The Time I Made A Teenager Cry

It all happened because I went to Walmart. I hate Walmart but we live in the middle-of-nowhere and the middle-of-nowhere for us means one way-over-priced, not-very-good grocery store, a mini-version of a Walmart Supercenter, two gas stations and a handful of fast food joints. Everything else is at least 45 minutes away. So, last night when I needed butter for dinner, I bit the bullet and went to Walmart. 

Wandering the aisles was a teenage couple who looked to be about 17 (apparently Walmart rats are the middle-of-nowhere's version of mall rats). On any other day I may not have even noticed them at all but the boy was wearing something that caught my eye.

He was wearing a crisp, new ACU top.

He was clearly not a soldier and had never been a soldier.

I was immediately annoyed and indignant. In fact, I tweeted about it...

"Seriously people. Military uniforms are not fashion statements. PS> You look like an idiot #hippiedumbass"


As I walked away looking for wrapping paper (because although I had gone just for butter, as usual, I ended up buying five other things too) it dawned on me that he probably didn't understand. So, when I turned the corner and ran into him again, I confronted him. 

First, I asked him where he got it and why he wore it. It came from an Army Surplus Store and he didn't have a reason why he wore it except that he thought it "looked cool." So, we had a discussion (I use that term loosely, it was more of a lecture) about the sweat and blood that soldiers give for that uniform. I told him about the tears of the families and how disrespectful it is to see someone walking around wearing a uniform they didn't earn.

He teared up and she looked a little uncomfortable...I feel bad for calling him out in front of a girl he clearly cares for but I couldn't hold my tongue. I'm tired of white-washed patriotism from a generation that has grown up knowing almost nothing about American exceptionalism and the sacrifices made to achieve it. Hollywood, propelled by the the masses, is quick to use the former service member/PTSD murderer archetype or cart out the strong mil-wife with a gaggle of children hanging onto her for an emotional homecoming with her beloved or more accurately for ratings but when it comes to educating our children about respect and honor, Americans are falling dreadfully short. This generation of children has grown up with the longest war in American history but many of them, and their parents, can't even locate Afghanistan on a map.

It's frustrating to be a military family in a civilian world that claims adoration for the military but knows little to nothing of it.

Crazy Cat Lady Strikes Again

0630.

That is what time our neighbor...the one RIGHT next to us decided to start mowing her lawn. 

I know we're kind of the odd balls out and I accept that most people go to bed and wake up earlier than us but still 0630...who mows the lawn at 0630?! If the weather was like last summer and it was hitting 110 or even 120 I could understand but yesterday didn't even get to 90. 

I'll tell you who mows at 0630...Crazy Cat Lady. I don't remember what her real name is and although she only has two or three cats (along with three or four soccer balls small dogs) Joshua dubbed her the Crazy Cat Lady when we moved in three years ago (holy buckets, it's been three years, woohoo, only two to go to have the equity we want...sorry, bunny trail). 

We had a husky/lab mix...Murray...

 Murray, like most huskies had amazing skills and a high prey instinct. We quickly learned that Murray could jump a six foot fence without a running start and desperately wanted to "chase" one of the neighbor's cats. He did. He didn't catch her. He didn't eat her. He didn't even bite her. He chased her under the neighbor's house. That's it.

She called the cops. The cop laughed. We put Murray on a running line in the back yard.

That was our introduction to Crazy Cat Lady.

Back to this morning. Anyone who really knows Joshua and I knows that he has a reputation for being an ass someone who speaks his mind. He's a me-and-my-four-and-no-more kind of guy and outside our immediate family, some close friends and select extended family members, he tolerates has to work harder to be loving and kind. What some people don't know is that he appears to be the mean one while I smile and hold him back but in reality I'm way more mean. In fact, this morning I released the beast encouraged Joshua to go and speak to the Crazy Cat Lady because if I had gone outside, there are people (the police) who might have considered my thoughts and actions to be unhelpful (premeditation).

So, he went outside and thankfully the opening line of expletives communication was drowned out by the insanely loud mower. She was shocked that he asked her to stop and replied with "Is it really that early?" To which he snapped, "well, you woke the whole house up so let's ask the baby...or maybe the three year old..." and walked away. She stopped mowing got in her car and drove away but the damage was done. We have a long day already planned and now I suspect extra doses of sugar and a little more grace will be needed with the children.

Vent over. Thank you. And if you are the sort of person who mows at 0630, I hope I didn't offend you but seriously 0630 is too early. Be nice to those of us who are not morning people.

Today.

Normally I'm not a fan of just whining blog posts but yeah, basically this is just going to be a big ol' vent about today because today kicked my butt.

Today...

I had my annual lady exam...that's always fun.

I found out I'm anemic. Again.

I tried to take a nap...failed.

