duty station or give away. It's enough to make a grown woman cry.
I did my "can't take this stuff" inventory last week. Why in the name of all that is good and holy do we own SEVEN different OPEN bottles of salad dressing? There are also 2 more in the pantry. The kids eat ranch and Caesar. That's all. I'll eat other types, but I am usually too lazy to get them out of the fridge, so end up eating ranch or caesar also. My husband has his own flavor. That is going to be A LOT of lettuce, people. Guess we're having salad every night til we move. And how did I end up with six bottles of mustard? Three of them are the same freaking type, so that I really don't get. How much spicy brown does one family need? More important, what can I do to use it up?
The people are bound to start rioting soon, because I have begun only buying perishable items we absolutely must have (milk, eggs, bread, ice cream ;) ). The amount of whining over perceived cereal shortages is shameful. There are THREE unopened boxes in the garage. There are FIVE open boxes in the pantry. Too bad if we are out of your favorite. EAT SOMETHING ELSE. Or have a mustard sandwich. Maybe with some Catalina on the side.
About the only thing I am looking forward to emptying is the wine fridge.
NOTE TO SELF: make sure the movers leave me some sort of wine glass and the corkscrew.
#1 on the "ready to move" list- NO MORE LIQUIDS. Or condiments. Or stuff like flour. Or lightbulbs. Or any of that stuff the movers won't take. If I lived on post, I would just carry a box outside marked "Free to good home" and let my neighbors take the furniture spray and vinegar. But the civilians might find that, um, odd. I may drop off a box of randomness at a friend's house. Or maybe the food pantry. We'll see.
Until then, every meal is like that reality show on Food Network- "Chopped". Except the game is fixed. Tails they win, heads I lose.
It goes something like this:
Given 2 cans of tuna, 3 types of mustard, some noodles, canned green beans and diced tomatoes, make something delish. You have 10 minutes and a there is a screaming toddler on your leg. GO!
It is just nuts. My civilian friends need to take a quick look around the house and look at just how many things are liquid, meltable, perishable or flammable. Now imagine having to magically make all those things last until precisely the right date without acquiring any excess stuff that you will have to drive to your next duty station or give away. It's enough to make a grown woman cry.
I did my "can't take this stuff" inventory last week. Why in the name of all that is good and holy do we own SEVEN different OPEN bottles of salad dressing? There are also 2 more in the pantry. The kids eat ranch and Caesar. That's all. I'll eat other types, but I am usually too lazy to get them out of the fridge, so end up eating ranch or caesar also. My husband has his own flavor. That is going to be A LOT of lettuce, people. Guess we're having salad every night til we move. And how did I end up with six bottles of mustard? Three of them are the same freaking type, so that I really don't get. How much spicy brown does one family need? More important, what can I do to use it up?
The people are bound to start rioting soon, because I have begun only buying perishable items we absolutely must have (milk, eggs, bread, ice cream ;) ). The amount of whining over perceived cereal shortages is shameful. There are THREE unopened boxes in the garage. There are FIVE open boxes in the pantry. Too bad if we are out of your favorite. EAT SOMETHING ELSE. Or have a mustard sandwich. Maybe with some Catalina on the side.
About the only thing I am looking forward to emptying is the wine fridge.
NOTE TO SELF: make sure the movers leave me some sort of wine glass and the corkscrew.
01 May 2012
April showers bring May flowers... and field trips, and end of school year parties, and recitals....
So we are off on another Army adventure this summer. But before I can do any of that, I have to brace myself and survive the next 28 days. Thank you, #2, for keeping me updated on how many school days are left. Mommy is keeping track too, but it is a completely different type of anticipation. You know, the kind that leaves a pit in your stomach.
I love my kids' school. But I could strangle someone that EVERY. FREAKIN. GRADE. has two or more field trips this month. And then there is field day. And the pre-K end of year party. And the talent show. And the May crowning (#3 is involved in that somehow). And my mom's group end of year brunch.
Did I mention that since we are the end of the alphabet (by last name), I am signed up to bring stuff to ALL of the end of year parties?
It may be time to start mixing booze into my coffee.
I already did one field trip last week, and also skipped one last week (child #4). Each kid was promised one field trip. #4 already had hers in December. So sorry.
This week there are THREE field trips. I am going on one tomorrow. I had totally forgotten that until my MIL called to ask what time she should be here to watch the kids. Now I need to call the orthodontist and reschedule #1's appointment. This was the wrong week to get his braces off.
And maybe the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.*
It is so hard to have a month so packed with "fun" that I already know I'll be completely exhausted by the 15th. That doesn't even get me to field day (the 24th).
We are also in the "Quick! We're moving! Let's go see everything before we leave!" stage. Which isn't a problem in, say, Clarkville, TN. Northern Virginia has a million things to see and about a million other cars trying to get there and park. I am seriously considering doing a drive-by of the monuments and tidal basin. "Look kids, Capital Hill. See that white building? No, that one. Yeah, that's Lincoln's monument." That would make me "Mom of the Year" for sure.
I am leaning heavily on the idea that most of the peeps aren't interested. But I bet money they call me on it at a different duty station. Like that time when I was faulted for not taking them to the Statue of Liberty when we lived in NY. We lived an hour north of the city. The Statue isn't that neat. I promise. I was schlepped there 3 times during grade school.
Maybe I'll justmake buy cupcakes with extra frosting for the parties and hide in my bathroom for the rest of the month. I'll come out when the movers get here in June.
*(If you missed that, you MUST go to Netflix right now and watch Airplane. It's on instant play, or it was last week.)
I love my kids' school. But I could strangle someone that EVERY. FREAKIN. GRADE. has two or more field trips this month. And then there is field day. And the pre-K end of year party. And the talent show. And the May crowning (#3 is involved in that somehow). And my mom's group end of year brunch.
Did I mention that since we are the end of the alphabet (by last name), I am signed up to bring stuff to ALL of the end of year parties?
It may be time to start mixing booze into my coffee.
I already did one field trip last week, and also skipped one last week (child #4). Each kid was promised one field trip. #4 already had hers in December. So sorry.
This week there are THREE field trips. I am going on one tomorrow. I had totally forgotten that until my MIL called to ask what time she should be here to watch the kids. Now I need to call the orthodontist and reschedule #1's appointment. This was the wrong week to get his braces off.
And maybe the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.*
It is so hard to have a month so packed with "fun" that I already know I'll be completely exhausted by the 15th. That doesn't even get me to field day (the 24th).
We are also in the "Quick! We're moving! Let's go see everything before we leave!" stage. Which isn't a problem in, say, Clarkville, TN. Northern Virginia has a million things to see and about a million other cars trying to get there and park. I am seriously considering doing a drive-by of the monuments and tidal basin. "Look kids, Capital Hill. See that white building? No, that one. Yeah, that's Lincoln's monument." That would make me "Mom of the Year" for sure.
I am leaning heavily on the idea that most of the peeps aren't interested. But I bet money they call me on it at a different duty station. Like that time when I was faulted for not taking them to the Statue of Liberty when we lived in NY. We lived an hour north of the city. The Statue isn't that neat. I promise. I was schlepped there 3 times during grade school.
Maybe I'll just
*(If you missed that, you MUST go to Netflix right now and watch Airplane. It's on instant play, or it was last week.)
06 February 2012
This is all making me a better person, right?
Some days I wish all I had was two cats and an apartment somewhere awesome. Today was one of those days.
I feel a little cheated, to tell you the truth. Because NOWHERE in "What to expect while you're knocked up" or any of those awesome parenting magazines does it mention that you could end up being the parent of "that kid". You know, "that kid." Yeah, the one who is just a hot mess. I think I may have hit the jackpot and have two of them. Of course, one of them is only four. She could still come around. #2, on the other hand, is going to put me in an early grave, and he's only 11.
#2 is hard to love. I do love him, of course. But there are days when it takes every last ounce of effort to do it. He is ornery, argumentative, stubborn, and has wild mood swings. My husband says we don't get along because we are too much alike. (I'm not that ornery. Other than that, he may have a point.)
I think I had unrealistic expectations of kids. I mean, we all do, or the human race would have died out already if we knew what the hell we were getting in to. I guess I was expecting more, um, cooperative children. You know, ones who might not have the same. freaking. argument. about homework every night. Really? I thought we settled this in second grade. You HAVE TO do it. So quit your whining, shut your mouth, and get to it. Or I will go on a Mommy-strike and you'll have to fend for yourself because I don't like half the stuff I do either. And I mean that in the most loving way possible.
I try very hard to be philosophical. He has had all those ups and downs that come with being an Army brat, but just doesn't handle it as well as others. Thanks to the Army, I know all about those things that just about kill me, but end up making me stronger, and being all I can be and so forth. But when the whole family is going Code Red, with #2 leading the way....sigh.
Tonight, I was trying to figure out how this could possibly be part of God's plan for me. Like maybe this was someone else's plan who bears a striking resemblance to me. So I had a brief pity party (brief, because I still had to make everyone's lunch for tomorrow). I came to the conclusion that this must be supposed to teach me about what it means to truly love someone. I love my husband. He's a great guy and (I think) pretty easy to get along with. My other kids are easy to get along with too. #5 and #6 are cupcakes frosted by the devil, but they play the cute card, so people (okay, me too) seem to forget about the mayhem they cause. But #2 is different. I infrequently get anything back from him. I will try to do things for him to make him feel special (not easy in a family this size) and he'll usually snap at me because he is grouchy about something else. It hurts.
But are we like #2 to God? Is that how he sees us? Is that the point here? Are we, so proud in our own ways and certain we control our path, like #2 sometimes? We all get those spiritual nudges sometimes that we push off because that isn't what we want to do.
Maybe I need to learn how to love those who don't naturally receive and reciprocate? Kind of like those spouses whose soldiers came home with TBI or PTSD and are not able to be the spouse they once were, but those superwomen hang on. Or the people that work with addicts or the mentally ill, where you have to do that work for a higher cause because the recipients of your care are likely not going to say thanks.
Not that an extremely difficult kid is like an addict. It's just that most people (me!!) tend not to foster relationships in which effort is poured forth to the point of exhaustion with little or no acknowledgement or reciprocity. I can only hope it will get easier. My husband swears #2 has gotten better over time, but he may have a better view of that, having been gone for a year instead of seeing him everyday. If this is the plan, it must all work out in the end (maybe before he is thirteen?).
I feel a little cheated, to tell you the truth. Because NOWHERE in "What to expect while you're knocked up" or any of those awesome parenting magazines does it mention that you could end up being the parent of "that kid". You know, "that kid." Yeah, the one who is just a hot mess. I think I may have hit the jackpot and have two of them. Of course, one of them is only four. She could still come around. #2, on the other hand, is going to put me in an early grave, and he's only 11.
#2 is hard to love. I do love him, of course. But there are days when it takes every last ounce of effort to do it. He is ornery, argumentative, stubborn, and has wild mood swings. My husband says we don't get along because we are too much alike. (I'm not that ornery. Other than that, he may have a point.)
I think I had unrealistic expectations of kids. I mean, we all do, or the human race would have died out already if we knew what the hell we were getting in to. I guess I was expecting more, um, cooperative children. You know, ones who might not have the same. freaking. argument. about homework every night. Really? I thought we settled this in second grade. You HAVE TO do it. So quit your whining, shut your mouth, and get to it. Or I will go on a Mommy-strike and you'll have to fend for yourself because I don't like half the stuff I do either. And I mean that in the most loving way possible.
I try very hard to be philosophical. He has had all those ups and downs that come with being an Army brat, but just doesn't handle it as well as others. Thanks to the Army, I know all about those things that just about kill me, but end up making me stronger, and being all I can be and so forth. But when the whole family is going Code Red, with #2 leading the way....sigh.
Tonight, I was trying to figure out how this could possibly be part of God's plan for me. Like maybe this was someone else's plan who bears a striking resemblance to me. So I had a brief pity party (brief, because I still had to make everyone's lunch for tomorrow). I came to the conclusion that this must be supposed to teach me about what it means to truly love someone. I love my husband. He's a great guy and (I think) pretty easy to get along with. My other kids are easy to get along with too. #5 and #6 are cupcakes frosted by the devil, but they play the cute card, so people (okay, me too) seem to forget about the mayhem they cause. But #2 is different. I infrequently get anything back from him. I will try to do things for him to make him feel special (not easy in a family this size) and he'll usually snap at me because he is grouchy about something else. It hurts.
But are we like #2 to God? Is that how he sees us? Is that the point here? Are we, so proud in our own ways and certain we control our path, like #2 sometimes? We all get those spiritual nudges sometimes that we push off because that isn't what we want to do.
Maybe I need to learn how to love those who don't naturally receive and reciprocate? Kind of like those spouses whose soldiers came home with TBI or PTSD and are not able to be the spouse they once were, but those superwomen hang on. Or the people that work with addicts or the mentally ill, where you have to do that work for a higher cause because the recipients of your care are likely not going to say thanks.
Not that an extremely difficult kid is like an addict. It's just that most people (me!!) tend not to foster relationships in which effort is poured forth to the point of exhaustion with little or no acknowledgement or reciprocity. I can only hope it will get easier. My husband swears #2 has gotten better over time, but he may have a better view of that, having been gone for a year instead of seeing him everyday. If this is the plan, it must all work out in the end (maybe before he is thirteen?).
01 February 2012
One of those things I hate about this Army life
One of my best friends moved away.
Dammit.
We'll still stay friends and call each other and talk for too long. But it's. not. the. same.
We have been friends (and co-located) for eight years and three duty stations. Some military marriages don't get that far.
We were friends for two years at our first assignment together, but then her husband left for Kansas for school and we fell out of touch (no facebook then, as hard as it is to remember life before FB). Because God is truly awesome and looks out for drunks, small children and fools like me, we found out that we would be assigned to the same duty station after that year of school. How am I so certain that it was divine intervention? Because the only soul I knew at that duty station rented a house 4 doors down from the one we bought. Did I mention the house I bought was not my top choice initially?
When our husbands PCSd us to a new duty station and deployed in the same brigade two weeks later, we were all we had. We could have saved a ton of money and just lived in one house. But we didn't think of that in time. We were battle buddies for that hellacious year of deployment and the not-much-better year when my husband was between deployments and hers worked 90 hour weeks.
My kids thought her kids were related to us. The term "other mom" was tossed around. Our hairdresser in Austin thought we were a couple because when we showed up at the salon together and I handed her the baby, the baby was totally okay with being handed off. (In response to his approving smile and head nod: No. It's not like that. See, we have husbands, but.... You know what. Nevermind. I just need a trim, okay? )
We followed each other to Virginia, because there is always that one person in the Army that you just keep getting assigned with. But now she's off again. It's great for them. She's at peace with her husband's assignment and kids' schools and living arrangements. But I miss her.
She watched my five kids (on top of her two) when I went to the hospital to have #6 because I NEVER manage to have my babies when the family member who volunteered to help is around. Naturally, her husband was in the field for that fun-filled night. I checked her for lice that time her kid brought it home from school, because she has thick, gorgeous hair and was losing her mind at the very idea of lice.
You don't make friends like that often in this life. Luckily, I realize that and can appreciate it fully. All I can do now is wait for that assignment cycle that dumps us back in the same place. And use up all my minutes because she refuses to switch to AT&T. (that was a hint. Did you catch it? ;) )
Dammit.
We'll still stay friends and call each other and talk for too long. But it's. not. the. same.
We have been friends (and co-located) for eight years and three duty stations. Some military marriages don't get that far.
We were friends for two years at our first assignment together, but then her husband left for Kansas for school and we fell out of touch (no facebook then, as hard as it is to remember life before FB). Because God is truly awesome and looks out for drunks, small children and fools like me, we found out that we would be assigned to the same duty station after that year of school. How am I so certain that it was divine intervention? Because the only soul I knew at that duty station rented a house 4 doors down from the one we bought. Did I mention the house I bought was not my top choice initially?
When our husbands PCSd us to a new duty station and deployed in the same brigade two weeks later, we were all we had. We could have saved a ton of money and just lived in one house. But we didn't think of that in time. We were battle buddies for that hellacious year of deployment and the not-much-better year when my husband was between deployments and hers worked 90 hour weeks.
My kids thought her kids were related to us. The term "other mom" was tossed around. Our hairdresser in Austin thought we were a couple because when we showed up at the salon together and I handed her the baby, the baby was totally okay with being handed off. (In response to his approving smile and head nod: No. It's not like that. See, we have husbands, but.... You know what. Nevermind. I just need a trim, okay? )
We followed each other to Virginia, because there is always that one person in the Army that you just keep getting assigned with. But now she's off again. It's great for them. She's at peace with her husband's assignment and kids' schools and living arrangements. But I miss her.
She watched my five kids (on top of her two) when I went to the hospital to have #6 because I NEVER manage to have my babies when the family member who volunteered to help is around. Naturally, her husband was in the field for that fun-filled night. I checked her for lice that time her kid brought it home from school, because she has thick, gorgeous hair and was losing her mind at the very idea of lice.
You don't make friends like that often in this life. Luckily, I realize that and can appreciate it fully. All I can do now is wait for that assignment cycle that dumps us back in the same place. And use up all my minutes because she refuses to switch to AT&T. (that was a hint. Did you catch it? ;) )
24 January 2012
And that's why we don't negotiate with terrorists....
Okay, so maybe the terrorists in question here are my children. Just stick with me.
I was being held hostage over the (evidently sub-par) pork chops I cooked for the littlemonsters darlings. I tried to hold firm. Really. But after an hour, they broke me. Two kids managed to slip away, and the third one stalled until I almost lost my schmidt. Just to clarify- I made a tasty meal. 4 people (which includes 2 children) ate it without any issues.
I hate when they manage to negotiate their way out of dinner. It usually starts with an innocent "I'm not very hungry." When I use my psychic powers to confirm that they are, in fact, hungry, it devolves into whining. Tonight, #3 totally showed the other kids how it is done.
3: This looks funny.
Me: No, it doesn't.
3: What is that green thing? (this question is usually accompanied by stabbing the offending food item repeatedly with a fork)
Me: It is a teeny piece of oregano. EAT and stop stabbing the food. The pork is already dead.
3: How come He (#2) got more rice?
Me: Because he ate his (mother-loving) pork chops. (Teeth are starting to clench)
3: I have to go to the bathroom.
Me: Then you better eat quickly.
3: Do I have to eat all of it?
Me: YES!!!!!!!
3 pokes around some more with his fork. He moves the pieces of meat around. He folds napkin into boat shape (not kidding). Chews up an ice cube. Wipes off fork onto boat-shaped napkin. Still hasn't eaten.
3: But I already ate four bites.
Me: I barely gave you enough pork to keep CPS off of my case. WILL. YOU. JUST. EAT.
3: I really have to pee.
Me: (inaudible grumbling...)
Kid leaves for a while and returns. He didn't flush, by the way.
3: Can I just eat one more bite?
Me: No! You will eat at least 4. (HUGE mistake. Kids sense that as a sign of weakness, just like sharks and blood in the water).
More dillying and dallying and rearranging of pork pieces, accompanied by pleas for more rice.
I am no longer answering. I am only glaring.
3: Well. I'm done.
Me: ?????? YOU DID NOT EAT YOUR FOUR BITES.
3: I already ate four bites.
Me: You were supposed to eat four more bites.
3: But I already ate four, and then had one more (I doubt that very much). So that was five, can I be done?
Me: NOOOOOOO! Sit. Eat. Do. not. move.
Five minutes later, I realize he has been sitting there for an entire hour. Yup. That's about 40 minutes longer than anyone else. I (in true Mom-of-the-Year style) grab his plate, and inform him that dinner. is. over. That he is to get in pjs, do his homework and stay out of my line of sight until breakfast.
He scampers away.
Score: Kid 1, Mom 0.
I am grumpy, have wasted time I could have used tocheck Facebook clean the kitchen, and we still have to do his homework. He, on the other hand, didn't have to eat his pork.
And that, my friends, is why you don't negotiate withterrorists children. You just feed them chicken nuggets every night, and hope they don't tell all the other parents that they broke their mom.
I was being held hostage over the (evidently sub-par) pork chops I cooked for the little
I hate when they manage to negotiate their way out of dinner. It usually starts with an innocent "I'm not very hungry." When I use my psychic powers to confirm that they are, in fact, hungry, it devolves into whining. Tonight, #3 totally showed the other kids how it is done.