The boy broke a window. I knew it was only a matter of time but really I thought he'd be a little older than three and a half. Thankfully, it was our window and so I don't have to pay for someone else's window AND bake something as an apology for my crazy child. In his defense, it wasn't malicious and I'm actually pretty impressed with his engineering abilities but that's a pretty long story in and of itself. Anyway, I bought some plastic and tape and did the best I could to "fix" it until I either have someone come and replace it or Joshua comes home and does it himself. Thankfully it was just a smaller window in an alcove in his room that faces the backyard.

The girl was running a low grade fever all day and not napping...whether from a vaccine yesterday or teething I have no idea (please no emails or comments on the merits or evils of vaccines...we've made our choices and we respect yours whatever they are).

After hours of low grade fever/no napping delirium, I decided to give the girl a little tylenol. I opened it in the kitchen, measured the correct amount and since the boy was napping upstairs, I left the bottle open and unattended to take it to the girl. On my way back to the kitchen to clean up and put the medicine away, I stopped at the bathroom which apparently gave our dog just enough time to knock the bottle over and lick up what I estimate to be about a tablespoon of children's tylenol. 

Called the vet...for the second time this week...a couple days ago he ate almost my entire box of Tagalong Girl Scout cookies...it's a miracle he's still alive today because they're my favorites and they were my last box. He'll also survive the tylenol and the vet said he didn't need to see him which is good because I'm pretty sure if I had to take the dog into the vet today after everything else, I would have had a total breakdown. 

Yeah. So, venting session over. Thanks for listening. Next post will be much less whiny I promise.

Sometimes Violence Is the Answer

I've heard it said that there are no bad days...so long as you're alive and breathing under your own power, it's a good day. I disagree. There are days that just suck. Pain in the butt, Murphy's Law sort of days. Today tried to be one of those days.


I was prepared for today to be long. I had a ton of things to do and I knew I'd be out and about with the kids for at least 12 hours. Being out of the house in and of itself used to not be a big deal but alone with two small kids 12 hours can feel more like 12 days sometimes.


The first stop on our agenda was an eye appointment for me. It was desperately needed as the boy broke my only glasses and I'm down to just two sets of contacts left. Unfortunately the closest optometrist which will accept Tricare is 45 minutes away. So, I loaded the kids up and we were on our way...


Twenty minutes into our journey and we had an accident. Long story short...er...we were on a two lane, middle of nowhere highway/country road. The oncoming traffic (not very busy) had a shoulder but not much of one. On our side was a ditch from which Bambi jumped. 


Stupid Bambi. 


So in about .5 seconds I had to decide Bambi or on-coming traffic...which happened to be a GMC Sierra. Nine out of ten times Bambi would be dead right now and don't get me wrong, I didn't avoid Bambi because PETA wanted me to. I chose the on-coming traffic for three reasons...


1-about a year and a half ago my Aunt hit a deer and it was bad-really bad
2-the on-coming traffic wasn't right there...he had more space and time to react-not to mention a shoulder to go onto 
and
3-if I hit Bambi I was almost certain we'd end up in the ditch, possibly rolling the truck because Bambi was baby Bambi...Bambi was Big Daddy Bambi. 


Yeah, all that and a little prayer that the other guy was paying attention and could swerve in time went through my mind in about .5 seconds. Thankfully, he was paying attention and did swerve but he just couldn't get his truck over far enough and we side-swiped each other. Both our our driver-side mirrors are shot and the glass from his mirror shot back and embedded itself in the glass of his window. I'm pretty amazed my own window didn't shatter with how hard the mirror hit.


We exchanged insurance information but since I'm the one who crossed the center line, it's on me. It's the first time I've been in an accident that was my fault since I was a stupid teenager and the first time anything this scary has happened while I had kids with me. 


I called my insurance agent (great guy btw) and tried repeatedly to get a hold of my husband. I tried texting and calling his Afghanistan phone, I emailed him on gmail, facebook emailed, facebook posted. All of which trying not to be like "OMG call me NOW!" and freak him out but firm enough that if he got it he would know to call right away because I was freaked out and all I wanted was for my husband to call me back. Which he did, three hours later. Granted-three hours in deployment time is less than nothing but it still sucked.


The rest of the day for the most part was unproductive and frustrating. The one highlight was visiting the Science Museum with a fellow deployment wife (different branch and different deployment but same frustrations) and her kids.


The real saving grace for my day was my second ever Krav Maga class. If you've never heard of it, basically it's a self-defense technique (and now fitness class) originated by the Israeli Defense Forces. Basically they teach you to use whatever you can and to hit as hard as you can without stopping until there's no longer a threat. It's fun and tonight I needed it. I hit so hard half of my knuckles are slightly bruised even with using grappling gloves and I'm pretty sure picking up my daughter tomorrow will hurt a lot but it was just what I needed to release the stress from the day.

Three

I started babysitting when I was 12 yrs old. I began working with children professionally nearly 10 years ago...everything from newborns to teens, only children in the foster care system to triplets I nannied. I have ALWAYS hated when kids turned three. It is my absolute LEAST favorite age. I know I'm supposed to love my child at every age for different reasons...different developmental milestones and all that...and I do love my three year old son. Sometimes, I just want to love him from a distance...does anyone know if there are boarding schools for three year olds?

Anyway, the main reason I've always struggled with three is that at two, they're still obedient because you are (angel's voices sing "AWWW") MOM...and all the glory and fear that comes with it. At four, you can use logic most of the time to explain this is the boundary and this is why it's a boundary in our home or family. But at three you're stuck...they're no longer awe-inspired by your mom-ness but they don't care to be mature enough to listen to the logical reasons behind the various rules.

So, here we are at three. During deployment. All I really want to do sometimes is ship my son to his father but since that would be wrong...illegal...unloving...unethical...horrible...not to mention, pretty expensive since the boy is too big to fit into a flat rate box...and yes, I do love him, I won't ship him to a war-torn nation. 

But seriously, I have a three year old son who is struggling with the fact that his Daddy is still far away and now his Mommy is no longer available 24/7. He loves his sister and (THANK GOD) has not yet started to view her as an enemy. He's confused. He's angry. He's sad. He's frustrated....but he's limited on how well he can express all those feelings because... he's three. 

So I guess we just keep going. I keep trying to give words to his emotions, empathize with his pain but most importantly make clear and maintain the boundaries our family has always had...deployment or not...new baby or not. Eventually, I keep reminding myself, he'll be able to acknowledge his emotions and control them better because eventually he'll be four...then five...six...it goes too fast to really spend a year wishing it would go faster. 

Airport Safety

So, although I could very easily spend an entire post blogging about my opinions on the legalized groping pat-downs or the pornographic security pics  body scanners and how the TSA hasn't actually stopped anything from happening, I'm not going to...instead I want to tell you about my son's experience flying with his Grandma from the middle of the country to his Nana and GG's house in Florida and back again.

Before he left (being the Type A freak that I am), I packed an envelope with his birth certificate, medical insurance card and a letter granting my mother (Grandma) and/or my aunt (Nana) the permission to take him and make any and all necessary emergency medical decisions which may arise during the time he was away. He turned three on his little vacation and I knew he wouldn't be able to verbalize to a TSA agent or doctor that although his Grandma has a different name, she was allowed to take him. Also, I strongly suspect the boy will be "that kid" who ends up at the ER at least once a summer because grace and gentleness aren't really his thing.

Here's where I have a problem. They never needed the documentation. On the medical side, I'm relieved...the kid made it through a week without me-in a not-so-child-proofed house with a pool and only came back with a few scratches on his forehead which no one seems to know how he got...I can live with that. But TSA...the great airport security never checked to see that the random adult with him who claimed to be his Grandmother actually was his Grandmother and had permission to take him. Granted, it was a domestic flight but it was over 1000 miles from home and how in the world did they know the name she gave them for the boy was even his name?! They never even requested his birth certificate.

So how safe are our children with TSA if anyone can take them anywhere in the country without a second thought?

I miss me.

I'm officially at that point in the pregnancy where I'm seriously considering wearing sweats and/or yoga pants all the time...as in out in public on a regular basis. It's not something I normally would do but being 5 weeks from delivery, I'm done.

I'm so tired of being a giant hormonal-blob-of-emotional-goo. It's time that this child come out and take all the excess estrogen with her. I feel sorry for my poor husband...though maybe this is the one time deployment during pregnancy is a good thing for him. Every time he calls I end up crying about something or making him tell me something he's already told me four times before because I've forgotten. It's absurd to be this forgetful and this emotional and it's not me. I'm not a crier. Ok...I kind of am a crier but not publicly and not like this. I've never been so insecure or illogically temperamental. It's really stupid. I'll cry about nothing and the whole time I'm crying I know it's totally illogical and unnecessary to be crying over whatever in the moment caused me to cry....I'm not just talking Hallmark commercials. I found myself crying yesterday on the way home because we went to walmart and the 17 yr old check out boy flirted with me. On the one hand...it was a little gross because let's face it, in my present state, I am not anything anyone should hit on but on the other hand it was really nice because I don't get that sort of attention anymore. Joshua's deployed and I'm a big, fat pregnant chick.

I don't like being pregnant. In fact I pretty much hate it...and before I get slapped with a ton of emails/comments about how pregnancy is miraculous and I'm just totally ungrateful....bite me. I've had three miscarriages...I KNOW what a blessing having a healthy child is and how much it hurts to desperately desire nothing more than to be pregnant.