3: This looks funny.
Me: No, it doesn't.
3: What is that green thing? (this question is usually accompanied by stabbing the offending food item repeatedly with a fork)
Me: It is a teeny piece of oregano. EAT and stop stabbing the food. The pork is already dead.
3: How come He (#2) got more rice?
Me: Because he ate his (mother-loving) pork chops. (Teeth are starting to clench)
3: I have to go to the bathroom.
Me: Then you better eat quickly.
3: Do I have to eat all of it?
Me: YES!!!!!!!
3 pokes around some more with his fork. He moves the pieces of meat around. He folds napkin into boat shape (not kidding). Chews up an ice cube. Wipes off fork onto boat-shaped napkin. Still hasn't eaten.
3: But I already ate four bites.
Me: I barely gave you enough pork to keep CPS off of my case. WILL. YOU. JUST. EAT.
3: I really have to pee.
Me: (inaudible grumbling...)
Kid leaves for a while and returns. He didn't flush, by the way.
3: Can I just eat one more bite?
Me: No! You will eat at least 4. (HUGE mistake. Kids sense that as a sign of weakness, just like sharks and blood in the water).
More dillying and dallying and rearranging of pork pieces, accompanied by pleas for more rice.
I am no longer answering. I am only glaring.
3: Well. I'm done.
Me: ?????? YOU DID NOT EAT YOUR FOUR BITES.
3: I already ate four bites.
Me: You were supposed to eat four more bites.
3: But I already ate four, and then had one more (I doubt that very much). So that was five, can I be done?
Me: NOOOOOOO! Sit. Eat. Do. not. move.
Five minutes later, I realize he has been sitting there for an entire hour. Yup. That's about 40 minutes longer than anyone else. I (in true Mom-of-the-Year style) grab his plate, and inform him that dinner. is. over. That he is to get in pjs, do his homework and stay out of my line of sight until breakfast.
He scampers away.
Score: Kid 1, Mom 0.
I am grumpy, have wasted time I could have used to
And that, my friends, is why you don't negotiate with
23 January 2012
Keeping up appearances
It's that time again.
My husband is about at the halfway mark in the course he is taking here in VA, so his branch manager has emailed him (and all the other people his rank that are eligible to move) with some options. You know, the "please look through this list and rank your top three assignment choices," with some guidelines about who is first in line for those augmentee to Afghanistan positions. Mercifully, we are not. He's only been home seven months.
The insanity of the whole thing just makes me laugh.
My husband is aviation. It seems that his branch is stretched even thinner than the rest of the Army. The pace that they are keeping officers on is crazy. That isn't a complaint. Just an observation. We are fighting a war in a country with something like three roads and a big old mountain range in the middle. So yeah, they need helicopters. Hence, a lot of the assignments are more like picking where your spouse will live while you're gone.
I find it funny that they are still trying to keep up the image of considering people's preferences. And it was with this cynicism that I helped put together our dream sheet. Are we eligible for the locations/ positions we asked for? Not sure. The job descriptions were pretty thin. Will we get any of those locations? Maybe. Maybe not. Can't hurt to ask. If we got one of those jobs we requested, would I be excited? Heck, yeah!
We are getting to the end of this Army journey. I am mostly focused on my oldest son's high school experience (he's in 8th grade right now) and where I want to be in the long term, post-Army. I am trying hard to balance that with my husband's career progression. It's harder than it sounds. My mama-bear instinct kicks in when I think about how little the Army really cares about my son's school career or how he has moved pretty much every other year of his whole life.
Keeping #1 reassured is a big task now. He knows what is going on. He knows we are waiting to see what will happen. I don't know if he has grasped that some guy in an office in KY that he has never met is deciding where he will go to high school. These same people will decide if he gets to stay at that high school for four years. I am doing my best to keep it positive. Reminding him that this is all an adventure. That God's plan is not our plan, and we will end up where we are supposed to be. I am trying to focus on that myself, when the worry starts to creep in to the corners of my mind.
When will we know? How long will this take? We could have a late June report date, and February is next week. If we get an overseas move, wow. We'll have a busy couple of months. But we also asked to stay here, and I am trying to fight the cutting-of-ties that I subconsciously start a few months before I leave a place. You know, you just gradually ease your way out of all the things you do. And then, one day, the truck shows up, takes all the stuff, and poof. Gone. Just like that. Why fight it? Because we might not be leaving, so I can't disengage yet.
It may sound a little crazy, but my only comfort is that I am not the only wife slowly going insane while we wait to see where our life goes next. Plenty of Marine wives are going through the same thing with me right now. Hopefully, the kids are feeling like they are not alone either. Because they're not. Especially not here, at the school full of military families. And they won't be alone at our next duty station. Wherever that is.
My husband is about at the halfway mark in the course he is taking here in VA, so his branch manager has emailed him (and all the other people his rank that are eligible to move) with some options. You know, the "please look through this list and rank your top three assignment choices," with some guidelines about who is first in line for those augmentee to Afghanistan positions. Mercifully, we are not. He's only been home seven months.
The insanity of the whole thing just makes me laugh.
My husband is aviation. It seems that his branch is stretched even thinner than the rest of the Army. The pace that they are keeping officers on is crazy. That isn't a complaint. Just an observation. We are fighting a war in a country with something like three roads and a big old mountain range in the middle. So yeah, they need helicopters. Hence, a lot of the assignments are more like picking where your spouse will live while you're gone.
I find it funny that they are still trying to keep up the image of considering people's preferences. And it was with this cynicism that I helped put together our dream sheet. Are we eligible for the locations/ positions we asked for? Not sure. The job descriptions were pretty thin. Will we get any of those locations? Maybe. Maybe not. Can't hurt to ask. If we got one of those jobs we requested, would I be excited? Heck, yeah!
We are getting to the end of this Army journey. I am mostly focused on my oldest son's high school experience (he's in 8th grade right now) and where I want to be in the long term, post-Army. I am trying hard to balance that with my husband's career progression. It's harder than it sounds. My mama-bear instinct kicks in when I think about how little the Army really cares about my son's school career or how he has moved pretty much every other year of his whole life.
Keeping #1 reassured is a big task now. He knows what is going on. He knows we are waiting to see what will happen. I don't know if he has grasped that some guy in an office in KY that he has never met is deciding where he will go to high school. These same people will decide if he gets to stay at that high school for four years. I am doing my best to keep it positive. Reminding him that this is all an adventure. That God's plan is not our plan, and we will end up where we are supposed to be. I am trying to focus on that myself, when the worry starts to creep in to the corners of my mind.
When will we know? How long will this take? We could have a late June report date, and February is next week. If we get an overseas move, wow. We'll have a busy couple of months. But we also asked to stay here, and I am trying to fight the cutting-of-ties that I subconsciously start a few months before I leave a place. You know, you just gradually ease your way out of all the things you do. And then, one day, the truck shows up, takes all the stuff, and poof. Gone. Just like that. Why fight it? Because we might not be leaving, so I can't disengage yet.
It may sound a little crazy, but my only comfort is that I am not the only wife slowly going insane while we wait to see where our life goes next. Plenty of Marine wives are going through the same thing with me right now. Hopefully, the kids are feeling like they are not alone either. Because they're not. Especially not here, at the school full of military families. And they won't be alone at our next duty station. Wherever that is.
22 January 2012
About this whole Mommy business
So one of my favorite blogs to read is Rants From Mommyland. Why? Because they make me snarf my coffee just about everyday. They are just. that. funny. So Lydia's last piece was about those things that we, especially us "Professional" mommies, say all the time. "Professional", in this instance, means,"No. I don't do anything else. I just hang out here with these crazy people. All. mur.ther.fur.kin'. day." As usual, I laughed so hard that I nearly needed emergency medical care. Then I scrolled through the comments. And I felt a little down.
One woman said that after reading the things we endlessly repeat as we "raise and nurture" our little crumbsnatchers, she would just stay on her birth control. So I just want to clarify. Not like she'll see my humble little blog, but I'll feel better.
My kids make me nuts. I walk through the house flushing toilets, turning off lights and breaking up arguments with idle threats of military school and groundings into adulthood. I do, on average, 8 loads of laundry a week. (yeah, yeah. That's what I get for having 6 kids) I joke about drinking a lot of wine. Sometimes I really do.
But my kids are probably the most important and awesome things I have made (done? accomplished?) in my life.
Especially as they get older (#1 is THIRTEEN :P ), I see them becoming fabulous people. I probably have very little to do with that. But it is awesome none the less. Watching them find their path in the world and accomplish things (sometimes with our help, but more and more without) is worth all the flushes and stinky socks under the couch. And I am not just saying that because I jumped off the career track and grad school and all that to be the mom.
Sharing the challenges of Mommyhood is so needed, because we don't live in communities like back in the day. I got a taste of it when we lived in West Point. All the moms hung out in the front yard with the kids all day (except in the snow. Brrrrr). Kids played. Moms chatted. We supported each other. And on nice days, our husbands would come home to happy kids (still playing outside) and moms in lawn chairs drinking margaritas. (But probably not dinner. We'd been outside all day, after all.)
Here in the burbs, it just doesn't happen like that. So there are virtual communities to share our angst and the utter lunacy that often accompanies parenthood. The trouble is, the childless women who come and read don't see the great parts. They will hear about that time my daughter COVERED her face and hair in Desitin, but not about how she gave me a big (drooly) kiss when I gave her a freshly-filled juice cup. And about the "artwork" on my walls, but not the drawings I hang on my fridge.
So, dear currently-childless lady who is turned off by our shared insanity, fear not.
Mommyhood is SO MUCH MORE than the toilet-flushing, shoe-tying, and peace-keeping that wewhine talk about. But you will definitely want to stock up on those Magic Eraser things.
One woman said that after reading the things we endlessly repeat as we "raise and nurture" our little crumbsnatchers, she would just stay on her birth control. So I just want to clarify. Not like she'll see my humble little blog, but I'll feel better.
My kids make me nuts. I walk through the house flushing toilets, turning off lights and breaking up arguments with idle threats of military school and groundings into adulthood. I do, on average, 8 loads of laundry a week. (yeah, yeah. That's what I get for having 6 kids) I joke about drinking a lot of wine. Sometimes I really do.
But my kids are probably the most important and awesome things I have made (done? accomplished?) in my life.
Especially as they get older (#1 is THIRTEEN :P ), I see them becoming fabulous people. I probably have very little to do with that. But it is awesome none the less. Watching them find their path in the world and accomplish things (sometimes with our help, but more and more without) is worth all the flushes and stinky socks under the couch. And I am not just saying that because I jumped off the career track and grad school and all that to be the mom.
Sharing the challenges of Mommyhood is so needed, because we don't live in communities like back in the day. I got a taste of it when we lived in West Point. All the moms hung out in the front yard with the kids all day (except in the snow. Brrrrr). Kids played. Moms chatted. We supported each other. And on nice days, our husbands would come home to happy kids (still playing outside) and moms in lawn chairs drinking margaritas. (But probably not dinner. We'd been outside all day, after all.)
Here in the burbs, it just doesn't happen like that. So there are virtual communities to share our angst and the utter lunacy that often accompanies parenthood. The trouble is, the childless women who come and read don't see the great parts. They will hear about that time my daughter COVERED her face and hair in Desitin, but not about how she gave me a big (drooly) kiss when I gave her a freshly-filled juice cup. And about the "artwork" on my walls, but not the drawings I hang on my fridge.
So, dear currently-childless lady who is turned off by our shared insanity, fear not.
Mommyhood is SO MUCH MORE than the toilet-flushing, shoe-tying, and peace-keeping that we
11 September 2011
September 12, 2002
I wasn't planning on writing today. The general theme on the web seems to be "where was I that day." Maybe I'll tell that story next year. Just thinking back on it breaks my heart/ makes me want to vomit. So I will tell you about September 12th, 2002- the day after the first anniversary of the day I lost my uncle and many friends of our family when those towers came crashing down.
I was still in the Army. I skipped the mandatory 9/11 memorial ceremony held by the post. I had no intention of mourning those I lost in front of an audience. A soldier in my company was brought to my office that morning by her Drill Sergeant. She was in tears because her boyfriend was killed in Tower #1 (I think he was a fireman, but can't be totally sure). Either way, she said she couldn't handle the memorial ceremony. I told her DS to put her and a battle buddy on barracks guard, and that I would explain it to anyone who had a problem with it. I spent the hour of the ceremony moping. Then I had to pull myself together and go to a meeting.
September 11, 2002 was a blur. I went home and went to bed early.
On September 12th, I decided to clear my head and go for a nice 8 mile run. Yes, I considered that a nice run at the time. My Battalion XO decided not to join me that particular day. I spent the next hour alone with the pavement and the scenery. I had the opportunity to reflect on all the things that had happened since last fall. The war. My job. The service for my uncle that wasn't quite a funeral, because they never found his remains.
As I thought about my uncle, I realized that he was probably one of those people who lived out his belief that family was more important and that happy moments should be cherished. Yes, he worked in Manhattan and was probably busy. He also coached and volunteered and took his daughters to hockey games. He was a guy who loved his family and friends and spent time with them. But just like that, he was gone.
Well, what about me? I was working 14 hour weekdays, with 6-8 hour days on Saturday and frequent middle of the night phone calls. If I was killed tomorrow, what would my kids remember about me? That I was gone all the time? That I was too tired to read stories at night? That I had to leave my son's birthday party because a soldier passed out in formation because said soldier failed to drink water while on pass? If I stayed in the Army (my plan at the time), would these things get better or worse?
The answer, to me, was obvious. I could quit on the Army, but not on my kids. So I did. I turned down my dream assignment to follow a path that I felt my uncle helped point me towards. So when I am here for school pick up and drop off, when I pack a kid's lunch and then drive the lunch to school after it is forgotten, my kids have the great-uncle that they don't remember to thank for it.
I guess that is as close to a happy ending as this kind of story can get. I am here with my children, not in Iraq and not in Afghanistan. I have six fantastic and rambunctious kids. I still miss my uncle very much, and am grateful for his life and how he lived it. I sure he is happy to have been an example for me, to keep my focus on the things that truly matter and are all too fleeting.
I was still in the Army. I skipped the mandatory 9/11 memorial ceremony held by the post. I had no intention of mourning those I lost in front of an audience. A soldier in my company was brought to my office that morning by her Drill Sergeant. She was in tears because her boyfriend was killed in Tower #1 (I think he was a fireman, but can't be totally sure). Either way, she said she couldn't handle the memorial ceremony. I told her DS to put her and a battle buddy on barracks guard, and that I would explain it to anyone who had a problem with it. I spent the hour of the ceremony moping. Then I had to pull myself together and go to a meeting.
September 11, 2002 was a blur. I went home and went to bed early.
On September 12th, I decided to clear my head and go for a nice 8 mile run. Yes, I considered that a nice run at the time. My Battalion XO decided not to join me that particular day. I spent the next hour alone with the pavement and the scenery. I had the opportunity to reflect on all the things that had happened since last fall. The war. My job. The service for my uncle that wasn't quite a funeral, because they never found his remains.
As I thought about my uncle, I realized that he was probably one of those people who lived out his belief that family was more important and that happy moments should be cherished. Yes, he worked in Manhattan and was probably busy. He also coached and volunteered and took his daughters to hockey games. He was a guy who loved his family and friends and spent time with them. But just like that, he was gone.
Well, what about me? I was working 14 hour weekdays, with 6-8 hour days on Saturday and frequent middle of the night phone calls. If I was killed tomorrow, what would my kids remember about me? That I was gone all the time? That I was too tired to read stories at night? That I had to leave my son's birthday party because a soldier passed out in formation because said soldier failed to drink water while on pass? If I stayed in the Army (my plan at the time), would these things get better or worse?
The answer, to me, was obvious. I could quit on the Army, but not on my kids. So I did. I turned down my dream assignment to follow a path that I felt my uncle helped point me towards. So when I am here for school pick up and drop off, when I pack a kid's lunch and then drive the lunch to school after it is forgotten, my kids have the great-uncle that they don't remember to thank for it.
I guess that is as close to a happy ending as this kind of story can get. I am here with my children, not in Iraq and not in Afghanistan. I have six fantastic and rambunctious kids. I still miss my uncle very much, and am grateful for his life and how he lived it. I sure he is happy to have been an example for me, to keep my focus on the things that truly matter and are all too fleeting.
21 August 2011
I hate being right so often
Call it the other curse of womanhood.
I hate being right sometimes. Especially when it comes to my children and predicting their behavior.
The Saga of Completing the Summer Assignments is still ongoing. School starts in one week. #*%!
Of course, as the mom of six, you can imagine that my schedule is just wide open happiness- all sunshine and roses.... um, no. I think I have a free half hour on Monday, but that is only if none of the other things make me run late. There is new student orientation, robotics camp (because NO ONE likes #2 after twelve weeks of vacation, and he doesn't like them either), boy scout pack checks and campouts, tutoring, ballet, tap, playdates and hopefully a day or two to work on my sunburn before the pool closes.
I HATE being in a crunch when it comes to the peeps. I can procrastinate on my own things and catch up, but my herd is almost an immoveable object. There is no hurrying those people. I guess "hurry up" translates into kidspeak as "take off your shoes go get a drink announce that you need to poop hit your sister til she cries."
So school supplies are already purchased, sorted and labeled. Ditto for shoes, uniforms, etc. The only thing I failed to get them to do on my timeline was their mother-loving homework. It is somewhere between herding turtles and chasing chickens. The kid I catch will usually refuse to work and will instead sit there contemplating life's great mysteries (such as: what is 9-4?) for hours until Mommy has to pee or find the owner of the screaming coming from the basement.
The nanosecond Mommy is out of sight- poof- he's outta there!
Why can't they move that fast when I am trying to leave the house? Maybe I'll suggest that we do homework right before I need to leave and they'll just head to the car instead?
For better or worse, school starts next Monday. Maybe I can make up for failure to get summer work done by not being late the first day.
I hate being right sometimes. Especially when it comes to my children and predicting their behavior.
The Saga of Completing the Summer Assignments is still ongoing. School starts in one week. #*%!
Of course, as the mom of six, you can imagine that my schedule is just wide open happiness- all sunshine and roses.... um, no. I think I have a free half hour on Monday, but that is only if none of the other things make me run late. There is new student orientation, robotics camp (because NO ONE likes #2 after twelve weeks of vacation, and he doesn't like them either), boy scout pack checks and campouts, tutoring, ballet, tap, playdates and hopefully a day or two to work on my sunburn before the pool closes.
I HATE being in a crunch when it comes to the peeps. I can procrastinate on my own things and catch up, but my herd is almost an immoveable object. There is no hurrying those people. I guess "hurry up" translates into kidspeak as "take off your shoes go get a drink announce that you need to poop hit your sister til she cries."
So school supplies are already purchased, sorted and labeled. Ditto for shoes, uniforms, etc. The only thing I failed to get them to do on my timeline was their mother-loving homework. It is somewhere between herding turtles and chasing chickens. The kid I catch will usually refuse to work and will instead sit there contemplating life's great mysteries (such as: what is 9-4?) for hours until Mommy has to pee or find the owner of the screaming coming from the basement.
The nanosecond Mommy is out of sight- poof- he's outta there!
Why can't they move that fast when I am trying to leave the house? Maybe I'll suggest that we do homework right before I need to leave and they'll just head to the car instead?
For better or worse, school starts next Monday. Maybe I can make up for failure to get summer work done by not being late the first day.
17 August 2011
How I Spent my Summer (or "Why #4 might possibly fail Kindergarten")
I so wish all my kids had to do was write some lame-o essay about what they did this summer. The school they will attend in 10 days (but who's counting?) has Summer Enrichment Packets. Yup, just in case you and the kids can't come up with anything else to fight about, there's HOMEWORK. Crap.
I can sort of understand why they do it- my kids have been out of school for about 12 weeks. But, when I was kid (sidenote: that phrase is a SURE sign of aging, even more so than crow's feet), we didn't have summer enrichment. Sure, my high school made us read 3 books a summer, but that pales in comparison to the envelope of suffering I received in the mail. I know, we are "preventing Summer Slide." Of course, our little rocket scientists are going to forget everything over three months of vacation. The solution? SHORTER SUMMER VACATION. If we spread the vacation days out, we wouldn't spend the first month of school re-hashing the last grade. And I really like three day weekends. Y'know?