In the end, I just miss being me. I miss being able to bend over without having a contraction...I miss trimming the hedges in front of our house (the lawn guy just doesn't have my type A/perfectionist attitude about how level and full the hedges should be)...vain moment: I miss my size 2 skinny jeans...another vain moment: I miss not having stretch marks...I miss not having to worry about whether or not I'm going to pee my pants...I miss having energy and a fully working memory...I miss sushi and alcohol.

Most of all, I miss my husband and the flexibility we had to be spontaneous and free...even after the boy came along. We've never been the kind of parents who needed to be home by 7 every night or couldn't go somewhere because we had a kid. If there's something we really wanted to do, we did it...we just worked the boy into the plans. He's flexible...we've never given him the option not to be but right now, I'm the one who's a stick in the mud and I can't stand it.

I just have to keep telling myself that A-she's more than worth it and B-only 5 more weeks.

Stuck in the Middle With You

I'm not sure what I can and cannot write in this post because I'm not totally sure which members of my massively large family actually read this blog. But...I can say that I'm pretty sure there's not going to be a family reunion anytime soon.

Ok...so here's the breakdown of my massive family. Mom has 5 siblings. Bio-dad has 7 (I think...I always forget some on that side but I don't know very many of them very well *caveat:I do know some who are just freaking awesome and I wish I could see more). Step-dad has 8...or 9...not sure of the total there either. Needless to say, it's a little overwhelming. Especially when compared with my husband who has a total of 7 people in his family. Yup, seven.

Growing up, when I referred to "my family" it was my mom's side. Step-dad and bio-dad both came into the picture later in my teens. That said, my mom's side of the family is MORE than enough. They're crazy. All of them. Each in their own way. And they're splintered all over the country and the socio-economic spectrum. It's amazing to me to see how very different all my mother's siblings are from one another and tonight some of those differences manifested themselves in a comment war on a facebook pic...I know, classy. I won't bore you with the specifics but for me, it was kind of like a microcosm of all our family dynamics in one place...certain people abstained from commenting...others went all out with caps...it was surprisingly fascinating for me.

The song, Stuck in the Middle With You, went through my mind many times because as it happens, our little family is in the middle...I'm the only one who grew up with the family from up north but maintained a connection with all the families down south. And now, we live almost equidistant from all three factions. We are literally stuck in the middle. I'm not normally one to abstain from stating my opinion (shocking, I know) but in tonight's comment war...which I think will go down in history as the great facebook comment war of 2011...I bit my tongue...or rather held my fingers back. I tried a couple of times to defuse it but you know when someone says or types something that's going to trigger a whole lot more...yeah, there were a couple of those moments and after the second or third, I backed away leaving my only real comment on the issue.

"Damn."

Because sometimes, that's all that can be said and in the end, it's just a really big family with really big personalities and not much else in common.

Three Months

Deployment crystallizes everything.

People you once thought would be there for you no matter what suddenly disappear. All the "bless your heart" (which in my opinion is just a southern kind way of saying you're screwed) and the "let me know if you need anything" meaningless statements abound but real support is rare. And cherished.

It's been nearly three months. There's still 9-12 months to go...we don't have a come home date and even if we did, I wouldn't post it.

In the last three months, I can honestly count on a single hand how many people really care. It doesn't seem like anyone actually gets it (outside my military friends) but there are a few amazing civilian families who know they don't get it but try. They call...or email...it's not even what they say or how long they're able to listen to me (usually either vent or just connect to someone other than my 2 yr old). It's that they know it's an impossibly difficult situation and they don't pull away that means the most.

I can't say how grateful I am that Joshua joined the military AFTER we were married. Granted, it's been a strange/difficult/testing transition but while he was at basic and AIT, I learned what it meant to be without my husband for months because of the military. I discovered that as a Guard family, with almost all civilian friends, I would be alone for any future deployments. It's a discovery which at the time shocked me and was so hard. I didn't understand why couples didn't want me anymore...I didn't understand why my girlfriends pulled away...I didn't understand why sometimes they would compare their lives to mine (like their husband's business trip or being a single mom). My husband's not just gone for a couple weeks...I'm not single and free to live my life as such. I'm stuck in what feels like another dimension altogether. I'm frozen in time, waiting for my life to resume. People with whom I once felt I had so much in common with, I see now as almost diametrically opposed. With basic and AIT, I became angry and built walls.

How can these people who claim to love me and my son, abandon me? ...that's all I felt for the longest time and to be honest, I feel it again now on deployment but I'm learning to just accept that they don't get it. They can't and I can't expect them to act as though they do.

That said, it has been nearly three months. Three months. And I'm isolated. I'm alone most of the time and days can go by without a phone call or email from anyone other than Joshua or my family. It's heartbreaking. My son isn't school-aged, doesn't attend a mother's day out, I'm very pregnant and we live in the country. My friends almost all have spouses and children of their own. Factors which I understand all contribute to the isolation but the heartbreak comes from having friends who vowed to be more present. To stand with me. But haven't.