Back to my surprise gift from the school....
One envelope per school age kid. That's four envelopes. The older two boys received math workbooks (!!!) to complete. 30 lessons per book. Did I mention I didn't receive these gems until mid-July because we just. moved. here? And then there are the two book reports #2 has to write, and the 3 essays and six paragraphs #1 has to write. #3 has a book "report" form to fill out, a book log to keep (right....because I've been tracking that), and a packet of math worksheets (30 pages-ish) to complete.
I still had one envelope to open and I needed a drink. But #4 is only going into Kindergarten. This should be okay. Coloring, letters, stuff like that, right? No. Not even close. Better get out the wine, sister, because your summer fun is OVER. Like right now.
#4 has a PACKET of work to complete. Writing the alphabet and her name (thank God I gave her a short name), writing the colors three times in the correct colors (and without opening the new crayons because then they will disappear before school), counting the cans in my pantry, cutting shapes out of magazines, making a chart, reading logs and more. OY VEY! The kicker was the cover letter closed with a wish for us to "Have Fun!" completing their packet of torment.
At this point, I want to call the teachers and explain to them that I have SIX kids, four of whom suddenly have summer homework, and ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!
Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Take a drink. Repeat.
#4's packet also has a grading rubric. Did I mention that the 8th grader doesn't have a grading rubric?
Here is where I flunk mommy-hood.
I have actually read the rubric to find out how much work she MUST do to not get an unsatisfactory. For example, finding and naming 4 of the 6 assigned shapes is "satisfactory". Awesome. This would be the continuation of my college's mantra "C's for completed; D is for done." So we are no longer "doing our best" this summer; I have down shifted to "doing what we must" and "surely they are going to teach you some of this stuff during the year?"
Unfortunately, I MUST get her a library card. Failure to do so will get #4 an Unsatisfactory. Really? Aren't the teachers really grading me, since #4 can't drive or fill out the forms? And seriously, I may move next summer and I will only lose the damn thing, so why oh why are you making me go BACK to the customer service desk of the library to get a card that #4 will never use? Will they keep #6 from scaring the bejeezus out of the library's frog by banging on the glass while I try to get said card? Or maybe keep #5 from chasing #4 around the children's section? Sigh.
We are almost done. Still need to edit #1's stuff, #2 needs to draw some pictures about his books. #3 is going to go down to the wire, as is #4. I hope there isn't any homework on the first day. I think I'll already be tired.
I can sort of understand why they do it- my kids have been out of school for about 12 weeks. But, when I was kid (sidenote: that phrase is a SURE sign of aging, even more so than crow's feet), we didn't have summer enrichment. Sure, my high school made us read 3 books a summer, but that pales in comparison to the envelope of suffering I received in the mail. I know, we are "preventing Summer Slide." Of course, our little rocket scientists are going to forget everything over three months of vacation. The solution? SHORTER SUMMER VACATION. If we spread the vacation days out, we wouldn't spend the first month of school re-hashing the last grade. And I really like three day weekends. Y'know?
Back to my surprise gift from the school....
One envelope per school age kid. That's four envelopes. The older two boys received math workbooks (!!!) to complete. 30 lessons per book. Did I mention I didn't receive these gems until mid-July because we just. moved. here? And then there are the two book reports #2 has to write, and the 3 essays and six paragraphs #1 has to write. #3 has a book "report" form to fill out, a book log to keep (right....because I've been tracking that), and a packet of math worksheets (30 pages-ish) to complete.
I still had one envelope to open and I needed a drink. But #4 is only going into Kindergarten. This should be okay. Coloring, letters, stuff like that, right? No. Not even close. Better get out the wine, sister, because your summer fun is OVER. Like right now.
#4 has a PACKET of work to complete. Writing the alphabet and her name (thank God I gave her a short name), writing the colors three times in the correct colors (and without opening the new crayons because then they will disappear before school), counting the cans in my pantry, cutting shapes out of magazines, making a chart, reading logs and more. OY VEY! The kicker was the cover letter closed with a wish for us to "Have Fun!" completing their packet of torment.
At this point, I want to call the teachers and explain to them that I have SIX kids, four of whom suddenly have summer homework, and ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!
Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Take a drink. Repeat.
#4's packet also has a grading rubric. Did I mention that the 8th grader doesn't have a grading rubric?
Here is where I flunk mommy-hood.
I have actually read the rubric to find out how much work she MUST do to not get an unsatisfactory. For example, finding and naming 4 of the 6 assigned shapes is "satisfactory". Awesome. This would be the continuation of my college's mantra "C's for completed; D is for done." So we are no longer "doing our best" this summer; I have down shifted to "doing what we must" and "surely they are going to teach you some of this stuff during the year?"
Unfortunately, I MUST get her a library card. Failure to do so will get #4 an Unsatisfactory. Really? Aren't the teachers really grading me, since #4 can't drive or fill out the forms? And seriously, I may move next summer and I will only lose the damn thing, so why oh why are you making me go BACK to the customer service desk of the library to get a card that #4 will never use? Will they keep #6 from scaring the bejeezus out of the library's frog by banging on the glass while I try to get said card? Or maybe keep #5 from chasing #4 around the children's section? Sigh.
We are almost done. Still need to edit #1's stuff, #2 needs to draw some pictures about his books. #3 is going to go down to the wire, as is #4. I hope there isn't any homework on the first day. I think I'll already be tired.
16 August 2011
At long last, have we no sense of decency?
So it seems that we are going to have an election next year. I am going to have to go into pre-election news black-out at the earliest point ever. And, for the first time, I may include a Facebook blackout.
I love to follow current events and political matters. I feel it is my duty as a citizen and it is more interesting than "the Cat in the Hat knows a lot about that". I can't even believe the level of vitriol we've reached when we are still fifteen months away from voting. I worry about our nation's soul, especially when Great Britain seems to be coming apart at the seams and London is doing a great impression of a Third World city. What the hell is going on?
Members of one political party labeling a fair-sized group of Americans (as well as some of their Congressional colleagues) as "terrorists"? Name calling...that's so fourth grade. True confession- I have been known to refer to certain persons as "socialists", but unlike "terrorist", it is the name for a proponent of a political/ economic system. Might I add that Bernie Sanders (VT) wears it with pride. Terrorists try to achieve their goals through intimidation and violence while creating a climate of fear that weakens resistance to them and their aims. Sounds more like the rioters in London than Senator Rubio, no? Aren't there enough people elsewhere that wish us as a nation harm? Do we have to turn on each other?
I really try to think things through. I try to apply reason before deciding on things, though my faith and life experiences will be the lens through which I perceive the world. I really like our Constitution; I think the founders did a bang-up job. I am wary of ideas that may have the unintended consequence of limiting freedoms guaranteed by that document. I enjoy hearing different viewpoints, especially from other people whom I believe think carefully about their opinions.
I am therefore dismayed when I see people on Facebook write the equivalent of "If you don't agree with me, you can't be my friend." Wow. Really? I am also surprised at how frequently I see it. I rather enjoy having friends who are not in lock-step agreement with me. I really think it enriches my life. But the lack of "tolerance" for differing opinions makes me sad. And tolerance is not a one-way street. I would love to see mutual respect flow from left to right and back again. What exactly are we teaching our children? That we are only friends with people who think just like we do? Apply that notion to skin color or religion instead of politics, and consider what that says about us as a nation.
We live in conflicted times. I hope we find our way back to living with kindness and charity towards our fellow man. I wonder if I'll have any Facebook friends left by then.
I love to follow current events and political matters. I feel it is my duty as a citizen and it is more interesting than "the Cat in the Hat knows a lot about that". I can't even believe the level of vitriol we've reached when we are still fifteen months away from voting. I worry about our nation's soul, especially when Great Britain seems to be coming apart at the seams and London is doing a great impression of a Third World city. What the hell is going on?
Members of one political party labeling a fair-sized group of Americans (as well as some of their Congressional colleagues) as "terrorists"? Name calling...that's so fourth grade. True confession- I have been known to refer to certain persons as "socialists", but unlike "terrorist", it is the name for a proponent of a political/ economic system. Might I add that Bernie Sanders (VT) wears it with pride. Terrorists try to achieve their goals through intimidation and violence while creating a climate of fear that weakens resistance to them and their aims. Sounds more like the rioters in London than Senator Rubio, no? Aren't there enough people elsewhere that wish us as a nation harm? Do we have to turn on each other?
I really try to think things through. I try to apply reason before deciding on things, though my faith and life experiences will be the lens through which I perceive the world. I really like our Constitution; I think the founders did a bang-up job. I am wary of ideas that may have the unintended consequence of limiting freedoms guaranteed by that document. I enjoy hearing different viewpoints, especially from other people whom I believe think carefully about their opinions.
I am therefore dismayed when I see people on Facebook write the equivalent of "If you don't agree with me, you can't be my friend." Wow. Really? I am also surprised at how frequently I see it. I rather enjoy having friends who are not in lock-step agreement with me. I really think it enriches my life. But the lack of "tolerance" for differing opinions makes me sad. And tolerance is not a one-way street. I would love to see mutual respect flow from left to right and back again. What exactly are we teaching our children? That we are only friends with people who think just like we do? Apply that notion to skin color or religion instead of politics, and consider what that says about us as a nation.
We live in conflicted times. I hope we find our way back to living with kindness and charity towards our fellow man. I wonder if I'll have any Facebook friends left by then.
03 August 2011
School uniforms are NOT cheaper- at least not in No. VA
I realizing that NOTHING is probably cheaper in Northern VA, but seriously- what a racket the uniform company has. I think they provide uniforms for most of the Catholic schools up here. The size of their business is NOT reflected in their prices. HOLY COW!!! So much for the line of thought that buying uniforms is less expensive than purchasing regular clothes.
So I brought five of the kids (oldest still gone- hope his stuff fits) to order uniforms this morning. I was concerned how this was going to work out. Normally, taking my people ANYWHERE that requires me to concentrate or talk to another person is a huge mistake. Today, I took them on a errand to order multiple items in multiple sizes while other people were also trying to order their stuff before their kids lost it completely. I had two cups of coffee to prepare myself and managed to refrain from adding Baileys to said drinks.