It's hard not to become bitter. To not build walls again. I don't know if I'll be able to keep from becoming the bitter shrew I suspect I could be but I'm trying and I think that's all I can do...well, that and therapy...sometimes retail, sometimes the real thing.

This is it...again.

Joshua's leave ends in a matter of hours and I want to throw up. First, he'll get another 4 day leave in a few weeks but he won't be able to come home and this pregnancy prevents me from being able to go to him. To make life even more fun, I had fully emotionally prepared myself (as best as one can) to deliver baby girl without him because a variety of reasons, meant he wouldn't be home but for the last three weeks, we've been told, no problem, he can be there. As with most Army things, it changed. Yesterday. Joshua called me from the Armory to let me know and there were about 3 hours where Army was a nasty four-letter word in our home because after these few hours we have left, we won't see Joshua until his R&R sometime late this fall. I'll get over it, again. I'll get back to being ok but it won't be today. It won't be tomorrow. These few days I'm taking to give myself a deployment/Murphey's-Law's-kicking-my-ass pity party. I make no apologies and I don't give a blankety blank what sort of image I'm supposed to portray. Before I was an Army wife, I thought military families were strong and proud. Maybe others are but right now, I'm not and I don't care. I'm being thrown into a situation I hate. A situation I have NO control over. And a situation that just sucks. I'll be strong next weekend. Today I'm crying. Today I'm mad. Today I'm letting my pregnancy hormones take over.

At least while the boy is asleep.

I can be strong or at least fake it for him. I can stay together while he's awake because his world's about to crash around him all over again and there's nothing I can do but hold it together while he cries and doesn't understand.

This is it...again. And I hate it.

Weekend Warrior

Just fair warning...most of this post will be a vent.

I just read an article about a politician who was an Army National Guardsman. Whether I agree with this particular politician or not, the thing that bothered me about the article was the way the author portrayed Guardsmen in general. In an attempt to apparently discredit the politician, the author wrote:

"Remember, he wasn’t a real soldier, he was nothing but a weekend warrior… he couldn’t take a couple years off to serve his country… he had a “real life” to lead."

Not a real soldier? Ok. Fine. I don't know this particular politician's military record but it just got under my skin because maybe there was a time when members of reserve components weren't as often activated or critical to war efforts as they are now but the point is they are now and I for one, as a Guardsman's wife would like the "weekend warrior" stereotype to stop.

By the time my husband returns from this deployment, including R&R leave, he'll have spent a total of 17 of the previous 24 months serving his country, away from his family, most of which in a combat zone...how much more real does it get?

Granted, Guard and Reserve families don't have to PCS. They usually don't deploy as often or for as long but we face other issues that active duty families never do. We, for example, live more than an hour from any military installation. We don't have the support of either a military facility or even just another family (offline) who really understands what we're going through. We face knowing that we're very lucky my husband has a job with a company which supports the military but many of his fellow Guardsmen and women are not as fortunate.

Please don't misunderstand, in no way do I mean to say that it is more difficult to be a member of a reserve component. I can't say how thankful I am not to have to PCS and to have my husband home (in general...or at least I will in the future) more often than if he were an active duty member. I'm just tired of the "weekend warrior" rhetoric. It's archaic. It's inaccurate. And it's offensive.

Deployment Sucks

That's pretty much it for today.

I'm highly irritable so I'm trying to stay off facebook. I don't want to get too annoyed with anyone and forget to be polite. I do that sometimes. Quick wit + sharp, uncontrolled tongue = family drama more often than it should but that's not hard when you have 60+ first cousins and most of them are on facebook along with my 16 biological aunts and uncles...all their spouses (and ex-spouses...and then you have to add all the step-people). Somehow the step-people are the worst but I need to stop because that line of thought will go nowhere good.

I'll try to be less annoyed tomorrow.

Warning. I'm in a mood.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

We're down to just hours and the stupid Army is taking most of them up making sure Joshua and all the other guys have their gear in order. Between that and the fact that the closer we've come to this deployment, the more stupid people seem to be when they ask me questions, I've decided to post a list of questions/statements that drive me nuts (and maybe some suggestions at what else you could say or ask instead because I do understand most of the time, people just don't know what to say).

"I couldn't do it."

I get that this one is meant as a compliment but it's not. I don't have a choice. It wasn't something I ever expected in my life and I've had to learn to adapt. You would do the same if you had to.

"Aren't you worried he'll die?"

You know, that hadn't crossed my mind at all! Oh my. What would I do without you here to remind me of the dangers of war...dumbass.

"How much money will the Army give you if he dies?"

This has been asked twice now. Seriously people. This is just BEYOND tacky/classless/crude/cruel...etc.

"The boy's young, he'll recover eventually"

My hope is that we are able to maintain the familial connection and it isn't something he'll have to "recover" from but rather something that will bond us all closer together and will help him to become a more mature, compassionate, strong young man.