I was really hopeful that this would be well organized (or at least somewhat organized) to handle the traffic flow. Maybe I was in the Army too long and expect too much. Maybe I am just delusional. I might have been hoping for something akin to an Army issue point, but what I saw was closer to Walmart on Black Friday. Okay, so no one was trampled to death. Maybe more like Black Friday at Kohls. It was not particularly orderly, and rather frustrating for those of us who were new to the school (and uniform).
I am so glad I managed to procure some uniforms on the second-hand market, because I think I would have had to give them my first-born otherwise. Really, the jumper for Kindergarteners is over $35??? Even if I didn't have 4 kids that needed uniforms, that seems a tad high. Not to mention the shoes...
Shoes? What's that? You didn't know that there were uniform shoes? Oh, yes indeed. Not to miss an opportunity for sales, there are UNIFORM shoes. Hell, the Army gives you more shoe options than my kids have. The shoes are oxfords, black and clunky and ugly. Even my daughter, #4, has to wear them. She will be heartbroken, since she seems to have my passion for shoes. I was picturing a sweet little pair of Mary Janes.... sigh. But the real awesome part of "uniform" black oxford shoes is their price. $40 for kid sizes, $75 for adult sizes. And since #1 now has man feet, he would need the $75 shoes.
Let's be clear (to borrow a phrase). If anyone is getting $75 shoes around here, it will be me. And they will be high heeled beauties that make me feel like a goddess. Not hideous oxfords for a 13-year-old boy who is liable to outgrow them any second.
So, like any good parent with 6 kids, I took a picture of the shoes with my phone and will head to the shoe store. I think they sell the exact same one for about $25. And if I time it right, I'll catch one of those buy one, get one half off sales.
And then I'll buy some smoking hot heels with all the money I saved ;)
So I brought five of the kids (oldest still gone- hope his stuff fits) to order uniforms this morning. I was concerned how this was going to work out. Normally, taking my people ANYWHERE that requires me to concentrate or talk to another person is a huge mistake. Today, I took them on a errand to order multiple items in multiple sizes while other people were also trying to order their stuff before their kids lost it completely. I had two cups of coffee to prepare myself and managed to refrain from adding Baileys to said drinks.
I was really hopeful that this would be well organized (or at least somewhat organized) to handle the traffic flow. Maybe I was in the Army too long and expect too much. Maybe I am just delusional. I might have been hoping for something akin to an Army issue point, but what I saw was closer to Walmart on Black Friday. Okay, so no one was trampled to death. Maybe more like Black Friday at Kohls. It was not particularly orderly, and rather frustrating for those of us who were new to the school (and uniform).
I am so glad I managed to procure some uniforms on the second-hand market, because I think I would have had to give them my first-born otherwise. Really, the jumper for Kindergarteners is over $35??? Even if I didn't have 4 kids that needed uniforms, that seems a tad high. Not to mention the shoes...
Shoes? What's that? You didn't know that there were uniform shoes? Oh, yes indeed. Not to miss an opportunity for sales, there are UNIFORM shoes. Hell, the Army gives you more shoe options than my kids have. The shoes are oxfords, black and clunky and ugly. Even my daughter, #4, has to wear them. She will be heartbroken, since she seems to have my passion for shoes. I was picturing a sweet little pair of Mary Janes.... sigh. But the real awesome part of "uniform" black oxford shoes is their price. $40 for kid sizes, $75 for adult sizes. And since #1 now has man feet, he would need the $75 shoes.
Let's be clear (to borrow a phrase). If anyone is getting $75 shoes around here, it will be me. And they will be high heeled beauties that make me feel like a goddess. Not hideous oxfords for a 13-year-old boy who is liable to outgrow them any second.
So, like any good parent with 6 kids, I took a picture of the shoes with my phone and will head to the shoe store. I think they sell the exact same one for about $25. And if I time it right, I'll catch one of those buy one, get one half off sales.
And then I'll buy some smoking hot heels with all the money I saved ;)
02 August 2011
Adventures in parenting- cleaning out the family van
Enough was enough.... I could barely see the carpet through the crushed goldfish. So I manned (womanned?) up and got out the vacuum. EW EW EW EW EWWWWWW!
During my cleaning, I found a stuffed cat covered in chalk, a barbie, a stuffed raccoon, 4 happy meal toys, that floatie I've been looking for, a book and a DVD. My tip was 8 cents, in the form of a nickel and 3 pennies. I also found an empty milk bottle, 1 empty caprisun, 4 sour gummy worms (all with a bite off of them), and 2 peppermints (1 stuck to floor, one stuck inside cup holder). What would an archeologist think of my family if my van was discovered in a thousand years???
I moved all the car seats (4 of them), took them out of the van, turned them upside down and shook them, and THEN vacuumed them out. HOLY SMOKES! I had no idea that my baby's carseat was really a biohazard waiting to happen. How does one even get that many goldfish and cheezits in the space by the straps? Why are some of them moist? Should I wash the car seat too? No, have to pickup #2 from camp at noon. Cushion doesn't smell funny, it's probably okay until tomorrow (or next week).
Repeat sequence for other car seat. Move on to boosters- have to be better, right? Nope-ety, nope. #3's cup holder in his seat is encrusted with, well, something. Time to get the all-purpose cleaner and a scrub brush. I am now WAY past the 15 minutes I allocated for this task. And I think I may need a shower.
I grabbed the windex while I was in the house. Might as well clean off the car-window-finger art that my children make. It is very hard to see through it. Good Lord, what IS THIS? Ewww, and there is brown something in a spray pattern on the trim. I guess it was juice at some point. SIGH. Back to the scrub brush and cleaner.
At this point, my absence was noticed by all the people. Thankfully, only two stayed outside to "help". They decided that the rows of seats in the van made a great obstacle course. Now I am trying to clean around crawling and climbing kids. It is enough to make me start a "No eating in the van" policy. But we all now that is unrealistic. It only lasts until I am running late and a child "forgets" to eat breakfast and is handed a granola bar instead.
Time to refasten the car seats. This is when I like to try new seating arrangements. I am always trying to find the seating order which results in the least fighting. Never mind that I drive a 12 passenger party van, so really, there isn't anything to fight over. Plenty of space for all, with a DVD player to boot. They still manage to argue; my new favorite is "He's taking all the air-conditioning...." Oh, brother.
This time, I am trying out the youngest two in the front, #3 and #4 in the middle, and oldest two in the back. Of course, #1 is at scout camp, so we aren't getting the full effect yet. I'll keep you posted. The only one who hasn't complained so far is the baby. Luckily for them, a goldfish was dropped and ground into oblivion on the carpet this morning, so another vacuuming is already on the horizon.
Maybe I can pay my oldest to do it.....
During my cleaning, I found a stuffed cat covered in chalk, a barbie, a stuffed raccoon, 4 happy meal toys, that floatie I've been looking for, a book and a DVD. My tip was 8 cents, in the form of a nickel and 3 pennies. I also found an empty milk bottle, 1 empty caprisun, 4 sour gummy worms (all with a bite off of them), and 2 peppermints (1 stuck to floor, one stuck inside cup holder). What would an archeologist think of my family if my van was discovered in a thousand years???
I moved all the car seats (4 of them), took them out of the van, turned them upside down and shook them, and THEN vacuumed them out. HOLY SMOKES! I had no idea that my baby's carseat was really a biohazard waiting to happen. How does one even get that many goldfish and cheezits in the space by the straps? Why are some of them moist? Should I wash the car seat too? No, have to pickup #2 from camp at noon. Cushion doesn't smell funny, it's probably okay until tomorrow (or next week).
Repeat sequence for other car seat. Move on to boosters- have to be better, right? Nope-ety, nope. #3's cup holder in his seat is encrusted with, well, something. Time to get the all-purpose cleaner and a scrub brush. I am now WAY past the 15 minutes I allocated for this task. And I think I may need a shower.
I grabbed the windex while I was in the house. Might as well clean off the car-window-finger art that my children make. It is very hard to see through it. Good Lord, what IS THIS? Ewww, and there is brown something in a spray pattern on the trim. I guess it was juice at some point. SIGH. Back to the scrub brush and cleaner.
At this point, my absence was noticed by all the people. Thankfully, only two stayed outside to "help". They decided that the rows of seats in the van made a great obstacle course. Now I am trying to clean around crawling and climbing kids. It is enough to make me start a "No eating in the van" policy. But we all now that is unrealistic. It only lasts until I am running late and a child "forgets" to eat breakfast and is handed a granola bar instead.
Time to refasten the car seats. This is when I like to try new seating arrangements. I am always trying to find the seating order which results in the least fighting. Never mind that I drive a 12 passenger party van, so really, there isn't anything to fight over. Plenty of space for all, with a DVD player to boot. They still manage to argue; my new favorite is "He's taking all the air-conditioning...." Oh, brother.
This time, I am trying out the youngest two in the front, #3 and #4 in the middle, and oldest two in the back. Of course, #1 is at scout camp, so we aren't getting the full effect yet. I'll keep you posted. The only one who hasn't complained so far is the baby. Luckily for them, a goldfish was dropped and ground into oblivion on the carpet this morning, so another vacuuming is already on the horizon.
Maybe I can pay my oldest to do it.....
31 July 2011
The joys of renting (and living with other people's attempts at interior design)
I have been in the house 90 days- threshold has been crossed. We have lived here long enough that there is noticeable dust on my furniture. I have been a busy girl since we moved here, aside from unpacking and child herding. I have repainted, because most of the colors were gawd-awful. White entryway, too light green kitchen, yucky yellow bathroom and bedroom, too dark blue bathroom...need I go on? It is now warm and cozy and homey. :) At least for the next year or so.
House hunting around here was down right hysterical. Some of the homes are circa 1970s and have the wallpaper to prove it. If I saw terrible wallpaper on line, sometimes I just ruled the house out completely. But the best was when people clearly tried to do what the designers do on HGTV, but failed. Next move, I'll take pics of the champion designs, so to speak, and post them here.
I have adapted to some of the, er, interesting decorative features of the house. Like the half-wall wood panelling in the family room. Or the full-on wood panelling in the basement rec room, nicely complimented by carpet that is the color (and almost the texture) of a Brillo pad. Then there was the carpet in the master bath, which was ripped out the day after I signed the lease. I assume those things were done many years ago, when it seemed like a good idea, not necessarily to achieve a design scheme.
But then there is the Tuscan Room.