"At least the boy and the soon-to-be girl are young...you know, if something happens"

Really? Why? Why do people even go there?

"Well, you knew what you were signing up for"

How very considerate and compassionate of you...

"Won't you miss sex?"

No. Not at all. I'm a robot. I've heard this one three times and the next person to say it will get an equally inappropriate question about their sex life.

"My husband/boyfriend had to go to (insert safe, comfy, fun city) for two weeks last month, I totally understand."

No. Actually you don't. I don't compare my trials as a parent of one, soon-to-be two, to a parent of 6 or even a parent of one special needs child because it's not the same. You don't know what it's like and I swear if a certain young woman goes on another cruise with her parents and I have to read facebook posts every freaking day about how horrible it is to be separated from her boyfriend, I'm going to slap said young woman. Hard.

"If you need anything, just ask."

I feel a little bad about grouping this in with the others but the thing is so many times people really think it's pride that keeps military spouses from asking for help and maybe to an extent it is but the thing is that there's only a million things I could use some help with and my experience has been that when I ask for help with a specific thing, it's usually the one thing that person is unable to do...which is obviously fine but it does make me slow to reach out again. I LOVE when people specifically say "Can I do "xyz" for you?" Something specific. Something they're willing and able to do and I guarantee you that it's something I won't turn down.

The Boy

First of all, I've been horrible about replying to comments. I'm really sorry. I really do appreciate them. It's nice to know that despite the fact that I blog primarily to stay sane when alone 96.5% of the time with the boy, that there's really someone else out there reading these things.

Anyway, yesterday was the boy's 2nd birthday. I so wanted to write a fun, sweet blog about how much I love that little guy but he was a maniac all day. He's been a maniac for about a week now. He's going through a growth spurt I'm sure because he's sleeping 12-14 hours at night and eating EVERYTHING in sight all day. To top it off, we went to a friend's house for a game night (adults...the kids roamed the house mindlessly while we played cards-happy birthday baby, lol) so we were out REALLY late and as a result, he was a bear again today. Just for the record, we do love the boy and we do believe in celebrating birthdays. We're just waiting for Joshua to come home...besides, the kid's two. He doesn't know what he's missing yet.

He did get his present yesterday (mostly because I needed him to have a new toy to occupy himself for a while and boy did it work). We got him a trampoline.-not a big one in the backyard but a mini one for inside the house. Secretly, I'm hoping having the trampoline will redirect him from jumping on his bed but we'll see. At the very least, it should provide a nice distraction when we're stuck inside this winter. All day yesterday and today he was jumping and jumping and jumping. It was hilarious. He was dripping with sweat at one point and I had to make him stop and read a book with me. Between all the jumping and the growth spurt, he ate three times what he normally would. I kept having flashes of what the teenage years will be like...first all the cooking, then the grocery bill. I have to admit, I was frightened.

After our rather messy dinner tonight...Spanish meatballs and rice, it was bath time. That was the point in the day that drove me to drink. The boy was getting out of the tub and (as per our ritual) he was wearing a towel while I was getting his toothbrush ready. I had my back turned for a second...all bad mom moments start with those words. The boy ripped off his towel and grabbed a bottle from the cabinet

...it was baby powder.

wet toddler + baby powder = sticky grossness (which I'm sure will be funny one day looking back)

In the split second that I had as the boy was about to squeeze the bottle I swooped down and said his name. It wasn't yelling; it was that way only a mom can say your name...barely a whisper but more frightening than any battle cry ever shouted. Unfortunately, it was a bit too frightening and the boy jumped and squeezed the bottle....hard. I reached to grab his arm to keep him in the bathroom and contain the situation.

Didn't work.

He ran out of the bathroom and into the next room...the spare bedroom where we keep the dog kennel and that's just where he went. He ran naked, wet, and covered in baby powder into the dog's kennel, grabbed the door behind himself and shut it. All the while, still squeezing the baby powder and loving every moment of it.

We have a big dog. His kennel is big.

In order to get the kid out, I had to go in. Needless to say I got covered in sticky, gross baby powder paste and to top it off the dog had come into the room to see what was going on with his kennel. Balak, our dog, aka Bubba is very particular about things. He LOVES to sleep and his blanket is to him what a bone is to most dogs. You don't mess with Bubba's blanket. So, he was pacing in front of his kennel whining...panicking really about his blanket being covered in the same goop that we were covered in.

In the end, I kicked the dog outside, gave the kid another bath, put him to bed, washed the dog's precious blanket, cleaned the bathroom, bedroom and hallway floors and poured myself a drink.

My son is two. I can do this.

Murphey's Law

This week has been rough. I would even go so far as to say this week has been the most difficult since the first week after Joshua left. Mostly, it was just a compilation of frustrating moments but they all came at once. I had to deal with a family member who lied to me, by omission, and saw nothing wrong with it on the same day that I got an unpleasant letter from Joshua. He was having a hard time...most of his letters are really upbeat-don't get me wrong, he's homesick and misses us but he's strong and he's still glad he's there but he found out some difficult news about his Guard Unit's deployment status. (Disclaimer: Yes, I know, deployments change all the time and until they're actually on the plane to leave, anything can and often does happen). That being said, his unit is now listed as leaving a couple months earlier than expected and instead of the 12 months we had (at least on some level) prepared ourselves for, it's slated for an 18 month tour.

Yeah, that sucked.

A lot.

To add insult to injury (literally, for many), I was upset with certain political decisions being made...certain dishonorable, unAmerican, selfish, slap-in-the-face decisions. (I'm desperately trying not to be political on here but given our new understanding of Joshua's upcoming deployment, it's not so easy).

The straw that broke the camel's back for me this week (and sent me to Walmart to get some Smirnoff Triple Black-yes, I drink even though I'm the only adult in the house but I only do so after the boy is in bed and never more than one drink so PLEASE don't lecture me) was my truck. I love my truck-technically it's a Suburban (I'm also not interested in an environmental lecture on how my gas-guzzling truck is killing the environment and forcing more dependence on middle eastern oil...I don't really care right now...I care about politics, I care about the environment but I also really like my truck).

I took the boy to the Zoo and the Science Center yesterday (and a quick trip to Sam's Club) and somewhere along the way, the a/c in my truck died so as I looked out the window to the bank sign across from Sam's Club and saw the time and 102 degree temp, I hit my limit. I'm not a hot weather person (putting it mildly). I grew up in norther Minnesota...school wasn't canceled unless it was -60 degrees outside or white out blizzard conditions. I like the cold. You can always add more, you can't always take more off.

Anyway, we bought my truck a year ago (used) and NEVER had a single problem with it until Joshua left. It ran great. It did everything I wanted. It was perfect. So perfect that I've even said, when it's time to get another car it'll just be the updated version of my current truck. That was before Joshua left and Murphey's Law decided to play games with me. The first week Joshua was gone, my back hatch window broke-not the glass itself, just the hinge that held the window to the hatch. The night it broke was also first real thunderstorm of the season. It was highly unpleasant. Then, my brake caliper randomly ripped so my back brake pads and rotors had to be replaced (thanks again Shawn!). The brakes were quickly followed last week by my battery cable...it came loose and left me stranded for a bit at the Kingfisher Library (apparently Chevy batteries sometimes just do that). I managed to get to the local shop and one of Joshua's buddies tightened the screw and we were on our way.

Which brings us back to my a/c going out yesterday. Joshua happened to be on a 36 hour pass and got to hear me complain about how much I HATE all things mechanical. He was great. He let me vent about him not being here and me hating to ask for help even more than doing anything mechanical and then he walked me through how to check if the belt had broke. When that didn't pan out, he walked me through how to reset the computer (he said that sometimes when the battery goes out or the cable comes loose like mine did, it can mess up the computer's ability to remember how to do stuff...he actually used much more mechanical terms but that's the gist, I think). Resetting the computer didn't work so Joshua called a friend who came over to the house (on a holiday weekend) and used some sort of gauge which basically said the a/c was broken...yeah, I kind of figured that out yesterday but now we have an appointment at the shop Tuesday afternoon to probably replace some part (the name of which I've already forgotten...like I said, I hate all things mechanical...I married a mechanical man so I wouldn't have to remember car parts).

I'm trusting that this week Murphey's Law will leave me alone and karma (or yin/yang or the law of sowing and reaping or whatever you want to call it) will balance out last week's frustrations.

The Truck in the Closet

I'm close to by breaking point with one of Benjamin's favorite toys. It's just a black Dodge truck that has three buttons on top of the roof...one makes a loud semi-truck honking sound...one makes that backing up beep...and one makes the sound of a diesel engine starting and revving up. Unfortunately, the batteries are dying. Unfortunate first because the batteries are not yet dead but also because now it just randomly and without provocation makes one of those three lovely sounds. To make it even more special, the door to access the batteries is screwed in but not a normal phillips head screw or even one of those alan wrench (???spelling???...you know the ones that are hexagonal) screw heads...those I could handle thanks to my darling husband's big purple tool box (yes, he has a big purple tool box but he insists that it's a manly purple, "royal" even...whatever). Instead, this toy from HELL-which btw was purchased by my darling husband, has some sort of weird star screw head and NOTHING I've tried will get the door off. As a result, the truck has spent the last two nights wrapped in one of my bath robes in the back of the spare bedroom's closet...yeah, that's my solution. It's that or hit it with a hammer and I think I might feel a little guilty if I do that...it is one of the boy's favorite toys. I just hope the batteries die soon.