Our dining room is faux-finished in a deep reddish-goldish color (sponged). Faux-finishes are WAY out of date. But the owners love it, because they painted it, so ALL the tenants must keep it. Um, seriously? You don't live here. And how the hell am I supposed to cover up those nail holes? I guess I am not, and that is why there are a dozen nails/ screws still in the wall. I did use my art work to hide the worst of them.
Then the light fixture is a cut glass chandelier. Awfully formal for my pub height, slate top table.
This room goes with pretty much nothing that I own. (Hmm. No wait, there is that one water color of Venice that we own.) It actually looks okay now, I found the most complementary wall hangings I had. And the room color seems less obnoxious, because I made sure all the downstairs paint colors work with the Tuscan Room. Before, the other rooms were white and light green. And then, poof, here's a Tuscan Room. It made no sense, in regards to design. At least we have good flow now, and I LOVE the format living room that leads into the Tuscan Room. The color is called Tiny Fawn and it is so rich- looks great with the piano, club chairs and books. I like to sit in there and admire the cleanliness, since no one under 18 is allowed in that room.
But today, I found another design oddity. Our owners like brushed nickel in the bathroom. Well, so do I. Fabulous.
But the master bath (carpeting aside) looks like it was designed by a schizophrenic. Clearly, they either started to redo and ran out of funds/ interest/ time, or they couldn't pick and went two different directions in the same room. We have aforementioned brushed nickel over the sink, but, if you turn around, the towel racks, shelving and TP holder are black wrought iron looking things. The towel racks are retarded because the bar is only an inch away from the wall. Very hard to hang a towel on. And just to keep it varied, there in a hanging light fixture near the shower that is (wait for it) copper. IN THE BATHROOM. So as I was dusting the light fixture in the bathroom (because it's been 90 days), the dust was mixed in with green from the copper. You know, because it is a BATHROOM and very humid in there. Perhaps not the best idea ever. And the window looks like it should open, but it doesn't. Why not???
Just more things to add to my list of "Things I will NEVER have in my real house." It includes other design ideas such as: 4"square tile with big caulk lines on the kitchen counter; Washer and dryer in the middle of the kitchen; White tile on the kitchen floor; Cream colored carpet (in a rental house???); Work triangles so tight, that two appliances could not be open at the same time; Stand up showers with no lip to hold water in (that house was a bunch of DIYers- they also tried to lay carpet, run wire and were responsible for the next jem); Replacing a window with french door (good), but leaving the cement window sill in the yard next to the deck (???).
Like a comedian I saw once joked, "Just because Home Depot sells the stuff to do it, doesn't mean you should try it."
No joke.
House hunting around here was down right hysterical. Some of the homes are circa 1970s and have the wallpaper to prove it. If I saw terrible wallpaper on line, sometimes I just ruled the house out completely. But the best was when people clearly tried to do what the designers do on HGTV, but failed. Next move, I'll take pics of the champion designs, so to speak, and post them here.
I have adapted to some of the, er, interesting decorative features of the house. Like the half-wall wood panelling in the family room. Or the full-on wood panelling in the basement rec room, nicely complimented by carpet that is the color (and almost the texture) of a Brillo pad. Then there was the carpet in the master bath, which was ripped out the day after I signed the lease. I assume those things were done many years ago, when it seemed like a good idea, not necessarily to achieve a design scheme.
But then there is the Tuscan Room.
Our dining room is faux-finished in a deep reddish-goldish color (sponged). Faux-finishes are WAY out of date. But the owners love it, because they painted it, so ALL the tenants must keep it. Um, seriously? You don't live here. And how the hell am I supposed to cover up those nail holes? I guess I am not, and that is why there are a dozen nails/ screws still in the wall. I did use my art work to hide the worst of them.
Then the light fixture is a cut glass chandelier. Awfully formal for my pub height, slate top table.
This room goes with pretty much nothing that I own. (Hmm. No wait, there is that one water color of Venice that we own.) It actually looks okay now, I found the most complementary wall hangings I had. And the room color seems less obnoxious, because I made sure all the downstairs paint colors work with the Tuscan Room. Before, the other rooms were white and light green. And then, poof, here's a Tuscan Room. It made no sense, in regards to design. At least we have good flow now, and I LOVE the format living room that leads into the Tuscan Room. The color is called Tiny Fawn and it is so rich- looks great with the piano, club chairs and books. I like to sit in there and admire the cleanliness, since no one under 18 is allowed in that room.
But today, I found another design oddity. Our owners like brushed nickel in the bathroom. Well, so do I. Fabulous.
But the master bath (carpeting aside) looks like it was designed by a schizophrenic. Clearly, they either started to redo and ran out of funds/ interest/ time, or they couldn't pick and went two different directions in the same room. We have aforementioned brushed nickel over the sink, but, if you turn around, the towel racks, shelving and TP holder are black wrought iron looking things. The towel racks are retarded because the bar is only an inch away from the wall. Very hard to hang a towel on. And just to keep it varied, there in a hanging light fixture near the shower that is (wait for it) copper. IN THE BATHROOM. So as I was dusting the light fixture in the bathroom (because it's been 90 days), the dust was mixed in with green from the copper. You know, because it is a BATHROOM and very humid in there. Perhaps not the best idea ever. And the window looks like it should open, but it doesn't. Why not???
Just more things to add to my list of "Things I will NEVER have in my real house." It includes other design ideas such as: 4"square tile with big caulk lines on the kitchen counter; Washer and dryer in the middle of the kitchen; White tile on the kitchen floor; Cream colored carpet (in a rental house???); Work triangles so tight, that two appliances could not be open at the same time; Stand up showers with no lip to hold water in (that house was a bunch of DIYers- they also tried to lay carpet, run wire and were responsible for the next jem); Replacing a window with french door (good), but leaving the cement window sill in the yard next to the deck (???).
Like a comedian I saw once joked, "Just because Home Depot sells the stuff to do it, doesn't mean you should try it."
No joke.
27 July 2011
Back to our regularly scheduled program
Today was his first day back at work (school, really). He was able to take 50 days of leave (split up by TDY and a PCS) since leaving that hole known as Afghanistan. I don't think he has taken more than 10 consecutive days of leave since 2005- not even on a PCS. And being between duty stations is FANTASTIC. When he came home from Iraq, he kept getting calls from rear d while on leave. Seriously, people? HE IS ON LEAVE. Call someone else.
But is wasn't like that this time. He got re-acquainted with the little girls- they were 4 months, 2.5, and 4.5 when he left. He was able to spend time with the boys, doing, um, boy stuff. They caught a lizard, which became a member of the family until its untimely demise. We visited my mom. We went to the local amusement park twice. We went to the Smithsonian. Nothing like trying to cram three years worth of family time into 8-ish weeks.
I am kind of glad he is back at work- makes it feel more like real life. Having him around the house all day feels like R&R. Having him home for dinner after being gone during the day feels right. Not to mention it lets me and the kids find our groove in our new house. It means I am around during the day and available to hang out with the ladies (and their kids) again, since I will not be leaving my husband at home to see them. That may sound kind of silly, but I have friends that I have spent more time with than my husband (over the last three years, at least). So I have kind of been unavailable since June.
Now that he feels like part of the family, I get to figure out what I am going to do with myself. He wants me to do something for me, but with six kids, it is really hard to imagine how I might carve out time for me to do something totally selfish. All the peeps aren't even school age yet, and the school aged ones have other activities. Besides, I already did something ridiculous, impractical and in blatant disregard of the fact that I have a basketball team with a sub...... I am signed up for the Army ten miler. Ummmm, yeah. Probably need to exercise at some point, or my beloved spouse will end up fireman-carrying me across the finish line. At least he is in shape.
And someone has to cook, wash, clean, blah blah blah blah.
Oh, look. There is margarita mix in the fridge and tequila in the pantry. Yup. We are back to normal :)
But is wasn't like that this time. He got re-acquainted with the little girls- they were 4 months, 2.5, and 4.5 when he left. He was able to spend time with the boys, doing, um, boy stuff. They caught a lizard, which became a member of the family until its untimely demise. We visited my mom. We went to the local amusement park twice. We went to the Smithsonian. Nothing like trying to cram three years worth of family time into 8-ish weeks.
I am kind of glad he is back at work- makes it feel more like real life. Having him around the house all day feels like R&R. Having him home for dinner after being gone during the day feels right. Not to mention it lets me and the kids find our groove in our new house. It means I am around during the day and available to hang out with the ladies (and their kids) again, since I will not be leaving my husband at home to see them. That may sound kind of silly, but I have friends that I have spent more time with than my husband (over the last three years, at least). So I have kind of been unavailable since June.
Now that he feels like part of the family, I get to figure out what I am going to do with myself. He wants me to do something for me, but with six kids, it is really hard to imagine how I might carve out time for me to do something totally selfish. All the peeps aren't even school age yet, and the school aged ones have other activities. Besides, I already did something ridiculous, impractical and in blatant disregard of the fact that I have a basketball team with a sub...... I am signed up for the Army ten miler. Ummmm, yeah. Probably need to exercise at some point, or my beloved spouse will end up fireman-carrying me across the finish line. At least he is in shape.
And someone has to cook, wash, clean, blah blah blah blah.
Oh, look. There is margarita mix in the fridge and tequila in the pantry. Yup. We are back to normal :)
17 July 2011
Wow..I was gone a long time...
But I'm back. husband is home, we've moved, unpacked and are re-integrating (that's Army speak for getting used to sharing the bathroom and informing others of your whereabouts again).
We have moved closer to a military base. I never thought I would be so happy to be in a miitary community. My God, I am so glad to be back.
With only a one-year assignment for certain, I threw myself and my kids in friend-making. I volunteered for Vacation Bible school at our new church- total ulterior motives. My husband was TDY and I wanted to make sure the kids didn't sit around and make me crazy. So we ALL went, 2 as volunteers, 3 attendees and 2 in the nursery. Awesome. The week flew, fun was had, and everyone was tired.
I also got to meet a bunch of people, many of whom were military spouses. I got linked into a playgroup, just like that. There were other moms new to the area too, who new the best way to make friends quickly was to get out of the house and DO something. I linked in with some of them. My kids felt much more welcomed at this school/church than they had at the last school. Other more established moms were super helpful, with advice and suggestions about an area that has almost too many options for stuff.
All these great experiences made me think back on the last year. I really missed the feeling of sisterhood, of a shared journey. I feel at home again with women who don't need to dust under the couch because the movers will be back before it gets too thick. We are women in flux. Women living the best life they can while rolling with whatever the Army, Navy or Marine Corps throws at them. I love being in a group that doesn't blanche when I qualify my longish-terms plans with "If we still live here".
The year in a purely civilian community had it positives and negatives, but I certainly appreciate being in a military community again. I am finally home again, in a place I have never lived, but with people I feel like I already know.
We have moved closer to a military base. I never thought I would be so happy to be in a miitary community. My God, I am so glad to be back.
With only a one-year assignment for certain, I threw myself and my kids in friend-making. I volunteered for Vacation Bible school at our new church- total ulterior motives. My husband was TDY and I wanted to make sure the kids didn't sit around and make me crazy. So we ALL went, 2 as volunteers, 3 attendees and 2 in the nursery. Awesome. The week flew, fun was had, and everyone was tired.
I also got to meet a bunch of people, many of whom were military spouses. I got linked into a playgroup, just like that. There were other moms new to the area too, who new the best way to make friends quickly was to get out of the house and DO something. I linked in with some of them. My kids felt much more welcomed at this school/church than they had at the last school. Other more established moms were super helpful, with advice and suggestions about an area that has almost too many options for stuff.
All these great experiences made me think back on the last year. I really missed the feeling of sisterhood, of a shared journey. I feel at home again with women who don't need to dust under the couch because the movers will be back before it gets too thick. We are women in flux. Women living the best life they can while rolling with whatever the Army, Navy or Marine Corps throws at them. I love being in a group that doesn't blanche when I qualify my longish-terms plans with "If we still live here".
The year in a purely civilian community had it positives and negatives, but I certainly appreciate being in a military community again. I am finally home again, in a place I have never lived, but with people I feel like I already know.
06 May 2011
Military spouse appreciation day?
Less than 2% of the population serves.
I don't know that the other 98% seriously cares in a material, definite way about military spouses. My impression is that too many care in a fleeting, unserious way, much like everyone cares about the starving kids in Africa or Haiti. I don't think it is because people are cold or unfeeling (though some might be). I think it is because we are invisible to them.
We are clustered around military bases, mostly in the South. The military makes sure most bases are not convenient to any major population centers, keeping us almost cloistered from most of American society. They don't know us. And as the war drags on (and on and on), I, for one, don't think I know them anymore.
So for all those areas without military, let me break into the rhythm of your life to introduce you to someone you might not know- the military spouse.
She is young or not-so-young-anymore. She is college educated, or not- because frequent moves don't leave much time to finish school. Sometimes she isn't a she, there are men who have watched their wives go off to war.
One thing is for sure- she misses her soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine.
She has kids who miss their dad, and she tries to maintain the schedule they had when there were two parents. She is exhausted. Offer to drive her kid home from baseball.
She sees children at military family events, but doesn't have her own yet, because he is always deployed or training up for deployment. Be a friend to her.
She has her happy face on, but inside her heart is breaking, as she unwillingly ticks down the days to his departure. She smiles for her kids, who don't know he is leaving yet; her fellow spouses, to try to keep spirits up; and herself, to keep from crying. Smile back.
She is in church with her kids, trying to make them behave and quiet the baby by herself. Be kind to her.
She is at the grocery store filling her cart with things that can be cooked for one, or she is finding things that kids will eat that are reasonably nutritious and are easy to cook because they can't keep having chicken nuggets for dinner. Invite her over for dinner, or bring her a meal.
She is new in town and her soldier is already gone. She wants/ needs to work, but is struggling to find something. Point her in a good direction.
Her best friend is in a hostile country, with dangers everywhere. She is lonely without him. Call her just to say hello.
She worries. Her heart is heavy and a few minute chat on Skype can make her week. Pray for her.
Pray for all of us. Pray for our servicemen and women to return safely and an end to these wars.
That's how you thank a military spouse.
I don't know that the other 98% seriously cares in a material, definite way about military spouses. My impression is that too many care in a fleeting, unserious way, much like everyone cares about the starving kids in Africa or Haiti. I don't think it is because people are cold or unfeeling (though some might be). I think it is because we are invisible to them.
We are clustered around military bases, mostly in the South. The military makes sure most bases are not convenient to any major population centers, keeping us almost cloistered from most of American society. They don't know us. And as the war drags on (and on and on), I, for one, don't think I know them anymore.
So for all those areas without military, let me break into the rhythm of your life to introduce you to someone you might not know- the military spouse.
She is young or not-so-young-anymore. She is college educated, or not- because frequent moves don't leave much time to finish school. Sometimes she isn't a she, there are men who have watched their wives go off to war.
One thing is for sure- she misses her soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine.
She has kids who miss their dad, and she tries to maintain the schedule they had when there were two parents. She is exhausted. Offer to drive her kid home from baseball.
She sees children at military family events, but doesn't have her own yet, because he is always deployed or training up for deployment. Be a friend to her.
She has her happy face on, but inside her heart is breaking, as she unwillingly ticks down the days to his departure. She smiles for her kids, who don't know he is leaving yet; her fellow spouses, to try to keep spirits up; and herself, to keep from crying. Smile back.
She is in church with her kids, trying to make them behave and quiet the baby by herself. Be kind to her.
She is at the grocery store filling her cart with things that can be cooked for one, or she is finding things that kids will eat that are reasonably nutritious and are easy to cook because they can't keep having chicken nuggets for dinner. Invite her over for dinner, or bring her a meal.
She is new in town and her soldier is already gone. She wants/ needs to work, but is struggling to find something. Point her in a good direction.
Her best friend is in a hostile country, with dangers everywhere. She is lonely without him. Call her just to say hello.
She worries. Her heart is heavy and a few minute chat on Skype can make her week. Pray for her.
Pray for all of us. Pray for our servicemen and women to return safely and an end to these wars.
That's how you thank a military spouse.
14 April 2011
Rule of Army life #20: Share your bad days in an email to your spouse, and then delete before sending
Writing emails to myself is a coping mechanism I have adopted this deployment.
I might have done it once or twice last deployment, but I am up to two or three a month this time.
Not only does a deployment take a spouse physically away from the other one, but the emotional support seems to disappear too. Not to say that deployed soldiers are unfeeling cads, more that we, at home, become more careful about what we say. They are in a war zone. They are facing IEDs and other dangers constantly. No one wants to be the spouse who argued with her soldier on the phone, only to never get to speak to him again. They want to hear that all is well back home (because they feel guilty about leaving?), and it seems unfeeling to tell them otherwise. Not to mention that it isn't a good idea. Seems contradictory that less information can be better, but there it is. On the flip side, I prefer to know nothing about whatever is going on over there.
Still, built-up frustration needs a place to go. Some of it can be shared with other spouses, who are, after all, facing the same situation. Kids sometimes get a taste of it, despite a parent's best efforts. I have found that writing emails that aren't sent is the answer for me.
I can write exactly how I am feeling at the moment- no punches pulled, so softer words sought. I can curse the Army and Fate; I can blame God, too. I can write about how AWFUL (in detail) the kids were that day and how I am really running away to a tropical island, and he can have the kids. I can swear that the boys are going to military boarding school. I can recount all of the things I am not doing in my own life (remember your own life? Before this whole Army/war thing?) because he isn't living in our house with me like a "normal" married couple. All of that, and more.
I read it over, and acknowledge that I sound like a raving lunatic.
And then I hit "delete".
No, thanks. No need to save as a draft.
Am I holding back? Yes.
Is holding back helpful at this current juncture of my life? I think so.
Do I feel better? Sure do!
But we're getting closer to that magical reintegration time. I won't be able to hide behind email anymore. I will have to remember how to talk to him, in person, and live with him. It's been awhile. I don't recall much of the time he was home last time. Truthfully, I didn't reintegrate. I started to, but when the word came that he was leaving again, I pulled back. No point to it, I reasoned. I am still leery of him possibly heading back out the door in 12 or so months. He says that the numbers are on our side. I, however, don't think Human Resource Command is on our side.
Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll cancel the war due to lack of interest. Then we can all get back to living, instead of waiting/missing/coping/writing.
I might have done it once or twice last deployment, but I am up to two or three a month this time.
Not only does a deployment take a spouse physically away from the other one, but the emotional support seems to disappear too. Not to say that deployed soldiers are unfeeling cads, more that we, at home, become more careful about what we say. They are in a war zone. They are facing IEDs and other dangers constantly. No one wants to be the spouse who argued with her soldier on the phone, only to never get to speak to him again. They want to hear that all is well back home (because they feel guilty about leaving?), and it seems unfeeling to tell them otherwise. Not to mention that it isn't a good idea. Seems contradictory that less information can be better, but there it is. On the flip side, I prefer to know nothing about whatever is going on over there.
Still, built-up frustration needs a place to go. Some of it can be shared with other spouses, who are, after all, facing the same situation. Kids sometimes get a taste of it, despite a parent's best efforts. I have found that writing emails that aren't sent is the answer for me.
I can write exactly how I am feeling at the moment- no punches pulled, so softer words sought. I can curse the Army and Fate; I can blame God, too. I can write about how AWFUL (in detail) the kids were that day and how I am really running away to a tropical island, and he can have the kids. I can swear that the boys are going to military boarding school. I can recount all of the things I am not doing in my own life (remember your own life? Before this whole Army/war thing?) because he isn't living in our house with me like a "normal" married couple. All of that, and more.
I read it over, and acknowledge that I sound like a raving lunatic.
And then I hit "delete".
No, thanks. No need to save as a draft.
Am I holding back? Yes.
Is holding back helpful at this current juncture of my life? I think so.
Do I feel better? Sure do!
But we're getting closer to that magical reintegration time. I won't be able to hide behind email anymore. I will have to remember how to talk to him, in person, and live with him. It's been awhile. I don't recall much of the time he was home last time. Truthfully, I didn't reintegrate. I started to, but when the word came that he was leaving again, I pulled back. No point to it, I reasoned. I am still leery of him possibly heading back out the door in 12 or so months. He says that the numbers are on our side. I, however, don't think Human Resource Command is on our side.
Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll cancel the war due to lack of interest. Then we can all get back to living, instead of waiting/missing/coping/writing.
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