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

Warning: it's pretty long...I'll try not to be away so long...catching up on the blogs I read on all that's been going on here is a little crazy

It's been about a week and a half and though I've wanted to at least get on here and read some blogs, for the most part I haven't...it's been crazy and not in the usual sense so here it is in a nut shell, the good, the bad & the ugly (I like to end with the good so yeah, it's out of order)...

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The Bad: We (read: I, with my totally clueless almost two year old son) had to put Murray, our husky/lab mix down. Yup, doesn't get much worse than that for our family. He was only 4 years old but he was in kidney failure. The vet said his crankiness (he's been bullying our other dog and I just attributed it to the hubs being gone) was due to being in pain so yeah, now there's guilt too. To top it off, if we had discovered the underlying cause early enough...a heart defect, we could have treated it fairly inexpensively and he would have lived a long, full life. Double guilt. To top it off, the boy and I went back and forth with some sort of stomach flu. It was beyond terrible to be sick and have a sick child with no one in this tiny little town. And to top it off, we missed my step-brother's graduation party/visiting family from Florida...my Grandma (aka GG), my favorite Aunt (shh, don't tell the other 8 blood Aunts or 5 in-law Aunts) and a cousin who is not only sane (rare on that side) but also pretty cool. My closest friend is PCSing this coming week and this last week she was gone to her husband's OCS graduation. I know we'll stay close thanks to the internet but I'm going to miss midnight movies, Broadway shows, cafe moments and just knowing she's less than an hour away.

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The Ugly: My house-between dealing with a sick dog, having visitors (I'll go more into that in "the good"), and then getting sick ourselves, my house is in total disarray. My hair-it's just not at a cute stage in growth and I have pretty much no skill when it comes to hair/make-up...one of many reasons I prefer to be behind the camera instead of in front of it. Our yard-how do single moms with jobs and kids and pets and homes keep up with the mowing, the gardening and everything else??? I barely work, I only have one kid but I feel like I have to pick between inside the house or outside the house...what will get done today? The outside rarely wins.

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The Good :) We're over the stomach bug!!! YAY! We were able to spend a couple days with the triplets...I'm not sure if I've mentioned them on here before but before getting married I was a nanny and the family I worked for the longest had a set of triplets. They were 4 when I moved in and 6 when I left to get married and I love them all dearly. (They got me a Mother's Day card and I nearly cried because I love those kids so much). Since Joshua's been gone, I haven't seen them as often as usual and I've hated it but it's just tough to bring three ten year olds into our little house with the dog(s), and the toddler and everything else but this visit was wonderful...didn't do much for the state of my house but did wonders for my heart. I met two milwives this week and was really excited to be able to share my heart with someone who understands face to face. The first is an AF Wife (and former DODDS teacher-which ironically enough is what I wanted to do when I was in college) that I met from another friend. The other I didn't meet in person but online but I'm still super excited because she happens to be married to a man who is at Ft Leonard Wood going through BCT with Joshua. We have tons in common beyond that too. Her son is 21 months old, mine's 22 months (I think they even have the same Nemo decor but that's just what Joshua said), I think we graduated high school the same year and they too are Disney people...if you're a Disney person, you understand what that means...we go to Disney World as often as we can which brings me to what I consider to be the best "Good" of this last week or two...we've booked our next trip to Walt Disney World!!! We're staying in the same resort we stayed at on our first trip together (it was Joshua's first trip ever) and I know we're going to have a great time!

Evil Ebay Seller

Ok, I'm going to the mattresses (my hubby would be so proud of me for using that phrase) with an ebay seller. Two weeks before Easter, I purchased a new outfit for my little boy which was listed as "nwt toddler EASTER outfit" complete with super cute plaid shorts, white polo and a matching plaid hat (which I knew the child would refuse to wear but it was so cute I couldn't resist). The day after Easter, I left a comment saying that I was disappointed that the outfit had never arrived and I would probably not be using the seller again. An hour later, I received an email saying it had been shipped but it didn't have a tracking number...ugh. Ok, whatever...it's not like I needed it for Easter...I just wanted it. Well, that was OVER two weeks ago and it has still not arrived so I "officially" opened an Ebay case-whatever that means. By the time this thing arrives, if it ever does, the kid will be too big for it.

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The thing that's the most frustrating for me is that normally Joshua takes care of stuff like this. He's the one to call and complain or talk to a manager. Sure, he does it because I ask him to-he's so laid back, I don't think it would even occur to him to complain if it wasn't for me (...which makes me wonder if I'm a bad influence on him...but that's a topic for another day). He's just better at it than I am. I tend to get emotional and then I end up saying something stupid. Luckily this customer service issue is online so most of the communication is emailed but I still wish Joshua was here to do it. It also makes me appreciate companies and places like Walt Disney World that much more-they're amazing when it comes to customer service. Don't get me wrong, things don't always go perfectly but when problems occur, they go above and beyond to fix it.